Letters to Ponyville

by StapleCactus

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Spike, Other, Dark
Length: 19953

A war has come to Equestria, one that instituted a draft long thought abolished. Now, what few citizens of Ponyville remain can only wait for news in the form of letters, letters from their loved ones. Because no news is worse than you might think.

A war has come to Equestria, one that instituted a draft long thought abolished. Now, what few citizens of Ponyville remain can only wait for news in the form of letters, letters from their loved ones. Because no news is worse than you might think.

It's a collaboration with everyone! Do you want to write a letter? Send me the results and I'll add it*.

*Full details in blog post number 63

Published 2014-02-21 06:00:06 UTC
Last updated 2017-06-13 23:35:30 UTC

Prologue

A sharp thud echoed through the empty fields of Sweet Apple Acres. Seconds later, a tree relinquished its product into the waiting baskets below. Applejack wiped the sweat from her brow as she turned to look at the dozens of apples neatly stacked in their temporary homes. With a heavy sigh, she pulled the first bushel onto her back, carrying it to the cart nearby, one she knew would be delivered to the capital.

The sun beat down on her blonde mane, reminding her of her missing hat. She didn’t mind, not when it had a more important head to cover. She had given it away, with the promise it would be returned one day. No, she didn’t mind. Not right now.

“Big Mac,” she whispered when the last basket settled. A volunteer from town pulled the wagon away, and her eyes trailed to the sky, hoping for a sign of the mailmare. “Be safe.”

—————ᐅᒪᓯᓇᐦᐃᑲᓂᐤ—————

Sugarcube Corner was eerily quiet. It had been for some days, and even Pinkie couldn’t shake the depressing atmosphere that settled over the town. The smallest bit of strain could be seen on her features as her curly hair fought gravity.

Her hooves kneaded even more dough. A timer on the counter reached zero and filled the silence with its keening. Another batch of bread was pulled from the oven, its destiny the same as the apples.

A creak from the swinging doors to the rest of the bakery shook her from her melancholy. Mrs. Cake stood there with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes as she motioned towards the bread. With a nod from Pinkie, she silently bagged the loaves. Then, the two mares carried them to the awaiting cart outside.

As they waved at the receding pony dragging it away, they looked up. “Mr. Cake will be okay, won’t he?” Pinkie asked.

“I pray he is every day.”

—————ᐅᒪᓯᓇᐦᐃᑲᓂᐤ—————

Rarity studied the garment in front of her. Every stitch had to be perfect. Every patch of cloth had to be strong. Every point of flex had to be loose, but tight as well. The color couldn’t be flashy; couldn’t stand out; couldn’t let others know it was there, even under close scrutiny.

A nod of approval. It passed her test. She folded it as if her life was on the line and set it with the others.

Sweetie Belle, with as much care as her sister, transferred the pile to an awaiting box. When it was full, she taped it shut and gave it to a pony waiting by the door. He gave her a solemn nod and placed the last box on the cart. Then, he hitched himself up and left.

“Rarity?” Sweetie Belle called behind her. She was soon joined by her sister at the door. “W-When will he come home?”

“When his duty is finished, Sweetie.”

The two looked up.

—————ᐅᒪᓯᓇᐦᐃᑲᓂᐤ—————

Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy flew above the streets of Ponyville once again. When one of them spotted a tired pony below, the yellow mare would dip down and ask how they were faring with preparations. Her gentle nature always seemed to alleviate some of the doubt or fear the pony was having.

While she did this, Rainbow would stay aloft, her eyes constantly scanning the horizon. For what, she didn’t know. Some part of her feared what she might find, but another reminded her of her self-appointed mission. It was during one of these haunting thoughts that Fluttershy returned to her side.

“Rainbow?” she called, eyeing her friend with worry. The blue mare’s eyes were strained, as if she was afraid to blink and miss the very thing she was searching for.

“Yeah?” Pulling her gaze from the horizon, she watched as Fluttershy rubbed a foreleg with her hoof. When she finally met the Rainbow’s eyes, sorrow could be seen etched upon her features.

“Do you think… maybe… it won’t happen?”

Rainbow Dash studied the sky for what seemed like hours. Her shoulders slowly slumped until a defeated sigh escaped her. “I really hope so, Fluttershy.”

The two pegasi looked towards Canterlot, both holding onto a hope they refused to lose.

—————ᐅᒪᓯᓇᐦᐃᑲᓂᐤ—————

A breath laden with equal parts frustration and desolation escaped Princess Twilight Sparkle’s lips as yet another fruitless chapter was read. Mountains of books, both from her library and the one in Canterlot, were stacked haphazardly against the walls. The ones near the entrance had already been read, waiting to be shelved or returned, but they were dwarfed by those she had yet to read.

She levitated her checklist over, marking yet another book for return with nothing to show for it. Her gaze swept through the room, passing over the golden–armored guard by the stairs as she mentally calculated what she still had left. It only brought a pang of guilt to her heart.

“Your Highness,” the soldier began, eyeing the lightening sky through the window. “Maybe you should rest.”

Twilight shot a glare towards him, only for it to soften into a neutral expression. “One more,” she replied, pulling another book from the pile. “There has to be something I can do.” The guard merely nodded and let her continue. He was there for her protection, not as her nanny.

Before she could open the binding, a thought sparked her memory. “When will the fighting start?” she asked without taking her eyes off the title.

“The first set of recruits will be ready for battle tomorrow, Your Highness.”

“And Spike will be a part of them.”

“I’m afraid so.”

Twilight finally looked up, out of the window on the second floor. She wanted to be there in Canterlot, she and the rest of the Elements, but Celestia was right. They couldn’t risk losing them, especially if the fighting escalated as quickly as their calculations predicted. All she could do was research, hoping there might be a spell or diplomatic solution nopony knew in these pages.

—————ᐅᒪᓯᓇᐦᐃᑲᓂᐤ—————

A grey pegasus mare flew for all she was worth, her saddlebags laden with letters. Below her, she could see towns gearing for battle. Citizens were stockpiling supplies and reinforcing their homes. Volunteers and soldiers were moving essentials where they were needed or preparing them for shipment. Even the children were involved, from helping the adults move some lighter items, to just reminding them what they’ll be fighting for with their play. Not a single pony was idle.

Just a few weeks ago, she was the ditzy mailmare of Ponyville. Just a few weeks ago, she was content with taking her daughter to school and getting muffins as tips from Pinkie Pie during her deliveries. Just a few weeks ago, peace. But, now… war.

War had come to Equestria.

Author's Note

Ready for fun? I sure am, and I want you to participate in it! Letters to Ponyville will be a collaboration with anyone who wants to join, and I'll be working alongside you. Want the full details? Check out my blog post. Or, you could just read this snippet:

I'd like you to think of a letter. It can be written by any pony to any pony in Ponyville. The only exception is Spike, and obviously the mane 6 can't send letters if they're in Ponyville. But you can write to them! I will be writing letters as well, but this will be your chance to get your own abilities to paper. I will be editing and--only very rarely--adjusting the letters sent to me. After I have assured their completion with you, I will add it to the story with your credits in the author notes.

Spike's Bootcamp - 1st letter

Dear Twilight,

Boot camp went well. I know we didn’t part on the best of terms, but hopefully you’ve calmed down enough to listen.

Do you remember how many times I was left behind, only to see you return battered and bruised from your adventures with the girls? Do you know how much that hurt me, thinking if I was just a little older, maybe a little stronger, you would have let me join you? Whenever you were gone, I laid awake at night.

Now, I have my chance to prove how strong I can be. It’s dangerous, I know. I studied battles whenever you were gone, and I will admit it didn’t help me sleep thinking you were in a similar situation to one a book detailed. But, I’m a dragon, Twilight. I’m tougher than you think, and if I can’t protect those I love, what good am I during these hard times?

I know you, Twilight. You’ll be pouring over scrolls and tomes even now, looking for some answer that doesn’t exist. If it did, Celestia would have known about it. I’m not there to watch over you anymore, so take a break while you read this letter. Go out, meet with your friends, maybe have some lunch if this letter arrives around that time. The library will be there when you get back.

Speaking of, I’m not there to keep it clean, either. I hope you aren’t going crazy looking for a book that’s right in front of you. It’s happened a few times, you know. You never noticed, though.

Now that I think about it, did you ever notice me? On more than one occasion, you ignored the damage you might have inflicted upon me during one of your episodes. I have hard scales, Twilight, but it would have been nice to hear concern come from you when you let books fall on me, or pulled me from a ladder in a mad grab for the book I held.

But none of that matters now. I joined the military to protect you. You, not Equestria. I don’t want you stressed to the point of exhaustion trying to stop this war, Twilight. Heh, though if you do find something, I would welcome it. Celestia knows, I don’t know if I’m ready for battle.

There are things you learn in boot camp, things you didn’t want to know and were too scared to wonder about. I can kill, now, Twilight. And not just with a spear or sword. The general personally saw to it that I was a force to be reckoned with. I saw Shining Armor a few times during my training, and the look in his eyes when he watched me… I don’t know if he’ll ever see me the same way again.

The other recruits didn’t think anything of me, you know. “He’s just a baby dragon,” they’d say. “He couldn’t hold a sword for more than ten minutes.” I had to show them just what I could do, especially after I saw a few of the higher ranked ponies nod in agreement.

Now, it’s been three weeks, and I’m getting prepped for battle. I know the training I received means next to nothing when I step into that battlefield. I know I am the odd one out, and how some of the others are even betting how long I will last. I know just how hard this is going to be, but I can’t drag my feet back home. It wouldn’t be right.

Celestia addressed us yesterday. She confirmed what we already knew, and attempted to raise our spirits. As she spoke, I looked at the others. You know what I saw? Overconfidence, assured victory, and overbearing pride. These recruits don’t know what they will be seeing. Or maybe they know, but don’t know. They can’t see it. But I know, and I’m scared.

They told us during one of our classes. The entire war was explained to us, so we know who we’d be fighting. We might be fighting ponies, Twilight! Other ponies! I could handle diamond dogs, or even griffons, but ponies? I grew up around ponies. I don’t know what I’ll do when I see one fighting against me.

I know this war has brought every species to a head. Dragons, griffins, diamond dogs, ponies, minotaurs, zebras, everyone. Celestia help me, Twilight. But I would say the same for you. You know even more about our situation than they explained to me, and I can’t imagine the pain you must be feeling.

Don’t worry about me. I will fight, and I will protect you. I will come home a hero, no matter how bloodied I must become. Killing others… I know will be a part of this, the biggest even. I hold no reservations about what I am about to do, but I don’t know how I will feel when I do it. Will it change me, Twillight? Will I return a different dragon than you remember? Will you even recognize me?

I think that is why I am ready. The others can’t see what they will do. They think it’s a game. Taking lives isn’t a game, and I nearly beat a recruit into the emergency room for taking such an easy tone about it when I was near. Cannoli stopped me, though, if only barely. It took him and two others, actually.

I know I’m small. From what we’ve gathered, I won’t grow for a long time, or until I start hoarding. I know this, but that doesn’t mean I’m weak. When you think of me, Twilight, don’t think of a babe going into the slaughter. Think of a bull rushing the torero. Because that’s what I want you to see. If I die, I didn’t let it happen. If I live, it’s only because of my training and quick wit.

Oh, you’re probably wondering who Cannoli is. I met him as the recruits were being separated into groups. We share a joy of desserts, and we hit it off pretty well. I will admit I only had you girls to base my actions on, but he seemed to take any faux pas I may have made in stride.

Do you know how the boot camp was structured? At least, here in Canterlot? They separated us into mares and stallions, then each race, for the first week. Then, the groups were rotated to include other races and mares. There were a few incidents, of course, but they were taken care of well enough. I will admit a few of the recruits don’t seem ready in the least, but I also know we only had three weeks to prepare. The guard is barely keeping the line as it is.

I’m rambling.

Remember, Twilight, I will fight to protect you. I will fight to my last breath if I have to, if that will keep you safe. You, not the Elements of Harmony. The others see you as a symbol or tool, but I don’t.

Also, if you see Rarity while you take one of my demanded relaxation moments…. No, nevermind. I’ll tell her myself.

I have to go. Come tomorrow, I’m being shipped to the eastern front, where the griffins await. I’ll write again, I promise. I Pinkie Promise.

Your Number One Assistant,

Spike

P.S. I know how much you enjoy organization, so I’m going to get my thoughts together and start a record of everything. What I learned, some of it can’t be sent with the letters. Security, you see. Whether I come home or not, my experiences will be sent to you at the end of the war. Until then, I hope my letters are good enough.

Anonymous

This letter is addressed to the larger population of Ponyville, those who have friends, family, and neighbors on the front lines of this war. These words are here to bring you all news.

Hah, who am I kidding. No one will read this. A wayward letter lost on the wind. I’m not important, never will be. I’m going to die in this war with fire in my bones and pain in my heart and I’ll be lost to history, nothing more than a skeleton in the black soot of the chimneys of war.

I just… wanted to pretend I guess. That someone might know I’m alive, even if no one cares. Everyone else is writing to loved ones, but I have no one of my own to write to. I regret it now, secluding myself, hiding myself away. I know, of course, that no mare would take me and no starlet would ever call me friend, but maybe if I’d just gone to one of Pinkie’s parties, let her know I still existed… maybe there would be someone I could send this to. Even if it was just her, even if it was just as acquaintances. At least there would be someone who cared.

I don’t know what to write; I don’t know if I should write. I don’t think I’ll ever send this out. Just killing war until the time starts. No wait, other way around huh? ‘Course, all I’m really killing out here is myself. I don’t know what went through their minds when they decided to draft the overweight writer onto the field of battle.

Maybe I just had rotten luck, I don’t know. I quickly became enemies with my sergeant during what some call ‘practice’ and what the practical call ‘getting measured for a casket’, guess where that landed me? Front lines. If I’m not dead within two hours of the fighting starting it’ll be a god damned miracle.

Oh, what the hell. If I’m dying, then I guess I should just write my deepest, most embarrassing secrets on this parchment. Let’s start with when I was seven years old. I had dreams I wasn’t a pony. Not sure what I was, but I wasn’t a pony. And it made so much sense to my seven year old mind, after all. I wasn’t like everyone else, was I? It made perfect sense; all the pieces fit together. I pretended that was real for a decade, keeping it quiet of course.

That was the best decade of my life.

But I realized that I was a pony. I had to be a pony. It was like learning there’s no magical gift giver on Hearth’s Warming, but so much worse. The amount of self loathing I had that day… you can’t even imagine…

And now I’m in a war, fighting for a nameless throne who’s done no good for me. Funny how life works out.

Oh well. At least I’ll have died for something.

I don’t know why I’m still writing, but I’m not sure I want to stop. If I stop, I go to bed. If I go to bed, time slips through my fingers like greased butter. At least I can pretend I have a hold on the spinning hands of life while I'm here, awake, persistent.

I don’t want to die.

Please, please please please please.

Gods… I’m crying now… The paper’s all stained…

Guess this is bound for the trash after all, I needed to sleep anyway.

Author's Note

This letter was found swept under a cot in the barracks. There is no signature, so the pony who found it sent it to Ponyville. There, it sits pinned on the community board by town hall, where somepony may find it and know the author, and might just send a reply to this wayward soul.

LucidTech

My good friend LucidTech joined in. I am smiles, right now. Go check him out!

Brickroot

Dear Mom and Dad,

I hope you’re doing well! How are the folks over at Ponyville holding up? Is Gem Runner staying out of trouble, or is he up to mischief again? Tell the lil’ colt his big bro says 'hi.' I hope the news of the war didn’t shake up the town too much. I’m sure you guys would be alright.

Please don’t worry about me, Mom and Dad; I’m doing fine. Boot camp isn’t a vacation, yes, but it’s not all bad. I’ve been placed in a barracks full of nice ponies. Life’s hard, waking up early in the morning, doing drills, doing chores, eating meals, then going to bed late at night, but it has a certain charm to it. It was a bit hard to get used to. I’ll admit I was chewed out by our drill sergeant more than once, but it kind of gives me a sense of purpose. We sweat under the sun in the days, practicing sword-fighting, spear-fighting, physical training, and whatnot; eating dull foods for breakfast, lunch, and dinner; and we learn to rough it. Did you know that we don’t have toilets here? Can you believe it? We just have a trench to do our business in!

Although the facilities aren’t five-star, I really like the camp for the ponies I’ve met. We got separated into groups, each under a drill sergeant here. Unfortunately, the mares and the stallions were separated, so I don’t think you’ll be getting your grandfoal anytime soon, haha! There's only have stallions in my group.

I met this really nice pegasus. His name was Breeze Striker. Out of all my groupmates, I’d say he’s the one I’m closest with. He was recruited from Cloudsdale, and he said that the city was as nice as they say. He told me he was an orphan, he had nopony left, he had no reason to fight, but he joined for the fun of it. Can you believe this guy? Anyway, he seems loyal and trustworthy enough. I think he’d make a good friend.

Our drill sergeant, however, is a dick very unpleasant, especially to me. The guys think he singles me out because I’m ‘baby faced’, and they think the Sarge must want to pick on the wimp. I’ve never seen his cutie mark, but I’ll bet it’s something about yelling, since it seems to be his special talent. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard him talk without yelling, yet. I’ve yet to get to know the rest of the group personally, but I’m looking forward to it.

After training, they told us, we’ll be shipped off to the east with the griffins. I know that Gem Runner always wanted to meet a griffin, so in your next letter, why don’t you have him write me some questions to ask the griffins! I know what you’re thinking, but no, Mom, don’t bother yourself with making a scarf. I think I can handle the cold of the east. Haha!

It’s almost supper time here. I’m guessing it’ll be the same as it always has been these past two weeks: flatbread! Oh, I would do anything to get a taste of a sweet treat from Sugarcube Corner again. Speaking of Sugarcube Corner, I saw Mister Cake walking around camp a few days back, you know. Mister Cake? A soldier? I find that hard to believe, actually, but then again, nopony believed that I would be a soldier too, right? I guess we all just have to respond to the call of the princess. I hope that we get to end the war before Gem grows up, because I don’t want him trying for the army as well! Soon, because I don’t want foals to grow up in a future of war.

Anyway, I better end the letter here. Breeze is calling me so we can go to the mess hall. Stay safe, Mom and Dad. Don’t worry about me. I’ll write again as soon as I can.

Lots of love,

Your son, Brickroot

Author's Note

hailetheking

Many letters are coming in, and I'm enjoying every one. Keep it up, fellas! And be sure to check out hailetheking.

Big Macintosh - 1st letter

Dear Applejack,

They’ve got a good structure going on here in Canterlot, I’ll give them that. The second we got off the train last week, we were led to the barracks to make ourselves comfortable. We saw lots of other ponies training in the courtyard between the platform and the wide cobble road leading toward the barracks—earth and pegasi mostly, but also a few unicorns for variety. Even though you’d think the unicorns would more plentiful, I heard on the train that most of them are being tutored in magical warfare at Celestia's Academy. I guess the wash-outs make it to the frontlines like the rest of us.

The barracks are sparse, but I don’t pay it no mind. Some of the other stallions complain about how we only get one set of sheets, a pillow, and a small bed to our names (barding and such isn’t so much as ours as it is us being allowed to wear it.) Personally, I can’t see the problem. Keep it simple; that’s what I say.

The food ain’t nothing like home, though. It’s more like mush and hay. It’s something that you get to used to, I suppose, but I sure could go for a few apples right now.

There’s talk of us recruits getting sent off to the front within the month, maybe even in a couple weeks. Makes a pony wonder just what’s going on out there with the Dogs that’s got the princesses so on edge. No real info coming through, aside from rumors. I’ll write again on that when I hear more.

The war looms, AJ, bigger than anything I’ve seen before. Makes me feel small, and that ain’t something I’m used to, you know? Like being a pebble and standing next to a mountain. I don’t like it. But I’ll weather it, don’t you worry. Not too much your big brother can’t handle, eh?

Oh, and they tried to take your hat—said it wasn’t part of the dress code—but don’t you worry. I set them straight. I’ll take good care of it, just like I promised.

Tell Granny and Applebloom I love them, and you too.

Write again soon,
Big Macintosh

Author's Note

Malus Scriptor

Oh man, I completely forgot to add Malus' name here! Sorry, Malus! Anyway, give him a look-see. He's planning multiple letters for this tale, and he's a good guy.

Spike - 2nd letter

Dear Twilight,

My last letter sounded worse than I first thought. I meant to clear the air between us, but my rambling did nothing towards that goal. Either you’re still lost in a book, or you read my letter just as I fear it sounded. Let me be clear:

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry I didn’t take your feelings into account. I’m sorry I rushed into this. I’m sorry I didn’t hear your side before rushing out that door. And most importantly, I’m sorry for hurting you.

I didn’t mean for this to happen, Twilight, this rift between us. Maybe if I explained myself better, maybe if I listened to you more, we wouldn’t have separated as we did. But now, as I sit here on the edge of Equestria, I fear I’ll never get the chance to mend this wound.

They sent me to Dodge City to get my gear, along with half the ponies I trained with. After a short rest, we were rushed to this border. It doesn’t have a name, this place. It’s somewhere between Baltimare and the border of Griffonia, that’s all I can say. I expected desert, you know. Instead, we’re waiting for orders in a jungle.

It’s not too bad. Sure, there’s humidity, and mosquitos (like they can affect me personally. But I’ve seen what they can do to ponies. No one is sick, thank Celestia, but they sure are annoying.) On the brighter side, the shade keeps the sun from beating down our backs too much, and there’s plenty of fresh water nearby.

I know the order will come soon. It will come, and I will have to fight. There’s a zebra among us, and he rhymes just as much as Zecora. He’ll have to fight. The ponies I trained with will have to fight.

Scared doesn’t even begin to describe it, Twilight.

I know I’m safe enough. Training showed me just how strong dragon scales are against swords and glancing blows. But knowing is different than experience. My knowledge even makes it worse, when I think of how many ways I can die. Being stabbed is foremost on my mind. Griffons fight with their claws as much as any weapon, and they don’t just cut. Just watch Opal swat at something to see what I mean.

We have a few unicorns with us, trained in the offensive use of telekinesis and basic spells. They all knew how to light a candle with magic, so they’ve learned how to amplify that into a fireball. Unfortunately, I can’t see them using their horns in the midst of battle. It’ll be ugly, and the concentration required may be too much for them.

The pegasi will be a big help, though. They can keep some of the griffons off the grounded units so we don’t get overwhelmed. If the odds are three-to-one, we don’t stand a chance, however. I wish we had more pegasi like Rainbow Dash. Between her knowledge of griffon flight and fighting ability, she’d be a huge asset. But we don’t, and we only have a basic understanding of them shared between us.

The earth ponies can match them for strength, at least. They could be like our linebackers, holding the enemies at bay to keep the odds even. But, that’s only if they don’t get attacked by a second griffon.

I can’t think of any advantage we have that could truly help us win, Twilight. That scares me.

But I’ll be brave. I’ll fight and win, because I can’t die this soon.

I keep saying that, don’t I? Please, oh please, Celestia, protect me in this coming battle. I swear not to eat an entire tub of ice-cream in one sitting again. Just don’t let me die so soon.

Look at me, begging for my life, and the battle hasn’t even started yet. I must look a pitiful sight, as Rarity would put it. Strength, bravery, will. Those things will see me through this, not the princess sitting back in Canterlot.

Twilight, if you ever meet with the princesses, tell them to hurry. I don’t care if we have to lose some territory, or lose face apologizing; just help them stop this war before it gets worse! These ponies don’t deserve to die.

I know, I know. This war is about a lot more than just some land or a slight. If it was, Celestia would have solved it by now. There’s something big going on, and I’m just a grunt now. No point in telling the grunts exactly why this is happening, right?

Some of the others, I can see their faces as they write home, look to be losing some morale. They don’t know what we’re doing here. I’ll have to tell them, even with my limited understanding.

Morning will dawn soon. I don’t get as much sleep as I did back home at the library, but boot camp taught me just how little I really needed. When that sun shines through these leaves, I’m sure we’ll have our orders. Until then, I’ll do what I can to help the others. It’s the least I can do, even if some won’t listen to the “baby” dragon.

I hope you forgive me, Twilight. I can’t keep going, knowing I still have your ire. But I have to do what I have to do. Please understand.

Ex his quae dicta intellexerit.

Sincerely,

Spike

P.S. I received clearance to send reports to you via dragonfire. There is no known way to intercept it, so it’s safer than any other correspondence they can use. They believe I can help you understand what’s at stake, and somehow end the war. I know it’s impossible for reports from a soldier to do so, but they have hope. Even the brass hopes, Twilight. Pray they are answered.

P.P.S. The first report won’t come for some time. With how little downtime we have received so far, I’ve been unable to do much more than what’s asked of me and avoid scaring myself senseless.

Big Mac - 2nd letter

Dear Applejack,

Remember those ponies training in the courtyard from my last letter? Well, that was me today, along with about another twenty or so of us recruits.

We were roughly woken up about five minutes before anypony was ready, which is a might bit impressive, considering that most of my unit appears to be made up of farmers who ought to be used to getting up at the crack of dawn. The sun hadn’t considered coming up yet, I don’t believe. It didn’t, as a matter of fact, for another two hours.

Sergeant Gunsmoke; have I told you about him yet? He’s the pony in charge here. Only pony on the base he answers to is the Lieutenant, whose real name I don’t know yet. Well, Gunsmoke was the one we got marched out to meet in the courtyard. Believe me when I say he has the loudest voice of any pony I’ve ever heard. He could out-hollar Winona after that time she played peek-a-boo with a porcupine’s backside.

During the training session, we were each given a long length of wood shaped vaguely like a sword. It wasn’t all that heavy, but it’d probably leave a nasty bruise if one were to get walloped with it hard enough. We were paired up and were to try and overpower our partner with the sword to the best of our abilities, a way of figuring out how much we already knew.

My partner in particular was a unicorn stallion who looked like he wasn’t fed quite enough by his mother when he was a colt. Just holding the sword in his magic looked to be a real struggle for him. For a while there, I didn’t do anything but watch him. It ain’t right to pick on ponies who are smaller than you, and that’d be exactly what I’d be doing if I was to hit him right then. Eventually, the flickering glow encasing the sword turned nice and solid. He managed to lift the sword, plant his hooves, and let out a sigh of relief.

And then he hit me.

I woke up in the infirmary a few hours later. Turns out, a unicorn who doesn’t have very good control over his magic can sometimes push way too hard. That, and he hit me square in the temple. According to the nurse, I fell harder and faster than a lead turd in an outhouse with a twenty foot drop. Mental image aside, it was pretty bad. Looks like I’ve got a lot of training ahead of me before I’ll be ready to go out and fight for Equestria. I might be a pretty good farmer, but fighting just ain’t in my blood.

When I was released back to the barracks, I figured I’d be coming back to laughter. After all, a big stallion like me going down with a single hit? It must have been quite a sight. But no, I was wrong. Nopony was laughing. Instead, most of them were huddled around a bulletin board in the corner and whispering to each other in hushed tones. Curious, I made my way over to see what the fuss was about. Tacked to it was a sheet of parchment with the word FRONT across the top in big letters, and below that, in slightly smaller text, TWO MONTHS.

So I guess now I know how long I’ve got to get ready. I hope it’ll be enough.

Your brother,
Big Macintosh

Author's Note

Malus Scriptor

And here's the second letter from Big Mac, brought to you by Malus Scriptor. He's planning a long ride, so don't forget to check him out and give him a nod.

Soarin

To My Dearest Love,

My wonderful Carrot Top.

I'll see you again, I promise.

I remember the day when we first met.
Your beauty blew me away.
I instantly knew that a God must exist, because he let me meet you.
It was but a brief moment in my life,
But it was the highlight of my life,
Seeing you for the first time.

I remember the day when we had our first date.
You looked stunning.
At dinner, I couldn’t seem to find any intelligent words to say to you.
But you just gave me that adorable smile,
the one that made me fall for you, and you took my hoof.
I was so nervous. But the look in your eyes made me know that you were the one for me.

I remember the day we shared our first kiss.
It was on your front porch.
I caressed your trembling body in mine.
I could feel a sense of longing coming from you,
One that I would hope to satisfy.
When your lips pressed against mine, I held you tighter than ever before.
As I gently held you in my arms, I knew true happiness.
I knew that I loved you, but more importantly...
That you loved me.

I remember the day we got married.
Our love was the only thing that mattered that day.
As you walked down the aisle toward me, tears streamed down my eyes.
You were the only thing visible, you and your magnificence.
I couldn't believe what was about to happen.
I would get to spend the rest of my life with the mare I love.

I remember the day, when you told me you were going away.
I cried with you, all day and all night.
But you assured me that I would see you soon,
That I would see you again.

I remember the day when you told me goodbye.
How you weakly touched my cheek, and gave me a farewell kiss.
The world seemed to stop for that moment.
If only for that time, everything was perfect.
I was with you, and you were with me.

I remember the day when the doctor said…
That you were gone.
But it's okay,
Because after I walk the battlefield today,
After I stand my ground on the front lines,
After I take my place among the heroes of our home…

I'll see you again, I promise.

Love Forever,

Soarin

Author's Note

Crack ships FTW! :raritywink:

BloodyLastWords

This letter is a treat, from the author that struck me with inspiration. His story "Secrets Behind the Letters" gave me the first hint of an idea, which grew into what you see today. It's an honor to have a letter from him.

Cowardly Lion

Dear Fluttershy,

You don’t know me. In fact, I’m certain you don’t. But, there’s no one else I can think of to write to.

I’m a soldier, fighting because some law told me I had to. There’s nothing I fight for, and that sounds really sad now that I think about it. I don’t have a family, or friends, to speak of, so I hope you will at least know I exist.

I remember seeing you on the billboards of Manehattan a few years ago. That was when I first saw beauty in this world, and the last time as well. Later, I learned of your name, and how you were an Element of Harmony: Kindness.

I never did anything with this knowledge, and I’m sure you’ve received a lot of letters when you were modelling. Maybe I was a coward, or maybe I knew nothing would come from correspondence with you. You’re eyes seemed so shy in those pictures, so I don’t blame you even if I ever did write to you and I didn’t get a response.

Don’t think of this letter as an admission of infatuation. Not that you aren’t cute, but I will admit this letter is just me being selfish. I’m stationed in my hometown, but I’ll be sent away for battle soon. You’re the only pony I could think of.

I’m sorry. This letter isn’t what I wanted it to be. You don’t have to write back, or even acknowledge my existence. I’m sure you have better things to do.

Goodbye,

Cowardly Lion

Author's Note

Don't forget you can write your own letters. As many as you want!

Spike - 3rd letter

Dear Twilight,

I got your letter.

I wish it was under better circumstances, and came earlier than it did.

Everything’s gone wrong, Twilight. They jumped us in the night… Cannoli didn’t make it…

Sorry, this is the third time I’ve tried to pen this letter, but I can’t get the words to show.

I know this will be in my report to you later, but I need to get this out of my system now. Even if it’s through letters, talking out your problems helps, right? Okay, here goes…

I had just finished penning my last letter to you when the alarm sounded. By that point, most of the soldiers had either retired to bed or were just climbing in, and we weren’t prepared. The griffons… they attacked us in the middle of the night.

When I left my tent, sword in hand, some of the others were already engaged. They tried, Twilight. They really did. I saw a few ponies holding their own, but others were still too groggy. It was a massacre, Twilight. I’m no stranger to blood, not after the training I went through, but…

I was frozen. It wasn’t until another pony bumped into me on the way out of our shared tent that I managed to stir into action. I killed…

I. Killed.

My hands are shaking, Twilight. There were dozens of them, and I slew a few. With these two hands. I can still see the blood on them.

Cannoli was by my side that night. If it wasn’t for him, I probably would have shared the same fate as the others. We had each other’s backs, and if I wasn’t distracted…

He died protecting me. A griffon fell from above, a pole-arm aimed right for my neck. By the time I heard the scream, it was too late. He pushed me and…

I’m ashamed of what I did, Twilight. Twilight, please forgive me. I…. Something changed inside me.

By the time the battle was over, there was more blood on me than any other soldier. The remaining griffons had fled, and there were only ten of us left, including the sergeant. He looked at me with such fear.

I was confused. When I looked myself over, I finally noticed my size. I don’t know how, and I don’t think I want to know at this point, but I grew that night.

You remember Garble and the other teenage dragons during the dragon migration? I’m roughly their size now. I feel stronger than ever. Though, I’m not entirely used to this body, yet. I managed to knock over an end table just an hour ago, as I paced and paced my room.

After the battle, the injured were moved to Baltimare for medical treatment. The dead were sent there as well. I’m sure they’ll be taken well care of. The sergeant, however, stayed behind with me and a token few. Something about making sure the griffons didn’t think we abandoned the post. By evening, a new battalion arrived.

I wasn’t to stay. He sent me north. I don’t know why, but I think it has something to do with me growing and fighting like I did. I’m under orders to watch the Crystal Empire for any enemy movement.

The good news to come out of this is I have time to pen that report I promised you. There hasn’t been any change in these northern borders yet, though it’s only been a few days. I’ve been using them to adjust to… everything.

I miss Cannoli. He kept me calm enough. Now I only have my thoughts to keep me company. Sure, I have the crystal guards of this realm, who have been very kind I might add, but it’s not the same.

The battle keeps raging on repeat in my head, Twilight. Every time I close my eyes, I see… things. I thought I was ready. I thought I was prepared. Those books I read never told me it would be this bad, not mentally.

Heh. I took a moment to look at my arm. The fight didn’t leave me unscathed, but the field medic that survived patched me up easily. There’s a long scar running the length of my forearm now. The scales are just starting to grow in, and I can already tell they won’t align with the rest. It will be a weak spot forever.

Twilight, I’ve only been away for a six weeks, yet it seems like a year. I look so different from what I did. Every time I look in the mirror, I see this haunted face. It’s only been one battle and I look like this. Something tells me it will get a lot worse.

I have no illusions anymore, Twi. This war will be bloody. It will be brutal. It will completely redefine what it means to exist. At least I’ve grown strong enough to endure it, though I’m afraid for my sanity.

At least I know you’ll write back, now. I have your letter here next to me. Something about it calms me, at least so far as the daily grind. If I ever start thinking about that night…

Forgive me. Nearly fell again. At least, that’s what I’m going to call it.

I’m no fool, Twilight. I know what PTSD is. I know I have it, or the makings of it. I know… but I can’t do anything about it right now. Being here at the empire is helping. I don’t have to worry about fighting tomorrow, at least. We’ll have plenty of warning.

Cadence is here, along with Shining Armor. He’s rallying the troops here while his “replacement” takes care of Canterlot. They welcomed me, and for the most part, left me to my own devices. I join the troops at the refurbished arena here for training and the like. Still no new orders, of course.

Either they’re getting rid of me, or they’re letting me settle down. They must know how much of an advantage a dragon would be on the front lines. I’ll be ready when they ask.

Oh. Your letter. I forgive you, too, Twilight. Please don’t worry yourself needlessly over that. I forgave you long ago, though I guess my letters didn’t really tell you that. Or, maybe I just recently forgave you, and I just think it was long ago. Time is difficult, sometimes.

Don’t work yourself so hard. From what I gathered in your letter, you’ve scoured every book and scroll in both Ponyville and Canterlot. Give yourself some time to understand what you’ve read. If the answer is there, you’ll see it eventually. If not, I’m sure Cadence would be happy to send you a few research materials from the old library here.

That is NOT an invitation to come up here. Under no circumstances do I want you anywhere near the battle lines. You are too important, and so are your friends. If you need something, remember that I’m still your number one assistant. I’ll help Cadence collect the right books. But again, get some rest. Even your intellect can’t handle that much information at once. I should know; I saw what happened last time you tried something like this.

The sun is starting to go down. I hope Celestia is doing well. Luna, too. And you. And… Rarity…

I don’t know anymore, Twilight. Her name doesn’t strike me like it used to. Is it from what I’ve experienced, or is it to due with growing up? I still haven’t sent her a letter.

Ah! I was just about to write something in farewell when it reminded me of that part of your letter. Are you really that surprised that I remembered? I will admit, at the time, it seemed boring. I don’t know, actually, but it felt like the right thing to do. In fact, I’m starting to enjoy the language. I’m not an expert, but I’m sure I’ll figure out all the nuances eventually.

It’s good to know the others are doing as well as can be expected. I’m not surprised Rainbow Dash is running scouting missions, but tell her not to leave the borders too far behind her. Ponyville is safe at the moment.

I am surprised at Fluttershy, though. To think she’d actually talk to so many ponies. I guess we misjudged her a little. It makes me feel like I should be doing more myself, actually. In fact, come tomorrow, I think I will do just that. The citizens here are just as worried as the rest of Equestria, after all.

Pinkie Pie…. Well, try to cheer her up. I’m sure Mr. Cake is doing well. I only saw him for a moment back at Canterlot and he seemed to have the aura about him. It’s like he knew what he was fighting for, and he wasn’t about to die in this war. If anyone can make it through, I’d place a few bets on that stallion.

Tell Rarity I’m doing fine. Try to leave out the part about the battle, though. I don’t want her to worry herself into premature old age!

I know we need the supplies, and I know she’s worrying herself over Big Mac, but please try to pull Applejack away from the farm. She’s stubborn, and she’ll fight with everything she has to keep working and support the troops, but she needs to relax just as much as you do.

Shining Armor shares the reports he receives with me, so I know where the lines are on the map. We’re holding our own, but just barely. The second set of consigned will be joining battle shortly, so that will keep us strong, but we need more. The unicorns, as much as they try, can do more.

I’ve seen what you can do, Twilight. With an extra week of training, those recruits could be ready to face battle and keep up their concentration, I’m sure. Once they do, they’ll be able to push back the aggressors.

The pegasi need to learn more about aerial maneuvers. If the Wonderbolts trained instead of fought, we’d have a much stronger force in the air.

The earth ponies, along with the zebras, could hold their own on the ground better if they planted their feet more strongly against the dirt. I’ve heard the diamond dogs have joined the griffons, so the stronger our ground forces become, the better.

I’ve shared these thoughts with Shining Armor, and he agrees with me, though he’s told me there’s not much we can do. We need every advantage we have fighting, not training recruits, just to hold where we are. Maybe….

No, it’s too dangerous. The capital is the largest target in this war. Ignore that.

Well, the last rays of the sun are fading, and it’s time for this dragon to get some rest. I just hope I don’t have nightmares this time. Maybe Luna will deign to visit me this night and see me safe passage.

Et venit mane, veritas manifestetur.

Sincerely,

Spike

Bulk Biceps - 2nd letter

I've killed, Mother.

Not even a full day since I got here, and already I'm with the field medic. Took an arrow to the shoulder too close to the collarbone. It hurt, sure, but its not the worst thing I've seen.

And by sweet Celestia's mane, the fucking things I have seen will give me nightmares for decades.

You know me, Mother. I never swear. Swearing is for low brow dolts who lack the proper mentality to articulate words higher than three syllables.

Makes you wonder what this war is doing to me, now that I think about it.

To recap, basic training was short and brutal. We were given the short end of the stick when we were recruited. Two weeks isn't enough time to learn much of anything, honestly. Our sergeant, who I found out was named "Bag Pipes" for reasons unbeknownst to me, said that we were going to be receiving additional training nearer to the front.

If we hadn't been attacked as soon as we got there, that might have meant something.

I don't know how they knew we were there, but they did. They attacked us in the middle of the night under the cover of a thunderstorm. They seemed to know where and how to hit us. It was….

I apologize for the tear stains on this letter, Mother. Remembering last night is... painful.

Was it only last night that I saw my friends die? It felt like decades ago.

To spare you the nightmares, mother, just know that I had to do what I had to when I was forced to fight for my life.

Reading this must bring you such anxieties, mother. I apologize, but war is never pretty. All of those action novels about it were lying.

The doctor just told me that I should be healed within the hour. Normally that would be good news, but knowing what war is like, I would give up my wings right now if it meant I'd never have to fight.

I'll send you another letter as soon as I can. I love you.

Signed,

Bulk Biceps

Author's Note

Probably not my best work. Meh, as long as I get the point across. :twilightsmile:

General Spritz

I wasn't expecting a second Bulk Biceps letter, but I'm glad he delivered. Thank General Spritz for this... lovely... look into the first signs of battle.

Big Mac - 3rd letter

Dear Applejack,

We got news from the front this morning, in the form of soldiers returning sooner than expected. Change-outs aren’t supposed to be due for another month at least, so we were surprised to see the train pull in from the northern line, up in the Crystal Empire.

It was about 9:00 AM and training was well on its way. But when the train ground to a halt right nearby the courtyard, most of the ponies in the camp, including a few of the lower-ranked officers, gathered around the platform in a tight clump, all eyes focused on the train doors.

The doors slid open and three ponies limped out, hauling a small wooden cart behind them. The first pony, a golden stallion with a blue mane and a shield cutie mark, I recognized from the time he visited Ponyville a few years back: Flash Sentry. He was favoring his front left hoof, as if it had been injured just recently. Likely, it had.

I didn’t recognize the other two ponies, but they looked like pretty much any other royal guard. Not all that interesting or important as they helped guide the wagon down the short ramp to the cobbled path leading through camp.

What was important, though, were the contents of the wagon. A tarp covered the wagon, obscuring what it held from prying eyes, but the lumps in the fabric and the lone hoof that jutted out from one side and hung limply as it clattered against the wagon’s side with each bump in the path told enough.

The wagon was loaded with the dead, casualties from the war.

Uneasy whispers rumbled through the crowd. From where I stood, fairly close to the platform... Celestia, the smell was strong. You remember that time a few years back when Applebloom stumbled across the dead fruit bats down in the south field after the surprise coldsnap? The weather flip-flopped so badly that it went from below freezing, cold enough to kill the bats dead, up to hot enough to draw a good sweat just from sitting outside for too long. The heat got to them, made them rot. Death shouldn’t smell that sweet. And yet, I couldn’t help but be reminded of that this morning.

Sergeant Gunsmoke met the three guardsponies (pallbearers, kid) at the southern gate that lead out to the fields surrounding the camp. They exchanged words. Here’s the best that I can remember:

Gunsmoke: “Your orders, soldiers? My ponies here deserve an explanation.”

Flash: “En route to Canterlot HQ in order to reroute casualties to their families, sir.”

Gunsmoke: “According to our records, you are one of the personal guards of the Crystal Princess, Sentry. Any particular reason why you’ve been assigned to this sort of mission?”

Flash (his ears drooped a bit, here): “One of the dead was… a friend of mine. Just keeping a promise, that’s all.”

Gunsmoke: “I see. Very well, then. Carry on, and my condolences, soldier.”

A salute, a sigh, and a curt nod. Short and to the point. Gunsmoke stepped to the side and watched them pass. His gaze lingered on the wagon for a moment before he turned away pointedly.

Training resumed, but I didn’t pay very much attention. I was too busy seeing the lumps beneath the tarp. The sickly-sweet smell… it’s still there, AJ. It’s like they’re next to me right now, here in the barracks. Like one of them’s lying in the bunk above me…. Why won’t it go away? Smells ain’t supposed to linger like that, not through sweat and distance. It just ain’t natural.

I… I shouldn’t be telling you this. It’s not something you need to be worrying yourself about. It’s just… I’m unsettled, that’s all. Seeing that today made me think about things, about the future. About what’s coming. We head out to the front ourselves in a month, and I don’t think I’m ready. When I came out here, I said an oath: “To serve is to protect, to protect is to love, to love is to live.” I meant it, AJ, don’t get me wrong, but it’s still….

What if next time a wagon comes back through this camp, it’s me under there?

I’m not afraid to face tomorrow or next week or next month. I’m not afraid to do what needs to be done. I’m not even afraid to die.

I’m afraid of not seeing my family again.

I love you, AJ. And you too, Granny and Applebloom and whoever else is reading this. I’m doing this for you.

Big Macintosh

Author's Note

I blame any issues in writing quality on Big Mac not being used to writing letters.

Malus Scriptor

Now, I don't know why he thinks there's writing issues. Letters are supposed to be personal, after all. Anyway, here's the third in his series. It's ramping up to be a tale to remember.

Roseluck

Dear Lily,

You were right.

This isn’t what I thought it would be.

Boot camp was hard, but not all that bad. I was sore for the first few days, but it passed after a while. I never thought I would be able to lift so much or run for so long, but they really worked us hard there. We also had the opportunity to run through the woods and train there; I discovered some really pretty woodland flowers: pink and turquoise, five petals, no bigger than the tip of a hoof. Maybe you’ll recognize the ones?

Anyhow. We went on from there to the front lines. Just like that. Two days of walking and camping in open fields of wild flowers along well-trod paths, all cut and bleeding dirt from the tracks cut by carts. We camped in the meadows at nightfall, keeping watch in case the griffons flew past the lines and hit us under the cover of darkness. I actually liked it.

Some of the other cadets became my friends. Private First Class Racing Star and a (really) cute Corporal by the name of Iron Eye.

Star’s hobby was running. She’d go everywhere as quickly as she could, always galloping where she could trot and trotting when she should have been walking. We bonded on the race tracks when she’d slow down to help me along. During our marching drills, I’d help to keep her in line, stop her from marching ahead of the rest of us.

And Iron Eye, well, he was just cute. And nice, really nice. He got promoted a few days in since the Lieutenant thought that he would be a good leader, and he was. Always taking the time to explain things and always asking, never demanding. He’s the one that lead my squad towards the front lines.

We had a lot of fun on the trip to the front, talking and sharing stories. I told them about our little flower shop and named off as many of the flowers as I could when we’d trot by them. Racing’s family had a farm somewhere, big land all divided up into squares. She said that she had to run a lot to get from one end to the other; that’s where she started to love going fast.

Iron Eye was always a little quiet about his past, but he liked to listen and we talked, sometimes, until way past curfew. It was worth being tired the next morning.

The front lines changed everything.

The ponies there weren’t nice. They had hollow eyes. Mud was all over the place, so much so that only the hardiest weeds and tiny patches of grass would grow between the rows of tents.
Iron Eye lead us to our little nook of the camp and told us to wait. The orders for us to move arrived the next day.

It was a patrol, something I now know they make all first timers do. It shows us the battlefield, gives us a sense of direction, and “wakes us up,” as the sergeant said.

We pushed through shin-high mud and past little buttresses where ponies painted brown by dirt were hiding. They never smiled as they looked down on us. One of them told me to only look at the horizon, never look down.

We drove past them and over a hill on which a watchtower had been built. We could see everything from there.

Nothing but mud.

Hills and valleys carved apart by magical burns, broken swords and spears planted all over. Fallen trees cast twisted shadows all over. And the bodies. You couldn’t tell pony from griffin or any other.

On the hill opposite our own, a single twisted rose stood, petals opened to the grey sky as its broken stalk swayed in the fetid wind.

I started crying, until Iron Eye touched me with a muddy hoof, told me to be still.

We marched back in silence, heads down and eyes averted. My stomach almost heaved when I walked over a patch of earth stained red. That’s why he had told me to look up, always.

We couldn’t sleep that night and stayed huddled around our little campfire, some sharpening swords while others tried to wash off the mud. I had given up.

The Sergeant returned, told us they needed some volunteers for a night recon mission and that he had volunteered our squad.

I couldn’t do it, Lily. I just couldn’t.

The others had to leave in a hurry. They said that they understood, and I knew that they did; I could see it in their eyes. Lily, they had seen the same things as me. They had seen the bodies and the lifeless fields, yet they could still move on where I couldn’t.

Racing told me that I owed her a quick gallop when she came back. Iron and I shared a look for a moment. He smiled and I looked away.

It’s her screaming that woke me up a few hours later.

I ran to her, only to be stopped at the medic’s tent.

I won’t dilly dally in saying it. Iron Eye died. They encountered another patrol in the night and they fought. Turns out it was one of ours. Both were so caked in mud that they could hardly see one another.

Racing got sliced along her side by a thrown spear. They had to take both her right legs the next night. Infection had set in.

Lily. It’s been a week now. I’m all alone.

I don’t think I’m going to make it, Lily.

-Roseluck-

Author's Note

RavensDagger

RavensDagger has done it again. I can't thank him enough for doing this, and he spit this letter out faster than I thought. Good show, Raven.

Lyra

Hey, Bon Bon. Just sending you a little note to show that I’m still breathing.

They let me sit in the turret’s seat of the jeep today. Sadly, I didn’t get to actually shoot anything with it. It’s just as well, though. We were going too fast for me to fire straight. Still, it was fun pretending.

We’re moving camp to one of the caves near the enemy base tomorrow, the one we scouted today. It’s cold and dark and damp, but hopefully, we won’t be there too long. Once we take over the enemy base, we’ll be that much closer to taking back our homelands.

It’s going to be really dangerous, and I’m kinda scared. A part of me wishes that Celestia never repealed those ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ laws. But then I’d just be at home, feeling like a waste of space. Hopefully, this will help Tootsie Flute and the other foals to grow up in a happier world, even if I’m not there to see it.

Oh, and before I go, tell that little brat Button Mash that I do not appreciate his letter thanking me for ‘dying for my country.’

—Lyra

Author's Note

End of Side B of the LyraBon Tale. Please flip the cassette for Side A (if you didn't already read it).

This is difficult to explain without outright saying it, so here it is. Lyra and Bon Bon both joined the army on the same day without the other knowing. They had a bit of a falling out, and now they are both writing home in hopes their relationship can be mended. Sadly, neither will ever get a response, since no one is home.

Lyra is an odd one. She's read too many of those fantasy novels, and uses odd terminology. The "turret" and "jeep" she mentions would actually be called a carroballista (a sort of mobile ballista). Why she thought the cart that shoots bolts pulled by ponies could in any way be considered one of those self-propelled carts, I'll never know.

And finally, both this letter and Bon Bon's were written near the same time. While Lyra was rushed into the battle, Bon Bon was sent to one of the slower training camps.

Azusa

Yes, the same tale written by two people. It's a collab within a collab! AAAHHH! Anyway, check Azusa out, since he's got stuff for the checkings.

Brickroot - 2nd letter

Dear Mom and Dad,

I’m doing fine. I’m sorry I couldn’t write to you sooner, but after the training camp, we’ve been pretty busy moving to the east. If any news about a camp being attacked in Dodge City comes to you, don’t worry, it’s not mine; it was a nearby camp though. The attack has got the ponies around here on edge though, and we’ve been training extra hard.

Actually, they decided to put in night-watches now, because according to reports, Camp Barnstool was ambushed in the middle of the night. As a matter of fact, I’m writing to you from a tower overlooking a dense forest in the middle of the night. It’s almost... serene here. I can’t imagine fighting here at all, but such is the terrible truth in life, eh? Hahaha, well, I hope you’re doing fine there. I miss visiting you guys already.

Life here has been tough. I’m not with my old training group anymore, but fortunately, I was able to be in the same squad as Breeze, the pegasus in my last letter. For some reason, he didn’t make it into the air force, but considering that I’ve never seen him fly yet gives me an idea why. He’s more or less my ‘best friend’ in the war, and I’m sure you guys would love him if you could meet him.

It’s been a few weeks of the same old routine, however: training, eating, barely sleeping, and such. The only thing that ever seems to break the routine is our scouting missions, and Breeze and I haven’t been sent to one yet, thankfully, but eventually we will. Everypony gets his number called someday. You know that more than anypony, right, you two?

I better wrap this letter up. I think I see something moving in the bushes from afar. I’ll drop this letter in before I sleep. Love you guys.

Your Son,

Brickroot

Author's Note

hailetheking

I don't think I'll ever write his name right the first time. That 'e' is just confusing me. Anyway, here's his second letter, a continuation of Brickroot's story, so if you haven't checked him out last time, do so. Now, I must continue work on Spike's report.

Carrot Cake

My beloved Cup Cake,

I know you’re probably upset that I haven’t written to you before now, but I just haven’t had the time. So, I’m writing this letter to sum up everything that’s happened to me so far.

I don’t know where to start, so I’ll just start with bootcamp. They taught me everything about surviving out in the forest, which is where my unit is going to be most of the time. I’ve learned so much about everything, but there are some things they taught us that I’m not too proud of. They… they taught us how to kill. I’d rather not go into details but I… I’m going into this war with blood on my hooves. My commanding officer said that we have no time for our own feelings in a war, and he couldn’t have been more right.

After bootcamp, my unit was assigned to the frontlines, and the first night there, I got to experience the horrors of war firsthand. The Griffons had launched a few squads to ambush us, but we were already expecting them. We charged at them, swords and all, and we caught them by surprise. The whole thing lasted about a minute, and it was over just like that.

We looked around to see our enemies and I swear to you, they all looked so young. I found one young griffon who was badly injured. He looked so scared, and he begged me to help him. I froze. I just looked at him, then somepony came up to the griffon and… well, he silenced the griffon.

I’m so ashamed of myself for letting that pony do that. I know that it’s kill or be killed, but I couldn’t help feeling sorry for the young griffon. I saw him and I thought of Pound Cake. I just couldn’t go through with it. War isn’t for me, Cup Cake. It isn’t for me.

As for the pony that killed the young griffon—I never learned his name—he died last night. We sent him to scout ahead and he ran into a group of diamond dogs. Yes, the diamond dogs have sided with the Griffons. Anyway, when we found that pony… or what was left of him, I thought to myself, Better him than me. Can you believe that?! War changes ponies. All that talk of brothers-in-arms and all-for-one is a sham. In the frontlines, you look out for yourself or you’re as good as dead.

That’s all that’s happened to me so far and it’s probably more than you wanted to hear, or maybe it’s not enough, but I just had to write it down. I don’t have anyone to talk to, so I need to let all these emotions out somewhere. I just wish I had the chance to be put somewhere away from all of the fighting, but I just can’t seem to get lucky. Just about every pony in my unit has been reassigned. Every pony except me and another named Half-Life.

I almost forgot to mention it. For the brief time that I was in Canterlot, I saw Spike. Is Twilight getting any letters from him? He was doing quite well, last I checked. I hope he makes it through this war. He’s a good kid.

I hope everything is okay in Ponyville. I love you and the kids so much. Tell Pinkie that I love her and that she’s just as much a part of the family as all of you are. Tell Pumpkin and Pound Cake that I love them. That I’ll always love them. And that if I don’t come back Just tell them that their dad is doing his best and he’ll be home soon.

I love you so much, honey. I just wanted you to know that. I’m fighting this war in the name of Equestria, but more importantly, I’m fighting this war for you and the kids… and Pinkie. I know what I’m fighting for, and I’ll do my best to make sure everything goes well. We’re stationed near the Crystal Empire for the time being, so I’ll try to write you more often. The mail pony’s here. Stay safe.

Love,

Carrot Cake

Author's Note

This letter was written by MidnightSpark23, with the assistance of Midnight Spark. It's a crazy spark of midnight menagerie over here! Check them out if you think you can handle it.

Author: MidnightSpark23
Co-au--I mean "Assistant:" Midnight Spark

To HRH Twilight Sparkle

To Her Royal Highness, Princess Twilight Sparkle, Element of Magic and Princess of Friendship:

Enclosed in this correspondence is a report detailing the accounts of one Spike the Dragon. As per military guidelines and due to the current situation, these records are to be kept under maximum security under a need to know basis.

The details written below are from Spike’s own pen, and as such do not carry the full weight of Equestria’s military opinion, and are not to be confused with any desire on our part to persuade Your Royal Highness to act.

Also included in this package is a letter he deemed important to you enough to be part of the dragonfire delivery system (commonly known as DDS). Said letter has not been edited.

Signed on this date, the 23rd of October, of the year 2142:

Captain of Equestria’s Forces,

Shining Armor

Spike - 4th letter

Dear Twilight,

I’m sorry about the cover letter. Shining insisted we needed to keep this as professional as possible. By the way, he says 'hi' and hopes you’re doing well. He’s been extremely busy lately and apologizes for not sending you a letter.

My hand hurts from writing that report to you, so I’ll keep this short.

I couldn’t decide how to write it, and since I’m used to you dictating your thoughts, I did the same. It’s somewhere between a narrative and if I were to just tell you the story verbally. Hopefully, you don’t find it too bothersome.

Your last letter seemed to trail off on a tangent regarding my growth, but I can’t tell you much more than the report itself will explain. When this war is over, we can research the phenomenon all you want. Until then, don’t worry about it; I don’t feel any different when I think about it.

Regarding my situation here at the Crystal Empire, the brass finally decided to let me fight again. Don’t get me wrong, staying up north helped me immensely, but I can’t protect you from there. I’ll be moving southwest, where the diamond dogs are digging into populated areas.

From field reports, they are a lot more organized than when Rarity dealt with them all that time ago. I’m not worried, though. They’re tough, but they’re stupid. I’m sure we can deal with them easily enough, just as long as we whine, right? Hah!

Anyway, a group is headed up here to bolster the Empire’s forces. We haven’t had problems yet, but it’s only a matter of time before the griffons find a weak point in the north and push. I heard Big Mac is in the reinforcements, so I’m happy to say he’s still kicking. If Applejack hasn’t heard anything, tell her.

Well, I better get packed and ready to go. I’ll write again.

-Spike

The end of things

Author's Note

I'm cancelling this story, as all stories I have open. Unfortunately, I really had nothing for this. It was really an experiment in our fandom, to see who might want to write a little something with no pressure. A lot of people joined in, then faded away, and I was left with bleh to do. I mean, Spike would have eventually returned, completely changed and hardened, but I think I was also toying with the idea of him dying on the battlefield, even a dragon defeated in war. I'm truly sorry I couldn't keep this one up. I wanted to make sure all stories had a proper ending I could give, but this one wasn't as interesting to keep in my mind as I thought it would have been. Below is the last letter I received from someone. Unfortunately, I had to recover it some time ago and lost the author. Each character was assigned to one author, so I'm sure you can guess who it was from the previous Big Mac letters.

Again, I'm so sorry I had to end this. All of my stories are being cancelled. Please refer to this link for some info.

The end of things

Dear Applejack,

Darkness has fallen, and I don’t know what to do. I killed a pony, AJ. I didn’t mean it, but I did. I can still feel the shudder as my bayonett ran through his chest. I can still hear the cry he made as he slumped forward against me. I...I can still see the life flicker from his eyes, like a candle being snuffed before bed. But he wasn’t going to bed. Not anymore.

I was the one to pull my blade from his chest. I was the one to let him drop unceremoniously to the ground. I was the one to let him bleed out in the dirt. I was the one that watched him die. Me. Nopony else.

It hurts.

It happened last night during our forward charge. Our line had been quiet up until then, little more than the usual drills: line up in triple rank, and surge toward the far side of the clearing. This time it was different, real, and yet it felt much the same. Like usual, two ponies flanked me. I don’t remember their names. Across from us, on the far side, was the opposing trench line, filled to the brim with earth ponies who all wanted to see us fall. Or, more than likely, wanted to go home and have a nice supper with their families just like the rest of us.

Snow had just started to drift down in gentle eddies, in stark contrast to our pounding hooves, which left sharp tracks in the snow. Our breath lingered in the air as we charged. All I could hear was the shouts of my fellow soldiers and our thundering hooves.

A wall of ponies pulled themselves from the trench and marched our way. Our wave crashed against their wall, and chaos ensued. And that was when I saw him. Or, rather, he saw me. He slammed into me.

I didn’t have time to think, to consider my actions. My training took over. I… I don’t want to share the details. If not for my sake, then for yours. Just let it be said that I’m not proud of what I did, and neither should any of you back home.

Sergeant Gunsmoke says we’ll be switch off with the new recruits soon, which means peace from the front. It’s cold here, AJ. Almost too cold to stand. The blankets help at night, but it gets inside you, freezes you from the inside out. Makes you stop feeling. I don’t want to stop feeling. It’s what makes us ponies.

I’ll be off on leave come this spring. Celestia willing, this blasted war will be over with before then, and I’ll get to come home to you and Granny and Applebloom. Say ‘hi’ to them for me, alright? I’ll write again soon.

Your brother,
Big Macintosh

Look what else I found!

Author's Note

Well, I did say I would supply everything I had for all the stories! I happened to find this old thing in my bookmarks. Don't know why I couldn't find it in GDocs folders, but whatever. I forgot just how much I had even written of it! And there's even some comments from RavensDagger in it still! Man, so long ago... Wonder what happened to that Canuck... Anyway, have a read! It's actually the first report Spike was sending to Twilight in order to help her fully understand what the war was doing.

Look what else I found!

I guess the best way to start this is to assume I’ve been asked a question, like “How did you feel when you left Ponyville that day?” To put it simply, I was mad.

I was sitting in one of the train cars, but anything around me was forgotten in my anger. You had essentially told me I was a child, unable to even make rational decisions, when I slammed the library door shut. Part of me thought you’d chase after me, but the farther away I got, the less likely that became. It wasn’t until the train pulled away from the station that I decided you were just as mad as I was if you wouldn’t even wave me goodbye.

So there I sat, ruminating on the past, completely ignorant of reaching Canterlot Mountains an two hours later. Heck, the only reason I knew we made it to our destination was the loud whistle of the engine as the brakes were engaged and I nearly fell out of my seat. By that time, my anger began to simmer enough for me to look around.

Exiting the train was a simple affair. The military didn’t demand the entire populous of Ponyville to join, so the ponies were spread out enough to leave without pushing. But when I stepped onto that station, it was more crowded than the royal wedding. Guards were directing recruits or guiding them bodily into groups until the three species were separated.

The unicorns were led away first, and I could just make out the turn they took towards Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns before I was nearly trampled by the pegasi pushing out of the station to hit the sky. I was the only dragon in the group and ended up with the earth ponies and a few donkeys.

Four guards kept us in a rough formation as we walked towards the castle. I didn’t think we’d be going there, but I learned later that the only barracks large enough to support and train us were lined up on the castle walls.

We arrived a few minutes later to the blaring call of a sergeant. He pulled us into smaller groups of ten, then directed each towards a different building. I was with the group sent to the barracks, so I had time to get settled. Of course, I didn’t bring anything with me, so it didn’t take me long to find a cot for my own.

It was during this short lull of action that I met with Cannoli. He was a shorter, rotund stallion than the others, but I could see the strength hidden behind the fat. His yellow mane contrasted well with his light-blue coat, but I’m not Rarity, so I wouldn’t know how well those colors matched. We only met because he jumped to the cot above mine and missed.

The other recruits shared a laugh at his misfortune, but I merely helped him up. It wouldn’t do well create a wall of resentment between us, not if we wanted to survive. When he turned to thank me, however, the smile on his face showed just how little he thought the incident. His golden eyes shined with such mirth, I immediately thought he would last less than a day.

“I’m Cannoli,” he said, grappling my hand like a ball of dough with both hooves. “Never thought I’d see a dragon here, but I think I have just the thing to repay you!” Before I could reply that I didn’t need anything, he reached into his saddlebags and brought a strange confection to my snout.

We’ve been to Sugarcube Corner enough times that I thought I’d seen every pastry invented. The thing before me didn’t resemble anything I’ve tasted at that shop, though. It kinda looked like an eclair, but it wasn’t squishy and the cream was easily viewable as it was wrapped instead of injected. My face must have reflected my confusion, as Cannoli just smiled wider and told me to try it, and I did.
Of course, ‘trying’ for ponies is just a little nibble. For me, it’s more like throwing the entire thing down my throat at once. By Celestia, that confection was on par with Pinkie’s cupcakes. Any time I tried to taste one aspect of it, another flavor would butt in, but it didn’t fight for my attention and instead danced with the previous one. I can’t adequately describe it here.

Needless to say, Cannoli was rolling in laughter. Not rolling on the floor, but actually rolling. His guffaws shook the fat beneath his coat, but it wasn’t disgusting. The action seemed to fit him perfectly, and something told me he would keep that aspect throughout training.

And keep it he did. We spent the first week working together on our drills, sharing recipes (I have to make those pastries when I get home, Twilight. They’re called cannolis, and you will love them) whenever we went to the mess hall and telling one another how we came to be signed on with the armed forces. Throughout it all, he never once lost the flab. Even with our meager rations, it stayed. I almost thought him an alien, until I noticed the muscle poking through.

I wasn’t a slouch either. Even with my short stature, my arms and legs widened with extra mass as my belly shrunk. I could feel my body becoming stronger with every extra length I ran during those drills. Then, the week came to an end, and our group was moved to the practice yards.

The pegasi came back, along with a token few unicorns. It wasn’t until then that I noticed the mares were separated as well, as I finally saw the lithe forms return to our group. We grew to twenty, then were paired off with swords.

My opponent was a mean-looking mare by the name of…. I can’t recall it, actually. Anyway, I will say nothing of the sparring match other than my loss. I was pinned to the ground with a wooden sword pointed at my neck mere millimeters away. Then, the instructor came up to us and switched the weapons with spears. The same thing happened, only this time I ended with a wallop to the head.

It became apparent after that. They were testing how well we fought with either weapon to decide which will be our primary training. I didn’t see her after that, as a corporal helped me up and led me towards a building closer to the castle.

At this point, I feel I need to explain a few things regarding my stay at the camp.

For that first week, I was treated more like an oddity than a recruit. The ponies were split between casting suspicious glances at me or telling me I didn’t belong, or thinking I was sent in your stead and expecting amazing results. Needless to say, since I was still in the body of a whelp, I failed the second lot spectacularly.

I couldn’t run as fast as the others, or as far. My arms were too short to carry large quantities of items without stacking them precariously. They weren’t even all that strong compared to the earth ponies around me. My stamina was on par with a unicorn foal, and only barely grazed the same level as an adult mare’s by the week’s end.

Time and again, I’d be called out to ask if I really thought I could go through with it. Time and again, I explained just how willing I was to push myself. And time and again, I failed another measure of the camp’s fitness. It was an endless cycle, one I was determined to stop. So, when I was brought to the general’s office, I resolved to show him more tenacity than I have for any previous upper rank soldier.

I didn’t even get fully in the door before that wilted. General Ironshod had the countenance of a grizzled war veteran, one who should have retired long ago and held to his beliefs with untoward passion. His gaze froze me on the spot at the door frame, and it took the corporal’s hoof pushing me to snap me out enough to enter.

“Spike, I presume.” His voice was harder than his face implied, and I’m not afraid to admit I flinched. “Take a seat.”

I could do nothing but comply. As I sat in the chair opposite his desk, he pushed back his own and stood. He just stared at me, judging my entire life without saying a word. Such was the power behind those eyes.

“I expected a dragon.”

Speechless doesn’t even begin to describe my feelings. Even when one is speechless, at least their mind is turning. Mine ground to a halt at those words. He waited patiently for a retort, one I seemed to take too long to create.

“If you’re not a dragon, and you’re not a pony, what are you?”

I couldn’t follow along. Normally, I can plan at least three sentences ahead, but this stallion left nothing for me to get a read on. It was like staring at Celestia, except instead of calm love, I was met with righteous determination.

“You think yourself strong enough to handle war, and you can’t even muster the courage to speak.”

It was then I noticed the badge on his lapel: five silver stars arranged in a circle. I was speaking with the General of the Army, the highest ranked soldier in the entire military, and I continued to disrespect him with my silence. Gathering what strength I could draw up under the stallion’s presence, I opened my mouth to respond.

“And disrespectful as well.”

Only to clamp it shut at those words. Finally, my mind started its engines, only I was traveling in circles. If it was disrespectful not to respond to his inquiries, yet also disrespectful to speak, what do I do?

“Indecisiveness will get you killed, thing.”

“I am NOT a THING!” I yelled without thinking. Now I had done it, I thought. I just screamed at the General of the Army, and without asking permission to speak. Even if I couldn’t speak to ask permission to speak, I still thought I should have gotten such.

“So it does have a voice,” he said in the same tone he had the whole conversation. If he was upset at my outburst, I couldn’t find a single tell. “I was beginning to think my soldiers imagined a recruit telling them of his indomitable will.”

I did the first thing I could think of: stand and bow before him. “I’m sor—”

“Do not bow to me. I am not your ___.” He raised his head and looked down his nose at me when I stood, still with those cold, judging eyes. “Do you even have a sovereign? You’re not a pony, so you don’t answer to the princesses, and you’re not a dragon, so you don’t answer to their oligarchy.”

Admitting this is harder than eating a hundred tubs of ice-cream in a day, but my eyes teared up. I thought I was strong, a worthy dragon to protect those I loved, and here was the General of the Army looking down on me like I was an ant unworthy of his time. For as much as an ant can lift, it pales to what ponies could lift, and therefore without merit. I was without merit.

“So you run out of options, and you decide to cry.” Slamming a hoof on the desk, he leaned forward and narrowed his eyes in the first sign of emotion: anger. “Give me one damned good reason why I don’t chuck you down the side of the mountain for wasting my and my army’s time!”

He wanted one reason why I was worth it, one reason I could say within the next few moments that completely defined my life. I couldn’t do it. Everyone has at least a hundred reasons to live, to be where they are, and I couldn’t think of a single one that would placate the stallion before me. And yet, as the seconds ticked by, he never pulled away or removed that expression on his face. He was giving me time, more time than I would ever need, even if it took a lifetime.

That got me. Here was the General of the Army, waiting for a lowly recruit’s answer to the most important question, without giving even the smallest sign of impatience. I had to answer that, or I could never call myself a dragon, or a pony, or even an ant, ever again.

On the first breath, I calmed down. On the second, I had nothing new. On the third, I felt a deep hatred for myself. On the fourth, I blinked. And on the fifth, I had my answer. A grin broke my lips, even as the water that pooled below my eyes finally fell.

“I will not stop.”

That simple sentence explained everything: why I hated myself for not moving, why I nearly cried at not having a response, why I continued to push myself in the face of everything. Beneath the code I made for myself, beneath the protection I felt I had to give others, I knew I couldn’t stop for anything. I may be confused at times, or see the world as too big as its size crushes me, but I will move forward because that’s just who I am. Not because I need to please others, but because I need to prove myself to myself.

Unfortunately, it was not the answer he was looking for. “You will not stop, you say? So a thing says he will not stop. What is a thing against an army? What will moving blindly do against the legions of griffons pounding at our doors? What will this thing do to a force so powerful it stops the princesses themselves in their tracks?!”

That’s when I broke.

Even with my newfound truth, I could still do nothing. No matter what I did, it would be nothing to the world who deemed me unfit. And if nothing I did mattered, what was the point?

I fell back into the chair, missing it entirely and causing a screech of wood against the wood of the floor. The spines on my back being scraped against the furniture as it slid back gave me no discomfort, nor the pressure of my weight crushing my tailbone as I fell into a slouched lump.

“I don’t know,” I said quietly.

“You don’t know.”

“I don’t know… sir.”

“So I’m your ‘sir’ now, am I?”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

“And what do you expect me to do about you?”

“Whatever you will of me, sir.”

There was a prolonged silence after my words. I could only assume he was still in that position, leaning over his desk to stare down at me with disgust. He showed me what I was made of, then broke it before I could fully enjoy it, and now I was just a waste of military resources. I decided I wasn’t worth their time, that I had ran from you in a stupid sense of entitlement, before I finally looked up to tell him such.

He didn’t look down on me. The desk still stood between us, with him nearly laying over it, but he no longer looked at me like the scum of the earth. Instead, his eyes spoke of understanding, his face of remembrance. For the first time, he smiled.

“Stand up, recruit,” he said, and I obeyed.

“Sit down, recruit.” Again, I obeyed.

“Speak, recruit.” And the words flowed.

“Sir, I’m not worthy of your time, or the time of this military. I came here expecting to be strong, but you have shown me the truth. So, by your leave, I will leave Canterlot and never return under the guise of becoming a soldier.”

“Permission denied.” I opened my mouth to speak, of what I can’t remember, but he continued. “Tell me, recruit, are you a dragon, a pony, or a thing?”

“Sir, I’m only a thing, sir.”

“You’re a dragon, recruit.”

“A dragon would—”

“A dragon would be broken just as much as you have. A dragon would defy me until he was broken. A dragon would stay true to his will, until he was shown just how little he is. You are a dragon, and you will become stronger than any other before you.”

His words confused me yet again. First he tells me I’m nothing, then he tells me I’m destined for greatness? “Sir—”

“I tell you these things not because I expect you to walk out of here thinking you’re better than everyone else. I tell you these things because they are what you need to hear.

“When I signed on to be part of the guard, I thought myself ready for anything. It took a sergeant to show me just how wrong I was, in a manner very similar to what I just did to you. Everyone is broken when they enter the service, because everyone thinks something else. We need soldiers who will follow orders, and most do that with minimal effort.

“You, however much you are about to say you would have followed orders, are different. You’re a dragon, and dragons think differently. I needed you to think like us, because I know this war will change you, and if I didn’t, it would have done so for the worse.

“I see something in you, something destined for greatness, but it will be hard-fought and perilous. Before, you would have done just as you did here and falter. Before, you had plenty of opportunities to strike your partner in those sparring matches, but you didn’t go for them. Most would have thought that a lack of training, but I saw a lack of resolve.

“Now, I want you to go back out there and fight. Fight as if your life is on the line every time you battle, because that will be the case when you’re out there on the front lines. Become strong, like you wanted when you came here, Spike. That’s an order.”

He pulled back and settled back in his chair, pulling it to the desk and grabbing something from a drawer. “Dismissed,” he said as he brought a quill to bear and began writing.

“Sir, yes, sir.” I gathered myself up, moved the chair back to where it was, and walked out, feeling weak, but knowing I could become strong.

I didn’t think of myself as a dragon, but I would someday. First, I had to get back to the field and prove my worth. I had to show everyone I wouldn’t stop.

When I returned to the practice yard, the mare was dueling with another. He looked familiar, and it wasn’t until I stepped into an empty space that I recognized him as Carrot Cake. Why it took me so long to remember him, I still don’t know, but at the time, I brushed it off as nerves from dealing with General Ironshod.

The instructor walked up to me and presented both the wooden sword and spear before telling me to choose myself. I didn’t think myself a long range fighter, so I grabbed the sword. A few practice swings later, I adjusted my grip and turned to meet my opponent with determination in my bones.

A dark-grey stallion stood before me, his mane setting itself as a mirror opposite. He was a unicorn, and he certainly looked the part with his small frame, but his eyes were different. They spoke of a strong will, even as they continuously searched for something. When I stepped forward, they snapped to me. His cloudy eyes met my own, and it was only the confusion I had for his presence in the recruits that caused the first strike to not be my own.

He was unbelievably fast, his blindness seeming less of a handicap than I assumed. Before I could raise my sword to block his swing, I was already falling. I managed to catch myself and jump back using my tail to balance, then set myself for another attack.

The stallion merely stood there, scanning with his unseeing eyes as his ears flicked about. Between the other combatants and my soft landing, it seemed he had to find me again. Why they let him join, I didn’t know, and I let out a sigh. Turning my head, I tried to ask the instructor what I should do.

“Sir…”

“Fight, recruit,” was his only response before walking away. I couldn’t understand why he would leave me to fight a blind pony, but I didn’t get much time to ponder the question before I was rapped on the head by my opponent. At my shocked shout in pain, he spoke.

“Do you think me weak?”

“What? Of cour—”

“Then fight!” he called before swinging again. I managed to catch it in time with my sword, but he parried instantly and hit me with a hoof, pushing me back again. “Are you afraid to hurt a cripple?!” Instead of pausing this time, he lunged with his sword straight. It stopped just before my snout, but I grabbed it before he could pull back. As he struggled, I did the same, the two of us fighting the stupidest fight in history. At least it gave me time to think.

The stallion was blind, but he was quick. His strength wasn’t the greatest, but his eyes were fierce. I couldn’t imagine having to fight someone with such a disability, even if it nearly evened out. The only thing I thought of was what you’d think, how you’d react to me attacking a blind pony.

When he suddenly let go, spun about, and bucked me, I changed my mind. Releasing both of our swords, I slid back against the dusty ground on my back. I stopped about two meters away and felt the pain throbbing in my chest. As his hoofsteps came towards me, I grunted in effort to stand again. My vision blurred for a moment, but I saw he left the weapons behind.

He didn’t know my exact location, as evidenced by his ears flicking about, but I couldn’t make a move to attack without letting him know it. Then, the thought occurred to me to use my flame. Aiming near him so as to not harm him, I let gathered the flame in my throat and let loose.

The feint worked. Jumping away from the heat, I used the chance to charge forward. Sending a glancing blow his way with my tail, I ran by and gathered my sword. Just as I was swinging for his stumbling legs, a whistle blew.

“That’s enough, recruits,” the instructor roared over us. “Gather yourselves and head for the mess hall for lunch.” I heard a few congratulatory remarks from the others to their partners as he walked over to us. He kept his eyes on me as he told the blind pony, who I learned was named Blindside, to carry on.

“Spike, we need to discuss a few things.”

I—no, wait. You know what, this is dragging on long enough. Let me sum up everything I can remember so we can move on.

The instructor told me it was smart to use everything I had, but that I could have seriously injured my opponent. He didn’t specifically tell me not to do it again, but I swore not to anyway. After our little discussion on how to practice, he told me Ironshod wanted to see me regularly during my training and to be ready for a summons by him. I agreed and he let me go.

During lunch, I spoke with Cannoli about where I went earlier, then let him talk about whatever. My mind was occupied creating a schedule of my own so I could train my flame away from others. It wasn’t much, but by the end of the meal, I had a plan.

The week went by as the previous one did, except our physical training was cut in half to work on our skillsets. I know you want a complete history of everything that happened, but I can’t remember all that much. Outside of a few instances, camp was a blur as we worked to be ready in time for battle.

Speaking of which, the third week began and we finally switched to real weaponry. All of us were worried about hurting our opponents at first, but they told us they were at least dulled. We could break bones, but it would be hard to actually cut one of us. It was on the second day of this training that I learned just how tough my scales were. But before I begin, I want to say, I didn’t tell you this in my letter because I didn’t want you to worry.

After the first day, when we were only using the blunt weapons to learn of their weight and how differently they handled, they had us practicing sharpened ones on target dummies. Because we couldn’t learn how a sword feels cutting through someone, we were to learn about it through them.

While most of the ponies decided to go with spears, there were still a good number of us trying to be sword warriors, myself included. The dummy in front of me had a few nicks in it from my swings, but nothing noteworthy enough to be praised. In fact, the stallion next to me had managed to shear his nearly in half, so I wasn’t feeling particularly capable.

The instructor, who still had yet to give his name, came up to me and regarded the target as I tried another swing. When it connected and barely left a scratch, he grunted to catch my attention.

“You have more than just arms.” I don’t know what it was with the camp, but none of the soldiers bothered explaining anything with much detail. Most of the time, they’d say something like he did and expect us to understand. Interestingly enough, we were getting better at figuring out what was expected of us, so it only took me a moment to realize he wanted me to use all of my mass.

After setting my feet like they showed us, though slightly varied for a dragon like myself, I tried again. Instead of letting my arms pull the sword along alone, I pushed with my legs and curled my belly, hoping it would be enough. It was sloppy, but I felt the blade dig into the dummy much easier than it used to be.

Unfortunately, that also left the blade stuck. I turned back to the instructor with an uneasy grin of apology, but he was already gone, moving on to the next struggling recruit. Turning back to my stuck sword, I grabbed it as strongly as I could and pulled. I twisted about, trying different angles in the hopes of releasing the blade from its wooden cage, but nothing was working.

Just as I was about to give up, a sword connected with the hilt of my own and threw it into the air, shocking me into releasing it and falling back The stallion who cleaved his dummy stood there staring at the sword as it sailed, ignoring me entirely. A few moments later, my blade returned to me as it slid down my arm and bounced off my hand.

I looked between it and the stallion, seeing his raised eyebrow, before reaching and returning the sword to my grip. Just as I was turning to thank him for the help, his blade slammed into my side. Howling in pain, I fell to the ground again and clutched my ribs.

The instructor heard me and rushed over, looking at my curled form, then to the stallion standing above me. “What happened here?”

“He tried to kill me!” I yelled through the pain before my attacker could make something up. I rolled onto my back and sat up, inspecting my wounded side for a cut. There wasn’t one. “What?”

Looking up, I saw the instructor looking at me with a harsh frown. “What do you mean he tried to kill you? You look fine.” I tried to rebuke that, but was beaten to it by the stallion who attacked me.

“I didn’t try to kill him; I tried to cut him,” he said before turning back to his own dummy.

Now let me explain a few things before I continue. First, you don’t turn your back on a superior officer, especially when you’re being accused of something. Second, even if I wasn’t cut, the attack hurt enough that I was struggling to maintain my sitting position. I learned latter he had bruised a few ribs. Third, you do NOT turn your back on a superior officer.

“Hold it right there, recruit!” the instructor bellowed, halting the stallion’s next swing, but he didn’t turn his head. “Face me when I’m talking to you!” With a grunt of what was clearly irritation, he turned away from his target. “Did I just hear you admit to assaulting a fellow recruit?”

“I didn’t assault him; I tried to cut him,” he replied calmly.

“They are one and the same here, recruit! Explain your actions, and maybe I won’t have you tied to the chair for the rest of the week!”

The chair he refers to doesn’t have a name. They don’t even want us to refer to it as “The Chair,” so I’ll leave it at that. Basically, you’re tied to a chair in the most uncomfortable position you can imagine. Then, they give you a potato. You have to hold that potato with your one free hoof, but if it drops an inch, you’ll pierce it on the knife they set up beneath it. They then leave you like that with no sound until they decide to come get you. It’s not the most pleasant of experiences, from what I hear.

Moving on. So the instructor just threatened with the harshest punishment there is, and yet the guy didn’t even looked fazed. “His sword fell from the sky, but didn’t cut him when it landed on him. I wanted to test a theory.”

I can’t remember what happened next, actually. See, his answer made me aware of how I wasn’t cut. I mean, I saw that earlier, but the pain kept me from thinking about it too much. With it getting more manageable, I could think enough to look again. And sure enough, there wasn’t a ding on me.

Okay, so there was a ding. I mean, I did get hard enough to bruise ribs, and the law of conservation of mass kinda tells you something would happen to the surface as well. By the way, if it doesn’t, sorry. I wasn’t really paying attention to that bit. Anyway, although I wasn’t cut, the scales protecting me did have dents in them that lined up with the sword’s hit.

So, as I was saying, I can’t really recall too much about what happened with the conversation. I heard later the guy was tied to the chair for a day (not enough, in my opinion, but they did need all the ponies they could get) while I was looked over by the medical staff. He did apologize to me later, but we never spoke again after that.

Well, after my little powwow with the docs, I was asked to meet with General Ironshod again. Not being able to refuse, I followed my messenger to his barracks.

You’re probably wondering what these meetings were about. I really didn’t want to go into detail with them, so that’s why I skimmed over the last week, but I don’t think I could describe them all that well anyway. Except for this one. There were a few others before the camp was over, but the same thing applies to them. So, hopefully being able to remember this one will tell you what you want to know about the others.

Bulk Biceps

Dearest mother,

I hope you are doing well. I know it's only been a few days since I left Ponyville, but it feels almost like a lifetime since I got on that train. I'm doing as ok as can be expected, by the way.

The train ride up to Canterlot wasn't particularly long, but everypony on board was tense. Small wonder, really, what with the fact that we're going to war. There was a royal guard in our car, and I don't think his being there helped all that much. He was silent and rough with the weaker-willed stallions. As for everypony else, he just stared at us like we were some dirty Diamond Dogs that had, for the lack of a better term, "spoiled" his front door mat. I tried to stay out of sight, mother, I really did. But I think he has it out for me now. I didn't even say anything to him!

After we got to Canterlot, we were all put onto another train to Vanhoover. The guard, who apparently is our commander now, said that we would be going through a two week crash course in basic training. He never mentioned his name, but he said that we should address him as "Sir!" As cliché as it is, I don't think I have a choice.

Anyway, I'm sorry this letter is so short. I only had a short break to write it before the mail pony was going to leave.

I'm scared, mother. I can't help it, but I am.

I just hope I don't let everypony down.

Signed with love,

Bulk Biceps

Author's Note

I always figured that despite his loud mannerisms, Bulk Biceps is a quiet, smart pony that thinks physical strength is better than mental strength.

Plus, he's a super softy. The ladies'd love him.

General Spritz

Here's the first guest letter! I will admit, I didn't expect Bulk Biceps, but I said anyone goes! I've received two others, but I need to pace the story before I can add them. Be sure to check out General Spritz. That is a nice letter he wrote.

Ditzy Doo

Dear Dinky,

Hello, my little muffin, it’s Mommy. I came home today! But, I can’t stay.

You see, with the big, bad war, Mommy has to spend a lot of time working. Every day, I fly all the way to the edge of the battlefields, and then back to our headquarters. Today, I had to bring a bunch of letters back to Ponyville. I have to leave soon. The front is moving and that means that a lot of ponies will be fighting again. Before every battle, a lot of them write to their special someponies. That makes for a lot of work for ponies like me.

I wish I could talk to you and hug you, sleep by your side and play with your mane like we used to, but I’m dirty and tired. Soon, I’ll have to leave again, and I don’t want you to see me like this. You’re sleeping as I write this. I can hear your little snores and am watching as you hug your favourite dolls. I don’t ever want you to change.

That’s why Mommy is working so hard, you see? Because if I do my work and I deliver all these letters, then maybe the war will end sooner? Maybe all these ponies won’t be as sad if they get to hear about those they love so much. But that means that I don’t see my little muffin as much. Please, please don’t be sad. I just want to make an Equestria where you can be happy.

There are things happening at the borders that nopony should ever see, especially not you, my muffin. Ponies die every day, and as I collect their letters in the hospitals and aid stations, all I hear are the pleas to see those they love one last time. Every time a pony cried out for their Mommy, I think of you, and that breaks me a little inside.

I’m sorry that I can’t be there, my love, but I really, really want to. Please don’t hate me.

Love,
Mommy.

Author's Note

RavensDagger

I'm sure many of you know who this man is, so I don't think I have to tell you to go check him out. Nah, I still will. Check out his works; they're quite good!

Bon Bon

Dear Lyra,

I know we haven’t been talking for a long time, and you might just crush this letter and toss in in the nearest waste bin, but please hear me out. I felt you had a right to know. I’ve been drafted, Lyra. I’m going off to war.

By the time you get this, I’ll be long gone, so don’t come looking for me. It’s just another thing you’ll have to forgive me for if you can find it in you. Celestia knows that I just couldn't face you before leaving.

I don’t want to go, Lyra. I’ve heard so many stories from my father that I’m trembling just thinking about it. Right now though, I don’t have any choice, and it’s not like there is anything left for me in Ponyville anyway. Nearly everypony has gone, the sugar rationing has nearly ruined my business, and you probably still hate me.

More than anything, Lyra, I want that to change. When I come back, I don’t want the only thing waiting for me to be an abandoned shop. I need to know there is a friendly face waiting for me back home. I know it’s selfish of me to ask, but I need you to be there for me, Lyra. I want you to be my friend again. I don’t think I can get through this alone.

Whatever your decision, Lyra, please take the time to write me back. Until then, I will await your response.

Your Friend,
Bon Bon

Author's Note

End of Side A of the LyraBon tale. Please remove the cassette and play Side B for more.

TheLivingCouch

This guy. He's a buddy from our RavensDagger guild of editing and general hodgepodge-ery. Good guy, that couch... Anyway, give him some attention (he needs it, just look at his profile). Attention is important, after all.