Peace Offering wasn't as trusting as many of his people. He believed that I was going home, which was only half-true, but he didn't want me fetching the water or preparing food for him. I can't really blame him, considering what happened.
We were making our way through a pass in the Talon Mountains, and I tried to steer us toward the northern reaches. Peace Offering's warnings about the griffons grew more frequent and more irritating until we were about halfway north through them. I maintained that my home lay in that direction (it did, more or less). Peace Offering maintained that the Duskraptor clan of griffons made their home too close to here, that continuing further was tantamount to suicide, and that after we made camp for the night we were turning south immediately. He hadn't seen what I had, which was that a Duskraptor scout had already seen us.
I'm sure you've heard the stories about the Duskraptor clan. They're the greatest danger to ponykind within Equestria's borders. They're the sole reason the Talon Mountains are a no-fly zone. They're horse-eaters. Well, they're not just old mare's tales. Ere sundown, no less than six winged warriors were circling me overhead (they take their name from their preferred hunting time). Well, I was prepared. Nopony's going to catch Red Velvet without a charming gift basket ready.
When Peace Offering refused to move a single step further, I calmly and politely brought him my nearly-empty jar of Draught and set it on the ground, directly below his nose. "You'll need some of this, then," I said, removing the lid. He wrinkled his nose and looked down at it for a moment, which was plenty of time for me to draw my survival knife from its foreleg sheathe. As as he raised his head again, his ears flicking at the sound, I leaped forward and slashed his throat. He gasped and began to slouch immediately, and using my hooves, I pulled him forward and onto the jar, filling it up with his lifeblood.
When the first Duskraptor landed, his amber eyes flashing in the twilight, I had recapped the jar, and stood atop the fresh corpse, my knife still unsheathed and bloody. "I brought you a peace offering," I said, grinning around my knife. "His life for mine." I thought it was a good deal, personally - I provided a small fraction of the meat that Peace Offering contained, and there was at least a reasonable chance the griffons could get hurt or killed attacking me when I was on full alert.
If the griffon didn't agree, he was at least impressed by my bravado. He laughed, regarding me like a wonderful joke - like a foal making an impressive run at pretending to be an adult. "Why don't we ask the chief what to do with you?" he asked, his Equestrian clear and chilling.
I apologize for interrupting the story here, but it's lights-out down here in the dungeon, my little ponies, and I must rest and recuperate. That's the story of how Peace Offering fulfilled his purpose. Next chapter, I'll tell you of my time as an honorary member of the Duskraptor clan.