Can I Trust you?

Piles of dirt are sent flying through the air. And from the force of the impact, sends me flying several feet above the ground. I feel like I'm stunned from the explosion as if my body is recovering still from the shock wave. I worry about the shell fragments that has entered my body, possibly through my spine which probably is the reason for my limp feeling - I hope that isn't true.

I hit the ground, hard, knocking the wind out of me as I'm left lying on the trench ground, desperately gasping for air. I can hear the bullets flying over me and guns banging in my head; it starts to hurt. I think my wounds are worse than I thought they would be, I think through my blurry vision as I carefully inspect my limbs for any type of harm from the explosion and if I need to call for medical assistance, hoping there is no need for me to such thing and that they're on their way.

I gingerly test my limbs to see if there is any broken bones, because of the absence of topical lacerations or as from what I can tell since I'm covered in muck, struggling to pick up my left hind leg, then I move to my right, and finally my forehooves. After a second check, I let a sigh of relief after the pain from my tested hooves fail to register in my brain. Oh thank Celestia, I thought. I'm not harmed. But I am not ready to get up and go because I can breathe only to the equivalent of an asthmatic pony who ran too much.

I can hear a pair of hoofsteps, gradually getting louder. It's the medics coming for me, probably. Then I realize that others may be hurt, and I try to turn my head see if there was anypony else who was also hit by the same shell. But the zigzagged design of the trenches prevents me from doing so. The thought about others being in worse condition than I, makes me worried as I cannot help but think that there are others dead because of this one shell. A few of my friends even died because of them.

And from the two ponies that are carrying a stretcher, as they turn the corner, confirmed my thoughts of help coming my way. Through my hazy vision, I can see them lay out the stretcher before me. I feel myself become weightless as I'm being slowly levitated onto the fabric. And a few moments later I'm lifted with the stretcher, and quickly moving through the trench. For the first time, passing through the trenches was a bit frightful. Looking up into the sky and hearing only the gunshots and distant explosions. I am beginning to question how did I not lose my sanity for the weeks I spent here.

I let that thought linger in my mind as I slip into the unconsciousness of sleep, entering the world of my dreams.

Everything I see is a blur. Not knowing where I am at the moment, but my vision starts to respond. A few seconds later, I can make out the shapes around me. And eventually what I am standing in front of. I can see the few two-story buildings that make up this fence-bordered complex. As well as a few stray buildings around them.

The asphalt that I am standing on is cracked. And the white paint that was on it, stripped and weathered away. I can feel the cool air enveloping me as I notice the lack of distinct shadows that usually adorn the trees and buildings around me. I stare at the sky that now took the look of a cloudy gray, and it seems to me that it's going to rain.

My mind was tired and weak from this war that I didn't bother to notice that I'm dreaming. Choosing not to take control. And simply roam around in the imagination of my brain, wondering what's next around the corner. But I didn't wait for the overcast to identify itself as rain or harmless dark clouds, and I make my way through the lot. And under the breezeway. I quietly saunter down the covered pillars, passing by a couple of familiar buildings on my way to where I think I'm going.

Everything was so quiet. Not hearing the hum of silence. Nothing. As if sound needn't to make an appearance in this place. I can see ,through the silence, another building. The library.

I wonder, why the library? But I am not in control of my legs anymore. I let them bring me into the library entrance, and into the lobby where I notice the glass display in the wall is empty of contents.

Usually, this place is full of students, wanting or not wanting to learn, that hang around this area. But the only thing that is hanging around here now is the silence of my own heartbeat, as I peer through the library doors and start to make out the shadow of a figure. Who could that be? I wonder to myself.

I see the figure turn to me in the darkness.

"Brother?" says the all-too-familiar voice. I can even hear her smile from her tone.

My ears perk up to hear her voice. "Sister!" I cry out, letting her know it's me. And I start to run to the door.

My hoof was about to touch the handle of the door when suddenly an ear-piercing screech breaks the still air. And I can see something from a distance come crashing through the glass entrance, scattering the glass shards all over the floor. And then the blurry figure lands dangerously near me with a loud thump!.

The blurry figure, it turns out, is a shell. Right before it explodes.

And I wake up again snapping the half of my body up, eyes wide open to take in the tent walls that surrounded me, along with a couple of others that are probably in worse shape than I am. I can feel my heart pounding and I take a couple of breaths to calm myself. Don't worry: it was just a dream, I say in my head as I'm further surveying the camp infirmary.

But the dry feeling in my throat makes me start scanning for any water instead, wondering how long I was out for me to be this thirsty. I manage to find one sitting next to me and without hesitation I grab the drink and drain the glass of its life-giving liquid, quenching my thirst. With that settled I start to focus at the empty glass in my hoof, starting to let my thoughts wander about.

Why am I starting to think about my sister? I never had those thoughts before until recently. Is it a sign that I have to go back home? To see her? Is she in danger? I let those thoughts go through the back of my head as I uncover the bed sheet that I'm under to survey the damage of my body. There isn't any gauze anywhere on me as I can see my soft uninterrupted coat flushing perfectly with my body.

"Glad to see you awake Lieutenant," the doctor says cheerfully.

I snap out of my daydreaming and stare back at the doctor. He is a purple unicorn wearing a white overcoat and a stethoscope hanging around his neck with a pen and clipboard in his aura.

"Why am I here if I'm not injured?" I ask him, going straight to the point with the assumption that I'm fine.

He gives me a puzzled look. "Did you look at the bandages wrapped around your head?" Pointing to my head with his pen.

"What bandages on my hea-" I stop and drag a hoof across my head. Sure enough, I can feel the fabric of the bandage instead of a tuft of my mane.

"You had a fairly large gash on your head - presumably from a shell fragment - I'm impressed that you only have that from a shell," the doctor continues after realizing my injury. "You were out for three days in case you're wondering. So it's safe to take off those bandages." He adds after noticing me picking at my bandages.

"So wait: you're telling me that this is the only injury I have?" I ask.

"Well beside from a concussion, nothing. Your wings, your limbs, your vitals - possibly your state of sanity - are all fine. So if everything is sorted out, you may go." He starts to write something on his clipboard.

"Alright then." I say, a bit unsure.

I slowly take the end of the bandage and unwrapped it from my head, feeling the pressure from my bandages slowly dwindle after every round I make. Is this why I didn't wake up? I wonder because of how tight the dressings are. After the last few rolls are unfurled, I shake my head letting my mane fall into its usual style. The doctor makes a last check on my forehead and scribbles something on a piece of paper.

"Well it looks like it's fine now," the doctor rips something with his magic which I assume is a discharge slip and levitates it to me. "You're all set."

I grab the piece of paper, put on my uniform that was hanging on a hook next to me, and head out the tent. A feeling of relief washes through me knowing that I'm well again, and I walk, without the slightest of pain, through the camp to find my friends at the lunch benches, playing cards.

"C'mon! Hit me again!" I hear one of my friends say.

I can see the dealer throw down another card, and from the disgruntled groan my friend gives probably means he lost. And from the bits that was tossed around. A bet.

"That's another fifty for me boys!" Another one of my buddies exclaimed.

I leaned on the shoulder of my losing friend.

"Oh. Who are these losers?" I say in play. We always greet each other with such rudeness.

"Oh. Who is this patient?" my fifty-bits-less friend retorts, not really in the mood for any witty replies as he usually gives me.

"Getting out out the infirmary in three days," I say casually, showing them my slip.

"Well that must be some kind of record for you to be showin' us!" I hear the small crowd cheering casually, with their hoof stomping.

"Now, now, gentlecolts," pretending to be an Nobel prize winner, with my hoof in the air to quiet the crowd and all.

We broke into a round of laughing. I take a seat and we casually continue our time off the front to enjoy what little pleasures life has to offer us. Eating lunch, playing cards, and other things a group of old school pals would do on their weekend. Except we're in the middle of war instead of a movie theater.

We start to tell stories about the front. And one specifically makes me laugh in irony due to one of my friends saying, that one of our school buddies in this little story table of ours was out in the front, not really fighting because he was too busy cowering in a corner. And what's more amusing, is that he was the one who teased me about my foalsitting the soldiers out on the front. And this was recent too.

I turn to him with a cocky smile, not wanting to wait any longer to rub it in. "See? Not singing to your rescue."

"Shutup. I didn't get enough sleep, that's all," he says defensively whilst crossing his hooves.

"Suuure," I say, casually leaning closer to him. "But hey, anything happened during the past three days?" I ask the group in seriousness, dropping the teasing.

"Not much," one of them replies.

"Define, 'not much'," I ask him to specify.

"Well we just got a bit more rations to go around. Hence, the larger meal." he waves the tray at me.

"Well okay then. But don't expect me to know everything when I'm unconscious."

"Aiight," he shrugs.

For some reason that touched a nerve on me. But I let my abrupt anger out in a calming exhale and continue on with the general conversation, assuming he probably didn't mean to do that. After a few topics gone over, my friend decides to be the one pony that asks that one age-old question.

"So, what are you fellas going to do after this war?"

The crowd became quiet. Possibly thinking about what to tell the gang. I can even hear hoofsteps come closer to us.

"Well... I'm going back to my lovely mare after this," another one of my schoolmates speaks up

"Oh this I have got to hear," I say, turning to him. He was never one with the girls. And for him to get one is a story to hear. By the encouragement from the others, I am not alone on that one.

He needn't to begin to speak for me to know he is reluctant to even mention that. "Okay, okay. Well... you see..." he starts to rub the back of his head. "This was a mare... I had a crush on since... high school." The last two words falls upon deaf ears. Save for me, who was sitting right next to him, barely able to hear his whisper.

"Well who is the mare you asked in high school, huh?" Nudging him to continue on, reiterating to fill in the blanks for the others.

"Ahem." A gruff voice outside the group, halting us of our crush cracking case. We turn around to face the interrupter. From the look of his appearance and patch, the pony was Sergeant Graph. I remember him from a couple of recruits who had the courage to ask me that he was too strict on them. Drilling them over and over again with rigorous courses. Usually I don't pay much attention to them but after more instances started to occur, it really got me curious.

And apparently he doesn't notice me at the moment, and I haven't address the issue yet. So now would seem like a good time to do that.

"So. Why aren't you soldiers already out for training?" He asks in that strict voice he has.

The rest turned around to see the neighboring tables, still occupied by others. Another one turned to his watch.

"Are you sure sir? Because everypony is here, and the fact that training hasn't even started," the pony to my left explains.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know that I gave you permission to speak," he snaps. "I want every pony of you out into the training area in fifteen minutes! That's an order!"

"Objection." I say like a persecutor, stamping my hoof on the table, already disliking the sergeant's attitude. Apparently this is what he does on his free time.

"And when did you suddenly have the audacity to stand up to me?" Yelling at me.

"I would be careful, sergeant, on where you say those words," I warn.

"And who would this prince be for whom I should give respect to?" He says behind clenching teeth before realizing my rank in this military.

"That prince who you're yelling at, is a lieutenant." I show him my shoulder patch. And like that, his shooting dagger glare immediately changes to one that would be fitting for somepony who just seen a ghost.

"I-I'm sorry sir. I wasn't aware you'd be around this area," he fumbles over words to try and reassure me, and ends up giving me a salute. "I had to get these soldiers because somepony in their group decided to act up in training. And that I'm here to give them a punishment," he adds desperately, trying to clear the waters before he himself gets punished for disrespecting an upper.

"If that's true, then be careful on what you say to a group of strangers. To a possible battle standpoint, you shot before you even confirmed your target. And you wouldn't want that to possibly stain your rank, right?" I say, savoring the moment.

"No sir. I wouldn't want that."

"Now. Who is the one that specifically needs to be punished?" changing the subject to give him some breathing room.

He points to the pony that was to the left of me. The one who hasn't told me who the mare is yet. I don't like having unanswered questions. And I couldn't help but slightly pull the corners of my lip up in the upcoming punishment I'm going to give. "Him."

"Well then, I'll take care of him for you." I turn to the group, not really looking at him specifically, with a smile on my face. And I quickly put a hoof up to my chin to partially obscure the grin I garner as I turn back to the saluting soldier. "Dismissed." He lowers the salute and walks away.

"Also, sergeant," I call to him. He turns around to me and quickly trots back to me.

"Uh, yes sir?" He says, standing stiff again.

"Go easy on the recruits. Because the next time I see another one walk up to me after dismissal, mentioning your over-strictness, you won't be seeing me letting you off this easily." The last bit worries him. "You may go now." And with a wave of a hoof, he departs once more, and a bit more hurriedly .

"What was that all about?" The troublemaker asks once the sergeant is out of earshot.

"Well let's get to the point," I start, sitting back at my previous position. "You were the one who made him come here and try to punish you guys. But now, I'll do it for him. So you guys are off the hook. Except for you." I point a hoof accusingly at the one to the left of me.

"Uh... what are you going to do with me?" He says with a nervous chuckle.

"I'll give you the liberty of choosing. You can run two laps around the camp. Or, you can tell us who that mare is. Because I think it's safe to say that we're all curious about who your lover is."

"I-I'll take the two laps," he says almost immediately. I spring on that partial enthusiasm.

"Really now? Seeing how eager you are to run two laps, I'll go ahead and make that four." I lean on a hoof and near closer to him. I am close

But my curiosity is quelled when a screaming of propellers and whistling caught my attention. It wasn't that of a shell, no. When I look about in the camp, nothing around me would give such noise. I turn to the sky, and I can see it from a distance. A plane, spiraling down behind a plume of black smoke. "What's going on?" I say to no one in particular. But the rest of my comrades turned to the skies, also seeing the dying aviation machine. And it's heading straight for us.

"Get out!" I yell. And not a moment after everypony clears the area, the plane comes down in a crashing halt. Hearing the mechanical wonder being ripped to ribbons. And I can see a figure, which looks like the pilot, fly out of the plane.

I quickly grabbed the nearest rifle, after clearing it of any failures, and ran towards the figure. I hesitate no longer and I point the barrel at the griffon. A griffon? What's he doing here? I think to myself.

A small crowd forms around me and the griffon in critical condition. I can hear one of them shout, "shoot him!" But I know it's wrong to kill already wounded soldiers. He doesn't deserve to die. He's just another pawn in this war. Just like me.

I lower my rifle. "Someone give me my saddlebag!" I say to the crowd. And one of my friends ran into my tent. A few seconds later he comes back with my bag in his mouth, and tossed it to me. I grab it and quickly put it on, knowing this guy has not much time to live if I don't act fast. I toss the rifle to him in return and I come closer to the griffon.

I pat around his shoulder to see if he didn't dislocate any, but I can gingerly feel his left shoulder out of place. I quickly took his right instead and put him on my back. He is quite heavy, but nothing that I can't carry.

"What are you doing?" Asks my friend.

"I'm bringing him to a hospital. Not this one or else he will be killed here if the others find out." I adjust him on my back, noticing a camera dangling around his neck. Was he taking pictures of our base? I wonder as I open my wings and taking off soon after.

I don't have much time, I think. And after I climb high enough, I quickly flap my wings as hard as I can to quickly reach the nearest town. My home town.

It's quite a ways but I know they can treat him there. I start to think about my sister, and that I'm going to see her again.

I hear the griffon on my back let out a whimper. Poor guy, he must be terrified.

"Don't worry: you're going to be fine. Just stay with me okay?" Is all I can say for now as I try and push myself further to save his life.