Ingress: Fraternisation

Three years after first Ingress

Dave’s heart pounded in his head as he ran. Sweat stung his eyes. His legs hurt and he could feel the burn in the back of his throat as his body burned off sugar in an attempt to increase the circulation of oxygen to his needy muscles. His backpack was bouncing on his back, jarring each step. His combat vest was smeared with dirt and leaves, and almost all of the pouches were empty, the magazines within discarded when they ran empty. His weapon was held across his chest as he ran. It was the newer Australian Army armament: the F88 S-A2 AUSTEYR.

They had been set up on a hill, overwatch for a small force that was making a run at the enemy headquarters. But the overwatch team, Dave included, had been ambushed well before the advance team was even in place, while they were out of sight in a thatch of forest.

One moment, everything was perfectly fine, and the next, they were surrounded on all sides. The general order for a retreat to the secondary rendezvous had been called, and that was why Dave was running through foreign woods at breakneck pace.

Dave slowed, his own breathing loud in his ears, lifting his weapon to shoulder height and aiming down the sights as he thought he saw a blur of movement ahead.

A figure stepped around the tree, wearing a smug smile.

Wreathed in purple armor, and wearing a pair of wicked three-pronged claws on either hoof, the batpony gave him a smirk from under her helm.

Dave made the conscious decision to pull the trigger on his firearm the moment before he realised that something was being tossed in his direction.

Wincing backwards, he raised the gun to protect his face, an instant before something exploded close by, showering him with sparks and temporarily blinding him.

Dave took several steps backwards, blinking rapidly to regain his sight, just in time to see a dark purple shape rushing him from the front.

The batpony leapt forward, wings extending as she did a full front-flip and slashed at him brutally with one of the claws on her forehoof.

Dave barely brought his weapon up in time to block the blow, the force of it sending him stumbling backwards, almost wrenching his weapon from his hands.

The batpony landed nimbly, skidding to a halt, hooves digging a long line in the soft mulch of the forest floor.

Turning, Dave raised his weapon to fire, only for the barrel to be smacked to the left by a quick swipe of the batpony’s left hoof. Following the line of the strike, Dave stepped into the blow, and then quickly jabbed the butt of his rifle towards his adversaries chest, jamming it against the breastplate of her armor.

The batpony gasped in surprise at the blow, making to swipe across his face with the claws, but Dave was already disengaging, spinning away to put distance between them so he could lift his rifle to fire.

Doggedly, the batpony kept after him, pushing him backwards and not letting him get any distance.

Dave was barely able to parry the next blow with his rifle, jarring his arm. The swipe after that caught him off guard, the claws glancing across his left arm, causing his entire arm to suddenly go numb and his entire body to twist to the left. He winced in pain, stepping into the next blow of the batpony, blocking it entirely with the length of the rifle, stepping on the hoof opposite to pin it in place, and then quickly attempted to bring the butt of the rifle up into the batpony’s face.

The batpony leaned backwards, and the butt of the rifle swung past her face with room to spare, leaving the human completely open to counterattack.

Smirking, she just flicked her claws across his thigh, making him cry out in pain and stumble backwards, holding his thigh with one hand, limping heavily.

With a smug smile, the batpony stalked after him, each step causing her claws to dig into the earth almost ominously.

Dave clenched his teeth, limping backward and raising his weapon again.

The batpony was waiting for it, shoving the barrel to the left this time, so he had no avenue to hit her with the butt of it.

Dave was also ready, not even trying to stop the wrench of his weapon to the right. Instead, Dave pivoting on his good, uninjured leg, drawing his sidearm with his left hand, and aimed it for the middle of the batpony.

The batpony was quicker though, a rapid backhand of her right hoof causing the gun to go spinning away into the foliage.

Already, Dave was bringing his rifle back up, attempting to spear the bayonet into the female’s chest or throat.

Tilting slightly to the left, the batpony let the bayonet slide past her shoulder and neck, wrapping a hoof around it, holding it in place with an iron grip, staring up at him with a smug grin.

Dave squeezed the trigger on his rifle.

Immediately, the look of smug victory on the batpony’s face transformed into one of pain and surprise, and she staggered, stunned by the discharge of the rifle so close to her ear.

Dave tried to tug his rifle free, but found that the stunned batpony was holding it fast. Instead, he took a limping step forwards, transferring the rifle to his left hand and then raising his right to punch the batpony square in the nose. He paused though, hand raised, staring down at her stunned, hazy expression.

The batpony’s eyes focused, and Dave felt the world suddenly spinning and tilting crazily as she caught him off guard with a quick sweep of a forehoof and a twist of the hoof around his weapon.

By the time Dave figured out which way was up and down, a three-pronged claw weapon was coming down at his face at a frightening rate of speed. He tried to roll, but his backpack and armor slowed his movements to a standstill. The claws caught him, and the entire world went black.

Blinding light assaulted Dave’s eyes as he regained consciousness. The medical lights over the bed were blindingly bright to his pained eyes. His head felt like it had a giant spike driven through it, and his thigh and left arm were throbbing with an angry, vibrant pain. He groaned faintly, shifting and trying to roll over.

“Hold still, soldier,” the medical officer hovering over the bed said, reaching over to open his eye with gentle fingertips and shining a light into it.

Dave wrenched his head back out of the light, wincing and squinting. “Ow, fucking stop that!”

There was a clatter as his sidearm fell onto the bedside table, and Dave squinted towards the sound, making out a blurry purple shape of some kind.

“You dropped this,” the batpony said. Even though he couldn’t see the expression on her face with the blurriness of his eyes, he could still hear the smugness in her tone.

Blindly, Dave reached for his sidearm, picking it up and thumbing the safety on before securing it in his holster. He squinted towards the batpony, eyes slowly focusing.

“Did you have to hit me in the face?” Dave asked, rubbing his tumble with his fingertips.

“That is your biggest weakness, isn’t it? You’re powerless without your head,” the batpony said smugly.

Dave’s eyes finally focused properly, and he stared at the batpony. Without her helm, she was really quite cute. Soft, greyish-purple fur, purple bat wings folded neatly to her back, large ears, a stylish purple mane, and slit-pupiled eyes of brilliant gold framed with faint purple eyeshadow.

“The idea of training exercises are to train, not maim,” Dave stated.

“You sound like a drill sergeant,” the batpony said with a roll of her eyes. “By the way, thanks for breaking my ear.”

“Breaking your ear?” Dave asked blankly.

“When you used your weapons near my ear. You broke my ear drum,” the batpony said with a wave of a hoof.

Dave winced in sympathy. “Well you were cutting me up pretty bad.”

“The claws can’t actually cut you,” the batpony reminded, shaking her head.

“Still hurts,” Dave admitted, rubbing his temple again.

“Well... Mr. Richards,” the batpony said, hesitating as she peered at his uniform to get his name. “Maybe next time you won’t get hit, huh?”

Dave rolled his eyes, before wincing and clenching his jaw at the pain that shot through his temple from the motion. “It’s just Dave,” he corrected, “And since you got my name, what’s yours?”

The batpony gave him a long, level stare. “Nightshade.”

A soft chuckle left Dave, and he went to sit up, before being pushed down forcefully by the medical officer.

“Are you laughing at my name?” Nightshade asked flatly.

“Yes, actually,” Dave said with a grin at her. “I had a cat called Nightshade one time. She was cute.”

Nightshade’s expression turned dark. “I am not cute. I am a dangerous predator. One that would have killed you, I remind.”

“My cat scratched me pretty deep, too,” Dave responded with a smirk.

Nightshade’s eyes narrowed slowly and she snorted once, turning on her hooves and stalking out of the room.

Dave grinned after her, waving sarcastically. “See you on the field!”

“You won’t be going out on the field any time soon,” the medical officer said, producing a light to check Dave’s pupils.

Dave bounced in place a few times, stretching and giving a sigh of relief. He had just divested himself of the training gear, and there was a literal weight lifted from his shoulders. He felt like he was bouncing on a cloud.

Before he could even wind down and get himself a drink, the squad leader was pushing open the door to the barracks and calling for an assembly.

The row of soldiers stood at attention, all dressed in their basic fatigues. They stood in perfect military rows, watching the front of the parade ground where a pair of batponies conversed with the CO in quiet tones.

“So uhhh… what’s happening, exactly?” Dave asked of the soldier next to him. It was his first week at the joint-operations base in Equestria, and he’d never seen or heard of anything like this before.

“Either inspection or they’re choosing a new victim,” was the candid response.

“Victim?” Dave asked, blinking once.

The soldier opened his mouth to answer, but then closed it as the CO stepped up to the front rank of the soldiers. “At attention, men!”

There was the distinctive echo of more than two dozen combat boots coming together as all of the soldiers on the parade ground straightened.

The two batponies stepped forwards. One was male, and the other was female. Dave immediately recognized the female. Nightshade.

The male batpony walked down the row of soldiers, eyes narrowing at them, looking them up and down, before pointing at one of them. The CO nodded, and made a motion with his chin towards the operations building. “Suit up, briefing in fifteen minutes.”

Dave stood staring forwards as Nightshade wandered past him. She paused, tilting slightly to peer past the first row to where he was standing. A slow, wicked smile spread across her features, and she point. “Him.”

In less than ten minutes, Dave was back in full combat gear. Fatigues, combat vest, helmet, goggles, backpack, the works. His shoulders slumped under the renewed weight of all the gear as he checked out a rifle from the armory. The base medic had given him clearance for the mission, and there was no getting out of it.

The person manning the armory slid his rifle to him, with some key modifications since he had checked it in. It had a precision ACOG, and an underslung launcher, along with three magazines and five objects that looked somewhat like an M203 fragmentation grenade that would slot into the launcher. But instead of a solid explosive head, these were just a tube filled with what looked to be crystals.

“Uhhh, what are these?” Dave asked lamely, gingerly picking up one of the cartridges and examining it carefully.

“Tesla grenade,” came the response. “Just fire it like a regular grenade. Flies faster but drops faster, too. A lot lighter than a regular grenade. Impact-detonated, and the little crystals in there are charged with magic enough that when it fragments, it shocks anything within about twenty metres. No arming distance. So aim high and take cover behind something. Preferably something made of lead.”

“Lethal?”

“Against a human? Probably.”

“Ahhh… Alrighty then,” Dave said, unsure, picking up the grenades and slotting them into his vest. “Can I throw them?”

“Sure, if you want to knock someone out with them. You won’t trigger the fuse unless it’s going faster than terminal velocity,” the armory officer said, turning back to his magazine. “Oh, and do yourself a favor and pack three extra canteens while you’re at it.”

“What for?” Dave asked, perplexed, as he slid the magazines for the rifle into their respective pouches and then slung the rifle over his shoulder.

“You’ve been chosen for a joint operations mission, yes?” the officer asked, raising a brow, looking at him over the top of the magazine.

Dave nodded.

“Yep, pack extra water. And take a good book,” the officer said with a wave of a hand.

A very confused Dave sat down for the briefing, finding himself alone in a room with the XO, a projector, and a map of Equestria on the wall.

“First time on one of these missions, soldier?” the XO asked.

Dave nodded curtly, adjusting his armor. “Kinda trying to suss out why I’m sitting down to a briefing in full combat gear, sir.”

“Because when you leave this room, you are no longer under the governance of the Australian Military. You will be operating under the command of your partner and will follow every order they give you, within reason, understood?”

Dave nodded. “Sir, yes sir.”

“Until you are released from your duties, you are to provide reconnaissance support and, if needed, fire support for your partner, operating as a two-man unit. I understand that you’ve received sniper/recon training in the past?” the XO asked, switching the projector on. A set of concentric circles appeared on the map.

Dave shifted uncomfortably. “Well, I received the training, but I feel it prudent to mention that I failed the course. Twice. Sir.”

“Don’t mince words with me, soldier. Did you fail because you’re too stupid or because you couldn’t shoot straight?” the XO queried bluntly.

“I kept getting caught up in the moment and I failed to clear my rifle properly after the first shot, sir,” Dave responded, hanging his head.

“Twice?”

“Twice, sir.”

“So you don’t learn from your mistakes?”

“I figure I’ll get it right next time, sir,” Dave said with a shake of his head.

“Well there won’t be any second chances on this mission, soldier. At least you know your recon training enough to hopefully be of some use. Mission parameters are recon only. No fire fights. No provoking the locals. And if you fire your weapon you had best have a damn good reason to do so or at least have a direct order from your partner giving you specific permission to drop that specific target. You aren’t in another country, soldier. You’re on another plane of existence, and be damned if a greenhorn fucks it up for us.”

“Sir, if you have such reservations about me going on this mission, why not pick someone else, sir?” Dave asked, keeping as expressionless as possible.

“That’s not how it works, soldier. Part of the Combined Operations Treaty states that Equestrian personnel choose specific units that are to be deployed on their land. Just as we get to choose specific ponies for joint operations on Earth.”

“Bent us over a barrel, sir?” Dave asked bluntly.

“You’re damn right they did, soldier. Now, shut up and listen to the briefing. We are on the hunt for five crates of missing NH5.”

“Five crates?” Dave asked, aghast.

“Five crates,” the XO repeated. “As you well know, humans need NH5 daily to protect themselves from ambient magic. So we are operating under the assumption that the shipment was stolen to keep a human element supplied.”

“Aren’t all humans in Equestria registered with the Transdimensional Services?”

“The TDS monitors all comings and goings to and from Equestria, yes, and all of them are accounted for. However, we don’t know if anyone survived the Icarus incident.”

“Icarus incident?” Dave asked blankly.

“A matter of national security that is need-to-know only,” the XO responded flatly.

“I think I need to know, sir, especially if I’m looking for survivors, sir,” Dave responded.

“Do you know your ancient history, son?”

“I know that Icarus was some random bloke with some fake wings that flew too close to the sun and got burned,” Dave responded with a shrug.

“Put two and two together, then.”

Dave frowned thoughtfully, staring down at his boots, tapping one against the floor slowly. “A human got on the bad side of Celestia?” he asked, looking up at the XO.

The XO nodded curtly.

“But there have been no human deaths in Equestria,” Dave said, perplexed.

“There have not, no, certainly not in Equestria,” the XO responded simply.

“You mean to tell me that those rumours were true?” Dave asked awed.

The XO shrugged. “I have heard no rumours.”

“Rumour had it that… in that first year, after the gate was opened. Someone from the east developed the NH5 and hired a team of mercenaries to go through the gate,” Dave said thoughtfully. “The terror attack on the gate was just the cover story, the rumour says. Special forces team went in, killed the gate guards, went through to Equestria and came back with a pony.”

“I cannot speculate,” the XO said simply. “But that’s a mighty interesting rumour.”

“Rumour also has it that Celestia came to Earth and tracked down the perpetrators herself, in Russia.”

“China, actually,” Nightshade said from the doorway.

Dave blinked, turning to look at her. “Really?”

“Really,” Nightshade responded simply, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. She was wearing her full battle armor. Head-to-hoof purple armor with shiny, vibrantly purple retractable claws on either hoof, and saddlebags hooked under her wings.

“Why would anyone want a pony?” Dave asked, confused. “We have horses back on earth.”

“Not magical talking horses that can fly, or make plants grow with a wave of their hoof, even in the worst of soils, or just use magic itself,” Nightshade explained.

Dave nodded once. “Still. Seems a little… crazy.”

“Your species, not mine,” Nightshade said with a smug smile flitting across her features.

The XO cleared his throat. “Soldier, this is your new commanding officer. You will afford her the same respect you would show me, and you will follow her orders as if they were my own. Understood?”

“Sir, yes sir,” Dave said, sketching a sarcastic salute.

“You are to assist where possible to locate and recover the NH5, using minimal force. Don’t make waves, understood?”

“Unless otherwise ordered, right?” Dave asked blankly.

“Damn straight, soldier.” The XO pointed at the map. “Now pay attention—”

Barely an hour later, Dave found himself walking down an Equestrian road, marching in step beside a fully-armored batpony. He felt extremely conspicuous in full battle dress, passing ponies pulling carts of fruit to market. They eyed him with slight fear, taking good, long looks at his rifle and armor. Nightshade, too, drew curious stares, but nothing on the order of what Dave was getting.

“So… why do other soldiers treat being assigned to a batpony partnership as some kind of punishment?” Dave asked bluntly as they walked.

“Maybe because it’s an absolute chore?” Nightshade asked, flashing her fangs at him in a smile.

“Nothing about this is exceedingly unpleasant,” Dave admitted, shrugging slightly and adjusting how his rifle hung in its straps. “Not even sweating yet.”

“Well you will be soon, first observation point is up on that mountain,” Nightshade said, pointing with a hoof up a slope and towards a snow-capped mountain.

Dave blanched, “You’re joking, right?”

Nightshade gave a slow, wicked grin, idly extending her wings in a stretch, before launching herself lazily into the air. “No, I am not. I’ll see you at the top, Mr Richards.”

Dave opened his mouth to protest, but Nightshade just dipped her wings and darted off over the treetops, giggling smugly.

A long-suffering sigh left Dave as he stared up the wooded slope towards the mountain, and he cringed. It was going to be a long, terrible afternoon.

Dave collapsed heavily, gasping for air, ignoring the pain of a sharp rock digging into his shoulder and just focusing on breathing. His head pounded with the need for oxygen and his legs ached, like they had become hollow inside and the vacuum was trying to suck his legs in until they crumpled in on themselves.

“Had some trouble?” Nightshade asked sweetly, fresh and relaxing in the soft dirt, hooves crossed in front of her. A small stand had been erected in front of her, and a long telescopic viewing glas was perched on the tripod, peering down into the valley below.

“You— should— try— climbing— a— hill— in— full— combat— gear,” Dave panted between heavy gasps, before rolling over onto his back and just laying there, trying to catch his breath.

“Nightfall soon,” Nightshade said, a happy note in the voice.

Dave gave a low groan, kicking at the ground and managing to roll himself over onto his back. He extricated his arms from the straps, pushing the backpack off entirely. It flumped heavily onto the ground, and he gave a long, low sigh of relief.

“Should have travelled light,” Nightshade said with a soft, smug little giggle.

“This is travelling light,” Dave complained. “If you’d take a full squad with you up here then some of the mission-vital items could be spread around to different soldiers.”

“What? And have to babysit four of you useless lumps?” Nightshade jabbed.

Dave’s eyes narrowed, and he shook his head slowly. “Babysitting, right. I’ll remember that.”

“I’ll remind you intermittently,” Nightshade said with a wicked smile, returning to her watching of the valley.

“So, what are we looking for?” Dave asked, unslinging his rifle and placing it aside. He pulled his backpack in front of himself, resting his rifle and arms on it for support, and then pulling out his observation scope, looking through it, watching the valley. It was a marksmans scope, made for overwatch. A powerful leupold viewing device that made what the batpony had look like a kid with a magnifying glass.

“That house down there is a suspected meeting point of some of the shadier characters that might have taken your crates of medicine,” Nightshade said, pointing with a hoof towards the other side of the valley, where a small cottage sat nestled behind a stand of trees.

Dave nodded, peering through his observation scope at the cottage.

“Just out of curiosity, how wide are those windows, usually?” Dave asked.

Nightshade blinked once. “On a cottage? Probably... five or five and a half feet across, why?”

Dave hummed thoughtfully to himself, steadying his scope and then pulling out a notepad and a pencil, jotting down some figures.

“What are you doing?” Nightshade asked, perplexed, staring at the piece of paper.

“Figuring out how far it is to the cottage,” Dave responded.

“And how far is it then?” Nightshade asked smugly. “Your fancy human equipment doesn’t work here.”

“One thousand two hundred metres,” Dave said confidently.

Nightshade blinked once, frowning deeply. “What? How could you possibly know that?”

“Mil-dots,” Dave said, tapping the top of his scope with a finger.

“Mil… dots?” Nightshade asked, confused.

“Look,” Dave said, offering the scope to her.

The batpony gave him a dubious stare, before leaning over closer to him.

Dave leaned in as well, until they were almost cheek-to-cheek. “Look through the scope, and angle it until the centre of the scope, the crosshairs, are right on the edge of the window.”

“I know how crosshairs work!” Nightshade hissed.

Dave rolled his eyes. “Now, how many dots is the window wide?”

“One,” Nightshade said confidently.

“Be more specific, it has to be accurate,” Dave chided.

“Well if you want to be really specific, maybe one and a quarter,” Nightshade conceded.

“See, that’s what I thought too. And you told me the window was five and a half feet wide. Which is a metre and a half. So, that’s how I can calculate how far it is to the window,” Dave explained simply.

Nightshade tilted slightly to stare at him, blinking once. “What?”

“Well, the mil-dots are military spec, American military, actually. Six-thousand four-hundred in a circle,” Dave said with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “Well, the actual number is six-thousand one-hundred and seventy-five. But we round up to the four-hundred to make it easier for the maths.”

“How can that possibly help you though?” Nightshade asked, mystified.

“Because it’s basic trigonometry,” Dave explained, making a motion with his finger in the air. “If you know the angle and length of two of the sides, then you can use those to extrapolate using the pythagorean theorem to find the length of the other sides.”

“That meant nothing to me,” Nightshade said bluntly.

“Nothing to me, either. They just taught me the maths,” Dave said, showing her the piece of paper. “Width of target multiplied by a thousand, divided by how many mil-dots it is across or up. And that’s the distance in metres to the target.”

“You… you weaponized maths?” Nightshade asked quietly.

“Well I can’t kill someone with it,” Dave said with a faint laugh. “But I can estimate the distance to a target using mil-dots, yes. And that helps with firing bullets at them.”

“That’s… terrifying,” Nightshade said, gingerly pushing the scope towards him, staring at him with a newfound respect. “And they taught you all of this?”

“Sure did,” Dave said happily, taking the scope back and staring at the house through it.

“The last two soldiers I went on a stake-out with could barely tie their own shoes,” Nightshade admitted with a deep frown. “I thought you’d be… well, more of the same.”

“Hey, don’t judge me on my ability to use maths and mil-dots. I’m just as dumb as the rest of them underneath my math-sy exterior,” Dave said proudly. “Failed both my sniper-exams with the same mistake, if it makes you feel any better.”

Nightshade frowned slightly at that, shaking her head slightly. “Still. I get the feeling you’re a little smarter than the usual idiots I end up with.”

“Movement,” Dave said quietly.

Nightshade snorted once, one of her forelegs kicking at the air in a spasm. It was after dark, and the batpony had fallen asleep several hours before.

Dave reached over with his free hand, resting it on her side. The soft, slim batpony was actually very soft, with pliable, stretchy fur, much like a felines. He shook her gently. “Hey, hey, wake up.”

Nightshade jerked awake, giving a faint yawn and then rolling over onto her stomach, blinking rapidly to wake up faster. “What did I miss?”

“Somebody is moving down there,” Dave said, motioning with his chin towards the cottage.

Nightshade snatched up her looking glass, staring into it intently. “Gah, it’s too dark!”

“Try mine,” Dave said, offering her his scope.

Nightshade carefully pushed up against his side, almost resting her chin on his shoulder to peer through the scope and at the cottage. Dave was very aware of her body pressed along his own, right down to the hard edges of her armor digging into his thigh.

“It’s bright,” Nightshade said with a blink.

“You’ve never looked through one of these scopes at night?” Dave asked bluntly.

“The other soldiers were kinda… possessive of their toys. Like they were intending to bed them,” Nightshade said distastefully.

“Well, it’s a starlight scope. They used them back in vietnam. We’d have fancy night-vision-goggles if that shit worked over here,” Dave said with a sad shrug of his shoulders. “Some of the thermal visioning equipment is nice. Hell, even a good set of rangefinders.”

“Quit ya bitching,” Nightshade said quietly, peering intently through the scope. “I recognize one of the ponies. Razor Edge. He’s a real nasty character.”

“Was the name not a clue?” Dave asked blankly. “I wouldn’t tr—”

Nightshade cut him off with a hoof against his mouth. “I said to be quiet.”

The batpony stared intently through the scope for several more minutes, watching like a hawk. After almost ten minutes of ringing silence, she started to shiver in the cool breeze wafting over the mountains. After fifteen minutes, her teeth were chattering, and she was no longer able to hold the scope steady.

“Ugh, where’s a stand for this thing?” she asked with a huff, pushing it back towards Dave.

“They don’t have a bipod scopes,” Dave said with a shrug. “That’s kinda stupid. They only put bipods on designated marksmen weaponry.”

“Ugh, just call it a rifle,” Nightshade said, pushing his shoulder with a hoof. “I don’t know, nor do I care what a designated marksman rifle is and it’s useles information cluttering up my brain that I could be spending on something far more interesting.”

“So don’t tell you about the picatinny rail, the Steiner scope, the F88S-A2 Austeyr firing a five-point-five-six cartridge at a muzzle velocity of nine-hundred and thirty metres a second at six-hundred and eight rounds a minute from a five-hundred and eight millimetre barrel. None of that shit, right?”

Nightshade stared at him for several long, long seconds. “I think I’m going to stab you.”

Barely half an hour later, and the batpony was shivering almost violently, her wings twitching slightly and quivering with each spasm of her body.

Dave frowned deeply, reaching over to open up his backpack, pulling out a thermal blanket.

Nightshade glowered at him in the gloom.

Dave raised a brow in her direction, spreading the blanket with a flick of his hand, covering himself with it and then lifting an edge for her to crawl under. “Should have come prepared, shouldn’t you? ‘Traveling light’, was it?”

Nightshade scowled at him, grinding her teeth, but accepting the offer of the lifted blanket, pushing herself in underneath it and curling up against his side for warmth. She reached up to her chest, undoing the chestpiece. With the chestpiece undone, she just slipped it up and rested it in front of herself, resting her head in it like a weird kind of pillow. The padding on the inside looked quite soft.

“So, what was this about ‘Babysi—” Dave paused, eyes bugging as he felt something very sharp and quite hard suddenly pushed threatening against his crotch.

Nightshade peered up at him, expressionless. “What was that you were about to say?”

“I-I was just going to say I could open my jacket if you wanted to be warmer,” Dave managed to squeak.

The pressure went away, and Nightshade gave a thoughtful hum, and then nodded. “I’d like that.”

Dave reached up to his throat, starting to undo his fatigues, opening his jacket up. Immediately, Nightshade pushed up against his chest, resting with her back against his chest and stomach so that the jacket could cover her wings and sides. He was struck with how warm the batpony was. Under the chilled fur, she was almost hot. And unbelievably soft.

Resting one arm over the batpony to keep her warm, Dave adjusted his scope, and then rested his cheek on the crook of his arm, watching the cottage as figures moved in front of the windows, blocking out the candlelight.

“Wake me up if anypony else shows up,” Nightshade ordered, muffled by blankets and jacket.

Dave nodded to himself. “Sir, yes sir,”