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>Obediently, you sit in front of your young master, wheezing and beaten.
>Still, you can’t help but fight back a smirk.
>A sense of satisfaction, pride, and maybe even a bit of adrenaline keep you from feeling any immediate pain.
>Master paces back in forth scolding you and his newer pet.
>Even though you can’t understand the masters, his tone alone begins to cut deeper than the fresh gashes on your forelegs and torso. 
>You do little to hide scowl at the infernal hideous beast that’s made your life on this alien landscape a living hell.
>No, not the human.
>The nut gobbler next to you.
>Her predatory forward set eyes, one of which is nicely bruised shut, probably can’t catch the intense glare.
>Though you’re sure she feels it, as noted by a series of tail flicks.
>That’s about the only emotion she’s showing.
>Young master halts in front of you, his fierce barks causing you to slink down, tail curled tightly under in submission.
>Stupid pecker brain, pulling your attention away.
>He seems even more livid now as he growls something, and points to the ground.
>You cower down even further, impossibly low, spitting loose feathers that were draping out of your muzzle.
>The young master then sharply gestures to the tent flap.
>Stifling a whimper, you slowly heft yourself on trembling legs and slither to the entrance, taking one last look at your master, who scowls down at you. 
>Dumb Whorebler.
>She ruined your impeccable track record of keeping Anon happy.
>Not only are you badly scratched up, you doubt master will share his food with you after tonight’s stunt. 
>You’ll have to eat grass like the other beasts of burden and sleep alone.
>Once outside you nuzzle and dig through the freshly fallen snow, nipping at the grass a bit of a ways from the cattle.
>Scanning your surroundings, ears swiveling, you stay alert for predators.


>Maybe if you spotted a wolf or a fox harassing the yaks, the young master will give you some of his dinner and stop being so upset.
>Only you’re actually terrified of wolves.
>Perhaps they can be spotted from a safer- more strategic position.
>Closer to the yaks.
>...In the middle of the herd. 
>A small squeak escapes you as you bump into one of the creatures.
>It turns its attention towards you with a low bellow.
”Hey-” You size the creature up, before speaking softly, “The other ponies are with the older masters trading goods down the mountain before winter hits, so we’re rooming together tonight.” 
>You try and force a smile, which probably looks more akin to pleading than polite.
>It chews, staring dumbly.
”I’ll leave first thing in the morning, don’t worry.”
>Snorting, it turns it’s attention back to the grass.
>Spotting the young master as he exits his hut, he ties the gryphon in front of his home.
>You stare in envy as he sits down next to her and has her literally eating out of his hand.
>The human slips a hood over her head and stands, checking the sides of the tent and giving the area a once over.
>As he makes his way to your direction anger and envy melts into fear.
>You quickly cower back behind a yak, obscured from his line of sight.
>He would never strike you, the masters never do.
>But they do kill and eat injured or weak ponies they deem won’t make the upcoming winter.
>”Amble,” he grunts in a thick human accent. 
>You want to keep hiding, but habit betrays you as your body automatically adheres to master’s calling.
>He spots and lumbers towards you.
>A soft whicker turns into a shrill whinny when you catch a glint of light on the blade he’s brandishing. 


”Wait, master. I-It doesn’t hurt. I promise.” you reel back when he reaches out for you. “I’m still strong- eep.” 
>As he holds out his hand again, you sigh in defeat and press your muzzle against his palm.
>He easily pulls you in, caressing your neck and rubbing your back.
>Tension begins to melt away at your masters attention.
>You can’t help but lean into it.
>...Maybe it won’t be so bad.
>A master’s judgment is never wrong, after all. 
>You’re being spared from a fate of frost eating up the incisions and suffering a slow agonizing death.
>Besides, he loves you and will make it as painless as possible. 
>You’re just glad it’s him.
>When he stops, your eyes clench shut.
>Some say one’s life flashes before somepony when they embrace death.
>Instead, a hundred-hundred scenarios of ways you’re going to haunt the shit out of that gryphon play through your mind.
>Waiting for the killing blow that never comes, you pry an eye open towards your master.
>He has some bandages and ointment in hand, cutting the gauze to size with his blade as he gingerly places them over your cuts.
>You cock your head in confusion. 
>Medicine was pricey and only used on the masters in case of emergency.
>If the old masters found out, he’d be in a world of trouble.
>Maybe get that scornbill confiscated from him…
>No, you would never get the young master in trouble, even if it means getting back at peanut stuffer.
>You’re pulled from your thoughts as the young master drapes his prized coat over you.
>The very same coat you saw his father give to him not long ago.
”B-but master, you never let anyone touch your favorite- A-ahh~”

>He quickly shuts you up with a good scratch under the muzzle, before making his way back inside. 
>Looking down, he’s even left a feedbag with some dried corn in front of you.
>You smile and curl up under your master’s coat, his scent making all worry slip away as you cradle the feedbag in your forelegs and fall asleep.
>A satisfying end to a long day’s work.
>Pony: 1
>Gryphon: 0


__________________________________________________



>The next morning, you’re pulled from your sleep by a soothing hum from your master.
>Yawning, you pinch the feed bag in your teeth and drearily follow the sound, the coat sleeves dragging across the ground.
>Your ears perk up as you spot the human milking a yak.
>Strange.
>He doesn’t usually do that.
>You trot towards him, nuzzling at his side. 
>He chuckles and haphazardly fondles your ear, before resuming with his chore.
>You nip at his sweater in a pitiful attempt to tug his attention towards you.
>He doesn’t even glance your way.
>Great, now the yaks are getting more attention from master.
>You lay next to him and eat while he works, content with being in his company for now.
>Finishing, he reaches his arms over you, which you gladly lean into, ever eager for master’s warm embrace. 
>...Only to feel the cold biting morning air as he lifts his coat from you.
>You scrunch your muzzle as he stands, bucket in hand.
>Snorting, you happily canter alongside him as he makes his way to the tent.
>You can’t be too upset.
>Master often spends his mornings with you.
>Alone.
>Riding you until you’re a hot, sweaty, tired, worn mess of a slave. 
>Sometimes even bareback.
>A pleasure other slaves couldn’t hope to experience. 
>You know.
>In the snowy mountainous landscapes.


__________________________________________________



>You are right proper salty right now. (So still Amble.)
>During what was supposed to be one-on-one time with your master, he had to take -her- along.
>She, being blinded with the hood, also meant you had to carry her along with master.
>Whatever loving, caring, happy-sunshine culture ponies are supposed to model, you don’t think you can uphold that now.
>You don’t have much as a slave, but you do have mother and father, and you have a master.
>Rolling over and letting things get in between you like a stereotypical Equestrian is something that will happen over your cold dead body.
>In fact, the only rolling over you’ll be doing, is the kind accompanied by bucking and kicking.
>You’d do it right now to your heart's content if it didn’t mean putting your master in harm's way. 
>The only thing to do is mutter curses under your breath.
>Not really though.
>You make sure that greedy pheasant and master hear your complaints and concerns the whole way though.
>”I wish monkey boy would deafen me too,” the gryphon finally groans.
”I wish you would make like a dodo bird and go extinct,” you retort. 
>Master tenses up at your tone of voice, hesitant to intervene.
“And that’s master, to you,” you correct. “If you’re going to butt into our alone time, I’ll at least make sure you refer to him respectfully.”
>”Come off it, Pony. I didn’t ask to be here and you know it,” she snaps.
”And yet here you are,” you sniff. 
>”Bite me.”
”I would.” you breathe out. ”Trust me, I would. But you tasted like yak shit the first time.”
>”Fuck you,” she mumbles, her tone laden with disinterest.
>You feel her shift around on Anon’s arm and shoulder, most likely trying to get more comfortable.
>Lazy bird.


>When master tugs on your reins, you purposefully skid to a halt.
>The gryphon flings forward, getting a mouthful of snow.
“Wow,” you snicker. “The majestic bird of GAY. Truly a sight to behold.”
>Even master seems to chuckle, as he dismounts.
>”THAT’S IT.” She roars, making you drop your smile drop. 
>She flares her wings out in a show of ferocity and, with blinding speed, lunges at ...you?
>You chortle even louder as you watch her pounce vainly into the snow with a hiss.
>She comes close but you easily pivot or dance out of claws reach each time.
”Just missed me by a hair, quill muncher,” you goad further.
>Anon hefts the rampaging gryphon up, wrapping a forearm around her torso.
>She squawks and kicks in his grasp, talons digging into his thick protective glove. “Don’t hide behind your human. FIGHT ME FAIR THIS TIME, PONY.”
>While your master tries to calm the gryphon down, you look around. 
>Ahh, the most interesting part of the mountains, [spoiler]which is still fuck-all in the middle of nowhere.[/spoiler]
>It’s only after a few more minutes, of unbridled rage, does she seem to calm down.
>Took her long enough to realize master is as strong as he is benevolent.
”Why did we stop out here, Master?” you ask taking a few cautious steps back, as he sets the gryphon down, taking off her hood.
>You expect her to lunge out at you, however she only winces rubbing her eyes, the reflective snow multiplying the sunlight twofold.
>You stand dutifully at attention when he approaches you next.
>Eyes pointed ahead, not much is felt aside an experimental tug.
>Something tied to your saddle?
>Before you have time to process why, your master starts roaring at you, kicking some snow at your face.
>You keel over in submission.
>Hurt and betrayal plastered on your features, you stare up at him, eyes pleading for at least some kind of mercy. 


>Master stops and pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration.
“Master, I did not mean to speak out of turn,” you cry. “I was merely protecting your honor.” 
>He comes up behind you, roughly grabbing at your waist.
>With ease, he pulls you back onto your hooves and gives you a firm push with his boot.
>You slide forwards in the snow, whimpering and trembling in confusion.
>The gryphon, eyes now adjusted, almost falls over again, only this time in laughter.
”L-laugh it up, swallow.”
>”You know, for someone who thinks herself better than everyone on this mountain, you sure are stupid,” the seed smacker muses.
>You turn to her, squaring off your posture.
”No, I just think I’m better than you, downs-feather. I…” You bite your tongue, eyes clenching shut. “I just…”
>Your ears splay back against your skull as you turn away from the hideous bird. 
“We grew up together and he’s never done this to me befo-”
>It’s only now you look down and notice a fox pelt.
”Ohh.”
>Your eyes trail up the rope at an agonizingly slow pace, hoping. 
>Hoping it isn’t attached to-
>You breath in sharply through your nose, dread gnawing at the back of your mind.
“Ohh, no.” 
>It’s tied to your saddle.
>The gryphon doesn’t say anything, relishing in your agony.
>You take a bit of the rope in your mouth, resisting every urge to question your master.
>Turning tail and running from -her- like some measly prey just so she can practice her dive.
>This is the most humiliating thing you’ve ever had to do.


>...
>Yet, it’s still a small price to pay for the young master’s love and affection.
>He grins and shoves you again, this time giving you an encouraging nod. 
>Giving him one last look, you dart off as fast as your hooves can carry you, jaw still clenching the rope. 
>If you have to do this, you’re not going to make this easy on that knaveian.

__________________________________________________

>You can’t remember the last time you’ve galloped at full speed like this.
>Unmounted, your hooves seem to effortlessly fly across the planes.
>Makes sense, the young master being nearly as big as the old masters.
>You’d almost relish this if it didn’t mean he wasn’t right here with you. 
>Ponies are rarely bound and have free reign, though you like to stick close to master’s home anyways.
>It’s been happening less and less as he’s gotten bigger, but every now and then he'll to come out to play with you.
>Always best to be sure. 
>You can never be too sure out here.
>Ears rotate and a grin shines through the rope as neither hide nor feather of that slizzard gizzard is heard.
>After a few more strides you can turn tail and head back for your master.
>Being this good warrants a belly rub for doing so well.
>Maybe even a couple.
>Even now, you can almost feel his blunted claws prod, scratch, and massage you.
>The thoughts alone cause a warmth to spread through your body.
>As beautiful and ornate as your saddle is, you’d have to get this pesky thing off first.
>Maybe he’ll even let you curl up in his coat with him afterwards.
>Right in front of a warm fire.
>Just a few more...
>The rustling wisp of flight feathers pull you from your day dream.
>There’s no way.
>You skid across the snow, jerking the rope as you take a sharp turn.
>Turning your head just enough to catch her bolt right past, you catch her barely glancing off the snow.
>Again, you can never be too sure.

>She must be diving at you to pick up extra speed.
>You keep your eyes trailed on her as you change direction.
>The way she wobbles in the air almost resembles waddling ducks you saw in Equestria when you were a filly.
>You’ll be sure to mention that later.
>Eyes forward, you scan the plains, looking for something, anything to give you cover.
>Nothing.
>You're not sure what you were expecting.
>You snort, lightly chewing the rope in thought.
>The steep hills to your far right catch your attention.
>No.
>Trying to get up to higher ground won’t do you any better and climbing will leave you even more vulnerable. 
>Not to mention, one steep fall, you might be looking at an injury far more harmful than a few cuts.
>Hearing the fanning of wings once more, you force yourself to pick up even more speed, lungs starting to burn with strain.
>You let go of the bit of rope in your mouth trying to fill your lungs with much needed oxygen, feeling the pull of the rope concentrated on your saddle.
>Then, you don’t feel the weight of it anymore.
>Nor under your hind legs. 
>You don’t even get to look back before you limply flop across the snow like a fish out of water, making noises just as intelligible as one as the snow piles into your face.
>Not a moment too soon, it stops, and you gasp for air, eyes red with cold and anger as you see her perched back on master's shoulder, who’s jogging towards you, trying to fight back laughter.
“You know. For an earthpony you sure have your head in the clouds,” the cock roc chuckles.
>You're so upset that you almost buck when you feel a light tugging at your reigns.
>Master barks in surprise at your hostility, grimacing down at you while making surprised human noises.
>Ears pinned back, you face your master, leaning your forehead into his knee.
>You need to be more careful about that temper of yours.

>As he reaches over you, you almost collapse the the ground in submission again, though you fight through the fear, widening your shaky stance.
>It’s best to not make him any more angry.
>The young master leans in, fumbling with the buckle on your saddle as he loosens it up the strap.
>Cold air slips in, cooling your sweaty hide.
>You can’t help but slightly shiver and breathe in deeply, much more comfortable with the loosed pressure on your torso.
>Master is always looking out for you.
>Even when you mess up.
>Though you doubt you’re off the hook just yet.
>He pats the side of his leg, beckoning you to follow.