Through Another’s Eyes

by Pascoite

Rating: everyone
Tags: Griffons, Princess Celestia, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Princess Luna, Drama, Original Character
Length: 6565

The griffons demand the return of hunting grounds they owned long ago. But since Princess Luna’s return, Equestria has only grown more formidable. In a small village of the disputed region, Lucky Strike finds herself caught up in a war not her own.

The griffons demand the return of hunting grounds they owned long ago. But since Princess Luna’s return, Equestria has only grown more formidable, in ways the griffons would never expect.

In a small village of the disputed region, a young mare named Lucky Strike finds herself caught between an immovable object and an irresistible force. Before it’s over, she might hate herself worst of all.

An entry in the Writeoff Association’s “Great Expectations” event.

Featured on Equestria Daily!

Published 2017-09-10 20:50:07 UTC
Last updated 2017-09-10 20:50:07 UTC

Through Another’s Eyes

“I’m afraid I must insist,” Ambassador Goldschmidt said as he clenched a talon and leaned forward over the table.

No surprises there. As long as Princess Celestia had known him, the griffon diplomat had always insisted on much. More time to speak, inconvenient schedules for appointments, more concessions favorable to his nation. All part of his duties, she supposed, but it began to grate after a while.

And he probably felt exactly the same way about her.

“Out of the question,” she said. “I can’t abide giving you hunting privileges on those lands.” Celestia tapped a hoof on the unfurled map, well within the heavy line marking the limits of Equestrian territory.

“One settlement!” another griffon erupted, the medals on her chest jangling. “One paltry pony settlement in the whole place, and we wouldn’t even have to go near it!”

Celestia sighed. “General… Kaufmann, was it?” The griffon who had spoken narrowed her eyes and nodded. “It is not only the ponies who fall under my protection. The animals as well—all of Equestria is designated as a wildlife sanctuary.”

“…Should be a snacktuary,” she heard one of the low-ranking griffon aides mutter. Celestia stared at him until the smirk had faded from the ambassador’s face, and he, too, turned to shake his head.

“You don’t need it,” Celestia said, finally turning her attention back toward the map. “You have plenty of food sources, and I’m not prepared to allow animal harvesting within our borders. Period.”

Minister Lehrer, of the Foreign Affairs Office, clicked her tongue. “You don’t seem to care about fish. What makes them so different?”

This again. “We have discussed the matter before. Not all of my ponies are happy with the decision, but we recognize the necessity of it, and on the whole, we are comfortable with the compromise.” Celestia flicked a hoof toward the window. “It has no bearing on the current discussion, which, frankly, is making equally little progress. I see no reason to belabor the point.”

General Kaufmann rolled a shoulder in front of the ambassador and hovered low over the map. “Those were our ancestral hunting grounds for centuries, and we mean to have them back,” she said through bared teeth. “The finest stock of rabbits anywhere, and we’ve offered you more than generous compensation!”

“It is not up for negotiation,” Celestia said as she slid the map from under the general and rolled it up. “Now, are there any other matters that will require our attention this morning?”

“We are quite willing and able to go to war over this,” Minister Lehrer said slowly. She probably thought that would sound intimidating.

Celestia held in her laugh, if barely. No, she’d win the battle of tact as well. “As I recall, an ill-advised declaration of war is what led you to lose those lands in the first place.”

“Only because we hadn’t recovered from our skirmishes with the minotaurs yet,” Ambassador Goldschmidt said. He glanced up at the general, who stood straight again and resumed her position beside his chair. “We are much stronger now.”

“And I have my sister back,” Celestia said in a low voice.

The ambassador pushed himself from the table and rose. “What can one more alicorn do? She may well take a few warriors down with her, but they are prepared to go. It will make no difference.”

“Do not underestimate her.”

He hesitated, but only for the briefest second. Then he wheeled about and strode for the door, his staff and colleagues following in his wake. “One month, Princess. You have one month.”

Lucky Strike rummaged through her father’s toolbox. Where had he put those blasted chisels? She needed to practice, or she’d never pass her next apprenticeship exam!

She also needed to stay calm about the whole thing. So she took a deep breath, sat up straight, and looked at her reflection in the mirror on the workbench. “You can do this,” she said to the brown-coated, brown-maned unicorn returning her gaze. Then with a glance at the jeweler’s loupe cutie mark on her flank, she trotted out to the back porch, where Dad kept his tool grinder.

Sure enough, he’d honed his lightest chisel down to a sharp edge and left it out there, along with the entire pouch of them. He probably meant to get to them all before he had to leave, but she only needed the one he’d finished. She smiled and made a mental note to thank him when he got home.

And beside the chisels, a bag of agates. Another surprise from Dad. Her next exam was polishing opals, and while agates weren’t as fragile, she could practice her cuts on them. Similar enough.

She grabbed the tools and stones, and spread them out on her end of the workbench, then held one of the agates under a magnifier in her magic. She rotated it until the light caught it just right, and… there! A few imperfections, running parallel to each other. She turned the chisel’s blade to align with them, felt around with a hoof for the small half-ounce hammer, and gave the chisel a soft tap.

Nothing.

A little harder, and—stupid, stupid, stupid! The stone shattered into a dozen pieces. Align the blade and the direction!

So she examined the largest fragment, made sure to check the grain on both sides, then tried a happy medium with her hammer. Three taps later, and she had a nice face exposed! A little curvy, but not abnormally so—she could polish it out later, if she needed.

Dad would be proud of her, but obviously a broken piece, so he’d know she screwed up the first try. She wouldn’t leave this one out for him to see, then. Just grab another one, and she could quickly—

“Lucky Strike!” a filly yelled before Lucky even registered the tinkling bell from the storefront.

“I told you not to barge in like that when I’m trying to work!” she shot back, but Sugar Beet danced around like she’d gotten into an anthill or something, her namesake cutie mark bobbing about on her dark gray coat. No way Lucky would get anything done now.

With a sigh, she turned off the worklight and put her tools down. “What is it?” she groaned.

“Did ya hear?” Sugar said through her panting. “Griffons in the mountain passes, not lettin’ anypony by! There’s even been a few fights!”

Lucky glanced out the window at a pair of armed unicorns walking past. They had seen quite a few soldiers out here the last few weeks, on patrol over by the griffon border. That was miles away, though. The new ones apparently picked up their orders here, and during their breaks, the on-duty ones would stop by town for some drinks or conversation—well, rather one-sided conversation. They’d never answer any questions about what would bring them all the way out to this speck in the middle of nowhere.

Come to think of it, a few of the adults had seen more griffons than usual in the woods, but still very few. The griffons had never really caused any ruckus, so ponies just kind of looked the other way when one passed through, often with something furry barely visible under their wings. It had never led to any confrontations, but maybe the Guard had gotten sick of them poaching? It was just a few dumb rabbits. Fights, though…

“Who? What did they do?”

“I dunno,” Sugar replied, “but a kid in my class has an older brother whose girlfriend said her cousin saw the supply run comin’ from Canterlot get stopped, and when the ponies tried to push through, the griffons turned over the wagon, spillin’ everything all over!” She sucked in a gulp of air and caught her breath for a second. “Stomped on it all, too, kicked it into the river. Said if they were gonna make trouble, they couldn’t even turn around and take it back to Canterlot with ’em.”

That didn’t make sense! “Do you even listen to yourself? That story’s been through so many mouths that it’s chewed up beyond recognition. The griffons don’t bother us, and we don’t bother them.”

Sugar plopped into a chair and eyed the open bag of granola on the coffee table. Lucky waved a hoof at it and nodded, so Sugar reached in for a hoofful. “Only thing the griffons let through was a letter from Celestia,” she mumbled undeterred, “and the pony carryin’ it. Bronze Patina, one of the no-kiddin’, guards-the-Princesses types, I think. He’s gonna read it in the town square in fifteen—” she glanced at the clock “—ten minutes. You gotta come!”

Lucky twisted her mouth and looked at the clock herself while Sugar dug into the granola again. Nothing ever happened out here. Probably just some training exercises, and they wanted all the townsponies to stay out of the way. So Lucky got out her polishing cloth and started buffing her freshly cut stone. She could get at least one facet gleaming before she had to go.

“What’s an occupation?” Morning Bell said as he walked alongside Sugar Beet and Lucky Strike.

“Like…” Lucky rolled her eyes up at the sky and squinted. “Basically, the griffons want to send a bunch of soldiers to take over the woods where they hunt rabbits, so the Guard wants to do the same thing first. Whatever. That’s many miles away.” Just a featureless backcountry part of Equestria that jutted into the griffon lands. Those woods on the west end and their town of Mossy Glen to the east. It didn’t appear on many maps.

“So,” Lucky continued, “there’s only one road in here, and the Guard set up camp along it to make sure they could resupply, then the griffons threatened to put it under siege.”

“What’s a siege?” At least Morning Bell had outgrown a toddler’s need to ask “why” about everything, but this wasn’t much better.

“It means they’ll keep the road blocked up. We’re not going anywhere, and nopony’s coming here.”

“Oh…”

Sugar furrowed her brow. “How are we gonna get any food?”

“That’s kind of the point,” Lucky answered. “We have whatever’s stored, plus the few gardens in town. The Guard can’t carry as much by air, but they’ll fly in whatever they can to us. We just have to wait it out until everyone comes to their senses.” She unlocked her front door, letting them into her family’s shop, and they all flopped onto the couch in the side room. When would their parents get home? Should be them explaining this stuff to their kids, especially ones this little. Beet was eight, and Bell only five—no cutie mark on his gleaming white coat. All three of them with brown manes, too. Seemed to run in the family, even her little earth pony cousins there.

Sugar Beet raised an eyebrow. “I thought that was a blockade. Isn’t a siege—?”

Across the street, something tore through the apartment above the pharmacy, and a rain of splintered wood pelted the front window. Bell shrieked and dove under the coffee table, and Sugar peered over the back of the couch. “What the—?” she said, and the next word clearly formed on her lips brought a stern glare from Lucky.

“Language!”

A deathly quiet had drifted over the streets outside like flakes of ash from a campfire. But nothing more happened. Some sort of accident in the chemist’s lab? Lucky cautiously approached the door and craned her neck to see up and down the street. No movement. Except by the market—two ponies stared open-mouthed up at—

A whistling sound, and then the lumber mill’s storage shed tore apart. Smoke rose from the next street over, a corner of the small clock tower shattered in a spray of stone, a cloud of dust kicked up in the road, and for a split second, a metallic glint shone through the haze. A… a cannonball?

“You two!” Lucky barked. “Under the workbench! It’s heavy and sturdy. Now!” They scrambled to obey, and another boom sounded as a shot crashed into the post office. Lucky knelt down and pressed her nose to Sugar’s. “You watch after Bell. You hear me? Keep him here, and don’t let him out of your sight. Got it?”

“Y-yes!” she answered, tears already trickling down her face. “M-Mom?”

Lucky set her jaw and looked back outside. Already, the few unicorns who knew shield spells were piecing one together in fits and starts, but half of the glowing panes immediately got smashed by incoming shells. She had to help. She couldn’t cast a shield, but any unicorn could reinforce or sustain one just by adding her magic. “I’ll find her. I have to go. They’ll need unicorns.” Halfway to the door, Lucky stopped. “You stay here,” she said again, before dashing out. The shouting in the street almost drowned out the whimper behind her.

“Why do you have to go out, Dad?” Lucky said, tugging at his saddlebags. She’d already wiped away all the tears before she came upstairs, or at least tried. Weeks of this now, but how many? She’d lost count of the days, but she hadn’t lost count of the gruesome injuries accumulating at the medical tent she had to pass on the way to her assigned shield station.

“Not much call for jewelry in battle, is there?” Sapphire Facet tousled her mane. “I have to do my part somehow.”

Lucky choked down what threatened to escape from her throat. “You—you can help keep the shields up with me.” She couldn’t stop her voice from shaking.

He nodded and threw a cloak over his back. “I take my shifts at it. But my dark color makes me a good night scout, and we need to know what’s happening out there and keep supplies coming in.”

From the cloak’s pocket protruded a scrap of paper, the latest letter to come out of Canterlot. He’d pass it on to the next pony when he reported for duty, until everypony had a chance to read it. It had sat right there on the table during dinner, but she never read it. Her father didn’t press the point.

Same as yesterday’s, she guessed, with promises that the Guard camp had it worse, and they never expected to see Mossy Glen become a target, but they’d do everything possible to keep food and medicine heading here. They’d sabotage griffon equipment and disrupt their lines, but they had orders not to kill. She remembered that sentence well. It was underlined. Twice.

Just more of that. A fat lot of good it did. Well, the shelling had reduced some, if that could be called a positive. Still, yesterday’s six-hour respite due to one of the griffon holidays had produced more goodwill than anything with Canterlot’s seal on it.

She’d seen too many of the day scouts come back with horrible wounds… if they came back at all. The night scouts fared a little better. A little.

“Why don’t you go over to Sugar Beet’s house? Her mom is doing an inventory and could use some help. Morning Bell will be there, too.” He winced as another explosion sounded somewhere overhead. The griffons just would not let up, probing for the little cracks that’d appear here and there in the shields. And to keep them from getting any sleep. The shields muffled it some, but not nearly enough.

Lucky could only nod, but as Facet started toward the stairs, she tugged at his saddlebag one last time and pulled him into a hug. She held onto him for a long time. He’d come back. He would.

And then he was gone. One great big silence, punctuated by the occasional explosion. She might as well do as Dad had asked. Aunt Ginger didn’t need to mind the store and the kids at the same time, and Lucky had a shift at recharging shields just after midnight. It’d help keep her from nodding off until then, into one of those half-hour naps that left her feeling even more tired.

On her way down the street, she gazed up at the pearly iridescence in the sky keeping them safe. It shrunk for just a moment, back to the old stone gatehouse, to let the scouts through. To let her father through.

One of the covered outdoor market stalls had been converted to a triage center for the wounded, but she couldn’t look. She owed it to them to see, to acknowledge, but she couldn’t. She’d seen enough that first night, from all the traps the griffons had set. They sure knew how to design them for big prey, and weeks ago, when the first couple of casualties had returned with those awful bear traps clamped on…

She couldn’t look, and she pinned her ears back to shut out as many of their cries and groans as she could. Half of them were soldiers who’d managed to make it here through enemy lines, only to become a burden.

The soft glow of firefly lamps permeated her aunt’s market when she pushed the door open, and it took a minute for her mind to filter back in from the numbness. They didn’t have the luxury of electric lighting right now, and supermarkets just didn’t have fireplaces. “How’re we gonna make money if we give this all away?” Sugar asked from one of the far aisles.

“It’s our contribution,” Aunt Ginger replied. “Besides, what good would it do to have all this rot on the shelves while ponies starved outside? They don’t have any money to use, anyway.” She dumped a pile of spinach cans on the floor and started doling it out into small boxes that already had bars of soap, packets of crackers, fresh fruit—anything she could divide up, especially anything that would go bad soon.

“Oh!” Ginger said, and jerked a hoof to her chest. “Lucky, you scared me half to death!”

“I’m sorry.” Lucky grabbed a clipboard off the counter. Every family, written out in detail, with notations for who had special needs for medicine, food allergies, whatever. Lucky snorted out a small laugh. Nopony could rally the community quite like Aunt Ginger.

Sugar and Bell poked their heads around the ends of one of the shelves. “Lucky’s here!” And of course they came bounding over and practically tackled her.

She struggled under their weight, became hopelessly overwhelmed by their assault, then miraculously broke free. “You’ll have to do better than that to subdue the Mane-iac!” she crowed, tossing the clipboard back on the desk.

Ginger giggled and mouthed a silent thank-you. Then another boom outside. The kids hardly reacted anymore. Only a couple weeks, and… it didn’t bother them. In other ways, yeah, but the cannon shots—so destructive, and they just accepted it as part of their lives now.

“Do you know if Taffy had her foal yet?” Ginger asked before Lucky could get too lost in eluding her pursuers.

“Um… I think so? Pegasus, right? Kind of a light purple?”

Ginger nodded quickly. “Right. You’re right. I need to give them a bigger ration of milk.” All business and smiles. She hid it well. At least her husband was a medic. He’d stay pretty safe here, tending to the wounded, inside the shields.

But justice waits for nopony, and the Power Ponies soon had their quarry on the run again, through the narrow streets of crumbling shelf-buildings, and for an hour or two, Lucky could imagine the shouts outside coming from concerned citizens cheering their heroes on.

She lumbered around, the stalwart champions ensnared in her flowing locks. A touch of unicorn magic aided in the effect, but her horn ached, and she hadn’t even served tonight’s turn at shields yet. The pale blue glow died away, and they pounced on her back, pinning her to the ground for good. The villain captured, the town settling back into its peaceful routine.

Soon enough, the time came for her to do her duty. Her next duty, anyway. With a wave to Ginger, her bare shelves, and her endless array of boxes spread out around her, Lucky strode out to relieve her evening-shift counterpart at shield station nine.

Only a few months until Lucky Strike should have graduated. And while they’d combined all the classes into one for efficiency’s sake, it wouldn’t count. She’d have to wait another year, if there was another year.

Three months of this now, and they’d lost almost three dozen scouts and probably seventeen of the pegasi who guarded the gate. And Dad… He’d make it, thank goodness, but when he came back that night with a dart embedded deep in his shoulder—a poison dart, one designed to act slowly, sap morale, tax medical supplies. His fever had finally broken after two days, and he’d make it, one of only three or four who could say so. But how long until he was pressed into service again? And who used weapons like that? Cruel weapons.

Of course, the teacher—Morning Bell’s mother and Lucky’s Aunt Honeybee—couldn’t do much more than keep the kids occupied or arrange for them to work in small groups. Mostly, she read them stories or had them play games. So once again, they had one of their open discussions. Bell had edged toward doing so a little more each day, and he finally asked: “Why won’t Princess Celestia help us?”

Honeybee immediately turned for the copy of the letter she always had handy. The letter, whatever latest one had come out of Canterlot. And like a brainwashed cult member, she said, “Let’s see what the scroll says about that.”

Damn that thing. Honeybee understood it as well as anypony else, but when forced to live it, understanding didn’t count for much anymore. “Princess Celestia doesn’t wish to hurt anyone, griffon or pony. She hopes that we can resolve all this peacefully. The griffons love their children just as much as we do, and the individual soldiers are not our enemy. Each one killed is a tragedy, and we must minimize that as much as possible, even if it means enduring larger losses than the griffons do. We will use the Guard to disrupt griffon efforts and keep Mossy Glen supplied, but we must avoid direct military action if we are to live up to our own ideals.”

Honeybee waved a hoof to the west. “Princess Celestia herself has taken up station at the garrison along the road, shielding her soldiers from harm. They are suffering a far fiercer assault and must remain in place, or the whole region may fall.”

Easy to say. Lucky would do the same thing if she were calling the shots. Actually killing an enemy? That didn’t sit right. But with friends, neighbors, family bleeding, some already in the ground… Would she die for that ideal? And over some damned rabbits!?

She’d toss bucketloads of the stupid things over the wall, kill them herself, if it would make the griffons go away, if it would make all this stop. She’d do anything. And she’d hate herself for it, if she hadn’t already started.

“We can’t change who we are,” Lucky said. Out loud, probably, since everypony was looking at her. And their eyes stabbed a thousand arguments at her: “Yes, we can. We should. They made us. It’s about survival now.” “We already have. It’s too late.” “We have to. We’re the ones who let this happen. Our suffering is our own fault.”

Another bombshell sounded in the silence.

Lucky stood and walked to the window. Some discussion had started behind her again, but it wasn’t real school anymore. It didn’t matter. She should take some of the instant coffee she still had over to her dad and see if she could move him back to the house. He’d feel better on his couch than on some straw pallet.

Off in the distance, a flash of white. A griffon, peeking out from the trees. Probably a forward observer, directing the artillery. A year ago, none of those terms would have meant anything to her. But now that feathered head, peering at her with no more regard than it would for one of those damned rabbits that it would love to tear to bloody shreds. He even looked happy. Could she really see a smile from this distance? Sure she could. Laughing over there. How many more dead today?

She understood him. She understood completely. She understood Celestia, too. And she hated them both. She hated them both utterly. And that was the difference between them. Maybe the griffons should win. They believed. And not a single one had died.

At least the Royal Guard had managed to set up a reliable smuggling route, or they would have run out of food long ago, something the griffons no doubt realized. So even that was in jeopardy, always changing, always trying to evade. Celestia kept her word on that, at least. Three fresh wagonloads of provisions stood outside, with their attendant crews: strong earth ponies to drive them, unicorns to buttress them with shielding spells, and pegasi to act as spotters. They’d head back soon enough, unless a couple had orders to remain behind and reinforce the local scouting efforts. Plus the two wounded ones that the town now had to care for.

Lucky’s eyes came back into focus, but she couldn’t find the griffon face among the trees anymore. And all she could think of was wrapping her magic tighter and tighter around his throat until—

“The individual soldiers are not our enemy,” Honeybee said again, her voice in a monotone. She couldn’t even fake it for the kids anymore.

They’d lost. No matter who won, they’d lost.

Dark brown. Lucky’s own coat was dark brown. She’d make a good night scout.

The sun rose before Lucky did. Long before. Something was different today.

Quiet. Nothing had woken her up. Dad, either. Normally, she’d fumble through a few isolated patches of rest after returning from a night scout mission, but no exploding shells had roused her. And there Dad lay on the couch—

Late for her shift! Lucky jolted out of bed and yanked her saddlebags off the table, shoved her last granola bar in her mouth, and dashed off to shield station nine with a throat full of apologies for whomever she was supposed to relieve.

Through the shield… soldiers, ranks and ranks of them! Earth ponies with long pikes, pegasi with maces and wing blades, unicorns with all manner of projectiles: shrapnel, dynamite, hunks of flaming pitch. All stood at attention, waiting for the signal from their commander, a midnight blue… alicorn! Princess Luna!

Lucky’s legs shook. Was it… was it over? No damage to the countryside, no casualties near the shield or by the forest. No, it hadn’t even started yet.

She trembled and sank to her knees. Much of the shield had fallen, just from unicorns losing their concentration at the spectacle. Even from the village, all eyes watched the Princess of the Night, out in the full sun of day. And she looked back. Not off in the distance, not over the town in general. She stared straight at Lucky Strike, and without speaking, her voice still rang in Lucky’s head: “I do this for you.”

No. No! Luna jerked her head toward the ground, and a mass of razor-sharp, icy shards poured from the sky, tearing into the treeline. And from the sound of it, scoring quite a few hits on the griffon soldiers concealed there.

Then the Equestrian Army started forward, brandishing their weapons, and Luna settled behind the front line. Lucky stood next to her, out… outside the shield. How did she get here? Had the Princess teleported her?

“Rest easy,” the Princess said. “This will end momentarily. Any griffons foolish enough to hold their ground will be cut down.” She stared straight ahead. Who was she talking to?

“They will pay for what they have done,” she continued. “No longer will we sit by and watch.”

Lucky glanced back toward town. Everypony, crowded behind the crumbling stone gate, the shield forgotten. All wearing eager smiles, some taking up their own weapons and charging out. Except for a few. Honeybee, Ginger, and Sapphire Facet still waited by the gate, not cowering behind it, but waiting, as if admiring a thunderstorm.

And out came Sugar Beet and Morning Bell, slowly, until they nuzzled up against Lucky’s side. “Please,” Lucky said, “stop this.”

“They have earned it.”

“Maybe. But I did, too. I’m worse than them.” Luna’s ear twitched, but she remained otherwise still as a statue. The army marched on, almost to the trees now. Lucky didn’t have much time. “We can’t change who we are,” she whispered. “I said that. But I should have said that we can’t change who we were. Not if we want to live with ourselves.”

Luna whirled about, her face only inches from Lucky’s. Tears streamed down the princess’s cheeks—Lucky had never seen her look anything but staid, regal… resolute. “And who are you?”

Lucky Strike coughed and gaped at her. “I-I…” She backed off from those eyes that might suck her into the night sky. Were Sugar and Bell still there? She… she couldn’t break off her gaze to see. “I don’t know. Somepony who wanted this and hates herself for it now.”

Sugar Beet, Morning Bell, still there. They huddled against her and stared up at her. When had she started crying? Standing there like a blubbering idiot. “Please stop this, Princess Luna. Make them go away, but don’t hurt them. If you do, I don’t think I’ll be somepony worth saving.”

She’d closed her eyes, but then she felt a hug. A big one around her neck, and a foal-sized one on each foreleg. “Then there is hope for you yet,” Luna whispered in her ear. “But it has to be your choice.”

Lucky Strike sat up in bed and shook. A rush of images flooded her mind: an ugly scar on Sapphire Facet’s shoulder, a leering griffon soldier in the distance, Honeybee trying to calm frightened children.

Quiet, though. Had she passed out? Was it over? Was she… dead?

She gasped and held a talon in front of her face. No, not Lucky Strike. Gisele. Her name was Gisele. But it had seemed so real.

She rolled out of bed and crawled across the floor, then peeked over the windowsill. No flat valley near a river, no timbered homes with thatched roofs, no forest looming nearby. Just a bunch of stucco houses on a rocky slope. Home.

Where did she put those stupid saddlebags? Probably under the bed. She reached out with her magic, but the bedskirt didn’t even budge. Of course, no magic! She’d just instinctively tried—

Down the stairs she dashed, and out the front door. Third house on the left. She ran up and pounded with the iron knocker. Maybe it wasn’t too late! Maybe she still had time!

“Hey!” she yelled toward one of the upstairs windows. A few pedestrians stopped and stared at her. “Hey, get out here! We have to go!”

A familiar face poked out and blinked at the view. “Greta!” Gisele called, but the little one still wore a frown, looking at Gisele as if through a fog. On a whim: “Sugar Beet!” And a shock of recognition jolted through her eyes. She soon came bounding out of the house.

“You remember where Gerhard—” that same frown returned on her cousin’s face “—Morning Bell lives?” Gisele asked. Greta nodded, but just stood there, rooted to the ground. So Gisele angled her head toward the base of the hill. “Well? Go get him! I’ll round up everyone else. We’ve got to go, or we’ll never make it in time!”

Greta’s eyes widened. She knew. Just old enough that she could start to figure some things out, but this one had sunk in pretty quickly. She nodded and hurried down the hill, leaving a small cloud of dust behind her. And Gisele moved on to the next house. She remembered some names, some appearances, but she didn’t know everyone in town. She’d have to try every house, every door, until she’d gotten enough of them. The children, every one of them. They’d all been in Mossy Glen.

Together, they could stop this from happening.

Gisele hushed all the children following her and peered over a boulder, right where the mountain pass opened up into the valley. There, in the distance, a pearly shield covered a small town, and two armies, massed against each other. None of them watching the pass anymore. No need.

Around the town, ponies, but… carrying mostly steel shields. Few weapons, and even those were designed to prevent charges, like a squad of earth ponies with pikes braced in the dirt. Pegasi with nets and bolas, unicorns with… nothing. All defensive measures. On the other side, griffons in full armor with wicked lances and arbalests, long sabers, cannons.

She searched the crowd of them, but she couldn’t make out individuals under those helmets, most with the face guards down. If she could find that one, whom she’d seen… however long ago it was. The face in the trees, smirking, glad of the ponies dying inside, that she’d bash in, over and over again with Dad’s—with Sapphire Facet’s sledge, if she could. But she never found him. Probably for the best, or it might have undone everything that had happened. The bile rose in her throat, but she fought it down. She had to, for them, the children. They hadn’t seen everything she had.

In the open space between the forces, two smaller groups stood, within shouting distance of each other. On one side, three griffons, and on the other, a snow-white alicorn, by herself. None of them looked happy.

“C’mon,” Gisele said in a harsh whisper. “No matter what happens, stay by me and follow my lead.”

The griffons had already walked halfway back to their line, and by the time Gisele and the other children had run out into the field, none of them could stop her. None of them except the alicorn—Princess Celestia, presumably, though Gisele had never met her—who only stood and watched, a strange smile on her face. Gisele had only seen its kind once before, a few weeks back, when she’d told Dad she wanted to be a night scout, and he’d… stood up straighter at the compliment while still flinching as if stabbed, but no, no! Not her father, not weeks ago. Last night, a dream.

As they’d discussed on the way, all the children with Gisele spread out, forming a line between the armies. Half faced the pony settlement, the other half, the griffons. Gisele herself stared at the three griffon leaders, though she did sneak a look over her shoulder at the old stone gate. Where was Sapphire Facet? Where was Aunt Ginger, Honeybee?

She didn’t have time to search for them.

Those three griffons stared at her like she had multiple heads growing from her neck. “We won’t let you go through with this!” Gisele shouted. “If you’re going to kill each other, you’ll have to go through us.”

Princess Celestia knelt in the grass.

And the griffon in the center—he finally found his voice. “Stop this immediately!” He pointed a wing at her and beckoned fiercely with a claw. “I don’t know who put you up to this, but it ends here!”

“I put myself up to this!” she shot back. “We’ve seen what happens here, all of us—” she flicked a foreleg down the queue of children “—and we can keep it from happening.”

She shook her head, like… like a memory was trying to claw its way out. “We had a vision. We won’t let it come true.”

“You come over here right now, and we’ll discuss this when we get home!”

Home…? She stared at the ground, then glanced back at the village again. Home…

The griffon’s voice rose to a shriek. “Gisele Goldschmidt, you will obey me, this instant!”

She flexed a talon in front of her face. Gisele.

“My name is Lucky Strike,” she mumbled. The children all watched her, waited. Waited for her to do something. “My father is Sapphire Facet. He’s a jeweler in town. I got my cutie mark while helping him.” She brushed her talon over the brown fur near her rump. “I—I lived as one of them. They’re good people. They don’t deserve this.”

“What’s goin’ on?” Sugar Beet—Greta whispered. “What are they sayin’?”

Another of the three griffons stepped out, a female in a very fancy uniform. “Greta? Please. Please come home.”

Greta’s eyes glimmered. “She doesn’t mean it, does she, Lucky? I-I don’t know…”

“Greta Kaufmann! Please!” the lady griffon said.

“She’s Sugar Beet!” Gisele snapped. Then she hugged Gerhard to her. “M-Morning… Morning Bell.”

And of course the third griffon spoke up. “No. Gerhard Lehrer.” She reached a claw out. “Please, Gerhard. Come with me. I won’t be mad—I promise.”

Goldschmidt. Her father, a jeweler. Kaufmann—Sugar’s mom ran the market. And Lehrer. Bell’s mother, the teacher. The meanings, in their language, matched. Of course they did. She’d made it up. She’d made it all up, hadn’t she?

But all of them? Together? No, it meant something! Where was Princess Luna?

“Look at yourself,” her… her father said. Brown fur, white feathers. What’d even made her think she could levitate those saddlebags when she first awoke? She didn’t have a horn.

“It doesn’t matter. We’re not moving.” The griffons wouldn’t dare come nearer. Not with the threat of those ponies so close, who could rush in and snatch their children away. And yet the ponies wouldn’t do that. As sure as she stood there on solid ground, she knew it. That was why she wouldn’t let the griffon army endanger the ponies.

Lucky… Gisele. Gisele locked eyes with Celestia. The Princess bowed her head and opened her mouth to say something, but she remained silent.

“What would you have us do, then, Princess?” Ambassador Goldschmidt barked. “Surrender?”

And finally the alicorn spoke, her voice like a cool stream. “Haven’t you learned anything from this? We do not want your surrender. We want you to leave us in peace.”

The ambassador looked to his colleagues, who did little more than shrug.

“Very well, but… how have you done this?” Ambassador Goldschmidt said, shaking his head. He slouched, all his bluster and pomposity gone.

“I told you. I have my sister back.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, but in the end, he could only stalk off, back to his army, back to his border, none the wiser. “Come,” he said over his shoulder.

Lucky Str—Gisele looked to Celestia. What had she meant about Luna? It… it didn’t matter, though. Luna had said that it had to be her choice. And she’d made it. So if Celestia felt the ponies were safe and trusted him to honor his word…

The Princess nodded, but she wouldn’t look Gisele in the eye this time. Relieved. She must be relieved that everything had worked out for the best. Gisele wouldn’t let Luna down.

And she fell into step behind her father. The griffon children all followed.