“Come on. We need to vanish into the city,” the griffon told Gallus. “Without all those griffons around, they are sure to do something rash if they catch us.”
His rescuer kept pressing and guiding Gallus into the smaller alleys, and then making a turn left. And another, and then a right one. Another, and then a left before going straight for a couple of blocks and turning left again, then right. Not running, but racing. Gallus himself wasn’t even sure where they were anymore when they reached a crumbling house. More like the collapsed remains of someone’s home. The cyan griffon urged Gallus down a hatch within the tumbled brick walls. After closing it, he urged Gallus into a dark basement and only then the young griffon realized just how dumb he’d been.
“Hey, what…” he started, but the older griffon shushed him, lit only by the thin beams of light that filtered through the broken planks in the door and the floor above.
“I’m Gary. Don’t worry. I have friends in the local militia and we’re gonna help you.” He said in a hushed tone, still peeking out through the disjointed planks again. “We’re not sure why, but the military is helping the northerners snatch some griffons and hippogriffs away. Any idea why they were after you?”
Gallus knew. He damn well sure knew, but he would not open his beak about it. He simply shook his head slowly in the dark. Too shaken by the realization that only dumb luck had saved him from Lady Gwendolen’s agents. In fact, his careful side poked him that there was nothing keeping that dude from delivering him to the northerners if he found out just how powerful the griffons looking for him are.
“It’s alright.” He reassured Gallus with a smile, unknowing of his thoughts. “Just keep calm for now. I’ll get you to my home and away from those thugs. Then we’ll figure out what we’re going to do next.”
Gallus said nothing. Gary failed to convince him, but he still seemed to be the best chance of keeping away from those thugs and from the northerners. One should not question when luck bailed them out of the beast’s talons, so he sat in his corner and stayed quiet for a while. His savior kept peeking outside through the gaps but was not nervous. The young griffon was too anxious and well-rested to sleep, but lost track of time. Soon Gary spoke again, much cheerier than before.
“Alright. The coast looks clear.” The adult declared, startling Gallus with his mirthful tone.
“They just moved on?” Gallus remained unconvinced.
“They don’t have that many griffons to be looking everywhere all the time.” Gary shrugged. “It is the Griffonian Standing Army we’re talking about. And the northerners are far from home.”
Gallus glared at him. His anxiety at that guy ‘thinking the coast looks clear’ went unnoticed, and Gallus kept it to himself. He was probably right anyway, and Gallus simply followed the griffon out of their hidey-hole. For better or worse, the adult seemed to know what he was doing. Unlike Gallus.
The sun was high in the sky, peeking from behind the clouds. His stomach’s dragon roar-graded rumble ruined the moment. Gallus had missed a breakfast for the first time in a long while. His feathers lowered when he remembered what he had left behind, but his complaining stomach drew the other griffons’ eyes to him.
Gary chuckled. “Come on. We’ll get you something to eat at my place.”
He seemed too nonchalant about the whole situation, but Gallus was the one that literally walked into the enemy’s den. He couldn’t really judge the other griffon. At least this Gary guy seemed to know what he was doing because he kept them out of the areas with the most activity and they hardly crossed anyone’s path. Yet Gallus kept his beak shut as they made their way through the nicer part of town, where the ‘upper-middling’ griffons usually lived. At most, he told Gary his name.
They crossed into a pleasant neighborhood, with little white fences and cute two-story houses for small families. The one Gary steered Gallus toward had a pristine grassy lawn, complete with a small stone path to the green door. White windows and a greenish roof made it look like the picture-perfect cover of a real estate magazine.
The only thing that bothered Gallus, other than his hunger, was that he again saw the black and white griffoness in the windows, as though the light played a prank on him. At a second glance, it was only a greenish-white and brown cute griffon lady staring at them from inside. Instead of a scary apparition, it probably was mister Gary’s wife.
She had seen them approaching from the window and the door unlocked just in time for Gallus and Gary to squirrel inside. For all of Gary’s jovial mood, they were still hiding and scurrying along the streets, after all. The nice griffon lady inside closed the door after them and grinned all friendly at Gallus. While Gary had a handsome coat of dusty cyan, her feathers were a greenish white that made her emerald highlights stand out and contrasted nicely with her brown fur. Gallus even blushed a little, looking at her and the smile in her delicate yellow beak.
Inside, their home was still the picture-perfect cover of a magazine. An internal decoration one, this time. Neatly spaced furniture, spotless tablecloths, and vibrant flowers for decoration. A painting of the couple hung from a light-green painted wall, and Gallus found not a single mote of dust. Not that Gallus didn’t like it or was jealous; he was smitten that the little house was just as perfect as its owners, sitting one next to the other and smiling at him.
“Oh, goodness, he is such a handsome young rooster!” the hen giggled, but cleared her throat, offering Gallus her fist for him to bump, which he did. “Welcome!”
“This is Gallus, Greta.” Gary said. “Gallus, Greta. My wife. The grunts had him, but I got him away.”
“Good job!” his wife said, as she offered Gallus a glass of water. “And you better just lie low for a while. You can stay for however long you must.”
Gallus took the glass and lost a second, looking at the impossible reflection of the black and white griffoness glaring at him from it. Miss Greta asked if he was alright, and he frowned. “Yeah… I’m kinda stressed out. That’s all.”
He chugged down the water and ignored the stupid vision. He had never stopped to notice how thirsty he was, too. At that, Miss Greta’s smile made him feel a touch like too much of a cub, but he did not refuse it when she offered him another helping. Following that, Miss Greta told Gallus and her husband to check the guest room upstairs and get Gallus settled. She was going to whip them a nice lunch for three.
Gallus carried little to leave in there. It was a simple visit to have a look at where he would spend the night. It had a nice, comfy single bed, a small bathroom and a dormer window because it was an attic bedroom. Kind of cool, the young blue griffon thought. It had a very ‘pony’ feeling, with its pastel colors, soft shapes, and a couple of heart decorations, along with a neat desk. It was the room a couple would have in their perfect little home for their cub. But that was just Gallus being silly and feeling like a loner.
He left his backpack on a coat hanger by the door and decided he could use a bath before lunch, so Mister Gary left him alone. The bathroom had a magical heating shower, which Gallus felt a touch self-conscious using. Magical energy used to power such devices could be expensive, and the piped water like that was a luxury. Not in Ponyville, and the School of Friendship with a much more efficient central heating system. But that was Griffonstone, and everything remotely comfy was expensive. Fortunately, the day was warm and so was the water from the house’s water tank.
While the shower and its powers of introspection poked at Gallus’ insecurity about his current situation, the bath washed away most of the worries and tenseness in his back. He even had perfumed soaps and a fluffy towel. He could almost feel like he was back at Mount Aris.
A sigh escaped him under the shower. Hopefully, Skystar and Silverstream would be angrier at Queen Novo than at him. Was that a tear? Nah, it was just the water in his eyes, but he sure would like to listen to Skystar awkwardly talking about her clam collection—she thought it made her interesting—, or just to hear Silverstream laughing. Heck, he could settle for one of her endless monologues about random subjects. He eventually tired of feeling sorry for himself and of wasting Gary and Greta’s water.
He toweled himself dry, preened his feathers, set his crest straight, brushed his fur with the soft ‘fur brush’ and did the same for his contour feathers with the stiffer and more spaced brush for feathers. Looking at himself in the mirror, he frowned and set his crest straight again. Since he was going to stay at their home, he might as well make himself presentable for lunch.
Maybe he was just hungry, but the food in the dining hall in the School of Friendship never smelled so good. He almost tripped on his own feet down the stairs to find Miss Greta setting the table. Bread, minced meat with tomato sauce, some pears and at least three different sodas. A lot of meat at that. Now, Gallus absolutely loved Ponyville and Mount Aris, but that seemed like a lunch for griffons.
“Oh. Wow!” He grinned at the giggling griffon lady. “This looks… and smells so delicious! I don’t know what to say, you guys…”
“Make yourself at home, Gallus.” Mister Gary said, pulling one of the sitting pillows for him.
He did. Gladly. Gallus even allowed Miss Greta to serve him the food like he was her own little cub. Prench bread, overflowing with minced meat and tomato sauce, spicy and thick. Tasty enough to make a mess and not even care about it. Caramelized pear slices, so soft they melted inside his mouth, too. The cherry on top was that the three sat to eat together, and Miss Greta wanted to hear all about his adventure and his friends in Ponyville. He was kind of famous, after all. Again, Gallus felt a touch conscious about talking all the time, telling her everything like they were a little family of their own, but she was so nice and charming.
Once the meal was done, he helped her wash the dishes, and it came as a surprise that she wouldn’t leave for work. Miss Greta stayed with Gallus for the afternoon and made sure he was perfectly comfortable all the time. He’s suffering enough, she said. She explained Gary would get things set up for them to take him back to Ponyville in the morning and all he had to do was wait. She had taken the day off work because she didn’t want to leave a young rooster like Gallus alone.
At some point, his teenager fantasies about how she was subtly coming on to him won. She gave him a puzzled frown when he slapped himself across the face.
The day breezed past along with cheerful conversations, delicious snacks, a slice of milk jam pie, more soda than any teenager should have access to, and games. Ticket to Ride, for example… Gallus had never played it, and would rather play some outdoor game or sport, but that was just not workable. He had a lot of fun with Miss Greta, and that was what mattered, other than that he felt safe.
As night approached, Gary came home with three—one, two, three—pizzas. Large pizzas, and not only that, a fourth one was a dessert pizza with strawberry, white chocolate, and condensed milk. It was obscenely sweet and tasty to the point Gallus considered eating it instead of the others. Although the garlic and cheese, Canterbrese and Neigherita pizzas deserved his attention too.
While Miss Greta fixed their dinner and set everything on the table, Gallus and Mister Gary sat in the living room to talk. They had set everything up and, come morning, he was going to take Gallus to the local militia headquarters. They would get him safely out of the city and back to Beachhome, where he could go wherever he wanted. Including Ponyville. They’d take care of him all the way.
Gallus was not sure about trusting the militiagriffons, but once dinner was ready, the serious conversation ended. Gallus didn’t even really understand what was there to do, since Garry had brought them pizza. You just ate the things. While they talked, Miss Greta had organized their dining room into what could only be called a dinner in Gallus’ honor. So much pizza, Gallus feared he might not walk out of the door in the morning. The delicious soda with options in different flavors was a bonus.
They talked about frivolous things as they ate, and Miss Greta started by telling her husband what they had done during the afternoon. Soon enough, they started talking about anything Gallus wanted to talk about. He had not expected to have such an enjoyable time during his flight from Hippogriffia. It too came as a surprise when he saw the reflection of the black and white griffoness in his glass full of orange soda.
She was not staring at him with superior grace or arrogance. She seethed in silence. Gallus’ grin, listening to Miss Greta talking about her business trip to Ponyville, turned sour.
“What are you doing eating this disgusting pony junk food? Your body is a work of art meant to find nourishment in meat and fruits!” She complained inside his thoughts like Twilight when she once found Gallus pulling a book by the top of its spine. Not that Twilight would invade someone’s mind, but the tone was there. Like Gallus committed a crime.
More than being worried he might be going insane, Gallus was angry at how in-character the vision was with the bitch herself. Lady Gwendolen, not Twilight. Twilight was nice and cool; Gallus’ sister-in-law was a murder begging to happen. He glared at the image in the cylindrical glass, but failed to dispel the image, and worse, the griffoness’ stern frown deepened as though she challenged him.
Strawberry was fruit, as far as Gallus was concerned, and chocolate came from another: cocoa. She could can her whining. He responded by opening his beak wide and humming happily as he laid a cheesy slice of pizza on his tongue. He took almost half the slice in a single bite, inhaling deeply, savoring both the melted cheese, the strawberry, and the chocolate. The grease clung to his beak, and the burning, furious, seething, impotent wrath he saw reflected in his glass of soda was almost as sweet. Then he took a greedy gulp of the terribly sugary and bubbly beverage.
His smile held a serenity he had not experienced in a while, and Miss Greta commented on how happy she was that he was enjoying his stay so much.
Eventually, dinner ended, and Gallus went to bed, not sure what he was so happy about. The bed was soft and warm, yes. The window showed the dark sky taken by the clouds. Wind rushed along the roof and a distant thunder echoed in the distance while the rain sprinkled the window.
Gallus woke up suddenly. He was in his bed, in his room, in the School of Friendship. The thunder woke him up and the tall windows lit up with lightning in the dark. An eerie blackness filled the other side. Was there a griffon screeching? He wasn’t sure.
The room was dark, and he turned on the lights. They seemed uncannily weak and gave the furniture and everyday objects strange, haunting appearances. A grimace pulled his beak as a lingering uneasiness filled him. The dark outside threatened to swallow him if only the thin glass would cede.
There must be a problem with the mana batteries in the school. Yeah. That explained the weak lights. Thunder rumbled in the distance; he could barely hear it. Was it cold? He wrapped his blanket around him, but the shaking didn’t stop. His beak clacked, the unearthly shadows of his backpack in the corner, the reading light in his desk and the even the sink in his bathroom filled him with apprehension.
His grimace grew. What in Tartarus was that? Gallus was a grown rooster. He was not afraid of the dark. It was just some dumb problem with the mana batteries. He needed a glass of water, and he hopped off the bed. His brushing steps echoed otherworldly on the carpet. The door, a tall archway closed by the painted wood, seemed bizarre. The decorative pattern was all wrong, but it called to him. It dared the young griffon to open the door, and he reached for the knob. He held it. Slowly turned it. The metal rattled, and the mechanism unlocked the deadbolt with a resounding clack.
“Oh, shit…” the noise echoed like the night wanted everyone in the corridor to wake up. He shushed the door twice, edging it open through its creaking.
The corridor on the other side was mostly dark, only the frames of the windows seemed to catch an alien light coming from nowhere in contrast to the gaping dark outside. Something moved in the corridor and his muscles tensed before he even understood there was something there. That glass of water started to not seem so refreshing anymore.
The tip-taps of approaching paws filled his ears and made his hair stand on his back all the way to the tip of his tail. “Ah… Silverstream?”
It was obviously not Silverstream: the steps in the dark missed the pointed clopping, but his hopeful thoughts were trying to fool him. Thunder roared. Lightning flashed to reveal the shape of a massive griffoness in the dark as though she were the storm itself.
Her striped black and white wings filled the corridor, the immaculate onyx of her fierce beak shone like black gold. Talons like black steel glided gracefully with her steps on the stone of the corridor and clicked like the inexorable march of time. Leonine shoulders danced in the dark as she prowled toward him with her crown of raised feathers at the top of her head, and her stormy eyes shone in the flash of lightning.
Gallus screamed. Pure motivating terror made him slam the door and fumble with the thumb-turn before he could twist it. He locked the bathroom door too and then closed the curtains. He only stopped when he was under the bed.
Silence reigned, except for the thunder outside. No steps. Only the pitter-patter of the rain against the windows, the howling wind, and the flashes of lighting leaking in under the curtains. His paws trembled even after he hid them under his chest. He dared not utter a word as his breath seemed horrifyingly loud. The shadows of her paws crawled from under his door. His stomach dropped.
“Go away!” He cried in the northerner High-Griffonese. Because he knew that otherwise it would only make her angrier or because he wanted her to understand him. Gallus himself was not sure. “I’m not letting you in!”
Her talons clicked against the door; a wave of exhilaration filled the room with her voice even with her stern way of speaking. “My prodigal son has come home!”
“Shut up!” He screamed. “You’re not my mom! Mom died when I was born!”
Her feathers and her fur brushed against the door on the other side. “I love you, Gallus. You need guidance and few griffons have the privilege of my attention.”
“I know your love!” he more whispered to himself with a sob rather than responded.
“I will find a cute, appropriate queen for one of my favored sons. Submissive and demure to love her ferocious little Astrani.” She spoke and her voice was silky and delightful before it turned fierce, like the thunder in the storm. “Or perhaps a mature and fiery one to take care of you. I know you more than you will believe.”
“Shut up!” He cried. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”
Her voice turned serious and stern. “You will not return to your degenerated friends, Gallus. They have abandoned you. I am the only one who wants you. You belong to me, and it is time you returned to my hearth. The time of doing things of cubs is over.”
“Go away! I’m not going back to Griffindell! Mister Gary and Miss Greta are going to help me! I’ll go back to Ponyville and never think of you ever again!”
She laughed. Like a mother listening to her child telling her all about how he was going to leave her and take care of himself. The room jolted, and the curtains jostled. The flash of lightning turned yellow with sparks flying outside. Metal screeched like the wheels of a train cried before it stopped, and floodlights shone through the curtains.
A harsh voice ordered all to disembark and drew Gallus to the window. The placid plaza before the School of Friendship turned into a grassy open field between his windows and the eye-burning lights. The young griffon climbed onto his bed and put his paws on the icy glass to look outside.
Shades of griffons broke the intense glare while hippogriffs joined in front of his windows. Gallus watched slack jawed as all the colorful hippogriffs stood with their backs to him. Thunder roared and lightning flashed above the brightness, but they were not thunder nor lighting, instead flashes at the tip of machineguns, roaring and spitting fire. Blood and gore splattered against the window and feathers flew. Gallus screamed and fell from his bed on his back.
Princess Luna stood over him, out of nowhere and unannounced. His eyes widened. She could help him! Luna could shelter him, and he was going to ask her, but the princess put her hoof on his beak, and a feather before her lips asked for silence.
“Depending on what you do, the lives of countless creatures will be lost.” Luna whispered to him. “I know it is not fair… But fate has saddled you with this. They will capture you one way or another, therefore you must go with the hippogriffs on the train. You will know what to do.”
Gallus simply stared at the princess of the night with wide eyes as she spoke again. “There is no time. I know you wanted to go back to Ponyville, but you are carrying much of the future of the world on your back. You must step up. You must help me.”
Gallus woke up in the dark with a scream, back on the comfy bed in the attic bedroom. A storm pelted and rattled the window as Mister Gary walked into the bedroom, making soothing gestures. He never turned on the light, either. “Gallus. I’m sorry. We have to go. Now.”
He was already awake by the time Gary talked to him, so Gallus jumped off the bed and donned his backpack without a second thought next to follow Gary downstairs with anxious and quick steps. He meant to ask what was going on, but he never had the chance. Miss Greta was already waiting downstairs and covered Gallus with a black hooded cloak like the one she wore, while Mister Gary put on one too.
“They found out you’re here and we had to change the plan.” She said calmly. “We’ll get you to a safer place. With the others. Preferably to leave as soon as possible.”
“Why are you guys doing this? You’re putting yourselves in danger.” He asked, just as Greta finished tying the cloak around his neck. “You don’t even know me.”
“I let a friend down…” Gary said. A sad shame crept into his voice, and he avoided Gallus’ eyes. “I was scared and let fear drive me into kicking her out. Now I can’t help thinking some horrible griffons may have killed her and I may never know the truth.”
Greta had stopped to listen to Gary too, and her husband frowned when his eyes filled with determination. “I am not doing this again. I am going to get you to safety.”
Done with the dramatics, Gary led them to the backyard door of their homely little house. After a quick look outside the square window, Gary slowly unlocked the door and came out first to signal for Greta and Gallus to follow. The trees danced in the dark, adding their creaking and rustling to the heavy splashes of rainfall. Blades of grass barely rose from a carpet of water like the storm tried to drown the earth.
While he took the time to lock the door again, Greta urged Gallus on to the back of their yard. The thick layer of water made walking a frustrating exercise from what could have been a fun romp in another situation. The heavy rain on his cloak made difficult to hear anything and didn’t help cope with the dark. Almost on cue, three of the planks making the fence swung a passage open. An old griffon lady, using a jacket for an improvised raincoat, waited for them as Greta sent Gallus through first.
“Hurry, sweeties.” The old lady spoke in a croaky, hushed voice. “They’re coming.”
Gallus didn’t know who she was, but Miss Greta thanked her and urged Gallus onward. They sprinted around the old lady’s house to meet someone else at the corner before the sideway opened onto the front lawn. There a pair of griffons waited for them. An old mister Gallus also didn’t know and a much younger hen. Her black-spotted black pelt made her almost invisible in the dark, but Gallus saw her swishing tail that ended like a cat’s more than a lion’s. She also wore a leather garment, an armor that made Gallus think she was with the city’s law enforcers. She had the build for it too.
“Hey, young mister.” She greeted Gallus with a calm voice.
“Gilmara is the Lord Protector of Griffonstone, Gallus.” Greta soothed him after seeing his anxious expression.
“You’re a militiagriffon!” Gallus grimaced. “How are you not working with the northerner weirdos?”
“I’m doing my job of protecting the citizens from the violent thugs, kid.” She told him just as Gary joined them. “If the politicians fleecing the city were not enough, we now have these northerner jerks stepping on my turf.”
The black-on-black griffoness with few outstanding feathers gave Mister Gary a revolver and another to Miss Greta. Not the standard issue wheellock pistols that the local militia law enforcers throughout the Equestrian Confederation used. It was one of the modern six-shooters that Gallus had heard about and that used modern ammunition encased in brass cartridges instead of the crystal balls filled with subduing spells. Only then he saw she had a bulky, long gun with her, but Gallus didn’t know what it was.
He almost complained she didn’t have something for him, given that he was the one the soldiers would be looking for. Any sarcasm died before he could voice it: focused cones of light danced inside his rescuers’ home. Gilmara urged them to move, and Gary led the group, scurrying into the empty street. The older griffons would stay, it seemed.
To say it was raining was an understatement. Water poured from the sky, intent on drowning the city, and the distant thunder unnerved Gallus. He could hear it even over the racket the rainfall caused against his cloak. The cold air clashed horribly with the wet hotness under his raincoat like the rain took offense. The dirty water clung to his feet and every time he stepped into the film of dirty water on the cobblestone, he felt like dying a little more. For better or worse, everything was so damp he could barely smell anything. Barely hear anything, and with all the curtains closed or lights turned out, he could not see much either. That accursed thunder kept reaching him, though. Like a monster prowling about.
Gallus did the only thing he could and followed the black griffoness leading the way along with Mister Gary while Miss Greta brought up their rearguard with him in the middle. Were those enough griffons? The soldiers went to that friendly couple’s home; there was nothing keeping them from looking for him under that rain. They were probably scouring the streets of the city just as those griffons he didn’t even know scurried along with him.
It would have helped to ease his nerves if anyone had told him where they were all going. He supposed nobody found the time to explain it to the ‘kid’. Even if getting him somewhere was the point of soaking under that rain to begin with. His eyes found the dark, flowing water over the cobblestone on the sidewalk, and he chastised himself for being so grumpy when they were helping him. It was just… That nightmare still haunted him, and all the accumulated energy of urgency kept him from focusing. Thank Harmony they were moving. He could not stand still.
He started gathering the sparse information in the flashes of lightning reflected off the walls and roofs. They had left the comfortable residential neighborhood to enter one of the more favored griffons who could afford larger houses. Almost mansions, comfy two-story houses, but still not where the truly rich griffons lived.
The big difference was the size of the homes, and how much expensive glass they could put on the ostentatious windows. And when lightning flashed, Gallus could see ‘her’ moving shade in the reflection with her crown of raised feathers, looking down at him from the panoramic windows. Her visage haunted him, and he could hear her conceited laugher in the thunder. He shuddered and kept those things to himself. How could he even tell the others he was seeing things in the reflections while they snuck around town? He’d look like a child.
“Wait! Hide!” Lord Protector Gilmara’s hushed voice brought him from his exhausting waking nightmare.
She shoved him to the side, not so harshly that Gallus would trip, but enough that he understood something was wrong. Miss Greta and Mister Gary both understood it too, and the four of them hid behind the stone fence decorating someone’s house. Gilmara was closest to the edge, with Gallus right next to her, and he watched while she looked around it. He chanced a glance over the stone and mortar to see the bobbing lights of a trio of flashlights further ahead down the street. The rain, for better or worse, severely limited the range of their flashlights, but still allowed Gallus to see the griffons awkwardly walking on three legs while holding the things in their fourth leg. A fourth griffon among them sat in the middle of the street, and all of them wore green raincoats. The rain didn’t let Gallus discern if they carried weapons, but he could hazard a guess.
“Fuck. They must have the entire area covered… No. They are trying to herd us in a direction or setting up a confrontation.” Even under the rain, Gallus could hear the worry in Gilmara’s voice while she kept watching the soldiers around her corner of the fence. “These are not the typical moron grunts, either. They really want to catch you, kid.”
She turned to look at Gallus, as well as Greta and Gary behind him, but her expression under the raincoat turned Gallus’ stomach. Looking in the same way she did, Gallus and the other two saw someone in the small pathway between the house and the stone fence. Against the weak yellow light of the magical public illumination across the terrain. A shade of a griffon lady, patiently sitting on her haunches, with her wings menacingly open and wearing a cape. It billowed in the wind, despite the soaking rain.
“The Mother of Storms demand you relinquish the cub unto me.” She shouted over the downpour, speaking in a heavily accented Common Equestrian. The soldiers further down the street heard and moved into position behind statues, walls, and fences. Quickly, as though it all went according to plan. “She then will deem your continuing survival a gift of good-will, Saddani.”
“The Mother of Storms can go suck a big, fat one!” Gilmara shouted back at her.
Mister Gary sat on his haunches, with his forelimbs free to aim his revolver, and shot at the griffoness just as she closed her wings around herself. Then the gates of Tartarus broke open.
“Kill the hooflicker!” One of the soldiers shouted and bullets started flying.
Energy filled Gallus, but also the realization that he was in danger. Real, immediate danger to his life. He always thought that he would raise up and be brave in such a situation, but what he did was drop to the wet grass with an unwilling cry.
Gilmara stood at the stone fence and shot her weapon at the soldiers with a deafening boom. Gallus’ sense of reality had been offended enough when he noticed Mister Gary shot a second and a third time, but the griffoness on the side of the house simply stood there, with her wings closed like she expected her feathers would stop the bullets. Gallus chose sanity, and accepted Mister Gary had missed, because she never even flinched and charged towards them, opening her wings and screeching.
The black hen hid behind the stone fence, covering Gallus with her warm body. Pebbles flew, and a salvo of bangs filled the air above the storm. Miss Greta pulled Gary to hide, and Gallus saw the griffoness he had shot at lunging at them. She had covered the entire distance with two pounces and was already so close that Miss Greta too missed a shot and screamed in a panic.
The agile griffoness jumped over Greta, talons sizzling with blue lightning magic, and she soared over Gallus to land at Gilmara, slashing her talons teeming with magic at the leather armor. Gallus made himself as small as he could behind the stone fence with a scream as the pebbles kept showering him.
“Miss Grisa, you’re in the way!” one of the soldiers on the other side yelled.
The gunshots barely diminished. A barrage of ear-ringing bangs and clacks hurt and deafened Gallus, but he heard Gilmara struggling with their assailant. All he found the courage to do was tremble and hide behind the stone fence, as still as he could under his wings. Something splashed in the pooled water on the grass, and he found Miss Gilmara’s gun at paw’s reach. She was still wrestling with the cape-wearing griffoness, talons flying at each other. If he reached, he could help her. The racket stopped him. The repeating bangs, the clacking of bullets against their shelter… Gary and Greta hid and shot at the soldiers across the neighbor’s lawn. He held his own limbs to himself and closed his eyes as tightly as he could.
A boom filled the air and the caped griffoness collapsed on her side. The red liquid of life oozed from a grievous wound on her chest and washed away in the downpour. Gilmara held the gun, also lying on her side, but alive. Panting heavily, dragging herself over the wet grass toward the stone fence. Several scorched cuts marred her armor, and she hissed, rubbing her paw over a bloody cut in her neck.
“Fucking witches.” She sheltered herself next to Gallus and the other two, but the noises of the gunfight no longer reached him. The soldiers called each other for a retreat.
“Is anybody hurt?” Gilmara yelled over the rain, and harshly held Gallus, examining him. His nerves were so rattled, the young griffon never resisted, but his cheeks burned with shame after hiding through the whole confrontation. Next to him, Greta examined her husband, and he had a nasty wound on his left shoulder.
Gallus did not know what a bullet wound ought to look like, but the straight laceration immediately dawned the idea of a grazing bullet on his layperson understanding. He grimaced at how much the gory thing must hurt.
“You’ll be fine.” Gilmara pointed at the houses across from the street. “Come on! We gotta go! That racket ought to have drawn others.”
She wasted no time and tolerated no laziness, shoving Gallus to run and urging the other two to follow. Curious griffons watched from the dark behind the windows of their ostentatious houses, but no one bothered them as they crossed through the lots. Encountering a picket fence, the group leaped with help from their wings to clear it. Gallus hated how the thick raincoat hindered even such a short flight, but it was certainly better than getting his hind caught by Lady Gwendolen’s loremasters.
The large houses, obscured by the dark of the night and the thick rain, provided a decent cover for the four griffons. Gilmara led them through front lawns and backyards. Hopping over fences, dashing madly, brushing the walls, avoiding outdoor furniture, and getting raincoats unstuck from the eventual pointy fence made progress slower than Gallus liked. The rain gave no signs of letting up, and he worried about the grazing bullet wound on Mister Gary’s shoulder. The rain and their frantic flight made it impossible to see it, but that could not be healthy.
With half an hour of running around, Miss Gilmara decided they ought to change stealth for speed. Flying low in the wind and rain was dangerous, and not only because the raincoats made flying even more difficult. Gilmara was probably the only one that knew what she was doing in their group, though. Gallus was just glad nobody turned out to be following or chasing them until they left the urban area. He was completely at the mercy of the adults.
The wind didn’t cease, much less the rain, and in the complete darkness, Gilmara took the group to a higher altitude. A constant, creeping fear followed Gallus while he followed their leader in the dark, that they were being watched. As absurd as it seemed, and he kept telling himself he was just scared all the way until they finally arrived at their destination.
Details came scarcely in the dark and rain, but the adults met someone after they landed on a horribly muddy open ground. He saw the outlines of buildings and strange shapes that held little meaning to his exhausted self. Gallus was just happy everybody just let him be.
Soon enough they left the rain to enter a leaky, but dry room. Dim oil lamps provided some light, and the windows had been closed with boards and curtains. It was a living room. Old and abandoned, with decrepit furniture that belonged in a dump, but that was not what shocked Gallus. It was all the big-eyed hippogriffs staring at him from the corridor. A hippogriff stallion, with a soft and welcoming smile, greeted Gallus in the poorly lit room, carrying a tray with glasses of water. The smell of potatoes, chicken and herbs was more welcome than Gallus would have thought, but he wanted the water after that mad dash and nocturnal flight. Gilmara talked in silence to a hippogriff mare.
“We’re bringing all the hippogriffs here.” Greta told him after a gulp of water while an unknown griffon looked over Mister Gary’s wound. “The northerners really don’t like them and… Well… They were told to leave, but not all of them could make it. We’ll take them by train to Saddle Arabia, and from there they can teleport to the Equestrian Heartland until this mess gets sorted out. Miss Gilmara is talking to Bubbles; she’s sort of the leader. They’ll take you with them and take care of you.”
Of all the things she said, Gallus heard one word, and one word alone. “Train?”