The northern winds pelted against the trio of pegasi as the flew across the skies over a terrain of snow, ice, and rocky outcrops. They were a scouting party for the Equestrian military. Most ponies stationed at their base saw the assignment here as either punishment or a necessary stint before requesting a transfer to warmer climes and cushier posts. However a few actually enjoyed the posting and volunteered for patrols whenever such was asked for. Chillwing was one such pony. His thick fur, a blessing from his ancestors, and his special talent allowed him a sense of freedom and oneness with these northern lands. Normally a scouting sortie would have included a hoof-full of unicorn and earth-pony troops on the ground and a pair of pegasi flying a circular pattern above. But the unicorn forces were ill, and the earth-pony were complaining of 'something not feeling right'. So, naturally the commander decided that the pegasi would fly multiple sorties in straight patterns in larger numbers.
Chillwing was enjoying the flight on this sortie, the wind tickled his coat and mane just how he liked it. His only acknowledgement to his military posting was the heated glare-resistant goggles he wore, for safety and because it was sensible, his hardened vest and the saddlebags on his back. His wing-mates however were further encumbered by heated under-vests, heated hoof-boots, and helms. As for armament: one was a medic carrying only a combat knife, one carried a spear, and one had a talent that meant he was rarely 'unarmed' in this climate. Looking to his left, he saw Light Flight gesturing for Chill to slow down. Obliging, Chill slowed his pace to match the other pony's speed and twitched his ears to hear Light better.
"I know you like this kind of thing, Chill. But give me and Piercing a chance okay?" Light waved a hoof in the direction of Piercing Skies, the third member of their team.
Chill nodded to Light before looking at Piercing. Piercing, or Piercer as the mare was known to her friends, was flying with a smooth pace. She kept her focus on the skies beyond the tip of her spear. Her spear, Chill mused, was a family heirloom and Piercer always took it with her on patrol. She always would say, when they were hanging out in the barracks between sorties, that she knew she would die with her spear in hoof. Chill had discreetly mentioned this to the base's counselor, but was told that it was a family thing and to let it go. The idea put a chill in his gut no cold weather had managed to do.
As Chill looked ahead, he barely managed to see and avoid a javelin as he heard a cry of pain to his left. A quick glance caused Chill's blood to boil, Light was falling from the skies with a javelin through his ribcage. Focusing back ahead, Chill saw three griffons charging towards them. Calling on his talent, Chill batted his wings at the closest of the three, sending a blast of preternaturally cold wind that encased the lead griffon in a layer if ice. Chill ignored the the plummeting figure, knowing the griffon inside would be as broken as the ice encasing it upon impact.
Chill saw Piercing Skies engage the third griffon in a aerial duel, as the second one barreled into him, causing both to tumble and fall. The griffon clawed at Chill's chest and gut as Chill thanked the vest maker and his ancestors for their gifts, for without them he knew his life would have been ripped from him. He held the griffon's head back with one hoof, while pounding his other into its chest. A quick glance at their descent caused Chill to buck the griffon so that Chill was on top, and a quick buffet of wings kept the griffon from righting itself. The result was the griffon impacting the rocky outcrop below headfirst, and Chill landing on top. Unfortunately the impact caused Chill's fore-hooves to break, and the griffon's talons to dig deep. Chill's brain succumbed to unconsciousness as it tried to process the pain.
A while later Chill was awoken as something painful poked his flank. "Good, I think.... I think you'll live." Chill heard Light mutter. Looking at Light, Chill saw the medic had a broken wing and right rear leg as well as the remains of a javelin shaft protruding from his chest.
"How?" Chill asked night, nodding at the shaft.
"Pierced the lung, best to keep it in until... we can get to... to... base." Light's responses made Chill worried the medic might have incurred a head injury as well. Chill was fairly certain the only way Light was still standing was due to a large number of pain suppressors, and Light had just given him some as well.
"Piercer?" Chill asked hopefully.
Light just shook his head slowly and pointed to the side. Looking at the sight caused Chill to grimace in sorrow. There upon the snow, their blood intermingling, lay Piercing Skies and her adversary. Piercing's throat had a bloody chunk out of it and the bloody-beaked griffon had her spear rammed through it's heart, her lifeless hooves still holding the spear upright.
With Light's help, Chill was able to get seated on his haunches. After testing his wings and finding himself still flight-worthy, Chill had Light climb onto his back for the journey. The arrangement was a bit tricky as Chill had to leave the saddlebags so that Light was facing rearward, the broken shaft laying against Chill's cutie mark. As they lifted off, a bright flash to his left caused Chill to look in it's direction. A few miles away, a grand city surrounded by green pastureland had appeared. The whole of the city gleamed as if made by crystals.
"Huh, that's new." Chill commented as he began the long slow flight back to base.
Author's Note
I humbly ask that if you down-vote, please give a reason so I can improve.
