Can I Trust you?

I slowly trot down the front trench to check up on the recruits that has arrived a couple of days ago, noticing the rows of sandbags adorning the top of the dugout that provides an extra layer of protection for us as I head down further to the left. The front is quiet for the most part, save for the occasional riflepony who decides to take a couple of rounds across the field, not really having much luck reaching the other side.

I find it pointless to take pot-shots, accomplishing only wasted bullets on a crater-covered dirt canvas that can probably be displayed on a museum in the "modern art" section if it were taken at a bird's eye view. I cannot understand how ponies can be captivated by those black-line-across-a-ten-foot-canvas paintings they call art. With my daydreaming making the quarter-mile trip through the trench feel like nothing, I can make out the rank-signifying patches of the recruits a few feet from me.

Apparently they are too focused staring at the dirt field ahead of them to notice me. I give the recruit, who I am next to, a tap on the shoulder as he's peering out through the barrier. I expect this bunch to be a bit jumpy from sudden provocation, preparing to take a step back as they let themselves go. But this company is different, or at least this pony as he casually turns his head to the right to see me.

He takes immediate notice of me and brings himself into a crisp salute. "Good afternoon, sir. How may I help you?"

"At ease, soldier," he obediently lowers his hoof. "I just came here to check up on you and the recruits. How are you guys doing anyways?" I say in a affable tone.

"I'm doing fine- I mean, we're doing fine, sir. For the most part." His self correction makes me curious.

I lifted an eyebrow. "May I ask why did you correct yourself?"

"I'm sorry?" says the recruit, a bit confused, raising an eyebrow himself.

"Well I don't mean to be rude, but you did stop mid sentence to change what you just said. I'm just wondering why did you do that. And ease up!" I mention giving him a pat on the shoulder, because I notice he's locking his knees and sticking his chest out and being all formal like what they showed him.

While I do like seeing others give me respect, I quite enjoy having a casual conversation with others that seem like a good pony, like this one for example, as I tend to do so with the new guys.  As what the academy teaches them won't really matter when the front lines boils down to experience. And some are really stingy when it comes to regulations.

I continue. "The problem is, when the new guys like you see me in the front like this, they tend to act nervous. I didn't come here just to scare the new guys: the front alone is a big enough scare." I wave to the nopony's land in font of us. "Think of me as a friend, alright? You could say I'm one of the, 'easier-going" lieutenants so you don't need to be so formal around me. Especially here in the front." I can see him relax a bit, his straight posture easing into the natural curves that a pony would always have.

"Oh, well. You see sir, Sergeant Graph has been yelling at us for not addressing the company as a whole and that were doing it at an individual standpoint, specifically when we're together." His talking, starting to be less monotone, finally has some emotion behind it.

"Sergeant Graph, huh?" I say with a huff. "Did he give you any punishments for doing that?"

"Well once," he answers.

"And?"

"Uh.. he made me crawl through the mud a few times by myself. And then I had to run a few laps after that."

"Did you collapse?"

"Almost."

I put a hoof to my snout in frustration sighing all the while. "Don't worry. I'm not mad at you," I clarify with a subtle wave with my fake headache-suppressing hoof, and back to what it was doing, assuming he thinks I'm upset at him for almost collapsing. "That guy, really has to stop," I say under my breath.

"Um... sir?" He asks me.

"Yes?" I say, springing up from my contemplation.

"May I ask who would that be?" Overhearing my out loud thinking

"Take a guess," I say flatly.

"Graph?"

"Mmhm," I say with a nod. "Ya know why?"

"Why?"

"He's been doing that for the past two months since he's been assigned as one of the drill sergeants. And he's getting worse from what you told me." I explain. "He's been managing to get several of the recruits to pass out and, after they could walk again, come to me to tell me after their session, 'Sergeant Graph is too hard on us.' And my favorite on is, "Oh my gosh, Graph is the meanest pony I've ever met. He's been making us run and run and run through the whole place! I mean were not going to be running a marathon out in the trenches!'" Saying the last quote in what seems to be nowadays, a teenager's tone.

He starts to grin as I notice the corners of his lips pulling up. "Don't worry, you can laugh." But he chooses to still be a bit reserve.

I continue, "But that was the first instance of that happening. And do you know what I told him?" I point a hoof at him.

"Uh, what sir?" He asks.

"I told him, 'well if you're not too busy complaining all the time, telling me your whole life story, maybe you can appreciate what he's doing when you're running that marathon during a charge.' And the way he said it really ticked me off. And I'm not usually like that. Well, I guess I better spare you of my life story. And I'll go check on the others." After noticing myself talking too much. I tend to do that sometimes.

"No sir, I wasn't bothered at all," he reassures me. "I quite enjoyed that story," he says with a chortle.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. Take care and stay safe, kid."

"Thank you sir. Will do sir," I see him give me a quick salute in my peripheral, and returns to peeping through the hole he peered out before.

I continue going down the lane, meeting most if not all the recruits, checking up on their status. Most of them are a little bit nervous being in the front, worrying about shells and such things they can't see coming. A typical response to those who spent only two days in the front. I am surprised not one of them has snapped in their time here, but I guess it's from the lack of heat from the griffons. I think of the few back at the last time I was here. Rocking in the corner of the covered parts of the trench. Poor guys I think as I stray not too far away from the recruits.

I decide this is good enough and I find a comfortable and well protected place in the walls of the trench, fairly near the recruits that I just checked on just in case if they need me, and close my eyes and I slowly drift to sleep. Most of my dreams a while back consisted of nightmares from the front. Dodging the explosive power of shells only to get hit by one and wake up, breathing heavily with the feeling of cold sweat clinging onto me. It happens still, not as intense, but this dream in particular isn't one of those.

My mind slowly wakes from its peaceful sleep; enjoying what memories of a dream it still has left as the vibrant colors of mysterious wonders slowly blotch out into black, and leaves me under the veil of darkness beneath my eyelids as I toss and turn under the blanket and get a few more minutes of sleep.

Everything is quiet: no distant shells going off, the cracking of rifles, or machine guns barking. Everything was peaceful.

A little too peaceful.

Then it hits me like a ton of bricks: I'm not suppose to be sleeping on a bed nor should I not be hearing the absence of war. I threw the blanket sprawling to the other end and spring up; propping myself on one elbow and snapping my head around the room to see where I am. Instead of finding myself in the trenches of the battlefield, I see instead a quaint bedroom embellished with bookshelves and wooden decor. All dimmed by the curtains blocking out the rays of the sun. I rub my eyes to clear the haziness in my vision, as well as the confusion I have when I woke up in the first place, and I think about how did I get here. Is the war over? Did we win? Or... did we lose, and I'm being held captive? No. I shouldn't be a captive: they don't provide them with such luxury as this.

I have to find out what is going on and where I am. I think to myself, slowly sitting up on the side of the bed just in case if I am injured, feeling drowsy from what seems to be a long nap and after a few seconds or so, slowly made my way across the room to the door, being ever so quiet as if my enemies are behind this door waiting for me to come out. I don't think I'm injured: I'm walking perfectly fine. I think to myself, pressing my hooves a bit harder than usual to the ground, hearing the wooden floor bend beneath me, further proving my able body. Why am I here then If I'm not hurt? I twist the brass knob, suppressing my paranoia, and push the door open, letting the hinges let off a quiet creak as I go through.

I squint at the sudden change of luminosity from the several windows that happily accepts the sun's blinding light. A few moments after my eyes stop hurting, I glance around the perimeter that appears to be the living room; with a few sofas and a nice coffee table in the middle. And I cautiously make my way though the set, and into the kitchen, noticing a wall of wooden-framed glass at the other end, revealing the lush meadows behind it. I couldn't help but bask in its nature but I still don't know what's making me so anxious, but I suppose it's from me waking up here in the first place. How did I get here anyways? I think as I idly walk pass the dining table and unlatch the hook of the glass door and step into the awning-covered balcony.

Everything is so quiet. So pretty. So, peaceful. It makes me feel foreign but at the same time, makes me feel like I belong here in this lone home, set near an unbelievable location of beach, meadow, and forest. And I am enjoying every second of it, placing my hooves on the wooden hoof rails and closing my eyes feeling the sun bathe me in its warmth, breathing in the cool spring air.

"Awake already?" comes a mare's voice from behind.

I quickly turn my head around to further address the anonymous mare behind me. But the mare I see isn't anonymous at all, no. She is familiar; very familiar.

"Sis?" I call to her, questioning my right of mind.

"Mmhm," she confirms with a nod, and gives me a warm smile as she starts to walk into the balcony.

I stand in disbelief as it has been so long since I've seen her: about three years as we parted ways after we graduated. Her pursuing her engineering dreams in Cloudsdale, and me wanting to join the military. Everything was nice back then: we use to send each other mail about how we're doing, saying we miss each other so much and we should meet up after I'm finished with my training. It was great and all, was even a lieutenant after a while in the military, but the real scare was when there were reports on the radio saying that we waged war with the griffon kingdom due to our elements of harmony being stolen by them. I was called to action before me and my sister could even meet up, and I had to send a letter saying that I'm sorry that we couldn't meet up, and possibly we might not even see each other again due to me being sent to war. It was probably the hardest thing I could have done. And now she's here with me in the middle of nowhere.

Apparently my face shows that as she is concerning about my mood.

"Everything alright?" She asks me.

"Yeah," I say in a huff. "I'm fine. I'm just having some thoughts about some things," I try in an attempt to mollify her. She brightens up a little, but not completely satisfied, from my reply.

"Want to talk about it? I'm sure it'll make you feel better if you do." She puts a comforting hoof on my shoulder as we stand side by side facing the meadows.

I take a deep breath in contemplation. "I guess it's because I missed you so much, and now were here together in what seems like nowhere," I say to her as I stare at a bird flying from the forest, chirping a little quip every so often, as it looks like it's flying to me.

"Well I don't blame ya: we never seen each other in three years. And that's too long for two siblings to never see each other. Again, possibly." She says, trying to comfort me.

"... I guess you're right"

"You're not alone ya know. When I got the letter saying that were not going to meet, and possibly not meet again, I was sad. Cried even. Because... well... I hate to see you go without even saying goodbye to me." She looks like she is going to cry, and I bring her into a hug to quell those possible tears. At first she just accepts the hug, sniffling as this is the first time in a long time since we hugged, but eventually, she hugs me back.

"Shh... don't worry, I'm here; I'm alive." I start to slowly rock her as she started to cry openly, humming a song that me and my sister use to listen to when our parents use to rock us to sleep.

Even though I was comforting her, it was comforting me too as this was my sister I'm trying to calm down. It reminds of the times we were together. But also unnerves me because it reminds me of the few soldiers I had to comfort when they snapped in the front lines. It was scary for both me and them. They wanted to go home, they didn't want to die, saying how pointless the war was. And I don't blame them: why start a war over the rumor of a faction stealing the elements of harmony? I know they're missing but what caused them to suddenly turn to the griffons and not somepony else? And all I could do for the poor stallions was to hug them on the shoulder and wait for them to come to their senses. On some occasions I would do what I am doing to my sister now, to them. It was a little embarrassing for me to do that; I even got teased by some of my comrades about how I'm their foalsitter or something. But I warned them if they were ever in that position, I'm not going to come singing to their rescue. But all in all they were my good friends in the war, so we had a good laugh.

After a few minutes my sister calms down, and we break the hug.

"Thanks. I needed that," she says, wiping a tear from her eye.

It's been so long since I've been this happy to see anypony again, and for once in a long time I actually give a smile. She smiles back to me too through a few hiccups. I give her another hug as I feel like she is reluctant to break the first hug. We embrace in silence, hearing the wind whistling in my ear. Then I hear another whistle, not from the wind, but from a bird that was on the railing a few inches from us. We jump a little as it was rather loud and we look at what looks to be a cardinal. The bird gives another little tune, not very afraid of us as it has all the rights to not be. I turn to him and meet him at eye level, holding a hoof out for the musical little tune to perch on and the bird gladly took it. I bring him closer to my face to inspect this flying beauty.

"Isn't he cute sis?" I turn to my sister. But she wasn't there anymore. "Sis?" I call out again, scanning inside the house to see if she's there.

I turn back to the cardinal.

"Do you know where my sister is?" I ask the bird as if he knows what I'm saying.

He lets out another whistle, but it wasn't that of a bird would normally do, more of a held out whistle, slowly bending pitch downward.

I raise an eyebrow. "You alright there buddy?" I ask him, who was still holding out the descending pitch.

I start to feel colder all of a sudden. What's going on? Where is my sister? Why is the bird whistling like that?

The whistling starts to get louder, making my ears hurt.

"Hey! Cut that out!" I say covering them.

The cardinal didn't listen and continues his ear-piercing whistle. And I can still hear it loud and clear.

My heart started to race all of a sudden. My eyes frantically darting around the environment, and finally back at the cardinal.

I then listen to his whistling. Wait a second... that isn't a bird's whistle.

My eyes shrink to pinpricks as the whistling is nothing of a bird.

Then a deafening zing! flies out of the cardinal.

My eyes shoot open again from another sleep and then I realize what is going on.

It is all a dream.

Then a booming explosion goes off.

And I'm sent flying through the air.