Megan Williams of Equestria

by MrNelg

Chapter 1

The sky was growing darker. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Megan Williams looked over the farm with considerable satisfaction, as she idly ran her fingers across the strings of the guitar that rested in her lap. The book she'd been reading at the start of the day, H.G. Wells 'The Time Machine,' lay next to her, its bookmark inviting her to pick up where she'd last left off. She was nearing the end of the book and she thought that the whole story was nothing more than a socialist tract about the divisions between capital and labour. Professor Carlton had given it to her when he'd first arrived on the farm, after telling him that she had a passion for history. Why he thought she'd be interested in a novel about time travel from a love of history, which incidentally had nothing to do with history, was something she didn't, nor care to understand. In her biased opinion, Professor Carlton was a few waves short of a shipwreck. She sighed incredulously. Is that what made people like him geniuses?

Turning away from the book, she looked out over the grassy plains once more. A good hard day's work was spent getting the animals into the barn and battening down the hatches. Taruo the bull had proven mighty stubborn in getting back into the barn. However, Megan proved that she could be even more stubborn than he, and with much effort, she'd gotten him inside, and locked up. Now with all the hard work completed, her parents and siblings could sit back and enjoy the storm that would bring the welcoming rains.

She wore a rust coloured vest over an orange flannel shirt. Her faded light blue jeans had seen better days, along with her dark brown cowboy boots. The wind was beginning to pick up and now played havoc with her long, blond hair. Although tied back in a ponytail with a red bow, it still danced about whenever the wind picked up.

She was twenty-two now and becoming more beautiful by the day. Her mother had questioned her why she hadn't found a nice boy from the town yet, but she had responded that her career was her priority at the moment. She was more interested in pursuing her intention to one day take over the farm from her father, and wasn't interested in a man.

She played no song in particular, just randomly strumming notes, and humming along with the sounds they made. She leaned back further into her chair, rocking it back onto its back legs as she put her feet up on the porch railings for support. She paused for a few seconds, staring out at the encroaching weather, before launching into a song.

“I saw you standing in the middle of the thunder and lightning,” she started singing, her fingers plucking the strings in a soft melody. “I know you're feeling like you just can't win, but you're trying.”

“Megan?” Her mother's voice cut through the air, causing her fingers to slip from their strings. “Are you busy?”

“It's hard to keep on keepin' on, when you're being pushed around,” Megan sang much loudly. The front door opened and her mother came out onto the front porch, a large dark blue cooler bag in her arms.

“I need you to deliver this to your father over by the valley,” she said, her eyes rolling at the choice of lyrics Megan was singing. “I also packed some extra sandwiches for the nice university people, as well. Also, tell your father to use the emergency phone we have in the shed out there. It has an underground line, and I don't want him to use the radio during a storm.” She paused. “Did you get all that.”

Megan abruptly switched songs. “I hear you knocking; but you can't come in,” she sang. “I hear you knocking; go back where you've been.”

Not to be outdone, her mother shoved the cooler into her lap all of a sudden, and started singing herself. “Hit the road Jack, and don't you come back no more, no more, no more, no more!”
Megan grinned, and started playing the song on her guitar. “Whoa Woman; oh woman; don't treat me so mean; you're the meanest old woman that I've ever seen. I guess if you say so; I'm gonna have to pack mah things and go.”

She then placed the guitar down and picking up the cooler bag, rose to her feet, letting the chair plunk back down on all fours. “Don't take too long,” her mother warned, delivering a kiss to her cheek. “I don't want you caught out in this foul weather.”

“I won't, momma,” she said she started down the steps and began jogging towards the shed not too far away from the house. “Just deliver the cooler bag and come straight back.” Her mother nodded approvingly, and Megan waved good-bye, before sprinting towards the shed. Sliding open the large metal doors revealed the inside of the shed, containing the family range rover, pick-up truck, and the three motor-bikes. Normally she would take her horse, TJ on such an adventure, but not this time. Still, she had to leave quickly if she were to take the bike. If TJ knew he was missing out on a ride across the farm, the haughty little stallion would be miffed.

She smiled at that, grabbing the keys off the rack as she hurried over to her personal bike, the battered old blue and white Suzuki Trojan. TJ always seemed more human than most humans she'd met. He was smarter than most people gave him credit for, and Megan found herself trying to placate him almost all of the time, whenever he felt like he was being ignored. Still, Megan loved him. She chuckled at the memory of being a young girl, telling her parents that she wanted a unicorn. TJ was no unicorn, and in spite of his behaviour, he had a special place in her heart. As her mother always told her, after watching him steadfastly refusing to let her younger brother Danny ride him, 'Only you could love that horse.'

Securing the cooler back to the back of the bike, she chuckled to herself as she pulled on her helmet, and tightened the chin strap. She'd have to be quick in leaving, so as not to let TJ discover he'd been hoodwinked. She mounted the bike and started up the engine. After a few sputtering coughs, it roared to life. Megan revved the handle bars, once, twice, and then kicking up the stand, took off out of the shed.

Her vest flapped in the wind as she sped around to the left of the house, and towards the dirt road that lead to the far south of the family farm. As she hit the dirt road, she turned to give a quick glance over her shoulder at the barn, and cursed. TJ was at the barn door, his head looking out; no doubt he'd have heard the sound of the motorbike. He was always getting out of his stall, and to this day, neither Megan nor anyone else in the whole family, had yet to figure out how. His head was cocked on an angle and looking in her direction, and was it her imagination or had his eyes been narrowed? Almost as if he were saying, 'Where do you think you're going without me?'

She sighed as she turned back to the road. He'd be giving her the cold shoulder when she'd come to see him next. The old Trojan wasn't just battered from the numerous times she'd stacked it during her more rambunctious days. One day, while she'd been washing the bike, she accidently forgot to put it away in the shed. TJ, who'd been wandering around the house, saw it and immediately kicked it over. He hated the bike. At first, the family thought he hated the noise it made, but it clearly became evident that he was jealous of Megan riding it, instead of him.
Her long ponytail fluttered out behind her as she crouched down, and put on a little more speed. Subconsciously, she reached back behind her with one hand to confirm that, yes, the cooler bag was still there.

Further up ahead, the road branched off, and she took the shortcut to the valley: the old hiking trail through the forest. The forest grew thick around her, as she rode on, turning sharp corners, and nearly losing control. Tree branches scraped at her ribbon and vest, threatening to tear them off.

Then, with a burst of light, she broke out of the entangled forest and shot out into an open grassy plain. All around her, the tall grass swayed and bent, in some arcane dance that looked just as eerie as the strange blue lightning that crackled in the dark black storm clouds high above. She frowned at the sight of that. She hadn't seen that from the porch.

So this is why the university team wanted to set up shop on her family farm. A few days ago, some University Professor had rang up, requesting permission to bring his class out onto the farm to record and catalogue a series of strange weather phenomenon that had been witnessed across the state.

Her father had naturally agreed, but also tagged along, just to make sure that whatever was going on up in the clouds, it wouldn’t be harmful to the farm. Sadly, the family insurance plan didn't cover strange lighting storms. She found herself petting the iPhone in her left breast pocket. Hopefully, that lightning wouldn't affect that. She'd hate to have it fried. She'd already had to replace one damaged phone, and she couldn't afford to replace another. Her fingers tightened on the handlebars as she increased her speed. She had a sudden urge to get back home ASAP.
Cresting a hill, she had to slow down, as the bike began to weave its way down a set of winding narrow tracks with tight turns. However, it wasn't long before she spotted the familiar outlines of the storage shed poking above the tree tops.

Passing over the ever faithful wooden bridge, she rounded a corner and spotted the university team. There bright orange tents stood out against the dark green on the grass and bushes. Her father was instantaneously recognisable by the way he dressed. He was standing next to a much younger man with short red hair and a goatee, wearing khaki shorts that had once been long pants, mud covered hiking-boots and a light blue T-shirt with a picture of all four Ghostbusters, their backs to the viewers as they stood before urinals. The legend underneath read, “Don't Cross the Streams.” She recognised him as the University Professor.

She chuckled as she brought the bike to a halt. Both men turned around to see her cut the engine and kick down the stand. “Hey Megan,” her father greeted her with a concerned look upon his features. “What are you doing out here?”

“Mom,” she answered, unstrapping the cooler bag from the Suzuki's back. She carried the bag over to her dad and handed it over. “She also wanted me to tell you to use the shed phone, not the radio.” Her father casually looked over his shoulder at the shed, before turning back to give the antennae on his Ute a worrisome glance. He clicked his tongue against his teeth in thought before turning back to his daughter.

“Mmmm,” he said as he opened the bag. “What has your lovely mother made me?”

“She says that there are some sandwiches in there for the others,” Megan answered, removing her helmet. “So don't eat it all.” Her father returned the jibe with a mock hurt expression. She returned it with a half smile, before turning to the man beside her father. “Hello Professor Carlton.”

Professor Edward Carlton smiled back. “Megan,” he answered. “Are you going to stay and watch the show?” He turned to glance up at the ever darkening sky, which was occasionally broken by the flashes of blue lightning. “Our instruments tell me we're in for a once in a lifetime display.” He turned back to hear her response.

“Sorry,” Megan replied with a shake of her head, “But Mom wants me to head home right after I delivered your food, and told Dad to use the emergency phone.” She gave a half-hearted shrug and repeated, “Sorry.”

“Your loss,” he answered. He opened his mouth to say something else when an almighty flash light up the sky, flowed just as quickly by a clap of thunder that made a few students jump. His words were lost to the sound. He cut himself off, not bothering to finish, nor clarify what he'd been saying, and turned to look back up at the sky. “Did somebody get that?” he cried out. “Please somebody tell...”

“Here!” a female voice called out. Professor Carlton quickly vanished.

Megan turned to her father who was frowning up at the sky. “Dad?” she said, drawing his attention back to her. “I'm going to head back now, take care.” He nodded.

“You too,” he replied, before turning his worried eyes back to the skies. Megan smiled as she put her helmet back on. Her Dad wasn't going to sweat over her safety. He knew that she was more than capable of looking after herself. He wouldn't have to worry about his daughter going home in this mess of a weather system. No, he was worried about what this mess of a weather system would do to his farm.

That's what Megan loved about him. Granddad had always insisted that her younger brother, Danny should inherit the farm. However, her brother had been more interested in sports rather than agriculture. Although he'd never outright said it, he was disproving of Megan following in her father's footsteps. Her father had wanted his kids to do whatever they wanted, and always encouraged them to explore the things that interested them.

He knew that he could trust her to do the right thing, and she loved him dearly for it.
She swung her leg over the Suzuki and started the engine. She didn't bother with any theatrics and instead took off back towards the farmhouse. Thunder rumbled ominously behind her as she sped down the dirt track. As she worked her way back up the winding road, she couldn't help but glance back at the clouds.

They were now situated directly above her, covering the whole sky and blocking out the sun. She nervously glanced back to where her father was and whispered a silent prey. “Stay safe Dad,” she muttered, as she exited the forest and onto the grassy plains.

High above her, the clouds shone down with an eerie glow, making the grass seem to shine with a light of its own. Lighting lit up the night sky, and the thunderclap that followed made Megan jump, and she nearly lost control of the Suzuki. She eased back on the accelerator a fraction, just as the motorbike careened over a slightly raised section of the dirt road, sending the vehicle into the air for a split second, before bouncing back down on the road with a shuddering jolt.

In order to calm her nerves, Megan started doing what she used to do as a little girl. She started to sing. Well, just mumble the words. “Can you handle the curves? Can you run all the lights? If you can, baby boy, then we can go all night,” she muttered through clenched teeth. “'Cause it's zero to sixty in three point five, Baby, you got the keys... Now shut up and drive, drive, drive, Shut up and drive, drive, drive.”

As she neared the forest and the narrow hiker's trail, she flicked the switch that activated the bike's headlamp, just as she plunged into the thick green foliage. The trees grew thick around her, somehow more than before. Megan was forced to slow down as branches and leaves were now scraping her limbs, and slapping her helmet.

She began to notice that the forest was getting darker. All sounds seemed to diminish, as it someone was slowly turning down the volume. Her bike also seemed to be moving faster. She knew it wasn't possible, but it felt like she was speeding up. She eased back on the throttle again, but she still felt like she was gaining speed.

All around her, whatever natural light there was appeared to be fading. Daring to take quick glances off the road before her, she saw that she couldn't make out the trees or the bushes. Everything seemed to be pitch-black, interrupted with shades of blue, grey.

All of a sudden, the foliage exploded into empty air as she exited the trail. Megan let out a scream of surprise as she saw that she was right in the path of a gigantic tree. She pulled hard left, and zoomed around it. Only to find herself speeding right into another. She pulled hard right, and just managed to miss it, the back tyre clipping against a root causing the whole rear of the Suzuki to jump.

As the rear tyre returned to earth, it landed in, something, she couldn't tell what, but it caused the back to spin out. Megan swung the handlebars in a desperate attempt to keep the bike stable. It worked.

For about one second.

The rear swung back the other way, and with a flash of horror, Megan realised she couldn't stop it. The back tyre swung outwards all the way until it connected with something hard, and Megan was catapulted into the air. She pinwheeled until she felt the soft grass hit her right side.

Megan rolled and rolled, until she felt her body slow down and cease its movement altogether. For what felt like minutes, she lay there, looking up at the sky above. The sky was blocked out by the forest canopy high above. Sighing heavily, she gingerly tested her limbs. Although there was pain, nothing felt like it was broken. She groggily sat up, and slowly removed her helmet, before looking around.

There were trees all around her. This made her frown. Where was the road? She should have exited the hiking trail and come out onto the dirt track. But it was nowhere to be seen. Where was it? She steadily rose to her feet and looked around. Lightning flashed high above, casting a strobe effect down through the tree canopy. Trees were everywhere. Bushes grew in clumps, but no road.

Scanning the ground, she located a dim light, shining from the grass. Her bike. Her legs felt bruised and she managed a hobble of sorts. High above, lightning flashed down through the canopy, drawing Megan's attention skyward.

She saw a dark, bird shaped blur shoot across. She paused, looking in the direction it had gone, but saw nothing. Cautiously, she continued back to her bike. She spun at the sound of fluttering wings. That sounded awfully close. Looking high above, she spotted nothing.

Turning back, she started towards the bike, but instantaneously froze. Something was standing before her bike. It had four legs, a bulky frame and large. Her eyes narrowed. A wolf. Damn. If only she had a weapon of sorts. Slowly, her hand reached towards her breast pocket. Maybe if she played some loud music from her phone, that would scare the…

Her whole body tensed as its head shot up and looked in her direction. Its glowing eyes chilled her to the bone, but Megan refused to give into panic. All she had to do was keep calm, and she'd be okay.

What happened next caught her completely off guard. The wolf raised its head up, and spread its wings. Megan couldn't help it and gave a short gasp. The head tilted slightly. Then, the forest was lit up as lightning flashed down through the trees.

It wasn't a wolf.

It was a griffin. Megan found her limbs wouldn't even move. She'd been prepared for anything but this. A real live griffin. No joke, it had a lion's body, with the head, wings and forelegs of an eagle. Oh, but that wasn't the only thing that was odd about it. Around its breast area, and long its upper torso, it wore some kind of leather armour. The only comforting bit of information was that it wasn't as big as she thought it might be, coming up only to her waist in height.

Its head jerked back slightly as it got a good look at her. Surprise so caught her that she didn't notice when the helmet slipped from her fingers to hit the ground. The griffin seemed caught off guard by this and raised one of its forepaws. Megan barely had time to notice there was something bulky around its wrist, before it gave the said appendage a quick flick, and there was a metallic clicking sound, accompanied by sliding metal.

Now, Megan saw two metal prongs projecting from griffin's paw. Her eyes went wide in terror. Although Megan had been a strong girl, she was used to dangers. Natural disasters, Wolves, muggers armed with knives, hell even guns. What life had not prepared her for was facing down griffins with predator claws. She gave a startled cry and fled.

Megan ran. She had no idea where too, but she just had to get away from that griffin. She cursed herself under her breath for running. Everyone knew, when facing wild, possibly dangerous animals, never run. Back away slowly. However, coming face to face with an amour wearing griffin with metal claws would cause anyone to panic, and as the boys in Vietnam used to say, 'When you're up to your ass in alligators, it's difficult to remember that you were supposed to drain the swamp.'

Something stung her at the back of the neck, and her hand went to her neck. Something small and hard was lodged there, and she dared a quick look back over her shoulder. She did a double take, the thing in her neck forgotten. She saw not only the griffin, still standing by her bike, watching her as she fled, but next to it, stood two more griffins; both almost seemed to be as weary of her as she of them. One of the griffins was holding a long pipe, which it was in the process of lowering from its beak. She frowned at this. Why would they do that? Unfortunately, Megan forgot another important rule. When running away from danger, always keep an eye on where you're going.

She cried out as her foot snagged on a root of one of the trees and started falling down a hill. She bounced and rolled down, sending leaves, rocks and sticks flying everywhere. It wasn't long before she stopped, bouncing off a big boulder in a clearing of some sort before she fell to the ground with an audible thud that seemed to echo all around. She got up a bit dizzy from the tumble, rubbing her head where she hit a large rock. “Ouch,” she groaned through gritted teeth.

After her head felt better she carefully sat down against the bolder and tested her limbs, thankfully, nothing was broken. But as she lay back, the bolder shook rapidly. Megan leapt to her feet, alert and ready for whatever she may have to encounter. Had the griffin followed her? What she saw was the last thing she was prepared for. A long serpent neck slides out from the unravelling ball that was the boulder? No, it wasn't a bolder, it was a Dragon.

A freak'n dragon.

It'd been curled up and sleeping, well 'was' sleeping. Megan just stood there, her jaw hanging loose as though every tendon had been cut, looking up at the towering figure above her. Standing before her, the Dragon stretched its giant body and flapped its wing briefly. The dragon before her had to be at least 50 feet tall, and she could not even guess how long he was with that tail coming out of his rear. He had eyes resembling any reptiles, and a medium sized snout. His hide was a dark red colour, and his underbelly was a bright yellow... just as she imagined a Dragon would look. It shook its great head and stared down at Megan. It was deathly still for solid half minute.

Megan didn't know what to make of it. First the griffin, now this dragon. For a time, both just looked the other over in curiosity. It was apparent to Megan that neither dragon nor the griffin had ever seen a human before, which caused the young woman to lose some of her fear. Megan didn't know what to make of it. How could they not know anything about humans? There were over six billion of them. The look in the dragon's eyes was undeniably human, and inexplicably cautious. As if the giant reptile was expecting Megan to suddenly shoot laser beams from her eyes.

The thought of that made her giggle slightly, and at the sound of her voice, the head jerked back a fraction. At this, Megan smiled. It was weary of her. Before this day, the largest reptile she had ever seen was a lizard the size of her finger crawling up her bedroom wall. It was a different experience for her to be the tiny one. It was also another experience to be smaller than a creature that could gobble you up in one bite, but know that it was treating you like a poisonous enemy.

She was about to slowly back away, when the Dragon lowered its head toward her and sniffed. Megan took a big step back, not exactly afraid of the Dragon, but still being very cautious. She knew she could not run. The monster looked like it could catch her even if she had a mile head start. And hiding was now out of the question, since she was the focus of its full attention with no possible hiding places close by.

Megan wasn't sure what to do, but it was immediately clear to her any sudden movement on her behalf could antagonise the dragon. Slowly, she took a step back. Then another. The dragon's head inched forward, keeping a fair distance away, but close enough to keep smelling her. All of a sudden, the beast licked its lips just two feet away from her face.

Megan froze.

Her whole body went stiff with fear. Slowly, the dragon rose, towering high above her. Megan wanted to scream. To run, but her body just wouldn't obey. The Dragon reached out with its left front foreleg and grabbed at her without warning, effortlessly lifting her off the ground. It was as though she were nothing but a doll to the great beast.

Now she screamed.

She struggled in its grasp, but it was like trying to pry apart a vice. The dragon continued to rise, sitting back on its haunches. It raised Megan upwards, and in sync with this movement, its great head lowered towards her. The dragon's mouth was wide open and thick streams of drool were oozing downward from almost every spot and angle. A horribly hot air blew past her from the back of the dragon's mouth, and she was frozen in absolute terror.

Megan's screaming cut off in a petrified squeak as the jaws closed around her upper torso. To both her surprise and relief, she didn't feel the teeth penetrate her flesh. No, it was as if they were only holding her in place. She felt the clawed hand that gripped her release, allowing her legs to kick freely at the open air.

She felt the dragon's muzzle rise, then tilt backwards. She was now looking down into its throat. The tongue was a darker pink and everything looked as soft as Jell-O and even slimier than she imagined it would be. Surrounding her on either side where the razor sharp teeth, and in the back, beyond the tongue, lay a dark, almost red throat that constantly pulsed with movement. Megan felt tears streaming down her face. She couldn't believe what was happening. She was about to be eaten by a dragon. A creature of myth. She felt the dragon gave its head a quick flick, and she was tossed completely into its mouth.

Megan screamed again in terror, only to be cut off as the world around her violently jerked sideways. She had no idea what was going on. One second she was in the dragon's mouth. The next, she was cart wheeling through the air.

She hit the ground, hard. Before she could even contemplate what had just happened, something crashed down dangerously close to her. Turning her head towards the source of the commotion, she saw the dragon, lying on its side, a spear jutting from one of its eyes. Her thoughts were jumbled. What...?

A loud banshee like shriek pierced the air, and she looked up, just in time to see a griffin dive bomb the dragon. It shot past the beast's neck, and Megan just managed to glimpse a flash of metal, before blood showered everywhere. Including over her. Megan quickly scrambled away as the dragon writhed and thrashed, its bellows clearly telling of its agony.

She turned to the sky as more cries filled the air. There must have been twenty griffins. All of them armed with weapons of some kinds. She saw spears, longbows, crossbows, battle axes, gladius swords, katar daggers, slings, and even one was sporting a horseman's pick. With a battle cry, the group split in two and dived on the dragon from both sides, while those with projectile weapons started firing them at the dragon's one remaining eye.

The dragon never stood a chance. It was too busy trying to stem the bleeding from its neck, and too busy fending off the arrows and rocks directed at its eyes to properly defend itself. The griffins with hand weapons landed on both sides of its wings and tore into it. The dragon screamed and rolled over. The griffins on the right side instantly shot up, but one wasn't fast enough and was crushed without a sound.

Still rolling with the momentum, the Dragon lifted its snout high and opening its mighty jaws, spat out a jet of flame at the griffins shooting at its good eye. The sky griffins scattered, but not before two of their number tumbled from the sky, nothing more than fire balls. However, it had made a mistake. The dragon wasn't capable of tackling multiple attacks at once, and rolling over, had left its belly exposed. The group that had evacuated its position then dived on the now exposed underbelly. The dragon's body hid what happened there, as all that could be heard was the sound of flesh tearing, and the Dragon's screams echoed all around, causing Megan to clamp her hands over her ears.

It was then, that Megan realised something she should've realised earlier. She could escape. Without a moment's hesitation, she was up and sprinting across the clearing. Ahead of her, lay the rest of the forest. Trees clumped tightly together and bushes obscuring the ground. That's exactly where Megan wanted to be.

She cleared the distance between the battle and the foliage in the time an Olympic sprinter might have envied. Not even looking to see what was ahead of her, she dove head first into the bushes and rolled into a supine position. Listening to the sounds around her, she could still make out the battle between the griffins and the dragon. Only now, the dragon's cries sounded weaker. The important fact she discovered, and what she had hoped for, was that no one was coming after her.

Blinking once, she rose to her feet and took off into the trees. She could hear the sounds of battle behind her, but none of those sounds followed her. No arrows whizzed past her head. No beating of wings, feathery or -- thank Christ -- leathery, perused her. The branches and leaves scrapped at her arms and face, they tore at her clothing, slowing her down, but she kept on running.
The commotions behind her faded into the ambient noises of the forest around her. Only then did she slow her pace from a mad dash to a brisk jog. Finally, she stopped, as she leaned against a tree to catch her breath. The back of her neck was aching.

“What... In the name of Zeus’s Butt-hole... was all that!?” No one answered her.

She looked around. She was now in a more sparsely populated area of the forest. Looking up, she could see the sky. Dark black clouds blotted out the night sky, broken by the constant flashes of lightning from within. She rested her back against the tree and slid down into a seated position. Where the hell was she!? Looking around at the forest, she couldn't help wonder what part of the farm was this? She paused. More importantly, where the hell did those griffins and that dragon come from? She abruptly sat up in shock.

“Dad!” She was now on her feet, looking around frantically. Her hand was fishing the iPhone from her pocket. She could call home, and get Mom to call Dad and…

No signal.

She let loose an almighty profanity. She lifted her phone as high as she could. Still nothing. Swearing again, she deposited it back into her pocket, and began looking around. Off to her right, the tree's began to disperse. Perhaps in that direction, the forest ended, and she could get a clear signal. She started jogging, ignoring the spreading pain from her neck. She'd have to be quick. If there were suddenly dragons and griffins about, who knew what else lurked out there now.

As she hurried along, she kept glancing up at the sky. The lightning crackled and flashed, accompanied by the rumble of thunder. Was this what that weird weather had done? Brought dragons and griffins into the world? Her eyebrow went up in thought. Maybe if they caught one, they could be rich.

No way was she going to do that. Griffins travelled in packs, and dragons were too dangerous for her to tackle by herself. Besides, those griffins had technically saved her life. She subconsciously yawned, and began to slow her pace. Boy, was she tired all of a sudden! Her jogging became a slow trot.

Why was she so tired all of a sudden? She stopped jogging and glided over to a nearby tree, resting her back against it. But she couldn't sleep. She had to call Mom. She had to warn Dad. Why did her neck hurt so much?

Finally, she raised a hand, rubbed at the back of her neck, and she felt something. A small stick stuck back there. Pulling at it, her hand came back with a small feathered dart clasped in her fingers. Scenes she'd remembered came back to her. Briefly.

The rest of her thoughts were incoherent as she faded off into a deep sleep.

***

Megan's eyes snapped open. Daylight was streaming down through the trees. She groggily yawned, as she rubbed the back of her neck. She had slept the night away in a forest? Why? What was she doing out here? Just then, like releasing the floodgates, the events of yesterday came rushing back to her. She gasped, and quickly shot to her feet.

The storm. The griffins. The dragon. The battle.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. She whipped out her phone. Still no reception. Looking around, she wondered where on earth she was. Was she still on her property? Was she on someone else's? She had never been to this part of the farm before? Come to think about it, she did not even know if there was anything like this area around.

She started walking in a direction away from the area where she had encountered the dragon. Damn, her limbs were stiff. After a few disjointed movements, she managed to cease her deranged puppet imitation and started a brisk pace.

Then she stopped as other events from last night caught up with her. The dart. She had been shot by one of the griffins. The dart had drugged her. She looked back over to the tree she had been sleeping against. It had been late afternoon when she had gone to visit Dad and the University Team. Looking up at the sunny sky, it looked to be about mid-morning.

Wow, what the hell was in that dart? However, that thought were pushed from her mind, as looking up at the sky more closely, she realised it was completely different from what she was used to. The clouds were heavy, bunched together and had a battleship grey colour. The sky reminded her of her last trip to Scotland.

As she placed a hand on her chin in thought, she felt a dried, almost sticky substance coating her face. Looking down at herself, she was covered in dried blood, which was now peeling off. Also, some unknown film-like substance that stank when she got a good whiff of it.

“Oh, good lord,” she muttered, scrunching up her nose in disgust. She cupped a hand to her ear and listened carefully. Birds chirped, leaves rustled in the breeze. “Ahh!” Not far off to the left, she could make out a distant gurgling sound. “Bing-Go.” She started off in the direction of the sounds.

As she approached the sounds, the forest began to grow thicker around her. The plants and bushes were dense on all sides, some of the leaves were still slick from dew. Megan pushed forward, shoving branches and leaves aside as she attempted to see what little she could make out in front of her. The gurgling sounds were growing louder, more distinct now.

Finally, her arm pushed through the foliage and into empty air. She pulled aside the leaves and stepped out of the forest and immediately felt her boots sink into the soft earth. She blinked a few times at the sudden rush of light and saw the sparkling blue currents of a river, barely ten feet wide.

The way the sunlight sparkled off the water just invited her to jump right in. Slowly, she eased herself down the embankment, taking care not to slip. Finally, she reached the water's edge, and crouching down, dipped her hand into the clear blue water. It was cool, but not cold. Looking up, some sun was making its way through the clouds and was warming the water. Turning her head to look up stream, she saw that the river seemed to be flowing down from up high. Maybe from some nearby hill.

Smiling, she reached up and removed her phone, setting it down on a rock, then pulling off her boots and removing the ribbon from her hair, she placed them down next to the phone, before wading into the cool water, till she was up to her knees. She paused, and then dived head first in. All sounds ceased as she was immersed under the cool blue water. She swam along the rocky, muddy bottom of the river, before kicking to the surface. She burst forth with a spray of water and flicked her hair back.

She drew her fingers through her hair, pulling it back from her face. Her clothes were thoroughly soaked now. Slipping slightly beneath the water, she began to remove her vest, then her shirt, finally her jeans. She then dunked them under the water and began scrubbing vigorously with her fingers, trying to get the blood and dried dragon spit off them. After a good eleven minutes of dunking and soaking, and scrubbing, she got a good chunk of the mess off her clothes. She swam back to her other stuff, and after wringing her clothes, she placed them on another rock, one that was strategically positioned under the rays of the sun. Flattening them out so that they would dry quicker, she guiltily looked around before removing her bra and underwear. She placed them next to her clothes, before heading back into the river.

Diving back in, she paddled out to the middle of the river before treading water and looking upstream. She gave a sad sigh. Should she really be doing this? Here she was, having a bath while there were griffins, who had drugged her, and dragons, who had tried to eat her, on the loose? Her family had to be warned. Hell, the National Guard had to be warned. She scowled. Then again, what could she do? She had no idea where she was she was out of communication range, and her only method of transportation was in a direction she had no intention of going in. She punched at the water in frustration.

“Come on, Megan,” she muttered. “You're a smart girl. Think!” She weighed her options. She could not go back the way she had come. But where could she go?

Go. Her eyes went wide as she looked down at herself. Or rather, at the surface of the river. The water was flowing down on a slope. She let her gaze travelled downstream. If she followed the river, maybe should could find some sign of civilisation and a way of communication. He gaze travelled back up stream. Then again, if she followed the river upstream, she could find the source of the river, which no doubt was coming from a hill. A hill meant some place high. Some place high meant she could get a bird's eye view of the surrounding area and find out where she was. That could give phone connection.

Excellent. Now she had two plans of attack. The only problem was which one to go on? She looked downstream and then upstream. Finally, she nodded. “Up stream,” she cried, pointing in that direction.

There was a griffin, sitting on one of the rocks further upstream calmly watching her. Megan's eyes went wide. Where the dickens did that come from? Slowly, she lowered her arm back into the water. The griffin was just sitting there, much like a dog, calmly watching her. “Change of plans,” she muttered, slowly backing away and towards her belongings. “Downstream.”

As she edged closer to the river bank, she took in the griffin watching her. It was rather majestic in the daylight, and she could make out its leather armour more clearly. It was highly embroidered with arcane symbols that looked like hieroglyphs. Its armour looked scratched and dented, and appeared to be stained with a dark paint that looked like it might have been red once. Around both its wrists were some kind of bulky looking gloves with a metal glint…

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. No. Freak'n. Way.

There was a rustling to her immediate left. She turned, just in time to see what looked like a spiders web fly right at her. Something with a rope-like feel to it hit her in the face and forced her back into the water with a surprised cry. More splashes sounded from both in front and behind her. She turned to see a giant eagle face snap at her. She screamed and staggered backwards, only to trip up in the rope net that entangled her and splash down into the river.

Once again, sounds were muted as she plunged beneath the surface of the river. She struggled in fright and thrashed about, trying to get the next off her. The more she struggled, the more it seemed to constrict around her. All of a sudden she was being pulled along the river bed, her head bounced and scraped along the muddy, rocky bottom. She momentarily ceased her struggling as a particular hard rock smack against her head.

Then she was on dry land. Loud incomprehensible and highly agitated squawking sounds filled the air as finger like claws grasped at her naked skin. She gasped in pain as one set scrapped along her back, and she kicked out in that direction. “Back off, you friggin chickens!” she shouted with all the authority she could muster. Her foot struck something fleshy, and there was a different squawking sound.

She cried out in pain as something heavy, with a wooden feel to it, slammed down on her attacking limb. More clawed hands were grasping at her now. She tried to strike her opponents again, but found the ropes pulling tighter around her. “No,” Megan cried out. “Let me go! Let me go!”

Then, just as quickly as it began, it all stopped. The claws were gone. Megan struggled once more, but her movements were restricted. The rope net was tight around her. She could move, but not by much. She paused in her thrashing so she could observe her surroundings. Five griffins were looming over her their looks were mixed. Curiosity, fear, disgust, wonder. Another griffin pushed its way through the crowd and glared down at her with an unreadable expression.

Megan returned the same stoic gaze. “Why are you doing this to me?” she snarled at it. The griffin cocked its head in thought, then turned as one of the other griffins began squawking at him in a concerned tone. The griffin scratched at his beak tip and then snapped something out loud.

One of the griffins, she could not see who, gave the lead griffin, she guessed he was the leader, a small oval shaped box with two open sides, revealing some sort of gemstone at its centre. It then aimed the device at her. Megan frowned. What the hell was that? The other griffins seemed to take an interest in what the device was doing. Nothing happened. The griffin then pointed it at the griffin next to him, and Megan saw a slight glow, coming from the gemstone. The leader pointed it back at Megan, and the glow vanished.

The leader withdrew the device and snapped out what had to be an order. The other griffins all reached for her. Megan braced herself, but was surprised when their claws all grabbed the ropes and not her. Then, they beat their wings and launched into the sky.

Megan gave a startled cry as she felt her whole body rise with the griffins. She curled in on herself as she rose higher and higher. First she could see the river below her, and then the tree tops. Looking down stream, she could see that she was in a valley of some kind. She could also see that they were flying upstream. Turning to look up stream, she gaped in shock.

Good God in the foothills. Mountains! They were flying towards mountains. Towering, snow capped dark grey mountains. Megan was unable to utter a single syllable. There were no mountains on, nor within the general vicinity of her farm. Where the devil was she? She could not have gone that far. Her mind flipped back to the storm, with the blue lighting.

No. There's no way it could have…

A cold wind blasted her, causing her to shiver violently. Good grief, how high up were they going? Although she could not see much except the forest canopy below her, she could hear n the distance sounds of thunder. As they flew further on, she began to realise that what she was hearing was the distant sound of a roaring waterfall. She craned her neck to try and get some kind of idea where they were going and saw that they had reached a mountain whose height vanished up into the grey mists of the clouds. Looking up at it gave Megan a bad case of vertigo.

A great waterfall streamed down from somewhere up in the clouds, in an endless cascade of water. Then she frowned. She could make out some kind of growth, or obstruction on and around the waterfall. As they drew closer, she saw that the growth was actually a village of sorts, built into and up the rocky slope of the mountain. Houses jutted out, connected with a web of rope bridges and platforms. Two water wheels had been constructed into the waterfall and were constantly turning their purpose unknown.

Here and there, griffins glided to and fro on their wings. Megan watched as one griffin banked hard towards a large semi-circle wooden platform and landed with practised ease. It then folded its wings up against its side as the landing morphed right into a trot. She noticed that none of the griffins seemed to be using the rope-bridge walkways that connected the houses together. Although a few did, most just simply flew. The houses themselves reminded her of bird houses, with platforms instead of perches. Some were small, and others quite large, with large doorways and platforms. Most likely the griffin equivalent of a building. In spite of the whole village's cobbled look, the houses were well made and looked quite sturdy.

Megan just stared at it in shock. There was no way, no way in hell that something like this could have snuck in under the radar of human society. This griffin village was just way too complex to be some kind of hidden elf village. She just stared blankly ahead, unable to make a sound as they drew closer. The puzzle pieces were all there, but she just couldn't, no, didn't want to put them together. The griffins. The dragon. No phone reception. The different terrain.

She wasn't on Earth anymore.

It was a titanic effort to hold back the tears, but she managed, though her bottom lip did tremble slightly with fear. If she wasn't on earth, then where was she? Another planet? Another reality? Her thoughts were derailed as the group flew lower, leaving the village behind. The base of the mountain wasn't too far below, and at the bottom, she could make out a set of wide, wooden stairs that connected the ground to the rest of the village, proceeding up the mountain in a zigzag pattern. At the base were a number of tents and... Megan's eyes went wider still.

The dragon. That damn dragon who tried to eat her the other day. It had been gutted and was half de-scaled revealing bone and muscle underneath. Its head was missing, along with all four of its clawed hands and feet. The wings had been removed and were spread out on the ground, along with all the spikes that had once dotted its spine. Looking at its dead body, Megan could not help but pity it. Yes, it had tried to eat her, but for some reason, she felt sad seeing its carcase dismembered like that.

With the fear and sadness of no longer being on earth all but forgotten, she noticed a number of some things, crawling all over the dragon. As they drew closer, she saw that they were griffins, swarming all around the dead dragon as the group she was with landed. She gave a cry as they set her down on the wet grass. The leader cried out, and the meanest looking griffin she had ever seen trotted up to them. One eye was covered over with a black eye patch, and that side of its face was heavily scarred. It wore a butcher's apron that had once been white, but was now a brownish colour.

It looked at Megan, and then pointed at her, granting her the sight of a mangled hand that was missing one claw. Its squawking sounded half strangled. The leader looked back at Megan, before pulling out that strange device with the gemstone in it. It pointed it at Megan, and just like before, nothing happened. The griffin with the eye patch frowned with its one good eye as the leader clucked and squawked at him.

The eye patch griffin gave a guttural sound and jab a mangled thumb behind him. Megan then found herself dragged over the grass. She cried out as the wet ground chilled her exposed skin. By now, a crowd had gathered to watch as she was pulled along. Some wore armour and sported weapons while a sparse few wore bloodied aprons. As the grass gave way to rocky ground, she saw slabs of meat were lying on the ground. So that's what they were doing with the dragon. A few griffins who were handling the meat all stopped what they were doing to stare at her. Until a griffin began screaming at them, and they quickly got back to work, hauling the meat off to a large circus tent.

As she was dragged towards the tent, fear began to spread throughout Megan's body. Were they going to eat her? Had she been spared from being eaten by a dragon, only to be eaten by griffins? Her fear drained away as they dragged her past it towards a series of smaller tents. The lead griffin walked up and pulled the flap aside, gesturing the others forward. They dragged her inside, and with a sigh of relief, Megan realised that it was warmer in here.

Not by much though. She was still cold without her clothes, and although the tent kept out most of the cold, it was not enough. Looking around, she saw that this tent contained a number of cages. A great big wild boar dominated her view. It was lying down on its side. It raised its head slightly at the intrusion, snorted once, and lay back down again. The griffins dragged her towards one of the cages.

“Hey, no, no!” she yelled, and started struggling. The griffins tightened their grip and continued towards the cage. One of them opened the door, and she was lifted off the ground. She tried kicking and punching out, but the next restricted her attempts to retaliate. They carried her the rest of the way and dumped her inside. The bottom of the cage was covered in straw. She hit the ground and rolled a few times, before coming to a stop in an undignified tangle of limbs.

As she blinked the world back into focus, she heard the metallic clank of the door slamming shut. She turned around just in time to see the lead griffin putting a heavy lock on the cage door. With a snarl, she lunged at it. The griffin backed away just in time to avoid her clasping hands. “Let me outta here!” she snarled, and then gave the iron bars a hefty shake for good measure. “Let me out, you mythological freak!”

The griffin snarled something at her. Megan snarled back. The griffin raised its fore paw, showing off its bulky glove. It gave a flick of its wrist and two metal prongs, six inches long, slid out. Megan backed off, just in time as the griffin struck the bars with the weapon, showering her with sparks. Slowly, she inched away from it, into the centre of the cage, where she sat down. “Please, let me out,” she stammered. It eyed her warily as she curled up, and started rubbing her hands up and down her arms as the chill began to finally make its presence felt.

She shivered as she lay down, attempting to bury herself in the straw that covered the cage bottom. She looked up as a questioning noise came from the leader. It was giving her a look that strangely looked like concern. Or was it curiosity? Whatever the look was, it made the griffin snarl out something which caused a griffin, who was hanging by the tent entrance, to leave. It returned not too much later with something dark brown on its back. It pulled it off, and handed it to the leader, who unlocked the cage door, and threw it at her. No, towards her. The thing landed with a muffled plop before her, and looking down, Megan saw that it was a bear skin rug.

She unfolded it, and her eyes went wide at the thick, fluffy fur. She ran one hand through it before she quickly wrapped herself up in it. The fur was nice and warm and did not tickle her bare skin. It was a Godsend and the best part was it kept out the chill of the air. It reminded her of her old woolen blankets when she was a kid, and how she would wrap herself up in it on cold winter mornings until her mother came banging on her door, demanding that she get up and come get breakfast.

She chuckled at the memory. It was a pleasant little escape from the reality she was in at the moment. Looking up, she saw the griffin leader was still observing her. Then it smiled. Megan's eyebrows shot up at the human gesture. It was not a snarky smile but one of genuine calm, almost as if it cared for her. At that thought, her eyes narrowed as they slid towards the bars that had been struck by its metal claws. That blow came awfully close.

Her gaze drifted back to the leader. “What's your game plan?” she muttered softly as she idly rubbed the back of her neck, specifically the spot where the dart had struck. The griffin seemed watched her for a good two minutes, before slowly turning and walking out of the tent, the others followed close behind.

Left alone with her thoughts, Megan looked around the cage she was imprisoned within. It was obviously built for something much larger than her, and the floor covered with straw. In the corner, was a wooden bucket, while opposite that, laid a wooden water trough. Shuffling over, she peered into the water. It was clear with no signs of muck floating on the surface or beneath. Still, she was hesitant to drink from it. The bucket she had no idea what that was. It could be her toilet or food bowl. She decided to wait and see what would happen in regards to food before she touched it.

She sighed and shuffled her way back to the centre of the cage, before sitting down. So, she was trapped in a cage, by griffins, possibly on an alien world. She gave a half shrug. On the brighter side, at least she did not have to worry about her family being in danger from dragons. Or griffins. Or whatever else lives on this world. She gave a sad sigh. On the down side, how was her family coping without her? Were they looking for her right now? They would not find her. How were her siblings taking this? Danny? Molly? They would take it pretty hard. Unless she figured out a way home. But how? How could she find the exit, if she did not even know how she came through the entrance?

It was impossible to tell the time inside the tent, but what felt like hours later, a griffin showed up carrying two large wooden buckets that stunk. It walked over to the giant boar and tossed the foul smelling contents into a large wooden trough. The boar staggered to its feet and waddled over, before shoving its hairy snout into the muck with disgusting noises that made her stomach turn.

She was completely unaware when the griffin appeared at her cage, only to jerk her head in its direction as it banged the bars to grab her attention. It then placed a clay bowl down inside the cage and gestured at it. Keeping the bear-skin rug wrapped tightly around her, Megan crawled over to the bowl and looked down at it. It was green goo of sorts, with chunks of something floating within, with steam wafting up from it, greeted her. Almost, as if mocking her, an air bubble floated to the surface to erupt in a minute pop. Megan once again felt her stomach beginning to flip-flop.

The griffin said something and gestured at the bowl again. Megan picked it up and looked back up at the griffin with a lopsided grin. “I don't suppose the complementary hotel meal comes with utensils?” A confused blink was her only response. She sighed. “Well, in that case, I guess the hope of napkins are out of the question.” She looked back down at the bowl.

Oh well, you only live once.

She experimentally dipped a single finger into the goo. It was hot, and the stuff stung her finger a bit as she raised it to her mouth. Unsure of what exactly this was, she was hesitant to try it. Daring a glance elsewhere, she saw that the griffin was still watching her. Was it waiting to see if she would eat? Closing her eyes, she stuck her finger in her mouth, sucked the stuff off, and swallowed.

It was vegetable soup.

And not that bad either. She picked up one of the chunks and popped it into her mouth. That was fried potato. Another was fried pumpkin. She dipped two fingers into the soup and ate it. She did this again. Then three fingers. Before she knew it, she was licking the bowl clean. Looking back up, she that the griffin was smiling. It seemed pleased that she had eaten, and before she could question this any further, it left. She gave the now empty bowl in her hands a quizzical look, before feeling the bare-skin rug around her body. They obviously wanted her healthy and fed, if the dinner griffin stuck around long enough to make sure she ate.

Why?

Well, she did not have to worry about ending up on the menu. Unless they wanted her to get fat. Glancing down at the bowl, she was sure that was not what they wanted, or they would be giving her lots more to eat. Idly licking her lips, she subconsciously wished she did have more.

Looking around the cage yet again, she sighed. There was nothing to do. Then she gasped. “My stuff,” she cried. The boar just flicked an ear and emitted an annoyed grunt. She did not take any notice. Her clothes, her iPhone, her bike. Where was it? Had the griffins taken it and if so, where did they keep it? If they were looking after her, would they at least let her have her clothes back? This rug was nice, but it would be rather degrading walking around in her birthday suit. Having her clothes would also make her feel more dignified, and less like an animal.

She blinked. Then she turned to cast a suspicious look towards the tent flap. They thought she was a wild animal. Or did they? They were tool users. They made rudimentary clothing. They constructed permanent shelters that would take a good knowledge of physics and mathematics to construct. Surely they could recognise sentience. If they did think she was an animal, how could she prove them otherwise?

She had quite a long time to formulate a plan. Nobody, or was it no griffin, visited her for what felt like hours. Finally, the tent flap was pushed aside, and a griffin walked in carrying a steaming hot pot. It walked up to the cage, and gave a squawking sound as it gestured at her to back away from the cage door. Megan observed the griffin as it eyed the empty clay bowl. Megan smiled, and made a coughing sound to catch its attention. When she succeeded, she pointed at the bowl, and then pointed at the pot. The griffin frowned, then seemed to get curious.

It pointed at the bowl, and mimed pouring something into it. Megan smiled, and the griffin flinched. Megan stiffened. What set the griffin off? It gave her a dubious look as if second guessing itself. Megan began to panic. She had frightened the griffin by smiling at it? What was wrong with smiling? The panic within her began to manifest as she saw the griffin slowly reaching for a billy club that hung around its waist.

Whatever she had done, it now thought she was being threatening. She had to salvage the situation fast. Foolishly, she moved like lightning, startling the griffin with a loud high-pitched squawk. Grabbing the bowl, she moved into a cross-legged sitting position and held it out towards the griffin. The griffin settled down as it saw what she had done. The billy club hesitated, before it was slowly returned to the belt. Megan gave an exaggerated sad look, hoping against hope that, that expression would not be considered hostile.

The cage door was unlocked, and the griffin cautiously entered inside with her. Megan did not move a muscle. The pot was placed down, the griffin never taking its eyes off her as the lid was removed, and more hot soup was ladled into her bowl.

“Thank you,” she said slowly as not to alarm the already weary griffin. The said creature frowned at her. Megan inwardly smiled. She had its attention now. Time to try something else. She slowly, deliberately held up a single finger, drawing the griffin's attention to it. Then she cautiously moved it to point down at the bowl, or rather the soup. Then she carefully picked it up, and mimed eating it with a spoon.

The griffin's frown deepened. After a few motions of pretend eating, she put down the bowl and carefully held out her hands in a begging gesture. The griffin did not even flinch. It just stood there. Then it picked up the pot, backed up, out of the cage, and gently closed the door, making sure to lock it. Then it turned about and walked out of the tent. Megan cocked her head to one side. Did her plan work? Did the griffin believe that she wanted a spoon? She rubbed her chin in sudden thought. What if they did not have utensils? What if they just used their claws and beaks? She groaned. Damn it, why didn’t she think of this before? If that was the case, maybe the griffin thought she was a trained animal and was simply performing tricks.

She sighed. Whatever the answer was, she would get it if she waited. So, moving herself into a comfortable seating position, she hugged her legs to her chest, wrapped the rug around her whole body, and waited.

The soup had lost its steam by the time the tent flap opened. She had been eyeing it hungrily as her stomach was clearly not prepared to wait, and had almost given up hope, when the griffin returned with the leader. It was easily recognisable in that armour it wore, causing Megan to wonder if the griffin actually slept in it. The other griffin in tow was the one who had brought her the soup. That griffin took the leader over to the cage, and started talking to it. At least she assumed it was speech of some kind. It reminded her of parrot trying to dislodge something stuck in its throat.

The leader stood by, listening as it eyed her. Then when it finished, the leader pulled out something and held it towards Megan. She blinked in shock. It was a wooden spoon. She had to keep herself from grinning. No telling what this griffin would do if she did. Moving slowly, she bowed her head towards the griffin, and slowly held out her arms, cupping her hands before the griffin. The leader slowly extended its own foreleg, and paused. Megan watched as it seemed to work something over in its mind. Slowly, it placed the spoon into Megan's cupped hand and held it there.

Megan watched this and gave the griffin a curious look. The griffin held onto the spoon for a good half second, before slowly releasing its grasp on the wooden utensil, and withdrawing from the bars. Megan waited until the foreleg was completely withdrawn before pulling her own arms back to her chest. She bowed again, and said, “Thank you.” The leader did not even move.

It was then that if finally hit her. The leader had been testing her, to see if she would attack him or not. Even perhaps to see if she could be trained? Megan did not try to dwell on that thought for too long, but instead held up the spoon for both griffins to see before she carefully, leaned forward to pick up the bowl of soup. Then with slow, deliberate movements, she started spooning the soup into her mouth. The two griffins watched her all the while until she had finished. Then she placed the spoon in the bowl and carefully slid it towards the two griffins, before just as carefully, moving back. Sitting down, she bowed again, and thanked them, giving her stomach a satisfied pat for effect.

The other griffin turned to the leader who just stared back at Megan. Slowly, it reached in through the bars and removed the bowl from her cage. The leader handed it over to the other griffin who left after a command was delivered, leaving her alone with the leader. The griffin smiled. A strange one in itself as the beak was kept closed, but the corners tilted upwards in a strikingly similar gesture. It looked weird, considering that the beak should not have been able to do that, but it did.

Megan decided to see how far she could push it. Slowly, she pointed at herself and spoke her own name. “Mee-ghan,” pronouncing it slowly and clearly, so that the griffin could understand and repeat it. The griffin cocked its head, then pointed at Megan and spoke her name. Or what sounded like her name.

“Mhe-gha?”

She said it slowly, more precise this time and was rewarded with the same mangled response. In spite of the griffins flexible beak, it could not pronounce her name. After a few more tries, she gave up. Looks like she was going to be, 'Mhe-gha,' to this stupid bird. Moving on, she pointed at herself, spoke her name, and then pointed at the griffin. What followed were two consecutive squalls that made the griffin sound like it was channelling Donald Duck.

Megan scrunched up her mouth, and tried to imitate the vocals. It took five tries, but she came close enough that the griffin actually seemed pleased. Well, pleased enough to stop repeating. As the two of them just stared at each other, she began to wonder if it was ts name, or its species? Hell, she would hate to think that the griffin thought she was of the Megan Race.

Before she could think about it any further, the griffin abruptly turned about and left. Megan just sat there, wondering if her plan had succeeded or not. Had she convinced the griffin she was civilised? Did it think she was a trainable animal with manners? She hoped to God it was the former. She patiently waited to see if anything else would come of her display but after what felt like two hours of nothing she gave up and lay down in the straw, trying to get some sleep.

***

In spite of the lack of sunlight, she managed to work out that three days had passed since she was captured by the griffins. In the time she spent inside the cage, she attempted multiple times to convince the griffin who brought her food that she was an intelligent being. She gave displays of etiquette and understanding of rules. She always made sure to say thank you whenever she received food. She emphasised greatly that she was no threat, and it still did not work. Every encounter ended the same. The griffin in question would make a hasty exit.

On the fourth day, she woke to loud noises. She had been used to loud noises inside the cage by that time as she discovered to her dismay on her first night of captivity that the damn boar snored like a broken weed wacker. No, this noise was different. Cracking open her eyes and sitting up, she saw that the boar was now outside its cage, and was being led outside the tent. Most of the noise being made was being emitted from the boar as it appeared to protest being forced to move after such long inactivity. A single griffin led the boar outside by a bridle around its muzzle while another griffin carefully watched the rear.

The behemoth lumbered out through the tent flap, now pinned back, and into the outside. She watched with interest as this had been the only exciting thing to happen in the past three days until she was once more alone. She watched the tent flap for a minute, before shrugging her shoulders. “Well, that was barrel of fun.”

She leaned back into the straw, when the tent flap opened again. Looking up, she saw the griffin leader approaching her, a length of rope slung across its back. Megan was curious until it pointed at her. “Mhe-gha,” it said, then pointed at her, before sticking both its arms out and holding its wrists together. Megan eyed the gesture with suspicion, before looking at the length of rope on its back.

“Oh hell no,” she muttered, and to emphasise the point, she folded her arms and shook her head. The griffin frowned and repeated the gesture, more emphatically this time. “No, means no, chicken,” Megan snapped. “I'm a human being, not an animal.” The griffin sighed, whether in understanding or frustration she did not know because it opened the cage door, and walked inside. It carefully approached her and just as cautiously, reached out to stroke the left side of her rug-covered arm, making soothing noises all the while.

Megan sighed as she looked back at the tent flap. The rope meant that she was going somewhere and that she had to be secured before she would be allowed outside. So she could not escape she realised bitterly. That raised an interesting question. Where were they going? Why? And why did it mean having her hands tied up with rope to do so? She looked down at the griffin's foreleg, gently stroking her arm through the rug.

That made her realise something. She caught the griffin's attention and pointed at herself, then towards the outside, and gave an exaggerated shiver. She then pointed at the rug, and hugged herself, making contented noises. The griffin appeared to understand this, or at least she hoped it did. She decided to hammer the point home. Slowly rising to her feet, she then pointed at the rope, and outside. She started walking slowly forward, holding her arms out in the position of having them tied together, before allowing the rug to slip off her shoulders. She then mimed being cold.

The griffin now seemed to understand as she hastily picked the rug back up and wrapped herself up in it, the cold starting to bite at her exposed skin. Having her clothes back would be great, but she did not know how to convey that across. The griffin on the other hand appeared to come up with its own solution. It gestured for the rug which Megan reluctantly handed over.

With the quick flick of its wrist, the two metal prongs shot out from its glove and it began cutting. Megan watched as it worked away until he ceased his activities and motioned for her to kneel down, which she did. The griffin then stood up on its hind legs and tossed the rug over Megan's head, manoeuvring the hole it had cut into it so that her head fit neatly through.

Looking over the work, Megan now saw that the rug had been converted into a rather simple poncho that came down to just above her ankles. Looking back down at the griffin, she saw it was holding out the rope. Megan sighed in defeat. It just would not take no for an answer. The only way she was leaving this cage was with her wrists tied up.

How much did she trust this griffin? Where were they going? Why? And why did it require her wrists tied up like she were a dangerous criminal? Megan looked down at her own hands. Well, she was the strange one here, maybe where ever they were going required some kind of leash law or something. In the end, the question came down to what price she was whiling to pay in order to finally get out of this cage.

With a roll of her eyes, she held out her hands. The griffin worked quickly. With a few sharp tosses of its own hands, her wrists were neatly wrapped and secured. Megan was stunned. Not one, not even her grandfather had ever managed to tie a knot that fast before. One corner of her mouth rose in admiration for the griffin. It was a short rope, but long enough so that the griffin kept a slight distance between them, but also left plenty of slack as if to reassure Megan that she was not going to be forced into a pace she could not match.

The griffin then said mangled her name once more and pointed at the tent flap. Megan nodded and followed it outside. The cold still stung her as she exited the tent. The rug helped, but the wind blew up from the sides, ruffling the rug about. She blinked as the sunlight dazzled her eyes. The boar was now loaded up with baggage of all kinds. Bags containing God only knew what. She gave a startled yelp as she abruptly remembered the cold, damp grass beneath her feet. Looking down, she cursed herself for not thinking about footwear.

A few griffins stopped what they were doing to see what the fuss was all about. For the first time, Megan got a good look at multiple griffins without the shock of encountering them for the first time. The difference between genders was easy to spot. The females were slender while the males were bulky. As she discovered the differences between the two genders, she then noticed an interesting fact about them. The females wore armour while the males wore nothing. In fact, no males appeared to carry any weapons of sorts what so ever.

The males appeared to be labourers while the females were the soldiers. Looking over at the griffin leader confirmed that yes, it was a she. A boisterous squawk cut through the air, and the leader turned to face the wounded griffin with the apron Megan had seen when she first arrived. She tilted her head as the leader began conversing with him. That griffin was a male, but it appeared to have more authority than the leader. So was he the true leader then? If so, what should she call the other griffin? Her actual name was an untranslatable Donald Duck impression, and there was no way she could keep calling her that.

She tilted her head. She needed a nickname. She had originally wanted to call her Colonel Sanders, but she was not a he. Watching the female griffin, her eyes slid to the armour she wore. A smile formed on her lips. She would be Joan of Arc; Joan for short. While she had been working on a good name for Joan, she realised that most of the conversation between the true leader and Joan had been about her. Well, it was easy to hear her mangled name, combined with the occasional gesture in her direction answered that question.

The true leader, she settled on calling him Gordon Ramsay because of both his loud voice and the apron, was in a heated discussion with Joan over something that Megan could not quite figure out. There was a lot of pointing at her, and the giant boar. It eventually came to a conclusion when Gordon interjected to something Joan had said, which caused Joan to pause and think. Joan then nodded, and Gordon turned to shout to a nearby griffin that raced off. Joan gave the rope a gentle pull, indicating that Megan should follow, and she was led over to the massive beast.

The sides of the boar held all sorts of bags and baskets, strategically tied to both its sides to prevent it from falling over. The boar occasionally grunted as griffins tightened straps in an attempt to secure whatever was being attached to the giant beast. Joan got Megan to halt near the rear left, which was uncomfortably close to the giant swishing tail for Megan's liking.

Finally, Gordon returned with another griffin, carrying what looked like a large canary cage. Megan blinked at it and gave an irritated sigh. With a sinking feeling, she knew whom that was for. From one cage to another, and a bird cage to boot. The irony was too humiliating to dwell on.
The cage was set on the ground before Megan, and opening the door, Joan gestured for her to climb inside. Megan gave her a pleading, sad look, hoping that she would change her mind. Joan seemed to sense her distress and walking over, gently patted her arm, making soothing sounds. It was a repeat performance of when she was trying to coax Megan out of the first cage. Megan again sighed in defeat. She was glad that they were not being forceful, for now, but if she was beginning to suspect that if she continued down this path that could easily change.

She threw up her hands. “Fine,” she muttered and climbed into the cage. It was cramped inside. She had to crouch down, and there was barely enough room for her to sit with her knees pushed up against her chest, let alone for the bear-skin rug. As she tried to get comfortable, Joan gestured for her to hold out her arms. Complying with this request, Megan watched as she quickly untied her wrists, giving her back the freedom of her hands. She rubbed the skin where the ropes had unfortunately chafed as Joan quickly closed the door and locked it.

She gave a startled cry as four griffins abruptly lifted her off the ground, and carried her towards the boar. She could not see what they were doing above her, but there were the sounds of ropes being tightened, and when they let go, the cage was secured to the side of the great beast. Then, one of the griffins above her, threw a sheet over the cage, shrouding her in darkness, before lashing a few ropes around it the sheet in order to secure it.

Thinking about the situation, Megan could not help but wonder what was the point of all this? Where were they taking her? Why did it require her cage to be covered up? Why were her wrists tied up only to be taken outside? Did they think she could not be trusted not to bolt? Megan sighed once more in frustration as she leaned her head back against the bars. Where ever they were going, she would find out, as well as her purpose on this trip.

A full hour passed before she felt the boar began to lumber forth. Megan had somehow managed to doze off, but was jolted back to reality as the trip now began. However, she soon began to drift off again as she realised that there was not anything to look at. The sheet that they used to cover her cage was thin enough to let in light, but she could not see through it. Looking around, she managed to find a small hole located behind the left side of her head. Shuffling her whole body around, she managed to reached through the bars, and using her finger, work at the hole until it was big enough for her to look through. She did not try to make it any bigger as the wind began to slip in, chilling her face.

What she could see was not all that interesting either. Nothing but mist and mountains. At first it was beautiful, reminding her of Scotland, but it all became monotonous after it was apparent that nothing would be changing anytime soon.

They stopped when night began to fall, making camp. They unloaded the boar, and her cage, setting it aside with all the other stuff they were hauling. Megan realised with a smirk that she was being stored with the cargo. They fed her, before attending to themselves. It was clear after they removed her bowl that they were not going to let her out of the cage for the night. She mumbled a curse, before settling down into a position that likely would not kill her spine for sleeping hunched up like this. Watching through the hole she had made, Megan watched as they gathered around a campfire, eating, and what sounded like laughing.

Then one brought out something that resembled as lute, and began to pluck at the strings. All sounds ceased amidst the campfire as all present listened to the lute player. Megan could not help but listen also. The melody was hard to describe. The beat being played had a fast tempo but was not as complicated as human music. Where the human hand had ten fingers to work with, the griffin's forepaws only had eight stubby claws. It felt like a song for a beginner being played by an expert.

Megan listened through song, after song mildly unimpressed. She could do better. Eventually, the camp broke up, the fire was doused out, and one by one, the griffins retreated into their tents for the night. Finally, Megan was all alone. Well, not exactly alone. She still had the boar who once again began to eat at her sanity with its snoring.

She must have drifted off to sleep because she was startled when the sheet was ripped off her cage, exposing her to the cold air. The sun shone down from behind grey clouds while the griffins were busy sitting around last nights camp fire, eating. That was when Megan realised what was going on: it was Breakfast time. The griffin in question was holding out a bowl of grey something with a spoon in it. The said mystery food turned out to be porridge. This turned out to be more delicious than the soup, and she was licking the bowl before she knew it.

The one dietary habit of the griffins that bugged her was the fact that they only seemed to have breakfast and dinner. So naturally, they assumed her dietary habits worked along the same lines as theirs. This resulted in her being hungry all the time. Another interesting sight was the griffins did not give her any meat, in spite of the fact that they ate lots of it. Then again, Megan was glad they did not because she had also taken note that the meat they did eat was raw.

It was not long after breakfast was consumed that the griffins got straight back to work. They reattached her cage to the back of the boar, and barely fifteen minutes after that, she felt the beast lumber off. Megan found that she had to make another hole in her sheet because her old one was located somewhere else, but now she saw that they were winding their way through a mountain pass. Tall, imposing granite structures surrounded her on all sides, blocking out the sky. She could not see what lay below, but one chance encounter had the boar leaning dangerously to one side that she could see they were on a narrow road, with a large, snaking ravine below, its depths obscured by fog. Not surprisingly, she did not look out of the hole after that.

The road trip lasted at least another three days. When they stopped for the night, Joan let her out so she could do her business. Every time, she hastily found a rock to go behind and relieve herself. Much to her annoyance, Joan followed. The damn bird was not going to let Megan out of her sight while she was not in the cage. Realising she wasn't going to lose her shadow, Megan decided to show the griffin that she was indeed civilised. She dug a hole, did her business, and then buried it. Joan did acknowledge this with a raised eyebrow but did nothing else.

As she was led back to her cage, Megan felt frustrated. What did it take to make this oversized chicken understand she was intelligent? As the door was locked behind her, she flipped Joan off in frustration. The griffin did not even seem to understand, let alone acknowledge what she did. She hoped against hope that she was not convincing Joan that she was a trained animal. If that happened, she may be spending the rest of her years behind bars.

After a rinse and repeat of the usual morning routine, she noticed a change in the atmosphere of the griffins. They seemed excited. Almost jovial. That could only mean one thing. They were nearing their destination. After they once more got on the road, Megan found herself constantly looking through her peephole, looking out. The mountains still dominated the scene for most of the morning. Then they parted and to Megan's amazement, opened up to a sea.

White capped breakers dashed themselves against the rocky shoreline, spraying foam high enough to splash the path their little convoy was taking. Low grey clouds obscured the horizon as the wind began to pick up, lashing the coast line with billowing gusts.

Megan shivered as the wind began to creep in through the numerous holes she had made in her sheet in order to get an outside view. She was beginning to regret that decision when jubilant cries erupted from all the griffins in the party. Scrambling to her peephole, she looked out and felt her eyes widen at what she saw.

It was a city. Its size made it clear that the caravans starting point was a small town in comparison. Like the town, it too was built into the mountain side, but its buildings extended up the mountain side, and even carved into it, allowing the mountain to hold more housing and structures, all the way up to a large mansion like building that dominated the scene.

Thin bridges were sprawled everywhere, connecting communities of houses together. Megan noticed that the more wealthy looking ones were located higher up the mountain side. At the very base lay what could only be described as an industrial district. Great warehouse like buildings dominated the space between the sea and the rocky mountain side. Beyond that, in the ocean lay a stone breakwater, which within its protection lay at least forty sail powered wooden vessels of sorts, ranging size from numerous sloops to one large topsail schooner that dominated the harbour. At the corner of the breakwater, a tall wooden tower protruded into the sky, a bright fire blazing at the top. A lighthouse Megan realised.

Her overall impression of the whole city was it looked like someone was trying to recreate San Francisco while channelling Valparaiso.

As they neared the city, Megan could make out griffins, flying to and fro, but most appeared to be walking through the narrow streets. They passed a good number of griffins along the road, solitary griffins with packs on their backs, or small groups that grew no larger than five, all heading in the opposite direction to her party.

As they finally neared a checkpoint, Megan could not help but wonder why she had been brought here, and what plans did Joan of Arc have installed for her? Whatever would happen, Megan could only hope that whatever the answer turned out to be, it would not be too humiliating or a fate worse than death.

Comments

[Celestias Paladin]

Megan and TJ eh? Looks like we have a G1 cross on our hands.

[Moon_Dew]

Followed, Up Voted, and Faved. It's just that damn good, and we've barely even started!

[Violet-Dragoon]

Wow, just wow. I look forward to more of this.

[sky_petal_blank_flank]

Needs a damn good proofread, but I definitely look forward to seeing more.

[Pinklestia]

Very interesting, is nice to see a human in Equestria story where the victim doesn't find ponies first...

[Starbuck the Pegasus]

'When you're up to your ass in alligators, it's difficult to remember that you were supposed to drain the swamp.'

Yeah, especially when you're too busy adding to it by soiling yourself.

[fedback]

Nah, Valparaiso is way more confusing and hapzhardly built tan some hanging city in a mountain. They at least have the justification that they fly but who the fuck builds a human city in the middle of 9 fucking hills.

[Hwin]

6018895 the Romans, but then Rome is also a mess.

[TheGrandNil]

Ugh, what a weak protagonist... scared by a bunch of Knee height bird-cats... Feels sorry for a fucking dragon dying...

God, I feel like every one of these HIE stories either has the human being some freaking madman with anger issues, or a weak ass 90 lbs women who's only useful skill is on her knees.

[DerpTape]

Nice to see that tranquilizer darts are being treated semi-realistically. Unlike in the movies they don't knock you out to in half a second or even 5 seconds. It can actually take up to 10 minutes depending upon body mass, the amount of dosage, and where the dart actually hits you. Remember there really isn't a lot of room for drugs in a dart or even a arrow, and often the majority of the drugs that are put on to those devices is wasted when they're actually fired and impact a target. So kudos to the author for not breaking reality in this fantasy world.

Now death by a poisoned blowdart is another matter, it is a lot easier to kill something than to knock it out without hurting it permanently.