18

Lost

"Are you going to join us, Gilda?"

The griffons had all gathered in the small cafeteria. A culinarily-inclined griffon had created a warm and hearty stew, and the atmosphere of the room was cheerful and cozy. Gabby sat with two open seats next to her, and she looked at Gilda expectantly.

"Yeah," Gilda said, "in a bit. Have you seen Greta?"

Gabby looked up in thought before shaking her head. "Not recently."

Gilda scoffed. "She's probably in our room. I'll go get her."

Gabby shrugged and slurped some of her stew. "Alright, but tell her to hurry up. This stuff's amazing."

"Will do," Gilda said with a laugh. She walked out the doors and down the hallway. Passing the other numbered bedrooms, she was surprised how much cooler it was outside the cafeteria. The concrete and metal encapsulating the griffons were uninviting but safe from the outside. She turned a corner, and some of the lights flickered as Gilda passed underneath. She passed a few more doors until she came to number five.

Gilda opened the door to find the room empty. She and her stomach groaned. "Damn it, Greta. Where are you?" Slightly irritated, she turned to leave, but something fluttered on the desk opposite the beds. She walked back inside, puzzled. It was Greta's scarf. Gilda picked it up, and a piece of paper fell out from within the scarf's folds. Setting the scarf on the table, Gilda unfolded the paper and read it.

Gilda

You might be wondering where I am. I wish I could say I knew. Maybe by now I'm somewhere where I'm happy.

Gilda's heart dropped as she realized what the note was. "No," she breathed. "This can't... This isn't... No, no, no..."

I'm sorry. All I ever did was disappoint. I've made too many mistakes. I've gotten griffons killed. I wasn't there for you when you needed me. You'll all be far better off without me.

Tears started to pool in Gilda's eyes, and her claws trembled. The note, too, became shaky in its writing.

Don't be sad. I don't blame you. It's not your fault. I just can't do this anymore. I can't. Have anyone else be the leader. I hate leaving like this, but I don't see another way. There are a lot of griffons who have hated me ever since it started snowing. And I agree. I don't like me. Not at all.

Gilda began to cry quietly, and she sat on her haunches, muttering curses at herself. Taking a shaky breath, she forced herself to finish the note.

I know what I'm doing. I don't care if the cold or the Pride takes me. I just want to be gone.

I wish you all the best of luck.

Greta

Gilda stared at the name numbly. She wanted to cry but couldn't find the voice. She took the scarf and wrapped it around her neck. With quivering claws, she placed the note back on the table.

"Greta," she finally mumbled. "I thought everything was okay." She sat in silence, trying to process it all. With a sudden burst of energy, Gilda sprang up and flung open the door. She tore through the narrow hallway, half flying, half running. She ran along the wall at the corner, trying to maintain her speed.

She shoved open the cafeteria doors, startling a few nearby griffons. She panted, trying to keep her tears at bay. "Greta's gone!" she shouted. Many griffons popped their heads up in confusion and looked at her. She flew up a few feet. "Greta's gone!"

"Gone?" Gabby stood and flew to Gilda. "What do you mean, gone?"

"She..." Gilda shook her head, still unable to believe it. "She left a note. A suicide note."

Gabby's eyes widened. "Suicide...?" The other griffons now understood, and the room was quickly abuzz with confused chatter. Gabby motioned Gilda to the side of the room, and the two landed. "What did it say?" Gabby asked in a hushed voice. "The note? Did she..." She grimaced. "Did she say how?"

Gilda fought to keep tears at bay. "Sh-she said she didn't care if the cold o-or the Pride takes her. She j-just ran away." She limply held up Greta's scarf. "She left this w-with the note."

Gabby sighed, shaking her head. "Well, then, there's a chance she's still alive."

"Not if the Pride's got her!"

"Don't give up on her just yet!" Gabby said. Gilda sat, clutching the scarf tightly, and Gabby sighed. "Listen. Let's think this through, alright? Um..." She sat, drumming her claws on the floor. "Think... think..." She snapped a claw and pointed behind herself. "Well, we know she had to have gone through the caves. If she used the door, someone would've seen her. Do you remember the way you two took to get out when the door got stuck?"

"U-uh..." Gilda racked her brain for a moment. Most of what she remembered was Greta tearfully tearing herself down, and she winced. She concentrated, trying to filter those moments out. "I-I think I could. If I see the forks and all, I think so."

"Good. If we're lucky, maybe Greta just got herself lost in the caves."

Gilda frowned. "How the hell is that any better?!"

"Becau—" Gabby's face fell. "I guess it's not."

Gilda glanced around herself. "W-we need to get going, though. I-I don't know how long it's been, and the longer we—"

"I know, I know," Greta said. She flew up and whistled. The room quickly fell silent at the echoing shrill. "Alright, listen up! Greta went through the caves. We need some of you to go through them all, checking that she didn't get lost in them, and some others need to follow me and Gilda outside."

An elderly griffon scoffed. "And why in Grover's good name should we?"

"She would for you!" Gabby barked. "Any one of you!" No one spoke up, but a few other griffons mumbled. Gilda flew next to Gabby, now sharing some of Gabby's anger, and Gabby continued. "Have you forgotten already who led us out of Griffonstone and to this bunker, who organized us and kept us alive?" Most griffons were abashed by her words, but some others scoffed. Gilda opened her mouth to tell them off, but Gabby put a claw on her chest, stopping her. "Alright then. You've made your voice heard. Those who want to help us find our missing friend, come with me and Gilda. Those who can't be bothered, why not go and preen yourselves?"

At once, all save a third stepped forward, from children to elderly. The rest stood awkwardly, looking at one another. As the volunteers walked over to Gabby and Gilda, a few others flew over and joined them. Those remaining turned their attention back to their stews in hushed conversations. Gilda, looking at the volunteers, could feel her eyes begin to water again, and she closed them and turned away. She felt a gentle claw on her shoulder and looked up.

Gabby smiled reassuringly at her. "Don't worry, Gilda. She couldn't have been gone long. It's a full moon. It's hardly even snowing. We're all looking. We'll find her." With just a moment's hesitation, Gabby hugged Gilda, and Gilda finally allowed herself to cry quietly.

"Damn it, not that one either."

Gilda backtracked through another fork, brushing by a few volunteers who were to follow her and Gabby outside. She peered down the other branch, lantern in claw, and attempted to connect its minute details with her scattered memory. Her head had long since began throbbing. Her wings, knees, and ankles tingled with shots of adrenaline. Her breathing became shallow and quick.

"I don't know," she said, "I don't know. All these caves look the same."

"Gilda," Gabby said, walking to her and putting a claw on her shoulder. "Breathe. You can't focus if you don't breathe."

"Shut up," Gilda muttered. "I'm trying, alright?" She looked again at the cave's walls and thought she remembered a certain crack in it. "It's this one."

"You said that four forks ago," one griffon said. Gilda screwed her eyes shut. Gabby gave the griffon a mean glare, and she hushed.

"Go on," Gabby encouraged. "Let's go."

"Please be this one," Gilda whispered.

After a few more minutes of walking, they came across another fork. Gilda's eyes lit up. The right path was collapsed. "I remember this one!" she exclaimed, her voice echoing. Looking at the rock-packed fork, a pang of guilt shot through Gilda. "Oh," she mumbled. "This one."

"Lead on," Gabby said.

A nervous anticipation filled Gilda as she stepped over shards of a broken lantern and vaguely remembered her blind amblings. Gradually, she could see her breath rise more and more prominently in front of herself. Finally, a pale light shone from the end of the cave. Unable to contain herself, Gilda flew to the exit, and Gabby and the rest followed suit.

Gabby was right. The full moon shone brilliantly, making the snow around them seem to glow. It was snowing, but the snowflakes themselves were bigger than bits and fell softly around them. It was still cold, but not as cold as Gilda had feared. The group set down their lanterns and turned to Gabby and Gilda.

"Well, uh," Gabby said. "What do we do when we find her?"

Gilda shrugged. "It's not like we have a signal."

"What about a call?"

Gilda shook her head. "Not if there's a chance of the Pride around." She turned to the rest. "Try to separate yourselves about a mile apart and fan out. Come back when you think you've searched enough." She sighed. "Hopefully by morning we'll have found her."

Gilda debated between flying low and calling Greta's name and flying high to see more of the ground, eventually settling for a cycle of sorts between the two. The fluffy snowflakes did not do much to impede her save for visibility. There were more trees and rocks and all sorts of hiding spots in-between the mountains than she remembered, and she couldn't focus on one spot for long in case she missed Greta elsewhere. Feeling overwhelmed, she forced herself to slow down and look thoroughly. Her thoughts, however, managed to slip away from her.

Of all the ways to go, Gilda couldn't help but think Greta's choice was relatively peaceful. She left without saying any goodbyes, which doubtless saved some grief on her end. She went somewhere where she could be alone with her thoughts and the beautiful moonlit snow, somewhere away from the world from which she wanted to escape. The cold would imperceptibly take her, breath by breath, step by step. She would be cold for just a short while, then soon would feel nothing, even warm from what Gilda had heard. Her body would gradually slow down, and she would simply fall asleep in the snow. Greta wouldn't even know she had died.

Yet, Gilda feared, perhaps it wasn't the cold which took Greta. The Pride, had they been patrolling the area, would have found her, and Gilda didn't want to think of what they would do to her. The Pride surely saw them as traitors not only to them but also to griffonkind. Greta would be lucky to die at that point.

Gilda felt sick. She knew how dark one's thoughts could wander, but she herself never fathomed to end it all. How dark a place was Greta's heart at? If Gilda even found her, how could she possibly help? Greta never bothered to say anything—perhaps for good reason. Maybe it was beyond Gilda's capabilities to help her. Her heart managed to sink even further. What if she found Greta, but Greta refused to come back? What then? She couldn't just leave her to die, could she?

Maybe she could talk Greta out of it. Somehow. Gilda sighed. She was barely able to haggle prices in Griffonstone, let alone talk down someone from... suicide. Even thinking the word left a bitter taste in Gilda's mouth. That decision was too big, too final, to be easily persuaded to stop. Gilda felt awful, and she hoped beyond hope it didn't come to that. Greta's death would be her fault, even more so than it was now, if she couldn't convince her to live.

"Oh," Gilda muttered to herself, "why did you have to do this?"

Gilda spotted something dark in the snow below, and her heart leapt. "Greta?!" She dove, closing the gap quickly. She hovered over the snow's surface and froze there. The figure was face down and unmoving, a thin layer of snow atop it. "Gre..." Gilda breathed. Her legs and knees tingled. She slowly hovered downwards above the figure. She almost didn't want to check. What if it was her? She outstretched a claw and laid it on the figure's shoulder. She flinched at how stiff it was. She closed her eyes and heaved the figure onto its back, the fresh snow crunching under its weight. Holding her breath, she opened her eyes.

It wasn't Greta. Gilda relaxed, nearly falling out of the air. He was someone from the Pride. Gilda took a deep breath and looked around. Of course this griffon wasn't Greta, she thought. There weren't any tracks around here. Looking back at the griffon, she couldn't help but feel somewhat sorry for him. Did someone look for him, too, but wasn't able to find him? Or did no one bother? Both sounded horrid to Gilda. "Poor bastard," she said. Shaking her head, she flew back up and resumed scanning the snow, hoping to find something moving.

There was nothing. Nothing. The blank snow below was pristine. The whole mountainside seemed to be asleep. Nothing moved. No sign of Greta. No trails leading anywhere. Gilda stopped calling Greta's name; her hope drained every time she said it. The moon had traveled a fair distance in the sky. Gilda thought about turning back twice now, but something within her kept her going.

"Is this the day I lose her?" Gilda croaked. "Will I ever find her? Where is she? Where is she? Where...?" She slowed down, eventually hovering in place. She scanned the ground again. Nothing. Her heart sank further into her stomach.

"This is all my fault," she said to herself. "I did this to her. I made her think this was the only way." She pulled at the feathers on her face. "Why? Why, why, why, why, why?!" She was wracked in sobs now, starting to fall out of the sky. "Why am I like this?! All I ever do is drive everyone away! I'm such an idiot!"

Realizing she had lost around half her altitude, she shook her head and climbed back up. She looked down again. Nothing. Hot tears grew cold on her cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Greta. I'm so, so sorry." Feeling hollow, she turned around and began flying back to the bunker.

A sharp but choppy caw echoed around Gilda. She whirled around, expecting to find a group of the Pride somewhere, but she saw nothing. There was a second caw, and Gilda realized it came from below her. Wide-eyed, she dove down, not knowing where it came from. Her eyes darted from mound to drift to pine to rock, but she saw nothing. There was a third cry, weaker now, just below her. She stopped, breathing quickly. Right below her, there was what looked to be a frosted, trembling maroon carpet near a grove of pines. A head poked out, looking up at her. Gilda's heart pounded. It was her.

"Greta!"

Gilda dove the rest of the way, hovering in front of Greta. Greta looked at her with a pained face. She squinted against the cold, shivering violently. Her beak chattered loudly, and her breath rose in short, quick puffs. "Gilda," she said softly.

"Greta," Gilda repeated. She undid Greta's scarf and quickly wrapped it around Greta's neck.

"I-I-I'm sorry," Greta said in a raspy voice.

"Damn it," Gilda said, "how the hell are we gonna get you back?" An idea sprung to her mind, and she landed in front of Greta. She turned around, lowering herself. "Alright, hop on my back."

"G-Gilda—"

"I'm not going to argue with you! Get on!" Greta hesitated for a moment, then shakily clambered onto Gilda's back. She weakly grabbed around Gilda's chest and burrowed herself in Gilda's feathers and fur. Gilda wasn't prepared for how frigid Greta would be. Shuddering, Gilda leapt into the air again, and Greta nearly lost her grip. Slowing down to an easy pace, Gilda started flying back toward the bunker. Her wings and knees still tingled with adrenaline.

Greta cleared her throat. "I-I didn't mean for anyone t-to come look for me."

"I know."

"I didn't mean t-to put you through a-all this."

Gilda opened her mouth to snap at Greta—of course she and the others would have searched for her, grieved over her if they couldn't find her—but she held her tongue. Greta didn't need scolding. Gilda sighed. "I know you didn't."

"I'm so sorry, G-Gilda." Greta started to weakly sob. "I didn't want this. I'm so stupid, a-and a coward—"

"No," Gilda said, "you're not stupid. You're not stupid, or a coward, or weak, or selfish, or worthless, or whatever bad thing you think you are. You're Greta. You're you." Gilda thought for a moment. "You've been leading us the best you can all this time. You found the bunker, not anyone else. You took charge at Griffonstone when no one else would or could. Griffons make mistakes. Don't think you're terrible just because you're just as normal as any one of us."

"B-but that's j-just it. I can't lead a-anymore. I c-can't. I can't deal with th-this anymore."

"Then I'll deal with it," Gilda said without thinking. "I'll take charge."

"R-really?" Greta's wearied and hopeful voice tore at Gilda's heart.

"Of course I will."

Greta sniffed. "Th-thank you."

They flew in silence for a while. The snow clinging to Greta melted quickly, and the cold water uncomfortably ran down Gilda's sides. After a half hour, the snowfall thinned. Gilda overestimated her and the adrenaline's strengths, and her flying began to slow, her flight path nosing up and down occasionally. Her wings ached, but she tried her best to ignore them. Greta gradually became warmer, and her grip strengthened slightly. Gilda soon saw the familiar mountain with its cave lit by lanterns. She smiled.

"Almost there," Gilda said.

Greta nodded. "I'm s-sorry," she whispered.

Gilda sighed. "You're okay. I'm just so glad I found you. I was afraid I'd never see you again."

"I'm so sorry".

Gilda opened her mouth again but stopped herself. She couldn't ask that, shouldn't, but she needed to know. "Why didn't you tell anyone, Greta? Why didn't you tell me?"

Greta said nothing for a while. Then, very quietly, "No one asked."

Once word spread that Greta had been found, the search party quickly returned one by one. Gilda greeted each, thanking them for helping, and Greta, wrapped in blankets and sitting next to her, apologized to each profusely. Eventually, Gilda walked Greta to their room with a wing over her, both not speaking. Gilda opened the door for Greta, and she sheepishly walked in. Greta sat on the edge of her bed, her beak still chattering a little. Gilda took the note in her claws and glanced at Greta. Greta looked meekly between her and it and then at the floor. Gilda ripped up the note, to Greta's visible surprise, and she threw it all in the garbage. She hopped up on the bed and sat next to her.

Gilda sighed, laying a claw on Greta's shoulder. "I'm sorry." She felt so stupid. That's it? That's all she could say? After all she put Greta through, that's her only response? She shook her head. "I'm sorry for... for everything, really. The stupid arguments, me being too sorry for myself to help you, and just..." She sighed. "I'm sorry it took all that for me to realize what's been going on. I'll try to be better."

With a small cry, Greta hugged Gilda. "Th-thank you!" She started to sob. "I d-didn't know what I got myself into, a-and I couldn't find my way back! I d-d-didn't think a-anyone w-would come l-looking for me. I-I didn't think a-anyone cared enough to. But you d-did. Everyone did. I..." Her voice failed her, and she continued to cry on Gilda's shoulder.

Gilda hugged Greta back. "I'm just glad you're okay. And I promise you, I'm gonna take care of you from now on. Like a..." She gasped softly. "Like a big sister. I'll help you however I can. I'll... I'll take charge, like I said before." She chuckled mirthlessly. "I think you deserve a break."

Greta smiled and sniffed, sitting upright again. "Thank you."

Gilda, remembering the stew and hoping there was some left, smiled. "I'll be right back."