The two maneuvered cautiously down the cave’s entry slope, the mix of ice and snow making their descent all the more precarious with each passing step. The frigid wind howled behind them but did not attempt to fully introduce itself into the tight space, merely screeching from a distance at the forlorn travelers.
The cave walls were entirely composed of ice, with the reflecting light off their transparent surfaces giving them a powdered blue tint that more resembled solid sapphires than frozen water.
Gilda’s pointed talons scraped against the smooth surface floor, creating a long line of symmetrical white slashes that appeared lightly over the ground. Alistair, on the other hoof, glided over the floor along the soles of his insulated boots, leaving not even a single trace that he’d been anywhere near where he stood.
Reaching a small atrium that matched the passageway in all rights with an exception of much more snowed surface and higher ceiling, Alistair raised his hand to stop.
“This place looks good enough to set up camp,” he announced conclusively while turning to Gilda. “Any objections?”
Gilda sardonically rolled her eyes. “I don’t know, maybe I want to keep trekkin’ for another few hours through an ice cube cavern. Of course I want to stop, what else would you expect?”
Alistair sighed. “Remind me to not ask for your approval the next I decide something. It’ll save me the breath.”
“I don’t need any dweeb’s approval to do anything, especially not yours.”
“Yeah whatever,” he murmured as he unhitched his large green pack off his back. Dragging it across the chamber, he found a nice comfortable spot by one of the walls and briskly began to unpack its contents.
Gilda took notice of his position and moved to the opposite end of the space, as well beginning to unpack her bag’s contents. In a few moments, the two had sleeping pads rolled out, blankets set, and canned food opened. All of this was done wordlessly.
The griffon was the first to tear into her food, yanking open the can with an aggressive tug and downing the contents in a single brisk gulp. Grumbling to herself and scowling at Alistair, she turned her body around with her back to him and lay down huskily on her pad.
Gritting his teeth, Alistair too dug into his food but with a bit more tact and care than his counterpart, such as using actual utensils. But as his dull spoon scrapped against the red sludge’s cylinder can, he realized something important was missing from the rest of his supplies.
Anxiously tapping his fingers along his knee, he rose to his feet and approached the laying Gilda.
“Um…Gilda?” he called out timidly, making this the first time he’d ever uttered her name. “I, uh, have a question.”
Gilda rolled over to face him, contempt boring into him like a brick. “What do you want?” she answered impatiently. “Can’t you see I was trying to sleep?”
“Yeah…” he said with a distant look to his side, “I can see that. I just was wondering if you had something. I, um, realized that it seems your Captain forget to pack a few things I would care to have.”
She raised a sardonic eyebrow. “Didn’t I already tell you this before we left? You aren’t gettin’ any of my stuff, dweeb. Now buzz off.” She rolled back over.
“I’d be willing to trade!” he announced anxiously, as if somepony nearby was listening.
Gilda turned back to him. “What would you have that I could possibly want?”
“Anything really. And if I don’t have it with me right now, I could get it for you when we come back.”
Gilda rose from her pad and approached him with a quizzical stare. “What’s got you so stirred up? You didn’t strike me as the sort of dork to get scared by nothin’. What’s your deal?”
Alistair’s eyes sunk back into his head but he quickly shook his head in denial. “Nothings wrong, I’m fine. Just wanted to ask you for something, something small.”
“And what would this be?” said Gilda with a hostile stab of her talon to his chest.
“Meat,” he said with a sigh. “Red meat to be precise, salted is my usual preference.”
Gilda’s eye widened in disbelief as she took a few steps back. “You eat…meat? I thought you ponies didn’t touch the stuff. Herbivores and all that.”
Alistair gestured shortly to his entire body, using his hands to emphasize the point. “Do I look like a pony?”
“N-No, I just thought with all the laws there—”
“—that it would look bad if I was caught with a rabbit leg in my mouth?” he finished, now with his own hostility at Gilda. “Yes, I know they don’t like it. I understand that. I know it’s a crime with them, but I still do it anyway. Why argue, I’m an omnivore, just look at me.”
He shook his head dismally. “I was just hungry for some, no addiction or mad craving or what-not. Nothing fills you up quite like some legitimate protein so…yeah.”
Gilda was silent for a moment, then shook her head slowly in understanding. “If you’re hungry I can give some. It’s jerky.” She paused. “Just don’t make a habit of this alright? I don’t like givin’ handouts.”
Alistair smiled warmly. “Whatever you say.”
Accepting the few strips of leather-like meat graciously, Alistair downed them in single gulps without even the slightest consideration of actual taste. Smacking his lips, he beamed once more.
“I never thought griffons could cook so well,” he remarked excitedly. “From the records we have in External Affairs, it seems like you guys would have culinary cuisine on the last of your list. No offense.”
Gilda shrugged. “The food’s fine enough I guess. Don’t have anything against it, just gets kinda bland after awhile.
He nodded. “Well so does all things. If you stick with something long enough it tends to get commonplace after awhile. And there’s nothing wrong with that in any regard, that’s just how things go. I mean, if things always changed would people like that? No, of course not. Things have to have a sense to them, a consistency really. It’s what keeps you coming back for more.”
Gilda smirked slyly. “Never thought a dweeb could speak so fancy about beef jerky.”
“Never thought a person could ever have such a bad attitude,” he retorted offhandedly.
She balled her claw into a fist. “Keep on talkin’ like that and I’ll show you how bad this attitude can get. Understand?”
He raised his arms in casual defense. “I’m just saying that for a griffon solider you’re not quite what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“A stone-faced stalwart that’s polite and respectful but still able to take command when the situation calls for it.”
“Sounds like everything I’m not.”
“Point taken,” he said with a nod. “But for now I actually think we should get some rest, the descent through the caves isn’t going to be easy, and there’s no telling what might be down there.”
Gilda yawned. “Yep, whatever you say boss. Just wake me up when it’s time to go, I’ll be ready for anything.” She promptly strutted back over to her mat and without even a returning look towards him; she laid back down onto her mat.
Feeling a bit hurt by the lack of recognition, he slid onto his own mat and pulled the musty blanket right over the top of his head, blocking out the shiny blue cave lighting that seeped from every surface. Tonight, he wanted to sleep properly, no uncomfortable interruptions like last time. Celestia only knew if this would happen or not.