We Damned Fools.

The 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.