Macintosh snapped awake. He did not want to fall asleep. Not here. Not in enemy territory, under the eye of his enemy. Looking around, Mac realized what a mistake he had made. He had been out all night, and the sun was just peaking over the horizon. Macintosh took less than a second to barrel over to where Marktime still lay. Zecora was no where to be seen, which made Mac feel safe and uneasy at the same time. Marktime was asleep. His jacket was open to reveal the wound that he had received the night before. Zecora had applied a bandage over the area, with some herbs pressed to the wound. Macintosh did not recognize the herbs, but did not question them, they seemed to be helping Marktime greatly. His face had returned to its natural colour, and his breath was slow and even. Sitting down next to Marktime and removing his helmet, Macintosh spoke, knowing that he probably wouldn't be able to hear it.

“I'm sorry.” Macintosh whispered. “I didn't know something like this would happen. I thought... I hoped we could all make it out of here alright. This is... It's all... It's my fault. Why couldn't I be a better leader? I thought this would be an easy mission, and we would be home in a week.” Macintosh wiped his face with his hoof. “Now one man is dead. You've been shot. And the other four are prisoners. The rest of the Company might not even know that we're here.”

“It's not your fault, Mac.” Marktime whispered back, barely opening his eyes.

“You heard all that?” Macintosh was a little embarrassed.

“I was shot in the stomach, not in the head.” Marktime weakly laughed. “It really isn't your fault. You weren't ready for this. We never had any real combat experience, and we were sent out here on our own.”

Macintosh took a deep breath, still not willing to forgive himself. He looked weakly down at his injured friend. “You should get your rest. I'm not sure how long it'll take for you to get better.” Macintosh said.

“Sounds good to me.” Marktime nodded slightly. “I need to get better... I need...” He didn't finish his last thought as he drifted back to sleep.

Macintosh kept a watchful eye on his friend. Eventually looking around to get a feel for his surroundings. He was startled to see Zecora standing in the doorway. She had mud on her hooves and a bag tossed over one shoulder.

“Where were you?” Macintosh asked, noting the mud on her hooves.

“I did not want to draw the attention of the soldiers you dread, so I took the liberty of burying your dead.” Zecora solemnly stated. She walked over to Macintosh and handed him the tear-away dog tag from the dead stallion who had previously lay on the street. “He deserved a proper burial. But I had to make do with a quick funeral. I am sorry he was lost, he paid the ultimate cost.”

“Thank you.” Macintosh replied. “If you don't mind my asking, why are you helping us?”

Zecora put down her bag and took a seat next to Mac. She looked at him with a note of depression in her eyes. Opening the bag, Zecora pulled out some different herbs to use for medicine, as well as some tools to prepare them. When she was prepared, she looked back at Macintosh.

“I was a Doctor before all this exploded. I pulled all-nighter's at work, I was very devoted.” She began, her voice low and emotional. “I found new remedies in all kinds of places, and I travelled around, healing all kinds of races.” At that, Zecora took up a mortar and pestle and began to crush up one of the plants she had collected. “We were peaceful and happy, until Koren came along. His election to office was a decision made wrong. We trusted him to make out home great. All his decisions just settled our fate. He decided that Zebras were the best in the world. And soon, into war we were all violently hurled. He told us to leave, I decided to stay. So that is why I am here today. I don't want to fight to take over land. But if someone needs help, I will do what I can.”

“But why us?” Macintosh asked, looking back at Zecora. “Why not the Zebra Army?”

“I help whoever needs it worse.” Zecora smiled. “And it looked like you needed a nurse.”

“Thank you very much.” Mac smiled back. “I'll never forget your kindness.”

“Not all Zebras are evil, like your films make you believe. Those films are for fear, made just to deceive.” Zecora explained. “Koren is the one causing all of the fuss. This land you fight against, he stole it from us. We want this war over as much as you do. And to bring a quick end, I will help even you. You fight for your homeland, and you're doing fine.” She broke eye contact with Mac and looked over to Marktime. “You fight in your way, and I fight in mine.”

“So you don't support Koren?” Mac tried to understand. “But you will not fight because you're a pacifist. You still want the war over, but you support both sides?”

“I do not support the soldiers or the armies who fight. I support the ones in the uniforms, to show them the light.” Zecora replied. “Affiliation makes no difference to me. What matters is that they fight in the hope's they'll be free.”

Macintosh finally understood. Zecora wanted this war over just as much as he did. She helped everyone in the hopes that they would see that everyone is equal and deserves to be free. She didn't care about borders. What she cared about was getting her country back from Koren, and things going back to the way they were before.

“If only there were more like you.” Macintosh said.

“If only there were more like you.” Zecora smiled.

“How do you mean?” Macintosh asked. “I've done nothing so noble as to save a life. In fact, I almost took yours just last night.”

“But you didn't shoot me, as many would have rushed. You spared me my life, which took so much trust.” Zecora countered. “There are those on both sides, who do not hesitate to take lives.”

Mac nodded. He knew that to be true. There was so much animosity between the two sides, even though the war had only begun a few weeks ago. Each side was looking for a quick victory. They wanted the war to be over, each in their own way. Equestria wanted things to return to peace, while Koren just wanted to take over the world quickly and effectively.

“I only signed on to the forces a couple of months ago.” Macintosh said. “I had no idea that so soon I would have to fight for my country. We're just barely out of basic.” Macintosh motioned to Marktime on the bed, still breathing slowly as he slept. “They gave us so much responsibility too quickly. We don't know how to fight a war. But they sent the rest of the force to plough through the border. They sent us as an experimental attack. They wanted to see if the Airborne could take the capital.”

“They could have sent experienced ones, why not? I mean, surely there are an awful lot.” Zecora asked.

“They sent them in with the rest of the force to storm the border, and take the real fighting.” Mac explained. “They were already gone, so they sent us instead. They assumed we would be ready since we all passed basic. Boy... Were they wrong.”

“I can not believe they sent you so unprepared. To be honest, it does not seem fair.” Zecora sympathized.

“No. I suppose it wasn't.” Macintosh nodded. “I'm starting to think they should have promoted someone else.”

The two of them sat there in silence. Macintosh kept his eyes on Marktime, almost as if he assumed that Marktime's condition could get worse at any second. Zecora silently worked away, preparing more remedies to use in the future. She was deliberate in her work, knowing exactly what she was doing. She crushed some herbs, others she diced, and other still she put in water to steep. For the first time since he had dropped into the country, Macintosh felt calm and safe. He had nothing better to do, so he watched Zecora work.

“So, uh...” Macintosh started, trying to decide how to ask his question. “Why do... Why do Zebras speak in rhymes?”

Zecora laughed a deep, hearty laugh. “I was wondering when you would enquire. That is an answer foreigners always desire.” She put down her work. “When you have to rhyme your lines, you consider what you say a few times. If you have to think over what you say, you say what you mean and not what you may.”

“What?” Mac was a little confused.

“If you respond too quickly I can bet, you will say something you'll regret.” Zecora explained.

“So, because you rhyme, you have to think over what you say.” Mac nodded. “And that keeps you from saying something in the spur of the moment that you could regret. You might not mean what you say, but you end up saying it anyway.”

Zecora nodded and smiled. “Utilizing our semantic, can also make speaking more romantic.”

“Yeah, and it probably makes finishing each others sentences a lot more difficult.” Mac joked.

“It makes you think more on it.” Zecora chuckled.

The laughter helped lighten the mood. Mac was still hoping for rescue, but not with the same urgency as before. He enjoyed the polite company of the Zebra who had saved his friend. A complete stranger, with no promise of reward had selflessly helped save someone she did not know. The things she could teach people, Macintosh thought.

Occasionally Marktime would wake up, sometimes in pain, and Zecora would quickly give him something for it. One time, Marktime woke up and felt good. He looked around the room, but there was no one in sight. He called out for M Cpl. Macintosh or Zecora, but neither answered. He looked at his watch, but it had been broken during the firefight, so he had no idea what time it was. Marktime quickly got tired of waiting and decided to try to get up. Big mistake.

As soon as he got to his hooves, he fell to the floor. Not standing all day, and recovering from being shot had left Marktime weak. In trying to stand, his legs gave out and he found himself sprawled on the ground. He felt a shot of pain in his abdomen as he hit the ground and as he struggled to roll off of his stomach. Marktime whimpered as he worked up the strength and rolled himself onto his back to get off of his wound. He cried out as he rolled, his wound feeling like a burning stick being jabbed into his abdomen. He looked down as best he could at his injury. He reached a shaky hoof down to touch the gauze, to make sure it was still in place. It had held, but needed to be changed soon.

Marktime breath slowed as he came down from his panicked state. He didn't dare try to get back onto the bed, and lay on the floor.

Out of no where, he heard hoofsteps coming into the house. Marktime began to panic again, thinking that it could be Zebra soldiers coming for him. Looking around wildly, Marktime found his gun on the bedside table. Using one arm to drag himself while the other held the gauze in place, Marktime dragged himself towards the table to get his gun. Finally, he got one hoof on the gun and pulled it down. Pointing the muzzle at the door, he waited to see what would come through.

The door eased open, and a red hoof came through, covered in mud. Marktime kept the gun trained on the door, unsure of what was to follow. Macintosh came into view, and looked over at where Marktime was lying on the ground.

“Marktime!” Mac shouted as he ran over to see his friend.

The sight of his Macintosh relieved Marktime, and he lowered the gun to the floor, dropping it an inch off the ground. Macintosh helped Marktime back into bed and assessed the injury. Zecora came in, hearing the thumping around as Macintosh had moved Marktime. She immediately changed the bandage on Marktime and gave him something for the pain. Marktime relaxed as his breathing slowed and he calmed from his experience.

“Where were you to? I was worried.” Marktime asked as he looked down to where his gun lay on the floor.

“Zecora took me to see Walkabout's grave.” Macintosh explained.

“Who?”

“The soldier who was killed in action yesterday. We assumed you would be alright for a few minutes if we left you asleep.” Mac shrugged. “Sorry to scare you, we didn't expect you to wake up for while.”

“It's okay.” Marktime dismissed. “I shouldn't have tried to get out of bed. I should have just waited for you.”

“It is the side effect because you were medicated.” Zecora pointed out. “It relieves pain but leaves you debilitated.”

“Nice for me to know now.” Marktime shook his head.

“You did not ask.” Zecora smiled.

Author's Note

I think this was a pretty long chapter. A lot got done. I think the story's coming along pretty well, don't you? Please do not hesitate to point out errors or comment on anything hat is unclear. I'll do my best to remedy them.
-Cog out.