Silverwing cursed under her breath at the rotten luck they had. She had awoken early in the winter morning, observing her surroundings of a camp they made the night before. The entire ground had a fresh batch of snow, undisturbed by her sleeping platoon. She breathed outward, her breath visible in the morning air. She closed her eyes and her mind fumed at the past days’ events.
They were prepared to leave right then and there to search for her brother. The request for her orders, however, took longer than expected. Many of the supplies that she needed were being distributed among the populace of Prancy, getting the ponies secured and returning the city back under the militia's control. Mass stocks have been sent out and she had to wait an additional two days before another supply shipment came in. Even then she had to deal with the other regulations, getting permission from the higher ups just to get the necessary supplies.
She also had to account for delays in getting a few more soldiers in her ranks. The Equestrian army and her allies have been spread thin throughout Prance, and many small companies of troops have been separated and moved into different units, causing many delays and wrong orders to be dispatched. She did manage to gather at least ten more royal guards to accompany her on this mission, but getting enough supplies to keep them going was another thing that plagued her mind.
With the winter starting to settle in, the storm was starting to grow stronger over the High Tail Mountains. They had to get a few supply wagons that would support them all, but the snow and the winds were slowing their progress. The addition to the supply wagons and the extra troops slowed their travel, and she calculated that it would take at least four weeks to reach the mountains.
Four long weeks that her brother will have to endure.
It would pain her if he was taken to the griffon borders, or worse, his dead body put on display from a hanging tree. She shuddered at the last thought. She knew the things the griffons would do to their victims; the dead griffon they had left on the hill was evident enough. She could only say a soft prayer to the goddess to keep him safe.
“Captain Silverwing,” Shadow Hunter’s voice came from behind her.
“What is it?” she asked, her ears pointed backwards to hear him.
“There is a visitor here for you.” She turned to see him when she spotted a figure behind the trees. Shadow Hunter stepped aside and allowed the figure to step forward. Silverwing’s eyes widened.
It was a Cervine, a deer folk. The Cervine had a brown coat with white spots around his hooves and green eyes that stood out in the early morning sun. His chest had additional fur around the neck and head, most likely to keep him warm from the winter cold. He had a silver-red armor that covered his lower back and around his barrel. He was at least a foot taller than she was and his long antlers only made him even taller. The Cervine soon stopped several feet in front of her and bowed, his antlers nearly touching the ground.
“Captain Silverwing. I am Captain Strong Oak, Leader of the White Tail Rangers. I’ve come to offer aid in your search for Lieutenant Quicksilver.” He raised himself up as she stared up at him in surprise. She was not expecting to receive aid of any kind, especially on this trip. Hearing this made her smile and she bowed low to the Cervine, as was custom.
“It is an honor to be gifted with such an offer. But I must question as to why? Why are you wanting to offer aid and how did you hear about my brother's disappearance?” she questioned, staring back up at the large Cervine.
“You are a sharp one, Captain Silverwing, just like your brother. It is true, I know of your brother, and I know of his assault on Prancy. He defended against waves of griffons that would break any line and bravely faced them head on. As to how I know him, it is quite simple: He saved me when I was cornered by Diamond Dogs at the battle of the Craig, many moons past. I am indebted to him for risking his life for me.”
Silverwing remembered that battle. The battle took place before the Ghastly Gorge, where an army of Diamond Dogs were on the march to reach the inner lands of Equestria and to plunder as they will. She took place as the rear guard in case any of the Diamond Dogs managed to escape through the main lines. Her brother was fighting near the front, where both Equestrian forces and their Cervine allies fought valiantly together against the Dogs. A small smile crept up her muzzle at the thought.
“It seems that Cervine never forget a debt,” she said, causing Strong Oak to give a small smile.
“Indeed. The Cervine of Whitetail Woods never forget a debt. Our memories are vast and we can remember those who come before, just as the trees are ancient themselves,” he said with some confidence in his voice.
“Well then, if you are willing,” she said as she offered a hoof to him, “then I will humbly accept you into our ranks.” Strong Oak looked down at her hoof and accepted it.
“Then are goals are mutual,” Strong Oak said as he turned and gave a whistle to the woods. A moment passed and Silverwing saw a dozen or more Cervines coming out of their positions. She was surprised that they had been hidden so well. Some were so blended in that they had appeared to be coming out of the trees themselves. The Cervine came in different shapes and sizes, along with an assortment of colors from browns to light orange coats. She counted at least twenty of them as they all gathered around their leader. She saw that they all carried bows and a few carrying short curved swords. She could eagerly await to see them in the battles ahead.
“We are proud to fight alongside you. My band and I will fight with you as if you were our own. May our victories be as glorious as the risen sun in the sky,” Strong Oak said as he gave another bow. She returned his gesture in kind as his band began heading into the camp, where the other guards and militia greeted them.
“You also need not worry about feeding or providing supplies,” he spoke as he moved alongside Silverwing into the camp. “We can easily forage for our supplies and scout the terrain for our daily needs.”
“That is good to hear,” Silverwing said as Strong Oak continued into camp. She stopped and turned to Shadow Hunter, who was trailing behind her.
“We’ll break down camp within the hour. We depart at noon. Relay this to the others.”
“Yes, Captain.” He did a quick bow before heading off into the camp. As the camp became more active, she could only watch at the soldiers that had gathered. With addition to Strong’s band of rangers, her force was now seventy strong, a sizable force that could take on any squad or any platoon of griffons that come before them. She breathed a sigh of relief and hope, a single thought entering her mind.
Hold on just a little longer, Quicksilver. We’re coming.
****
Quicksilver groaned as he stirred from his rest. He shook his head slightly, trying to get awake. He felt hunger in the pit of his stomach, and he wondered how long he had been out. He looked down and saw that the food bowl he had earlier was now gone, with no replacement. He looked around the tent and saw nothing else in particular, other than a bunch of hay in the corner. The room was only about seven feet in length and five feet in height, and it appeared it was still large enough to room at least two ponies. Other than that, there was only him and the blanket he had wrapped over him. Feeling nothing else better to do, he lifted himself up from his position. He wobbled at first and almost lost his balance.
C’mon now. You can do this. You can walk this off, he thought as he moved cautiously. He found his strength returning to his legs as he moved around the tent. The room was spacious enough to make some wide circles around the whole room. When he felt comfortable enough, he went to the entrance flat. He paused for a moment as he felt the cold air around him. Taking a deep breath, he spoke softly to the guard outside.
“Hey, I’m coming out now. I‘m not going to do anything. Just need to stretch my legs.”
He heard no reply.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he pushed back the tent flap and walked outside.
Once outside, he saw that he stood near the edge of the camp. He also saw the dozens of tents positioned within the mountain side. The whole encampment had a number of torches strewn about the cave and a large bonfire was in the center, a large tent standing several paces away from it. He saw a number of gryphons walking about, some still clad in armor while others walked in simple cloaks. A chill ran up his body from the cold and he looked up to the roof, seeing that the storm will still going on high above. He breathed out and he could see his breath in the air. He heard the guard nearby clear his throat and he turned to see the stationed guard.
The gryphon before was clad in silver-plated armor and carried a large spear. The gryphon had a white upper head and purple feathers surrounding his golden eyes. Quicksilver wondered what was different with these gryphons and the other ones he seen. He laid the thought to rest as he tried to take a step forward down the path.
“I’m going for a walk. You’re fine with a prisoner getting a little time to wander around, right?” he said, giving off an unsure smile. The gryphon only stared at him, remaining ever silent. Quicksilver’s smile faded and he decided to move down the path. He heard the gryphon follow him, his armor clacking as it moved down the beaten path. He soon reached the bottom of the small hill and looked about to the other gryphons going about their business. Some were building new tents, relighting fires or being sentries among the camp. Quicksilver kept a sharp eye on them as the gryphons observed the camp. They kept vigil over everything that moved and they were ready to kill if need be. Taking another breath, he began to move around the camp, his silent guard following close behind him.
As he moved through the camp, he kept a watchful eye on the things around him. At the same time, however, he also had many pairs of eyes staring at him. Whenever he turned a corner around a tent or pass by lit torch, he could see the a few gryphons staring at him, their eyes ever fixated on him and wherever he moved. He swallowed the lump in his throat, his mind trying to process the number of times that the gryphons had pulled a blade at him or stared him down like a rabbit among a pack of wolves. He pressed on, keeping his focus on walking.
He soon felt a sudden an urge within him, and he looked around to see if there was a latrine or dug out. He spotted a large hole at least fifty feet away, where a pair of guards were stationed. Thinking it lead to a latrine, he moved forward toward the entrance, only to be stopped short by his guard. The gryphon had placed a wing in front of him, and giving small growl that was low yet audible. Quicksilver took a step back and looked back at the hole.
“I guess that’s not the place to relieve myself?” he asked as the gryphon continued to lock eyes with him. The guard soon grunted and motioned his head in a different direction, taking the lead. He decided to remember that entrance before picking up the pace behind the guard.
He followed the guard for a time before the gryphon stopped at a small section within the cave, which was tall enough for a gryphon to move on in. Quicksilver moved forward a bit and saw that it was nothing more than a hole in the ground and a small bucket of water on the side. He took a whiff and his nose scrunched up from the smell. Wherever this hole lead, he didn’t want to know. He looked back and saw the guard stationed behind him, waiting for him to come out.
Well, I’ve used worse before. At least it’s better than nothing, he thought as he went to do his business.
A couple minutes later, and after washing his hooves in the water, he exited out of the hole and began walking around the camp again, the guard following his movements. It was only expected that the guard would be breathing down his neck, but he had to give it to the gryphons: They were committed to their security. At any given notice, they would swarm an area and defend it to the last gryphon if need be. He would know.
Soon he came to the center of the camp, where the large bonfire continued to rise high into the air. Many gryphons were gathered around it, keeping themselves warm from the frigid air. He also noticed that many were griffons with the brown feathers and a few whitehead gryphons. He could only imagine what clans they were from, or if they were just born that way. He looked about and saw the large tent nearby. As he looked at, it he thought resembled a mess hall. A line of gryphons were eagerly waiting for their food, each one carrying their own plate. Quicksilver took notice at the end that most of the gryphons had a few things of meat and something that appeared to be bread. He heard a few nearby eating away at their meals, stripping away flesh like it was nothing. He felt the urge to lose the soup he had earlier, but he was able to keep it down.
It was now that Quicksilver knew he was not going to be getting any more green meals.
A cool chill crept through the air, and his body shuddered. He may have been a pegasus, used to the cold air in the sky, but this far up in the mountains was a whole new thing. His body shook from the cold temperatures and he moved close to the bonfire, putting his hoofs out to warm himself. The fire was welcoming to him, but he still felt a cold chill hanging in the air.
As he stayed like that, he heard small talk among the other gryphons. Most of what he could hear were talking about him. He heard their disgust, their vile words, and their harsh tone toward him. He ignored them as best he could; he was their prisoner, so they’d have to deal with it.
As he continued to warm himself, he heard a conversation nearby that caught his interest. He turned his gaze slightly to the right, keeping his focus on the fire before him, but keeping his ears fixed on the conversation.
“I’m telling you, it’s getting bad back at Gryphonstone. There is whole mess of things with the other clans. King Bronzeclaw is taking some serious heat from the other leaders,” one of the gryphons spoke, chatting away to his companion.
“You really think that’s possible? I think they're only rumors. Our clans have remained intact for many centuries. There is no way that there can be any fallout from this,” the second gryphon replied. Quicksilver could only strain his ears to listen to this information. The words weren’t a problem, but their different accents were throwing him off.
Are they having an internal rebellion? Quicksilver thought as he continued to concentrate.
“I wonder what Ebon has to say about this or even his uncle. I’m sure he would have a voice in this matter,” the first gryphon said, eating his food while he spoke.
“Shh! Keep your voice down. A lot of gryphons here are not fond of him.”
“C’mon, Talon Wing. The general always has an answer. With what has been happening with the war and back at home, I’m sure he will have some sort of plan for all of us.”
“Yeah, I know that, Sky Rider. But some here have a bit of resentment to him as well. Especially the ones among Colonel Sharp Beak.”
“Ah, let them complain. Those nomads don’t deserve to be here. They have no honor when it comes to fighting.”
As the two continued the conversation, Quicksilver took in every word they shared. It seemed that there was a strained relationship between the Colonel and this supposed General. He also wondered why they mentioned ‘lower’ gryphons. It just didn’t add up to him, and all he could do was wonder what they were saying. He remained where he was, listening to the conversation taking place. All the while, his silent guard remained ever silent. He could imagine the gryphon staring down at him as he listened, scanning for any reason to yell at him. He just hoped that he wasn't forced away; this information was too good to pass up.
“Hey, Sky Rider,” Talon Wing said, his voice now in a low tone. “You heard about the rumors of what’s happening down below the mountain pass?”
“Yeah, I do. There have been reports of known bandits, and experienced mercenaries been disappearing of late. I even heard that one of our patrols had found some dead bodies surrounding the mountain base.”
“You don’t think it's those war bands that…Hey!” The gryphon yelled out and Quicksilver knew the reason. He was staring at the two as they talked and now the two noticed him gawking.
“What are you looking at, ya cheeky feather head!?” Talon Wing screeched.
“Yeah, why don’t you throw yourself in the fire so that we don’t have to look at ya, you plucking cunt!” Sky Rider called out.
Quicksilver’s ears flattened back and instantly stared down at the ground. The Gryphons laughed at him and he heard the two move up from their spot, taking the conversation somewhere else. He sighed inwardly; it was just getting interesting. The rest of the conversations that were taking place increased, and they were all focused on him. The things they said only seemed to worsen.
“New timber coming in!” he heard a voice bark out amongst the gryphons. He didn’t care as he focused on keeping himself warm. He remained where he was, hearing several gryphons move about, most likely getting fire wood for the bonfire.
He then started to hear something. Loud thumps, approaching him.
He listened intently, not moving from his spot, as the loud steps continued to approach him. When he finally turned to see what was making the noise, he looked up.
Very up.
His eyes widened.
It was a large bull-like creature. Its lower body had hair and hooves while the top half had a bare chest, all in a deep blue color. Its shoulders were broad, its arms were long, and its head hunched low with long horns reaching high. The bull creature was standing at least seven, maybe even eight feet tall, almost double his own height in four feet and six inches; which was around normal for a male pegasus stallion. The creature, to his amazement, was carrying a large tree with its bare appendages. The creature carried it like it was nothing and moved past the bonfire to the large tent. As he stared at the bull, he heard more thumping hoofsteps and watched as more of the creatures followed, carrying large stacks of timber and other small trees. They all moved close together, each one varying in height and having a different color on their bodies. He watched as they dropped the timber down like it was nothing and began moving to set up a tent of some sort nearby.
“First time seeing a minotaur, fletching?” a familiar voice spoke to him. He turned to see the hen approaching him. She was carrying what appeared to be some food on a tray, along with a couple bowls of soup that steamed up into the cold air. The longer he stood tall next to her, he saw that she was smaller than what he predicted, but she was still tall by at least a foot. Quicksilver shook his head at her and turned his attention back to the bull creatures. He saw one of them lift a large piece of the timber and stick it straight up while another bull nearby started hammering at the top of it with a large mace.
“These bulls come from a land called Tartarus. They are proud warrior race, and do not back down from a challenge,” she said as she moved to his side, leaning forward towards his ear.
“Don’t stare too long or they may get aggressive,” she half-whispered and he turned to her with wide eyes, his mind trying to process it all. She gave a small smirk and Quicksilver turned back toward the bulls, watching them smash the wood firmly into the solid dirt.
“And when they get angry,” the hen continued, “I’ve seen them pound a pony straight into the ground like a hammer upon a nail.”
Quicksilver slowly turned to her, his face pale, seeing the ever present smirk on her face. He then turned back to the giant minotaurs, whom began lifting a tarp over the pole and making a makeshift tent. He noticed the big blue bull turn, his beady eyes staring down at Quicksilver. The bull gave a loud snort and its face twisted into what appeared to be a scowl. Quicksilver took a nervous step back and turned his head away.
“I think... I want to lie down now,” he said as he headed back to the tent. His guard only chuckled, the first noise he ever made besides grunts, and the hen only laughed as they followed close behind. Quicksilver moved away from the bonfire and the winter air became that much colder, clinging to his body as he moved. He shivered considerably and he tried to imagine the warm heat from the fire, but could only imagine those bulls pounding the wood into the ground.
He shuddered at the thought.
He soon made it to the tent and he quickly went for the blanket. He immediately wrapped it around himself, but to his dismay it was still quite cold. He shivered as the cold blanket remained and he could only hope it would warm him up soon. As he stayed there, the hen entered, still holding the hot food. She placed the bowl onto the ground next to him and took her spot on the opposite side of the tent. She began to eat her own meal, picking at the meat with her talons. Quicksilver eyed the food before him and he started to feel queasy from hearing the sounds. Deciding to eat his food and get it over with, he began to eat the soup within the bowl. It was still warm and he was able to get warmth into his body. As he ate, he heard a chuckle on the other side of the tent.
“Looks like somepony is hungry,” the hen said as she continued to eat at her meal. “You’ll finally get some meat on your skinny bones, fletching.” Quicksilver paused into his soup and stared at the mocking hen.
“I have a name you know. It’s Quicksilver. Lieutenant Quicksilver of the Equestrian Royal Guard.”
“And I’m the princess of Equestria, ruler of poor peasants and whiny nobles,” she taunted, laughing the whole time. He bent his ears back and looked away; he knew that if he started bickering with her, he was only going to get the receiving end of ridicule from her. He kept silent as he continued to drink the rest of the soup down. Once finished, he turned his blanket around him and huddled as close as he could, trying to keep the warmth in.
“Oh? Not going to respond, fletching? Did I speak too harshly about your princess? Or are you prone to being innocent so easily?” she said, her voice low and ever belittling him. He took a slow deep breath and remained where he was.
“You going to say anything at all, fletching?” she asked again, her words more sharp than before. He still continued to ignore her, keeping his focus on the tent wall before him. He heard her place the food down and stand up from her position and he could see her shadow looming over him.
“C’mon, fletching, say something! Get riled up, get angry!” she shouted.
His patience was hanging by a thread. He didn’t want to provoke the gryphon, but he felt the urge to scream right then and there. He bit his lower lip, almost to the point of drawing blood and he remained still. The hen was standing over him now and he could feel her breath on down his back, which chilled him to no end. For a moment, she remained like that, breathing heavily down his neck as he remained frozen. Then she moved back and he breathed out some relief that she would lay off.
He was so wrong.
“I see then. Stay quiet for all I care. You stay silent as you see innocents die before you. Ponies like you don’t have a heart. Am I right, Fletching?”
His patience finally broke and he turned his head, lashing out against the hen.
“Don’t you dare think I’m not compassionate to the innocent! How dare you think that I don’t care for the ponies that are caught in the middle of this damn war! The only ones that don’t have a heart is you bucking clucks! Now leave me be, you bucking griffon!”
The moment he released his verbal assault, he was immediately met with a talon encompassing his face. His head was slammed to the ground and he felt the hen push down on top of him, her claw tightening around his head. She lowered her head to stare at him with piercing eyes. They remained where they were, neither moving nor hardly breathing. He felt one of her sharp talons touch his neck, almost piercing the skin. She lowered her head further and gave a sharp growl.
“That’s the second time you said that word. If you weren't our prisoner, I would have ripped your throat out,” she emphasized, placing her talon into his neck and pressing it firmly onto his muscle. He remained where he was, staying ever frozen and hardly breathing as she continued to push her talon into his neck. He felt that she could draw blood right then and there, but he didn’t show any emotion. He knew if he wavered, she would tear his throat out. They remained like that for a time, the two sides remaining still in a moment that felt like hours. Then she breathed out a sigh and lets go of his head and neck.
“You’ve got guts. I’ll give you that, fletching.” She turned away and sat back at the opposite end of the tent, picking up her meal and stripping away the meat that was left. Quicksilver breathed uneasily as he rubbed a hoof over his neck. He swore he felt her puncture a talon into his skin. He decided to remain silent, believing it would spare him another verbal insult from the hen. He tightened the blanket around himself and prepared himself to sleep.
“Gretchen,” the hen said, making Quicksilver turn to her.
“What?”
“That’s my name. It’s Gretchen. Are you going deaf now, fletching?”” she said as she tore into the last of her meal, before spitting out a bone onto her plate. Quicksilver shook his head and decided to leave it at that. Before he could go to sleep, he noticed her moving the plates off to the side and began nestling into the hay on the other side.
“What are you doing?” he asked, still clinging around the blanket. Gretchen, as she was called, lifted an eyebrow and gave a questioning look.
“I’m going to bed. What do you think I’m doing?”
Quicksilver’s eyes widened and the realization hit him like a ton of bricks.
“This is your tent, isn’t it?”
“So you finally get it, do you, fletching?” Gretchen said, her eyes narrowing in frustration. “It was not my idea to have you be cooped up with me. Believe me, I am just as upset as you over this position.”
Quicksilver backed up a bit, his back almost touching the tent of the wall. He thought he would just be getting his own tent as a prisoner. He did not expect that the hen, which had him by the neck mere moments ago, was going to be watching over him and in this close proximity. Gretchen took notice of this and a wry smile spread across her face.
“Don’t worry. I won’t bite, as long as you stay on your side,” she said with a mischievous, yet sinister grin. Quicksilver’s ears fell back to the side of his head and he quickly turned away, much to her amusement. He rested himself back onto the cool ground and promptly went to sleep. His final thoughts were that of his sister, and he prayed that she would be safe.