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                       Casca's Glory                       
                 -by Amaranthine Thought-                  
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                   The Start of a Story                    
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The Start of a Story
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.”

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                         Chapter 1                         
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Chapter 1
Dark Flight was in a tent, thinking.
Princess Luna was strong and brave, but the lions were swift and stealthy. Luna would stop them all, but only if she could spot them first.
And if she didn’t, then ponies would die. Zebra would die, and he was determined to prevent that. One of his men was out right now, mapping the land so that he could make better plans.
He heard yelling from outside, and went to see. What he saw surprised him.
Two zebra were fighting each other, and a few others were watching, yelling abuse.
Just as he was going to stop it, Zehara’s voice cracked out like a whip, and the pair separated.
She walked to them, glaring.
“Is the fear of the lion not enough to put aside this hate?!” she demanded. “I want every zebra to be at their best, to defend with their all! If I see this continue, then you will answer to the lions when they kill us all, understand?”
“The short stripe,” one began.
“I do not care! Stand as one and live, or stay apart and die! That is our truth, and that is what we must do! If this lake is lost, then far more than just the long stripe and short stripe will suffer.”
They both looked unsure, but nodded.
“Go. Be apart and cool your heads in the water, and then return to your tasks.”
They did so, and Dark went to Zehara.
“Why are your warriors fighting each other?” he asked, slightly confused. He had a nagging feeling that he knew why they were fighting. Zehara sighed.
“Ponies would not understand what a zebra does.”
“Try me.”
She eyed him. He simply stared at her until she sighed.
“The short stripes are old enemies of the long stripes. They both think themselves the superior, and are willing to shed the blood of the other to prove it.”
“…Short stripe, long stripe… Why do they fight?”
“Because one says that short stripes are superior, and the other, long stripes are superior. Soon, the all stripe will come, and those are the most arrogant of them all.”
“… You hate each other because of the differences in your stripes?”
“In every way a zebra’s stripes can be different, there is a group. And each group hates the others because of it, and try to assert that their pattern is the best.”
She saw the look of disgust in Dark’s eyes and nodded. Just like she knew he would respond.
“That is stupid.” Dark spat, looking down.
“I have heard the same from every pony who heard it. But that is the culture of the zebra; separation because of our stripes. You do not understand the meaning of the hate.”
“The problem is that I do.”
Zehara huffed. “Impossible.”
“…Look at my wings Zehara, and tell me what I am.”
She did so, and stared at his wings for a moment. The nature of the bat wing; stretched and nearly see through skin with nearly visible bones was nothing special to her. She knew what he was.
“You are a pegasus.” she said, wondering what he was trying to get her to see.
“Just like those the short stripe and the long stripe are zebra.”
“… I am not sure what you mean.”
“A proper pegasus has bird wings. Feathers. I have bat wings, and no feathers.”
“They call me a batpony, and because my wings are different, the pegasus think themselves the ‘better’ pony. And it goes deeper.”
“Unicorns hold themselves over others because of their magic. Pegasi can fly and therefore are the best. Earth ponies call them all arrogant and think themselves righteous.”
“It took something horrible to make them stop thinking like that. And yet, the little hates still survive. Batponies are hated and feared by pegasus, and distrusted by everypony else.”
“Ponies have their own ‘stripes’, and I am all too familiar with the hate that the difference brings.”
“So when I call it stupid, I mean it.” he finished, glaring at her. I know exactly what might be going through a zebra’s head when they see a zebra with different stripes.”
“Look at that.” he said, his tone accusatory and filled with rage. “Somepony different from myself. I am better, because I am normal, and they are worse, because they are different.”
“Usually followed by; I should make sure that they know that they are worse than myself and those that are just like me.” Dark spat.
Zehara was speechless. Dark Flight had effectively outlined why zebras fought. He did understand, and she had said that he didn’t. She slowly lowered her head.
“I am sorry.” she said, looking away from him in shame. “I should not have judged so quickly.”
“It’s fine.” Dark said, sighing. “I’m used to that.”
The pair looked away from each other for a moment. Then Zehara looked back.
“…Do you have… time?” she asked.
“… Maybe a little. We have a few hours before the sun sets, and I can’t prepare until everything is ready. Did you want something?”
“I… have a small home here, in this place. By the lakeside.” She pawed at the ground, slightly nervous. “If you would accept… I have some fruit, and a place for you to rest.”
Dark hesitated, growing nervous himself. Zehara, sorrowful and worried and nervously watching him, her head low, looked…
He stopped that line of thought. She was zebra, and he was a pony.
“I… I would enjoy that.” he said. Zehara smiled a small smile, and walked away, gesturing for him to follow her.
He did so.
Casca’s tale
My den was never large. I was born to a low male, with only one mate, no lion special in any way. I had an older sister, and soon, a younger brother.
Like all the rest, we were hungry. It was rare when we could find food; sometimes a week passed between meals, and it was no different for the rest of the den. No different than any other den.
But I can still recall that day. I was seven summers old when my sister caught a young zebra alone. She brought it back, and we feasted that night, the kill given to us because of the small size of it.
It was soft, and the muscles not grown. Father gave me an entire leg, and my hunger was almost gone when I finished it, gnawing on the bone to try and get the last scraps of it.
That is when the watcher cried out. We left our home, and saw the rest of the den, fighting with zebra, but not the zebra I knew. Not the lone zebra in that sometimes wandered near the den.
There were many, and they were practiced, and held spears. Stabbing at any who came close, the zebra in a tight group, each one protecting the one next to it.
The males fought, but not one managed to make it past the spears, dying impaled upon them.
I feared, but not what I should have. In my youth, I thought that the zebra might seek to claim the den for their own, and take us as theirs. I was upset, but not as upset as I should have been.
I thought that they were acting as lions.
I waited for them to scatter, which they did. I saw others come from elsewhere, and block any escape, but didn’t truly notice.
I watched them approach the homes in small groups, the females confused and worried. And when the first was run through, the rest growled, mothers readying themselves as their own attackers came.
My mother stared, and then shoved us back into our home.
“Mother!” my sister cried.
“Go, hide the little ones!” she said. “Keep them safe for me.”
My sister watched my mother turn and walk back, and then looked at us, fearful and worried.
I was terrified, and my brother and I huddled close to each other in our fear.
Our sister looked around and then nodded, pushing us into the very back and digging a small pit quickly. We were pushed within and then she covered us in the dirt.
Then she leaned down, and whispered, “Stay still and silent.”
“What’s happening?” I asked, tearful.
“Me and mother will keep you safe, just don’t move. Don’t make a sound.”
“I love you both.”
Then she turned and walked a little forward when four zebra came to our home.
My mother swiped at one, and one managed to spear her paw. My sister ran forward, but they sliced her throat before she got there.
My sister jumped at them.
And one zebra held up his spear, and she was impaled along its length. I could hear her gurgles of pain, and she twitched as the zebras shook themselves. I closed my eyes, no longer willing to see what was happening, wishing that I could stop hearing my sister’s death cries.
My brother next to me was perfectly still, and I heard them enter deeper.
One made a sick sound. “Guess we found him.”
“There is still something to bury, but where are the cubs? Look; tiny paw prints.”
“Look around. Maybe they are hiding.”
I had my eyes closed as tight as I could, and my heart thundered in my chest in fear. Hearing them wander, and search for us.
To kill us.
And just when I thought that they had given up and were leaving, I felt my brother shift.
I opened my eyes in sudden fear of his motion, and saw one zebra staring at us, peering at where we were hidden. the same one who killed my mother and impaled my sister.
I was never so scared. I froze, and my heart stopped beating. He had found us.
That is when my brother jumped up.
He was only five summers. He was just getting his teeth in. He was a tiny cub.
And he was braver than I. I hid in the dirt, and kept my voice inside, and my tears flowed without stopping as I saw it.
He ran forward, and bit the one who had impaled my sister, tearing at his leg with his tiny claws and tiny teeth.
That zebra screamed as my brother attacked him, and managed to kick him off, bleeding heavily from the leg and limping. Hurt badly.
The others went at him, and he dodged the first spear, rolling.
He did not dodge the second.
He screamed as he was pinned to the floor with it. The worst sound I had ever heard, the worst sight I had ever seen.
The zebra killed him quickly after that, but the sight of his tiny face in agony is still vivid in my mind. Sometimes I can still hear him.
I closed my eyes again, trying not to shake in my sobs, muffling my voice as best as I could.
“I… I can’t…”
“We have you. Come, quickly, to the healer.”
“That looks bad.”
“If we are swift, perhaps the leg can be saved, now move!”
I heard them leave, but I waited a long time before I dared to look again.
They were gone. I was safe.
I got out of my hiding spot, and walked past my dead family, and peered outside. Not one zebra could be seen nearby. Just the dead lions of my den.
I sat down and wailed.
In one day, everything had been taken from me. Not a single lion was left alive. Not my mother, not my sister, not even my brother.
My mother died to give my sister time. My sister died trying to save her. My brother, my brother the tiny cub, gave his life to save mine.
And I watched them die. I heard them die, heard their screams and saw their agony as they died on the spears.
I cried every tear I had that night. I kept crying until the sun shined its light once more on the dead lions around me.
And then my tears dried; I could cry no more.
I was alone. Nothing left for me, just a cub, barely grown. I had my teeth and my claws, and nothing else.
I hadn’t learned to hunt. I didn’t know how I was going to survive on my own, without the protection of the den and the teaching of my mother.
But as the sun rose, I stood up.
I promised myself that I was going to live. I was not going to die.
I was going to survive on my own. I would survive, and even thrive.
Not because of anything good. Not because of something I had learned.
Because I was going to kill that zebra for daring to do that to me. For daring to attack the lions, and for daring to kill my mother and sister, and for daring to slay my brother in front of my eyes. I wanted to see his eyes, the zebra that my brother mauled, and watch his terror as I killed him.
I would survive, and grow strong and fast. But I wasn’t going to stop with just one zebra.
They were all going to pay. They were all going to suffer.
I was going to kill every last zebra I could find.

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                         Chapter 2                         
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Chapter 2
Zehara’s home was next to the small lake, with a good view of the water as it sparkled in the sunset. A simple place, just one large room, with a bed, a rug of reeds, and a table. Next to the table were pillows, the table bearing a few fruits, and one wall opened into a balcony where a chair sat.
Zehara went and tossed a few more pillows onto the mat, and then settled down on them, looking over at Dark.
Dark hesitated before following suit.
The two were silent for a moment, simply watching one another.
“Is it hard?” Zerhara asked, suddenly, and Dark started a little.
“…is what hard?” he asked.
“Being a batpony. You seem… well acquainted with differences.”
Dark huffed, thinking. “…It was. I told you; ponies don’t like batponies. Most of the time, that takes the form of distrust, the odd suspicious glance, maybe avoidance. Rarely, it turns into something worse, but not often.”
“You have no tolerance for it?”
“And why should I?” he asked. “There is no reason or purpose behind it. A batpony is no different from any pegasus, but just because of the wings, we are viewed as… as ‘night flyers’ and ‘omens of darkness’. I can shape clouds, and do weather, and most pegasi don’t know that.”
Zehara nodded, thinking.
“…For as long as it has been, zebra were apart.” She said. “Always. It… it defines groups, help us to survive.”
“How?”
“In a group, we are family. The same stripe, the same blood. Together, a group lives and works, everypony helping each other to survive and live.”
“A big group is better.”
“Not in the savannah. Good food and water are scarce. Large groups often find themselves unable to support new numbers. Too many zebra dry the lake, and the food becomes scarce.”
Dark hesitated. “…Then what? Zebra just wander off to live apart?”
“Sometimes. Not often. Groups are kept at a specific population through natural means.”
“…What do you mean by ‘natural means’?”
“When a group grows too large, the food and water grow scarce. When that happens, zebra are weaker, slower. Some might become ill. Those worst off, the weakest and sickest, begin to lag behind the group. We call them, ‘those given’.”
Dark felt a chill pass over him. “…Given? Given to what?” he asked, suspecting.
“When the group becomes too large, the lions hunt. Those too weak are taken. Food for the lion.”
Dark felt ill. “And you… just let that happen? Feeding them to lions?”
“Understand. The lion is not… they are a part of life. We zebra know that. When the zebra become too many, we suffer. The lion comes, and makes us stronger. They make sure that the group as a whole, keeps living. Those given know their fate, and are at peace with it. It is often that a zebra will intentionally fail to eat or drink. Those sick know that they cannot remain; illness can kill an entire group.”
She noticed Dark’s expression. A troubled, mildly horrified one.
“We live in a cycle, lion and zebra.” she said. “It is nature. Death is not something that can be avoided. Illness in the savannah is harsh, and deadly. The land is not strong enough to support large populations. And… when we are strong, the lions suffer.”
“…I… I don’t understand.” He said. “There has to be a better way…”
“Some zebra prefer the jungles. There, water abounds, and food cannot be reduced.”
“Then why not live in the jungle?”
“In the jungle, zebra kill zebra.”
“What!?”
“Many… strange and mythical things live in the jungle. Strange and powerful beings gather zebra to them, and command them. The jungle zebra live bloody lives at the whim of beings like Durnatra, Amanthul, Damar, Ahuizotl, and many more. Powerful beings that wage wars against one another, and jungle zebra are their weapons of choice.”
Dark stared. Zehara glanced at him, and sighed.
“It is our home. Our life. For generations uncounted, the zebra have lived like this. Our home is not your own. It is not fertile, or safe. The savannah and the jungle alike are not kind.”
“So zebra of old made these choices. Some, to the jungle, to take their chances with the beasts. Others to the savannah, splitting apart to stay strong. And a few simply left. Across the savannah, to try and find something else. I believe that they never made it.”
Dark was silent, and Zehara sighed gently.
The pair was silent, Zehara wondering what Dark was thinking, and Dark…
Dark was horrified. The zebra led lives nearly unthinkable, and somehow, they found it… acceptable. And worse; they didn’t chose it.
They had to. Or else something worse would happen.
The cycle of predator and prey. The bloody jungle, and the dangers within. Sacrificing oneself to strengthen the whole. Dying, to save others from illness. Pawns of strange beings in a war they fought with each other…
“…Zehara?” he asked softly.
“Yes?”
“… Those that left everything… why do you think they didn’t make it?”
“This is the savannah’s heart. To the south and east is the edges, the jungles to the south, the moutnains to the east. The savannah they tried to cross has much, much more than lion.”
“There is a beast called a hyena.”
“A hyena?”
“Small things. Half a zebra’s size. But where a lion will hunt for the weak, hyenas attack the strong. Packs of dozens, endlessly hungering, laughing as they slay. They lie in the deeper savannah, and they will not stop killing until they are dead. Not even the lions are safe from the hyena, and the lions keep them from coming to find us.”
Dark nodded slowly, and Zehara hesitated. She didn’t like the way he seemed so… distressed.
“…But… there are tales.” she said.
“Tales?” he asked, his voice a little worn. “Tales of death and laughing monsters?”
“No. Some say that perhaps, past the lions, and the hyena, and worse, there lies a land like no other. A paradise of water and food. A place of safety and power.”
“…A fairytale.”
“Mayhap. But, if you are to look at the right time, or watch during the correct moment…”
“The clouds to our west sometimes, rarely, shine with light during the night. As if something below glows like the sun above. Stand atop our tallest hill, and you may see mountains to the west, so far they seem tiny. And one stands taller than the rest.”
“So very far, some say that it is paradise. The light of salvation, the place of perfection. Green grass, flowing water, fruits to make one weep for the flavor. Waterfalls that spill from peaks that rise taller than the clouds. Rainbows in the sparkling mists, mystery and wonder behind each plant. Some even say that to drink the water, and eat the fruit would renew the body. Cure any illness, heal any wound.”
“…We can find that place.” Dark said, perking up again, and Zehara smiled seeing his spirit renewed.
But she hesitated. “…Even with wings, the trip would take weeks. To walk all the way to the hyena in a journey of weeks on hoof. And farther still to reach that place, past dangers not known, lands not explored.”
“But what if it is real Zehara?” he asked, growing more and more excited. “Imagine. All of the zebra, walking together. No lion or hyena could stop so many, water and food pointless; either stored in preparation for the journey, or foraged during the trip.”
“And if the story is false, and all that lies beyond is a desert?” she asked pointedly, and Dark paused. “A place where there is nothing, and the light is nothing more than an act of the sky we do not understand? And for us all to take that chance that we can even survive the trip?”
“…Moon take it.” Dark muttered, lowering his head, frowning again.
Zehara frowned. Why was it that she could not stop being… upset at his being upset? She didn’t want to see him that way, but everything she knew was something that upset him it seemed. And if something did inspire him, it hurt her to hear of such things.
The paradise was a dream she knew. To hear him be so… his words made her heart sing, but her mind knew it to be false. And in saying so, she only upset him again.
She spent a moment in concentration, seeking some way to cheer him again. Then it came to her, and she looked at him.
“Tell me of your kind.” She said, and Dark hesitated, glancing at her in mild confusion.
“…My kind?”
“Ponies. Unicorns, and pegasi. I have only heard the faint tales. Where do you live, why do you live the way you do? I told you of zebra. Now, you tell me of ponies.”
Dark hesitated, and Zehara waited. Then he nodded.
“Well…”
“Captain?”
They both started at the call, Dark turning to see another batpony looking in.
“Captain, the scout is back.”
Zehara sighed gently as Dark got to his hooves. It seemed their time was over.
But as she moved to stand, Dark touched her with his hoof, holding her down, and she looked up at him.
“I can be done in a moment Zehara. Just wait for me to return; then I will tell you as much as I know.” he said.
She stared at him for a second. “…I will.” she said, slightly stunned.
She kept staring at him, and in turn, Dark seemed loath to stop looking at her.
“Captain?”
He gave the faintest growl as he turned, and Zehara noticed the… mild aggression he had. As if the other was dragging him away from something he desired.
The pair left, and she remained behind. Recalling the strength Dark seemed to have when he touched her, and the sparkle of his eyes. She fell into a thoughtful mood, and glanced at the fruit she had.
Then she stood, and walked to the balcony, overlooking the lake. Looking out, she could see a few dark shapes flying in the setting sun’s light.
The guards around their goddess. Such power and majesty all in one being, and simple, mortal ponies given the honor of guarding her. At first, she had only been consumed in awe, and a slight fear of the goddess, but now, she was curious.
Dark Flight was mortal. Nothing like the vanguard a goddess should have; the stony implacable ponies that would have matched her in some fashion. No, Dark was soft. Gentle. Strong, and yet soft hearted.
She wanted to know more, both of the Goddess and the ponies...
And of Dark.
Casca’s Tale
I stayed in my den for a few years. Eating the things that came to feast upon my fallen den. I buried my own family, and practiced hunting rats and mice. I chased them, stalked them as they bit and chewed. Even the birds that ate death, I hunted. Racing to them, trying to reach them before they flew too high.
I became fast, and silent. Able to race a hundred lengths to kill a bird before it had a chance to fly more than a few feet. I grew on the rats and mice, fat from the fallen.
But they soon ran out of their food, and the rats became less. I didn’t leave at first. My den was the home I knew, and I knew nothing beyond it.
But when I was eight summers, I heard it. My mother had spoken to me about it, my father warned me of it.
The laugh of a hyena.
I was terrified, and ran. I went all the way to the edge of the den, but then I turned back, unable to resist my curiosity.
I saw them. A pack of twenty or more. Small brown things, walking on paws, jaws open, giggling at nothing as they went for the bones. Each seemed diseased, their fur matted and disgusting, even from a distance.
They yipped and bit at one another viciously, fighting over the bones. The biggest claimed the best spots, and many were left with open wounds as they chewed upon what they had claimed. Others waiting nearby, in case one might throw them something.
And then one, the smallest, turned, and saw me.
I ran then, and it chased me, but without a sound. Maybe so it could have me for itself, but I heard it gaining on me, and turned to see it rushing forward, faster than a bird could.
I stopped to meet it, and when it came closer, I tried to pounce upon it.
Which was the only thing that saved me, as it ducked, and tried to race under me, trying to rip at my belly. If I had tried to bite or claw, it would have had me.
As it was, I landed, and it turned and bit my hind leg, near the top. I managed not to scream, and turned, trying to get it off of me.
Its jaws kept chewing, the pain strong. But I bit it, and ripped at it. And it wouldn’t let go, not even with so many wounds that anything else would have. In my desperation, I ripped one of its legs off, and then it finally fell.
To give one last yip. A piercing, loud sound, as it laid bleeding and dying.
I heard the others yip back, and laugh. I saw them spot me, and begin to chase.
I ran, but I was slower, badly hurt. They would have had me if not for their madness.
The fastest of them stopped, and began devouring their own. The one I had felled.
Those behind them tried to do the same, and the whole group fought, snapping and ripping and growling until only a few ate their kin, and the rest turned to follow me.
I made it into the tall grass, and kept going, bleeding. And they began tracking me, following the scent of my blood through the grasses.
For four days, I moved, my wound slowly growing worse with use and exposure. I had no time to tend to it; each day, I could hear the hyena’s laughs behind me, relentless in their chase.
I grew weaker and weaker, slowing. Until the fifth day, when I collapsed. I laid there for some time, thinking I was done. Food for the hyena.
But then I remembered the zebra. My family’s death. I felt hate. I knew I couldn’t die there, to the hyena. I stood up, and the moment the first came into view, I lashed out, and tore its face off.
It still yipped, blind, and the rest called out. I killed the first, and with rage, met the next one. It managed to bite at me, but I killed it as well, and then I ran.
I was hurt, and weak still. They would have me in the end. I hated having to run; I wanted to be stronger. Tougher.
I wanted to kill them all.
I kept running, only to suddenly exit the grass, and see a lake. But I didn’t see what was next to it until I had run headlong into one.
Creatures, the smallest the size of a lioness, and the largest four times the size of any male. Dark, thick skin covered them, and a thick bony plate was on their heads, ending in two sharp points. They stood on four legs ending in hooves, and just by looking, I could see the strength and power each had.
I stared up in shock, and as it glared down and snorted, I felt numb. It could have crushed me like a falling boulder with ease.
“…What creature was that?” Sion asked, interrupting, confused. “There is no tale of such creatures.”
“I do not know. I called them Strength. And they saved me.” Casca told him, almost thoughtful. Her gaze softened for a moment.
“What?”
“Listen, and be silent.” she snapped, and a flicker of fire flashed in her jaws in her sudden instant of anger. Sion fell silent, and she resumed.
I heard the hyenas come, and all of them stopped looking at me, and looked at the hyenas. I saw the monsters stop, panting and glaring.
Then the one I had hit, the biggest of them, looked back down at me. I stared up at him, sure of my death, wishing that I would live.
And it… reached with a hoof, and shoved me behind it, into the mass of them, and then the outer ones charged.
I saw one step upon a hyena, its hoof not even slowing down. They smashed and crushed, their heads lowered to stab and toss hyenas. I saw one thrown fifty feet high before it was impaled upon one of the spikes.
And I saw the remaining ones, the hyenas, the insane, fearless monsters, run.
Another Strength pushed at me with its head, and I turned to look at it in shock. I didn’t know what to think or do.
It pushed me toward the water, and I allowed myself to be pushed. And three of them, using hooves and heads, managed to wash me of blood, and sooth my wound, strength unparalleled controlled with near perfection. One chewed on a plant, and spat it on my leg, and the pain stopped. Another somehow wrapped my wound in more plant, and stopped the bleeding.
Then they just… stayed there. I was amongst them, and they didn’t care. Not really. Sometimes one would glance at me, and I am fairly sure at least one was always watching me, but they didn’t attack me.
The time I was with them was strange. Only a few days, but living amongst creatures of such… power was not anything I knew. I took to staying atop them, to avoid the crushing hooves. Eating the mice that swarmed around the group, not daring to try to harm a single one. As time passed, I grew familiar with them, more at ease amongst them. In their numbers, I was safe and even eating fairly well.
Four days passed, and then, with some ceremony, they ordered themselves. The biggest looked at me, and pointed elsewhere. Then he turned and left, and the whole group followed after him.
For a moment, for a day or two in fact, I had forgotten my hate. Amongst the strength was almost like being in a den. Without a family, but much the same.
I had been happy.
I ran after them. And each and every time I was firmly pushed away. They didn’t hurt me, but the message was very clear.
‘You are no longer welcome.’
I didn’t accept that message for some time, until one nearly killed me with a stomp. Then and only then did I know it.
I watched them go off. Dark lumbering shapes in the grass, heading to places I didn’t and don’t know.
I never once met the Strength again.
At the time, I was hurt. I felt outcast, thrown from them, and I dearly wished to know why. What I had done, what was wrong?
Now, I know. I was lion, and they, big and strong as they were, were prey. They ate plants, and I did not. They might have spared a hurt and desperate cub, but they would never have accepted a lion as part of them.
But then, I didn’t know. It was like one family had been taken, and the other had rejected me. It seemed I had nothing…
Nothing but hate.
Hate kept me living. Raised me past the sorrow and desire to stop.
I hated the zebra. I hated the Strength. Not in the same way I hated zebra, but I did. I accepted that hate with eagerness, using anger to wash the pain I felt away.
I felt angry, angrier than I had ever been. Hate beat in my heart, my lungs, my being. Hotter and hotter.
Then I heard them.
The sounds of zebra behind me, toward the lake.
I do not have the words for what I felt then. But in my hate of them, I knew one thing.
It was their fault. Zebra had taken the Strength from me as well. They were why I was alone twice over.
I stalked back to the lake, slowly, purposefully. The feeling I felt goes beyond mere words. I cannot describe it, but, perhaps, it is this:
I felt like a raging sun was within me, and I and it were smiling as I went.
I was singing the grass that brushed against my sides.

//-------------------------------------------------------//
                         Chapter 3                         
//-------------------------------------------------------//
Chapter 3
Dark was frowning, looking over the sketch the scout had provided.
The lake was clear of grass for about twenty feet. Counting the zebra settlement, that bubble was more like fifty feet in some spots, at least ten feet from any building.
The buildings formed a kind of soft wall, and the entrance, where they anticipated the lions to come from, was on the south west side of the settlement, bordering the lake. Another one was on the north, and of course, the entire eastern ‘wall’ would do very little to stop something like a lion.
Wooden stakes had been set, but even then…
The question became ‘where are the lions’, followed briefly by ‘how smart are they?’
Even without wings, Dark could see about four or five different ways a group of ten could attack the camp. Up that to twenty, and ambush was easily possible as well. From any angle.
Add the fact that one apparently could burn hotter than any fire and would be trying to use fire and smoke to blind everypony…
He groaned as he tried to think of anticipation, of the best way to distribute troops to best counter any possible lion attack.
He was so consumed in thought that he didn’t even notice Princess Luna walking to him until she looked at the map and huffed.
“Princess!” he yelped in minor shock, saluting hurriedly. “I didn’t,”
“They will not go near the lake, so we shall ignore it.” Luna stated, interrupting him. “Lions are honorable; if they strike, they shall do so by the front. We shall have half of us in the center, flying high. Once the flames begin, they shalt do little more than attempt to control the fires, and prevent the smoke from blinding us. Only the strongest flyers shall be given this task."
Dark blinked. “…Honorable?” he asked.
Luna nodded. “A lion must show strength to its fellows, or be considered a weakling and a coward. They wouldst not dare to strike anyplace but where we may see them coming. This is an attack, not a hunt.”
Dark was silent for a moment. Then, with some awe in his tone said, “Every day, you seem to surpass yourself Princess. One glance, and you know the best way. You already have knowledge of the lions as well.”
Luna gave the faintest ghost of a smile. “We were speaking with the zebra. They know the lion well. Tis not just ourselves with this.”
“Even that shows wisdom, my princess. In the night, we are not the arrogance of the sun, but the wisdom of the moon. We learn, and strive to be better. A battle is not won until it is won you always said.”
“…This is why thou art my captain.” Luna whispered, not truly loud enough for Dark to hear her. “See it done. We have an hour until moonrise still, and hours more before the true night. If thou art to see anything more to be done, see it done.”
Luna flapped, and took to the air once again, and Dark watched her go. Even at his earliest meeting, he always did prefer the younger sister. In the light, under Celestia’s sun, ponies judged, and little could be hidden in the bright, sometimes even harsh, light of the sun. But the moon’s light was softer, kinder. Guiding in the darkness, and not judging, or caring one race from another.
Everything lived under the moon’s gentle sight as far as Dark was concerned. The Princess of the moon, protector of dreams, first and most able guardian of Equestria was far, far better than the magnificent Celestia.
He smiled, and went to work, ordering ponies into position as fast as he could.
He wanted to get back to Zehara. To speak with her again, yes, but also just to see her again.
Zehara almost yelled when Dark entered again, suddenly and without much warning. But mostly because he came from the balcony, and not the door.
She saw him, opened her mouth and stopped.
As he landed, for just a moment, his wings spread to their fullest, the light of sunset glinting on his armor and shimmering on his fur. For an instant, he was… was like some descending,
She shook it off, blushing faintly.
“I’m back!” he said, a touch tired. “Sorry it took so long.” he added, walking over to her again.
Zehara spent a moment gathering herself before responding, “You seem to have accomplished that rather quickly.”
Dark flopped onto the pillows and smiled. “Princess Luna helped out. It’s all ready now. Now, we just have to wait.”
She carefully lowered herself onto the pillows, noticing Dark’s… familiarity. He had started stiff and formal. And now, rather suddenly it seemed, he was perfectly at home, relaxing on her pillows on his back, wings spread on the floor and pillows nearby.
She found she very much enjoyed seeing him like that. Seeing him so peaceful.
“…You seem renewed.” she mentioned.
“Yeah?” he asked, and she barely bit back her grin at his smile as he looked at her, upside down. “I feel… a lot more prepared for this lion attack now. That might be it.”
“…It seem a touch strange to hear a tale with the teller being the wrong side up.” she said, and grinned faintly.
Dark rolled upright, shaking himself, as if he suddenly recalled where he was.
“Oh, right, sorry.” he said, almost embarrassed. “Story, ponies, Equestria, got it.” He spent a moment pondering, and then nodded.
“You know about Equestria and ponies, right?”
“I do. At least in some part. Why not begin with your goddess?”
“Princess Luna isn’t a goddess. Neither is her sister, Princess Celestia; they are alicorns.”
Zehara gave him a look. “…Are they powerful, more so than any other?”
“…Yes.”
“Are they wise, possibly more so than any other?”
“Yes…”
“Can they die?”
Dark hesitated. “…I… don’t think so…”
“Then how are these princesses different from gods?”
“…I know if I called Princess Luna a goddess, she might get mad at me. And Princess Celestia is very firm on that. They are not goddess.”
Zehara only looked mildly confused. “I do not fully understand.”
“Well, thinking about it, neither do I.” he told her. “They just don’t like being called that. Princess, and not queen, or anything else. Just princess.”
“…Were they with ponies always?”
“…Yes and no. There was a time without them, but I don’t think anypony wrote down a date someplace that says ‘twin alicorns come from someplace to help everypony or anything like that. They just… are.”
“…What time came before them?” Zehara asked, trying to understand. It made very little sense to her that the twin alicorns could just be, particularly if there was a time without them. Surely somepony wrote of the time when they appeared, right? Such an event could not have just passed by without at least one pony finding it important enough to note, right?
“We call that ‘the time of separation’. It goes a little like this:”
“A very long time ago, there were pegasi, unicorns, and earth ponies. And they lived together, kind of, until this really bad winter came, and they blamed each other for it. So they all went on this long journey to find a new home, and ran into each other, and something or another happened and winter stopped and peace was had.”
Zehara just stared at him for a while.
“…Alright, I stink at storytelling. Come on, I hear it once per year and don’t particularly care for hearing the history of hearth’s warming. I got the general message across, right?”
“…Only if ponies like to blame each other for random chance.”
“I meant a magical winter.”
“Then why not blame the magical unicorns?”
“Because… because unicorns couldn’t do anything about it, so they blamed the pegasi.”
“And the rest? Earth ponies?”
“…Maybe pegasi and unicorns blamed them for… not growing crops under three feet of snow? I don’t know.”
“… What of the time after, with the princesses? The earliest as you can.”
“The earliest time with the twin princesses is called ‘the time of strife’. Ponies had lots of problems, and they solved most of them, leading to ‘the golden age’. And that leads to today.”
“… Perhaps… perhaps this will be more understandable if I were to ask something not historical.”
“…Maybe. I did flunk history.”
“Tell me of these ‘princesses’. How do they influence the lives of ponies?”
“…Princess Luna is the alicorn of the moon, and her twin sister, Princess Celestia, is the alicorn of the sun. Both rule ponies; the last word on government and more.”
“More. What of Celestia?”
“Princess Celestia.” Dark corrected. “She commands the sun in its path, and is the elder sister, but not by much. She is a white alicorn, standing about as tall as Princess Luna, and she has this… shining grace to her. Like nothing can mar her.”
“Commands the sun…” Zehara whispered, thoughtful. “…Truly?”
“Yes. She even has this whole ceremony, once per year, where she does it in front of a huge crowd. It’s really amazing.”
“…And Princess Luna?”
“She commands the moon. You’ve seen her; she’s… perfect. Like her sister, but Luna is welcoming. Braver than her sister, more willing to go rushing to defeat some beast or another. Like now. And she even protects dreams.”
“Dreams?”
“She spends the whole night looking over sleeping ponies, keeping them safe from nightmares and the like. Assuring a peaceful sleep over all of Equestria.”
“…It almost seems impossible.”
“What does?”
“Twin gods… princesses. One of the moon and of night, and the other of sun and day… I would have thought that they would be at odds with one another. One trying to overcome her own sister, not working together.”
Dark snorted. “The idea of them fighting is ridiculous. They’re family, and day and night are interchangeable.”
“…Are they? Can one say the sun in the same as the moon? The sun never changes, but the moon grows and shrinks. The night is the time of the predator. Lions hunt at night, and the jungle grows deadly during the darkness. Daylight is when we see, when it is safe to travel beyond the boundaries of the firelight.”
“…Well, they are. The moon never frightens anything. Everything can live under moonlight.”
“Some, many, would say the sun protects us.”
“But the moon cares.” Dark near snapped, and Zehara blinked.
“The sun shines, and it doesn’t care. Princess Celestia has never saved a life, and Princess Luna is always rushing to defend ponies. She doesn’t care what she saves. Her moonlight guides us in darkness, and pierces what is truly dark in ways the sun can never hope to do.”
Zehara was silent, Dark huffing, a little angry.
“…It doesn’t matter.” he said.
“No, it does.” she said. “It matters to you. Princess Luna is precious, and more precious in your eyes. I can see the… the loyalty you have for her. I imagine that few ponies prefer the moon to the sun. The night is dark and frightening; as is what lives within it. Like a batpony.”
Dark paused, staring at her.
“Many fear the night, but who fears the day? The sun warms us, lets us see, keeps the dangers hidden away in their lairs. The night is dark, we cannot see, and monster and beast and predator come forth to prey. The things that live in the night are not well known, or cared for. Any good is hidden in darkness, and the evil is all too apparent…”
They both were silent, Dark troubled, and Zehara understanding.
Dark tried to ignore it, but Zehara was right. Most ponies preferred the day.
Some even feared Princess Luna. They did not see the kindness, or the care.
They only saw a nightmare in the darkness. They cowered in front of Luna, seeing her as the incarnation of the night, and all its terrors.
That fear was silent, almost unnoticed. But it was what drove the fear of batponies, able to see in the dark, not like normal pegasi, and preferring a nocturnal life. They were too similar to bad things.
Zehara got up and moved nearer to Dark, settling down at his side. She sighed faintly, looking at his troubled face. That trouble didn’t see like something she could help with. It was deeper, darker than most.
She found it upset her, seeing him upset.
She leaned against him, and felt him flinch just a little before leaning back, almost on instinct.
“It hurts you.” she murmured, and he huffed.
“…It’s stupid. They’re all blind and stupid.”
“Fear easily spreads. One is afraid, and the rest fear with it. That is true, even with zebra. An entire group can learn to avoid a good place of food for the fear of a single spider.”
“She even saves them in their dreams…”
“She appears in the darkest fears. So many dreams to save, and so little time to calm a terrified pony. They are left with the remnants of fear, and her image.”
“It’s just stupid.” he muttered, leaning against her a little more.
“It is life. It is how we think, how we feel. The darkness hides our death our minds proclaim. A time to sleep and hope that our fears be proven false. We are not there to see the moon slay the monster, nor her subjects aiding her. We are hiding away, trembling for the fear of the dark and the monsters we are so sure hide within it.”
Dark didn’t respond.
“…If it is to help… I always enjoyed the night.”
“What?” Dark said, his voice a touch strained.
“I enjoy the nighttime, and the moon above. I feel safer under the cloak of shadows than in the bright of day.”
“…Why?”
“Recover first. Eat some fruit, have a drink. You are troubled greatly, and now is not the time for me to tell you my tale.”
Dark nodded slowly. And the pair simply laid there together, Zehara waiting, and Dark slowly calming again.
It was easy to grow calm again with her on his side.
Casca’s tale
I found three zebra by the lake. Peering from the grass, I saw them. Three males, fetching water. They were young, but grown. Secure, not truly paying attention to their surroundings.
They were talking with one another. Mostly focused on the remnants the Strength had left behind. Suggesting stupid things that might have left such a mark on the lakeside, laughing as they gathered water.
Two were near the lake, the third closer to me. I judged a distance, and readied myself, my hate pulsing in time with my heart.
A soft crackle came from near me, and they turned to see.
I leapt. Fire burned along my form, filled my vision, and I saw the zebra’s terror as I came. I hit him, ripping and biting in a frenzy of hate, tearing him apart even as he burnt away in the fire.
Then I noticed that I burned, but didn’t hurt. The fire flowed along my fur and claws, and it wasn’t hot. And instead of feeling afraid, or worried, I felt…
Satisfied.
I stood atop the burning remains of the first, and looked at the remaining two, frozen in terror.
One ran along the lake’s edge, and the other jumped into the water.
I jumped after him, and the water hissed, and my fires dimmed. I caught him under the water, and I can still recall the bloody water that we thrashed within.
I eventually dragged him out, and dried swiftly. His last breath was of my fire as I bit his throat.
I smiled, and the flames on my form dimmed. I was pleased.
Zebra would escape to zebra. And I would find even more at the end of the trail.
I ate what was left of the other two. Something to sustain myself for my hunt.
Then I followed the third. I stalked after him, often finding him exhausted, collapsed. And each time I let him recover, and keep moving. I followed him for days, my hunger growing, but I waited.
A feast not just of food awaited me.
Until, at last, he came to a large group when the sun was high in the sky. Others stared at his yells, and I stopped.
One of the zebra who ran to him limped badly. His front leg was covered in scars, and ill-suited for walking.
I knew him.
He was the zebra my brother had saved me from.
That was the group who had killed my family. My den.
As they reached him, I screamed in hate, and the fire burned ever hotter, brighter and stronger. The expression of my hate and anger.
The grass nearest to me turned to ash in an instant. The flames spread outward and I glared at the zebra ahead of me. They all stared in shock and horror.
They were nothing.
I ran forward, flames reaching forward to burn and blind, zebra screaming. I ripped and tore everything I could reach with abandon, flesh burning under my claws and teeth. But the one with the leg, I didn’t hurt. My fire didn’t burn him, and I took care not to hurt him.
Then, when the rest were dead, I grabbed him, and stared into his eyes. My hate against his terror and odd determination. He did not flinch when I forced him to see me.
I broke every one of his legs, and then ran to kill more. Leaving him as the witness as I slaughtered zebra. Males dying as I ripped their necks, females the same, wailing children cut down without a single drop of pity.
I killed their children the same way they killed ours. Often before I killed the parent, knowing I would hurt more in doing that. Every death was satisfaction that demanded more, and more. Blood spilled screaming for me to spill more.
Two escaped. Just two, two females, one older, the other younger, barely an adult. I raged from that, despite all I had done already, but I didn’t chase them. I didn’t seem to be able to muster the energy to, and instead, I returned to the one I crippled.
I found him smiling, despite the death and fires.
Seeing that… I broke the oldest tradition.
I spoke to him.
“What?” Sion whispered, shocked. “You would do such?”
“I did, and would again.” Casca said. “My hate burned within me, and his smile was too much. One lone zebra who I would kill had a secret. Would you have not done the same?”
Sion hesitated. “I… I cannot even imagine myself as you.”
“Am I changed in your eyes? Is that break of tradition too much at last?”
“…It… would be to others.” Sion said, looking to Casca, seeing her eyes watching him. “But not to me.”
“Why?”
“…The blood of my heart keeps me silent.” Sion said, taking refuge in the old way of stating deep unwillingness to speak your reasons.
Casca watched him for a moment. Seeking hints in his eyes and body.
Perhaps she saw something. Perhaps Sion wanted her to see something. Neither mentioned it if they did or had.
“What did you say?” Sion asked after a moment, breaking the silence and almost mesmerizing observation. Casca only blinked, and resumed.
“I was curious. So I asked:”
“Why are you smiling?”
He stooped smiling at my words. His eyes opening in shock, or surprise, and I saw him look at me in a new understanding.
Then he chuckled.
“You speak, thing of fire and hate?” he asked me.
“I do. Why do you smile?”
“Because it is done. It is over.”
I understood what he meant, and hissed. I set my claws upon his neck, and hated that he didn’t flinch. Not even the faintest indication of fear crossed his eyes nor his form.
“…I have not even begun to hunt.” I told him. “The sins of zebra will be washed away in their blood.”
He blinked, understanding something again. “You are of that den.” he whispered, and I paused.
“The one we killed… I knew we would pay the price someday. And here you are: the vengeance of the cycle. We broke the ways, we tried to subdue the cycle. We thought that we were more, that we could decide our fates. You were sent to teach us humility once more. You are the weapon of the cycle.”
“I am so much more!” I roared at him. “I am the death of all your kind! You lie, broken and burned under my paws, and dare to say what I am!?”
He laughed. He actually laughed, and I stopped, stunned. He stopped after a moment, and smiled at me. Smiled.
“It’s done. The sin is paid for. We paid for our pride with our lives and blood. The cycle is complete, and its lesson learned. We killed the lion. You killed us. It is done, and you have no more purpose. Look: even now you burn to ashes.”
He was right. I felt nothing, but my fires were dimming, and I was blackening. Tiny flakes of ash fell from me. My energy was dropping, I was feeling tired, worn.
“My death comes with the knowledge that it is done. I die seeing my wife and daughter live on. I die knowing the cycle is complete.”
“This is not done!” I screamed, angry, trying and failing to renew my fires. I couldn’t. “I am not done!”
“But you are.” he murmured. “So nature decrees. The cycle is done, its tools set aside. Rage, calm, suffer, bleed, it doesn’t matter anymore. It is done, and we die together.”
I sat, and stared at him for a moment. For a few seconds, I felt defeated. I looked back, and saw the deaths of my family, and, for just a moment, just one… I thought I had avenged them.
Then I denied that, and forced myself to anger. “…No. No! I won’t! Not until I see each and every last one of you dead! My home is worth more than just this! My family is worth more than just this!”
He looked at me with sad eyes. I think that… I think he somehow understood me in some way.
But as I denied my fate, I stopped burning. My fires brightened again, and I stood up, forcing death away in the fires of my hates. I saw him fear again.
“…Learn the lesson you have taught, burning lioness.” he said. “To break the cycle is to invite the wrath of nature. Such is true for us… it is also true for you. Let it end, let it finish, I beg you. For your sake, and the sake of your kind, stop now, and let it finish!”
“Let it end, before you begin a new cycle. You will bring destruction upon your kind, just as you have upon us. Will you see lion destroyed the same as we were? Surely, you have some care within you yet…”
I watched him carefully as he spoke, and saw him afraid, but it wasn't for himself. Or even of me.
He feared for me.
He saw me watching, and smiled faintly. “I might bring you peace in these final moments.” he offered. “Lion and zebra, we may lie together, and together pass to the fields beyond.”
“I… I hate you.” I told him, but I lacked the fire. Somehow, right then, I didn’t hate him. My hate was dim, weak, though I gripped the final ember with all my being still.
“I know. Stay here. Let it end, please. You do not deserve the fate you have brought to us, at least not yet. But one day, judgement shall come and nothing will stop it. Calm your heart, turn to the ashes. You will feed the land, as we will. One day, this will all be made anew, zebra shall return, and with them comes the lion. But it will not happen if you don’t let it end.”
“…I hated you. For so long, it is all I am.” I whispered, closing my eyes, seeing my reasons and causes again. They didn’t seem to matter anymore. I denied even that.
“I know that as well. But look: your hate is gone, is it not? The cycle closes, and you have a chance to stop before you begin.”
“…I will prove you wrong.”
“Our deaths show me to be right.”
“I won’t accept it. I will show mastery. Your ‘cycle’ has no hold upon me.”
“Arrogance leads to the fall…”
“I will shatter your cycle. I will deny nature, and end the zebra, I swear. I deny this end, I deny this path. I will continue.” I stated, standing tall and renewed. I had the choice, and I took it.
“…”
“No more words?” I asked, prideful, grinning. I ceased doing so with his last words.
“…The last beats of my heart are to my daughter and wife, safe far from here.” he murmured, his eyes distant. “The last trembles of my soul are given to help you see. The last thoughts of my mind are yours. And the last action will either be to sing the last song for you… Or weep as you leave to find your own judgment.”
I listened and didn’t think. I sat up, my flames burning bright. The hate within me was dead, but my fires were mine. I was no longer commanded, but I was now commanding. With his words, I had found mastery, and denied my fate.
I roared into the air, victorious, my fires burning bright and tall.
And I saw him weep. I looked upon him, and he cried, and I did not understand.
“…The burning lioness is born.” I whispered to him, and I killed him. I made it as fast as I could. I’m not truly sure why I did so, but he didn’t suffer.
With a thought, my fires doused, and I walked away without a single look back. I was sure I would win. Sure that I would be the end of zebra. Nothing could stop me, nothing would make me stop.
I would win, I swore. I would break the cycle he spoke of.
Casca fell silent then, and Sion waited.
“…If I had only listened to his words.” she whispered, looking to the ground, her voice heavy. “I would have died in peace, in satisfaction. But I was too proud.”
“And now, I go to find my death in a battle that I cannot win. Doing my all to save as many lions as I can, and leading those who follow me to their own deaths. All because I took up my dead hate, and walked onward.”
Sion watched, uncertain, unsure. Unable to find anything to say, despite a want to have something to say.
Casca looked up, and Sion almost flinched at the fear in her eyes, now undercut with sadness. Then they hardened.
“…You must tell the rest of this.” she told him. “Of the cycle. Warn them from the path I have chosen. Tell them that I die in vain, that all my works come to nothing.”
“A life of hate and fire leads to nothing more than ashes and tears.”
“…I… I will, Casca.” Sion said, a touch overwhelmed by her.
Casca nodded and looked away, toward the distant lake.
“…I never did hear their ‘last song’.” she murmured, just barely enough for Sion to hear her. “And now, I never will.”
“My life was nothing save fire and hates.”