Snips 'n Snails

"Did.. did you hit it?"

Crickets hummed among the bushes, unseen, but heard as always. A reminder to the heat that had plagued them all week. The soundtrack to those grueling afternoon multipli... multipl.. multiplication lessons. Or was it division?

The entrance to the gorge, so flat, almost like it was constructed or made by design, felt oddly silent. The vegetation sprawling across the left wall, crickets and all, had been reduced to a still- continuing as always, but now nothing to Snails in the wake of the solid, warm 'thunk' that had echoed out from within the stone walls, perhaps sounding all the way down its length. A noise, a silence, a meaning of his creation.

His gaze winked, beginning to narrow- stuck in a half-furrow, the raking spread of realization pluming within Snails' chest.

"S-snails.."

Snips shook him. Curled his hoof around his, gave him a squeeze.

His gaze broke away from where the squirrel once stood, down to the green colt by his side.

"Snails, you.. you hit it."

"I did?"

"Yeah. You got it," Snips mumbled, giving his friend a slight, feeble little nod, finally pulling his hoof away. Their attention fell to that brown clump in the wispy, dead grass of the gorge- the squirrel's form clearly visible now, limp, still.

They were quiet.

Snails let the crossbow hang limp against his form- gradually, of course, not wanting to hurt himself again by letting it thud against his leg. He had learned not to do that the hard way. Twilight let it fall, though, hang loose around her form from the strap where it hung... did it hurt her? Who knows. It probably did. She was just hiding it as always.

With his magic free from the weight of the weapon, Snails' extended that familiar watery, golden trail of warmth towards the lump in the distance. He ignored Snips' stare, flabbergasted, but too afraid to interject.

He felt around its form, so small and warm. There was its tail... leg... eye... there, a depression. Going in... cold. Something cold. The bolt.

The bolt had embedded itself all the way through the creature's form- likely poking out on the other side. It was almost as big as the animal, if not bigger- dare he saw the squirrel was stabbed on it like a kebab, a feast for some griffon or diamond dog. Snails felt something warmth meet the tendril of magic's tip- watery, liquid, warm, alive- and he almost retracted it, fearing it was someone else's probing spell.

No, it was blood. Trailing down the cold grey of the bolt. Phew.

"S-snails..?"

"Egh.. hold on..."

His friend hesitated, taking a step back- but then he steeled himself. He was doing that more.

"Snails, what.. what are you doing?" mumbled Snips, tone stronger now, however still hushed- from a blade of grass to a twig.

"Taking the... bolt out..."

"W-why?"

"Why?" retorted Snails, something warm, something familiar flaring within his chest. "So, so- Fluttershy or whatever won't come out here and see her squirrel got shot! If they found a crossbow bolt, then Twilight would KNOW that someone from Ponyville stole the crossbow!"

"S-sorry! I was just.. I was just asking!" Snips refuted, stumbling back from Snails' side. A wary gaze now laid upon his orange fur. He could feel it. It annoyed him.

Snails felt blood drip and waver away from the bolt's length as he pulled it through the air, whisking it back towards the little pouch the twenty or so other bolts resided within. Why was Snips making a big deal of it now..? They'd retrieved every bolt they'd shot. Always. He knew better than to leave them out here. Especially at the gorge. Pegasi flew through there sometimes, especially Rainbow Dash- and if one of Twilight's friends saw what they were doing, that would be trouble.