Author's Note

Hey, folks. As part of the story being boosted to M-rated, welcome to the new M-rated chapter 22. If you prefer the original T-rated version, go here:

22: Know Thy Ally (T-rated version)

Chapter Contains: Gilda x Marco/Chris/Tara reaching second base (i.e., heavy petting and groping of various human and griffon attributes), including some slightly involuntary exhibitionism, cider-induced cock and breast/teat growth, and a threatened four-way.

Original Author’s Note follows:

Welcome back, folks, as the writing charge on Feathered Hearts continues. This is another long-awaited chapter readers have been waiting for, containing our three favorite civvies teaching Gilda about the firearm facts of life. You’ve already got the content warning, so here’s the boilerplate:

This chapter is a heavily rewritten version of the second half of Feathered Heart: Chapter 7, borrowing some large chunks of dialog and detail modified to accommodate the updated story. Regardless, you are not only invited but strongly encouraged to check out the original if you haven’t already, as it inspired many of my own works.

—Firesight

22: Know Thy Ally (M-rated)

Giraldi looked a little lost as Imlay moved off. “Did I miss something, Centurion?”

“A loophole,” Gilda replied placidly. “I’ll take care of it. In the meantime, keep talking to Imlay. See if you can work out with him how we can combine our formations so that we don’t accidentally cross claws. Just don’t ask him about human weapons. I’ll get back to you shortly on that.”

Giraldi stared at her for a moment before giving her a sharp salute and baring his neck. “By your command.” He waited until she returned the respect before he began barking orders, instructing two nearby Auxilias to dispose of the rotting corpse.

Just as Gilda was about to leave, she spotted Decanus Nydia off by herself again. Gilda guessed she was trying but failing to meditate given her glowing staff was not steady where it floated, and her expression kept shifting along with her anything-but-settled thoughts.

Gilda knew she needed answers on human weaponry. But she also needed to make sure her soldiers, especially her sole surviving Magus, were fit to fight as well.

“Decanus?” she called out as she approached, but Nydia did not seem to immediately hear her. “How are you doing?” she asked as she got closer, to which the hawk-headed eagless suddenly snapped her eyes open.

They went wide as they locked on Gilda, followed by her leaping up and saluting crisply. “Centurion,” she offered in greeting, though she was unable to keep her voice level. “How may I serve?”

“Decanus,” Gilda said again as she thumped her chest back. “You may serve by seeing to your own needs right now. I just wanted to let you know that you fought very well during the battle. We might have lost many of the Marines and human civilians to lightning if not for your defense against the two corrupted Magi.”

“Thank you, sir,” Nydia acknowledged quietly with a bared throat. “But…” Her beak quivered again as tears glimmered in her eyes.

Gilda’s face softened. “I overheard the Ravens say that you had to fight First Stave Tunica up there. I’m sorry, but for what it’s worth; that wasn’t the First Stave. Just a crow-accursed Cloven parasite wearing him like a shell. There was nothing you could do for him, and no way to bring him back. For he was already dead, and his broken body but a puppet under Cloven control. So you must let him go.”

“I know, sir, but…” She visibly struggled to control her emotions. “It still hurts.”

To Gilda’s surprise, the knowledge that some of her soldiers were suffering even worse than her after the battle gave her the impetus to master her own still-roiled emotions, knowing that as their leader, they needed her to be strong so they could draw strength from her in turn.

“I know it does, Decanus. And I wish I could take that hurt away, but I can’t. We need you at full strength, and your mind unclouded. You have a little time before we set off again, so my orders are to rest and recharge as much as you can,” Gilda instructed, then glanced at the sewn-up wound on her side. “Will that… scratch… hinder you?”

“Yes, sir. And no, sir.” The Magus Knight glanced towards where the Marines had gone, then shook her head. She sat on her haunches and took a meditative pose again, her glowing staff floating above her. “I will be fine and fit for duty. I simply request some time alone.”

“You’ll have it,” Gilda promised, deciding she would ask Imlay to order his Marines to stay away from Nydia for a bit.

“Centurion,” a new voice addressed her; she turned to see Spear Jade Jumentum saluting her. “Forgive me for asking, but I must know—do you still wish me to carry the human? You would understand that I would greatly prefer not to.”

“No,” Gilda answered emphatically. “Because the Decanus says Mister Raleigh can walk, and I now need you on the front line after the loss of…” Gilda’s voice trailed off as she suddenly realized that the Spear was the only earth griffon she had remaining other than Giraldi; the other four had been lost to the initial Cloven ambush along with their heavier axes, crossbows and shields. “I’m sorry, Spear. They deserved a far better end than a cowardly Cloven attack.”

“They did not even get the chance to fight, sir. Nor did I,” Spear Jumentum hung her head in shame. “I felt completely useless in the battle, able only to shield the Ambassador’s aide. I could not even fire a single bolt because every enemy that attacked was felled so swiftly by the humans.”

“Such were my orders,” Gilda reminded the larger eagless, “and you carried them out. You did your duty, and you were far from the only one who felt useless. One or two crossbow bolts cannot even begin to match the power of human weapons,” she said pensively, then raised her eyes to her sole surviving earth griffon Spear.

“We will both have plenty of opportunities to fight and avenge our fallen. So keep your bow loaded and wits sharp, Guardsgriffon. We will likely need them before this day is done.”

“By your command.” Spear Jumentum saluted, going off towards the humans at Gilda’s instructions to inform Imlay that Nydia was to be left alone. And when she was done with that, she was to report to Giraldi, seeking a new assignment.

After watching her leave, Gilda made her way towards Chris, Tara and Marco, who had sat down on a group of rocks within a slightly concealed alcove to tend their weapons. She wasn’t sure what maintenance they required, but they appeared to be cleaning them somehow; Chris had run a long rod with a white cloth wetted with something down the tube of his wood-covered cannon that came back covered in black. She could see the same effect on Marco’s “A-R”, which he had surprisingly taken apart and was withdrawing a slightly complicated looking cylindrical assembly from.

Gilda hadn’t seen the cleaning supplies they were using before, so she guessed they had come out of a separate storage gem. They were talking in low tones as she got closer; the first fireflies of the early evening helping to illuminate the area around them.

“—should have made you guys stay in Arnau,” Marco whispered as Gilda got close enough to hear them over the background chatter of cawing crows, singing crickets and croaking frogs. “Then at least you’d be safe from all this insanity.”

“Marco, I swear to God, if you don’t get off the emo-train, I’m going to hit you even harder than I did Ricardo,” Tara replied shortly as she rapidly disassembled her ‘pistol’, her exasperation surprisingly strong considering that the last time Gilda saw her, she was crying in Fortrakt’s embrace. Her armor was off now, sitting on the ground beside her, though Chris and Marco hadn’t removed theirs.

“If we weren’t here, you and the Marines would be down two rifles and probably dead from that fight! We’re a team, and more importantly, we’re friends who stand by each other through thick and thin. The ponies taught us all about friendship, remember?”

“Yeah, well, they think it’s magical,” Chris said in clipped tones. “But me? Staying together and seeing each other off is just something friends do.”

“Hey, at least we get to stay together in the Kingdom now,” Marco noted with a weak chuckle. “I wonder what Reyes and the other guys back in Arnau are doing? Have they been attacked yet? Do they even know what’s happening to us out here?”

“I’m sure they do,” Tara said, her tone still tense. “But I’m more worried about the ponies right now. Do they know what’s happening? Can they send help?” she wondered aloud, to which Gilda could only roll her eyes as she got near. “I don’t even want to think of what would happen if they had to face this.”

Me neither. The PONIES facing the Cloven? Or sending HELP? By all my Ancestors, that’ll be the day! she thought derisively as Marco noticed her first and hailed her.

“Hey, Gilda,” he greeted, causing Tara and Chris to look up and turn towards her. “Hell of a day, huh?”

“I guess that’s one word for it…” she said wanly as she entered the alcove and sat down on his left between him and Tara. “How are you three doing?”

“A little better,” Tara told her. “We thought we were ready for this, Gilda, but we weren’t even close. And the Marines do this as a profession!?” She fumbled her pistol briefly, then grimaced, snatching it up from the ground and running her rag reverently over it to remove the fresh dirt. “I have a lot more respect for my grandfather now. Especially since…” Her hand stilled as she gazed off into the distance again.

Gilda wasn’t sure what that was about, but she offered what comfort she could, deciding to take after Fortrakt. She laid a set of reassuring talons on Tara’s upper back where a griffon’s wingbase would be, rubbing the area gently.

“Be proud and stand tall, Tara. You heard Corporal Imlay and the Chief—you all fought superbly. And I’m here to say it as well,” she told them and meant it, finding that after seeing them fight and having her life saved by them, she felt closer than ever to not just Marco, but all three of her former civilian charges. “Your actions were honorable, and like Giraldi said, it’s likely none of us would have survived the fight if you three weren’t here.”

“He’s probably exaggerating, but thanks, Gilda. So how’s Fortrakt doing?” Chris asked in concern with a nod back over towards him. “I mean, he seemed okay, but who knows…?”

“He’s fine,” she promised them, feeling Tara’s continued trembling even through the tough fabric she was now wearing. “He commanded the aerial battle well, so I’m leaving him in charge of our flyers. We lost five in the attack.”

Tara slumped further and sniffled. “I’m sorry, Gilda. We did our best.”

Gilda shook her head as she gave Tara’s shoulder a squeeze. I’m blaming myself for not doing enough, and yet even after taking out a slew of corrupted Cloven and saving all our lives, these three are blaming THEMSELVES? She wondered what she’d done to earn such honorable humans as friends, praying she would yet prove worthy of them. “Thank you, but it wasn’t your fault, Tara—none of this was. They did their duty and made their Ancestors proud.”

“It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died,” Chris sat up a bit straighter as he laid his own hand on Tara’s opposite shoulder, speaking in an air like he was quoting someone. “Rather, we should thank God that such men lived.”

Though a griffon wouldn’t have phrased it that way, Gilda got the meaning well enough and found herself nodding in agreement. “Well said, whoever that was. We can honor our fallen later, but for now, I need some information from you three.” She forced herself to release Tara’s shoulder, even though she didn’t wish to. She found it felt oddly comfortable and even reassuring to touch her there despite—or was it because of? —the normally taboo nature of the act to griffons.

“Information?” they echoed as one, giving her their undivided attention. “About what?” Chris prompted.

“Your weapons,” she said after only a brief hesitation. “Imlay said that military personnel were not allowed to discuss them. But he seemed to be trying to tell me indirectly that as civilians, you could…?”

They exchanged another series of looks before answering. “We made a promise that we wouldn’t, but…” Chris trailed off.

“But, I couldn’t care less about that now,” Tara finished, leaving Gilda relieved that the human woman was finally starting to sound more herself again. “They broke our trust and tried to get us all booted out. At this point, I care more about the Kingdom than our civilian and Marine leadership, so I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, Gilda.”

“No, girl, you won’t,” Marco told her firmly. “At least, not alone.”

“Marco—”

“Like Chris said, we’re a team, Tara. Moran and Goldberg already hate me, and there’s nothing more they can do to me if I spill the beans. Just like you, I’ll do anything I can to help protect the Kingdom and Gilda here. And if Raleigh objects, then he can go kiss my fucking flank!” he abruptly raised his voice as his eyes looked over Gilda’s shoulder and hardened into a glare.

At first, Gilda couldn’t help but smile at the way he so effectively combined a human curse with a pony word. She blushed as she found herself smitten with both him and Tara anew for their fervent declarations of loyalty, but then she realized that Marco had in fact directed his last remark behind her. Following his gaze, she turned to see Raleigh standing there at the entrance to the alcove, no longer bothering with his crutches.

“You’re not supposed to be talking with her, Lakan,” he said weakly, to which all three of them just stared. “Especially about our weapons. So please don’t.”

Marco’s glare hardened further. “Do you really think I give even a single fuck about that now, Raleigh?” he asked acidly.

“Do you really think any of us do?” Chris added angrily. “You can go fuck the hell off. The Ambassador’s orders mean shit out here.”

“When we get back, you three are going to be in big trouble,” Raleigh replied. His words earned a series of snorts and eyerolls as Gilda, to her own surprise, decided to remain silent and let her friends deal with the insulting and useless human.

“Oh, really? Well, here’s a news flash, Mister High-and-Mighty Ambassadorial Aide—we don’t even get back unless we and the griffies can work together. And working together means we tell them about our weapons,” Tara emphatically declared.

“But even if that weren’t the case, you and Goldberg have made it amply clear you don’t give so much as a single fuck about us, so we don’t have any reason to obey you now. Thanks to your Marco-hating hack of a superior caring more about his standing with Dana Carraway’s Senator daddy than me, the Kingdom is my home now, and I’ll gladly tell the griffons whatever they want to know.”

“Seconded,” Chris growled as Gilda found herself reminded of all the reasons she liked Tara at once. “For the record, all you and Goldberg ever had to do was treat us with a little respect. Instead, he couldn’t wait to shove us out the door. And for what?” he asked in a disgusted air. “Because Marco spoke out of turn a couple times? Because we embarrassed the Ambassador in Equestria by not remembering which fork to use for our salad in front of Prince Blueblood at a state dinner?”

“That’s not—”

“For the record, you will be walking from here on out, Mister Raleigh,” Gilda could stay silent no longer, not wanting to abide the overweight aide’s presence. “Your leg is clearly healed, so I will not spare a soldier for you after the losses we suffered. I suggest you rest, as we will be making a rapid march to a steadholt soon.”

“But… I…”

“What’s wrong, Raleigh? You could use the exercise,” Tara teased with an unpleasant expression, to which the portly, pale-skinned human turned away and hobbled off in defeat.

Exhaling slowly as she began to run a small square of fabric down the detached tube of her hip-mounted L-shaped weapon, Tara turned back to Gilda. “Sorry about that. So what do you want to know, Gilda?”

“Everything,” Gilda said in some embarrassment, her cheeks warming again. “I mean, I had already guessed your cannons weren’t melee weapons as we had initially thought, but I had no idea how powerful they truly were.”

The three stopped and stared at her as Marco gave a lopsided smile. “‘Melee weapons’, Gilda? Really?”

Gilda blushed. “The only infantry shooting weapons we knew of were crossbows, and we didn’t see any arrows or quivers with your tubes. They were nothing we could recognize as ranged weapons, and the thought that they could be miniature airship cannons didn’t enter our heads until… well, two days ago,” she pointed out in some embarrassment.

“True,” Marco conceded. “Actually, you can use these as melee weapons—they’ve got some pretty strong striking surfaces and it could do some serious damage to be hit with one. But needless to say, that’s not their main purpose.”

“So I saw,” Gilda said weakly. “Look—I won’t force any of you to divulge this information. You said you took an oath of secrecy, and I respect that. That makes it a question of honor, and neither I nor any griffon would hold it against you if you decided to stick to it.”

“Honor.” Tara repeated the word with a shake of her head, then sighed again as she glanced at the rag she’d been running through her tube, frowning at how dark with grit and ash it was. “Nothing that happened to us from the Ibex attack to Goldberg and Moran treating us like shit was honorable, Gilda. We only stayed silent to help the Marines. And Marines like Reyes or Nantz are the only reason I’d hold back from telling you now.”

“Except we wouldn’t be helping them by holding that information back,” Chris pointed out as he gave his much longer tube a second swab with a long rod and small soaked cloth, which came back much less dirty than the first. “Not now. You heard her—she needs to know how our weapons work and what they can do so we can work together. I know the Marines are too anal to disobey orders. But we aren’t beholden to them.”

“You’re right,” Marco agreed as he continued wiping down the pieces of the cylinder, setting each cleaned component of it carefully aside on a rag. “Sounds like it’s unanimous, Gilda. At this point, we have no reason to stay silent. We’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

“Thank you.” She bared her throat at them. “And if you don’t want the Ambassador to find out you talked to us, I’ll just deny it when Raleigh claims we did. I’ll say that I already figured out the basics even before we ended up out here, which is true enough. I can also tell them I worked out the rest by observation and what I overheard.”

Chris blinked. “Really?”

She gave him a small smile. “You and the Marines fed me a lot of information when they came over to look at your personal cannons. That alone would make for a massive intelligence report—if I was still writing them, that is.”

“Still spying on us, eh?” Marco said with a grin. “Moran will be mad.”

“So he will. And the problem is…?” Tara challenged him; even Gilda found her feathers ruffling and tail lashing once at the Captain’s mention.

“No problem at all,” Marco chuckled. “So what do you want to know, Gilda?”

“The main thing is the effective range and hitting power of your cannons, and whatever limitations they have.” She paused. “Though, a little background on their origin and history of use would be nice, too.”

Chris raised an eyebrow. “Their history? That’ll take a bit longer to explain,” he said as he continued cleaning his wood-wrapped weapon. “Why do you want to know that?”

“Because we have nothing close in range or power to what the Marines—and you—are holding right now.” Gilda pointed at their varied tubes. She shivered as she remembered the acrid burning smell of the air, the thunderous and occasionally deafening cracks, and the falling of the many corrupted beasts and griffons coming at them. “It is…” she trailed off.

“Impressive?” Marco supplied with a grin. “Amazing? Stupendous?”

“Terrifying,” Gilda finished with a soft whisper, looking down to the ground as her words caused the three humans to fall silent. “And a little disheartening. We thought the Gryphon Kingdom was the preeminent military power of Tellus. And now…”

She pointed to Marco’s ‘A-R’ again. “That one weapon you hold is equal to at least an entire decade of griffon soldiers. Maybe even a Turma. So please tell me—where did it come from? How did humans develop it?”

“It’s only powerful when properly employed,” Marco said with a nod, hefting his cannon for a moment. “Imlay’s right that if you’re untrained in their use, they’re dangerous to both yourself and others. As for where they came from… historically speaking, the gun itself, or ‘firearm’ as we also call them, is a relatively new weapon. Or at least, the concept of it is.”

Gilda leaned a little closer. “How new?”

“Well, let’s see…” He visibly thought for a moment as he idly reassembled the cylinder construct and applied what appeared to be a form of oil to parts of its surface. “The first known evidence of a gun was around one thousand years ago.”

Gilda blinked. “One thousand years ago is relatively new?”

“Considering we’ve been using blades, bows, and other non-gunpowder-based weapons for many thousands of years? Yeah, it’s relatively new,” Chris picked up the chain of thought from there. “Even as late as two hundred years ago, these weapons had generally very limited range and an extended reload time. You were lucky to fire three shots a minute or hit a target outside of fifty yards, and that was only if you were very well-trained.”

“What changed?”

“Warfare changed,” Marco rubbed his eyes as Tara stayed silent, still concentrating on cleaning her pistol. “First, we came up with breech loading, which made the process of readying a single round to fire much quicker. Then we rifled the barrels—what you call our ‘tubes’—which dramatically increased their accuracy and rendered existing infantry tactics obsolete, though the Generals of the day were very slow to understand that.”

“Then they figured out how to make rifles or pistols repeating instead of single shot. By the time of my nation’s Civil War some one hundred sixty years ago, we had six-shot ‘revolvers’ and even rifles that could hold seven rounds, though only officers or a few elite units were equipped with them,” Chris continued the story.

“And then, fifty years later, the first of two world wars began, and with it, the first common use of continually firing weapons—also called ‘machine guns’. Lethality soared but infantry tactics were very slow to change, and the result was literally millions of casualties in the trench warfare of the western front,” Chris said grimly, the number causing Gilda’s stomach to clench. But she decided she would not ask for an explanation or context, given she didn’t want to endure any further blows to her still-reeling psyche. “It was a very ugly time in humanity’s history. But worse was yet to come.”

“Sometimes I think gunpowder was one of the worst things humanity ever invented,” Tara said sadly. “It’s been the cause of so much death and destruction over the centuries. But also at the root of a lot of our advancements,” she quickly granted in turn.

The question of how old human civilization actually was came to Gilda’s mind, but she put it away for another time. “Gunpowder?” she focused on the strange word. “What’s that?”

She could see all three humans were considering their responses carefully before Marco spoke, after exchanging additional glances with Chris and Tara. “That’s hard to explain. So before I try, let me ask: do you have explosive powders in your world?” he inquired as he slid the oiled cylindrical assembly back into his gun with a light rasping sound.

Gilda frowned. “In some forms, yes. We use pulverized explosive crystal dust to propel projectiles from our airship cannons, which are mostly Minotaur-made. The Minotaurs also use them to make fireworks. Expensive stuff, though, and very dangerous to both create and keep. It’s actually safer to store it in large quantities instead of small.”

“Why is that?” Tara asked.

“Because even when refined, crystal dust is unstable. It has to be carefully contained and shielded to prevent it from being detonated by environmental factors or hostile mages. There are stories of fires created by the stuff when it was improperly stored, and even an occasion when the Ibex brought down one of our airship flotillas by triggering all the gem dust in them to explode in their cannons and storage areas,” she recalled in some anger, deciding not to also mention that the Kingdom had exacted a very heavy price for that operation, razing an Ascendency border base in retaliation and sending the Ravens to sabotage an equal number of Ibexian airships.

“They did? Shit. Sounds like magical black powder,” Marco mused, leaving her lost again. “Our initial version of explosive powder, called black powder, was very volatile as well. Over time we refined it, making it much less dangerous. But back in the day, firing one of these ‘cannons’, which were called muskets back then, required a succession of steps. First, you had to stand the musket upright to pour gunpowder down the barrel and then shove a metal ball down to the bottom, using a long rod.”

He pantomimed the action with his AR, which seemed to involve biting something off and dumping the contents of an imaginary container into the top of the tube, followed by jamming something down it. He then raised his rifle back to level. “And once you did that, then you added a percussion cap to a spring-loaded striker just above the trigger. It basically caused a spark when it struck metal that ignited the powder, which then propelled the ball down the barrel and out. If I could pull out my laptop, I’d show you a video of it.”

“Sounds like a lot of work for a single shot. How good were they?” Gilda asked.

“Not very,” Chris admitted. “In the days of smoothbore muskets, the effective range was less than a hundred yards. To fight with them, opposing forces formed battle lines where they would volley fire at each other to whittle their enemy’s numbers down, and then try to break their enemy’s line with a charge. These ‘muskets’ would also be fitted with a long blade at the end, called a bayonet, to make it a stabbing weapon.” He then mimicked a thrusting motion with his wooden rifle.

“But since then, guns have steadily advanced to make such tactics obsolete. Our rounds—that’s what we call individual projectiles, or ‘bullets’—are now in a single and surprisingly simple package. Take a look.” Marco ejected the quiver from his reassembled cannon—this time, she saw the button he pressed to do so—and showed her the top of it, through which the long and tapered cylinders were visible. They looked to be almost gold-colored at the base but turned more of a copper hue at the top.

“Here,” he made a quick motion with his thumb talon that popped a single cylinder free and offered it to her. Seeing her reluctance, he smiled. “Don’t worry, it’s safe to hold. It won’t go off unless you smash the base of it with a hammer or something. You’d have to really try. It’s okay. Just take it.”

Stealing herself, she did so. To her great surprise, she found it was ludicrously light, sitting very placidly in her talons. “So this is a…” She couldn’t remember the word he used.

“Bullet,” Marco and Chris chorused before the former went on. “Our arrows. Or cannonballs, if you prefer, but they’re not balls any more. They’re pointed metal, as you can see, to allow greater penetration and much more stability in flight. My gun, or rifle, is basically just a tool that launches a bullet towards its intended target and then cycles immediately for another shot. There’s nothing magical about it; it’s all machinery combined with chemistry and physics as well as centuries of steadily improving designs.”

Gilda gave Marco a look as she studied the metal projectile. “This small thing is what did all the damage? How? Even if I flung that from a crossbow, it doesn’t look like it would wound an armored griffon. It’s too small.”

Marco grinned. “Well, when it travels faster than the speed of sound, it doesn’t need to be big. It’ll hit with the force of Giraldi’s hammer over a very narrow area, punching through all but the toughest armor—which, by the way, your Paladins had.” He shivered for a moment.

Gilda was about to ask how his initial rounds failed to penetrate Paladin armor but his subsequent ones did after he switched quivers, but then she blinked. “Wait—these travel faster than the speed of sound?”

“Yeah,” Chris replied. “Sorry if I forget the exact velocity, but that’s where the crack comes from. It’s making a sonic boom.”

“I’m aware of the speed of sound,” Gilda said shortly. “And sonic rainbooms.”

That got Tara to look up. “Rainbooms?” she repeated the word like it was unfamiliar.

“I had this friend back in Equestria,” Gilda began, looking away. “She trained hard so she could do a… well, to fly as fast as that.”

Tara hesitated before speaking. “Would that be your ‘Dashie’?” she guessed as she started reassembling her pistol, which Gilda vaguely recalled had been referred to as a “nineteen-eleven.”

The young eagless closed her eyes tightly shut in pain, guessing that the only reason they didn’t recognize ‘Dashie’ as Rainbow Dash was because most humans still thought her name was Rainbow Streak. She wasn’t about to correct them, though. “Yes,” she confirmed. “She wanted to be not just the fastest, but the very best there was.”

“Really? Wow,” Marco replied, studying her carefully as he snapped the two halves of his cleaned weapon back together. “Did she succeed?”

“Yes. She did.” Gilda sighed, finding all her regrets flooding back now that she was looking at the very real chance of dying in the next few days. If not hours.

Marco stared at her for a moment. “I’m sorry, Gilds. Is this a bad topic?”

“A little bit,” she admitted as she shook her head, “but it’s not important right now. So, I have to ask—how by all the Crows of the Kingdom can this little thing travel faster than the speed of sound?” she wanted to know as she passed him back the ‘bullet’.

“The same way our old muskets worked, and I imagine the same way your airship cannons do,” Chris said as Marco added the round back to his quiver with a sharp click. “Explosive powder propels it at great force down the tube and out.”

“But… where’s the powder?” she asked in bewilderment.

Chris’s grin got broader as he removed one of his larger rounds from its rail—she remembered they called it a ‘stripper clip’—and passed it to her. “Oh, it’s there. Hold the bullet to your ear and shake it.”

She did so and was surprised to hear a faint sifting sound within it. “The powder is inside?”

“Inside the brass casing, yes,” he confirmed with a grin at her befuddled expression. “And at the base of the brass is a modern percussion cap called a ‘primer’. It creates a spark when struck by a small pin which is released when I pull the trigger. That ignites the powder, which in turn launches the bullet down the tube and out. Given the bullet’s small size and weight, it doesn’t take much of that powder to rapidly accelerate it to high speed, since almost all the force of the explosion is focused directly down the length of the ‘cannon’, as you call it.”

“By the time it leaves the tube, it’s already breaking the sound barrier. And anything struck by it… well, you already saw what happens,” Marco finished.

“I saw.” Gilda confirmed with a shiver. “So you’re telling me that you use a small amount of explosive powder already contained in these things to blast the metal tip outwards at the speed of sound?”

“Yup,” Marco replied with a nod. “That’s pretty much it. The rest is just simple physics. Low mass plus very high speed equals severe damage to living bodies when they strike.”

Gilda could only shake her head at the explanation. “That’s…”

“Incredible?” Marco suggested, finally smiling again.

“Insane,” she told him, causing his expression to drop. “I didn’t know this until recently, but we experimented with these weapons ourselves unsuccessfully a long time ago. From the sound of it, what we produced was like what your weapons used to be—limited range; very slow rate of fire. So they were considered completely impractical for how we fought.”

To Gilda’s annoyance, that got Chris and Marco laughing while Tara gave a smile as well. “Yeah, I guess Napoleonic musketry tactics wouldn’t be worth much if you’re a flying race used to crossbows and blades,” Marco agreed. “Especially if you can close quickly with an enemy by air and are very good at mixing it up at melee range. And yeah, I guess it can be a little insane. But then again, humans have invented plenty of stuff that people thought were crazy or outright impossible until we got it working. The gun is just one of those.”

She could only shake her head in disbelief at his words—for all they had already created, was anything impossible to humans?—but also realized that wasn’t as important right now as the information she needed. “Okay, so all these ‘firearms’ you and the Marines wield work like that?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Marco confirmed. “There are some differences, though. Our weapons are only what’s called semi-automatic, which means one trigger pull, one shot. The Marine rifles can fire in three-round bursts or go ‘full-auto’ like Brennan’s over there. That means his rifle—its designation is the M249 Squad Automatic Weapon, I think—can fire continuously without pause as long as he holds down the trigger. Or at least until his ammo runs out,” he added as an afterthought.

“With some few exceptions, civilian weapons are not allowed to be more than semi-auto,” Chris spoke again. “So for Marco’s variant, it can only fire bullets as fast as he can pull the trigger. But for most purposes, that’s enough. In fact, going full-auto is often not of any benefit because the recoil quickly reduces accuracy and makes you waste your rounds. They sometimes call that ‘spray and pray.’”

“Interesting. But that’s the other thing…” She tapped Marco’s disconnected quiver with a talon. “How many ‘rounds’ do those quivers hold?

Marco grinned again as he held his detached quiver up. “This one is a standard size for the Marine M-4 and my AR-15. It holds thirty rounds, though I was told by someone knowledgeable not to fill it all the way. So I keep it two rounds short to protect the spring inside. That spring is what shoves the remaining rounds upwards into the barrel as the ones ahead of it are fired.”

“So twenty-eight rounds per quiver…” Gilda muttered, feeling faint again; her own crossbow quiver held only twenty-four bolts.

His grin got broader. “Yes, though we don’t call them that. They’re actually called ‘magazines’.” he tapped the metal again. “And I have some high-capacity ones that double my load, at the cost of making my rifle heavier and possibly more likely to jam.”

She looked up. “Jam?”

“Yeah. Every once in a while, you get a round that misfires or sticks, which means it doesn’t fire or eject properly, getting trapped in the chamber. Thankfully, that didn’t happen here, but if it does, I have to clear the round—manually eject it and load the next round—or my rifle’s worthless as anything but a blunt weapon,” Marco explained.

“That’s why we’re cleaning and lubing these. Doing so frequently helps to prevent problems. If too many rounds are fired without cleaning, the barrel becomes fouled with carbon buildup—smoke and ash from the burning powder, basically.” Chris showed her a rag from his rifle now smeared with black and smelling of an odd oil. “If that happens, they jam, which can be lethal in a battle and leave you with nothing more than a big metal stick.”

“Blunt weapon…” Gilda had a sudden urge to laugh as she recalled again how they’d initially thought the human cannons were melee arms. “So how far do your bullets reach?”

“Well, the ones out of my AR can travel around three kilometers, but this class of rifle isn’t accurate at that range,” Marco replied. “Speaking for myself, I can reliably hit a human-sized target at two hundred meters. The Marines, I’m sure, have much better accuracy than me thanks to their training. They could probably double that range and could fire even further out if they just want to blanket an area with bullets.”

Gilda blinked. “What’s a ‘kilometer’?”

Marco blinked in turn. “Oh… right. I guess the Romans didn’t use metric,” he said slightly nonsensically as he began to look around. “Hmm, let’s see… notice those trees over there?” he asked, pointing towards a woodland area to her left.

Turning her head, Gilda’s eyes locked on the woodline, which she instantly ascertained was a bit short of half a league out. “Yes.”

“They’re roughly a kilometer away,” Marco said. “Well, more or less. So, yeah, half the distance, and you get the rifle’s effective range for a single target.”

One of Gilda’s eyes widened. Their best crossbows could only travel a tenth of that distance, and only if a griffon was grounded and in a stable firing position. But that distance? And hit enemy soldiers accurately?

“Of course, most of the time, they’d just engage at fifty meters or so,” Chris added. “I think because they’re usually on the move. And that’s only the standard issue rifles the Marines are given. They have Designated Marksman Rifles they give to particularly good shots. Though I don’t think they call them that anymore.”

“Then a designated marksman is someone who can shoot far?” Gilda guessed, wondering why Tara was remaining mostly silent when she’d been so adamant about answering any questions the griffons had.

“You got it,” Marco replied with a nod. “They’re equipped with special rifles that have longer barrels, heavier rounds, and better optics to see and hit targets at extended range. Those are designed to kill enemy soldiers past the half a kilometer mark, or even further. Heck, we have people called ‘snipers’ that can hit targets in that treeline and beyond. From what Henderson was saying, she’s trained as one.”

“I hope she trains me,” Chris said eagerly. “Because I’d love to be able to hit targets that far out.”

“I see,” Gilda muttered, getting a little lost. She shook her head, trying to remember what else she needed to know. “Okay, so how powerful are they exactly? These ‘bullets’ you fire?”

“That really depends on the kind of bullets,” Marco said patiently; the more he spoke, the more Gilda noticed he seemed to be settling down and recovering from the battle.

“For the 5.56 millimeter rounds that the Marines and I are using, they can penetrate over a quarter inch of steel. More than that if I switch to my armor-piercing rounds, which are denser and have a metal rod inside them to increase penetration power. That’s how I took out that last Paladin.” He shivered for a moment. “Damn near fumbled that reload twice, though…”

“Quarter inch…” Gilda repeated to herself, suddenly thinking that all the armor she wore and had become so proud of had just become a liability. A mere impediment to motion that wouldn’t protect her in battle with human weapons.

“I mean, a fourth of an inch—oh, right. That’s another measure you probably wouldn’t know,” Marco granted, though this time, she did know it given the ponies used it. Nevertheless, she said nothing as she watched Marco make a length between his thumb and finger; the distance he left between them confirmed to her the measures matched.

She swallowed hard. She didn’t know how different human steel was compared to the griffon or Minotaurian types, but if it was the same, then those bullets could penetrate any unenchanted armor the Kingdom had short of the Paladins without any problem. Ancestors, they would get through anything short of heavy Fortis Knight shields as well!

“Then there’s also the other weapons they brought,” Chris noted. “Remember that explosion that took out the mage?”

Gilda nodded, trying not to shiver in turn. “Was that also a bullet?”

“Well, no. That’s called a grenade,” he replied. “Remember when we said guns use small directed explosions to launch a bullet out the tube? Grenades are basically explosive handheld devices tossed by soldiers, or in certain cases, launched from a larger tube.”

“Generally, squad and fire team leaders are equipped with a second undermount tube on their M-4 rifles that can fire 40mm grenades,” Marco added. “That’s what he used. I think soldiers equipped with them are called ‘grenadiers’, and they give the squad an added punch when needed. They only have a limited number of those, though.”

“I see.” For the first time, Gilda finally found a human weapon with a griffon equivalent. “We use explosive gems for the same purpose. And some of our crossbow bolts are even tipped with them.” She brought out a ruby-tipped arrow from her back-mounted quiver to show them. “This is one of them. Just don’t hit the arrowhead or smash it against anything hard, or it will go off.”

“Gotcha,” Marco said, holding it carefully away from the end as he inspected the sharp crystal tip. “I wouldn’t want to be hit by this, either. My armor might take it, but it would still fragment in my face.” He passed it to Chris for inspection next.

“That’s part of the way it works,” Gilda conceded. “What about your armor? That’s not metal.” She pointed at Marco’s vest.

He rapped it with his knuckles. “Not entirely, no. It’s called composite armor, made of a mixture of metal and specially designed ceramics—and no, it’s not going to just shatter like a teacup!” He laughed at the look on her face.

“I couldn’t tell you how it works, but it’s designed to stop most pistol and rifle bullets, and it will—to a point. Certain bullet types are designed to penetrate it—I have a few with me. Chris’s old rifle might do it even without them, given it fires much larger and more powerful rounds. But even if not, I still don’t want to get hit, because the impact of a bullet alone will knock me back and hurt like hell.

“And you also notice not all of me is protected—just the vital areas. I’m not an earth griffon like Giraldi—too much more of this armor, and I wouldn’t be able to walk!” He chuckled as Gilda couldn’t help but stifle a smile.

“Thanks for sharing all this, Chris and Marco. It’s enough for now—you’ve told me so much that I don’t even know if I can remember it all. Maybe we can use it to find a way to fight together that won’t have you or your Marines shooting us by accident.”

Marco nodded as he reloaded his detached quiver with a sharp click. “We did pretty well before. I don’t know the answer, but if I learned nothing else in the last hour, it’s that I’m not exactly a soldier or Marine.” He shivered again, and this time, Gilda couldn’t resist hugging him, hard.

“You are a warrior, Marco Lakan,” she told him softly as she felt him trembling and realized just how much of his fears he was still holding in for her sake. “All threeof you are. I wouldn’t be here without you. None of us would be.” She found herself wishing fervently that she could repay them with something more than mere words.

“Thanks, but… you’ll forgive me if I still wish we were in Catlais,” he told her wanly, then reached in to kiss her as Chris and Tara looked on; in need of her own comfort, Gilda found herself all but melting into his embrace. “If we survive this, I’m gonna want a lot more time with you than just two days, girlfriend.”

“If we survive this, I’ll find a way to spend a lifetime with you,” she promised him, holding him tightly and never wanting to let him go. “Please don’t die, Marco Lakan. Please don’t die, any of you,” she pleaded with them, finding herself fearful that this would be the last time they would ever all be together. And if it is…

“If I do, it’ll be defending you. In fact, it’ll be defending all of us. And who knows? For helping the Kingdom, maybe we’ll earn statues in your Hall of Heroes?” Marco joked with a slightly weak smile. “Then you can visit us whenever you like. They can even make my statue as naked as the rest of them. And tell the Paladin sentries I won’t mind one bit if you want to put your paws on my shoulders.”

“Why stop there? Make mine nude, too. And tell them Fortrakt can grope my statue’s shaft,” Chris suggested wryly.

“And my statue’s topless boobs,” Tara couldn’t help but add with a grin. “He and Galen. They’re such good griffons… for as bad as we wanted to, why didn’t we take that chance with Fortrakt the other night, Chris?” she asked as she reached over to take his hand. “Why didn’t we do what he said we did with him all over again? At least then, we’d be able to remember it.”

“I don’t know, but we were fools not to. As God is my witness, if we ever get that chance again…” The rest went unsaid as his eyes went distant and his cheeks flushed; his patterned pants beginning to show a large bulge that started in his crotch but quickly swelled past it, beginning to work its way down the length of his left thigh.

He then looked down at himself in disbelief as his constrained human ‘cock’ struggled to free itself of his clothing, swiftly stretching towards his knee. It pushed hard against the splotchy fabric over his leg, leaving him making only a weak effort to hide the end of it with his hand. “Christ Almighty—I can’t believe I’m even thinking about sex at a time like this.”

“Me neither,” Tara said as she stared as fixedly as Gilda at the progression of his increasingly impressive erection down his leg. The human eagless started to squirm where she sat and began breathing a little harder as Chris started squeezing and rubbing it; as Gilda watched, her already-impressive mammarian protrusions almost seemed to swell further where they sat high on her chest, causing visible stress to the large buttons on the front of her shirt.

“Christ, you’re big now, Chris… and what’s wrong with me that I suddenly want to screw all of you like there’s no tomorrow?” She tugged lightly at her taut top for a moment and locked her blue eyes with Gilda’s gold ones briefly, only to quickly flinch them away.

“I don’t know, but I feel the same way…” Chris said as he pawed at his pants lightly to try to gain more room for his constricted organ, which had now reached at least halfway down his thigh. He glanced over at Tara to see her cupping her swelling teats, hefting them in amazement. “Tara, your boobs are—”

“I know! Are yours growing too, Gilda?” she suddenly asked the rapt eagless, who blinked and sat back to spread her haunches wide enough to reveal that they were. That just like had happened earlier when she was with Marco, they were indeed swelling into mound-sized masses around the greater area of her teats, the nubs of which looked like they’d doubled in size. Not only that, but they were now quite taut and tingling fiercely, ready and eager to be touched.

“By my Ancestors…” she said as she stared down at herself in disbelief, reaching to cup her upper set as Tara already had with hers, seeing and feeling them noticeably grow in her grasp. “How is this happening?”

“I don’t know, but there must be some cider still in us, because I’m starting to see pink! Maybe it’s doing this to us!” a clearly discomfited Marco observed as he was finally forced to free his surging spear out the front of his pants before it got too big to do so comfortably; he was only barely able to get it out before it got too stiff to remove without taking his pants off entirely.

Like Chris, he initially tried to conceal it behind his hands and shirttail but found it was already too big to do so; he gave up on trying to hide it as she watched it grow until it was standing tall at nearly 10 pony inches over his lap before the amazed eyes of his friends.

“Holy shit, Marco…” Tara stared at him in amazement, licking her lips once and leaning towards it as she unconsciously released the clasp of her belt. “I knew you weren’t small before, but that…” Her hand began to work her way downwards, slipping the vertical fasteners that led to her human nest.

“And he isn’t the only one…” a grunting Chris was finally forced to free himself as well, though in his case, his erection had already worked its way so far down his leg that he had to release his belt and push his pants down to nearly his knee before the full mass of his organ was uncovered, pulling his undergarment aside to reveal his thick shaft and equally impressive apples.

The former swiftly popped up into the air to point directly at Gilda’s head, barely an uncia in size shorter than Marco’s human spear. “Christ almighty, my erection was just average before. But look at me now!”

“Both of you are that big?” Tara began to paw at herself even harder as she released her remaining buttons, showing a great deal of her human ‘cleavage’ as her breasts now seemed to be spilling right out of her black undergarment.

“And so are you and Gilda!” Marco pointed out as he began to stroke himself to the sight of them while Chris seemed to be doing so to the sight of him. “And now I want both of you really bad…”

“Cider…” Gilda blinked when she realized that there was indeed more than a hint of pink at the edges of her vision; for a moment, she swore she could taste it on her tongue and smell it again on the breath of her human friends. “I think it’s the fertility potion part of it. It’s enhancing us! And the cider is enhancing its effect just like it does all magic!” she guessed. But she also realized that she didn’t mind at all for how good it felt, even beneath her own talons. And what about somecreature else’s…?

“I think I get it. The fertility potion makes everything bigger and more sensitive to increase attraction, and then the cider multiplies the effect. But did it do this to us before?” Tara’s amazed eyes flitted back and forth between the two erect shafts and Gilda’s still-swelling mammaries, her other hand going to her shirt to slip the fasteners down the front of it to allow her own bulging breasts more breathing room before they burst her buttons.

“It did to me a little when I was with Marco. But not like this!” Gilda marveled at not only her new endowments, but those of her friends. “Fortrakt said it might have happened when he was with that Talon eagless. So maybe it just took time for the effect to fully develop. Or maybe it’s a cumulative effect from having sex?” she mused as she felt her wings reach full sensual splay, her feathers brushing the backs of Chris and Marco as she continued to work her mammaries.

She noted all three humans were now eyeing her eagless form intently, with Chris and Marco stroking themselves slowly while Tara slipped a hand under her undergarment to work one of her human ‘boobs’ directly.

Marco didn’t answer right away except to take a furtive look around the alcove, not seeing or hearing anyone near them. “I don’t know, girlfriend, but at this point, I ain’t gonna fight it. And here and now, we don’t even know if we’re gonna live past tonight. So…” Gilda’s breath caught as Marco’s hands slipped beneath her wingbases from her left to begin massaging her exposed flight muscles, causing them to start quivering.

Her mouth going dry as her beak fell open, her talons fell slack against her swollen teats as she could feel her nest rapidly engorging as well, and at that moment, she found herself ready to indulge not just him but all of them; surrender her eagless body to them right then and there regardless of witnesses or danger.

For what did privacy or propriety matter if they died in the next few hours?

What meaning did her desire for Marco to earn her nest by winning a mating round have if he was never able to fight one?

What if this turned out to be their only remaining chance to be together, and worse, her only opportunity to ever repay them for all the friendship, love and honor they’d shown her?

What guarantee was there that they would ever get to share a room, movie, or bed again, in Catlais or anywhere else?

There isn’t any… she knew, and she also knew her human friends had reached the same conclusion as human and griffon eyes rapidly flicked back and forth. When Gilda trilled softly at Marco’s now-practiced touch, a red-cheeked Chris and Tara glanced at each other and then pushed closer to begin putting paws on her as well.

Chris rested his trembling left hand on her bare right flank while Tara guided a set of Gilda’s talons to her partially exposed chest. She reached in to kiss her beak over Marco’s shoulder, whose hands shifted low to fondle her newly enhanced teats, nearly making her legs buckle.

“Ancestors above…” was all Gilda could murmur as she was suddenly and quite sorely turned on, drinking in the affection and pure appreciation of those humans she treasured the most. Her wings and tail rising in involuntary invitation to Chris and Marco’s digits, and her nose and talons suddenly swimming in Tara’s softness and scent, she found herself ready to surrender fully to them like there was no tomorrow.

For as Marco said, she knew there was a very real chance that for all of them, there wasn’t.

Guided by Tara’s fingers, both sets of Gilda’s talons swiftly found their way beneath her odd undergarment to feel her bare body beneath. It left her marveling at the soft and pillowy feel of the fleshy mammary mounds, whose warmth and texture she couldn’t get enough of, squeezing and kneading them gently while feeling her human teats nestle gently into the gap between two of her talons.

Trilling her pleasure as she started making out with the human eagless in greater earnest, she pushed back fractionally into Chris’s digits as they got tantalizingly near her nest. She was rewarded when he took a ragged breath before inserting a finger into her, causing her to stifle a squawk as she nearly came on the spot; her slit clamping down on his fingers. A second digit swiftly followed, as his other hand found one of her free teats to fondle, leaving her mood soaring and deciding that even if the Cloven killed them then, she’d die happy.

The Cloven… some part of her protested between kisses of Tara. Can’t do this… we’re not safe yet…

“Chris? Let’s help her onto her back,” Marco said as she felt him starting to gently lower her to the soft ground just as he’d done to her in her suite, laying her down on the mossy floor instead of the carpet of her room. “Then all three of us can easily have her. Her ‘nest’ is off-limits, so you can have her tail while I take her tits.”

“You got it, buddy…” Chris said huskily as their hands on her belly were replaced by Tara’s, who fondled two of her teats in their place. Wanting to explore more of the surprisingly familiar curves of Tara’s exotic eagless body, Gilda’s talons slid down her form to find her hips. Slipping them inside the loosened garment, she pushed down her friend’s patterned pants enough to find her fleshy cheeks, whose smooth and yieldingly soft feel were just as enjoyable to squeeze and sample as her human mammaries.

“And I’ll take her beak…” Tara announced as Gilda felt herself being eased over onto her back by all three of them at once. “I don’t know how, but I remember you were really good at that…”

Gilda somehow knew it too, and she gave a shivering trill at her treatment, knowing that once she was on her back, her body would be fully surrendered, her submissive position leaving her able to pleasure all three of them at once. She felt the spears of Chris and Marco pushing into her belly from either side as they pressed close against her; she found herself wishing for a second set of talons so she could grasp and stroke them as well.

It was only then she heard the sharp cawing of a crow and her eyes snapped open, locking onto it. The black-feathered bird stared down at them almost curiously, joined by several of its friends; she swore for a moment that several of them were smirking.

“No! No! Wait, stop! We can’t! We can’t!” she finally managed just before she was laid back, at which point she knew she would be pinned by her own wings. “Please… not here. Not now,” she told them all shakily, to which the three humans all deflated but relented, snapped out of whatever trance they’d been in.

“But…” To her surprise, it was Chris who sounded the most disappointed. His spear was still throbbing hard against her, pushing into the side of one of her swollen mammaries.

“I’m sorry, Chris, I really am! But the Cloven could come back and this isn’t the time. Even for as badly as I want to, I have to be a leader, not a lover right now. I have my duty and can’t be distracted. I promise you can have me when we reach safety.” Part of her couldn’t believe she was saying that, but to another, far larger part, it felt like an offer that needed to be made.

Her words seemed to snap them out of it fully, causing Marco and Chris to gently release her and step back, their spears still standing rigid before them. “Sorry, Gilda. I swear I wasn’t planning to seduce you. That hit completely out of nowhere again…” Marco admitted as he released her, sitting back with his organ still hanging out his pants.

“Yeah…” a sweating Chris agreed shakily, his own stature still prominent and looking scarcely less impressive than Marco’s; it was only then Gilda noticed that he was holding Tara’s other hand to it, which was slowly stroking it as he reached around her back to cup and knead a breast.

“If we get through this, maybe we should get ourselves magically scanned. Because that sure felt like the cider was affecting us again. God above, I can’t even remember the last time I was ever interested in a girl! Let alone two!” He both squeezed Tara’s ‘boob’ and clutched her hand to him more tightly for a moment before he looked down and gaped, immediately releasing her.

“I’m sorry, too,” Tara agreed as she only belatedly snatched her hand back from him, clutching herself for a moment before she poured some water from a griffon canteen over her head. “For just a second, it was the night of the cider all over again. I’m sorry, Gilda and Chris. I just… couldn’t… help it…” She bowed her dripping head in shame as her still-exposed mammaries began to recede to their regular size.

“It’s okay. And I’m flattered, Chris, believe me. I’m flattered that you all want me, and for all you’ve done for not just me, but the entire Kingdom, you’ve more than earned me. But this isn’t the time or place.” Gilda stepped back and took several swallows of air, trying to will her still-strong excitement and the somehow-present effect of the potion-spiked cider away. Ancestors, PLEASE let us live to finish this later!

“It’s okay, Gilds. But if we can’t give you some love, then at least have some liquid courage,” a still-sorely erect Marco offered her his flask of buffalo whiskey, uncapping it for her but taking his own swig first, sighing with relief after an initial grimace that caused his spear to immediately start softening.

“The buffalo bull I got this from in Appleloosa told us that traditionally, they drank it before every battle. I’m not sure what’s in it, but I find a single swallow of this stuff does wonders to steady me. Any more than that, though…” His warning was left unstated as he handed the flask to her.

Gilda accepted it, stared at it… and then upended it briefly into her open beak. Even though only a small amount flowed out before she righted it again, the bison-created spirit hit the back of her throat and burned hard, causing her eyes to water and beak to gape.

“By the Ancestors…” she could only croak as Fortrakt once had as all her more untoward thoughts receded in an instant, leaving her only aware of the alcoholic bite and distinct taste of desert-grown grains. But the burn faded to leave an odd warmness in its wake as it ran down the back of her throat and found its way to her stomach, somehow settling it as well as her more lurid thoughts.

She sat back and took several deep breaths to let it fully take effect, finding that as Marco had promised, her mind suddenly felt far more clear and ready to take on the challenge she faced. “Thanks, Marco. I needed that.”

“I think we all do, Marco,” Tara took a large gulp from the flask next, then gaped. “Holy shit, that’s strong!” she breathed open-mouthed for a moment. “Fuck. Think I’ll need to figure out how to make some mixed drinks with this when I open a bar in Arnau.” She fanned her face and bare chest with her hand.

“In that case, maybe I’ll stay in the Kingdom and work in the kitchen there,” Chris suggested as he took a swig in turn. “Whew! Damn good stuff… I can’t believe the Buffalo don’t export this. Because I’d take home an entire barrel!”

“Once the war’s over, we’ll work all that out. And find a way to be together again,” Gilda replied as she fully recovered her senses, standing straight and tall before them on all fours again. Despite what had nearly happened, she took it as a good sign for the course of the conflict. It means we’ve all got something—and somecreature—to live for. And having something to live for counts for a lot in war, right…?

“Thanks for sharing this information, all of you. And believe me, I’m very sorry to have stopped this. But before I leave, I have one last question.” She stood back from them at a respectful distance this time.

“Yeah?” Tara asked warily as the flush of her face slowly faded; for a moment, Gilda found she could still keenly recall the feel of the human woman’s bare flesh against her open talons.

Gilda carefully ordered her thoughts again, using the whiskey to force herself to focus. “Well, Imlay said that they were under orders not to reveal any information about human weaponry,” she recalled. “He also said it was because of an agreement that your government made with Equestria?”

“He’s right. So, I’m guessing you want to know more about that?” a still-breathless Marco suggested, to which Gilda nodded.

“Well, there’s not really much to say,” Chris began, visibly using the question combined with the fresh alcohol in his system to help master his nerves, his spear falling slowly flaccid in his lap. “Since the Portal is in Equestria, a lot of what goes in and out is up to the Equestrian government. Understandably, the first thing they barred from coming through the portal was human weaponry.”

“Guns and the like?” Gilda guessed, trying not to glance at his still-impressive stature again.

“More than that,” Marco replied, his own organ only half-softened. “Guns aren’t the only weapons we use. What you’ve seen so far are just personal arms. We have some… larger and more powerful weaponry. Stuff that just couldn’t be brought, or at least, not without a great deal more resources and support. Stuff that there was no way in hell or the pony ‘Tartarus’ that the Equestrian government would have allowed through the portal.”

“Okay. Then how did you get your stuff through?” she had to ask, her wings almost fully furled again; she glanced down in both disappointment and relief to see her swollen teats seemed to be slowly receding in size as well.

They all smiled slyly. “I guess you could say we had some inside help,” Marco answered as he was finally able to stuff his spear back into his pants; he arched his back slightly to give himself enough room to refasten the ‘fly’.

She stared at them. “By which you mean Sergeant Reyes and Starlight Glimmer; the personal student and Magus to Princess Twilight Sparkle?”

Marco and Chris gaped as Tara grinned; the latter pulling her undergarment back down over her exposed mammaries. “That’s right. It’s a bit fuzzy, but I just remembered we told you right after we got out of the infirmary. I guess you werepaying attention.” The human eagless nodded in approval.

“Short answer—yes. Reyes hid our weapons with the Marine ones so they could pass the portal, then gave them back to us once we were through. And Starlight made sure we could smuggle them into the Kingdom without running afoul of griffon customs. Or being otherwise detected by whatever sensory magic you had,” she explained as she began to button up her shirt again.

Gilda gaped. “And this ‘Starlight Glimmer’ helped you even though she actually knew what you were carrying?”

“She sure did,” Marco chuckled, this time taking a swig from a canteen. “Basically, she liaised with us just like you did while we were in Canterlot. Well, minus the sex, of course.” He grinned impishly, earning him a playful swat with her wing. “Seriously. We showed her some of our movies, and she couldn’t get enough of them—since the Equestrians already knew about our guns, there was no point in restricting our movie selection. So I showed her some of our best.”

“And she liked them?” Gilda’s urge to meet this mysterious mare was only growing.

“She did!” Tara confirmed with a grin, starting to button up her shirt again. “After she saw a couple movies with gunplay—just like you, she really seemed to enjoy our war flicks—she wanted to see real firearms. So, after swearing her to secrecy, we showed her ours. We explained to her why we brought them, and why we didn’t want to leave them behind. We even told her we were breaking the rules big time, but she actually seemed to like that!” she recalled with a laugh shared with Chris and Marco.

“And then, when it came time for us to head here, she cast the wards on our weapons and gear without letting Princess Twilight or anybody else know. That’s how we got them into the Kingdom. Guess they weren’t perfect, though,” Tara’s expression abruptly fell.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Marco agreed, rebuckling his belt. “Remember how we said some of those spells were triggered by distance to make sure we couldn’t be separated from them? Well, my laptop and the other stuff the Ibex stole didn’t come back to us when we got far enough away from Arnau. So either those fucking goats figured out how to defeat the enchantments, or—far more likely—our equipment blew up when they were blocked from returning to us.” He sighed. “Either way, we’re never getting them back now. Seems a stupid thing to be upset over out here, but… yeah.”

“Actually, some of them did return,” Chris said with a grin. “I didn’t remember until just now with everything else happening, but…” He brought out his portal device from his pocket, which Gilda hadn’t seen in weeks.

“You got your smartphone back!” Tara said in delight. “Does it still work?”

“I don’t know. The battery’s dead,” Chris said with a shrug. “And I’m not going digging for a charger now.”

“Wouldn’t do us any good, anyway. It’s not like we can use it to call for help,” Marco noted.

“Maybe we could use it to record a few parting messages, at least. And hope they might be found later.” Chris turned downcast.

“Just keep thinking those happy thoughts, guys,” Tara told them both as she finished redressing and swiftly reassembled her pistol. “Me, I plan to live so I can start a new life in the Kingdom and finish what we started.”

She winked at Gilda as she reholstered her sidearm after slamming home a fresh magazine and manually chambering a round. She then passed the longer ‘Hawkeye’ rifle to Chris while she began work on cleaning her shotgun.

“So why did you bring weapons?” Gilda asked, suddenly eager to change the subject lest they be tempted again despite the whiskey. “This ‘Afghanistan’ you keep mentioning?”

“Yes,” Chris said with a sound not far removed from a hiss. His mood instantly turned angry along with Marco’s and Tara’s; all remaining traces of their earlier excitement instantly vanished as the remnants of their bulges receded and even Tara’s teats returned fully to normal. “It’s a long story—like twenty years long—but to say it ended up being a complete debacle is an understatement. Civilians were abandoned there for very bad reasons, and, well… coming here, we had no idea if the griffons would be friendly, or if the same thing could happen again.”

“I know it seems silly, but we really didn’t want to be left defenseless if the Marines were ordered out and didn’t take us with them,” Marco added. “Like Imlay says, we’re not trained soldiers, but we know our weapons well enough for most purposes. Though maybe not for this…” He shivered, to which Gilda put a set of reassuring talons on his forearm.

Chris gave them a few seconds before he continued. “Anyway, to finish answering your earlier question… When this expedition was first proposed, the U.S. government had to deal extensively with the Equestrian High Council to get the Marines and their weapons through.”

Gilda scoffed as she squeezed and released Marco’s arm. “Given what I know about them, the negotiations must have taken a while.”

Tara gave a mild snort. “Yeah. It finally got to the point that the talks were at an impasse until Princess Celestia intervened. She proposed a compromise that both our government and the Equestrian High Council eventually agreed on.”

“Which was…?” Gilda prompted.

“That Marine personnel could only bring the weapons that they could personally carry,” Marco replied, his smile widening again. “Well, the Marines availed themselves of that rule quite liberally. They brought an enormous assortment of arms and ammo with the help of storage gems they were able to obtain.”

“But even then, there were more rules,” Chris picked it up from there. “Before they would let us enter, the Equestrian Government added the restriction that talking about our guns is a no-no. Something about how it would disrupt the ‘balance of harmony’ between Tellusian nations and other stuff. So, like Imlay said, all military personnel have standing orders to not discuss them.”

“And civilians…?” Gilda asked, giving them a slightly askance look.

“Well, we kept silent at our own volition, at the direct request of the Marines,” Marco said as he began to stow his cleaning supplies in a small case. “Whether we agreed with it or not—and some of it we did—we didn’t want to make trouble for them or Sergeant Reyes. What you have to understand, Gilda, is that he really stuck his neck out for us. If they found out what he did, he could be thrown in prison and right out of the Marine Corps.”

Gilda nodded slowly, thinking Reyes was every bit as honorable as the civilians he had helped, doubly so since he was putting his career on the line to make sure they weren’t left defenseless. Then she locked onto something else Marco had said. “What do you mean, you agreed with ‘some of it’?”

As Marco pondered her question, Chris answered instead. “Okay, let’s reverse our roles. Let’s say the griffons found a brand-new species or civilization.”

“Okay?” Gilda wasn’t sure what he was getting at.

“And they don’t have repeaters,” he emphasized. “They have a warrior culture, but they don’t have anything even approaching your military technology like airships or your repeating crossbows. They’re certainly curious about them, but when you first meet them, you aren’t sure if they’ll be allies or enemies. They live really far away, and after some time, you send over a few civilian officials to negotiate a trade agreement with a company of armed soldiers as escort.” He paused to let Gilda mentally create the scenario.

“So to summarize, you don’t know much about them except that they’re said to be somewhat militaristic and have a few hostile neighbors, meaning they’d be interested in your more advanced arms. So even if they asked you, would you want to talk about things like your repeaters in detail?”

Gilda thought about that, then shook her head. “Probably not. At least, not until I’ve confirmed that we’re going to be allies and that they can be trusted.”

Marco nodded. “Well, that’s exactly what we have here. Except we humans are the ones with the repeaters.” He paused and raised his gun slightly for emphasis. “Well, you know what I mean.”

“Yeah. I know what you mean.” Gilda remained silent as they continued to sit together; she could only guess that the three humans were just as lost in their own thoughts as she was at that moment.

Out of all the races of their world, the Gryphon Kingdom was known to have the strongest military. They didn’t have as many magic users as Equestrian Ponies or the Ibex did, or expansive Alchemic studies like the Zebrican Confederation, or even the advanced machines of the Minotaurs. But when it came down to the simple questions of weapons and tactics, griffons were historically the most effective and innovative race in all Tellus.

But now this new race had far surpassed them in what was proving to be a very short time. To be told that they were centuries, perhaps even a millennium behind in military technology was a very bitter pill to swallow. In fact, she wasn’t sure she had swallowed it yet.

“For what it’s worth, Gilda? I’m sorry.” Tara broke her train of thought.

Gilda blinked and looked at her. “For what?”

“For being the ones to change your world,” the human woman replied, her shoulders slumping. “You kinda looked lost, so I’m guessing that you’re trying to come to terms with everything we’ve told you.”

Gilda nodded slowly. “Yeah. It’s a little hard to take,” she admitted with a wan expression, her wings and tail drooping slightly in marked contrast to her earlier excitement.

“Tell me about it,” Marco muttered, gripping his rifle tighter for a moment. “Still, I wouldn’t worry too much. Once the idea settles in, I’m pretty sure it’ll be just a normal day for the griffons. Except now you have a few new ideas to experiment with. Just do us all a favor and try not to blow yourselves up. Some of us have gotten rather fond of you.”

She smiled and let him rest his forepaw on her leather-covered chest, briefly reaching up to squeeze his talons; his hand was shortly joined by those of Chris and Tara. “All for one…” Chris began with a grin.

“And one for all!” Marco and Tara chorused in reply.

Though she didn’t have any idea what that meant, Gilda held their hands to her for a moment before releasing them, silently thanking her Ancestors anew for allowing such fine and honorable humans to enter her life, praying that she would yet get the chance to reward them all properly. “So, given that you’ve now told me all about guns with Imlay’s unspoken permission… does that mean you trust us? That humans now see griffons as allies?”

“I see you as a lot more than that, girlfriend,” Marco told her wryly, earning another swat of her wing. “I can’t speak for all of us, but—yes. At this point, I think we’re natural allies and partners.”

“And no, it isn’t just because we’re culturally and physically compatible,” Chris added with a wink. “Remind me to explain to you later how you seem to be the Tellusian equivalent of an ancient human civilization, brought forward to the modern day.”

Gilda glanced at him, suddenly remembering the delicious feeling of his digits on her, and even briefly insideher. If he IS a tiercel-tucker like Fortrakt thought, does that mean I would be his first female? She found the thought strangely heady but put it aside as hard as she could.

“These ‘Romans’ you keep mentioning, I’m guessing? Fine. I’ll hold you to that later, when we’re not fighting a war. Thanks, all of you.” She hugged each of them tightly in turn, feeling the weight of their armor and the hardness of their metal tubes between them. She could only hope that the day would come when they could remove them and enjoy each other’s company properly.

And then she wondered if such a day would ever come, given the terrifying enemy they faced.

“You’re welcome,” Marco replied as he released her and stood up. To her surprise, he then bumped his hips against her shoulder. “And hey, if you need a quickie out here, I’ll give you a wingjob any time.” He added impishly as he stuck his tongue out to her, which had her both flushing and narrowing her eyes. She waited for the moment he turned around before she pounced at him, knocking him to the ground.

“Wha—ouch! Hey!” Marco giggled as Gilda grinned triumphantly, pinning him on his stomach.

“You deserved that,” she said as Chris and Tara applauded and laughed. “You’re a terrible tease, Marco Lakan. And you will pay a price for it later.”

“Promises, promises,” he needled her.

But before Gilda could think of a good retort, a new voice broke in. “Hey, Rico!” a smirking Marine called out as he approached. He was round-faced with lighter brown skin than Marco; Gilda couldn’t recall his name just then. “We know how much you like fraternizing with the locals, but Corporal Imlay needs to speak to the Centurion.”

“Oh, shut up, Guerrero,” Marco replied as a slightly chagrined Gilda stepped off him. He then picked himself up off the ground, brushing the grass and dirt off his clothes. “And seriously... Rico?”

Gilda ignored Marco’s question. “Why does the Corporal need me?” she asked, trying to sound all business again.

“The magical interference is clearing. Comms are back online,” Guerrero replied, his smirk not having fully faded. “We’ve gotten through to Arnau, and you may want to hear it.”

Gilda glanced at Marco, who gave her a nod and a grin. “Go, girlfriend. You can have your way with me another time.”

“Be careful what you wish for, Marco Lakan…” she said with a low trill, to which he only blew a kiss at her and bucked his hips. She gave him a parting view of a briefly raised tail as she got up and rushed back towards the camp, taking flight for a moment to speed her journey and resettle her thoughts. Arriving, she spotted Imlay, Giraldi and Ebon Umbreon clustered around a Marine with a large backpack that had a long, thin, and flexible metal rod sticking straight up.

As she approached, Imlay motioned with his hands at her to come quickly. “Warwolf-3 to Warwolf Actual; I have the Centurion with me, over,” Imlay declared towards a green box that was on the makeshift tree stump table. To her surprise, after some crackling, she could hear a clear voice coming out of it.

“Copy that, Warwolf-3,” the voice from the box declared.

There was another slight crackle, and then to her amazement, Tribune Narada’s voice was heard.

“Is this close enough?” she asked softly.

“Yes, just talk normally,” came an even softer reply.

“Centurion Behertz! Are you there?” the Tribune asked.

At Imlay’s nod, Gilda stepped forward and took a breath. “Yes, Tribune. I’m here and very relieved to hear from you. As I’m sure you were already informed, we have been attacked by the Cloven of the Sun.”

“I am aware of the situation, Centurion,” Narada replied tersely. “In fact, the whole Kingdom is aware. A full-scale Cloven invasion is underway. We have reports of attacks all over Aresia, spearheaded by a corrupted dragon clan, who have been razing military bases and burning crops. But the greatest threat appears to be in the West right now. They’re rapidly expanding their operations and consolidating their gains there.”

“West? But the Cloven were originally from the South!” Gilda protested.

“Feel free to register a complaint with the Cloven Overlords. But that’s not the only concern,” Narada continued. “It seems they have brought a variety of corrupted creatures with them. We’ve received reports of not just dragons but diamond dogs and even a few Minotaurs under their thrall, and I regret they’ve captured plenty of griffons and Caleponians as well. I’m relieved to know you’re okay, given Catlais and several other cities have already fallen. Where are you, Centurion?”

“Sir, we were shot down by a mage-emplaced lightning field some eighteen leagues southeast of Tierra, near the steadholt of Bale. We’re making our way to the latter now, in hopes of eventually reaching Tierra itself.”

“Don’t,” she immediately said. “I’m sorry to report Tierra has fallen along with three other major military bases throughout the south and west. They were taken completely by surprise. The fragmentary reports we have were that the Cloven used adult dragons they’d captured to destroy the airships at anchor and raze the outer defenses, then simply overran them with sheer numbers of corrupted and recently created Cloven soldiers. We’ve lost at least two airship groups and four legions, all of which are likely to be turned against us.”

“Understood…” Gilda said as her guts clenched. No Tierra? What NOW? she wondered frantically. “Where can we go to find safety, then? I’ve got a full squad of human Marines but only a single mage and around two decades of Auxilias remaining, and four civilians to escort.” She decided against saying the civilians were armed at that moment.

“And the Paladins?” the Tribune prompted.

Gilda closed her eyes tightly for a moment. “We lost most of them to that crow-cursed lightning trap. They later attacked us as Cloven-possessed corpses, but it turned out three of them were Ravens and their special armor enabled them to survive. They’re a great help, as are the Marines with their cannons. We already defeated one Cloven attack thanks to both, but our numbers are few and we need to find sanctuary soon.”

There was a brief pause. “I’ve seen the destructive power of human weapons for myself. They repulsed a surprise Cloven raid on their outside encampment, and even one on the Inn when I was there arguing with Captain Moran to witness it. To say their arms are impressive would be an enormous understatement,” the Tribune noted, mostly to herself.

“There were several such raids launched throughout Arnau aimed at civilian and military leadership, and I regret to say they met with some success,” she continued grimly. “In any event, the Kingdom is at war, and I cannot detail any air coaches to reach you. Not until we clear the skies of their flyers and those accursed field traps set by corrupted mages.”

“Flyers?” Gilda echoed uncomprehendingly, then it clicked what the Tribune was likely referring to. “To this point, we haven’t seen any pure Cloven forms. Just corrupted creatures.”

“Expect that to change. You may not have seen them yet, but the Cloven have much-improved soldier forms, including a razorbat-like one that flies fast, has sharpened wings and fires spikes from its maw. They can kill from both up close and at a distance, so even if a coach could get to you, you’d be slaughtered by swarms of them if you tried to flee by air.”

“Understood.” Gilda felt like she was in a steadily narrowing tunnel running out of air, and she didn’t even know if it had an exit or would simply dead-end. “I need options, sir, and a place to go. Where can we find safety if Tierra has fallen?” She held her breath at the answer.

“Head northeast. The fortress city of Aricia still stands, as does its large Auxilias garrison and armory. Surviving Knights and Talons from Tierra and other bases fled there as well, along with two damaged airships and many civilian refugees. It wasn’t hit first due to its smaller size and lesser importance, and they were thus forewarned and able to mount a defense. We’ll try to let them know you’re out there, but our communications are intermittent at best due to Magus and dragon interference.”

Gilda consulted her map and grimaced at what she saw—Aricia was a full thirty leagues away. Such a distance was within easy reach by air even for earth griffons, but by ground, it was at least a three-day march through Cloven-controlled territory. “Orders understood, sir. We will head that way at once.”

“Good. By my command, bring your mixed force there and assist the Tribune of the garrison in mounting a defense. Aricia forms a strong salient into Cloven-held territory and is ideally placed for launching a counteroffensive, so we will work on getting reinforcements to your location as soon as we can.”

“That’s still a long way to go, sir,” Gilda said with a glance up at Imlay, who stayed silent. “Forgive me for asking, but do you have any suggestions for getting there alive?”

“Just the obvious ones. Keep to the ground and stay out of sight as much as possible. Light no fires and travel only by day, taking cover in defensible structures or underground during darkness. Body heat will stand out to dragons much more easily at night due to cooler temperatures, and you do not want to be caught out in the open with them around.”

“By your command,” Gilda said obediently, even if she was anything but confident that they could make it the distance.

Imlay scooted closer. “Warwolf-3 to Warwolf Actual, over.”

“Lieutenant Nantz?” Gilda heard Tribune Narada call off to the side.

There was another small crackle before Nantz’s voice was heard. “This is Warwolf Actual. Send traffic, over.” Gilda was never so glad as to hear the First Lieutenant’s voice.

“Roger, sir. As the Centurion said, I’ve got a full squad plus Chief Jacobs, supported by around twenty griffon soldiers and three armed civilians after our latest losses.”

“Armed?” Nantz echoed incredulously. “You gave those three weapons?”

“No, sir. It turns out that they brought their own,” he answered wryly, leaving a grinning Gilda wishing he could see the look on Moran’s face when he found out. “They smuggled a small arsenal into the Kingdom, including an AR, a shotgun, and two long-range rifles along with several sidearms, surplus camo clothes, civvie body armor and plenty of ammo,” he explained, to no immediate answer from Nantz.

“Before you ask, Mister Raleigh told me to seize them. But they refused to give them up, citing what happened in Afghanistan, and they proved they can use them adequately during our first battle. As I need every working rifle I can get and am not willing to use force against them, I will decline any order to disarm them,” he preemptively warned.

“The Captain’s gonna blow a gasket,” Nantz replied after a short pause. “But you won’t get that order from me. On that matter, proceed as you feel best. If they’ve proven promising, give them additional training when you can.”

“Wilco, sir. But I do have a request. To help our combined force work together, our griffon allies need to know exactly what we can do. To that end, request permission to advise the griffons of our weapon capabilities. Over.”

There was another pause before Nantz’s voice came back. “Permission granted, Warwolf-3. The Captain may not like it, but on my authority, you may. For now, please note you are permitted to advise the griffons of only our combat capabilities. Nothing more.”

Imlay exchanged a quizzical glance with Chief Jacobs as the interference increased again. “Interrogative: what do you mean by ‘only our combat capabilities’, over?”

“I mean, you can tell them what our weapons can do, but not how they work,” he clarified, struggling to make himself heard. “We’re cut off from communications with Equestria and the Portal, so for now we’re on our own and have to make our own decisions. As the Tribune says, get to Aricia and assist their defense—I’ll clear it with the Captain later. Communications are failing again, so that’s all! Out!” he said just before his voice was overwhelmed by fresh crackling.

“Sorry, sir. They must be putting the field back in place,” Imlay suggested. “If so, that means there are more mages around.”

“Right. We need to get moving, but we also need to settle where we’re going and how we get there,” Gilda reminded him. “Let’s figure that out now.”

Imlay nodded towards the Marine with the backpack, who immediately stepped away. “You heard him, sir. I can only tell you about what our weapons can do, though I’m guessing at this point—” he looked towards all the dead Cloven-corrupted animals and griffons, then over at the alcove where Marco, Chris and Tara remained “—it’s moot.”

“Mostly,” Gilda replied distractedly as she pulled out and unfolded her map. “We still need to figure out how to get to Aricia.”

“I suggest a phased movement, sir,” Giraldi said. “We travel by day from steadholt to steadholt in the rough direction of Aricia, absorbing what supplies and surviving soldiers we can as we go.” He traced a slightly zigzagging line with his talon, tapping a series of three steadholts in turn. “The Ravens will scout ahead to keep us free of ambushes, and if an area is infested with Cloven, we simply detour around it.”

“And if the steadholts have fallen?” Gilda prompted.

“Then unless it’s a large force, we take them back,” he said grimly. “We cleanse them of Cloven and sleep in the structures, protected by both sentries and whatever magical wards Decanus Nydia can conjure.”

“I have many stealth spells at my disposal, sir,” she confirmed. “I can mask us at least to an extent in travel, and as we sleep. Enemy mages may detect my spellwork, though. We will have to kill them quickly if they approach.”

“Noted, Decanus,” Imlay replied with a nod, then went off to summon his fire team leaders, directing them to have ‘heavier’ weapons available.

“So what, may I ask, was ‘moot’?” Giraldi inquired after he had departed.

“Marco, Chris, and Tara already told me everything about their weapons we could ever wish to know… short of how to make them for ourselves.” Gilda rubbed her temples, finding herself already regretting having not taken the chance to be with them. When she closed her eyes, she found she could still smell their spicy scents and feel their caressing hands on her; feel Tara’s deliciously soft flesh beneath her talons and the twin phalluses of Marco and Chris pressed into her sides as they laid her on her back, all of her human friends ready to claim different parts of her eagless body.

She shivered once at the image of herself rewarding all three of her human friends at once—and just what did Marco mean by saying ‘take her tits’? —then exhaled the remnants of her desires away, aided by the buffalo whiskey on her breath. Don’t be. It wasn’t the time. This way, we all have something more to fight for and an even stronger reason to survive. It would also have been impossible to hide it, to say nothing of being a bit unfair to Giraldi and Fortrakt! she reminded herself sternly, then firmly set it out of her mind to focus on the simple task of survival ahead.

Survival that was only possible thanks to the human firearms she’d learned so much about. “I have all the information we need, but Ancestors above, it’s a little… unbelievable. Suffice it to say, their cannons can far outrange our crossbows and penetrate all but our best armor, and I’m still not certain how we can effectively fight together.”

“A solution always presents itself to those that look hard enough,” Giraldi advised. “They command the ground, but we still rule the skies. With that in mind, the Corporal and I already came up with a few ideas. Besides, we did well enough before. Be assured that we will find a way again.”

“I hope so,” Gilda said. She looked towards the map, taking a deep breath. “Whatever we do, our first destination remains Bale. We have one hour to make it there before nightfall, and it’s still nearly two leagues away. So, let’s get moving and try to avoid any more ambushes getting there…”

Since the next chapter in story order is the T-rated chapter 22, click on the link below to be taken to chapter 23:

—Firesight

===> next: Chapter 23