We Damned Fools.by Starreaper088ChaptersChapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 5Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Epilogue Chapter 4Chapter 1The morning began in Ponyville like every other day; the birds began to tweet, the sun rose slowly over the horizon, people began to stir in their dwellings. A news boy ran through the streets with the daily news. “War is declared! War is declared! Read all about it, griffons declare war on Equestria!” People sprung from their homes to find what the boy was calling about. The scrappy young boy was now standing adjacent to the train station, waving the daily times in the air, fresh from the presses in Canterlot, the headlines rang true. WAR ON THE HORIZON: GRIFFONS DECLARE WAR UPON THE NATION! At three in the afternoon, western time, in the small port town of Hoof Harbor, a telegram was received from the Griffon Capital. This telegram was immediately followed by an attack upon the northern border of our great nation. From all sides a daring air raid upon the city of Trottingham. The Telegram read of war. With this there have been no statements by the Princess, one can only assume she is in mourning for those dear lost souls in Trottingham. God rest their souls, and god be with you all. The town was silent for the day, no one spoke, no more did the birds sing. The next morning the train was jammed full, all the young men in the town were on their way to Canterlot, to sign their enlistment papers, to join the Canterlot Expeditionary Force. It is here we meet our hero, Defiant Stone. A tall young man, he looks no different than any of the other boys in the train cart with him. His long black hair contained a deep red stripe though it. He looked around at all the boys he inhabited the coach with, packed from wall to wall. A the town blacksmith's son, the jewelers boy, the apple farmer from outside of town, so many more. A band played marching songs upon the station, families turned up in droves to wave off these young men. The train pulled from the station as they leaned from the windows, smiling faces, crying faces all passed by them in a blur, Stone waved and smiled, he felt his chest swell with pride. After they had departed the town the boys pulled their heads back into the carriage and began to chat amongst themselves. Stone was lost in a daydream, imagining returning back home, a hero. He had just survived the war, saved some colts lives, now he returned home, the princess had given him a medal, he truly was a hero. A voice pulled him from his fantasy. “You heading to Canterlot to join the army?” He turned his head to find the source. A boy with dark green hair smiled at him. “Yeah, reckon we all are.” The green haired boy chuckled. “I suppose so, guess I should have figured. Names Golden Sale, I worked the general store in town, you are?” “Defiant Stone.” “Well Stone, what did you do in town?” Stone looked away. “Oh.. you don’t have your cutie mark do you?” “Keep your voice down, they don’t let blank flanks in the army. You gotta have a special talent to be allowed in.” The boy ahead of them turned around. “You say you a blank flank?” “What’s it to you?” Stone retorted. “No problem friend, just would hate to see you get up there and be turned away.” The brown haired boy ahead of them said giving Stone a snarky look. “Well, um, excuse me, I have to find the little colts room.” “Down the aisle to the caboose I think.” Stone thanked him and got out of his seat as Golden and the brown haired boy began to converse. As Stone entered the caboose he saw it was actually a private cart. Six women sat in circle and talked about the news. “Sorry ladies, just looking for the little colts room.” “Oh no problem dear, you may use the one in here.” A woman with purple hair pointed toward the door to the side of the cart. As he exited the small room the ladies stopped him. “Are you one of the boys heading to the recruiter in Canterlot?” “Yes mam, going to serve my princess proudly.” They all smiled and chuckled softly. “Something wrong mam’s?” “We just admire yer gusto partner, you got spiff is all.” A blonde lady mare said, pushing back her hat. “Well thank you mam, I should probably head back to the cart with the others, not to long to go until we reach the station.” “Nonsense darling, stay here and chit chat with us, no sense in being stuck in that stuffy cabin with the rest of those boys.” The purple haired woman spoke. He sat reluctantly. “So tell us, what's your name?” “Defiant Stone mam, you ladies?” Rarity, Applejack, Fluttershy, Pinkie, Rainbow, and Twilight. “You ladies work for the princess don’t you?” They nodded a confirmatory. “I uh, I hate to ask, but do you know if she would ever let a blank flank in her royal army?” The ladies all gave him a sad look. “Well, I guess she may, you never know.” “I ask for my friend of course, not me, I-I’ve definitely got my mark.” The ladies all smiled sadly at him. They all made idle chatter until they reached the station. “Well ladies, it was nice chatting with all of you, but i gotta hurry to the recruiter before the lines start up.” They all bid him adieu and he was off. He reached the front of the line. “Name?” Said the white headed lady at the desk ahead of him. “Defiant Stone mam.” “Age and height?” “18, and 6’1.” “Special Talent.” He froze, they had never let anyone without a special talent into the ranks. “I uh.. I don’t have one mam.” “Pardon?” “I don’t have a special talent.” “You’re fully grown and don’t have a special talent?” “Yes mam.” Calls to stop holding up the line came from behind him. “I’m sorry son, we can’t allow you into the service, you have to be able to contribute to the effort somehow, otherwise you’re just taking up enlistment space.” He hung his head and began to walk out of the office. As he reached the station a call came from behind him. “Stone, Defiant Stone.” A boy came running to him. The boy had green hair and wore a purple coat. “This is from the princess. Was told to deliver it to you right away.” “How’d she know where to find me?” The boy shrugged. “Well, thanks I guess.” Dear Stone, I heard of your predicament from my faithful student Twilight Sparkle, of whom you made acquaintance with on the train ride to Canterlot. I am glad to hear that their are young men like you to join my guard and protect our nation. While this war saddens me, I’m glad to have young men like you there to fight it. Within the envelope this letter is contained within is a message, take it to the recruiter and you will be admitted into the army. May god be with you. Princess Celestia, her royal highness. He stared slack jawed at the letter, unable to fully comprehend what it said. He began to hoot and holler and dance down the street back to the recruiter. He walked back, skipping past the line back to the white haired woman from before, handing her the letter. “Well then,” she said upon reading the letter,” I suppose this changes things. She dug into the waste bin beside her and retrieved his form. ADMITTED. He stood in front of the guard captain, a tall man with blue hair. “You may have been admitted into her majesties royal army, but that does not mean you will serve. If you cannot pass this training course, you will return home, sad and broken, to tell your families you failed.” Many of the boys grimaced at the words, Stone remained stoic, looking straight forward. “We have one week to train you all for the service, after that, you will be given your assignment and sent off to help with the war effort.” The captain walked the line, asking each boy for his special talent and name. “Name?!” “Defiant Stone, Sir!” “Special Talent?!” “Don’t have one, sir!” “Don’t have one? How in the hell did you ever get admitted to my army?” “Princess Celestia admitted me, sir.” “You may have some kind of ties to the princess, but around here, that doesn’t matter. I’ll be watching you, you’ll be out of here in no time I bet.” They trained and trained, practicing marching, entrenching, shooting and fighting hand to hand. After the week they were assigned their jobs by the sergeant. “Defiant Stone, infantry.” Stone sat on the train to the front. The griffons had inhabited the Island Trottingham once sat on since the initial air raid had caused the civilians to flee. Fortifications had been set up along the coast, a maze work of trenches and pillboxes. Stone studied the rifle he held in his hand, a bolt action rifle dialed in for 100 yards, he was the finest marksman in the class, yet no cutie mark to be seen. He didn’t focus on that, he looked out the window, the trenches, the ocean. They stopped the train at Manehattan, the city was empty, all the civilians had fled for fear of being attacked themselves. Stone settled into his fox hole in the northern shore of the island. The sun had settled, it had been yet another week without an attack, he began to wonder what had happened to the griffons, had they given up? “Garry griffon already wussin out on us, scared now that he’s heard we got an attack force ready to beat him out.” A voice called from further down the trench. “Yeah, yeah, just stay sharp, don’t want ‘garry griffon’ sneaking up on us while you run your big mouth.” Someone responded, followed by a choir of laughter from those around them. Stone clutched the rifle, sitting up he peered over his foxhole at the ocean, a dark storm was on the horizon, lightning flashed, thunder cracked across the water. Stone thought he had seen something in the flash of lightning, but couldn’t be sure. Once more, a crack of lightning, shapes in the light, then darkness. He was now staring fully at the storm, watching. Wind licked the ocean with ever increasing fervor, hats were thrown from men's heads, sand was thrown around wildly. Again, he saw it, a large oval in the storm, were his eyes playing tricks upon him. Suddenly, the calm before the storm. “You can bet when those grifs get here, they’ll have me to answer t-” The sudden clack of machine gun fire called from above. It had closed in over them rather quickly, but now it was upon them, bombs exploded around him, Stone dug his hands into his helmet, holding on. Machine gun fodder peppered the ground, then the buzzing. The soft hum of the planes, the guns began to churn away, then more bombs. The planes moved in darkness overhead, griffons could see in the dark, so they had no problem navigating, but the equestrians were blind, they cowered in their holes as the griffons bombarded them. Stone cried as the bombs exploded around, this wasn’t what he was expecting. He cried and tried to remember home, then a flash, a force, and darkness. Chapter 2Stone awoke as the sun was cresting the horizon, he could feel the turf of the ocean on his side, tickling him awake. He scanned his body, no major damage, his shirt was ripped, a few cuts and bruises. He looked where he sat the night before, a crater had formed only a few feet from where he was lying, opening his foxhole and throwing him into the surf. Around him he saw more bodies, only they didn’t appear so lucky. The storm had passed, and now the sun shone above him. He could see the rifle, sitting in a broken heap in the sand, no stock, receiver dented and mangled. He slowly got out of the surf and began moving back toward the city. As he moved through the trenches he entered and open area where they had a command post set up. A flaming wreck now sat in the corner of the open box. He clutched his side as he approached it, still aching from the night before. He heard a shuffle behind him, something moved. As he began to turn a force slammed into him. The griffon was atop him trying savagely to choke him to death. His eyes were intense, shadowed by a black paint. His hair was dark and well trimmed, but was now disheveled and wild as his expression. Stone gagged as the griffon forced upon his windpipe. Grabbing savagely around him for anything to aid him in escaping he grabbed a handful of dirt and flung it into the griffons eyes. The griffon recoiled and fell from Stone. Stone, gripped his windpipe and coughed before leaping after the griffon and beating him. Right, left, right, left he punched at the man's face, his body, anything. The griffon grabbed at Stones shirt, pulling him in and head butting. Stone fell backward, the griffon scrambled to his feet and began violently fighting with the holster on his side. He aimed his revolver at Stone’s head. Stone put his hands slowly into the air, before delivering a hard kick into the man’s right knee cap. A sickening pop was heard as he fell, he pulled the trigger, the bullet impacting next to Stone’s head. Stone threw himself onto the griffon pilot. He grabbed his hand and beat it against the sand, trying desperately to remove the piece from his hand. Stone pulled his hand up and dug his teeth into the griffons wrist, the griffon screamed loudly and released the revolver. Stone grabbed it and bashed the butt of the handle against the man’s face. Stone aimed at the griffons face, pulling the trigger again and again until the gun only clicked. Below him was a bloody pulp, a mangled mess that was once a man. Stone fell backward, still clutching the revolver with white knuckles. He heard footsteps from near-by. He panickedly began to search the man’s body for more ammunition. Finding a speed loader he threw open the cylinder and began to frantically mash the rounds in. Once he got the rounds into the revolver he aimed for the direction of the noise, firing a round once it got to the edge of the former bunker. Equestrian soldiers fell to their bellies as they reached the edge of the hole. He signed relief as they appeared. “You alright down there? We heard the gunfire and came to see what was going on.” Stone began to laugh, for no other reason than he was alive. The soldiers pulled him out of the hole and began to help him back to their lines. “We abandoned the beach after they raided last night, couldn’t fight ‘em off from there. Once we got back to the city limits the Ack-ack guns light up, but they mostly retreated once they saw we were leaving the beach front. They haven’t made any moves today, but we’re still watching.” Stone awoke to lantern light, the building he was in had the door open, it was night outside. The doctor walked in. “Well, look who’s awake. You feeling alright young man?” Stone nodded. “Good, you must be very happy.” Stone looked confused. “Check your cutie mark.” Sure enough, on Stone’s chest was revolver crossed with a bloody knife. “Looks like you’re a fighter young man, good on you, we’ll need that talent in this war.” Stone began to feel nauseous. Killing was his special talent, as if once wasn’t bad enough. He threw up over the side of his bed, thankfully into a trash can. A siren sounded somewhere in the city. “ARTILLERY!” A great boom could be heard in the distance, silence, then the earth shook explosions rang about the city. A low horn could be heard, gunfire began, they were attacking once more. Stone looked around, the doctor was not in the room anymore. Beside his bed was a fresh uniform, some boots, and the revolver he took from the pilot. He was sore, but he managed to get out of the bed without falling. He got dressed and began to walk from the room, he stopped, he had left the revolver behind. Picking it up he started back toward the beach. Once he reached the stockade he saw what was going on. The ack-ack was atop the buildings firing into the night sky, on the horizon were brief flashes of light, showing the outline of the ships. The whirring of the planes above them could be heard zooming past. An explosion past the barricade, a bomb. Machine guns were mounted behind the barricades of sand bags, aiming for the shore, prepared for them. In the pale light of the moon it could be seen, the boats filled with troops heading for the shore. Once they landed the MG’s opened up, mowing down anything that moved, The griffons moved swiftly, running directly for the trenches the Equestrains once inhabited. They knew exactly where to go, the raid before had only been a scouting mission. The MG’s quieted down, they watched the trench lines, waiting for movement. Suddenly the lines before the barricade exploded, the griffons had thrown grenades, opening holes in the lines for them to run through. Stone’s ears rang, he couldn’t make heads or tales of where he was at. Looking up he could see the gunner with a hole in his face, thrown backward from the gun. Stone rushed forward, grabbing the gunners assistant from his daze, he motioned toward the gun. Grabbing the handles he pulled the trigger as the griffons began to emerge from the trench line, determined to overtake them. He mowed down wave after wave, alternating between firing on the trenches and the freshly arrived troops on the shore. They arrived en masse, wave after wave. Once more the front of the barricade exploded, throwing Stone backward from the gun. The gun was mangled, he looked toward the beach, they had reached the barricade. Crawling he scrambled for the nearest corner. Firing madly into the wall of soldiers he spent three rounds before reaching the corner. Peering back around the corner he could see they had formed ranks and were marching toward the inner city. Standing he began running down the street he was on, back toward the field hospital he had awoken in. Down the road he could see more griffons rounding the corner. The golden buttons on their blue grey uniforms twinkled in the darkness. They turned in his direction, they took to the knee and began to take aim upon him. He scrambled to the nearest doorway as they fired, bullets whizzing past him. Throwing open the door he ran through the empty rooms. Reaching the rear of the building he threw open the door into an alley, then went through the next building, he reached the next road, a slew of rifles were trained on him. “You ain’t a griffon.” “Neither are you.” He retorted to the troops before him. “They’re coming up the road now, we’ve gotta hurry and set up defe-” “Slow down, we already engaged them, they’re entrenched a street down from here, but you do raise a good point, these houses are really easy to get through.” The soldier before him blew a whistle, sounding it in bouts and stops. A reply from another whistle. Soldiers fall back and begin to take up residence inside the buildings. The line had been drawn in the sand, now they would have to hold it. Chapter 3Stone awoke, he was in the basement of a home in Manehatten. Right and left were the members of his squad. He grabbed the rifle beside him. Working the bolt he saw it was loaded. He checked to see of the revolver was still there, in a holster on his side they had taken from a dead grif. Heading up stairs he looked around. The ground was ripped up, many of the buildings had fallen, crawling over to the indent in the ground he found himself in the trenches they had built in the roads of the city. He reported to the command tent. “Corporal Stone, glad you could join us. The griffons have launched an attack on the bank to our south, you are to gather your squad and join Lieutenant Broken Sword for an attack to repel the attack and reinforce our boys down there.” Stone nodded and began to head back toward the basement his men had inhabited. “Oh, and this letter came for you, from Ponyville, you’re from round that way aren’t you?” Stone accepted the letter and headed back toward his men. He kicked them awake. “Rise and shine boys, we’re heading out in twenty.” They all groaned and began to stir. Stone opened the letter, figuring it to be a letter from his parents. Dear Stone, I hope you are well. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since we met upon the train. I wasn’t sure about them asking Princess Celestia to write you an admittance into the army, but I hear you went through your basic quite well. I hope to hear from you soon. Sincerely, Rarity. Inside the envelope was also a picture of her, smiling. Stone folded the letter back and put it into his haversack. He strapped the gear over his khaki uniform, doing a mental checklist of all that he had on him. He looked about the room, his men were dirty and tired, but they were ready to fight, and that’s what mattered. They walked through the tight trenches south to where they would be meeting the Lt. “Hey corporal, who was the lady in that picture back there?” Candlestick asked. Candlestick was tall and lengthy, and was a silversmith before the war. His hair was shaggy and silver, and he always seemed rather jipper. He had only recently been brought to the front, from the most recent draft. “No one private.” “Come on corporal, you can tell us.” “Candlestick, don’t bug the corporal.” “Should I bug you instead, Private Journal?” “It’s not Journal, its Book.” Sketch Book was an artist, always doodling away on scrap paper. He had inky black hair and was of average height, he enlisted at the same time as Stone, but was originally a stenographer, but once the attack on Manehatten began, it was established he was needed more as an infantryman than a writer. “And don’t bug anyone, just be quiet.” “But that's no fun.” Candle retorted. He received a small hit from the butt of Sketches rifle, he was quiet for the remainder of the short walk. The sound of gunfire got louder as they approached the bank, from a side trench they were beckoned over. “You Corporal Stone?” He nodded. “Lieutenant Sword, you’ll be assisting my platoon on the assault.” He pulled a map from the front pocket of his harness. “The grifs are dug in here, but recently they got ballsy and made a push, they moved here to where the mg’s for the bank are located. We gotta move in and push them back off of the bank and if we’re lucky here to 23rd street. Questions?” Candle raised his hand halfheartedly. “Yeah, the corporal never answered my question, and I wanna know what gives.” “Private cut the shit or I’ll have you doing this mission on your own, fall in and join the Lt’s ranks.” His troops saluted and fell into the lieutenants platoon. The Lt shouldered his rifle and began toward the bank, his sergeant followed suit, Stone fell in behind him. The Lt halted the column as he entered the bank, shortly after a pigeon flew from the shattered window of the bank, back toward their command areas. The Lt rushed from the bank and had them rush toward where they would begin the assault. Once they reached the location they sat, a silence before the storm. The ground ahead of them shook as the artillery barrage hit its mark. Dirt was kicked loose from the walls around them. Once more silence, the lt gave the signal. The men gave their war calls as they charged around the corner. Dead bodies lined the fresh shell craters, those who were spared by the artillery looked around aimlessly, disoriented and confused. They tackled them and restrained them with rope, a soldier lead them back toward the bank. They continued through the trenches. The Lt rounded a corner, he was dead before he even fully rounded corner, mowed down by the grifs mg. The sarge began to rush forward to get his fallen commander, Stone grabbed him. The Sargent resisted at first, but slowly regained his composure. Stone Removed his helmet and placed it on the barrel of his rifle. Slowly he peeked it around the corner, a hail of bullets came for it, one bounced off the helmet, the rest missed. He repeated the tactic above the trench, nothing. Moving back a few yards he called the sarge over. “Me and you are gonna scale this, once we clear out that mg, you use your whistle and signal the men to come in.” The sarge nodded. Stone was the first over, the sarge following close behind. Crawling ever so slowly atop the open ground, it left an eerie feeling upon the two. Seeing all the broken in and collapsed buildings was disorienting, the place that only two weeks before had been a bustling town. They reached a point where Stone could see the end of their trenches, where it T’d off and diverted into two different directions, no doubt where they had the mg set up. Stone pulled the grenade from his belt, he pulled the pin and lobbed it, he could hear the soft patter as it hit one wall then the ground. “Grenade!” The explosive rang true. Stone peered over, some smoke, the gunner was lying over top of the mg, his assistant propped against the wall, face blackened from the explosion. He nodded to the sergeant, who gave a short whistle, they heard the boots hitting the dirt behind them. They slipped back into the trenches. They continued onward, they had reached the junction, “Have two of your men grab that mg, we’ll take it back to the bank, they might need an extra gun.” Two soldiers began to move the equipment back to their lines. “We need the destroy this area, we could try and fortify it, but that wouldn’t fix anything they’ll just close one side and do another mg trick, we close it up and make our own mg trick, they try and get back through they get mowed down.” The sergeant nodded. They made their way back to the bank. “Send another message to barrage this area, he showed them on the map. The man nodded and scribbled another message on a small piece of parchment, he opened another pigeon cage and attached the message to its leg. Before long they could hear the sounds of the explosions. The buildings adjacent to that trench collapsed and closed that line. “Have your men mount an mg over at the opening to that trench, if grif tries to get through, mow ‘em down.” Stone added, the man nodded and turned to two men at the back of the bank. Outside the sarge stopped Stone. “Hell of a good job back there, you saved my bacon. With the Lt gone, they might want to promote me, if they do, I’d like you to be my second, would you accept?” Stone shook a negatory. “Sorry, sir. I’m no commander, I have my men, I get my orders, that's about all I can handle.” “You were on the beach the night of the first air raid, right?” He nodded. “Then you were there the first night of fighting, on the mgs?” He nodded. “You’ve got balls son, thats for sure, you keep your head down out there, you need anything, names Sargent Steam Track, you got that?” He nodded. Stone called his men up and they headed back toward the command post. “Candlestick, you wanted to know who that woman was?” “Yeah?” “She’s nobody, just a stranger on a train.” Candlestick boo’ed. “Let’s go find some chow, eh?” His men gave a short hoot. It had been almost a month since they had met him on the train. She worried, and she didn’t even know why she worried, she didn’t even know him. They knew each other for a total of thirty minutes before he left her. She wrote him a letter, she doubted it reached him. She looked out from her room in Canterlot, she could see the ocean from here, a glint of blue in the distance, nothing more. A knock upon her chamber door. “Rarity? You in there?” Twilight was behind the door. “Rarity I’m coming in.” “Yes dear, come in.” She called back to her. Twilight and Fluttershy entered her chamber. “We were just worried, haven’t seen you in a few days. You alright tin here?” “Yes, yes dear, just rather… anxious I guess.” “About him?” They could see it in her eyes, she was worried for him. “Rarity, I don’t mean to sound rude, but what’s your infatuation with this man?” “Oh that’s just it darling, I don’t know. Couldn’t tell you. I’m five years older than the lad, I don’t know a thing about him, and I’ve got my stomach all up in knots like a schoolgirl with a crush.” “Well, I had Shining check, and he’s alive. He’s in Manehatten, but… I really shouldn’t tell you this. His unit was selected to stay behind during the retreat.” Rarity went pale. “Now all that means, is that when they retreat backward to meet the Crystal Army, he’ll be on the front just a little longer, until they call full retreat.” “Oh don’t worry Rarity, I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Fluttershy pipped up, trying to comfort her friend. Rarity smiled sadly at the two of them. “Ladies, how about we go get something to eat, my treat?” Rarity said, closing the shades on her window. Chapter 5Stone looked out over the rubble that was once Manehattan. He sighted in on some movement off to his right. A helmet popped up, the spiked helmet of a grif. He waited, it moved from side to side, then disappeared. A man appeared, slowly studying his surroundings. He motioned behind him. Three more men came from the trench below. Stone sighted his rifle on the men. He pulled the trigger, the first man dropped. Waiting, he saw what they would do. They didn’t re enter the trench, instead running forward to the nearest pile of rubble. He worked the bolt of his rifle and watched. One came peering out, he died swiftly. Stone sat like this for the better part of the day, watching the pile of rubble around fifty yards away. Slowly the men fell, till only one remained. This one was smart, he refused to move from behind the rubble, but not smart enough to retreat to his trench line. The heat beat down on the shell battered landscape, Stone sat below a piece of home that fell over a remnant of a wall, creating a small opening for Stone to nestle into. The grif made his fatal move, he peered over the rubble after the better half of the day. Stone finally relaxed, resting his head upon the ground, it was over for now. He was alone here now, his squad was sent back with the others, only Stone and a select few were left now, to cause chaos to grif. The sun set now, Stone would retreat then, to the new line, tonight they had orders to retreat for good, however many were left. Night cascaded over him, it cooled him, cooled the sweat that had accumulated over his body. He put the rifle strap over his body, he pulled the revolver. The leather holster had began to wear on the black finish, it was now a light grey color. He gripped it tightly as he navigated the barren waste that was once the city. Campfires littered the area, he avoided them. He looked at the moon, he was nights child, darkness like the rest of the killers on this battlefield. He silently navigated to the bridge out of town, a train was there. He crawled toward the train. He could see equestrian troops manning the train, guns aimed at the city. “Who’s that out there? They put a spotlight on him. “You’re one of ours? Alright, there’s a cart in the back, see the sergeant outside it, then you can go in and get some rest. We’ve got another hour to go before we head out.” Stone saw the sarge and entered the cabin. Inside were a series of bunks, to his left he saw a shower, he stripped before he had even cleared the final step. He showered and reentered the bed area of the cart. There were three other men. Two were playing cards, one was sitting, staring blankly at the wall across from his bed. Stone recognized him. “Sergeant Steam Track? That you sir?” He walked over to the man. He was shaking slightly, he did not speak, only blinked occasionally. The man had broken, the death around him too much, the terrible weight. “He can’t hear you, he’s retreated inside himself.” Stone looked at the man, he sat playing cards on a bed with the other man. “He’s shell shocked, blown his spirit away.” Stone looked at Steam again, he laid down on the bunk beside him, the revolver under his pillow. The sun rose over the land as Stone awoke from his slumber. They stopped outside of the city, about three miles west. For as far as the eye could see they had trenches stretching north to south, up and down the coast. His squad was there to greet him, smiling and joking they lead him to their new home. It was, quite literally, a hole. He reported to the command station to receive his orders. The land before Stone was shrouded in darkness, like the moon it was covered in craters, and like the moon seemed totally alien to the equestria soldiers on the line. Stone sat in a rocky outcropping above the griffon lines, watching them scuttle like ants to and fro. He saw the officer, his cavalry boots polished, his hair neatly trimmed. He kept a polished cavalry saber, intricate designs engraved down the blade. He had the same revolver on his side as Stone, but his was nickel plated, the same intricate designs in the metal as on the sword. Stone aimed for his head, his neatly trimmed facial hair, waxed and combed. The grifs scattered, hitting the deck and rolling under and behind anything they could find. He cocked the bolt and chambered another round. He waited for them to settle in once more, like animals from hibernation, they cautiously peered from their holes. Someone began to gather the body of the officer up, throwing him onto a wheelbarrow. Five today, possibly a sixth. Nipped him, ran before I could confirm the shot. Good day, coming back tomorrow, then I’ll need a new spot. An artillery barrage pounded the grif trenches that night, Stone lay awake listening to the drum beats of the cannonade. He could almost hear the trumpets sounding off, a musical procession that lasted the night through. He pulled her letter from his backpack, ran his fingers over it, he looked up at the spotlights in the night sky, he stood and looked over no man's land, he had a link to the outside here. He hadn’t received any letters since, perhaps her fancy faded. The lights on the shell pocked waste glittered on the mud like ocean waves in the sun. The swampy air filled his lungs, he watched the grif search light sweep the ground. Lighting cracked in the distance, thunder rolled across the land, deafening, artillery be damned. Rain came down in droves that day, a thick coastal storm cascading them, the trenches canals for the water. Boots sloshed through the muck, a man tripped and fell, his comrades laughed and helped him up. Stone watched the grifs help the man up, he heaved a sigh, the man's uniform stained brown now, he smiled and laughed at himself. The man fell into the mud with a splosh of water, the men stopped laughing, two more fell in the span of a minute, those left dropped into the mud. Stone halted, he let the cooling water wash down his back, he hadn’t showered in nearly two months. He wiped the water from his eyes, he looked out across the maze of trenches ahead of him, intersecting and criss-crossing to and fro. He laid the rifle beside himself and flipped to his back. Thunder boomed across the land, he closed his eyes, the sound echoes around him, in the craters, the trenches, behind his eyes. He remembered the storm from Manhattan's shore, the beginning of this dreadful war. A burst of machine gun fire from down the trench line, he inhaled, an artillery barrage. He heard the impact, the calling for help, he exhaled. The trenches behind him stirred, he could hear them rising from the water, they pulled the dead through the muck and the mud to the rear. He lay like this for the better part of the day, the chill of the rain washed over him, he was sick by the time he returned to the line. In the medical tent he lay, eyes closed, not sleeping, just waiting. The storm continued outside, he could hear the streams of water flowing into the trenches. The doctor walked in, “You feeling alright Corporal Stone?” “Yes doc.” “You need anything? Some water, food?” Stone shook his head no. “Well, get some sleep then, you’re being discharged back to the front in two days.” Stone nodded. He heard crying, screaming, two men entered carrying a stretcher. The man on the stretcher was coughing, crying, screaming, everything in between. “What happened to him?” “Grif shelled us, shells weren’t explosive though, had gas in ‘em. Gas spread out, this guys took a wiff, in minutes was crying and carrying on like this. Three more just like him got taken over to baker tent, hell of a thing that gas, green and nasty. It didn’t blow away, settled into the trench, sat there till some bloke with a notebook went up and waved it away. Stone sat up. “Notebook? One of the guys carried to baker, wasn’t named Candlestick were they?” The guys shrugged, sat the man on the stretcher on on an empty bed. Stone jumped out of his bed, he wasn’t wearing a uniform, only his boxers. The doctor saw him run from the tent. “Corporal Stone? Where are you going?” Stone simply ran, he ran into the trenches, the water reached his knees, he just kept running, he’d slip and jump back up, keeping on his way. The doctor was behind him the whole way, but Stone was faster. Stone ran to a dead end, he climbed the wall. He entered open ground, he ran faster without the water. A grif mg opened up, peppering the ground around him, he slid into the next trench line, a bullet caught his arm. He found the exit to baker tent. Entering the tent he found Sketch sitting by Candlestick. He walked up, Candle’s eyes were closed, his breathing raspy and difficult. Stone closed his eyes. Stone awoke in the medical tent. The men moved the man onto the empty bed, Stone inhaled, he had been dreaming, passed out as they spoke. He calmed his breathing and leaned back. Sleep overtook him. Chapter 6The rancid water filling his boots made Stone sick. He went to the commander for his orders. “Corporal Stone, you’re being repositioned. Gather your belongings, you’re moving south.” “When should I tell my men to report to the train sir?” “Don’t son, they’re staying here. You’re being moved, alone. We need more sharpshooters outside of Dodge City, the enemy has pushed inland, using Horseshoe bay as a stomping ground. We need more reinforcements in those woods, if you could call them that anymore, and you’ve been selected.” Stone looked baffled. The commander pulled a book out from his pocket. “‘Got five today, possibly a sixth’, those are your words, eh?” Stone nodded. “Found this journal when your squad was moving your belongings when the storm hit, you’re good son, they need all the good they can get down there. Head to the train now.” The shell riddled country side whizzed by in a blur. The train veered west, through a tunnel. On the other side he saw farms fly-by, the citizens of Equestria weren’t affected by the war here, they tended to the fields, plowed the earth. Stone looked upon the wheat, flowing gently in the wind, all he could see were shell craters, water filled, dead bodies upon the edges, trench raids gone wrong. When he blinked the fields of wheat returned, shimmering in the sunlight. They encountered a mountain, heading to the grand city itself. Canterlot loomed on the horizon, he looked at the castle towers, so white and pure. It reminded him of a white building in Manehattan. The building had been immaculate in the beginning, standing proud amongst the grey and red brick buildings amongst it. One day the planes roared overhead, bombed it, crumbled to the ground. It fell just like everything else in that city, the buildings, the street signs, the men. The train pulled into the station. “Why are we stopping?” “Got some politicians boarding, gonna drop them off in Ponyville and head onto Dodge.” The guard by the door said. The cart door opened, they entered. She made eye contact with him, he her. She turned her head, walked through the cart, into the back with her friends. Stone stood and began to follow, two royal guards stood by the door, blocking his entrance. “Sorry sir, can’t allow you through here.” Stone backed off. “Hey, aren’t you Defiant Stone, sole survivor of the Manehattan Beach Bombings?” He nodded. “Me and you went through basic together, didn’t recognize you, you look different covered in all those scars and dirt. Go on through, I trust you’re no spy.” The conversation in the rear compartment of the train as he opened the door. “Defiant Stone, speak of the devil.” Rainbow Dash said. He stood before them, the wide brimmed helmet in his hands, dented and scarred. His uniform was a dark brown, coated with mud and grime, stained with blood below the left breast, not his own. His boots were cut here and there, deeply in some places. His face was tired and leathery, a deep scar cut across his left cheek, a spackling of a few others remained here and there, one coming down above his right eye. His hair was rather shaggy, greasy and grimy, it was caked in mud. His dark brown eyes drooped as he looked at them, a sadness in them. “Can we help you? Or are you just going to look at us with puppy dog eyes?” Twilight asked. “I came to talk to Rarity if that be okay.” All eyes went to her, she faced the rear of the cart. “And what about, may I ask?” “About why you never wrote me back I suppose.” They all froze, slowly turning to look at him. He pulled his journal from his pocket. He scribbled his letter on it, he reached into his other pocket, pulling her letter from that pocket. He placed them upon the table, the book closed, but her letter stuck out as a bookmark. He walked back into his compartment. They opened the journal. Looks like a storm tonight, good, heat too damn much. Hit during the rain last night, nearly killed by bomb. Killed a pilot, him or me I guess. Can still see his face. They stormed the beach last night, wasn’t good. Manned the mg until they overran me, damn grifs. Dug in in some building, terrible noise those cannons are. Promoted today, have a fireteam now, good guys, green as grass. Wish they could keep that, this wars getting to be too much. Assaulted the enemy today, killed the Lt. in charge, almost got the sarge, saved him. Killed two, damn fools. I decided to write her back, figure she deserves something. Sketch drew a picture of me, decided to send it to her as well, she might like it. Troops moved west today, left a hundred of us behind to cover the retreat. Got three today, fine hunting now. Found a good building to hide in, got nearly ten today! Fine hunting indeed. Almost fragged today, got four trying to leave the trench, moving back to our lines tonight, can’t wait. Found the sergeant from that assault, shell shocked, poor man. Can still hear the cannons when I fall asleep, infernal noise. Went into the pit today, found a good spot to pick off grif from, got five, fine shooting. Had to leave that hide today, grif found I was there, none to please, called in the cannons, nearly lost my limbs I reckon, my ears are still ringing, damn cannons. Got five today, possibly a sixth. Nipped him, ran before I could confirm the shot. Good day, coming back tomorrow, then I’ll need a new spot. In the hospital, damned war is too much. Laid in the rain until I was sick, felt good, first shower in a while, upsides. She hasn’t written back, figure she can’t be bothered, probably a fine thing, I’ll die in these trenches, then they’ll put some dirt on me, bury me on the spot. I saw the worms eating a boy in crater today, can’t stop seeing it. Been having nightmares, some boys brought in another, grifs dropped some kind of gas on him, dreamt they got Candle, he was wheezing and gasping, couldn’t bear the thought, dreams keep getting more vivid. They’re shelling grif right now, I swear the noise gets worse each time, wearing me down. They put down the journal, Rarity opened it to the page her letter marked, read the letter. A tear came to her eye, she never received the letter, lost on the way to her. They all began to cry, the journal to much, they never thought of it being that way. She entered the train cart, he sat beside the window, looking out past the fields of grain, he didn’t focus on anything particular. She sat beside him, handing him the journal, she laid it on his lap, he placed his right hand upon it. “I’m sorry, I had no idea.” He nodded. “You must be upset.” “No, I figured they intercepted the letter, couldn’t let it get into the wrong hands.” He looked at her. “I ain’t slept in three days, not since the fever. I suppose you read the journal, you can see why.” Her eyes were teary again. He opened his shirt. “I got my cutie mark, killing, a damned joke. I’ve been killing daily, an awful grief on me. I went looking for adventure, dreamed of medals and being a hero, now I dream of the worms in a young man's eyes, the maggots that swarm the corpses, no difference between us and them, just these damn uniforms.” They sat in silence, the train rolled down the track, the horn sounded. “Where are you headed? Are you done?” “No, Dodge, reinforcing the ranks there. This wars only just begun, not going to be finished soon.” The train rolled to a stop. “Your stop, and don’t worry about me, I can make it through this.” He gave a sad smile. As she left the train she turned, he once more looked out the window, looking out beyond the fields, no focus, just starring. Chapter 7As he exited the train in Dodge, the heat hit him like a wave. He could see the miles of desert spanning out in the distance, lifeless, daunting. “You from up north?” Stone turned, a gentleman in officer attire stood on the station platform. “Defiant Stone is it? Read your file, survived the beach, the city, the retreat?” Stone nodded. “Well, good. We need tough boys down here, that swamp takes the rest, if grif don’t get ‘em first.” Stone followed the officer through the streets of Dodge Junction. The officer told him about the swamp, what grif was doing with his troops, where the Equestrians were set up. They met a column ready to march out. “Better take your spot Corporal.” They marched through the immense dry heat of the desert to the swamplands. They broke the column once they reached rear lines, a smattering of drooping tents. They heard the crying and calling, the medical tent was filled, many boys just sitting on the ground outside the tent clutching bloody nubs, coughing and wheezing, crying, holding the deceased. Stone looked at them, the tired empty eyes looked back, he thought of the sargent on the train out of Manehattan. He went to the command tent. “Where do you want me?” “You the sharpshooter?” He nodded. “Report along the lines, find where you think they’ll need you, go out and hunt.” Stone began toward the front. He exited the wire in the early dawn, crawling through the mud he slid on his belly under the barbed wire, a hand caught his ankle, a weak grasp upon his boot. He turned to find a man against a rock, belly slit from chest to crotch, the flies crawled between his exposed organs, the man looked at Stone. “Kill me.” Stone simply stared. The man looked on himself, the pale blue light revealed his wounds to himself. He began to vomit, stone could see the organs tense, the vile black came from his lips, chunks of bread and meat still contained within. It slid down his shirt and rested on the entrails. “Kill me, please.” Tears flowed from both men's eyes, Stone began to remove his bayonet from the scabbard. His shaky hands gripped the handle in a white knuckle embrace, he pushed the blade into the man, just below his breast bone, he pushed up and to his right. He hit the heart, the man jerked slightly, body too weak to respond. He gagged, he had punctured a lung as well. Stone fell back as the man slowly died, and cried. Stone awoke in a sweat, hyperventilating. He looked around, the man was gone, he was in the shelter at the front lines. He dressed in the darkness. Slipping over the trench wall he slipped on his stomach through the swampy muck. He passed a large rock, he looked at it, nothing. He found a downed tree, the base shattered by a shell or mortar. He put a tarp over himself, covered it with tree branches. The quiet of the night was almost serene, the tweeting of a bird in the distance, crickets sounding nearby. He watched grif, they had mostly removed the thick wool blouses of their uniforms. He saw the clips, shimmering, on the man before him suspenders. His henley was dirty, deep sweat stains below his arms. The grif grabbed a crate and began to carry it from one end of the trench to the other. The heavy wooden box dropped and smashed against the ground, the man fell with it. Two other grifs ran to him, helping him up, they fell to. No other men came to help. Stone sat the rifle down, resting the action on his blouse. A mirage formed before him, across the top if grifs trench. It flowed with the wind from left to right, the hot wet breeze came across him as well, the sweat flowed down his forehead and into his eyes. Night slipped over the land, he moved back to the lines. The sounding of cannons hit his ear drums, the men knew the grifs would shell them through the night. The cannons got louder, increased in depth and volume, the Equestrians looked worried. The cannonade hit them, a shell impacted before Stone’s eyes. The world was a blur, he heard the familiar ringing of deafness. He cupped an ear, tried to decipher the images, he couldn’t get the world in focus. He knew more shells were coming from the dirt impacting his face, the earth shaking. He finally got his vision clear, he saw the men pinned against the trench walls, shaking, the acrid smell of gunpowder and fresh turned earth. He looked behind him, darkness. When he awoke it was nightfall, he could hear the gun fodder in the distance, toward Dodge. He looked himself over, his leg was bleeding, a gash down the calf. The twilight gleamed overhead, he crawled away slowly, down the trench. His rifle was gone, the revolver was still present. He slipped through the mud and the muck and shell craters in the moonlight, silence, his companion, hung around him. He heard the suction of the grif boots as he crawled from a crater, he stopped, sliding back down the slope into the rancid water below. He waited, the boots came closer, they spoke of home. Slowly they passed by, he felt light headed, he emerged. The griffons walked by lantern light through the shell riddled field, toward the front, chatting and laughing. Stone crawled until the sun rose, he looked for a crevice to crawl into, out of the sunlight, away from the grifs sight. He crawled below a boulder a small ditch sat below, the smell of rich earth took his nostrils. An intermittent cycle of reality and hallucinations filed his day. He looked at the underside of the rock, the water etchings cut along the bottom, the shells imprinted into it. He watched through a surreal filter leaving home, all the boys around him, how they chanted and sang, the spirit they maintained, the happiness. He watched the scene turn to the beach, the wet sand from the previous night's rainfall, the bodies slung around from the hurricane bombardment, the red tide of the ocean rising and falling. The griffon pilot fighting savagely, both of them savages battering and beating the other, the red paste of the man's face, the mush left where he used to have eyes. A spider crawled into view, walking on the bottom of the rock, its clutch filled with eggs, he focused on it. It encountered an ant, the ant tried to stand before the menace, the spider reached out and touched it, the ant tried to fight, struggle, the grasp enclosed, the spider bit into the ant, its jaws closing into its exoskeleton, into the soft interior, the ant struggled still, it stopped suddenly. The spider wasn’t troubled by the death of the ant, it was merely a means to an end, to flourish the next generation. The gleam of silver along the spiders back morphed into a cavalry saber, long and with intricate designs. The grif commander stood behind a table looking at his map, his hair combed, moustache waxed into a handlebar. His uniform was immaculate, buttons polished, jackboots remained shimmering, even around the splatters of mud along the bottom. His right hand rested upon the pommel of his sword, he fell, the black hole in his lapel appearing as the crimson one in his back did. The eyes glossed over soon after, his body hoisted into a wheelbarrow, moved into the back of the lines. He was dragged from beneath the rock, three grifs above him. He struggled to focus on them, he couldn’t keep his eyes open. They picked him up, his vision went dark again. Chapter 8The tent around him thrummed with activity, he couldn’t focus on who the people around him were, what they were doing. He felt the slow bump and grind of the train, the whistle sounded, his mind throbbed. He felt hands upon him, on his leg, he couldn’t move his arms. His head swam, he could move that, barely, eyelids fluttering, he could only see a blinding white light. Something touched his face, he felt warm, he closed his eyelids. A hand rested on his cheek, something hit his forehead, it was cold, it dripped down along his forehead. The crust on his eyes slowly gave way, he opened his eyes, she sat above him, crying. He tried to speak, only raspy breaths found their way to the service. She opened her eyes, she swelled with happiness. She lefited a cup of water to his lips, the cool liquid washed over the cracked skin of his lips, he downed it slowly, he felt so thirsty. When the water was gone he closed his eyes and slept again. He awoke in a soft bed, she still sat above him. “You’re awake.” “Where am I?” “Canterlot General. They brought you in a week ago.” “I remember three grifs pulling me from below a rock, how?” “They found you on the Summer Sun Celebration, the grifs celebrate it to, it was a truce.” She smiled. “But that doesn’t matter, you’re alive.” He looked at her with tired, weary eyes. “The doctor wanted to tell you, but you’re being discharged.” He kept the stoic expression of grief on his face, she continued a weary smile, it was hard to be excited when he looked so sad. He remained bedridden for several more weeks after that, he relearned to walk, he always kept that expression of grief. The armistice was called soon after, the war was over. He never learned why it had been fought, what the terms for an end were. They say it was over land, the grifs wanted farming land, some say the grif was just a war machine in need of fuel, no one can ever agree. On the armistice his commander from Manehattan visited him in the hospital. “Son, I’m glad you made it through. They briefed me on what happened, and I’m sorry to say this, knowing what you’ve been through.” Stone looked into the man’s eyes. He placed a folder on the bed beside Stone. “Sketch and Candle died a week ago.” Stone’s hand clenched into a fist. “I know that can’t be easy to swallow… I…” The commander began to weep, he walked from the room. Stone flipped the table next to him, he toppled the I.V pole beside him. He screamed and screamed, he punched the nurse that tried to calm him down. He climbed from the bed, he wandered out of the hospital in an angry rage, flipping anything in his way. He entered the train, in the hospital gown and nothing more. No one came near him. When the train came to Hollow Shades, he went off through the woods to the east. He had the folder, it was a map to where they had been buried. He came to rest on a dirt mound behind the trenches, two wooden crosses adorned the graves. Falling to his knees, he began to weep. The folder sat beside him in the mud, a letter fell out. Corporal Stone, been a few months since they moved you. Sketch and I are still here, I’ve been promoted in your absence. I rather like the looks of these stripes. I’ve been having nightmares, about the war, I can’t sleep most nights, neither can Sketch. The noise of those damned guns is getting to me I think, I can’t stop hearing it. The other boys got bombed last week, had to leave the bodies in the field, I don’t think I can forgive myself for that. Sketch drew a picture of your dame, we’re gonna put it in with the letter. We’re getting ready to go after grif, so I’ll cut it short. Hope this finds you. Sincerely Corporal Candlestick Hours dragged on, he felt hand on his back. She sat beside him in the mud, she drew him into her arms. He wept and wept, eventually she got him to stand, he grabbed the letter, they walked back to Hollow Shades. Epilogue Epilogue On a porch on the outskirts of Ponyville he sits, he looks out past the apple trees and fields of grain at nothing. Two small children crawl into his lap. “Grandpa, what was the war like?” He doesn’t answer, only cries. The children climb off of him. She appears from the door and wraps her arms around him, he weeps. His hand clenches the letter, mud stained, smudged. The grandkids run off and play, their laughter echoes in his ears. “We were like them once, we damned fools.” Chapter 4Stone looked into the small fire they had in the center of the basement dwelling. A small hole had been broken into the ceiling above them, just enough for the smoke to escape, not enough for a grenade to fit into. Candle lay on his back, snoring loudly, Sketch was doodling nearby. The other two members of his squad were snoozing peacefully on the other side of the room. Sketch looked up from his notebook. “So who was she really Stone?” “I told you, just a stranger on a train, who sent me some mail.” Sketch nodded and went back to his doodle. “What are you drawing now?” He turned the notebook to his commanding officer. A sketch of the bay, a sailboat, and a man looking out over the water. “Who’’s that supposed to be?” “You sir.” Stone gave him a puzzled look. “I was on the beach the day before the attack, I was with Commander Iron Plate. I saw you watching the water from your foxhole, I only remembered today when that sargent mentioned it. Thought it’d make a nice drawing.” Stone nodded. “Maybe you can send it to your lady friend, eh?” He smiled at the man across from him. Stone chuckled and reached into his haversack for the letter. He read it again, he looked at the picture of her. “You should draw her instead, she’s more picturesque.” He handed the photograph over to Sketch. “Why don’t you write her sir? She’s real pretty, she at least deserves a reply.” He ripped a piece of paper from his sketchbook and handed Stone a pencil. Dear Rarity, I thank you for the letter. I am well, here in Manehattan. I got my cutie mark here, so there’s that. I thank you and your friends for signing off to get me into the army, that was very generous of you all. I have your picture, its very nice. One of the soldiers drew a sketch of me and insists that I send it to you, I told him I wasn’t a very good muse. Defiant Stone. He folded the letter up and placed it in the same envelope she sent his letter in. Sketch handed him the finished drawing and his photo back. He put the drawing into the envelope. He placed the photo and her letter into his haversack and closed it up.
Chapter 1The morning began in Ponyville like every other day; the birds began to tweet, the sun rose slowly over the horizon, people began to stir in their dwellings. A news boy ran through the streets with the daily news. “War is declared! War is declared! Read all about it, griffons declare war on Equestria!” People sprung from their homes to find what the boy was calling about. The scrappy young boy was now standing adjacent to the train station, waving the daily times in the air, fresh from the presses in Canterlot, the headlines rang true. WAR ON THE HORIZON: GRIFFONS DECLARE WAR UPON THE NATION! At three in the afternoon, western time, in the small port town of Hoof Harbor, a telegram was received from the Griffon Capital. This telegram was immediately followed by an attack upon the northern border of our great nation. From all sides a daring air raid upon the city of Trottingham. The Telegram read of war. With this there have been no statements by the Princess, one can only assume she is in mourning for those dear lost souls in Trottingham. God rest their souls, and god be with you all. The town was silent for the day, no one spoke, no more did the birds sing. The next morning the train was jammed full, all the young men in the town were on their way to Canterlot, to sign their enlistment papers, to join the Canterlot Expeditionary Force. It is here we meet our hero, Defiant Stone. A tall young man, he looks no different than any of the other boys in the train cart with him. His long black hair contained a deep red stripe though it. He looked around at all the boys he inhabited the coach with, packed from wall to wall. A the town blacksmith's son, the jewelers boy, the apple farmer from outside of town, so many more. A band played marching songs upon the station, families turned up in droves to wave off these young men. The train pulled from the station as they leaned from the windows, smiling faces, crying faces all passed by them in a blur, Stone waved and smiled, he felt his chest swell with pride. After they had departed the town the boys pulled their heads back into the carriage and began to chat amongst themselves. Stone was lost in a daydream, imagining returning back home, a hero. He had just survived the war, saved some colts lives, now he returned home, the princess had given him a medal, he truly was a hero. A voice pulled him from his fantasy. “You heading to Canterlot to join the army?” He turned his head to find the source. A boy with dark green hair smiled at him. “Yeah, reckon we all are.” The green haired boy chuckled. “I suppose so, guess I should have figured. Names Golden Sale, I worked the general store in town, you are?” “Defiant Stone.” “Well Stone, what did you do in town?” Stone looked away. “Oh.. you don’t have your cutie mark do you?” “Keep your voice down, they don’t let blank flanks in the army. You gotta have a special talent to be allowed in.” The boy ahead of them turned around. “You say you a blank flank?” “What’s it to you?” Stone retorted. “No problem friend, just would hate to see you get up there and be turned away.” The brown haired boy ahead of them said giving Stone a snarky look. “Well, um, excuse me, I have to find the little colts room.” “Down the aisle to the caboose I think.” Stone thanked him and got out of his seat as Golden and the brown haired boy began to converse. As Stone entered the caboose he saw it was actually a private cart. Six women sat in circle and talked about the news. “Sorry ladies, just looking for the little colts room.” “Oh no problem dear, you may use the one in here.” A woman with purple hair pointed toward the door to the side of the cart. As he exited the small room the ladies stopped him. “Are you one of the boys heading to the recruiter in Canterlot?” “Yes mam, going to serve my princess proudly.” They all smiled and chuckled softly. “Something wrong mam’s?” “We just admire yer gusto partner, you got spiff is all.” A blonde lady mare said, pushing back her hat. “Well thank you mam, I should probably head back to the cart with the others, not to long to go until we reach the station.” “Nonsense darling, stay here and chit chat with us, no sense in being stuck in that stuffy cabin with the rest of those boys.” The purple haired woman spoke. He sat reluctantly. “So tell us, what's your name?” “Defiant Stone mam, you ladies?” Rarity, Applejack, Fluttershy, Pinkie, Rainbow, and Twilight. “You ladies work for the princess don’t you?” They nodded a confirmatory. “I uh, I hate to ask, but do you know if she would ever let a blank flank in her royal army?” The ladies all gave him a sad look. “Well, I guess she may, you never know.” “I ask for my friend of course, not me, I-I’ve definitely got my mark.” The ladies all smiled sadly at him. They all made idle chatter until they reached the station. “Well ladies, it was nice chatting with all of you, but i gotta hurry to the recruiter before the lines start up.” They all bid him adieu and he was off. He reached the front of the line. “Name?” Said the white headed lady at the desk ahead of him. “Defiant Stone mam.” “Age and height?” “18, and 6’1.” “Special Talent.” He froze, they had never let anyone without a special talent into the ranks. “I uh.. I don’t have one mam.” “Pardon?” “I don’t have a special talent.” “You’re fully grown and don’t have a special talent?” “Yes mam.” Calls to stop holding up the line came from behind him. “I’m sorry son, we can’t allow you into the service, you have to be able to contribute to the effort somehow, otherwise you’re just taking up enlistment space.” He hung his head and began to walk out of the office. As he reached the station a call came from behind him. “Stone, Defiant Stone.” A boy came running to him. The boy had green hair and wore a purple coat. “This is from the princess. Was told to deliver it to you right away.” “How’d she know where to find me?” The boy shrugged. “Well, thanks I guess.” Dear Stone, I heard of your predicament from my faithful student Twilight Sparkle, of whom you made acquaintance with on the train ride to Canterlot. I am glad to hear that their are young men like you to join my guard and protect our nation. While this war saddens me, I’m glad to have young men like you there to fight it. Within the envelope this letter is contained within is a message, take it to the recruiter and you will be admitted into the army. May god be with you. Princess Celestia, her royal highness. He stared slack jawed at the letter, unable to fully comprehend what it said. He began to hoot and holler and dance down the street back to the recruiter. He walked back, skipping past the line back to the white haired woman from before, handing her the letter. “Well then,” she said upon reading the letter,” I suppose this changes things. She dug into the waste bin beside her and retrieved his form. ADMITTED. He stood in front of the guard captain, a tall man with blue hair. “You may have been admitted into her majesties royal army, but that does not mean you will serve. If you cannot pass this training course, you will return home, sad and broken, to tell your families you failed.” Many of the boys grimaced at the words, Stone remained stoic, looking straight forward. “We have one week to train you all for the service, after that, you will be given your assignment and sent off to help with the war effort.” The captain walked the line, asking each boy for his special talent and name. “Name?!” “Defiant Stone, Sir!” “Special Talent?!” “Don’t have one, sir!” “Don’t have one? How in the hell did you ever get admitted to my army?” “Princess Celestia admitted me, sir.” “You may have some kind of ties to the princess, but around here, that doesn’t matter. I’ll be watching you, you’ll be out of here in no time I bet.” They trained and trained, practicing marching, entrenching, shooting and fighting hand to hand. After the week they were assigned their jobs by the sergeant. “Defiant Stone, infantry.” Stone sat on the train to the front. The griffons had inhabited the Island Trottingham once sat on since the initial air raid had caused the civilians to flee. Fortifications had been set up along the coast, a maze work of trenches and pillboxes. Stone studied the rifle he held in his hand, a bolt action rifle dialed in for 100 yards, he was the finest marksman in the class, yet no cutie mark to be seen. He didn’t focus on that, he looked out the window, the trenches, the ocean. They stopped the train at Manehattan, the city was empty, all the civilians had fled for fear of being attacked themselves. Stone settled into his fox hole in the northern shore of the island. The sun had settled, it had been yet another week without an attack, he began to wonder what had happened to the griffons, had they given up? “Garry griffon already wussin out on us, scared now that he’s heard we got an attack force ready to beat him out.” A voice called from further down the trench. “Yeah, yeah, just stay sharp, don’t want ‘garry griffon’ sneaking up on us while you run your big mouth.” Someone responded, followed by a choir of laughter from those around them. Stone clutched the rifle, sitting up he peered over his foxhole at the ocean, a dark storm was on the horizon, lightning flashed, thunder cracked across the water. Stone thought he had seen something in the flash of lightning, but couldn’t be sure. Once more, a crack of lightning, shapes in the light, then darkness. He was now staring fully at the storm, watching. Wind licked the ocean with ever increasing fervor, hats were thrown from men's heads, sand was thrown around wildly. Again, he saw it, a large oval in the storm, were his eyes playing tricks upon him. Suddenly, the calm before the storm. “You can bet when those grifs get here, they’ll have me to answer t-” The sudden clack of machine gun fire called from above. It had closed in over them rather quickly, but now it was upon them, bombs exploded around him, Stone dug his hands into his helmet, holding on. Machine gun fodder peppered the ground, then the buzzing. The soft hum of the planes, the guns began to churn away, then more bombs. The planes moved in darkness overhead, griffons could see in the dark, so they had no problem navigating, but the equestrians were blind, they cowered in their holes as the griffons bombarded them. Stone cried as the bombs exploded around, this wasn’t what he was expecting. He cried and tried to remember home, then a flash, a force, and darkness.
Chapter 2Stone awoke as the sun was cresting the horizon, he could feel the turf of the ocean on his side, tickling him awake. He scanned his body, no major damage, his shirt was ripped, a few cuts and bruises. He looked where he sat the night before, a crater had formed only a few feet from where he was lying, opening his foxhole and throwing him into the surf. Around him he saw more bodies, only they didn’t appear so lucky. The storm had passed, and now the sun shone above him. He could see the rifle, sitting in a broken heap in the sand, no stock, receiver dented and mangled. He slowly got out of the surf and began moving back toward the city. As he moved through the trenches he entered and open area where they had a command post set up. A flaming wreck now sat in the corner of the open box. He clutched his side as he approached it, still aching from the night before. He heard a shuffle behind him, something moved. As he began to turn a force slammed into him. The griffon was atop him trying savagely to choke him to death. His eyes were intense, shadowed by a black paint. His hair was dark and well trimmed, but was now disheveled and wild as his expression. Stone gagged as the griffon forced upon his windpipe. Grabbing savagely around him for anything to aid him in escaping he grabbed a handful of dirt and flung it into the griffons eyes. The griffon recoiled and fell from Stone. Stone, gripped his windpipe and coughed before leaping after the griffon and beating him. Right, left, right, left he punched at the man's face, his body, anything. The griffon grabbed at Stones shirt, pulling him in and head butting. Stone fell backward, the griffon scrambled to his feet and began violently fighting with the holster on his side. He aimed his revolver at Stone’s head. Stone put his hands slowly into the air, before delivering a hard kick into the man’s right knee cap. A sickening pop was heard as he fell, he pulled the trigger, the bullet impacting next to Stone’s head. Stone threw himself onto the griffon pilot. He grabbed his hand and beat it against the sand, trying desperately to remove the piece from his hand. Stone pulled his hand up and dug his teeth into the griffons wrist, the griffon screamed loudly and released the revolver. Stone grabbed it and bashed the butt of the handle against the man’s face. Stone aimed at the griffons face, pulling the trigger again and again until the gun only clicked. Below him was a bloody pulp, a mangled mess that was once a man. Stone fell backward, still clutching the revolver with white knuckles. He heard footsteps from near-by. He panickedly began to search the man’s body for more ammunition. Finding a speed loader he threw open the cylinder and began to frantically mash the rounds in. Once he got the rounds into the revolver he aimed for the direction of the noise, firing a round once it got to the edge of the former bunker. Equestrian soldiers fell to their bellies as they reached the edge of the hole. He signed relief as they appeared. “You alright down there? We heard the gunfire and came to see what was going on.” Stone began to laugh, for no other reason than he was alive. The soldiers pulled him out of the hole and began to help him back to their lines. “We abandoned the beach after they raided last night, couldn’t fight ‘em off from there. Once we got back to the city limits the Ack-ack guns light up, but they mostly retreated once they saw we were leaving the beach front. They haven’t made any moves today, but we’re still watching.” Stone awoke to lantern light, the building he was in had the door open, it was night outside. The doctor walked in. “Well, look who’s awake. You feeling alright young man?” Stone nodded. “Good, you must be very happy.” Stone looked confused. “Check your cutie mark.” Sure enough, on Stone’s chest was revolver crossed with a bloody knife. “Looks like you’re a fighter young man, good on you, we’ll need that talent in this war.” Stone began to feel nauseous. Killing was his special talent, as if once wasn’t bad enough. He threw up over the side of his bed, thankfully into a trash can. A siren sounded somewhere in the city. “ARTILLERY!” A great boom could be heard in the distance, silence, then the earth shook explosions rang about the city. A low horn could be heard, gunfire began, they were attacking once more. Stone looked around, the doctor was not in the room anymore. Beside his bed was a fresh uniform, some boots, and the revolver he took from the pilot. He was sore, but he managed to get out of the bed without falling. He got dressed and began to walk from the room, he stopped, he had left the revolver behind. Picking it up he started back toward the beach. Once he reached the stockade he saw what was going on. The ack-ack was atop the buildings firing into the night sky, on the horizon were brief flashes of light, showing the outline of the ships. The whirring of the planes above them could be heard zooming past. An explosion past the barricade, a bomb. Machine guns were mounted behind the barricades of sand bags, aiming for the shore, prepared for them. In the pale light of the moon it could be seen, the boats filled with troops heading for the shore. Once they landed the MG’s opened up, mowing down anything that moved, The griffons moved swiftly, running directly for the trenches the Equestrains once inhabited. They knew exactly where to go, the raid before had only been a scouting mission. The MG’s quieted down, they watched the trench lines, waiting for movement. Suddenly the lines before the barricade exploded, the griffons had thrown grenades, opening holes in the lines for them to run through. Stone’s ears rang, he couldn’t make heads or tales of where he was at. Looking up he could see the gunner with a hole in his face, thrown backward from the gun. Stone rushed forward, grabbing the gunners assistant from his daze, he motioned toward the gun. Grabbing the handles he pulled the trigger as the griffons began to emerge from the trench line, determined to overtake them. He mowed down wave after wave, alternating between firing on the trenches and the freshly arrived troops on the shore. They arrived en masse, wave after wave. Once more the front of the barricade exploded, throwing Stone backward from the gun. The gun was mangled, he looked toward the beach, they had reached the barricade. Crawling he scrambled for the nearest corner. Firing madly into the wall of soldiers he spent three rounds before reaching the corner. Peering back around the corner he could see they had formed ranks and were marching toward the inner city. Standing he began running down the street he was on, back toward the field hospital he had awoken in. Down the road he could see more griffons rounding the corner. The golden buttons on their blue grey uniforms twinkled in the darkness. They turned in his direction, they took to the knee and began to take aim upon him. He scrambled to the nearest doorway as they fired, bullets whizzing past him. Throwing open the door he ran through the empty rooms. Reaching the rear of the building he threw open the door into an alley, then went through the next building, he reached the next road, a slew of rifles were trained on him. “You ain’t a griffon.” “Neither are you.” He retorted to the troops before him. “They’re coming up the road now, we’ve gotta hurry and set up defe-” “Slow down, we already engaged them, they’re entrenched a street down from here, but you do raise a good point, these houses are really easy to get through.” The soldier before him blew a whistle, sounding it in bouts and stops. A reply from another whistle. Soldiers fall back and begin to take up residence inside the buildings. The line had been drawn in the sand, now they would have to hold it.
Chapter 3Stone awoke, he was in the basement of a home in Manehatten. Right and left were the members of his squad. He grabbed the rifle beside him. Working the bolt he saw it was loaded. He checked to see of the revolver was still there, in a holster on his side they had taken from a dead grif. Heading up stairs he looked around. The ground was ripped up, many of the buildings had fallen, crawling over to the indent in the ground he found himself in the trenches they had built in the roads of the city. He reported to the command tent. “Corporal Stone, glad you could join us. The griffons have launched an attack on the bank to our south, you are to gather your squad and join Lieutenant Broken Sword for an attack to repel the attack and reinforce our boys down there.” Stone nodded and began to head back toward the basement his men had inhabited. “Oh, and this letter came for you, from Ponyville, you’re from round that way aren’t you?” Stone accepted the letter and headed back toward his men. He kicked them awake. “Rise and shine boys, we’re heading out in twenty.” They all groaned and began to stir. Stone opened the letter, figuring it to be a letter from his parents. Dear Stone, I hope you are well. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since we met upon the train. I wasn’t sure about them asking Princess Celestia to write you an admittance into the army, but I hear you went through your basic quite well. I hope to hear from you soon. Sincerely, Rarity. Inside the envelope was also a picture of her, smiling. Stone folded the letter back and put it into his haversack. He strapped the gear over his khaki uniform, doing a mental checklist of all that he had on him. He looked about the room, his men were dirty and tired, but they were ready to fight, and that’s what mattered. They walked through the tight trenches south to where they would be meeting the Lt. “Hey corporal, who was the lady in that picture back there?” Candlestick asked. Candlestick was tall and lengthy, and was a silversmith before the war. His hair was shaggy and silver, and he always seemed rather jipper. He had only recently been brought to the front, from the most recent draft. “No one private.” “Come on corporal, you can tell us.” “Candlestick, don’t bug the corporal.” “Should I bug you instead, Private Journal?” “It’s not Journal, its Book.” Sketch Book was an artist, always doodling away on scrap paper. He had inky black hair and was of average height, he enlisted at the same time as Stone, but was originally a stenographer, but once the attack on Manehatten began, it was established he was needed more as an infantryman than a writer. “And don’t bug anyone, just be quiet.” “But that's no fun.” Candle retorted. He received a small hit from the butt of Sketches rifle, he was quiet for the remainder of the short walk. The sound of gunfire got louder as they approached the bank, from a side trench they were beckoned over. “You Corporal Stone?” He nodded. “Lieutenant Sword, you’ll be assisting my platoon on the assault.” He pulled a map from the front pocket of his harness. “The grifs are dug in here, but recently they got ballsy and made a push, they moved here to where the mg’s for the bank are located. We gotta move in and push them back off of the bank and if we’re lucky here to 23rd street. Questions?” Candle raised his hand halfheartedly. “Yeah, the corporal never answered my question, and I wanna know what gives.” “Private cut the shit or I’ll have you doing this mission on your own, fall in and join the Lt’s ranks.” His troops saluted and fell into the lieutenants platoon. The Lt shouldered his rifle and began toward the bank, his sergeant followed suit, Stone fell in behind him. The Lt halted the column as he entered the bank, shortly after a pigeon flew from the shattered window of the bank, back toward their command areas. The Lt rushed from the bank and had them rush toward where they would begin the assault. Once they reached the location they sat, a silence before the storm. The ground ahead of them shook as the artillery barrage hit its mark. Dirt was kicked loose from the walls around them. Once more silence, the lt gave the signal. The men gave their war calls as they charged around the corner. Dead bodies lined the fresh shell craters, those who were spared by the artillery looked around aimlessly, disoriented and confused. They tackled them and restrained them with rope, a soldier lead them back toward the bank. They continued through the trenches. The Lt rounded a corner, he was dead before he even fully rounded corner, mowed down by the grifs mg. The sarge began to rush forward to get his fallen commander, Stone grabbed him. The Sargent resisted at first, but slowly regained his composure. Stone Removed his helmet and placed it on the barrel of his rifle. Slowly he peeked it around the corner, a hail of bullets came for it, one bounced off the helmet, the rest missed. He repeated the tactic above the trench, nothing. Moving back a few yards he called the sarge over. “Me and you are gonna scale this, once we clear out that mg, you use your whistle and signal the men to come in.” The sarge nodded. Stone was the first over, the sarge following close behind. Crawling ever so slowly atop the open ground, it left an eerie feeling upon the two. Seeing all the broken in and collapsed buildings was disorienting, the place that only two weeks before had been a bustling town. They reached a point where Stone could see the end of their trenches, where it T’d off and diverted into two different directions, no doubt where they had the mg set up. Stone pulled the grenade from his belt, he pulled the pin and lobbed it, he could hear the soft patter as it hit one wall then the ground. “Grenade!” The explosive rang true. Stone peered over, some smoke, the gunner was lying over top of the mg, his assistant propped against the wall, face blackened from the explosion. He nodded to the sergeant, who gave a short whistle, they heard the boots hitting the dirt behind them. They slipped back into the trenches. They continued onward, they had reached the junction, “Have two of your men grab that mg, we’ll take it back to the bank, they might need an extra gun.” Two soldiers began to move the equipment back to their lines. “We need the destroy this area, we could try and fortify it, but that wouldn’t fix anything they’ll just close one side and do another mg trick, we close it up and make our own mg trick, they try and get back through they get mowed down.” The sergeant nodded. They made their way back to the bank. “Send another message to barrage this area, he showed them on the map. The man nodded and scribbled another message on a small piece of parchment, he opened another pigeon cage and attached the message to its leg. Before long they could hear the sounds of the explosions. The buildings adjacent to that trench collapsed and closed that line. “Have your men mount an mg over at the opening to that trench, if grif tries to get through, mow ‘em down.” Stone added, the man nodded and turned to two men at the back of the bank. Outside the sarge stopped Stone. “Hell of a good job back there, you saved my bacon. With the Lt gone, they might want to promote me, if they do, I’d like you to be my second, would you accept?” Stone shook a negatory. “Sorry, sir. I’m no commander, I have my men, I get my orders, that's about all I can handle.” “You were on the beach the night of the first air raid, right?” He nodded. “Then you were there the first night of fighting, on the mgs?” He nodded. “You’ve got balls son, thats for sure, you keep your head down out there, you need anything, names Sargent Steam Track, you got that?” He nodded. Stone called his men up and they headed back toward the command post. “Candlestick, you wanted to know who that woman was?” “Yeah?” “She’s nobody, just a stranger on a train.” Candlestick boo’ed. “Let’s go find some chow, eh?” His men gave a short hoot. It had been almost a month since they had met him on the train. She worried, and she didn’t even know why she worried, she didn’t even know him. They knew each other for a total of thirty minutes before he left her. She wrote him a letter, she doubted it reached him. She looked out from her room in Canterlot, she could see the ocean from here, a glint of blue in the distance, nothing more. A knock upon her chamber door. “Rarity? You in there?” Twilight was behind the door. “Rarity I’m coming in.” “Yes dear, come in.” She called back to her. Twilight and Fluttershy entered her chamber. “We were just worried, haven’t seen you in a few days. You alright tin here?” “Yes, yes dear, just rather… anxious I guess.” “About him?” They could see it in her eyes, she was worried for him. “Rarity, I don’t mean to sound rude, but what’s your infatuation with this man?” “Oh that’s just it darling, I don’t know. Couldn’t tell you. I’m five years older than the lad, I don’t know a thing about him, and I’ve got my stomach all up in knots like a schoolgirl with a crush.” “Well, I had Shining check, and he’s alive. He’s in Manehatten, but… I really shouldn’t tell you this. His unit was selected to stay behind during the retreat.” Rarity went pale. “Now all that means, is that when they retreat backward to meet the Crystal Army, he’ll be on the front just a little longer, until they call full retreat.” “Oh don’t worry Rarity, I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Fluttershy pipped up, trying to comfort her friend. Rarity smiled sadly at the two of them. “Ladies, how about we go get something to eat, my treat?” Rarity said, closing the shades on her window.
Chapter 5Stone looked out over the rubble that was once Manehattan. He sighted in on some movement off to his right. A helmet popped up, the spiked helmet of a grif. He waited, it moved from side to side, then disappeared. A man appeared, slowly studying his surroundings. He motioned behind him. Three more men came from the trench below. Stone sighted his rifle on the men. He pulled the trigger, the first man dropped. Waiting, he saw what they would do. They didn’t re enter the trench, instead running forward to the nearest pile of rubble. He worked the bolt of his rifle and watched. One came peering out, he died swiftly. Stone sat like this for the better part of the day, watching the pile of rubble around fifty yards away. Slowly the men fell, till only one remained. This one was smart, he refused to move from behind the rubble, but not smart enough to retreat to his trench line. The heat beat down on the shell battered landscape, Stone sat below a piece of home that fell over a remnant of a wall, creating a small opening for Stone to nestle into. The grif made his fatal move, he peered over the rubble after the better half of the day. Stone finally relaxed, resting his head upon the ground, it was over for now. He was alone here now, his squad was sent back with the others, only Stone and a select few were left now, to cause chaos to grif. The sun set now, Stone would retreat then, to the new line, tonight they had orders to retreat for good, however many were left. Night cascaded over him, it cooled him, cooled the sweat that had accumulated over his body. He put the rifle strap over his body, he pulled the revolver. The leather holster had began to wear on the black finish, it was now a light grey color. He gripped it tightly as he navigated the barren waste that was once the city. Campfires littered the area, he avoided them. He looked at the moon, he was nights child, darkness like the rest of the killers on this battlefield. He silently navigated to the bridge out of town, a train was there. He crawled toward the train. He could see equestrian troops manning the train, guns aimed at the city. “Who’s that out there? They put a spotlight on him. “You’re one of ours? Alright, there’s a cart in the back, see the sergeant outside it, then you can go in and get some rest. We’ve got another hour to go before we head out.” Stone saw the sarge and entered the cabin. Inside were a series of bunks, to his left he saw a shower, he stripped before he had even cleared the final step. He showered and reentered the bed area of the cart. There were three other men. Two were playing cards, one was sitting, staring blankly at the wall across from his bed. Stone recognized him. “Sergeant Steam Track? That you sir?” He walked over to the man. He was shaking slightly, he did not speak, only blinked occasionally. The man had broken, the death around him too much, the terrible weight. “He can’t hear you, he’s retreated inside himself.” Stone looked at the man, he sat playing cards on a bed with the other man. “He’s shell shocked, blown his spirit away.” Stone looked at Steam again, he laid down on the bunk beside him, the revolver under his pillow. The sun rose over the land as Stone awoke from his slumber. They stopped outside of the city, about three miles west. For as far as the eye could see they had trenches stretching north to south, up and down the coast. His squad was there to greet him, smiling and joking they lead him to their new home. It was, quite literally, a hole. He reported to the command station to receive his orders. The land before Stone was shrouded in darkness, like the moon it was covered in craters, and like the moon seemed totally alien to the equestria soldiers on the line. Stone sat in a rocky outcropping above the griffon lines, watching them scuttle like ants to and fro. He saw the officer, his cavalry boots polished, his hair neatly trimmed. He kept a polished cavalry saber, intricate designs engraved down the blade. He had the same revolver on his side as Stone, but his was nickel plated, the same intricate designs in the metal as on the sword. Stone aimed for his head, his neatly trimmed facial hair, waxed and combed. The grifs scattered, hitting the deck and rolling under and behind anything they could find. He cocked the bolt and chambered another round. He waited for them to settle in once more, like animals from hibernation, they cautiously peered from their holes. Someone began to gather the body of the officer up, throwing him onto a wheelbarrow. Five today, possibly a sixth. Nipped him, ran before I could confirm the shot. Good day, coming back tomorrow, then I’ll need a new spot. An artillery barrage pounded the grif trenches that night, Stone lay awake listening to the drum beats of the cannonade. He could almost hear the trumpets sounding off, a musical procession that lasted the night through. He pulled her letter from his backpack, ran his fingers over it, he looked up at the spotlights in the night sky, he stood and looked over no man's land, he had a link to the outside here. He hadn’t received any letters since, perhaps her fancy faded. The lights on the shell pocked waste glittered on the mud like ocean waves in the sun. The swampy air filled his lungs, he watched the grif search light sweep the ground. Lighting cracked in the distance, thunder rolled across the land, deafening, artillery be damned. Rain came down in droves that day, a thick coastal storm cascading them, the trenches canals for the water. Boots sloshed through the muck, a man tripped and fell, his comrades laughed and helped him up. Stone watched the grifs help the man up, he heaved a sigh, the man's uniform stained brown now, he smiled and laughed at himself. The man fell into the mud with a splosh of water, the men stopped laughing, two more fell in the span of a minute, those left dropped into the mud. Stone halted, he let the cooling water wash down his back, he hadn’t showered in nearly two months. He wiped the water from his eyes, he looked out across the maze of trenches ahead of him, intersecting and criss-crossing to and fro. He laid the rifle beside himself and flipped to his back. Thunder boomed across the land, he closed his eyes, the sound echoes around him, in the craters, the trenches, behind his eyes. He remembered the storm from Manhattan's shore, the beginning of this dreadful war. A burst of machine gun fire from down the trench line, he inhaled, an artillery barrage. He heard the impact, the calling for help, he exhaled. The trenches behind him stirred, he could hear them rising from the water, they pulled the dead through the muck and the mud to the rear. He lay like this for the better part of the day, the chill of the rain washed over him, he was sick by the time he returned to the line. In the medical tent he lay, eyes closed, not sleeping, just waiting. The storm continued outside, he could hear the streams of water flowing into the trenches. The doctor walked in, “You feeling alright Corporal Stone?” “Yes doc.” “You need anything? Some water, food?” Stone shook his head no. “Well, get some sleep then, you’re being discharged back to the front in two days.” Stone nodded. He heard crying, screaming, two men entered carrying a stretcher. The man on the stretcher was coughing, crying, screaming, everything in between. “What happened to him?” “Grif shelled us, shells weren’t explosive though, had gas in ‘em. Gas spread out, this guys took a wiff, in minutes was crying and carrying on like this. Three more just like him got taken over to baker tent, hell of a thing that gas, green and nasty. It didn’t blow away, settled into the trench, sat there till some bloke with a notebook went up and waved it away. Stone sat up. “Notebook? One of the guys carried to baker, wasn’t named Candlestick were they?” The guys shrugged, sat the man on the stretcher on on an empty bed. Stone jumped out of his bed, he wasn’t wearing a uniform, only his boxers. The doctor saw him run from the tent. “Corporal Stone? Where are you going?” Stone simply ran, he ran into the trenches, the water reached his knees, he just kept running, he’d slip and jump back up, keeping on his way. The doctor was behind him the whole way, but Stone was faster. Stone ran to a dead end, he climbed the wall. He entered open ground, he ran faster without the water. A grif mg opened up, peppering the ground around him, he slid into the next trench line, a bullet caught his arm. He found the exit to baker tent. Entering the tent he found Sketch sitting by Candlestick. He walked up, Candle’s eyes were closed, his breathing raspy and difficult. Stone closed his eyes. Stone awoke in the medical tent. The men moved the man onto the empty bed, Stone inhaled, he had been dreaming, passed out as they spoke. He calmed his breathing and leaned back. Sleep overtook him.
Chapter 6The rancid water filling his boots made Stone sick. He went to the commander for his orders. “Corporal Stone, you’re being repositioned. Gather your belongings, you’re moving south.” “When should I tell my men to report to the train sir?” “Don’t son, they’re staying here. You’re being moved, alone. We need more sharpshooters outside of Dodge City, the enemy has pushed inland, using Horseshoe bay as a stomping ground. We need more reinforcements in those woods, if you could call them that anymore, and you’ve been selected.” Stone looked baffled. The commander pulled a book out from his pocket. “‘Got five today, possibly a sixth’, those are your words, eh?” Stone nodded. “Found this journal when your squad was moving your belongings when the storm hit, you’re good son, they need all the good they can get down there. Head to the train now.” The shell riddled country side whizzed by in a blur. The train veered west, through a tunnel. On the other side he saw farms fly-by, the citizens of Equestria weren’t affected by the war here, they tended to the fields, plowed the earth. Stone looked upon the wheat, flowing gently in the wind, all he could see were shell craters, water filled, dead bodies upon the edges, trench raids gone wrong. When he blinked the fields of wheat returned, shimmering in the sunlight. They encountered a mountain, heading to the grand city itself. Canterlot loomed on the horizon, he looked at the castle towers, so white and pure. It reminded him of a white building in Manehattan. The building had been immaculate in the beginning, standing proud amongst the grey and red brick buildings amongst it. One day the planes roared overhead, bombed it, crumbled to the ground. It fell just like everything else in that city, the buildings, the street signs, the men. The train pulled into the station. “Why are we stopping?” “Got some politicians boarding, gonna drop them off in Ponyville and head onto Dodge.” The guard by the door said. The cart door opened, they entered. She made eye contact with him, he her. She turned her head, walked through the cart, into the back with her friends. Stone stood and began to follow, two royal guards stood by the door, blocking his entrance. “Sorry sir, can’t allow you through here.” Stone backed off. “Hey, aren’t you Defiant Stone, sole survivor of the Manehattan Beach Bombings?” He nodded. “Me and you went through basic together, didn’t recognize you, you look different covered in all those scars and dirt. Go on through, I trust you’re no spy.” The conversation in the rear compartment of the train as he opened the door. “Defiant Stone, speak of the devil.” Rainbow Dash said. He stood before them, the wide brimmed helmet in his hands, dented and scarred. His uniform was a dark brown, coated with mud and grime, stained with blood below the left breast, not his own. His boots were cut here and there, deeply in some places. His face was tired and leathery, a deep scar cut across his left cheek, a spackling of a few others remained here and there, one coming down above his right eye. His hair was rather shaggy, greasy and grimy, it was caked in mud. His dark brown eyes drooped as he looked at them, a sadness in them. “Can we help you? Or are you just going to look at us with puppy dog eyes?” Twilight asked. “I came to talk to Rarity if that be okay.” All eyes went to her, she faced the rear of the cart. “And what about, may I ask?” “About why you never wrote me back I suppose.” They all froze, slowly turning to look at him. He pulled his journal from his pocket. He scribbled his letter on it, he reached into his other pocket, pulling her letter from that pocket. He placed them upon the table, the book closed, but her letter stuck out as a bookmark. He walked back into his compartment. They opened the journal. Looks like a storm tonight, good, heat too damn much. Hit during the rain last night, nearly killed by bomb. Killed a pilot, him or me I guess. Can still see his face. They stormed the beach last night, wasn’t good. Manned the mg until they overran me, damn grifs. Dug in in some building, terrible noise those cannons are. Promoted today, have a fireteam now, good guys, green as grass. Wish they could keep that, this wars getting to be too much. Assaulted the enemy today, killed the Lt. in charge, almost got the sarge, saved him. Killed two, damn fools. I decided to write her back, figure she deserves something. Sketch drew a picture of me, decided to send it to her as well, she might like it. Troops moved west today, left a hundred of us behind to cover the retreat. Got three today, fine hunting now. Found a good building to hide in, got nearly ten today! Fine hunting indeed. Almost fragged today, got four trying to leave the trench, moving back to our lines tonight, can’t wait. Found the sergeant from that assault, shell shocked, poor man. Can still hear the cannons when I fall asleep, infernal noise. Went into the pit today, found a good spot to pick off grif from, got five, fine shooting. Had to leave that hide today, grif found I was there, none to please, called in the cannons, nearly lost my limbs I reckon, my ears are still ringing, damn cannons. Got five today, possibly a sixth. Nipped him, ran before I could confirm the shot. Good day, coming back tomorrow, then I’ll need a new spot. In the hospital, damned war is too much. Laid in the rain until I was sick, felt good, first shower in a while, upsides. She hasn’t written back, figure she can’t be bothered, probably a fine thing, I’ll die in these trenches, then they’ll put some dirt on me, bury me on the spot. I saw the worms eating a boy in crater today, can’t stop seeing it. Been having nightmares, some boys brought in another, grifs dropped some kind of gas on him, dreamt they got Candle, he was wheezing and gasping, couldn’t bear the thought, dreams keep getting more vivid. They’re shelling grif right now, I swear the noise gets worse each time, wearing me down. They put down the journal, Rarity opened it to the page her letter marked, read the letter. A tear came to her eye, she never received the letter, lost on the way to her. They all began to cry, the journal to much, they never thought of it being that way. She entered the train cart, he sat beside the window, looking out past the fields of grain, he didn’t focus on anything particular. She sat beside him, handing him the journal, she laid it on his lap, he placed his right hand upon it. “I’m sorry, I had no idea.” He nodded. “You must be upset.” “No, I figured they intercepted the letter, couldn’t let it get into the wrong hands.” He looked at her. “I ain’t slept in three days, not since the fever. I suppose you read the journal, you can see why.” Her eyes were teary again. He opened his shirt. “I got my cutie mark, killing, a damned joke. I’ve been killing daily, an awful grief on me. I went looking for adventure, dreamed of medals and being a hero, now I dream of the worms in a young man's eyes, the maggots that swarm the corpses, no difference between us and them, just these damn uniforms.” They sat in silence, the train rolled down the track, the horn sounded. “Where are you headed? Are you done?” “No, Dodge, reinforcing the ranks there. This wars only just begun, not going to be finished soon.” The train rolled to a stop. “Your stop, and don’t worry about me, I can make it through this.” He gave a sad smile. As she left the train she turned, he once more looked out the window, looking out beyond the fields, no focus, just starring.
Chapter 7As he exited the train in Dodge, the heat hit him like a wave. He could see the miles of desert spanning out in the distance, lifeless, daunting. “You from up north?” Stone turned, a gentleman in officer attire stood on the station platform. “Defiant Stone is it? Read your file, survived the beach, the city, the retreat?” Stone nodded. “Well, good. We need tough boys down here, that swamp takes the rest, if grif don’t get ‘em first.” Stone followed the officer through the streets of Dodge Junction. The officer told him about the swamp, what grif was doing with his troops, where the Equestrians were set up. They met a column ready to march out. “Better take your spot Corporal.” They marched through the immense dry heat of the desert to the swamplands. They broke the column once they reached rear lines, a smattering of drooping tents. They heard the crying and calling, the medical tent was filled, many boys just sitting on the ground outside the tent clutching bloody nubs, coughing and wheezing, crying, holding the deceased. Stone looked at them, the tired empty eyes looked back, he thought of the sargent on the train out of Manehattan. He went to the command tent. “Where do you want me?” “You the sharpshooter?” He nodded. “Report along the lines, find where you think they’ll need you, go out and hunt.” Stone began toward the front. He exited the wire in the early dawn, crawling through the mud he slid on his belly under the barbed wire, a hand caught his ankle, a weak grasp upon his boot. He turned to find a man against a rock, belly slit from chest to crotch, the flies crawled between his exposed organs, the man looked at Stone. “Kill me.” Stone simply stared. The man looked on himself, the pale blue light revealed his wounds to himself. He began to vomit, stone could see the organs tense, the vile black came from his lips, chunks of bread and meat still contained within. It slid down his shirt and rested on the entrails. “Kill me, please.” Tears flowed from both men's eyes, Stone began to remove his bayonet from the scabbard. His shaky hands gripped the handle in a white knuckle embrace, he pushed the blade into the man, just below his breast bone, he pushed up and to his right. He hit the heart, the man jerked slightly, body too weak to respond. He gagged, he had punctured a lung as well. Stone fell back as the man slowly died, and cried. Stone awoke in a sweat, hyperventilating. He looked around, the man was gone, he was in the shelter at the front lines. He dressed in the darkness. Slipping over the trench wall he slipped on his stomach through the swampy muck. He passed a large rock, he looked at it, nothing. He found a downed tree, the base shattered by a shell or mortar. He put a tarp over himself, covered it with tree branches. The quiet of the night was almost serene, the tweeting of a bird in the distance, crickets sounding nearby. He watched grif, they had mostly removed the thick wool blouses of their uniforms. He saw the clips, shimmering, on the man before him suspenders. His henley was dirty, deep sweat stains below his arms. The grif grabbed a crate and began to carry it from one end of the trench to the other. The heavy wooden box dropped and smashed against the ground, the man fell with it. Two other grifs ran to him, helping him up, they fell to. No other men came to help. Stone sat the rifle down, resting the action on his blouse. A mirage formed before him, across the top if grifs trench. It flowed with the wind from left to right, the hot wet breeze came across him as well, the sweat flowed down his forehead and into his eyes. Night slipped over the land, he moved back to the lines. The sounding of cannons hit his ear drums, the men knew the grifs would shell them through the night. The cannons got louder, increased in depth and volume, the Equestrians looked worried. The cannonade hit them, a shell impacted before Stone’s eyes. The world was a blur, he heard the familiar ringing of deafness. He cupped an ear, tried to decipher the images, he couldn’t get the world in focus. He knew more shells were coming from the dirt impacting his face, the earth shaking. He finally got his vision clear, he saw the men pinned against the trench walls, shaking, the acrid smell of gunpowder and fresh turned earth. He looked behind him, darkness. When he awoke it was nightfall, he could hear the gun fodder in the distance, toward Dodge. He looked himself over, his leg was bleeding, a gash down the calf. The twilight gleamed overhead, he crawled away slowly, down the trench. His rifle was gone, the revolver was still present. He slipped through the mud and the muck and shell craters in the moonlight, silence, his companion, hung around him. He heard the suction of the grif boots as he crawled from a crater, he stopped, sliding back down the slope into the rancid water below. He waited, the boots came closer, they spoke of home. Slowly they passed by, he felt light headed, he emerged. The griffons walked by lantern light through the shell riddled field, toward the front, chatting and laughing. Stone crawled until the sun rose, he looked for a crevice to crawl into, out of the sunlight, away from the grifs sight. He crawled below a boulder a small ditch sat below, the smell of rich earth took his nostrils. An intermittent cycle of reality and hallucinations filed his day. He looked at the underside of the rock, the water etchings cut along the bottom, the shells imprinted into it. He watched through a surreal filter leaving home, all the boys around him, how they chanted and sang, the spirit they maintained, the happiness. He watched the scene turn to the beach, the wet sand from the previous night's rainfall, the bodies slung around from the hurricane bombardment, the red tide of the ocean rising and falling. The griffon pilot fighting savagely, both of them savages battering and beating the other, the red paste of the man's face, the mush left where he used to have eyes. A spider crawled into view, walking on the bottom of the rock, its clutch filled with eggs, he focused on it. It encountered an ant, the ant tried to stand before the menace, the spider reached out and touched it, the ant tried to fight, struggle, the grasp enclosed, the spider bit into the ant, its jaws closing into its exoskeleton, into the soft interior, the ant struggled still, it stopped suddenly. The spider wasn’t troubled by the death of the ant, it was merely a means to an end, to flourish the next generation. The gleam of silver along the spiders back morphed into a cavalry saber, long and with intricate designs. The grif commander stood behind a table looking at his map, his hair combed, moustache waxed into a handlebar. His uniform was immaculate, buttons polished, jackboots remained shimmering, even around the splatters of mud along the bottom. His right hand rested upon the pommel of his sword, he fell, the black hole in his lapel appearing as the crimson one in his back did. The eyes glossed over soon after, his body hoisted into a wheelbarrow, moved into the back of the lines. He was dragged from beneath the rock, three grifs above him. He struggled to focus on them, he couldn’t keep his eyes open. They picked him up, his vision went dark again.
Chapter 8The tent around him thrummed with activity, he couldn’t focus on who the people around him were, what they were doing. He felt the slow bump and grind of the train, the whistle sounded, his mind throbbed. He felt hands upon him, on his leg, he couldn’t move his arms. His head swam, he could move that, barely, eyelids fluttering, he could only see a blinding white light. Something touched his face, he felt warm, he closed his eyelids. A hand rested on his cheek, something hit his forehead, it was cold, it dripped down along his forehead. The crust on his eyes slowly gave way, he opened his eyes, she sat above him, crying. He tried to speak, only raspy breaths found their way to the service. She opened her eyes, she swelled with happiness. She lefited a cup of water to his lips, the cool liquid washed over the cracked skin of his lips, he downed it slowly, he felt so thirsty. When the water was gone he closed his eyes and slept again. He awoke in a soft bed, she still sat above him. “You’re awake.” “Where am I?” “Canterlot General. They brought you in a week ago.” “I remember three grifs pulling me from below a rock, how?” “They found you on the Summer Sun Celebration, the grifs celebrate it to, it was a truce.” She smiled. “But that doesn’t matter, you’re alive.” He looked at her with tired, weary eyes. “The doctor wanted to tell you, but you’re being discharged.” He kept the stoic expression of grief on his face, she continued a weary smile, it was hard to be excited when he looked so sad. He remained bedridden for several more weeks after that, he relearned to walk, he always kept that expression of grief. The armistice was called soon after, the war was over. He never learned why it had been fought, what the terms for an end were. They say it was over land, the grifs wanted farming land, some say the grif was just a war machine in need of fuel, no one can ever agree. On the armistice his commander from Manehattan visited him in the hospital. “Son, I’m glad you made it through. They briefed me on what happened, and I’m sorry to say this, knowing what you’ve been through.” Stone looked into the man’s eyes. He placed a folder on the bed beside Stone. “Sketch and Candle died a week ago.” Stone’s hand clenched into a fist. “I know that can’t be easy to swallow… I…” The commander began to weep, he walked from the room. Stone flipped the table next to him, he toppled the I.V pole beside him. He screamed and screamed, he punched the nurse that tried to calm him down. He climbed from the bed, he wandered out of the hospital in an angry rage, flipping anything in his way. He entered the train, in the hospital gown and nothing more. No one came near him. When the train came to Hollow Shades, he went off through the woods to the east. He had the folder, it was a map to where they had been buried. He came to rest on a dirt mound behind the trenches, two wooden crosses adorned the graves. Falling to his knees, he began to weep. The folder sat beside him in the mud, a letter fell out. Corporal Stone, been a few months since they moved you. Sketch and I are still here, I’ve been promoted in your absence. I rather like the looks of these stripes. I’ve been having nightmares, about the war, I can’t sleep most nights, neither can Sketch. The noise of those damned guns is getting to me I think, I can’t stop hearing it. The other boys got bombed last week, had to leave the bodies in the field, I don’t think I can forgive myself for that. Sketch drew a picture of your dame, we’re gonna put it in with the letter. We’re getting ready to go after grif, so I’ll cut it short. Hope this finds you. Sincerely Corporal Candlestick Hours dragged on, he felt hand on his back. She sat beside him in the mud, she drew him into her arms. He wept and wept, eventually she got him to stand, he grabbed the letter, they walked back to Hollow Shades.
Epilogue Epilogue On a porch on the outskirts of Ponyville he sits, he looks out past the apple trees and fields of grain at nothing. Two small children crawl into his lap. “Grandpa, what was the war like?” He doesn’t answer, only cries. The children climb off of him. She appears from the door and wraps her arms around him, he weeps. His hand clenches the letter, mud stained, smudged. The grandkids run off and play, their laughter echoes in his ears. “We were like them once, we damned fools.”
Chapter 4Stone looked into the small fire they had in the center of the basement dwelling. A small hole had been broken into the ceiling above them, just enough for the smoke to escape, not enough for a grenade to fit into. Candle lay on his back, snoring loudly, Sketch was doodling nearby. The other two members of his squad were snoozing peacefully on the other side of the room. Sketch looked up from his notebook. “So who was she really Stone?” “I told you, just a stranger on a train, who sent me some mail.” Sketch nodded and went back to his doodle. “What are you drawing now?” He turned the notebook to his commanding officer. A sketch of the bay, a sailboat, and a man looking out over the water. “Who’’s that supposed to be?” “You sir.” Stone gave him a puzzled look. “I was on the beach the day before the attack, I was with Commander Iron Plate. I saw you watching the water from your foxhole, I only remembered today when that sargent mentioned it. Thought it’d make a nice drawing.” Stone nodded. “Maybe you can send it to your lady friend, eh?” He smiled at the man across from him. Stone chuckled and reached into his haversack for the letter. He read it again, he looked at the picture of her. “You should draw her instead, she’s more picturesque.” He handed the photograph over to Sketch. “Why don’t you write her sir? She’s real pretty, she at least deserves a reply.” He ripped a piece of paper from his sketchbook and handed Stone a pencil. Dear Rarity, I thank you for the letter. I am well, here in Manehattan. I got my cutie mark here, so there’s that. I thank you and your friends for signing off to get me into the army, that was very generous of you all. I have your picture, its very nice. One of the soldiers drew a sketch of me and insists that I send it to you, I told him I wasn’t a very good muse. Defiant Stone. He folded the letter up and placed it in the same envelope she sent his letter in. Sketch handed him the finished drawing and his photo back. He put the drawing into the envelope. He placed the photo and her letter into his haversack and closed it up.
