16

Caves

Gilda and Gabby were playing poker at a table in the small cafeteria. The door had not been opened since the blizzard a few days before. The two showed their hands, and Gabby's face lit up. She took the small pile of washers from the center of the table and added it to her own modest collection. Gilda, who was down to only a few, grumbled and put her cards in the discard pile.

Greta looked out to the hallway. "Should we open the door?"

"Huh?"

"You know, the big door leading outside."

"Why?"

Greta grabbed the cards and started shuffling. "I dunno. I haven't seen the sky in a while. Plus," she gestured above and around herself, "how else are we going to get fresh air?"

"I think we're fine. The miners or whoever would probably have put some sort of ventilation, especially in this elaborate of a mine."

Gabby shrugged, putting the cards in a neat pile. "Maybe they were too stingy to. That door might be all there is."

"Hm." Gilda began to worry slightly but put up a facade of nonchalance. "W-well—" She cleared her throat. "Well, I haven't noticed anything odd about the air so far, and it's been a while since it's been shut. I think we're fine."

"Alright," Gabby said, drumming her claws. "Well, what if it's stuck?"

Gilda took a deep breath. "Don't even say that."

"I'm serious!"

"Since when have you been this worried about anything?"

Gabby frowned. "Come on. Let's at least check the door."

"Sure, whatever." Gilda stood, walking towards the hallway.

"Oh!" Gabby snapped a claw. "We better talk with Greta."

Gilda stopped, closing her eyes. "Ugh..."

"She is in charge."

"Fine. Let's go get her then."

"That's actually a pretty good idea," said Greta, whom the two found was reading in her room.

"Told you," said Gabby. Gilda rolled her eyes.

"The snow might've melted by now," continued Greta, putting her book down. "Let's gather everyone to the door. Seeing normal springtime weather ought to lift their spirits. Hell, even just seeing something other than stone and lanterns might do us some good."

"Leave it to me!" proclaimed Gabby with a salute. She sped out of the room, and Greta chuckled a bit. She looked to Gilda, but she was already walking outside into the hallway. Greta opened her mouth to speak but stopped herself, sighing instead.

Everyone had congregated already to the door, chattering somewhat excitedly to themselves. Greta was right in front of the door, scanning the crowd. Another griffon stood ready at the door. Gilda had found a place near the back and tried to avoid Greta's gaze. Gabby then found Gilda and sat next to her, smiling. Not finding what she was searching for, Greta frowned. She looked at all of the griffons and cleared her throat.

"Alright. You all know what we're here for. Let's hope for some nice warm sunshine!" She looked to the griffon at the door and nodded. The griffon pulled on one of the crank's spokes. It didn't move. The griffon repositioned himself and heaved, but it didn't budge. Another stepped forward from the crowd and helped him, and then a third joined, but they could not cause the crank to turn. Several griffons began to murmur worriedly to themselves.

"C'mon!" Greta encouraged. "You've gotta get that going!"

"We're trying!" one said. "It ain't gonna go!"

Greta looked around worriedly, stuttering. "We just need more claws!" She leapt to them, grabbed ahold of a spoke herself, and the four again pulled and pushed on the crank. The metal door didn't so much as groan to acknowledge their efforts. Panting, the four stopped.

Greta turned to the other griffons. "Someone find some oil or something! Go! Hurry!" About half of the crowd vanished to different hallways and rooms. There was a steady trickle back, most bearing nothing. A few brought back small cans of cooking grease and the like, and they slathered the crank with it. Again, Greta and the other three wrestled with the door handle, grunting and muttering.

Finally, with a lurch, the crank began to turn. The four were launched in every direction, and the crowd had a collective gasp of relief. Congratulating one another, the four returned to work, slowly working the crank. When it finally stopped, they each took a spot at the door and tried to push it open. It didn't budge, and the four groaned in frustration.

Greta turned to the crowd, nervously laughing. "How about some help?" A few more griffons joined, each getting a spot on the door. Nothing happened. The crowd grew uneasy again.

"All together," one said. "One, two, three!" They all heaved at the door. "Again! One, two, three!" The door didn't move. "One, two, three!" Someone from the top lost their grip and tumbled down, knocking a few of the others over.

"It's no good!" Greta yelled angrily. "There's too much snow on the other side. It's pushing against us."

"So we're trapped?!" someone yelled. Immediately, the griffons began chattering anxiously, absentmindedly growing closer together.

Gabby nervously chuckled and looked at Gilda. "I guess I jinxed it." A flash of anger crossed Gilda's face, and Gabby fell silent.

A griffon, his voice wavering, walked over to Greta. "What do we do now?"

The griffons slowly hushed and looked at Greta. A palpable sense of fear filled the air. Greta was at a loss for words, looking between faces, opening and closing her mouth, almost speaking words before stopping. Her tail slowly curling underneath her, she crouched slightly, breathing quickly. She closed her eyes, muttering to herself. Gilda was about to try to help her when she sprang up, a look of desperate hope in her eyes.

"The caves!" she said. "I-I mean, the rest of the caves—the mines, the tracks! They must lead somewhere! There could be another exit! M-maybe one of them leads outside!" The crowd didn't seem convinced, trading worried glances and whispers. Greta's face fell, and she looked downwards.

"I think it's worth a shot," said Gabby, stepping forward.

Greta seemed to regain some confidence. A-alright! Uh, s-so what we can do is have those who can search help us." She began pacing, looking down. "Here's what we'll do. I-if we come to a fork, we'll split evenly. So, if there's two caves, we divide in half. Three caves, divide into three. We're bound to find an exit. When we do, w-we'll come back around and clear th-the door of snow." She looked at the crowd. "Yeah? Sound good?"

The general consensus seemed to be agreement, though there were plenty who looked doubtful.

"Okay," Greta said, her confidence noticeably waning again. "Meet by the mine entrance a-and bring as many lanterns a-as you can carry.

The large group Gilda and Greta were in around an hour before had whittled down to just four. They came to another fork in the cave and stopped.

Gilda huffed. "We're gonna run out of griffons before this thing runs out of damn caves."

"Well," one of the griffons said, "it can't be too much farther along, can it? I mean, these caves are starting to get real cramped."

"And cold," the other added.

"Yeah," Greta said. She shook her head. "Alright, let's get this over with. Gilda and I will take the left one. You two take the right." The first griffon saluted with a smirk and walked to their fork. His partner followed him, and Gilda and Greta walked to theirs.

"See you later," Greta said.

"Bye!" they heard one call back, already echoing.

Gilda sighed and began walking. "I just hope there aren't any more splits. This is getting frustrating."

"We'll be out soon enough," Greta reassured, catching up to her. "The griffons who dug these out would have went until they ran out of rock to dig."

"Or gold."

"Well..." Greta huffed. "Well, look." She stopped and shone her light on the ground. "There are still tracks for carts here. Why have tracks if this was a dead—"

The earth around them trembled, and the two fell over. Dust and small pebbles from above fell on them, and a great rumble echoed through the caves. Gilda thought she heard screaming. When it stopped just a few moments later, the two looked at each other in fear.

"Damn it," Gilda muttered. "Scared the feathers off me. I swear, if our cave collapsed..."

Greta's beak chattered. "W-what if it did collapse?"

"Dunno," said Gilda coldly, "I guess we'd have to dig."

The two backtracked cautiously, keeping away from the walls and their voices low. When they realized they were back at the fork and the way was clear, they relaxed.

"Alrighty," Greta said, "not trapped. Whew." Her voice still shook somewhat. "Gah, I hate caves."

Gilda turned around and froze. "I think I know what collapsed." Their fork was fine, but the other seemed unusually dark. Holding her lantern aloft, she walked into the other pair's cave, Greta sticking close. Not too far from the split, a plethora of different-sized rocks blocked off the cave. Gilda's lantern made something glint, and she looked down. A pair of black paws stuck out from beneath the rubble, along with some broken glass and blood. They didn't move.

Greta saw too and gasped, dropping her lantern with a clatter. "Hey!" she yelled, running to the rocks. "Hey! Are you guys alri—"

Gilda grabbed Greta and held her beak shut. "What the hell are you doing?" she whispered angrily. "Trying to get us killed?"

Greta shoved Gilda away and stared at the rocks, breathing heavily. "H-hello?" she called again, more quietly. "Greg? A-are you still alive?" There was no answer. "Greg?" she said a bit louder. Nothing. Greta's knees shook, and she started to whimper. "Oh... o-oh... no..."

"C'mon, Greta," Gilda whispered. "We have to go."

"This was my fault."

"Greta," Gilda said, resting her lantern-laden claw over Greta's shoulder. "There's nothing we can do. We have to keep going."

Greta sniffed, picking her lantern up. "Okay."

They turned back and went to their fork of the cave. Greta hung her head, casting occasional glances behind herself. Neither spoke. The rails were still present on the ground, which Gilda kept an active eye on. The cave would sometimes get smaller, getting Gilda's hopes up, before growing in girth again.

The silence was unnerving, and it felt to Gilda as if her ears were starving for some sound other than of breathing and walking. After a few minutes, Gilda couldn't take it. "Maybe we finally got lucky," she said quietly. "We haven't hit a fork in a while."

Gilda looked to Greta but didn't see her. Quickly turning around, wondering if there had been a fork she hadn't seen, she saw Greta standing still just a few feet behind her. Greta set her lantern down haphazardly, making the flame inside shudder. She hung her head and tried to stifle sobs.

"Hey," Gilda said, "c'mon. We need to keep moving."

Greta shook her head slowly. "I c-can't."

Gilda sighed and began walking over to her. "You didn't know—"

"You were right," Greta said quietly. "This is all my fault." Her voice broke. "I'm such an idiot. I can't do anything right. I just stood there when Gruff was killed. I didn't do anything. I didn't talk to you at all. I didn't even realize until you told me."

"Greta—"

"A-and then," continued Greta, her voice slowly rising, "it was my stupid idea to lead us here, to some forsaken mountain, because I read about it in some book. It was my idea to send griffons to basically die in the cold for nothing." She looked at Gilda, tears streaming down her face. "I just killed those two then, in that cave-in! This damn bunker was my idea! Closing the door was my idea! And now we're all trapped! This stupid cave search was my idea! We don't even know if there's another way out! Where the hell even are we?! We're might all die in here, and it's all my fault!"

Greta stared at Gilda for a moment before collapsing on the ground, enveloped in quiet sobbing. Gilda stood stunned for a moment. She knew Greta would still be shaken about the cave-in, but she didn't think everything else was still weighing her down. Gilda cautiously walked over, setting her flickering lantern down. She sat next to Greta and put a claw on her back, rubbing it. She opened her mouth to speak but stopped herself. What would she say? That all of it wasn't her fault? That only some of it was?

"Look," began Gilda. Her thoughts stumbled, and she sighed. "With the whole Gruff thing... I don't blame you. We were all going through our own stuff then. It was stupid of me to think anyone was okay then, let alone you. And, with what's happened since then, don't guilt yourself so much. None of us know what the hell's going on."

"Easy for you to say," Greta mumbled. "I can't just forget what I've done. You didn't do those things. I'm the one leading you all to die."

"That's not true," said Gilda before she could think it. Greta cried harder, mumbling incoherently. Gilda took a deep breath. "No one blames you for any of this, Greta."

"Th-that's just it, though," said Greta.

"Hm?"

"E-everyone keeps doing what I-I say, and it just..." She fought back a cry. "I get griffons killed. Why me? Why am I in charge?"

"I... I don't know," said Gilda defeatedly. "I guess no one else was in a right state of mind to lead."

"And I am?"

"Well, back at Griffonstone, yeah. Everyone followed you to the station."

Greta sniffed. "That just means I was the first to run."

Gilda was taken aback slightly, and words failed her. Greta was no longer sobbing, instead staring at her lantern, still sniffing occasionally. Gilda looked ahead at the pitch black cave. She sighed and stood up. "We'll find a way out of this, Greta. Get up. We gotta keep moving."

Greta quieted herself. She sniffed and stood wordlessly. She picked up her lantern with a shaky claw and nodded to Gilda. "Okay," she whispered finally.

After a few minutes of wordless walking, the cave widened drastically. Gilda cursed as their lights revealed another fork, this time with three equally foreboding choices. Greta whimpered.

"We don't have to split up," Gilda offered. "Pick one, and I'll go with—"

"No," Greta said with a shaky resolution. "I set up the stupid method, so I'm sticking to it."

"You sure?" Gilda asked. Greta hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Alright. I'll see you later then."

Gilda chose the leftmost cave, and Greta walked to the center one. Taking a deep breath, Gilda began her trek alone. The soft echo of Greta's footsteps almost faded away when they stopped.

"Gilda!"

Gilda's feathers stood on end, and her heart beat quickly. She turned around, fearing what had happened so quickly. "Greta?" she called, walking cautiously back to the fork. "Greta, are you alright?"

"M-my lantern went out," Greta said.

"Hold on, I'm coming."

When she emerged from her cave, Gilda saw a dejected Greta with a dead lantern.

"Sorry," Greta mumbled.

Gilda huffed. "Well, follow me. We'll go my way."

She no sooner took one step when her lantern flickered threateningly. The two stopped, gasping softly. "No, no, no," Gilda muttered to it, "don't you go out too. Don't you go out on me." After holding it still for a few moments, the flame returned to a steady burn. Gilda sighed in relief, and the two began walking again, slowly and carefully.

"We have to have been walking for over an hour," said Gilda. "How much farther do you think we have?"

"I dunno," said Greta. "The mountain isn't too wide. I thought we would've been outside by now."

Gilda saw her breath rise in front of her, and she got excited. "We must be close," she said. She began to walk faster, constantly searching for some outside light. The little flame in her lantern wavered, and she stopped and held her breath. It was shrinking, and she held the lantern as still as she could.

"No, no," she whispered, "come on..." The dying flame didn't heed her. Gilda muttered "no" louder and louder until she was left in darkness. "Damn it!" she yelled. "Damn it, damn it, damn it!" She threw he lantern down, shattering its glass and making Greta jump. "Now how the hell are we gonna get out of here?"

"Let's just turn back," Greta said quietly. "Someone else probably found a way out."

"But what if this is it? We can't go back now." Gilda felt around herself. "We'll just... uh... feel our way through, I guess." She looked ahead, then behind, and she forgot from where she came. "Damn it. Which way did we come from?"

"Uh," Greta grabbed Gilda's shoulder and motioned forward. "This is where we were headed."

"Thanks." Gilda took a step forward then stopped. "This isn't the way back to the bunker, right?"

"Y-yes. Wait, n-no. I mean..." Greta took a shaky breath. "Th-this way goes away from the bunker, w-where we were going in the first place."

"Alright," Gilda said. "Sorry, just had to check." Blindly, she resumed walking. Stepping on and around the broken lantern and internally scolding herself for doubting Greta, she cautiously went down the cave, and Greta followed close behind.

They didn't meet a cave wall for a while, which Gilda couldn't decide if it was good or bad. When she finally did, she gasped in spite of herself. She felt her way along closely with one claw, then one wing, then both wings outstretched on opposite sides of the wall. She could feel it getting chillier in the cave, but there was still no light from the outside. Her wings gradually grew closer to her sides as the cave grew smaller, but there were still rail tracks underfoot.

"Please don't let there be any more forks," Gilda couldn't help but mutter.

After traversing in pitch black through a particularly winding section of the cave, the two saw a faint light shining on a cave wall ahead of them. Both of them gasped and looked at each other. Gilda smiled and flew to the light, almost laughing. She turned one last corner and was at last greeted by snow and sunshine. A big smile graced her beak. She didn't care anymore it wasn't more a pleasant climate. They were free. Unable to contain herself, she flew up into the air, pumping her fists and doing loops.

"Yes!" Gilda cheered. "Yes! Woohoo! We did it! We're all free! Just wait 'til we tell every—" Her stomach dropped, and she landed back down with wide eyes. "... one. Oh, no." She looked to Greta, who hadn't moved since they came outside. She was looking far away at the snow and trees . Gilda snapped a claw in her face, and she jolted back to reality.

"S-sorry," she said. "I was just... thinking."

"Well," Gilda said, turning to look at the cave, "you'll have plenty of time to think when we're backtracking... all the way back... in pitch black." She closed her eyes, shook her head, and muttered, "Ah, damn it." She nudged Greta. "Ready?"

"Mhm," Greta nodded. Taking in the bright sunlight and fresh air one more time, Gilda reluctantly braved the darkness, and Greta followed after.

With so many forks and differing paths, trying to go away from the bunker without any light would have been a nightmare of guessing and memorization. Now, going the opposite way back to the bunker proper, Gilda and Greta only needed to go relatively straight—all of the caves and mines originated back there anyway. Gilda laughed at her own worry from before and even pointed this out to Greta, but she didn't say anything back.

After an hour of blind and quiet ambling, they finally found the familiar concrete walls and floors. Most everyone had returned already, and the atmosphere was noticeably happier. Gabby saw the two emerge and flew over excitedly.

"There you are!" she said, hugging the two. She looked between the two, beaming. "We got the door open!"

"What?" asked Gilda.

Gabby nodded and started walking. "Come on, come on! I'll show you!"

Gilda and Greta followed her, though still a bit stunned. Sure enough, the door was once again wide open, letting in sunshine and chilly air. The other griffons had gathered around it, chattering with both elation and relief.

"Ta da!" said Gabby with a flourish of a wing.

"How?" asked Gilda.

"My group and I actually found a way out. We flew all the way around the mountain, and we were able to dig out the door. Loads of snow—no wonder we couldn't push it open."

"How many were in your group at the end?" asked Greta.

"Five, including me. We had to knock on the door a lot to get the griffons inside to open it." Gabby laughed. "I ran right into my room and wrapped myself up in about five blankets."

"We found a way out, too," said Greta, "but we didn't even think to try finding the door."

"What would we have done?" asked Gilda. "It was just the two of us." Gilda looked to Gabby, but she had left, conversing with others. Gilda turned back to Greta, who sat and hung her head.

"Hey," Gilda said, sitting next to her. "You alright?"

Greta nodded. "I'm fine."

Gilda patted her on the back. "Good." She gestured to the cafeteria. "Let's get something to eat."