That One Time When Stuff Died

A wibbly wobbly wagon wibble wobbled super hard under the shade of pine trees. Its cargo made pretty little clinking sounds. One pony pulled the cart while another walked behind.

It was cold.

“Brass, it’s cold.” Whined the unburdened one.

“Steel.” Said brass calmly.

“Yes?”

“You just told me that, FIVE BUCKING MINUTES AGO!”

“Geeeeeeeze. You don’t have to yell. I’m just saying, it’s cold.”

“Do you even understand how far north we are?”

“Well, yeah. But it’s still cold.”

“How about you try pulling for a while, huh? That’ll warm you right up.”

“But I don’t like pulling.”

Brass groaned audibly. “I swear, if I wasn’t related to you…”

The tarp covering the cargo shifted, revealing a less than sober mare.

“Heeeeeyyyy guuuuyysss.” Murmured the pony.

Brass looked back in shock. “What in Tartarus are you doing in there? I thought we left you back in… Oh no. You got into the juice didn’t you?”

“Juice?” Puzzled the mare. “Naaaahhh brah, just took a swig of some of this stuff you got back here.”

The stallion clenched his eyes shut in disbelief. “Why is this happening to me?”

“Never liked juice.” Continued the mare obliviously. “Apple juice, orange juice, cranberry juice…”

“I’m still cold” Complained Steel.

“JUST SHUT UP!” Screamed Brass. “Steel, if I hear one more complaint, I’m going to seriously harm you. And you,” he gestured at the inebriated mare “I don’t even know your name. Get out from there.”

“Kay.” The mare stood up and promptly fell down, smashing her head on the wooden rail.

“On second thought,” Brass replaced the tarp “just stay put.”

The wagon resumed its journey, despite the driver’s temptation to stop believing.

“Hey, bro?” Called Steel.

“What?”

“I love you.”

“Go plow yourself.” Grumbled Steel.

It was nearly midday and Brass had no intention of staying a night in the forest. If hypothermia didn’t kill him, the starving predators would. Not to mention his shipment of narcotics wouldn’t reach his boss on time. Maybe if he killed Steel it would slow down the carnivores long enough for him to get away. But then he’d still have to deal with his boss. Being eaten alive sounded like a better idea.

“Hey, Brass?” called Steel.

“SWEET CELESTIA, WHAT?”

“There’s a diamond dog over there.”

Brass was so caught up in contemplating his death, he failed to notice the large black diamond dog at the edge of the path. Being the calm and collected individual that he was, Brass let out a high pitched scream and darted behind the opposite side of the cart. He peeked over the side cautiously.

“What do you want?” Called Brass.

“You’re going across the border?” Asked the dog.

“What’s it to you?” Replied Brass from his hiding place of power and masculinity.

“This female is hurt. She needs pony doctors.”

Brass noticed the emerald green mare slung across the dog’s back.

“He’s got a pony, Brass.” Declared Sir Obvious the Third.

“I can see that.” Spat Brass at Steel. “You, dog, put her on the cart.”

The diamond dog padded over. He leaned to one side, and the mare slid onto the end of the wagon.

Brass eyed the now much closer diamond dog. It had a large sack tied to its back, along with a sizable crossbow, and a long object wrapped in cloth. He gestured at the dog to back off and moved to inspect the mare.

“What did you do to her?” Asked Brass, in awe. The mare’s shoulder was laid open from one long gash, and blood seeped out from the partially dried wound. A large cut on her head was also concerning. Brass climbed onto the wagon and retrieved a glass bottle from under the tarp. “This should help,” He poured a small amount of clear liquid onto the mare’s shoulder. “Probably.”

“Will she survive?” Asked the dog.

“No clue.” Concluded Brass. “We’ll get her back to Morrowwood.” He pushed the mare under the spartan cover offered by the tarp. “Should be there before dusk. Come on Steel.”

“They can repair weapons there?” Inquired the dog.

“There’s probably a craftspony or something. Why?”

“I’m coming.”

The pony stamped a hoof. “Nuh uh. Not happening.” Brass was insistent. “There’s no way, especially in griffon territory, I am going to get caught traveling with some escaped slave.”

The dog glared at Brass. “I’m no slave.”

“Right, and I’m a Canterlot noble.” The pony mocked. “Hasn’t been any diamond dogs in these parts for years, not since the colonial army wiped them out. Nopony would ever believe you’re not a slave.”

The dog stepped uncomfortably close to the pony. “I don’t care what ponies think I am.” He barred his teeth in warning, causing the pony to recoil. “Go pull your cart.”

“Sure thing.” Replied Brass with a shaky grin. “Just do me a favor, and don’t get us captured by griffons.”

The pony quickly set up in front the wagon. He called to Steel who had retreated a short distance.

“You saw that?” Asked Brass, once Steel joined him. “He could have bitten my head off with those chompers.”

“What do we do?” Asked Steel.

“First of all, you’re going to help me pull.” Steel was about to complain, but was promptly rekt by the back of Brass’ pimp hoof. “No whining. Let’s just get to Morrowwood, then we can get the mare… mares some help. Not to mention, we can get away from this psycho.”

With the diamond dog following behind, the two ponies set off at a quick pace.

They kept on for the better part of the day. It was late afternoon. The sun was not visible through the thick clouds that threatened to drop winter’s full fury on the frosted forest below.

“Can we take a break?” Asked Steel quietly.

“Would you like to go ask our new ‘friend’ to stop?” Brass retorted. “Maybe he can show you that crossbow he’s got while you’re at it.”

Steel gulped.

“Just look at him.” Continued Brass. “Don’t actually look!” He clomped Steel on the head. “There’s something strange about that dog.”

“Something strange?”

“He’s too big, ears too long, teeth too- Sweet Celestia, did you see his teeth? Those were meat biters if I’ve ever seen them.”

“How do you know so much about diamond dogs?”

“I don’t. Something about him makes my skin crawl.” The pony shivered. “The way he walks, it’s not right. Diamond dogs walk on two legs; I’ve seen them. But he uses all four, prowling around like some beast looking for prey.” He was sweating profusely.

“Brass, are you okay?”

He relaxed slightly. “I’m fine. Keep pulling.”

Brass clenched shut his eyes in frustration. This was supposed to be a simple delivery job. Now he had two incapacitated ponies in his cart, and an armed diamond dog breathing down his neck. Might as well have a griffon patrol stop them.

‘Yeah, that would be just excellent.’

“He’s gone!” Declared a startled Steel.

‘Or the diamond dog could just vanish. That works too.’

Brass wasn’t freaking out. Who would freak out in this situation? Not him. He was a calm and collected individual. This was clearly shown by the tears face leakage of bravery that streamed down his face.

“Hey what’s that?” Steel pointed a hoof at the sky. Brass followed the gesture to see two small dots dive from the clouds and barrel towards the ponies.

‘Or both, because why not?’

Brass wept openly.

“Hold there!” Bellowed a voice.

The voice was followed by a flapping of wings. A pair of armed griffons landed in the path. Each sported a loaded crossbow.

“Move back from the cart ponies!” Barked one of the griffons.

The ponies did as they were told. One of the griffons began circling the cart while the other stood guard over the ponies.

“And where would you two be headed?” Asked the nearest avian. His crossbow was cradled in a foreleg, ready for use.

“J-Just going back home, sir.” Stammered Brass. Steel stood frozen.

“What’s in the cart?”

“Oh, just personal belongings.”

The griffon glanced at the cart. “Looks a little big for two ponies’ things.”

Brass fought down a wave of panic. “I’m also a merchant.”

‘Flawless execution.’

“What do you sell?”

‘Oh damn.’

Brass spat out the first thing he could think of.

“Spoons.” He held a masterful poker-face. It was the same expression that had lost him every game of hold ‘em he’d ever played… and every mare he ever had… and gave him away every time he tried to rip one in public.

“Spoons. Right. Check the cart.” Ordered the griffon. There was a grunt from behind the cart.

“How’d they tie so tight with hooves, eh?” Muttered the other griffon, fumbling to open the tarp.

“Just cut it open, idiot.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Brass piped in.

“You got something to hide, pony?”

“No it’s just that-” Brass was interrupted by a loud ripping sound.

The griffon on the cart gave a low whistle. “That’s a lot of juice.”

The two ponies were promptly shoved onto the ground. Talons and the tip of a bolt were pressed against their respective heads.

“Looks like we caught us some smugglers.” Growled the griffon. “How much?”

“At least an hundred bottles.” Came the reply.

“Ow, you’re hurting my head.” Whined Steel.

“Shut up!” The griffon pierced his talons into Steel’s skin.

Bottles clinked as the other griffon rummaged through the cargo. “Two more in here, boss. This one’s scraped up real good, an’ this one smell like it’s been in the juice.”

“Escaped criminals, no doubt.”

“They have nothing to do with this.” Brass pleaded.

“I said shut up, both of you!” The griffon pressed the crossbow harder, drawing a small trickle of blood.

“What do we do?” Asked the other. “Long way back to camp, an’ I’m very hungry.”

“You’re right. It is.” Said the griffon with a knowing grin. “Considering the penalty for smuggling is death…”

“This isn’t fair!” Insisted Brass. “We’re Equestrian citizens.”

“No one’s out here.” Said the griffon.

“So you’re just going to kill us?”

“No, I’m a merciful person. I’ll give you a chance. The first one to tell me where the diamond dog went gets to live.”

“How did you-”

The griffon laughed.

“Been watching you for a while.” Said the one on the cart. “Got better eyes than ponies, we do.”

“I’d like to leave now.” Said Steel quietly. His head was promptly ground into the frozen gravel.

“And the other?” Demanded Brass.

“Normally we’d just kill you, but since our rations have been reduced...”

Brass’ eyes widened. Caught by a patrol AND eaten. Legit.

“So what’ll it be pony?” continued the griffon. “Where’d the little doggy go?”

“I don’t know. He just disappeared.”

“Somehow I don’t believe you. What about you, grey one?” He directed his question to Steel. “Where’s he gone?”

Steel whimpered.

“I can see you’re a useless sack of shit.” Concluded the griffon “What about the females?”

“Like I said, boss, this one’s half dead, an’ this one’s passed out cold.” Answered the other.

The first griffon groaned. “Go into the bush and finish them off.”

“Yes, boss.” The griffon on the cart, hauled the intoxicated mare onto his shoulder.

The interrogator returned his attention to the two underneath him. “My offer still stands ponies. If you tell me, I may even leave the females by the roadside.”

Something whizzed through the air and impacted with an organic sound. The griffon looked to see his comrade on the cart had dropped the female. The second griffon was desperately clutching at a bolt protruding from his throat. Gurgling on blood, he fell from the cart.

The survivor reared, to bring his crossbow to bear on the threat. The moment his talons left the ground, a second bolt embedded itself at the base of his wing. He screeched in agony and fired his crossbow on reflex.  The aimless bolt flew harmlessly. Looking up, he saw the snarling form of a black beast charging up the road. The griffon fought back the pain and pulled a short sword from its sheath.

“Come on then!” He bellowed.

Using his wings, the griffon launched towards the attacker, but fire burning in his shoulder caused his flight to veer sideways. He impacted the ground just meters from the canid. He swung his weapon in desperation. The dog dodged away from the short blade and past the downed griffon. Before he could recover, the griffon was gripped by large paws, and thrown backwards. He tried in vain to alter his course, but crashed back first into the wagon. Wood splintered and glass shattered. Clear liquid and blood soaked his feathers and fur.

The diamond dog gave no reprieve. In a moment he was on top of the griffon. Feathers gave way to claws, as the dog dug into the griffon’s chest and raked his ribcage. With a determined screech, the griffon bucked at the dog’s gut. The blow caught the dog off-guard, and he toppled from the cart.

The bleeding griffon lurched forward. He drew a dagger from a leg strap. He leapt from the cart and slashed. The blade caught the dog’s arm before he could evade. Both combatants twirled to face each other. The dog held his cut limb. The wound gushed blood, but was insignificant next to the burst dam that was the griffon’s chest. Blood pooled and steamed below the avian on the frozen road. The griffon erupted into a coughing fit. Blood soon dribbled from his beak as well.

The griffon looked down at his fleeing vital juices. He was dead, and he knew it.

The griffon gave one last shrill shriek, before charging his killer. The dagger stabbed, but the blade was halted. The canid held the griffon’s wrist in a vice. The dog’s opposite paw grabbed the griffon’s shoulder and dragged it down before a knee impacted the avian’s gut. The griffon staggered back on two legs. The dog drew close and seized the griffon’s slender neck. His free paw drew a bolt from the quiver tied to the griffon’s waist. With a roar, the bolt was driven through the griffon’s wide eye. The dog palmed the griffon’s small cranium and slammed it down onto the gravel, bolt first. The steel tip erupted out the back of the head, in a splatter of bone fragments and grey bits.

The dog stood above his kill, panting.

“Ponies.” The dog nodded, slumping back onto all fours. He used his claws to cut a piece of the tarp. The makeshift bandage was wrapped tightly around his wounded foreleg.

The two equines stared at the blood stained diamond dog, mouths agape.

The dog tilted his head in confusion. “The female still needs help.”

Brass shook himself from the stupor. “Sweet Celestia! That was… that…”

Steel finished the statement by vomiting onto the road.

“The female.” Reminded the dog.

“Oh, right.” Brass perked up and ran over to check on the wounded mare. He took care to step around the mess created by the dead griffons.

“Well, little miss substance abuse is fine.” He clambered up into the cart. “They didn’t even get to your friend here.”

“Not my friend.” Stated the dog.

“Yeah, whatever.” The pony took on a look of horror when he noticed the contents of his cart. “Nonononono!” Nearly all the glass bottles had been smashed under the griffon. “I’m dead.”

“The bottles are important?” Asked the dog.

“A small fortune’s worth of juice just got destroyed. My boss is going to murder me.”

“Ponies don’t kill.”

“You don’t know my boss.” Stated Brass coldly. “You just had to throw that griffon into the cargo.” He pointed a hoof at the canid. “This is your fault.”

Steel, who had now joined Brass at the cart, gasped aloud. “I’M TELLING!”

“If I didn’t help, the griffons would have killed both of you.” The dog said, truthfully.

Brass groaned. “So what?” he looked down at the broken glass. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“Your boss will kill because of money?” The dog raised a brow.

“It’s not that simple, but most likely yes.” The pony began to take inventory of the few remaining bottles.

“What about running?” The dog asked.

Brass cut the dog an incredulous glare. “The only things she hates more than botched jobs are traitors and deserters.”

“You’re still taking the female for help?”

Brass’ eyes shot open when he realized the wounded mare was still laying at his hooves. “Of course! The boss will have to wait.” He took up a mock triumphant pose. “Let it be known that Brass Trim always helps a mare in distress.”

“And you’ll help me get into the town?”

“I don’t like it, dog, but you’re right. The griffons would have killed us, and I wouldn’t be standing here worrying about punishment. I’ll make sure you get past the gate, but then we’re even.”

The dog nodded. “That will work.”

The canid and the ponies worked to clear the road of the corpses. They soon resumed their trek to the pony outpost.

“Brass, I’m cold.” Declared Steel.