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- >You stare up at the night sky as the fire slowly recedes into the glowing coals
- > You search the stars for the familiar constellations your father taught you long ago
- > It was a forlorn endeavor, the stars changed position every night. There was no Big Dipper, Orion, or even a north star.
- > But you still looked for them, you still scanned the heavens for those familiar shapes, hoping for some small piece of the home you lost
- > And every night you were greeted by another alien sky, another reminder of where you were.
- > You’ve been living in the forest for two weeks now
- > For the first week, you would occasionally glimpse a pegasus flying through the air above you, sending you diving for cover
- > Even from the ground you could make out their white coats and the gleam of golden armor.
- > They never found your camp, and the sightings became less and less frequent as the days went by
- > Eventually they stopped altogether, either giving up the search or looking elsewhere
- > You should have been glad. You escaped. You were alive.
- > But that was it. You were just alive.
- > You knew you could survive out here indefinitely, and without a dedicated search effort you would never be found by those ponies
- > And while you were glad you avoided death, you now realized you have to face life here
- > You likely were never going to go back home, but you mourned that long ago while chained in the dark
- > What you dreaded was the future. You would live out the rest of your days here. Just hunting and surviving. Day after day. Alone with your thoughts.
- > With a heavy sigh you rise to your feet, heading inside for some sleep.
- >You wake up to the familiar sight of the stone ceiling
- > Sunlight spills through the cave opening, illuminating your surroundings
- > You groan and roll over, trying to get as comfortable as possible
- > Your built a makeshift bed after the first week by piling animal furs over a foundation of fresh cedar branches.
- > I wasn’t a proper mattress, but it was surprisingly comfy. Certainly better than stone
- > You bury your face in your arms. You don’t want to get up. What was the damn point anymore?
- > Yeah, you were free. But free to do what? To hunt and forage until your body grows weak with age and you no longer have the strength to feed yourself?
- > No, you weren’t free. This damn world was your prison. You escaped death only to be condemned to exile. There were no other options, no other paths, no other choices.
- > A loud growling from your stomach reminds you of your hunger
- > You force yourself to your feet. At least your back didn’t hurt anymore
- > You open a small rabbit-skin pouch near your bed, reaching inside and helping yourself to a small handful of raspberries you found yesterday
- > After your meager breakfast, you sling your quiver over your shoulder and grab your bow before heading outside
- >It doesn’t take long for you to find suitable prey.
- > You’ve learned the ins and outs of these woods, becoming familiar with the animal’s habits and preferences
- > You still avoid the western part of the forest. Who knows what other monstrosities lurk there.
- > A turkey meanders between the trees, oblivious to your presence a few meters away.
- > Hunting has been second nature to you for years. You could have done this in your sleep
- > You draw back the bow and release perfectly, the broadhead flying forth in a clean arc
- > The turkey is struck in the side of its head, falling to the ground with only a small *thump*
- > As you begin to rise to collect your kill, you hear a loud flapping noise above the trees,
- > You quickly draw another arrow, slipping back into the cover of the foliage
- > Something large and feathery lands near the downed turkey
- > It has the head of an eagle with the body of a lion, with large brown feathered wings on it’s back
- > It’s fur is the same dark brown, but it’s head is covered in white feathers. A small crown of larger feathers sits atop it’s head, the ends colored a faint lavender. You see a similar coloration surrounding it’s eyes
- > You recognize this creature. What were they called again? Oh yeah, griffons, that’s right.
- > The griffon walks over to the turkey and picks it up in one talon, turning it around and inspecting it
- > You hold your breath and remain still, trying to remain hidden. That thing looks dangerous. You do not want to tangle with it.
- > It looks away from the bird and begins scanning the forest in your direction
- > After only a short sweep, it’s eyes meet with yours
- > What? It found you already? Dang, it must have great eyesight.
- > The griffon crouches down, wings flaring up behind it
- > You quickly stand and draw your bow, anchoring your hand behind your cheekbone
- > The griffon glares at you, it’s talons digging into the soft dirt
- > “What the heck are you?”
- > The sudden question stuns you for a moment
- > Holy crap that thing talks?
- > The voice was harsh and abrasive, but definitely feminine. So it was a girl griffon?
- > You must have been silent for a while, because she repeats the question
- > “I said, what the heck are you?”
- > You clear your throat and answer
- “I’m a human”
- >”Human, huh? Never heard of them.”
- “I’m not exactly from here”
- > “Well then,” she responds, her voice laced with suspicion, “what do you want?”
- > You nod toward the turkey on the ground
- “That is my dinner. Give it back.”
- >She looks at the bird for a moment, and the returns her gaze to you
- > “It’s mine now, freak. And what makes you think I’ll just give it back?” She demands, taking one step forward
- > You shift your aim down and fire, embedding an arrow between the talons of her claw.
- > With a startled squawk she leaps back, landing several feet away
- > She flares her wings and crouches as she lands, preparing to pounce, but stops when she sees you already have another arrow drawn
- “The next one goes between your eyes. Back off.”
- > You could just end this right now, but killing another sentient could create problems. You don’t want to risk it.
- >She looks back at the arrow impaled in the turkey’s head, realizing that it’s no idle threat
- > She looks you in the eye, staring daggers at you
- > “Your name…” She sneers, “What is it?”
- “Anon”
- >”I’m Gilda. Remember that. This isn’t the last you’ve seen of me.”
- > With that she launches herself straight up into the air, quickly flying out of view.
- > You relax the tension of the bow, letting out a sigh
- > You retrieve your arrow from the ground and collect the shot turkey, mulling over what just happened
- > You think your stay here just got a little more interesting.
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