“Okay, the side effects should have worn off by now, let's get you walking.” Macintosh said, holding out a hoof for Marktime to pull himself out of bed.

It had been two days since the firefight, and Mac and Marktime were still with Zecora. It was as if they were all old friends, they could talk as equals and as allies. Mac had almost given up hope of rescue, but was not too down about it. Sure, they were out of commission in enemy territory with only small amounts of rations to eat, but Zecora and Mac went out in search of herbs and berries that morning in the event they were stuck for a long time by themselves. They almost felt like Marktime's parents, taking care of him while he was sick.

It was about midday, as far as Zecora could tell. They thought that Marktime might be able to take a few steps, provided he didn't fall and aggravate his wound. So, Marktime took the hoof Macintosh had offered him, and pulled himself off the bed. First, he moved to the edge, letting hind legs hang off of the side and touch the ground. So far, so good. Next, he lay down on his side, like he was just learning to swim, and didn't want to jump too fast into the pool. Finally, he rolled himself off of the edge of the bed, being careful not to lie on his injury.

The sound of his front hooves touching the ground was like music to his ears. Marktime looked down at his feet like he had just grown them, and took a few cautionary steps. When he looked up, he saw the smiling faces of Mac and Zecora staring back at him.

“Ma, I can walk again! It's a miracle.” Marktime laughed, looking to Zecora. “Thank you so much.”

“The fact that you are healed, as if by grace, puts a smile on my face.” Zecora grinned.

“Does this mean we're going soon?” Marktime asked, suddenly very serious.

“No.” Mac replied. “I don't want you out there until you're in perfect health. Anything could go wrong out there, and I can't risk your wound opening up.” Then, looking at Zecora, he continued. “Which raises a question.”

Zecora's ears perked and she cocked her head. “Yes?”

“When it is time for use to go,” Macintosh began, “will you be coming with us, please? We could really use your medical expertise.”

Zecora thought for a moment. She looked at the two ponies who had become her close friend, and her patient. It was a hard decision to make. If they lost the war, she would be guilty of treason. She also had no way of knowing how the others in Mac's Company would react to a Zebra. She thought for a moment, replaying what Macintosh had just said in her head.

Before coming to a decision, she said smiling, “That rhymed.”

Macintosh was confused for a second, so he replayed his previous words in his head. “So it did.” He laughed.

“Look out Master Corporal, she's growing on you.” It was Marktime's turn to laugh.

Zecora blushed at the joke, so did Mac. “So, what do you say?” Macintosh asked, returning to his previous question.

After a moment of thought, Zecora looked at her new friends. “I will come with you on your trek. But, if I help a Zebra, don't give me heck.”

“As long as he still isn't shooting at us, you can perform surgery.” Macintosh confirmed. “We'd love to have you.”

“Ditto.” Marktime stated, taking a few more paces forward. “Not to mention those herbs of yours. Some of those had me dreaming in technicolour.” He then paused, and reached a hoof into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a worn down deck of cards. “Who's up for a game?”

They played various games, initially having to teach Zecora some of them. After a few games, Zecora taught them a game that neither of them knew, but had a lot of fun learning. It reminded Mac of training. They were friends, sitting around, playing cards. No ranks, no war, just them.

Eventually, Marktime said he felt tired and needed some rest, so he rolled back into bed all by himself and lay back. Within a few minutes, he was breathing slow and steady, and deep asleep. He may not have seemed it, but he was still exhausted. Mac closed the blinds, as it was still only the afternoon, and he and Zecora stepped out of Marktime's room. The door clicked behind them, and Mac took off his beret, stuffing it under one epaulette of his jacket. Normally, this would be seen as sign of surrender. But, seeing as there was no one around to surrender to, he couldn't have cared less.

“Your friend is recovering quick. If I did not know better, I'd think it a trick.” Zecora whispered, being sure not to disturb Marktime.

“He's a tough kid.” Mac nodded. “I'm sure he'll be fine.” He turned and faced Zecora, who did the same. He moved forward and took her in a warm embrace. “He wouldn't have made it without you. Thank you so much. I don't... I don't think me or him would have made it without you.”

Zecora returned the hug and held the soldier close. “You are very welcome. You helped me though this too.”

“How so?” Mac asked, still holding the Zebra. He then moved back, out of the hug and looked at her, confused. “Hold on, that didn't rhyme.”

“What I said couldn't wait.” Zecora smiled.

“How did I help you?” Mac asked, still not quite understanding. “You did a lot more for me. And I didn't even trust you.”

“Before you came, I was bitterly holding on to the past.” Zecora explained. “But now, I realize that there is no refuge in hiding from the future. We have to move forward, through the good and the bad. Because holding onto the past only results in getting us left behind. I want to help put an end to this war. I can't be a bystander any longer. You showed me that. You, Master Corporal.”

“Didn't I tell you my name?” Mac asked, realizing that in two days, he never mentioned his own name to his new ally. “Of course I didn't. Why didn't you ask?”

“I find it is better for people to tell you their own names, and not to have to ask.” Zecora replied. “It seems more polite to allow people their own time to introduce themselves.”

“Zecora.” Mac shook his head. “I will never understand why you do what you do.” He then embraced her again. “But I hope you never change.”

Suddenly, Mac heard hoofsteps fast approaching from outside of the house.

“Get behind me.” He whispered, pulling out his pistol and aiming it towards the door. Mac held the trigger tightly, ready to pull it at any moment.

The door to the house was kicked open and Mac immediately found himself staring down the barrel of a gun, but he did not shoot. What stood before him was a green tunic and a red beret. Both belonged to a grey coloured unicorn who now stood in the door to the house. The first thing they saw was each other, and then the guns came into view. They lowered them simultaneously, mouths agape in shock and disbelief.

“Mac?”

Author's Note

It's a short chapter, but I thought it was a pretty good one for character development, and had a good cliffhanger. Thanks for reading
-Cog out.