.:Ranger's Spirit:.

by Adman

Rating: teen
Tags: Tragedy, Slice of Life, Dark, Sad, Romance
Length: 666

The mind is a dangerous place, but a good friend can help

Hello readers, this will be my first FiMfiction story. There will be a bit of everything but mostly romance/slice of life. There will be some grimdark, gore, and a little sex (nothing too graphic). But these will be few and far between. These are both my OC's for future reference. Hope you enjoy!

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-05-15 18:57:28 UTC

Chapter 1: Ranger

        "Left, left, lefrighleft, lefrighlefrighlef right left." The drill instructor increased her speed and volume. Her neck muscles wet protruding from her neck as the skin around it sank in, further defining her stretched tendons. "Slow the fuck up and gimme 20 you sombitches!" The hoarse shriek rattled her throat and her voice started to give out.

        Her thoughts were stopped by the rhythmic, timed, rehearsed boom of 30 voices yelling "Sir yes sir!" Her body shook and she flashed an evil smile, and with thunder in her voice, she yelled one last thing at them. "SIR Privates? DO I LOOK LIKE A SIR?" The stallions stood up straight.

        "No Ma'am!" They shrieked without any order whatsoever.

         Ranger could tell that this instructor knew how to trip up a group of ponies. He looked around and realized his brothers in arms were doing there required 20 pushups with crossed hooves. The instructors voice echoed across the yard. "RANGER!" She croaked out, her voice unable to get out anymore clear words. Without her saying another word, he knew she wanted him front and center under her judgemental vision. He trot-marched over in military fashion and made a beeline for his commanding officer.

        "Yes ma'am!" The words bumbled out of his mouth and his jaw clenched in anticipation for the punishment that was about to follow. Smal tendrines of fear spread through the passages of his brain and Ranger put all his effort into not spazzing out. He shifted his feet and regained balance.

        "Dqo you know wh-", she coughed," you're here?"

        "Because I failed to begin execution of my orders on time."

        "That's right." She said, her voice nearly gone. "Ranger, you get to clean the shitters on taco night. And don't expect help, because I'm sure the others will be busy with their food. I'll make sure everyone gets a little something extra for you though."

She smiled and walked away, her white mane shimmering in the sun like tendrils of silk hanging off of an oak tree. She was transfixed with her voice and didn't notice Ranger's interest in her mane. He had a deep respect for her, even when she sentenced him to an evening of unclogging toilets crammed full of slimy, goopy shit. He peeled his eyes away, and got to his pushups.

      Two hours later, with beads of sweat and the stench of the military men's bathrooms, Ranger got a moment to rest. He unlaced his boots and pulled off his socks, exposing pruny hooves and stink not unlike that of the facility he had just come back from cleaning. He piled his things up and took a walk to the washroom. Down the hall he heard another barracks officer yelling at some unlucky pony who had managed to trip up. The things that were said made no never mind to him, but he laughed when he heard one of the best sentences his ears had ever tasted. "A jelly fucking doughnut!?!?" He heard a male voice yell. Ranger nodded his head side too side with a chuckle. Who would take food out of the mess hall? Only an idiot.

         Ranger finally made his way to the washroom and levitated a quarter into the machine. He kept hold of it and dropped his clothes in. Once he started the cycle, he brought the quarter out of the machine and laughed to himself. "Works every time." The washing machines were spectacularly slow today and ranger was feeding the quarter in and out of "Pony fighter: Equestrian Warrior". He played for about 25 minutes until the washing machine finally stopped humming and he heard the water drain. He floated the quarter into his mane where he had kept it since his father gave it to him. A tear tumbled down the creases of his face as he remembered his parents and his fathers murder/suicide. He wiped it, got his things, and walked back to the barracks for a rest.