Guardian Angels: Changing the Guard

by TheBigLebowski

Rating: teen
Tags: Original Character, Spike, Main 6, Gore, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Sad, Romance, Princess Luna
Length: 15352

It's only been a few months since Equestria was decimated by the changeling invasion. Four of the five Guardians were lost, thousands of soldiers fell, and countless hearts were shattered. But, the time to repair the damage has come.

It's only been a few months since Equestria was decimated by the changeling invasion. Four of the five Guardians were lost, thousands of soldiers fell, and countless hearts were shattered. But, the time to repair the damage has come.

Follow a new Guardian as he assumes his role, trying to fill the hole left by his predecessor, both in Equestria's military and in the lives of its citizens.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters portrayed in this story. They are the property of Hasbro and the producers.

Published 2014-02-23 22:10:03 UTC
Last updated 2014-07-02 04:50:28 UTC

Pieces

Author's Note

Hello!
So, this is a sequel to my first story, Guardian Angels. You probably will need to read it to understand this story. I'm sorry it took so long to publish this, but I wanted to make sure I knew where I was going with this story, as there were several people, for whom I am writing this, that truly loved the first one. I will probably be posting every week or so, as I want plenty of time to try and make every chapter perfect. I hope you enjoy.

Pieces

It was a grey day. A pale day, with no sun and no warmth. Few days out of the year, if any, were normally this dreary in Ponyville; the local weather team, composed of resident pegasi, normally did a fine job of keeping the skies in a limpid state year-round, save for a few necessary rain checks. Spirits were usually as clear as the weather, and the town, likewise, tended to stay lively and good-natured to match the air above.

But, today was a grey day, and Rainbow Dash felt the gloom of the heavy air and blank sky both outside and in.

She glided through the thick skies, the dew of the low-hanging clouds clinging to the feathers of her wings like tears, and wetting the fur on her chest and face. Her wings pumped rhythmically, but rather than straining against air and time, pushing the possibilities of speed and endurance as she normally did, she methodically ambled her way through the mist, using the ground as a compass to bring her to her destination, somewhere out in the fog.

She clutched a trio of objects in her forelimbs, partly gifts, partly keepsakes; a black beret, an old library book and a withering, dead flower, barely clinging to the final drops of yellow hue in its pedals. She held on to them dearly with both forelimbs as her wings worked alone against the dense air, and her eyes wandered the mist, searching for the turnoff from the road.

Slowly but surely, and with no sun to guide her way, she made her way uphill, never straying more than a few dozen feet from the ground, her only link to direction in the formless world around her. Her scenery, however bleak and obscured it was, began to change as she traded the lowlands for the alpine terrain of the foothills of the Saddleback Mountains. Long blades of yellow grass shifted to hardy lichens and mosses, with a few patches of tough grass thrown in here and there. Oaks and willows were traded for pine and aspen, until finally, the buildings of the distant town were exchanged for a solitary two-story cabin amidst the trees.

It was large and tan, the color of heartwood, and looked exactly as she'd remembered it, except for the glum mist that hung over its roof. It would have looked cheery and warm were there a sky behind it, but instead, it resembled a haunted house, definite ghosts wandering within its confines harmlessly.

It was a grey day.

It'd been nearly two weeks since she'd set foot within the home's doors, but still, a neat stack of firewood remained adjacent to the front porch, and a lonely ponderosa swayed gently in the damp atmosphere along the home's northern wall.

Rainbow Dash set down a few dozen feet from the home's entrance, and walked the rest of the way to the front door. Unlocked, she gently pushed her way through its threshold, and looked around.

Cobwebs and dust now permeated the once spotless interior of the home, corrupting it, and bearing no resemblance to the home's legacy. Fogged, obscure planes of glass covered the myriad photographs that hung on the walls and over the mantle. A bowl of slowly decaying green apples occupied the center of the living room's coffee table, and the fireplace was cold.

She made her way to the middle of the living room, and gently placed the items she'd brought with her on the coffee table, laying them out neatly and carefully, and began to look around again as the flower drifted to a rest over the cover of the book.

At the back of the room was a large glass case, clouded by dust and misty condensation, but its contents still visible. Armor; metallic grey with engraved designs and markings embroidering its shell, among them, a captain's rank, as well as the 11th Air Cavalry's, insignia. The warped, damaged set of Equestrian battle armor hung on a wire rack, as if it were a museum display case, and every scar, every dent, told a story of the hardships of battle, a battle nowhere near as hard nor as fierce as the one that had claimed its wearer.

Along the wall near the case was a large cabinet, made of hickory or something of the such; Dash knew it to be nearly empty. She ambled towards its loosely swinging doors, and peered inside once again for the first time in a long time. An old, tattered and moth eaten military uniform swung limply on a hanger within the wardrobe, and an empty slot where the home's previous owner's armor had fit neatly, the set that was destroyed along with his body, sat unused on the door's interior. A folded crimson flag rested on the top shelf, undisturbed save for a few miniscule holes, courtesy of decomposers, the home's only residents as of late.

This cabinet's contents, the uniform, the absent armor set, the flag, were once a symbol of Equestrian pride and strength, of honor and courage, of the kingdom's best and brightest. No longer. Now, they served as a grim reminder of mortality, and how close Equestria had come to its demise. Were it not for the Guardians' sacrifice in Canterlot against the changeling hordes, the kingdom wouldn't be under the jurisdiction of the alicorn sisters. Chrysalis and her drones would be sucking the land dry were it not for First Lieutenant Brutus Ajax, Petty Officer 1st Class Sebastian Swift, Captain Dawn Clairvoyance and...

Dash turned away from the cabinet, bowing her head slightly, causing a few strands of colored hair to fall into her face. She tried to tell herself she was fine.

Pale, weak light drifted through the windows in rays, highlighting the floating dust dancing in and out of the beams.

It was a grey day.

She ambled through the rest of the house, plodding through the dining room, the kitchen and the bedrooms upstairs, stopping where she'd started, in the living room, when she found nothing more than she'd expected elsewhere in the house. The pegasus stood just inside the doorway, not doing but feeling, not living but remembering, until those memories and feelings drew her to the obscured pictures on the wall.

She reached up to what would have been eye-level for the home's absent owner, and dusted off the photograph. Nostalgic remorse came flowing into her heart as she looked upon the faces immortalized in the photo. Eight souls, seven of them equine and an eighth belonging to Spike, smiled back at her from a picnic spread in the park. They were faces she'd grown familiar with.

Twilight, the characteristic pink streak through her mane so prominent, and her cheek muscles drawn up as she grinned at the camera. Fluttershy, smiling warmly as she, ever so slightly, peered out from behind her lush pink mane. Applejack, slyly grinning from beneath the brim of her ever-present Stetson. Pinkie Pie, jumping up from behind the others to be completely visible in all her glee and cheer, her hooves thrown up over her head, which adorned an open mouthed, joyous expression. Rarity, an unfeigned smile, but not anything less than proper on her face as she turned her head slightly to the side. Her own image smiled at her as well, one eyebrow raised and the corner of her mouth drawn up in a confident expression. Spike, his eyes closed in a blink, comically captured by the camera's flawless timing, beamed at the camera from the shoulders of a tall, obsidian colored stallion.

The stallion. She felt herself grow a bit weaker as she saw the fire in Clyde's smiling eyes, long since extinguished. Those eyes, the ones that had been able to restore confidence and feeling to friends, as well as intimidate enemies. She missed them; their emerald radiance, the spirit that danced in their sparkle, the way their gaze held onto love and pride and honor. She missed everything about him; the tender embrace of his wide-reaching wings, his toothless smile, his honeyed voice and wise words, the nobility in his actions and thoughts, and the respect he commanded, as well as exhibited. She missed these things, as well as much more, all taken away from her before their time by the greed of the changeling hordes of the south. She missed her Guardian, Clydesdale Sterling, and even now, as she tried with everything inside of her to remember only the happy times she spent with him, she could only recall the last few seconds that his soul resided within him, and what he'd said to her.

"Will you remember me?"

The words haunted her, because she had to abide by them. She recognized that they were for the better, that indeed, Clyde had to do what he did, but still, regret filled the tears that now fell from her magenta eyes. She would not forget; how could she? That was why she had returned to this cabin again, why she'd needed to see the pictures one more time, to try and remember her friend as how he'd lived, not by how he'd died. But, it was useless. What good was it to try and trick herself into thinking that his all-seeing gaze was still on her, when she knew those eyes had long since faded into time.

She bowed her head and cried shamelessly, trying to forget what she kept remembering, and trying to remember what she kept forgetting. Minutes turned to hours, and when the time came for her to go, she quietly turned away from the pictures of times she'd spent with her Guardian, gathered his keepsakes, and began the dreary flight back home.

It was a grey day in Ponyville.

****************

The sun was brutal and relentless in Canterlot, a hole in the overcast skies allowing exclusive sun to Equestria's capital. Here, the weather would normally be perfect for a day outdoors, but to the one-hundred and twelve stallions and mares standing in formation on the palace training grounds, it was the epitome of misery. The smell of sweat was all-encompassing; they'd been like this for nearly three hours, and hadn't moved since the sun had risen. They all stared front and center, their knees locked out within their stifling armor, waiting on orders.

Only one dared to stray his eyes from the air beyond his snout.

A unicorn stallion, not exceptionally large, but still, not the smallest of the congregation, moved his amber eyes slyly left then right, barely tilting his head so as not to break the position of attention. His beige hide was concealed, save for the spaces of exposed skin around his eyes and mouth, and between his helmet and his chest plate, and the blue horse-hair crest of his helmet failed to allude to his neatly trimmed fire-red mane beneath his helmet's gilded metallic surface.

He couldn't help but wonder if any of the others were as befuddled as he was; by the looks of their stoic, unbroken forward-aimed stares, they weren't. Maybe, they knew something he didn't, like why they'd been pulled from their units before the morning wake up alarm had sounded, assembled here, and told to stand in formation by an unfamiliar officer, upper-brass by the tassels on his uniform. Or maybe they knew why there was no pattern in the individuals assembled on this miniscule plot of grass; there were mares and stallions, big and small, unicorns, pegasi and earth ponies, all from different units. He recognized the uniforms and insignia of numerous units on the ponies around him; Royal Guard, Night Guard, Celestial Infantry, Magic Brigade, Air Cavalry, Special Forces and the Intelligence Unit.

He'd barely moved his head to what he thought, to his own disbelief, was a bat-pony stallion at attention two or three ponies to his left when he heard an icy, authoritative voice make its presence known from the formation's front.

"Soldier!" the voice yelled, feminine and accented, yet strong, "You are supposed to be at attention!"

He snapped his head back to front and center, knowing full well that he'd been caught slipping. He saw a pegasus, turquoise and crystalline, making a bee-line for him, her one-eyed glare somehow colder than her voice. She wore an eye-patch over one eye, but it did not affect the malice on her brow in the least.

She reached him in seconds, and drew to within inches of his snout.

"What is your problem soldier?! You are the only one out of this entire group that somehow bucked up something as simple as standing in place!"

She stole a look at his shoulder.

"What is your given name Corporal Dumbass?"

"Ma'am, Sundown Stryker, Ma'am!"

"Where are you from Corporal Dumbass? You sound as uneducated as you look."

"Ma'am, Dodge Junction Ma'am!" he responded firmly, his thick accent proving his place of origin as he locked his eyes onto the back of the head of the pony in front of him.

"Well, a unicorn from a hick town," the mare responded, "All I need to see now is an end to all war, and I've officially seen everything."

"Care to tell me why you were gawking at your fellow candidates there, Private Dumbass?"

"Ma'am, I was wondering why we were all assembled here Ma'am! I was looking for any indications Ma'am!"

"Curious are we?" she said condescendingly as she receded from him, took a place at the front of the formation, and began to pace back and forth.

"I suppose you're all wondering why you're here!" she yelled, addressing none of them in particular.

"You are here, because you have been selected as candidates for an elite program! Over the course of the next three weeks, you will be evaluated over everything you do, so don't screw anything up! If you can't hack it, feel free to quit at anytime! If your evaluators feel that you are incapable of the job of an elite warrior, you will be asked to leave! But, if you do make it, a life of no glory and no recognition awaits you!"

"You will do the hardest jobs this military has to offer in secrecy, without recognition outside of your uniform, but what you do will be the most important job our military has to offer! I am here to help weed out those that can't do it! I am Major Persephone Skyfarer, and it is my job to personally beat the shit out of you for the next twenty-one days! So, do you think you have what it takes?!"

A thunderous, unanimous, "Hooah!" responded.

"We'll see," whispered the mare.

Then, she raised a hoof and pointed to the track, a few hundred yards behind them.

"Thirty laps! Go!" and one-hundred and twelve equines' legs began pumping.

The Only Easy Day...

Sundown Stryker flexed each muscle in his legs, pushing as hard as he could. He didn't know which hurt more; his knees, his thighs, or his neck, all being slowly crushed underneath the weight of the cumbersome burden over his shoulder, and when the pain came shooting to the back of his head, unsure of its source, he screamed. He wasn't the only one doing so.

All around him, just under one-hundred ponies, all wearing bulky, cumbersome, armor to add to the misery of the training they now suffered through, pushed themselves back up to a standing position, most of them staggering a bit as they did so. They came to a stop, the sand of the training pit unstable and yielding at their hooves, stealing away solid ground to push against as they repeatedly squatted at the command of the instructors.

They'd started with one-hundred and twelve; thirteen had quit within the first hour, while they were still on their first run, made complicated by insults and jeers from their instructors, creatively called 'motivation'. Since then, nine more had given up on training; five on the ten mile mountain climb, and four more on the water course, and a tenth had been removed due to nearly drowning. And to make it worse, it was only one o'clock.

"Again! Down!" yelled one of the instructors, a red coated pegasus stallion, while their head instructor, Major Persephone Skyfarer, kept circling the lot of them like a vulture, looking down disapprovingly through her one functioning eye.

"Come On! Move!" yelled the third instructor, the smallest and lightest colored, yet scariest, of the trio that kept making their group go through the closest thing to hell that existed in the world of the living.

"Hooah! came the response, weak from each individual, but strong as a group, and once again, each of the five teams of soldiers bent their knees, let the weight of the immense logs, more like tree trunks, that each team shared push them down to the earth, and froze once their thighs paralleled the level ground of the training pit.

Again, the pain came shooting up from his knees and neck at the same time, and again, in synchronization with nearly every other soldier present, Sundown screamed in pain.

"Up!" barked the instructor, and again, each pony present, ranging greatly in stature, color, gender and species, pushed up with the entirety of their waning strength, standing up fully with the overbearing weight of the logs balanced on their shoulders.

"Fifty-three!" yelled the head instructor, counting off their reps, her voice like ice in the otherwise blistering sun.

"Alright Mules," shouted the small instructor, who insisted on being called just 'Sir,' referring to them by his favorite, and most demeaning nickname, "Give me two more good reps, and you get lunch!"

Suddenly, the pain in his legs seemed to increase, and Sundown tried his hardest to breathe, in the process, trying his hardest not to pass out.

He felt his knees give again, and the weight of the log pushed down on his spine, and his legs barely stayed in their sockets as they reached 90 degrees to the ground.

He screamed again, this time, one of the only ones to do so; the rest of the class, whom the instructors kept referring to Class 2-4, was apparently refreshed by the promise of food.

"Suffer in Silence!" yelled Sir, taking a menacing step in his direction, and Sundown promptly snapped his mouth shut, cutting off his verbal anguish.

Again, he and his group pushed upwards once the instructors gave them the go, and he reached the peak of his ascent just as the pain in his spine reached a maximum.

"One more!" yelled one of the instructors from behind the pit, and, surprisingly, one of the candidates responded without pain in his voice.

"Hooah 2-4!" yelled the voice, and Sundown looked out of the corner of his eye to see, to his own disbelief, a pegasus stallion, smiling under the weight of the log.

He was tall and thick, a fine specimen of fitness, and very dark, his hide and black armor both bearing a resemblance to a starless night sky. His wings were flared up around the tree trunk on his shoulder, balancing it, and though sweat beaded down his face, his eyes remained focused and determined, and despite all the pain in his body, Sundown felt a feeling of admiration forming within him.

The teams, all five of them, again lowered themselves towards the ground at Sir's command, and, again at the loud bark of the instructor, raised themselves back up again for the final time.

"Drop 'em!" yelled Sir, and five cedar logs rolled from bone, and landed in the sands of the pit.

Most of the ponies, especially Sundown, followed their logs to the ground, and collapsed into the burning grains of sand at their hooves. Only two didn't; one was the dark pegasus from before, that smile still on his face, and the other was an immense mahogany earth pony stallion, but, to contrast his partner in standing, he looked exhausted.

Sundown took a moment to breathe deeply, forgetting about looking up at those around him with the strength and the will to move within the minute, definitely made possible by the anticipation of food, and closed his eyes, relishing in another small victory for the day. But, his respite was cut short by an icy, cold voice above him, and a literal kick in his rump.

"Get up and get to the mess hall."

Sundown squinted up through sweat and sunlight to see Persephone looking down on him uncaringly; he was the only one left in the pit after what had only seemed like a few seconds.

"Lunch is over at 1400. If you want food, get up and get it while you can."

With that, she turned, and walked off across the training fields, heading for the same structure the rest of the class was lining up outside of. Reluctantly, and with no shortage of pain, Sundown suffered to his hooves, and did the same.

****************

Sundown turned from the lunch line with a tray in his hooves; he'd have used magic, but among the only two rules imposed by the instructors, was one prohibiting the use of magic while in the training program. The other applied to pegasi, outlawing them from using their wings. Nopony was special in the eyes of the instructors, and none of them had the opportunity of gaining an advantage over their comrades; they were all equally worthless.

He looked around the mess hall interior; it was vaguely reminiscent of a school lunch room, with different groups of ponies talking away and eating hungrily at their tables. And also like a school lunch room, there were very few available seats.

Were the class at the same size it had been when they'd started, there may have been none, but, luckily, there was precisely one seat open, right among a group of relatively familiar faces. On the corner of a table occupied by the dark pegasus from the pit, there was a gap on the bench where he could fit. He made for it while it was still available, balancing his gilded helmet on his back, and his tray in one hoof as his metal gauntlets clinked against the floor.

He placed his tray and helmet on the table, and plopped down heavily, his metallic shell jangling around his body, upon reaching the bench, sighing contentedly as he felt the relief in his legs' muscles, extending them to their full length underneath the table. He closed his eyes as he rejoiced in simply not doing anything for a few seconds, before a voice called him back to the present.

"You're going to want to eat," said the voice, gruff and masculine.

Sundown looked up and to his right to the pegasus, an amount of food stuffed in his cheek, and his lavender eyes inquisitively looking down at him.

"Keep your strength up and all," he said as he swallowed, promptly refilling his mouth with a spoonful of potatoes, "Believe me, you'll need it."

Sundown did as he was advised, and painfully sat up, and began quickly eating. The others at the table were eagerly chatting away, complaining about their recent endeavors mostly, but still, he and the stallion on his right were the only ones that remained silently eating.

Sundown swallowed, and hesitantly, looked back to his right, trying to start at least a resemblance of a conversation, never mind to try and clear up a few pressing curiosities.

"So," he said as he downed a glass of water, prompting the stallion, his mouth still full, to look down his way, "Why do ya think we're out here? They sure didn't tell me nothin'."

"Oh, that's obvious," he said, his scratchy voice grinding in Sundown's ears, ''this is a selection process."

"How d'ya figure?"

"It's just like the one we had to go through to join Spec Ops," he explained, "they're beating us down to try and determine which of us are the strongest; they'll keep the ones that prove they belong."

"You obviously know more 'bout this than I do," admitted Sundown, turning back to his overcooked meal, "So, a selection? What are we bein' selected for?"

"No clue," he responded quickly, "but that doesn't change much of anything. We're still stuck here, and if we make it," he paused slightly as he shoveled more food into his mouth, "we'll be a part of something pretty damn elite, and I'm just fine with that."

"How d'ya figure?"

"They haven't told us what we're trying out for yet, which means it some secretive stuff, and by definition, cool."

Sundown was silent for a moment.

"Do you know of anythin' a tier up from Spec Ops?"

"Nope," admitted the stallion, shaking his head, "I had a friend once that said he'd been selected for something like this, but we never heard from him again. I guess he ended up getting killed in the invasion; I found his grave when I went to visit my brother's."

Sundown turned away slightly; stories like these had become common in Equestria as of late, and nopony was without one, as nopony hadn't been effected by the changelings' attack; nopony.

"Maybe that's what's bein' kept so secret."

"Maybe that's what we're here for," added the stallion.

Sundown looked away a bit as he put more food in his mouth.

"I'm Nightingale by the way," the stallion said, extending a hoof his way.

"Su..." he started to respond, only to be interrupted.

"Sundown Stryker," Nightingale juxtaposed, smiling slyly, "The whole class knows your name after this morning."

Sundown's memory begrudgingly returned to the ass chewing he'd received prior to the training's commencement. Still, he gave a smile back to the pegasus, only to have it cut short by a bell's sounding off, and the doors being thrown in by a trio of uniformed ponies, the one in front announcing her presence in a frosty voice.

"Outside, now! Get to your barracks and change into PT gear! Be in formation in five minutes!"

Sundown and Nightingale rose side by side from the table, sighing, and after replacing their helmets on their heads, they shuffled to the front of the mess hall, pushed through the clogged atrium, and sprinted back to their barracks as fast as their exhausted legs could carry them.

Author's Note

Hey! I was feeling a little bored, so I decided to post a little early. So, I hope you guys are liking this story so far. If so, please say why, and likewise if not. I feed off of instructive criticism.

Different Worlds

"Pick up the pace Corporal!"

Sundown groaned as he increased the exertion in his legs, pushing against gravity and the slope of the mountain as he, and the remnants of Class 2-4, trudged up the mountainside trail. The weight of the pack on his back was overbearing; coupled with his cumbersome armor, each step was made from a simple movement into an agonizing struggle. And yet, the instructors, their backs free of weight and their hides devoid of armor, kept demanding that they go faster.

The two lesser instructors, Sir, and the recently self-introduced Grinder, were more vocal than their crystalline superior, but the Major's piercing glare had a motivational tendency far above the insults of the other two. Even now, he could feel her gaze in his backside, and as he droned out the jeers of Sir, he, through great effort, caught up to the column in front of him, and continued uphill in formation.

Pine and aspen surrounded them, and the thin, crisp air of the late day's sunset was invigorating in its own way, helping to push the candidates still in the class upwards in a very subtle, unnoticeable sort of way. Those that hadn't quit by this point of the selection were few; out of the one-hundred and twelve that had started ten days ago, only forty-two remained. And there were still eleven days to go.

The jangling and clatter of gear and armor resounded through the column of ponies with each synchronized step, pushing higher and higher into the mountains to touch the sky, simply because they had been told to do so. Theirs was not to reason why.

"One more kilo Mules!" came from behind and downhill, signifying an imminent end to the day's endless march.

The distances seemed easier to cover now; the hours had begun to blend together, and it wouldn't be long before the days began to do the same. The last kilometer went by quickly, and before long, the instructors commanded the remaining candidates to stop in an aspen meadow on the peak's summit while they conversed among themselves as to decide what to do next.

Sundown welcomed the respite, however meager, and let his knees give as he fell heavily into the wet grass of the meadow. He rolled over onto his back, letting the straps of his pack come undone, and stared into the orange-shifting atmosphere. The artist in the sky was busy painting a masterpiece on the dome above, the sun adding in dashes of purple and gold to the orange and pink hued clouds, and the gilded light gave the air a luster like glitter. They were on top of the world; there was nothing to block the uncorrupted view of the sky, and it was beautiful. And, for the first time in a long time, the unicorn forgot his aching knees, and felt himself smiling.

"You holding up?" asked a familiar voice, calling him back from a moment of tranquility to the present.

He tilted his neck to his right, seeing a familiar black pegasus seated at his side, his lavender eyes and mane sparkling down at him in the serene light of dusk.

"Doin' fine," responded Sundown, his voice slightly deeper, yet clearer and less raspy than the other's, "How 'bout you Nightingale?"

"I think my legs are going to fall off."

Sundown suppressed a chuckle, for fear that the instructors may hear, and he shifted his amber eyes back to the delight of the simple, beautiful sky.

"Makes you think of home, huh?" asked Nightingale, his raspy voice scratchy, but pleasant to the ear.

"Yeah," came the response, made sweet by its hint of a honeyed southern accent, "Almost makes me think of a mare I knew."

The two looked up together, enjoying a moment of nothing, until the dreaded bark of the instructors made itself known again.

"Alright," yelled Major Persephone, marching forward to the no longer resting group of ponies, "You've all made it past first phase. For the next eleven days, we'll be up here. So, first things first. Erect a tent city in this meadow. Two per tent. Here are your assigned bunkmates."

The crystalline pegasus, through her one good eye, read off a small scroll she'd unrolled in front of her, announcing the names of the few that had persisted thus far.

"Nightingale Starlight, you're with Jay Cardinal."

The black pegasus leaned into his friend at his side, and whispered, "I'll see you."

"Good luck," Sundown responded, and with that, the winged stallion walked off to meet the side of a crimson pegasus mare, her mane a deep sky-blue.

Several other names were called, but Sundown never heard them; his mind was elsewhere, mostly the near future, at least, it was until his own title's annunciation brought him out of his self-induced trance.

"Sundown Stryker!"

"Ma'am," he responded, looking into the mare's icy eyes.

"You're with Buckwheat," she continued, pointing to an immense mahogany earth pony stallion, dwarfing even the largest of the group by his sheer size; yet, for his vast bulk, his eyes were kind, light green and inviting, and as his black mane fell over his brow, Sundown felt less intimidated, and approached his new bunkmate.

"Alright!" shouted the Major, "You've got until nightfall to get your tents set up. If not, you're sleeping on the ground. Get going!"

Sundown looked up at the earth pony; they exchanged a silent nod, and went to work, removing rods and mesh from their packs, hastily assembling them to try and make a walled-tent, but the sands of time decided not to wait for them. The pair only had half the shelter put together when the sun began hiding its bright face behind the horizon.

Sundown looked to his bunkmate, or rather, ground-mate, as they now lacked bunks themselves, and, after sighing, apologized. The stallion responded with a cumbersome shrug, and as he began lying down, extended a hoof his way.

"Lieutenant Buckwheat," he said, his voice deep and rumbling, with a heavy received pronunciation, "call me Angus."

"Sundown," came the response as the unicorn himself laid down in the grass, but not before he took the stallion's hoof in his own.

Sundown accepted the oncoming cold of the night as he curled up on the meadow floor, and, one last time, he turned to look to the western horizon, seeing the last few drops of sunlight as they fled behind the veil of night. The darkness began to take the sky, and as he looked up to the stars, only one thought came to mind.

"What am I doing here?"

****************

Beneath the same stars, miles away, a certain yellow pegasus was also laying her tired head down to rest. Only she was doing so from the comfort of home. She sighed as her head came to a rest on her pillow, and closed her eyes for a few moments, the lullaby of the crickets and the night's serenity beckoning her to sleep.

But, her mind was reluctant to embrace sleep.

Her once pleasant dreams had been turned to nightmares lately. Once upon a time, she'd dreamed of pleasant sunlit meadows, or times she'd shared with friends. But ever since the invasion, dreams like those had become rare, and had been replaced with nightmares of the worst kind; memories. Memories, she did not want to relive, yet couldn't forget.

Some were scary, like when the changeling warriors had ambushed her and her friends in the hall of the elements, or how the massive armies of the invaders had blotted out the sun above Ponyville as they locked in battle with the Equestrian Air Cavalry over the town. But, the ones that truly haunted her, were the sad memories.

She felt a tear forming in her left eye, and rolled over onto her side, allowing it to wet her pillowcase, and as the solitary drop moistened her sheets, recollection came flooding back to her.

Sad memories.

But, she couldn't forget them.

Clyde had died for her, and now, she lived to remember him. Only, the things she wanted to remember, she couldn't. Only the sad memories.

Another tear fell onto her pillow, and she rolled over, trying to find sleep now, and an escape from her troubled mind beneath the face of the pale blue moon. There was a time when she felt comforted at night, because she knew that, up in the mountains, Clyde's all-seeing, protective gaze was on her, and she'd cherished in a mental vision of his muscled body, but kind face, looking down on her from his lofty perch in the Saddlebacks. But now, the night brought her a different vision.

She saw a smile, green eyes, broken wings. She heard quiet words, spoken with precious breath. She felt soft, obsidian fur, made wet by rain, and something thicker. She remembered holding Clyde on the palace lawn as he spent his last moments alive with her and her friends. She remembered him, one of the few ponies she'd ever loved, dying in her lap, and how powerless she had been to save him.

His blood had already been poisoned; death had claimed him long before Chrysalis had thrown him from the tower, his soft, all-embracing wings limp and shattered by his side. And, above all else, she remembered how helpless she felt. How, though all she wanted to do was save him, to have him back, she could do nothing for him when he needed her help the most, even though he had done everything for her.

Sad memories.

Ever since that night, the night Clyde had slipped away, she'd felt incomplete. A small part of her died that day too, and she couldn't get it back.

She needed purpose again. She needed a life again. She needed something to live for now, instead of remembering a life she'd once had.

Fluttershy looked outside at the moon, swallowing hard to try and conquer her sorrow, and a single solitary thought drifted through her mind.

"What am I doing here?"

Mind Over Matter

The world, darkened and damp in the early morning hours, came rushing back amidst the sound of a deafening air horn, and the all too cheery voices of the instructors.

"Up and at 'em Mules!" came from outside the tent, finally erected after many sleepless nights on the ground outside, "We got somethin' special for you today!"

"Angus, we gotta go," chimed Sundown as he hopped off of his makeshift cot, as awake as he could be at this hour.

He was answered by a lazy snore from the other side of the tent, and the instructors weren't waiting.

"Angus! Get up!" he yelled as the giant woke with a start, toppling out of his undersized cot with a ground shaking thud.

The massive earth pony darted outside a few steps behind Sundown, and quickly joined the assembling formation of what was left of the candidates, now dwindled down to only twenty as team week was drawing to a close. All were exhausted from the trial of training thus far, sunken eyes and shaking knees identifying them as severely weakened; there were no exceptions.

As the formation came to attention, Major Skyfarer started pacing in front of them, an evil grin across her face.

"Alright candidates," she sang like a bird in the crisp morning air, "Here's the situation. The logs we used for PT a while back have been getting old and are starting to rot. So, we need to replace all ten of them, and these mountains have plenty of timber."

Sundown closed his eyes, and suppressed a sigh as he realized what they were going to have to do.

"Now, with a full class, we'd have assigned about twelve to a log team, but with most of your comrades being pussies, we'll have to assign each of you and your teammate to a single log."

As she finished, a quartet of ponies broke formation, walked up to Grinder, standing to the side of the congregation, and let their helmets fall to the ground at the instructor's feet; the universal sign in the program for "I quit."

The Major continued.

"Never mind what I said. Some of you will have to pick up the slack, meaning some of the teams will have to double up on logs. You can thank them when you get back to Canterlot palace," she added, glaring over her shoulder at the stallions and one mare that were now beginning to pack their gear for the long walk back down the mountain to the barracks.

"Now, divvy up into your teams. After you tear down camp up here, pack everything up and then report to me. Your instructors have been kind enough to have felled ten logs last night for you to haul back downhill. Seeing as we only have eight teams and ten logs, two groups will have to take two logs."

The pegasus paused, her steely, one eyed gaze gauging the haggard faces that looked stoically back at her.

"Any volunteers?"

No hooves went up, and she clicked her tongue as she thought things over.

"Alright then. Buckwheat, you're the biggest one here," Sundown's heart went into his stomach, as Angus emitted a low, disgusted groan, "so you and your teammate will each be hauling solo. As for the other lucky pair...Starlight, you're second to Buckwheat on this one. You and Cardinal each take a log solo down the hill."

The formation stood in place for a moment, looking blankly back at the Major with abhorrence in their stares, but she seemed not to care.

"Well!" she said, addressing their inability to depart at her immediate request, "Get going!"

"Move!" yelled the other instructors, enforcing the will of their superior, and started corralling the exhausted equines towards the camp to begin the day's task.

****************

"Just keep breathing."

"Easy for you to say!" countered Sundown, panting, "you weigh almost half what that log does. This damn thing has near eight hundred pounds on me."

They'd covered the better half of five miles, just past half-way down the mountain, the logs secured like plows on their heavy wooden collars and their packs strapped onto their backs. All together, the load Sundown and Angus each toted was well over one-thousand pounds. Dragging the felled tree trunks through the alpine dirt was cutting a rut in the trail, and each step was exhausting to an already spent body. Angus had been faring better than Sundown, definitely due to his sheer size and strength, and the unicorn was struggling to keep up as the two slowly progressed downhill.

The only thing that was a source of comfort was the absence of their armor's stifling grip, but not its weight. They had the metallic shell secured to their frame packs, but at least, they could breathe easier without its cumbersome presence. Not that it made the trek any easier.

"Just keep moving. Try to dull the pain mate, and I'll help you along if I can."

Sundown put his head down, and lurched forward, his fiery red mane gleaming with sweat in the afternoon sun, and the log continued its tedious downward descent.

"Keep moving," coaxed Angus, his accent thick and somewhat comforting, "Keep your momentum up."

Sundown did as advised, pulling with everything he had until he had a brisk pace going, and, remarkably, the load on his back lightened.

"Ha ha!" he laughed triumphantly, prompting a cackle from Angus, as he too quickened his pace, though much easier than his partner.

They kept going along, having much less trouble than before, actually passing teams that had only one log, as well as Sir. However, the instructor quickly caught up to the two.

He trotted past them, wheeling around in the center of the trail, and galloped up to Angus's face. He firmly slapped a hoof into the giant's chest, not hurting him with a blow that would have staggered a normal sized pony, and produced a dull thud against his sternum.

"Wham! You're dead."

Angus stopped, his log grinding to a halt behind him, as did Sundown, and the two gave the burden free instructor a perplexed stare.

"Ambush," he said, his voice in a perpetual shout, "Changelings hit you from those trees. You're a big-ass target, and they dropped you. You're dead, but you're a small-ass target," he said as he came snout to snout with Sundown, "and you made it."

"Sir, I don't think..." began Angus, only to be interrupted by another shout, looking quite ironic as the small instructor bullied the much larger pony into silence.

"Dead ponies don't talk, lieutenant! Or stand for that matter! Go limp!"

"What sir?"

"Go limp dammit!"

Angus, after hesitating, hit the ground, piling up in the middle of the trail, the chains connecting his harness to the log behind him rattling to the ground heavily.

"You!" shouted Sir, coming up into Sundown's face again, "You're the only survivor! Finish the mission!"

"What mission?"

"What mission, sir!" corrected the charcoal stallion, his eyes locked in an infinite scowl.

"Sir, what mission sir?"

"Getting these logs down the hill!"

Sundown looked panicked as he stared back into the eyes of the pony in front of him, his own amber eyes darting back and forth between his comrade lying in the dirt and the one that had caused him to be so.

"Sir?" Sundown began as the stallion began hiking back up the trail.

"What is it Corporal?"

"How am I supposed to get both o' these back by myself, sir?"

"Not just the logs. You got your buddy to haul back now too."

Sundown recoiled at the thought alone.

"We don't leave our own behind, dead or alive! Now find a way Corporal, or quit!"

Sundown hesitated, looking back and forth in shock at the new tools of torture the instructor had conjured up. But the instructor only turned away, leaving him with his new burden and his motionless, but very alive, teammate. Everything rushed through his beleaguered mind; anger at the instructors' cruelty, fatigue from everything they'd made him do thus far, doubt that he'd be able to make it, fear of failure.

Quickly, he took off his harness, and hurried to hook up both logs to his collar. Once he did that, he wrapped his hooves under Angus's torso, and with great strain, heaved him up on top of the pair of logs.

"Do me a favor," he said panting to his silent companion, "and don't ever 'die' again."

He was not answered; Angus had his corpse act down.

Sundown quickly hitched his harness up to the two logs, and took a stance at their front, well over a ton of mass at his flank. He took a deep breath in, and lurched forward, pulling with everything he had, but he went nowhere. He tried everything, kicking, changing his center of gravity, creating some slack to get a running start, only to be yanked to a halt by the immense weight opposing his advance, the other candidates passing him on the trail the whole time.

He stopped, exhausted and at the back of the pack; it took nearly everything he had just to stand, and his rapidly pumping lungs caused his ribcage to inflate and deflate in huge, quick breaths. That was when the Major came trotting by. She stopped at his side, looking at him in his moment of weakness without expression, and spoke without emotion.

"Why don't you just quit?"

Sundown closed his mouth, and breathed through his nose as he felt something rising in his throat.

"You're broken. You're done; you've got nothing left. You're not strong enough. You and I both know you can't do this, so do me a favor, and give up."

Sundown shook his head, and turned to look the crystalline pegasus in the eye.

"You may be right," he said, nodding as he spit into the dusty trail at his hooves, "I'm not strong enough to do this; at least, not your way."

With that, he slipped off his collar, and disconnected the chains attached to the logs. He stood before the Major, and she awaited his imminent resignation; but instead, he picked up the collar and chains, hitched them to a single log, and pulled, turning it so that it ran perpendicular to the slope rather than parallel with it. He did the same to the other log, using his pack as a wedge to keep them from rolling downhill, and, again with much strain, he pulled a motionless Angus on top of the trunks.

He re-adorned the harness, and stood uphill from the logs after hitching them up to himself again.

"But my way, I can do anythin'."

He hopped on top of the logs, reached down, and quickly scooped up his pack and jumped into the dirt, allowing the logs to roll freely downhill. He adorned the pack skillfully as he ran out of slack, then braced his knees. The chain snapped to its full extent, and Sundown resisted the logs' pull, made even more potent by Angus's added weight as he remained balanced on the two trunks.

Sundown was dragged forward, his hooves tearing ruts in the trail as he leaned against gravity, controlling the logs' descent from behind their slowly rolling bodies.

And, ingeniously, he began to make progress.

****************

It was dusk when he finally reached the fields outside the barracks, a smaller congregation of ponies waiting outside the hooches than when they'd began in the morning. He was the last one to arrive.

As he ran out of slope, Sundown let up on his resistance, finally giving his screaming thighs a break, and let gravity carry them towards the pile of logs a few dozen feet from the others. He trotted behind the logs as they rolled, driving them like a shepherd, skillfully keeping Angus balanced on their summit. He reached the pile of logs, and maneuvered his own burden into their middle, pulling back and grinding to a halt in the center of the concentration of felled ponderosa.

Panting, he unhitched his chains, and removed his collar, letting it fall heavily to the ground. Then, he hopped up onto the logs, and pulled Angus down gingerly, carrying him over his back to where the others were waiting. After he dropped Angus off, who gladly seized the opportunity to act alive again, Sundown was seized from behind by a very firm hoof.

"What the hell was that candidate?"

Sundown found himself looking into the face of not one, but all three instructors, fires raging in their eyes, just like the sunset above.

"Finishin' the mission," he responded with what breath he had left, before adding sarcastically, "sir."

The instructor, Grinder, let him go, and the trio turned, and simply walked away, sharing hushed words as they looked back at him.

Sundown turned around to see a few familiar faces, both grinning at him widely. All in the group were looking at him with awe and respect, for the first time, universally.

"How did you do that?" asked Nightingale slowly, "I mean, I had to haul two logs solo for the last mile after Cardinal busted up her ankle, but you went for near five miles."

"I have no idea," responded the unicorn, his voice weak and his knees trembling, "Do we have to do anything else tonight?"

"No, responded the dark pegasus, "orders for now are to turn in and get some sleep."

"Good."

With that, Sundown's knees buckled, and he fell to the ground heavily, while the others all rushed to his side.

"You alright?" asked an unfamiliar mare, the only one left in Class 2-4.

"I think I'm dying."

The others looked at each other, wondering whether or not he was serious.

Sundown slowly reached his front hooves upwards, like an infant beckoning a parent for attention.

"Carry me," he said, and the others, somewhat fresh, picked him up eagerly, and hauled him inside the barracks.

Hell Week

Sundown was jolted awake again by the piercing shriek of the morning call outside of the barracks. He was really getting sick of these damned air horns, or more, what they signified; the beginning of a new day, one filled with misery.

He rolled out of his cot reluctantly, not bothering to catch himself on braced hooves as he hit the ground. He landed heavily on his stomach, and forced himself to stand; his thighs still felt useless from the ordeal the other day with the logs' transportation. Every step he took towards the door, the other candidates rushing outside ahead of him in a groggy panic, he felt would be his last. He simply lacked the strength.

But, he wouldn't give up.

He managed to make it outside; it was still dark in the early morning hours of what he thought was the sixteenth day of the program, give or take a day. It was getting hard to remember.

Sundown staggered into formation; the echelon was barely a resemblance of the group that had shown up about two weeks ago, in numbers and in composure.

Sundown did his best to stand up straight as the instructors came gallivanting up to the front of the formation, too happy for anything good to be in store. All present suppressed a groan; they'd grown keen to the whims of the instructors, as well as the fact that they were something to be feared.

"Mules," sang out one of the instructors, undoubtedly Persephone by the chill tone in her voice, but her face remained hidden by the darkness, "Let me be the first to congratulate you on making it this far. Not many get to experience Hell Week."

Sundown didn't know whether to be proud of reaching this supposed milestone or afraid of whatever would come next.

"Five more days. Only five more, but in those five days, you will not sleep. You will not even stop for a rest break, except to eat. Granted, you will be getting more meals now, but not out of kindness. More so to keep you alive. And, if you're still here and breathing by sunset on the fifth day, I'll give you all a day off, and then we can get to something that's fun for all of us instead of just me."

Sundown, unable to look anywhere but straight ahead, heard a few of the ponies he had grown familiar with begin a deathly quiet grumble from beyond his plane of sight. He could hear Nightingale muttering something under his breath, and Angus quietly shuffling as he shifted his bulk uncomfortably behind him. He knew the others around him fairly well after two weeks training together, but those two he was closest with.

A few others had come close; Jay Cardinal was one, but she'd been dismissed with a broken ankle. So was Nova Aurora, but he'd quit a few days ago, and taken his strength with him; the logs had seemed heavier without him. Now, there were only enough candidates for one log team, and even then, they were all spent. No doubt 'Hell Week' would involve using some of the wooden hardware they'd hauled down from the mountains.

As if on queue, Sir yelled out, "Now fall out to the pit for log PT!"

****************

"I can't get up," groaned Sundown from under the tree trunk, sweat rolling down his beige hide as his face contorted into an expression of raw pain.

Each and every equine beneath the branchless pine screamed as the log slowly made its way upward, leaving Sundown frozen below the burden in a squat.

"What's wrong?" yelled Nightingale, the position behind Sundown as the log reached its summit.

"My legs just froze!"

"Get him up!" yelled Angus from the position in front of the unicorn.

Nightingale, grimacing under the weight of the log, reached out with his front hoof, shifting his portion of the weight onto his back legs, and pushed Sundown up from his flank. He quickly slammed his hoof back into the sand, redistributing the weight on his shoulders, and locked his knees out as he waited for the instructors to tell them to continue.

"Can you keep going?" asked Nightingale, hissing to keep the instructors from hearing.

"I don't know. Not like this I can't."

"I can shoulder his weight," growled Angus, more out of pain than annoyance, "I got a good rest the other day on my way down the hill. I'm fresher than you lads, I can take more than my share."

"Me too," came a new voice, feminine but far from weak, from two positions behind Nightingale, "Let me take a chunk of the weight. I got it."

"I'm not lettin' y'all do my work for me!"

"Sundown," began Angus after a short break in the talk, made uncomfortable by the shouts of the instructors on the berm above, "I can take your portion of the log, but you need to squat with it. Lift what you can, and I'll get the rest. You did more than your share yesterday."

Sundown did as he was told, and the next time the instructors barked "Down!" he squatted with the log, but lead it downwards, and followed it upwards, lifting what he could, even though it was a meager amount. It was no issue of weakness, no lack of will that had caused it. His body was beginning to fail him; it was not uncommon among the others, and all had experienced the tensing of muscles, and their refusal to work at least once so far in the program.

The log reached a peak, and again, the instructors continued the candidates' agony with another command.

****************

The sun beat down hard on Sweet Apple Acres as Applejack hauled one of the first of many baskets of apples down from the orchards to the barn. The large red structure had myriad purposes; a storehouse mostly, but it could be almost anything. Heaven knew it had been in the past.

Applejack ambled over to a large pile of baskets, filled with red apples, in the back of the barn, and laid it down heavily. She stood up afterwards, breathing deeply, and simply enjoyed a moment of not doing anything. Sure, she liked work, but, relaxation was welcomed just as much. And a little bit never hurt anypony.

She was alone in the barn; no doubt, the others were hard at work as well, with either chores or other odd jobs around the farm. Big Mac she knew was in the east orchard, undergoing the same task she was at the moment, and Applebloom and Granny were most likely preparing supper; it took a long time to cook those zap apple fritters just right, meaning now, in mid-afternoon, they would have had to have started baking.

One of the reasons Applejack loved the farm, as well as the work that came with it, was because it gave her time to think. It was hard work, but it was simple work that didn't take much thinking, leaving room for her mind to wander. And lately, it had wandered back to the same thing.

She pulled her hat off and wiped her brow, turning as she did to vacate the barn, and continue making trips back and forth between the orchards and the storehouse, but she realized upon turning that she had company.

"Oh. Hey there Pinkie," she said upon seeing her friend in the doorway.

"Hi A.J." responded the mare, forcing a smile.

It was something she seemed to be doing a lot of lately...forcing a smile. It seemed to have replaced her real smile, the one that had once brought happiness to all of Ponyville, all of Equestria at one time or another for that matter, but, it seemed to be growing rarer as the days went on. It was a genuinely sad thing, that her happiness seemed to be...receding. And Applejack knew why.

"What brings ya down here?" asked Applejack, taking a few steps closer.

"I don't know," responded Pinkie, coming inside the barn, "I just, sort of, felt like it I guess. I wanted to see somepony, and I figured you'd be around."

The answer seemed very reasonable to Applejack, especially for one given by Pinkie.

The normally jubilant mare took a methodical step inside the barn, looking up and around at its interior as if she were seeing it for the first time.

"It looks, um, different... from the last time we were all in here."

"Pinkie," began Applejack, "that's because the last time we were all in this barn was durin' cider season. This was a tavern then, not a barn."

Then, to Applejack's surprise, a genuine smile spread across Pinkie's face, a smile she had not seen in a long time.

"I still remember that night. We were all so excited because we were finally going to get to meet Clyde. We even put up all those posters just so he would know about it, even though everypony in town wouldn't miss cider season for the world. They must have thought we were idiots, putting up all those fliers."

"And then can you believe that Fluttershy had the idea to try and get him drunk?"

Applejack laughed, as did Pinkie, memories dancing in their eyes.

"Yep. That one sure threw me for a loop. Too bad that stallion was a heavy-weight."

"Seriously," agreed Pinkie.

The two laughed again, remembering how after nearly forty bits' worth of cider, the stallion was hardly buzzed, while they were all well passed hammered.

"I still remember how wierded out he was when you 'welcomed' him to town."

"Everypony is! I don't know why!" giggled Pinkie again, "But it was neat how once he realized it was something I liked doing, he didn't say anything else about it."

"Yeah. And that night, when we all got drunk, he carried us all home," continued Applejack, reminiscing.

There was a slight pause.

"We were so screwed up," giggled Pinkie, prompting a laugh from Applejack.

They laughed together for a moment, but again, grew quiet together, their smiles dying away slightly, and a long silence filled the air.

"I miss him," sighed Pinkie, looking back down to the hay covered ground.

Applejack took a step closer as Pinkie's frown grew, and a pair of tears formed in her baby blue eyes

"We all do," she said consolingly as she placed a hoof on her friend's shoulder, "We just have to be strong, together. We'll always have each other."

"Thanks," muttered Pinkie as tears wet her face, "It's just...it's hard to move on sometimes."

"Believe me, I know."

Pinkie leaned in tighter into Applejack's firm hug, and the two relished in each others' company in a tearful silence.

****************

"Mules! Front and center!"

Less than a dozen winded ponies congregated into columns before the instructors. The sun had already set on the first day of Hell Week, signifying the completion of three hour long sessions of log PT, nearly twenty miles ran, and well over one thousand pushups and sit ups each, as well as another ten mile march in full combat armor.

Four more days to go.

"Any more of you want to quit?" barked the Major.

"No Ma'am!" came the unanimous response.

"Then prove it! Twenty laps around the track, go! In formation!"

The formation disbanded, and the candidates began running, the instructors chugging along at their sides, and Sir led them in a rhythmic, low pitched cadence. Sundown ran at the back of the pack, more because that's where he ended up than a lack of determination.

The first ten laps went down without a problem, but on lap number eleven, some ponies started to fall behind. First was Angus; a big body took a lot of oxygen to move, and with fatigue setting in, breathing was getting harder for the big stallion.

The group passed him up as he fell behind in pace, and the instructors took note, Grinder running up to yell in his ear.

"Get moving! What is your problem fatass! Too many fritters during dinner?"

Angus lacked the breath to respond, though the entire class, a few meters ahead of him on the track, wished for his ordeal to end. They'd all been there, but not in a situation like his. They were all spent, but Angus was one of the first to be failing because of it, and they felt bad for him, especially Sundown.

"You are weak! You're wasting my time out here Buckwheat! Just do yourself a favor and quit!"

As the instructor finished, Sundown broke formation, despite the scolding of the instructors. He backtracked on the track, and wheeled around to Angus's backside, and ran behind him, pushing him forward as he helped him to catch up with the rest of the formation.

"I got ya," he said, "I got ya."

"Thanks mate," gasped the earth pony, as they caught up with the others.

"No problem. You helped me out in the pit, it's the least I could do for ya here. We look out for each other."

No more words were shared between the two, but Sundown stayed at the back of the pack to repeat his role. The next pony to lag behind was Nightingale, and Sundown again 'helped' him back into formation as the laps continued. After the dark pegasus, a third pony began to fall behind, a bat pony, one that Sundown had never worked with prior. But, regardless, he ran at her flank, and pushed her back up to where she needed to be as the rhythm of the running continued.

"Thanks," she said; her voice was familiar, but Sundown, with the darkness as well as the devotion of his energy to moving forward, didn't see many of her finer features, "I thought you were done when I had to take some of your weight with that log."

"That was you?" he gasped, panting.

"I'm Cassi; don't bother, I already know your name."

There was a pause filled with the sound of synchronized hoof falls before she spoke again.

"I never thought I'd be falling behind. Normally I'm at the front of the pack."

"We're all fallin' behind. Don't sweat it,"

"Enough talking! Run!" yelled an instructor off to the side of the formation, and the conversation abruptly ended, leaving what was left of 2-4 to suffer through the night in silence.

Selection

"Major..."

Persephone Skyfarer looked away from the window slowly, returning her one-eyed gaze to the two alicorns seated across the table from her. They, like she did, had numerous files and papers stacked neatly in front of them, and the ivory room was brightly lit to contrast the night visible through the window. However, there was one concentration of light in the darkness; it had, until recently, been the fixation of the crystalline pegasus's gaze, mostly due to the few ponies doing numerous exercises around the fire's glow, with the company of shouting instructors, almost audible even within the palace's thick walls. Persephone nearly thought it amusing, that those ponies outside in the dark, though it was her job to ready them for the job they'd been selected for, were the reason she had been postponed from her temporary mission as of late, and called inside Canterlot palace.

"Do you not agree, Major?"

Persephone again fought the urge to look outside to where she should be, and after a short silence, again met the coral eyes of the princess, and the deep, serene gaze of Luna at her side.

"I'm sorry..." the mare said, petitioning for an explanation for the words she'd carelessly missed.

"The candidates..." Celestia began again, "they have shown promise, have they not?"

"Yes, they have."

The princess of the sun turned over a few more papers, pretending to look through files while she spoke.

"But, which ones do you believe are most suited for being Guardians?" the regale asked, more or less rhetorically to remind the mare what the subject was as she went back to the files before her nose.

"It doesn't matter what I believe. I'm here as an advisor to you both on the matter of selection. So, which candidates do you believe are most suited?"

Celestia looked back down to the papers before her, and Luna smiled a bit at the turquoise pegasus, before she herself did the same, letting Persephone look back out the window to the ponies in the last hours of hell week far below. Her mind wandered back to when she was in their place nearly two decades ago, in the very first class of Guardians. Back then, there was no thinking that went into the selection process, as the last five standing were the ones that were selected and trained for their new role in Equestria's defense. But, after a system reformation, and with eight able-bodied soldiers below, the act of choosing became a bit difficult, for the princesses at least. It was their choice on who became Guardians, and who went back to their units.

"Yes, Major, and as an advisor, I am asking you which candidates you believe to be the best for us to choose from."

"Are you asking me that, if I were given your task, which candidates I would choose? Or, are you seeking suggestions for consideration?"

"The first," interjected Luna, and Persephone began sifting through files.

Eventually, she retrieved three, and pushed them forward with open faces.

"The eight down there, I am certain, won't quit before the process officially ends. If they haven't by now, nothing will stop them. So, of the eight we have to choose from, there are three in particular that I would take without hesitation."

As she continued, she landed her hoof on each candidate's corresponding file as she iterated names.

"Starlight, Eclipse, and Buckwheat. These are the only three with combat experience; the others are all green."

The princesses dug out the three matching files in their own piles, and Celestia requested more from the Major.

"Let's take a look at the first," she said, "Captain Starlight."

Persephone looked down, and began going through the profile's contents, mostly covered in black ink, and began reading what she was authorized to.

"Bio: Nightingale Starlight, Captain. Five feet, eight inches at the shoulder. Two hundred and seventy-three pounds. Thirty-seven years of age. Species: Pegasus equine. Complexion: black. Eyes: purple. Mane: purple. Profile: Born in Las Pegasus. Father was career military, and mother was stay-at-home. One sibling; a brother, also military. No living next-of-kin, all are deceased."

"Service record: Eighteen years of service, fourteen in a Special Operations team. Four combat tours on the northern border, three as team leader. Was present unofficially at the battles of Canterbury Cove and Gryffindale, as well as the invasion. Specialization is in unconventional warfare, as well as linguistics. Two purple hearts, three medals for valor, and a distinguished service badge."

"Medical evaluation: Blood type: A+. Diseases: none. Verdict: pass"

"Physical evaluation: Fitness: advanced. Strength: advanced. Subject has a slight complication with the functioning of his right rear leg due to a past wound; right rear quadriceps muscle strength reduced by 20% and range of motion slightly restricted due to a severed and reattached tendon as well as severe tissue trauma. However, even with this complication, subject has exhibited strength and fitness above and beyond the minimum performance requirements for active duty deployment. Verdict: pass."

"Psychological evaluation: Subject is cool under pressure, little to no hesitation to follow orders, and very in control of emotions. Pathological fear of failure is evident, and subject is highly motivated to win (he fought outside of regulations in combat trials so as to succeed.). Ideal for high-stress combat situations, however, slight symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder have been exhibited. Approved for duty with little to no reservation."

Persephone shut the file with a thud after reading the closing statement on the last page, "Supremely qualified."

"The thing about Nightingale is that he's the most experienced soldier down there. He's got more years, more tours, more promotions and more scars under his belt than the next two combined, and on top of that, he's taken excellent care of his body. Selection came easier to him than the others, but the only thing to rival his physical toughness is his mental endurance. He's shown that he can push through damn near anything in the past, as well as here. He stands as an individual, but excels with a team. That's why we need him in a black beret."

The Major opened the second file upon concluding, much smaller than the first, and began going through its contents as well, after taking a short look at the familiar face depicted on the file's profile picture and announcing sarcastically theatrically, "And now for candidate number two."

She took a deep breath, and began going through the information on the face of the page below her.

"Bio: Angus Buckwheat, First Lieutenant. Six feet, eight inches at the shoulder. Four hundred and eighty-seven pounds. Twenty-nine years of age. Species: Terrestrial equine. Complexion: brown. Eyes: green. Mane: black. Profile: Born in Trottingham. Both parents were farmers. Oldest of nine siblings. Bachelor's degree in agricultural sciences, but he joined the military after college rather than going back to Trottingham. No immediate family in the military, but his uncle, Rye Buckwheat, Celestial Infantry, was confirmed KIA in the invasion."

"Service record: Six years of service in the 2nd Celestial Rangers, 3rd Battalion, Hydra Platoon. Two combat tours, and one non-combat deployment in Germaneigh. Specialization is in mixed unit tactics as well as direct action. One medal for valor, as well as an expert infantry badge."

"Medical evaluation: Blood type: B-. Diseases: none. Lung capacity is below proportional functionality for a typical adult male. Believed to be attributed to early developmental deformity. Subject admitted to doing plow work on the family farm since foalhood, which likely caused a slight misalignment and compression of the spine and ribcage due to overstress during critical growth stages, causing the internal chest cavity to be smaller than proportionally expected. However, subject is not significantly hindered by the issue except in extreme endurance situations. Verdict: pass."

"Physical evaluation: Fitness: advanced. Strength: extremely advanced. Subject's maximum lift capacity is three times the average for a healthy adult male. Verdict: pass."

"Psychological evaluation: Advanced comprehension of battle strategy, as well as fierce, unwavering dedication to cause. Prefers force to logical problem solving (subject broke the door in during the lock picking test when a teammate took too long to do so quietly). Symptoms of past alcoholism are evident, but not prominent. Approved for duty with little to no reservation."

The mare looked up once again.

"Angus is the strongest pony we've got, probably in the entire military. He has his limits, but they're few and far between, and most of them only take a small kick in the ass from a teammate to overcome. We saw that throughout these three weeks. But, he's invaluable. He understands combat and strategy extremely well, and his resume shows that. Couple that mind with his strength, and you've got a formidable if not unstoppable soldier on your side. He needs to be on the team."

Persephone shut the file, and moved on to the third, opening it up to see the crimson eyes of a bat pony mare looking back at her, small fangs protruding past her deep blue lips in a sly grin.

"And the third," she announced as she held up the file.

"Bio: Cassiopeia 'Cassi' Eclipse, Staff Sergeant. Five feet, three inches at the shoulder. One hundred and eighty-three pounds. Twenty-five years of age. Species: Chiropteran equine. Complexion: gray-blue. Eyes: red. Mane: navy. Profile: Born in Fillydelphia. Father was on the police force, mother was a teacher. Two siblings, both older brothers; one was in the Royal Guard, the other was a police officer as well. No secondary education; she joined as soon as she came of age. Only living next of kin is her mother."

"Service record: Seven years of service, four in the Night Guard, three in the 7th Air Cavalry. Two combat tours, one non-combat tour. She was deployed overseas in Germaneigh when the invasion happened, but went through two deployments in the border conflicts a few years ago. Her combat experience came mostly in skirmishes between renegade changeling drones and bandits, but her confirmed kill total was the highest in her unit. Specialization is in direct action. Four medals for valor, a purple heart, as well as the standing 7th Cavalry record for fastest progression through rank from Specialist to Staff Sergeant; she did so in only three years, which is practically unheard of."

"Medical evaluation: Blood type: O+. Diseases: none. Verdict: pass."

"Physical evaluation: Fitness: advanced. Strength: highly proficient. Subject's endurance in prolonged physical activity is exceptional. Routinely runs multiple mile distances with ease, and is capable of extreme distance flight. Verdict: pass."

"Psychological evaluation: Subject has a thirst for combat, and an irrefutable dedication to her objective. Subject displays extreme hostility for enemies, and extreme dedication to allies. Exhibits minor violent outbursts when confronted about her past; likely attributed to severe foalhood trauma regarding the homicide of her father, possibly a source of her malicious tendencies in combat. Subject is approved for combat with little to no reservation."

Persephone threw the third file into a growing pile of read papers in the center of the table, and once it came to a stop, began another monologue to the other side of the table.

"Cassi has, possibly, the most impressive endurance and dedication to success that I've ever seen in a candidate. She's fast, and she won't stop going until she gets wherever she's going, and she's lethal in a fight, not to mention her heart. She isn't deterred by pain or the possibility of defeat; none of them are. These three are Guardian material we can't afford to pass on."

The princesses nodded consent to the Major's presentation, and after a short period of thought, continued.

"Well, that's three," Celestia said, "We still need one more, Major, to restore the Guardians to their full strength of five, seeing as you're not going anywhere."

The mare smiled as she looked down slightly, her hooves crossed over her chest as she reclined at the tableside.

"And, I'm guessing you're asking me which candidate I would choose again?"

Luna nodded while her sister said, "Indeed."

Persephone stole another look outside, seeing the eight soldiers still doing pushups around the perimeter of the fire, ablaze in the middle of the darkened training yard, and her memories began drifting back through the past weeks. All candidates had stood out to her in some way, but there was one that, despite overwhelming odds, had shown promise, even more so than the others.

The mare looked back to the files in front of her, and pulled one out, brushing the other yellow envelopes off to the side. She opened the file, and showed the subject's portrait to the princesses. Celestia seemed shocked.

"Him?" she asked, her eyebrows going up as she stared disapprovingly at Persephone.

"Yes, him," confirmed the veteran, lowering her icy gaze to create a stern expression on her brow.

"Isn't that..." began Luna slowly only for Celestia to interrupt.

"We saw him get into a brawl during basic training almost three weeks ago. Why you even let him into the selection process eludes me, and now you want him, more specifically, his lack of discipline, to be one of the most essential aspects of our entire national defense?"

Persephone looked down as she sucked her teeth, and looked back up to the princess a bit irritated. She opened the file regardless, and paused before she began reading.

"You asked me for my opinion; this is it."

Then, the Major began flipping through pages.

"Bio: Sundown Stryker, Corporal. Five feet, four inches at the shoulder. One-hundred ninety pounds. Twenty-one years of age. Species: Unicorn equine. Complexion: beige. Eyes: amber. Mane: red. Profile: born in Dodge Junction. His mother was a store owner, and his father left when he was born. No siblings. Primary education was...complicated. He and his mother had to move around a lot, and he was repeatedly kicked out of schools for fighting. Two years of secondary education in Canterbury, but he joined the military immediately after the invasion."

"Service record: two months of service. He was being trained for Royal Guard duty before he was chosen for selection. Promoted three times, and then demoted twice, both promotions because of superiors' incompetence, and both demotions because of fighting with squad mates. He was one brawl away from being court marshaled before selection. No medals, no combat tours. Specialization is in VIP protection."

"Medical evaluation: Blood type: AB+. Diseases: none. Verdict: pass."

"Physical evaluation: Fitness: highly proficient. Strength: highly proficient. Slight complication in the subject's front right forelimb. Apparent past break about the joint evident. Flexibility and extension ability of the limb is noticeably reduced. When confronted about the matter, subject responded, 'You should have seen the other guy.' Verdict: pass."

"Psychological evaluation: Subject not fit for team-oriented exercises. Subject is rarely compatible with others, and has violent outbreaks whenever challenged or provoked, no matter the scale, by an equal (subject has several recorded incidents of fights with equals or inferiors, but never a superior officer.). Small group or individual operations are necessary. Subject is approved for combat with much reservation, due to an incredible shortage of soldiers."

Persephone closed the file, and let it fall to the table. She looked back up to the alicorns, and waited for a response.

Eventually, Celestia spoke, anything but content.

"How can you want him, let alone trust him, as a Guardian?"

"Contrary to what you might believe, I have thought this through. You may be right in saying that he's not fit for standard military, but he's Guardian material. Just look at his file; he'll be working alone as a Guardian, or in a team of five during wartime, the exact kind of work the psychological evaluation suggested."

"Major," Celestia began again, "the Guardians are supposed to be our best and brightest, and Corporal Stryker is not either of those. He's violent and brazen, and I don't trust him."

Persephone sighed.

"Have you ever been in a combat situation, princess?"

"I've commanded armies for nearly a thousand years," responded the regale.

"No, commanding isn't fighting. Have you ever taken the life of somepony or something that was trying to do the same to you, and then done it again, and again, and again, until you were left standing in the midst of death itself?"

The alicorn didn't respond.

"See, if you had, then you would know that, no matter how strong or smart or disciplined you are, no matter how tough you seem, the only thing that matters in a situation like that is mental toughness. The other three have it, and so does Sundown. Because as soon as your line breaks, and all Tartarus breaks loose, what you've done in the past doesn't matter anymore. All that does matter is your willingness to get the job done."

"Sundown's a fighter; he's proven that. He never gives up, he never backs down. He's a soldier, and, I hate to say it, but real soldiers are in short supply right now. And on top of that, his specialization is in VIP protection, a core aspect of guarding the Central region, if you catch my drift."

The room was silent for a while.

"Look, you asked me which candidates I would choose. This is my answer, and you need to trust me."

Still, the room stayed quiet for a while. Persephone and Luna shared a look, but Celestia's eyes remained glued to the papers in front of her.

More silence.

Finally, Celestia spoke.

"Let's take a look at the others four."

Persephone sighed, shaking her head slightly, and did as she was told. She picked up another file, and began reading.

Joining the Ranks

It was all blending together. Nopony complained anymore. The instructors weren't yelling as often as they used to. It could have been that they'd lost their voices from constant shouting; it also could have been that they too saw the sun rising in the east...bringing with it, the completion of selection.

The candidates saw it, but none of them said anything out of fear that the three week process would end with the same pain it began with. They were all at or past their breaking points; it wouldn't take much before their bodies joined their shattered spirits.

So they just kept running, until the sky shifted from black to pink to blue, and once again, they conjoined in a haggard formation outside the barracks.

The candidates were holding each other up when Grinder delivered salvation.

"Fall out! Get some sleep!"

He never gave a compliment for surviving so long, but none of them cared. They didn't hesitate to stagger inside. Sundown didn't even make it to his bunk; he passed out right in the middle of the floor. He wasn't alone.

****************

Twilight hauled herself out of bed...again. Mornings were tough lately. The sun didn't seem to shine as brightly or as warmly as it once did. The birds' songs seemed less cheery. The days weren't as beautiful as they used to seem.

It was tempting to stay in bed, to continue to dream. To dream about a day past, or a day to come. A day that she could control, where she could determine its ending, and make it like those story books her father had once read to her before bedtime. Because lately, her dreams weren't coming true.

But, that was selfish thinking. She wasn't alone in this state of mind, and while that offered some consolation, what truly motivated her was a sense of responsibility. She needed to be there, to prove to those around her that, no matter how inviting it would seem to forget the world and indulge in depression, that was no way to live life.

So, she dragged herself out from beneath her sheets, and staggered downstairs. The library was quiet. The sun danced in through the window, reflecting small flicks of dust like fairies prancing in the morning air, but their jubilance had little effect on the unicorn.

The tea was bland. The coffee didn't work either. Breakfast was equally flavorless; cakes and fruit weren't as sweet as they once were. Cold water wasn't cold enough. The sun not refreshing enough, the dew not damp enough, so, she, once again, found herself reverting to the one thing that had always worked.

After all, today was shelving day.

Normally, this would have been a cooperative chore to be undertaken by both herself and her assistant, but, today she thought going it alone would be better. The dragon would have a rare opportunity to sleep in.

As Twilight began taking books down from their shelves, and reorganizing them into a proper order, she felt her breathing find a rhythm, and her tired mind found a bit of solace. For a moment, she lost herself in focus on her task, however trivial it seemed.

There was something therapeutic in this uncomplicated task; because it was just that, uncomplicated. Everything had an order, a defined harmony, one that she could control. Granted, they were merely collections of paper and ink, but still. She just wished that her problems could be solved in the same way; by simply removing the issue, and placing it back in a proper setting.

But, though she hated to admit it, the world was much more complicated than that. Life was like trying to place books where they belonged amidst an ever changing bookcase, all amidst a massive windstorm that made any desired outcome nearly impossible.

If only life was as simple as a bookcase. If only she could go back and rearrange things she wanted them to be. If only...

It wasn't that simple. Life wasn't black and white like the pages of her books. Life had no set order, no definite organization. Even the winds of fate seemed to blow haphazardly at times.

No, life was not black and white. It was grey. And lately, there had been plenty of grey days in Ponyville. Today was another one.

Twilight wiped her damp cheek, and went back to her chores.

****************

"Hey Sundown."

Groggily, the world refocused. Sundown slowly opened his eyes, and saw the ceiling of the barracks bidding him good morning. But, while a morning haze lingered over his eyes, a darker shape moved to obstruct his plane of sight.

"Angus?"

"Morning sunshine," said the massive stallion, leaning a bit on the unicorn's cot with enough weight to cause the bedframe to flex.

"How long was I out?"

"About 36 hours."

"Damn," he said, rubbing his eyes.

"Yeah, Major let us sleep, but she's asking to see you now."

"Askin'? Why not orderin'?"

"No clue. Nightingale and Cassi are already on their way over to the Command Center. You just need to clean up, and then we can head out. Put on your dress uniform. They said something about the brass being there."

Sundown quickly rolled out of bed; he nearly collapsed when he hit the ground. His legs were so sore, but it felt, in a weird way, good. He sauntered out of the bedding area of the barracks and to the bathrooms. He peeled off his Royal Guard armor, which he'd never taken off after the termination of hell week, and as he went for the showers, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror.

He'd lost weight; he had no fat hanging off his body. Before selection, the same was not true. But, what's more, every pound he'd lost seemed to be regained by muscle. Every part of his body was toned and defined, and his neck and shoulders bulged and rippled where they had normally hung loosely.

"Angus! Check this out!"

He turned as he inspected his new body, not believing it was actually his. He was, by far, in the best shape of his life so far...and he liked it.

A few moments passed before Angus poked his head in, and upon seeing his comrade turning to look at his flank in the mirror, he shook his head.

"Looking good mate. Just try not to stare for too long. Remember, the Major's waiting on us. I'll see you down at the Command Center"

Sundown quickly snapped back into soldier mode. He showered quickly, rinsing days' worth of grime from his hide in the steam, and then quickly adorned his dress blues. He double checked his reflection to make sure that his pants and coat were on straight, and that his insignia and medals were where they were supposed to be. As he was leaving the barracks, he slapped a scarlet beret, indicative of a royal guard, onto his head.

He made his way to the Command Center quickly, walking at a brisk pace until he reached the massive ivory doors. The guards posted at the gate let him by without question; that wasn't normal at all.

Once inside he ducked his head slightly to remove his headgear, but when he looked back up, he saw the Major staring at him intently. He snapped to attention, but she subtly waved her head disapprovingly.

"Come with me Corporal," she said, her voice as devoid of emotion as it had always been.

She turned, and proceeded down the hallway to the left. Sundown followed, nervous but curious as well.

They bypassed nearly every door in the entire building, until finally, they reached the end of the hall. The Major pushed through, and still loyal, Sundown followed. But, when he cleared the threshold, he froze.

Seated at the massive, central table in the room was none other than the Princess of the Night herself.

Sundown locked eyes with her, but quickly reverted from his fixation, and stood tall in the characteristic posture of a soldier when confronted by a superior. Peripherally, he saw the Major take a seat at the princess's side, set her black beret on the table in front of her, and a bit irritated, motion for him to sit down.

"At ease Corporal," she said, "there's no need for these formalities anymore."

"Formalities?" responded the stallion, "Ma'am, a salute is more than a formality. I thought military discipline was one of your fortes."

"It was," the crystalline mare responded, "soldiers need to recognize a chain of command, but then again, you aren't exactly a regular soldier anymore, are you?"

"What?" he uttered unintelligently, "Ma'am, what do you mean?"

"It means you made it, Corporal," said Luna, looking softly in his direction, "Welcome to the Guardians."