SV-RPG Ch 4.1: And we began to rock

Ossie stood patiently as Mac finished walking around the big Nordanner mare, tugging here and there on the leather straps. Idly rolling the bit between her teeth, Ossie turned her heavy head to look over the rocky ledge. The boulder field spread beneath them; beyond that, the meadowland. And further west, the forest. Blowing softly through her nostrils, Ossie rolled an eye behind her, to the south—and home. While not given much to homesickness, the dunalino mare would be only too happy to be back in familiar territory. She considered herself rather unperturbed by any situation, but this surprise adventure was rankling her in ways she hadn’t expected. Dragons were fairly predictable, if you were well-versed in the various breeds and their intelligence levels. But gryphons were a different matter. You couldn’t base the nature of a whole breed off of one interaction with a hybrid. If that was the case, Ossie could expect all gryphons to be easily enamored of fire and beef jerky.

And fairly silly, if she were being honest.

Rolling an eye towards Bran, Ossie watched as Mac and Kanorlan teamed up to wrangle the rambunctious kit into his satchel. Bran was having nothing of it, though—he wriggled, squirmed, and nearly bent himself over backwards in order to get out of being stuffed in there. Very much like a human toddler, Ossie observed wryly. But once he was firmly in the satchel, he quieted down, hanging onto the edge and gazing out of the bag with wide, curious eyes.

Giving Bran a firm, but gentle pat on the head, Mac walked back over to Ossie and climbed into the saddle. Kanorlan struck out first, his black-tipped tail waving through the air. Ossie followed at a sedate pace, placing each of her four hooves with care. No matter how smooth the path, no matter how wide it might get, she wasn’t going to be lulled into a false sense of security.

They continued the upwards climb, each spiral up the mountain bringing the temperature down a few more degrees. As they came around yet another curve, Ossie felt a presence looming overhead. The large Nordanner stopped in her tracks, just as Kanorlan did the same. Nerves and muscles taut, Ossie tilted her head up towards the blue, blue sky. A feathered form—seemingly no larger than a large dog—and followed closely by another similar creature passed overhead. Close enough so that Ossie could see the sun glinting off the metallic sheen of their feathers and talons.

Mac gripped Ossie’s barrel, fingers knotting in her mane. The pair wheeled, turning away from their mountain pass, angling deep into the rocky peaks.

A pressure Ossie hadn’t realized gripped her chest loosened as soon as the two gryphons flew away. “Do you think they spotted us?” Kanorlan wondered out loud.

Rolling an eye back, Ossie watched as Mac used the edge of her sleeve to wipe at her brow. The red-headed human woman’s face held a slight, ashen hue. Her throat bobbed and she cleared her throat a few times. In a strained tone, Mac replied, “They’re part bird, so I suspect so.” Rocking forward in the saddle, Mac clucked her tongue. “Let’s get a move on. I don’t want to fight gryphons on a ledge.”

Kanorlan snorted, shaking his heavy head. The fenwolf opened up into a lupine trot, head low, ears swiveling from side to side. Ossie picked up her pace, employing a fast walk that was just short of a full trot.

They had only taken a few steps when the temperature on the mountainside altered significantly, a cold so intense that it knocked Ossie back a ways. The mare slammed into the lichen-encrusted wall, scraping her hide—and Mac’s—against the carved rock.

Ossie let out a trumpeting scream of pain, echoed by Mac’s own surprised cry. Kanorlan howled, digging his claws into the stone, pressing his body low to the ground. The mare tossed her head, blue eyes wide and rolling.

What was that? Where had it come from?

“Hurry!” Mac urged, taking up the reins.

Eyes scanning the sky, Ossie shoved herself away from the wall, wincing as she pulled flesh from rock. Digging steel-shod hooves into the brown rock, Ossie leapt after Kanorlan, just as the mountain started to rumble.

Oh, no!

“Go! Go!” Mac screamed, hunching low over Ossie’s withers.

GO!? Go where!?

Rocks pinged off the path, both fore and aft. Small ones, then larger boulders. Ones that broke and split apart like stone bombs. Instinct took over, fueling Ossie’s desire to run. Her large legs whipped into motion, galloping over the boulders as they out in front of her.

The mountain trembled, massive cracks emerging with ear-splitting snaps. It shook from side to side, pitching too and fro like some ship upon the sea—and they were the passengers left unsecured upon the deck.

A large crack appeared in front of Ossie’s hooves. Squealing in terror, the mare thrust herself over the crevice; she landed on the other side, hind hooves catching the edge slightly. It was enough to send her stumbling forward, Mac flailing about in the saddle.

Death flashed before Ossie’s eyes, a long fall to the bottom. She and Mac spinning out of control, their bodies broken like fine china upon the rocks. Ah, gods, no!

Somehow, some way, she caught herself, regaining her balance as more rocks poured down from the peak. Ahead of them, Kanorlan darted around the bend, Bran no longer hanging out of the satchel, but hunkered deep within the magical bag.

Rocks the size of a human’s head sailed by, several slamming into her hindquarters. Ossie heard Mac cry out, felt something warm course down her leg. Still, she ran on. She had to.

Silence.

Stillness.

Kanorlan slammed to a halt in front of a gigantic boulder that blocked their way, forcing Ossie to put on the brakes. The Nordanner mare planted her haunches and slid several feet, hooves scrabbling along the rocky path. With a grunt, she came to a stop; Mac flew forward, chin bouncing off of Ossie’s topline. “Ooof!” she grunted, arms flying around Ossie’s neck, nails digging into the pale fur.

Silence.

Stillness.

Holding their collective breath, the three adults all turned their heads skyward—towards the peak. Minutes passed, but the mountain didn’t rumble; the ground didn’t pitch and roll beneath their feet.

Slowly, hearts eased; air flowed freely through their lungs.

One thought remained—what was that?