Casca's Glory

The zebra were nervous. Almost all of them had heard the tales of the burning lioness, the hateful beast that burned their homes and towns and slaughtered any who could not escape her fires.

It was said that she burned endlessly, but never died. The grass lighting and she ran unhindered through the flames to strike at those who found themselves blinded by the smoke. To kill until there was nopony left to kill.

Or where there wasn’t grass, there was no lion so fast or terrifying. Seeing her burning visage as she ran a hundred yards in a second could make a heart stop. Seeing her take down somepony was terrifying, and the only hope was that she would somehow not see you.

For a year, she had terrorized them all. Hunted them without remorse, killing every last zebra who could not escape fast enough, no spear or armor enough of a defense from her. Nopony too old or too young spared her wrath.

But perhaps the worst was that she killed not for food. The zebra knew that the lions killed to eat, but the burning one killed from hate. She killed until she could kill no more, often burning the bodies away in her assault.

To die to a lion was a part of nature. They only followed what they were, and to become their food was a regretful, but not a horrible, thing. To die to a vengeful thing of hate and fire was not.

So some time ago, the zebra had sent a runner, to go to their neighbors outside of the savanna. To tell them of their plight, and beg aid. It took a long time, and the lioness was approaching a vital lake, and it was too important for it to be taken by the lions.

But they had never expected what came in their time of need. Like a god, she had soared through the skies, shining like the moon as the evening began, followed by winged ponies.

She was a pony, with dark fur, wings, and a horn, and she stood over any unicorn twice over. She wore shining armor like nothing the zebra had ever seen, and looked like a vengeful goddess that had answered their cry for aid. Those that came with her had bat wings, and wore shining armor to match the goddess.

The zebra who led the group to stop the lioness was speechless when they first arrived, and as respectfully as she could manage, approached.

“We have arrived.” the being said, the voice powerful and stunning. “Where is this burning beast, so that we may end its reign of terror?”

“She is nearby, great one.” the zebra said nervously, bowing her head, not daring to look at the goddess.

“We know this from the sacrifice of others. She comes to this place, to kill us, and take the lake. We prepared, but were not ready until you came.”

“Our name is Luna. Who art thou, so that we mayst know who is brave enough to face the beast.”

“I am called Zehara.” she said, still not looking. “And we give the greatest of thanks that you and yours have come to our aid.”

Luna nodded, and took to the air once more, looking to see if she could spot anything.

The ponies with bat wings watched her go, but one approached Zehara.

“We’ll be ready to help, any way we can. Our armor is resistant to fire.”

“The burning one is more than just fire stranger. Who are you, to fly with a goddess?”

“My name is Dark Flight, and I am the head of her guard. And after hearing about what you have been dealing with, I congratulate you on your fortitude. Facing such a beast must not be easy.”

Zehara waved one hoof. “That beast burned my family. I stand firm because of hate, not because of anything else. My warriors lean on me in their fright, and I will not tremble before them. But after this is over, I shall have nightmares for the rest of my life.”

“…My condolences for your loss.”

“Why? You did not know them, nor are you a zebra.”

“You are still a life. And even with the difference between pony and zebra, We can still feel for one another.”

He hesitated for a moment. “If you feel you need somepony to lean on yourself, talk to me. I’ll be here all night.”

He went back to his group, the rest constructing simple white tents, and Zehara watched him go, thinking.

It was some time until the night fell, and the defense had been ready for days. She could just give them a quick check, and come back soon.

Maybe she would take him up on that offer, and talk some more on the difference between pony and zebra.

amongst the lions

It was growing late in the savanna. The tall golden grasses waved in a faint wind, and a few trees grew in the endless fields.

That wind seemed exciting to those who felt it. A gentle caress of the air, a whisper that said, tonight, tonight was the night. It was silent in the savanna otherwise. Not even the insects dared to break the silence. Only the whisper of the wind spoke during that time

Next to a tiny pond, where green grass grew and a few trees swayed, laid a lion, resting next to the trunk. Nearby were many others, about two dozen, wearing armor made from dead skins, and stitched together from the tall grasses.

They were calm, assured, and ready. Tonight would be the night.

But one, their leader, felt uncertain. A deep, cold fear was within her, though no sign of it was shown to the others.

As the others waited, she went to the one apart. The only one not a part of her den, there to see what would happen.

There to carry the news back to the others once it did.

The female was strong and beautiful. Her fur was silken, a golden brown, her eyes golden, and her claws and skills sharp. She was perfect in her shape and form. Amongst her den, she was the quickest, the smartest, and only in strength and size did the males outpace her. She was the leader of them.

Once, she took the greatest of pride in that. That she, a female, could command the respect of the males.

No longer.

The one apart looked up as she went to him and laid down in front of him.

“Casca.” he said, watching her. He saw the look in her eye.

It was not one of a leader ready to lead their people to battle.

It was one of a lion that knew that death awaited them.

“Sion, the fifth son of Sion, the pack leader of the Tracker den. I wish to speak.”

“It is granted. But what do I see in you? Glorious battle awaits and yet, you seem fearful.”

“…It is not glorious.”

“What is this I hear? Is Casca, the blazing lioness, feeling uncertain?”

“I am. I am more than uncertain.”

She sighed. “I want you to listen to me. I want this to be known, so that this mistake may never take place ever again.”

“Mistake? What mistake is there in striking at our old enemy and gaining the glory to be found from their deaths?”

“It is a mistake.” Casca hissed, not daring to raise her voice. “But it is too far to stop now. Too late.”

“Because of my hate, we go to die.”

The lion looked uncertain. “If you are saying such things… Casca, you are a symbol to us all. You cannot be so weak; you will win this night.”

Casca simply stared at him, and he slowly looked away. She was certain. As certain as knowing that the sun will rise again.

Certain that she was going to die tonight.

He shuddered. “How do you know?” he asked.

“I can feel it. I can feel a magic that dwarfs everything. Waiting for us in the prey’s camp.”

“I have stepped too far. Taken too many of them too fast, and they have called a god to stop me. Tonight, judgement will fall upon me and mine, and all because of my hate.”

“A god…” Sion whispered in awe and fear.

“It can be nothing else. I can feel the power, even now, from so far.” She closed her eyes for a moment, and then opened them again.

She was terrified.

“Casca… you cannot stop now. You cannot run now.” Sion said.

“I know. Returning will only blight my den, and my name. And should I do so anyway, it will follow me, I know it. And if it finds the others…”

“All of lionkind may be destroyed.”

“May my death be enough to appease it, and see it return to the skies.” Casca whispered.

“All will know of your sacrifice.”

“It is not a sacrifice.” Casca hissed in hate, her eyes burning. “It is judgement. It is the cost of my actions. It is the price I pay for my grudge. I will not allow it to be thought of as anything but.”

“And you, Sion, will be my voice when I am gone.”

“I? Casca, I am the fifth son. I am nothing but a messenger, with no honor or glory to me. I cannot take the place of the blazing lioness, nor can I dare to speak for such a being. They will not know that I truly speak for you, and spit upon me for daring to use your name.”

“They will know.” she said, getting up. One paw lit on fire suddenly, and she swiped, scarring his face, her paw dousing the moment she was done.

He hissed in agony, but did not yell or scream. To do so would be to show weakness in front of her.

Casca laid back down, his injury cauterized by the fire already, leaving a burned scratch across his face. All who saw it would know that it was she who did that.

“I mark you. You are my voice, the messenger from me. All will see that, and know the truth of it.”

“A… a great honor…” he whispered, still in some pain. “But what… what is the message? How can I be your voice?”

“Listen, and listen closely.”

“The prey called their god. And they did so because of what I have done to them.”

“As difficult as it is to accept…”

“The zebra are the rulers of this land, and we are not.”

“Casca, they will flay me for saying such.”

“Do we have a god Sion? Do we have a being so powerful that its magic emanates across the land, and flies in the air to shine like the moon itself? And if we did, could we call such a being to our aid?”

“We do not, and if we did, we cannot. The Zebra can. And so long as they can, we are the lessor and they the greater.”

“…I understand.”

Casca nodded, and relaxed slightly, her anger fading.

“The message is what I have done, so that it may never be repeated.”

“Most already know of your tale.”

“But not of the reason. Not of the lengths I went to. Not the full tale.”

Sion nodded slowly. “Then I will listen, as closely as I can.”

“Good. And when you return, warn them all. Make them understand.”

“I shall Casca.”

“So listen. Listen and hear of my hate. Listen to the tale of my hatred, and the burned and bloody trail that led to this night. Remember all of it, and know the truth of it.”

“My blood be frozen should I lie this night.”