Snowbound

by An-Twan Star

Rating: everyone
Tags: Sad, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Rainbow Dash, Gilda, Slice of Life
Length: 15006

It’s Hearth’s Warming Eve and it’s snowing. Gilda is on the outskirts of Ponyville, unable to fly home and unwilling to go into town. What will she find when she ventures into the forests north of town instead?

For all her life, Gilda has been living in an alien society. Feared by ponies and shunned by the few griffons living in Cloudsdale, she has spent her life largely adrift. The only times she never felt alone were those when she was around Rainbow Dash.

Now, five months after being brushed aside for her rude behavior, Gilda has come back to Ponyville. Her hope is to spend the holidays with her old friend as they've always done, that maybe their relationship isn't wholly over. But those new friends of Dash’s are still complicating things, and Gilda's lingering, crushing depression isn't helping matters either.

Out in the woods north of town, away from ponies and their irritating antics, the griffon finds something different. It doesn’t complain. It doesn’t judge. It is accepting and it is unforgiving.

But, above all else, it is silent.

Created for the EqD 2014 "Friend Off"

Edited and beta read by Nightwalker

Mildly edited and cleaned up in December of 2020.

Takes place during season one.

Now with Spanish translation. Thanks to SPANIARD KIWI for that.

Published 2014-10-31 10:20:04 UTC
Last updated 2015-02-06 02:01:33 UTC

Snowfall

It was winter alright, no question about that. The day was cold but clear, without the harsh bite of wind that this time of year could bring.

That would come later.

Gilda slowly trudged through the forest, the crunch of snow underpaw and the creaking branches her only companions. She’d come out this way from her tiny hovel in Cloudsdale to try for her annual get-together with her old friend Rainbow Dash for Hearth's Warming Eve. Getting together around this time of year had been a tradition with them for a long time, but it had always been Dash that flew up to Cloudsdale to see her.

This time it had been her that’d made the trek, back down to Ponyville because… well, because she didn’t think there would be any more “getting together” if she didn’t.

Not after the last time she was here.

Meeting Dash, her annoying friends, the accusatory stares, the stupid party, the rejection by – and disappointment of – Rainbow Dash had potentially put an end to all of that.

The promise hurt the worst. The promise Dash had made that morning.

Gilda had managed to get the week off she needed without too much difficulty and the weather had cooperated with her, allowing her to make the flight to Ponyville in good time. Even finding Dash hadn’t been that difficult, not when she thought of where she might look.

The griffon saw Dash alright. Saw her with all her new friends, enjoying themselves outside, just like the rest of Ponyville was. Even from her far off position, Gilda’s binocular vision picked up every silent detail. Dash had her back to the griffon, hunkered down behind a snowdrift. The pony dragged a forehoof through the snow – filling the rim of her horseshoe with the powder – before smashing both hooves together, depositing the irregular shaped object on a pile of its brethren.

It was a snowball fight.

Beside Dash was another element: Rarity. She was fussing over the size and roundness of her single snowball, lobbing off a little bit, before placing some right back in the same place. Rainbow turned her head and shouted to her companion, who only tutted in response.

She’s wasting time, that's for sure. But she has the right idea, thought Gilda as she began making a snowball of her own. If she had anything close to a special talent, it was making frozen ammunition. When it was just her and Dash, they were always engaged in some kind of playful competition. If it was a race, the griffon was beat; wrestling, she drew even. But if it was snowballs, Gilda was unbeatable.

Instead of a big pile of clods, she preferred to craft a few good snowballs and end the fight with careful, deliberate shots. The fashionable unicorn appeared of a similar mind, finally moving on to her next projectile. Across the field from Rainbow – behind another snowbank – a brown Stetson hat popped up. Some kind of taunting remark was shouted, and the hat quickly disappeared from view.

Rarity nudged Rainbow, getting her attention. Laying out a plan, perhaps? Judging by the expressions, Gilda surmised that Dash was not taking it well. Dash always preferred head-on confrontations to careful strategizing in battle, no matter how many times Gilda had shown her that doing so was a bad idea. The griffon bounced her snowball in her talon. Dash would need as much help as possible to defeat her entrenched opponents.

As expected, Dash didn’t accept Rarity’s plan and did her own thing instead. Gilda’s beak cracked in a grin; how little things changed after all the years. Balancing two snowballs on each wing, Dash suddenly snapped them forward and sent a volley at... Applejack, was it? Meanwhile, the unicorn, having been ignored, was taking matters into her own hooves by shifting her position for a throw. Rainbow popped her head up for a second to check her accuracy, earning a return snowball in the face from the orange earth pony.

A sharp laugh broke from Gilda’s chest as Dash went down. No, nothing had changed after all these years.

Seizing the opportunity of an exposed Applejack, Rarity took her shot.

Gilda rocked her talon backward to add her own snowball to the return salvo in the hopes of catching their chosen victim in a crossfire.

For a fleeting moment, she was behind the snowbank, alongside her best friend in the whole world, teamed up against a worthy opponent. The snowball flew straight and true, only to explode against the ground about a mile short of its target.

And like that, she was back by the northern treeline of Sweet Apple Acres, her fantasy nothing but.

She felt her wings slump as she watched their celebration, Rarity’s snowball having squarely taken out Applejack, clearly the last pony on that team. But Gilda did take notice when her antithesis, that pink “demon”, came down the plowed path towing a small concessions cart, with Fluttershy hovering slowly behind. Both mares’ had been victims of Gilda’s intense jealousy when the griffon was last in town five months prior.

Gilda was constantly keeping Pinkie away from Rainbow with her scare tactics, but only because she was in the way. But bumping into Fluttershy in the town square triggered terrible memories about when Dash left her and Cloudsdale for Ponyville. Dash said it was purely for a position on the weather patrol, but Gilda felt that it was no coincidence that Fluttershy had moved there a year before. So when she ran into Fluttershy, the absolute worst side of her came out.

She lost her cool, the image that she had been trying to maintain her whole life, something she now regretted deeply.

Back in the moment, the six ponies were casually standing around the parked cart, sipping on whatever steaming hot drinks Pinkie had brought. Dash was the most animated, up in the air, gesturing at the sky while spinning in place. The ponies departed soon after, each off to do their own thing. But Gilda’s eyes were fixated on one as she shot up into the sky.

Now that those dweeby friends were out of the picture, she could fly up there and see if she was still held in regard. But this was also right above Applejack’s farm, and the farm pony would be an unwelcome distraction if she should happen along, not to mention if any of her other family members got involved. There would be no winners in that kind of confrontation, and Rainbow would likely take their side should it happen. It wouldn’t be the first time she went with the crowd.

There was also an element of pride. Both had parted ways while throwing ultimatums at each other – ultimatums that neither wanted to honor.

She hoped.

Gilda resigned herself to laying down and watching the weather masters at work. The Ponyville weather team, like their captain, was definitely fast, already having made a cloud layer that encompassed Ponyville and the outlying areas. Then the pegasi began flying a crosshatching pattern, agitating the clouds to start the snowfall.

As the white stuff started to settle with and flying conditions soured, Gilda reflected that it was high time to head back to her boring life in Cloudsdale. She spread her wings for takeoff but found she couldn’t bring herself to go further. It was as if a strange, invisible weight had befallen her wings, keeping her grounded. Try as she might, the griffon couldn’t get so much as a flutter out of them. Her great brown wings just hung limply off her sides, hardly even lifting an inch no matter how much she wanted them to. With a sad, tired sigh, Gilda closed her eyes. The cold depression that had been crushing her heart had spread to her wings now, rendering them useless to her.

At least she was able to get them folded back up against her sides so she wouldn’t have to go through the indignity of dragging them along the ground. But if she couldn’t go back to her home just then, where to go now?

With another sick, tired sigh, Gilda turned away from the town and trudged aimlessly into the forest. The snowfall followed her, the soft, fresh flakes blanketing the land muffling her footfalls. A thick, moist fog was also rolling in, reducing visibility dramatically. Flying out would be even more difficult now, and getting lost on the ground was a very real possibility. Her wings felt just as useless as before when she gave them a twitch. No, no going back to Cloudsdale now. The moisture in the air caused her normally straight feather crest to droop, mirroring her glum state of mind.

But there was only so much wandering a depressed soul could take. Shivering to shed the fluffy white blanket that had accumulated on her back, Gilda turned to the nearest large tree and quickly scampered up its trunk, settling on a branch wide enough to support her weight. She lay amongst the dead branches, becoming almost as stationary as they were. As the snow built up on her back once more, she tried futilely to get her mind off what she was doing in Ponyville again and how worthless it all suddenly seemed.

With nothing better to do, she resigned herself to watching the snowfall. Seeing the delicate creations sifting down through the branches only served to remind Gilda of Dash and her friends -- laughing and playing in the snow -- oblivious to the ghostly griffon and her state. It also spoke of bridges burnt, and ties severed, lives sent adrift.

Gilda focused on one of the larger flakes as it drifted and settled on top of one of her curled up paws. The fluffy crystal only lasted a few seconds before responding to her body heat and melting over her knuckle. With a disgusted chuff, she flicked it off her paw.

She should just forget about the past, get her wings working, punch upwards through the clouds, and return to Cloudsdale. That’s exactly what she should do.

But what was there in Cloudsdale? Apart from a city that was indifferent to her struggles. A broom closet that she could curl up inside of at that crappy little bar that she lived and washed dishes at? The stares? The discrimination? The catcalls and lecherous sneers of drunken patrons?

The forest was just as indifferent, but was also silent. It didn’t discriminate, and it didn’t have the high expectations of city life either. It didn’t care who you were or what species you were; your monetary value, or your special talent. Closing her eyes, Gilda decided then and there that if she couldn’t have the holidays with Dash, she could at least have them alone – without ponies.

Giving her wings a flick to clear them of snow, the griffon opened her eyes once more and stood on the branch. She shook her feathered head, too, and then gazed off through the cold and barren treetops. She listened to the rustling sound of the breeze in the branches and the quiet whisper of the snow and felt that maybe… just maybe, the snow on her body and underpaw wasn’t as cold as she first thought. Maybe a little bit more time down here on the ground wouldn’t be so bad. Cloudsdale would still be there when she finally got her wings working again after all.

Gilda agilely turned about on the branch and climbed down to the forest floor once more. She dusted off her forelimbs and began to slowly meander deeper into the forest, not so much as sparing a single glance to the warm, well-lit town of Ponyville behind her.

The snow continued to fall, making quick work of her tracks and resting spot, filling them in and leaving behind nothing but ghostly remainders of their former selves.

Much like the griffon who left them.

Author's Note

Blizzard

The bare ice covering the stream beheld the expressionless reflection of a bald eagle. The creature’s head was constantly twitching, her focus not on the reflection but beneath it. Suddenly, she reared back a fisted talon and sent it flying into and through the face of the griffon that gazed back. Gilda pulled her talon out of the freezing water, and her prize – a small trout – along with it.

Due to her Equestrian upbringing, finding protein-rich meats to supplement her diet had always proven rather challenging. Any kind of hunting was frowned upon by ponies, so she always had to find someplace far removed from society to do her deed. The griffon had lost count of how many times she had stolen away from Cloudsdale to hunt.

With the fish squirming in talon, Gilda brought it up to her hooked beak and bit down on its head, quickly ending the struggle. As she ate the raw fish, the griffon grimly admired her handiwork – little spots along the river where the ice was broken up to catch the previous days’ meals. It was the only resource she had this far into the Unicorn Range foothills, the winter forest having nothing else substantial to offer.

It also gave her a chance to punch her reflection in the face, which was disturbingly cathartic.

If Gilda paid closer attention, she would see that she had been steadily losing weight ever since entering the forest. Most of that weight had come from bulking up slightly over the past few months, due to her heavy heart and constant snacking on leftover bar treats. She lived right above her workplace, so flying – the former great love of her life – had suddenly become pointless in her eyes. She had to fly when she needed to go out and hunt, but if there was no need… well, why even bother anymore?

Gilda knew, that without the proper equipment, she couldn’t do this forever. The cold and hungry nights spent sheltered in evergreen trees were putting a damper on her experience, plus the fact that it had been a little over a week and she was scheduled to return to her so-called home. What was she there, a dishwasher? The lowest job that nopony wanted?

I don’t think it's any better than this, though.

The buildup of pressure – and subsequent popping – of her ears, along with her other avian senses, told Gilda that another storm front was rolling in. Courtesy of the Ponyville weather team, of course.

Quickly swallowing the last chunks of filet, Gilda tossed the bones off into the woods. The need to leave was apparent, but those traitorous wings still refused to fly. She still wanted, needed something out of this trip. Something that wasn’t nothing.

And that something wasn’t here.

With time wearing thin and unworking wings, the griffon had no choice. She pointed herself south, away from the distant mountains, and pushed back into the forest. Instead of backtracking her meandering path, Gilda made a beeline towards Ponyville. It was a town of dorks and an irritating pink pronking plague, but she didn’t exactly have a lot of options. There had to be something there. Salvation? Possibly friendship? Or just more rejection? Whatever it was, she needed to find it.

The further she pushed, the easier the journey became. As long as she was moving and focused, her depression was kept well at bay. Stopping now would just bring on uncertainty, so the griffon plowed on. It would take about a day on the ground at the pace Gilda set, to reach the town.

It was a task that her body could ill handle, though. While those months moping around the bar in Cloudsdale may have caused her flying muscles to atrophy some, it had strengthened her legs. Still, a griffon was never meant to remain grounded for long periods of time and she had spent the last week in the rough, cold wilderness. After only a few hours at a modest lope, the burn in her leg muscles became too much, and she practically fell into a sitting position. She could only sit down fully for about a second before yelping loudly and snapping to attention. Sitting more carefully and holding her butt off of the cold ground solved this issue.

Just as predicted, Gilda’s mood quickly soured when she fell idle. She was in a glade, surrounded by trees, with the trademark moist fog of a pegasi snowstorm hovering above the ground. Looking up into the slightly obscured heavens revealed a swirling dark mass of cloud, already dropping its load of snow on the region.

But instead of reminding Gilda of the negative, it did nothing. Since all her usual guards were down from her week in solitude, she did something that usually fell under her purview of “lame”.

She held out a talon, palm side up, and allowed a single snowflake to come to rest on the tough yellow skin there. Unlike its counterpart a week earlier, this one didn’t melt right away. After a week in the snow, Gilda’s talon was almost as cold as the world around her. Sharp griffon eyesight could see all the tiny, complex details of the little atmospheric wonder. As she gazed over the small white crystal, an old pegasi legend came to mind.

When a pegasus creates their first downfall, it was said that part of their soul was donated to the ground. From there, the water it was bound too would seep into the soil, making it so that wildlife and crops could flourish. Eventually, the water would make it into rivers and other bodies of water, ready for the final stage of evaporation. The soul fragments then return to the skies, and for the pegasus to be complete once more, they take to the skies, nurturing them and eventually creating another downfall, starting the cycle anew.

If Dash created the snowfall… then, could it be…?

Gilda didn’t believe much in fairy tales, nor old legends, but her tormented mind was latching onto anything at this point; even the irrational. And if the legend was true, then the griffon was surrounded by her best friend. It was only fragments of her though, and she still felt like a ghost, a faded memory.

But, if Gilda got up, and continued with her harsh slog through the wilds, she could possibly have the full package.

Gilda leaned in and blew, her cold breath sending the snowflake spiraling back up through the sky with its brethren. With energy slightly restored, she stood back up and continued to Ponyville.

Gilda was absolutely cursing the snow as it whipped and howled past her head. The weather had taken a huge turn for the worse over the last hour, with the masses of snow and powerful winds coalescing into a whiteout blizzard. The few hours of sunlight she’d hoped to have to allow her to make the outskirts of Ponyville were practically nullified by the heavy cloud cover. Flying, let alone taking off, would be next to lethal, so she had to dig in her claws and hold on. Whatever petty struggles she had with trying to get her wings open earlier were completely nullified. All that mattered now was doing everything possible to prevent the gale from getting under her wings and causing all sorts of trouble

Gilda held dearly to the tree trunk ahead of her, listening to the gusts, waiting to make a move. When the wind lulled acceptably, she picked the closest visible tree and broke from her shelter. The griffon did not care that she was crouch walking like a scolded foal to her destination. With conditions like this, all bets are off. Hearing the wind picking up pushed Gilda to move even quicker for the shelter. Practically lunging the last few feet, she finally hooked her talons around the tree as the winds blasted by once more.

Jumping from tree trunk to tree trunk, and using whatever meager cover they offered, made for painfully slow progress in the rapidly fading light. She squinted out into the blizzard on the lookout for another tree to jump to, but there was nothing visible on her southerly path. Her luck had finally run out.

What was I thinking staying out here? Why didn’t I fly when I had the chance!?

Petulant thoughts aside, Gilda needed some kind of shelter to survive. The powerful gusts easily parted fur and feather, reaching down to the hide to cause involuntary shivering. It was just so cold. She wanted to give up, just curl into a ball and… succumb.

NO! I can’t think like that, I just need…

Gilda’s eyes, and possibly her imagination, picked up movement ahead. It looked like the outline of… a pony!? The ‘pony’ appeared to turn around and head back into the white abyss, with the griffon forgetting about her cover and giving chase.

“HEY! GET BACK HERE, DWEEB!” Gilda screeched at the top of her voice, only for the wind to spit that plea back in her face.

She could feel the start of some kind of upward slope underpaw while pursuing the pony. The wind noise was reaching a fever pitch, as well. Without watching her footing, she pressed on, biting back a scream when the ground nearly ended. The griffon had reached the precipice of a massive snowdrift, with a sheer drop over the edge. But with the blinding weather, it may as well be the end of the earth.

So Gilda stood there, staring into the vast, white nothing, fighting down her primal, claustrophobic nature.

She hated her life. Hated the blizzard, hated…

“RAINBOW DASH!”

There was no response.

“THIS AINT RIGHT!”

Silence.

“THIS CAN'T BE HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT ME!”

She tried to choke it back but couldn’t, and it forced her to her hind paws. Throwing her head back, her forelegs and wings spread for balance, Gilda opened her beak in an ear-splitting roar. Wind and ice tore over her fur and feathers as the storm swallowed her fury. With as deep a breath as she could muster, Gilda poured all her pent up emotions – her anger, her hate, her self-loathing, her regret, and her frustration – into one last thundering cry.

There was barely even an echo through the forest as the cold, swirling winds swept aside the griffon’s rage practically without notice.

Defeated, she slumped down, barely managing to catch herself with a forepaw as she struggled to turn away from the howling bite of the winter winds. Maybe finally giving up wouldn’t be all that bad...

Then it began. It started with a low rumble, much like a train on the tracks. But it was quickly approaching, growing louder until it sounded like somegriffon had pissed off the gods. Gilda’s head snapped up and she squinted into the white void towards – what she believed – was the south.

No, it’s impossible! They only happen in the summer!

When the sound became absolutely deafening, a pressure wave in the storm passed directly overhead, forcing the griffon to cower. Timidly peering upward into the enraged black of the storm, she could just make out the wispy, rotating mass of a corkscrew-like weather phenomenon passing overhead with tremendous velocity. As the sound retreated north, and she shook her head to make sure what was witnessed wasn't some deathly hallucination, things started happening. First, the wind suddenly died down. Then, as the snow thinned out, Gilda was treated to a spectacular sight. The sky had been split in two, with the distance between the two massive cloudbanks becoming greater the further south she looked.

Nestled in between was a beautiful obsidian sky, with a thousand twinkles. It was a scene that could only be created with magic, and the griffon only knew of one pony with the fortitude to fly directly into a blizzard.

With calm air and a semblance of safety, all the adrenaline leached out of Gilda’s system leaving behind a feeling of emptiness. She hung her head and tried to focus on keeping her forelegs locked and upright, noting she could no longer feel her talons buried in the snow. She wanted, desperately, to get up and start moving but found all she could do was sit and shiver uncontrollably. Gilda squeezed her eyes shut, a feeble caw escaping her beak as she tried to push herself to action again. Even with the blizzard gone, the air was still frigid and it was doubtful she would last another night.

The crunch of snow from a landing pegasus would change that. Gilda didn’t look up, didn’t even flinch – she already knew who it was. She steeled herself for the inevitable spiel about “The nerve of coming back after everything she had done” or something lame like that.

She wasn’t expecting the wing around her body, though.

It was followed by a pair of hooves around her neck and another large, soft wing around her front, shielding her from the cold for the first time in days. She slumped against the furry chest of her best friend. They sat like that in the cold and the silence for several minutes, bodies pressed together for warmth, neither one speaking for fear of ruining the moment. Eventually, one of them had to break the ice.

“How long have you been out here?”

Gilda struggled to respond to the soft-spoken question. “A-about a w-week. S-since Hearth's Warming.”

Rainbow Dash mulled this over, biting the inside of her cheek in the process. She continued to rub her hooves over Gilda’s back and wings in an effort to stimulate heat and blood flow with the friction. “Think you can fly?”

The griffon unconsciously nodded, temporarily forgetting about her previous afflictions.

“Good, ‘cuz you’re coming back to my place.”

That brought Gilda’s head up, her eyes and beak wide in astonishment.

“And that’s final!”

Flurries

Gilda was flying, and it was probably the ugliest flying she had ever done since she was a cub. It was certainly the ugliest she had ever flown around Rainbow Dash. Days on the ground, alone in the frozen wilderness, had not been kind to her flight muscles, to say nothing of the lack of preening given to her wings. The griffon’s flight was labored and fatigued, punctuated by frequent dips in altitude as she struggled through the air. All this was not lost on her companion, and Dash had stopped flying parallel early on, taking up station behind or around so she could keep a watchful eye out.

The mare was better equipped for the frigid weather than the griffon, too, sporting a Ponyville Weather Department labeled vest and iced-over flight goggles that dangled from their strap around her neck. Her uniform was just short one item. A cyan scarf was wrapped snugly around Gilda’s neck, the only article of comfort Rainbow had with her that could fit the griffon’s larger frame.

The scarf was little more than a token, the area that it covered inadequate to really keep Gilda warm. Still, it was the gesture of the scarf, what it represented, that drove her on. That, and the memory of the feeling of Dash’s wing and hooves at her back. She would probably get an earful once they landed in Ponyville, but that it hadn’t happened already gave her the slightest bit of hope.

The forest that was Gilda’s home for the past week was steadily falling behind them. The tree cover grew thinner and finally stopped altogether at the blanketed fields of Sweet Apple Acres. As they passed into the urban airspace, Gilda saw the town from a different perspective.

The rogue blizzard had left a hefty blanket of snow on everything. The colorful architecture and streets were rendered white, though they glowed amber under the soft light of the streetlamps. The scent of smoke from a hundred fireplaces hit her nostrils, reminding her that the town was full of life – and full of ponies. She could see them below, already shoveling out their paths and plowing the streets.

Gilda shot her flying partner a look, wondering where they were headed as she couldn’t see the pegasus’ cloudominium nearby. Had Dash moved it since she was last here?

Instead, the pony pointed her hoof at the ground, directing her to a particular building and starting in on a slow landing spiral. Relieved she just had to concentrate on holding her wings steady instead of flapping them, Gilda followed suit. Their target was a large treehouse. She remembered the absurd structure from her ill-fated visit that summer, and remembered laughing when she found out it was the public library.

It was also a local haunt for Dash and her new friends, and that brought to Gilda a sour mood. Anything could be on the other side of that door, she thought darkly. Still, she wouldn’t be given much choice in the matter. Her wings had decided they were about ready to pack it in again and it took all her strength to keep in control of them as she came in to land beside the cyan pegasus.

The landing was as ugly as the rest of her flight in. All four of her legs buckled as soon as she hit the ground and she was sent skidding beak-first through the snow the last few yards.

“Woah, G, are you-“

“Fine! I’m fine,” she spat as she struggled to stand again. Her legs quivered as she got each one under her one at a time. The cold had completely numbed her paws. The only warmth in her whole body was coming from the muscles in her breast and wings and it was a sickly pain that radiated through the rest of her. She turned to Dash and said, “Let’s just get inside.”

The pegasus hesitated, her head cocked back and an almost concerned expression on her face. Gilda could just make out those rose-colored eyes looking her over, apprising how accurate her statement was. Eventually, Dash relented. “Yeah, sure.”

As Rainbow turned to the door, Gilda’s imagination again conjured possibilities of what was on the other side. Were Dash’s friends there, hanging out together, only to now be treated to the sight of a freezing and irresponsible griffon as she was paraded before them? Would they laugh and mock her, forcing her back out into the dark winter night when she invariably lost her cool at their taunting and scolding?

Gilda was spared any more unpleasant thoughts as Dash opened the door to reveal only darkness beyond. She staggered by the waiting pegasus, her beak open from panting as she struggled to make it to the saving warmth. That she hadn’t bothered to shake off the coating of snow from her rough landing wasn’t something that registered with her in the least. Part of her was glad that the library was devoid of ponies, but that part was quickly smothered by the rest of her that was just glad to finally be standing someplace warm.

The door to the outside world slammed shut. “Twilight and Spike are with her folks in Canterlot,” Rainbow Dash explained. She pulled off her goggles and set them on a nearby table. “She asked me to watch the library while they were gone this week.”

Given Gilda’s current state, with the shivers that were starting to overcome her body, Rainbow guessed such things didn’t concern the griffon. She pointed a hoof at a dim red glow on the other side of the library. “Fire’s over there. I’ll get some lights on.”

Gilda gave a shaky nod as she pulled off her scarf and then lurched unsteadily across the room. Her stance was wide in an effort to keep her balance, and she was heedless of the impacted snow that fell from her fur and feathers that she hadn’t bothered to shake off. The fire within the stone hearth had long since dampered down to a bed of glowing embers, but to a griffon who had spent a week with small campfires made from what little deadwood she could scavenge by paw, it was a glorious reprieve.

She collapsed on the largest of the pony-size pillows that were arranged before the fireplace and pulled the quilt that was atop it tight around her upper body. The quilt’s surface was still quite warm from facing the fire and Gilda closed her eyes, a moan escaping her beak, as that warmth began to seep into her. The warmth was so divine, such a relief after days where her only covering was falling snow, that Gilda almost didn’t notice when two more quilts were draped over her.

“Just try and warm up, G. I’ll be back in a minute.”

The griffon would have responded if her shivering hadn’t worked its way up to full, body-quaking tremors. She just nodded and held her chattering beak shut while reaching down and trying to wrap the other blankets around her lower body and frozen feet.

Eventually satisfied she was as bundled up as she could get, Gilda closed her stinging, burning eyes and tried to burrow deeper into the thick pillow beneath her. As she worked to get control over her shaking limbs again, a sarcastic part of her mind noted that this was certainly not how she expected to end her Hearth’s Warming. Another part countered that it was still a better end than it could have been otherwise. The first part just said to wait until Dash got back to say that.

Groaning, Gilda tugged her blankets tighter. That Dash’s first reaction after clearing away the rogue storm and finding a half-frozen griffon wasn’t to shout and accuse but to land and give her a hug was certainly the most surprising thing that had happened so far this trip. Of course, Gilda knew that it was a ‘survival’ type of hug, but it was warm and it was Dash, and she leaned helplessly into it nonetheless. She clung to its memory just as tightly as the blankets while at the same time dreading when the pegasus’ inevitable chewing-out would begin.

Probably the only good feeling that'll come out of this trip.

The blizzard was long over though, and now she was safely under a pile of warm blankets, next to a glowing fireplace. Dash had got some lights on, the room lit with a cozy dimness. Her shivers were finally dying down, the only real reminder of the horror of the blizzard being the prickling sting of feeling returning to her talons and toes. She almost felt normal again. Though normal in her case meant a nearly ever-present feeling of melancholy that she coped with most of the time by getting too wasted to care. That wasn’t an option here, and now that Gilda was physically safe, Dash would begin questioning her mental state, no doubt about that. And that would entail explaining just why Gilda acted the way she did all those months ago. It was deeply personal stuff that she didn’t want to deal with right then.

The clatter of pots and pans, followed by running water filling a metal object, sounded in another part of the library and slowly died away. A few seconds later, Dash emerged from the kitchenette with a kettle clutched in her teeth and two mugs clasped in her wings. Under lighter circumstances, the griffon would have made a crack about Dash wanting to play princess and have teatime, but now was not the time for such things.

Instead, she just turned her head to watch the pegasus come down the stairs and cross the floor, drinking in her features. From her earliest days living as an orphan, Gilda had been afraid of the older and angrier griffons in Lower Cloudsdale. As a result, she much preferred to spend time with ponies, who were just as alien to Gilda as she was to them. The way Dash clopped her direction, perched on those chitinous hooves, the waviness of her mane, and her muzzle with those white teeth and lips, was so different, yet so enrapturing at the same time.

Gilda truly wanted to understand the equines she shared the skies with, but the few times in the griffon’s life when she had actively engaged other ponies were met with the same reaction every time. Forced smiles, some kind of lame-duck response about the ‘thing’ at the ‘place’. Parents would protectively shield their foals from her gaze. Occasionally, some bold mare or stallion would jeer or shout some racist remark – especially if they had a good dose of liquid courage beforehand.

“Uh, what’s with the look, G? You know it always freaks me out when you look at me like that.”

Her reverie broken, Gilda turned back towards the fireplace and squirmed under her blankets, muttering a listless, rote apology. That was another reason why Gilda had to keep the guilty pleasure of her ponywatching from afar, either from the clouds or more recently from the small window of her room above the bar. She would try to understand their lives and thoughts and try to place herself amongst them, to little avail.

But after years of trying to fit in – and being left to her own devices – Gilda had developed a sharp apathy towards ponies. Ponies, she had discovered, don’t like anything out of the ordinary. And anything that confounded or didn’t meet their expectations only confused or scared them. They didn’t want love from a griffon. They expected loud. They expected obnoxious. They expected angry. And the griffon at the end of her rope wanted to deliver. And deliver she did – until the sun never came up – when she had the sudden urge to see the only pony who understood.

After falling out with Rainbow Dash, the depressed (and bored) griffon began watching again, particularly smaller details like facial expressions. But the faces she had constantly seen on the drunken ponies that came to and from the bar were sobering reminders of her life. They didn’t just come for a good time.

They also came to forget.

As much as Gilda wished she could do that right now, it was impossible. Instead, she let her gaze wander over the contents of the library, sneaking a glance where possible over the blue pegasus. She watched as Dash awkwardly placed the full kettle on a hook above the fire, spilling some water in the process. The pony took one look at the dying fire, chuffed, and leaned over to the pile of split wood nearby, grabbing fresh logs with her muzzle and tossing them on the fire. Hot sparks erupted each time the logs landed and Gilda idly wondered how fireproof the library was.

Dash then grabbed an iron poker and began stoking new flames. “Yanno,” she spoke around the metal tool in her mouth, “for somepony who was jus’ freezing 'er flank off-” she disgustedly spat out the tool, her tongue having hit a spot that was covered in ash. “Ack! Ack! I thought I cleaned that thing!”

“Somepony?” the blanketed mass murmured softly.

Rainbow turned and flushed in embarrassment. “Erm, e-eh eh. Sorry.”

An awkward silence befell the moment, punctuated only by Rainbow’s renewed efforts to stoke the fire. Gilda lay as still as ever, a silent sentinel to the building blaze, her stoic revere only broken by the occasional shiver. The flames licked ever higher, aided in part by Dash’s wings fanning fresh air in and the freshly stirred coals. Satisfied with her handiwork, the pegasus set the poker back where she found it and looked over her griffon companion.

“How’re you doing over there?” Dash asked. Exposure to a blizzard was no joke, even for a hardy creature like a griffon. Gilda was very fortunate that the weatherpony had spotted her after clearing the skies. “Almost thawed out?”

Those piercing golden eyes sild up briefly to meet her’s and then back down as their owner lowered her head. “Getting there. My talons, toes, and wings are all pins and needles right now, but they’re all there.”

Rainbow opened her muzzle and then shut it again, her ears tilted off to the sides. She still wanted to know just what the griffon was doing out in the elements like that, but felt broaching the subject to the reproachful hybrid was an even a bigger challenge than usual. Instead, she turned to the shelf nearest her and pulled a book off at random, returning it to an equally random place on another shelf. She continued this for several minutes before the uncomfortable silence was broken.

“What’re you doing, Dash?” The question was softly asked and contained a mixture of trepidation, frustration, and curiosity.

“Heh, just a little prank on Twi,” the pegasus responded, a small cheeky grin pulling at her lips. “She got this whole place totally organized before she left and this is going to make her nuts when she finally notices.”

The acknowledgment she got was almost as soft as the question, though Dash did catch the small titter of a laugh at the end. With a heavy sigh, she slid in the last book and finally confronted the elephant in the room. Or griffon, as the case may be.

“What exactly were you doing out there, Gilda?”

The aforementioned griffon stirred, raising her head off the pillow slightly. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

It wasn’t the sarcasm that shocked Rainbow. She had always known Gilda to be the cynical sort, it was just how she dealt with things. Rather, it was the temperature of her voice. It wasn’t the cool persona Dash and her had created at junior speedsters. Nor was it the scary fire she had displayed on her last visit. This was icy, callous, and about as cold as the blizzard she was found in.

After regaining composure, the pegasus pressed the issue.

“I’m just trying to wrap my head around why you spent your whole holiday vacation in an empty forest when you could have easily flown to my place. Or Cloudsdale, seeing as Ponyville is is just too lame for you.”

“Easily?!”

Gilda shot up into a sitting position, the blanket around her top falling open in the process. She wanted to argue that notion, scream about it maybe. But like many things, her heart just wasn’t in it. So she fixed a chilling stare, poking an accusing talon out from under the blankets.

“You have no idea, just how difficult the past few months have been for me – without friends.”

“What!?” Rainbow exclaimed. “Surely you must have found other ponies, you must have tried making new friends.”

The griffon sighed softly and slowly. Her anger had flared and was gone. “Yes. But after spending so much time trying and failing to get in with ponies, I’m kinda all tried out.”

“And when I tried introducing you to caring ponies you had a- a- what!? What exactly happened back then!?”

“I…” Even though the griffon had been expecting this conversation, she was woefully unprepared with a response. “I was frustrated, Dash. Well and truly frustrated with... everything. With my job, with Cloudsdale, with this whole uncaring world. After nearly pissing myself when the sun never came up that one day, and learning that the bucking Nightmare was in Ponyville of all places... I figured that seeing my longtime buddy would do me some good. That it might get me out of my rut.

“I became truly frustrated when I learned about your new friends, and how easily you made them.”

Rainbow corrected her after a moment. “You mean you were jealous.”

Gilda sighed and hung her head, trying to retreat further into her blankets. “Yeah… that. I was… jealous of all those new friends you made. I mean, then there was that pink pony that wouldn’t take no for an answer when all I wanted to do was hang with The Dash, just like old times.”

“It’s Pinkie Pie, Gilda.”

“Whatever,” she softly growled back in a bitter tone.

“Gilda!” Rainbow released an exasperated breath. “I know it’s... difficult for a griffon in Equestria to get by, but you didn’t have to attack them over it!”

Gilda jolted sharply as an unknown pony rapped on the front door.

“Sorry Gilda, but this will only take a second.” Rainbow excused herself and winged her way to the door. Not wanting... whoever that was to know she was there, Gilda hunkered down into the pillow and pulled the top blanket around her again, draping part of it forward over her head. With the blanket loosely covering her face, she was able to turn her head towards the door and peek out without anypony knowing who was under the covers. She hoped.

Rainbow Dash landed at the entrance and opened the door for the visitor. Visitors? Gilda noted the multiple sets of hooves hitting the wood floor. She glanced around the obscuring quilt and saw a dark-coated stallion and two lilac coated mares. They all had the same weather patrol vests and goggles as Rainbow, easily denoting they were her co-workers.

They chatted amicably for a few minutes, with Rainbow zooming around the library, going into gruesome detail about how she split the storm in two, with the new pegasi nodding along to the tale. Gilda had gathered that the stallion with the teal mohawk was Thunderlane – Dash’s newest employee – and the other two were sisters, apparently; Flitter and Cloudchaser. She stopped actively listening and turned back to the fire when Thunderlane started complaining about the graveyard shift and his persistent cough – uninteresting topics to the griffon.

I have enough problems of my own to deal with, I don’t need somepony else’s.

Rainbow Dash didn’t seem too thrilled with this either, telling him to suck it up if he wanted to be a permanent member of the weather team. The dressing down did bring a small grin to Gilda’s beak; Dash always did know how to tell other ponies to mare up. The grin fell into a frown as she wondered when it was finally going to be her turn to receive one of Dash’s lectures and why it hadn't happened already.

Thunderlane assured his boss that his job came before his ills, and Cloudchaser told Rainbow to ease up on the newbie. I guess not everything is hunky-dory in Dashville, Gilda thought smugly as she idly eavesdropped on the exchange with mild amusement.

The distraction provided by the amusement allowed a smattering of guilt to creep back in unexpectedly. Gilda knew that Dash had probably saved her life when the pegasus and her merry cloud patrol cleared the storm. And Dash certainly didn’t have to take in the griffon from the cold. Gilda felt a strange need to thank her friend – pay back her generosity – even if she wasn’t good at that sort of thing. Pride always got in the way.

After their exchange, the ponies bid farewell and departed into the night. Dash muttered something unintelligible before returning to the fireplace. With the coast clear, Gilda rose once more into a sitting position and let the top blanket fall back to her shoulders like a cloak. She was finally feeling warm enough that the whole thing wasn’t needed. By now the kettle on the fire had reached its boiling point, and the pegasus went for its handle but was stopped by a talon reaching for it instead.

“Dude, just… let me pour this, okay. I-I’m feeling generous… I think.”

Rainbow couldn’t hold back her braying laugh. “You?! Generous?! Gimme a break, you’ve never done generous.”

Gilda grabbed the boiling kettle and poured out two cups of dark tea, then placed the kettle back before responding.

“Um, you totally saved me from freezing to death in that blizzard.”

“I thought you’d never notice.” Rainbow sarcastically eyed her old friend, expecting her to say more.

“Yeah, well, it just took me a little time to figure it out.”

“And?”

“And, um…” Gilda’s eyes bored holes into the floor. “Thank you.”

“What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

“Ugh, I’m so not repeating myself,” she replied, dipping her beak towards the steaming cup of tea held in her talons.

“Are you alright, G?” Rainbow asked in concern, yet with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Because I thought I just saw you throw your pride in the fire.”

Gilda’s facial feathers turned a light shade of pink. “Ha! Real funny, Dash.”

The pegasus grabbed up her own mug and blew across its steaming contents. “Now.” Rainbow took a slow sip of her drink. “Where were we?”

When no answer was forthcoming, Gilda spared a glance away from her tea. Dash was looking at her; not intently, but certainly pressingly. She looked back at her tea and tried to sink into her blankets again. “You’re still on about last time, huh?”

“It’s bothered me since it happened, so yeah.”

Gilda took a sip of the tea. It had cooled enough to be hot but not scalding and having a mouthful of it allowed her to not answer, at least for a little while. “You and me both. I’ve been giving it a lot of thought over the last few days.”

Squalls

Gilda struggled to balance her meager armload of wood while hobbling and hopping awkwardly through the soft snow on her back legs. Every few hopping steps through the snow, the pile of necessary kindling on the top would start sliding away. With both talons busy, it came down to the griffon’s beak to shepherd the twigs back into place. After several more stops, Gilda unhappily grabbed up the errant sticks permanently in her beak and quickened pace to her campsite.

The campsite was a simple boulder-filled clearing next to a large sandstone rock formation overhanging the area. This spot wasn’t chosen for its beauty; it was chosen because it was the only spot sheltered enough for a stable fire. The overhanging rock provided slight shelter from the elements, but it was the best she had been able to find for miles. It was also elevated and provided some protection from the local fauna. Timberwolves, no matter how laughable the concept, were native to this region and known for coming out of the Everfree to hunt during winter. They probably wouldn’t mind a little nice, warm catbird in whatever they had that passed for bellies. With that in mind, Gilda hopped over to the dry ground and deposited the wood nearby.

She sat on the cold ground and dropped the kindling before her. Next, she grabbed some logs and arranged them in a circle, trying to stand them on end and lean them into each other. After several failures, Gilda slowly lifted her supporting talon away, leaving a serviceable unlit fire in place. She then got back up and began scouring her campsite for the two rocks she was planning to use as a flint. They weren’t found, but the griffon easily found some replacements in the boulder field.

Returning to the campsite, Gilda was faced with starting the fire. Alright, just gotta make some sparks. She did just that, holding one rock stable, and striking with the other. Her shivering caused her to miss the second strike entirely, her fist crashing directly into the neatly stacked logs, and sending them clattering away. Eliciting a pained hiss, the griffon let her talon throb for a minute before gathering wood once more. This time she decided on function over form, opting to drop the logs haphazardly on the tinder. Why am I going through all this effort when I could just… ugh.

‘Yeah, why don’t you just fly out?’

Gilda thought about this, knowing full well that talking with herself probably wasn’t the best thing to do in this situation, but it was still more company than she’d had in a while. The griffon decided to indulge a bit.

“Well, me,” Gilda replied to herself. “I was gonna do just that, but seeing all those lame ponies crippled me.” She struck the two rocks together successfully this time, sending a few sparks into the tinder. They fizzled out almost immediately. “I’m sure you know why.” As she kept striking, her mind continued its discussion.

‘Too bent outta shape to fly, huh? I wonder who’s fault that was?’

The griffon stopped striking flint and looked up at the pink-streaked, partly cloudy twilight sky. Who’s fault was it, really? Or was it just dumb luck and unfortunate timing. “I- I don't know.” With shivering talons, she redoubled her fire starting efforts. Unlike the previous night when the temperature was just above freezing, the cold front that rolled in that morning had cleared away the fog and dropped the temperature considerably. About fifteen degrees, Gilda estimated. She needed the fire unless waking up a popsicle (or somebody’s frozen dinner) was her intention.

‘Oh, you can tell me. Was it... Fluttershy?’

All this got was a derisive snort. “Fluttershy? The cause of this? Yeah right! That mare is afraid of her own shadow and in no way could even hope to knock me down. When she got her cutie mark and left for the ground, I bid that dweeb good riddance. Who knew Dash would have followed the next year? Weather work, she said. Weather work in Ponyville, coincidentally. Dash just had to find and protect her oldest friend. How could I possibly compete with that!”

‘Heh, speaking of dweebs, can you imagine how ridiculous and lame a Pinkie Pie Hearth’s Warming party would be?’

Gilda struck viciously at the makeshift flint, her slight rise causing more sparks to fly. “Don’t get me started on that dweeb! She just couldn’t take a hint. I wanted alone time with Dash, just like old times. But she just had to keep butting in! And when she revealed her true colors at that prank party, everypony became judgemental, and a certain friend joined right in on that ridicule.”

‘Ah, yes, our certain friend. I wonder what she’s up to since she’s obviously not hanging with us?’

Gilda was no longer paying attention to her task, her unfocused gaze locked on the stone wall in front of her as she kept mindlessly striking the flint. Instead of the hot-blooded anger, a cool and steady burn had overcome her. Something much closer to her heart.

“Yeah, Dash. She thought it was just a casual visit, but it was so much more. I mean, damn, just a few weeks earlier, the world ended. Celestia was MIA and the sun never came up. Yet as quickly as it happened, the problem resolved itself. Even so, it stuck with me, ya know? When I found out that it all went down in Ponyville, I flew there immediately – a spur of the moment thing.

“I just wanted to make sure she was fine, that's all. I… wanted the only pony who got me, but what did I get? That stupid chant? A few silly races, before she ditches me in an unfamiliar town surrounded by total strangers? All so she could scurry off and set up a room full of pranks to ambush me with. She promised that they were cool, that Ponyville was not like Cloudsdale! She promised! Didn’t seem like it when all the shopkeepers looked at me, then at my hard-earned bits like they were dirt. Didn’t seem like it when I tripped while blindfolded into a kitchen and came out bruised by falling pots and pans. All it took was one joke at my expense and they were roaring with laughter!”

‘So where does that leave us in all this?’

At that moment, Gilda struck her makeshift flint particularly hard. It shattered in her white-knuckled grasp and the sharp fragments pierced her thick skin. With a howl, she flung the offending fragments away, creating a rapid pinging as they bounced off of bigger boulders. Gilda reared onto her back legs with wings unconsciously opened and she offensively declared.

“Pinkie Pie!” the griffon roared and stomped like a petulant foal. “It’s all- OW!”

Gilda quickly retracted her foot from the now happily burning fire and toppled over backward. She looked around frantically and spied snow a short distance away. The griffon ran – practically flew to the white stuff, and stuck her smoking appendage in, along with all the others. Gasping in relief, the snow worked wonders in cooling the singed paw, but also dulling the sting of her punctured talon.

She felt the snow’s familiar cold seeping into her again, starting at her claws and paws. It worked its way up into her chest and hips, washing away all the harsh emotions and leaving their shivering shells in its wake. The feeling culminated in her wings and tail, forcing them to fall and either fold against her body or tuck under. Giving into the cold, Gilda closed her eyes and collapsed face-first into the snow.

She was overcome with the desire to just lie there, in the cold, dense snow, and let everything else just bleed out into it. It had taken the pain from her paw and talon. It had taken her anger at that pink party pony and replaced it all with a numbness that echoed her body. How long would she have to lie there for it to take the pain in her heart, too?

The cold that was soaking into the rest of her body didn’t seem to be affecting her head too much, she noted bitterly. Or at least not nearly fast enough. With a weary sigh, she lifted her head and looked over the boulder field once more.

The sun had set, and she was away from the sheltered area. The wind blew stiffly, with the wind chill easily adding to the slowly dropping temperature. Her body felt it alright, but her head was better protected by its covering of thick feathers. An evolutionary adaptation for the flier. With this knowledge in talon, Gilda struggled back to her paws and trudged once more to the rocks that were now dancing in the firelight. A wry grin graced her beak. No wonder I was getting so hot and bothered. There was a fire next to me that I didn’t even realize was there.

Her inner voice seemed to have bled out back on the field alongside her anger. She certainly wasn’t going to miss it and had nothing left to say to it anyway. The rising wind from the north drove her from the cold darkness to the feeble light of the fire, and she dragged herself to her roost between it and the wall of her shelter, sitting down heavily upon arrival. Gilda made sure the surplus fuel she had gathered was at her talons, and finally laid down fully. The fire was tiny – barely big enough to warm her talons – but necessary to drive away the cold and would-be predators. With a forelimb hovering over the fire, Gilda examined her new injuries.

Her talons had several scuffs and cuts in the leathery skin. Thankfully, whatever bleeding there was was minuscule at best, the cold and snow having driven the blood away from the surface. She picked at a fragment of flint that had become lodged in her skin, not having felt any pain from its removal. The injuries didn’t even look like they’d form noticeable scabs.

I’ve seen worse, Gilda thought as she sniffed at the stench of singed fur. The griffon rolled to her back and lifted a large, feline paw for inspection. She’d pulled it out of the fire quickly enough, and aside from the blackened fur, no other damage was visible. She spread her toes, in doing so revealing her retractable claws. After flexing her toes for a few seconds to make sure they still worked like they were supposed to, Gilda quickly lost interest and rolled back towards the fire.

Now, there was nothing left to do until morning. She had no meat to cook – the squirrel she had caught earlier in the day was still holding her over – and there was enough fuel to last the night. An all too common fatigue settled in her bones, and Gilda curled into a ball for sleep. She stared into the dancing light show of the fire, feeling her eyelids droop and the opaque nictitating membranes slipping across her vision. They finally closed fully, and she was pulled into sleep.

In what felt like no time at all, Gilda snapped awake. She was shivering, and she looked around frantically for any threats, only to find none. The fire had died down almost completely – the few coals were her only light. The griffon felt blindly for the pile of wood, desperate to get her sole line of defense up and running again. Finding the fuel, she put several sticks and branches on the embers and stirred the ashes with a smaller stick. No matter how frantically she stoked her fire, it stubbornly refused to light. Finally, after several tense, agonizing minutes, the fire had only just reached a level of marginal strength.

Feeling a little safer, Gilda breathed a sigh of relief and looked out into inky darkness. The fire wasn’t just for defense, but also a sigil. A beacon telling anypony (anything) out there where the griffon was. She squinted out into the night and blinked several times. Something was out there, just on the edge of the useable firelight. She tensed, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice – her mind picking at all the possibilities.

It’s not a timberwolf, they’re not known for being stealthy. Too small for a bear, too. Gilda stared harder, seeing some hooves in the process. Is it… equine?

The figure moved forward. The outline of the figure turned into the shape of a pegasus. It shimmered – a trick of the light, Gilda thought – colorizing itself into a multi-colored oddity. There was only one pony that the griffon knew of with that many colors. Dash.

This was her chance to get back with Dash. Whatever was said here would make or break the union. However, Gilda was – strangely – no longer feeling the effects of her depression and she couldn’t fight the smug grin on her beak. Just like old times. Her next statement came all too naturally. “So, you finally decided to ditch those lamebrains and join me, huh.”

Wha? No! that's not what I wanted to say. Gilda glowered. I'm supposed to be winning her over, not pissing her off.

Rainbow Dash stopped just opposite of the fire, fixing her former friend with a glare of sharp steel. “You have some nerve coming around here.”

The griffon instinctively took a step back, shaken by the intensity of the stare. Gilda didn’t know want to say, but it felt like somegriff else had taken control. Somegriff colder, insensitive… worse. “Woah dude, chill. Besides, what’s it to you? I’m nowhere near your little dirt town.”

“You know what, Gilda?” Rainbow Dash stepped right up to the fire. The branches that were placed had begun burning with strength, brightly illuminating the scene. “I saw you at Sweet Apple Acres. I thought that maybe I should at least find you for the holidays. But, it still looks like you’ve still changed for the worse.”

“Changed!” Gilda lashed out in anger, ending her last chance at redemption. “You’re the one who changed, Dash! I thought you had the stones to hang with a griffon. I thought you were different! But what do I find a few years down the road? You, with a whole bunch of new friends to play with, when the last time I saw you, you were complaining about only having me and Fluttershy. No, Dash! You’re the one who changed!”

“Yeah, I have changed, Gilda.” Rainbow Dash leaned in over the fire, the flames from the now blazing inferno licking at her muzzle having no effect whatsoever. Her muzzle curled up in a cruel sneer. “Unlike somegriffon, I stopped lying to myself a long time ago.”

“What!?” Gilda hissed. “What are you getting at?”

“Face it, Gilda, you’re no griffon. You’re – You’re… what are you exactly?”

Gilda reared onto her hind legs and flared her wings, balling her talons almost tight enough to draw blood. Even with the aggressive display, Dash’s lips curled up in a sneer, having caught the angry blush gracing the griffon’s cheeks and beak. “I’m a griffon, dude! I think that’s painfully obvious.”

A tittering giggle cut through the cold winter darkness, Gilda’s head snapping around to spy the form of another pony coming into the light of her fire. Pink, with an overly-curly mane and tail.

“A griffon? Oh, that’s just silly,” said Pinkie Pie as she trotted up next to Dash. She had a wide smile on her muzzle that matched the bubbliness of her hair better than the hard blue of her eyes. “You’re not a griffon! You’re a half breed! A freak that spends every day of her life pretending she has hooves! That’s why nopony likes you.”

“I do not pretend to have hooves!” Gilda roared at her nemesis, not caring what kind of barb she would reciprocate with. She took deep breaths and prepared to continue arguing on. “I-I don’t even like you ponies.”

Pinkie just giggled again. “Oh, stop being silly, Gilda, you old meanie-pants! You can’t even do that right. While we may hate you, you know the reverse isn’t true. If you didn’t like us ponies, then why are you even here?”

Gilda’s brow twitched as her gaze darted between her two assailants across the roaring fire. The scornful looks they were giving her, how many times had she seen them on ponies around Cloudsdale? The patrons at the bar? How many times on even her own boss’ face?

Why, why are you doing this, Dash? Are you really like all the rest now?

She figured it was best to focus her attention on her once-friend. “Well, I don’t know, Dash. Maybe it's because I’ve always been in Equestria and don’t know any different! You ever think of that, dude!?”

“Is that your excuse for why you suck so much at making friends?” Dash asked incredulously. “Come on! This is the land of friendship! You can walk into any town and make, like, five new friends in a day without even knowing what you’re doing.”

Gilda shook her head. “Maybe for ponies. Maybe for ponies, Dash! But not for me! Friendship is not something I do.”

“Really, Gilda, is there anything you can do?,” Dash laughed malevolently. “You want to know what I think, huh? I think that you’re a dweeb, a pathetic wretch who hides behind all her anger and sarcasm. And since everypony knows it, no pony wants to be around you.”

“I-”

“Actually, she’s a failure,” came a third voice from the darkness. Gilda looked to her left, spying the butter-yellow mare softly trotting through the snow. Fluttershy’s aqua eyes were as equally cold as Pinkie’s, her look full of nothing but disdain. “A failed griffon, so much so that whoever spawned her, dumped her the first chance they had.”

Gilda bristled at Fluttershy’s words. “And who are you to talk about failure? A pegasus who lives on the ground, who can hardly take flight to save her life? You might as well not even have wings, for all the good they do you!”

“I may be a failure as a pegasus,” Fluttershy conceded, though her words dripped with softly-spoken scorn, “but in the end, I’m still a pony. I could never be the failure that you are as a griffon.”

Any retort was cut off by the piercing giggle that came from Pinkie. “Oh, Gildy, what are you? Not a bird, not a cat, nope, neither of those things.” Another round of sharp tittering. “You’re nothing, that’s what you are! You have no friends and you can’t make friends. All because you’re a freak that doesn't even know what she is. You try so hard to fit in, but at the end of the day, you’re no griffon, that’s for certain!”

Dash delivered her killing blow.

“And you’ll never be a pony!”

Gilda staggered back into the rock wall, any of the arrogance and anger from earlier flushed out of her veins. Deep, warbling breaths racked her body as she fought back the sting of betrayal. All her shortcomings had been thrown back in her face. Her deepest, darkest thoughts laid out for all to see. Fear, and the other half of her fight reflex, had boiled to the surface. She needed to run.

The ponies stood there around her, laughing, sneering. They had her surrounded, only the raging fire standing between them and her. She was hemmed in. She would have to knock one of them out of the way.

If she really was nothing then she had nothing to lose. Steeling her resolve, she picked her target; the one that had betrayed her the most.

“Dash!”

With a roar and a lunge, she sought to wrap her paws around the pegasus’ neck. When she did so, it was like clutching hot coals.

Gilda shrieked and flailed backward against the rock wall, scattering the softly glowing embers from where she had tried to grab them in her sleep. She continued to thrash about on her back, her great wings beating uselessly at the ground as she clutched the sharp agony in her front paws, her vision still too distorted by the dreams of ponies to see straight.

When she finally calmed down, she was shivering and not from the cold. Her forepaws stung but the pain was quickly receding. She closed her eyes and focused on the crystalline stillness of the winter night as she tried to slow her hammering heart.

Silence. No ponies. No laughter. No taunts.

No Dash.

With a low groan, Gilda rolled herself back upright and went about trying to reconstruct her destroyed fire. Thankfully her little breakdown hadn’t scattered things too badly and she was able to use a pair of sticks to scrape the coals back together and rebuild it into the state it was in her dream.

Curling up in a ball before it, she quietly reflected on the dream. Ponies made friends easily enough, it seemed. Dash had made friends. Heck, Dash had even made her a friend.

Once.

Thoughts and memories swirled in the griffon’s head, but before sleep could take her once more, somegriffon had to have the last word.

‘Heh, you think I’m crazy, but you’re the one with toys in the attic.’

Snowmelt

Gilda paused to take another sip of her tea only to find the cup empty. She reached up to the fire and poured off another cup from the kettle. A glance at Dash showed that the pony still had most of her cup. The griffon ignored the pained expression the pegasus was wearing and curled back up under the blankets again before taking a sip.

“That’s what most of my nights were like, though that one was the worst. Most times I’d just shudder awake, Pinkie’s laughter ringing in my ears, then turn over and go back to sleep again. The days I spent walking or fishing. Thinking mostly.”

“Not flying?” Dash asked softly.

Gilda mutely shook her head. “Couldn’t find a reason to. Haven’t really had a reason to for a while now. Not a good one. Flying out here to visit you was the best I've had in a while."

The pony nibbled her lower lip, mulling over what she would say next. “I never thought you were a failure, you know,” Dash told her softly, causing Gilda to look over. “Actually, I thought you were better than most of the other griffons we knew growing up. I thought you were cool… because you liked ponies. Because you were willing to hang out with me. Because you were willing to practice stunts and pull pranks with me.” She licked her lips and gulped her tea, finishing the cup in one go. “That’s why I was so angry with you when you left here last time. I thought you were still different, I thought that you’d be just as cool with my friends as you were with me. Then you turned into just another loud, angry, irritable griffon always screeching about stupid ponies… like all the rest from back in Cloudsdale. So, yeah. That hurt me a lot, too.”

“You’re not comparing me to old Mrs… Whatsherface, from Low Town, are you?”

“Yeah, her.”

Gilda’s beak cracked in a nostalgic grin. “Hey, remember that one time we loaded up a raincloud with strawberry milk and doused her with it! Then she tried to chase us all over like half the city, shrieking and hollering that she’d pluck our hides before we lost her by diving in a dumpster!”

Dash snorted a soft laugh, her gaze still focused on the fire. “Yeah, I do.”

A few soft twitters of laughter escaped Gilda’s beak before her face slid into a frown. She turned to the cyan pegasus beside her. “Did I really remind you of her?”

Her brows were pulled up in a hurt frown when Dash looked back at her. “When you yelled at Pinkie and the rest of my friends? Yeah, you did.”

Gilda blinked and looked away; first back at the fire and then down at her cup. She tried to wriggle into the blankets or pillows more. “Damn. I never… I never thought about it like that.”

“So what did you think about it?” Dash asked. “Like, seriously, G – help a mare out here. What happened to you after I left Cloudsdale? What changed you?”

Shaking her head, Gilda wrapped her talons tighter around the cup she was holding. This was a question she had asked herself over and over, and after reflection, she had come to an answer. She hated that it was just another admission of failure on her part.

“I gave up trying, that’s what happened. I changed because it was kinda expected, y'know? Ponies kept expecting me to act all big and angry, and after a while of trying and failing to be otherwise, I figure might as well give them what they want. They won’t accept a griffon that wants to be like them? Fine. I wouldn’t be. It felt kinda good seeing them afraid and uncomfortable for once.”

“Even Fluttershy?”

“Yes,” Gilda mumbled. “Unfortunately.”

“Oh, G…” Rainbow sighed and fell silent as she struggled to understand this side of her old friend that had been hidden for so long but obviously caused her so much pain.

“It kinda makes you wonder, though...”

Rainbow glanced her friend’s way, silently imploring her to continue.

“I mean, do you think we were wrong? Wrong about other griffons, I mean. When I was on the receiving end of those pranks, I was so angry. Then about a week after, I slipped into depression, and I started to think. Maybe we were too harsh back then. Sure, they’re irritable and easy to provoke, but they’re my species. They have feelings, too, and we pranked them for it? We laughed at how easy they were to set off. Did that just make it worse? Is there any other griffon out there that feels this way?”

“Woah, G! Ease up on the maple syrup, okay. We were fillies, we didn’t know any better. We just wanted a life of fun. Also, I don’t think there are other griffons that feel that way.” Dash reached over and laid a warm hoof on Gilda’s shoulder. “I know so. Besides, old Whatsherface prolly had some awesome stories to tell at her bridge club or whatever after the pranks we pulled on her.”

Gilda reeled back, a look of abject horror on her beak. “B-bridge! Dude, try to remember who you’re talking about here! She’d probably use the bones of all the fillies she caught for game pieces!”

While the griffon was exclaiming her disbelief, Dash had burst into braying laughter. “Bwahaha! The look on your face! Priceless!”

“Whatever.”

Dash’s laughter died away, and she stared out the window into the nightly Ponyville sky. “Seriously though, G. Now that I know what’s been going on with you, I think we can work on it and get you flying right again. At least if you’re willing to give it one more try.”

When she looked deep into the rose-colored eyes of the cyan pegasus across from her, for the first time since they had been reunited, Gilda felt that the friendship they once had might not truly be dead. “You really mean that, Dash?”

With several rapid nods, Rainbow stood up from her pillow and fluffed her wings. “I do. And in case you don’t think I’m really serious about all this, you should know that I’m not even supposed to be here. After clearing off that blizzard I was supposed to go to a party tonight. When I found you out there, though,” she pursed her lips and shook her head, “it wasn’t even a concern. This was something much more important to me. I don’t abandon my friends. Any of them.”

“Ah, stop it,” Gilda muttered, her cheeks hot under feathers again as a smile crept over her beak. “Now who’s the one pouring on the maple syrup?”

Dash responded with her infectious, raspy laugh and flicked her chromatic tail about. “Aw, you’re right. Maple syrup is for breakfast and it’s too late for that now. We should probably be thinking about bed, get you a good sleep for once.”

Gilda put down her empty cup. “What’s the plan for that, then? Back to your place?”

Dash shrugged. “Think you can make it? That was a long flight and a really rough landing you just had.”

The griffon unfurled one of her great brown wings, wincing as she tried to stretch it to full extension. Her face further fell into a grimace as she inspected the state of her feathers. “I think I’ll have to find someplace in town then. Even if we walked out to it, I don’t know if I could make the flight up.”

That admission actually gave Dash considerable pause. As long as she had been friends with Gilda, she’d never known the griffon to admit to being unable to fly. Eventually, she nodded and licked her lips. “Alright. Since that’s the case, I suppose I can let you spend the night here. It’s warm and I don’t want you running around the streets of Ponyville in this weather, not after all the work I did already to save your frozen flank.”

“Sounds just dandy to me,” Gilda replied, ducking her head and looking towards the hearth. “I’ve spent enough nights by a fire already of late, one more won’t hurt.”

“Nah, Twilight’s got a bed upstairs that I’m sure she wouldn’t mind you using. Just don’t claw up the sheets, alright?”

That got a chuckle from the griffon as she pushed herself to her paws – much more gracefully than the last time she had to do it, she was pleased to note – and untangled herself from the blankets before joining the pegasus at the base of the stairs. “I take it I’ll see you in the morning then? Meet back up for breakfast or something? You still have that party to get to, after all.” She grinned and pointed a talon. “Though don’t expect me to bring the syrup again, clear?”

Dash grinned back but considered things longer than Gilda would have thought necessary, her large eyes flicking back and forth over the griffon’s features as she did so.

“Sounds good,” she eventually said, “but you’re not getting rid of me that easy. Bed’s big enough for both of us.” That got a look of surprise including raised eyebrows from Gilda that made Rainbow chuckle with mirth. She sidled up to her friend and tossed a blue wing over her back. “Besides, I think you’ve been alone for far too long.”

Clear Skies

When the griffon woke up that morning, she was warm. There was a heavy winter blanket on top of her, not a heavy blanket of winter. She could feel all her talons and toes. Her muscles still ached when she uncurled and stretched, but they only ached and didn’t hurt her anymore.

And there was another warm mass of fur and feathers lying at her back.

Gilda turned away from the window and sat up beside Rainbow Dash. The pegasus was sprawled out over half the bed, exactly as Gilda remembered she used to nap on clouds. “Come on, Dash,” she called. “Time to wake up.”

She had to try that twice more before she got incoherent mumblings and a batted hoof from the pony.

“Fine, be that way,” Gilda conceded with a sigh. She reached under the blankets and ran her talons along Rainbow’s ribs.

The blue pegasus nearly shot out of bed with a loud whinny. “Ack!! Not cool, G! No tickling!”

Gilda sat back, her tail swishing against the bedsheets. “Heh heh, that always did get your lazy flank moving.”

Rainbow rubbed a hoof over her face in an effort to finish waking up. “Well, now that you’ve gone and done that, what now?”

A loud gurgling was heard through the room as Gilda’s stomach answered for her. “Uh, I’m thinking breakfast. It’s been,” a self-deprecating grin cracked her beak, “a while since I had a real one of those.”

Dash sat up, tossing aside the blankets. “Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Twi cleared this place out pretty good before she left. Believe me, I checked. Not much of anything left for breakfast.”

“Your place then?”

“Not much better,” Rainbow replied with a grimace and shake of her head. Her chromatic mane fell about her neck and shoulders with its usual unkempt abandon. “We’ll have to do Sugarcube Corner if you want a proper meal.”

Her brain was still lagging behind her body because it took Gilda a few seconds to realize what that meant. “Sugarcube? That means-“

“That you have to apologize to Pinkie? Yes.”

Gilda ducked her head to avoid the pegasus’ hard glare. “You sure that’s something you want me trying first thing in the morning on an empty stomach?” she asked, hoping for any excuse to get out of even seeing the pink menace.

“This is important, Gilda,” Dash replied, using the griffon’s full name for emphasis. “You don’t have to become friends with her, but wouldn’t you like to at least bury the hatchet and rest easy? You know I won’t have my friends angry with each other. And Pinkie is my friend, too.”

Gilda groaned. “You’re not making this easy for me, Dash.”

“Hey, if I wanted to make it hard, I’d have you apologize to Fluttershy first!”

The full-body shudder was something she just barely managed to repress. “We’ll work up to that one, okay? Short flights first.”

Rainbow nodded and stretched her forelegs and wings. Holding her forelegs above her head, she gave her neck a twist that had it almost as far as Gilda could turn her own, though with a might more cracking involved. She settled things back into place and looked over at the griffon in bed with her, backlit by the morning sun. “You’ve always been my friend, G. Sometimes a little hard to get along with, but still my friend. I’ve always been willing to give you a second chance. Just don’t make me regret it, okay?”

The sincerity and warmth in the pegasus’ words touched Gilda deeply. Her throat was a little tighter when she answered. “I’ll do my... I won’t.”

She got a smirk in return. “At least you picked a good time of the year for trying to turn over a new leaf.”

“Why? What’s today?”

“It’s New Year’s Day,” Dash told her. “New year. New beginnings.”

Gilda brought a paw up to her face. “Dang it. I was supposed to come to work on New Year’s Eve. Boss is gonna skewer me for sure. And it was one of those ‘slip up one more time and you’re out the door’ situations, too.”

“G, you almost froze to death in a blizzard, just tell him that. If that doesn’t work, then I’ll fly there and knock some sense into ‘em myself!”

“As much as I’d love to see you throw down with him, I think I’m through with fighting for that dead-end job. Im’a get a new job! New beginnings and all that junk. Hopefully, something that stretches my wings and gets me out of town more often.”

“You mean like a deliverymare for Equestria Express? Or Royal Gryphus?”

“Dash. Do you really think either of those would hire some rough and tumble griffon? Let alone trust her with sensitive packages?”

“Well, G. Back in Junior… f-flight camp, I was the fastest pegasus there!”

“Yes, Dash. I’m sure everypony and their sister knows that by now.”

“Eh heh, yeah. I was the fastest, but I never really thought about the records I set. Until I enlisted for the weather patrol, that is.”

“Alright, I get it. Your records landed you a nice, cushy job. What’s it got to do with me?”

Dash began to smirk. “What I’m getting at, is those records talk, and while I set all the speed records, Gilda,” the smirk morphed into a smile, “you set all the endurance records. And those services will be positively drooling for a griffon with your skills.”

“I-I… wow, I never really thought about it like that before,” Gilda stammered out, her mind already looking at new opportunities opened up.

“Yeah, and when you combine all your records into one file, you get your resume. You do know what that is, right?”

Gilda stared back with a firm, ‘do I Iook like an idiot’ expression on her face.

“H-hey, if you stick around after breakfast, maybe we can catch Twilight and she can help you out.”

“Um, Dash? Whatever happened to short flights first?”

“Oh. I did say that, didn’t I? Oh! I know!” Dash jumped out of bed and hurried out of the room.

With a roll of her eyes and shake of her head, Gilda followed. She was glad the pegasus wasn’t there to see her wince when she finally got all four legs on the floor. At least the lingering stiffness started going away the more she walked. When she arrived in the library proper, Dash was still buzzing between bookshelves, frantically searching for something.

“Ergh, where was it? I just had it yesterday! Aargh!” The pony zoomed all over the library, nearly toppling the statue on the center table in the process.

Serves her right for rearranging the bookshelves.

“Ah hah!” With a cry of triumph, she returned with a book in her teeth. Passing it to Gilda, the griffon read the title aloud.

“Your Resume and You: The Comprehensive Guide.”

“Seeing as I’m the one in charge of this here library at the moment, I deem thee worthy of borrowing this book for as long as thou likest.”

“R-really? You’d do that for me? Thank you, Dash!”

The pegasus scratched the back of her head. “Yeah, I have my moments.”

“But, you’re suure Twilight won’t mind?”

“Oh come on, G! This is a public library, Ponies check out books like, all the time.” She frowned. “‘Least I think so. Never actually seen it happen. Anyway, it’s only one book, it won’t be missed,” she concluded, waving off the whole thing with a hoof.

The growling of Gilda’s stomach made itself known once more.

“Alright, time’s a wastin, and this bookhouse is crampin’ my style. I need some sky!”

"Sky is... something I haven't had in far too long," Gilda replied as she spread her great brown wings and gave them a few test flaps. For the first time in forever, they felt ready and eager to soar. "I'll be sure to go easy on you so it feels like old times."

The pegasus let out a merry, raspy laugh as she lifted into the air with a quick flap of her own wings. “Oh that's the way it’s gonna be now is it?” She started zipping around the library, swooping down to playfully taunt Gilda. “You think you can catch the fastest pony in Equestria, you old frozen turkey?”

For the first time in a very long time, Gilda let out a genuine laugh as a smile split her beak. Dodging the flitting pegasus once more, Gilda crouched and lept, catching her friend in midair and landing them in in a heap. Dash’s shrill laugh filled the library as Gilda’s talons found her sides again.

“Okay, okay!” Rainbow wheezed, managing to disentangle herself. “Enough of that! We have to get going if we want to avoid most of the hung-over ponies from last night and get us a good meal.”

Gilda shook herself out, settling her feathers. “Best thing I’ve heard all morning, Dash.”

Dash reached out and laid a soft, blue wing against Gilda’s brown-feathered shoulder. “Old friends?”

The griffon looked down at the wing that rested against her, then back up at the rose-colored eyes of the pegasus opposite her, the smile still on her beak. “Old friends.”

“Hopefully some new ones soon, too. If you’re willing to give them a chance, G.” She slid the wing off and folded it against her back once more.

Gilda bobbed her head in a nod, her golden eyes never leaving Rainbow’s gaze. “Yeah. I think I would be.”

The End