Everfree

Chapters

Chapter ONE
Chapter TWO
Chapter THREE
Chapter FOUR
Chapter FIVE
Chapter SIX
Chapter SEVEN
Chapter EIGHT
Chapter NINE
Chapter TEN
Chapter ELEVEN

Chapter ONE

More than anything else -- more than the dying and the pain that was sure to accompany the dying -- she was afraid of the goodbye. The goodbye's the scary thing, not the dying. The dying is just part of it. "Comes with the territory," as they say. There's nothing you can do about the dying other than accept it. That's where the goodbye fits in. The goodbye is the acceptance. It's the acknowledgement, verbal or otherwise, that the whole terrible mess is finally being cleaned up.

But she had to face the goodbye. She had to be ready for it when it came, because the only thing she feared more than the goodbye was the prospect of missing it.

She was afraid, but she was a leader. Lieutenant First Class Twilight Sparkle, the youngest in Equestrian history to ever earn the rank and arguably one of one the greatest military tacticians to ever serve under the banner of the proud Militiamares. Her troop looked to her for its resolve, and she could not risk dampening that resolve with dripping sentiment. On the battlefield sentiment and doubt were difficult to tell apart -- both bore a strong resemblance to weakness. So when duty called she swallowed that fear, choked it down with all the others and steeled herself in the face of the coming madness.

The forest seemed to do the same. It was a quiet midday, an anxious sort of quiet that was felt by every soldier in camp. Quiet and still, as if the forest were holding its breath in anticipation. Twilight stepped out of her makeshift shelter in need of some fresh air and room to think, maybe somepony to talk to. She wandered about camp, sticking her head in a few tents to check in with the soldiers under her command, their restlessness seeming to match her own twice over. Most were huddled together outside of their tents playing cards or talking strategy as they picked uninterestedly at chalky chocolate rations. Almost none of them were dressed in their coveralls and the ones who were in uniform weren't dressed properly, but Twilight elected not to bother them over it because neither was she. The top half of her fatigues hung lazily about the middle of her torso, leaving her upper body exposed. Wearing them as they were meant to be worn was unthinkable in the humid woods, and waiting around had already made Twilight plenty uncomfortable. What did bother her was the number of bare hind hooves she saw as she made her rounds. Slacking on coveralls was one thing, but combat boots were to be worn on the hind hooves of all acting soldiers at all times. Acting, in Twilight's humble opinion, meaning awake.

Twilight found Applejack and a few other ponies leaning against their rifles, exchanging war stories. Though it was less an exchange and more a lecture, delivered enthusiastically by Applejack while the others listened -- some hanging on every word, others not amused in the slightest.

"Why ah dropped six of ‘em! One right after the other, yes ah did!" she exclaimed, standing upright on her hind legs as she stared down the imaginary iron sights of an imaginary sub machine gun, aimed at an imaginary enemy. She looked more like a child playing cops and robbers than a trained soldier. "We was so close ah got bits of ‘em stuck on ma' fatigues. Blood an' guts an' brains -- why dat was the scariest damn gunfight ah ever did see since ah been in this Celestia-forsaken forest."

"Were you scared?" asked one of the greener recruits. Twilight could tell by the childish glint in her eyes that the poor little filly was eating up every bit of AJ's mostly true story. She'd been spending a lot of time with Dash since her unit transfer, and Twilight wondered if maybe some of the pegasus pony's bravado had rubbed off on her. AJ was normally earnest to a tee.

"Was ah scared? Does Celestia make the sun shine?" she replied, milking the bit for all it was worth. "Why, as sure as a new born filly's flank is blank ah was scared. That scrape rustled ma' jimmy's something serious. But ah never let on none. Y'all can't never let on none that ur scared. That's how ya' get done in." Applejack ended the thought with a wink and an encouraging nudge. The green filly looked away, embarrassed.

"I know all about that," another pony chimed in. He was big, twice Applejack's size, with a deep black mane and a scar that ran along the right of his torso from cutie mark to shoulder. "Happened to a friend of mine. We were ambushed. Poor dumb colt froze up stiff as board. Got split in half by an enemy gunner," his voice was a low, animal-like purr and the beginning of a smile had started taking shape on his thin lips. “Pissed himself, if I remember. Awful sorry way to end your first tour.” He seemed oddly found of the bitter memory.

"Well sheeuuut! Same thing nearly happened ta ma' commanding officer. She'd a got her head blown clean off her shoulders if ah hadn't come a running to her rescue like ah did."

"Is that true?" asked the little green filly, "did you really rescue a senior officer?" Applejack threw a foreleg around the filly’s neck and began illustrating the scene in vivid detail, her story sharpened by practiced exaggeration. She was a storyteller born. No, not born, made. The forest and the many trials of war had taught her how to do more than fight and survive: it had taught her how to lie.

She had fought with mortal enemies; fought them and crushed their brittle bones beneath her hooves, and stained her uniform with their blood and sweat, and inhaled their dying breaths, breathed them in, tasted them and consumed them, adding their lost vitality to her own and making herself stronger, more dangerous.

Mortals she had learned to deal with easy enough. You could touch mortals, and if you could touch a thing then you could buck it; and if you bucked it hard enough then you could break it. It was the enemy you couldn’t touch that troubled Applejack the most. The one that hid in a ponies head, in the memories of old battles and dead friends that kept a pony up at night, kept her twisting and turning with a cold, living restlessness. This enemy, Applejack had come to know well. Her name was reality. Her name was truth. And truth, Applejack had come to learn, had an even greater enemy named lie.

But Applejack couldn’t lie. Not really. All her life ponies thought of her as being honest, and that was partially true. The whole truth was that Applejack was a lousy liar. The best she could ever manage was a little embellishment. She’d learned to tell stories, and she’d come to understand that the best storytellers used lies to tell the truth. Applejack never stopped telling the truth, she just stopped telling the whole truth. It helped her cope. The other ponies laughed at her boisterous antics, and they cringed as she painted dramatic portraits of violent doom, and they cheered when she recalled feats of dynamic, selfless heroism; and for a short time at least, while she and her audience were busy laughing and cringing and cheering none of them were thinking about the forest or the war; about the families and friends they’d left back home, or about the first enemy soldier they had ever killed, or the sister, brother, or lover who marched away from camp early one spring morning or late one summer night and never marched back.

Twilight listened to Applejack’s mostly true story, indulging her at a distance while pushing down the surge of annoyance foaming up inside of her and threatening to spill out as angry, disciplinary words. Distance and suppression. Unlikely allies to be sure, but the odd couple had proven to be most useful when leading ponies, marching them off to their untimely ends. She listened a good while and what she heard sparked emotions, and the emotions upset and confused her. She wasn’t sure what it was she was supposed to be feeling. And then she decided to stop feeling and start acting.

"Did you, now?” said Twilight, trotting up to Applejack and her small congregation of listeners. “I think I'd like to hear all about how you came 'a running ta ma' rescue, like you did.'" Hearing the familiar voice, AJ spun around to find her dear friend and commanding officer standing at her back, not looking terribly amused. The other ponies stood at attention, hurriedly, but not the blond farm girl. She stood up straight with her hind legs crossed, leaning one elbow against the butt of her rifle for balance.

"Lying about how you rescued your commanding officer while she was paralyzed with fear, huh? Very unoriginal. You steal that one from Rainbow Dash?" AJ shrugged.

"Now don't y'all go comparing me ta' Rainbow,” Applejack laughed. The others standing at attention where shocked and wildly impressed by Applejack’s ability to stare down her superior officer and not so much as flinch. “That pony shovels shit by the wheelbarrow. Plus she lacks ma' natural down-home charm when it comes ta' proper yarn spinning." Without thinking Twilight smiled a gentle smile, a mistake she corrected immediately. It was one thing as commanding officer to show that you were at ease with your ponies, and that they were in turn at ease with you. It was something else entirely for them to be literally at ease without her first giving the command. Such behavior was disrespectful on both of their parts: AJ in regards to her superior officer, Twilight to the rules and regulations that governed the proud Militiamares.

"At attention private," ordered Twilight.

"Shucks Twi, ain't we past all dem formalities by now?" Twilight bore into her subordinate with a look that suggested they were definitely not past any such formalities, nor would they be in any foreseeable future. Reluctantly, AJ fell in line with the other ponies: standing on all fours, forelegs shoulder length apart, back straight, hind legs parallel to fore, head held high. She looked the perfect solider when she when she wanted to. Years of working her family farm had blessed her with a physique that put most adult stallions to shame. Physically she was easily one of the most capable ponies amongst the ranks of the Militiamares, second only to her big brother Macintosh. Her attitude as of late, however, left much to be desired.

"This is a war zone private, why aren't your boots on your hooves?" Assuming the question was rhetorical, Applejack remained silent. "I'm talking to you, private." Twilight assured her that it wasn't.

"All due respect Twi --"

"Sir."

"All due respect, sir, y’all are gonna have ta' reprimand just about everypony in camp for that bullshit, not just this one. It ain't but a little rule bending is all. No harm no foul." Twilight placed a hoof under her chin in thought, as if actually considering the legitimacy Applejack's excuse.

"At ease soldiers." AJ's posture immediately loosened, like she'd just exhaled after holding her breath for a long time. "Not you private." Complaining, Applejack resumed her attentive stance.

"You others are dismissed. I need to have a word with Applejack in private." The others disbanded without question.

"Look, I know the whole superior, subordinate relationship feels a bit awkward. We're friends…close friends, I get it. But I cannot have you undermining my authority in front of the other MM."

Twilight and Applejack first met back in basic training. They'd been assigned to the same boot camp and studied the art of war under the tutelage of war veteran Pony Joe, a stallion who was deeply loathed by every cadet who managed to survive his training regimen. United by a common enemy, the two of them became fast friends. They relied on each other, watched each other's backs, and with the exception of Fluttershy, AJ had been with Twilight longer than anypony else since the start of the war.

"Oh Twi ah was just funning with ya'," she said. She had an easiness and a humor about her that seemed delusional.

"And that's the problem. We are not vacationing out here. This is a battlefield -- a military operation and I expect all under my command to treat the situation as such."

"And that's ur problem Twi. Ya'll need to lighten up a touch or two. Just cause it's a war don't mean its gotta be all blood n' guts all the time." Twilight got the feeling that what Applejack said, she said for her own benefit. Her heart ached for her friend. It wasn’t like Applejack to hide behind anything, especially behind a smile and bitter laugh. Twilight was worried about her.

They had proven themselves a formidable duo during combat simulations. Twilight was, as if by birthright, a skilled tactician; and Applejack possessed the strength, speed, and physical prowess needed to turn the unicorn's battle plans into action. Together they were nearly unstoppable. The brass recognized this, and insisted the two of them be assigned to the same company. But the differences in their skill sets inevitably lead them to very different positions in the military. Thanks to Twilight's strategic mind and natural leadership skills, she was, despite her limited combat experience, immediately promoted to the rank of commanding officer at the recommendation of Princess Celestia herself; while Applejack's earnest nature kept her from rising through the ranks. She was stubborn in her defiance of authority and whenever the brass did something she didn't agree with, the simple apple bucker from the countryside never hesitated to voice those disagreements. She was little more than a lowly grunt now, a foot soldier, her rank as private stagnant. She was destined to live out the remainder of the war struggling to survive on the front lines. Such was her reward for failing to be a good little solider and that suited her just fine.

"Why of course not darlings," a familiar voice interrupted them, "Don't forget it's also humid air, bugs and filth." The voice, neat and airy, belonged to Rarity. She seemed to appear from out of the forest by means of deposition, coming upon them silently, neither noticing her until she was well within speaking range -- a useful skill for a sniper. Rarity, unlike Applejack and just about every other pony in camp, was done up in full uniform. She wore a helmet camouflaged with bits of foliage sticking out of the top, and her exposed forelegs were painted a mix of greens, browns, and blacks. A bolt action riffle with a scope hung around her delicate neck, but despite being clad from horn to hoof in fatigues, Rarity could never hope to match the striking image of muscular lethality that was Applejack. Of all the ponies in Twilight's company Rarity looked to her the most displaced. The least suited for combat of any kind. Fortunately for her, and for the rest of the company, that couldn't have been further from the truth.

Rarity greeted her commanding officer with practiced poise as she saluted and stood at attention. Twilight beamed. Applejack was not impressed.

"At ease specialist," ordered Twilight. Rarity obeyed. She was exceptional at obeying commands, and she took great pride in serving under Lieutenant Sparkle, yet another trait that separated her from Applejack. Ease, however, was the furthest thing from her mind.

"Sir, Pvt. Dash and her squad have returned with information regarding the enemy's position," said Rarity. There was urgency in her voice.

"They found the camp?"

"I assume. Rainbow is waiting for you back at your tent."

"Good,” Twilight said, touching a nervous hoof to her chin. “Go and inform the others. You too AJ. When you find Pinkie and Fluttershy you know where to meet me."

"Sir, yes sir!" the two of them chorused before saluting and trotting off briskly in opposite directions. Twilight trotted off too, her mind heavy with thoughts of the coming battle.

Chapter TWO

Twilight's tent, which was actually more of a one room hut with a roof and four walls spaced far enough apart to comfortably house up to eight ponies, served as the camp's central command headquarters. The small building was also outfitted with light blast resistant armor and four "windows", one on each wall where a soldier could peek out and fire should the camp ever come under direct contact from the enemy. All decision making happened there: everything from battle strategies to amendments in the mess hall menu where taken care of in this room by Twilight and a hoofful of her most trusted soldiers – soldiers, not officers.

Company Everfree had a reputation for being the MM's most unconventional company.

Most operated under a typical top down system. The company answered to a major: under the major were four or five platoon leaders, usually lieutenants, and under the platoon leaders were squad leaders, and so on down the ranks. The acting major for Company Everfree was an earth pony in her early seventies with a graying main and a scroll for a cutie mark who went by no title other than "The Major." Under her were five officers: First Lieutenants Octavia, Spitfire, Applejack's brother McIntosh, Cheerilee, and Twilight Sparkle. Their company was about two hundred strong making each platoon leader responsible for about forty ponies. All of this was standard. The company was exceptional when compared to the others in only two regards. The first was size: Company Everfree was massive because they were responsible for one of the most important fronts of the entire war, the border between the Everfree Forest and Ponyville. The second was Twilight Sparkle. Lieutenant Twilight Sparkle, by virtue of being hoofpicked by the princess herself, outranked all of her fellow officers, including the major. So when Twilight Sparkle called for a meeting to discuss strategic engagement with three privates, one specialist, and one sergeant, anypony who had complaints made them silently.

Applejack and Pinkie Pie were the last to stumble into Company Everfree's HQ. Twilight glared at the two of them as they entered, annoyed, not quite angry yet but getting there. Sensing no hostility from her commander, Pinkie smiled and waved hello. The gesture was big and exaggerated, as if she were attempting to get Twilight's attention from several yards away. Applejack saluted with an awkward smile, embarrassed enough for both herself and her clueless friend. Twilight elected not to make a big deal of it. She had butted heads with Applejack enough for one day and predicted she would again many more times before her tour of duty was over. For now peace was needed amongst her ranks. Peace – and bit more focus wouldn't hurt either.

AJ attempted to piece together some half assed excuse for their tardiness: something about Pinkie insisting on finishing the last hoof of her card game because the pot was two weeks' worth of chocolate rations, and she'd been trying desperately for the better part of a month to scrounge together some raw ingredients for cupcakes, pies, or cookies. She had been without any proper baked goods since the beginning of her tour and her sweet tooth was starting to ache. How to compensate for the lack of flower, eggs, or milk was, still a bit of a gray area, but some melted chocolate rations would make a good sauce to top whatever it was she came up with.

Twilight shushed her as sternly as she could without sounding genuinely upset. She assured them that it was okay so long as it didn't happen again, and then, knowing full well that it would, ordered the two of them to stand at attention with the others.

She stood before them ready to begin, a massive map of the forest the length and width of the entire wall at her back.

"You're on Rainbow. Explain to the others what you already explained to me."

"Sir." The Pegasus pony flew about halfway up the wall and pointed to a place on the map marked by a red circle, which stood for the enemy's camp. She began explaining, in what she imagined was her conservative intellectual voice – and what the others knew was her I-am-trying-really-hard-to-convince-you-ponies-that-I-know-what-I-am-talking-about voice – that on hoof her small squad of six had found the outpost in little less than a day, and that moving a larger force would likely take significantly longer, assuming they wanted to move slowly and carefully as to avoid being detected by enemy scouts. The enemy camp, she continued, was something like 200 klicks north-west of their current position, and that the camp itself was smaller than their own but not by very much. The camp's perimeter, she warned, was guarded by lookouts at all hours and she assumed the place was surrounded by booby traps.

On their way back one of her squadron was severely injured by a land mine. All that saved her from being reduced to a pile of pulp and feathers was sheer dumb luck. Due to some unknown malfunction, or perhaps an act of Celestia, the mine's detonation was delayed by a full second and as she tripped it, the unsuspecting pegasus had – at the order of her squad leader – just began taking to the sky. She was supposed to fly up the nearest tall tree and take a look around to ensure they weren't being followed. Instead only her left hind leg attempted the journey, except it flew several yards in the wrong direction and, at the top of its ark, couldn't have gotten more than a meter off the ground. The rest of her lay in the in the newly blood stained grass, screaming.

"We also ran into a few rebels. Nothing we couldn't handle, but it might mean they'll be expecting us when we come knocking." With that Rainbow Dash concluded her explanation and saluted with an expression of unbridled self-satisfaction etched into her face, the kind usually reserved for mothers as they watch their daughter trump the neighbor's kid in the final round of an annual district wide spelling bee.

The others took in this new information. There was a moment of digestion, muttering. Then a startled Applejack practically shouted, "Wait a – a – what in the hay! Y'all went n' got ur selves spotted?"

"Well yeah. Land mines tend to make a lot of noise," answered an unsettlingly nonchalant Rainbow Dash. The muttering got louder. Twilight figured that was her cue.

"Settle down everypony. I've already taken this into consideration and I think we may be able to use it to our advantage." Quiet stares. Good they were listening. "Fluttershy, something to write with." Fluttershy unzipped the supply pack strapped to her back and with a thought Twilight's horn sparked as she reached in, rummaged about for a bit, found what she was looking for, and called the quill to her. It drifted across the room enveloped by a pale wisp of purple light. She dipped it in a small jar of red ink; the same red ink rainbow dash had used to mark the enemy camp (only she'd used the tip of her hoof).

"We'll need at least three platoons," a pause for thought, "good sized ones, at least thirty each." The quill worked swiftly, streaking across the map as if of its own power.

"Rainbow, you'll lead one of those platoons in a frontal assault on the enemy stronghold." To illustrate this she drew a brave red arrow, straight and true, that traveled from their camp all the way to the suddenly very imposing little red circle that stood for the enemy's position. Rainbow Dash raised no protest; only stared at the red arrow as if afraid it would shoot off the wall and skewer her where she stood. "Meanwhile two more platoons will swing wide and take positions here," she marked an X at a little more than half the distance between the two camps and off to the right, "and here," and another off to the left.

"Once Rainbow gets their attention I'll give the order for her to fallback. The rebels will chase, and when they do …" Twilight finished mapping out her strategy with too aggressive arrows converging on a dotted line that stood for the rebel's advance.

A cold sort of understanding came over the others and they relaxed a little, Rainbow Dash especially .She didn't like the idea of being bait, but she liked it a lot more than what she imagined would be her fate a moment ago.

The plan was sound enough, everypony could agree on that much. Still, there was an obvious question hanging about. So obvious in fact that it was Pinkie Pie who asked, "But what if they don't chase us?"

"They will." Their leader assured them.

"But what if they don't?" echoed Rarity with much more urgency.

"They will. When they see none other than Equestria's own favorite daughter, Twilight Sparkle leading the charge, they'll have no other choice." Twilight's chest swelled with prideful self assurance. She beamed. It was good for morale that a leader know when to beam.

Applejack had to suppress the urge to roll her eyes. She hated that title, "Equestria's favorite daughter." Pfft favorite was right. Celestia's favorite. If not for the princess' favor Twilight wouldn't have half of what she had now. It was bad enough when the brass starting calling her that, but hearing it from Twilight's own mouth almost caused her actual physical pain. That and watching the unicorn do her fearless leader bit made her stomach lurch. Applejack also didn't like the sound of her best friend, Rainbow Dash, being thrown to the damn manticores so "Equestria's favorite daughter" could have another reason to stroke her already overblown ego. She liked even less that there wasn't a thing she could about it.

Rainbow Dash laughed out loud. "And I thought I was the pony with big head in this outfit." Twilight nodded. It was a cocky nod. The confidence in it was contagious; she could see it spreading through the ranks like a plague. Each of them held their heads a bit higher – but one of those heads lowered, ever so slightly. One back stiffened, and the whole body it belonged to seemed to stand on end, like the fur on an angry cat. A pair shoulders squared and two muscular forelegs bent deep at the knees; a bucking stance – a fighting stance. She always could look the perfect soldier when she wanted to, and while she didn't always pick her battles well, Applejack always fought to win.

"Y'all really think ur worth all that fuss don't ya sugar cube," said Applejack, in a tone that suggested Twilight perhaps wasn't worth any fuss at all. "Why don't ya just go a charging in all by ur lonesome? Well sheeuute! I bet a pony as smart, an' talented, an' perfect as you, could defeat the entire rebel army single-hoofed."

Later that night, as she lay awake in her less than cozy drawer like cot, Twilight Sparkle would try to make sense of what happened next. She would play the scene again and again, watching closely; picking apart the details the same way she would pick apart a frustrating text. Maybe she'd chalk it up to the infectious confidence she'd started, telling herself that it had somehow made its way back to her, more concentrated, more potent. Maybe she would come to the conclusion that it was Applejack's fault: that the rowdy farm pony was beyond hers or anypony's control, that she was a danger to the company and to herself, and that the best way to deal with her was perhaps a quick and painless euthanasia. Or maybe before she fell asleep she would have happily convinced herself it was nothing serious at all, just a mild instance of pre-battle jitters.

Whatever answers, or lack of answers, awaited her that night, Twilight Sparkle knew for sure that she had made a mistake – realized that it was a mistake even as she was making it, and made it anyway. Hoofmade it too – did it up with pizzazz and glitter and tender love and care.

"If I was your enemy would you let me walk away?" asked Twilight. She asked in a way that seemed less a question and more a statement. A challenge. The challenge was readily accepted.

Applejack answered with a loud snort as she raked the floor violently with a fore hoof. Twilight snorted back and lowered her head as if preparing to charge. All at once her authoritative demeanor dissolved. She might have been high ranking military officer picking a fight with one of her privates, or a filly ready to dash horn first into a school yard brawl. The others looked on bewildered, as if unsure which of the two phenomena they where witnessing, and also paralyzed, as if the thought required to answer this most profound of conundrums was so great that it left no energy for movement. For a long four or five seconds nopony had any idea what would happen next.

Then Rarity cleared her throat very loudly: which sounded like somepony clearing their throat very loudly, but could have easily been mistaken for somepony asking somepony else, in a rather stern tone of voice, what the hay is wrong with you? Then, taking a more subtly approach, Rarity said, as if she hadn't just watched her lieutenant and her fellow private threaten to trample each other into the dirt,

"The rebels are not stupid. If they see you on the front lines they'll be suspicious."

"Ra – Rarity is right," Fluttershy suddenly blurted out, the tension making her nervous, and the nervousness making her temporarily lose control of her lips. "They'll know it's a trap."

Lieutenant Twilight Sparkle straightened up, and, in the most put together voice she could muster after thoroughly embarrassing herself in front of all her closest subordinates, said, "They'll come running anyway. They'll calculate the risk and come to the conclusion that my head is worth braving any potential danger." She looked around and saw that they still weren't one hundred percent convinced. After that display how could they. Twilight felt robbed of her potency. The best she could do was ask that they trust her. Then she ordered them to inform the other squad leaders of the plan, and she told them to be sure to rest up, and finally with a tired, lackluster salute she dismissed them. All of them but one.

"That's twice you've undermined me today." Twilight had a hard time restraining herself. She wanted to cuss Applejacks ears off, but that would have only compounded what was already a cluster-fuck of inappropriate behavior on both their parts. Instead she settled for a half-yell that was somewhere between the roar of a furious boss and the whimper of a whiny teenage filly. "What in the hay was that back there?" They were practically snout to snout. Applejack could feel the unicorn's breath on her muzzle and found it very uncomfortable.

"Me? Ah ain't the one prancing round here like some done up show pony."

"Look, if you have a problem with the way I run my platoon you take it up with me. You do not make an ass out of yourself in front of my Company. My. Fucking. Ponies! If you ever pull something like that again I will have you court-martialed."

"Oh there y'all go again, shouting orders an' just a throwing yer weight round wherever ya like."

"Excuse me? I'm the fucking lieutenant, Applejack!" Twilight was about ready spring up on her hind legs and thrust her fore hooves into the private's throat. Instead, still clinging to the last vestige of self control she could muster, she pushed her forehead into Applejack's and snorted loudly. Applejack pushed back, matching Twilight's snort with an aggressive neigh. The unicorn's horn dug slightly into the skin of the earth pony's forehead, threatening to tear it. If that happened then their little shoving match would surely come to blows, both ponies knew it – and both wanted it very badly.

"Y'all ain't no real officer. Yer just some kiss ass, getting hoof-outs all the time from the Princess. Yer Celestia's pet. Her little work horse, everypony knows it." Declared Applejack in a ruthless matter-of-fact tone of voice.

Twilight shoved a little harder, and Applejack knew immediately that a line had been crossed, and that she might have to fight her way back to the other side of that line.

Angry tears formed in the unicorns eyes.

"You ignorant fucking hick." AJ braced herself for a violent kick form the angry unicorn. When none came she figured there was still another round of verbal jabs left before the bucking started.

"Ignorant, stupid, worthless apple-bucking hick." She tried to answer Twilights insult with one of her own, but the task was beyond her. The pain in the unicorn's voice was semi-tangible; it billowed out of her, filling the room like a miserable fog that smothered AJ's words."What do you know about me or the princess? You're just some apple bucker from the sticks." The dense cloud of despair grew thicker with every uttered insult. AJ tried again to rebuttal but by now it was like trying to speak underwater.

Silence. Then, "Private, dismissed."

Applejack took a step backward. All the fight had gone out of her. "Twi, ah didn't mean nothing by it. Honest ah didn't," was the best she could manage.

"Dismissed."

Applejack stood up straight and gave a rare, flawless salute. "Sir, yes sir," she said. Then she about-faced and marched solemnly out of the lieutenant's tent.

As expected, later that night Twilight replayed the volatile exchange shared between her private and herself. In her head, she watched the Twilight of a few hours ago nearly go to pieces in front of what was supposed to be her subordinate, and as punishment gave herself a hard mental buck in the flank. That hadn't been the first time she'd been pressured about her supposedly undeserved military status, but hearing it from the mouth of a close friend – she hadn't been ready for that. She wondered if maybe the others held their own reservations. Maybe the stubborn farm pony was the only one earnest enough to say what everypony else was already thinking. She always had been straightforward that way: honest – sometimes to a fault.

Unexpected though, was the thought that came to her just before she was taken by sleeps assuaging embrace. She thought about Pinkie Pie's plan to rustle up some raw ingredients for baked goods and decided that she would do whatever she could to help the project reach some kind of fruition. She wasn't sure how keen on actually eating whatever monstrosity Pinkie dreamed up, and the other officers would probably think the whole endeavor was a waste of time. She would have to convince them it wasn't. Convince them it would be good for morale, because right now, morale was in pretty sort supply.

Chapter THREE

Lyra took a long drag from her cigarette and decided that only ponies who had never smoked thought of smoking as a filthy habit. In fact, Lyra had come to the conclusion that smoking was not only not a filthy habit – it was the cleanest, safest, most practical habit you could have – and that any number of years it supposedly subtracted from your life were well worth it because life was already too long and too miserable anyhow. Lyra took another slow satisfying drag form her little white stick of cancer, and tried to image what her life would be like without cigarettes. And just when she'd succeeding in dreaming up an alternate reality her that had, due to the absence of tobacco, turned to harder drugs, somepony nudged her from behind with a rifle butt.

"Celestia's sake," complained Bon-Bon, "the hell are you smoking? Smells like – like I don't even know."

"If it weren't for cigarettes I'd be a three legged, pan handling smack head," said Lyra to no pony in particular.

"What?"

"I'd be smack head. A miserably deformed drug attic. I'd sell my body for fixes on corners in Manehattan."

"What are you going on about?" said Bon-Bon with an easy smile, too easy for somepony who lived a life free of cancerous clouds. Lyra wondered how such a thing was possible. "I thought you were gonna try to quit soon. That's a filthy fucking habit you know." Lyra knew. She took another satisfying drag, and she smiled on the inside, and she knew what Bon-Bon would never know.

Lyra and Bon-Bon had been assigned to third platoon, Cheerilee's platoon, along with Applejack, Pinkie Pie, Colgate, and at least a two dozen other ponies Lyra didn't know by name. third platoon's mission was to cover first platoon's retreat. When the rebels came after first platoon it was second and third's job to surprise attack them from both flanks, and when Twilight radioed in, that would be the signal to prepare for the enemies charge. In the meantime (and there was plenty of it) they were to stay concealed and stay alert. The former posed no problem at all in the Everfree Forest. The woods were dense, claustrophobic, even a total armature could stay hidden provided they wore the proper camouflage and didn't make too much noise. The later however was no simple task. Boredom was one of those things they don't prepare you for in basic training. Between shoot outs, forest fires caused by showers of exploding mortars, and the occasional knife fight at close quarters; war could prove to be a real monotonous drag. A Long stretch of nothing occasionally interrupted by short spastic fits of everything at once.

Lieutenant Cheerilee was in charge of making sure third platoon operated like a stringent military machine. Not a social club. A stringent military machine. Lieutenant Cheerilee took her job seriously.

"Put that damn thing out private. This is supposed to be a surprise attack. You'll give away our position," she said. Lyra seriously doubted that. Not only did she seriously doubt that, she also seriously doubted that Cheerilee had it in her to do anything about it – or anything about anything for that matter. Lyra was not alone in this conviction.

"Y'all officer types are all the same." Applejack, whose reputation for challenging authority was on a steady incline, trotted up to the two of them and asked Lyra for a smoke.

"It's a cigarette not a smoke signal." A pale blue light enveloped both the lighter and the pack of smokes. Lyra wasn't much of a magician, but she could manage a simple manipulation spell. Most unicorns could do that much without practice, it came naturally. Lyra levitated the carton from her flak jacket pocket, removed a single slim white cigarette, and maneuvered it gingerly between Applejack's parted lips. She did all of this without moving an inch, and with less effort than it would've taken to actually move an inch. The lighter flipped open and sparked as if held by a spirit: a spirit who had perhaps once declared that before her time had passed she would kick the filthy habit, failed, perished form lung cancer, and had yet, even in death, found the will to kick the filthy habit. Then the lighter returned to her and the pale wisp of magic was gone.

AJ's first drag was defiant. She blew a lung full of smoke in Cheerilee's direction, prodding her for a reaction, daring her to retaliate. She didn't. Cheerilee took her job seriously but not so seriously as to immunize her from those spontaneous moments of oh-what-hell that tempted one away from the bore of occupational responsibility.

She took a smoke herself, showing the other two that she knew how to blow rings, as if trying to prove that she too could be one of the cool kids. Lyra and AJ were impressed, and, much to the dismay of Bon-Bon, the three of them smoked and talked like a couple of jaded office workers unwinding around the company water cooler.

"I heard from Pinks you got into it pretty deep with Sparkle," said Lyra, "heard you were about ready to buck her head off."

"You should have bucked her head off. You should've trampled her. That little shit could use an ass kicking," added Cheerilee helpfully, sounding like a new kid trying too hard to fit in. A few mummers went around the ranks, and Applejack realized that most of third platoon had something to say about Twilight Sparkle and that none of it was particularly nice. Applejack knew that Twilight wasn't well liked – hell, lately she hadn't been all that crazy about the unicorn herself – but she was genuinely surprised at the openness with witch so many expressed malice towards her. Well, openness when she wasn't around at least.

"Yeah, well Pinks should keep her durn mouth shut on a count a it weren't even like that," said Applejack. They had their differences sure, but at the end of the day there was a small list of ponies Applejack trusted to watch her back in a firefight. The name Twilight Sparkle was pretty close to the top of that list.

"Tweren't nothing. Just pre-battle jitters is all."

Lyra made that sound ponies make when they suddenly need to stifle a laugh. "Didn't know Sparkle jittered." She took a drag form her smoke, which was nearly a stub now, and thought of a joke about Sparkle being much too great and power to ever jitter, and she'd have told the joke too but just as the words began forming in her mouth she heard a bang and immediately dropped to her stomach, rifle at the ready.

"The hay was that?" said Bon-Bon, who was also on her stomach, crawling towards the three of them as awkwardly as one would expect a horse to crawl. She was going to say something else; something about how it was too soon, how first platoon had failed to radio in but Cheerilee shushed her. Together they listened for a moment. Then Cheerilee stood up and made a peculiar looking gesture – a sort of waving/pointing motion with one of her forelegs – that an impartial viewer may have mistaken for some kind of improvised sight gag, but third platoon understood and spread out immediately. If the enemy began their attack with a volley of mortars it made no sense to risk the whole platoon being obliterated in a single blast.

Cheerilee's first thought was that the rebels were on their way, just as planned, and that something had happened that prevented Sparkle form radioing in. It was a comforting thought because it meant nothing had changed. first platoon would come tear-assing through the woods with the rebels hot on their hind hooves, and when they came into firing range second and third platoon would split them in half with fire from both flanks.

Cheerilee kept focus on a clearing north east of her position; that's where they'd be coming from…

…Any minute now.

There was a second boom. This one sounded closer than the first, and it sounded less like the roar of a poorly placed mortar and more like the roar of something with a voice box the size of a horse drawn carriage. Cheerilee didn't recognize the roar, it was like nothing she'd ever heard before, but Bon-Bon did. She lay on her stomach clutching her riffle as it were a security blanket – shaking like a frightened child. Her eyes were shut in a way that suggested perhaps they'd never open again. Scared witless. Just the sight of her nearly scared Cheerilee as witless, but the officer was made of tougher stuff than that. At least that's what she thought as grabbed the immobilized pony by the mane and tried to shake her out of the fear induced trance. In truth she wasn't, nor was Bon-Bon a coward. The difference between them was not a matter of fortitude, rather it was simply a fundamental understanding of the situation. Bon-Bon knew something that Cheerilee didn't – and was afraid.

Chapter FOUR

A constellation bounded toward her.

Rainbow Dash decided that once the fighting was over she would live a slower life. If war in the Everfree Forest had taught her anything, it was that excitement was overrated, and that danger was not something to be sought out, at least not with great frequency. Retiring to the country side with AJ sounded like a good idea – no – it sounded like the greatest idea a pony could have.

Then another idea came to mind. A loud obnoxious idea that shoved its way passed the former, like a tween muscling her way through a crowd of screaming fans at a Sapphire Shores concert. This new idea shouted at Rainbow from inside her own head, in a voice that was like hers only much, much ruder. Fly, it demanded. Anywhere but here – just fly.

Had there been time for first thoughts, let alone seconds, Rainbow might have remembered that she had been charged with leading first platoon into battle, and that it was her responsibility to lead them out. But staring down a charging Ursa made her forgetful, and in an instant she was past the tree tops, fleeing from the ground like a flash of lighting escaping from a bottle.

Twilight Sparkle watched a multicolored streak of light bolt through the dusk sky opposite the direction of the rampaging constellation and cursed Celestia herself. From the very first day she met Rainbow Dash, Twilight had often wondered whether the young pegasus pony was unflinchingly courageous or just stupid. Now she knew for sure.

Never mind her, she thought, the voice in her head cool and dethatched. It needed to be. If she lived there would be time later for anger – and plenty of it when that time came. For now, the world was ending less than half a klick away from where she stood.

The plan had gone off without a single hiccup up until right now. First platoon had attacked the rebel stronghold, just as planned. Twilight had made it known that she was among the ranks of the advancing force, just as planned. And the rebels had taken the bait, just as planned. The day was all but theirs when suddenly this Ursa, that was not so large as to be called major but not so small as to be called minor, came tearing through the forest, great trees folding under its paws as it bounded toward them, cutting off their escape route. And though it was she who'd first laid the trap, it was Equestria's own favorite daughter who now found herself snared by karmas far reaching net. Caught between two great beasts: one of teeth and claws, and another of lead, and iron, and unflinching grit. Anypony else might have faltered. Twilight Sparkle was not anypony else.

She needed a flyer.

In the ensuing melee she managed to flag down Sergeant Fluttershy. The Pegasus Pony had fled from the clearing and had taken up position with three others inside of a shallow crater that had been dug with the aid of unicorn magic. Together the four of them were attempting to suppress some of the enemy's small arms fire.

"Sergeant!" shouted Twilight as she leapt down into their trench, enemy fire whizzing past her head like a swarm of angry parasprites. Twilight's horn sparked and the ground beneath her sunk in several feet. Happy with the newly added width and depth of the makeshift foxhole, the lieutenant ordered the other three ponies to move to the crater's edge and continue providing suppressing fire. The three of them crawled quickly but carefully up the sloping crater wall. A moment later one of them slid back down to the center, coming to a stop at Twilight's fore hooves – a hole in his throat and a haunting expression frozen on his still face. The unicorn ignored him. Fluttershy did her best to do the same.

"Fluttershy I need you to fly out of this hole and round up all of the surviving unicorns. Tell them to use their magic to cut a huge trench between us and the rebels." The sergeant stared back at her commanding officer with big frightened eyes, like a mouse staring up at a swooping owl. She looked on the verge of tears.

"Fluttershy, listen to me!" Twilight gave her a rough shake. A grenade that had been meant for their foxhole fell short, detonating just a few feet away. The blast rattled them both, but for Fluttershy – the sound of it, the heat from the explosion against her skin, the dust in her face – it was an unsubtle reminder that she was still alive. She shook her head, then nodded in understanding. Twilight continued in a hurried voice.

"Have the unicorns pull down a few trees to use for cover as well. I want every .30 cal and .50 cal we have laying into the rebel forces. I don't care if they can see a target or not, I want steady rounds in their direction. Enough to keep the rebel's heads down."

"Right." Fluttershy beat her wings but Twilight yanked her down by her tail before she got clear of the hole.

"Wait, wait Celestia damnit!" shouted Twilight. She held a confused and panicked looking Fluttershy down by the shoulders, muttering curses under her breath as she took a moment to regather her thoughts. "Once the perimeter is set up gather whatever pegasi you can find and tell them to get to work distracting that damn Ursa."

Fluttershy suddenly felt light headed. "Pe—Pegasi…"

"Yes all of the Pegasi. That means you too. I want you buzzing around that things head while I radio for back up." The Sergeant started to say something; something in stark opposition to her commander's plans, but when she parted her lips no words came. What did come said much more than any well constructed sentence could have. Fluttershy keeled over and vomited violently, choking as the contents of her stomach emptied onto the ground. Twilight understood. She gave the sergeant a moment to regain her composure. Another grenade landed near the foxhole – closer this time.

"Fluttershy I need to know you can do this. You understand me?" Fluttershy whipped her mouth sheepishly with her foreleg, embarrassment gripping her almost as tightly as fear. She took a deep breath and nodded again.

"The plan. Say it back to me," ordered Twilight.

"Unicorns – trench –.30 cals—pegasi – buzzing – Ursa. Uh – uh…"

"That's it. That's my Fluttershy." Twilight drew her friend into a tight hug. "You're gonna be fine. You're coming back to me safe and sound, understand?" she said, more for her own benefit than for her sergeants. She patted the pegasus pony on the helmet as if she were a child. Fluttershy shrugged off the radio equipment she'd been carrying, as well as a few other supply packs that would've otherwise slowed her down. Then, with an impressive beat of her graceful wings she took to the sky, not quite as swift as lightning loosed form a bottle, but swift enough.

Twilight watched Fluttershy's departure longer than she probably should have. An enemy riffle barked and another body rolled down from the edge of the hole, coming to a rest beside the first. This one was an earth pony. The round that finished him landed a few centimeters north of his right eye and, judging by the size of the hole and the precision of the shot, Twilight deduced, with a certain grim satisfaction, that a sniper had been responsible for the poor colt's death. The bullet had pierced his skull at an angle, a downward trajectory. The sniper was above them, a pegasus maybe, or an earth pony hiding in a treetop. But he wasn't directly above them. I didn't take an educated mind like Twilight's to deduce that if he were directly above them everypony in hole would be dead by now. Where ever he was hiding, Twilight figured that only the edge of their foxhole was withing the snipers sight.

"Solider get away from the edge. Head down now!" ordered the lieutenant. Just as the soldier was turning to slide down the slight incline, another round from the sniper knocked off her helmet with an audible ping, but the grunt was so terrified she didn't even seem to notice. Now that they were face to face Twilight recognized her. She was the green filly from before. The one who had been naively eating up every word of Applejack's story.

"Name and rank soldier."

"I'm Carrot Top. Private Carrot Top, Lieutenant Sparkle sir." She had a light coat and her mane was earthy orange and surprisingly well kept given that she lived in a warzone.

"Can you operate one of these radios private?"

"No sir, I'm afraid not." Ponyfeathers. That meant she was going to have to do it herself. Those trenches needed digging, and Twilight new she was the best magic user in the platoon – hell in the entire company. She could do it quicker than any of the other unicorns. Not that it mattered now. She and Carrot Top were pinned down by the sniper, and if Twilight knew her enemy as well as she thought she did, she knew he'd keep his scope trained on this hole. Whether the rebels won the war or not, gunning down Equestria's favorite daughter was sure to get him a paragraph or two in the history books.

"Listen Carrot, I want you to peek over that edge very quickly and try to get a fix on that snipers position. He's above us. Be careful and don't linger." Carrot crept up the slight incline slowly. She climbed on unsteady hooves, still afraid, but somehow being near the lieutenant made it easier to brave the battlefield's silent promise of death.

Twilight marehandled the radio. It was a difficult device to deal with; a great archaic slab of metal, decorated with knobs and dials to adjust range and frequency. It weighed something like thirty pounds and whoever had designed it seemed to fail to take into account that its future operators possessed hooves. Twilight put the hoof-set up to her ear and twisted one of the dials hurriedly.

"First to second and third. I repeat first to second and third. This is Lieutenant Twilight Sparkle requesting immediate response. Over." She waited for what felt like a long time. Then the receiver in her hooves cracked and the static of an empty line was replaced with a tempered voice.

"Lieutenant Octavia of second platoon reporting in and awaiting orders sir. Over." Upon hearing the voice, Twilight suddenly became aware of the fact that she'd been holding her breath and exhaled heavily into the receiver.

"Lieutenant Cheerilee of third platoon reporting in. Make that a ditto on my end as well. Over," came a second voice. Good, that meant the both of them could hear her. She wouldn't have time to repeat herself.

Twilight Sparkle looked up at the sky. Thin slivers of copper sunlight snaked their way through the thick treetops. It was nearly nightfall and she knew she had to get her ponies off of this battlefield before Celestia had finished dragging the sun down beneath the horizon. She tried to gather her thoughts as to explain first platoon's situation to her fellow lieutenants in as few words as possible, but all she could think of was Applejack, and the disgust in her eyes, and the venom in her voice. Maybe she was right. Maybe her status really hadn't been earned. She thought about giving it all up right there and then. Rainbow had, why couldn't she too? Her eyes fell from the treetops and landed on the little green pony perched at the edge of the trench, scared out of her mind but still willing to peek her head out in hopes of spotting the sniper without soiling the ground with the inside of her skull. If this one could risk her life for a glimpse, the mere possibility to better this dire situation, to gain some minute advantage – then Twilight knew she would just have to pony up as well.

She summoned the courage needed to hold down that little button on the hoof-set and speak. "Listen closely you two." She spoke with the fortitude and composure of something that could not be moved. The way a great stone pillar would speak, if it knew it shouldered the weight of a coliseum. "I'm afraid I won't have time to repeat myself."

Chapter FIVE

The plan hadn't changed all that much, Cheerilee had at least that much to be thankful for. Second and third platoon would still be attacking the enemies exposed eastern and western flanks; the only real difference was that they were going to the enemy as opposed to letting the rebels come to them. This meant that they'd have to swing their march wide in order to obtain good position, and that they'd have to move double time if they hoped to arrive before first platoon was completely wiped out.

Any good military unit new better than to expect things to always go exactly as planned. Still, battles tend to have a certain – a certain rhythm – an ebb and flow that is not unlike an ocean's tide. Changes disrupted that rhythm, as well as other things. Chief among them being moral.

Little bits of murmurs reached Cheerilee's careful ears. Every manner of belly aching and protesting, coupled with every thinkable vulgarity. The groans of her soldiers fluttered up from the ranks in fragments, like one-winged butterflies drifting on an ominous wind. The lieutenant marched on at the helm, her ears catching them as if with a net.

"…ponyfeathers. I knew that damn unicorn was going to get us all killed…"

"…can you believe it – RD just turning tail like that? Rainbow-fucking-Dash!"

"…think I'm gonna be sick…"

"…If we live through this I want a medal. I want the fucking princess to put a fucking medal around my fucking neck…"

"…kill her. Kill that damn Sparkle…"

"…An Ursa Major? Celestia help me, I'm gonna be sick…"

Though she was troubled by her soldiers' seemingly infinite capacity to piss and moan, Lieutenant Cheerilee couldn't honestly say that she disagreed with the subject of their gripes. Cheerilee didn't like Twilight Sparkle. At the very least she could acknowledge that the lieutenant did, as much as it pained her to admit, have some talent for battle tactics, and she could keep a cool head under pressure. Good qualities for anypony of her rank. But Sparkle played favorites. She made decisions that should have been well outside of her authority to make, and she made these decisions with no consent but that of her little cohorts. Cheerilee imagined the six of them, scheming in their private tent, plotting to rise in the ranks. She imagined Sparkle in that little tent, plopped in a rotating chair behind a desk and petting a cat like some kind of comic book villain, laughing at the rest of the company. Laughing at her. Just the thought of it made her mash her teeth as she marched.

Applejack and Pinkie Pie marched a few paces behind their acting commander, hooves dragging lackadaisically. They had the look of abandoned children wandering through an empty place in search of parents who no longer wanted them, each only vaguely aware of the tasks inherent futility. Not long ago a rainbow colored streak of light had flashed across the sky, fleeing from the ensuing battle and taking with it both their wills to fight. After the rainbow faded neither of them was able to muster the courage to utter so much as a word about it. They just looked at each other with big round unbelieving eyes.

Lyra and Bon-Bon marched alongside them. A thin white wisp of smoke billowed up from the glowing end of Lyra's lit cigarette. She took a deep breath and blew a cloud in Applejack's face, prodding her.

"Oh pull your head out of your ass already. You and Pinks need to get your shit together. We're walking into a cluster fuck, in case you didn't know, and I'd feel better knowing that the pony watching my back isn't a fucking vegetable." Harsh words. Applejack thought about her fight with Twilight and wondered passively if life had anything to offer her other than unicorns with harsh words. She looked Lyra in her face but said nothing.

Lyra sighed. She didn't actually care anything for either Pinkie or Applejack, at least, nothing more than she felt for any other pony in the company. They were allies sure, but that was as far as their relationship went. Lyra liked things that way – simple – without emotions or personal feelings to make a mess of things. She had chosen to live keeping everypony and forelegs length, that way it hurt less when you had burry them.

Lyra, however, did care that Pinkie and Applejack were two of the most capable close range fighters in the entire company, and defiantly the most dangerous killers in third platoon. Years of apple-bucking on her family's farm had proven a better prerequisite for battle than any amount of boot camp drilling. She was a virtual iron horse; with muscles as hard as bricks, but also limber as wood, lungs that expanded like balloons, a heart that pounded like a piston. She had speed, and power, and coordination, and all of those other little physical advantages that lend themselves well to the work of ending lives. At the start of this mission Lyra had considered it a blessing to fight alongside the young apple-bucker, but seeing AJ as she was now seemed to dim her own chances of survival.

"She's gone. Get over it!" Still nothing, not even a twitch. "Hey chicken shit, I'm talking to you!"

"She heard you!" snapped Pinkie, her voice possessing the quality of a rapidly recoiling rubber band. She glared at Lyra with crazed, angry eyes, a glare, it was whispered amongst the ranks of Company Everfree, that could halt a charging manticore and turn a cockatrice to stone.

Lyra flinched.

Pinkamina Diane Pie, it was said, became a different pony entirely when she stepped out onto the battlefield. In the barracks she was a clown; always joking, always smiling, and often the cause when others were doing the same. The brass loved her. They indulged most of her eccentricities because keeping her happy meant keeping the company happy. As far as the higher ups were concerned, there existed no better method for maintaing moral than maintaing Pinkie Pie.

But in the midnight hours on the nights before she deployed for battle, rumors went that if you happened to wander by her tent you'd find her sitting beside a fire, staring into a small cracked mirror, mumbling little inaudible nothings to herself as she straightened her mane with an old comb. They say it's her ceremony. It marks her transformation, or rather, her emergence. That other Pinkie Pie. The one with the long pink mane – straight as a razors edge – who takes gleeful pleasure in the suffering of others.

Lyra had never actually seen this supposed ceremony, but it was an undeniable fact that Pinkie straightened her mane before missions. Though Lyra suspect it was perhaps for more practical reasons. Most likely so her usual frizzy mess of a mane wouldn't snag on foliage while she stalked through the Everfree Forest.

Pfft. Ponies and their pony-tales.

"The whole forest can hear you begging me and Applejack to pick up your slack." Pinkie kept up her stare, as if meaning to make a contest of it, until Lyra, unnerved, was forced to turn away. Even though she insisted on believing that the stories surrounding the so called,"Madmare of Company Everfree," were exaggerated, not even Lyra could deny that there was madness in that stare, or at least something bearing a strong resemblance.

"You want bodies," Pinkie mumbled to no pony in particular. "I'll give you bodies. I'll stack them at your fore hooves." A grim vow. Lyra was sure that Pinkamina meant every word.

Good, she thought. At least one of them still has some fight in her. She and Bon-Bon would stick close to the psychopath. She may have been a little off, but she was a hell of a fighter, and Lyra needed the very best at her back if she and Bon-Bon had any chance of trotting away from this in one piece.

For a while they marched. Cheerilee once again found herself bored.

And then all it once there were muzzle flashes directly in front of her, not even fifty yards out. Cheerilee could see the muzzle flashes of the rebel's small arms fire. The pop form their rifles startled her and she dropped to her stomach out of instinct, only vaguely aware that the shots were not aimed at her. The soldiers immediately behind her followed suit, as did those behind them, and those behind them; until the entire platoon was face down on their stomach, caressing the safeties of their weapons in nervous anticipation. They were so close but their arrival went unnoticed. The rebels were too busy picking off what was left of first platoon, prematurely reveling in what they assumed was their impending victory.

Finally, thought Cheerilee, Celestia smiles on me.

The proud soldier bore herself up on her hind legs, her forelegs kicking wildly at the empty air. She breathed deep and let out a neigh that shook the sturdy trunks of the forest trees. The soldiers at her back watched her closely, marveled even, and in that too fleeting moment Lieutenant Cheerilee seemed a thing akin to the aurora – hauntingly powerful, that power enlarged by its own intrinsic brevity.

When she returned to all fours, she came down galloping. Behind her third platoon became a stampede. They crashed into the enemies exposed flank violently, like a great wave breaking against sharp rocks. The fighting had begun. It was close; hoof to hoof, practically nose to nose. Though they were out numbered and out gunned, both the close proximity and the element of surprise served the MM well. Both were products of Sparkle's strategy. Lieutenant Cheerilee didn't like Twilight Sparkle, but even she had to admit the unicorn knew what she was doing when it came to the art of war.

Pinkamina Diane Pie drew a knife from her shoulder holster and bit down on the handle, clenching it tightly between her teeth. Its edge met little resistance as it tore into the hind quarters of an unsuspecting rebel. He squealed and spun around, poised to return fire, only to feel the bite of a second blade rend his collar bone. Then he fell to the ground and felt nothing, nor would he ever again.

The kill strike belonged to AJ. She'd charged in after Pinkie had, her own knife clenched between her teeth. Now she made a dash for another rebel, a unicorn with her iron sights trained on Pinkie. Just as the enemy unicorn squeezed her trigger, Applejack's knife sunk into her back. Bullets sprayed uselessly into the air as the rebel let out a desperate wail, calling out to her fellow soldiers for help, only to be answered by the pink earth pony's blade as it slashed across her throat. The cut was so deep that the unicorn's head was nearly severed, and for one horrifying moment it dangled precariously from a thin strand of flesh before what was left of the wretched rebel toppled over, coming to rest in a heap of blood and gore.

AJ wrenched her neck to retrieve the knife from her kill's spine. As she pulled she met a moment's resistance, not long, but long enough for a rebel soldier to get the drop on her. He aimed from the hip just as she was turning to face him. Too slow. Too late.

Time slowed to a crawl. Her mind raced. Something in the back of her head prayed that her body armor would hold; that the blast wouldn't rip through her head or neck. But even if she caught the rounds with her chest, she knew at this range she was staring down a kill shot. No amount of Kevlar would save her from the volley.

This was it. In those last few moments she thought about her fight with Twilight and cursed Celestia that she'd have to leave her friend on such bad terms. She thought about the streaking stretch of multicolored light in the sky, and though she hated Rainbow Dash for betraying her, she still wished for her to survive the war. To start a new life some place far away from all this madness, all this – this…

…Klick, went the unmistakable sound of an assault rifle attempting to fire with an empty magazine. AJ wasn't sure whether or not she'd actually heard such the tiny sound over the clamor of the encircling melee, but she was sure of the fact that she was still alive.

Both Militiamare and rebel hesitated.

Then with snake like reflexes she struck out at the rebel, but he was ready for her and, being no slouch himself at close quarters, struck her squarely on the jaw with but of his gun. The knife flew from her mouth, as did he helmet form her head. She reeled backwards and he stumbled forward; off balance form having delivered such a heavy blow while supporting all of his weight on only his hind legs. The two of them rolled together onto the blood stained grass, wrestling for possession of the rebel's empty riffle. Muscles strained. Teeth gritted. The rebel was strong, a big lumbering stallion of an earth pony with legs like stone columns, but as he tussled with the filly at least half his size his confidence waned. That this small girl could give him so much trouble was unbelievable. But unlike the great lumbering stallion, strength was not the Militiamares only talent.

Seeing an opening she pushed away from her opponent, creating enough space for her to spin around, and spring up on her forelegs. She bent deep at the knees and her entire body coiled and tensed. When she uncoiled her hind legs kicked viscously at her attacker, bucking him in the throat. He choked and wobbled but didn't fall. AJ hurried to finish the job, but before she could reach him he dropped to the ground, dead; felled by three rounds to the back of his neck. The shots had come from the barrel of Bon-Bon's sidearm. She rushed over to AJ's side.

"I got your back covered private. Lyra's doing the same for Pinks."

"Where's ur riffle specialist?" Applejack asked, noticing that Bon-Bon was only caring a pistol.

"Don't know. Lost it in the fray," replied Bon-Bon. Applejack noticed the sidearm shaking in Bon-Bon's hooves. Her mane was matted and blood speckled. She picked up the weapon that had belonged to the dead stallion, reloaded it with a magazine from off his vest, and handed it to Bon-Bon.

"Try not ta lose this one." Then she pulled a long knife off of the dead rebel solider, and got back to work.

Twilight noticed a dissipation in the enemy's rate of fire. Good, that meant second and third were doing their jobs. Soon the rebels would be overtaken, boxed in from all sides. If she was going to make a move against the rampaging Ursa, then she could not wait any longer. Pegasi were dying and Fluttershy was among those pegasi. Whatever was to be done had to be done now, before night fully descended upon them. She tapped Carrot Top on the shoulder.

"On my command were going to make a gallop for the main trench," she said calmly.

"But the sniper!"

"Do not argue with me." Carrot Top nodded. She didn't care what nasty things Lyra and Cheerilee and all the others said about Lieutenant Sparkle, she was a good pony and a fearless leader. She decided to trust the unicorn, and if in the end that trust got her killed – well then it had been an honor, as they say.

"GO!" Carrot had never run so hard in her entire life. Her legs ached, and her lungs burned, and no matter how much distance she covered the trench never seemed any closer. Then all at once she was tumbling into the ditch, coming to an unpleasant halt against a solid wall of earth. Twilight was beside her. She had a look on her face that Carrot couldn't make sense of.

"Private your hit," said Twilight, and as if Twilight's words had been the cause, Carrot Top suddenly became aware of an acute pain in her right hind leg. She'd been shot just above the kneecap and was bleeding, but not badly. She could still stand on it despite the pain.

"I'm fine, sir. Nothing but a scratch."

"You've been brave enough today, private. Find a medic and get yourself taken care of."

"Yes sir." Carrot gave a hearty salute before limping off a ways down the trench in search of a medic. If she remembered right there were only a few deployed on this mission. She hoped they weren't all already dead.

The trench proved to be an excellent defensive position. It stretched several yards, and was deep without being too deep. It was a bit narrow but some imperfections were expected given the spontaneity of its creation. What was left of first platoon's earth ponies and unicorns had taken up defensive position, manning the heavy machine guns. Twilight trotted down the length of the trench, opposite the direction Carrot went, and began shouting orders.

"Listen up first. Those of you manning .30 cals keep up the suppressing fire. The rest of you riflemares are with me. I want mortars and R.P.G. rounds on that Ursa." Twilight found a discarded bazooka and took up position leaning over the trench's north wall. The other ponies followed suit: loading R.P.G.s and securing grenades to the launchers on the ends of their riffles.

"On my command." Twilight took a moment to aim carefully. She had many skills that aided her well in battle, but unfortunately precision with anti-armor weaponry was not one of her fortes.

"Ready…"

"Wait!" somepony shouted. Twilight was so startled she nearly fell over under the weight of bazooka on her shoulder. She turned to find Carrot Top hobbling awkwardly on her three good legs, shoving past the other MM as she made her way back to Twilight.

"Private I told you do see to that injury."

"Wait…wait," she gasped. "Our pegasi are still circling around the Ursa. If you fire now you're sure to catch a few in the crossfire."

Tsk. Like she didn't know that already, but there was no way to deliver the order to fall back to her fliers. They were well outside of shouting distance and sending anypony close enough would only endanger one more life.

"There's no other way."

"You could use your magic. A teleportation spell. You could–"

"You know I can't do that." She glared at Carrot like a mother scolding her child. It was unthinkable. Carrot was green alright, but even she should have known better than to suggest something so brutish. Equestrian law strictly forbade certain methods of engagement: methods like the use of poison gasses, flamethrowers, and chief among these offenses was the use of magic for anything other defensive or medical purposes. Spells used for advancement of position, relaying information, or, of course, direct offensive action were considered crimes against the state and all of pony kind.

"Don't ever let me hear insubordination like that out of you again. Understand?" Carrot's eyes fell to the ground and she nodded meekly.

"I asked you a question private!"

"Sir! I understand perfectly sir!"

"Good. As for the rest of you," Twilight resumed aiming the bazooka, "be ready to fire on my command."

Fluttershy watched the Ursa skewer one of the slower pegasus ponies on the end of a terrible claw, and then drop the poor soldier into his mouth. He screamed out for help as his bones splintered under the power of the monster's jaws. Then, satisfied with his kill, the beast failed to swallow. Instead it spat out what was left of its prey, fresh blood trickling form its lower lip.

Bullets bounced uselessly off its hide. Angering it but doing it no harm. The pegasus ponies flew around the beast, weaving and bobbing and circling the monster. Distract it. That was the plan. But the damn thing never seemed to tire, much unlike first platoon's pegasi, and as they tired there maneuvering grew sloppy. They misjudged distance, flew too low, came in to slow. And every mistake they made cost them another member of first's already rapidly dwindling numbers.

Fluttershy emptied her last magazine into the Ursa's cheek. The beast took a swipe at her but she was already well out of reach. She drew her side arm, and just before she began firing something caught her attention. A voice that reached her over the monster's roar, and the clatter of small arms fire.

"This is pointless," shouted one of her fellow MM, she had an off blond mane and a dull lavender coat. Her midsection was bleeding from where the Ursa had nicked her with the very tip of its claws; three little cuts, shallow wounds that wouldn't even leave scars. Fluttershy thought she looked familiar, somepony from basic maybe. The name was at the back of her throat. She was practically choking on it.

"We got to lead it away. Give our friends on the ground a chance to escape without getting chased back to HQ. You with me Sarg?"

Whatever this pony was about to do was probably going to be stupid. Stupid and reckless, and even though she didn't have the authority to make a call like that in first place, Fluttershy nodded in agreement anyway. It was the lavender pony's voice and her posture that convinced Fluttershy to trust her. So confident. The lavender pony was sure that this plan of hers would work, and she smiled as she explained the details, reveling in the promise of danger. She sounded like her. Moved like her too – not exactly; no pony was exactly like her – put this one was a close second. With a few more colors in her mane, Fluttershy thought, she might even look like her.

"I'll need you out front with me. You're Twilight's right hoof, the number two. When they see you the others will follow." Fluttershy nodded again. She remembered what Twilight had said to her when they were together in the foxhole. She was going back to her. To all of them.

"Follow my lead!" shouted the lavender pegasus pony. She flew up high, and then darted down at the monster at an almost perfect ninety degree angle. She was fast. Fluttershy could barely keep up with her new companion as she dove in close to the Ursa, surprising it with a quick burst of fully automatic rounds to the eye. A growl rose up from the beast that was unlike any sound it had made before. It was a hurt sound, like that of a whimpering dog. The thing lumbered backwards. It rose up on its hind paws and swiped at the lavender pony but was too slow. A few seconds later Fluttershy did the same, dropping in form above and aiming for its other eye but missing. The bullets from her sidearm pinged harmlessly off its brow. It didn't matter though, they had the Ursa's attention. Now they had to keep it.

The two of them circled the monster's head twice, flying in close and firing across its face in a sweeping pattern before suddenly breaking off. They flew away, leading it deeper into the forest and the Ursa followed. The other pegasus ponies noticed quickly and began to do the same, making sure to head in the same direction as Fluttershy.

"That's it, that's it! After me big guy!" taunted the lavender pony, excited, trilled by her presumed triumph over the beast. Over confident. Careless. She seemed more and more like her with every passing moment. Fluttershy flew ahead, but the lavender daredevil hung back to taunt the monster, staying close, making sure the thing kept its attention on her. Fluttershy watched as her new companion ventured to near to the Ursa's menacing jaw, and somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered if she had perhaps been unconsciously looking for somepony to replace her AWOL friend. She hated herself for even thinking that Rainbow Dash of all ponies could ever be replaced, and so soon no less. But she hated Rainbow more for abandoning them. She was supposed to be made of tougher stuff than that. She was supposed to be the brave one. The one who came to everypony's rescue. She wasn't the one who got teased for being a pegasus afraid of heights, or for cowering from her own shadow. If anypony was supposed to just fly away it was suppose to me, thought Fluttershy; angry tears pooling behind her eyes.

She blinked them away defiantly. If she was going to die, she was going to do it with a face wet from blood and sweat, not tears. No time for that – not now. Not ever again. Now it was her turn to play daredevil.

She dashed across the sky as fast as her already exhausted wings would let her. To the lavender pony's surprise – to everypony's surprise – the Ursa leapt up into the air. Not high, but that anything that large was capable of leaving the ground should have, in a sane world, been impossible. It wasn't fast either but it was fast enough to catch the lavender pony off guard. She beat her wings harder but it was too little too late.

The Constellation's jaws opened, and inside his mouth there seemed an entire galaxy. His teeth were like sharpened pillars of pure meteorite, and his tongue was bright and hot like a star, and behind his tonsils there was nothing a but a void: infinite, cold, and dark.

Fluttershy dashed through the sky. The constellation's mouth began to close. The lavender pony beat her wings.

Fluttershy dashed. She was close. She could make it. The constellation's tongue lapped, savoring the coming meal. The lavender pony beat her wings. Too close – not enough time.

Fluttershy dashed; just a blink away now. She could make it. The constellation took a deep breath, inhaling, pulling at its prey like the vacuum of a black hole. The lavender pony's wings were still. She shut her eyes and made her peace.

Fluttershy crashed into the lavender pony, grabbing her around the waist and holding her fast. The constellation's jaws snapped shut, its teeth grazing one of Fluttershy's wings.

Then there was a boom. It knocked the pair of pegasi off balance, sending them spiraling uncontrolled through the air.

And then there were more booms. The sky was full of them. They were tearing the world apart. Fire and smoke and horrible defining sound. The world was ending. Celestia was ripping it to pieces herself. They had angered her with their warring, and their cowardice, and their callousness and now she was ripping it all apart. What else could it have been? Nothing seemed to make sense.

The monster reeled, it fell out of the sky and its graceless landing shook the earth.

In the last sane part of her mind Fluttershy knew that she had done it. She had saved that brave, foolish pony with the lavender coat. She was safe, cradled in the sergeant's forelegs as the two of them hurtled towards the earth. Fluttershy held her new companion – her new friend – close to her chest and navigated the landing as best she could. They came down fast, but Fluttershy managed to catch enough of the updraft from the explosions under her wings to slow their fall significantly. They hit the forest ground hard and skidded across the soft grass for a bit before rolling to a stop at the base of a small tree.

Fluttershy gathered herself quicker than her condition should have allowed.

"HAHA!" she exclaimed. She won! She tricked the Ursa, and saved her new friend, and survived the end of the world. She didn't need Rainbow Dash. She'd be fine without her. They all would. And between the five of them that were left they had courage in spades. But most importantly she was going back to Twilight. She was going to hold the unicorn in her forelegs and thank her for everything.

"We made it! We… made…" Fluttershy looked down at the pony in her forelegs, and it took her rattled mind almost a full minute to process what she was seeing, "…it."

What she had been clutching during her return to the earth wasn't a pony at all. It was half a carcass – the bottom half. Nothing but entrails hanging out of a mangled midsection, like some kind of sick live piñata, a naked pair of limp hind quarters, and a partially burned off blood flecked cutie mark. The image on the dead flank was that of a bright yellow sun partially covered by innocent looking clouds. Cloudkicker. The name popped into her head as if on cue. Seeing the cutie mark sparked the memory of their first meeting back at basic training. That was a lifetime ago. Fluttershy wasn't sure if it had even been hers. She held what was left of Cloudkicker in her fore hooves and stared at it, perfectly and profoundly numb.

The wounded constellation stood up. Twilight didn't want to believe it. The thing could still stand after eating a round form every anti-armor weapon in the platoon's arsenal. She wagered that the beast couldn't do it a second time.

"Reload!" she ordered, and the others obeyed. "Again. On my mark…" Twilight Sparkle took aim, the weight of the bazooka heavy on her shoulder.

The Constellation bounded toward her. Fluttershy watched it with tired eyes and a dull uninterested expression. She noticed night had fallen. It was dark, and in the darkness the Ursa shined like a cold sun. Beautiful – terrifyingly so.

And then something impossible happened. Fluttershy, and Twilight, and all of the MM and of all of the rebels saw it, and they knew that it was impossible, but it happened anyway.

In a flash it was day again, as if Celestia had changed her mind and suddenly bucked the sun back into the sky. But the light form the sun was too bright, and too many colors. There were beams of brilliant yellow, and that seemed right; but accompanying them were beams of red, of green, of purple, of orange, and of blue. The sky was awash with every color and every shade that had every flickered across the visual spectrum; an infinite gradient of light spreading out in every direction.

Fluttershy saw red, and it was all at once the sharp crimson of a dancing flame, and the pale whisper of blushing cheeks, and the dark scarlet of blood. She saw sky blue and ocean blue. She saw canary yellow beside lemon and watched, awestruck, as they danced with the blues and became greens. The great shine of the living galaxy paled. It seemed but a speck now. A single candle attempting to outshine Celestia's sun.

The Ursa was all but upon Fluttershy, apparently blind to the great spectacle in the sky. It rose up on its hind legs and roared. The tiny pegasus pony did not look away. She met the monster's gaze and was not afraid. Its claws gleamed in the multi-colored light as it prepared to deliver the killing blow.

Then came the boom, like thunder, drowning out the mighty roar of the living galaxy. A bolt of rainbow colored lighting split the sky in two. It moved faster than anything could move, but Fluttershy saw her with her own naked eyes. At least that's what she'd tell the others later when she got back to camp. She'd tell it to her fellow soldiers when stories got passed around in the mess hall. She'd tell it to them around campfires, and during marches. She'd tell it every chance she got, and when she was old and gray she'd tell it to her grandchildren. She would tell it a million times before she died, and it would still be a million times too few. She'd never embellish it. She couldn't even if she'd tried. It was already as miraculous as anything could be.

She'd tell them that she saw her – through all the sound and fury she saw Rainbow Dash.

The rainbow lightning bolt struck the Ursa in the temple, just under the ear. Its skull caved in, crushed by the overwhelming force of the impact. Blood sprayed from its head as it toppled over, and Fluttershy was surprised somewhat by the mortality of the living galaxy. Despite its other worldliness its blood was red, no different from any of Celestia's children. It finally came to a rest on its side. Dead. It had been even before it hit the ground.

In death the beast's natural light was extinguished. The light from Dash's sonic rainboom had dissipated too. It was night again. Fluttershy sat in the darkness under the small tree, completely unaware that she was still desperately clutching Cloudkicker's remains in her fore hooves. For how long she didn't know. Twilight found her that way: sitting with the dead pony's entrails spilling onto her lap and covered from hind-hoof to chest in blood that wasn't hers. She wasn't in great shape but she'd survived. Rainbow Dash had survived too. The impact left the bones in both her wings and forelegs in pieces. Her collar bone was fractured, and she'd broken several ribs, among other things; but she was still alive when first platoon found her, sprawled out on ground a few yards from where the Ursa lay dead. It was Carrot Top who spotted her. She called out to Twilight, who rushed to the side of her fallen friend. Unabashed, with no regard for the flood of tears pouring down her face, she stood over Rainbow and said in a voice that was almost a wail,

"Where did you go? I thought you ran away? What – what took you so long?"

To which a barely conscious Rainbow Dash responded, "Had to get a running start. You – uh – you know how it goes." Two of the platoon's surviving medics shoved past Twilight, then shooed her away, making sure she wasn't hovering over them worrying herself sick while they went to work on stabilizing Rainbow.

"We're gonna need some space here sir. Please, go see to the rest of your platoon," said one of the medic ponies in as measured a voice as anypony could manage given the events of the last few hours. He was a unicorn with long horn, longer than most. This detail Twilight remembered because the tip of it was lit up with a magic spark. It was a simple illumination spell, dim, but it was the only light in the entire forest. Every eye in the platoon was drawn to that little spark. Too worn out and run down to bother with a campfire, the ponies of Company Everfree's first platoon rested silently; watching the two medics work with laser like focus. The worst of it seemed to over. Rainbow's wounds were severe, but she'd already come out of shock and was responding well when questioned by the medics as to the specifics of what hurt, what parts of her body she could still move, and what parts she couldn't feel.

Exhausted in every way a pony could be, Lieutenant Twilight Sparkle sat down under the tree beside Fluttershy, and watched the healers work their magic. It was a pacifying thing: to watch a life being mended after so many before had been violently torn apart. Twilight gave Fluttershy an awkward sideways glance. Had she been a braver pony, she'd have been able to look the blood stained pegasus in the eyes. But when she needed it most her courage failed her. She couldn't meet the sergeant's vapid gaze for fear of what she might find there, and also what she might not. Instead she reached a foreleg around Fluttershy's torso and pulled her closer. Fluttershy rested her head against the unicorn's shoulder, and Twilight could feel the sergeant's body shaking against hers.

From out of the dark forest a lone light advanced toward first platoon's position. It blinked three times, with a three second pause in-between each blink; a sign to the others that hold their fire for an incoming friendly. As the lone light neared, the shape of a pony materialized. It was a she, and she was a long earth pony carrying a flashlight in her mouth. Everything about her seemed long, her features distorted in the eerie lighting. She had a long snout, and a long graceful neck, and she walked on long graceful legs. Her mane was dark, and so was her coat. She moved silently, purposely. She spotted Lieutenant Sparkle sitting under a tree beside another pony and approached her.

"Lieutenant Octavia of second platoon, awaiting orders sir," she had a voice that was subtly intimidating, and a tone that suggested she wasn't terribly familiar with the concept of nonsense.

Twilight looked up at Octavia, hoping to find some compassion in her cold disciplined countenance. There wasn't any.

"For the moment we rest." For Octavia this answer would not suffice.

"With all due respect sir, ponies are dying. Second and third are still fighting. Practically blind I might add."

Twilight rubbed her temples with two very sore fore hooves.

"Sir, your orders. My ponies are still back there. Fighting. I need –"

"Celestia's sake, could you give me a minute." Octavia obliged her, and Twilight used that minute to wish away the whole lot of it. She shut her eyes and found herself back in Canterlot. It was an easy summer night. She'd just tucked Spike into bed and was starting in on some late night reading. Not for study either, but for pleasure. It was a book of poetry she'd stumbled upon in the royal archives, written by one of the most prolific poets in all of Equestria.

A candle burned on her bedroom nightstand, and in the near darkness the words danced off the page. For a minute she was happy.

When she opened her eyes again there was Octavia, staring down at her stoically, waiting for an answer.

"The brass must love you," grumbled Twilight. "Get back to the front. Tell second and third to pull back, and head toward this location."

"We will be regrouping here then?"

"No, not here. A few hundred yards south of here, were the forest is thicker. We'll dig our hooves in there. Take up a defensive position in case the rebels are still looking for a fight."

"Sir, yes sir," and with that Octavia started back the way she came. Twilight didn't watch her leave. She stood up and rallied her troops as best she could. Then, weary and wounded, they began marching back the way they'd come.

Chapter SIX

Applejack's mouth was red and sticky from gulping down her own blood, choking on the viscous wad as she stumbled about in a sad attempt to find her bearings. Fighting in the dark proved to be just as harrowing as she had remembered. Neither the MM nor the rebels were really equipped for battle after nightfall, and in the blind chaos of it all it wasn't a stray bullet, or a stab, or even a buck from a rebel soldier that dealt AJ a nearly crippling blow. It was a solid and unforgiving tree trunk. After felling an already wounded rebel, Applejack managed to lose her footing, stumble over the hind-legs of a fresh corpse and smash face first into a tree. Her muzzle burst against the trunk like a water balloon full of red paint.

And so there she was, one of the most capable fighters the proud MM had ever known, stumbling about in the dark forest, head spinning from the sudden meeting of skull and bark. Her first thought was of Lyra: she hoped the chain smoking unicorn hadn't seen her little mishap, and if she had, then she thought it better to be cut down now by a hail of enemy gunfire, because should she survive the war, Lyra would never let her – or anypony else – forget about one that time they were fighting rebels in the Everfree Forest and the MM's supposed Iron Horse was takendown by a particularly crafty bit of greenery.

She was rubbing her forehead, making little circles with her fore-hoof, when something heavy landed with tremendous force on her back, sending her crashing to the ground. The wind knocked out her and still groggy from the head injury, Applejack bucked wildly, trying to throw whatever the thing was off of her back; but it seemed to stick to her, ridding out the furious bucks, as if waiting for its prey to tire. Then something sharp tore into her left side. Talons? A blade of some kind or maybe teeth? Blind panic made it impossible to know if what assaulted her was an enemy soldier or a stalking predator of the Everfree Forest. Applejack screamed, and unable to bear both the pain and the weight of her assailant, she fell and was pinned flat on her underbelly, legs flailing wildly. A potent cocktail of fear and frustration fermented inside of her as a strong appendage found its way around her neck, squeezing. She couldn't breathe. She tried to stand and when she failed, Applejack tried to roll over onto her back, but her attacker was strong and kept her pinned. She tried again, and this time was able to roll onto her side before being forced back to her stomach. She tried again to stand but the something sharp slashed at the back of her forelegs and again she fell.

Tears welled up Applejack's eyes as she struggled. A limb smacked the side of her face. Not hard, but almost – playfully? –no, it was a taunt. Her attacker smacked her again, then once more, coming across the other side of her face. AJ snorted loudly. Enraged, she neighed and her struggling doubled. Her hooves scraped at the ground and her hips bucked, but all her effort's earned her nothing but another taunting slap on the cheek.

She was being toyed with. It was beginning to dawn on AJ that her attacker could have killed her at anytime. She was a mouse at the mercy of a cat's claws. She imagined the creature on her back to be a great feline of sorts, a monster of the Everfree forest after all. She could feel the beast's breath on the back of her neck, and imagined its open maw, wet with silvery strands of glistening saliva. She was going to be torn apart slowly. She was going to be eaten alive. Applejack froze, paralyzed by fear as she awaited what was surely to be a painful and degrading end.

The something sharp bit into her side again, just a few inches above where the first wound had opened. Instead of slashing, this time it stabbed and Applejack could feel that the something sharp was a knife digging into her ribs. It hurt a hell of a lot more than the slash had, but she was grateful for it. The presence of a pony made blade gave her some context, snapping her out of her fear induced surrender. She wasn't being mauled by a monster pushed out from the festering womb of the Everfree Forest – she was fighting a pony. Just a pony. She could kill it if it was just a pony.

With some effort Applejack managed to get a hold of the hoof that held the knife and stop, what she now knew was a rebel soldier, from driving it in any deeper. But her enemy was one step ahead. The rebel rolled AJ onto her side so that the end of blade's handle was balanced vertical on the ground, as if somepony were attempting to drive in a railroad spike by striking the sharp end with a hammer. From there gravity did its sinister work and Applejack felt the rest of the blade slide into her body; so deep that weapon's hilt pressed against her hide. A miserable choking, gagging, coughing sound came from her throat. Thick black-red blood seeped out from the corners of the wound, the knife holding most of it back, keeping her blood from spilling out in waves like a damn against rushing waters. Then, as if that weren't enough, the rebel gave the handle a slight twist, tearing away at AJ's insides. She tried maintaining control of the hoof that held the blade, but her strength was fading fast. She was dying.

…And then there was light; bright and overwhelming, and colorful. She was dead. Applejack knew she was dead now. She was dead and this was the place ponies go when they die; the kingdom of light and color in the sky beyond the sky. She knew she was dead – only – when she looked upon her knew kingdom she saw that it was full of violence. All around her ponies were killing each other. It was loud too, lousy with gunfire and shouting.

The pain, the noises, the sights, the loss of blood. Applejack felt overwhelmed. The afterlife was spinning.

A pony was galloping toward her. She didn't have wings or a horn, the way Applejack imagined Celestia's angels would. Instead she had a rifle, and was wearing army fatigues, and she had a familiar looking mane that was mix of purple and blue that spiraled at the end like a ram's horn. The galloping pony had a distressed look on her face and was shouting something that Applejack couldn't hear over the gunfire and her own fading consciousness.

Disheartened that the afterlife was full of such disquieting images of slaughter and despair, Applejack turned her attention toward the rainbow colored light in the sky. It was so beautiful. She simply had to discover its origin. She looked up, only to find the wide eyed face of a blood speckled pink pony with a long straight mane looking down on her, obstructing her view. The pink pony looked on the verge of tears. She held a crimson coated knife at her side and her expression was almost comical. The guilty eyes were so big and the mouth hung open wide enough for a quick moving passer bye to pop a strawberry in without stopping. The open mouth moved to say something but the words were drowned out by a sudden and deafening boom, loud enough to wake the parts of the forest not already alive with war.

So loud.

Applejack was tired. She rolled over onto her back and shut her eyes, thinking as she drifted off, that the afterlife really ought not be so loud.

It was dark again. Bon-Bon galloped up to Pinkamina and shoved her aside.

"Get away from her!" she shouted, her riffle trained on the pink pony, hoof on the trigger should she try anything at all. She stood over Applejack, assessing the severity the soldier's injures as best she could in the near pitch black night.

"What happened!"

"I didn't…didn't know," Pinkie tried to explain, her voice sounding the way a shiver would if shivers weren't silent.

"You didn't know that you were murdering your best friend! Really Pinks, is that what you're going to tell me! You didn't know!" Pinkamina Diane Pie had a reputation for being out of sorts in the head, and though she didn't particularly like or trust Pinkie Pie, even Bon-Bon at least wanted to believe that the supposed "Madmare of Company Everfree" wasn't capable of something like this.

"It's dark! I – I didn't know!"

"The fuck does that mean? You didn't know?"

"It means I didn't know."

"Her voice! You must have recognized her voice!"

"It happened so fast! I didn't know okay, I didn't know!" Pinkie gave Bon-Bon a rough shove.

"Don't you put your fucking hooves on me!" Bon-Bon shoved back, digging the business end of her riffle into Pinkie's shoulder. "I swear to Celestia I will drop you if I have too, you physco fuck."

"Oh fuck you!"

"Fuck you!"

The shouting match continued on like this for much longer than it should have until Pinkie made a grab for the gun, forcing the barrel away from her. The two of them tumbled to the ground and within a few moments Pinkie had Bon-Bon pinned, the length of the riffle digging into the earth pony's throat.

Then a sudden burst of automatic fire turned their heads simultaneously. They stared out into the darkness, squinting in the direction from where they thought the sound had come from.

Another burst, this one sounded closer. There were other sounds, evidence that fighting was still raging all round them but this burst was particularly close.

Instinctively the pair sprang up on their hind-legs. Pinkie drew her service pistol. Bon-Bon shouldered her riffle. No firing though, not yet. The flash of a discharging muzzle would surly give their position away, that is, if their assailant hadn't already found them.

They stood that way for a while longer, waiting, practically holding their breath. When it seemed nothing more would come of their standoff with this imaginary foe, the two of them returned to all fours, breathing shallow panicked breaths. Bon-Bon eyed Pinkie carefully, and when she was positive that the pink pony wasn't going to try to blow her head off, she turned her attention back to Applejack, who was more than likely dead by now.

Bon-Bon muscled Pinkie out of her way. She pulled a flashlight from her vest, twisted the head to turn it on, and held it between clenched teeth as she began assessing the severity of Applejack's injuries. She checked for a pulse. Put her ear to Applejack's chest. Checked her pulse again. Faint. Alive but not breathing, and as she looked down at the fading soldier, a sort of hyper awareness came over her. Suddenly she could feel Pinkie's eyes looking over her shoulder. If she could do this to a loved one then there was no telling what she could do to somepony she hardly knew at all.

Bon-Bon drew her own service pistol from the holster on her hip and leveled it at the pink pony's neck. "Where I can see you," she ordered. Her eyes stayed on Pinkie, who offered no protest as she marched from behind Bon-Bon. Now the both of them knelt at Applejacks sides.

"Celestia damn it," she grumbled before pressing her lips to AJ's and exhaling heavily. She put her hooves to the fallen soldier's chest and pushed, counting aloud.

"One. Two. Three. Four." She pressed her lips to AJ's again. They were still warm and sticky.

"One. Two. Three. Four." Pinkie watched Bon-Bon work, teary eyes taking in the details and committing each and every sight and sound to memory. Years from now she'd be lying down in her bed at night, wishing to forget this moment. But this wasn't one of those moments a pony forgets. This was one of those moments a pony takes to her grave.

Again.

"One. Two. Three..." Applejack's chest fluttered. Unfocused eyes darted in her head, their lids flapping like the wings of a startled moth. She was breathing now, but her breaths were rapid and shallow. Okay. See to the wounds.

It was overwhelming: the stink of fresh blood coating her hooves as she applied pressure to the wounds, the taste of it on her lips like viscous rust. Pinkie watched, whimpering uselessly and below her a delirious Applejack pawed at the air with nearly limp forelegs, mumbling something about rainbows and the sky beyond the sky.

Sticky red life spilled out onto the forest floor in miniature waves. She was no medic but Bon-Bon remembered the little bit of first aid she'd learned back in basic. She needed to wrap the wound. Control the bleeding.

"Pinkie, cut AJ out of her fatigues," ordered Bon-Bon, trying not to sound as rattled as she was. "Right now, we don't have much time." A chill shot up Bon-Bon's spine as Pinkie reached for the blood stained blade. She twitched. The blade trembling in her mouth, Pinkie slashed AJ's uniform down the middle form collar to midsection. Bon-Bon watched the way she handled the blade, like she was afraid to touch it – quite different from the way she wielded the thing in battle. She was afraid. One of her best friends was dying, and it was her fault, and now there wasn't much she could do about it. Bon-Bon tried to understand what that must have felt like. She imagined Lyra in Applejack's place, and shuddered at how easily her conscious mind produced the image. It very well could have been Lyra down there tonight, or Pinkie, herself, or anyone of them. And if not tonight then eventually.

Together they managed to wiggle the wounded private out of the tattered fabric, and, together again, they wrapped her injuries; using the shredded uniform as an improvised bandage.

"Now keep pushing here," instructed Bon-Bon. Her tone was gentler. She took Pinkie's hooves in her own and guided them," ...and here. There that's good. Not to hard now. That's it – that's it. Good. Just like that. Good." Pinkie's hooves were shaking and though in the dark she couldn't see the tears streaking down the pink pony's face, Bon-Bon could hear her sobbing and sniffing.

"She's fine. You're doing well. She's going to make it." Bon-Bon nodded, feeling somehow that the gesture cemented her claim. She was lying of course. They both knew it. Applejack was going to die. "Still," stammered Bon-Bon uneasily, "If there's anything you want say to her you should say it now."

But before she could Bon-Bon suddenly shushed her, covering her mouth with a sticky blood stained hoof. Her ears perked. There was a rustling in the distance. Rustling? She shouldn't have been able to hear rustling. When did the fighting stop? She'd been so keen on saving Applejack that she hadn't noticed the forest had become eerily quiet.

In the distance she saw a lonely blinking light coming toward her. She readied her firearm, but waited, counting the seconds between blinks. The light disappeared. One. Two. Three. And then reappeared; the signal for an incoming friendly. With a relieved sigh on her lips, Bon-Bon spat the flashlight from her mouth into her hooves, held the little thing up, and returned the signal.

A long pony shaped silhouette drew closer. It was a mare, bearing a heavy load on her back, and an expressionless look on her handsome face.

"Lieutenant Octavia," exclaimed Bon-Bon, offering a hardy salute. "I'm glad you made it. What is going on? Has the fighting stopped?" Octavia raised a hoof to silence Bon-Bon's queries.

"Yes. As far as we can tell the rebels have retreated back to their headquarters, though it is likely they will have relocated by morning. They know they've been discovered." She paused for thought, then added, "I'm scouting for second platoon. Each scout was given little under an hour to locate as many stragglers as possible before rejoining the reaming force," she explained.

"And for those not found within the hour?"

"I have orders to rejoin the main force." At this Bon-Bon frowned. "Apologies," continued Octavia upon reading the disappointment in Bon-Bon's face, " I spoke with Sparkle earlier. She said we are to rendezvous with first platoon several hundred yards north of here. I'm afraid the matter is out of my hooves."

"And if it were in your hooves?" The lieutenant elected not to answer.

"We are wasting time. Come with me. We must return to the others."

"Can't," said Bon-Bon, "We've got a mare down. Her condition is critical. I'm not sure if we can move her." Octavia inspected the downed soldier herself. Ruthlessly calculating eyes peered out from holes in a placid face. Though it didn't show in her expression, Octavia was surprised to see Applejack, the MM's own Iron Horse, lying belly up in a shallow pool of her own blood, breathing labored breaths. A shame. The MM had lost a good a soldier tonight.

"She is not going to make it," she said without blinking. "We will have to move without her."

"The hell she isn't," exclaimed an angry Pinkie Pie. She stepped between Octavia and Applejack as if wishing to protect her fallen friend from an attacker.

Octavia sighed. A soldier really ought to be in better control of her faculties. She'd been with the MM for a long time, since the very start of the conflict, and she'd seen firsthoof what sort of role sentimentality played on the unforgiving field of battle.

"All due respect private, that isn't your decision to make." Pinkie snorted and scraped the ground with a threatening fore-hoof.

"No, no, no," said Bon-Bon, stepping between them. "We are not going to fight each other. There's been enough fighting today, and there will be plenty more tomorrow. Right now we see to Applejack."

"We have orders."

"I'm not abandoning her."

"She's not going to survive the night. Should we elect to stay with her, second and third platoon will leave us here in the woods to die with her." Octavia placed an awkward hoof on Bon-Bon's shoulder; a gesture she understood was supposed to convey compassion – and thus, a gesture unfamiliar to her. She looked Bon-Bon directly in the eyes. "I understand what you are feeling. Truly I do. But this is not the way. There isn't anything you can do for her now."

"Do whatever you want lieutenant," answered Bon-Bon, brushing Octavia's hoof away, "I've made my decision."

Octavia took a step back and rubbed the bridge of her muzzle.

What good would all their moral prancing and posturing do them tomorrow morning, she thought, when they woke up beside a corpse, low on supplies and stranded in the Everfree Forest? Morons. Too busy convincing themselves they were good ponies to see the bigger picture. That was the trouble with sentimentality. At the end of the day it always boiled down to an act of pure selfishness. It's never about compassion for your fellow Equestrian – it's about protecting your own flimsy conscious.

The long pony dropped her heavy pack, it made an audible plopping sound as it met with the ground. Then she drew an awkward looking gun of some sort from the holster on her hip. In an instant both Pinkie and Bon-Bon drew on her.

"Easy," she said aiming the gun into the air. A flare raced up into the sky and burst, splashing light across the sky like a single lonely firework. Then she returned the flare gun to the holster on her hip and began rummaging through the bulky back. Pinkie and Bon-Bon watched her carefully as she drew a sleeping bag from it, along with a small box and a canteen.

"Assistance should be arriving shortly," she said flatly. "Quickly, help me wrap her in this. We'll need to keep her warm so that she doesn't catch fever if she is to have any chance of surviving the night. Also, have her drink some water. If she refuses force her, and if she is able have her eat something. Private Pie, make a fire, and when you're finished the two of you have something to eat as well. It's been a long night and I'm sure you're both hungry."

Pinkie lunged out at Octavia and hugged her tight around the neck, practically knocking her over. "Thank you." She said, tears streaking down her cheeks.

"Quickly, I said." Octavia pushed Pinkie away and, with Bon-Bon's help, managed to get AJ wrapped snuggly into the sleeping bag. Pinkie had the fire going in no time. Together the three of them sat around the fire sharing a hay ration. Pinkie stayed close to Applejack, forcing the barely coherent, but always stubborn apple-bucker to drink from the canteen. When she was satisfied that her friend had had enough she passed the canteen to Bon-Bon, who hoofed it back to Octavia. She stared blankly down the whole of the canteen for a long time, as if the answer to some profound question was swishing around in the water. Then she took a short drink and capped it.

The three of them sat in silent thought, the glow from the camp fire setting them at ease. Octavia wondered if perhaps she'd fallen prey to the desire to appease her own conscious. Had she helped them because she truly cared for her fellow MM, or was she just making it easier for herself to get a good night's sleep? Did it even matter one way or the other? Absent-mindedly she tossed a fallen tree branch on the open flame and watched the discarded limb wilt and blacken.

"I used to play at The Grand Galloping Gala," she heard herself say. "I was a concert pianist and a violinist. I even played a little cello. Actually cello was always my favorite. It would've been the only instrument I ever played if not for my parents…"

Abruptly, Octavia fell silent but Bon-Bon waited patiently for her to continue, sensing that the lieutenant still had more to say.

Slowly she began again, nervously, as if speaking before a crowd of hundreds. "…I love my parents but they can be a bit…" she grouped in the darkness for the right words. "…Demanding. They insisted I master a number of musical instruments, as well as several other disciplines deemed valuable by high society. My parent's demands left little time for other things."

"Hey, if this is one of those, I-had-a-rough-childhood-so-I'm-kind-of-an-antisocial-prick speeches then save it. You don't have to answer to me for anything," said Bon-Bon warmly. In the firelight she could see that Octavia was blushing.

"Am I really so transparent?" she asked, laughing at herself as she did. She wasn't sure why but she found Bon-Bon easy to talk too. She had a genuineness about her; the aura of a pony that had nothing to hide, and of that Octavia was enormously envious.

"So how'd a pony from such a fancy family come to find herself vacationing in the beautiful Everfree Forest?"

"I was drafted."

"Drafted? Didn't think the mandate reached that high."

"Nor did I." The two of them shared a small laugh. "And you?"

"A friend of mine got drafted, so I signed up. Couldn't let her go it alone, you know?"

"Well she's lucky to have such a loyal friend. There isn't a pony alive that would willingly go to war for me." She tried to laugh off the little slip as if it too were just another joke, but Bon-Bon heard a very real, very sorrowful pang in her voice as she spoke. "I assume you two are close. She must be very important for you to take such risks on her behalf."

"Yeah. Yeah, she is."

Silence descended on them, snuffing their conversation like a stomping hoof on a small flame. It was alright though, all that needed to be said had been. If Lyra were here, she'd try to break the awkward silence by offering Octavia a cigarette. But she wasn't here and that was alright too. It was doubtful that somepony of Octavia's high constitution subscribed to such a filthy habit anyway.

Chapter SEVEN

The Everfree Forest, attentive reader, is an extraordinary and extraordinarily strange corner of Equestria; filled to the brim and running over with as many wonders as horrors. It is a place of dreams and of nightmares – an escape as well as a prison.

In near perfect darkness did first platoon wander, weary from making war, lost in the endless labyrinth of bark and foliage. Theirs was a laborious trudge. They marched as if in defiance to the very concept of exhaustion itself, leaning on each other shoulder to shoulder to keep from toppling over like so many playing card palaces accosted by the breeze. Some did fall of course. Succumbing momentarily, and how could they not when the great forest herself was smothering them. Lady Everfree grew denser and denser with every forward step. They waded through a leaf green sea of knee high grass that tickled their underbellies and seemed to grow taller and taller as they marched. Low hanging branches scratched their faces; vines snagged the straps of their packs and the barrels and butts of their riffles. They marched perfectly vulnerable. Even the lowliest of the forest's nocturnal predators could've made a quick meal of any among them. In their present state an anvil had a better chance of escaping a manticore's claws, or avoiding the stare of an angry cockatrice.

Twilight Sparkle felt her body was made of led – no – surely led moved swifter than she could now. One of her fore-hooves met with a thick protruding tree root, causing her to stumble and fall. She lied there on her face as if she might never again rise, but a familiar fore-hoof reached down for her, offering help. Twilight took the hoof in hers and working together they managed to get the lieutenant standing up right once again. Having no strength for words, she nodded her thanks and Carrot Top nodded back in understanding.

The little green filly– though not so green anymore, having endured her first real battle and emerging from it in one piece – had proven a constant fountainhead of inspiration for Twilight, her courage and resolve flowing into the unicorn as spring water flows into a stream.

Secured snuggly with vines to Carrot Top's back was Rainbow Dash, sleeping soundly by aid of the medics' drugs. When the question of who would carry her arose, Carrot Top, despite her own leg injury, insisted the burden be hers to shoulder. When Twilight offered to carry Rainbow herself the young filly had practically scolder her, saying, "Focus on getting us out of here and leave the grunt work to the grunts."

Well spoken. Carrot was turning out to be a fine soldier, and also a dear friend. A much needed blessing, because after her failure today, Twilight was sure she'd lost more than a few friends amongst the ranks of Company Everfree.

Marching a few paces behind Twilight and Carrot was Sergeant Fluttershy. Of all the weary first platoon soldiers her trudge seemed particularly grim. She dragged her hooves through the grass and every few steps the pony at her back gave her hind quarters a sharp nudge to keep her moving forward. Twilight looked over her shoulder at the down trodden pegasus and immediately wished she hadn't. Coward. The word stabbed at the back of her head like a rebel dagger. It should've been her urging her friend onward, but…but Twilight couldn't bring herself to face Fluttershy the way she was now. She'd made the mistake of firing on the Ursa before the sergeant and Cloudkicker could get clear. It had been one of first platoon's own mortars that dealt Cloudkicker the death blow, eviscerating her, leaving Fluttershy clutching the lower half of a mangled corpse as she plummeted out of the sky. The image of her friend hugging the dead pony's hips to her chest invaded Twilight's mind. She tried to blink it away but failed, just as she had failed Fluttershy; Applejack, the entire company. Somehow she had to make things right again.

As before mentioned, thoughtful reader, the Everfree Forest is a cruel place but her cruelty is not without limits. She is ruthless, a teaming cesspool of monsters and poisons, but to those steadfast enough to survive her trials, lady Everfree shows mercy. First platoon of the Militiamares' Company Everfree had proven themselves deserving of such mercy. For after several hours of this marching, this gloomy trot through the blackest corner of Equestrian soil, this natural, living, breathing testament to the madness of perfect freedom – after several hours this hell, an excited little squeal came from the front of the ranks. Somepony was squealing, giggling, going on like a little filly who had just unwrapped the perfect birthday gift. That gift she hadn't asked for, hadn't even thought of, but there it was anyway. Perfect in every way.

Somepony at the head of the line was literally losing her mind. She shouted incomprehensibly, her words colliding, shoving past each other like hungry scavengers fussing over the same scrape of dead meat. The others at the back wondered what all the commotion could possibly be about and how could anypony muster up the energy to make such a raucous. And as they marched in their line they neared the reason for this unexpected exuberance. Others began to cry out: laughing and crying, cheering, hugging each other, even kissing. What only moments ago had resembled a huddled group of war prisoners being marched off to a mass grave, had suddenly erupted into a virtual orgy of reckless emotion. For just as it seemed the small band of survivors would surely be smothered, the life wringed out of them by the shear density of the woods – all at once the forest fell away. A little ways past a particularly crowed collection of trees, where the grass was the tallest and the vines hung the lowest, there was a clearing. Lady Everfree had suddenly spat them from her belly and now they found themselves in an oasis, a paradise lost, hiding in the bowels of hell itself.

At the center of the clearing was a great glistening pond. Pale moonlight played upon fresh water, lending the surface a smooth diamond speckled finish.

They made for the water, stripping naked and wading out into the crystalline pond, drinking and bathing; partaking in the former with little regard for the latter. The water was cool without being cold, and seemed to inject into each of them new life; replenishing their dampened spirits.

Twilight's horn sparked. A faint purple light took hold of her haggard uniform, and the buckles and zippers came apart as if of their own power. She was about to wade in herself when she noticed one of the medics helping Carrot Top unsecure Rainbow Dash from her back. She trotted over to see if she could help, but Carrot assured her that she and the medic had things well in hoof.

"You're sure?" asked Twilight. There was a quiet desperation in her voice, an urgent desire to selfishly indulge herself for just a short while and not be judged for it. Carrot hesitated to respond. Was the lieutenant looking to her for some kind of vindication, she wondered. And hadn't she been doing the same? Going out of her way to impress the lieutenant – to be acknowledged by her – and if that were true then wasn't this exactly what she wanted? Twilight was practically asking her for permission. Her, lowly little Carrot Top. The green filly who was veteran of only one skirmish. She wasn't quite speechless, but she was touched.

"It's nothing," she said placing a hoof on Twilights shoulder. "I'll take good care of her, and I'll have the doc with me to help out too."

"Thank you."

The two of them stood up on their hind-legs and embraced. They held each other entirely too close for entirely too long, and when Twilight tried to end the embrace she was met with resistance. Carrot held the unicorn fast by the back of neck. She pulled at her desperately, not wanting to let go. Never wanting to let go.

Their foreheads came together, heat radiating from their flushed faces. Carrot's lips moved soundlessly, searching the darkness for words. When none came to her, she searched instead for the unicorn's mouth; finding it wet, and warm, and welcoming. Unabashed she slid her tongue into Twilight's mouth, and the unicorn did the same at first. But when Carrot attempted to lean into the kiss, Twilight leaned away, and as she did so to did Carrot Top's entire world.

They stood in awkward silence for a moment longer before Twilight mumbled an apology and trotted away hurriedly, as if fleeing from a natural disaster, leaving Carrot to simmer in rejection. The lonely earth pony pressed a hoof to her own lips and remembered what it had felt like as she watched the unicorn go.

Twilight's head spun. Everything was wrong: her fight with Applejack, the Ursa, Cloudkicker's death, Fluttershy's trauma, and now this thing between her and Carrot Top – all of it wrong, wrong, wrong. She gave herself a hard mental buck in the flank as she fled. How pathetic. With this she had reached a new low. She hadn't been brave enough to face Applejack's accusations, or brave enough to look Fluttershy in the eye since the failed mission, and now she wasn't brave enough to deal with Carrot Top's advances. Her failures were piling up, smothering her, burying her alive. She wanted be rid of it all. She tried to find her happy place again. She shut her eyes as she wandered around the pond's edge, trying to will herself back to Canterlot, back to her dorm room at the academy. But it was no good. All she could see were Carrot's puckered lips, her blushing cheeks. Her trot hastened, as if she could somehow physically out run the thought, until her blind flight caused her to run headlong into something – no – somepony.

"Twilight, are you okay?" asked Fluttershy, her voice spilling over with genuine concern.

Twilight looked Fluttershy over. Cloudkicker's blood had dried and caked to her uniform, mixing with the dirt and muck that also clung to her. There was misery behind her shrinking blue eyes. One look into those eyes and Twilight knew what had to be done. This was her chance to make things right again.

Without saying a word she took Fluttershy by the hoof and led her into the pond, darkening the clear water as they entered. The grime and gore still clinging to the pegasus pony's uniform washed away, staining the once flawless glittering surface of the pond an ugly dark red. Together, hoof in hoof, they swam out a ways away from the others, and when Twilight was sure that they'd secured a bit of privacy she began to undress the sergeant and with her bare hooves, went to work scrubbing her clean as best she could. She had Fluttershy submerge herself completely as to better wash her mane. Fluttershy didn't protest. She didn't say much of anything, just allowed Twilight to run her hooves over her coat and through her mane and through the feathers of her wings. Her touch was reassuring. It began platonic enough, almost professional, but somewhere between the neck and upper thigh her touch turned sensual. She lingered on the stomach, the waist, the haunches and hind quarters. And when Twilight had finished washing the pegasus, Fluttershy returned that same sensual touch. Her forelegs encircled Twilight's waist, pulling her close. She wanted her so much that it hurt. But more than she wanted the unicorn, she wanted – needed to feel something that wasn't the soulless cold metal of a rifle in her hooves, or the splash of warm blood on her skin. She needed an escape from this hell, even if only for a little while. See could see in Twilight's eyes that the feeling was mutual.

Nopony else seemed to notice the kiss they shared. The others were busy losing themselves in their own selfish moments of reckless passion.

But one noticed.

Carrot top stood on the water's edge, watching them. Carefully. Enviously. And if you listened closely gentle reader, if you pressed your ear to her chest and blocked out the all the other sounds of the forest you'd be able to hear it – the unmistakable splintering snap of a breaking heart.

Chapter EIGHT

Winter’s first breath caressed Twilight’s face, stirring her from sleep. It was a natural breeze, different from the winds created by the beats of pegasus wings. Different but in too many ways exactly the same. An odd pang of disappointment resonated within Twilight. She had hoped that natural weather would feel unique in some way: more…natural.

Above her Celestia’s sun smiled approvingly. The sight of it reminded her of an old pony’s tale she had heard when she was just a filly. Legend told that the sun was Celestia’s third eye and through it she could see all the happenings of the mortals below. The scribes of ancient times spoke of her as all seeing and all knowing; but even as a child Twilight hadn’t believed this, suspecting it was nothing more than a means to ensure the citizens of Equestria be weary of their behavior, lest they be spied perpetrating some heinous act. It existed, she believed, to keep ponies in line, and for a long time it had proven effective. Still, Twilight was nothing if not curious, so on many occasions she would bring up the subject with the princess during the hours reserved for private instruction. But always the young filly’s questions were met with cryptic answers. Her majesty had a talent for avoiding questions – a talent honed to perfection by centuries of practice. Myths needed mystery after all, and even if the stories were true, Twilight could at least take comfort in knowing that Celestia only watched during the day, and hadn't spied the moment of intimacy she'd shared with Fluttershy. Absent mindedly she wondered if perhaps Luna had.

Beside her lay a still sleeping Fluttershy. With a gentle fore hoof Twilight traced the curve of the pegasus pony’s cheek and all at once the events of the previous day came back to her, hitting her like a splash of ice water to the face. She nearly laughed out loud at the sheer craziness of it all. In the space of just twenty-four hours, Twilight had made both love with a dear friend and war with a hated foe; failing miserably at the latter but triumphing in the former. A mischievous smile spread across her face as she recalled the lusty moans and whimpers that had played upon Fluttershy’s lips during their love making. Perhaps the prowess of Equestria’s favorite daughter had been greatly exaggerated in regards to her skill on the battlefield, but in other arenas…

…A horrible sound found Twilight’s ears, shaking her from her idol musing: a low groaning like the wail of a spirit as it sheds its mortal coil. It was the kind of sound that didn’t need volume to split the ears. The sound beckoned Twilight, pulling at her the way a lone candle burring in pitch blackness pulls at the eyes. She stood up, shaking the last echoes of sleep form her limbs as she did, then trotted off in search of the miserable sound’s origin, fearful of what she might find.

She was right to fear. The groaning was coming from Rainbow Dash. Carrot Top and the medic, the unicorn with the unusually long horn, were doing their best to lay the injured pegasus pony into a hammock rigged up between a pair of sturdy trees. The medic held Rainbow by the shoulders, being careful to support her injured head and neck, while Carrot Top held her hind legs. The going was rough on Rainbow and she wasn’t making things any easier for anypony else. As they hoisted her up, Rainbow’s hind legs flailed and her head twisted back and forth as if in desperate search of something. Her eyes were wide, unfocused, and feverish. Her groaning grew louder.

“Rainbow please,” said Carrot in as measured a voice as she could muster, “try to settle down. You’re only making it harder on yourself.” She wrestled with Rainbow’s flailing hind legs and for her trouble was bucked several times in the neck and chest. She lost her grip, causing the medic to do the same, and all at once Rainbow flopped into the hammock belly up. Her low groan erupted into a violent tortured shriek.

“No, no – her side!” shouted the medic. “Lay her on her side. You’ll complicate the fractures in her wings!”

Carrot panicked. Suddenly Rainbow’s flailing seemed to double in intensity and she began shouting incomprehensibly. Ever manner of obscenity tumbled from her mouth, loud enough to make it so Carrot could only faintly hear the medic’s instructions. Together they tried to wrestle Rainbow on her side, but the medic couldn’t get a good grip on her. Most every bone in her body from the waist up was in pieces. Carelessness know would only exasperate the situation further, though at this point he wasn’t too sure such a thing was even possible. Nor was he sure from where Rainbow drew the strength to put up such a fight. She was a tuff one all right. Just about anypony else would’ve passed out by now. Impressive. Rainbow Dash certainly did live up to her reputation, only this was one those rare moments where it would’ve been better had she not.

“Horse apples!” shouted Carrot in frustration. “Sit still you stupid, miserable, good-for-nothing …” She went on shouting curses and struggling, attracting the attention of nearly everypony in first platoon. Embarrassing. Somewhere between the seventh fucking ponyfeathers and the ninth horse apples, Carrot Top suddenly became aware of the fact that she was no longer grasping Rainbow’s hind legs. The pegasus was floating a few inches above her head, enveloped by a purple light. The light nestled her gently into the hammock, then vanished. Carrot Top looked away from Rainbow and found Twilight trotting up to meet her; the residual glow of magic still glinting from her horn. She marched right up Carrot Top. A longing for confrontation stirred in her eyes.

“That stupid, miserable, good-for-nothing saved your life last night private,” said Twilight in a voice that was made of ice.

“Sorry sir.” Carrot blinked hard, the way drunks do when their trying to focus on something other than the glass in their hoof. Her stomach twisted. She tried to say more but the words fell into her gut. Twilight’s gaze felt oppressive on her face. She didn’t even try to meet it.

“Twilight…is that you?” mumbled Rainbow Dash, her voice ringing hollow, not even a whisper of its usually boisterousness.

“I’m here.” Twilight turned her back to Carrot Top, forgetting her entirely. It wasn’t the first time. It wouldn’t be the last. “I’m here, Rainbow. Tell me what you need?” She held Rainbow’s bandaged hooves in her own.

“Make them dose me Twilight. Everything hurts, you gotta make them dose me.” Twilight turned to the medic, expecting an answer.

He was reluctant to explain himself at first, but inevitably cracked under the lieutenant’s unrelenting glare. “We can’t do that just yet,” he stammered. “We’re running low on meds. If we dose her now she’ll be difficult during transport.” Twilights eyes softened as they fell on her injured friend.

“You gotta do something Twi,” pleaded Rainbow. Indeed she did.

“You two cover your ears,” ordered Twilight. Carrot and the medic followed suit, pressing their hooves tight against folded ears. Carrot Top watched Twilight’s horn spark. The breeze picked up. It was stronger now, strong enough to set her mane and tail aloft, and as the wind blew Carrot heard – or thought she heard – a tiny sound being carried by the breeze. She pressed her hooves to her ears tighter but the little sound was persistent, ambitious even. It grew, and as it grew so too did the wind. Music. The small sound was a song, a lullaby hummed by the Everfree Forest itself. Carrot tried not to listen. Her eyelids became heavy. Her head nodded. She blinked. Wobbled. Nearly fell over. Blinked again. Waking dreams invaded her mind: muddled thoughts of abstract fluff, the color white, blankets and warm things one could crawl under and get lost in.

Then, as quickly as it had come, the music was swallowed by the forest and in its wake Carrot felt a hollowness in her chest that longed to be again filled by the lonely serenade.

Twilight found herself again tracing the curve of a sleeping pegasus pony’s cheek. Two. That made two friends she’d nearly lost to the Everfree Forest. Two goodbyes she had thought she was ready to make, but looking down at Rainbow now made her realize how profoundly unprepared she was.

“That was amazing,” said Carrot. “Where’s a pony learn a spell like that?”

“Save the celebration private,” said the medic, his tone stern. “This is just a temporary fix. We need to get Rainbow properly hospitalized, and we’ll need to do it soon. With her fractures being as severe as they are,” he paused to think of how best to explain, “well, if we don’t get them set they won’t heal correctly, and…I’m most concerned about her wings. It’s still much too early to say, but I fear there may be a very real chance that your friend will never fly again.” Twilight sighed. War takes more than just lives, she realized.

“We can’t leave yet. I gave Lieutenant Octavia orders to meet us out here. If the rebels attempt a counter attack they’ll need first platoon to back them up.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way sir, but we are in no condition to back anypony up. We lost more than half of the platoon to the Ursa. Those of us left are injured…tired.”

The medic sighed and placed a hoof on his forehead. His eyes shut like doors in the face of an intruder. His brow furrowed. It was perhaps the saddest look Twilight had ever seen. With that subtle expression of frustration and exhaustion the unicorn medic communicated a feeling he could never hope to put into words. That said, he was a tenacious soldier and tried anyway.

“I’d follow you even in endless night sir, I’m sure Carrot Top here would do the same. But the others – you don’t need me to tell you that you’re not the company’s favorite pony.”

“I appreciate your concern, but this is not a popularity contest. Company Everfree is loyal to its princess and to its country. My ponies would never let something so petty keep them from fulfilling their duty.”

“You put too much faith in them sir.”

“As do you in me.” He was right. He was right and despite that Twilight allowed a smile to grace her lips. So there were still ponies who believed in Equestria’s favorite daughter after all. Fools, she thought. All too willing to follow her into the proverbial eternal night. Never before was she so grateful to be surrounded by fools.

“It’s still early. Go and wake the others. See that they get themselves something to eat, then have a few of our able bodied ponies set up a defensive perimeter around our position. If this is where we are camping then I want it protected.”

“Sir, yes sir!” he gave a salute before trotting off. Carrot Top followed his lead.

“Wait a minute private,” said Twilight. “I want you to stay here with Rainbow Dash. No matter what happens I want you at her side.”

“Yes sir,” answered the earth pony. “And sir, I’m sorry about what happened earlier. The things I said about your friend. I was frustrated. I didn’t mean it.”

“I’m sorry about last night,” said Twilight, surprising Carrot with her forwardness. She didn’t say anymore and within moments her back was to the private as she trotted off in the opposite direction. Carrot wanted to call after her. She didn’t though. Instead she watched Twilight’s tail bounce off into the distance, before returning her attention to Rainbow Dash.

“Guess it’s just you and me hero,” she said, more to herself than to the sleeping pegasus. She laid herself down against one of the trees form which Rainbow hung and tried to recall the melody of Twilight’s lullaby spell. She tried to hum it, and when her memory failed her she hummed something that was almost it, and kept on humming until she too drifted off to sleep – easily, as if by magic.

Stitching flesh was not like stitching fabric. That went without saying – so she didn’t – but Rarity did think it as the point of her needle pierced Applejack’s skin.

“AJ, be a dear and stop squirming. You are making this enormously more unpleasant for the both of us.” That wasn’t entirely true. Some part of Rarity, some ghostly remnant of the old her was enjoying herself plenty. It was a pleasure to sew again, to feel something familiar in this new world that was still so foreign to her. In her past life she had been a seamstress, a designer, a fashionista – the furthest thing from a soldier a filly could be. There was a time when the name Rarity was synonymous with sophistication. There was a time when her afternoons consisted of schmoozing with aristocrats at garden parties, discussing who whore what to whichever high profile event while snacking on hors d'oeuvre and sipping tea that cost more than what the average working class pony made in a month. She had schmoozed for Celestia’s sake! Life had been sweet, if not a bit a shallow, and certainly easy. Much easier than the lives of most.

But never did Rarity wonder how a pony of her former status came to be lowly soldier. She knew with the certainty of a bridge over rushing water how she had come to this place. She’d even come by choice, much unlike many of her fellow MM who were forced to answer the call of duty when her highness mandated the nationwide draft. In the beginning many refused. Those many were branded enemies of the state and imprisoned without trial or any foreseeable hope of release. With the institution of the draft the enemies of the royal house nearly doubled. It served as fuel for the rebellion: further proof that the princess had become a tyrant; the type of ruler who forces her subjects to make war in her name when the battle was not theirs, but her own to fight. Of course Rarity, being a member of the Canterlot aristocracy – if not in title than surely in practice – was exempt from the draft. Equestria would certainly not see her brightest shining sons and daughters lumped in with the commoners to be slaughtered, nor would they be expected to sully their precious hooves with the blood of a rabble as vulgar as the rebels.

Politics. Powerful ponies talking while the week suffered. Rarity cared nothing for politics, her crusade was personal.

She found her rhythm now; remembered the smooth artful weaving of needle and thread through a thin canvas, directed masterfully with mind and magic. Stitching flesh was not like stitching fabric, but the concept was similar enough. She finished with AJ’s first knife wound and moved on to the second. Rarity watched the needle move, encircled in the pale whisper of light that was her own magic, but was scarcely aware of it. By now muscle memory had taken over, allowing her mind to wander back in time. Bittersweet nostalgia swelled inside of her. She remembered all of it right up until the present day. Amidst the cluster of memories from her old life were those that were happy and those that were not so happy, but only one so horrible that she longed to forget it entirely. She remembered the day rebellious fervor took hold of her home in Ponyville. She remembered the riots in the streets, her boutique set ablaze by an angry mob, the bays for her blood, and amidst all the chaos she remembered one pony in particular: a pony whose eyes peered out from holes cut into a black hood. Lonely, soulless eyes. Eyes without a face. That pony she remembered and would never forget.

“There, all finished,” she said with a light sigh on her lips. Applejack twisted her necked to admire Rarity’s handy work and whistled before saying:

“Damn, would ya look at that? Reckon ah gots me ma first battle scars.” AJ jumped up to all fours and struck a dashing pose. She pranced about a bit, feeling like a like a real veteran, bucking at imaginary rebels and looking to all Equestria like a child playing at being a soldier.

“Honestly, Applejack. Settle down before you hurt yourself. You’ve lost a lot of blood and need to rest.”

“What ah need is to find the pony what cut me up and trample the little son of a bitch.” The young farm girl rose up on her hind legs, pretending to kick in the skull of said son of a bitch, when suddenly she suffered a dizzy spell that nearly floored her.

“See, now what did I tell you.” Rarity let a small laugh escape her lips. She moved to help Applejack back up to all fours, but the blond earth pony pulled away sharply, insisting that she could stand up on her own.

“Oh hush all that. Ya’ll ur just jealous of these beauties here,” said Applejack, gesturing toward the pair of scars on her right side. “It’s like a second cutie mark.” Rarity watched her friend with sad eyes. Rarity knew something of scars. They were nothing to celebrate.

“But then ah guess a fancy unicorn like urself wouldn’t want to ruin ur precious hide.” Rarity raised an eyebrow at AJ’s jeer. Perhaps she’d meant for it to sound like a harmless joke, but to Rarity it sounded like an outright insult. Without thinking she put a hoof to her chest and rubbed just under the neck, remembering what the pony in the black hood had done to her. She tried not to be upset. After all it wasn’t AJ’s fault. She knew nothing of scars – at least not the way Rarity knew.

“What has gotten into you Applejack,” said Rarity.

“What’re ya’ll getting at?” she asked. Her face was lit up with a bright and easy smile. Hard to believe she was on the brink of death just last night.

“Nothing. It’s just…you have been acting very unlike yourself lately.” It wasn’t so much what she said, or even the way she said it that set Applejack off. It was the look Rarity gave her as the words were leaving her mouth. There was charity in her eyes; the sort of look passerbys give to the homeless on their way home from the market place. She hated that look: hated it because though there was sometimes real concern in it – genuine love – juxtaposed beside that love was always a subtle air of superiority.

“Let me help you,” Rarity’s eyes pleaded. “Let me help, because you are too weak to help yourself. Let me help, you poor, poor dear.” Applejack was nopony’s poor, poor dear.

“What are ya‘ll getting at?” Her face dimmed. Her tone became defensive. “Ah’m the same as ah ever was.” She stomped the ground hard with a fore hoof and a sharp pain darted up her side that made her wince. Rarity remained silent.

“Well?” said Applejack. “I asked ya’ll a question. Just what exactly are ya ‘ll getting at?” She snorted. Neighed. Shook her head, tossing her long blond mane this way and that.

“See that is exactly what I am getting at. You just neighed at me. At me. Rarity, one of your best friends going on three years now. It’s like you’re always looking for a fight these days. All this posturing and bravado, who is it for exactly?”

“Now ur gonna lecture me too? Ur starting to sound like Twilight. Ah swear all you fancy fuck Canterlot unicorns are alike. The whole damn lot of ya think ur better than the rest of us cause ya got ur magic to make ur lives easier.”

““Excuse me?” said Rarity, taken aback. “I am not some fancy fuck unicorn form Canterlot, as you so eloquently but it. I am from Ponyville, same as you. I –” Rarity paused in the middle of her thought and took a moment to calm the storm brewing inside her. She wanted to play Applejack’s game, trade insults with her – hell she wanted to buck her right between the eyes, but restrained herself. She might have been a soldier these days but she was still a lady, and ladies conducted themselves with poise and grace. She couldn’t fly off the handle the way Twilight had. Her friend was hurting. She could see that Applejack was in a dark place, and right now Rarity knew that she needed to be the bigger pony for her friend’s sake.

“Where is this coming from Applejack? Is it Rainbow Dash? You two have been spending a lot of time together and I know how she can be.”

“Ya’ll leave Rainbow out of this.” Applejack’s voice went up an octave. She seemed to grow even more defensive at the sound of Rainbow’s name.

“Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. But talk to me dear. I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me.”

“Ya wanna help. Ya can start by not calling me dear. Ah aint ur dear.” Rarity sighed in frustration.

“Fine Applejack. Fine. Have it your way. I can see this is going nowhere.” Rarity began packing up her medical supplies. She stuffed the needle and thread back into the box and shoved the box into her pack, which she then threw over her shoulder and onto her back. Not with magic either, but with her own two fore hooves.

“Where ya think ur going. We aint done here yet.”

“Maybe you aren't but I am. I am done with all this,” she said pointing an accusing hoof at Applejack. “The Applejack I know, my friend Applejack, is honest, and patient, and understanding. She’s strong but she doesn’t use that strength to pick fights, especially not with ponies she cares about. So let me know when she gets back, because she and I need to have a long discussion about the state of our relationship. But I’ve no interest in wasting another moment of my time listening to you, whoever it is you are.” With that Rarity turned her back and began to trot off in no particular direction, just long as it was away from Applejack.

“Oh whatever. Forget ya then!” shouted AJ as she watched Rarity leave.

“You already have!” Rarity shouted back. Applejack snorted. Neighed loudly. Shook her head, tossing her long blond mane this way and that. Then she gathered up her own pack, slung it over her shoulder along with her riffle and began marching off in the other direction. Her fight with Rarity had attracted more than a few prying eyes from second and third platoon, though as soon as they realized AJ had become aware of them they feigned indifference. Applejack marched by her fellow MM, eager to jump on the first one of them who said anything. Only one was so bold.

“Trouble in paradise huh?” said Lyra. The unicorn had been standing with Bon-Bon a little ways away watching the whole thing as it happened. “Awwww, why don’t you two spare us the melodrama and just get a room already.” She laughed at her own dig as she took a drag from the lit cigarette that seemed to permanently adorn her muzzle.

“Oh come off it already,” said Applejack, giving her tormentor the satisfaction of a reply.

“You gonna cry, Iron Horse,” said Lyra, pronouncing the words "Iron Horse" as if they were italicized. “Come on give us a tear.”

Applejack saw red. She turned to Lyra and shouted something so dreadfully full of hate that this humble author dare not sully the eyes of his readership, or the sacred written word by granting such a verbal display the privilege of articulation. Lyra, being of the sort that she was, only smiled at the angry farm girl’s cruel words. She stood up on her hind legs, stuck out her tongue, and waved Applejack in, confident that she could take her given the apple-bucker was still recovering from a near fatal wound. She didn’t have anything against AJ personally, but sitting around all morning with Bon-Bon doing nothing had made her restless. That and kicking the crap out of Company Everfree’s Iron Horse would ensure her bragging rights back at the barracks until the end of the war. Applejack was more than happy to oblige her. Lyra spit out her cigarette and just like that the fight was on. Bon-Bon tried to step between them. Pinkie appeared suddenly and did her best to keep AJ at bay, but the rest of second and third platoon were busy egging the two on, encouraging them to even greater acts of violence. One of them tried to shove Bon-Bon (who was biting Lyra’s tail and pulling as hard as she could in an attempt to keep her away from Applejack) and for his trouble she bucked him squarely in his forehead, sending him reeling. Another tackled Pinkie to the ground. More joined in, and before anypony could do a thing to defuse it a brawl erupted. In the space of just a few minutes the once well composed military unit deteriorated into a mob of biting, kicking, and butting.

Some ways away from all the commotion an annoyed Cheerilee trotted up to meet Octavia, who was standing as still as a stuffed dog and observing the confrontation between her subordinates.

“She’s the one you wanted to save. Had it been me out there last night I’d have let her die,” said Cheerilee without even the slightest a hint of self-awareness. Octavia rubbed her chin in thought. She didn't doubt that Cheerilee meant every word.

“What are we doing out here?” she asked her fellow lieutenant.

“You mean literally or in like an existential, what does it all mean kind of way?”

“Do not joke Cheerilee. I am trying to talk to you.”

“Sorry.” The two of them looked out at their unit, watching in stoic silence, not liking what they saw.

“Am I not a capable leader?” Octavia asked.

“Does it really matter what I think?”

She smiled. “I guess not.”

“The brass isn’t going to like you disobeying a direct order.”

“I couldn’t just let her die.”

“We both know that’s bullshit.” Cheerilee spoke the truth – or at least there was a time when such words were true. Octavia had been doing this for a long time; since near the beginning of the conflict. Very few of the Canterlot elite were summoned to serve their country when Celestia mandated the draft. Octavia, however unlikely, had been one of those few. She could have fought it. Her family had connections that reached all the way up to the royal family. Her father had served as an advisory to the princess for most of his adult life, and her mother was one of the most prolific concert pianists to ever grace the capitol with her talents. On more than one occasion her family had used their influence to get her things – things she didn’t deserve. In her youth Octavia trained hard to hone her musical skills, but always she fell short of her more talented peers. If not for her father’s influence she would have never been allowed to play for Celestia and royal court at the Grand Galloping Gala. Her mother had prodded her to use that same influence to dodge the draft but Octavia refused. She had had enough of gaining on the merits of others. She wanted something for herself. Something she could hold in her own hooves, and to have meaning it would have to be something earned with her own ability. For awhile the military was that something. Under her parent’s roof she had lived a disciplined life and under the banner of the Millitiamares that discipline served her well. She rose through the ranks quickly: going where they ordered her to go without question, killing who they ordered her to kill absent hesitation. But what happened in Ponyville raised questions – created cause for hesitation. Before Ponyville, Octavia had known exactly what kind of pony she was. She had been the worst kind of soldier: the kind that killed both enemies and innocents in blind allegiance to a world power that claimed itself infallible. The kind that looked the other way where morality was concerned, but never back. After Ponyville things became different. She was privy to horrors there she had yet to witness even here, in this Celestia forsaken corner of Equestria called Everfree Forest. Ponyville had forced her to look back. Now she found it difficult to look ahead.

“Things are different now,” she heard herself say. “We can’t be as callous anymore.”

“Maybe you can’t.” Cheerilee’s story was a bit less complex. Before the war she was nopony, just an elementary school teacher who couldn’t even earn the respect of a roomful of eight year olds. Now she was somepony, a lieutenant in the greatest military power in all of Equestria, and she had no intention of stopping there. Should things go her way, she would be called general before the end of all this suffering.

“Callousness is what got me here. I have talent for looking the over way.” Octavia deemed that last comment undeserving of a response. “We’re in this thing together Octavia. Don’t go getting soft on me.”

Octavia nodded. She disliked Cheerilee’s attitude but couldn’t deny that she and her fellow earth pony were alike in plenty of ways. They stood on common ground, she and her. Octavia almost considered Cheerilee a friend. The feeling was not mutual.

Octavia took a deep breath, trying clear her head.

“Cheerilee,” she said, her voice authoritative. “Rally the troops. Put a stop to all this nonsense. I want us ready to march as soon as possible. We are overdue for our rendezvous with Sparkle.”

Cheerilee laughed. The sound of it was obnoxious. “Who’re you talking to like that? I don’t answer to you. And you don’t answer to Sparkle.” Octavia rolled her eyes.

“Honestly Cheerilee, you can be insufferable at times.”

Octavia elected to rally the troops herself. How, she wasn’t sure, nor would never know, because just as she was preparing to fling herself headlong into the melee, Cheerilee nudged her side and directed her attention to a pair of incoming friendlys returning from their perimeter sweep. The two returning MM were dragging something through the grass. At first glance Octavia thought it was a body, perhaps a deceased comrade they had discovered and wished to give a proper burial. But as the pair of MM neared she could see that the body was still moving. They dragged the wretched thing by its uniform, biting the ends of its sleeves and pulling at it like scavengers tearing flesh form a corpse. The pony being pulled was bleeding profusely from its head. It didn’t have strength enough to put up much of a fight. Slowly, the other soldiers became aware of the pair’s approach, fascinated by the nearly limp thing they carried between them. A few more kicks were thrown and a few more heads butted before eventually their fighting took a backseat to this new spectacle.

“Oh boy, here we go,” said Cheerilee, not looking terribly amused.

To which Octavia replied with a simple “Come.” She sounded even less amused than Cheerilee looked.

Colgate and Berry Punch drug their wounded rebel hostage to a stop. They looked around and found a battered and bruised second and third platoon standing around them, all eyes fixed on their coerced guest.

“What is the meaning of this?” asked Octavia as she trotted up to them, making an effort to sound calmer and more in control then she felt.

“We were conducting our perimeter sweep – as ordered – when we found this little shit all by her lonesome,” said Berry, sounding very proud of herself.

Octavia looked down at was left of the prisoner. The rebel’s uniform was tattered, and the parts of her that weren’t covered by tattered clothing were covered in bruises and lacerations. Her right eye was swollen shut from being repeatedly struck with a rifle butt, and her nose was broken. Her mane seemed too long and had too many colors in it, and her deep burgundy coat served as an odd backdrop for the blood that ran down her face. Octavia found the sameness of red blood against nearly red skin unnerving.

“Actually I found her,” corrected Colgate. “It was weird too. I was walking, looking straight as I was, turned to say something to Barry and when I turned back there she was. Just lying there, curled into a ball and shaking.”

Octavia glanced back at the body and noticed for the first time a tiny consistent tremor running through the enemy soldier’s body. She shook as though she were very cold.

“She appeared and was shaking?” said Octavia. Shaking. Shaking… shivering. Shivering she knew was a side effect of remaining shrouded in a concealment spell for too long. The spell granted it’s user or, whatever it’s user whished, invisibility. But if the subject was a living creature and stayed concealed for too long they suffered an unbearable internal cold, like a snow storm raging in their chest. Though for this one the storm seemed to have died down by now.

“She was hiding. A concealment spell,” said Octavia.

“A what?” asked Cheerilee. Octavia explained. “But that’s impossible. She’s an earth pony…” A cold realization came over both lieutenants. At first glance Octavia had thought so too, but looking now she could see that wound on the rebel’s head poured blood form the spot where a unicorn’s horn would have been. Should have been.

Berry smiled big, the expression displaying a self pride that would have put even Rainbow Dash to shame. She said:

“She tried using her magic on us when we found her – so I cut her horn out of her head.” Octavia grimaced. There still existed those cruelties that even she was not numb too.

“If she attacked you why didn’t you kill her?” asked Octavia.

“We thought we could take her prisoner…you know make her tell us stuff about the enemy and all that,” said Berry, sounding considerably less sure of herself now. She shrunk under Octavia’s glare.

“Company Everfree does not take prisoners. And we certainly do not torture them in the aims of attaining information, if that’s what you were insinuating.” Berry didn’t answer. Instead the rebel did. Hollow laughter floated up from her broken body like the last wisp of smoke from a newly extinguished fire.

“A mercy I wouldn’t show you, loyalist.” The rebel laughed more. Longer. Louder. She laughed until eventually that laughter was interrupted by a fit of coughs – and then she laughed a bit more. The crowd bayed at the rebel’s audaciousness. They shoved each other, fighting for a better view of her last few moments, and probably would have pounced on her and trampled her into the dirt had Octavia not held them at bay with a humble raise of her hoof. She wanted to hear the rebel out.

“If it were me in your place, I’d have you scalped – maybe weave that pretty mane of yours into my own.” The texture of her voice was grating, as if sandpaper were being scarped along the inside of her throat. She was having trouble breathing.

That voice. Rarity remembered it. She shoved her way through the crowed, desperately. She had to see for herself; had to know.

“Big words for a dead pony,” taunted Cheerilee. At this the rebel burst into uncontrollable laughter. Her stomach contracted and expanded rapidly, she wheezed, coughed; her one good eye began to tear. She rolled unto her back. Her legs flailed, kicking at the empty air. She rolled back onto her stomach. Her laughter faded for a second. Another second. Then it picked up again, suddenly and with renewed vigor.

“Dead pony,” she repeated between great whooping laughs. Slowly, and with great effort, she manage to stand up on all fours. Both Colgate and Berry drew their side arms, but again Octavia raised an authoritative hoof and immediately they holstered their weapons. Now the rebel stood up on three legs, as straight as her injuries would allow, clutching her stomach with the fourth. She wiped a tear form her good eye and said:

“Dead pony...how true, how true.” She spoke in a Fillydelphian accent. She was small, even standing fully erect she still had to look up at Octavia.

That accent, thought Rarity. She did recognize it. Rarity burst through to the front of the crowd as if bursting through the surface of an ocean. Her eyes found the rebel and she had to stifle a panicked shriek, pushing the noise back into her throat with her fore hooves. It was her. She was one of them. One of the rebels from the raid in Ponyville. Rarity recognized the burgundy coat, and the mane that was a weave of several different manes, trophies taken from the hides of her victims. Even the uniform was the same. Like those worn by the MM, except they traded the camouflage motif for dark blues, blacks, and purples. Rarity’s heart raced. Suddenly she felt nauseous, on the verge of vomiting. It was her all right, but there was still one more thing. One more tell, and then she would know for sure.

“True indeed,” continued the rebel. “But then, I’ve been dead for a long time now.” She locked her one good eye with Octavia’s, and in the rebel’s face the MM lieutenant could find no hint of fear. She had cornered rebels before: trampled them into submission, broken them, watched then grovel shamelessly at her hooves, begging for their worthless lives. But not this pony. She was different. No fear in her eye and not much of anything else either. Octavia stared so closely that she could see herself reflected in that one pupil, and in that moment she understood something – something that she’d always known but had never been brave enough to face. In that moment she saw that the eyes of her enemies were not windows into corrupted souls, but rather a reflection of her own. And not a contorted funhouse mirror either. Before her now stood a flawless mirror, hoof crafted from the finest glass, and in that glass there she was also. Trapped in the visage of her enemy.

“How long have you been dead, Loyalist?” With a movement swifter than the wind Octavia stood up on her hind legs, drew her side arm, and leveled it at that flawless mirror. The rebel didn’t flinch. A betraying bead of sweat rolled down the side of Octavia’s forehead that made her enemy smirk. The rest of the unit was silent, even Cheerilee said nothing. They watched on edge, sensing that something important was transpiring between their lieutenant and this nameless villain.

Octavia took a deep breath. She tried to keep the gun form shaking in her hooves. This pony knew! Somehow she could see into Octavia’s mind and in her heart, and she knew of the atrocities Octavia had committed in the name of the crown. She knew about Ponyville. Worse she knew about it all: her love of the cello, her failures in music, how her father had made her way for her, of her crippling fear of authority and her compulsive desire to do everything in her power to please that authority. That one haunting eye could see right through her; see that she was just as empty and depraved as the enemy she had sworn to rid her country of.

She stood paralyzed. To strike now would be to strike herself. Octavia wasn't strong enough to do that.

“No! Wait!” shouted Rarity, as she made a lunge for the rebel soldier. “Don’t shoot, not before I know!” She grabbed hold of the rebel’s already tattered uniform with her teeth and tore at it from the waist down. Having already been worn so thin the fabric gave easily and below it the rebel’s last tell – her cutie mark – was revealed. Rarity looked upon it. Now she new for certain.

Murmurs rose up from the ranks.

“…a…a cultist…” gasped somepony.

“…Fucking disgusting…” said somepony else.

“My Celestia,” said Cheerilee with a startlingly self conscious laugh. “I guess nothing is sacred anymore.”

Beneath the rebel’s shredded uniform was what remained of the symbol of her special talent. On her right was an image of the sun being partially blacked out by a crescent moon. The artist who rendered the tattoo had been a talent one because the sun was a near perfect replication of the princess’s own cutie mark, every detail captured down to the technical proportions. The Crescent moon was also as close to Luna’s cutie mark as could be without being the genuine article. A partial eclipse. The sun behind the moon. Such was the holy insignia worn by those who swore allegiance to the cult of the Moon Goddess.

On her left flank there was not another image of an eclipse. There was nothing but a hide marred by horrible scars: some of them long, thin, and winding, some of them short and fat. Some were fresh and looked as though they’d only just healed, while others appeared to be as old as the pony to whom they belonged. The scarring crept a little ways down her leg and also covered a bit of her lower back and hindquarters.

The outraged soldiers of Company Everfree looked upon her scarred hide and learned of what it meant to be an enemy of the crown. To stand against Celestia was to stand against the self: to relinquish one’s individuality – to give up that special something that makes you who you are in service to a cause greater than yourself. She was nameless now. Faceless. Free.

“Where is she! Where is my sister!” shouted Rarity as snatched Octavia’s gun from her shaking hooves, unintentionally shoving the lieutenant to the ground as she did. “If you’ve hurt her I swear I’ll…” Colgate and Berry raised their side arms but were unsure of who to aim at. Cheerilee, who had seen more than enough, cocked the rifle that was slung around her shoulder and aimed it at the lot of them.

“All of you stand down! Now!” she shouted, but Rarity didn’t listen. She kept the barrel of Octavia’s sidearm trained on the rebel soldier, her eyes wide and hysterical.

The rebel flinched. Too many sudden movements. Too much noise. She took a defensive stance. Her head whipped back and forth as if she had only just now become aware of that fact that she was surrounded. It was the first bit of weakness she had shown in the presence of her enemies. Her sudden jumpiness was contagious. It spread throughout the ranks of second and third platoon, and within seconds just about every rifle, pistol, shotgun, and sub-machine gun in the unit was level with the rebel soldier’s head.

So it can fear, thought Octavia as she rose back to all fours. With a humble raise of her fore hoof, all under her command lowered their weapons.

“Attention,” she said quietly. They obeyed. She looked around at what passed for soldiers of the proud Millitiamares these days, and was embarrassed. She’d seen enough of this. “Lieutenant Cheerilee, rally the troops. I want them ready to march when I give the order and not a second later. We’ve wasted enough time. I’ll finish things here.”

Cheerilee looked to her fellow lieutenant. Her lips came apart to speak her protest.

“Now!” shouted Octavia, her voice climbing well above its usual monotone. No pony in the entirety of Company Everfree had ever heard Octavia raise her voice before. Without hesitation they obeyed. They marched off, leaving her to deal with the rebel soldier. All them but one.

Rarity stood her ground, refusing to give an inch. She kept the gun trained on the rebel. Her eyes flicked from the rebel’s bruised face, to Octavia’s, then back to the rebel’s. She made a conscious decision that should the lieutenant try anything funny, she would shoot her on the spot.

“So you know this pony,” said Octavia as she calmly approached Rarity.

“Y-yes. I’ve seen her before,” answered Rarity, her voice quivering as she spoke. “She was there at Ponyville, with that monster in the black hood.”

“Is that right?” Octavia read the rebel’s body language. She looked nervous now, ready to make a run for it. Gently, Octavia took the gun from the unicorn’s shaking hooves, and with the casualness of a housewife watering her plants, she shot the rebel twice, putting a bullet through each of her forelegs. The burgundy pony wailed and fell to the ground. She laid down on her stomach and strained to look up at them through her one good eye. For a moment Octavia took satisfaction in the look of sheer terror in that eye. Her invincible façade had faded completely. For too short a moment she looked just like all the others who had groveled before her. But then as she looked up at Rarity her fear gave way to a look of surprise; then surprise became bewilderment, bewilderment turned to recognition, and recognition to pure – almost childlike – amusement.

“I remember you,” said the rebel. Her voice little more than an oxygen starved rasp. She was dying. “You’re the pretty one. The one who makes all the pretty little dresses. Not so pretty now are you?” she tried to laugh but only succeeded in choking on a few nearly debilitating coughs. “Never would have taken you for the soldier type.”

Rarity started to say something but Octavia shushed her with a look.

“This filly said something about her sister,” said Octavia. “Talk, or the last few minutes of your life will be very unpleasant.”

“Nothing to say. The boss took her. The one you loyalist named Butcher. Kid’s probably dead by now.”

“So you kidnap children do you?” Octavia ejected the clip from her sidearm, letting it fall useless to the ground. “You weave the manes of your victims into your own, and wear them like trophies. You willingly disfigure yourself, scratching off your cutie mark and swearing allegiance to a goddess who does not sympathize with your cause.” She pulled the slide back, spitting out the chambered round with an audible ping before discarding the gun itself. “And if that were not egregious enough you scoff at the sacred law of your homeland and attack your fellow Equestrians with magic. Worse you hide yourself with it, just as you hide behind that smile. Am I right, defector?”

She kneeled down in front of the wounded rebel so that they were eye level. “You are undeserving of the mercy granted by a bullet. So I am going to let this filly here kill you with her own hooves.” With that Octavia backed away, making room for Rarity to do what had to be done.

The unicorn stood over the rebel, angry tears staining her cheeks. She rose up on her hind legs. When she returned to all fours her fore hooves found the soft midsection of the defenseless rebel. The rebel wailed in agony. Rarity rolled her onto her back and stomped her stomach again. She coughed. Blood sputtered from her bruised lips. A hoof landed on her throat. She gasped. Twitched. Another blow struck her across the face. Another. Another. Again to her stomach. Her body convulsed under the unrelenting beating. Rarity rose again and again returned, this time finding one of the rebel’s wounded forelegs. The bone splintered under the full weight of her body like a dry autumn leaf. Hard unforgiving hooves fell upon fragile muscle and bone like a storm of hailstones. Pounding. Pounding. Pounding.

With an expressionless face Octavia watched Rarity trample what was left of the rebel under hoof, completely numb to the cruelty. She remembered Bon-Bon’s kind eyes illuminated in the campfire as they sat at Applejack’s side, talking while they waited for help to arrive. She envied those eyes. Still so full of hope for a future for that wasn’t coming. Still soft – not hard and cruel like her own.

Rarity was beginning to learn of that cruelty as she made an even bloodier mess of the rebels face. She stomped with reckless abandon, scarcely even aware of what she was doing, until finally she wore herself out enough to slow down and take in the scene before her. She breathed heavy. A cold sweat rolled down her forehead as if she had just awakened from a nightmare. Beneath her the rebel lay on her back, completely limp, her body little more than a bag of flesh full of broken bones. Rarity looked down at her blood stained hooves and was ashamed. She had taken lives before –many, many lives – but always while looking through a scope form several yards away. This, she knew in her heart, was her first real kill. She’d never had any blood on her hooves until now. Hooves that used to sew: stitch, mend, patch, knit, repair, create – now bloodied; reduced to the sordid act of destruction.

She looked to Octavia with sad pleading eyes, expecting her to say something. But the lieutenant did not answer. Instead the rebel did. Hollow laughter floated up from her broken body like the last wisp of smoke from a newly extinguished fire. She had a talent for enduring hellacious beatings and not dying – though now she was as close to death as a pony who was still breathing could be.

With her one good eye she squinted up at the sunlight that made its way through the tree tops. Then, as slowly as a thing could move without being still, she extended one broken foreleg, pointing accusingly at Celestia’s sun.

“Death…to the false Goddess…” she murmured as her final act of defiance. It was perhaps the most powerful gesture Rarity had ever witnessed. Then the foreleg fell until it pointed at the unicorn that stood over her.

“…and you…” she continued. Her chest heaved as she forced the words from her mouth. Each one uttered seemed to carry with it a drop of her remaining life force. “May your days be short…and your nights…last…forever.” Then the accusing hoof fell limp and rebels gaze clouded. Finally she was gone.

“Well done soldier,” said Octavia, placing a gently hoof on Rarity’s shoulder. “Now go meet up with the others, I’ll be along shortly.”

Rarity stood shaking for awhile, as if she hadn't heard the lieutenant’s order. Then she trotted off solemnly, looking down at the ground as she went.

Octavia stood over the corpse of her enemy. Her one good eye was still open, squinting up into the sunlight that she had loathed so deeply. Octavia looked down into that eye, that flawless mirror, but she could no longer see herself in its refection. She saw nothing now. Somehow that seemed infinitely more bleak.

Second and third platoon marched in silence. After all that transpired earlier that morning no pony had it her to say much of anything. They marched for all of the day, and by night fall they were still a ways away from the rendezvous point. It had taken each separate platoon little under a day to clear the distance, but together they proved to be a great sluggish mass of hoof dragging wretches. It would take them two days to get back; a detail Octavia may not have overlooked if not for her own mental and emotional fatigue. When night fell the weary officer gave the order for her unit to halt, set up camp, sweep the perimeter – the usual. As she undid the sleeping bag from her pack and laid it on the floor, some part of her hoped for a monster of the Everfree Forest to appear from out of the shadows and make a quick meal of her. When this failed to happen she crawled into her sleeping bag like a wounded animal crawling into its den and shut her eyes. She tried to sleep but couldn’t.

Rarity had just picked out a spot to lie down herself when she was approached by somepony familiar.

“Howdy miss Rarity,” said AJ. Rarity found her accent more charming than usual. “It’s me, ur friend Applejack.”

Rarity smiled. “Well now you have been gone an awfully long while,” she said, her tone playful. “You’ve missed a lot in your absence you know.”

“Have ah now?” answered AJ, playing along.

“I should say yes. Why I’ll have to catch you up to speed. While you were gone I met this absolutely dreadful earth pony with a blond mane and three apples for a cutie mark – a lot like yours dear – oh but the temper on this one, and the mouth. Would you believe she referred to me as some, and I quote, ‘fancy fuck Canterlot unicorn?’ Me. Rarity! Why I have never been so insulted in all my days.” She ended her monologue with a sassy humph and a toss of her purple mane for good measure.

Applejack laughed. “All right, ah guess I deserved that. Ah have been a touch out of sorts lately.” She laid down beside Rarity so that the two of them were eye level. “Rarity…Ah’m real sorry,” she said earnestly. She would have said more but Rarity shushed her, placing a delicate hoof over the earth pony’s mouth.

“You are forgiven, friend.”

“Not just about that. About ur sister too…why didn’t ya tell me sooner?”

Rarity looked away from Applejack and said: “I don’t know. Maybe I wasn’t ready to admit it myself.”

“She and ma little sis were pretty close if ah remember right. She was a regular sweetheart, that one.”

“She was perfect. She was perfect and I was dreadful to her.”

“Don’t say that Rarity.”

“But it’s true. I was always shoving her aside – making room for all of my oh-so-important engagements.”

“You were a busy pony. She was young but she understood that. She knew what all those ‘engagements’ meant to ya, and I’d bet ma whole orchard she was proud to have ya for a big sis.” Rarity sighed. She wanted to believe what Applejack said was true but in her heart she knew it wasn’t.

“No, she resented me. And when she needed me most I couldn’t do anything for her. I guess I just…just figured there would always be more time. I was young and in love with life. I just figured there would be more time.”

“And now there aint any at all.”

The two of them fell quiet for a while, sitting in silence with the memories of lives long lost.

Rarity stood up suddenly. Her horn sparked, and from it there came a small light, an illumination spell, no brighter than a single match.

“Applejack I need to show you something,” she said, her voice practically a whisper. She took a deep slow breath, it was the kind of breath one takes before doing something very brave, or very foolish. “Before I do you have to promise not to tell anypony else.”

Applejack nodded, not entirely sure she was comfortable with Rarity confiding something so personal in her, but given all the unicorn had been through today she was hardly in a position to refuse. Now it was her turn to be the bigger pony for the sake of a friend.

A magic spark took hold of Rarity’s uniform, peeling the layers of clothing back, leaving her upper body exposed. She pulled her mane back and twisted her head away as to give AJ a better look at her bare neck. The natural winter cold nipped at her naked coat.

Applejack’s eyes widened. “Oh Rarity…Ah – ah didn’t know.”

Rarity knew something of scars. Beneath her coveralls was where she hid them. Form where the base of her neck met her collar bones, down her chest and back, all the way to her cutie mark, crept a long trail of scars; not unlike those that marred the hide of the cultist with the burgundy coat. On that fateful day it hadn’t been enough for her oppressors to take all that she had ever held dear – they also found it within in their hearts to give her something. A present to remember them by: a master piece really, immortalized on a living canvas, crafted with the care of an artist who traded brush for blade. And like any good work of art it revealed to those who looked upon it a higher truth. Each stroke of the artist’s brush told a story of violence, and loss, and pain, and shame, and struggle – and all of those things that result in the meeting of conflicting convictions – all of it carved into flesh, scribbled sloppily in a language best understood by warriors.

Rarity hadn’t been a warrior upon receiving this: her enemy’s gift. She was one now.

As Applejack stared at Rarity’s naked imperfection she became ashamed for having celebrated her own war wounds. She self-consciously looked down at the spot on her uniform that concealed the pair of stitches in her side, and all at once understood what sort of thing a scar was. It was change: something beautiful made ugly by loveless hooves. Yes Rarity knew something of scars. Now Applejack knew as well.

Chapter NINE

The plan hadn’t changed all that much, though it had changed again and Cheerilee was growing tired of being forced to march greater distances at the ever shifting whims of her superiors. She stood before the major in what had once been Sparkle’s base of operations, doing her best to keep the sudden feeling of jealousy that had taken hold of her from showing in her face. It was no easy task. When she was general she would personally put a stop to Sparkle’s pampering. Of Course with her luck being what it was – bad – by then it was likely that the war would be over and Sparkle already crowned the new princess of Equestria.

Second and third hadn’t rendezvoused with first platoon as had been the original plan. Instead the lot of them had been ordered back to the outpost. The major had radioed the demands herself.

The disappointment in her voice now, as it had been crackling over the radio, had an almost motherly quality too it. Each of the five lieutenants under her command stood before her perfectly still, perfectly erect as they unflinchingly endured their tongue lashing.

“This is unacceptable,” began the major. Her face, already so profoundly wrinkled with age, found some way to reach even greater definition, and her glasses sat so low on her nose it seemed possible they could slip off at any moment. “Irreprehensible. Embarrassing.” She hit each syllable with the same degree of practiced expertise employed by concert pianists, striking them as if notes on a keyboard. “According to these reports this company has sustained fifty plus causalities. That’s little more than a fourth of my company. My company. My. Little. Ponies.”

Subjugated as she was to this verbal assault, Cheerilee couldn’t help but wonder if this is what her students had felt like while enduring one of her own lectures on the importance of punctuality, or classroom conduct, or any number of those things that teach even the youngest fillies and colts how to roll their eyes.

Lieutenant Spitfire did just that with her own sun colored eyes, and her jaw quivered slightly as she stifled a yawn.

The sight revolted the major. A quiet yet pronounced fury brewed behind the thick lenses of her spectacles. “Apologies lieutenant, am I boring you?” The major stood up from behind her desk, seething. The spontaneity of the movement caused the many medals adorning her uniform to jingle against each other, making a noise akin to the tiny metallic pinging of coins being poured out of pouch. “Well maybe you’ll find this more amusing.” She picked up a vanilla colored folder, flipped it open and began reading aloud.

“To whom this may concern.” Her tone was condescending. She adjusted her glasses. “Company Everfree under the banner of the proud Militiamares, extend our deepest condolences to you over the loss of your loved one. Though she is no longer with us, know that she was our sister in arms and that she gave her life protecting her fellow soldiers as well as her beloved country.” She laid the folder down on her desk solemnly and peered at the lieutenants.

“Each of these letters must be signed by myself and the princess before they are delivered to the friends and the families of the deceased. It is my name they read at the bottom of this piece of paper. Not yours Lieutenant Spitfire. I take this deftly seriously and I’ll thank you to do the same.” She straightened the papers on her desk and returned to her seat. Her former seething cooled to a steady simmer.

“Permission to speak Major?” said Spitfire out of the corner of her mouth.

“Permission denied. Request it again and I’ll have you stripped of your rank and demoted to private, where, after evaluating your leadership skills, I’d say all of you belong.” She paused a moment to gather her thoughts. “Now,” she began again, slipping easily back into that pianist like rhythm, “can anypony among you care to explain why I, the real commanding officer of this outfit, am only learning about this suicide mission after the fact?”

It was an inevitable question, but still one that nopony in the room was really prepared to answer. Brave sideways glances passed between the lieutenants. A silent inconspicuous deliberation took place, and within the confined space of exactly one moment they reached a unanimous verdict. This was coming down on Sparkle’s head. But just as Equestria’s favorite daughter began her confession, Cheerilee interrupted. Here, she mused, was an opportunity to impress her superior with a little initiative, but more importantly here was a rare chance to upstage that damn Twilight Sparkle.

She took a small breath, her heart thumping in her throat. “It’s cumbersome to–”

“Did I grant you permission to speak.” the major interrupted, and immediately Cheerilee fell quiet, feeling foolish.

“To be fair major, you did ask a question,” said Octavia after a brief moment of silence.

The major sighed and leaned back into her seat. “As you were lieutenant.”

Quickly, Cheerilee regained her composure, and also made a mental note to thank Octavia later for the save. It seemed the earth pony from Canterlot garnered the respect of all in her presence, a talent Cheerilee had always envied. She glanced at the unicorn standing at the edge of her periphery, and had to suppress a sudden urge to shoot her a mocking wink. With the exception of maybe Lieutenant Spitfire, who held no qualms with anypony, Twilight Sparkle didn’t have a single friend in this room.

“It’s cumbersome to inform our superiors in Canterlot and Central Equestria of actions taken here in the Everfree Forest. We have no baby dragons with which to deliver messages, given that this is an active war zone; nor do we have access to vehicles as they are difficult to maneuver through the dense woods – not that I need to inform you of all ponies, of these extenuating circumstances, sir.”

“I’m not in Canterlot or Central Equestria. I’m stationed in the MM’s Ponyville outpost. Why not send a flyer?”

“Um – oh I don’t know, because we’re out here in the fucking wilderness with all seven inches of Celestia’s horn shoved up are asses is all,” snapped Spitfire. Between the major’s tirade and Cheerilee’s shameless ass kissing, she was well on her way to being thoroughly pissed off. Her outburst earned her a stern look from the major but before the conflict could escalate, Cheerilee promptly interjected,

“W–What the lieutenant means to say is that Company Everfree is charged with the – uh – with the burden of fighting in the Everfree Forest, the most dangerous front of the entire war. We need every pair of hooves on duty at all the times. Even the loss of one messenger would be felt among our constantly dwindling ranks.” Phew, she thought to herself, a bit shaky but a nice save just the same. Sparkle may have had a greater talent for leading ponies into battle and Octavia for demanding the respect of those under her command, but Cheerilee was not without talents of her own. Where the others earned their station through favor or discipline, Cheerilee had discovered some time ago that she needed neither. All she needed was her silver tongue and a few minutes time to work her own special brand of magic.

“Of course, of course. And you thought too remedy this problem of dwindling numbers by sending more to be slaughtered?”

Cheerilee cleared her throat. “That fault is not entirely ours. Lieutenant Sparkle’s plan was flawless and would have succeeded, but we were ambushed by a rampaging Ursa Major. We did our best to adapt to the situation. Ponies died.”

The major sat forward in her chair, leaning her elbows on her desk and resting her chin on her hooves. The gesture was surprisingly informal, almost alarming coming from the usually stringent major. Somehow her causal ease seemed to heighten the mounting tension between herself and her subordinates, rather than diffuse it.

“Is that true Sparkle? Are you responsible for all this,” asked the major, to which Twilight responded with a meek,

“Yes sir.”

She turned her attention back to the purple earth pony. Throughout the duration of their conversation this one had done most of the talking. She was audacious in her approach to dealing with authority, a trait that the major loathed but respected in soldiers under her command. In any case she had handled herself better than the rest of them.

Of course the major knew to some degree that this entire meeting was little more than a formality, most military proceedings were. The purple earth pony had answered her questions well but she knew the truth. She had known that this whole fiasco had been Twilight’s doing from the very start, nopony else had the means or the stones to make something like it happen. She also knew why she had been kept in the dark about the mission: because Twilight hadn’t wanted her to know. She could take it up with her superiors; General Silver Star, Prince Blueblood, the Princess, but that was a battle she couldn’t win – no pony could. They would vindicate Sparkle. They always did. In the Princess’s eyes she could do no wrong, and that meant exactly that: she could do no wrong. In the end the major was too smart to ever really challenge Sparkle, but this one wasn’t. She was ambitions, and clearly held some degree of animosity for Equestria’s favorite daughter. A trouble maker if ever there was one. A regular disrupter of the status quo. It’s a dangerous thing to disrupt the status quo. Especially dangerous when your country is at war with ponies doing just that.

“What’s your name again lieutenant?”

“Lieutenant First Class Cheerilee, sir.” She gave a stalwart salute, beaming with gross self satisfaction. The gesture reminded the major of a time when she too was young, strong and stupid. Fortunately, she was none of those things now. She didn’t envy her subordinates’ youth. With the happenings of the world being what they were, now was no time to be a youth.

The major removed her glasses to rub the bridge of her nose, and seemed to age ten – no – fifteen years right before their eyes. The gesture held in it an overt air of fatigue. She took a deep breath, her shoulders heaved noticeably and when she exhaled another year escaped her, carried out on the breath as it passed between her lips.

“Cheerilee,” she said as if trying to commit it to memory. “Cheerilee…” She played with the name on her tongue, rolled it around in her mouth like a wad of chewing gum that was close to losing its flavor. “Cheerilee…”

Then she dismissed them.

Twilight shuffled out of her former base of operations, deflating a little with every step, her head hanging low, weighed down by the exhaustion that seemed to always accompany defeat. Cheerilee trotted by and shot Twilight a look that suggested she was perhaps considering literally kicking the unicorn while she was down. The ex-school teacher had to control a sudden and very strong urge to spit in Twilight's face, as that may have been a bit too forward, and instead settled for a mean spirited sneer. Then she pranced off beside Octavia with her head held high.

“Can you believe that?” said Spitfire, her sun colored eyes catching the daylight as she trotted up alongside Twilight. “The brass crawling up our asses, like we’re not the ones out hear picking bugs out of our manes, and dodging bullets. Meanwhile they’re holed up in Canterlot. Sleeping in beds every night, staring at big maps and sipping tea while they figure out a way to screw over the amputees and miserable sell shocked sons-of-mules turning up on street corners looking for their jobs back.”

“The major isn’t stationed in Canterlot,” replied Twilight dryly.

“You know what I mean.” answered Spitfire.

Spitfire liked the sound of her own voice. She had every right to, it was a good voice. The kind of voice that demanded the attention of others and endowed her words with a sort of intrinsic worth regardless of what was actually said.

“Geez, what’s eating you miss magic panties?” asked Spitfire. She knew the answer but wanted to hear it from Twilight’s mouth. The brash loudmouthed pegasus didn’t just like to hear herself talk for her own sake – well she did – but she also believed that words carried with them an inherent power. Declare a thing, she believed, and you could create that thing. Whatever it was you could own it, control it; if only you declared it.

“Come on Spitfire I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Nonsense! Sound is vibration and vibration is energy, sister.” Twilight looked up at Spitfire, who had taken to hovering a few feet above the ground rather than just walk. She always became a little annoyed when pegasi did that, and the expression on her face showed that she was in no mood for Spitfire’s particular brand of whimsical antics.

“Don’t give me that look. I thought an egghead, magic panties pony like you would subscribe to all that fancy mantra speak.”

“What are you even talking about?”

Spitfire landed in front of Twilight abruptly. “I’m talking about you. I’m talking about the mission you failed, and the ponies you got killed. I’m unfairly laying all the blame at your hooves and expecting you to deal with it all by yourself.”

Her initial, uncensored reaction was to get angry. Twilight was sick of everypony looking to her for all the answers, like she was the only one fighting the damn war, then immediately dismissing her efforts whenever she made a mistake. She was ready to cuss Spitfire out of her coveralls when suddenly the meaning of the pegasus pony’s words became clear to her. She sighed.

“Okay. I see your point.” She looked down and kicked at the dirt beneath her hooves. “I have maybe been a little hard on myself,” she admitted.

“Now was that so hard? The first step to overcoming your troubles is declaring them. You gotta speak up. You gotta own it. And when you get a chance, you gotta laugh at it. Laughter is the spit in worry’s eye,” she said with a knowing wink.

“Heh, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

“I’m on my way to visit my favorite grounded rainbow maned menace. It’d be real classy of you to tag along. Say what’s up to your girlfriend.”

Twilight smiled. She shook her head and wondered how somepony with Spitfire's temperament managed to climb so high up the ranks. “My Celestia, can you even hear yourself talk?”

“Loud and clear miss magic panties.” She laughed to herself, her sun colored eyes glinting. “And was there ever a sweeter sound, sister?”

Spitfire laughed at her own quip. She liked the sound of her voice, and she especially liked the sound of that voice laughing. Before long, Twilight found herself laughing too, swept up in the music of Spitfire’s melodic voice. And If her voice was music then her laughter was a catchy song that everypony knew the words to, the type that when played one couldn't help but sing along.

The pair of them headed toward the infirmary, which was located all the way on the other end of the outpost, near the mess hall. Twilight had no desire to walk through the entire camp, dodging dirty sideways glances the whole way there. No, after what had happened on the failed mission she thought it best to keep contact with the other troops to a minimum.

“Mind if we take the scenic route? Swing a bit wide just outside of the camp’s perimeter. I have feeling there are plenty of ponies who’d jump at the chance to give me a hard time right about now,” said Twilight.

“You scared?” Spitfire mocked playfully.

“More than you know,” answered Twilight with an equally playful smile. But behind the light hearted expression Spitfire glimpsed a touch of genuine worry. Avoiding dirty looks wasn’t the only reason Twilight wanted to take a little jaunt through the woods, she was also in no hurry at all to get an update on Rainbow’s condition for fear that it had worsened. Just yesterday one of the more cable medics in the company had warned her that Rainbow may never fly again. Twilight wasn’t sure if she could face her friend if that were case.

“…More than you know” she repeated, this time sounding distant.

It wasn't true. Spitfire knew better than most how war took more than just lives. A lesson she’d learned back in Ponyville when she and her best friend Soarin’ were caught off guard by a well hidden rebel with a real talent for lobbing grenades. The blast had nearly blown her left wing clear of her back. It hung on but just barely, left to dangle by a bit of torn muscle that refused to give completely. When the smoke cleared she lay unconscious, her body practically in pieces; and beside her lay Soarin’ – at least – what little bit of him that was left. Most of him was sticking to Spitfire’s uniform in sticky lumps of charred flesh. The good doctors of the MM managed to patch her back together. She could still fly but not like she used to. Her days as a wonderbolt were past her, not but a distant memory of a better time now. It mattered little. Even if she did still have the wings for it, with Soarin’ gone she severely doubted she had the heart.

They went on in silence for awhile. Twilight walking. Spitfire hovering at her side. Not a long while either, but too long for the pegasus pony’s taste. She thought to say something to break the awkward silence: something clever and uplifting, but one sideways glance at the downtrodden unicorn at her side convinced her otherwise. Humor, she had come to learn, was a powerful weapon against the woes of the world. Powerful but not always appropriate. In the war against doubt one must chose their weapons carefully, for it is a war much more harrowing than that of the physical sort. It is a war of hearts and of minds, and after having lost her best friend it was one Spitfire had become all too familiar with. Laughs were not what Twilight needed now. She was alone with her pain and need to know that there were others willing to share in it. The situation, she gauged, called for a show of weakness.

“Have I ever told you about how Soarin’ died?” she asked. If her voice was music then her words now were a funeral dirge.

Twilight nodded. She hadn’t but she had no interest in hearing of how a sad soldier lost a close friend to an act of senseless violence. It was a story she'd heard a dozen times before, and it hit a little closer to home with each retelling.

Spitfire gave herself a mental bucking. Bonehead move. Brining up a dead friend at a time like this. As always sorrow proved a crafty foe. She adjusted her strategy and began again.

“Well did I ever tell you about my first kill?” Twilight regarded her with an interested countenance. Her eyes flickered with recollection as the memory of her own first kill involuntarily breached the surface of her thoughts. Spitfire could see the gears in the unicorns head starting to turn and smiled on the inside. She had her now. Few soldiers could resist talking of first kills. For most it is a sad memory. It signified the final loss of one’s innocence; the first real taste of war and often the most bitter. But inherent in the act of claiming a life there is triumph. It is a victory: one will imposing itself over another, and because it is the first kill, it is the first real victory a soldier feels. A cause for pride. A reason for shame. Such is the legacy of the warrior’s baptism.

“He was a stupid little excuse for a rebel,” said Spitfire. Her sun colored eyes drank in the daylight that snaked through the trees and glinted brilliantly as she spoke. “We were clearing residential – you know, arresting the innocent stallions and mares of Ponyville under suspicion of harboring enemies of the crown.” She spat the words from her mouth as if meaning to relieve herself of a foul taste. Twilight knew the feeling. Ponyville had left a bad taste in everyponies mouth. Most were still trying to wash it out.

“Then all of a sudden we get ambushed. Oh you should’ve seen it Twilight, they were everywhere. Coming out of doors and windows, jumping down from rooftops – shit, you’d have pissed your little magic panties had you been there.” She stopped to laugh. If her voice was music then her words now were a beating war drum. A blast on the horn.

“So me and my squad are panicking right. Octavia’s shouting for us to keep our heads down. Bullets are flying everywhere. I’m shooting completely blind. Not really aiming for anything, just keeping them honest. So I get the bright idea to take cover behind a carriage that’s parked on the side of the road, and the rebels start blasting the damn thing full of holes. Wood and chunks of the sidewalk are shooting up every-which-way, and the whole time I’m thinking holy shit this is it.” Excited by her own story, the fiery tailed pegasus cartwheeled in the air. She aimed an imaginary shotgun at Twilight, who was currently standing in for the rebel hoard. Twilight giggled at the pantomime. The song that was Spitfire's voice climbed, nearing its crescendo.

“And in all that confusion this stupid little rebel comes at me from behind. He probably would've had me too if he hadn’t been screaming like he was. Idiot. So he’s coming at me and I can see that he’s got something in his hooves – the moron is running at me on two legs – and he’s got something in hooves, only I can’t tell what.” Spitfire smiled big for a moment, as if remembering the best part of the story. Her chest swelled with pride and she threw in another ecstatic cartwheel for good measure.

“Before I know it he’s right on top of me. So I wheel around and – Celestia damn it, I was fast then: I mean your friend RD is fast but even she’s no wonderbolt – so I wheel around and smash this idiot’s face with the butt of my shotgun. I must have knocked out every tooth in his head, the dumb son-of-an-inbred-mule…”

Then all at once Spitfire’s smile shrank, and shrank, and shrank, until it was nothing. Her whole face seemed smaller in its absence. She didn’t land but her acrobatic feats came to halt, and the music in her voice failed to reach crescendo. Instead it fizzled into a steady hollow hum.

“…I dropped him with one hit. When I looked down to finish the job I saw that he was just a colt, young too. He didn’t even have his cutie mark yet, and the thing in his hooves was just a rock. I didn’t know what else to do so I shot him dead right there where he laid on the sidewalk.” She paused for a moment. Stared off into the distance. Touched a hoof to her face. Took a deep breath and then exhaled with a long sigh.

“…And that was my first kill…a stupid little boy with a rock.” She looked down at Twilight, and Twilight up at her, and in those beautiful sun colored eyes the unicorn saw a familiar agony.

“That night me and my squad slept in an abandoned bakery. Sugarcube Corner, I think it was called. I cried myself to sleep in the bedroom upstairs. I didn’t cry again until the day Soarin’ died. I haven’t cried since.”

By the time Spitfire had concluded her story the two of them were outside of the infirmary. Twilight spotted Rarity and Pinkie Pie standing outside of the entrance. They looked like they were waiting for somepony.

“Well, looks like this thing is invitation only,” said Spitfire, a bit of the old music back in her voice. “It’s fine, I know when I’m not wanted,” she added with a light chuckle.

Again it took Twilight a moment to grasp the pegasus pony’s meaning.

“No, don’t go,” she pleaded. “You’re one of Rainbow’s friends too. Stay. You are more than welcome.”

Spitfire smiled. Sweet words. Twilight Sparkle had a lot of enemies in Company Everfree, though looking at her now it was hard for Spitfire to imagine why. There was nothing but love in this one. But then, maybe that right there was the reason. In times of war love could be just as dangerous as hate, and this one loved harder than most.

“Now now, we both know this is between you and them,” she said gesturing towards the ponies standing by the infirmary entrance. “Go on. It looks like there waiting for somepony. It could be you.”

Twilight nodded. “Thank you Spitfire…for sharing that with me. And I’m sorry about what happened to you back in Ponyville.”

“Come on miss magic panties. Let’s not start apologizing for things that happened in Ponyville, or we’ll be here till the end of the war.” They laughed together.

“I envy you, you know.”

“Oh I know. Good looks and wings? Some ponies just have it all.”

“Seriously. You’ve lost so much and yet you can still smile so big. Another year of this and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to smile again.”

“Don’t be so sure miss magic panties. How do you know this grin isn't just an act?”

Twilight grinned herself. “Well if it’s an act, it’s a pretty good one. I think Soarin’ would be proud of you. You still being happy, I think it’s what he would’ve wanted.”

“Frankly my dear, I couldn’t give a flying fuck what Soarin’ would’ve wanted.” Twilight’s grin morphed into a quizzical look. If this was another of Spitfire’s jokes it seemed a bit cruel.

“And why’s that,” asked the unicorn.

“...Cause he’s dead,” she said plainly, and with that she bid her fellow lieutenant a pleasant farewell and flew off in the way they’d come.

Well Spitfire old girl, you done a good thing, she thought as her wings caught the winter breeze. She found it harder to ride the cold air these days. It had been so easy back then – everything had been. She thought about Soarin’ and the rest of the wonderbolts. She had no idea what had become of the others. For all she knew they were dead too. Dead or crippled. She looked up toward Celestia’s sun high above the treetops and pictured the old gang streaking across the blue sky, their trademark billowing thunderheads trailing behind them, disrupting the motif of an otherwise cloudless afternoon sky.

Spitfire’s sun colored eyes narrowed. Her brow furrowed with focus and determination.

Without warning she shot up past the tree tops, high up into the sky as if meaning reach out and touch the sun. The cold winter air made her wings ache, the left one especially. She beat them hard, fighting against the limitations of her damaged body. The climb exhausted her. At the top of her arch she looked down at the world that was once upon a time hers, and remembered the days when she had it all. Friends. Fame. Talent. Her life had been the stuff fiction – too perfect. Entirely too perfect for entirely too long.

Then she let herself fall. All good flyers know how to fall. Wings tucked. Shoulders square. Nose down. Hind legs parallel to fore. She squinted at the treetops as they rushed toward her. The world spun. Her body screamed at her. Too hard, it shouted. Too fast. Pull up before you hurt yourself.

Maybe she had a death wish. Maybe she had something prove. Whatever it was Spitfire kept her nose down and kept right on falling. A little more, she told herself. The speed wasn’t right yet.

Spitfire was seconds away from the treetops when she finally spread her wings. Using the momentum from the fall, she pulled into a speedy horizontal dash – a sky sprint, they called it back in the day. At her back she heard the crack of a small thundercloud, and her hind-hooves tingled from the sudden spark of electricity.

For the faintest moment the world was hers again. She shot through the sky like a bullet loosed from its casing. The metaphor, this author admits, was perhaps not the best, but for that one fleeting moment she was a wonderbolt again.

Then her body quit on her entirely. She fell into the treetops, ruffling leaves and splintering branches during her graceless return to earth. She bounced between trunks. Splinters of wood scratched her face and neck and exposed forelegs. Lieutenant First Class Spitfire of the proud Millitiamares may very well have died right there and then – felled not by an enemy bullet but by a simple brazen lapse of judgment – had it not been for a her uniform snagging on a particularly sturdy tree branch that was literally only a few feet from the ground. She had her eyes closed the whole way down, and when she opened them it took her a few seconds to realize she wasn’t falling anymore. Her body was sore all over. She looked down at the ground like a pony who just found a long lost friend. Never before in all her days had she been so happy to see it.

Then she laughed out loud.

“Did you see me up there Soarin’!” she shouted to the heavens. “I still got it!”

She let herself hang there for a pretty good while, too tired to make any effort to get down. It was going to be a long walk back to the outpost, and a longer explanation to the major as to why she had decided to go gallivanting about the Everfree Forest by herself.

None of that mattered though. At least it didn’t matter yet. All that mattered to her right now were the tears rolling down her cheeks and splashing silently on the forest floor. When Soarin’ died she had promised herself she wouldn’t cry anymore. But in spite of herself she did anyway. It started with a few tears before swelling into a loud wail of sobs and choked breaths.

Spitfire liked the sound of her own voice, but she didn’t especially care for the sound of that voice crying. And if it was true, if her voice really was music, then her sobs were a sad ballad about a young pegasus who had lost her wings. The type of song no one ever bothered learning all the words to. Only the melody. Only the refrain.

Chapter TEN

Rainbow Dash was a winner. She was known for it. Renowned for it. Loved and adored for it. She won. Rainbow Dash won. It was that simple. Always had been. Always would be.

She killed an Ursa Major, one more thing to add to her long list of personal triumphs. She saved first platoon, what was left of it anyway, and probably saved second and third too. Three whole platoons. Not too many soldiers in the entire MM could claim they saved three whole platoons by single hoofedly killing an Ursa major – and by not too many this humble author of course means exactly none. She’d won. She’d won again. She always did.

Only now as she lay on her stomach in a hospital bed, wings broken, forelegs broken, body in pieces, and being fussed over twenty four-seven by Company Everfree’s ever diligent nursing staff – Rainbow Dash didn’t feel like much of a winner. She didn’t even feel like a loser. She felt like shit.

It was so degrading; all this “care,” she was being forced to endure. If anypony in this building cared about her, she thought, they’d leave her to languish on the brink of death before allowing her to slip unnoticed into blissful oblivion. And if they really cared, they’d leave her to do it in solitude. At least then she wouldn’t have to suffer the indignity of having to be fed by the orderlies. She hadn’t been laid up in bed longer than two days now, but if Nurse Tenderheart told her to “open wide for the Choo Choo,” one more time she was going to bite the old mare’s hoof and tear it off her foreleg. She hated being fed, and she hated the food, and worse she hated pissing and shitting out all that horrible food into a bedpan. And if it wasn’t the nurses and orderlies making her life miserable it was her fellow wounded soldiers. Not even two days on her stomach and they were already giving her shit. “Rainbow Crash,” they’d taken to calling her. How she loathed that nickname.

It began as an innocent enough joke. A few of the patients had tossed the name around when she was first brought in. It was no big deal then. Rainbow had even laughed at it herself. But they kept saying it, and after she snapped at one of them – threatening to tear out his horn and feed it to his asshole if he didn’t shut the hay up – they then realized they could get under her skin. Naturally, it was unanimously agreed that for the remainder of her stay, she would be referred to as Rainbow Crash and nothing else. Since then it’s been nothing but, “Hey nice landing Rainbow Crash,” or “Have fun walking for the rest of your life, Rainbow Crash!” And because the infirmary wasn’t really a hospital, just a tented off plot of land full of beds, and the wounded (if she was lucky, fatally wounded) assholes lying on those beds, Rainbow was forced to endure this school yard bullying for the entirety of her first day. And why not make her life a waking nightmare? It wasn’t everyday you had one of Sparkle’s cronies completely at your mercy, let alone Rainbow-fucking-Dash herself. How could they not take full advantage of such a choice opportunity? Why it would’ve been wrong not to.

It got so bad the first night that they had to move her to her own room, out of earshot of the others. There were a few private rooms but those were usually reserved for soldiers who were in a very bad way. The type of way you don’t get better from. It wasn’t a problem though. They had the space. That and the head of staff, a no-nonsense type who went by Doctor Hooves, had had enough of listening to his patients behaving like children.

The switch did her little good. In the end she just wound up trading one tormentor for another. The next day, when the rest of the staff discovered that one of Sparkle’s girls was getting special treatment, they made it their business to make said treatment just a bit less special. They started calling her Rainbow Crash, or just RC for short, ever since breakfast early this morning.

She couldn’t believe it. Company Everfree was full of vindictive little worms. She knew Twilight wasn’t well liked, and that by association neither was she, but this was insane. She was…she was getting picked on! Rainbow-fucking-Dash was getting picked on. Winner of the last best young fliers contest since the start of the war, and the only pegasus to ever master the sonic rainboom, not to mention savior of three platoons – getting picked on like some elementary school blank-flank. Who the hay did these jokers think they were? Who did they think they were talking to? Rainbow Crash, indeed. When she got out of this bed, they’d see a Rainbow Crash all right. She’d crash her hooves up and down their backsides, the hateful little sons-of-mules.

Eventually word of her treatment got out to the right pair of ears, and a little while after breakfast, Fluttershy came storming into the infirmary: paralyzing ponies with her glare, shouting something about nopony picking on any friend of hers so long as she was around, and generally raising several different shades of hell. It was mid-afternoon now and her little guardian angel still hadn’t left. Fluttershy was a medic herself and insisted on being Rainbow’s personal caretaker until her duty as Twilight’s number two called her elsewhere.

While Fluttershy was definitely a marked improvement over the patients with their taunts and Tenderheart with her infernal Choo Choo, Rainbow wasn’t exactly happy with Fluttershy’s mother hen approach either. She didn’t like having her pillows fluffed every other minute, and she didn’t like Fluttersy offering to sing her lullabies to help her rest, and she really didn’t like Fluttershy’s tone; like a mother cooing at her precious little baby girl. Rainbow hated being cooed at. She’d never before known what a horrible thing it was to be cooed at, nor had she ever noticed how unbearably grating Fluttershy’s voice was. So soft and sickeningly sweet. Rainbow remembered a time when she was just a little filly, gorging herself on cotton candy while watching the wonderbolts perform at the annual best young fliers contest. She remembered that day, because that was the day of Spitfire’s debut performance as the newest head of the wonderbolts. Her mother had warned her not to each too much of the sugary fluff or she’d get sick, but Rainbow never was much of a listener. That’s how she felt now. Like a little filly who’d had her fill of things soft and sweet.

“I’m fine now,” said Rainbow, pushing her lips into an exaggerated pout. “Seriously, I’m fine. You should go. I’m totally sure there’s something more important you could be doing right now.”

That wasn’t true. She couldn’t move her body from the waist up, and she had to lay awkwardly on her stomach with her wings spread wide, encased in casts that had to be suspended by a pair of hooks that hung from the ceiling. Wings were delicate things and had to be set just so to ensure they healed properly. The breaks in Rainbows wings were so extensive that they called for the suspension treatment. This meant that the wings had to stay spread, and stay elevated so that when the bones do heal, they slip back into the proper alignment. Pegasus ponies dreaded hearing the word suspension from their doctor’s mouth. For most it meant your wings would be saved, but they’d be little more than back ornaments; serving no function outside of pure aesthetic appeal. Odds of flying again after having you wings suspended were very near zero. Spitfire had undergone the treatment. She managed to beat the odds, but then – she was Spitfire.

When the bad news was broken to her, she waited for the doctor to leave, squeezed out a few tears in the short time the room was empty before the nurses arrived, and then allowed herself no more grieving over the loss of her wings.

So no, Rainbow Dash was not “fine now.” She was about as far as from “fine now” as a pony could be, but she had a nagging feeling that she’d be a little better off if Fluttershy would take her cotton candy voice, and her pillow fluffing hooves, and flutter out the fucking door.

“Oh I can’t leave yet Rainbow, not before your surprise gets here,” said Fluttershy, flashing a completely clueless smile. Surprise? Rainbow was beginning to wonder what she ever saw in a pony like Fluttershy. Surely this friendship must have been forged during a moment of weakness.

“But in the meantime is there anything I can get you? Are you hungry? Maybe something to drink? Or something to read? I could find you a book. I could even hold it for you and turn the pages when you tell me.”

Actually, Rainbow needed to urinate pretty bad, but she was holding it because she’d be damned before she let Fluttershy hold the bedpan under her while she watched her go.

“No. It’s all right, I’m fine,” she said, letting out a long sigh. It was going to be a long day, and a longer rest of her grounded life.

Meanwhile, just outside of the infirmary, Lieutenant First Class Twilight Sparkle waited in apprehensive silence. Private Pinkamena Diane Pie and Specialist Rarity waited alongside her.

Turns out, they hadn’t been waiting for Twilight after all. Actually they hadn’t expected to see her today, sure that her meeting with the major would leave her little time to herself. When the three platoons had arrived safely back to camp, Fluttershy told the others of what had happened to Rainbow Dash and naturally they all made it their first order of business to visit her as soon as possible. Being a medic herself, Fluttershy was already inside attending to Rainbow. Twilight had showed up out of the blue, so that only left Applejack. Rarity hadn’t expected Twilight to show, but now that the lieutenant was here she felt slightly less anxious. It was comforting to know that they were doing this thing together. They could get through it if they just stuck together; this day and all the days ahead.

Of all of them, Rarity had taken the news of Rainbow’s potentially debilitating injury the best. If it were Fluttershy, or even herself laid up in a hospital bed then there may have been some palpable cause for concern. But Rainbow Dash never fly again? Pfft. She would sooner believe Pinkie giving up sweets, or Applejack renouncing farm life and moving to Canterlot to study law. Ridiculous. That’s all Rarity had to say about that. Absolutely Ridiculous. Rainbow was a fighter. She’d come out of this with flying colors, literally with flying colors, and a few weeks from now they’d be laughing themselves sick over the whole thing.

Of course AJ had taken the news the hardest. It was not exactly a secret that she and Rainbow had feelings for each other, though engaging outright in romantic relationships with fellow MM was strictly prohibited, as stated under article such-and-such, in paragraph who-gives-a-flying-mother-fuck, of the Millitiamares code of conduct. Trying to keep a bunch of young filly’s and colts camped out in the woods for months at a time from, “engaging in romantic relations,” was like…well like trying to keep Rainbow Dash out of the sky. There wasn’t a whole lot to do between skirmishes, and being a Millitiamare was a lousy enough job already. Low pay. A plethora of occupational hazards, most of them lethal. Long hours. The worst bosses. The least the brass could do was look the other way when a couple of love birds wanted to fool around after hours. It was one of those rules nopony at the bottom paid any mind to, and nopony at the top bothered to enforce. The brass knew what went on and they let it happen. Probably figured a little fooling around was good for morale.

They weren’t exactly madly in love, RD and AJ, but they were definitely fooling around. When AJ heard the bad news she tried acting like she wasn’t bothered. Like her heart didn’t just split in two at the mention of her partner having to live out the rest of her life as a cripple. But then that was Applejack these days; ever the proud stubborn ass. She and Rainbow had that in common. Neither of them really did sad; just angry. Which meant when AJ did arrive she was sure to be in a pissy mood. If nothing else, Rarity could at least take some solace in knowing that Applejack wouldn’t be hostile with her. Not after the moment they shared on their way back from the battlefield. Come to think of it, Rarity had made some progress with Applejack, had she not? Rarity certainty thought so, and with some luck maybe AJ had given up some of that anger, or at the very least was saving it for the enemy instead of spitting venom at the only ponies who gave half a damn about her.

As they waited, stewing in that tense silence, it occurred to Twilight that she hadn’t seen Applejack since there blow up way back before the mission. Seemed like ages ago now. Twilight was sure that the young apple-bucker wasn’t still holding on to any animosity between them. After all, were they not in a war? Fighting a real enemy that would readily murder any among them in cold blood, and parade their severed heads on the bayonets fastened to the ends of their riffles? Was there really time for infighting?

But as Twilight watched Applejack appear from out of the forest, making her way over to wear the three of them stood, she could tell already it wasn’t going to be friendly reunion. AJ wasn’t yet close enough for Twilight to make out her expression; but Twilight could tell by the way she moved, purposely, each forward stride electric with miss-placed aggression. She stomped toward them like a lone buffalo stomping toward an Appleloosian settlement. There was thunder in her hooves. Lighting in her limbs. She trotted right up to Twilight and saluted. Her mane was disheveled. One of her cheeks was noticeably bruised, and the eye opposite that cheek was an ugly mix of purple and black, and slightly swollen. Souvenirs from her scrape with Lyra. From the look of her face one could safely assume the unicorn had gotten the better of her, though AJ would never admit it. She’d always attribute the loss to her injury.

“Private First Class Applejack reporting for duty, sir!” she trumpeted, her voice wet with mock enthusiasm. She regarded her commanding officer with hard eyes, and sure enough the expression answered Twilight’s queries. What had she been thinking? Of course there was time for infighting. There always was where AJ was concerned. “Sir, we wasn’t expecting ya, sir. But we’re so glad ya decided to grace us with ur presence today, sir!” She struck the sir like a judge accenting his words with a whack from his gavel. “Or are y’all going by ‘Equestria’s favorite daughter’ these days sir!” she added, spitting the words in the unicorn’s face.

“You watch your tone when addressing your commanding officer,” responded Twilight.

“Why don’t ya make me watch ma tone. Sir.”

It was like no time had passed for them at all for them. They fell right back into that familiar rhythm; spiteful tones, dirty looks, and violent aggression. The rest of them were here to wish there friend Rainbow Dash a speedy recovery, but it was clear Applejack had come looking for another fight.

Truth be told, AJ did resent Twilight’s undeserved status. Not in the military, but in life. She was an elite. A Canterlot unicorn. Top of the Equestrian food chain. Sure the princess liked to pretend that all Equestrians were free and equal under her rule, but there was no denying the reality of the social pecking order. And if Canterlot unicorns were at the top, then it wasn’t hard to guess who was on bottom. Being an earth pony from nowhere was a dangerous thing to be. It meant you were expendable, and when the revolution happened ponies like Applejack were first to get drafted. And not just ponies like Applejack, every single able bodied colt, filly, mare, and stallion of the apple family received the same letter in the mail. Every single one, war bound. She had to send Apple Bloom and Granny Smith to stay with the Oranges in Manehattan. There was no one left back home to look after them. No notice. No say. Just your name on a little slip of paper and a destination. All of them. Supposedly names are dumped into the system and then selected at random, so there was absolutely no way every member of a family as big as hers could’ve gotten mailed that same letter. It was a game of chance alright, but the house always played with a stacked deck. And they wonder why they have a rebellion on their hooves in the first place.

Twilight wasn’t drafted, nor was Rarity. The both of them chose of their own free will to come to this hell hole, and that Applejack respected. What she didn’t respect was being forced to kill and die protecting a regime that failed to offer her and her family that same choice. When she first met Twilight back in basic they got along, became fast friends. AJ had promised herself then that she wouldn’t hold it against the Canterlot unicorn; that she wouldn’t use her as a scapegoat for venting her frustration. But everyday spent out here in the forest chipped away at her. The killing. The dying. The sleeping on the ground and eating rations. Taking orders. Yes sir. No sir. Sorry sir. Right away sir. Every day she spent out in the forest took a little something away from her, and every day that promise she made back in basic became harder and harder to keep.

A good foot of empty air stood between them but Twilight felt AJ was only centimeters away.

“Oh, nice shiner Applejack,” and then suddenly, as if by some act of matter displacement, Pinkie Pie materialized between them. Her own proportions seeming to distort in order to occupy the small space. “Nice, but I’m afraid it’s got nothing on this baby here,” she said pointing to her own black eye. "I named her Blurple! Ya know, cause she’s black. And also purple.”

Pinkie Pie was in that brawl too, and if she knew AJ, she knew the apple-bucker couldn’t resist reminiscing over a good brawl.

A confused look crossed AJ’s face, but then vanished as quickly as it came. “Mighty respectable Pinks, but take a lookie here,” answered AJ with a proud grin. She pulled down the collar of her uniform and revealed a bandage taped to her left shoulder. “Little bastard Lyra stuck me with her horn.”

Pinkie laughed and bounced in place. “Well I see your stab wound and raise you…” she held the you for as long as it took her to roll up her sleeve and reveal a nasty looking bite mark on the inside of her foreleg. Applejack’s grin broadened. They went on like this for three more injuries, making a game of it. For the moment at least, AJ let go of her grudge with the unicorn, forgetting her completely in favor for a laugh with her fellow earth pony.

“Really Pinkie, you shouldn’t encourage such barbarism,” offered Rarity with an airy tone, happy to see the tension between private and lieutenant derailed, or at least delayed. “As per usual, I see it is up to me to act as the sensible one here. Follow me my dears.”

Rarity led the way with Applejack and Pinkie walking side-by-side, both of them laughing: Applejack claiming Pinkie’s injuries to be paltry scratches compared to her own, and Pinkie arguing the opposite.Twilight brought up the rear. As they passed between the doors, Pinkie looked over her shoulder and gave the lieutenant a quick wink with her black eye. Twilight nodded. Classic Pinkie, always good for morale.

Back inside her private room, Rainbow urinated into the bedpan with a look in her worn out face that could only be described as complete and utter defeat. She wasn’t winning today. She told Fluttershy to just position the miserable little thing underneath her, then ordered her to leave.

Pissing was awkward to say the least. Since she didn’t have the use of her forelegs, she had to essentially stand up on her hind-legs while laying on her face and aim blindly for the bedpan underneath her. And as if this were not hard enough, her neck was also in a brace that restricted her movement and made the whole face balancing act a rather painful and precarious affair. As uncomfortable as the endeavor was, Rainbow preferred it this way. She’d sooner risk breaking her neck than let Fluttershy assist with this in anyway. Only now, as the last few drops trickled out from between her legs, did it occur to her that she needed the little pink tailed idiot to wipe her down.

And that was the last straw. The image her fragile mind conjured of Fluttershy taking one of those putrid smelling sterilized cloths and running it between her legs as she cringed – that image was one that broke her. This was going to be rest of her life, she thought. Her mind took the idea and ran with it. Suddenly it was no longer the use of her wings she had lost, but the use of her forelegs too. And her neck. What if her neck never healed properly? She’d have to pea laying on her face, and be fed, and looked after for the rest of her life. Her miserable grounded life. She was born in the clouds and now she was going to die on the ground. The thought finished her. She didn’t let herself cry but she might as well have. She was beaten.

For a good three or four minutes longer than she probably should have, Rainbow stayed in that awkward position, her neck feeling as though it were ready to snap in two as she assessed her options. There weren’t a lot. She could stay like this and pray that her neck did snap, granting her a quick and merciful death. Or she could call Fluttershy back in the room and cringe as the pink tailed idiot wiped her with a cloth that reeked form whatever they used to sanitize those things. She actually considered choosing the former, but decided against it. She didn’t want to be remembered as Rainbow Dash, the fearless soldier who saved three platoons only to later die belly down in a pool of her own urine. She was just about to call Fluttershy back in, when suddenly the door swung open and in trotted her worst nightmare. She would have thought it better if Lord Discord himself slithered through those doors and took her from behind, but instead it was all of them. All big eyed and looking like idiots.

“Surprise,” beamed Fluttershy with outstretched forelegs, looking like the biggest idiot of them all. “See Rainbow, all of your friends came to visit you.” She floated there in the door way, beaming and expecting a response. The room stayed as silent as a grave. “…Rainbow?” she tried tentatively.

She didn’t even bother looking up at them. It was too much. Fluttershy alone she could just barely deal with. But the whole gang seeing her as an invalid. It was just too much.

“Get out,” she heard herself snarl, her voice low and empty. She hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but couldn’t help it.

“…But Rainbow, we all came to see you. We –”

“Please Fluttershy. All of you. Please just get out of here.” Fluttershy’s lips parted to say more, but Rarity, noticing the bedpan – full and glistening a fresh yellowish gold – realized that their timing was impeccably horrendous, and shot Fluttershy a stern look. The type of look that suggested she should perhaps shut the hay up.

Apparently their ill timing hadn’t crossed AJ’s mind. She ran to Rainbow’s side, placing the bed pan on the ground so that Rainbow could lay down. Then she tried to nuzzle her cheek but the injured pegasus leaned away as much as the neck brace would allow, refusing to even look at her.

“Don’t be like that sugar cube,” said AJ in the softest voice she could muster. “We’re here for ya. Ah’m here for ya, so don’t be like that.”

Rainbow stared a hole into the wall directly in front of her. “Don’t touch me.”

“Come on sugar cube, don’t be like that.”

“Don’t call me sugar cube. Don’t touch me. Just get out.”

Applejack had to suppress a frustrated nay that had been sitting in the back of her throat since she walked up to Twilight outside. She couldn’t stand seeing Rainbow like this. Defeated. She’d known Rainbow Dash for a long time and she’d never known her to be the type to roll over. To go down without a fight. Applejack remembered a time when she was just a little filly, staring out of the window of Manehattan brownstone, homesick for a place she didn’t know she loved. If not for the guiding light of Dash’s sonic rainboom she may very well still be staring out that window, or another like it; empty and crying out to be made whole. Rainbow Dash had made her whole that day. And now here she was: laying in a hospital bed in a Godless corner of Equestria, broken. Fractured. Less than what she once was.

Applejack turned back toward the door and scanned the sad sick faces of her friends. Pinkie looked as though she were in a daze. Rarity and Fluttershy were on the verge of tears. Then she fixed her sights on Twilight and a cold, heavy realization struck the unicorn like a slap. There was something final in Applejack’s eyes. Something decisive, and absolute, and unrelenting. Twilight didn’t want to believe it. They were friends after all. They’d seen each other through the worst of it. Training. Ponyville. She’d comforted her then. Held the trembling blond earth pony in her forelegs on the nights when watching her home torn asunder proved too much. They were friends. The very best of friends. But in spite of their friendship, there it was anyway. That look of finality in her eyes. Spitting on it. Spitting on it and rubbing it into the dirt.

“You…you’re blaming me for this…” said Twilight. She was in agony. She’d never known a hurt this deep before. “You think this is my fault.”

Applejack was silent. They all were. The tension between them was a living thing. It snaked around them and squeezed.

“You really think I did this. Somewhere in that pea sized hill-billy brain of yours you’ve got this whole thing figured out don’t you?”

“It was ur mission. Ur plan. Ya put her out in front Twi. Used her as bait,” growled AJ.

Twilight fumed. She stepped forward and seemed to clear the distance between herself and her private in one great stride. They were practically nose to nose.

“Twilight don’t,” squeaked Fluttershy.

“Shut up Fluttershy!” she neighed. “Can’t you see me and Applejack are discussing a very serious matter? Applejack here was just about to explain to me how the fucking Ursa Major was my fault!”

“Twilight, please don’t do this.”

“Go on Applejack, you have the floor. Tell me – tell all of us how this whole terrible mess is my fault. Go on. We’re all ears.”

“Listen to yourself Twilight –”

The angry unicorn’s horn sparked, snaring Fluttershy by the collar in her magic grip and slamming her roughly to the floor. “Not another word out of you sergeant. That’s an order,” she hissed, keeping Fluttershy pinned. Pinkie and Rarity dared not move an inch. A few of the orderlies appeared in the hallway, drawn to all the commotion like moths to an open flame. Twilight turned to face them. Her horn shined a bit brighter and that was all the incentive they needed to steer clear.

“Well, Applejack? We’re waiting.”

Applejack was silent. There was nothing left to say.

“Okay,” the pale wisp of purple light took hold of Twilight’s uniform shirt and wrenched the piece of fabric over her head, then tossed it to the floor at Applejack’s fore-hooves. “Me and you. Outside. Right now.”

Applejack eyed her carefully. “Why, so ya can twist ma’ head off with ur magic? No, ah aint gonna fight you. ”

“If I wanted to twist your head off I’d have done it already. I don’t need magic to deal with some dumb farm girl from the sticks.”

Twilight released her grip on Fluttershy, who then jumped back up to all fours. She started to raise more protest to this absurdity, but Rarity quieted her.

“Let them fight,” she said in hushed voice, sounding surprisingly calm. “I think they need this.”

Twilight stormed out of the room, shoving past the others, and was followed by a flustered Fluttershy, a cool headed Rarity, and a mildly amused Pinkie Pie. Applejack gave Rainbow Dash one last glance, before storming out herself. She thought to say something before going, but really, what was there to say. Everything was coming apart.

Years ago a small filly with a big heart and a rainbow mane darted across the sky, and the sights and sounds she left in her wake helped five strangers find their cutie marks – find themselves and their places in the world. Once upon a time that rainbow had been their mortar. She had brought them together and kept them strong. But for the blond earth pony still standing in the room beside her, she had been a bit more than that. For Applejack she had been a light in the darkness. A way home. And what was she now? Nothing. Nothing but a heap of ruffled feathers pissing into a bedpan, her spirit broken as if it were just another bone in her body. Applejack looked down at Rainbow and a thought flashed through her head. It came and went as quickly as Rainbow used to fly, but Applejack would always hate herself for entertaining it, even if only for a blink. She looked down at Rainbow and thought it better if she never flew again. Better to be brought low with the rest of them, because as she was now, Rainbow Dash no longer deserved the privilege of walking beside the clouds.

Applejack shook her head and then left. Twilight was waiting for her outside, and the bucking owed to her was long overdue.

They fought like soldiers: tearing into each other with a savagery better reserved for a truer enemy. They bucked and butted; thunder in their hooves and lightning in their limbs.

Applejack bucked Twilight in the mouth, busting her lips open. Twilight answered, butting Applejack in the face and making a bloody mess of her nose.

They tired, and as they tired they fought like children: wrestling on the ground, rolling around and looking to all the world like a mass of wild limbs and mangy manes. Twilight sunk her teeth into Applejack’s ear, threatening to tear it clean off her head, and earning a surprised and agonized squeal form the apple-bucker. She kicked at the unicorn, desperate to free herself, her hooves going to work on Twilight’s upper body like a pair hammers laying into a railroad spike.

They matched each other blow for blow for a good while, but as the fight went on an obvious victor was beginning to emerge. Applejack was stronger, faster, and the only reason Twilight hadn’t already been reduced to a bloody smear was because the fighting had opened AJ’s stitches, and the pain in her side had slowed her down, as well as taken some of the steam out of her bucks. Some but not nearly enough. She caught Twilight with a buck to her side that wobbled her, and then another to the neck that floored her. Then she rose up on her hind-legs and proceeded to stomp the unicorn's face until it disappeared entirely, completely veiled by a bloody mask.

Fluttershy watch what had started as fight devolve into a malicious beating, and decided she had seen enough. She beat her wings and in a flash she was on top of Applejack, encircling the earth pony’s neck in her forelegs and trying to pry her off of Twilight. But Fluttershy wasn’t exactly known for her physical prowess and Applejack was…well she was Applejack, and she kept right on bashing in Twilight’s face as if Fluttershy were still standing off to the side.

“Get off of her!” shouted the pegasus pony, pulling with all her might, and for her effort didn’t even succeeded in getting Applejack’s attention. No, Applejack couldn’t be distracted now. Twilight’s skull was still round and that didn’t sit well with apple-bucker one bit. She would stop when it was nice and flat. She stomped, and stomped – neighed like mad bronco – and stomped, and…gasped? Suddenly she couldn’t breathe.

Fluttershy had her eyes closed, straining to free Twilight, then all at once she tumbled onto her back, taking AJ down with her. Her eyes snapped open to find Applejack laying on top of her, blue-faced and pawing at her throat. AJ’s eyes bulged. They were unfocused and beginning to resemble glass. She gasped and kicked her hind-legs wildly, as if trying to fight off some invisible assailant. Frightened and confused Fluttershy looked to Twilight. The unicorn was struggling to get back to her hooves, eyes glowing from behind the mask of blood that was now her face, and sparks leaping violently from her horn.

Blue-faced Applejack. Glowing horn. It took Fluttershy almost a full minute to make sense of what was happening. Thankfully, Rarity thought faster than Fluttershy.

Her own horn sparked as she galloped over to the fiasco that she now regretted ever encouraging in the first place. She tried to counter Twilight’s spell with her own but, where Twilight’s mastery of magic was an ocean, by comparison, Rarity’s was little more than a puddle. Breaking her hold on Applejack before the life was completely ringed out of her was going to take nothing sort of an act of Celestia.

“Twilight stop! You’re killing her!” she shouted, straining against Twilight’s seemingly limitless magical energy. It was so raw. So unfocused, but still too much for Rarity to handle alone. Too much. Too much, think Rarity! She screamed inside her own skull. “Are you really going to kill her over this, nonsense! Twilight listen to me!” It was no good. Twilight was beyond reach, her eyes sparking with the same purple light as her horn. She was gone. In a minute – maybe two –so would Applejack.

“Horse apples! Pinkie Pie, don’t just stand there, do something!” Rarity whipped her head around in search of the pink pony, but she was gone as well. “Pinkie Pie!?” Rarity bit her bottom lip. This was it. This was the end of it. One crippled. One dead. This was the end of a long happy friendship. How selfish she had been for thinking this whole time that what the six of them had was somehow special. That it was impervious to the harsh realities of the world, and that by believing in it they too were impervious. The magic of friendship, she thought. Selfish and deluded. One crippled and another dead. Just where was the magic in that?

Rarity despaired. She shut her eyes and gave up. Had she only peeked over her shoulder though, she would have found exactly what she was looking for. She would have found the magic.

“What the hay is going on out here,” called a familiar voice. “I leave you jokers alone for one minute and you all go to pieces on me.”

Eventually though Rarity did turn around, and so did Fluttershy, Twilight, and even Applejack.

At the sound of the familiar voice, Twilight released the blond earth pony. The strength and certainty in it swept away the fog pervading her clouded mind. It always did have that effect on her. So brave, but more important than that, so sure. How many times had that assurance lent her strength when she doubted her own? How ever many times it was, after today she could add another.

Applejack let out a huge gasp before erupting into a fit of coughs. She collected herself much quicker than her condition should have allowed, and looked up to find the owner of the familiar voice, unable to believe what she was hearing. Then she saw her. Admittedly not her flashiest entrance, but it was one of her more powerful ones. She saw Rainbow Dash, laying across Pinkie’s back, coming to save them all one more time.

Classic Pinkie Pie: always good for morale.

Applejack leapt up to her hooves and made a dash for Rainbow, scooping her up off of Pinkie’s back and cradling her in her forelegs.

She searched Rainbow’s eyes for any traces of defeat but found none. “Ah didn’t mean any of it,” said Applejack between tears.

“I know you didn’t,” answered Rainbow, unsure of what AJ meant, but electing to just go along with it for now. They embraced. Kissed. And when the kiss ended Rainbow added, “Hey could you ease off a bit. I’m in a lot of pain right now and can barely even stand.” So AJ went back down to all fours, and Rainbow leaned against her, using the earth pony’s strong body as crutch.

Twilight spat blood form a broken jaw. She tried to stand, but her head was still spinning, both form the beating she took and the energy expended. Just as she was getting her hooves back underneath her, she collapsed. Fluttershy knelt by her side, wiping the blood from her face with a sleeve, cooing, and instructing her not to move too soon.

“Good thinking Pinkie,” said Rarity. She trotted over to Pinkie, then, exhausted, she plopped down on the ground where she stood. She grass was soft and she was very tired. Pinkie sat down beside her.

“I had to beg her to out of that bed. She looked so beaten. I didn’t think she would at first, but I told her her friends needed her. Guess that was enough,” said Pinkie with a relieved grin. After a quick thought she added, "Oh yeah, I also had too..." but rather than finish the thought, she made an odd wiping motion with one upturned hoof.

"Goodness Pinkie!" exclaimed Rarity, a light blush coming over her face, "how indecent!" She gave the pink pony a playful shove, as her lips formed an embarrassed smile.

“If this is what we do to each other, I’d hate to see what would happened if the rebels ever got a hold of us,” she joked, earning a small laugh from Rarity.

“We made it though,” said Rarity as she watched Fluttershy fuss over Twilight and Applejack fuss over Rainbow.

“We always do,” said Pinkie, letting an uncharacteristically serious tone creep into her voice.

“Yeah, we always do.” Maybe there was something to this, magic of friendship, shtick after all. Rarity leaned against Pinkie Pie’s shoulder and let herself believe that they would all be okay.

Their conversation paused. Then, “Rainbow Dash taught me how to smile,” said Pinkie plainly, as if unaware of the gravity of what had just come out of her mouth.

“That’s heavy,” answered Rarity just as plainly. Too heavy considering what they had just been through. She decided to lighten the mood. “All this excitement has left me famished. Care to join me for a bite in the mess hall, dearest.”

“Sorry. There’s something I got to do.”

“What?”

“Just something.”

“Just something?”

“Yeah, just something.”

“Just something…All right then.”

“I should probably get going now actually.” The two of them sat together like that for awhile. They watched the others sulk back into the infirmary, each noting how Applejack and Twilight scarcely looked at each other as they passed through the doors. “It’s actually pretty important. Urgent to.”

The two of them sat there on the grass, Rarity leaning on Pinkie’s shoulder, not saying anything. Staring straight but not looking at anything in particular.

“Yep, I really should get going…” They kept right on sitting. Pinkie fidgeted. For a moment it looked as though she was going to get up, but she only adjusted herself as to nestle Rarity’s head deeper into the crook of her shoulder and neck.

“…any minute now.”

Chapter ELEVEN

Lyra, Colgate, Bon-Bon, and Berry Punch staked out the only table in the mess hall that didn’t need a wad of napkins shoved under one leg to keep it from wobbling. It was late. Well past meal time, and well past the time allotted to hang around the mess hall for any recreational use. But the brass had been much too busy with damage control after the last fiasco of a mission, as well as reprimanding Sparkle for her little one-on-one with Applejack, to bother policing a few trouble makers looking to drown their worries with a nightcap.

Booze was provided by Berry. She and a few others had managed to get their hooves on a plant native to the Everfree Forest that bore a strong resemblance to sugarcane and secreted a sweet dirty brown substance that could be mistaken for molasses at a glance; and had been “brewing” their own rum, likely in the latrines after hours, as they were certainly dark enough and it was one of the few places that for sure wouldn’t be disturbed. Nopony had used a latrine since the start of their tour: most preferred to go about their business in the privacy of a bush. Somehow it seemed the more dignified choice. Only Berry knew where the yeast had come from and nopony was all that eager to ask. Not that it mattered. It was pretty much understood that your life was potentially in danger the moment you made up your mind to ingest anything growing in the Everfree Forest.

Lyra took a swig from Berry’s flask, and grimaced. The proof was high for something that was quite possibly being made in an outhouse. It tasted like the end of days. She passed the foul smelling thing to Bon-Bon, who did the same, though not nearly as gracefully. She choked down the liquid flame. She rasped. Coughed. Her eyes watered, her stomach lurched, and she nearly vomited on the spot, earning a chorus of hearty laughter from the others.

“Probably should’ve pinched some wine from the major’s office,” said Berry as she removed a second flask from a pocket on her vest.

“There’s wine in the major’s office?” asked Colgate. She took the second flask from Berry, braced herself, then took a deep drink. A lonely bead of brown liquid rolled down her chin, and berry watched it as if it were the last drop of anything to drink in the entire world.

“Cool it Colgate,” Berry snatched the flask from her and shook it to gage what was left. “And yeah I’m pretty sure there’s wine in the major’s office. No pony tells her what to do. I’d have wine in my office if there was no pony to tell me what to do.”

“You’d have wine in your office if the sky split open and Celestia herself told you not to.” The others laughed. For the first time in weeks the four of them felt perfectly at ease. They laughed and they jeered at each other. They talked. They talked about how terrifying it was fighting after nightfall, and they talked about the Ursa, arguing over whether it had been a Major or Minor. They talked about their individual run-ins with rebels. They tallied kills. Lyra insisted she had claimed the most rebel lives, counting her kills at eighteen – nineteen if she counted a stallion who she’d shot at, missed, but the shot startled the dumb bastard enough to drop a primed grenade at his hooves. Berry insisted that it didn't count but Lyra wasn’t convinced.

To counter Lyra’s high number of kills, Berry bragged about the rebel she captured. The one with the burgundy coat, and the mane that was a weaving of many manes. She told of how the little unicorn bayed as she cut off her horn. Then she opened up her vest and there it was, hanging around her neck from the same chain as her dog tags. It was the same burgundy as the rebel’s coat and had less of a spiral pattern to it than most unicorn horns.

Bon-Bon told them all about Applejack and Pinkie Pie. She spared no detail; the memory still new, vivid. She told them about the stink of AJ's blood on her hooves and how useless Pinkie Pie had been, speaking with that special kind of intimacy achieved only by the mildly drunk. Her story was somber, almost sobering, and they listened intensely like children captivated by fantasy. For a while Bon-Bon’s voice was the only one in the room, and when she finished the mood had shifted. It was markedly different now. Each of them was touched by a sort of warm epiphany; as if suddenly able to reach something that was for so long just outside of their grasp. Smiles encircled the table. They were the smiles of ponies perfectly content with the notion that they were still alive whereas others were not. It occurred to all of them that life wasn’t something to be enjoyed by everypony, only the lucky few, and they rejoiced, and drank more, and flirted with one another; reviling in their suddenly elevated status. They were now members of a privileged elite – the aristocracy of still breathing.

Upon finishing the pair of flasks, Berry Punch, as if by slight of hoof produced a third, prompting a ruckus chorus of laughter from the others. They teased her. Reaching for her pockets, goading her to do it again. Calling her a drunk, wino, alcoholic – to which she only smiled big and shrugged.

“Alright, alright already. I get it,” said Berry, standing up on her hind-legs and holding the flask above her head as it were a trophy. The ruckus laughter dulled to scarcely a chuckle. They settled down. “Well this here is the last of it. How’s about a toast. Bon-Bon?”

Every pair of eyes in the room looked to Bon-Bon for her response. “Well…” she said. She took the flask form Berry and cradled it in her hooves as if were something precious and fragile, like a newborn filly. She looked around the room and wondered if maybe this was their last night together. Her gaze found Lyra’s and she felt as though she might burst. She wanted to tell her everything. But where were the words, she wondered. She couldn’t seem to find them. “I…I don’t know what to say.” She sniffed and held back a threaten tear.

Lyra’s strong foreleg found its way around Bon-Bon’s neck. She pulled the earth pony closer, playfully, and snatched the flask from her practically trembling hooves. “Don’t go getting all sentimental on us now soldier!” she said with a laugh, doing her best impersonation of their old drill sergeant Pony Joe. Bon-Bon smiled at the private joke. They were close now, close enough to smell the liquor on each other’s breath. Bon-Bon hoped her face wasn’t as red as it felt.

Lyra held up the flask. “Here’s a toast for ya,” she said. The others could tell she was trying hard not to slur her words. “To not getting shot in the throat!”

“To not getting shot in the throat.” they echoed, shaking their heads.

“I’ll drink to that!” exclaimed Berry.

“Like you need an excuse,” said Lyra jokingly. They chuckled and drank. One by one they passed the flask around the table, taking long enough swigs to finish it in just four drinks. Berry took the biggest swallow, and by the time it circulated to Bon-Bon there was hardly any left. Enough for the toast though, and that was enough for her. She took her swallow then leaned into Lyra, encircling the unicorn’s waist in her forelegs, drunk enough now to not care who saw her.

They stayed like that for awhile. Not saying anything. Not needing to.

What happened to Bon-Bon next, she would never forgive. Though she had already accepted that her life likely wouldn’t last much longer – that this horrible thing that was happening in the Everfree Forest would claim her long before her time – in that moment an anger gripped Bon-Bon. A terrible fury that she would carry in her heart for the rest of her days.

The doors to the mess hall creaked open, and who should come through them but Pinkie Pie, bouncing on her hooves jovially, like the whole world was made of sunshine, flowers, and bubblegum. Her mane wasn’t straight anymore. It was the usually frizzy mess and Bon-Bon thought the grin her face looked just as idiotic as the mess on her head.

She bounced right up to Bon-Bon; completely unaware of the deeply personal moment she was intruding upon, and said:

“Oh thank goodness I found you!” Her eyes lit up that way a child’s do when they find a misplaced toy. “I’ve been looking all over for you since I got back to champ. I looked in your tent, and then in Lyra’s tent, cause I figured it was late and – well you know what ponies around camp say about you two – and then I thought it was odd that you two don’t already share a tent – not that I believe the rumors or anything, but come on talk about obvious.” She winked at Bon-Bon, then gave her shoulder a knowing nudge.

“But you don’t share a tent do you? Of course you don’t. I know cause I checked with Lieutenant Octavia, and she told me ‘no they do not, nor is it acceptable for members of Company Everfree to engage in any form of romantic relationship,’ and I was like come on, it’s a bunch of young colts and fillies in the woods for crying out loud – or in your chase a filly and filly – not that I’m judging you. I mean I’ve done my share of fooling around with fillies too. Hahaha fooling with fillies! Try saying that five times fast. Fooling-with-fillies, fooling-with-fillies, fooling-with-fillies…”

Maybe it was just the alcohol but Bon-Bon was furious. The others erupted into a debilitating fit of laughter.

“My Celestia, does it have an off switch,” said Lyra between chuckles and desperate gasps for air.

“Shut up, shut up. I want to see if it’ll keep going,” trumpeted a teary eyed Berry Punch. She swayed in her chair form laughter, and it took every bit of dexterity and physical prowess she could muster to keep form toppling over onto the floor.

“Come on girls, don’t tease. I think she’s kinda cute,” said Colgate.

Bon-Bon leered at Pinkie Pie. She meant to make an intimidating face but drunkenness diffused the attempt, and she only succeeded in looking very silly. “Did you need something Pinkie?” she growled.

“No, but I do,” said Colgate, smiling with the face of stupid drunkard. “It starts with a certain color and it ends with a certain pastry.” The blue unicorn winked as she blew a kiss in Pinkie’s direction. The pink earth pony didn’t seem to notice.

“I need to talk to you Bon-Bon,” began Pinkie Pie. “I never got a chance to thank you. You know, after everything that happened with me and Applejack, and…well…she might not be here if not for you…and…” Pinkie sniffed. She could feel a crying fit coming on and did her best to hold it back, but couldn’t stop a pair of crystalline tears from rolling down her cheeks.

Bon-Bon watched a pink fore-hoof rub tears away from a pink face and immediately her heart softened. Maybe Pinkie’s intrusion wasn’t so unforgivable after all. She placed a friendly fore-hoof on a pink shoulder.

“Hey, it was nothing anypony wouldn’t do for anypony else.” Pinkie sobbed quietly. The others waited quietly, acting surprisingly – no – unusually respectful of the situation.

The pink pony found her composure. She straightened up, her face as dry as desert stone now. “Could I…” she began timidly, stammering a bit as she talked. “…maybe have a word with you. You know, in private.” Maybe it was the alcohol but Bon-Bon didn’t understand. She stared at Pinkie, confused.

“It's just I need to thank you properly…in private…” Pinkie leaned her head, gesturing without subtlety toward the door.

“Uh oh. Look out Lyra, Pinkie here wants to ‘thank Bon-Bon in private,’” said Colgate with a wry smile, to which Lyra responded by shoving her from across the table. Berry laughed as Colgate nearly fell out of her seat.

Reluctantly, Bon-Bon got up from her seat beside Lyra and followed Pinkie Pie outside. Why, she wasn’t entirely sure, but Bon-Bon had elected to indulge the pink pony’s harmless eccentricities. It was probably the alcohol.

The air outside was cold, and as she accompanied Pinkie to wherever this proper apology was waiting for her, it occurred to Bon-Bon that this winter in the Everfree Forest was to be the first natural winter she’d ever experienced in her entire life. The cold that bit at her exposed forelegs was not the doing of pegasus ponies or even Celestia herself. It was the work of forest. It wasn’t any colder than a pegasus made winter but it did seem lonelier. Tremendously so. Suddenly she was overcome with a palpable, almost irrational desire to return to the comfort of Lyra’s forelegs. She hoped whatever Pinkie had planned wouldn’t take too long.

It didn’t.

Pinkie led them around the back of the mess hall near the abandoned latrines, far enough away that their conversation wouldn’t be overheard by the others inside.

“Alright Pinks, what’s all this about?”

Pinkie’s eyes darted left and right, the way an amateur thief’s do just before she pinches a fresh fruit form the local market place. Bon-Bon could see that she was weary of being overheard.

“You didn’t tell them what you saw, did you?”

At first Bon-Bon didn’t understand. Pinkie asked again, a shortness in her tone, and then she understood. Of course. This confrontation was going to have to happen sooner or later. “No. Of course not,” Bon-Bon answered confidently.

“You’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” she began explaining. “I mean, I told them what happened but not –.” Before she could finish her thought Pinkie slammed her roughly into the wall at her back, pinning her. The movement was swift. Instinctively, Bon-Bon tried to shove Pinkie away, put pink pony was strong. When that didn’t work she started to call out to Lyra for help, but the knife at her throat convinced her that that was perhaps not the best way to go about this.

The blade pressed to her neck was cold – cold like natural winter.

“You told them.” Pinkie’s voice slithered out form between her lips like a snake leaving its den. It was so different from the voice she’d spoken in before. Her eyes were different too: shaper, predatory. Bon-Bon was afraid.

“Why did you tell them? Why?”

“I – I didn’t,” Bon-Bon shuddered. “I told them what I saw, but not about you.”

“What did you say exactly?”

“What?”

“Exactly! What did you say exactly?”

“W-what!?”

“Tell me what you told them!”

Panic made thinking difficult. “I-I-I don’t know!” The blade inched closer, threatening to break skin. “I mean – I mean, I told them I found you. I found the two of you. It was dark and I found the two of you.”

“Is that all you said?”

“That’s all.” The blade slid up under Bon-Bon’s chin, making her squeal like a frightened child. “That’s all! That’s all! Pinkie please!” she pleaded, her voice growing loud with hysteria. Pinkie muffled her cries with her free hoof.

“Shut up or they’ll hear you, and if I see anypony come out that building, I cut your throat and then I cut theirs. Understand?” Bon-Bon nodded, sobbing into Pinkie’s hoof. She was trying hard to hold back the tears forming behind her eyes. “Now tell me one more time, Bon-Bon. Slowly and quietly.”

She took a deep breath and tried to calm down a bit. “I told them that when I found the two of you, Applejack was already hurt and you were standing over her trying to help. And that I didn’t see who stuck AJ, because it was dark,” she managed in a shaky voice.

A suspicious look crossed Pinkie’s face. Bon-Bon suspected she still didn’t believe. “I swear. Please, Pinkie I’m not lying.”

Bon-Bon could see the gears turning in the pink pony’s head. For a moment she looked as though she might buy it. The moment was short. She threw Bon-Bon belly down onto the ground and mounted her, pushing her face into the dirt while keeping the knife pressed to her neck.

“Applejack is one of my best friends. I love her. If she finds out…if any of them find out…” she let her voice trail off for fear of finishing the thought. “They can’t know what I’m like. Understand me? They can’t ever know. They won’t like me if they know.”

“I swear I didn’t tell anypony. I swear, I swear.” Bon-Bon was in tears now, mumbling through a mouth full of dirt.

“You’re not lying to me?”

“I’m not. Please Pinkie, I’m not.”

“I don’t have to tell you what will happen if you do?”

“No.”

With surprising ease, Pinkie lifted Bon-Bon back to her hooves. The earth pony was still whimpering.

“Celestia’s sake,” muttered Pinkie, “clean yourself up. And stop crying.” Bon-Bon rubbed her face halfheartedly. Pinkie dusted her off, then dusted herself off before returning the knife to its hiding place in her fatigues.

“Look at me,” said Pinkie, taking Bon-Bon’s face in both her hooves and shaking her. “Hey, look at me. I need you to swear you'll never tell anyone.”

“I do. I swear.”

“Pinkie Pie swear?” she taunted, adding a cruel smile for effect. Bon-Bon stared at her blank faced.

“Cross my heart, hope to fly – come on I know you know it.” Bon-Bon continued staring. She tried to talk but the words were sitting at the bottom of her stomach.

“Cross my heart, hope to fly – say it. Say it or I’ll go in back in that room and kill all of them.”

“Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye,” she finally managed. Her heart beat sounded like it was between her ears. Her throat was dry. Now it was Pinkie’s turn to stare. She glared at her with an amused look on her cruel face.

“Bon-Bon where’d you go!” The two of them froze as stiff as boards, their breathe caught in their throats. Bon-Bon remembered what Pinkie had told her only moments ago: what she would do if anypony came looking for her. Oh no. Go back inside Lyra! Pinkie stared at Bon-Bon intensely, and pressed her hard against the wall with her forelegs.

“Bon-Bon, seriously where are you. It’s freezing out here,” she called again, sounding closer this time. Pinkie listened intently. Voice. Footsteps. She’d be here any moment.

“Follow my lead and I’ll let you live,” whispered Pinkie. Confused, Bon-Bon nodded in agreement. It was all she could do at this point.

Just as Lyra was wandering around the back of the building, Pinkie shut her eyes and trusted her lips roughly against Bon-Bon's, trapping her in a deep kiss. Instinctively she tried to resist, tried to push the pink pony away from her, but Pinkie was strong and kept her pinned. Then – much to Bon-Bon’s surprise and disgust – Pinkie opened her mouth to the kiss, slipping her tongue past Bon-Bon’s lips while simultaneously grasping the back of her neck. She struggled harder, but then remembered what Pinkie said she would do to her friends, and forced her muscles to relax, though she absolutely refused to kiss Pinkie back.

And that’s how Lyra found them: leaning against a wall behind the mess hall, locked in a mock embrace she didn’t know was just an act. Pinkie kissed Bon-Bon a bit longer after being discovered, pretending not to notice Lyra, milking the act for all it was worth. Then she broke the kiss with tiny gasp, playing the part of blushing secret lover flawlessly.

Lyra’s face was lit up by the illumination spell she’d been using to aid her in her search for Bon-Bon. In the spell's light, Bon-Bon could see the unicorn's eyes squint into an angry expression.

“Lyra, I…” she tried desperately. She wanted to tell her everything but again couldn’t seem to find the words.

“Well don’t stop on my account,” said Lyra, trying to laugh it off; acting as though it didn’t bother her in the slightest to find the only pony she’d ever really cared about locking lips with some pink faced moron. “Its whatever,” she mumbled under her breathe as she turned to leave. “You do whatever you want.” Her illumination spell dimmed into nothingness. Then she trotted off into the darkness.

Bon-Bon watched her leave, feeling as though she were trapped in a thick fog. What the hay just happened, she thought to herself.

A pink fore-hoof raked across her face violently, snapping her out of her dream like state.

“Hey, don’t forget what we talked about,” said Pinkie. Bon-Bon said nothing in return. She put a hoof to her stinging cheek and said nothing. “I didn’t kill you tonight because of what you did for Applejack. I’m grateful to you for that.” Then she let something that was almost sincerity find its way into her tone as she said: “And I’m sorry about…that. About what just happened. But if you ever tell Lyra about what really happened between us tonight, I will kill you. Then I’ll kill her too. We understand each other?”

Bon-Bon still said nothing. Pinkie slapped her again, harder this time.

“I asked you a question.” Bon-Bon nodded. Pinkie regarded her with careful eyes, searching the earth pony's face for any traces of rebellion. She didn’t find any.

“Okey dokey lokey,” she said with an easy smile. It was terrifying. It was the most terrifying thing Pinkie had said all night. Not the words themselves but the way she said them. It was like flipping switch. Pinkamena Diane Pie flipped a switch somewhere in the back of her damaged psyche and just like that her goofy disposition returned. Her sharp predatory eyes dulled into the eyes of a harmless fool. The glee returned to her voice. Bon-Bon wondered if she was even conscious of the change. As she watched the pink earth pony bounce away into the darkness, something inside of her changed too. Her crippling fear waned a bit. It didn’t disappear entirely but it was dulled, drowned out somewhat by a new emotion. She was angry. As angry as she had been when Pinkie had first come into the room. Pinkie had threatened her, humiliated her – but her most unforgivable sin was that she had denied Bon-Bon her moment of intimacy with Lyra. This wasn’t over. With no witness but Luna’s moon, she swore a silent vendetta against Pinkamena Diane Pie: against the war, Celestia, and the entire Everfree Forest. This was not over.

She thought about going back into the mess hall to see if Berry and Colgate were still waiting for her, but Bon-Bon realized she couldn’t care less if they sat in there all night waiting for her and Lyra to come back. Instead she trotted off in to her tent, looking forward to curling up in her sleeping bag as she plotted her revenge on the entire world.

As she trotted off into the cold night of her first natural winter, it occurred to Bon-Bon that she could really use a smoke right now. It was a filthy habit sure, but so what. She was in a warzone where death threatened her from all around. Whether it came from foe, friend, or the forest herself, Bon-Bon knew her days had just about run out. What good would clean living do her now? Filthy habit maybe but worth it. Besides, life was already too long and too miserable anyhow.