He stood there in the snow, trying to stuff it back inside of his winter coat. Why did he feel the need to take it out and look at it?
The young soldier shivered as he walked in the crinkling snow, clutching his rifle, watching his breath reflect the cold air. He and his squadron had wandered into this abandoned village to look for what little supplies they might find. It had been evacuated under government order because of the impending invasion. It had been almost two years since this war had started.
It was a cold winter’s night, but bright with the light of the moon. Luna… he thought. No…why could he not stop thinking about it? The show had ended a little less than a year before the war started. It had lasted a good five seasons.
What did that matter now? He might not even live to see another day, much less another television show. He already felt like he was half freezing to death. Why did this part of the world have to be so cold?
At first he thought it was just in his head. The unrelenting thoughts of the show…he thought he could hear the theme tune being whistled.
My little pony....I used to wonder what friendship could be...
He tried to shake the tune from his head until he realized that someone was actually whistling it. His eyes darted around anxiously…not one of his fellow soldiers were nearby. He had actually wandered away from the group. In fact, no one was nearby.
Now I know I’m going mad…hearing music that’s not there…
The further he walked, the louder the tune rang. He found himself standing near a dilapidated house that was halfway burned out from an enemy attack. He soon realized that somepony…no, somebody…what is wrong with me? was whistling from inside. Knowing his duty as a soldier, he kicked down the barely-hinged door which fell down with a clatter.
The whistling stopped and the soldier heard clattering from inside. The soldier looked around for signs of movement, but saw nothing but charred and broken pieces of furniture, including a television. More precisely, it was the broken plastic hull of a television, filled with the ashes of a previous fire.
The clattering became louder and the soldier clutched his rifle, placing his finger on the trigger.
“Who’s in here?!” he shouted, “Identify yourself!!”
The soldier ran into the next room, where he had heard the clattering. As he ran, something bounced around in the inside of his jacket. As the soldier burst into the remains of a bedroom, he aimed his rifle at a haggard, scarcely fed man with an unkempt beard, wearing the tattered uniform of an enemy soldier.
“Freeze!!” he shouted, “Hands in the air!”
The man did not understand the soldier’s language, but he did understand the voice and body language. The man reluctantly struggled to raise his hands above his head in surrender, barely able to hold them in the air.
Both men looked down when something fell out of the soldier’s jacket and plopped to the ground. The soldier expected the man to start laughing at him and tried not to let the man see him blushing. Why did he have to bring such a keepsake along?
“Derpy…” the man whispered, a term both men understood.
A small plush toy, a grey pegasus, with three bubbles stitched into its flank, a yellow mane and askew plastic eyes lay at the soldier’s feet. The half-starved man bent down to get a closer look at the toy but the soldier protectively raised his rifle.
The man drew back and looked up curiously at the enemy soldier pointing a gun at him. The man almost smiled. The soldier continued to stare his enemy down and realized that he had been the one whistling. The soldier unconsciously began humming the theme song, and the enemy began whistling with him.
“My Little Pony…I used to wonder what friendship could be…until you all shared its magic with me…” they both sang quietly in their own respective languages.
The soldier heard several footsteps drawing near him and started to raise his rifle until he realized that four of his fellows had found him.
“Where were you, soldier?!” one of the men asked.
“I was looking for supplies, same as you.” the soldier answered, “I found this straggler. He’s an enemy soldier, probably left over from the last attack.”
“Shoot him, then.” his fellow soldier replied.
“What?” the soldier asked.
“You know the drill.” the other soldier answered, “We barely have enough to feed ourselves, much less prisoners.”
“Can we just leave him here, then?” the soldier questioned.
“He’d starve to death anyway.” the soldier replied, “You know the policy. Besides, his buddies are long gone. They’d never find him. Not that we’d want them to.”
As he was surrounded by his brothers-in-arms, the young soldier knew what he had to do. It wasn’t the first time he had shot a man like this. It was only his second. The last time had been quick…and…they did not share a common interest…
The soldier raised his rifle and aimed it at the man. Water was beginning to blur his vision. He could almost see the man looking at him, expressionless. The two bronies, for lack of a better word, wished for different circumstances.
A shot rang out, and the enemy soldier fell backwards. Blood soaked the man’s tattered uniform.
“Let’s move.” one of the soldiers said, almost whispering.
The other soldiers shuffled out of the house as the young soldier wiped the tears from his face and picked up his stuffed Derpy. He examined the fresh specks of blood soaking into the cloth. Derpy was stitched in a tranquil smile. The soldier started to cry again, but stifled his tears and placed the bloodstained Derpy on the chest of the man he had just killed.
The soldier rejoined his fellows in the snow and desperately wished he could shake that tune from his head.