Hurricane Trinity

by Lovesick-Ded

The Journey Approaches

Author's Note:

Forgot to mention, this story involves quite a bit of interlacing with the past and the present time, so there WILL be a few instances of flashbacks, which are indicated by italic text. But I think you guys knew that already, so, yeah.

Also I thank everyone who has viewed and/or read the story thus far; you are wonderful people and I appreciate any feedback I get on this fairly new project!

HURRICANE TRINITY

An MLP Extended-Universe Story

Written by M.J. Hopper

CHAPTER TWO

“Hold still.”

“Ungh…uff…” Grogar winced in pain as the antiseptic bandage was wrapped around his front leg; although Windcaller’s approach to the situation was gentle, the putrid-smelling formula still burned the surface of his skin—and nostrils, for that matter. He really was attempting not to fidget so much but the stinging made it difficult and he found himself attempting to instinctively draw his foreleg away from the source. Windcaller’s blue eyes flashed and she gave an irritated glance at the old goat.

“I said, hold STILL!”

“GAHHH!” A sound between a cry and a gasp escaped from Grogar’s mouth as he was yanked forward forcefully through the bandage, due to Windcaller tugging on the unwrapped portions. Flopping down onto the cot he was lying on, he grimaced and shuddered slightly as the Yeti female came to realization just exactly what it was she had done. Releasing one of the ends, she clapped a hand over her mouth, blushing slightly in both embarrassment and shock.

“Oh, gods!” she declared; immediately she gently rubbed at Grogar’s foreleg, feeling for anything that might have been further injured or broken in the process. “I am SO sorry, my love…I still need to get used to treating wounds with a gentler touch. The males back in my tribe had…well, a higher threshold for pain, so to speak.”

“Guhhh…it…it’s fine. I’m fine.” That was a bit of a lie actually; Grogar’s foreleg felt like it had been temporarily dislocated from that little incident but he knew that Windcaller would worry all the more about him if he admitted that, and the last thing he wanted right now was for her to fret about him. It had already been terrible enough during the battle for Yebit three years ago, and given her current state she should not be stressed by any means, he figured. He shut his eyes and blew out a heavy breath. “Heh…I mean, it could have been worse. You could have maybe, like, ripped off my leg or something.”

“Would not be surprised if she did end up doing that, actually.”

Both Windcaller and Grogar looked up toward the doorway, where a lavishly-accessorized Caprinian doe with bluish-lavender fur and fluffed bangs was standing; she turned up her nose at the sight of Windcaller and huffed. “I swear to the gods, Grogar…if it were not for the fact that you treat me better than you do HER, I would have left your side a long time ago.”

“Rivvon…” Grogar wanted to say more to his first wife, but he held his tongue; now was not the time to be encouraging this type of behavior on either of their parts. All he could really do was eye her and hope she would get the message to zip her mouth; sadly this wasn’t the case with her, and he should have figured as much:

“I don’t even know why you agreed to allow these…primitive ANIMALS…to stray across our borders in the first place.” She took a few steps into the room, keeping her head raised as she looked upon the two with disdain, specifically Windcaller, who bit her lower lip and attempted to turn her head away. “The only thing they appear to be somewhat decent at is combat, and we already have an army to take care of our fighting needs, should they arise.”

“Rivvon,” Grogar repeated, his tone firmer than before. The doe glanced his way, although he could tell she really was not that intrigued by what he had to say next. Regardless: “I know that you are not quite used to the new set of customs as of right now…but, the Yeti are our allies. You and I both know that—“

“’Not quite used to’ is an understatement!” Rivvon’s bright yellow eyes glinted with anger and she took on an aggressive stance. “I cannot go a single day without having the stench of those horrible beasts lingering around me; cannot go outside the palace gates without seeing their primitive faces and hunched backs…the males are especially bad.

“And YOU.” Her gaze shifted toward Windcaller, and it became clear at that moment in time whom she was going to blame for her irritation. “You’re probably the worst of them all…taking my beloved’s hoof in marriage when you barely knew him to begin with.”

The bridge of Windcaller’s petite nose wrinkled in anger and she defensively clenched her teeth. “That’s—“

“You can claim and declare to the public all you want that it’s not true…but you know that what I said is fact.” Rivvon’s gaze darkened. “Which makes it all the more revolting that a hero of his stature would ‘court’ someone like you as well…although, to be fair, he probably wasn’t even your first. You WERE the matriarch of those wretched Neanderthals, after all.”

Probably the best way to describe Windcaller’s reaction to this would to be if someone had just shattered a glass windowpane; her jaw went slightly slack and her eyes widened in surprise, before shimmering with anger and pure loathing. Her usually-soft features contorted into an expression of hatred and the soft white fur on the back of her neck and tail bristled as she began to rise to her feet.

“Take that back,” she growled, although it was more animal-like than anything else at this moment in time. “Take it back, you dock-tailed, conniving—“

“ENOUGH!”

Grogar’s shout of command was so loud that it rattled the walls of the infirmary, causing both females to snap out of their fight and turn to look at him. The ram’s blue-gray fur was the one to bristle now; it was so ruffled from irritation at this point in time it was practically standing straight up on the back of his neck. Panting a bit, trying to get his own building upset under control, his gaze turned on Windcaller, then shifted over to Rivvon.

“I know…that things are different,” he finally managed to gasp out, although his teeth were angrily bared in the process of doing so. “But…you are both my wives…and I love you both…so, please. Do not test my patience…with either of you.”

The two were silent for a brief moment; finally Windcaller heaved a sigh and gripped her hand tightly to her chest. “I…I’m sorry, Grogar. You…you’re right. It…”

Rivvon, on the other hand, merely sneered and turned up her nose before whipping around and storming towards the doorway; she stopped to look behind her before saying one last thing toward Windcaller:

“Do me a favor…don’t let your mongrel, if and when he’s born, near my son. EVER.”

Before anyone could say anything against her, she was gone. The fur on the nape of Grogar’s neck relaxed and he heaved out a sigh, bringing his head down between his forelegs. Windcaller eyed him with a mixture of both concern and shame.

“She’ll never learn,” Grogar muttered, rubbing at his muzzle with one hoof. “Never in a million years…does like her are way too stubborn to change their view on things so suddenly.”

“It was my fault…I shouldn’t have reacted in that way,” Windcaller replied, shaking her head. She brought her attention back to Grogar’s foreleg; the bandages had started to unravel a bit and she began to work to reprimand this. “It’s just…when she brought up the whole ‘courtship’ thing, I…”

“I know that the Yeti are not like that, Windcaller,” Grogar told her, smiling a bit. “If you were as experienced in that field as she claims you are, you would have both my hind legs in splints.”

The female Yeti blushed in embarrassment and fumbled a bit with the bandages. “Well, I, uh...y-yeah, I suppose that would be true.” She awkwardly tied a knot in the linen and leaned back slightly before feeling a sudden pressure in her belly; wincing, she placed a hand over her abdomen and gritted her teeth. “Ah…”

Grogar tilted his head to one side, his brow furrowing slightly. “What’s wrong? Something with the pup?”

“I, n-no…I think the pup is okay.” She looked up at him, her hand still on her belly. “Actually, it might be more than okay…it just kicked, I think.”

“For the first time?” Grogar’s eyes seemed to light up and he smiled even more brightly than before. “That’s…that’s wonderful news! I was so worried that he wouldn’t be okay…interspecies breeding can sometimes prove difficult for the infants…”

“It’s probably gonna be more difficult for me than for ‘him’,” Windcaller replied, although her voice seemed light-hearted and happy as well. “Your kind have horns, after all. And hooves. And it’s probably going to be different than a normal birth…”

Grogar rolled his eyes playfully. “Fair enough. But, you can’t blame me for being pleased. This is a huge stepping-stone for us…if he is born completely healthy, then I don’t see why…we can’t save both races, as a united people…”

“We’ll see,” Windcaller told him gently, placing one hand upon his front hoof. “We’ll see...what the future will hold in store. For ‘him’, and for us.”

*

“Are you sure you know how to read that map?”

“Hang on, hang on.” Grubber fumbled with the large piece of parchment, practically hidden entirely behind it as he attempted to read the old Ponish cursive written on the surface. “Why does everyone in existence have to make these stupid things so big…yeah, BIG waste of paper if you ask me.”

Storm folded his arms and hunched over slightly, tapping one hoof in impatience; he blew a stray lock of white fur off of his nose and shifted his gaze to the front of the cargo wagon they were currently hitching a ride in. After spending the night in the Everfree Forest—which, honestly, was less than pleasant even by Storm’s standards—the two had decided that the only way to get out of Equestria without being seen was to not go on foot, as the goat-beast was way too noticeable, but instead to stow away on a traveling wagon out of the country via one of the outside trade routes.

Luckily they didn’t even need to stow away for the most part; an elderly stallion had offered them a ride on his cargo wagon heading toward Klugetown…in exchange for a hefty amount of currency, but, they needed to take what they could get in order to avoid raising awareness to their situation. Now they were almost to the desert and Grubber couldn’t even read a stupid map.

Things were really looking up.

A few moments of time passed as Grubber continued to fumble around with the map and scan it; finally Storm’s patience wore paper-thin and he growled angrily. “If you can’t read the damn map, Grubber, just SAY SO and we’ll get someone to—“

“I can read it, I can read it!” Grubber snapped, shaking his paw; he turned the paper over on its side again for like the fourth time and examined it. “Would help if you said where exactly it was we were going to begin with…”

Storm was pretty sure at that point in time that he was going to burst a blood vessel if not anything else in his system; he threw up both hands and gave a suppressed howl of frustration before snatching the map away from the little gray hedgehog with such force that it almost tore in two. “GIVE me that!”

“Geez—“ Grubber could only say one word before the surprise took him entirely, and he pouted a little at the furred creature before focusing his gaze on the road. Storm attempted to brush this off and scanned over the map, searching the southernmost lands first and foremost, as this is where the desired destination lay. His gaze trailed to the left side of the map, toward the southwest area, but unfortunately there was not much information to be found on this map in particular other than a few landmarks and some scratches of ink.

Figured…this map was pretty much rendered useless at this point. None of the southwestern areas were documented, if at all. Of course he figured as much, from Equestrian explorers…

“Well, it’s no wonder you couldn’t read it. It’s friggin’ incomplete.” He tossed the map over his shoulder and into the wind before placing his chin in both hands, hunching over in slightly irritated defeat. “I know it’s in the southwest, but, without my old documents I can’t figure out where the exact coordinates are. We’ll be going in completely blind unless we can find a better map.”

“So where do we find one then?” Grubber asked, shifting his gaze up toward him; Storm shook his head and clenched his teeth slightly.

“I have absolutely NO idea. We’re headed to Klugetown, I think…maybe someone there will have more of a clue than these friggin’ Equestrian mapmakers.”

“Y-yeah…you know…” Grubber looked down at the road for a few moments before looking back up at Storm. “I gotta admit something…yeah, I followed you instead of staying with that cult group, but…you need to get better with how you treat people, y’know?” He furrowed his brow a little bit. “The way you treated those guys was…really unfair.”

Storm eyed him; for a second Grubber thought he could see a brief flash of emotion within his eyes but it faded rather quickly. The goat-beast instead folded his arms and huffed arrogantly.

“And you expected me to do what? Treat them with gratitude and kindness?” He shook his head and brought his palm to his face. “You really are something, you know that?”

“L-look…” Grubber felt his stomach twisting in anxiety but he had to put the words out there at the very least. “I know you think differently for some reason, but…kindness isn’t weakness…you know? If anything, it’s…it makes you strong. I mean, look at what happened with Tempest—“

“You do NOT bring up Tempest!!” Storm practically roared the words, slamming his fist down upon the bottom of the wagon; Grubber winced as if he had been struck and cowered against the wagon’s side, whimpering slightly. The goat-beast snarled at him, teeth bared, until it happened again:

Listen. Listen…!

Where is that voice even coming from? The former conqueror looked around, searching for the source, but again he found nothing; there was no one in the back of the wagon besides him and Grubber. Deciding upon the idea that it was not important at this time, he drew his attention away from it, as the wagon came to a halt.

“End of the line, boys.” The elderly stallion hopped off of the front of the wagon and trotted toward them, brushing aside the cloth tarp that had been used as cover during the trek through the more populated areas. “I’ll be takin’ my currency and then y’all can make it towards Klugetown.”

“Thanks for taking us all this way,” Grubber told him as he wriggled off of the wagon; Storm hopped to his feet and simply dropped a bagful of bits into the stallion’s outstretched hoof before turning his back and heading toward the giant, looming city. The stallion watched him go with a rather strange expression; Grubber looked up and smiled nervously.

“You, uh…you’ll have to excuse him. He’s…a tad distant.”

“Nah, I know his type.” The stallion pocketed the bits within the worn vest he was wearing and chewed a bit on something within his mouth, probably tobacco of some sort, Grubber was guessing. “He ain’t got much left in him friend-wise, I’d say. Somethin’ bad happened to ‘im…somethin’ in the past, and he just moseys on thinkin’ he’s the best and don’t need no friends.” He shook his head. “Sad things I see in my days…sad things.”

Now it was the little gray hedgehog’s turn to eye him strangely; he looked back toward the direction of Klugetown, then over at the stallion, before turning toward the path of the city in question. Something about the old Equestrian’s words was incredibly unsettling to him, and he didn’t believe it wise to stick around for much longer.

“I, uh…I should be going now, I think.” He began to bound off, pausing to wave frantically. “Thanks again!”

The old stallion waved back in response until both of them were out of sight; he then gave a sigh and spit into the sand below him before heading toward the front of the wagon. He looked back toward Klugetown one last time before snapping the reins and moving onward.

“Y’all are in for a serious rut…y’know that…”

It was the last thing he muttered before the wagon moved on and disappeared into the sands surrounding the area…it was no longer the stallion’s problem at hand; not his burden to bear.

There was still much to come.