Sitting up with the blanket covering me, I see how everybody is going through the door. Some do not look all that happy to be awake while the majority had a look of those who had done this many times before. They were like children waking up in the morning to get ready to go to school, and not one of them looked like they were too tired. The cheap blanked was barely covering my shoulders and chest from sight even though nobody was even looking at my general direction. I would gladly fall back in to bed and try to fall asleep, however I need to make myself look useful to stay on everyone’s good side or at least not get in the way and become a nuisance. That and I cannot go back to sleep once I am awake. Brushing away the hair of my face and eyes, I take out my shirt from under the blanket near my feet and quickly put it on while making sure that no one is looking. It would be a bad idea to wear my jacket while doing hell knows what job they will give me, although I do not want to leave behind my things for someone to get too curious and go through them. If some asshole goes looking in to my things, I am going to break his hands and tell everyone that it is some bullshit custom to break the limbs of the one who looks into my possessions without permission. I might even be able to pass it off as a cultural misunderstanding or something.

I don’t want to leave the jacket so I put it over my shoulders as a cloak with the hood over my head. The hood will not hide my face from others eyes, it will only make it difficult for them look at me without me knowing it. A hood that hides a man’s face always gives off a feeling of secrecy and mystery. Except in the modern day it is overused by everyone to make themselves look cooler. Everyone wants to be cool and mysterious, even me in a situation like this. The hood will attract attention rather than avert it, and I know that the griffins will only look at me more because of it. Everyone is a freaking poser who wants to get attention and be looked at with interest. Those who act and say that they don’t want it, those who declare themselves as original individuals who do and wear things that they like then telling themselves that they don’t care if no one else likes it. Everyone does it even if they don’t admit it to themselves. My fingerless gloves have no fighting aid, they were just regular exercising gloves that have padding in the palm to give me a better grip on things. I like how they look on my hands even if they do not help in a fist fight, they cannot even protect my knuckles from any impact. I like the color black and I always liked it when people could not see my face. I am not any different from the rest. Pathetic.

Jumping down off the bed onto the floor, my legs felt stiff and sweaty. Sleeping in jeans for months is not good for the skin as it does not allow air flow and the release of heat, I got used to the discomforts in the first three days and it does not bother me anymore. The handmade backpack has nothing important other than some medicine leaves and dried fruits that I am certain no one would bother taking. I wonder how the crew would react if they knew it was made from cockatrice skin. I do not need the extra attention, I don’t want to answer any more questions than I have to. Some of the guys were cleaning up their beds and neatly setting up the bed sheets. I remember how I always made my bed in the morning back home. I quickly place the blanket over the entire bed and my bag, the bag is covered but can be noticed. Does not really matter if they do see it anyway, they should know where I sleep and that it is mine.

Following crew through the door and up the staircase, we enter the first floor and to the door nearest the stairs. Inside was small looking mess hall that had two long tables close together to somehow fit everyone in the cramped room. The interior of the room was all dark brown wood, the floor was covered in a cheap light grey carpet and there is one small circular window that from what I can tell was still dark outside. The room was lighted with the same gas light lanterns like in the barracks. The two long tables were a light brown wood with a low height that is shorter than the griffins. Because there were no visible chairs, than it is obvious the tables are meant to be sat at on the floor. I have only noticed now how everyone was avoiding getting in my way or even bumping in to me, although it looked like they were not even aware of doing it. Somehow the small room had fitted in a food counter on the right side of the room from the entrance. Behind it was a dark green griffin with a chef’s hat and was giving out trays with food on it. This one small room is somehow able to hold two long tables, a food counter and the entire ship’s crew of I don’t even know how many griffins. This is some serious bullshit.

The ones that got their meals walked to find a spot on the table. Most of the crew already have their meals and are now sitting by the table. The room is filled with chatter from every griffin. There is a short line of six in front of me and I do not know how many more behind me. I took a quick glance at the food that was being handed out, it looks like mashed potatoes with some kind of meat and two sticks of celery. The griffins are a combination of two predatory animals, it is logical that they would eat meat. The consumption of other food groups is more or less normal for both the lion and the eagle. Probably an evolutionary trait for survival, or some artist made some shit up when he or she could not figure out what to make the griffins eat. The guy in front of me got his tray and walked off. The one in the chef’s hat gave me a curios look before looking down at the tray with food in this claw.

“If you give me moment, I am sure I can find something else for you to eat.” The guy was about to take the ray away before I take hold of it.

“This is fine, thanks.” Pulling at the tray towards myself, the guy looks up at me.

“You eat fish?” So that is the mystery meat. If you are on a ship in the sea then food should not be too much of an issue if you know how to catch it. They probably have nets that they toss in during the day. But the food was already made when the crew got up, so when was the food prepared and where? The little counter has barely enough space and this guy has ready trays to give out.

“Amongst other things.” The guy let go with a look that I did not pay enough attention to see what it was.

Turning around I find the same old issue that can be found in any cafeteria. Finding a place to sit, doesn’t matter where I choose it is still going to be awkward. Some of the guys who were seated were looking at me in between taking bites out of their food. Maybe eating out on the deck or near the door might be better.

“Hey! Over here!” I turn to look at the speaker, at the second table near the center is sitting a young looking griffin with a smile on his face and is waving his arm at me. The griff was the one that was sleeping in the lower bunk bed under me.

“I saved you a spot.” Might as well go and sit, refusing would be rude and probably would make the others think something unpleasant of me.

“Thanks.” I sit down on the right side near him, there is space under the table for me to put my legs. The chatter continued, although some had their voices lowered and some of the others were leaning in to have a look at my face under the hood. Setting down the tray I Look down to see it has a fork that I somehow missed. The Food smells like it normally would, the fish being the only one with any real distinctive smell. Looking at it I could not tell that it was fish, however the light cooked brown color, shape and size makes it easier to believe that it is fish. The fork feels like metal to my fingers as I pick it up. Cutting in to the fish I take a small peace. Looking at the peace on my fork I do not really want to put it in my mouth with it looking like a drawing. I close my eyes as I eat the piece, it is a fillet fish with same taste as I remember eating so long ago. I am rather glad that there are no bones in it, I hate having to pick the food apart to take them out and then end up having a bone in there anyway. Having to catch fish in the forest left me with little choice than to cleat it as best as I could and then chew slowly. The taste is pleasant seeing as how it was not roasted over an open flame and has extra ingredients. Opening my eyes, I see how the young griff from my left was looking at me curiously. I guess anyone would stare at an alien cautiously taking a bite out of food with his eyes closed. It is still rude to stare though.

“Something wrong?”

“Um, no… You look like you didn’t get to sleep much.” The griff is trying to change the subject and forget that he was gawking at me less than a minute ago. If the black under my eyes was so dark that I could make it out clearly in a mirror, than I can only imagine how they would see it with their cartoonish views.

“I am fine, it does not matter.”

“Ok. I’m Beak and you?” The griff extends his arm for a hand shake. I turn to look at him with a serious expression on my face.

“Is that your real name?” No freaking way would someone’s parents (even griffins) name their child Beak. I can deal with Gazer and almost any other bullshit names that come along, but Beak? Too fucking stupid, seriously what the fuck Hasbro? Are you actually hiring people off the street or something? Who the fuck writes this shit?

“No, that’s just what the other guys call me here because of one … accident a long time ago.”

“Yea, it’s an accident when you keep walking into walls with your face first the whole day.” The guy facing us across the table laughed with some others snickering. Beak’s face was a deep red color.

“I was tired and my head was spinning, I told you that a million times already!” The other kept snickering at Beaks retort.

“So what is your real name then?” Hopefully this will bring the conversation back on topic and give the poor bastard a brake.

“Its Facili.” He said it with a smile. His name is pronounced with a k, Latin if I remember my college course correctly. Gilda is a Latin derived name from the word gild, I guess the old language existed here at some point or something. The captain has changed his name or it is a nickname or maybe even that is his real name, who cares? A nickname Beak is way better than having a name that is dangerously close to something else.

“Call me traveler. It is a pleasure to meet you.” I took his claw and shook it lightly. I remember having parrots resting on my hand a long time ago. The skin on Beaks hand/claw has a certain texture to it that reminds me of the parrots. The claws are not too sharp, probably only at the tips. His grip is relaxed so I do not know how strong he really could be, I better to pay attention to them just in case. As the handshake ends I notice how Beak has a curious look that I have seen many of the griffins having before. Most likely surprised by how my hand feels like in his claw, although the glove would limit the experience seeing as how only half of fingers were exposed. The guy across is staring at my arm, he is either looking at my glove, leather cuff or probably looking at the old scratches, cuts and bruises. Or maybe he is interested how my hand has no fur or scales except for some thin hairs. Can they even see the hairs on my arms with how their world is lacking in details?

Some of the guys who were listening in have doubtful looks when I said what to call me. Technically I am not lying seeing as how I did not say that that is my name. None of them seem to want to press on that issue or call me on it. I can appreciate them not asking any unneeded and wanted questions.

“Nice to meet you too! So where’d you come from?” God damn it, can’t a guy eat in peace?

“From faraway lands that you have not heard of.” I am getting tired of this.

“Oh, ok.” He understood me not wanting to talk about it and he actually dropped the topic, this guy is not an asshole. Some of the others look disappointed at not being able know more. And it looks like nobody else is brave enough to ask, that is fine with me.

The food tastes good after having to scavenge and hunt for all my time here. The potatoes and fish remind me of the many meals I have had back home. Some of which I doubt I will ever even get to see again. I look at the food as I eat it, however the idea that I am eating a drawing does not leave my mind so I close my eyes once every two bites to enjoy the taste. Everyone else is eating their food and paying attention to their own plates while talking amongst themselves. The griffins are at least omnivores if not carnivores, which again makes no fucking sense. Two completely unrelated in any way carnivores do not make an omnivore. However, I am looking at them eating potatoes and celery so fuck biology apparently.

The thoughts about carnivores make me remember the maticore. Something was not right with it, there was no way in hell I could have out run it even with those extra appendages weighting it down. I have a more or less clear head now with food in my mouth and stomach, so I can think about this clearly now. Its body had meat on it, but maybe not as much as it should have. The dead carcass was chewed up to the bone, but there was not much of it to begin with now that I think about it. That hungry look in its eye when it was chasing me, the persistence after all those arrows to its face. The manticore was weak before it started chasing me, probably starvation or maybe old age. However it continued to chase me, as an animal it should have some kind of survival instinct and cut its losses to live. Its eyes had some weird eye lashes in the corners almost like a… a female. I did not pay enough attention at the time to notice those eyelashes, the manticore was a female. What would make a female lion (or manticore in this case) to chase a prey to the point of exhaustion and death? It is possible that it or she was a mother, and it was chasing the only food it could for her young. However what difference does make now? I lived and it died, end of story. Now I know that if I were to face against a manticore with all of its strength then I am most likely going to die. And those timberwolfs, the attack now that I think about it should have gone differently. Normal wolf's would all attack simultaneously if met with a strong enough prey and they did not attack my throat like they should have. I could have died and yet somehow I beat them off with a shitty but sharp rusting sword. My mind returns to the present.

There is nothing to drink or I maybe I do not see it anywhere. I would not mind some coffee or tea, then again I still have my bottle with about half of the water left so I am fine for now. I really miss Zecoras tea time, she makes an awesome green tea. While eating I count up the griffins in the room, the total crew number as far as I can tell is twenty five not including the captain, all male. Personally I do not think that you would need that many people for a ship, than again I do not really know much about ships anyway so maybe you need more workers.

I am suddenly aware of a feeling of motion on the floor that I have somehow not noticed before. The ship is in water and the sails were up from last night so I guess that means we are moving forward. Shouldn’t someone be looking over the sails and making sure that the ship does not go off course? I do not know anything about ships (especially the fantasy kind like this one) so maybe it has some fixed one direction route that makes it so that it does not make a difference where we go or something. There is a sense of light vibration on the floor, almost unnoticeable. It is mechanical in nature of that I am certain. However this is a wooden ship and something that can generate vibrations on it floor is usually heavy. Or maybe it is a washing machine, who the hell knows what else this ship holds.

Some griffins had already finished eating, stood up and placed their trays on the counter. I finish the last piece of my food in satisfaction, although I am not hungry I would definitely not mind for seconds. Although I did not use a fork or any other utensil for over two months, I can appreciate the usefulness and value of having one. I am going to have to take one before leaving the ship on the third day.

“Thank you for your company, see you around.” I say to everyone as I stand up from the table. The others had nodded their heads and waved their arms in acknowledgement. I walk up and place the trey on the counter. The griffin cook is still behind the counter doing I do not know what.

“Thank you for the meal.”

“You’re welcome!”

Going out through the main door, I stop just outside of the room and out of the way of the passing griffins. I have no idea where to go and the captain said someone would give me job to do. The others were walking out of the room and in to the stair case. Standing by the door in the hallway I notice that there are only two rooms on this floor, the kitchen being on the smallest corner near the stairs and the big room that is above the barracks. That room is below the deck and from what little I know about old ships from books and movies it is most likely the storage space for shipments. What exactly does this ship carry anyway? I have some free time now so I can go back to barracks and rearrange my bed or something, or maybe I should go talk to Gazer. He is the only one that I had any real interaction with on this ship and he is a source of information about this world. I should talk to him more in order to learn whatever I can about where I am going.

“Hey new guy.” I turn around to the voice behind me; it is the same griffin that had led me to bath house.

“What?”

“Yeah, the captain told me to give you a job after breakfast.” He does not seem to be annoyed and yet he does not seem to be all that happy either.

“Fine, what job?” Probably the worst job there is, please do not let it be toilet scrubbing.

“He didn’t really say what kind of work to give you and since you’re the new guy I’m gonna give you something easy for your first day.” Already playing the nice guy card with the strange alien, smart.

“Lead the way.” Following him back down to the staircase, we stop near the supply closet as he opens it. I freaking knew it, god damn cleaning work. He takes out a broom and hands it to me.

“Don’t worry, we all had to start sweeping the floors when we all first got here.” As if the guy had tried to read my mind, if he did then he would have known that I was imagining beating someone over the head with the broom. That someone most likely being him. So he wants me to just sweep the floor and not pick up the dust, because he did not give me a dustpan. All those cartoons that show someone sweeping the floor almost never include a dustpan or something to pick up the mess, they just put all the dust from one place the next.

“So go through every room on this floor and just sweep up the floors. When you’re done, go downstairs to the engine room and help out the others if they need it.” There is only one room not counting the closet and the bathroom. This guy obviously does not know what work to give me because obviously if he did then I would have had to clean the whole ship. Fine with me, if anyone says anything then I can just say that I did what this guy told me and nobody can blame me for shit. Wait, engine room?

“An engine room on a wooden ship?” I deadpan.

“It’s not all wood, but yeah.” He completely missed why I asked this.

“And after that?”

“That’s it. You can walk around and see if anyone needs any help. There’s really not a lot of work to do on a ship you know.” What kind of work do you expect to do on a bout that is basically just moving through a body of water? How much work can one person possibly do on a ship? Not much apparently. Hey, if it means less work for me than I am not complaining.

“Alright, see you later then.” Might as well get started, I turn and walk to the barracks.

“Later dude.”

The room is empty as I go to the very end and begin to sweep the floors. The only thing that had made this kind of work bearable in the past for me was music. I would always listen to music on my iphone while cleaning otherwise my thoughts would wander to rather depressing topics and philosophical arguments with myself. And just like that my mind once again begins to wander to my situation, I am cleaning floors again. I wake up in a new world only to end up working in a shitty job, again. My mother would be so proud. I am doing work that no one in their right mind would want to do, it is the same shit that I had to deal with back home. I remember how a friend of my grandmothers would always say how things were easier in the past; things always seem more or less easier in the past. Thirty years ago you could have came to New York without any formal education and open up a business. Now you cannot do anything without a degree in something, a good credit score and good banking history. Now businesses are failing, life became but a shadow of what it once was and people are now surviving but not really living. So any job was better than nothing, even the one that requires you to clean up others shit after them and nobody is happy about it. Except for those people who do not have to do it.

I remember how my family had always told me that I would never be shit, well look at me now. I am glad that my family cannot see me right now, I have put them through so much already. In a way my disappearance may be seen as a blessing, I am no longer around to screw up and disappoint them anymore. They would always say that it does not matter what I did or something along those lines, after they had their session of yelling, bitching, accusing, and making me feel guilty and just plain shitty. Ah the good old day…What good old days?!! For every single one happy smile and good moment that I remember, I get reminded of ten crappy and bad times. However at the end of the day, the fact that we are family would mean that all the anger is temporary and that it would go in to a restart mode where it would start all over again as soon as some other shit comes up. It was not really all that bad though, I cannot really say that I truly hated every moment of my time with them. They were not abusive or manipulative like one of my friend’s parents, it was more like we could not help but fight all the time. Even now with worlds apart I would do anything for them. I cannot help but love my family regardless of our past quarrels.

A man once told me that we should count our blessing that we did not lose everything; of course his statement was out of context seeing as how he said it after a hurricane had hit. I technically did lose everything and yet instead of loss or pain I feel a sense of relief for not having to care about all the shit in my life, although I am not all that happy about losing all my possessions. Especially my knife collection, I really like knives. I wasted whatever pocket money I had on flee market knives and weapon stores. One of my favorites is or rather was a black stainless steel hunting knife with a false bottom with wishing supplies inside, a built in compass and a sharpening stone in the sheath. I also liked my throwing knives, I would spend hours practicing in my room with a target board I nailed on the wall. One of the major reasons I had fights with my family was over the wholes I made in the wall from the knives. Not one of my proudest moments I admit, throwing knives at a wall inside a small room is not exactly smart or good practice.

I finish sweeping the dust from the barracks, it turns out the room is rather clean for a place that is being used by twenty five guys. I sweep the dust over to the hallway, now I have the hallway left to clean and then I have to go down to the engine room. An engine room on a wooden ship, that does not sound right. And once again my thoughts begin to wander. How the hell did I get here? I know I asked this already but seriously did Twilight fuck up a spell or something? A human in Equestria, how fucking typical. This is the kind of shit that people write about and becomes a cliché on the internet. I know that there are some stories online about how people go to Equestria and they have fun and all that. Oh yea this is fun alright, this is so fun that I want to take a blunt force object or maybe the sword and go on murderous rampage. What the hell did I even see in this show? The main focus of the show is childish bullshit about friendship, if someone would have wanted to kick my ass and their justification for it was because I watched the show then I would honestly agree with them now. God, now I want to kick my own ass.

I am finished with the hallways and there is a noticeable pile of dirt left. I have nothing to clean it up with so I am just going to do an old trick when I had to clean the stair case in my old apartment building; I sweep it over to one stair and as closely to the corner next to the wall as possible. (How many people actually look to the corner of a step on a stair case?) With that done now I get to see the engine room, I already know that there is going to be something that will make no sense so I might as well get ready for it.

Placing the broom back in the closet I go down the stairs to the third floor, I notice the entire lower section of the ship changes completely. The floor is bare of any carpeting and it looks like it was not cleaned for some time. Why did the griff not tell me to clean up this room, it really needs a good sweeping and floor moping. The entire lower level is one great room with two big upright containers that look like silos at the very end of the room which is the front part of the ship. They are of a light grey color with pipes coming out of them and different sized red valves on the junctions, they kind of look like something out of steampunk. They are almost identical except that one has a small red square label and the other has a blue one. There are some crates of varying sizes piled up near the silos with label tags on them, no surprise that the writing looks like plain illegible lines. There are no windows and the walls look more reinforced with thicker wood. The room is somewhat dark with a reddish tint; the room is warmer than either the barracks or the mess hall. There is a light that is coming from what looks like a dark grey furnace at the back end of the ship. I guess that the furnace itself is some kind of steam engine and it looks like it was once part of an old style train. Heavy metal riveted to the floor and the back of the wall, pipes and other extensions coming out of it and into the walls and ceiling of the ship. Pistons are moving on both sides of the engine into the very back of the ship with almost no noise except for light hushing sound. Red valves are on all the pipes, there are golden yellow leavers sticking out from the floor on the right side of the engine. The artwork of the scene by itself looks rather nice and impressive. But the logic, there is none. I am not even going to bother with it anymore.

Next to the engine on the floor there are a stack of bags with one partly opened and filled with what I think is coal. And sitting on that stack of bags is a light brown griffin wearing a dark grey working apron and gloves of the same color with a shovel near his feet. He is staring at the flame coming from the opened engine door. I saw him in the cafeteria so then he should know that I work here, more or less. From what I can tell by looking at him, he is about maybe middle age. Although age is hard to define in this world when all you have to work with is height, wrinkles and voice tone. As I walk up to him he turns his head to me. His facial expression quickly changes from surprise to smiling as he stands up and sits down on his hind legs, he recognizes me well at least he is not nervous or scared of my appearance. I guess the scars do not bother him.

“Hello, I was told to come down here and ask if you need any help with anything.” By the looks of things there is nothing to do around here.

“Well hi there! You’re the new guy! The name’s Fuma and as you can see there’s not much work to do here.” Another Latin derived name and no work, not surprising. It is hard to tell his age by his voice, probably middle age or maybe bellow that. He has an accent that makes me think of Slavic, however I am not entirely certain.

“Call me Traveler.” I outstretch my hand to the guy which he quickly takes into his own with no hesitation. He shakes and then looks at with focused interest while still holding it.

“If your names Traveler, then why do your gloves say Harbinger?” His voice is casual with curiosity and no sign of incrimination or an interrogative tone. The guy read the word sown on the glove, Harbinger is a brand name for sports equipment. I guess this means that they can read regular English, now I don’t have to try and see if they can read any of my writing. Zecora never bothered to look at my little book of notes to see if she can read it, I always read it for her.

“I never said that was my name, I only told you to call me that. Harbinger is… something else.” Harbinger was going to be one of the names that I was planning on using. I might still do as long as this does not get out to anybody else. Then again Beak and probably some of others have seen the word at the mess hall already.

“Oh right you didn’t, sorry. I am not the brightest one around here. ” His face takes on a sheepish smile. He is either honest or not confident in himself. Not many would actually admit to being not very bright. He is still holding my hand and looking at it.

“Is that your houses sign?” My houses sign? He is looking at the brands symbol over the written name; it is a white shield with a black cross in it. He is probably thinking about a coat of arms that most noble families had in the old times. I guess that exists here too, makes sense that nobility would uphold such traditions seeing as how monarchy still exists.

“No, it is nothing important. So you take care of the engine? What exactly is it for?” Hopefully he will drop the subject, I do not want to explain things like brand names and mass produced goods. I am not even certain that mass production even exists in this world, except for in that one episode with the Flim Flam brothers with their machine.

“I sure do!” He finally let goes of my hand as he exclaims, pride can be heard in his voice. “This here engine works the water pipes in the bathrooms and works the ships propellers.” How the hell does an engine provide water irrigation for a ship? A wooden ship at that, I admit that I do not know much about engines. If this ship has propellers than why does need sails? Propellers obviously need energy so the engine actually has a purpose.

“How? Where do you get the water for the ships bathroom and sink? Is that what those silos are for? How exactly does the engine provide irrigation to the whole ship? That engine looks like it is solid steel, how does stand on a ship without braking or burning the wood?” It is interesting to see what kind of goddamn answers this half assed excuse for a wonderland might give me and they better be good.

“Well I just take care of the engine really so I don’t exactly know how everything works. I know that one” He points at the silo with the blue square. “holds a week’s worth of water for the whole ship and the pipes bring it to bathrooms. The wood in this ship is special, I don’t what it is called but it really strong and it does not get burned.” So the guy working on the ships engines does not know how water gets transported in it, wow that I just perfect. So this ship is made from some kind of strong wood, I guess that kind of explains how it can handle the engines weight and not get burned.

“I was told that there were others down here. How long have you worked on this ship?” I might as well learn something about the guy through small talk seeing as how there is nothing better for me to do.

“Oh some of the guys come down to help me with feeding the engine once in a while or just to keep me company. I’ve been on this ship since day one. About two years now I think.” The look on his face is that of remembering. He sits back down to where he was previously sitting and gestures me to do the same. The floor seems clean enough, so I sit down on crossing my legs.

“The company was new when it started and it needed a crew. Captain Gazer offered me a job aboard his ship and so I took it.”

“So this is the first ship that the company had since it began two years ago.”

“First and only, the company is the ship.”

“What? What kind of shipping company only has one ship?” If UPS only had one car then it would have gone under a long time ago.

“A private one, what other is there with one ship? There is only one major shipping company and it works for the royals.” No surprise that royalty and higher positions would control trade. In history those who control the trade also control the income that comes from it.

“There is only one major shipping company? Why?”

“Well, I don’t really know. I guess because royalty has the most ships.” He actually looked confused as if he never really thought about it. Private companies usually have benefits that regular ones do not have or they cannot offer. Maybe they have specific goods or special services.

“So what exactly is the difference between this company one and the royal one?”

“Oh we guarantee to bring packages faster and safer than the other one. This engine makes sure of that.” He has much pride for the engine, probably really likes his job.

“I am guessing that you have a weight and quantity limit if you have only one ship.”

“Yea, but it was never a problem. Most of the things we have to carry are decently heavy like expensive gifts and sometimes even statues.”

“So this ship is faster than the others because of the engine. Is it a special ship or something?”

“The other ships don’t have engines, something about them costing too much.” Same old dilemma as back home. I often ask why the military do not use the more advanced technology for each individual soldier. The answer is that the new tech is too expensive to be mass produced for each soldier. If it were not expensive then the soldiers would be like something out of a science fiction video game. Same problem, different situation.

“You seem to really enjoy your work.”

“You bet I do! It’s the best thing that ever happened to me. It’s… the only thing I’m good at.” His face turns to that of sadness. That last part seems to have brought on some old memories, and not very good one by the sound of it.

“What about you? Where’d you come from?” A change in topic, he probably does not want to talk about his shortcomings. I can relate.

“I do not have much to tell, I came from a faraway place that I am certain you have never even heard of.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what are you? I-I mean if that’s ok with you?” I thought that the griffin who first asked that question would have told everyone already.

“My kind is called Dovahkiin.” And just like that I feel like an asshole again.
“Dovawha…?”

“Don’t push yourself. I know the word is hard to pronounce.” With that awkward expression on his face, the guy looks like he does not know what to say next. I honestly do not want to say anything more than I have to and I am saving most of my questions for Gazer.

“So why do you wear all those clothes? They don’t look like a uniform to me.” Talking about the subject of clothing with a species that have no use of them would make a rather interesting conversation that would branch out to many other topics like philosophy and so on. However, something tells me that this guy might not be able to follow through most of the conversation. That and I have been talking too long for my own liking.

“Unlike you, I do not have either feathers or fur. I require clothing to protect my body from the elements and different temperatures.” I take out my arm from under my jacket for him to see and to emphasize the point, Fuma leans forward to look closer at my arm.

“Huh, I guess you don’t have anything. Not even scales, weird. But you don’t need to wear them now, it pretty worm in here.” I do not want to take of anything, my current appearance makes me self conscious. That and I do not want to get into the nudity topic, it will take too long to explain things that are simple to me and difficult for others like him.

“Clothing is a part of my culture, we always wear them.” Let it be left at that.

“Always? Like at home too? That must get uncomfortable. But why?” Although I can respect his curiosity, the questions are starting to get annoying.

“I have already told you that it is a cultural thing. You would not understand.”

“Yea but, well maybe you can explain it to me?” A hopeful look appears on his face.

“Perhaps later, some other time.”

“Oh, ok.” His face turned slightly disappointed.

I could spend the day here and talk to Fuma. I would not have to deal with anyone else or have to do any more work. However sitting in this room does not sound all that appealing. Everyone on this ship must know that there is nothing to do in the engine room, so then they know that I have no excuse for not working. Might as well do something, sitting around and doing nothing is boring.

“I will see you later. It was a pleasure meeting you.” I stand up, stretching out my arms and legs.

“Leaving already? Oh well. Guess I’ll see you later then.” I give a slight nod to him and turn to the stairway. I might as well walk around and see what else there is to do.

I come to the door of the barracks and look inside to find it empty. My next destination would be the mess hall, washing dishes was never hard for me seeing as how I always did it in my home. As I come near the door and open it, I find it to be also empty. There was no griffin with a chef’s hat behind the counter or a sign of any work needed of doing. There are no dishes or trays or anything for me to do and the carpet seems to be clean so I do not need to sweep it. Looking at the floor I would not be able to tell if it were dirty unless it had some visible blemish or a cartoonish light coating of dust. Dust, which I might add is invisible by itself in this place.

Everyone is most likely out on the deck. If there is not much work to be done on a boat than why is everyone out doing something? Gazer must have realized that I would not be of any use on the deck, I do not even know the first thing about sailing. Maybe I will get to learn something before the ship arrives to its destination. Going to the first floor I look at the captain’s door seeing it being closed as always. He is most likely in there writing his papers and documents. I could come in and talk to him, maybe give him another much needed break from the monotony of paperwork. Although me simply coming in and talking rather than working and being useful would make me look like a bad and lazy worker. That would be bad for my resume. Yea right, like I am ever going to need one in this world. Do they even have resumes in this world? Ah, who cares?

Going through the door and standing next to it, I notice that the deck is full of griffins walking on the wooden floor of the ship and in the air. Most were on the deck working with ropes and knots that hanging from the sides of the sails. I remember from all the pirate movies that the old ships had many ropes that are were used in sailing the ship. The number of ropes present is way less than it should be. There are no nets for climbing or catching falling workers, not like there is a need for any seeing as how the whole crew can fly. (Except for me.) The sky appears to be that of day time and yet it feels like less than an hour has passed since I have woken up. The forests foliage always covered most of the light so I never actually got measure the length of day time in this world. Although my perception of time in the forest told me it was like on earth. I am probably still tired from no sleep and did not notice how time went by, which means that I was working at a slower pace. Wow, first day of work and I already suck at it.

The griffins are all working and do not seem to notice me. The air is somewhat colder than it was last night and the speed of it is that of a breeze. My running sneakers let the air go right through them, so I feel the wind going by my feet. If the wind gets any colder then I might actually catch a cold. My footwear might prove to be a hindrance in the future and with the winter months coming in the problem might come up sooner, great something else for me to be concerned about.

A griffin flies down and lands not too far from me. The guy is walking up to me and I recognize him, he is missing his chef’s hat.

“Hey there… traveler. Nunt said that you’re free for any work today. Right?” Apparently my so called name is now known to almost everyone and they obviously do not believe it. That is what I get for taking such a shitty name.

“Yes, I am free. Who is Nunt?” What kind of name is that? Might as well make it easier and just call the guy Nut instead.

“The full name is Nuntias and he’s the one that gave you a job early today.” So that is the guys name, no wonder he did not tell me.

“Oh. So you have work for me?”

“Yea, how are you with peeling potatoes?” I saw this coming, cooking is next to cleaning on a list of jobs a new guy gets to do on old ships.

“Decent. I was the one that always did it back home.” Every time cleaning the potatoes was my job, not like it was a hard job or anything.

“Perfect! Let’s go to the kitchen then.” I am most likely going to do his job, no wonder he is so happy now.

I follow him through the door and all the way to the mess hall. Near the right side of the food counter there is an opening door for getting behind it. There is enough space for the griff to walk around on all fours as he makes his way to the center. The floor behind the counter is the same colored rug, only dirty and worn from what looks like grease stains, wet stains, burns, scratches, pieces of brown dust or food or something. Overall it looks like a neat freaks nightmare or one of my grandmother’s many reasons to get angry to be more specific. There is a small white sink and a strangely modern day dark grey oven and stove by the wall that I somehow I missed in the morning. The guy opened a cabinet behind the counter and took out and old fashioned potato bag, I have not seen one of those bags in over eight years. He then took out a small grey garbage can from the same cabinet. He then pulls out a small kitchen knife from a spoon/fork cabinet and hands it to me. The knife is plain with a wooden black handle, running my thumb through the blade I find it to be decently sharp enough to cut food. I cannot tell the sharpness by looking at it, too cartoonish. He opens another cabinet and takes out a big metal grey cooking pot and places it on the stove.

“So, peel thirty potatoes and put the waste into the basket. Then wash the potatoes into the sink and after than put them into this pot. Any question?”

"Your name?" His eyes widen quickly.

"I'm sorry! where are my manners? The names Marks, but around here I'm called sergeant. As in mess sergeant." Interesting name, rather human.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Likewise. So any questions about the work?"

“No.” This is all self explanatory. The only thing that is missing is a chair for me to sit on, the floor is too freaking dirty.

“Great. I will be back twenty minutes.” And with that he walks out from behind the counter and out the door. Looks like it is menial labor for the win today. Getting myself comfortable on the shitty floor I take off my gloves to prevent any dirt from getting on them and start the work.

The work is easy for me as I have done it many times before. The griffins on this ship are rather decent individuals, makes me want to see their homeland. What kind of things can I find in this world? What secrets can discover? What the hell am I going to do next? This is a rather interesting experience, although it maybe not be what I had in mind when I said I wanted an adventure. Obviously this world has dangers and threats, the timberwolfs and manticores are proof of that. There has to be something even more dangerous out there, more deadly than dragons, hydras and other monsters. How will this world be different from my own? Is it possible that everything in this world is all sunshine and rainbows or is Equestria the only place that has the kid friendly filter on? Zecora told me of wars and dangers in the distant lands, she told me to be careful and to watch my back (in her own rhyming way.) Who are the bad guys of this world? And how ‘bad’ can they really be? This is children’s world so the enemies can be more or less easily found. The bad guys from the cartoon were easily distinguishable from the rest by their stereotypical behavior and facial expressions of frowns and evil smiles. It is the most basics recognition system of the human mind. So then the evil looking guy actually could end up being the bad guy and screw the whole ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’ lesson. Or maybe the lesson it is true to some extent. The local might see me as a bad guy because of how I look, that might be a problem in the future.

How “human” are the locals of this world? How much of my knowledge in psychology can I actually use on them? Psychology is not even an exact science, most of it is guess work and statistics. How much of human psychology is applicable to the intelligent beings of this world? From the human point of view they are animals and past attempts at using human psychology on animals was met with failure. They are rational beings and can be said that they are technically not animals. Except that humanity does not know what exactly reason is, all we have are some trivial definitions that we came up for it. Every definition always comes down to intelligence, common sense, logic and making smart choices. The irony of reason is that it gives a living creature the ability to perform unreasonable acts. Human history and present day current events being the prime examples of that.

As I finish pealing the potatoes, washing and placing them in the pot, I clean my hands and begin to put on my gloves. The work being done I have nothing to do again until the griffin comes back. I have nowhere to go or even anything to do on this ship. While leaning on the wall and think about this, Marks comes in through the door.

“Finished already? You weren’t kidding when you said you did this before.” He says while looking over my work.

“So is that all?”

“Yep. I need to start for cooking lunch.” He takes out the chef’s hat from out of nowhere (I am going to have ask someone about that later) and begins to take out small pots from a drawer near him.

“Is it not too early for cooking lunch?” I finished my work in less than twenty minutes; the time cannot be any more than twelve or one at the most.

“Nope. Lunch time will be in an hour, so I need to get started.” Turning on the stove, he fills up the pot of potatoes with water. “Can you go and throw out the basket overboard?” He hands me the garbage basket he had me put all the peels into.

“Sure.” I take the basket even though it is technically a metal garbage can and walk out on to the deck. The daylight has not changed and the wind got slightly stronger. It seems rather bad to throw out garbage overboard like this, than again what else could I expect. It is not like it is plastic or something else like that is harmful, organic stuff is biodegradable and all that. Besides, what could old ship like this do with its garbage? Well, it could be used as makeshift fuel for the engine. The deck is still occupied with griffins except that they do not seem to be working as much as before, which was not much to begin with. Some were sitting on the floor while some of the others were flying around for fun. They all look like they are relaxing and lazing around, I guess I am not the only one who has nothing better to do. I go to the side of the ship and empty the garbage out into the ocean. I wonder if there is a real living mother nature in this world.

I make my way back into the mess hall, passing some griffins that wave to me. They are probably getting used to me. Entering the mess hall I can smell cooking and feel the heat of it, the chef is already cooking something in the small time that I left. Placing the garbage can behind the counter, the griff quickly turns to me whit a smile.

“So tell me my friend. What would you like for old Marks to cook you up for lunch?” That is rather nice of the guy to make special request on my behalf. Or suspicious depending how I look at it, everything seems to be going a little too much my way. I have to be careful around here and not lower my guard.

“No thank you. Anything you make is more than satisfactory for me.”

“Are you sure about that? I can probably find you something you might like.” His words are enticing; I am tempted to ask if he could make me some barbecue baby back ribs. Yea, that is not going to happen any time soon.

“No really thank you, I am fine. Do you need anything else?”

“Nope, I have nothing for you to do now. Why don’t you go relax before we start lunch.”

“I will see you later then. Oh, wait. Do you have any water to drink?”

“Yea sure!” he pulls out a cup from a cupboard and an unlabeled bottle of what I think is water from the same place. He quickly fills up the cup and hands it to me.

“Thank you.” The water looks animated, it is still refreshing. Giving him the cup back I turn to leave.

“You’re welcome.”

Having some time before lunch I may as well try out some of things that I wanted. The deck is drafty and would give me much privacy from any wondering eyes of the crew, the barracks should be fine. The room is not entirely empty, two griffins are resting on their own bunks away from mine. Both are sleeping so they do not react to me walking in. My bed remains undisturbed since the morning; my makeshift bag is still under the covers with everything inside. Jumping on my bed bunk and taking off my jacket for the first time, I make myself comfortable. Walking around with a jacket on for the whole day will make anyone hot and slightly sweaty.

Taking out the paper I got from the captain yesterday and my ink pen, I begin what I have no doubt is a waste of time. I figured that because this world has magic all that then maybe some of the myths about it from home might be real and work here. My mother was into that magic stuff for some time, she bought books on the topic and all sorts of talismans and other junk. I did not bother her with any of it because it was what she wanted, let other believe and do whatever they want as long as they do not bother me with it. I picked up on some of her stuff and had and read some of the books on the topic. Not enough to know any spells or some bullshit like that, however enough to know some symbols, their meanings and how they should be used. I draw up a pentagram and some other good luck charms hoping that maybe they will actually maybe do something. After some more minutes of drawing and wasting precious ink, the conclusion comes down to me having achieved nothing. Maybe there is a need for specific ingredients and chants and all that, or maybe only certain individuals can do such things. The Zecora episode said that magic through cauldrons and stuff like that is fake magic that is just smoke and mirrors, or perhaps maybe such things are possible. I should look into that whenever I get a chance.

With the failed experiment being done and me not having to test and see if the griffins can read my writing, I am left with only two more things to try out before I am completely done. I would need a volunteer for both, I still have two days worth of time so that will not be a problem. On the other side of the paper I write the entire alphabet and three simple sentences, bending the paper in half I stuff it inside my jackets inner pocket and put away my pen. With that done resting on the bed is boring without anything to do, I a need to walk around a little and get some exercise. This ship has more than enough space for me to find a place to exercise and practice my fighting. Who knows, I might end up fighting one of these griffins or any other local.

I put on the jacket again only without the hood and quietly jump off the bed, careful to not wake up the griffins. I make my way to the door and then to the stairs. Might as well go and see how the captain is doing, for all I know he probably knows how little work there is on the ship so there should not be an issue concerning that. His door is closed again as I come up to it and knock.

“Come in.” His voice comes from behind the door. Entering inside I find him sitting at his desk and looking over the papers on his desk again. That seems like too much paperwork for any one guy to still be doing for so long. He looks up from his work and smiles slightly at me.

“You know you come by around the time when I need a break.” He leans back on his chair. “So how was your first day?”

“It was fine.” He looks at me and his smile falters.

“Did you get enough sleep? Your eyes are all red. Or is that normal for you?” I guess I still look like shit, no surprise considering I did not sleep.

“No it is not. I am fine, do not worry.”

“You should still get some rest. You look like you need it.” I probably do.

"I have not seen you at breakfast this morning."

"I had mine in here." Was he sitting at his table the whole day? I think there are more papers on his desk then there were yesterday.

“You seem to be rather preoccupied with paperwork.”

“Yeah well, being a captain and managing a business is more work than it looks.”

“Fuma told me about that.”

“Yes, Fuma always was a great worker and a good friend.” He smiles at his own words.” This ship just wouldn’t be complete without him." I cannot really say that I would agree with him about that, although the guy is the only one that works on the engine so whatever.

"I have some questions if you do not mind." With the pleasantries out of the way it is time to for some answers.

"Yea sure, we got some time before lunch. I think."

"The day seems to go by fast today." I could not help but comment.

"It does, time is a little different out in the sea." Wait. If Celestia raises the sun, then how the hell does it move throughout the day? Or does it even do that? The forest had a constant cover so I have not paid it any attention and I did not bother going in to any clearings because there was no point. If the sun does not move then, does that mean that there are no time zones and other things like daylight savings time? Seriously, why the hell do I bother thinking about this anymore? This world is just too fucked up. There is no point in asking him about so I might as well change the subject.

"Can you look at this and read it?" Taking out the paper with the side of the alphabet written on it, I hand it to him.

"Uhm, yes I can read the letters. Why?" The confusion is obvious on his face.

"Do you know what each letter is?" Cant allow any mistakes, if he only sees symbols that he does not know then at least I will know where this will lead to.

"Its the alphabet. You know, the ABC's?" Now he is really confused.

"Can you write each down letter next to the one you see? I know it is strange, It is for an experiment." This must be really strange for him, I can imagine how it would look if someone asked me to do it. So far I am probably not making much of an impression around here.

"Okay..." He takes the quill from the ink bottle and begins to write down the letters on the paper. From where I am standing I could tell that he writes down each letter exactly how he sees it. There are no differences in how we both see the words. I thought that maybe I see things differently from how they do, and maybe the writing in this place only looked weird to me because of some reality warp or some other bullshit. Apparently that is not case. He finishes writing and hands me the paper, other than his letters looking like cartoon printouts it is all the same.

"Thank you. I thought that I needed glasses, now I see that I do not." A shitty little lie made up on the spot to make things easier. He does not seem to be entirely convinced by my explanation. He simply shrugs before leaning back on is chair.

"Anything else you'd like to talk about?" So many things and yet so little time. I need to prioritize the limited time that I have with him. I need to know what to expect from this world, the continents, the different nations, anything an everything about it. I need to see a world map to get an idea of where exactly I stand in this world and where should I go next.

"Do you have a world map or a globe that I could see?" There should be maps on all ships, both modern and ancient.

"Yeah, sure. Let me just dig it out for you." Shifting papers and moving stacks off the table, he takes out a large rolled piece of paper and opens it, covering the entire surface of the table. The map by itself looks typical, latitude and longitude lines, a compass drawn on the bottom right corner and some notes written on the sides.

It looks cartoony like everything else, however it is enough for me to make out the continents from where I stand. The lands and water bodies are colored in with their respective colors like in that of a children's coloring book, no surprise there. To say that the maps looks like it was drawn by a five year old would be too kind for words. The map is shit. No, less than that it is total and utter crap that had to be made by retards who came out from surgery after a massive car crash and were high from an overdose of heroine and a mix of cocaine. That would be an accurate description what I am seeing before me. The continents have jagged edges as though they were broken peaces of glass. What the hell? Leaning forward I notice that it only looks like that from a distance, the lands themselves have small ridges like what you would expect when looking at a map. There are visible signs of a Pangaea existing once, the jagged edges of the continents fit together too much like puzzle pieces. The continents themselves barely resemble earths geography, there are two major land masses with three slightly smaller island continents. Over all, it looks as different as it would be expected from this place.

The more closer I look at the map, the more details I can make out on it. For some reason the names and locations are written in English. Equestria is easy to find being one of the main continents, the map shows a number of cities, small towns and even the Everfree forest. Actually now that I look at it, the damn forest takes up a large chunk of the land, most of it is empty and not colored in. It would have taken me months to cross all of it, this map cannot be made to scale. Ponyvile is a really small town, almost a dot compared to some of the other things I see on it. Looking a the other parts of the world, I find it to be incomplete. Parts of the land near the Everfree forest for instance are left blank like they were never there or something. Same with some parts of the island continents and even the main land that reads as griffin territory. Large chunks of it are incomplete with some having question marks written on them and other have a bird skull and bones cross to indicate danger. Even the water regions have strange looking markings and exclamation points on it. Who the fuck made this map? This is a new level of bullshit!

"Is this an old map? It does not seem to be accurate. Why are there blank spots on it and what are all those marks?" I kept my voice calm although usually i would have made my opinion of the matter well heard.

"No this map is pretty accurate last time I checked." Looking over the map he turns to me.

"The blank spots are places that are unexplored or constantly changes that no map would be up to date." Unexplored? Constantly changing? What?

"Could you explain? How come those places are not explored and mapped?"

"How do you not know this? Didn't they teach you this stuff in school?" Great, there is common knowledge that is not so known to me. I am going to have to be more careful what I say and how I say it.

"We learned different things. Can you explain it to me how Equestria or the griffin lands have locations within its own borders that are unknown?" A kingdom that does not know its own land, wow that is just sad.

"Those are the kind of places where if you go in you don't come back. Even dragons have been known to avoid those spots. Some even say that they are afraid of them." His voice had changed to that of a serious tone as he said those words. Places where even dragons are afraid of, interesting. "There were countless scouts sent out to write down out as much as they could about those places, even from a distance. Most never came back, those that did mentioned strange things that none could make heads or tails of it. There were stories of how during the ancient wars there were small troops that were lost in them or diploid directly into them and lost forever."

"So nothing ever came out from there?" This is actually really interesting. Myth within a mythical world, oh the irony.

"No, It is pretty safe around them as long as you don't go into them."

"And what about those places that you mentioned that constantly change?"

"Most of them are these places" He points his claw to the large blank regions of the griffin lands. " the wastes of the borderlands. I'm guessing you don't know anything about them either." How the hell could I?

"No I do not. So those lands are not part of the griffin lands?"

"They never were. Those lands never could be united under any one flag, and believe me they tried. The wastelands are full dangerous creatures, weird environments and criminals. Whatever city or place that gets built there never stays for long, everything always changes from the roads that lead to them to the ones in control of the places. Not even the names stay for more than day. So they remains unmarked, there is no reason to go there in the first place." I really doubt that those who live there never bothered to map out their own environment. Then again with titles like wastelands and borderlands who knows. Sounds like my kind of places, maybe I will go there some day.

"So nothing is known about any of these places? Those are not the only dangerous places are they?" That question causes Gazer to look at me intently.

"Looking at you, I would say that you do not need me to answer that question."

"..."

Without a word in reply I continue to look over the map. The details are lacking, however the general descriptions are good enough to be understood. There are small blank spots in some regions of a dessert and in various other places. It seems strange to me that such places exist and yet were not mentioned in the show, I mean if Discord is attracted to chaos then why not go there? Why stay in Equestria or does he simply have a thing for it? Maybe the fans were right and he loves Celestia, that bitch. It does not matter, it is not like I could ask him. The idea to bust him out had come to mind once or twice, however in the end it did not seem to be worth it. Not like I could have gotten vary far anyway. I am going to have to get a world map for myself when I get the opportunity, or perhaps copy it down in my notebook.

"Lunch time will be soon. You should prepare yourself." How would you know that? You do not have a watch. And prepare what? Wash my hands? I did not even get to ask about the different nations and who is in control of what, next time then. Straightening up, I turn to him.

"Thank you for your time. Will you be available to talk later? I apologize for any inconvenience."

"There's no problem. The thing is that I am way behind on some of this work and I really need to catch up so I'm going to be busy for the rest of the day. Why don't you stop by tomorrow, I really like our little talks." He gives me a slight smile as he says that. That is a nice way of saying ' I'm bussy, get lost.' The guy does seem to have a lot of work so I cannot really blame him for not being able to talk. At least he is not a dick about it.

Leaving his quarters and walking to the mess hall, I think over everything that I have seen. The map was not made to scale, of that I am certain. The distance between Equestria and the griffin lands alone should take about a week, possibly even more. Avias city is not too far from the main griffin lands. I might have just found my next destination. Walk around, see the sights, visit the capital. All the typical tourist crap, and maybe find some of the underground districts. There will be time think these things over when I arrive there.

Everything goes by almost mechanically, no effort in any of my actions, no thought put into my movements. The lunch meal is grilled fish with cooked potatoes and tomatoes. With the hood covering my head again, the others on the table do not bother to look any closer as there is nothing new to see. There are the occasional glances of curiosity, however nothing more than that. Beak continues to try and talk to me, asking me how my day went and did I have any fun. What kind of fun does he expect me to have while cleaning on a ship? The others began to get used to me as they said a few words here and there. Some even asked the usually expected questions of who and what am I. I would have thought by now that my answers to these questions had already spread throughout the ship. Fuma had decided to sit across from me join the makeshift conversation between me and Beak. The conversation was mostly one sided as I only responded to questions and made observational statements. They do not seem to mind as though they expected for me to not be vary conversational. Fuma tried to get me to talk about my glove symbol again, he is convinced that it is some kind of house crest. That topic had gained attention amongst those that heard the conversation, I tried to explain of it being something different. Eventually the discussion ended with the symbol being considered something between a personal touch from the glove designer and a coat of arms. Apparently somehow I befriended Beak and Fuma without trying, actually they befriended me.

With lunch being over, Marks asked me if I could help with cleaning the dishes. A task that I always had to do back home, a menial task where I do not need to place any thought. Time passes by as I wash and dry the dishes, thinking over the map in my memory. Given some time, I could memorize the entire map in an hour or less and then i would not need a copy of the map. The idea of getting it means that I would need money, something that I have vary little. Regardless how self sufficient I might think of my self, money will always play a role in my life. With the work being done, I leave the mess hall and go to the deck for a short walk. The sky is much darker than it should be for this time. There are about five griffins on the deck, they do not pay me any attention as I walk to one side. It is colder than usual tonight, far more than any other night I have experienced here. As a slight breeze goes by, my feet receive the full force of the cold wind and I am once again reminded of the upcoming future issue. These are running sneakers made for summer with holes to allow air in and sweat out. These shoes can not hold out water from a puddle, yet alone handle a cold season. I am not even thinking about winter, when that comes I am screwed. I have no problems with cold temperatures, I actually like the cold. However that does not mean that I cannot get sick. And the jacket will not help much either, I only have a shirt under it. Only my jeans seem to be good for winter. I wish I has skinned that manticore and made a pelt, it would be really useful in the future.

Looking over my problems, I cannot help but think that I am going to be royally screwed in the future... again.

Author's Note

I am not satisfied how this chapter turned out. It was supposed to be released like three months ago. I had to rewrite the entire chapter and the other chapters I had finished got deleted. I have to rewrite them from scratch because of some bullshit that came up.
Overall, I am pissed. I am considering changing the style in which the story is written or maybe even scraping the whole thing. Possible changes to the rating and maturity level.
I apologize for the long wait.