"Over the mountain, take me across the sky."
A sharp series of knocks resonated throughout the dimly lit, barely furnished room. Hidden in a far corner rests a single, ornately decorated bed. A lone, sleeping griffon was sprawled out across the sheets; loud snoring filling his room every few seconds. Another round of knocks, much louder than the first, echoed in response to the young griffon’s snoring.
In an instant, a familiar voice called from outside the door, “Quickstep! Wake up you bloody whelp!”
Quickstep recognised the hoarseness of his mother’s shouting immediately. An unintelligible mumble, drowned out by the piercing squeak of bedsprings came from Quickstep as he rose from his bed.
His diminutive stature and slim build barely cast a shadow on a nearby wall. As he moved, his jet black feathers and coat made him look more akin to a ghost in his darkened room, rather than a griffon.
“Come on, you poor excuse for a griffon! Get your arse out of bed or I’ll break down this door and get it out myself!” His mother’s tirade continued, each word more impatient than the last.
“Hold on, mother. Don’t get your feathers in a twist,” the young griffon replied, his eyes rolling as he slowly began to stand.
The barely awake griffon would come to regret his words as his mother made good on her threat.
A heavy thud impacted against his bedroom door, splintering the wood around the jamb and hinges. The second hit tore away a small shard of the frame as the door twisted to one side, before falling to the floor. In the now-empty doorframe stood his mother; a scowl locked on her face as she moved to enter.
In the light, the young male’s emerald green eyes, wide open and fearful, locked with his mother’s; his ears folded back. They were mirror images of each other, but while his were worried yet eager; hers were piercing and full of intent.
The avian half of Quickstep resembled something between a crow and a raven; his feathers shimmering a glossy black as he steps into the light. No longer concealed by shadow, darker shades of grey and brown covered the majority of his leopard-spotted lower body.
In stark contrast to Quickstep, his mother stood tall and proud; much like a griffon should. Rather than the cooler, ashen hues of her son, she appeared to be more vivid; resembling something akin to a hawk and a lion that matched her more confident nature. Passing through her left eye was a trio of scars, carving deep channels through her aging face.
With a glare that could set the north afire, her eyes remained fixed on Quick.
“I remember telling you to be awake at 0500 to go on this hunting trip. It is now 0630” she barked; her eyes narrowed in a piercing, emerald gaze.
Dropping his shoulders, a deflated Quickstep craned his neck to meet his mother’s eyes. Slowly, his expression turned from a calm stare to a look that matched the older griffon’s; though it wasn’t nearly as intimidating.
With a frustrated growl, Quickstep groaned, “Shouldn’t it be Stonewall’s turn by now? I’ve been on the last two.” Before pouting, and falling upon his haunches; his forelegs crossed.
Her eyes were bearing down on him as intensely as before, though her face became less of a scowl, and took on a more motherly appearance. In two steps, she closed the distance between the two. It was as if she was built for command: standing at least three times as tall as her son, and considerably more muscular. The younger griffon didn’t need to see his mother’s gaze to realise her insistence.
“Your brother has actually been fulfilling his obligations, unlike you. Besides, he’s on mission so it falls to me to take you out.” Her last words were accompanied by a genuine smile; the militaristic air giving way to her motherly side.
In an instant, an excited grin crossed Quickstep’s face. Behind his jovial smile was a burning determination as he leapt to his feet. His mother was taken aback by Quick’s sudden change in demeanour; almost missing the scrawny griffon as he attempted to dart out of his room.
His attempt was thwarted as a forceful tug at his tail sent him careening into the floor. Dazed and confused, a cockeyed Quickstep glanced back at his mother with a pained groan.
“What the-?” His eyes refocused, the griffon rolling onto his side to see his mother’s talons. “What was that for?”
Her eyes rolled, snorting derisively as she released her son’s tail. Quickstep realised her patience was wearing thin, her head shaking in disbelief at her son’s lack of foresight. With a raised talon, she pointed towards an untouched hunting pack resting in a dusty corner opposite Quick’s bed.
“You’re forgetting something. We’re going to be out for at least a day; you’ll need some sort of supplies. Make sure you bring your flint. You’ll need it,” she reminded Quick, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Waiting patiently as her son got to his feet, with an approving smirk on her face; the older griffon’s eyes followed Quick as he darted around his room. Before long, Quickstep was standing at attention. Across his narrow body was his almost pristine bag, brimming with the essentials.
“Alright, I’m ready, ma,” he beamed, throwing up a salute to his mother.
The scowl returned to the female’s face. Any hint of her motherly nature replaced by her usual sternness.
“In public, I am not your mother. I am your commanding officer, and you shall refer to me as such. When you salute, you use my title and my name like I taught you,” she admonished her son, perhaps a little too harshly.
Quickstep, being his usual self, didn’t take the scolding personally. Rather, he nodded to his mother, and raised his talon to correct his salute.
“Aye aye, Commander Gradia!” He boomed. All manner of expression drained from him as he mimicked his mother’s gruff mannerisms.
A sincere look of approval donned the matriarch’s face as she returned the salute. Despite the hawkish façade, Gradia was truly surprised at her son’s sudden change.
“You’ve never been this enthusiastic before, Quick,” she remarked, an eyebrow rising in mild disbelief, “Care to tell me why?”
“You’re my mother-” Quickstep was glowing with barely contained excitement as he bounced on his hind legs “-Gradia of the Black Talon, famed for her tracking and hunting prowess!
“Besides, I only ever hunt alone or with Stonewall. This’ll be something new!”
Gradia’s tender edge returned as the pair walked towards the door, stepping in front of her son to bar his exit.
“I know you’re excited, but let me be perfectly clear: I’m not going to take part in the hunt. I’m just there to make sure you don’t get yourself killed,” she firmly reminded her son; giving him a gentle, determined smile.
“It’ll be a good chance to show how much of a griffon you truly are; not just to me, but to the rest of Griffonstone”
While he was as eager for the opportunity to gain his mother’s affection; the idea of approval from the other females was unsettling. Regardless of this, the chance to impress his mother was worth any risk he may have to take.
The morning sun was filtering through the gap beneath the door as Gradia turned to open it. When the door opened, the sun’s glare shone into the hall, forcing Quickstep to raise a talon to cover his eyes. In a few moments, his eyes adjusted to the abrupt change in light; allowing him to take in the glorious view of Griffonstone.
A trio of rocky, snow-capped spires pierced the clouds that commanded the skyline of Griffonstone. The Three Dragons, which stood sentinel over the once proud city, were nested in the centre of a mountain range which extended from the southernmost peninsula through to the nigh-inhospitable, icy wastes in the far north.
To the east of the range lay grasslands hidden in the shadow of the mountains, ending at the edge of a barren, arid desert that stretched into the distant horizon. To the west however, rests an expansive rainforest, terminating at the coast of the Celestial Sea, and surrounding the mountainside city of Griffonstone.
In the distance, barely visible across the shimmering sea was the remnants of Equestria. A sickly green layer of cloud blanketed the faraway mainland; its foul shadow being cast across the formerly beautiful country.
Carved into the seaside face of the tallest Dragon was the palace which once housed the monarchy generations before. From the base of the ridgeline, a lone path zig-zagged through the granite and limestone towards the palace. Weathered by both time and warfare; the faded, cracked marble outcropping peered out over the great city.
A cool breeze ruffled Quickstep’s ashen feathers as he stepped out into the open, his wings spread wide as the morning air rushed over him. Behind him stood his behemoth of a mother, a pensive gaze in her eyes as she followed her son. Before Quickstep made his way down the rocky path, his mother whistled; snapping the overeager griffon back to reality.
“Hey! We’re going elsewhere, Quickstep!” Gradia asserted, cocking her head towards the summit above their home.
Quickstep tensed up, his fur bristling as he turned towards his mother. His head craned towards the peak, folding his ears back in mild terror.
“I feel you’ve grown too used to the forests down there, small-fry,” she continued, “we’re heading to other side of these hills, into the savannah.”
The savannah?! A mortified Quickstep thought. He had only ever hunted near the base of the range, where game was abundant and any help was nearby.
A fiendish grin spread across Gradia’s beak as she glanced back towards her son. “Time to leave the nest, and get accustomed to something… different.”
It was astoundingly obvious that Quickstep was afraid; but he allayed his fears to maintain confidence in his mother’s eyes. When Gradia turned towards the sheer cliff next to the palace, Quick followed in her step with veiled apprehension.
A line of anchors ascended towards the mountaintop; a single rope strung between the points to act as a guidewire. Draping down from the summit was a trio of ropes ending in coils at the base. Occasional fractures and fissures scarred the stony precipice, though there was rarely enough to trigger a rockslide.
Gradia stood at the base of the cliff; shedding her supply pack and revealing a pair of harnesses, coils of rope, and hooks. She took the smallest harness in her talon, looking back towards a confused Quickstep and tossing it towards him.
Quick looked down at the harness for a moment before letting out an amused chuckle. Staring back towards his mother, a sly smirk on his face; Quickstep proudly spread his wings and gave them a couple of flaps, barely able to contain his laughter.
“You know we can fly, right? We have these fancy things called ‘wings’,” Quickstep quipped mockingly.
Gradia took the jeer in stride, returning her son’s smirk. “Go ahead then. With your speed, you’ll make it up there in no time.”
“As you wish, mother,” he replied confidently.
Focusing on the frozen peak, Quickstep took flight. Before long, the young griffon was gaining altitude, snickering to himself at his apparent success. One thing about mountain ranges though, is that the wind is exceptionally hard to predict.
About five metres from the ground, a powerful gust of wind swept up the rock face. The blast of cold air unbalanced Quickstep and sent him on a one way trip into the side of the mountain.
On the ground, Gradia was beside herself with laughter; falling back onto her haunches, her head shaking in disbelief. A few seconds passed before the sound of Quickstep rolling down towards the marble outcrop cut through his mother’s hollering.
With a bewildered groan, Quickstep slowly gets to his feet and looks straight at his mother. His eyes were yet to focus on her, the confusion plastered on his face as he wondered what went wrong. With tears streaming down her cheeks, Gradia composed herself just enough to explain something to Quickstep.
“The wind is always a bastard this high up. Close to the mountaintops, it becomes wild and unpredictable; especially on this side, near the coast.”
Quickstep looked annoyed. The realisation had set in that his one asset: his wings, were completely useless this time. His shoulders slumped as he let out a deflated sigh, his eyes glancing towards the now dusty harness laying on the ground.
“Ah don’t be too hard on yourself, kid. I made that same mistake first time too. It gets turbulent up here and, as much as you might hate it; the only way is to climb,” Gradia finished explaining as she made her way to the fallen harness; picking it up and once again tossing it to her son.
Although he was still annoyed, Quickstep caught the harness regardless and started loosening the straps. It was blatantly obvious that he had no idea what he was doing. Gradia watched on in morbid fascination as Quickstep soon found himself tangled in a mess of straps and buckles. Smirking, she walked up to her son, her eyes rolling as she helped untangle him. With the harness free, Gradia begrudgingly laid it out in the dirt, and started walking Quickstep through fitting it.
Legs first, then talons - Quickstep followed his mother’s instruction to the letter. Eventually, with the straps tightened and the harness clinging to her son’s slim body, Gradia turned to Quick; a stern look on her face.
“Now, Quick; that’s the one and only time I’m going to show you. From here on, you need to work things out. Got it?” Gradia asked in a blunt, but still motherly tone.
Giving his mother a curt nod, Quickstep replied, “Yes, ma’am!” before giving his harness a sharp tug.
After ensuring it wasn’t loose, Gradia turned and began to walk to the rock-face; and the first of many anchors towards the summit.
As leader of the Talons, she had always needed to hold teamwork and cooperation up to a high standard. On the other talon though, she was a griffon first and foremost: proud, and independent; the epitome of her species. This independence often shone through the lessons she gave her children. After all, they had to learn how to look after themselves at some point.
With the pair stood at the base of the climb, Gradia tilted her son’s head up towards the peak.
Turning to show Quickstep, Gradia lifted the nearest coil. Slowly, she begins to thread the rope through the ring at the centre of her harness; looping it behind the rope and back through the ring to make a knot. After watching her son complete his own, she gives him a small nod.
“Hope you’re ready for this, Quick; climbing’s a different game than flying. Best case scenario, it takes us a good half an hour to reach the top.” Gradia explained before reaching a talon up to grasp a small gouge in the wall.
“There’ll be no chance to rest on the way up, but that knot-“ the griffoness points at the steel ring at the centre of Quickstep’s harness, “-will be your one lifeline should you lose grip.
“Exhaustion shouldn’t be a problem for a griffon your size though.” She finished, flicking her son a sarcastic smile before beginning her ascent.
He knew the comment was a joke; it was his mother after all. However, in Griffonstone, size still does matter. The constant barrage of insults and implications from the general population had made this evident to Quick especially. Despite the sarcasm, Quick still responded to the barb with an annoyed glare.
“Something wrong?” She asked mockingly before giving her son a reassuring smile. “Come on, we need to get up top ASAP; weather goes to shit real fast up here.”
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Quickstep followed in behind his mother. While Gradia could make every step with ease, Quick had a harder job of things; often needing to find different paths through the cracks and outcrops. Eventually, the pair reached the first anchor and fixed their harnesses to the guidewire.
Dangling from the anchor point, Quickstep looked towards his mother and asked,
“Will Stone be joining us at all, ma?”
“Later,” Gradia replied, before digging a paw into the next foothold. “He’ll be along when he’s done with his duties.”
Satisfied with her answer, Quick smiled as his mother advanced up the cliff; the young griffon following her lead.
From that point on, the wind began howling as chilly gusts of northern air slammed against the mountainside. By now, it had started to set in exactly why you do not fly up the side of a mountain; winds this fierce would be suicide to navigate by wing. Still, climbing had its own challenges, and this was a challenging climb.
Aside from the occasional dislodged crag and the snow near the summit, the rest of the climb was uneventful – however, it took considerably longer than usual due to Quickstep’s inexperience. Upon reaching the frozen plateau at the peak, the younger griffon collapsed onto his side, gasping for air. Despite his lighter and slimmer build, the lack of physical strength combined with high altitude and the dry, frigid air had exhausted him.
As her son was splayed out and recovering, Gradia looked down towards him, a smug grin spreading across her beak.
“Worn out already?” She asked sarcastically, before muttering to herself about his father and stamina as she stepped towards the edge of the mountaintop. Through her snark, there was a slight sense of sincere respect towards her son. It was his first climb after all; and climbing isn’t easy for a griffon.
After Quick took a little time to rest, he took a deep breath and rolled over onto his paws. Staggering for a moment, he soon regained his footing and joined his mother.
Over the range, the view was far different than the Griffonstone skyline. While the face of the range swept eastward in much the same way; the stones gave way to arid savannah and grasslands, eventually ending in a sprawling sheet of sand that extended over the horizon. Stretching towards the north, the trees gradually thinning from the lower temperatures; the landscape turned to tundra as it neared the northern ranges.
Extending a wing across Quickstep and reaching out a talon, Gradia pointed out a small clearing partway into the savannah.
“See where the trees are thinnest there, Quick? That’s where we’ll set up camp,” she explained before folding her wings and heading to a trio of hooks that jutted out over the brink of another sheer drop.
With Quickstep following her, Gradia hitched her rope to the anchor before threading it through her belay and kicking it over the edge; watching it unravel as it fell towards the ground. She gave the rope a firm tug to tighten the knot before making her way to the next hook over.
“Toss me that line,” she instructed her son, her talon held open and ready.
Quickstep nodded and shrugged the rope off his shoulder, catching it on his claw and throwing it in his mother’s direction.
“Cheers.” She caught the rope before fastening it to the second hook and tossing it over.
“Any reason I can’t do that, ma?” Quick asked, an eyebrow raised as he stepped forward to help his mother.
“We’re going to be rappelling down,” she replied, letting out a concerned sigh as she looked over the edge. “If that knot comes loose, it’s gonna be a long way to the ground. Much as I want you standing on your own, I’m not willing to leave your life completely up to chance.”
She looked back at her son. He could tell she was worried, but smiled at her nonetheless; his eyes filled with determination.
His determination couldn’t mask his disappointment at the idea of more climbing though. His shoulders slumped as he crept over to his rope, taking a deep breath.
“More climbing huh?” he sighed, resigned to the prospect.
“Ah, don’t be so glum, hon” - Gradia gave her son a comforting pat between his wings - “Hardest part’s done with.”
Giving a slight nod, Quickstep silently fixed his own belay; trying to avoid stepping too close to the edge.
When Quick was finished, he looked up to see his mother staring at the trees down below. Her eyes were narrowed - the wrinkles around her eyes becoming prominent in the late afternoon light.
“We ought to make haste to camp,” she called to Quick as she re-tightened her gear.
Quickstep stood over the edge, his eyebrow raised questioningly. “Why do you say that?”
“Daylight’s fading, and we sure as shit don’t want to be caught out here at sundown,” she replied before sitting on her haunches and twisting out over the edge of the cliff. “Creatures of the night are much more dangerous than creatures of the light.”
Quick was close behind Gradia. A newfound sense of urgency was ingrained in his mind at his mother’s words as he dropped over the edge to join her, and begin their descent.
The pair’s shared urgency did nothing to hasten the climb down. A tense silence hung in the air as Quickstep navigated the nooks and crannies of the new cliff face; a single slip threatening to dash him against the boulders below. A fearful stare painted his face as he made the decision to look down.
Beneath him was a retreating cliff face extending a few hundred metres below. Throughout the cooling woodlands, a pale fog spread along the undergrowth - sweeping up slightly when it meets the base of the mountain. A couple of metres across from him, his mother seemed calm and collected in her descent; though her gaze worriedly flicked to her son every so often.
Above them, the sky was slowly fading from a pale blue to reddish and orange hues as the day turned to dusk. The towering mountain range cloaked the woodlands below in an ominous shadow as the sun dipped below the summit. Echoing through the trees, the distant sounds of howling preceded an agonising screech. The griffons weren’t the only hunters here.
Quickstep was doing the best he could to mask his terror. Clinging to the rope, he shifted to face the dimly lit, open canopy. His eyes were darting from one tree to the next in a fruitless effort to find the source of the noise.
“W-what was that?” A panicked Quickstep asked his mother as he clung to the rope several metres from the ground.
“Dogs must be out hunting. Pay them no mind, Quick, they don’t often go for larger prey.” Gradia’s paws hit the ground as she slid down the rope.
“In case you haven’t noticed-” Quickstep reached solid ground not long after his mother “-I’m not exactly large.”
Gradia rolled her eyes, letting her gaze fall upon her son. “You’ll be fine. Wouldn’t have dragged you along if I thought you weren’t up to it.”
Quick’s spirits were lifted as he came to realise his mother’s confidence in him. The ghost of a smile crossed his beak as he looked back towards his mother; giving her an appreciative nod. The pair unclipped their harnesses and stowed them with the rest of their supplies, relieved to be on the ground once more.
Facing away from the cliff, all that could be seen was a sparse forest of thin, spindly trees interspersed with tall, dry grasses. The ground was covered with dead leaves and fallen twigs which crunched and snapped underfoot as the pair stepped past the treeline.
“Not far to go now. That clearing is a few hundred metres to the east, on the other side of all this grass,” Gradia whispered back to her son.
Nodding in response, Quickstep slinked up beside his mother; eager to set up camp and rest.
While Gradia stood high above the grasses, Quick’s sight was mostly obstructed by it. His only hope of navigating the dense vegetation was by sticking close to his mother, and relying on her line of sight.
A few minutes of walking led the pair to a wide clearing near the edge of the savannah. Ashen husks of burnt out trees pierced the scorched earth like wooden spines reaching to the stars. Near the centre, hollowed and rotted logs formed a disjointed border around their campsite.
“Why does everything look so-” a branch dropped from one of the dead trees, crashing down behind the pair; startling Quickstep into silence.
“Dead?” Gradia finished his question, producing a long, black, curved blade from a scabbard strapped to her leg and turning back towards the dry grasses behind the pair.
“Y-yeah,” squeaked Quickstep as he fought to regain his composure.
“Not a lot of rain reaches here because of the mountains.” Gradia had grabbed a generous amount of the grass in her talon. “The dry air kills those plants that aren’t strong enough to survive, and dead plants mean that fires can thrive.
“I’m sure you’ve noticed how much ash is laying about,” she remarked.
Quickstep’s ears lowered, nodding his head slowly, “Yeah, I noticed.”
Gradia drew her knife along the base of the bunch she was holding; making a series of heavy slashes before taking the clippings in her beak. As she made her way to Quick, Gradia sheathed her blade and collected any fallen twigs and bark that she could hold. As she walked by her son, she looked him in the eye and nodded her head towards the centre of the clearing; a silent command for him to follow. Quickstep just nodded meekly and fell into step behind his mother.
After she found a place away from any trees and unburnt material, Gradia had stacked the thinner twigs in a compact pile - leaving a hollow on one side. Surrounding the pile, a few of the larger sticks were driven into the ground and lashed with a piece of rope at a point above the kindling.
Taking the grass out of her mouth and laying it beside the half-built campfire, Gradia reached into a small pocket in the side of her bag. In an instant, her eyes widened in horror as an embarrassed blush crossed her cheeks.
“Fuck,” she muttered almost silently, her ears lowered as she tried not to face her son.
Quickstep tilted his head in confusion at his mother’s suddenly deflated mood.
“Quick? You err… you didn’t happen to bring along that flint, did you?” Gradia asked hesitantly, staring at the bundle of sticks stacked in front of her.
“Of course,” Quick replied as he drew a chunk of dark, almost black rock from his bag. “Why? Forget yours?”
Gradia was seething, bowing her head a little before giving the slightest nod.
Quickstep bit down on a claw to keep himself silent and kill the temptation to laugh. As much as he enjoyed getting one over on his mother, the fear of guaranteed rebuke kept him quiet as he sat beside Gradia.
As he moved to pass his flint to Gradia, Quickstep’s eyes narrowed in confusion as he saw his mother holding out her blade towards him.
“You should know by now, what comes next,” Gradia said, levelling a claw towards the grass clippings.
Taking the handle in a talon, Quickstep grinned and tried to take the knife. To his surprise, he encountered resistance; looking up to find his mother staring at him.
“Don’t break it, and don’t cut yourself.” Gradia let go of the knife and watched as Quick held the edge against his flint.
For an instant, sparks illuminated the ground before sailing into the ashes as Quick skims the top of his flint with the blade. A second swipe, aimed towards the mess of grass created a series of glowing embers in the centre of the pile.
Before Quick can empty his talon and pick up the grass, Gradia’s talon shoots out and grabs it for him. Taking care to keep the embers burning, Gradia slowly slid the grass into the hollow and blew into it. Within seconds, the embers were smoking before growing into a small fire. A few moments later, the pile of sticks caught alight, and a campfire was soon burning.
It wasn’t much longer until night fell. Thousands of glowing, white points dotted the black, moonless sky. Around the campfire, the silhouettes of the trees’ gnarled and twisted remains watched on as the pair shed their rucksacks and laid out their bedrolls for the night.
Footnote: Quickstep - Level Up.
Perk Unlocked: Anchorman - You can now use tools to climb on certain surfaces.