Laborious Work
Quicksilver tossed and turned in his sleep. He could hear their cries, their screams. Each one begging for forgiveness. Yet each of their voices fell on deaf ears as they were silenced before him. Each body fell, each scream went silent, and above all a single gryphon stood tall above them. It was Colonel Sharp Beak, and he stared down at them with great malice in his eyes. The Gryphon turned to face him, his eyes ever piercing. Quicksilver tried to back up, tried to get away, yet no matter what he did, the gryphon still kept coming. He felt himself pressed against a nearby wall as he kept coming towards, his claw reaching straight for him. The claw was placed on both of his wings. Sheer terror filled his eyes as the gryphon pressed firmly on both of his wings. Then, in one swift motion, he ripped the wings out of their sockets.
It was in that moment that he woke up. His body lifted him out of his restless sleep. Sweat poured down every inch of his body and he felt like his body was on fire. He took a shaky breath as he placed a hoof over his head. He started to count slowly, breathing out with each interval of time. After a minute doing this, he was able to breathe normally and get himself calmed down.
What kind of nightmare was that? he thought. He looked over to Gretchen, who had not stirred from his awakening. She remained where she was, enjoying a blissful sleep while he had his nightmare. A sudden chill from the cold forced him back into bed, making sure the covers were tight around his body. He pulled himself into a ball as best he could and he slowly drifted back to sleep.
Not a few hours later, after he returned to his slumber, he was awakened by a forceful push. Abruptly awakened, he turned to see Gretchen standing before him.
“Wake up, fletching. You’ve been called,” she said, forcing him up from the comforts of the blanket. He was soon on his feet and he was rushed outside into the cold. His body shivered to the all-too familiar sensation. He looked about and saw light snow falling from the open cave above them, gently drifting down onto the ground around them. He could see the gryphons mingling about and doing much work around the encampment. He was then nudged by his silent guard behind him and the three marched down the small stairs, towards the center of camp.
As he walked, Quicksilver inspected the lot of the gryphons. A few were stationed all around, standing sentry over the entire encampment, while the majority of gryphons he passed were out and about, working to build the encampment or assigned to other tasks. He noticed several new tents being pitched and other areas being dug into the ground. He didn’t know what they were doing, but he guessed that he was going to find out soon. After several more minutes of walking, he soon neared a decent sized tent, right next to the larger tent that was serving food. He looked about the center of camp and saw that very few occupants filled the center. The fire that was roaring last night has died down to small embers, slowly being replaced by the frozen snow. Before he could inspect the ground again, he was nudged in the arm by his guard and he followed Gretchen inside the tent.
“Brother, the prisoner is here,” she said as she stepped aside for the prisoner to come in. Quicksilver looked at Gretchen for a moment, in some surprise. He didn’t know that she was a sister to the leader; it made things all the more interesting. After getting past her, he was able to get a good look of the room around him. The room had a small number of furniture, ranging from a small desk, a table, and a several common chairs with detailed inscriptions, all of which were gryphon made. On the floor was fur-like carpet; it was soft to the touch and added some small measure of warmth from the outside chill. At the head of the desk sat Ebon Jager, the gryphon in charge of the encampment. He was sitting down and writing down on a parchment, likely orders for his subordinates outside. Next to him was a plate of meat, with some bone sticking out of the side. Quicksilver kept his attention on the food until he saw Ebon place a quill down and settled both of his claws onto the desk, locking eyes with Quicksilver.
“I take it that you slept well, Lieutenant Quicksilver?” Ebon began, keeping his expression neutral, “I hope that your first few nights here have not been too uncomfortable.”
Quicksilver remained silent, uncertain as to how he knew his name but the obvious guess would be Gretchen sitting beside him. When he didn’t reply, Ebon continued on, picking a piece of meat off the plate. “My sister has told me that you were walking about yesterday. I should have been present, but I was occupied by other affairs.”
Quicksilver remained ever silent. His only movement was his ear flattening when he heard the chewing sound of meat in the gryphon’s mouth. Ebon took notice of the silence and he lifted the plate of food to him.
“Care for some meat? I know pegasi in olden times would eat meat for survival, so I’m certain you would be fine with it as well.”
He felt the pit of his stomach growl at the mention of food, but he could not bare himself to eat something like that. There was no telling what animal they killed to sate their own hunger. He looked away from him as Ebon tossed a large piece to Gretchen, catching it in her right claw, who gratefully ate the food in silence.
“You are free to speak, equine,” Ebon said, placing the plate back down to his side.
“I’m not like those ponies from times of old,” Quicksilver spoke, making Ebon stir in response.
“So the silent equine finally speaks. That’s a good start,” Ebon stated, in a somewhat mocking tone.” Tell me, how are you enjoying your stay?”
“Well, other than the hostile tensions by your soldiers and the death stares they’re giving me, I’d say that life here is just grand,” he said, earning a chuckle from Ebon.
“That is true. They would rather see your head on a pike than stand the sight of you.” He chuckled again, but Quicksilver was less than enthusiastic. When his mirth subsided, Ebon began picking at his parchments on his desk. “Don’t fret, you're our guest here. As such, you are under our protection during your stay,” he said as he began writing something on the parchments.
“However,” he added, not looking up from his writing, “while you may be our ‘guest’, you will be working during your stay.”
“I suppose this has some doing with Colonel Sharp Beak?” he asked, causing the gryphon to look up at him in mild amusement.
“You’re a sharp one, I’ll give you that,” he observed, before going back into his writings. “Yes, he does have a voice in your care. He wishes you to be put under harsh labor and even torture you until you beg for mercy.” Quicksilver remained silent, his thoughts running at the dreadful things that he might unleash on him. “Although, since you are in my camp, and thusly under my care, you will be treated fairly. He may outrank me, but he does not have a voice in the Royal Gryphons affairs.”
There was that name again. He was certain that they were a different tribe, but what did it signify? What did it mean between the other gryphons? As he pondered, Ebon Jager motioned his head and Gretchen nudged him in the shoulder.
“You will be escorted to your workstation. As long as you work and do your part, you will not be harmed,” he finished saying, and Quicksilver was escorted out of the tent with Gretchen and the silent guard. He walked for a time, wondering what Sharp Beak wanted and if he really wanted to cause him harm. As he tried to process this, he soon found himself standing before an open area. Gretchen soon moved to his side, carrying a pickaxe in her claws.
“This is your job,” she said as she gave the pickaxe to him. “You are to dig this site until the ground is soft enough to place foundations.”
Quicksilver looked about the area. It was roughly fifty yards across and twenty yards away until it reached the mountain wall. He noticed the few other buildings around; they were small yet crude, and they looked to fit at least several gryphons inside. Seeing the area before him, it looked to be that they are going to create a fort or maybe a barracks. He looked back at the hen, who motioned for him to get to work. He nodded and took the pickaxe with him. He soon stood several feet away, holding the pickaxe with his mouth and looking at the ground. He kicked the floor with his hoofs and realized the ground was near solid rock. It would be difficult, but he would have to adjust to this new routine. Before he began, he turned back to Gretchen and his silent guard with an inquiry.
“Where is Sharp Beak, by the way? Isn’t he here with you?”
“Colonel Sharp Beak is currently on a hunting mission with a few other gryphons. He won’t be back for several days. Why do you ask?” she said with a questioning look.
“Just curious. You’d think he would be overseeing my progress, beat me when I’m lazy or take a whip and discipline me,” he remarked.
This earned a laugh from her. “Don’t worry; I’m sure he would give you those harsh punishments and many more. As long as you do as you are told, you will be fine.”
“That isn’t very reassuring,” he said as he lifted the pickaxe and began the long and grueling work of the day.
****
Hammer was working with Anvil on preparing their next campsite. They had traveled at least a dozen miles today, making significant progress due to the lightening up of the snow and wind. They soon had to set up camp when the night drew near and hunker down for the night. They dug deep into the hill, setting up their tents and making preparations for the night. They found a lucky spot within the hills, where little to no wind was entering inside. However, there was a small chill in the night breeze, and some areas within the camp had to be fortified with sandbags and mounds of extra dirt. After settling the tents and building a small fire, the large group of earth ponies began working on settling the tents for the cold night ahead.
Hammer pushed another large boulder into place, grunting slightly from the pain on his left shoulder. The bandage was from his injury by the griffon in the sewers. It was roughly a week ago when he had received this injury and it had healed slightly, but the pain remained constant whenever he worked or overdid it. He knew it would be a little while longer before his wound would fully heal. He was grateful that the apothecary gave him some extra medicines and some extra bandages to treat his wound, but it would be months before it would properly heal; a surgeon was impossible to find these days, for all of them have been placed near the front lines to treat the more serious injuries.
When Hammer tried to push again, he had trouble moving the last boulder into place. Eyeing the sky, he saw several of the pegasus helping move the large rocks into place by strong ropes. He noticed a pair finishing their load and recognized them as Crimson Wing and Heavy Blitz.
“Help me out will ya!” he called out and the two quickly moved overhead with the ropes. As he worked on getting the ropes on the boulder, he heard a familiar voice from behind.
“Hey, Hammer. You should let me handle that,” Anvil said as he took the ropes and began to tie it around the boulder. Hammer took a breather and stepped back, wiping away the sweat from his brow.
“Thanks, Anvil,” he replied, still breathing heavily.
“No need for thanks. You need your rest; you shouldn’t be pushing your shoulder.” He pointed his hoof at his friend’s wound. Hammer nodded and sat on his haunches.
“I have been working all day,” Hammer replied, taking a long breath and slowly breathing out. Anvil began settling the rope and moving the boulder.
“Take a break, Hammer. Come back when you’ve rested up.”
“Oh, so you're acting like my mother now?” Hammer asked in a sarcastic fashion.
“Don’t be a smart flank and go, Hammer,” Anvil replied, with a bit of a laugh in his voice. Hammer smiled and turned to walk into the center of the camp. The snow came lightly down as he moved about the camp. He observed as the weather around him continued to move at a natural rate. Normally, the pegasus would handle the weather and make it more simple and clear. However, with the war going on, many of the pegasus are pulled from the weather duty and left the weather to go on naturally, something that would unsettle any pony that don’t have control of natural events. Although, for Hammer, he didn’t mind it one bit. He actually liked the weather acting naturally, even it was a strange sensation.
As he continued to walk about the camp, he looked upon the new arrivals from the morning. The cervine group, led by their leader Strong Oak, were mingling with the militia and other members of the guard. The other guards in his group were already adjusting to the arrivals and the militia were already conversing about their livelihoods to their mysterious allies. He didn’t mind that the cervine were here; he was glad that there extra friends amongst the mysterious land.
“Hammer, there you are.” He heard the familiar voice of Shadow Hunter, the militia leader. He turned to see the old stallion walking towards him. He was a light purple stallion with a gray like mane from the yellow that remained. He stopped over and gave a look over of Hammer.
“Is your shoulder treating you well?” the old veteran asked.
Hammer nodded. “Hurts from time to time, but I manage with the medicine and ointments the apothecary gave me,” he replied.
Shadow Hunter gave a small smile before he turned and grabbed a cloak off his back. “I hope you don’t mind, but I want you to take this to Captain Silverwing. She’s been standing outside the camp for the past hour now, and I don’t want her to catch a bad cold.” Hammer received the item and gave it a look over. The fabric was soft and light, but it was still warm to the touch.
“Has Captain Silverwing been feeling well?” he asked as the old veteran grunted and turned to see the lone pegasus, just outside the camp.
“You should ask her that yourself,” he simply replied, turning to the militia members nearby and conversing with them. With his task at hoof, he turned to the outside of the camp and towards his captain. As he moved, he could see that she was still not even noticing his approach. As he drew closer, he could see her gaze fixated in the far off mountains. He looked out towards High Talon Peek; the tall mountains were very far away. After a moment of silence between them, he turned to his captain. Her blue coat shined bright from the fires behind them, and her silver mane, which had a blue streak in the middle, hanged down the side of her head. If she wasn't his captain, he would tell her that she looked very beautiful. However, his heart was not in the right place and it would never be as long as the war persisted. Taking a breath, he spoke her name.
“Captain Silverwing,” he said, startling her slightly. She turned and looked at him, as if for the first time that day. He looked at her blue eyes and she looked at his own. For a moment, she said nothing, only looking at him. Then, with calm breath, she spoke once again.
“Hello, Hammer. What is it?” she asked.
He quickly presented the cloak. “It’s getting late and I thought you might need something warm.” He handed the cloak over, and she began to place it around her. She welcomed it as if an old friend, and she breathed easily from the warmth.
“Thank you. Though, being a pegasus, I’m a bit used to the cold around here,” she said as Hammer stood in place.
“Just thought it might help,” he said rather meekly, avoiding her gaze for the silly notion. She chuckled at this and raised her hoof onto his good shoulder. He turned and met her in the eye. Again, her eyes captivated him as she looked at him compassionately. The deep blue eyes made him relax, and he felt both confident and content at the same time. After a few moments, she stopped staring and turned her head with a saddened expression.
“Hammer, you are an only child, correct?” she asked, her attention focused in the distance.
Hammer looked at her quizzically, unsure as to what she meant. He nodded, and that allowed SilverWing to continue.
“This war has taken a lot of families, Hammer,” she said with a solemn voice. “From it’s beginning twenty years ago to today, families have been torn apart. Even though I joined the war a few years back, I’ve seen enough fighting to last me two lifetimes.
“I shudder to imagine, but...” she stopped while taking a breath. “I feel like my brother will be taken by this war. Every time I think of him, I feel like he is barely alive, clinging to life to some goddess-knows squalor, while being abused or beaten by the griffons. But what I fear most is that he is forced to be in this cold and forced to stand for hours on end. He even could be dead and hanging by a...” She stopped herself and she looked down, her voice quieting and silent. She took a deep breath and calmed herself before turning her gaze back at him.
“I think you’re lucky, Hammer. You don’t have to worry about your siblings.”
As Hammer watched her, a strange feeling settled within him. He thought she was just having small trouble with keeping this company going. Instead, his perspective changed much more with her revealing word, but he wouldn’t know much about the higher ranking officials in the army and he wouldn’t necessarily pay attention to their family affairs. Hearing this now, he could only imagine the pain and stress she had for wanting to see her brother safe. The more he thought about it, the more he soon realized that she was determined to bring him back.
Is he the only family you have left? he thought as SilverWing motioned her head back to camp.
“C’mon Hammer, I don’t want to bother you with my life story. Let's go,” she said as she headed towards the inner campsite. Hammer followed close to her side, accompanying her as she made her way towards her tent. When she arrived, she entered her tent, but not without stopping and turning to him.
“Thank you for listening, Hammer. Rest well,” she said. With that, she went to close her tent flap.
“Captain,” Hammer said without thinking. She turned to him, eyeing him as if he had an important message to say.
“If ever you need a shoulder to lean on, then by all means I can offer one,” Hammer said. He immediately berated himself for suggesting something so foolish. He gritted his teeth, ready to be mocked or ridiculed.
Silverwing just laughed, much to his confusion.
“I’m not sure if you want to support your good shoulder, Hammer; otherwise, you might fall over without it.” She laughed again and it was then that Hammer realized her meaning. He looked to the side with a slight blush was on his face that (thankfully) she didn’t notice.
“I thank you for your concern, Hammer,” she continued, and he looked at her with hopeful eyes. “I would consider it, if you don't mind me chewing your ears off,” she said and Hammer nodded in reply. “Good night, Hammer.” she said with a smile, closing the tent flap.
Hammer let out a held breath, one that he didn’t realize he was holding. He then smiled to himself and began walking back to his friends. As he walked, he continued to hold hope in his heart that someday, whenever this war ended, that he might have a chance with her. It was big dream, but he was hopeful.
After contemplating these immediate events, he soon returned to Anvil and his friends, who strangely enough were having large grins on each of their faces. He looked at each in turn and then the question dawned on him.
“Alright, what is it?” he asked.
Anvil broke the silence. “It’s not ‘what is’, but ‘who is’, my friend,” Anvil said, still grinning as big as a cat.
Crimson Wing then stepped forward and pointed at him. “And that pony would be you, old friend.”
Heavy Blitz then stepped forward as well and patted Hammer’s good shoulder, all the while chuckling to himself. “You look like somepony who went for a normal walk, then you galumphed your flank back to us after meeting a mare.”
The trio soon began laughing, and Hammer’s face turned into a big cherry. He avoided his gaze from them and grumbled to himself. When they first joined as part of the armed forces, he and Anvil were always the young and upcoming bachelors in the army. They were then paired and later serve under Quicksilver’s command, and through him, they would meet his sister. Hammer was always teased for liking her, almost to the point that they would be a couple, much to his chagrin.
“Why do you pick on me like this?” he asked, and to which his friends so happily replied.
“Because you're fun to tease? Anvil asked.
“That she’s a captain, and a pegasus for that matter?” Heavy Blitz added.
“And she has a personality that doesn't resemble like sand paper?” Crimson Wing suggested, and the three laughed once more.
Hammer promptly shook his head.
“Jerks,” he said as he went back to work with the boulders.
****
Hours upon hours of labor made Quicksilver’s body sore. The continued clicking upon the stone floor with the pick axe made every muscle in his neck hurt. He had to even switch to using his hooves to beat upon the ground and even then his muscles were screaming out for rest. Every fiber, every coil and every tendon in his body had been pushed to their limits and he needed his body to rest. He worked for at least eight hours straight, with small breaks with bread and water, brought over by Gretchen. He was thankful enough that he was able to get a break whenever he could, because it was constant work in getting the ground set right. He had made progress with the area, turning up old stone and softening the dirt enough for it to be made steady. The difficult procedure afterward was to move the hard stone and loose dirt to allow a tiled ground, ready to be made for ground work that the gryphons are wanting to build. It was more difficult with his bandages and wounds. He felt the cuts strain underneath the fabric and he felt his body was going to spill open.
Yet, they held on as he worked. He could only wonder what kind of medicine they used to mend his wounds. He made it to twenty five yards, half way from finishing the other half until he heard Gretchen’s voice calling out to him.
“Hey, Fletching! Night is nearing, so you're done for today!” she called out. Quicksilver dropped the pick axe and rested on his flank. He breathed heavily, almost struggling for breath from the intense work. He felt the heat emanating from his body into the cold winter air, and his only wish now was retire for the night. He lifted himself up, his legs nearly buckling under the strain and exhaustion. He slowly moved toward the hen, yet every step taken sent small jolts of pain into his arms. Being a pegasus, his strength would reside mostly into his wings, where they were given the most training and proper care. With his wings out of the equation, his arms bore the brunt of the work, making his muscles sore and certain parts of his body tender. The pulling of the large dirt or pushing heavy carts was almost bearable, but the constant using of the pick axe made them more sensitive. He would have to be careful if he were to adjust to this new role.
“Well, I got to say, Fletching: I’m impressed,” Gretchen said as Quicksilver went to her side, his breathing slow and heavy. “Didn’t know that a sprite pegasus like you could manage a task such as this.”
Quicksilver was almost tempted to look at her and wonder if she was smiling at his hard work. That is, until she added, “Although, a gryphon would have finished your work in half the time.” She chuckled and Quicksilver rolled his eyes; he was too tired to make a remark to her. Gretchen soon escorted him back toward the center of the camp, close towards where the main fire pit. A few gryphons were up and about, but the majority seemed to be finishing their meals and heading toward their separate tents and hovels. A cold breeze hung in the air, close to a whisper of a wendigo, and he shivered by the cold. Despite his body already heated up from the long work day, it was not enough to keep the chill away.
Gretchen soon moved close to the fire and motioned for him to sit down. Taking a seat, he found she had already left for the large tent and was ordering something from the head gryphon there. As he waited, he could feel a few leering eyes upon him and he could see a few gryphons eyeing him with suspicion. He tried to pay them no mind; his own body was begging for relief, and he needed the rest.
“More timber coming in!” a gryphon shouted from a watchtower nearby. Quicksilver turned his gaze toward the tunnel, at least fifty meters away, and saw the first minotaur warriors marching in with large loads of wood. Even though he saw them doing this before, he was still surprised by the strength they had within. They carried the large stacks of wood and trees with ease and they didn’t seem bothered by the heavy weight they carried. He even saw several of them holding their large weapons and shields with the timber, moving about with such proficiency and ease. They soon passed by the fire and added the wood near the larger tent. Some began dropping their bags, which landed with loud thunks. The niggling thought from yesterday soon entered inside his head from Gretchen’s words.
I’ve seen them pound a pony straight into the ground like a hammer upon the nail.
He shuddered again and turned his gaze towards the fire, trying to focus his thought upon the flames before him.
It wasn't long until Gretchen returned, and he looked to see her holding a few plates of food. It was mostly bread and soup on his plate, while she had a few scraps of meat and some cheese. She gave his food to him and began to go straight into her meal, as Quicksilver ate at a slow pace. He dipped his bread into the soup and chewed slowly, savoring the taste that warmed his mouth. He relished whatever taste he could get, any small reprieve from the pain in his muscles and joints. As he continued eating, he could only listen to Gretchen chewing a bit loudly with her food. Pieces of meat ripped off the bone and into her, and the sounds enough were making him want to gag. He was able to manage it, but the sounds remained, making a chill crawl up his spine.
“You going to finish eating, fletching, or do you want me to finish for you?” Gretchen said. Quicksilver saw her pointing at his food, “Because you’ve barely touched your food and I’m willing to take it off your hooves, if you wish.”
“I’m fine, thank you,” he replied, holding close to his food, treasuring it like his hoard of gold. “Just trying to savor the food is all. A long day's work can do much on the body,” he said as he slowly began drinking the soup.
He heard the hen chuckle. “Impressive as it may be, you still need your strength for the days ahead. You should eat what you can get, not pick at it like a diamond dog on a dried bone.”
“Or an early gryphon getting the worm,” Quicksilver added, earning another chuckle from the hen.
“Something like that,” she said as he continued drinking the soup. That is, until she pushed a piece of meat towards him. “Though in this case, it would be the early gryphon getting the pony.”
His eyes widened and the muscles in his neck clenched. At the same time, he began to choke on his soup. He pulled the bowl away and started coughing up bits of the soup, all the while the hen kept on laughing. As he tried to compose himself, he felt her claw smack him on his back several times, stopping the coughing somewhat and allowing him to calm down.
“I’m only pulling your wing, fletching! We don’t eat ponies!” she said through laughs, continuing to smack him on the back and trying to keep him steady. After another cough escaped him, he turned to Gretchen with an irritated look. She had a grin like a damned manticore.
“I thought you were serious for a second there. Are you trying to scare me to death, hen?” he said, irritation with his voice and keeping his breath at a normal pace. Gretchen kept on grinning and returned to her meal.
“We gryphons tend to get carried away when we speak of such things. Sometimes we say things that may sound like it’s going too far, but other times it’s just for show,” she said as took another bite. “Besides, there are a number of things that you don’t even know about, our rituals, our customs, about us and our culture. So it’s to be expected that you won’t understand.” She finished by taking the rest of the meat with her beak and removing the flesh straight off the bone.
As she was finishing her meal, Quicksilver quickly finished his without hesitation. As he ate, however, her words struck straight into his mind. Since he was going to be here for who knows how long, he might as well try to understand their culture a bit more. Although, he would only wonder if they would be open to sharing their customs and beliefs. Would they be offended or would they refuse to tell? The question lingered in his mind, clinging to him as a rusty suit of training armor. He turned his gaze to Gretchen, who was cleaning her talons with her beak, and not once did she pay him mind. If he wanted to get something, it would have to be through her.
“Gretchen?” he asked hesitantly, hoping he was not making a mistake.
“Yes, Fletching?” she said, not looking from her work.
“I want to ask about-” He was cut off when a loud horn sounded throughout the cave. He looked around, trying to find out where the noise was coming from. Gretchen didn’t pay no mind but her gaze turned toward the large open hole. He followed her gaze and sure enough a large group of gryphons were entering inside.
“Colonel Sharp Beak and his band have returned!” the watch gryphon said from his perch, and dozens of gryphons descended to meet the arrivals. Quicksilver felt a deep pit in his stomach and an uneasy sensation began to crawl up his spine. His ears fell flat and he shirked his head away. He watched as he saw Sharp Beak coming forward as if he was a high lord, bringing in large racks of dead animals that were being dragged by his comrades. The sight of him alone was enough to make him want to turn away.
“I take it that you are not fond of him?” Gretchen said, taking notice of his movements. Quicksilver nodded and he eyed his left wing. The bandage still remained where it was and he shuddered at the thought of it being broken once more. He then felt a nudge from her and he turned to see that she was staring at him.
“You're not the only one who despises him.” she said, motioning her head towards the entrance. “Listen.”
Quicksilver focused on the sound. At first, it was nothing but the loud noises from the arriving gryphons. He was unsure what he was listening for until a loud cry filled the room. The first cry was joined by another and another until he heard at least several dozen voices crying out. He looked and saw what Gretchen told him. In the middle of the packed gryphon, there were large pack of ponies in the midst of the group. Some, from what he could hear, were women and children, desperately crying for help. The rest of the stallions inside were being pushed around by the larger gryphons and some were haphazardly thrown around and picked on by the larger predators.
When the group got closer and closer to the center of the camp, he noticed something else about these ponies. He saw them having tuft ears and their bodies were different shades of gray to blue. The majority of them also had wings, but they didn’t look like feathers of anything of the sort. It was when one of the stallions raised up and began hissing at the gryphons, revealing sharp teeth and slitted eyes, which he then understood who they were.
“Those are thestrals,” he said as he watched the gryphons butt the stallion with the end of their spears, sending him writhing on the ground. The thestrals, to his knowledge, were not seen since the founding of Equestria. It was said in times of old that they helped King Solaris and Prince Osiris to end the changeling threat that nearly took over Canterlot. It was said that Prince Osiris found these beings in the Everfree Forest and offered them a home out of the damned woods. In return, they helped the kingdom at their most dire hour and perhaps saved all of Equestria. The old stories afterward, however, never tell what became of them and they only appeared in old history to legend.
“I guess this is the first time seeing thestrals, fletching?” Gretchen said, eyeing the scene with distaste. He nodded to her and saw her glaring at the other gryphons.
“I’ve heard about them in old tales, but never saw one in the flesh,” he said as he saw them being corralled together in near several of the hovels. “I know of the description of them: the webbed like wings, their tuft ears, the fangs and their eyes. I mostly thought of them as legend.”
“Well, they are as real as you think,” Gretchen said back as the Thestrals were forced into the separate hovels. As this happened, he heard the sound of a whip cracking and a stallion cry out. The whipping happened several times, the cracking sound as it struck flesh. It made his body shiver at the sound, and he could only imagine the cruelty Sharp Beak is putting onto them.
“I’ve heard enough of this. Come along, fletching,” Gretchen said, much to his surprise. He followed the hen back to the tent, passing by many of the other gryphons. As he passed them by, he could see their distaste upon their countenance. It seemed the majority of them had the same displeasure of Sharp Beak as well.
Having soon passed them by, he moved his tired legs up the small hill and into the awaiting tent. He soon pushed back the flap and saw Gretchen settling herself onto her hay. He looked outside to see the hole at the roof of the cave. It looked very dark, and he could only guess it was already late into the night. He quickly went inside and settled with the blanket on his side of the tent, wrapping it around him like an old friend. He settled himself down, his aching muscles finally getting the rest he needed.
As his body began to relax he looked over to see Gretchen staring out off the side, not paying any attention to him. Her gaze was focused outside the tent, where the Colonel was still beating upon the hapless thestrals. Their cries could still be heard, and it lasted for nearly a half hour before the noise died down. Gretchen soon closed her eyes, and Quicksilver noticed her head shaking from side to side. The more he thought about it, the more Quicksilver began to wonder what was so different between the gryphons and if there was a deep distrust between them. Taking up the courage and the intuition he knew, he raised his voice up to her.
“Gretchen?” he asked, his voice low and humble. The gryphon opened a golden eye, staring at him like a predator looking down at its prey.
“What is it?” she asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice.
“Can you tell me why there is so much tension between the gryphons here?” His response made Gretchen arch an eyebrow, and she lifted a talon to rest her head upon it.
“You really wish to know about our culture, fletching?” she said, a bit perplexed at his question.
“Well, yes. I wish to know,” he replied.
He heard a small chuckle escape the hen. “You won’t be able to understand, fletching. It’s hard to fill a cup that’s already full.” She gestured to him with the tip of her talon.
“Well, I guess my cup is empty. I know a few things about your military and tactics. However, I know little to nothing about the civil and cultural standing within. As long as I am staying here, it wouldn’t hurt to know more about it,” he said, hoping his words might be able to convince her to tell him more about the gryphons.
A moment passed and he could only watch as Gretchen looked him over, studying him as if for the first time. When he thought that she wouldn't say anything, a small smile appeared on her face.
“Well, I guess you earned that right, fletching. I’ll tell you anything you want to know, but on one condition,” she said.
“And that would be?” he asked, wondering what she wanted to hear, though he was uncertain.
“You tell me about yourself and more of where you come from, fletching. Among my people, sharing cultures is respectable when we have such discussions,” she said.
Quicksilver was taken aback. He thought for certain that she was going to say something else that may either have been drastic or maybe even keep silent about. What surprised him the most was that she would be so open to share her culture to him.
He guessed he was proven wrong.
“I guess that's reasonable enough. What do you want to know?” he asked as Gretchen nodded in approval.
“We'll discuss this tomorrow, then; we can collect our thought of what we want to say.” He nodded and Gretchen adjusted herself until she was resting in her hay pile. As Quicksilver began to rest his weary body, his thoughts continued to run around in his mind. He began to wonder what kind of questions to ask and what answers he could give. He wondered what kind of implications he would learn from their culture, or how vastly different it would be. Only time would tell when all the answers would come forth, but at least it would be a start.
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I take the Thestrals are bat ponies.
9122885
Yes they are.
The Gryphon army is really incompetent, they arnt even interrogating this guy, like wtf.
Awwwwww, that would add a whole new dynamic to their relationship.