Chipped Shield

Chip's steps were soft and calm, a smoothed path had allowed for his travel to be easier. Trees were high with their leaves and branches shadowed his steps. It canopied the traveler from the weather. Whether a blazing sun was about to implode or a cold blizzard from the moon, Chip felt this small sanctuary would shield him from it all.

The world seemed so peaceful to Chip. The only sound to come was the flowing soft breeze, leaves brushing upon each other like a hollow whisper, and the rumbling from rolling wooden wheels. The two-dimensional circles came from the oak wagon that Chip led on, wrapped around his stomach the connecting leather did him no discomfort. Though Chip liked the critter-less forest he held some discomfort today. The breeze felt distant, and the rumbling felt more like a horrible mismatch to the scenery, a sort of disrespect to the sanctuary.

Feeling he was tainting the holy grounds he began to hum a tune lost to time, a tune that would cover the horrible mistreatment he was marking upon mother earth. Chip knew today would be filled with horrible reminders of history, most likely whichever kingdom it is now would find his bravery a threat, but he understood why. He had never meant to give such a scene, he didn't even want to help. But as the tune slowly turned less pronounced, the melody became soft, he began to remember why. Patches of golden light would bathe him as he remembered why he fought for them.

His lips quivered before he spoke in a soft voice. "Just like they would have."

Today he knew he would be reminded of countless things that were lost to time. But at this moment, in this small pocket of time, Chip allowed himself to relish just a bit of history. As he reached his destination a small, graceful smile touched his lips.

The kind that shows the tiredness and warmth of an old and weary traveler.

His eyes became soft as he unbuckled his belt from the wagon. As the latch came free he slowly bowed his head in thanks. Though the forest was practically hollow, he saw a ray of sunlight coming from above. The warm golden glow was like a beacon of respect, it showered six tombstones.
One was alone in the darkness.

It was as if the shadowed stone slate was gripped by mother earth herself, vines and roots wrapped the tombstone like it was unyielding to let go. Even the etchings were covered in moss, Chip didn't need to read it though, he knew very well who it was meant for.

He didn't care for it much.

Taking small steps towards the wagon he would pick a bouquet of roses with his wing and step forward to a grave with wings at the sides.

'Here lies Quilla, a friend, a wife, and a warrior. To many an outsider of a griffon, to ponies a legend.

Fly high and soar through the heavens.'

Reading it over even after all these years still hurt. As he lowered his head as a bow with his wings he spoke in a hushed tone. "With thorns, just how you like them, Q." Placing the roses softly onto the lush grass he felt a tear come from his eyes.

Picking himself back up he looked at the wagon of bouquets, all of them of different species. He dreaded these reminders.

But he's done this before, and he'll do it again and again. No matter how many moons, no matter how many seasons, he'll always come back to pay respect.

He will never forget them, as long as he breathes.