Down to the Wire

Gil Grisert was already panicking.

“The vanguard of the Alliance force will be arriving within days. The soldiers will be expecting their winter gear to be prepared, but I’ve still got more cloaks to make!” He wrung his hands. “I’ve been using spotted hippogryph down for the cloaks’ linings, but my stock won’t last!”

He grabbed my arm.

“You’ve got to help me. Captain Adams will have my hide if those cloaks aren’t ready in time! Bring me all the down you can find out there. It’s dropped to the ground by molting hippogryphs flying over the wilderness around the fort.”

Now I was collecting bird fluff.

The wilderness around Fort Wildervar was cold but peaceful compared to everything south of Skorn. I watched the hippogryphs fly overhead, their spotted plumage, and gathered the soft down where it had drifted against rocks and tree roots. 

A night elf collecting hippogryph feathers. Somewhere, my ancestors were either laughing or weeping.

“Thank goodness! This should be enough to finish the order in time. Of course, I won’t sleep until the troops arrive, but that’s far better than risking Captain Adams’s wrath. I’ve heard the stories they tell about him!”

Adams’s reputation preceded him across the entire fjord. At this point, the vrykul probably feared him less than his own quartermasters did.

Vikstone had noticed something very large circling the fort, which Gil named without hesitation, because We Call Him Steelfeather and he is the fort’s worst problem after the captain’s temper.