Ah, Griffonstone. A county of immense wealth and unsurpassable beauty, home to the most noble of creatures, the jewel of the Equestrian sky.
Sort of.
I land lightly, shifting my bags as I glance around, grimacing. I step carefully, kicking aside a broken piece of rubble, one of many in the littered streets. I won’t pretend Manehatten was the picture of absolute cleanliness, but compared to this dump, it was clean as a whistle. Three minutes in and I’m already homesick. Is that some sort of record?
“‘Scuse me, sir?” I ask, approaching a tawny owl griffon. “Could you give me directions to-”
“Out of my way, I’m very busy” he snapped. Glaring, the stranger unfurled his wings and leapt up, flying off before I could get in a word edgewise.
Taking a deep breath, I sighed, tugging at the kerchief around my neck absentmindedly. “Well aren’t you just a barrel of sunshine,” I mumble, glancing around for someone else to ask for directions.
“Hey, kid, you said you needed directions?”
I glance up to see a strange griffon with soft white feathers wander over, looking me up and down with a bored smile. She tosses her head, blinking her bright eyes. “Well? Can’t help you if you don’t know where to go, can I?”
Realizing I’d been staring, I flushed, shaking my head. “Of course! Right! Um, I’m looking for my Uncle Gabe’s place? I’m supposed to be coming to live with him and my cousin Welkin?”
“Oh, you’re the Woode’s niece?” the strange griffoness said, grimacing. “Yikes. Good luck with that, kid. You’re gonna want to take the main street down until the end, then take the low road down past the black skeleton tree. You’re looking for the house with all the signs plastered all over the front!” With a quick nod, she took off, flying over to chat with a green and white griffon flying nearby.
“Wait!” I yell, taking a few steps after her. “What do you mean by ‘good luck?’” It’s too late though, and she’s out of hearing range, flying off with her friend. It occurs to me I never even caught her name.
This day just gets better and better.
After steeling my nerves, I trace the path the stranger described, following the main road, turning at the dead tree, and following the low road. I’d been walking for a while, and I was starting to wonder if I’d missed it when I saw it.
A series of giant shambled birdhouses sat crookedly on the branches of a thick tree, tacky signs hung wherever a bare wall dared to try and show it’s face. Mysteries! Adventure! Excitement! Treasure! The signs boldly declared their claims, a flurry of arrows pointing towards the main door. Tattered banners hung wherever there was a ledge to fit them, mismatched switches of red and yellow. Moss and grass grew thick on the old thatched roof, growing over one of the larger signs bravely declaring, “world famous” in hand-painted letters.
Over the door was the largest most prominent sign, proudly announcing to the world, “Griffonstone Museum of Mystery.”
I try not to stare, but it’s hard not to, the ramshackle building drawing attention from the rest of the relatively normal street. Taking a deep breath, I step up onto the creaky porch, approaching the door hesitantly. A smaller sign hangs next to it, even more faded than the others. “Next tour at noon. Twenty dollars per griffon. No refunds.” Grimacing, I lift a claw, knocking on the door. “Hello?”
“All tours are currently closed!” A voice from inside yells. “If you’d like to see the Museum of Mystery, please enter through the gift shop or come again later!”
“I’m not here for a tour,” I yell, wincing. “My name’s Delta, I’m from Manehatten-is this where the Woode’s live?”
There’s a pause, then the sound of a series of bolts and locks being quickly undone, one after the other. The door opens slightly, a sharp face poking around the edge. A moment passes, then the door swings all the way open, revealing an old black griffon wearing a thick jacket. “You’re a day late, knucklehead, get inside,” the gruff fellow says, adjusting his eyepatch.
I hesitate in the doorway, pausing. “Are you Uncle Gabe, then?” I ask slowly, looking him over cautiously.
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, slamming the door behind me. “I need to go handle the gift shop. Your cousin’s upstairs, have him show you around.” Without so much as a goodbye, Uncle Gabe disappeared down one of the halls.
I’m starting to get the feeling folks aren’t so friendly here.
Taking in a deep breath, I let it out in a frustrated sigh, glancing around the strange front room questioningly. It looks like someone had taken any strange and weird looking thing they could find and had dumped it onto of a one ordinary room. Some sort of circular stone calendar hung on one wall, it looks ancient until you realize it’s made of plastic. A stitched together amalgamation of taxidermy parts stands in one corner, some sort of weird fake monster, and the rug has some sort of weird symbol stitched into it. The place is a mess of fake mystery junk, and from what I can see of the halls that lead off, that describes most of the house.
Hesitating, I duck past the “employees only” sign strung across the stairs, following them up. The second floor is a bit more of an ordinary home, old furniture worn with use. There’s still the occasional fake artifact, more as if they’d ended up back here because of a lack of space than anything else. It’s a small house, though it’s still definitely bigger than the family apartment back in Manehatten.
After a moment of debate, I follow the stairs all the way up to the third floor. It’s a small room with a slanted roof, ceiling beams hanging low at the corners. Half the room is mostly empty, a spring bed and a few bare shelves making up the only decorations. The other half is full of colors, decorated with posters, comic books, and a vast array of stuffed animals. A stranger who looks about my age is laying on the bed of the decorated side of the room, kicking his paws absentmindedly as he flips through the pages of a book. Glancing up, he lights up, breaking into a grin.
“You must be my cousin Delta!” He says brightly, springing to his feet. The springs of his bed creak under his weight, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “I’ve been waiting for you to show up forever, it’s so good to finally meet you!” He jumped off the bed, landing on the creaky floor with a light thump, bouncing slightly, eager to make introductions. “I’m Welkin! You prob’ly already met Uncle Gabe. We’re gonna have to introduce you to Jat and Greta later-they work here,” he explains, grinning.
“Yeah,” I say, offering a claw to shake. I smile, relieved that at least someone here’s friendly. “Good to meet you Welkin. So, is Uncle Gabe always like, well, that?” I say, nodding towards the stairs.
He pauses, cheer wilting slightly. “I guess so. I’ve actually only been here a week longer than you-I grew up with Aunt Windy, up in Trottingham, on the Griffon Isles,” he says, smiling sheepishly. “But hey, an opportunity to get to know my own dad? I’m all for it! That’s your side of the room,” he says, brightening back up so fast I’m surprised he doesn’t break the sound barrier. “Sorry there’s not enough space for you to have your own room Delta, but that means we get to hang out together more, so that’s cool!”
“Yeah, it’s fine,” I say, throwing my bag on the vacant bed. The worn spring mattress rips under the weight, and I bite back a groan. Walking over, I drag it back out onto the floor. Turning back to check the damage, I pause. A faint glint of light shines out, reflected off something deep in the mattress.
Hesitating, I reach my claw in, closing my fingers on a smooth piece of the metal, cool to the touch. Pulling it out, I open my claw.
“Whoa,” Welkin says, crossing the room slowly. “What is that thing?” I turn the small golden pendant over, taking in the strange sharp three pronged swirl.
“I don’t know,” I say, looking over it curiously. “And I don’t recognize the tiny writing on it either. It’s definitely not Equestrian, or Griffon for that matter either. This is so weird! Why do you thing it was in my mattress?”
He shrugs, looking at it curiously. “It’s pretty cool. Probably just some stuff from Uncle Gabe’s shop, though.”
“Uncle Gabe? But he’s your dad, right?” I say, my attention leaving the strange pendant for a moment.
“Yeah, it’s just kind of weird calling someone dad when you barely know them, huh?” he says with a laugh, It sounds forced, but I don’t comment.
Looking back to the pendant, I wrap my claws around the chain, letting it dangle. The pendant spins, then slowly, it’s pulls the chain taught, still spinning as it lifts itself, pulling towards the window. Looking up, Welkin and I share a long moment of disbelieving silence.
“It must be some sort of unicorn’s artifact!” I say eagerly, quickly setting it back in my palm. “Maybe if we follow the direction it leans in, it’ll take us to a secret cave, or lost treasure!”
“Adventure!” Welkin agrees eagerly, bright eyes shining in anticipation. “We could be heroes or something! Yeah! I’m one million percent on board!”
“Hey!” Uncle Gabe yells from somewhere downstairs. “I need you knuckleheads to come down and watch the gift shop! I’ve got a tour in ten minutes-don’t touch any of the merch!”
Welkin frowns, puffing out his cheeks in disappointment. “Or not. Well this is just dumb.”
“So he converted his whole house into some kind of whacko tourist trap?” I ask, glancing at Welkin as we walk down the street.
“Yeah, I guess so! It’s pretty neat, I think, though it smells like old man and lint,” he said brightly. “Where’s the thing pointing now?”
I peek under my kerchief where I tucked the pendant, hidden away from any griffons with slippery fingers. “Still down this street. I don’t know how far we’re gonna have to walk-”
“Hold. The. Phone!” Welkin cut in eagerly, brightening. He grabs me by the arm suddenly, dragging me down the street. “Greta! Hi! Meet my cousin Delta!”
Two griffons standing at a scone cart glance up, attention caught by his sudden excited call. The first is a white and green griffon, a total stranger. The second I recognize-the stranger who gave me directions.
“Huh? Oh, hey kid,” the green griffon say, leaning against the cart. She glances at me, raising an eyebrow. “Name’s Greta. Normally I work the cash register at the almighty Shed of Mystery,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“Gilda,” the second griffon said, waving a quick hello. She offered a smirk, grinning. “Just the scone seller. Guess you found it, huh?” she said, looking to me. “What d’you think?”
I pause, managing an awkward smile. “Uncle Gabe’s, uh, interesting. Thanks, by the way,” I say, trying not to flush. Looking to Welkin, I pause, clearing my throat. “Hey, Welkin, shouldn’t we be, um, getting back to that errand?” I say, raising my eyebrows to try and clue him in.
“Psh, that can wait,” he said, waving it off. “Hey, d’you guys know what’s down this way, outside Griffonstone?” he asked them brightly.
“The left edge of the gorge, right?” Gilda said, grabbing one of her scones and tossing it up and down absentmindedly. “There’s some kind of weird caves down that way. Totally spooky,” she said with a grin, taking a bite out of her scone. “You two shrimps headed there? Aw, man! I’d totally come with if I didn’t have to watch the cart!”
“Whatever,” Greta said with a huff. She turned back to Gilda, and to my surprise, started back in like we weren’t even there. “And then that punk told me I was being rude! Like, seriously?”
Welkin shrugged, spreading his wings as he bounced on the tips of his paws eagerly. “Well, see you Greta! Gilda! Maybe next time!”
“See you shrimplets around!” Gilda said with a grin, waving us off. She paused, her expression turning serious for a moment. “Just whatever you do, be careful not to wake what’s sleeping in the caves.”
