Headaches raged, limbs burned with pain, and opening their eyes felt like a hopeless climb up the great Mount Everhoof. Gallus woke up with such pain in his limbs that he felt like he had been stretched ten thousand times over. Sandbar’s groans came into his hearing as he blearily took in his surroundings, a weary grumble escaping his beak.

“Guys, I think…we’ve got transported somewhere, again,” he groaned, remembering the time when they first encountered the Tree of Harmony; though in the end it helped strengthen their friendship with each other, he still could not forget the same feeling of exhaustion and anxiety when he first woke up in that ever-shrinking cave. Except that in this case, he – and the others that were still coming to – found themselves in the middle of a small clearing, surrounded by a forest; at least no claustrophobia this time, but that was unfortunately compensated for by tall formidable trunks of dark wood, whose wizened barks glared at the waking intruders, and thick branches that hung with sadness in their leafy boughs. A breeze devoid of any warmth slithered its way through the forest, eliciting a shiver from Gallus as he took a quick glance around for his friends. Thankfully, he didn’t have to take long to find them.

Sandbar sighed as he struggled to gently push Yona off of him, the yak having crushed him under her great size. “I’m kinda worried of what Yona might do to you in bed, Sandbar,” giggled the gryphon as he extended a talon to help him out. “Dude, please! H-how could you–agh, you–we’re not even married yet! We’re far, far, faaar from that stage!” Gallus turned to sardonic laughter as the green earth pony flashed a bright rosy red on his cheeks.

“Just thank me for giving you life advice for future use.”

“Well, uh, I’d rather take my parents’ advice, thank you very much,” mumbled Sandbar as he softly shook Yona, trying to wake her.

“Hrr, this breeze is too cold for my liking,” grumbled Smolder, stretching her whole body in an effort to get it to move. Ocellus rubbed her forehead with a tired sigh, the changeling still disoriented from the suddenness of everything. “Um, where are we, guys?” queried Silverstream, the pink hippogriff expressing curiosity at her surroundings. “Well, good question Silverstream: I dunno,” said Gallus, face scrunched in worry as he flew up beside her. “Just some weird forest where we are stuck in and can’t locate ourselves, at least for now.” Her eyes shot wide.

“Wait, we can’t locate ourselves?! T-then, then, how are we gonna go back home? What if, what if…we’re lost here forever? Will the weird-map-thingy be able to teleport us back again? And what about this forest– Gasp! What if there are timberwolves lurking around, waiting to sneak up on us and eat us?!” she raised her voice at that last line, prompting Gallus and Sandbar to silence her with a hissing shush. “Not to be cynical Silver, but your voice will attract such creatures if you yell like that again,” mumbled Gallus. “Sorry, sorry…”

“Well actually, we’re not all that lost. We just need to find some village or place of civilization,” suggested Ocellus, her wings beginning to flap. “Tch yeah, like, we’re gonna find a village in this damn forest? With thick big trees and barely any sunlight, well, I‘d like to see you try Ocellus,” snarked Gallus, though said changeling didn’t show any sign of backing down. Ignoring his sarcasm, she continued, “Well, a column of smoke is one way to identify any nearby settlements, because it most likely comes from a fireplace.” Smolder and Gallus eyed each other skeptically, not sure of what to think about the changeling’s suggestion. Yona was now trudging in, drowsy and still getting adjusted to the new environment, slurring a hello and sitting on the ground with a loud thud. “Um, is everything alright Yona? You look a bit…mm, how do I say this, uh...” Silverstream stuttered, unable to find the right words for Yona’s condition. “I think she just needs some water and rest, she’s still kinda knocked up,” sighed Sandbar. “Yona not feeling well, head feels funny,” she slurred. “Don’t worry Yona, we’re gonna get us out of here in no time, alright? Just stay close to us and we wi–“ Smolder was rudely cut off by a distant screaming sound that seemed to become louder and closer; she flared, “What’s that?” “Uh, timberwolves don’t scream like that right?” questioned Silverstream. “It kinda sounds like a pony,” Ocellus observed, slowly brightening up. “Hey, maybe it is a pony! We could ask him for directions! See, we’re not totally lost!” she said, triumphantly throwing a glance at Gallus.

The sound of galloping hooves was now coming closer as the Six began to feel tiny vibrations underneath their hooves. A pony with tanned coat and black mane suddenly burst into their view, apparently running from something, though they didn’t know what. What relief that came at seeing a pony, however, soon vanished as they noted his appearance, a dark green and baggy coat of sorts serving as his dressing, while his black mane was actually closer to gray and matted with dirt, straw, and bloodstains. It took a few moments for them to realize that the screaming had stopped, and the pony – a rather lanky stallion – was now staring at them with wide fear-filled eyes. Gallus made the first move. “Uh, excuse me sir, but what’s happened? Why are you–” “Aghhh!!” cried the stallion, breaking into a gallop twice as fast, leaving Gallus and the rest in a haze of confusion and worry. “What that was all about?” wondered an annoyed Gallus. The ground shook again, a little stronger this time. “Uh, why is ground shaking?” said Yona, uncertainty trailing her voice. Ocellus’ face flashed with alarm. “Um, you don’t think–”

Nine or ten ponies broke into the clearing, passing by the same way the stallion had gone, each sporting coats of brown, beige, or orange that were marred with stains, cuts, and bruises, along with dirt-and-straw-matted manes. They all seemed to be running away, but from what? A mare, paying no heed to where she was going, slammed into Gallus, the two rolling into a ball before stopping short at the base of a tree. Neither had time to register what had happened to either, but as soon as she had crashed into Gallus, she got up, mumbled an apology, and tried breaking into a run for it, except that Gallus firmly held her hoof and asked, “What’s happening? Why are y’all running with dirt and blood on yourselves?” The answer that he received was nothing sort of shocking. Her mouth trembling, she screamed, in short, choppy phrases, a tongue completely foreign to Gallus. Hearing her chaotic rambles, the rest scooted closer to hear what was going on, but the mare finished her rant and instantly departed, leaving Gallus and the five others in a trail of utter confusion.

“Uh, Gallus, what was that about?” asked Ocellus nervously. “I…I have no idea. She just began ranting to me in this strange language, which probably means she doesn’t speak Ponish. But put aside all that, why do they have such bad injuries? And what are they running from? It just seems to me that something is up, guys; we have to–”

“Gallus!” cried Silverstream. He turned and looked, and the answer to his question suddenly appeared right before him and the other five. Where the ponies had come through, just at the entrance of the clearing, were three gryphons, on whom were saddled two formidable stallions and a mare. They were clad in bold colorful armor, at least colorful to the Six, but no less threatening. The air around them tensed as the mare, who seemed to be the leader, made a remark in the strange language again, her voice gruff and almost guttural. After exchanging a few words with the stallion on her right, Gallus eyed with fear when she brought a spear up to her side, pointing at the six of them, its steel head glinting daggers. Must be brave, thought Gallus. “H-hey, huh, um, excuse us,” he laughed dryly, trying not to sound awkward; the stallions cocked their heads but did nothing. “Erm, we are kinda lost...well, we didn’t come here on our own, it's kind of a long story, and–” cut in the mare, although Gallus obviously didn’t understand her tongue. “L-look, we just need your help. We’re lost and kinda scared and we would really appreciate if you cou–”

Slash! Warm blood and pain trickled down Gallus’ cheek, a sanguine talon moving away from his peripheral vision; looking up with a hiss he saw that it belonged to the gryphon on whom the mare rode. As if on cue, the two stallions prompted their gryphons and surrounded company, spears at the ready. Anger flashed in Gallus’ eyes. “Hey, stop right there! These are my friends!”

“Gallus, no!”

He lunged forward without a second thought. He brought the stallion down to the ground in a furious tackle, but then reared in agony as a searing pain tore his back; turning quickly he thrust an uppercut onto his attacker, catching a glimpse of a gryphon caressing its jaw before a strong kick knocked him to the ground, breathless. The stallion had pinned him under his weight, a toothy grin on his mouth, which soon creased into clenched teeth when Gallus swung a sharp talon onto his cheeks, wriggling out of his weakened grasp. A strange glint met his eyes, however, and looking up he saw the mare smiling wryly, hoof clenched onto the hilt of a dangerously glaring sword; behind her was the other mounted stallion holding a staff to the necks of his terror-filled friends. An oddly-angled spearhead was perched at one end, and a pit formed in Gallus’ insides when he realized that it was designed to slice the throats of whoever was held beneath the staff’s grasp, should it be drawn across. He gulped. Then he heard hoofsteps stagger behind him, and risking a glance around realized that it was the first stallion, face bloodied from Gallus’ attack, grappling a sword that was similar to the mare’s. There was no way out. He would die here and his friends would be doomed to a horrible fate…

Determined, measured, and thunderous was all Gallus could mentally describe when he heard those hoofsteps. And he absolutely shrank in fear and awe at the sight he saw. Mounted on a gryphon larger than the ones present and nearly armored to the teeth, a brown-greyish stallion of big build and eyes made of steel entered into the messy clearing, his cold and calculating eyes sending shivers of unbridled fear down the Six’s spines; the gryphon was no less different from its rider, beak poised and talons outstretched, ready to deal a killing blow. Gallus briefly wondered if all these gryphons were sentient like himself, but that thought was cut off as the three warriors dipped their heads in a bow and shoved Gallus and company onto their knees before him. The stallion said nothing, but the absence of words is sometimes more dangerous, and in this case, the Six could feel it was. Was he going to execute them? Enslave them? Perhaps torture them and then make an example of them, a fate none of them were ready for? His tongue moved, speaking words foreign to their ears, and although Gallus picked up a few ’s and ’s, he couldn’t hear them talking. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand what they were speaking; he obviously couldn’t anyway. But it was a fear, the fear, that these foreign words might spell out their unknown end, and he prayed to not hear it.

As sudden as he had come, it was as sudden when he stopped speaking, at least sudden to Gallus. Before he knew it, he was on the ground, slowly falling into a deep sleep, managing to catch a glimpse of the stallion departing with few shouts and whimpers in the background, but no more as his eyes closed. He was knocked out cold.

Author's Note

Hi there! It took a bit of time, but here's Chapter 2!

Feedback, suggestions, and criticism is very much appreciated! I would love to hear your thoughts on how things could be improved, because writing is sort of a journey, both for me, the writer, and you, the reader.

Enjoy!