Shame

The evening sun was just about to touch the mountaintops. Night would fall soon, and that meant another day with no food. Ruiz had spotted a young barrel cactus fruit on his way out of town, but aside from not being ready to be picked yet, it was deep into the maze of thorns, and Ruiz didn't have the protective boots to tread through it safely. It would have been a waste to take a new array of micropunctures just to claim a fruit that wasn't mature enough to be eaten.

It wasn't far out of town, less than a kilometre, that the cacti disappeared and the road went back to dirt and sand, surrounded by large rocks and bordered by tall shoots of yellowed grass. If it had rained recently, perhaps he could have eaten that, but as dry as it was, there was little hope of digesting it properly.

The list of things Ruiz would give for a taste of rain right this minute was very short. This was not because he didn't want the rain, but rather because he didn't have much to give. He'd even perform a Guanacoan rain dance if he thought it would help. Unfortunately, he didn't actually know the dance, the chant that they sang with it, or even their language, nor did he have a drummer to aid in his plea.

He pulled off to the side of the road and sat down, pressing his back against the corner of a fence. It wasn't a great spot to sit, but it would do. A fence post wasn't as good as a bed, but he was behind the grass where nopony on the road would spot him right away, especially at night. While there were less cacti around here, there were still a few, and sleeping on a hot rock was a bad idea. No burns for him, no cuts. His poncho would protect him from splinters.

He'd been asleep for what felt like five minutes when he was awoken by the sound of shot bouncing off of wood. He dove to the ground and covered his head with his hooves. It took a few seconds to reorient himself, but he soon noticed that the shots were not directed at him, or at least, not intentionally so. The palomino mare from earlier sped past, a wagon on her back, though not for much longer. With every shot, pieces were flying off in chunks.

The shots were being fired from the air by two blackened gryphons in masks. Why they needed masks at all was baffling to Ruiz. If they shot her, they wouldn't have needed the mask, as their witness was deceased. Capturing her would lead to the same end; she would not be reporting them to the law if she was tied up. Even if she did manage to escape, what would she say? Two black gryphons from Sweetwater attacked her? From what he'd seen, they made up more than half of the town's population.

As the gryphons flew by, Ruiz knew that this was none of his business. He'd helped her escape from them before, and she'd bruised one of his ribs and bitten him. He owed her nothing. He didn't need to interfere, and in fact, doing so might be even more detrimental to him. He would be better off returning to his fence post and sleeping for the rest of the night.

He pulled his slingshot out from beneath his poncho, grabbed a hoofful of rocks off the ground, and took aim. His first shot smacked the larger of the two gryphons in the balls, turning his attention to Ruiz as he loaded up another shot.

As the gryphon's rock sped toward where Ruiz had been standing, he took another shot. He wasn't shooting to kill, and a smack to his claw caused the gryphon to drop his weapon. As the gryphon picked up his weapon, the third shot pelted him hard in the wing, causing the creature to scramble for cover.

By now, the other gryphon had turned around and was rushing back toward Ruiz as he scooped up more rocks. He once more aimed for and struck the beast's claw, causing him to drop his weapon. However, rather than diving for it, this one dove toward Ruiz, claws outstretched.

Being a goat, Ruiz was short, light in frame, and not very strong. He relied on his range to win fights, as if it was his hooves against a gryphon's claws, he stood no chance. It was a dirty trick, but as soon as the gryphon was close, he threw a scoop of sand right into the gryphon's eyes.

The gryphon did collide with him, regardless, and Ruiz was knocked to the ground, kicking a hoof at the gryphon to make sure it flew a little further from him, so it couldn't slash at him through feel alone. The way he was clawing at his eyes, Ruiz guessed that the sand had done its job perfectly, blinding the creature, at least temporarily.

A large boulder, the size of a small dog, collided with his side, right where his bruise was forming. It knocked Ruiz aside, but he regained his stance before he could fall over. The larger gryphon was now hiding behind a much larger rock and lobbing boulders in his general direction.

Ruiz called out in mock pain and took aim with his slingshot. As expected, the gryphon popped his head up to see his work, and for his efforts, found a rock being launched through his teeth and hitting him in the back of the throat.

Ruiz made a point to move around the cover as he prepared his next shot. As he struck just the tip of the larger gryphon's tail, he made it clear that this was going in his favour.

Taking the hint, the larger gryphon grabbed his blinded and useless companion and flew off, wobbling on his injured wing. Ruiz could have very easily fired again, either removing the blinded gryphon from the other's claws or knocking out the flying one's other wing, bringing them both down. However, he decided against doing so. He was not trying to kill them, and his only intent as far as injuring them was to deter them from chasing the mare.

He holstered his slingshot. For the first time since he'd woken up, he took a deep breath to take in his surroundings. It was the middle of the night, a waxing half-moon hanging right above him. As the adrenaline was wearing off, he could feel all of the damage he'd sustained. He hadn't taken notice at first, but the smaller gryphon had sliced through his side with his claws, and his beak had dragged across his face, leaving a large gash. The rock that had almost knocked him over had some sharp corners, and had ripped his skin, as well as his poncho. This was not a fight he had won. It was a pyrrhic victory, at best.

The mare had doubled back, the wagon parked a short distance away. Ruiz watched her approach, her own slingshot aimed in his general direction, though if she were to fire as-is, her shot would slip between his chin and neck. She said something, but Ruiz couldn't quite make it out. Loss of blood, several days without food and a paltry amount of sleep were conspiring against him, and his adrenaline couldn't hold him up forever. "De nada," he mumbled as he collapsed on the side of the road.