//------------------------------//
// Find Your Way 
// Story: Cartography of War 
// by Daetrin 
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        Rose watched the coast recede as the Windrunner fulfilled its name and flew before the morning breeze.  All the tents had been packed and stowed in the space of an hour, but the wooden structures remained to be claimed by the land, giving the abandoned outpost a forlorn air.  The deck swayed disconcertingly under her hooves, not at all like the barges and ferries of inland Equestria.

        She didn’t know how a ship would need so many gryphons to run it, but there seemed to be a place for all of them.  Her place, on the other hoof, was still undecided, and she felt uncomfortable and impotent standing on the deck, doing nothing at all while Gérard argued quietly with the navigator.  That particular worthy seemed to fit into every bad pirate story she’d ever heard, with an eyepatch and mangled ear and stump talon.  They were all on the left side, and in the flesh they weren’t quaint affectations but rather the legacy of some horrific calamity.

        “Rose?”  Gérard beckoned her over with a tilt of his head, and she joined him outside the wheelhouse.  “Would you be willing to aid Gahir with navigation on our way home?”

        “Why, certainly.”  She shot Gahir a look, wondering why he would need her help.  And what it had taken for Gérard to convince him to accept it.  “I’ve never been to Eyrie, but if you have good maps I should be able to keep a fairly accurate course.”

        “The sea’s not like the land,” Gahir’s single eye was narrowed at her.  “Don’t suppose you’ve sailed deep ocean before.  No landmarks here but for the stars, and they’ve been shy the past few years.”

        “No…”  Rose was briefly taken aback.  Gérard had accepted her faculties at navigation long ago, and a pony wouldn’t have taken such an accusatory tone given her cutie mark.  But of course he didn’t know.  “But I don’t really need the stars to navigate.”

        “That good a guesser, then?”

        Rose considered how to explain it to him.  It was possible, given gryphon magic, that a navigator as old and grizzled as he was as good a pathfinder as Rose.  At least, so long as he had a star to steer by, something that was in short supply since Nightmare Winter.  It wasn’t likely that he’d accept magical insight by words alone.  She’d have to demonstrate.

        “The ship is headed three degrees north of east-northeast, at about fourteen miles per hour.  Do gryphons use that for ships?”

        “Knots,” Gahir grunted.  “I don’t know what that means in knots though.”

        “Well, we’re six and a half miles out now - do you have a map?  Charts?”

        Gahir gave Gérard another accusatory look and waved her into the wheelhouse.  The helmsgryph gave them a glance before returning his regard to the open sea.  Here there were charts, pinned on the wall and in bundled rolls racked underneath.  She felt a sudden itch to pick them up, hoard them like some cartographic dragon, but she restrained herself to simply studying the ones on the wall.

        There were only two of consequence.  One was of the coast they’d just left, clearly filled in by the gryphons over the month they’d been there, and another of the original course from Eyrie to Equestria.  If that chart was accurate, they’d swung far south, around the worst of the opposing winds, and then followed a current up before finding the coast.  But with the prevailing winds at their backs, the return journey would be far shorter.

        “Do you mind?” She asked, gesturing at the charts.

        “There’s pins and charcoal in the basket,” he grumbled.

        “Thank you,” she said, though she didn’t need them.  Instead she lit her horn, adjusting the coastline’s details slightly and marking out their passage so far on both charts.  All six miles of it, when they had hundreds to go.  But it wasn’t another slog through the wilderness, and barring storms or other calamity it was not so long a journey at all.

Gahir made a startled noise, reaching out to brush his claws over the charts, then fixed her with a single narrowed eye.  “Ponies,” he muttered.  “Fine.  If you can actually keep the east and west accurate, we might find Eyrie without having to sail in circles.”

        “I should be able to.”  At least she hoped.  She’d never tried it on the open ocean, and even knowing where they were meant nothing for navigation without the winds and currents.  She’d only studied sea navigation in passing, years ago, and was glad she wasn’t in charge here.  But she was also grateful Gérard had offered her something to help with, to take the edge off the long hours of enforced idleness on the journey.

        He nodded and then waved her off, satisfied.  She backed out of the wheelhouse, nearly colliding with Gérard.  His raised eyebrows asked a question and she nodded.  “I have a job.”

        “Excellent.”  His beak clicked.  “We have never sailed this course before and I would rather not be delayed.”

        “Me either.”  So far most gryphons on the ship had given her a wide berth, since either Gérard or Ganon were close by, but she could feel the tension.  A week on board the ship was asking for trouble; more than that was guaranteeing it.

        Even so, she was determined to enjoy some aspect of the trip.  She had never really seen the ocean before, let alone been out on it, and she found she was quite taken by the experience.  The sway of the ship itself was perhaps a bit disconcerting, but the fresh breeze and the tang of the salt air and sheer openness appealed to her.  Gérard, of course, merely endured it with a grim resignation.

        He joined her at the rail, looking over the rippling expanse of blue water.  “You are never far from the sea in Eyrie,” he said.  “And I have always liked the view.  But I have never been comfortable on it.  Most of the time I have been over it.”

        She glanced down at his injured wing.  Over was no longer a choice for him.  “Do you think...” she said quietly.  “Once everything is over.  Would you be willing to let a pony medimage fix that?”

        He sighed.  “I do not see how it would be possible.  I would like to fly again, it is true, but I cannot yet imagine a future where either pony or gryphon would allow it.”

        “Someday,” she assured him, watching his profile as he in turn looked out over the water, his eyes focused on the horizon.  The sharp breeze ruffled his white feathers and blue fur, and with his sharp gold eyes she could easily see the general and commander that had brought war to Eyrie so many years ago, and the nobility that had ended it.  In fact he looked positively regal, with his talons on the rail, ears focused forward, like some exiled prince returning home.

        The sea breeze freshened and he leaned into it, his ears flattening slightly.  She could imagine him looking like that as he flew, circling Eyrie, and for a moment she fancied herself flying with him.  On his back, of course, she wasn’t a pegasus.  His head tilted, his beak moved, and she realized he was saying something.  “-a cabin.”

        “What? I...wasn’t paying attention.”  But of course she had been, though not to his words.  Her ears burned as she quickly wiped an embarrassingly silly grin from her muzzle.  He lifted an eyebrow at her, but fortunately he didn’t press.

        “It is not a good idea for you to sleep in the main holds with the rest of the gryphons, so we’ll be sharing a cabin.”

        “Oh.”  Her mind hiccuped over that for a moment, the idea colliding with her flight of fancy for a moment of embarrassed confusion.  Then she nodded.   “That’s fine.” She felt more than a little foalish to be mooning over him, especially since in a few short days they’d arrive in Eyrie and she’d likely not see him again.

        But she didn’t want that.  Oh, she would be happy enough to be away from gryphons like Kree and Tarn and Alria, but she liked being around Gérard.  Whether or not he was right when he called her gryphon-shaped, she felt sharper and more alive when she was with him.

        She really did like him.  The realization didn’t startle her, or sweep her off her feet, but rather stole in quietly and settled in where it had been all along.  It was a more bitter than sweet feeling, not at all the unfettered happiness it had been with Iron Bar. Because it came with the knowledge there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.  Not on board the ship, and not later, when she returned to her people and Gérard to his.  She was helpless and trapped, and this time Gérard couldn’t come to the rescue.

        He was still watching her, head canted slightly, his golden eyes curious, bright, intense.  But also guarded, as they had been ever since they’d arrived at the camp.  No, it wasn’t she who was helpless, it was him.  He was the one trapped in honor and duty and obligation, and she was the one escaping.  She almost opened her mouth to ask him to come with her, but was too conscious of their audience.  “Well, let’s see the cabin then.  I imagine it’s better than my little tent, at least.”

        His eyes flashed with humor.  “Do not be certain of that.  Cabins on a ship this size are famously cramped.  I begin to believe there is some competition on the part of the shipwrights, knowing as they do only we poor landbound fools use them.”

        It was indeed small, more of a closet with a window than anything she’d consider a room, with a pair of hammocks stretched from wall to wall, one above the other, and a tiny chest and cramped desk.  If it weren’t for the furniture it would have seemed more cell than lodgings.  And yet with all that it was still larger than the tent she’d shared with Gérard for a month, and smelled of wood and pitch and the open sea rather than tired and battered pony and gryphon.  

“It’s kind of charming, actually.  At least compared to what we’ve had.  I certainly can’t complain.”  She eyed the hammocks doubtfully.  “So long as I take the bottom hammock.  The top might make mornings interesting for both of us.”

He laughed, a throaty rumble.  “I have a great respect for hooves, but they are not meant for climbing.  The bottom bunk is yours.”

She gave him a smile and flipped open the chest, sliding off her saddlebag and depositing it inside.  The tent and bedroll were too large, and went underneath the hammock.  “Take yours too?” She offered, keeping her horn lit.

“Thank you,” he said, and she unclasped his saddlebags.  They were full of papers now, rather than food, though she couldn’t fathom what paperwork would be important this far from civilization.  On the other hoof, Scarlet had spent quite a lot of time on her own paperwork while Rose was busy with the maps, so perhaps it was simply one of those universals. The mysterious box was still in her own saddlebags, and since Gérard hadn’t mentioned it she hadn’t either.  But it still weighed against her mind, another worry to add to the pile.  A pile that seemed to be growing rather than shrinking the closer she came to returning home.

But those problems faded at least a little on the deck of the ship, with a bright sun and cloudless sky and crisp breeze.  Here it was almost possible to forget that those working the ship and all the dots flying overhead were gryphons that were probably just as happy to see her dead as alive. Almost.

Even when night fell and the few precious stars came out, and she bent over the charts with Gahir, there was still hostility from the evening crew.  It wasn’t anything overt, but there were mutters and dark looks and, if one of them had to talk to Gérard, they ignored her.  But she supposed it was the best she could hope for.

“Will anyone - anygryph - do anything?  These are awfully close quarters and I can tell they don’t like me.”  Closeted in their cabin, she felt safe asking Gérard that much as she tried to settle into the hammock.

 “Anyone.  And I do not think so.  By now they all know you are a guest, and it would be base treason and dishonor to violate that trust.”  His voice floated down from above, a touch hoarse and touched by fatigue.  “And more pressing, they know Ganon would tear apart any who tried.”

It was not the best note to end the day on.

Things improved at a thankfully meat-free breakfast, when a faint popping noise came from the scab on her side.  She paused mid-chew, a sudden surge of panic evaporating along with the remnants of the burn ointment, the scab dissolving into nothing like so many pricked soap bubbles.  It left behind a swath of bare pink skin which, at least where she could see by craning her neck, while mottled and splotched was at least healed.  “Huh.”

Gérard got up from his seat, circling around the tiny desk to inspect her.  “It seems Mercy’s materials were of a quality.”  He lightly brushed his talons against the exposed skin, and she shivered at the gentle touch.  “And you can still feel.  That is better than most burns.”

“Thanks to you.”  She shivered again, this time at the memory of how she’d gotten the injury.  “I still don’t know how you managed it.”

“I wanted to.  Surely that is explanation enough.”  His eyes glittered and she laughed.

“If only we all could perform every feat we wished to.”  Her voice came out more wry than she really intended, and he tilted his head at her.

“I am certain you can.”  It was a challenge, of course, some purely gryphonic edge to his voice. Rose wasn’t quite sure what it meant to him, but to her the tone seemed calculated to tease.  She liked it.

“I’m not home yet.”  She pointed a hoof at him.   “And I’m flattered, but you’re more responsible for that right now than I am.”

“Perhaps, but I never said you had to perform those feats alone.”  He clicked his beak at her, his ears perked forward.  “And it is thanks to you that I am here.”

“Then it should be we and not me,” she pointed out.  “I’m happy to share the credit.”

        “How could I refuse?”

        She was in much better spirits by the time they emerged out onto the deck, but what she saw there instantly dropped her stomach into her hooves.  Tarn and Kree and Alria were in close conversation with Captain Sekal, along with several other gryphons she recognized as the ones most offended by her presence.  She couldn’t make out words but she knew with absolute certainty it boded ill.

        Beside her Gérard went rigid, his ears flat against his skull.  Their arrival did not go unnoticed, as Kree’s head whipped around to focus on them.  The red eyes were narrowed, calculating, assessing.  Disconcerting as that was, it was still better than the smouldering hatred in Tarn’s expression once he followed Kree’s gaze.  She glanced around for any of the other gryphons she could consider allies, Ganon or Talnion or even Gahir, but they weren’t in sight.

        Alria advanced across the deck toward them, followed closely by Kree and Tarn. Gérard  stood his ground, as did she.  Though she would rather have been anywhere else, she braced herself to meet them head on.  To shy away would have been to act far too much like prey.

        It was Tarn who spoke first.  “We can no longer stand by while you destroy our honor and that of this ship by having that on board.”  He pointed an accusatory talon at Rose.  “I know you haven’t honor yourself but I didn’t think you were so far gone as to parade prey around as a guest!  I don’t know why you’re insulting everyone here by treating our sworn enemy like a treasured lover!”  His words had started out measured enough, but by the end were thick with fury.  And pain.

        “Tarn.”  Kree stepped in, putting a talon on the big gryphon’s shoulder.  Tarn closed his beak, and Kree turned to address Gérard.  “I still cede that you are the leader of this expedition, but you seem to have forgotten the obligations carried by that.  The presence of that is an open wound, and we are failing our own duties so long as we indulge your delusion.  You cannot require us to continue treating food as a person of honor.”

        Rose was flushed.  Her face burned, her ears burned.  She wasn’t angry, or offended, just shocked and hollow and hot.  But Gérard was cold, his face a mask and his eyes narrowed to icy slits, and when he spoke his voice was frozen and hard.  “If you think-”

        “You’re wrong.”  She interrupted him with her hoof pressed against his chest, and his beak snapped shut in startlement.  But he didn’t gainsay her, merely watching as she turned to face the other gryphons.  She knew with absolute certainty nothing Gérard said would make a difference here.  It wasn’t his authority they were questioning, but his judgement, and that was entirely bound up in what they thought of her.

        “You say that I’m prey, that I’m not a person of honor.  That I shouldn’t be treated like one.  But how can you think that?  I sat at your table, and took meat and salt with you.  I understand what you mean when you say duty, honor, obligation.  It’s what brought you here, away from the fighting and those you care about, and it’s why you’re going back now even though you didn’t get what you came for. And I’m helping you!”

        She had their attention now, and not just the three confronting Gérard.  Behind them the conversation had stopped, and all eyes were focused her way.  “I’m here because of my duty and honor and obligation.  Because I helped Gérard.  I’m not a soldier, just a cartographer, but I am a pony and ponies do not simply leave people to die.  And you!”  She pointed her hoof at Kree.  He blinked.  “You killed my friends!  And I have kept my peace here because I trust in your honor enough to address that, when the time comes.”

        “But prey -”

        “I am not prey.  We are not prey.”  She stepped on Alria’s protest ruthlessly.  “Do you know what we call gryphons?  Monsters.  Butchers.  But I know that’s not true now.”  She waved a hoof vaguely, taking in the whole ship.  “I know that you’re just completely different from us.  And you have to realize the same thing.   I know you hate ponies.  That you have reason to.  But we are people, and your own honor suffers so long as you refuse to admit that.  Surely you have an obligation to deal with that just as I have an obligation, once I get home, to try and convince everyone you’re not really monsters.”

        There was a resounding silence.

        “Well?”  Rose glared.  Tarn glared back.

        “You cannot be anything but prey.  You run like prey.  You fight like prey, with fear and cringing.  And without honor!”

        “We fight to survive.” She told him.  “We’re not like you.  It’s not something we do for fun, that’s part of our way of life.  It’s a last resort.”

        “Then why do you always fight to kill?”  It wasn’t Kree or Alria or Tarn, but one of the sailors.  Rose blinked, finding that her audience had not only grown, it had drawn closer.  The gryphons had made a sort of rough semicircle around her and, more alarming, Gérard had gone missing.  But she didn’t dare gawk.  The only thing keeping them civil was her refusal to give ground.  “If you only fight to survive why do you destroy everything?  It makes no sense.”

        “Because we don’t want to be hurt again.”  Rose was no orator, but now she felt that same sense of conviction that came with plotting a course or reading a map.  “We don’t fight to test ourselves or each other.  We do it to survive, which means ending the threat, and ending it forever.”

        “So you intend to wipe us out?”  It was yet another one of the sailors, one she didn’t recognize even by sight.  There wasn’t exactly fear in his voice but there was a note of something that made her heart sink.

        “We don’t want to.  We really don’t.  If we understood you better, we wouldn’t have to.  And that’s what I need to do when I get back.  Help ponies understand you.”

        “You think you understand us, do you?” Tarn snarled, speaking up again.  His eyes blazed.

        “Gérard has - “

        “Gérard knows nothing!”  Tarn snapped, and leapt at her.

        Once again Ganon was there before she could react.  There was a white blur and Tarn was pinned against the deck, gasping for breath.

        “Tarn…” Gérard’s voice came from off to the side, tired and worn.  “You know you cannot control yourself around ponies.  Stop making trouble for yourself.  Stay away from Rose so you do not do something you will regret.”  His tone sharpened.  “That is an order.” He arrived at Rose’s side, and nodded to Ganon, who let Tarn up.  The big black gryphon coughed, glared, and launched himself into the air without another word.

        Gérard locked eyes with Kree.  “I trust you will ensure he follows that order.  His wounds are deep.  You cannot expect him to limp along unaided.”

        “Aye.”  Kree said, acknowledgement and agreement both, and spread his wings, following Tarn into the air.  Gérard watched for a moment then moved his attention to Captain Sekal, though all he did was raise his eyebrows.

        “Back to your posts!” Sekal roared, sending most the crowd scattering.  “Questions don’t sail the ship!”

        That left only Alria, who regarded them with narrowed eyes.  “I’m surprised you left her alone.”

        “Well,” Gérard said, his eyes sparkling.  “She didn’t need my help, now did she?”  His voice was rich with satisfaction.

        She grunted.  “I suppose not.  Sir.”

        “I hope you have learned something.  Dismissed.”

        Alria saluted and took to wing, and finally Gérard turned to Rose.  “That was well done, indeed.”

        “I’m not entirely sure what I did,” she admitted.  “Except talk.”  Now that it was passed, she felt drained, almost shaky, as the rush faded.

        “I think that is all you needed to do.  One asks and expects answers from a guest, not from prey.”

        “I suppose so.” She rubbed at her throat.  “But I can’t imagine I convinced everyone.  Tarn…”

        “You cannot expect to convince everyone.  There will always be those like Tarn, for good reasons or for ill.  But the honor and duty of the others will protect you, now.”  He chuckled softly.  “Though I have doubts you much need it.”

        “Ganon’s already saved me twice,” she pointed out, and turned to meet the white gryphon’s dead eyes.  “Thank you, by the way.”

        “Certainly, ma’am,” he replied in his feathered whisper, betraying no emotion at all.

        “Good work,” Gérard agreed.  “Make the rounds, see to it that this incident gets relayed accurately.  Perhaps that will mean you will need to intervene less in the future.”

        “Yes, sir.”  Ganon padded off, utterly silent.

        Rose let out a slow breath and sank to her haunches on the deck. Gérard stepped closer and she glanced up at him.  “Where did you go, anyway?” 

        “To get Ganon,” he rumbled.  “I knew Tarn would break sooner or later, and you seemed to be doing fine otherwise.”

Even now she wasn’t as certain as he was.  But over the course of the journey she’d learned to trust herself and her talent in more than just maps, and if ever she needed to find a way it was here among the gryphons.  And with Gérard.

If there was a path she could take to both have Gérard and fulfill her duty to keep the war - and the peace - from getting worse, she would find it.  She canted her head to study him again and he blinked at her.  “Yes, Rose?”

“I’m just thinking,” she told him.  “About the future.”  For his sake, at least, she didn’t want to press him while he was aboard the ship and there was no real privacy.  But once they’d landed she’d find the time.

Despite her success she kept to herself for the next few days, a thing made easier by the fact that she did have a cabin to retreat to for meals.  She could hear the boisterous laughter of gryphons through the closed door, but she preferred a quiet dinner with Gérard anyway.  Still, there was no longer the odd strained feeling that had followed her around the ship, even if the list of gryphons that would talk to her remained small. Acknowledging she was a person was a start, but she was still the enemy.

The icon representing the Windrunner crawled across the map, drawing ever nearer to Eyrie, but all Rose could see was the endless expanse of ocean and sky, with the occasional cloud.  Between Gahir and herself she was confident enough it was accurate, but they had to rely on gryphon scouts to confirm it.

“I’ve spotted Eyrie!” One of the sailors thudded down onto the deck next to Gahir.  “Eight points north.  But there’s a big stormcloud off the coast, so be prepared for weather.”

“Very good, Rinnyl.”  Then Gahir raised his voice.  “Adjust our course eight points north!”  There were other instructions, less comprehensible.  Even after a week she still hadn’t quite deciphered seafaring jargon.  It seemed to be yet another language entirely.

“Looks like we’re nearly home,” Gérard said.  “Are you ready?”

“I don’t know about ready, but I am looking forward to seeing it.”  She peered northeast, though it would be some time before the island showed itself over the horizon.  “I imagine you are, too.”

“I’d probably be a-wing and headed there already,” he admitted.  “I know I have only been gone a pair of months but both those months have been very, very long.”

They stood at the rail together, watching as a smudge appeared on the horizon, and then slowly resolved itself into steep green cliffs, rising up and up to even greener ridges and white-capped peaks.  Even at this distance she could see the glittering blue of waterfalls plunging down into the ocean.  From what she could see it was as beautiful as Gérard had promised, verdant and vertical.

She could also see the stormcloud the scout had mentioned, hunched against the western shore of the island, and something about it looked off to her.  Not that she was a pegasus, but she’d been close enough to pegasus cloud-construction to know what it looked like, and the longer she stared at the stormcloud the more certain she was.  And there was only one pegasus-made structure that large.

“What is that doing here?” She muttered to herself.

Gérard glanced at her, then suddenly wheeled around.  “Kree!” He bellowed.

He appeared in just a few moments.  “Yes?”

“Take Ganon, Tarn, and Veshas.  Find Aida and report.  Assume we are in hostile territory.  Do not engage, do not get caught.  Go.”

Kree eyed Rose suspiciously for a moment, but saluted.  “Sir.”  His wings flicked and he was gone.

“Alria!” 

She took longer to arrive, and was more reluctant about it.  “Yes, sir?”

“I’ve sent Kree and Ganon and our scouts ahead.  Get the rest of the wings and give the Windrunner a flying escort.  If you run into ponies, assume they are here in force.  Do not engage before reporting to me.”

“Aye, sir.”  Like Kree, she took off on the wing, to gather up her warriors.

Rose blinked at Gérard.  “So you recognize it too?”

“Not at all.  But you did, so ponies are here.  What is it?”

“Celestia’s Command.  Sky called it The Stormfront.  I’ve been there once...it’s a giant cloud fortress.  I have no idea why it’s here.”

“Because the war is here,” Gérard sighed.  “Things may be more complicated than I expected.”

“But with me here, it’ll be easier to get them to listen,” she pointed out.  “At the very least I’m sure I could get someone to believe you wanted to talk.”

“I hope so,” he agreed.  “I will need you sooner rather than later.”

Innocent as it was, those words made her heart skip a beat.

“Captain!” He said, and the moment passed.  Sekal paced over to them and Gérard gestured out at the cloud.  “That’s pony work.  I expect we’ll be sailing into a war zone.  I have my wings screening us but there will be little they can do if the pegasi descend in force.”

“I understand.”  Sekal clicked his beak.  “We were away for too long.”

“It seems so.  Rose, come with me.  I would rather you be quite visible.”

She accompanied him to the middle of the desk, though his caution seemed a little overdone.  Then again, she’d never been in an actual battle.  The sky seemed clear, any of Gérard’s wing invisible or indistinguishable from gulls in the bright blue sky. The minutes wore on, tense and close as they drew nearer to Eyrie and Celestia’s Command.  Rose strained to make out any pegasi that might be around it, but to no avail.

Without any warning a dense fog billowed up around them, thicker than any Rose had been in before.  She could only barely make out Gérard’s form next to her.  “‘Ware pegasi!” He bellowed.  “Get below or out!”

His words were followed by several sharp cracks of thunder as the fog strobed bright and dark, and the entire ship shuddered stem to stern.  There was a crackle of fire, and Rose shuddered.

“The ship is called to surrender!” Shouted a pony voice in badly rehearsed Alce.

“We’re taking water!” A gryphon yelled from below.

Gérard’s voice came, quiet and calm.  “We have no choice, Captain.”

“Aye…”  Sekal’s reply floated back from somewhere in the fog.  “I suppose not.”

“We surrender.”  Gérard called up.

A series of thumps came from around the deck and the fog rolled away, revealing at least a dozen pegasi and half that many unicorns, all armed and armored, standing on a shattered and lightning-scored deck.  Behind them, a pair of sailors frantically threw water on spreading flames.

“Don’t worry, ma’am,” their captain said to her in Equestrian.  “You’re safe now.”

It took her a moment to realize what he’d said, and another for her to fumble for a reply in the same language.  “I was before.  What...what are you doing here?  When did the war come this far out?”

He stared at her.  “What? The war is over.  The gryphons surrendered three weeks ago.”

Gérard began to laugh, harsh and hoarse and black as night.