Equestria is a paragon of civilization, a beacon of peace and prosperity. But there is a world beyond Equestria's borders, a world of harsh realities, where every day is a struggle just to get by.
Survivor's Gorge is a wild mountain valley, far from Equestria. There is no luxury there. No leisure. All these ponies have is each other, and nothing will tear them apart. Rough living breeds tough ponies, as wild animals, frightening mythical beings, evil demi-gods, and the very planet itself will have to learn the hard way.
Note: I'd like to thank the pony-loving population of the Unifaction forum for allowing me to design ponysonas for them, and for letting me use those ponysonas in this story. You guys are the greatest.
The sky was just beginning to lighten with the coming dawn when Silverflame finally reached the compound walls. She paused outside the gate to catch her breath. Her pale silver coat was dark with sweat, her sky-blue mane and tail a sorry tangle of hair and vegetation. She'd been running for so long without stopping, and all four legs trembled under her, but she refused to lie down. Instead, she pulled on the last of her strength, touching her horn to the massive gates and stumbling inside the barricade as soon as there was room to squeeze between them.
“I need to see Scars,” she panted to the first pony she saw, willing herself forward another step. One hoof in front of the other. If she concentrated on that, she could make it.
“I'm here. What happened, Silverflame?” Scars had a rather distinct voice, deep and cold but oddly comforting to the ponies under his protection.
“Yume,” Silverflame said, trying to get her message out before she collapsed. “Yume, the outpost- the griffins came.”
“How bad?” There was no emotion in his voice. There never was.
“I gave Tornado and Red Dawn mercy. The rest should live. They carried off most of the food.”
Scars nodded, tossing his ragged red mane out of his flat gray eyes. “Someone get Silverflame to bed, and wake up the scouts. We have a trip to make.”
Silverflame stood where she was, head hanging and sides still heaving, until someone gently nosed her toward the inn. Her house, her sister, her own bed, they were back at the outpost. She wanted to go back, but she knew she'd never make it. She let herself be herded, too exhausted to do otherwise, thinking longingly of sleep.
~*~
“Are you going with them?”
Scars paused in the act of buckling on his saddlebags, glancing up. Lantern was probably the only pony he'd accept that tone from; the delicate cream-colored mare was like a daughter to him. A stubborn, strong-willed, opinionated daughter, but a daughter nonetheless.
“I'm the best fighter we have,” he pointed out, going back to readying himself. “The griffins might come back.”
Lantern snorted softly in derision, tossing her head. Her customary black lace veil fluttered upward before settling once more over her head, doing nothing to obscure her expression. “Yes, they may,” she agreed. “And they may also choose to drown themselves. The sun may rise in the north tomorrow. The mountain may decide to swallow us all. Best fighter or not, you're needed here.”
“You can take care of yourselves for a day,”
“And if your thirst for vengeance gets you killed? You're all that holds Survivor's Gorge together, Scars.”
Scars flared his nostrils, battling down the urge to yell at her. Better to ignore her bait than rise to it.
“We've all lost loved ones to the griffins,” she continued relentlessly, stepping closer, crowding him against the wall despite being much smaller than him. “We all want revenge. You're the one who told me we couldn't make decisions that way.”
“You hadn't even gotten your mark yet,” Scars snapped. “A single griffin would have torn you to pieces without even trying,”
“And because you're a big strong stallion, the same can't happen to you?”
“I've fought griffins before,” Scars reminded her, shoving his flank against her side, pushing her back. The raking scars of griffin claws and beaks along his sides stood out starkly against his dark brown coat, thick and numerous. His mark was lost under the mess, so long gone that few could remember what it had once been.
“I will not let you orphan me again, Scars!” Lantern exclaimed, shoving him back. “The griffins took one father from me already, and they will not have you, too!”
Scars stared down at her for a long moment before he sighed in defeat. “That was low, Lantern,” he said quietly, unbuckling his saddlebags and letting them slide to the ground.
Lantern said nothing, just watched him as he turned and headed back toward the square. She worried him at times.
~*~
Yume knew she shouldn't be standing. Her right foreleg was heavily bandaged, and her right hind leg twinged and complained at the weight it was being forced to bear. Her head throbbed, but she kept her eyes fixed on the looming peaks of the nearby mountains and the bright rays of the sun sliding over them. Griffins were fond of dawn and sunset attacks; the blinding sun and confusing shadows made excellent cover for the airborne beasts. They'd caught her off guard yesterday- it wasn't going to happen again.
Silverflame should have reached the main compound by now. Hopefully help was on its way. With so many dead and wounded, the outpost had no hope of holding the pass against a hostile force.
“Captain?”
“What is it, Shadowheart?” Yume asked without looking behind her.
“I'm here to relieve you,” Shadowheart said, stepping up next to her. He was a slight stallion, even smaller than Yume, but he was a demon in battle- quick, precise, and ruthless. Not even having his horn snapped in half would stop him, as one unfortunate griffin had learned the hard way. “You need to rest.”
“We don't have enough ponies to mount a guard without me,”
“Yes we do,” Shadowheart disagreed. “I'm rested enough to take over for you; go sleep. You're useless if you're too exhausted to keep your head up.”
Yume shook her head, jerking it back up. She hadn't even noticed she was drooping. “Fine. But don't try and fight off a threat by yourself, got me?”
Shadowheart nodded, nudging her toward the ramp back inside, then planted himself like a statue of black stone, outlined by the morning sun.
~*~
The sun had passed zenith by the time the scout party reached the outpost. The wide swath of bare rock around the walls was littered with the bodies of griffins- some scored by arrows, some skewered on javelins and spears, some scorched by fire both mundane and magical. Here and there among the feathers was the bright, blood-streaked coat of a pony; the outpost must lack the ponypower to mount a watch and retrieve the dead.
Polly dropped from her vantage point, folding her wings neatly against her sides.
“Unicorns, gather the fallen,” she ordered. “Starchaser, take Heavensent and do a sweep of the area. The rest of you, with me.”
Starchaser and Heavensent launched themselves into the sky, and the five unicorns in the group peeled off to begin the unenviable task of moving the dead back into the outpost for proper rites and burial. Polly led the remaining ponies to the gates, which swung open in a haze of light blue. Polly stepped to the side, and the others followed suit, forming a column to each side of the gate, waiting respectfully for the unicorns and their somber burdens to enter.
The survivors inside didn't cheer. There were no smiles. They were greeted only with silent relief; Polly watched more than one pony simply fold their legs where they stood and immediately drop into exhausted sleep. She could hardly blame them, having survived a few outpost attacks herself.
She stepped carefully around the sleepers, lowering her head in respect to the wounded. They could rest now- she was here. She was no great warrior, but she knew how to protect. While she was here, no one and nothing would harm these ponies. She would see to that.
Night fell over the outpost almost unnoticed. After the attack the day before and the clean-up that followed, no one had the energy or attention to spare for what was likely a breathtaking sunset.
Polly climbed the steps to the top of the outer wall, weariness evident in each heavy step. Her hooves sounded dull and tired against the worn stone as she reached the lookout, shaking her mane free of the tight coils she kept it in.
Yume, rested and fed, stood near the parapet. Polly joined her in silence, watching the last of the light fade and the stars wink into sight. Like everypony in Survivor's Gorge, they'd known each other since they were fillies still hidden in the safety of the main compound.
The silence stretched for several comfortable minutes before Yume broke it, sighing. “I messed up,” she said. “I should have known the griffins would be waiting for the harvest.”
“Yes, you should have,” Polly agreed. “And you will know next time. Beating yourself up over the past won't change anything.”
“No one else will punish me for it,” Yume said, tapping her good forehoof against the floor thoughtfully. It was a nervous habit of hers, one she kept reminding herself to try and break. “I should be deposed and sent back to the compound in disgrace.”
“Don't talk like that,” Polly said soothingly, bumping her shoulder against Yume's. “Who would replace you? Shadowheart? Or, Great Mountain Wind- Hopper?”
Yume laughed before she could stop herself, shaking her head. “Stone Spirits defend us then!” she exclaimed, feeling better. “Thanks, Polly.”
“Any time, old friend.”
~*~
Shadowheart slid under the back wall of the outpost with the ease of long practice at it, waiting for the patrol to pass by him before squirming out of the bush hiding the outside end of the tunnel and trotting as quickly as he dared across the stretch of open space to the tumbled boulders that marked the edge of the treeline. Only moss and scrubs grew on the mountainside above that line, where the air was too thin and the soil too poor to sustain anything larger or more delicate. He was black from hoof to jagged horn, a broken unicorn-shaped shadow as he picked his way carefully through the natural maze.
His goal was well-hidden, a low tunnel that led to a small cave barely high enough to stand, at most four pony-lengths across. He concentrated, ignoring the sharp pain in his head that always accompanied magic, and lit a small candle stub, setting it in the middle of the pocket cave.
The back wall of the cave was dominated by a large rock about as thick as Shadowheart's foreleg, polished smooth by time and patient attention. He climbed onto it and lied in the center, curling protectively around his treasure. The warming spell on the stone was beginning to fade; he'd gotten there almost too late. The egg was only half his size and a pale, slightly mottled brown. Keeping it alive until it hatched was the only purpose to his life now. The griffins could never take the outpost. If they did, he wouldn't be able to protect the egg any longer.
The egg quivered, as if sensing the way his thoughts were leaning, and he nuzzled it soothingly.
“Shh, darling,” he whispered, laying his head down again. “Daddy's here. We'll be all right. You'll see.”
The egg pulsed slightly with a wavering aura of muted gold, then went still. Shadowheart closed his eyes to take an hour's nap. That was all he could spare if he wanted to return to the outpost before he was missed.
~*~
Hurricane's feathers were the same pale grays as the mountain- she blended in perfectly if she kept her head down and he legs tucked under her wings, just another worn rock in a forsaken pile of rocks. As long as no ponies landed on her back, she could spy undiscovered for days.
She'd seen the dark little pony sneak out and trailed him to his destination. The tunnel was too small for a grown griffin, even a female like Hurricane, to squeeze through, so she'd settled down to wait. She recognized this one. Didn't know his name, but he was the filthy little beast who didn't know when to lie down and die like a good meal. Chief Red Tail had brought back his horn as a souvenir after the pony had killed his mate Sun Hawk. Red Tail would reward anyone who brought him the rest of the pony.
Hurricane managed not to clack her beak in anticipation of what she could win for one worthless pony; feasting, her choice of the Chief's sons to mate with, rare and precious treasures... hellfires, if she played everything right, she might become Chief herself someday!
The faint scrape of hoof on stone broke through Hurricane's daydreams. She held herself completely still, eyes wide and searching for any sign of movement, especially around the tunnel.
No, curse it, the sound had come from further away. A winged pony landing to rest. Too close, ponies be damned- she might not be able to hold the winged one at bay while she stole her prize! She could of screeched her frustration to the uncaring skies, if only it wouldn't give away her position!
Another hoofstep, and Hurricane redoubled her internal litany of scathing oaths as the object of her plan stepped out at just the worst moment.
“Shadowheart? What are you doing out here? Yume's going to be mad you snuck out.”
'Shadowheart' turned, sighing. “Heavensent,” he said, his voice strained and tired. “Please, forget you saw me.”
“Tell me what you were doing,” Heavensent said, jumping down beside Shadowheart. “This isn't a patrol area,” she tried to step into the tunnel, but Shadowheart stepped in the way.
“Forget it, Heavensent. Go back to your patrol patterns.”
Hurricane's frustration mounted, watching the two dance around each other. Not a care in the world, either one of them. To think such a weak little thing had killed Sun Hawk! She should kill them both now!
She moved without meaning to, leaping down on the pair with a harsh, reverberating war cry. The one called Heavensent jumped back, wings flaring, and managed to avoid the irate griffin, but Shadowheart wasn't so lucky- Hurricane felt her claws close on flesh, biting into his haunch and shoulder and binding tightly. She winged upward on instinct, lifting him off the ground, and kicked a hind foot at Heavensent.
The swipe was a lucky one, catching Heavensent's wing and sending her tumbling back into the mountain's embrace. Shadowheart was heavy, despite being only half Hurricane's size, and she struggled toward the currents home. She had her prize now, and she'd best be gone before the rest of the ponies could catch her.
She found a warm updraft and slipped into it, laughing as it shot her higher and northward. Red Tail was going to reward her very, very handsomely for this.
~*~
Everyone in the outpost knew a griffin's cry when they heard it. The sound was an alarm, sending everyone scrambling to defend what was left of the outpost. Sleepers shot to their feet from their makeshift beds, and those wounded who could still fight prepared to do so. Those on watch readied whatever weapon they favored and scanned the skies.
Polly took to the skies, flying in a tight circle until she spotted a lone flier the wrong shape to be a pony. “Griffin, heading north!” she called, streaking off after it. Other fliers joined her on the chase, but the interloper had too much of a head start- it quickly disappeared over the horizon, and Polly forced herself to stop. It could be a trap, to leave the outpost without a defense in the sky.
As she turned, a patch of white and blue on the ground caught her eye. She focused in on it, streaking into a steep dive as soon as she realized it was a fellow pegasus.
Heavensent, her white mane and tail full of dirt and rock dust, was just struggling to her feet as Polly landed. She held her right wing awkwardly, as if it were injured, and her expression was panicked.
“Shadowheart,” she gasped out, her forelegs buckling under her and dumping her on the ground again. “The thing took Shadowheart, took him alive- they never take us alive, why would it do that?”
Polly shivered in a sudden chill that had nothing to do with the mountain winds, staring northward. “I don't know,” she said quietly. “But Scars needs to know.”
Starchaser, who'd jumped from her bed not two minutes before, nodded. “Griffin taking Shadowheart north,” she repeated, launching herself into the sky once more. Uninjured, with no burden to weigh her down, she could make the main compound in a matter of hours.
Polly wished she could say with certainly that Shadowheart had that long.
-to be continued-
All y'all can blame Dr. Sparkle for the cliffhanger. It was their idea to add some.
“Hush little pony, don't say a word- Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird...”
Hoofbeats on the road outside. Shouting and screaming and the sounds of desperate fighting.
“And if that mockingbird won't sing, Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring...”
Swiftwind's voice was soft, barely audible over the noise. Calm beneath the chaos.
“And if that diamond ring turns brass, Mama's gonna buy you a looking glass...”
Summerstone yelped in fright as something slammed into the wall of the house, shaking dust from the rafters. Swiftwind lowered her muzzle without interrupting her lullaby, pressing her cheek comfortingly against the little filly's.
“And if that looking glass gets broke, Mama's gonna buy you an oxen yoke...”
More jolting impacts, again and again. A rafter cracked, falling to the floor in two splintered pieces. Still, Swiftwind sang.
“And if that oxen yoke turns over, Mama's gonna buy you a dog named Rover...”
Summerstone began to cry, sobbing softly against her mother's flank. She was too young and too frightened to do anything else. Another rafter cracked, but didn't fall. The walls groaned, dropping plaster and paint like oddly colored snow.
“And if that dog named Rover won't bark, Mama's gonna buy you a brand new cart...”
Summerstone screamed as a section of the roof fell almost on top of the table they lied under. Swiftwind only pulled her closer, spreading a wing over her soothingly. She seemed not to even care that her home was being destroyed around her, or that the stump of her hind leg still bled sluggishly under the concealing fall of her tail.
“And if that brand new cart breaks down-”
A loud, ominous crash of something landing on the roof, and the entire structure roared in protest, trembling on its remaining support. Roof, walls, the mangled griffin corpse that had been its undoing: all of it collapsed. The table legs, carved to hold a family's dinner, buckled under the sheer weight.
Summerstone's scream ended with a sudden and telling silence. Swiftwind could feel her own ribs shatter. Her body exploded in pain, every nerve afire with it. Somehow, she moved. Shifted a chunk of wood, felt the pile settle more heavily. Heard faint shouting, anguished cries. Breathing hurt, burned through her like the fires of Hell as she laid her head nose-to-nose with her daughter's, forced one more lungful of air into her tortured body.
“-y-you'll... s... still b-be the swee... sweetest li... little f... filly... in town...”
~*~
Shadowheart woke with a start, and for one wild and terrifying moment, he couldn't separate his waking nightmare from his remembered one. His legs moved weakly, trying to carry him toward a pile of rubble that no longer existed, to rescue somepony years dead.
The moment passed, however, like it always did. Swiftwind was dead. Summerstone was dead. They were nothing more than skeletons and memories.
“Hey, are you okay?”
Shadowheart tore himself away from the past, looking up sharply. He didn't know the voice, and no matter how concerned it sounded, he didn't trust it.
“Hey, whoa- don't move! You're hurt pretty bad from that fall. Sorry I didn't manage to catch you in time.”
Shadowheart struggled to stand, but his traitorous body wouldn't let him. All four legs hurt, though not bad enough to be broken, and refused to bear his weight. “Stay away from me.”
The griffin blinked at him, as if she couldn't understand why he was behaving this way. “Dude, what is wrong with you?” she demanded.
“A great deal more than I'd tell a griffin,” Shadowheart responded, watching her warily. Something was... different about this one. She was leaner, both in build and in health- if he had to guess, she hadn't been eating much if at all lately. Her markings were odd, too- there was no way she could blend into anything with such bold brown feathers and that stark white head, and certainly not with what looked like purple edging on her crest.
But it was more than that. Shadowheart's gift was the ability to see into the hearts of others and judge their intentions. He hadn't met a griffin yet who didn't ultimately intend his death, but all he sensed from this one was a desire to help. Help him, specifically. Which flew directly in the face of everything he knew about griffins.
“Geez, you're a grouch,” she said. “Whatever. The name's Gilda.”
“What kind of name is Gilda?” Shadowheart asked. He'd never known a griffin to have a name like that, either.
“Tell me your name so I can make fun of it,” Gilda retorted, batting her hind foot at a rock and sending it skittering out of the circle of firelight.
She radiated a sense of innocence and trust completely unlike anything Shadowheart had ever encountered, and he found himself answering her. “Shadowheart,”
“Now that is a weirdo name,” Gilda said, laughing. “Are you hungry? I can hunt up some food for you.”
“Why do you care?” Shadowheart asked. “I'm a pony.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” Gilda turned her head, fully focusing one bright avian eye on him. “I'm not blind, you know.”
“Where did you come from?” Shadowheart wondered, shaking his head. He meant it rhetorically, but she answered, anyway.
“Cloudsdale, originally. I left Ponyville a couple weeks ago- can't really tell you where I've been since. It's totally boring out here. You want something to eat, or not?”
Shadowheart assessed himself. He was hungry. He might have done his own foraging, except he knew pain well enough to know he had broken ribs under the crude bandages wrapped over his flanks. His legs were badly bruised and would probably take days to heal enough for him to walk. If he wanted to eat, he'd have to trust a griffin.
“Fine,” he said at length, laying his head down again. He hadn't noticed before, but Gilda had pressed a worn leather bag into service as a makeshift pillow. That was... kind. Something else he wasn't used to from griffins.
“Okay, then. Rest up, and I'll be back,” Gilda stood, shaking out her wings, and launched herself skyward. For several seconds, her back was completely open; one well-timed burst of magic, and he could have killed her.
Definitely the strangest griffin Shadowheart had ever known.
-end chapter-
Short chapter is short.
Now you know what the 'other' was for. I like to surprise people sometimes.
Her weeks of travel had taught Gilda that food was not easy to find. Back in Equestria, she'd never been far from a marketplace or homestead, and even in the so-called wild, there was fruit and small game for the taking. Out here, though, the ground was hard and the dirt thin, leading to precious little in the way of plants. She couldn't recall seeing a single tree past the border, in fact. And game was even scarcer, consisting mostly of mice and stunted mountain hare.
Still, Gilda wasn't about to let a stupid mountain get the best of her, and she had an injured pony to feed, too, so she set out on food, prepared to scour every crack and crevice until she found them both dinner.
Speaking – or thinking, more accurately – of Shadowheart, she really had to wonder what was wrong with him. Ponies were usually total softies, and most of them were in awe of her just because she was a griffin. Shadowheart, on the other hand, seemed to hate griffins, which was an attitude Gilda had never seen before.
Then again, she had first seen him being carried like oversized prey by a griffin. And said griffin had thrown him at Gilda. This wasn't Equestria- maybe griffins and ponies just didn't get along out here? It felt unnatural even to think of that, but it made the most sense.
She spotted movement out of the corner of her eye and, not wanting it to get away, pounced before she was even fully turned. Her claws scrabbled on stone for a moment, hind legs trying to compensate for the awkward angle and the position of her forefeet. Her prize was another mouse, not even fully grown, but it was her first meat in days- she swallowed it whole and resumed her hunt.
~*~
This time, Scars himself came to the outpost. Lantern came with him, trotting lightly through the gates as if they hadn't galloped hard the entire way. Yume met them there and told them what little there was to tell, then stepped back so Scars could take charge.
“Alright,” Scars said, stepping to the center of the courtyard and waiting until he had everypony's complete attention. “Shadowheart's a big colt- he'll have to take care of himself.”
Yume lifted her head, ears slanting backward sharply, but she didn't object.
“We can't afford to waste time, resources, and possibly lives chasing after someone who's probably already dead,” Scars continued flatly. “What we need to concentrate on is how a griffin got this close to the outpost, especially right after an attack, and how to keep it from happening again. Does anyone know where Shadowheart was when he was grabbed?”
There was a pause and the sound of shuffling hooves, then Heavensent limped her way to the front of the crowd. “I do,” she said quietly. She was young, and had been raised in the clouds above the central fort, so she was wary of Scars at the best of times. “He was in the rock maze. I saw him and went down to see what he was doing.”
Scars turned, stepping to stand in front of Heavensent. “Well?”
“You're scaring her, Scars,” Lantern said, stepping up next to him and shoving his shoulder lightly. “I'll handle her.”
Scars snorted heavily, then nodded. “Fine. Yume.” Yume hurried to his summons, not wanting him to get any more annoyed. “We need to set up better patrols- a griffin should never have been able to come so close to the walls without anyone raising an alarm.”
Yume nodded, hanging her head to acknowledge her failure there. She'd known Scars all her life, so his abrupt bluntness was easier for her to shrug off than Heavensent. “Yes, sir. I'll gather up those fit for patrols.”
“Do that,” Scars said. “Bring them here in an hour.” He pivoted in place and started for the gate again, every hooffall radiating pure grim determination. “I'm going to go see what in the blazing skyfire was so important Shadowheart let himself get caught.”
~*~
Gilda caught another sorry-looking mouse and a nearly starved mountain hair, and gathered a small bag of wilting grass before deciding that was all the luck she was going to have and turning to retrace her steps, again not bothering to fly. Mountains had some wicked winds around them, and she'd rather not have any broken legs.
It took longer than she thought it would to see the glow from the fire, and she rushed eagerly toward it. Hopefully Shadowheart hadn't wandered off while she was working her tailfeathers off to find him food...
She pulled up short at the edge of the clearing, because she suddenly realized this wasn't the clearing she'd left behind. Shadowheart was resting in a large, shallow depression in the mountainside with a slight rocky overhang, the fire off to the side where a tumble of fallen stones protected it from the wind. This clearing was much deeper and had the perfect regular outline of something made, not naturally formed. What she'd taken in the darkness for rock piles were actually small trees, thick with leaves. The fire was in the center of the clearing and much bigger than hers, and the creature beside it was most definitely not Shadowheart.
At first, she thought it was a young dragon. The firelight flickered over membrane wings of a muted green, and she spotted a limp draconic tail of the same color. But the head it raised and turned toward her was definitely equine, topped with a silky mane that appeared pitch black.
“Madame Griffin,” it said politely, standing and shaking itself. The voice was masculine enough, but with a body like that, how could she possibly be sure? “Don't just stand there- come join me. The fire's nice and warm, and I still have a few roasted apples to share.”
Gilda's mouth began to water at the mention of roasted apples. When was the last time she'd eaten fruit? She lifted one claw, then set it back down and shook herself.
“Sorry, but no can do. I've got someone waiting for me.”
He – she was going to assume he for now – shrugged, folding his wings against his back. “Suit yourself, then. Try not to get lost.”
Gilda bristled slightly, the feathers of her crest rising in irritation. “I just got confused, okay? I didn't know anyone else was around here!”
“Not my fault,” he said. “I've lived here all my life, so it's not as if I snuck up on you. Better hurry back to your friend.”
Gilda hissed at him, turning and storming off. She'd thought for sure she'd gone in the right direction... too bad it wasn't light yet. Come dawn, she'd be able to fly pretty high and see most everything. For now, she might as well be wingless.
It took her nearly another hour to find her own fire. Shadowheart had fallen asleep again, so she piled the grass she'd found where he'd see it once he woke up and settled down on the other side of the fire, intending to sleep while she could. No telling what the sunrise might bring.
~*~
Shadowheart didn't sleep so much as spend a period of time passed out. Even if Gilda was different from the griffins he was used to, she was still a griffin, and he hadn't intended to leave himself open to attack around her. But one minute he'd been staring at the fire, and the next he was staring at a pile of grass in the morning sunlight.
He sat up with some difficulty and laid into the meal. He was starving, and it was about on par with what he'd have found around the outpost for his breakfast, anyway, so he had no complaints.
Gilda was sprawled across the rock on the other side of the smoldering ashes, deeply asleep. Again, he couldn't help but think: even injured as he was, all it would take was a single spell. Just a quick burst of magic. She had to know that, but it seemed as if she was absolutely certain he would never hurt her, despite being a pony.
His meal eaten, Shadowheart laid his head back down, keeping one eye aimed skyward. Neither he nor Gilda blended in very well, and he needed to be able to wake her in time to counter any attacks. For now, at least, he would just have to... trust her. Alien though the thought might be.
Hurricane had yet to return to the nesting caves. She couldn't go back empty-taloned, not after putting the outpost on high alert like that. Red Tail would have her primaries if she didn't have something to show for her idiocy.
She clawed at the rocks, gouging furrows in them from the force of her anger. She knew the gaudy griffin who'd attacked her wasn't from her tribe; even if she couldn't retrieve Shadowheart, she could drive out the stranger and make sure the territory was secure.
She only needed to find them.
She crouched and launched herself skyward, catching the edge of an updraft. They had to be in the mountains still, probably in one of the nearby valleys. Thank the Wind there were no caves to speak of around here- if she was diligent and lucky, it would take only a handful of days to find them, and then she could go home.
The updraft sent her soaring into open sky, past cloud wisps that would likely become a summer storm in due time. She scanned the side of the mountain, watching for movement. She would not be thwarted again.
~*~
Scars negotiated the rock maze with a bit more difficulty than he was willing to admit. He was by no means old, but he wasn't young anymore, either, and he knew that with all the damage his body had taken over the years, he was lucky to be able to move at all. At least Lantern wasn't around to make him feel even worse.
It wasn't hard to find Shadowheart's trail. Though the rock maze was an actual maze, a leftover ground defense from generations ago, Shadowheart had apparently sneaked out here often enough that his hooves had worn a smooth track between the fort and whatever was hidden in here. It was long, winding, doubled back on itself occasionally, but eventually ended at the entrance to a small cave.
Scars grumbled under his breath, ducking his head to step inside. He was a full-sized stallion, not a little pipsqueak like Shadowheart, so it was a bit of a squeeze, but he managed it.
Inside, the cave was pitch black- the close crowding of the rocks outside and a sharp curve only a few hooves in mention what little sunlight there was didn't reach very far. Most unicorns would have left at least a little light spell, but magic was painful for Shadowheart, so no surprise there. Scars slid his way carefully across the floor, feeling his way bit by bit with both forehooves, until he ran into a force field.
There was no pain, just a sudden resistance and a shimmer of dark blue light climbing up the air in front of him. It reached from floor to low ceiling, wall to wall. Scars couldn't see what lay behind it, but whatever it was had to be important.
Scars lifted one hoof, tapping the force field and staring intently past it. The cave wasn't much deeper, he could make out the far wall barely a pony-length away. Again, he tapped the shield, and again scanned as much as he could. There was something large and round in the shielded area – tap again for light – light-colored and smooth, from what he could see – tap, tap – an egg.
“Why the hell is Shadowheart hiding an egg out here?” Scars demanded of the empty air, backing out of the cave carefully. “What was that idiot thinking? If the griffins haven't killed him yet, I'll snap his stupid neck myself.”
“Careful with that kind of talk- somepony might think you're serious.”
“What are you doing here, abomination?” Scars demanded, rounding on the latest annoyance to wander back into his life.
“Ouch,” Biel said, laughing. “That almost hurt, stepfather.”
“Don't call me that!” Scars snapped. “You and I have nothing to do with each other, and we have an agreement you're currently breaking!”
“Technically, I'm not,” Biel disagreed, stepping down to the ground and folding his unnatural membrane wings against his back. “We agreed I'd never set hoof in your territory again, and you'd make sure no ponies ever invaded my valley. Since my valley is currently host to one of your ponies, that means I can come here if I want.”
Scars wanted to protest just on principle, but there was no arguing with Biel's logic. He growled, pawing angrily at the ground. “Fine- send him home and get out. I don't have time for you.”
“Fine, fine,” Biel said, turning around. “I know when I'm hated.” He jumped up onto a large boulder and spread his wings, jumping up to hover in the sky for a moment. “He's injured. The unicorn in my valley, I mean. He won't be back for a while. Try to get some rest.”
Scars didn't reply, glaring at the ground until Biel's shadow flitted off across the ground and away. Once he was certain he was alone, he shifted and bucked the boulder Biel had touched with all his might. It trembled and split down the middle, spraying dust and pebbles everywhere, but did nothing for his anger, and the minute he touched hoof to ground he knew he would be limping for days.
~*~
Shadowheart woke to the sound of branches scraping across stone. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he was was Gilda with a sorry-looking scrub bush hanging from her beak.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Gilda dropped the bush, shoving it around until she was satisfied before answering. “Hiding us. I saw a griffin earlier, and I figured it would be bad if we got found.”
Shadowheart tensed, ignoring the full-body wave of pain. “Where?”
“Pretty far off,” Gilda said, still absently arranging shrubbery. “Man, what I'd give for the Everfree Forest right now. Nothing to hide you from the skies like furlongs of trees.”
Shadowheart looked around at what little they had to work with; it wasn't much, barely enough to cover him, forget about him and Gilda. “We need to move.”
“No way,” Gilda disagreed. “You can't walk, and you're too big for me to carry.”
Shadowheart shifted his forehooves under him, prepared for the pain and further damage he was about to set off. “We don't have a choice,” he told her. “If they're still looking, they will find us. Soon.”
“Well...” Gilda said uncertainly, tail lashing behind her. “Okay, fine, you're right. Maybe if you can get on my back, I can carry you like that. That weird pony-dragon wasn't too far off...”
Shadowheart managed to get his forelegs under him and more-or-less straight. He could ignore the pain for now. Gilda turned and sat with her back to him, wings spread. Shadowheart managed, hoof by hoof, to drag himself across her slick feathers so his forehooves were hooked over her shoulders, his hind legs hanging behind her wings. She stood slowly, angling her wings to help keep him steady.
“You're even lighter than you look,” she noted, taking a few steps to see how he settled. “Which is saying something. Did you just stop growing after you got your cutie mark, or what?”
“Shut up,” Shadowheart muttered into her crest. He'd often been teased as a foal for being so small, and even as an adult he was a bit sensitive about his size.
Gilda laughed, slowly climbing out of the little hollow in the ground and starting downslope and eastward. Shadowheart closed his eyes, clinging to consciousness with all his might. If they were attacked, Gilda would need him awake to offer magical defense...
Almost as soon as he completed the thought, Shadowheart slipped back into sleep.
~*~
Long wait for such a short update, huh? Sorry to the six ponies reading this story. orz
