Author's Note

I highly recommend listening to the embedded music while reading this chapter. Don't worry, it's just a light piano piece.

Year 2, Day 124

Dear Diary,

I had a dream the other night. Myself and the other ponies I recognized in daddy's "book" were all walking in some grassy field in Europe. And far from it being just any field, it was perhaps the greenest, lushest field I had ever seen in my life. The grass was so alive, so rich with color that you could almost smell it, like a massive, well-watered lawn that stretched for miles upon miles in any direction.. Though, perhaps the green only stood out so well because the sun had been blotted out entirely by clouds. The entire visible horizon was dominated completely by massive, impenetrable layers of grey. Tiny droplets of rain splashed onto my back every once in a while, but it wasn't exactly a storm just yet.

Aside from the grass and the clouds, the field had more than enough hills to keep you company. They weren't very big hills, maybe about a meter or two high, but there were so many of them, all placed so randomly that it felt as though I never set a single hoof on level terrain.

But aside from the hills, grass, and clouds, the field was entirely empty. Not a single building, or tree, or any sort of landmark for as far as the eye could see. It was just me, the other ponies, and the hills. It was one of those dreams where I had no idea where I was going, but I felt like I did. I had an amazing sense of direction, and I knew for sure that I'd be able to see my destination right over the next hill, never once getting discouraged when it only revealed several more hills.

"Are you sure this is the right way, Dashie?" the purple one asked me, as she craned her head in an attempt to look between two hills, "We've been walking for miles."

"Sure, I'm sure," I reassured, as I looked back at her with a smile. It was then that I noticed that she, myself, and everypony else in the group were all wearing green combat uniforms. From our helmets to the trousers on our flanks, it was solid green from head to hoof, with exceptions made for our faces, boots, tails, and the guns slung around our necks. "The Germans won't know what hit 'em!" I continued.

"But we still haven't seen any. I really don't think they actually have a base around here, or even any buildings to put it in," she surmised, "Maybe you could fly up and get the lay of the land so we at least have an idea of what we're dealing with."

I promptly refused, "We need the element of surprise here, or they'll just overwhelm us. I can't believe I'm saying this, but slow and steady wins the race."

Just saying the word "slow" made me want to wretch.

"Ah reckon we might be headed fer a minefield, sugarcube," the orange one chimed in. For some reason, it just felt natural that she talked like that. I don't remember the first thing about this pony, but for some reason, I knew for absolute fact that she had a southern accent. "Y'all think we might wanna turn around and mosey on back?"

'Back where?' was my first thought, but I didn't dare vocalize it. Instead, I looked forward to notice that I was no longer wearing a gun around my neck, but a minesweeper instead, which I promptly clenched in my jaws and started waving around the hills.

"Thought of that," I mumbled back, with the sweeper in my teeth.

The rain was starting to pick up. We weren't exactly drenched yet, but we were getting hit a lot more regularly than we were before.

The sweeper beeped slowly, just enough to let me know it was on, but apparently it wasn't picking anything up.

It was wrong.

BOOM!

A deafening explosion went off right underneath me, tearing my left hind leg completely off at the hip, and stranding me in a small, shallow valley between two hills.

At this point, the rainstorm started in proper. Millions of teensy tiny droplets all seemed to fall down and aim right for the hole where my leg used to be. I screamed out bloody murder as each and every last one of them stung at my wound as if it were a swarm of bees, each one washing away just a little bit more of my blood and leaving me weaker and weaker.

"Applejack!" I called out. They were all just standing up there on the hilltop, looking down at me with blank expressions.

"Rarity!" They started to walk away, continuing through the endless mess of grassy hills and valleys.

"F-f-f-fluttershy!" I screeched. By now, they were barely visible through all the hills, and the rain was starting to form a bloody pool in the valley I was stranded in.

"Pinkie Pie..." I no longer had the energy to scream, with each name I shouted conjuring horrible mental images of each pony sprawled out in various sexually compromising positions. I turned my head to the side, and watched as the pool filled up to my muzzle. I could see my own reflection in the water now. I watched as my own bloodied body slowly sank deeper and deeper into the abyss.

"Twilight?"

Suddenly, a cage came down around me. I looked around to find the water gone, and my leg bandaged, but my friends were still nowhere to be seen.

The rain still poured, the hills still extended infinitely in every direction, and the grass was still beautiful. But I could no longer fly in the rain, I could no longer trot over the hills, and I could no longer smell the grass. All I could do was sit there, in my cage, knowing that no one would ever come for me.

It was then that I woke up. I checked to make sure my leg was still attached, then trotted somberly into the kitchen to get something to eat.

Daddy was out on another walk, even though it seemed to be raining in real life just as much as it was in my dream.

I need to get out of this place. But I can't. Not even for a couple hours. Everything is locked up tight.

So, I resigned. I grabbed the TV remote, I grabbed my diary, and did the only two things I could do.