Seeking shelter from a storm, a gryphon and a pony must share a small cave.
Seeking shelter from a storm, a pony chances upon a small cave, but finds it already occupied by a gryphon. Despite fear and mistrust, the two of them must share it until morning.
“There are times when a fic so perfectly encompases the meaning of Friendship is Magic that it becomes easy to believe that the writer is a nom de plume of one of the show's writers.”
“A calm, deliberate story of friendship laser-focused on two really strong characters. It's world-building by way of character-building, a tale of common understanding growing where none existed that never even thinks about being preachy.
Brûlée staggered through the undergrowth, her head swimming as she tried to place each hoof safely. Her coat was soaked, her mane plastered to her neck, her tail caked with mud as it slid across the ground. She spared a glance at the sky. The sun would be setting soon, and if she thought the forest was hostile now, she knew it would be worse after dark. She needed to find some sort of shelter where she could rest for the night and wait for the storm to pass.
Amid the incessant hammering of the rain, the thrashing of branches whipped about by the wind and the steady plod of her own hoofsteps, her attention was caught by a sound that didn’t belong. A thin, high sound drifted through the rain, like somepony was whistling, though it was too faint for her to make out any sort of tune. Her ears perked up, flicking left and right in an attempt to work out where it was coming from, but this just meant more water got into them.
It was left, she decided. She couldn’t see anything, but it sounded like the correct direction. She turned and headed toward the sound.
She caught a hoof on a thick root sticking out of a puddle, slipped, staggered, then stopped her fall with the other hoof. She could not afford an injury, not now.
Setting off, she turned a little to the right, trying to follow the sound. It was louder now, but it didn’t sound as equine as before. It wasn’t regular or tuneful like somepony whistling would be. Something was up ahead. She could see a large shape through the shifting blanket of rain. A cliff? A hill? A massive tree? Whatever it was, it was worth heading for.
As she got closer she saw a jagged cluster of rocks jutting out of the forest into the air. It was dark, but looked shiny like glass, and it had big round bubbles in it like water suddenly frozen in a moment. What chance of nature or magical horror could have created something like this? As she stepped closer, it was clear what the noise was: the wind whistling through holes in this rock.
Brûlée circled round the base of the strange outcropping, looking for any sort of shelter. It wasn’t long before she found it: the mouth of a cave, raised about a foot off the ground. Not very big, but probably big enough for one little pony. She hoped nothing was living in there already. Pulling her wet mane out of her eyes with a hoof, she peered into the entrance from a safe distance. It was dark inside, and the rain running down her face didn’t help, but it looked empty. Good enough. She ducked her head down and started edging in.
She stopped. Eyes were looking at her from inside the cave, just a few feet away. A predator’s eyes, golden and sharp, unblinking. Brûlée tensed, and started to step very slowly backwards.
“Well, don’t just stand there getting soaked, come on in. There’s room if I scoot over a bit.”
Brûlée hesitated. The voice sounded female, but not equine. It had an accent, and also a stiff quality as if the lips didn’t move properly. As her eyes adjusted to the light she could make out white and brown feathers on a streamlined head, with a big curved yellow beak that darkened to black at the hooked tip, and big, pale gold eyes. Behind them in the darkness a leonine tail flicked.
In the end, it was her rump that decided for her. Her head was under the lip of the cave, out of the rain; her rear was sticking out, battered by the full force of the storm. She took a breath and stepped forward.
As she’d suspected, the cavern was really just a short, narrow tunnel, but with a little careful positioning the two of them were able to sit side by side, both facing the entrance, their bodies barely a hoof-width apart.
The gryphon held out a foot. “Hi. I’m Ava.”
“Er, hello. I’m Brûlée.” She looked at the claw, not sure what she was expected to do with it. She couldn’t help noticing the vicious talons at the end of the yellow fingers. “Do you live here?”
“Nah, I’ve just been here about an hour or so. I spotted this place from the air when the storm started.” She awkwardly let her claw drop to the cave floor.
Brûlée sat, her hooves tucked close under her, stealing nervous glances to her left. She’d never seen a gryphon before. They’d been taught in school about the times long ago when ponies and gryphons had been at war, and heard stories that before that, gryphons would sometimes hunt ponies as prey.
Despite her fearsome looks, this gryphon didn’t seem to be trying to eat her. She just seemed... bored.
Her coat was slow to dry in the cold, wet air. A breeze flittered around her body, lifting heat away from her everywhere it touched, and she shivered.
“You must be really cold. You’re wet through. That fur really holds the water, huh?” Ava shuffled slightly closer. “We’ll be warmer if we’re closer together.” The gryphon extended one wing over Brûlée’s body and let it rest on her back.
Brûlée found the gesture unsettlingly intimate. She’d known some pegasi growing up, even dated one for a few weeks, until he found something more interesting. But for that fortnight he was thoughtful, kind and nice. When they were alone he’d wrap one wing around her in a way that made her feel safe and warm and loved. Afterwards she’d seen him do the same thing to other mares, and once even a stallion. A few years later she’d seen him cuddle his son with one wing. They’d talked briefly about old friends then parted ways.
Did gryphons have the same habit? Did they feel affection like ponies do? Was it possible this chick was... interested in her?
No. She dismissed the thought. Ava wasn’t being affectionate at all. Just considerate. She was watching the rain, eyes half closed.
She leant slightly into the wing. It was soft, much bigger than a pegasus wing, and it was indeed warm. This wasn’t so bad.
The afternoon faded into dusk.
Neither said anything for a while. They simply sat flank to flank in the tight space, tails resting on each other, each appreciating the warmth of another body.
Through the narrow mouth of the cave they watched the hail being whipped near horizontal by the wind, and listened to the steady patter of rain punctuated by irregular whistling as the storm played around the rocks above them. Occasionally they’d hear the creak of a tree cracking or a thump as some leaves dropped to the forest floor.
Brûlée’s thoughts drifted to the town she’d left behind. The ponies she’d never see again. A few of them she’d miss, of course – the flower seller who always saved her his tastiest blooms, the mail stallion and his filly assistant with their daily comedy routine. Some others she was glad to be rid of.
She was brought back to reality by her body, making its hunger audibly evident. She blushed and turned away.
Ava chuckled. “You hungry?” she asked.
“Yeah. It’s been a long time since breakfast.” Yesterday, she didn’t add. She’d nibbled a little grass as she walked, before the storm started, but it wasn’t enough. She hadn’t been willing to slow down.
“I think I have something here.” Ava reached back and rummaged around in some bags.
Brûlée perked up, and even smiled a bit. Perhaps the day wasn’t as bad as she’d thought? Right when she’d been desperate for some warmth, for somepony to talk to, and for some food, she’d met this chick. Not what she’d expected, but few things in Equestria were as valuable as the kindness of strangers when you needed it.
The gryphon placed something on the ground in front of her, and her warm gratitude evaporated. So did her hunger, replaced by a tightening as her stomach revolted. In front of her face, just a few inches away, was…
It…
It was a rabbit.
It was half of a rabbit.
It was the back half of a rabbit.
The fur clung to the flesh in uneven patches where it had been ripped apart. In the dim light of the cave, the meat looked unnaturally red, like it was painted on with rubies. One of the thin legs was snapped, a little bone poking out the gash. There was a tiny little spine in there. A splodge of entrails were slowly easing their way onto the cave floor.
What she couldn’t see, she could smell. It didn’t smell of fresh blood, but of the gradual settling of the animal’s body into death. There was urine in there, and mud and ferns and bracken, and sweat and panic, and a whole signature of the creature’s last few minutes alive.
Though she hadn’t moved, every muscle in her body had tensed up, ready to fight or run. Her jaw clenched so tight it gave her a headache. She turned to look at her companion, who was idly preening a wing, and managed to struggle through her revulsion to deliver one word laced with a hundred questions.
“What.”
The gryphon looked up, a misplaced feather in her beak. “Hmm? Oh, did you need me to chew it for you?”
“Errr. No. No thank you.”
She stared at the offering a little longer, making herself breathe evenly, willing herself to calm down. It wasn’t going anywhere. It wasn’t going to do anything to her. There was no herd to alert, no foals to protect. The only predator here was the one who had generously offered to share her own food. There was no need to panic. Slowly, she took control of her equine nature.
She had to do something, she couldn’t just leave it there all night. Turning to Ava, she asked, “I’m sorry, could... could you take that away please? I’m afraid I... I just can’t.”
She realised Ava had been watching her with a frown. “Wow, you ponies really can’t stand meat at all, can you?” She snatched the rabbit in her beak and stashed it away in her bag. It didn’t entirely remove the smell, but it helped.
Brûlée relaxed a little. “No, we really can’t. I assume you haven’t met many ponies before?”
“Not so much.” Ava shrugged. “Only a couple of times, really, and I never hung around. I always though you just preferred not to eat meat, but that was... weird. It was like you were terrified of it or something.”
Brûlée sighed. “Yeah, I’m really sorry.” She looked down. “Normally I’d be better, but I’ve had a rough day. Couple of days.”
“Yeah, I guess they must have been, to land you all the way out here. We’re a good day’s flight from any pony towns. Which way are you headed, anyway?”
Brûlée paused before answering. “I don’t know,” she confessed. “I’m mostly just going... away.”
“Oh.” Ava looked out at the rain. “Yeah, me too.”
Brûlée was surprised. Ava seemed like the epitome of casual confidence. What could she possibly be running away from?
Ava watched the rain. Perhaps pointedly so. She didn’t seem to feel like talking.
It was night when Ava stirred. “By the moon, am I stiff just sitting here.” One by one, Ava carefully stretched each of her legs and wings in the tight space before settling down again. Brûlée tried not to think how sharp her talons were as she stretched them out like a cat.
Ava glanced at Brûlée’s back. “I didn’t see it properly earlier, but you’ve got one of those picture things, right?”
“You mean my cutie mark? Of course. Two in fact, one on either side.”
“What’s it for?”
“It shows what a pony’s special talent is. What they’re destined to do with their life.”
“Yours looks like a flame or something. Does that mean you could light a fire for us?”
“Sorry, it’s not a campfire, it’s a blowtorch. It’s something I use when I’m cooking.”
Ava snorted. “Cooking. I never did see the point of doing that. I went to a big town once, and all the fancy gryphons there were cooking their meat. I didn’t see why until I got a look at some of the stuff they were cooking, and it was days old, like they couldn’t get fresh meat there at all. What do ponies cook, anyway? All you eat is plants.”
Brûlée did her best to ignore the carnivorous angle. “We cook all manner of things, from breakfast through to supper. You can develop a lot more flavour when you prepare food. I’m a dessert chef,” Brûlée added with a touch of pride.
“A what now?” Ava asked.
“Chef,” Brûlée insisted. “It’s like ‘chief’. It means I’m in charge. Of a kitchen.”
“No, I get that. What was the other word?”
“Dessert?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve never had a dessert?”
“Depends. What is it?”
“Er, pudding? Cakes, pastries, tarts?” Ava looked blank; Brûlée was getting frustrated. “A sweet thing you eat at the end of a meal.”
“Sweet? Like how?”
“Like, it has sugar in it. So it’s sweet.” Very frustrated.
Ava was still confused though. “What’s sugar?”
“It... you...” Brûlée spluttered to a stop. She could have written essays on the subtleties of vanilla flavouring, delivered speeches on the different varieties of cream, taught classes on the importance of frothing correctly. But how could she explain any of that to somepony who’d never even heard of sugar?
She paused and took a mental step back, trying to think of the problem from first principles. Ava had clearly grown up away from pony civilisation. She’d never encountered the products of pony manufacture, so Brûlée would have to explain everything in terms of natural equivalents. Where in nature would you encounter something sweet?
“Have you tasted honey?”
Ava frowned, lifting her beak. Brûlée got the impression she’d be wrinkling up her nose if it wasn’t as hard as bone. “Yeah, but I didn’t much like it. It was way too strong.”
Too strong, okay. Clearly gryphons were sensitive to strong flavours. Brûlée tried another tack. “How about... maple trees?”
Ava thought for a moment. “Sure, yeah. There were a bunch of them near my father’s nest.”
“Did you ever taste their sap? In the spring it’s sweet, right?”
“Ooh!” Ava brightened up. “I know what you mean. I remember once, my little brother came back from school and showed me something he’d picked up from the ponies, where you make a hole in the tree and stick a bit of hollow bamboo in it and put a cup underneath, and you can get this nice tasting water out. Is that what sugar tastes like?”
Brûlée was smiling too. “Sort of. But if you take that sap and boil it up you can bring out a much more interesting flavour.”
“And then one time we found these ants with big orange backsides that look like honey, but they were actually quite sharp tasting.” She chuckled, “I must have eaten hundreds of those little guys.”
Brûlée sank down onto her front hooves with a defeated sigh. Try as she might, that barrier between carnivore and herbivore would not budge. Then she looked up and asked, “You’ve got a little brother?”
Ava smiled as she looked out the cave mouth into the pouring rain. “Yup. He’s still little, lives back at mother’s nest.”
Brûlée smiled. “It must be nice, growing up with a brother. What’s his name?”
“His name’s Gosling. Named after our great-grandpa or something, apparently.”
“And you went to school together?”
“No, I never went to school,” Ava said casually.
Brûlée blinked. This was news. “Really? Never? How did you learn stuff?”
“My parents taught me, and my uncle too when he visits. He’s pretty cool. He’s the one that took me to the town.”
“Is that normal for gryphons?”
Ava skewered her with a glance, pressing her beak uncomfortably close. “Are you calling us stupid?”
“What? No, I—” Brûlée stopped when she realised Ava had started chuckling. “Fine,” she said sulkily. “Really, though, is it common for gryphons to learn from their parents? I’m amazed they had time. And wait, didn’t you say your brother went to school?”
“How should I know what’s common? I’ve lived over the forest my whole life. I’ve got no idea what those shmancy city gryphons do with their chicks, just that my parents took the time to teach me. I’m the older chick,” Ava explained, “so when little Gosling was hatched I went to live in our father’s nest while mother looked after him. Her nest was more than a day’s flight away from ours, and a lot closer to a town with a school. So two days out of every... seven, off he’d fly to go learn with the ponies.”
“To a pony school? Were there other gryphons there too?”
Ava shook her head. “No, just him.”
Brûlée thought back to how little colts and fillies had behaved. “Wow. That must have made it really hard to make friends.”
“Yeah. The first half a year he didn’t like it there at all. Then one day he came back to the nest all excited, saying he’d made friends with a filly.”
“Awww,” Brûlée cooed with a wide grin.
“Yeah, it was sweet. They’d explore the town, and do dumb stunts, and teach each other neat tricks, and he’d come back and tell us all about them.” Ava’s voice suddenly went ice cold, filling with venom. “Until she changed her mind.”
Brûlée reared back, nearly hitting her head. “What?”
“Yeah, she and her friends decided little Gosling just wasn’t good enough to hang out with them any more. Just cause he didn’t have any bits to buy... whatever it is pony chicks like to buy. Stuck-up little—”
“I’m sorry,” Brûlée said with drooping ears. “Foals can be so mean sometimes. I hope he made some other friends.”
“Not likely,” Ava scoffed. “He’s not going back there any more. Not after what happened.”
“What, you’re keeping him out of school?” asked Brûlée in an accusing voice. “Just because some filly said something mean? That’s not—”
“It’s not us keeping him out!” Ava shouted, echoing loudly in the enclosed cave. “It’s that stupid little pony teacher that told him not to come back!”
Brûlée frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would she kick him out of school? Unless... unless he’d done something to deserve it?”
“He didn’t do—” Ava stopped, and her anger abruptly drained away. Her voice more subdued, she continued, “It wasn’t him. It was me. When he told me what that filly said, I... went and gave her a piece of my mind. And her stuck-up friends.” Her head sank till she was nearly scraping the floor with her beak. “And the rest of the class, and the teacher and... pretty much the whole town by the time I was done there.”
“Oh. You kind of made a scene then.”
“I kind of did. And the next time he tried to go to school, they took him aside and said they didn’t want to have a gryphon in school any more.” Ava snorted. “Said a bunch of the parents didn’t want a ‘wild animal’ in the classroom.”
“Ouch. That has to hurt. He can’t have been happy.”
“Tell me about it. We had a massive argument about it later, woke the whole forest up. He really hates me now.”
Brûlée asked, “I’m sure he can’t still hate you. He was just angry. When was this?”
Ava looked away, focusing on cracks in the stone. “Yesterday.”
“Wait, so you—”
“Yes! Okay? I screwed it all up for him.” She clawed idly at the ground, scratching little lines on the stone. It looked like she was even crying. “He could probably have sorted it all out for himself, but his stupid big sister had to go try and fix everything.” She drew a big wet sniff. “So... so, yes, I flew away.”
Brûlée didn’t know what to say. So, after a moment, she did the only thing she could: she leaned over and gave the gryphon a hug, wrapping her hooves around her neck and softly pressing into her feathers. Ava didn’t respond at first, stiffening under her. “It’ll be okay,” Brûlée whispered. She felt the gryphon soften, leaning back into her, sniffling.
Brûlée twisted her neck to check her mane, then cast an eye over the gryphon. “I got some mud in your coat,” she said with a grin.
Ava chuckled as she wiped away a tear. “I guess neither of us are going to be very neat and pretty when morning comes.”
Brûlée used her teeth to pick a little white feather out of her crest, and spat it out. “Yeah, I could really do with a bath.” She looked out of the cave. “Do you think the storm’s passing? It seems quieter than before.”
“Hard to say, storms like that can surprise you,” said Ava. “It’s usually best to wait until you’re sure.”
“I guess that means we’re here till morning.”
“I prefer flying in daylight anyway,” said Ava. “Less chance of hitting things.”
There was an irregular dusting of stray raindrops that found their way into the cave, dotting Brûlée’s nose and forelegs, but at least her coat was mostly dry now. She allowed herself to settle down more comfortably and yawned. She felt she could finally trust the gryphon enough to let herself sleep, and by Luna she needed it.
“You’re not going to sleep, are you?”
Brûlée bristled. “I’ve been walking through the forest all day. Why shouldn’t I sleep?”
“You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.”
“Sure I did,” Brûlée insisted. “I’m going... somewhere.”
“Away from somewhere, you said.”
“Right. Away.”
Ava rolled her eyes, and made a circular motion with one talon. “Away from...”
“Oh. Um...” Brûlée glanced around, looking for some way to avoid getting into the subject, but there was nothing in the little cave to save her from the direction this conversation was going. With no way around it, she had to say something.
Her ears flattened against her head as she reluctantly answered, “Away from... a stallion.”
Ava immediately narrowed her eyes, tensed her paws and talons, and looked even more predatory than before. “Some pony hurt you, is that it?” she snarled. “You want me to go say ‘hello’ to him?”
“No! Celestia, no, nothing like that. He was...” Brûlée picked at the words. “He was actually trying to be nice, I suppose. In a way. It was just... just too much for me.”
“He’s trying to mate with you?”
Brûlée spluttered. “No, not that either! That’s one thing he’s never done. If he had I...” She shook her head.
“Then what?”
Brûlée took a deep breath. “I told you I’m a dessert chef, right?” she said. Ava nodded. “Well, so is Rum Truffle. We went to the same culinary school, we spend four years doing the same classes, only he was always better than me. And more confident, and better looking, and friends with all the teachers, and won all the awards. I’m sure he got plenty of tail too,” she muttered. “So yeah, I graduated, and came back to my quiet little home town to open up my own little restaurant. Went into debt to do it too. And barely two months later Truffle swaggers up to my doorstep, and before I know it he’s challenged me.”
“To a fight?” asked the gryphon.
“To a bake-off.”
"A—?"
“Really, that’s what he called it, a ‘bake-off’, no irony in his voice at all.”
Ava was barely following. “Um. What’s involved in—”
Brûlée picked up speed, talking more to herself than to her companion. “He wants me to stand on stage in front of the whole damned town, and let everypony out there watch me show them all just how much better he is than me.” She stamped a hoof in frustration and shook her head. “It was bad enough challenging me in the market, in front of everypony. I was buying some spices and he just stood there and shouted it out, like he was on stage already and wanted to reach all the back seats!” She swung a leg expressively, taking in a non-existent audience. “I didn’t know where to look, and neither did the poor stall keeper. I couldn’t exactly say ‘no’ to him, not with everypony watching.”
She paused for breath, and realised she’d been shouting. “Oh, er... sorry. I’m a bit tired. And hungry. And cold. And I’m not really thinking straight.” Her head was swimming. She closed her eyes and her body seemed to wobble and lurch, like it was dropping into freefall.
Ava asked, “So the whole town would be, like, how many ponies?”
Brûlée blanched. “About... six hundred, I think,” she said, her voice cracking.
“And they’d all be watching you... cook?”
“Yes,” she said, drawing the word out as she hid her face under a hoof.
“So, instead of letting everypony see you doing what you do best, you’d prefer to be out in this forest, getting tired and hungry and cold.”
“Well, when you put it like that!” she berated, swinging her hoof around and catching it on the cave wall, adding to her collection of fresh scars. “Ow, dammit.” She dropped the hoof and sighed. “I just... couldn’t, okay? It’s more than I can do. I’m not a performer, I don’t need ponies to see me, I don’t want to shout ‘hello’ to everypony in town. I just want to work in my own little kitchen, maybe with a couple of other ponies, quietly making things that’ll make ponies happy.”
Ava considered for a moment. “There’s something I don’t quite get.”
Brûlée wondered how much more she could take. “What?” she asked in a tired tone.
“A minute ago you said this stallion was trying to be nice. ‘In a way,’ you said. But how is challenging you nice at all? Sounds to me like you let him chase you out of town.”
Brûlée replayed the conversation, realising she’d painted herself into a corner. “Oh.” She really wasn’t in a fit state to answer questions like this. She closed her eyes, picturing his big, annoying grin. “The thing is, I haven’t... My restaurant hasn’t been particularly successful. Yet. Not many ponies know it’s there. I think he picked up on that and figured if he made a really big splash in town it would drum up more business for me. It would be just like him to try and pull a big stunt like that. He did crazy stuff all through school.”
“Okay. So he’s actually a good guy?”
“Yeah, he’s a good guy,” Brûlée admitted, “and that’s what makes it worse. I can’t even hate him properly. He’s not being nasty, he just... he doesn’t get it.”
“Doesn’t get what?”
“That it ain’t that easy!” Brûlée’s accent had slipped a little, and she stumbled over the words as she started crying. “That the rest of us can’t just sail through life getting whatever we want, being good at everything we turn our hoof to, risking everything on dice and coming up sixes every time. That, that he can’t just trot into somepony’s life and... fix it for them.”
She slumped forward onto her hooves, quietly sobbing.
This time it was Ava’s turn. Slowly, as if she was uncertain of the procedure, she reached a wing round Brûlée’s body and pulled her into a gentle hold.
The rain had stopped some time during the night. Patches of moonlight played over the forest as they slipped through shifting gaps in the rolling clouds.
“Brûlée?”
“Hmmmmn?”
“Are you asleep?”
“Hmmn. Yes.”
Ava paused. Her voice uncharacteristically shy, she asked, “You don’t... think I’m a wild animal, do you?”
Brûlée cautiously opened one sleepy eye, looking up at the dishevelled gryphon. She considered lying, but decided the cruel truth was needed. “You’ve got mud on your coat, blood on your beak, and feathers all over the place.” She didn’t mention the crust of dried tears matting the feathers on the gryphon’s cheeks. “You look pretty wild right now.”
Ava looked herself over. “Right, good point.”
“And you’re... um, not that I’ve met any other gryphons to compare you to, but from a pony’s perspective you look kind of... dangerous. Like a predator,” she said apologetically. “Ponies can be really sensitive to that. And once one of them gets spooked, the rest tend to follow.”
“Oh.” Ava sank. “I can’t really do anything about that, can I?”
“It’s okay. I’m sure when you get cleaned up you’ll look much better.”
“I’ll still be me though. And Gosling will still be a... a little predator in a room full of prey.”
Brûlée wished she could deny it, but it was true. She blinked some of the sleep away and a thought struck her.
“You know what you need? Clothes.”
“You mean those things ponies put on their bodies?” Ava asked. “What difference would that make? I’ve never needed clothes out in the forest.”
“Exactly. Wild animals don’t wear clothes. Ponies wear clothes to make them look like something more than just a pony. I wear chef’s clothes when I’m at work, that way everypony knows I’m the chef,” Brûlée clarified. “If you and Gosling turn up looking smart, it’ll change what ponies think of you.”
“You mean they’ll stop being afraid of me?” asked Ava sceptically.
“Okay, probably not,” Brûlée admitted, “but it’ll make them think you’re clever and scary, rather than wild and scary. They won’t want to insult you any more.”
Ava gave a sad little laugh. “I guess that’ll have to do. Um. I’ve never worn clothes before, so I don’t...”
“Let me think.” Brûlée sat up, shifted back into the cave wall and looked the gryphon over as best she could in the overcast moonlight.
“You don’t want to wear anything too closely tailored or it’ll look unnatural, especially with your big fluffy... what’s that called?” She indicated Ava’s chest feathers, currently somewhat dishevelled.
Ava pointed a talon at her chest. “You mean my frill?”
“Frill, right. And it has to be something they can see clearly while talking to you,” she added. “Presumably you don’t want anything to get in the way of your wings, or that’ll get sweaty or damaged when you’re flying. It needs to be something colourful to bring out your eyes.”
Ava was taken aback, and avoided her gaze. She clearly wasn't used to being looked at like this.
Brûlée decided. “You know, I think a simple scarf would work well for you, in a rich dark yellow with thin gold edging.”
“That sounds fancy. I don’t have any, uh, ‘bits’ to swap for it.”
You can come with me.
Brûlée hesitated. The answer she wanted to give was clear enough, but was she really ready to say that? They’d made a cosy little friendship in the last few hours, but it could easily be a convenience forgotten come morning. Might Ava turn on her once morning came and she needed breakfast? Was this chick really so different from the pony-eating monsters she’d heard about?
You can come with me.
Ava had welcomed her into this cave. She’d told her own story, confessed her mistakes and weakness, and clearly shown how much she loved her family. She’d listened patiently to Brûlée’s troubles. She’d leant her a wing to warm up, and offered her own food (even if it wasn’t to a pony’s taste). She’d cried, needed comforting, and had comforted Brûlée in turn. She’d earned at least a little credit.
And now, she needed Brûlée’s help.
You can—
“You can come with me,” she blurted out. “I’ll get you a scarf or two in the next town we pass through. One for you, and one for Gosling. What sort of colour is he?”
Ava perked up. She clearly liked talking about her brother. “He looks like me but with darker brown feathers, and big green eyes. Very handsome, he’s going to be a real ladyhunter when he grows up,” she said with a chuckle.
Brûlée tried not to think of the implications of a word like ‘ladyhunter’ in a romantic context, instead focusing on colour matching. “In that case... maybe a dark green scarf would look good on him. And a matching shoulder bag, for his school work.”
“Thank you.” Ava looked back at Brûlée’s back. “Er, you don’t have any bags with you though. Where do you keep your bits?”
“Oh, they’re at—”
Brûlée stopped and winced. She closed her eyes as the enthusiasm left her. The reality of her situation came crashing back down, and she couldn’t believe her stupidity – or that she’d forgotten it for even a moment. Somehow she’d got carried away and lost track of where she was.
She’d left home in a hurry, packing only what she could grab as she ran out the door: a few bits, some food, some laughably inappropriate clothes, and the old saddlebags that she’d been planning to throw away. Some time yesterday the strap had broken while she was fording a river, and her belongings had sailed away downstream.
She couldn’t buy a stylish scarf. She couldn’t buy a meal or a bed for the night. She had no money, no place in the world, no way to survive out here, no idea where she was or where she was going. She’d been a fool.
Her eyes still closed, she quietly finished the sentence: “—home.”
Ava seemed to understand, as her face fell in concert. They both sat in glum silence, faces turned aside, staring at opposite sides of the cave.
Ava broke first. “I have to go back, don’t I?” she said quietly.
Brûlée echoed her. “I’ve left my restaurant. Everything I’ve spent years working for. It’s all just sitting there, and I’m miles away from it, hiding in a hole.”
Ava turned to face her. “You need to go back and stand up to this stallion that’s been bothering you. That place is your territory, right? You fought for it. Don’t let anybody take it away from you, even if it means you have to do his stupid bake... thing.”
Brûlée smiled at the thought, and responded with, “And you need to go apologise to all those ponies. Let them see that you can be polite and friendly and civilised, and how much you care about your brother.”
“What if I just make it all worse? What if they say mean things about Gosling and I get angry again?”
“They probably will. Just remember what you’re there for. Ponies tend to stick together, they’ll follow the first one to react. So start with either the teacher or the mayor, be extra polite and ask them to help you with all the others. That should help to calm them down.”
Ava thought for a second. “Thanks, I’ll try that,” she said.
Brûlée’s smile faded again. “Can I really do it? After leaving like that, can I go back there and take it all back? Can I stand up in front of everypony and cook for a show? Can I look Rum Truffle in the eyes and say, ‘I’m the better chef’?”
“Are you?”
Brûlée was surprised by the question. “What?”
“Are you a better chef than him?”
“I... no, I... maybe, but... What if I choke? What if I see all those ponies looking at me and—”
“Forget those other ponies. Just tell me, right now, are you the better chef?”
Brûlée took a deep breath and sat up as straight as she could in the narrow cave before answering solemnly, “Yes. He relies on sloppy use of strong flavours and too much sugar, and overlooks the importance of balancing contrasting flavours for a satisfying taste. He ignores the need for a dessert to relate to the meal it was part of, or how a drink can affect the flavour. He doesn’t tailor the dessert to the pony who’ll be eating it, instead making spontaneous changes just because he feels like it.”
“Okay then. That’s settled. We’re both going to...” The confidence started to fade from her voice. “To go back and... sort out the messes we’ve left behind.”
Brûlée was nonplussed, but affirmed. “Right,” she said with less certainty than she’d intended.
“Right,” echoed Ava.
They both watched the moon as it slid slowly out from one cloud and behind another.
Morning broke beautifully, the dawn cutting between two distant mountains and slicing straight down the valley to shine into the cave.
“Yikes! I had no idea this cave was facing east. Give it a rest, Celestia,” Brûlée said, throwing her hooves in front of her eyes.
Blinking, Brûlée cast her eyes over the gryphon. Ava had covered her face with a wing and gone back to sleep. Her body slowly shifted with her breath, revealing soft white down under the mottled brown and white feathers. Her powerful leonine back legs twitched slightly as she dreamt, and her tail flicked nervously back and forth.
Just yesterday, Brûlée would have seen a creature like this as nothing but a dangerous predator, one of the monstrous things you find in the wilderness. Now she saw... what? A friend? A kindred spirit?
She’d never made friends quickly or easily, either at home or among the other students. Could it really be this easy? Just a few short hours, a few secrets shared, a few tears shed? Was that really all it took?
She stood slowly, careful not to disturb the sleeping gryphon, letting feeling seep back into her legs with a slow tingle as she sidled out of the cave.
Brûlée demurely lowered her tail, and turned with barely a glance behind her. In the last two days she’d had to get used to doing her business outside, but still felt ashamed each time. She couldn’t help but imagine somepony just round the corner, seeing her do something unseemly, somepony who would tell stories... but of course there wasn’t. There were no other ponies within miles of this place.
She trotted back into the clearing, feeling a faint blush under her hair. Ava had woken up and was standing outside the cave, stretching her legs and wings. She looked infuriatingly bright and well rested. “Hey there! I thought you’d run off.”
“No, just...” Brûlée indicated behind her with a hind hoof. She didn’t imagine the gryphon had ever encountered indoor plumbing.
Ava nodded. “Sure. I’m going to have some breakfast before we head off. You should do the same if you can. It’s no fun flying on an empty stomach.”
Ava stuck her head in the cave and dragged her bags out with her beak, pulled the rabbit from them and started tearing it into strips with her beak and talons. Brûlée watched the bloody show for a few moments, horrified to realise that the gryphon actually had a line of sharp little teeth inside her beak, a sight that was sure to give her nightmares.
Her doubts came back, hard. She had no reason to trust this creature! Sure, it would be embarrassing to break her promise, but was that really worth the risk of travelling with a ferocious wild animal?
“Wild animal.”
That’s exactly what Gosling had been called. She was reminded of Ava’s tears the night before – tears not for herself, but for a brother she loved. She’d rushed to defend him, and was devastated to have let him down. It had been a mistake, and seen by the ponies of that town as evidence of how wild and dangerous Ava was; but to Brûlée it was the opposite, proof that Ava did feel love, just as surely as a pony.
Logic insisted that a creature would inevitably return to its nature, regardless of how much it stood to gain from not doing so. Logic told Brûlée not to trust Ava, not to stay with her any longer than necessary, not to give her a chance to show her true nature.
Logic be damned.
Shaking her head to scatter the stray thoughts, she cast a glance over the undergrowth. Trudging through it last night, buffeted by the rain and wind, had obscured her sight; all she’d seen were bushes and ferns. Looking at it now, she could see at least a few tufts of wild grass, mixed up with all sorts of other plants she couldn’t identify, and all of them decorated with shining drops of dew. Normally she’d be hesitant to risk eating something unknown and potentially poisonous, but right now she had little choice. She was starving, and it would be foolish to travel without eating something.
Ava sailed down through the trees and landed next to Brûlée.
“There’s a stream up ahead. Head left a bit for a place you can cross it more easily.”
“Thanks,” Brûlée said, turning left as she carefully threaded her way through the branches and roots. She was walking through a muddy puddle, getting even more mess on her legs, but that balloon had long since sailed. The bright morning sun was drying her off quickly, even filtered through the trees. “Without you I’m sure I’d just be going round in circles all day.”
“That’s okay, I’m not in a hurry.”
“How far did you say that town is?”
“At the speed you’re going? We should get there by nightfall.”
Brûlée paused to take another bite of grass and wild flowers with a dressing of fresh rain and dew. There was some wild garlic mixed in there, adding a sharp aromatic tang. She chewed thoughtfully, wondering if there was any way she could incorporate that savoury bite into a dessert without it being disgusting.
Ava looked thoughtful. After a while she asked, “Are you really going to make enough food for hundreds of ponies?”
Brûlée shook her head and swallowed. “You mean the competition? No, I’ll only be cooking for a small panel of judges. Three or four ponies. They’ll be the ones to decide which of our dishes is better.”
“So it doesn’t matter what the rest of the town thinks at all, just if the judges like it, right?”
“That’s right, but it’s still a show. We’ll be expected to perform for the crowd,” said Brûlée. “We have to cook dramatically.” The thought of it still hung over her.
“So, who are these judges?”
“Er... I’m not really sure yet. Probably the mayor for one, he never says ‘no’ to free food. And Rum Truffle said I could pick one of them, to keep it fair. I’ve no idea who I’ll pick though.”
They walked a little further, and Brûlée caught sight of the glimmer of a stream ahead.
“You know,” Ava said with a mischievous grin, “there probably aren’t many ponies out there who know what sort of food a gryphon likes.”
Once Brûlée caught on, she was stunned. She stopped walking to stare at Ava. “Are you suggesting...”
Ava nodded. “I can spare a few days. And I’m curious. You’ve been talking about these things you make, but I still have no idea what they are. So why not let me come with you and be one of the judges?”
“But wouldn’t that be... cheating?”
“Not at all. I promise to try them both and pick fairly. You can even hide from me which one is yours, if that helps.”
Brûlée started laughing.
She was hungry, and thirsty. She’d gained any number of scrapes and scratches from pushing her way through the forest. She was dishevelled, caked with mud and dust and tears and blood and, yes, gryphon snot. She had no clothes, no tools, nor a single bit to her name. The next pony she met would probably run away screaming. But despite all that, with the sun warming her flanks, a friend by her side and a plan ahead of her, this morning felt good.
