It was just another day, the birds chirping, sunlight pouring through the breaks in the tree branches above. A lone pony walked as silently and unnoticed as a shadow. Just another day, just another boring day searching for that stupid pony, thought the lone young colt. His name was Shadow Fire, a colt by the age of 16, he had a sleek dark blue coat, and his mane was the color of darkness, with red tips, as if his hair was bleeding. His cutie mark was a collection of blades, which he got while training with his dad. At the age of ten, his father decided to train him in the way of swordsmanship. Shadow and his father found that he was skilled at handling a sword, and his cutie mark appeared. They had tried different types of blades, axes, daggers, knives, but Shadow mastered them in a little over five minutes, so he and his father came to the conclusion that his cutie mark showed he was exceptionally skilled with blades. His family was of pegasus heritage, but when he was born he had an exceptional wing span. Twice that of any other colts his age. His wings grew with him, and he had the largest wings within his quiet little village. But yet, even with his extraordinary wing size, he was one of the worst fliers in his village. He flew the slowest of everyone, and flew with a low amount of skill. So he preferred to walk wherever he went, for flying would not get him there much faster. Shadow had lived a simple life, living under a guard of the village.
Shadow had been raised by his dad, his mother had passed a week after birthing the young colt. Some rouge ponies had attacked the village, and a few had gotten inside. Luckily only one pony had been slaughtered. That pony had been Shadow's mother. The village was settled around ten to fifteen miles from an active volcano. The volcano constantly spewed ash, and the ash falling in the village gave the ponies who settled it an idea. They collected ash every day for a month, then they would bathe in the ash on the first day of the next month, not only giving their coats a sleek shine, but also permanently making their coats slightly darker. This ritual was a monthly occurrence, so the elders had coats the color of the ash, while the younger ponies, like Shadow Fire, had colorful coats. But one day, a few days before the ash bathing, a pack of rouge ponies attacked. The volcano, for reasons that nopony could understand, influenced some ponies ways of thinking, making them believe that they were superior. The village guards held most of them off, but some pegasuses manage to get inside. Two actually lived long enough to slaughter someone. They looked for a target, charging between houses, then they saw her. A mare of older age, catering to her baby, they charged her and before she could react, slammed a dagger through her neck.
"NO!" the old colt would yell. The rage of watching his wife die by the hands of two of his own kind replaced his need for sorrow at the moment. He chased them, and caught up from 60 - 70 feet behind in mere seconds. He would not remember how he ever won that fight, although ponies told him he sliced like the wind had blades carrying through, opening up a new cut on both pegasi's body every second. He soon burnt the rage out, stuck the sword in the ground and cried. After a few minutes, he regained enough strength to walk over to his wife's body, now laying in a pool of her own blood. His peers tried to comfort him as he grieved his wife. For five hours straight, he would keep his muzzle pressed against her cheek, not caring how bloody he became. After those long hours, he scooped up his son, and left him with someone he trusted. He gathered up his wife's corpse and took her a safe distance away from the village. He dug a hole by himself, crying the entire dig, and laid her down in it. He shoved the dirt upon her, then planted a rose bush upon her grave. Every year, the roses to bloom from that plant seemed brighter and prettier then any other rose in the village. The next few years was a blur of watching his son grow and training him. Then one day, on his son's 16th birthday, he had fallen deathly ill. He explained to his son that he believed Shadow's wings fit him very well. And that one day, he will learn to use them. With his last words, he told Shadow to take his sword. His very last words were, "And son I just want you to know, I love yo..." he died on the spot.
Three months had passed since his father's passing, and he had left about 2 months and a week ago. Yes the village was his home, but what could he do if he had no more family left there and no one really liked him for his wing size? Maybe he could see about joining princess Celectia's personal guard. He certainly had the training for it, and that did seem exciting. But would they take him? His wings did get in the way sometimes, after all. Even when they weren't spread out, they still hung a few inches from the ground. Always just THERE. He walked along, in the direction of the way he had seen the pony flying. He simply watched as she flew through the sky, leaving a trail of colors. She flew with such grace, such skill. Whipping through the sky at speeds Shadow once thought impossible. Shadow decided he needed to find her, to see if she could train him in the ways of flying. His thoughts plagued him as he carried on wards, until he noticed there was a wide open field about 20 feet to his left. FINALLY, my wings needed to be stretched, he thought to himself.
Shadow walked into the clearing and immediately spread his wings. He looked around, noticing it was a pretty wide clearing. ."Well, I could use a little training while I'm here. I feel like I'm a bit rusty," Shadow whispered to himself. He drew the sword from the sheathe, which was hidden when his wings were down. He stood as still as a statue, with his sword held between his teeth. He waited, and waited, and waited. Then in a swift and fluid movement, he cut. The grass before him, which seconds ago stood almost to his neck, was sliced in half. He practiced in maneuvers, and moves. He had not lost a drop of skill. But to Shadow, he always required training, even if his cutie mark ensures he is a better blades-man then most, if not all, other ponies.
"Hey, lookey there boys! Looks like this one thinks he's some kind of samurai!" Shadow took a defensive stance, "WHO'S THERE?!" Ponies jumped into the field from all over, there had to be at least 10 of them. They had special armor like material, with strips of wood on both sides. In one simple movement, they all lit those strips of wood. One charged from Shadow's left, but he simply dodged the pony, and flapped his wings to create a gust of wind strong enough to knock the pony over, and blowing out the flames. Three charged him then, but shadow did not really need to dodge them. They seemed to miss on their own. That's when it hit him, they ran low enough to the ground to catch the grass on fire, and trapped him in a triangle of fire. Shadow prepared to send another gust of wind, when a larger pony charged through the fire, and kicked Shadow in the face. Shadow was out cold before he hit the ground.
