Author's Note
This is my first story. I don't think I'm too terrible and I've read countless stories on this site. I'm trying to give something back to the community that has been with me for many years. Thank ya'll for being here. God bless and merry Christmas.
Also please forgive my formatting, I'm getting the hang of everything.
Welcome to Griffinstone
The sound of hooves on gravel filled the evening air. A gentle breeze kept it cool for the caravan as it passed between the mountains. The pulling team of ponies smiled when a yawn broke the silence. Two eyes popped up from underneath the blankets covering the cart.
“Well, well. Look who finally woke up.”
Porter looked at the mare. It was just Sweet Lily. His dad always put her in charge of him when he went off to do business.
“Porter! Your mane is terrible! Best be careful up here else it’ll freeze over and you’ll never get it to lay flat again. Let me help.” Lily said, then she pulled a brush out of her saddlebag and reached into the wagon.
He shrunk down to hide his embarrassment
“Uhh, good morning?”
“Yeah, nice try, but the sun’s already going down. Come on and get out here. It’s time to work for a living.”
She grabbed his hooves in hers and heaved him out of the wagon. Once he was settled on the ground she grabbed a smaller wagon out of the back and strapped him in. Porter wasn’t in charge of much besides a few days’ worth of food for everypony.
Porter’s tired eyes would’ve been blinded if he could see his coat. Sweet Lily managed to squint at its bone white color, although it helped a little when the wind blew his crimson mane enough to cover him. Lily pointed a hoof at him.
“Ya look like a yak. Well… a small one anyway.”
A faint “Hey!” could be heard from a few wagons back.
A shaggy, brown matted yak responded to this insolence by declaring “we yaks maintain our hair with careful respect to tradition.”
Lily quipped “Is the smell tradition too?”
Porter snickered before a full chorus of laughter rolled off all surrounding ponies, and even a few griffins joined in. The grumbles and stomping of the trailing yaks were drowned out by the sheer joy everyone felt. Griffinstone was days away. Everyone dreamt at night of warm beds, hot cider, and bits to line their pockets. Not to mention a step closer to home. At least for those who didn’t live on the road.
Everyone’s spirits were high and it was contagious. Even strapped into his little wagon, Porter was feeling good. The road ahead looked easy enough to travel. Mountains cradled the valley the group was walking through on both sides, and they channeled the breeze into them instead of from behind them. It was weak enough to be refreshing without providing difficulties.
Porter called to Lily ahead of him
“Lily, where’s dad at?”
“Wheeler? Oh, he pushed ahead a bit this morning to make way for us.”
“Are we almost there?”
Lily sighed, “Just hang in there, buddy, won’t be too long now. Once we got ourselves there I promise I’ll show you the best this rock has to offer. You wouldn’t believe some of the stuff Griffinstone is known for. You must have been here before to really know where to look. You’ll love it.”
“Okay”
Darkness had settled over the circle of wagons. Tendrils of light licked all sides of the camp as wood smoke rose into the sky. Porter watched the pegasi and yaks gamble. There wasn’t much to do at night and he still liked to watch even if he wasn’t allowed to play. The first time they played was at the crystal empire and as quickly as Lily saw the dice she snatched him up and set him down in front of the campfire. She laid behind him and had let him sleep between the two.
She would always tell him stories of the places she had been with his father. There were plenty of stories. On a bad day she would tell a good story and would likewise use a good day to teach him with a failure. One night he recalled learning how the caravan got in a tight spot with a zebra tribe. Wheeler now knew that not all zebras took kindly to free verse. Even though the situation was serious, it was hard for Lily to stay serious while telling the story. She explained how every time we tried to communicate, the zebras grew agitated until they just exploded into shouting in their native tongue. Thankfully though, a mare who traveled with us known as Silent Script cared enough for the finer things to determine the meter. Who would’ve guess that anypony, even zebras, would be hostile to those who don’t speak in Iambic Pentameter. Whenever Porter thinks of other cultures as strange, he remembers this story. Ponies, griffins, yaks, and whatever else is out there are all different and that’s okay. Just be flexible and patient.
Lily must’ve been preoccupied tonight because she didn’t steal Porter away from the games. He watched until the fire dimmed, and his eyes drooped. Once the moon’s light, even through the clouds, outshined the fire, everyone knew to call it a night. Before turning in, the last yak scooped the colt up in his antlers and placed him in the back of a cart. Then
Porter curled into some tweed coverings and slept under Luna’s night.
“Alright, remember everypony! Business, then fun. Do you have the other teams ready Sweet Lily?” Wheeler turned to ask her
“I do. Each leader has assembled their groups with little variation from our last visit. Bee Credit is on luxury goods, Silent Script has all tomes and writings, you’re on foodstuffs, and I’m visiting the apothecary.”
“Who’ll be watching the wagons?”
“That’ll be Gearshift and Red Weather. Gearshift says there’s a few parts he needs though to keep our wheels turning. I gave him some bits which he gave to the yaks cause’ some of them are heading into that district. They’ll pick up his supplies.”
“Sounds good. Oh! And Script, emphasis is on your trade today. We’ll be heading to the Crystal Empire next and they’re a very literate bunch. Anything unique that can’t be found in the West is exactly what we need to bring. Okay everyone, be back at sundown. Good luck.”
Porter was going to be accompanying his father on his business runs while they were in the city. He told him it would be a good to get first hand experience of caravan management and the trading life. Wheeler had put on a special jacket that he only wore when going into town on business. It was brown and went well with his dark and golden mane. Porter had always seen it but never thought to ask where he’d gotten it. He would’ve asked but his dad had his ‘game face’ on. Whenever he looked like that, Porter knew that not even Gearshift could stop his dad’s wheels from turning.
The two of them had a rather long walk ahead of them. The district that carried foods was the furthest and highest elevated of those in the city. Griffinstone was different from the Equestrian cities because it practically rested on a mountain. Because all griffins could fly, they found it just as easy to travel vertically as they did horizontally and, of course, this made the roads impractical, winding, and underused. And so the father and son climbed. The good news though is that there was plenty to see while traveling. At least half the city was visible in all its glory. Thatched rooftops and ruffled griffins walking and flying. Compared to what Porter had seen, it all looked rather gray. Trees seemed to surround Griffinstone on a lower level of the plateau it rested on, and the sun came in at an angle that just cut the city right in half. It was stunning.
Wheeler was silent once he realized his son’s disinterest in the business of food trading. Or maybe not his disinterest in their profession, but rather his piqued interest in their surroundings.
“I guess I can’t blame you for getting distracted, it is beautiful up here and this is your first time and all.”
Porter swiveled his head with a dazed “wuh”
After a short chuckle, Wheeler continued “I said that you are right to be awed by this city. I was too.”
Porter scrunched his face and flicked his tail “How long ago was that, dad? When you first came here.”
“Now son, you better not be asking anyone things like that around here that. It’s not polite. Although I guess griffins don’t care too much for things like that. As for me though, eh, I’m already as old as the princesses to you so I guess it doesn’t matter. It was around the time I met your mom actually.” Wheeler said while naturally fiddling with a gold pocket watch that hung over his side. “She was traveling with another caravan at the time and we all gathered outside the city. Same way we did it here, but us meeting wasn’t anything special. Just started eating and talking and walking. Then we were friends in the city, and more as we left. That simple.”
“What was she--?” Porter tried to rub up against his father but was interrupted by the impact of their two carts.
“Come on Porter!” Wheeler said as he snapped his pocket watch shut “You have to be careful, we’re only making one trip up here and we don’t have any parts to repair broken wheels.”
They resumed their trek after Wheeler had checked the wheels and found only the slightest of cracks. Nothing that couldn’t wait until they got back to the group. Porter listened to his father talk fondly about the friend and business partner they were going to see. He learned that his name was Gafric the griffin and he was the head of meat processing in the city. The role carried more weight than is understood at first hearing it. From the highest point of the city, anypony that lived within the horizon, was fed by Gafric’s business. Of course he had help though. Feeding so many griffins requires hundreds of hunters, processors, and distribution mechanisms like caravans. Wheeler elaborated that their caravan was only responsible for delivering meats. Salt was needed to preserve the meats, but it was far to heavy to be carried by their small, long distance trading group.
Porter listened to his father talk and soaked in all his knowledge for once. He knew they were close though when the tarps over their wagons started flapping and when his breath wisped off into the air. His dad said meats needed to be stored up high, so they would last longer. He just wished it didn’t have to be so cold. It seems his wishes were answered when they rounded the last corner of the mountain and saw many long buildings with thatched rooves. At the head of them was one small cottage with a lit lantern hanging out front. It was still day out but the weather was much worse up here than in the main part of the city. There was also organized snowfall… well at least as organized as it could be in this wind. They must have had some pegasi around for that task. Porter was thankful they didn’t have too much further to go. He wasn’t sure how well their wagons could move in deep snow. Just then he made out an outline of a griffin exiting the cottage in front of them.
