Author's Note

Hey, folks. As part of the story being boosted to M-rated, welcome to the new R-rated chapter 11 as part of the M-rated chapters 10-14 story track! If you prefer the original T-rated one, go here:

11: Ties that Bind (T-rated version)

Chapter Contains: Gilda fantasizing about and accidentally exposing Tara, Tara doing some minor teasing of Gilda in return.

Original Author’s Note follows:

Well, folks... it’s been a long and rather fun journey for me through the first new material that Feathered Hearts has seen in many years, and I hope you’ve enjoyed them as well. This completes this set of bonus chapters, and now it’s back to editing and updating the original material.

Regardless, this chapter was designed to transition back to the main story, merging the new material with the older stuff. Doesn’t mean you won’t be hearing more about all this stuff, just that the main story now proceeds.

If you recall from the original Feathered Heart, the first Cloven attack happened at the end of chapter 5—only two chapters away from where I left off, given this takes place between chapters 3 and 4 of the original story. I imagine I’ll add enough new material to extend chapters 4 and 5 into three or four updated chapters, but either way, be watching my blog for info on when they post.

Thanks as always goes to my prereading crew of AJ_Aficionado, Silentwoodfire, and Silverblade5, who all seemed to have good time in the google doc comments of the story draft. Next up will likely be a new chapter of Feathered Hearts: Eros, so be following my blog for news of that and any updated chapters that may get posted.

11: Ties that Bind (R-rated)

Four days into her recovery, Gilda was finally starting to feel more herself again.

With more food and a growing appetite, she was no longer forced to take frequent rests or naps. She was even able to fly for up to fifteen minutes, though she was still a long way from being back to full strength or stamina.

She kept herself and Fortrakt busy with additional reports and observations of human medicine, which they found Staff Sergeant Cullen far less reticent about discussing than their weapons. He’d not only answered their questions patiently—far more so than he typically was with the Marines he served with—but had even gone so far as to relate some slightly sickening stories of exotic injuries and diseases he had treated in the course of his career.

She couldn’t help but note that he seemed to almost relish in relating tales of the latter, far too many of which seemed to be the result of sexual encounters between the male Marines and human women in distant lands.

Sexually Transmitted Infections? Gilda’s thoughts echoed the odd phrase the Marine healer used with a glance at an equally befuddled Fortrakt, trying to think if there was any equivalent to such things among griffons—or any other Tellusian race, for that matter. She’d heard of Sexually Transmitted Curses, but they were said to be very rare and not very potent, propagating their magic and effects by compelling copulation.

They’d barely been mentioned in passing at the Gauntlet, and that was only to make sure soldiers were able to recognize the influence of foreign magic on them and seek treatment. But since all Tellusian races had a typically strong resistance to being influenced by mood-altering enchantments due to their own innate magic, the effects of such curses were said to be weak and often barely noticeable, and thus they typically fizzled quickly after minimal spread.

Which begs the question as to why the cider hit us so hard… Gilda thought with a grimace, only to quickly realize the answer: that it didn’t force you to do anything you didn’t want to do; it just brought out your innermost desires and enhanced them to such a high degree that all your inhibitions were stripped away.

Great. So that means I WANTED to have sex with humans? She couldn’t help but make a face, wondering what she saw as attractive in any of their furless, wingless bipedal forms. Okay, maybe I do like Tara’s attitude. But her BODY…? The thought gave her pause as her mind once again tried and failed to find memories she simply couldn’t reach.

Seeking some distraction from her suddenly drifting thoughts, Gilda wondered for a moment why the Marines were so bereft of sex that they felt compelled to seek out foreign females. But once again, she guessed the answer almost instantly:

Unlike griffon soldiers, all the human Marines were male.

With no eaglesses among them, I guess that’s the only way they can ‘chase tail’… she wasn’t sure where the phrase came from, or why she envisioned a mustachioed human in a brown uniform with gold stripes on his shoulders saying it. Or why it was quickly followed by fleeting images of explosions and flames.

Regardless of the answer, it made for a good cultural observation in her latest intelligence report, but Gilda found herself spending more text focusing on how they treated battle wounds. On the one wing, human healers couldn’t rapidly heal injuries or bone fractures like the griffons could with the spellcasting of Magus Knights, which would seem to put them at a marked disadvantage in quickly restoring their soldiers to active service.

But unlike them, they could restart stopped hearts under certain circumstances, induce sleep and completely deaden pain without any magic, effectively treat the wound infections that could bedevil the best Magus healers if not caught quickly, and even replace entire lost limbs with mechanical constructs that allowed for similar if not equal abilities to the appendage they replaced.

It was all intriguing but also a little disturbing, especially for how much their medicine seemed to involve cutting and needles. But with Senior Sparrow Tarseus having not returned while she tried to track down the missing Capricorn Adepts and Ambassador Strenus still in Saddle Arabia, the only griffon they could present their reports to was Tribune Narada.

“I don’t know whether to find this more impressive or appalling,” the Tribune concurred as she read the latest report on watching Doc Cullen treating an accidental blade wound.

He had begun by first deadening the area with a series of wince-worthy injections of something he called ‘lie-dough-cane’—it had been all Gilda could do not to look away, to the apparent amusement of Cullen and the Marine being treated, who pointedly showed her up by not flinching at all as the needle pierced his skin repeatedly—before closing the wound not with magic, but with a thin but strong thread using a series of what she could only describe as seamstress stitches!

She’d only barely been able to watch it while Fortrakt, his stomach still unsettled, had to leave the room entirely before he threw up his lunch. His departure elicited a laugh from the Marines, who remarked that for a race as into fighting as griffons were, they seemed oddly squeamish about certain things.

The only human she hadn’t seen during that time was Ambassador Goldberg, who, she had been told by a scornful Sergeant Reyes, stayed ensconced in his chambers behind multiple layers of Marine and griffon security while the trade negotiations remained suspended, pending the outcome of the crisis with the Ibexians. He not only remained inside, the Marine noted in some contempt, but he had ordered his food and drink magically scanned by griffon mages before eating it.

So it turns out he’s the coward I originally thought Marco was, Gilda kept the thought to herself as she and Fortrakt walked down the hall together towards the infirmary where Chris, Tara, and Marco remained bedridden. A useless and entitled idiot with no ability to fight his own battles. Wonder if he was a griffon noble in a previous life?

To little surprise, the Ibexians were still resisting turning over the items they stole and the adepts who stole them, though according to Tribune Narada, the Council of Crows was more convinced than ever that it had been a rogue operation—that there was some kind of power struggle going on behind the scenes of the Ascendancy, whose clearly stressed Saddle Arabian ambassadors kept asking for more time.

Regardless, the search for their spies continued throughout Arnau. Though the Ravens had been unable to apprehend the elusive Capricorn Adepts, who were said to be their equals in the espionage and assassination arts, they were having some success unraveling their spy network; they had captured and interrogated at least four of their contacts and cleared three safehouses, slowly denying them sanctuary.

“They’re running out of places to hide. My guess is, once they’re out of options, they’ll try to placate us by returning some of the stolen items while keeping the rest hidden, or simply scatter them throughout Arnau as a distraction to keep the Ravens busy while they attempt to slip free of the city,” Tribune Narada had noted when Gilda and Fortrakt had shown up to deliver their reports the previous morning. “But with the entire Kingdom looking for them and multiple magical fields ready to send up flares upon sensing Ibexian spellcasting, it won’t work.”

Seeking to increase the pressure on the Ibexians further, the Kingdom had moved a dozen additional Talon legions and two airship flotillas into range of the Pearl Mountains, threatening the Ascendancy with outright war if the Adepts and the items they stole were not surrendered.

The Ibexians had responded in kind by reinforcing the border with additional grand legion-sized ‘armies’, as they called them, along with an uptick of their customary belligerence and bluster. But even Gilda could pick up the slightly shrill and worried tones in their public proclamations, as they found themselves trapped in a situation of their own making.

Though Gilda found herself secretly hoping for war, the Marines would not be joining them. They’d been able to get word of the situation and what caused it back to their homeworld, dispatching messages through the Equestrian embassy, who then relayed it and the subsequent reply through the portal in Equestria.

The response they got back three days later was very simple: stay out of any conflict and be ready to evacuate if war erupted. The trade mission and scientific examination of Kingdom lands were otherwise on hold until the crisis was resolved, at which point the negotiations and field studies could resume “at the discretion of the Ambassador and his security chief” —meaning Captain Moran.

He had warmed up to Gilda and Fortrakt somewhat, perhaps seeing how much the other Marines liked them. But that only went so far, given he’d pulled Gilda aside at one point and said he still wasn’t comfortable with them being around the civilians, especially after all that had happened.

“The feeling is mutual,” she told him tersely, but then explained that she’d decided to stay for the same reason she’d given Fortrakt—that she felt responsible for what happened and that she refused to give the Ibexian Ascendancy any victory at all from their evil operation.

“I guess I can respect that,” he finally conceded. “And my Marines seem to like having you around as well, even if I don’t understand why.”

“It’s because they’re our kind of griffies, Captain,” Staff Sergeant Stafford spoke up without prompting, then held up a pair of placating paws at the look Gilda gave him over the slightly insulting nickname.

“I mean that in the best possible way, Decurion. You take pride in your nation and duty—just like us. You also care for Chris, Tara and Marco—just like us. We really appreciate the willingness of you and Second Spear Gletscher to fight for them. And speaking of Gletscher, he’s just plain likable. He’s a good young soldier who wants to do right by us, never mind the fact he’s also a fun and earnest kid who likes our stuff.”

Moran stared at him for a moment. He initially looked like he was going to reprimand the Sergeant for speaking out of turn, but instead he simply nodded. “Well said, Staff Sergeant. I will trust the judgment of my subordinates in this matter, Decurion, as they’ve had much more exposure to you than me. But I still want you to give cultural training sessions to my Marines, as recommended by First Lieutenant Nantz.”

“Yes, sir.” Gilda suppressed a grimace, as did Reyes from beside the Captain. “I’ll see to it within the next week.”

At least Chris, Tara and Marco are awake, she reminded herself as she exited. They had finally regained consciousness the day before, causing Fortrakt to excitedly summon her to their bedside. The three all awoke within minutes of each other, once whatever strange potion the human medic was using to keep them asleep was withdrawn.

She arrived to find Captain Moran and Sergeant Reyes present; she’d seen the latter doing some form of calisthenics in the halls and Marine ready areas as he tried to regain his strength, running two-legged laps in the corridors of the Inn.

“Right on time,” Staff Sergeant Cullen said in satisfaction, glancing at the complicated clock he seemed to wear around his wrist. “You two took about sixty hours, so I figured it’d be double that for them, given we were stepping down the dose at half the rate.”

“Well done, Sergeant. Are they alert? Can they hear us?” Moran asked.

“They should be able to.” He nodded down at their stirring forms, all business around his Captain. “You’ve been waiting for this all day, so would you like to do the honors, Second Spear?” He invited Fortrakt forward, who immediately perked up.

“Yes! Thank you, Staff Sergeant. Chris? Tara? Marco? Can you hear me?” Fortrakt beseeched them, though they only weakly turned their heads towards him.

“For...trakt?” Chris spoke first; his voice weak and speech slurred. “That… you?”

“It’s me, Chris. Gilda and I are here,” he promised, though he kept most of his attention on Tara, whose eyes were only barely beginning to flutter.

“Oh… hey, Gilda!” Marco reached a hand towards her, though he was seemingly too weak to hold it up as it fell halfway. “I forget… did you like… midway?”

“Uh… sure. It was fun,” Gilda said placatingly, even though she had no idea what he was referring to. Midway… to what? She tossed a confused glance towards Fortrakt, who gave her an equally bemused look back. She wasn’t sure why the Marine Captain looked up sharply and exchanged a worried look with Cullen, or why she had a sudden but fleeting image of strange metal birds and fiery explosions, but she put the question aside for later as Tara murmured something unintelligible.

Fortrakt tried to explain what had happened to them in his typically dweeby way. But the three humans were so groggy and out of it from their long sojourn into unconsciousness and the remaining cider in their systems that they didn’t fully comprehend his words. Not even when he told Tara in no little shame that he was responsible for the scratches on her back.

“But…” Tara only looked confused when Fortrakt offered his apology, turning her head towards him as she lay on her stomach to keep pressure off her healing wounds. She visibly grasped for her memories, only to find them falling through her mental talons like so much sand in a failed attempt at recollection—one Gilda was only too familiar with by then. She wasn’t certain why the human woman’s gaze fell on her for a moment, only to go unfocused again as a sharp shiver passed through her.

“So cold… where’s… Giraldi?” she suddenly asked out of nowhere, causing Gilda to freeze and Fortrakt to stare at her in confusion.

“He’s recovering at home with his Uxor—I mean, wife,” Gilda spoke up quickly, wondering how she was going to convey the First Spear’s words without Fortrakt hearing. “He wishes you well.”

“Such a sweetie… he’s not… in trouble... is he?” she suddenly worried, her eyes staring off into the distance like she was trying to remember something again, but before Gilda could think of another safe reply in the presence of Fortrakt, Chris spoke up.

“Wait… what happened to us? Was it… my chicken?” he wondered aloud, his thoughts visibly sluggish and words slurred, not remembering that he’d been told the answer just two minutes earlier. “Was the choice of wine wrong? Did I use too much lemon? Or too little clove?” he worried, trying but failing to sit up.

“Your chicken was great, buddy. It was a hit with our hosts, too,” Reyes promised as he laid a hand on Chris’s shoulder, gently pushing him back down. “It wasn’t your food; it was the cider. Some fucking Ibex spiked it with some really nasty stuff.”

“Ibex…?” Chris repeated uncomprehendingly, then raised his arm to focus on the tube running into it, only to groan. “I… hate… needles…”

“You and me both,” Gilda agreed before Marco spoke next.

“Wait... why are we lying here?” he wondered again as he set eyes on Gilda, which lit up in recognition like he didn’t recall seeing her just moments earlier. “Oh! Hey, girlfriend. Did I do good? Did you like the movie?” he asked her.

Girlfriend…? Do good…? She couldn’t even begin to wonder before Staff Sergeant Cullen, at a warning look from the Captain, stepped up.

“I’m sorry, Decurion and Second Spear. But as you can see, there’s not much point in talking to them right now. If you two were any indication, it’s probably going to be another day or so before they’re lucid enough to remember much of what they’re told,” he explained apologetically.

“But—” Fortrakt’s headfeathers drooped as he stared longingly at Tara, whose skin was pallid and golden mane had visibly dulled.

“But nothing. When the two of you first woke up, there was still enough cider in your system that we had to keep reminding you of what we’d said for a while,” Doc Cullen—to her surprise, Gilda was starting to attach the Marine nickname to him rather than his rank—said to them in some rare sympathy. “They’re just not going to remember much right now. Don’t take it personally.”

“Right,” Fortrakt slumped in defeat. “May we stay with them?”

“With apologies, I’d rather you didn’t,” Captain Moran told them over crossed arms. “I appreciate that you want to be there for them, but you’ll understand that in this state, I’m afraid they might say something we don’t want them to.”

“Understood,” Gilda replied placatingly, guessing that whatever Marco had been trying to ask her about, they recognized it even if she didn’t. “You heard them. Come on, Second Spear.” Gilda began to gently pull him away. “We’ll visit again tomorrow.”

“It’s okay. I’ll stay with them for you,” Reyes promised them both. “Since I’m still officially on medical leave, it ain’t like I got much else to do right now.”

When Gilda and Fortrakt reported to their briefing with Tribune Narada the following morning, she gave them some surprising news:

The Ibexian Ascendancy had backed down.

Their leadership had issued a formal apology “to Humanity and all Gryphondom” through the Saddle Arabian Embassy in Arnau, blaming a “rogue and overzealous cell of the Capricorn Conclave for the unconscionable assault on an embassy and its guests.”

The Adepts had been ordered to surrender but thus far had not, nor had there been any indication that the message had been received by them despite a placard containing the declaration being posted on every street corner in the capital, along with a series of coded phrases they were told to use.

“They’re supposed to come out of hiding, but they haven’t. Either they don’t believe we’ll allow them to live after this, or the coded phrases we were told to use ordered something else entirely,” she mused. “Regardless, it looks like war is averted, and even if they don’t surrender, the Ravens believe they’re closing in and will have them within a day anyway.”

“A pity,” Fortrakt growled. “For making me hurt Tara, I was really looking forward to fighting them.”

“You may yet get the chance. It remains possible the Ibex are still trying to cover for smuggling some human technology back. They might surrender one or two adepts and a few of the items while another one tries to slip free,” she mused. “But after being excoriated by the Queen herself over their misplaced priorities and failures of security, I’m pretty sure the Senior Sparrow and Council of Crows will not be allowing it.”

They’d flown back to the Inn after that, and to their mutual credit, they made it in a single hop instead of having to repeatedly rest, in a further sign that they were recovering their strength. Upon being admitted by the Marine guards, who were now all wearing the strange goggles they’d had their inside sentries don, they’d gone immediately to the infirmary to check on the civilians.

This time, Gilda was gratified to see, they were recognized quickly and greeted far more eagerly. “Gilda! Fortrakt!” Marco called out to them first, his voice much clearer than before. “They’re here, guys.”

“Wait—were you two here yesterday?” Tara asked in some confusion, still lying on her stomach beneath a blanket. “I think I remember you coming by…”

“We were there, Tara,” Fortrakt assured her, sitting by her bedside. “And we’re here now.”

“Thanks, but… why are we here again?” Chris asked aloud, then he visibly shivered. “Why do I feel so cold? Why am I so horny? And why do we all have eye-vees?” he wanted to know next, glancing and then wincing at his arm. “Dammit, Doc, I hate needles!”

“You’re as bad as the Decurion,” Doc Cullen teased as he wrapped the area like he’d done for Gilda, earning a glare. “As for what happened…” He nodded off to the side, where Captain Moran had been waiting for them to arrive before offering his explanation.

It took five minutes, this time delivered in refreshingly blunt and direct terms by the Captain himself, though he very carefully avoided specifics or any mention of Giraldi being with Tara.

Gilda had been fearing how they would take the news, even sanitized. But by the time he was finished, the three humans looked more befuddled than disturbed.

“So… a bunch of Russian mountain goats switched our cider and then spiked it?” Chris was finally able to comprehend. “With some magical cocktail that made us all want to fuck?”

“They were hoping for something a lot less fun to happen, but yeah,” Reyes told them from their bedsides as Fortrakt and Gilda kept a respectful distance. “They got me and Lieutenant Nantz with that shit too, when we came by for a share of your chicken. But since we only had a couple mugs of it, we were able to get off it quicker. Didn’t mean we weren’t affected, though.” He rubbed his eyes.

“Yeah? So who’d you screw, Robbie?” Marco wanted to know from the next table over, though Gilda noticed he carefully avoided looking at her.

“Just some griffon girl we’re calling Cock Lover,” Cullen said with a smirk.

“For the last fucking time, her name was Kaiko Louvre,” Reyes said sullenly, eliciting a smile from Gilda. Though no longer ‘horny’ as the humans called it, she found she still liked the idea of him being sexually dominated by an eagless, even if it wasn’t her. “A bunch of griffons were affected by cider steam that went up the exhaust pipes—they’d gathered over the Inn attracted by the smell of your chicken, Chris. She, uh, pounced me when I made the mistake of going out on a balcony and being seen. And pretty much forced me to screw her.”

“Really?” Marco gained an odd grin as he visualized it, and even Gilda was surprised to find herself momentarily fantasizing about it, imagining herself seducing and dominating the human male in the other eagless’s place. “Uh… congratulations?”

“Not the word I’d choose. The better question is, who’d we screw?” Tara wanted to know from her bed. “I just remember doing something with Nantz…”

“Nantz?” Everycreature echoed incredulously, especially Fortrakt, whose eyes flashed.

“Couldn’t help it…” She groaned and turned her head away in shame. “Got so horny so fast… knew it was wrong but couldn’t stop. Is he okay? Wait—is Merlina?” she wondered, suddenly worried, and was clearly not encouraged when everycreature fell silent.

“Merlina?” Chris and Marco chorused. “Who’s that?” the latter asked.

“The Inkeeper’s daughter,” Moran patiently explained. “She’d been giving him language lessons when he was off-duty. They had the cider too. You can guess what happened.”

“No!” Tara exclaimed as she raised her head, only to lower it again in mingled weakness and dismay. “No… It’s my fault.”

“What do you mean it’s your fault?” Chris called out in confusion from his bed.

“Because…” As Gilda watched, the human eagless visibly slumped where she lay. “Because I can just remember that I gave him the idea to screw her. I couldn’t help it! That poor girl. I’m so sorry.” She sniffled, struggling to raise her talons enough to cover her face in shame.

Nobody spoke up again until Reyes did. “Look, Tara—you weren’t the only one who ended up not in their right mind over this, believe me,” he told her as Gilda stayed carefully quiet. “Nobody’s blaming you or anyone else here for what happened—well, except maybe Merlina’s father. He wants to duel the Lieutenant over this, but Merlina herself isn’t upset at all. In fact, she keeps trying to go to him even though she’s still sick.”

“Still my fault. I was so weak.” Unable to raise her arms enough, Tara buried her head in her pillow to hide her face.

“Tara, if you could have resisted it, you would have done what no other human—or griffon—could in all of Arnau,” Gilda felt compelled to speak up, stifling a strangely compelling urge to lay a reassuring wing over the human female’s back or worse, a set of talons on her wingless shoulder.

“It was meant to be irresistible. It was meant to cause us harm, or worse, make us harm each other. That didn’t happen, but it was an attempt by the Ibexians to destroy any potential alliance and steal human magic before either could be used against them. They failed, and now the Kingdom is ready to go to war with the Ascendancy over this.”

“And we’d join them if we were allowed to,” Reyes added angrily, only to be silenced by a look from Moran.

“Great. And is that supposed to make me feel better? Knowing that two entire nations are ready to fight over us?” Tara asked despondently.

“Tara, I know we’re still having trouble remembering things, but were you listening to what they just said?” Chris asked heatedly before having a violent coughing fit. He waited until it subsided before he spoke again, accepting a sip of water from a mug that made him look as ill as Fortrakt had been when he first tried some. “God almighty, they tried to kill us, girl! And hoped it’d be blamed on the griffons!”

“Ganon ba,” Marco muttered to himself. “Sorry, I’m still wondering what we did? I feel so sore, and I don’t know what’s from the withdrawal and what’s from…” He shivered and pulled his blanket tighter around himself.

“I wish we could tell you, Mister Lakan, but we really don’t know,” Moran said with a worried glance at Gilda. “All we do know for sure is that the Second Spear and Decurion here were found in the former’s room, dragged there by the Ibex. As for the rest of you…” he visibly chose his next words with care. “The rest of you were found unconscious the following morning, suffering severe dehydration and withdrawal symptoms in your suite… along with First Spear Giraldi.”

“Who?” Chris asked.

“The First Spear of our unit,” Fortrakt offered helpfully, only to receive uncomprehending looks back from everycreature except Tara, whose eyes got distant and cheeks flushed.

“Never heard of him.” Marco groaned, but then his brow furrowed and he squirmed slightly, his rear rising fractionally into the air beneath his blanket for a moment. “Or have I…?”

“Giraldi… why is that name familiar?” Tara wondered, not recalling that she’d asked for him by name when she’d woken up. “It feels like… I know him?”

You could say that… Gilda kept the thought to herself with another nervous glance at Moran, praying to the Ancestors that Tara didn’t remember enough to blurt out what had happened in front of Fortrakt.

But then her brow furrowed. Wait—if Tara remembered Giraldi then but not now, maybe they actually recalled some of what happened when they first woke up! she realized, wondering if she could discern anything from their odd questions and the cryptic phrases they spoke.

Okay, then—what did Marco mean by ‘Midway’? And why did Tara look at me when Fortrakt apologized for the talon scratches? She didn’t know, but then realized something else. Crows take it… even if Tara did remember before, this means she no longer recalls what happened with Giraldi, and there’s no way to keep that secret indefinitely. How are we going to tell her? And more to the point, WHO is going to tell her?

She groaned at the answer that suggested itself. It can’t come from Fortrakt since he doesn’t know and wouldn’t take it well. And it shouldn’t be Giraldi, or who knows how she would take it with him standing right there. For anycreature else to tell her might be humiliating to her, especially with her friends or the Marines around. She’d need someone she likes and trusts to tell her when she’s alone…

Gilda slumped at where her logic was leading her. So it sounds like the only one who might be able to tell her without too much additional trauma… is ME! She grimaced, already dreading it as the three began to grow visibly tired again, their mental processes and responses becoming noticeably more sluggish.

She wasn’t the only one to detect it. “With respect, sir, I think they’ve had enough,” Staff Sergeant Cullen told his Captain. “They’re getting better, but they’re still at 20% cider strength. They need rest and another day to be completely weaned at this point.”

“Understood, Staff Sergeant. You heard him, Second Spear and Decurion. You can come back later in the afternoon, when they’ve recovered a little energy,” he offered, gently herding them out.

“Great. Another entire day of laying here doing nothing but thinking about sex,” Chris groused, to which Marco could only groan his agreement.

“I’ll take it over dying. Thanks for coming by, both of you. But Gilda? Fortrakt?” Tara called out to them before they exited.

Both stopped in their tracks and turned back to her. “Y-Yes?” Fortrakt answered nervously.

The human woman looked to Gilda as if she was struggling to find words for a moment. “I just wanted to let you know that whatever happened… I don’t blame you. And I don’t hate you.”

“Seconded,” Marco added as his eyes began to flutter again. “Hard to hate you for something we don’t even remember happening...”

Later that afternoon, Gilda ordered Fortrakt to the markets to buy some fresh fruit and other soft foods for their guests, who Staff Sergeant Cullen said would be released sometime the following day.

They would certainly need a stocked icebox, given they wouldn’t be able to leave their suite while they regained their strength and things were still uncertain with the Ibex. But she had an ulterior motive in mind in sending him on the errand, wanting to clear him out so she could speak to Tara alone.

The ponies may think friendship is magic, but there’s nothing magical about doing a friend’s duty to reveal upsetting information! she inwardly groused, wondering what Element of Harmony was supposed to assist in a task like this. Honesty? Loyalty? Kindness?

Explaining her intentions to Staff Sergeant Cullen, he moved Tara into a side room, ostensibly so he could check her injuries in private.

Once she was there, he admitted Gilda and told the surprised sentries to leave. When they objected, he showed off a new black metal object she hadn’t seen before. It was slightly longer than the standard ones wielded by the Marine sentries and appeared to have not one but two vertically aligned tubes.

It also had no crescent-shaped object hanging from the bottom, though it did have the mounted cylinder that cast a purplish light; she noticed it seemed to cause her white feathers to glow slightly as the beam passed over her.

“Stay posted outside. And don’t worry—any Ibex that comes in here is dead,” he promised them as he hoisted and patted the weapon, fitting his shoulder and arm through the long strap to keep it fastened to his body.

Gilda looked at him when she realized he intended to remain in the room. “With respect, Staff Sergeant—”

“Sorry, Decurion, but I have to stay. By Captain Moran’s orders, there has to be at least one sentry around at all times, and if the Captain himself isn’t available, I have to be present for all conversations. For what it’s worth, I already know what happened, so you won’t be embarrassing her any further by telling her in front of me.”

“Right,” Gilda said unhappily as he took station in the corner to oversee the room, giving the space a sweep with the beam of his light before moving the odd weapon back into what looked like a ready position.

“Tell me what?” Tara asked in confusion, her blue eyes flitting between Gilda and the Marine healer. “What’s this about, Gilda?”

Gilda took a deep breath before beginning, her rehearsed speech already slipping from her memory now that it was time to give it. “We don’t know what happened in the suite between us. But we do know something that happened to you. Sorry to pull you aside like this, but I figured you really wouldn’t want it explained in front of Chris and Marco….”

* * * * *

Gilda spent the next five minutes telling Tara about what happened to her early in the night—how she’d been seduced and rutted by her century’s First Spear in front of an audience of outside griffons.

She had been terrified of how the human female would take it, knowing her initial inclination to receiving the news would be to lash out at the bearer with tongue if not talons. But instead, either due to her much different temperament or simply remaining subdued for feeling so weak and still under some influence of the cider, Tara Fields simply listened quietly as the tale was related, not speaking until Gilda was done.

To her relief, Staff Sergeant Cullen remained silent the whole time, not cracking any jokes as he’d done with Sergeant Reyes—clearly, he made a distinction between the Marines of his unit and the civilians they were supposed to protect.

“Gods above…” was all Tara could say at first after Gilda had finished, leaving her wondering about human religion and what deities they had again. “You’re serious? Me and… Giraldi? And he did me in full view of other griffons?” Her expression shifted constantly as her emotions rapidly oscillated between what Gilda could only describe as variously fear, intrigue, worry, and even a measure of wonder; for a moment she seemed to shift sensuously on the improvised bed.

“Yes,” Gilda confirmed. She closed her eyes, wondering if she was being even remotely honorable in telling the human female about this instead of one of her other friends. “I’m sorry, Tara. I spoke to him a couple days ago. It turns out he remembers a little of it, and for whatever it’s worth, he asked me to tell you that he didn’t regret it. And that he hoped you didn’t either.”

“It’s a little hard to regret what I don’t remember,” she said with a sigh. “I can’t recall any of it, and yet… I somehow know you’re right. It happened.” She stared off past Gilda, her gaze focusing on the far wall. “But he didn’t give me these slashes?”

“No,” Gilda confirmed with a glance at Cullen, who nodded. “His splayed talons are too big for the marks you got. Considering how rough griffon mating can be, that means he was very gentle with you. But Fortrakt clearly wasn’t. Please don’t blame him, Tara. He hates himself enough already.”

“I already said I don’t. And tell him not to worry about the damage to the tattoo. I was planning to get it redone anyway,” the human woman reminded Gilda, her voice subdued, but then she turned her blue eyes on Gilda’s gold ones again. “So why are you telling me this instead of him?”

“Because Giraldi’s with his Uxor—I mean wife—and as for Fortrakt, he doesn’t know about the two of you,” Gilda said carefully with another glance at Cullen, who grimaced. “Reason being, you know how he feels about you. So if he finds out Giraldi was with you, he’s liable to challenge him to a duel. And probably lose badly.”

Tara closed her eyes and sighed. She had finally regained enough strength to pull her arms up enough to pillow her head on them, staring at Gilda over them. “I don’t want a bunch of griffon guys fighting over me, Gilda. Especially not those two. And you’ll forgive me if I really don’t like the idea of two nations fighting over what happened to the three of us, either.”

“Griffons and Ibex have been at each other’s throats for a long time, Tara,” Gilda reminded her. “The Ascendancy tried to kill you and your friends. As our honored guests, the Kingdom takes that very seriously.”

“So do we, Miss Fields,” Cullen spoke up for the first time. “I can safely speak for all the Marines when I say we’re livid over what happened. You, Mister Lakan, and Mister McLain—you’re our friends too, you know. So are the griffons, including the Decurion here. If we were allowed, we’d be more than willing to join the Kingdom on this one and show those fucking goats why they don’t ever mess with Marines. Unfortunately, we already got word back that we’re to stay out of any conflict,” he explained in some disgust.

“Thanks, Doc,” Tara acknowledged with a slight nod. “And honestly? I’m glad. I don’t want to see anybody hurt or killed over us, whether it’s the Marines or griffons, including Gilda, Fortrakt, or Galen,” she said, but then blinked hard. “Wait—Galen? That’s Giraldi, right? How did I know his first name?”

“Then I guess you do remember a little,” Gilda offered with a wry grin. “I imagine he’ll be very pleased to know you recall it. And for the record, Tara? A griffon would only offer their first name to a very good friend. Or lover.”

“Oh, really?” Either from the remaining cider in her system or from a simple appreciation of irony, Tara’s grin got something close to sultry and she raised her head up slightly, enough for the blanket to fall partially off her shoulder enough to reveal a corner of her nearest human mammary. “Well, since you and I are now calling each other by our first names, I guess we’re friends or lovers now, too, huh?”

Tara reached out to Gilda a set of her soft talons as she spoke, her tone only partly teasing as Gilda couldn’t help but notice that by moving her arm, she’d bared even more of her leftmost breast. Its soft curve drew Gilda’s gaze at least briefly to it; for a moment, she found herself with a surprising wish to see more of the oddly alluring chest-mounted mass.

But the thought was lost as she took Tara’s hand. “All joking aside, I appreciate what it took for you to tell me this, Gilda. Thank you.” She squeezed Gilda’s talons for emphasis; Gilda wasn’t certain but thought she felt a gentle tug towards the human eagless for a moment.

“Well, I can’t say I was looking forward to it, but it just felt like it would be easier to hear coming from a friend.” Gilda smiled as she stepped forward slightly and squeezed the human appendage back, sensing Tara’s feminine scent growing stronger in her nose. “And yes, we’re friends, Tara.” But lovers…?

“And I’m glad,” Tara told her with another slight squeeze and tug of her talons that moved Gilda another quarter-pace towards her, but then looked at her oddly as a memory likewise stirred from deep within Gilda again. She still couldn’t reach it, but it seemed to find a focus in not just Tara’s scent and soft skin, but the small corner of her human breast just visible beneath her extended arm. “You’re a good griffon, Grizelda Behertz.”

Gilda smiled somewhat sadly; she sat even closer but still felt compelled to look away. “Thanks, Tara. Though there’s at least one pony back in Equestria I wish you’d tell that to.”

Tara’s sultry gleam abruptly turned angry and she gave a sound not far removed from a pony snort. “Oh, yeah? Well, next time you see her, you can tell that ungrateful and disloyal ‘Dashie’ from me that—” she trailed off in surprise as Gilda gaped at her. “How do I know that name?”

“I…” For the first time, Gilda was feeling severely anxious over something other than informing Tara of what happened with her and Giraldi, and worse, Tara’s scent in her nose was somehow only feeding it. How DOES she know about Rainbow!? Did I tell her during that night? But why would I, even drunk on that sex-spiked cider? Unless—she froze at the idea that suddenly occurred to her, her eyes drifting back to the exposed area of Tara’s mammary again.

As she stared at it, she had a sudden and very vivid image of first baring it with her beak, and then her talons cupping it, finding her claws flexing as if they held it. Her mouth went dry as she felt her wings start to splay and her eagless teats begin to tingle low on her belly.

And then she swallowed, very hard. “Tara… hold still for a second,” she instructed; her voice shaky as she reached up to pull the blanket away from Tara’s back.

“What? Why?” Tara asked but didn’t stop her, a flush in her cheeks growing as she watched Gilda move closer.

“What are you doing, Decurion?” Doc Cullen asked in a warning tone.

His voice snapped her out of it, making her immediately back off when she glanced back to see he looked ready to intervene, his hand poised over one of the tools on his belt. “I have to… check something,” she explained weakly as she stepped back, her legs suddenly feeling as shaky as they had when she had first gotten up from her sickbed, but for a far different reason. “Staff Sergeant Cullen, could you please remove her bandages for a moment?”

“Uh…” Cullen looked uncertain. “Is that okay, Miss Fields? You’re almost due to have them changed anyway.”

Tara didn’t answer right away, turning her head to look up at Gilda; as their gazes met, the latter realized that they were reaching the same conclusion. “You really think that…?” The rest went unspoken as her human cheeks began to redden further.

The pull of Gilda’s buried memories grew steadily stronger, urging her forward. “I do…” she admitted, stunned to feel a strong surge of outright desire for the first time since she’d been fully freed of the potion addiction. “And there’s only one way to find out.”

“Find out what?” a confused Cullen asked, looking back and forth between them.

“Please remove my bandages, Staff Sergeant,” Tara requested, her voice tense. “And let her check the talon scratches. She isn’t going to hurt me. Or them.”

“I don’t get it, but okay,” Cullen said as he shifted his metal tube onto his back. He gently peeled off the adhesive strips that kept the soft woven fabric in place, before carefully removing the bandage. “For what it’s worth, the slashes are looking a lot better than they were, though your flower tattoo will need some repairs. So now what?” he asked them both, his eyes glancing back and forth between them.

Gilda knew he was likely to learn something she did not want getting out, but found her need to know overrode all such concerns. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward despite her shaky legs and splayed her talons to their maximum width. She then hovered them over the marks on Tara’s back, only to gasp in shock and dismay when she saw what she somehow sensed she would:

The separation of the talon scratches perfectly matched the width of her splayed claws!

Reeling, she yanked her talons away, only to snag the blanket right out of Cullen’s hands in her haste. She stumbled backwards in shock with the fabric caught in her talons, tugging it all the way off the human woman to reveal the soft and sensuous curves of her naked form to Gilda’s wide and darting eyes.

Curves that Gilda instantly realized from sight alone that she was very much familiar with. And had very much loved. Ancestors forgive me, it wasn’t Fortrakt Tara was with… she realized as Cullen turned to stare at her in shock, but her eyes were fixed on the deliciously fleshy flanks of Tara’s bare rear. By all the Crows of the Kingdom, it was ME!

“Gilda?” Tara called from where she lay. “Was it… did we…?”

“I… I…” Gilda couldn’t finish before she felt an unreasoning wave of fear overtake her, along with a strong and nearly irresistible surge of recalled passion for the human female. She still couldn’t remember what they’d done, but she could somehow recall in that instant every feminine curve of Tara’s form, including the addictively pillowy softness of her human breasts and flanks against her talons.

It was quickly followed by feeling phantom caresses of Tara’s deliciously dexterous hands as they returned the favor to her eagless body, and for a moment, Gilda swore she could even recall the delicious cider-soaked scent and taste of her human nest!

Her talons flexed hard at the remembered feel of her friend’s soft and supple body beneath them, and her tongue darted out as if to taste her again. Her heady thoughts suddenly piling one on top of another, her wings began to rise along with her tail, and she even felt her nest and teats starting to engorge and fiercely tingle.

Feeling faint, she found herself ready for a moment to step forward and put talons on the human woman all over again, wanting to experience and pleasure her friend’s exotic eagless body for a second time. But a wave of sheer panic took hold of her, and she began to back away slowly, towards the door, stumbling again on the blanket still caught in her claws before she tore it free and took flight.

“Gilda, wait!” Tara called after her, but Gilda didn’t stop or look back. Unable to accept what she was feeling and terrified of what she so desperately wanted to do, she fled the room, bolted down the hall and ran out of the Inn, taking flight for the Auxiliary Guard barracks as soon as she was able.

Tribune Narada regarded Gilda coolly as she stood before her superior, drumming her talons on her stone desk. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t understand this sudden change of heart, Decurion. After demanding to remain in your posts with the humans, you now want a transfer?”

“Yes, sir,” Gilda replied, still standing at stiff attention.

“To an Auxiliary Guard combat unit near the Pearl Mountains?” she said dubiously.

“Yes, sir.”

“And you don’t want to tell me why?”

“No, sir.”

The drumming of her talons got louder as Gilda’s recalcitrance grew. “Have you told Second Spear Gletscher or the humans about this?”

“No, sir,” she admitted, closing her eyes.

Narada studied her a moment longer before she shook her head. “Request denied.”

Gilda’s beak dropped open. “But sir—”

“Must I repeat myself, Decurion?” the Tribune’s eyes narrowed. “After fighting for days to stay in your post, you just up and change your mind on a whim. You’ve offered me not a single justification for it, particularly after learning that the human soldiers and civilians actually want you and the Second Spear to stay. This makes no sense, and I’m not going to approve your transfer to an Ascendancy-facing combat unit until you give me a damned good reason as to why.”

Gilda’s beak opened, then closed, then opened again. “It’s personal, sir.”

Narada’s eyes narrowed again and there was a sharp flick of her leonine tail. “Do you honestly think that’s going to fly with me, Decurion? Especially when just about everything should be personal for you with regards to our human guests now?”

“No, sir.”

Narada’s tail lashed hard, and her tapping talons turned into a partially clenched fist that dragged painfully loudly on her stone desk. “Decurion, I have much better things to do right now than play word games with you, so out with it! Either tell me what sparked this nonsensical request or get out of my office so I can write my deployment orders in peace!”

Gilda closed her eyes, mentally bracing herself. “Very well, sir. I will explain. But as the matter is highly personal, I respectfully request that none of your aides or sentries be present.”

“Denied. They’re here in case of an Ibexian assassination attempt as a prelude to war. Be assured that by my order, they will not say a word about what they hear,” she said with a pointed glance to the guards and aides around them, who nodded once. “Now cut the angsty teenager routine and tell me why you’re here before I have you thrown out of my office!”

Gilda feared her next request was certain to result in an outright explosion from her superior, but with no other way forward, she voiced it anyway. “Then… may I write my reason, sir?” she asked, struggling to keep her voice from trembling as Narada’s quill snapped in her grasp when her fist clenched around it. “By my most revered and sacred Ancestors, I swear you’ll understand why I’m so reluctant to speak it when you read it!” she hastily added, trying to placate her superior’s smoldering temper with a very crisp salute.

Narada regarded her coldly for a moment, before pushing a fresh quill and blank sheet of parchment at her along with an ink jug. “You are severely trying me, Decurion! But very well. Out of morbid curiosity, I will indulge you. But you’d best have a very good reason for this infuriating behavior, or I will not be happy.”

“I do, sir.” Realizing the Tribune’s patience was at an end, she grabbed at the pen and parchment and began writing out her reasons on the rear of the Tribune’s desk. She took no time to choose her words carefully but simply explained in terse sentences what she had learned from her meeting with Tara, praying it would be enough and Narada wouldn’t share it with anygriffon else.

Two minutes later, Gilda passed her the note and stood back to rigid but trembling attention as Narada accepted it with an impatient swipe of her claws. She scanned the note once, blinked, and then read it again a second time, much more carefully.

She studied Gilda closely for a moment as she crumpled up the note and dropped it into a metal can beside her, where the piece of parchment was instantly incinerated by the charm the can contained, reducing it to ash. It was normally used for classified communiques that required their destruction upon receipt, but she’d seen fit to use it for this note as well.

She then grabbed a communication gem out of her desk and spoke into it. “Decanus Nydia, report to my office immediately,” she instructed, then set her eyes back on Gilda, not speaking until the summoned griffon arrived.

There was a knock at the door, followed by a female voice when the visitor was admitted. “Decanus Nydia reporting as ordered, sir.” Gilda could just hear the thump of talons in salute.

The honor was returned quickly. “Greetings, Decanus, and thank you for answering my call promptly. By my order, please cast a shroud of silence over me and the Decurion here. I need to speak to her privately about a personal matter.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, and though Gilda never saw the Magus in question, she felt a wave of magic wash over her followed by seeing a shimmering field descend, enclosing the two of them in a translucent but distorted bubble.

“Very well, Decurion.” Narada’s voice had become, if not more gentle, at least less impatient; the magical chamber producing an odd echo effect like they were in a wide cavern. “I now understand why you didn’t want to explain this in front of other griffons. But I’m still at a loss as to why it changes anything.”

Gilda broke her bearing long enough to give her superior a disbelieving look. “With all due respect, sir, how in the crows am I supposed to be around Miss Fields or her friends now, knowing that I both rutted and injured her?” she asked, sparing a glance outside to see the Magus in question. The bubble tended to distort sight like you were seeing through a bumpy glass surface, making it impossible to discern what was happening on the other side of it, but she could just make out that the Magus had the headfeathers of a red-tailed hawk.

“Is that the only reason?” Narada challenged, lacing her Talons as she leaned forward in her sitting position with her elbows on her desk.

“What other reason do I need? By all the crows of the Kingdom, sir, I can’t even look at her now without thinking about it—without memories of crows-know-what trying to rise up even despite the cider! I know I injured her, but I find I still want to be with her again! And even if I didn’t, it doesn’t matter! Knowing what we did is always going to be in the back of my mind whenever I’m around her!”

“So in other words, you now know how Second Spear Gletscher felt when he believed he hurt her?” The Tribune pointed out dryly, causing Gilda to blink hard. “He didn’t quit. So why should you? And by the way, have you told him that he’s not responsible for Miss Fields’ injuries?”

Gilda had to look away at the question. “No…” she admitted, squeezing her eyes tightly shut as she realized how it sounded. To say nothing of how it felt. “I’m sure Miss Fields herself will tell him.”

“I see. So instead of facing him—and her—you’re running away? And maybe hoping to kill a couple Ibexians to assuage your guilt?” she paraphrased in some contempt. “I expect far better behavior from you than falling to pieces over a drunken fling that wasn’t your fault, Behertz. Even Gletscher realized he was acting like a crow-damned fool over hurting her—after a few choice words from me. Why can’t you?”

It undeniably stung, being compared unfavorably to Fortrakt. “Even if that fling was with an alien female whose race the Kingdom is courting? Even if I’m afraid I might try to be with her again? That I might hurt her again?” she asked wanly, cursing herself for feeling a strong sense of remembered sensual desire to go along with her pain.

“What were the answers to those questions for the Second Spear, and why would they be any different for you?” the Tribune instantly challenged, her tone short. “And is that really the reason you want this transfer? Because unless I miss my guess, all I’m hearing right now is an eagless scared to death of what happened and what she’s feeling. Scared to death that she might not just do it but enjoy it all over again, cider and fertility potion or no.”

Gilda slumped at the undeniable answer that she sensed from the depths of her very being, where her hidden and deeply buried memories of that night kept calling to her like a growing rumble of thunder from an approaching storm. “I don’t feel I should be guarding somecreature I may be emotionally compromised around, sir!” She tried a different angle.

“And your solution is to flee to the frontier and hope to lose yourself in combat, potentially getting yourself killed in a war that may yet start over what happened to you?” the Tribune summarized in some contempt. “This isn’t an act of bravery, Behertz. This is one of pure cowardice. Of turning tail and fleeing!”

The words were a slap to the face, which Gilda had no doubt was the intention. “With all due respect, sir, I’m offering up my life to avenge what happened to us! How by all our Ancestors is that cowardice?” she couldn’t stop her wings from flaring slightly in anger.

“Because what you’re doing is trying to hide from your feelings and guilt! What you’re doing is a selfish act designed to save you pain by caving to your fears! And I’m sorry, but I’m not going to let you do it!” she snapped back. “You once told me that you left Equestria to flee a broken friendship and later regretted it. Then tell me, Decurion—how is this not doing the same?”

Gilda’s jaw dropped open as she made the comparison herself and came up with the undeniable answer. By all the crows, she’s right… She felt her anger and fear turn into a deep sense of shame. This is what I’ve always done—up and fled when a relationship ended badly. I did it with Rainbow. I did it with that eagless in Nova Ocelota. And Ancestors forgive me, I nearly did it all again over TARA!

She deflated, hard. “Sir… as I think about it, you are correct on all counts. I offer my sincerest apologies for my dishonorable conduct and cowardice. You are absolutely right that I am acting out of fear, which has little to do with hurting her. I therefore respectfully withdraw my transfer request.” She stood back to rigid attention.

“Granted. But Decurion…?”

“Yes, sir?” Gilda froze, expecting a final reprimand.

She got one, though it was far milder than it might have been. “Emotional reactions do not become you, or a griffon soldier. I will let it pass only because I had the same thing happen to me once many years ago, when I got into it with that dragon.” She reached into her desk and pulled out a small lockbox, releasing its seal spell with a pressed talon to pop it open and pull out a picture of her lounging with a gold-scaled and red-tailed adolescent drake.

“His name is Crimson Comet. He was the one I ended up with after too much cider at a Pony New Years’ celebration in Las Pegasus. I couldn’t face him for a long time after, either, until he eventually sought me out. It was hard having to face him and explain why I fled, never mind the fact that he’s 120 years old and could tell me in exact but gentle terms why I’d been wrong to do so,” she recalled, turning a mood Gilda had never seen from her before—regretful.

“In time, I was able to accept what happened and indulge myself with him again, without any guilt or liquid help. When I finally did—it turned out that being over a century old, he’s a very experienced lover and dangerously good at fighting griffon mating rounds—all I could do was slap myself with a wing for spending so many months in denial. So learn from my mistake, Decurion, and do not cut yourself off from Miss Fields and her friends, or Second Spear Gletscher.”

Emotionally spent and feeling completely cowed, Gilda could only nod her understanding. “I thank you for your time and indulgence, Tribune. I offer my sincerest thanks, and with your permission, I will return to the Inn to make my apology to Miss Fields.” She turned to leave, intending to step out of the bubble.

“Granted. But Decurion?”

“Yes, sir?” she turned back as the Tribune’s expression became stern again.

“Regarding Crimson Comet—If you say a word about him to anycreature? Then I’ll not only bust your rank back down to Fledgling but assign you latrine duty for a year! Is that clear?” she warned.

For the first time since entering, Gilda grinned. “As the ponies say… crystal clear, sir!” She came to attention and saluted again.

The flight back to the Winged Hall Inn was easier than it had been before, Gilda realized with some amazement, but she still felt her stomach clench as she reentered the building and immediately went to the infirmary.

“You came back,” Tara said in some wonder after Cullen had transferred her cart to an adjacent room again and then shooed the sentries away, though he still insisted on standing guard himself with his different and slightly larger metal tube, once again donning the same goggles as the guards he replaced. “I was afraid you might not.”

“At first, I wasn’t going to,” Gilda admitted in shame as she returned to Tara’s bedside, though she took pains to keep a respectful distance this time. “I tried to request a transfer. Fortunately, the Tribune told me I was acting like a crow-damned fool over you. And she was right.”

Instead of scolding her or making fun of her as Rainbow might have done, Tara smiled. “Hey, I know how it feels to be afraid of facing someone again,” she replied wanly, enduring a fresh shiver from her withdrawal symptoms, making Gilda throw a second blanket over her from a folded pile of them. “I said it before and I’ll say it again: I don’t blame you—or Fortrakt—for what happened. And the fact that these slashes came from you doesn’t change that.”

“It sure changed it for me,” Gilda admitted in pain, feeling forced to look away again. “All this time, I thought Fortrakt was being a smitten idiot over you. And now the weight’s on the other wing. I’m very sorry for injuring you, Tara. I can’t imagine I meant to.”

“If you meant to, I’d be in a lot worse shape than this, don’t you think?” Tara pointed out dryly. “That’s what the Ibex wanted, from what you guys said—for you to rape or kill us, right? Well, that didn’t happen. And if these scratches are all they got out of that tainted cider, then I’m gonna laugh at them.”

“I’m glad you can, Tara. Because it’s no laughing matter to me.” Gilda hung her head. “And if I stay in my post around you, what’s to say it won’t happen again? What’s to say that I won’t hurt you again?”

Tara considered her words carefully before speaking. “You know, Giraldi didn’t hurt me despite how big and strong he is, and with a little more experience, I’m sure you won’t either,” she pointed out, then grinned at Gilda’s surprised look.

“Yes, I’ve recalled a little more. Maybe the cider’s not as effective on us, but I keep getting these flashes of memory wafting up, especially from early in the night. Nothing about you yet, though. Pity.” She gave a wistful sigh, then grinned again. “For the record, I’ve been with a couple girls over the years, but neither worked out.”

“Me too,” Gilda admitted without thinking, then started and looked over at Cullen, whose face was as impassive as a soldier at inspection. “So what do we do now?”

“I don’t know, and I probably shouldn’t be asking myself that while there’s still some cider in my system,” Tara decided as she propped herself up slightly on Gilda’s side, and this time Gilda was certain that the human woman had deliberately done it to show tantalizing hints of her chest-mounted mammaries. It worked as Gilda internally swallowed and found her eyes drifting over them, restraining another impulse to step closer.

“But we don’t need all the answers now, you know. Just like with me and Marco, let’s give it some time and distance—after I’m off this fucking fertility potion and can think with a clear head again, that is,” she glanced up at the upside-down bag feeding her arm tube with a wince.

“You’ll be off it by tomorrow, Miss Fields,” Doc Cullen promised. “And my lips are sealed regarding what was said here.”

“Thanks, Doc. Maybe things will change once I’m off that juice, but right now, I don’t feel the same regret with you or Giraldi that I did with him. That might mean it’s safe to pursue this further. If so, it can be a one-time thing, or it can be an ongoing affair if that’s what we—yes, we—decide. But for now, just stop feeling guilty and let it go, Gilda. It happened, and there’s no sense beating yourself up over it.”

“And you really think it’s that easy?” Gilda felt an odd sense of deja vu as she suddenly heard an echo of both Giraldi’s advice and Fortrakt’s anguish within her. By all my Ancestors, I will never, EVER tease Fortrakt for falling for a human female again! And I still don’t know what may have happened with Marco, either… one mental crisis at a time, though!

“Easy? No. I learned that the hard way with Marco. But it’s not impossible. Look—I don’t know what happened that night, and neither do you. But those talon slashes on my back weren’t made in anger. It’s pretty obvious it was the result of mutual passion, don’t you agree?”

She pantomimed the action that would have produced them with her own blunt talons, arching her spine in feigned pleasure while her fingers splayed, causing her soft claws to dig into an imaginary back. “That means that whatever we were doing, we enjoyed it… right?”

“I…” The action caused Gilda to flush and her wings to start to splay as her own psyche responded with the undeniable answer; for a moment she was sorely tempted to ask Doc Cullen to leave so she could apologize to Tara for injuring her properly.

Tara noticed her reaction and gave a sly grin, clearly enjoying the effect she was having on her griffon friend as she raised herself up a little more, propping herself on her elbows to allow the blanket to slide halfway down her back and let Gilda see the top half of her impressively large breasts. “You know what, Gilda? I’ll call these scratches marks of affection from a lady I like, and I’ll wear them proudly. In an odd way, they’ll make sure that even if we don’t remember that night, we’ll never forget it, either.”

Gilda smiled at the heartfelt declaration of forgiveness and friendship, choking back an uncharacteristic urge to both rut and cry. You hear that, Rainbow? THIS is how a friend acts when you buck up! “Thank you, Tara. By all my Ancestors, I swear I won’t ever forget this.”

“I know you won’t, Gilda. I already know you’re the kind of girl—eagless—that keeps their word.”

For a moment, she looked to Gilda like she was all but ready to invite her to explore her human body anew. But then she glanced up at the upside-down bag and Doc Cullen as if to remind herself that they weren’t alone, and that she didn’t know how much of her urges were due to the remaining cider in her system.

Sighing, she settled back to the cot, pillowing her head on her arms again. “But do me a favor and let me tell my friends and Fortrakt about this. I already got Doc here to promise he wouldn’t say a word, and he won’t unless ordered otherwise.”

“If the Captain tells me to spill it, I’ll have no choice,” he warned. “But aside from that? Like I said, my lips are sealed, Decurion. I don’t want to hurt or embarrass Miss Fields here, so the other Marines won’t hear one word about this from me.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Tara told him with a grateful nod. “And Gilda? Let’s take care of things sooner rather than later. So please find Fortrakt and tell him I’d like to speak with him privately.”

Gilda wasn’t privy to the conversation that followed. But she thought it best to remain just outside the infirmary in case Tara wanted to talk to her again in Fortrakt’s presence.

But she was never summoned, and the door to the infirmary remained closed. They sure are taking a while. Is that good or bad? She wondered as she waited for nearly half an hour outside the room for him to emerge. When he finally did, he looked equal parts dazed and despondent, if not outright devastated.

“Second Spear?” she called to him in Aeric when he didn’t look up. “Are you okay?”

“What do you think?” he replied forlornly in the same tongue. “And before you ask, she told me everything.”

“Everything…?” Gilda held her breath.

“Yes, everything. I guess I should be happy it wasn’t me who wounded her. I guess I should be jealous and angry at you for doing it! And I should be completely furious at the First Spear for getting her first! And yet, all I feel right now is… numb.”

Well, that’s better than I thought he’d take it, she granted, even if she wasn’t certain that it was an improvement. “For what it’s worth, Second Spear, I don’t know how I feel about all this either. And I don’t know what I can say.”

He looked up sharply at her. “What is there to say? This not only means that you got to be with her, but so did the First Spear! And just what am I supposed to do now? Challenge each of you?” he threw up his wings in disgust.

“Don’t worry. Even if I wanted to, she already told me not to—that she doesn’t want us fighting over her. So there’s nothing for it. Whatever happened, I wasn’t part of it. And it’s obvious by now it’s dangerous for us to be with them anyway. You hurt her in the throes of passion, so what’s to say I wouldn’t?”

The only response Gilda could think of was a weak one, but lacking options, she used it anyway. “You don’t know you weren’t part of it. You don’t know what else might have happened, and neither do any of us.”

“Oh, right. And just who else was there, Decurion?” he asked derisively. “You? Despite what the Ibex depicted of us in that crow-damned ‘video’, we wouldn’t rut no matter how soused we were because we don’t like each other like that! So just who does that leave for me? Chris? Marco? Giraldi?” he scoffed, causing Gilda to fall silent. “You really think that I’m a tiercel-tucker, or that they are?” he exploded, his wings flaring in full fury at her in a display that would have instantly resulted in a duel if she didn’t feel his pain so keenly.

Noticing he’d attracted the attention of the Marine sentries at the door, Fortrakt took a deep breath and quelled his anger, forcing his wings and headfeathers to furl. “Crows take it, Gilda. All I wanted was Tara. And all I could take from that night was the certainty that I got to be with her, however briefly. But now? Even that is denied me.” He hung his head as his wings and tail drooped.

“Fortrakt…” Gilda trailed off as she realized she had no idea what she could say to him.

“Save it. It feels like this entire last week has been nothing but the Gods themselves mocking me. And I’m tired of it, Gilda. I’m a Second Spear, but apparently, not even the second choice of my dream eagless. So if you and Giraldi want her? You can have her. I won’t pursue her any longer. I’m through being hurt,” he told Gilda as he stepped past her, not looking at her.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to do two things. First, I’m going to write my daily report on what I’ve learned about human concepts of friendship and forgiveness, and then I’m going to write a letter to that Talon eagless asking if she still wants to have a round when I’m fully recovered.”

“Will you be staying in your post?” she had to ask. “I wouldn’t blame you if you left now, and I’m sure the Tribune wouldn’t either.”

“I don’t know yet,” he replied sullenly, stopping but not looking back at her. “At a minimum, I’m going to ask the Tribune for immediate leave when I report tomorrow. You’ll understand if I need to be away from everything for a bit.”

“I understand.” Gilda bowed her head, feeling a deep measure of pity for him. “Listen, if there’s anything I can do—”

“Haven’t you done enough?” he snapped at her irritably before catching himself. “My apologies for my behavior, Decurion. I respectfully ask that I have this evening to myself. You’ll understand if I need time to… to just deal with everything.”

“Of course,” she said as she watched him leave, wondering why restoring one set of friendships meant she had to hurt another. So, is this your ‘Magic of Friendship’, ponies? she asked herself unhappily as he departed for what she feared might be the last time. Because right now, it sure doesn’t feel magical at all...

To Gilda’s great surprise, Fortrakt was waiting for her at Narada’s office the following morning when she arrived to deliver her report and receive her daily briefing.

More to the point, he seemed in far better spirits, answering the Tribune’s questions crisply. Having presented himself well, his request for leave was granted, but he asked for it to be delayed for one day so he ‘could see his new friends out of the infirmary’ and escort them back to their rooms.

When Gilda somewhat anxiously asked what had happened on their way back to the Inn—five days after leaving the infirmary herself, she had regained over half her stamina, she was happy to see—he replied that he’d sought out Giraldi at his cliffside home and had a long talk with him in the presence of his Uxor.

“I think he first thought I was there to challenge him,” he admitted with a chuckle—the first time she’d heard him laugh since before they ended up poisoned by the potion-spiked cider. “But I told him that I needed to understand why he did what he did, and why I should accept it. As it turned out, he didn’t remember everything, but he remembered enough. And we ended up having a long talk over some larded scones, a jug of good rum and a bowl or two of dried meats and cheese.”

“Then what did he tell you?” Gilda asked, but he only shook his head.

“With apologies, Decurion, that’s personal. But he said some things that really made me think. And seeing him with his Uxor and cubs… well, that gave me a whole new perspective on him. I see now why Tara liked him. He’s a really good soldier, sire and lover—just an all-around good griffon.

“And you know what? Maybe that’s why he was the best tiercel for her. Seasoned and able to give her the first time with a griffon she needed. As much as I hate to admit it, being inexperienced meant I would be clumsy and probably accidentally hurt her. But he knew exactly what he was doing, and what she needed,” he granted as they landed in front of the Inn, folded their wings after checking that their surroundings were clear, and then walked up to the Marine sentries to request entry.

After passing their purple tube-mounted lights over Gilda and Fortrakt to no noticeable effect, they were allowed passage, though they both heard some whispered asides from the human pair as they passed that were enough to make them blush.

Clumsy and inexperienced… Gilda repeated the phrase as they ascended the stairs to the second floor. That’s probably exactly how I ended up hurting her! Sorry, Tara… she mentally apologized again, still amazed that the human woman had forgiven her so easily when Rainbow had dumped her for less.

And given that, do I dare be with her again? She didn’t know, but regardless of temptation, she also wasn’t about to even entertain the idea of finding out until Tara had fully recovered from her addiction. Now that she’s off the cider and potion, she might not be interested at all! Gilda found the idea more than a little depressing. Then again, my desires seem to be coming back, so why not hers…?

They arrived in time to find Chris, Tara, and Marco being helped up out of their cots. Their “eye-vees” were already removed to Gilda’s great relief—even after her own experience with it, she was afraid she might pass out at the mere sight of seeing them pulled free.

They were greeted warmly by the three, who were struggling to stand, having already dressed in some light clothes for the trip back. Tara leaned heavily on Doc Cullen for support at first, while Marco waved off help as he struggled to gain his feet.

“If you want, you can ride on my back, Chris,” Fortrakt surprised Gilda by offering him a lift, as he seemed to be having the most trouble of the three keeping his balance. “Don’t worry, I can support you. Just be careful of my wings, okay?”

“Oh. Thanks,” Chris granted as Fortrakt knelt before him, though the red-headed human seemed to blush slightly to Gilda’s eyes. “Ride ‘em… griffie?” he suggested to the others with a grin, earning a snicker back as he settled in somewhat gingerly to his uncertain mount. “Just take it slow and easy, would you? My stomach’s still not okay.”

“Lucky. Don’t suppose I could get the same treatment, Gilds?” Marco suggested with a lopsided but hopeful grin.

“It’s Decurion. And in your dreams, Marco Lakan.” For the first time in many days, she felt some of her old attitude resurface.

“Ouch, Marco. Shot down again, huh?” Tara teased, to which Marco made a show of staggering back like he’d been struck by a crossbow bolt.

“Even on my deathbed, I can’t win the favor of my fair lady!” he over-emoted like he was part of a Kingdom theatre troupe, eventually accepting the help of Sergeant Reyes to make it to their suite. For her part, Tara accepted the aid of Doc Cullen, and Gilda couldn’t help but feel a momentary flash of jealousy when she kissed the taller Marine after making it to their room, saying it was for all the help he’d given them.

“Just doing my duty, ma’am,” he said graciously, though the smile on his face suggested he was going to be savoring her favor for a while.

When they got in and got settled, pausing long enough to sip at some of the juice Fortrakt had purchased for them, they started looking around for their possessions, only to realize not all of them were there.

“Putang ina! Those fucking Ibex! They took my laptop!” Marco announced in disgust after searching all over the suite and in his room. “I paid twenty-eight hundred bucks for that!”

Bucks? Gilda guessed from the context that was some kind of currency, as she couldn’t imagine they were selling ibex males or whitetail stags, particularly since the latter’s isolated and slightly xenophobic nation in the northeastern interior of the Equestrian continent would not take enslavement well.

“It ain’t just you, buddy. My phone’s gone, too!” Chris groused as he returned from his room to search the couch pillows. “And I can’t find my field equipment bag!”

Tara came back next, keeping her balance by leaning on the wall as she walked. “I just checked my room. It isn’t just electronics—my books are missing! I also can’t find my sketchpad or my earphones! Those fucking mountain goats cleaned us out! They took everything!”

“Not everything.” Marco visibly relaxed as, with some help from a surprised Fortrakt, he moved a couch aside to check a hidden compartment under the floor. “Good news, gang—I guess the shroud spell worked. Our other stuff is still here.” He removed a hidden panel in the floor with a burst of magic—an unsealing spell? —and then pulled out a small nondescript chest, opening it just enough for the taller humans to look inside. “See?”

Both Chris and Tara relaxed. “Thank God,” the latter said as Marco put it back in its hiding place. “If they’d gotten hold of those…”

“Those? Those what?” Fortrakt tried to peer over the top of the chest, but Marco closed the lid.

“Just some stuff we’re really not supposed to have brought,” Marco said carefully. “Sorry, buddy, but we can’t say what it is. Because we’d be in big trouble with everybody if they knew.”

“What he said. And it’s okay, Tara. Even if they did swipe them, they couldn’t use them or get very far with them,” Chris smiled thinly, then turned to a confused Gilda and Fortrakt. “Just like the Marines, we had the ponies magically protect our stuff before coming to the Kingdom. The apprentice of Princess Twilight herself, Starlight Glimmer, cast the spells once we explained what we needed.”

“Who?” Gilda exchanged a glance with Fortrakt. Starlight Glimmer? Never heard of her, but I also haven’t been paying much attention to the news out of Equestria lately. And just what’s so important that an alicorn princess who’s also a friend of Rainbow Dash would need to get involved?

“Starlight Glimmer. Personal student and Magus to the Princess, which is kind of odd given the Princess can already cast some incredibly intricate and powerful spells. Interesting mare with a bit of a checkered past. She was liaising with us while we were in Canterlot, and she actually seemed to like the fact that we brought some stuff we weren’t supposed to,” Chris detailed with a chuckle. “I don’t get how it works, but if the stuff her spell is cast on is magically probed or taken too far away from their owners—us—the enchantment is triggered.

“It’ll send up a massive magical flare that Starlight said every griffon magus ‘within thirty leagues’ would sense instantly. The intensity of the flare would also disable the magic of any nearby mage by overloading their casting tool, whether it was a horn or stave or something else,” Tara further explained. “The items would then automatically teleport back to us, and if unable to do so, would self-destruct by melting or burning. That was our way of making sure none of our toys or tech would get stolen.”

“Really? Wow,” Fortrakt said in some amazement. “I’m no Magus, but that sounds like a pretty complex incantation.”

“I’ll, uh, take your word for it. I think the Marines did something similar, only with different parameters. In their case, from what some of the younger Marines let slip, Princess Twilight herself cast the spells,” Chris concluded.

“Nice,” Gilda granted, suddenly gaining a sly grin even as she wondered what they were hiding. So that’s why Captain Moran wasn’t surprised that the Ibexian adepts hadn’t left the city—he knew they couldn’t without triggering the enchantments. And that’s also why he warned us not to examine their equipment, she realized, relishing being able to tell the Senior Sparrow about them later—she didn’t know what magical tricks the Council of Crows had up their wings, but she was reasonably certain that they weren’t smarter or more magically adept than Twilight Sparkle.

“Wait—how far away would they have to be removed for the beacon to go off?” Fortrakt asked excitedly. “The Ravens might be able to use that to narrow the search!”

“Well, we can’t speak for the Marines, but since we didn’t want it to be triggered accidentally just because we left a bag behind at a restaurant or something, we asked for five miles and a thirty-minute delay,” Marco said apologetically. “That’s why we didn’t complain much when the Paladins asked for our stuff before entering the Hall of Heroes.”

“Great. So that only encompasses most of Arnau,” Gilda’s excitement quickly ebbed after she mentally translated the distance into leagues. “I don’t suppose this ‘Starlight Glimmer’ gave you a way to trigger that magical flare remotely?”

“Unfortunately, no. She said that in order to keep the enchantments hidden, its magical shroud had to be opaque in both directions, only reacting to an attempt to breach it. That’s probably why they couldn’t leave the city, though,” Chris mused, echoing Gilda’s earlier thinking. “The Ibex detected the enchantments and their nature. They didn’t want to leave without our stuff but also couldn’t without figuring out how to deactivate the spells. They weren’t able to, so they’re stuck now.”

“I guess so,” Marco said as he pulled out a separate, smaller portal device from his bag. “They also didn’t get my backup hard drive or tablet—guess there was only so much they could carry at once. I can still play movies, music and other videos off this, but I don’t have my full library and it’ll be a little slower to respond.”

“That’s something, I guess,” Tara granted, sitting down tiredly on the right-side couch. “I’m still too queasy to eat, too weak to walk, and I don’t want to sleep after being out for days on end. Looks like we won’t be leaving for a while. So, what should we do?” she asked them all.

“I don’t know,” Chris admitted, slumping down on the leftmost sofa in defeat—whatever state the room had been left in, Gilda noted had been tidied up by the Caleponian cleaning staff, leaving her not wanting to imagine what mess they’d left them with and what they’d been thinking as they cleaned up the aftermath of the night. “Any thoughts, Marco?”

“Just the usual one.” He shrugged, turning on his backup device. “Guess we’re stuck here for a while and have to make the best of it. No fancy food or even going outside until we’ve recovered more, too. Our options are limited, and that being the case, how about we watch a movie…?”