>It's hard to breathe.
>You clamor to pull yourself off the cold floor, but your muscles give out on you.
>When you hit the ground, a searing pain shoots from your left wing, forcing you to stifle a scream.
>As you writhe in anguish, you are able to force open an eye to see your surroundings.
>You're in a large room.
>Bed sheets are sprawled out near you, probably pulled down when you tried to get up.
>Just like the vase now shattered on the floor was. 
>There are curtains drawn over windows, but there's no light showing on them, so it's probably nighttime.
>The rest of the room is filled with stuff like statues and…
>Ugh.
>Books.
>Another pang tears through your body, and you instinctively clench your eye shut in pain.
>You begin to panic.
>Wherever you are, it's not someplace you would willingly choose to be.
>Who brought you here?
>What do they want?
>The sound of someone walking resounds through the floor.
>It quickly gets louder, and you soon hear the door to your prison open up.
>You again open your eyes to see some…thing.
>It's tall, probably taller than you are.
>It runs over to you and tries to grab you.
>"Are you ok?"
>You claw at its outstretched hand, trying to keep it away from you.
*Gasp*
"Who- where-"
>Before you can prop yourself up, the thing near you places a hand on your back.
>"Relax, you're safe."
>Safe?
>Yeah right.
>Not as long as those stupid lizards-
>You scramble to look around.
>How did it take you this long to realize the dork trio wasn't there anymore?
>The thing shows concern as you glance back at it.
>"Like I said, you're safe now. Injured…"
>It carefully touches your left wing, sending a dull wave of pain through you.
>You swat away its hand and glare at it.
>It smiles softly at you.
>"…but safe."
>Taking a moment to clear your head, you think about what you can do next.
"Where am I?"
>"My house. I brought you here after, well…"
>Your wing twitches as you remember the fight between you and those dweebs.
>It hurts.
>You look at the source of the pain, and are surprised to see it wrapped in bandages and splinted.
>"Sorry to say this, but you won't be going anywhere like that. You're welcome to stay here though."
>The invitation comes as a surprise to you.
>Why would anyone want a stupid mail griffon to stay at their house.
>You grimace at your own thoughts.
>'Mail Griffon'
>You really are a loser.
>"It's been a long time since I've had guests and- hold on."
>Your host grabs one of the books off of a nearby shelf and reads the cover.
>"Dances with Timber Wolves. Yeah that'll work."
>Work for what?
>He shoves the book into your mouth before picking you up.
>Pain beyond description shoots through every part of your body, and you bite down on the book while screaming.
>You are swiftly carried to the bed and carefully placed down on the soft surface.
>As soon as the pain subsides, you spit out the book an yell at the moron standing over you.
"What the FUCK!? Couldn't you have warned me first?"
>"I could have, but you would have only fought me."
>He's right, you wouldn't have agreed to have some…
"What are you?"
>You can see his eye twitch at your blunt question.
>*Sigh*
>"I'm a human. You don't know what that is, because I'm the only one you've ever seen. Now, let's forget about that…"
>He grabs the blankets off the floor and throws them over you.
>"And let's focus on restoring you back to full health. QUENTIN!"
>The loud yell startles you, but fortunately the covers prevented the human from seeing that.
>By the time you finally wrestle your sheets into a comfortable position, a unicorn has trotted into the room pushing a cart covered in snacks.
>He rolls the cart up to you and begins to pour what you assume is tea into a small cup.
>"Please, help yourself to whatever you like, miss."
>Your stomach grumbles as you look over the food.
>There's cakes, crackers, sandwiches and-
>A familiar scent emanates from the tray in front of you, one you haven't smelled since you got stuck here working your dead end job…
>Meat.
>You drool as you lift a small covering to see a delicious roasted lamb leg.
>There's no way you could ever forget that smell.
>You quickly look back at the human and notice some of his teeth are pointed.
>Of all places, you actually found another carnivore here, in Equestria?
>"It's going to get cold if you don't eat soon."
>Without any hesitation, you grab the lamb and bring it to your beak.
>Chunks of flesh tear satisfyingly off the bone and you savor the taste of prey as it passes over your tongue.
>The first swallow was loud enough for the others to hear.
>You hastily take another bite as the others start to leave.
>Before he closes the door, your fellow predator speaks to you one more time.
>"I almost forgot. My name is Anon. And yours is?"
>Your mouth is too full to respond, the food you are eating is some of the most delicious you've ever had.
>"Ah, nevermind. We can talk later."
"Wai-!"
>He stops closing the door and looks at you.
*Gulp*
>Another helping of lamb enters your stomach, causing you to let out a contented sigh.
"Gilda."
>The eating resumes as Anon closes the door.
>This food is really good.
>You shut your eyes tightly to keep the stupid room from blurring more.
>This food is really good…
 
>You are now Anon.
>Well, your guest is as interesting as you had hoped.
>She's brash, loud, everything you'd expect from a griffon.
>Really, it will just be nice to have someone to eat meat with.
>…
>There has to be a way to phrase that better, but who cares!
>Ever since you've gotten here, you've had to hide your omnivorous nature.
>There's a bit of a social stigma against eating other creatures' flesh, which has forced you to attend dinner parties consisting solely of salads.
>You shudder, remembering the last royal ball.
>Oh sure, there's other delicacies, like petunias, or poinsettias.
>But you aren't a goddamn horse.
>You're a human.
>And you occasionally need to get some goddamn meat in you.
>…
>Again, really need a better way to say that.
>You enter the kitchen to see Quentin putting away some dishes.
"What do you think of our new guest, Quentin?"
>The last of the dishes levitate to their places and the butler closes the cabinet doors behind them.
>"It's not really my place, but I think she'll get along fine here, Sir. Might I ask how long she'll be staying?"
>You try to adjust your glasses as you ponder the question.
>Sadly, they are still broken, and therefore not on your face.
>Force of habit.
"I'd like her to stay until her wing heals up, but it's really up to her. How quickly do you think she'll recover?"
>Quentin frowns.
>"I'm not sure. Wing injuries are quite serious for flying species such as Griffons. Even with my tea speeding her along, it could be several weeks at least."
>Could be worse.
>Honestly, you're kind of happy to have her staying here.
>Aside from Quentin, you don't socialize much.
>At least, not with others like yourself.
>Most of your time is spent dealing with the p0nies having sex at your book readings.
*Sigh*
>It's getting late.
>Gilda is probably going to collapse after she finishes eating.
>Pretty easy to get tired after such a stressful day.
>You look at your partially healed arm and yawn.
>Very easy.
"Quentin."
>"Sir?"
"I'm going to bed, feel free to take the rest of the night off."
>The stallion bows.
>"Then I shall leave at once."
>A large grin creeps across his face.
>"I have a date with the most beautiful mare."
>You chuckle as Quentin turns to leave.
"In that case, take tomorrow morning off as well. I'm sure you'll need to clean up before coming back to work."
>"It wouldn't be a date otherwise, Sir. Thank you."
>The large door to your house closes behind your butler, leaving you standing in the kitchen alone.
>A regular casanova that one.
>Rather fitting, considering.
>In any case, your bed calls to you across the house.
>It says it wants you inside it.
>You couldn't be more willing.
 
[The Following Morning]
>Soft sheets drape over your body, their silken grip preventing you from getting out of bed.
>You start to roll over, but a sharp pain halts your motion.
>Oh yeah, your wing is broken.
>Between the food and the soft bed, it almost seemed like all your troubles went away.
>Then again, you were never that lucky.
>As you close your eyes to go back to sleep, a faint smell fills your nares.
>Someone's cooking something.
>Drool leaks from your mouth and wets the pillow beneath your head.
>With a pained groan, you manage to throw off your covers.
>The ensuing rush of cool air makes you shudder.
>You slowly climb out of bed and attempt to walk.
>Each step causes your wing to throb painfully, so you can only move a short distance before needing to stop and rest.
>It takes an eternity, but you eventually manage to reach the door and pry it open.
>As you do so, the smell of breakfast becomes more apparent.
>Eggs and…
>Sausage maybe?
>Definitely more meat though.
>The next room is a hallway.
>There's a bunch of paintings and other junk on the walls, but what really catches your eye is the staircase.
"Freakin'…"
>You mumble under your breath, cursing whatever you did to deserve this punishment.
>Of course, there HAD to be stairs.
>As quickly as the thousands of metaphorical needles piercing your wings will allow, you descend the stairs.
>Hopefully you'll reach the bottom with only one wing broken.
>After yet another eternity, your talons touch the floor and you let out a sigh of relief.
>You sniff the air to find the source of the wonderful smells causing you to lick your chops.
>Step by step, you get closer until you find yourself in a large kitchen.
*Ssssssssss*
>A frying pan on a stove sizzles as beaten eggs are poured into it.
>Anon places some cheese on one side before folding the egg onto itself.
>He waits for a moment before carefully flipping the egg over to cook the other side, eventually sliding the finished omelet onto a plate next to some sausage.
>Boom, called it.
>Your host turns around and finally notices you flooding the corner of his kitchen with your saliva.
>"Well good morning. I didn't expect you to be up so early."
>He pours himself a cup of coffee while looking over his shoulder at you.
>"Did you sleep well?"
>Silently, you nod, still unable to take your eyes off of the food on the counter.
>Anon laughs at your expression, then points to a small table near you.
>"Have a seat, I'll bring you some breakfast."
>You take a deep breath before walking at normal speed to one of the chairs seated around the table.
>Throes of pain course through you, each trying to make you cringe.
>But you'd rather die than look weak in front of someone else.
>Anon watches you, no doubt attempting to see how frail your injury has made you.
>When you make it to the chair, you hop up and sit down.
>Letting out your held breath, an intense agony shoots from your wing.
>You can't stop yourself from reaching to your side and touching the injury.
>Great, now Anon will think you're a freaking cripple or something.
>Fortunately, when you glance in his direction, Anon seems to have already turned around and started preparing your breakfast.
>Maybe he didn't see it.
>After a few minutes, which you spent trying to figure out whether or not Anon saw your momentary weakness, a plate is placed in front of you.
>Scrambled eggs with sausage and toast.
>"Dig in."
>Without a moment's hesitation, you jab your face into the eggs and pull a large gob into your mouth.
>You throw your head back and chomp on the never-born chicken before swallowing.
>Delicious.
>This routine of picking up chunks of food and loudly wolfing them down repeats until theres nothing left on your plate.
>Pushing the plate away, you look at the other person sitting at the table.
>Amazingly, Anon finished his food before you, and is now sipping on a cup of coffee and reading the paper.
>Canterlot Times.
>Is that where you are?
>Guess you were pretty close to Canterlot when you were…
"Hey."
>Anon looks up from his paper.
"What… happened last night? You were the one who tried to stop the dragons, right?"
>You look at your broken wing.
"Nice job, by the way."
>He puts the paper down and takes another drink.
>"Yeah, that was me."
>Regret shows in his eyes.
>"I'm sorry I couldn't stop them from breaking your wing."
"How did you get rid of them? I mean, I could have taken them if they hadn't sucker punched me, but-"
>Anon presses his fingers up the bridge of his nose, like he's trying to push up an invisible pair of glasses.
>You notice the fresh cuts on his arm.
>Claw marks.
>DRAGON claw marks.
"Did you fight them?"
>…
>"Yes."
>He picks up the paper.
"Did you win?"
>"Yes."
>…
"How?"
>Once again, he places the paper down onto the table.
>"I have to go."
>What?
>He stands and starts to leave the kitchen.
>You clamber to stop him, but your injury flares up causing you to wince.
"Wait!"
>For a moment, he pauses in the doorway and looks back at you.
>"Sorry, royalty isn't exactly accustomed to waiting."
>Royalty?
"So we're in Canterlot."
>Anon smiles, again trying to adjust some pair of glasses you can't see.
>"I wouldn't go out in your condition, but feel free to look around the house. If you're going to be staying here, I'm sure it would be nice to know the layout."
>You smirk at him.
"What makes you think I'd stay with you?"
>Despite Anon's attempt to hide his own smirk, you can clearly see the smug look on his face as he starts to walk away.
>"Because you aren't the type to turn down free food. I can't imagine you'd turn down a free stay in a cushy place like this."
>He leaves the house as his exit line ends, leaving you sitting at the table.
>Idiot.
>Just because he has good food and soft beds, he thinks you'll stay here?
>Obviously you will.
>Who would be stupid enough to not take advantage of this situation?
>You climb off the chair and exit the kitchen.
>The floorboards creak under you as you walk slowly down the hall.
>Well, your host was so kind as to let you walk around freely.
>May as well try to dig up some dirt on him.