Can I Trust you?

The morning airfield was filled with the mixture of steel, gasoline, and flowers as I remembered it being. And it hasn't changed ever since, except I'm now flying into war instead of practice. I can feel the butterflies in my stomach as I'm soon going to pilot the airplane above my enemy's base to take some pictures for reconnaissance. A simple task in mind, but when accounting for the several rows of machine guns committed to anti-air, it's anything but.

"Colvan, you ready for this?" Comes a voice next to me.

I snap out of my dreaded daydreaming and turn to my friend who looks a bit tired from the early wake up.

"It looks like you might need some coffee my friend," I tease him, trying to shrug the task ahead off.

"Well you shouldn't be laughing: this is a solo mission you're flying," he said in repartee, pointing a claw at me. "Because If there's too many of us, they'll take immediate notice. And you're the best pilot out of the bunch."

"Well what happens if something were to go wrong?" I ask him, a little bit afraid of the "if"s.

"Well what if? You got wings, a beak, claws, and a gun. You can take care of yourself: you're not a kid anymore," he reassures me, pointing out the various body parts that I'm more than well aware of.

"Yeah. Thanks for the anatomy lesson but I think I have to go," I say to him, feeling a bit more confident in the task as I take note of my several ways of escape and defense, "thanks for the pep talk by the way."

"No worries," he says, giving me a little wave as I walk towards the plane.

With a flap of my wings I take to the air and sit myself on the plane, adjusting my goggles. I take a few deep breaths to calm myself down while I wait for the signal.

After a few minutes, a griffon appears and starts to direct me to the strip.

I flip a few switches on the dashboard and the plane rumbles to life. The propellers start to spin faster and faster into the growling that gives the plane its signature sound, sending clouds of dust into the air.

I increase the throttle enough to make the plane start to move forward. And I slowly make my way through the airfield and into the strip, stopping when I reached the start. After one final check of the systems, I'm ready for takeoff.

I swallow the lump in my throat. Here we go.

Then I see the griffon give me the "go."

I put the plane into full throttle and the machine drives further through the strip, picking up speed. The world around starts to zoom past me. I feel myself pressing into the back of the seat as I close in on the proper speed. After I'm about a third of the strip, I slowly tilt the nose of the plane up, feeling the wheels pick up off the ground and the wings catching the air, making the plane wobble on its ailerons as it steadies itself. The rumbling ceases.

And now I have liftoff.

I pull the nose up a bit more and I feel another force pushing me down into the plane as I'm climbing higher into the skies and it feels like I weigh much more; a typical experience for me as I have done this several times in training, but I can't help shake the feeling of something else that's pushing me down that's making me so anxious. A few minutes after, I level out on the plane as soon as I reached the appropriate height, feeling the chilly air of the high altitude bite at me. It's about an hour from here to their base, so I might as well try and relax. As I notice myself already tense. I try to take a few deep breaths to drive the nervous energy elsewhere but the whipping wind keeps choking me every time I try to get even a little sip of air into my lungs. Not to mention accidentally swallowing a bug. Ugh.

After what seems like forever, the forest beneath me opens up into the shell-riddled dirt field that is the war zone. At the moment I am flying over my comrades; I just hope they don't shoot at me my mistake, thinking I'm an enemy due to this model being for stealth which blends with the skies of blue, but I assume they're too busy fighting down below to notice me anyways. The plane starts to shake as I'm start to experience some turbulence from the headwinds of the field and I descend a little bit to alleviate the shaking, watching the several rows of trenches pass under me. After our front lines pass behind me, I'm flying over the no-pony's land: the area between the two opposite trenches where of course, no pony, or griffon, should go as it is riddled with shell holes and death. Like one of my friends say, "out of the trench you peek your head, under a minute you're as good as dead."

I take the camera out of the compartment next to me and hold it in my talons, spinning the reel to charge a shot. But now, I'm thinking about things as I'm inspecting the photograph device: is it really true that the ponies did, in fact, stole our artifact? I heard it in the news, but the evidence wasn't corroborating to the ponies being the ones at the fuse, as if it were intentional.

Could it be? That they were framed? When I put that thought into heart, all my doubts about being in the army comes back in full as I'm tempted to hurl the camera off the plane in exercise of how pointless this war really is.

So many lives are lost because of a stupid notion that the ponies were the ones who stole our prized artifact; the priceless symbol that signified our independence as the Griffon Kingdom. No doubt we had the rights to be mad. But to then immediately turn around and wage war back to them within a day because they thought we stole their elements of harmony instead of being civil and discuss the matter? It's ridiculous. Even if we have our despise to them. That was ages ago! We shouldn't be keeping such hatred to them.

Maybe... maybe I shouldn't have joined the army at all. I should have stayed home with ma' and help her around the house and live a happy life. Maybe finally ask the girl I have a crush on out on a date. But instead, I abandoned them and now I'm here, supporting this war. What am I going to tell her? That I killed a whole bunch of ponies because a griffon told me to and you should be proud of me? No! ma' would never be proud. And my love would probably hate me. Heck I would be lucky if ma' would let me back home and even then, she would hate me forever, coming home a murderer and not the child she once cared and loved for. She would be devastated. And I would be too.

I feel depressed. Maybe it isn't too late. Maybe I can just turn around and say there was too much heat from them and I couldn't take the picture. They'll believe me. Right? You know what: I'll just take one picture and that's it. I'm going back home to ma' after I'm through with this mess. Yeah.

Through my few hours of contemplation killing all that travel time, I'm about twenty or so miles from their base, and I'm now crossing through their lines; where the machine guns are. Best of luck, myself. I say in my head.

And as if by coincidence, a spray of bullets zoom past me, sending my adrenaline through the roof, which made me send the engine into overdrive, moving as fast as I can through their rows of trenches and into their base, avoiding the bullets, and get this over with. Can't I just turn back now? I think to myself, already regretting that I'm risking my life over a picture.

A picture. How pointless am I.

I hear a few bullets pierce the hull of the plane but my head is too busy throbbing so hard that I feel like my head would burst to even notice that it not only pierced the body, but through the fuel tank. And even my wings, barely missing my vitals.

But I didn't even notice the pain as I fly past the effective range of the machine guns, and closing in on their base. Thankfully I didn't burn out the engines through that bullet rain as they sound fine when I put them back into the normal throttle. I unholster the camera again and with shaky claws, I take the shot of their base. It got a good amount of the field for the generals to get a good look of what they're dealing with.

Time to go home. And into safety I think to myself as I prepare to turn around. But a few more sprays of bullets from who knows where manages to land on the plane again.

Suddenly, the engine stops. And the propellers with its last few rotations die out.

I quickly assess the damage: four bullets near the base of the left wing connecting to the hull, and I'm out of fuel; been out of fuel. Great. Now I'm left with a plane with a damaged left wing on a spiraling crash course to the base grounds. Things can't get any worse as the heavy pumping of my heart makes its reappearance. Making me start to panic once again.

I desperately try to unbuckle the belt and spread my wings so I can escape from this soon to be crash. But as I open my wings, searing pain shot through them and I let out a terrible cry of pain as I try to cope with the stabbing in my wings, as well as an entry in my shoulder as I felt the pain from that when I tried to open the belt. All that I can do now, Is to close my eyes and sit and wait for me to die.

Ma', I'm sorry... I'm not coming home. I'm going somewhere else that I will soon call home. I'm sorry that I couldn't keep the promise I made.

The promise. Of coming back alive.

I can't die now by giving up this easily I say to myself, clenching my jaw to try and suppress the pain. It helps, but not a whole not. I look at the altitude meter on the dashboard. Eight hundred feet till I hit the ground. I still have time! I take immediate action, ignoring the almost unbearable pain from my left shoulder, and pull back at the handle as hard as I can. I scream at the top of my lungs from both the pain and my now undying will reemerging

I feel the plane start to level. But now the major problem is that I have too much speed. And I'm only a hundred feet from the ground.

Then I hear a loud snap! And I see the left wing of the plane, tumbling away as the bullet holes made it too fragile for the stress that I gave it.

And I think now is the time that I would die.

I'm sent spiraling towards the ground. I stare at the altitude meter, along with the world spiraling without it, reaching critical heights: Fifty feet. Forty feet. Thirty feet. Twenty feet.

Ten feet.

And here is where I will say I'm going to die.

The plane lands with a horrific crash! and I black out.

My life is over. My goals, my dreams, my happiness. All gone in this one instance.

I think I would never wake up again. Never see those I love.

And the one I love.

But some divine force, denies me of death, and my eyes gingerly open again to the blurry world I see.

I'm alive... I'm alive! I yell in my head, tears streaming down my face as I get to see the light of life again.

But my self-rejoice is short lived as I hear several hoofsteps closing in on me. And the next thing I could make is an image of a pony in front of me.

I look around to see where I am. Apparently the force was enough to send me several feet from the plane itself, but all I can make of the world is one big fuzz as I'm laying on the dirt ground.

My eyes adjusts its focus back to him, and I see something else that comes into vision: a rifle. And I'm staring straight down the barrel of it.

I wish I had never opened my eyes. And fresh new tears rolled down my cheeks as here is another instance of death. And I don't think luck is with me anymore.

But he didn't shoot me, or, hasn't yet. Instead, he lowers his rifle and turns to the others around him. I hear him say something but my ears are ringing and everything was just a blur once more as my eyes give up on focusing. He closes in on me and puts a hoof on my left shoulder. It hurt, but I'm too busy trying to keep conscious to barely notice the pain. He slowly backs away and I hear him give orders to the other solders around him. I see a brown satchel thrown to him and he quickly puts it on and closes in on me again. I feel him pick me up by my right arm. It felt painful, but at least it isn't unbearable. I try to resist, pulling away with what little strength I have left that isn't trying to keep me awake, but I let out a groan of pain as a stabbing pain shoots through my lower back instead. I hope I'm not paralyzed I worry to myself as I can't bear to imagine coming home on a wheelchair. But I guess it's better me than a graveyard lot on a letter. I am now at his mercy and I let out another grunt as he puts me on his back.

Another voice calls to him, I think. And I can finally hear what he is saying in reply.

"Somewhere safe. As you were, soldiers."

And a few seconds later, we are off into the air. And I can see the world around me growing smaller and then flies past me.

What's going to happen now? Am I going to be left somewhere out in the forest to die like this? Am I going to be tortured until I tell them intel about things I have no idea about? The thoughts scare me, and I let out a terrified whimper. I hear him quietly shush me.

"Don't worry: you're going to be fine. Just stay with me okay?" I hear him say to me. And I could feel our speed picking up.

His voice sounds calming, like he was going to take care of me. Or is it false hope, and he's going to bring me somewhere that I will never see the day of light again?

I couldn't think what will happen or what said safe place would be. And I can't think what will happen as I start to see spots in my vision.

And I slowly slip back into the void.