Lenore Lore

"♫ Down yonder green valley, where streamlets meander, When twilight is fading I pensively rove. Or at the bright noontide in solitude wander, amid the dark shades of the lonely ash grove...♪" It was a late summer's evening, and Lenore found herself singing quietly as she skimmed the canopy of the temperate forests far outside the reach of civilization. The stark black griffon soared with purpose towards a clearing. There, camped on a hill were a collection of wagons arranged in a loose circle around a great, lonely tree. Several wispy pillars of white smoke indicated that the camp fires were lit, and the setting sun made it known that dinner was about to begin. Below were many griffons, varying in appearance. Lenore banked lazily along the outer edge of the clearing, beating her wings sparsely in an effort to maintain her level of flight. "♪ T'was there, while the blackbird was cheerfully singing, I first met that dear one, the joy of my heart. And near us for gladness the bluebells were ringing. Ah, then little thought I how soon we should part...♫" There was a commotion on the ground. A cohort of griffons heaved a pony out of a wagon near the tree. It seemed to be a mare, bound at the muzzle and trembling. Lenore was knowing of the events playing out on the ground as she continued her relaxed glide in the wide circle around the camp. She began her descent, following a gradual arc around the clearing's edge. Once, she crossed over the great, lonely tree at a low altitude, passing over the hubbub below. She caught a piece of the exchange amid the hiss of wind blowing through those leaves. "Against the tree, then! Let's get this over with, I'm starving!" Another chimed in from the collection of hybrids that had assembled. A larger male sauntered in casually, black as night, like Lenore, and only sparsely speckled with white on the feet and tail. In his beak was a blade of fine craftsmanship, appearing at a glance to be one used in rituals. There was a hush among the chatter of the crowd, all silent upon his arrival. The silence was broken by Lenore, of course, as she came soaring back overhead as casual as ever. "♫ Still glows the bright sunshine o'er valley and mountain, still warbles the blackbird its note from the tree; still trembles the moonbean on streamlet and fountain, but what are the beauties of nature to me? ♪" "Remove the bindings on her muzzle." The male ordered, allowing the blade to drop from his beak to his talon before speaking. He held the weapon to his chest, blade pointed to the earth. His stern gaze rested on the pitiful pony, who had been callously tossed against the tree's root base. A nearby griffon acknowledged the order and used a talon to deftly remove the gag. Meanwhile. Lenore had tightened her turn and circled the tree as though coming in to land. "I don't know what I did wrong, but please, let me go! I swear I'll never speak of th--" "Be quiet!" The black as night griffon spat, tightening his grip on his blade. Slowly, he shut his eyes and exhaled. "Let us begin the rite. Pure as we begin..." The others around intoned shortly after, moving in closer, gaze set intently on their leader and the pony who would sustain them. "...Move by will alone. Leave as we come in, pure as light, return to one. Move by will alone. Move by will alone." The ones nearest to the group spoke in unison, seeming to be very familiar with this cult-like process. Meanwhile, Lenore broke the eerie tone as she landed on a nearby wagon, the one owned by the group's leader. Seemingly oblivious of the rite, she sang on, even as her father raised the blade above the sobbing mare, unable to find words or pleads for her life. "♪ With sorrow, deep sorrow, my bosom is laden, All day I go mourning in search of my love. Ye echoes, oh, tell me, where is the sweet maiden? 'She sleeps, 'neath the green turf down by the ash grove.' ♫"