Mad Mare

Sand.

An infinite, from what it seemed, blanket of sand stretched far and wide in all directions. Rocky dunes and hills bumped seldomly towards the bright blue sky like little folds on a worn off carpet. A few stone peaks jagged the horizon in blurry dark razors. Lifeless shredded chunks of puffy white clouds drifted peacefully across the heavens. A blazing yellow globe crept steadily above the pursuit unit of three cars. They raced fast in a triangular formation. Columns of airborne sand, bursted up from behind their back wheels, quickly falling back down under their own weight. A long, jagged tarantass vanguarded the formation. A rectangular flat cargo hold took up half of the as rectangular machine. A square platform was welded to the front of the metal frame of the contraption.

A pale-mauve mare stood bound, as if crucified, to a makeshift cross, made out of scrap-metal pipes. Her forehooves were bound behind her back in heavy shackles. Her hind legs were wrapped in chains, securing them to the base of the metal cross. A hefty and cumbersome collar squeezed her neck like a hangpony’s morbid noose. Her face was covered up by a rusty muzzle as if she was a wild animal. A stingy feeling of pain spread from her collarbone. A big hook-like needle was burrowing deep into her body, wrapped around the bone and piercing the subclavian artery; mugging the body off of its blood and sending it down a small plastic tube encased into a chain to the driver. White baggy sackcloth pants sheeted her legs, wrinkling and trembling under the pressure of the wind. Her torso was dressed in a long sleeved shirt of the same cut. Her head was wrapped in a long piece of the identical linen fabric, completely masking one of her eyes. Nevertheless, she was able to see right through the cloth, due to its structure, while others could not see what was underneath it.

Mare’s breathing was shallow and uneven from the suffocating heaviness of the pressurized hot and arenaceous air in front of the car, as well as the choking collar on her slender neck. A mix of decaying metal and burnt silicone smells left a crunchy taste of rust and sand in her mouth. Sun’s heat bathed her, radiating off of the fiery metal around her. A very angry twelve-cylinder spell-boosted liquid-coal engine roared from behind the dam; slightly out of sync from the other two motors nearby, creating the irritating sound of dissonant echo that scraped mare’s ears. It was loud, however, it wasn’t loud enough to cover the squabbling of her captors.

“Go faster!” The lancer, like a screaming sick parrot scraping its beak maniacally on a plate, yelled from the cargo basket in the back of the car, leaning over cabin’s back window and peaking into a moon door above the driver.

“Don’t tell me how to do my job.” The driver barked back angrily with a surprisingly soothing though frail voice, like an acoustic guitar with strings pressed not hard enough. If not the circumstances, I would have guessed that he could sing quite nicely. It sounded familiar somehow.

“We’ve been chasing the fuckers for hours.”

“Are you in a rush?”

“I’m bored! Just catch up to them!”

“Do I look like an entertainer to you?”

“You look too dead for my taste,” The lancer paused, “the bloodbag, on the other hoof...”

“Shut it, Zeal!”

The lancer snorted, “Weak-ass...”

“What did you just say?”

“You are weak. Mellow. Just look at you: can’t even hit gas without your bloodbag.” He mocked. “And the best part, the bloodbag’s a mare!”

“I warn you.” The driver audibly twisted a knob on the dashboard, making the hood rumble.

“Don’t tell me you will start acting like a filly soon!” He laughed sincerely.

“Shut your trap, Zeal!”

“Have your balls fallen off already or does that come after The Flawless finds out you failed this foal’s game of a task?”

“Die in a fucking fire!” The driver slammed a button on the dashboard. The rumbling stopped. In its place, came the explosive roar of the engine and the flaming exhaust from the pipes. A painful jolt shocked mare’s body, she felt her sides burning from the fire and heating metal all around her, even if she was safely distanced from the flames.

The car jarred forward, sending Zeal flying back. The stallion audibly grabbed the rim of the cargo basket and cracked maniacally, “Yes! Yes! This is the Spike I know!”

Seeing became harder and painful as more grains of sand and dirt came shooting into the mare’s eyes, like small rubber bullets colliding with unprotected skin; fortunately, the cloth over her eye helped. She squinted, her entire body stiffening. The car broke the formation, rushing away from the other two. The enginal dissonance faded away, leaving the pure and untempered excited roaring. It was like music to the mare’s ears. She afforded to relax slightly, her ears perking up under the fabric, her eyes closed peacefully. A humble little smile grew under the rusty muzzle.

In the distance, no more than a couple of kilometers away, the mare spotted a buggy. She was not the only one. A loud and enthusiastic “There’s the booty!” screeched from behind her, coming from Zeal. The machine was bulky, made from haphazardly welded together scraps and attached to a high-suspension frame. The targeted vehicle was going diagonally from the pursuiters; the latter had no intention of trailing behind, they were driving preemptively, hoping to cut the buggy off. A reasonable strategy if not for what was going their way. The horizon ahead was uneven, like a mahogany mountain was rising out of nowhere and enveloping the skies. It was bubbling and swirling around, rolling fast towards the cars like a smoky tsunami of sand, rocks, and dirt. Streaks of dull red light burst somewhere deep inside the grounded cloud, barely visible from the outside. They were driving into the sandstorm.

The restrained mare shivered as the realization of what is to come washed over her. Her eyes widened, breath stuck in place, heart skipped a bit. She turned her head sharply to a side, hoping her gaze would reach the driver, but the collar was too tight and began to pull out individual hairs out of her neck and burning her skin before she could achieve what she wanted. The dam squinted from pain, gritting her teeth as her head returned to the initial position. The metal behind her began to heat as well, starting to burn her back. The engine was overheating.

The sandstorm was much closer now and closening in fast, and the cars were driving right into it. Waves of poorly restrained shivers ran across mare’s body. The sight was clearly horrific to her. Was it because of the sheer size of the bubbling cloud of sand and rocks that stood almost fifteen hundred meters high? Was it because she knew how deadly such a beast can be and how slowly and painfully she would die if she happened to get into one while tied to the dune-racing car’s hood with no protection in sight? Was it the combination of the two? Or maybe it was something else? The answer is unknown.

The buggy was no more than a couple hundred meters away from the pursuit vehicle, giving the pale-mauve mare a chance to better see it. What caught her attention was the contraption in the back of the machine. An H-like frame that held a barrel was sticking out of an arched opening in the trunk. The dam slightly tilted her head questioningly. This must have been confusing for her, like she was trying to comprehend what it was, but failing.

Her expression changed once more; fear once again was surfacing on her face as the buggy suddenly changed its course, going towards her. Its suspension was higher than that of the pursuit vehicle, its tires wider and heavier, its bottom was armored, as if a shell of a turtle, probably capable of withstanding a mine exploding under it. It was going to run her over and it was quickly shortening the distance with only a small bump of sand separating the two. Mare’s body tensed up, convulsing from side to side, trying to escape. Unfortunately, her struggles were completely negated by the shackles that kept her tightly bound to the cross.

A big puff of sand burst into the air as the monstrous wheels of the buggy dug into the small elevation of a dune and scattered it. The car jumped, no longer bound to ground, and flew towards the pursuit vehicle, moments away from crashing it. This was the moment Spike reacted. The steering wheel angled sharply, the clutch pedal hit the floor with a forced thud as the hoofbrake cricketed back. The tarantass spun half circle, surfing the sands. The chains and shackles bit into the mare’s skin, burning and bruising it, clawing their way to the blood; the collar on her neck began to choke, no longer allowing her to breathe in or out. The buggy crashed to the ground, sending a cloud of sand in the air once again; its suspension sending it into a second jump. Zeal was prepared, already holding a boomstick in his teeth. Once the car turned, the lancer threw it at the pursuited vehicle. The spear-like explosive weapon detonated under the target, sending little pieces of rock and metal fragments flying in all directions. One piece had grazed dam’s front leg, tearing a hole through her white robes and staining them with blood. The wound was burning, making the mare grit her teeth, but it was not too bad, fading away as Spike performed another U-turn, now following the buggy.

The H-like contraption in the back of the followed car finally revealed itself to be a harpoon. A long metal spike blasted out of the barrel, tearing through the air with a loud whistle and pulling a shiny thick cable behind it. The tip of the harpoon whizzed by just a couple of centimeters away from the mare’s face, sending shivers down her spine and turning her expression to a horrified one. The cable stretched, beginning to pull on the pursuit vehicle. The car began to wobble as Spike tried his best to operate the dragged machine. He zig-zagged in an attempt to throw the buggy off balance. His opponent hopped from one wheel to another but did not give in. The cable began to pull harder, like an owner of a very enthusiastic dog.

The sky darkened. Once clear blue, it was completely submerged in bubbling mahogany clouds, rolling in and out of themselves like concentrated smoke, curving down to the earth like a massive wave about to crush down on a shore.

“Cut the wire and take her inside!” Spike ordered his lancer. Zeal jumped across the roof, stopping right behind the mare. He grunted, using the bolt cutter to detach the cable. In a flash, he succeeded. The wire snapped, whistling through the air like a whip of a very angry lion tamer. The tip of the wire slammed into the cross, behind the mare’s neck, cutting through the metal like it was butter. The cross began to topple, tilting forward slightly before stopping. Mare’s head fell forward, no longer bound to the pipes. The wire coiled around her neck, like a snake, pulling her forward. If it wasn’t for the cumbersome collar, she would have a splattered bulk of bloody minced meat instead of the head and neck.

Zeal snorted behind the dam. His teeth bit the chain that went from the collar down to the driver and pulled it back. He tried unlocking the collar, his hooves shaking it violently where the lock once used to be and now only had a cluster of crooked and mutilated metal. He quickly gave up on trying to unlock the shackles and bucked the base of the cross, snapping it off of the car and freeing the mare. The pipes flew free before crashing into the sand and dancing in it as the pursuit vehicle zoomed past it.

The sandstorm was just moments before impact with the car. Zeal yanked the chain, sending the mare siding across the roof, down to the pickup-like trunk, followed closely by Zeal himself. The dam fell onto the hard surface of the cargo hold, her face upwards, getting the last glimpse of the clear blue sky somewhere far behind her and the blackening mahogany cloud before her. Zeal slid on the roof, dropping down on the mare, right as the wall of sand and rocks punched the car and enveloped it. The sunlight was no more, everything was dark russet. Big glistening grains and small pebbles flew all around the car, hitting and ricocheting from it like droplets of water in heavy rain.

Zeal’s figure unintentionally protected most of the mare’s body, covering it with his own and allowing her to get a better look at one of her captors. The stallion was an above averagely sized (that still dwarfed the mare in a comparison) unicorn with a visibly malnutritioned body, though physically trained. He was barely dressed, only wearing empty cargo pants the color of wet sand, torn in several places near his knees and ankles with deep skin scarring underneath -- the aftermath of countless road conflicts. His skin was covered in layers of a dried up mix of sandy white clay and ashes, cracking and flaking off on the face and joints. He had deep scars on both cheeks, as if they were torn apart with a wire or a blade from lips to ears; stapled together amateurly with large titanium clips. His blood red eyes were opened wide, staring directly at the mare, masut painted around them and jaggedly scraped back to the temples.

Zeal stood up, stepping aside and picking up a pair of goggles with his blood-red aura. Swiftly putting them on, he looked through the back window of the car. The mare was still bound by shackles, her front hooves were chained together, so were her hind legs, but now she at least could move. Her body contracted as if trying to jump off of the car but was stopped immediately.

A surge of pain on her stomach, spreading across her left side like waves on the disturbed water, as a gun grip kicked into it. She squealed, clenching her teeth. Zeal stepped over her, pushing his front hooves into her shoulders and pressing a double barrel shotgun wrapped into red aura against her neck. “Oh no, you don’t, missy.” He gritted, his crimson eyes staring straight into her soul. She shivered. “I don’t know why he’s protecting you,” The stallion continued, “but he can’t do shit here. You are all mine right now, I can do whatever I please with you and no one will come to rescue.” He spat a little, emphasizing no one, “So you better be on your best behavior,” the stallion pressed the shotgun harder, “or your head will go puff.” He hovered his head over her face, taking a deep sniff. The pale-mauve mare grew paler. she closed her eyes, facing away from her captor. Her breathing was held up from discomfort, bordering fear, and the suffocating smell of decaying flesh, old blood, rust, coal, and alcohol that filled the cargo hold. The place was filthy. It probably wasn’t cleaned in months. At least months. Her body was shivering and trembling. Tears began to form on the corners of her eyes as she lowered her hooves, acknowledging her preemptive defeat.

“Good filly.” Zeal cracked.

The car skipped on a rock. The shotgun press harder against the top of mare’s neck. She hesitantly opened her eyes. The lancer’s gaze moved forward on the road and stayed there, allowing her to take a look around. The cargo hold was mostly empty: several bags covered in tarpaulin and strapped to the sides, the bolt cutter Zeal used earlier to detach the harpoon, a coil of chains, and several bundles of boom-sticks, wrapped together with a wire and covered over. One of the bundles was open, sticks scattered beside the coiled chain.

The engine skipped a beat, purring tiredly. Waves of vibrations enveloped the entire car; the movement was jagged and jumpy. The machine began to drag and slow down. Several valves by the driver’s seat turned audibly. Gears shifted with a loud screech and the rumbling extinguished itself, movement returned to being even and as smooth as the road allowed.

The car skipped once again, but with a much greater magnitude. All aboard were sent flying into the air. The lancer was clearly accustomed to such rough rides: his hoof was already pulling him back onto the flooring while the mare was still comprehending what was going on. Instinctively he floated the shotgun close, leaving the mare unsupervised. A big mistake on his part. She felt the opportunity come her way and used it. Her body twisted, sending her into a violent spin. Her hind leg kicked the weapon, imploding the aura around it and sending it flying into the sandstorm. Zeal turned his head sharply towards her, burning blood-thirst and hatred mixed with genuine surprise in his eyes. His hooves touch the floor; his horn glowing once again, already beginning to envelop the mare into the bright red aura.

The car dropped to the ground, its suspension sending it back up for a smaller hop. The dam used the momentum and the position she had, dropping both of her chain-heavy hind legs onto his propelled-upwards head, disrupting his concentration. In most cases, such a hit would have caused a concussion at the very least. But being a warfoal has its toll on the body. Zeal shook his head, not losing his footing. Dazed, his eyes took a moment to focus, a moment the mare dropped on the floor. Not losing her momentum, she spun around, kicking stallion’s front hooves. His face smashed into the car, as the mare sprung upwards, getting hit by the debris from the storm right away. Sand scraped her open cheek. An old rusty street sign that flew gracefully, propelled by the gusts of wind, hit mare’s back. Her body crashed to the floor, burning waves of pain enveloping her body.

The mare glanced up only to see lancer’s lit up horn as the chain that fell from her neck began to glow with the same red. She looked in terror, realizing what is going to happen and trying to brace for impact. Too late. His magic pulled the metal, slamming her head into the back window of the pursuit vehicle. The glass cracked as blood from her nose and slit eyebrow sprinkled the fissures. Pain engulfed her face. The chain pulled the other way. The mare got air towards off the car. But before she did, she managed to lay a solid buck into Zeal’s face. The magic imploded once again, letting the mare fly free. The chain pulled back, propelling the mare back to the car. She crushed into the same back window, rolling down onto her back. Her gaze went up to Zeal, who was about to stomp on her. She bucked, her back hooves crushing into stallions torso, sending him flying off the car and into the sand. In a flinch, he disappeared in the storm.

Dam’s body felt heavy, her breathing was heavy. She looked over to the bolt cutters, then back down to her rusty metal muzzle. A deep trembling sigh escaped her lips as if she was about to cry. She shook it off, getting up before her ears perked up under the cloth at a clicking sound from the driver’s seat. She glanced at the back window only to see her jaded reflection and a loaded six-shot revolver pointed at her from the driver's seat. Her body tensed up in an attempt to duck, but it was too late. The gunshot. A ball of light and fire and smoke burst out of the weapon. A bullet flew towards the mare’s face, just under the uncovered eye. The lead pallet buried itself in the muzzle that covered dam’s face, creating a fissure along its length. The slug erupted, filling the heavy mahogany air with sparkling lead glitter. She dropped onto the floor. Two more shots rang and the window shattered, covered the mare with broken glass.

Her gaze went up as the tarantass burst out of the firm wall of sandy clouds, right into the heart of the storm. Brick-red dome of sand blew violently around a massive cone of even stronger winds. Flaming streaks of overpowered lighting, pierced the crimson nebula with irregular eagerness, leaving trails of fire and molten glass behind. The sight was mesmerizing and horrifying at the same time.

Two more pursuit vehicles emerged from the sandy air wall, rushing their way behind the tarantass and bringing back the discord of enginal orchestra. The mare cried out, feeling betrayed in this unfair situation. One of the new pursuiters was a bulky conestoga with a raised suspension and sand tires. Its frame was reinforced with a welded pipes and metal sheets, giving it a more distinct edgy shape. A cumbersome, out of place supercharger stuck out of its hood. Its roof was turned into a gunner’s platform. The other car was a widened, heavier surrey. Its roof, just like the conestoga, was welded into a platform with railing and an empty turret mount. The tires on the thing were bigger than other cars, shredded with spikes for crossroad conditions.

The mare took a quick peek over the side of the car. Spike was still chasing the buggy that was only a few hundred meters away from him. She turned back. Two cars behind boosted, flames bursting out of long exhaust pipes on their sides. They were closing distance and they were closing it fast. The conestoga maneuvered to the side, driving just beside the tarantass. The surrey swerved behind the Spike’s car. That was when an earth pony covered in the same white clay and black masut jumped out of the conestoga’s moonroof and onto the platform. It was an averagely sized young mare, if not still a filly, that probably just became the warfoal. She was dressed in cargo pants and a plated torso guard. Her hooves were bare and so was her head, revealing short black mane that blew haphazardly behind her. A battle saddle was strapped to her back, carrying two long barrels on its sides. A long handle protruded from the firearm, bending upwards towards her mouth, acting as the firing mechanism. Just a nip and the bullets come raining down upon a poor target. In this case, the target was the pale-mauve mare.

The filly took up battle stances, her movements were clumsy and not firm. She aimed the guns at the mare, her teeth just a hesitant nibble away from the handle’s trigger mechanism.The conestoga leveled itself with the tarantass, riding just beside it. An earth pony stallion creeped out of the passenger seat like a spider. He was scrawny and malnourished, painted awkwardly into the same white clay with patches of exposed yellowish hide. His whole head was painted into even black vertical lines all the way from the neck down to the nape. He fell clumsily onto the rooftop platform with a loud crash and sprung right back up, shaking his head. He pulled out a six-shot revolver and grasped it tightly with his teeth.

The inescapableness of the situation washed over the mare. Her ears fell flat to her head. Her mouth was silently mumbling muttering words. Her head turning from side to side in the process as if two different individuals were controlling it. A loud click rang from the gunner filly - she was ready to fire. The mare froze, squeezing her body to the wall behind her, an expression of terror on her face. The gunner was hesitant, almost closing the jaws on the trigger, but opening them back up. The terrified mare shook her head softly, discouraging the filly from gunning her down. A shot rang. A bullet that came from surrey’s unicorn stallion driver the mare didn’t even notice hit her pastern, digging a hole in it. She cried out as a feeling of pain and burning had pierced her, like a sting of a honey bee. Her body swung along with the bullet and hit the floor. Blood sprinkled from the wound and painted the flooring in fresh crimson dots.

A blinding bolt of glowing vermillion lightning burned across the skies and striking the ground right by tarantass’ front left corner. Spike hit the brakes and steered the opposite direction, hitting both other persuiters at once. The yellow stallion fell down, losing the grip of the revolver. The filly was thrown off of her platform and into tarantass’ cargo hold. some of her poorly fastened battle saddle straps came undone during the fall, one of which got stuck in the coiled up the chain. The chain that slid off the car and under the surrey’s wheels.

The pale-mauve jumped forward at the gunner filly, crying out as every move caused her excruciating pain. She fell down by the boomsticks, scaring the gunner filly by the sharp movement, just as the chain wrapped around the forward axis of the surrey. The filly got pulled back by the few straps that still were fastened on her. She was going to get minced under the wheels. The mauve mare bit on one of the boomsticks, the fissure in the muzzle barely giving enough access for the teeth, and threw it at one of surrey’s front wheels. An eruption of flames and smoke punched the car up in the air with a deafening boom. The metal carcass flipped itself before crashing back down with a crunching and scraping sound.

The earth pony barely held on to the car, her hind hooves dragging on the sand. The mauve mare bit on filly’s mane, pulling her back up with. Her eyes filled with tears as she had to stand on the shot leg. As let go of the filly, sending her onto the firm flooring of tarantass’ cargo hold, the stallion to the side fired three times with the speed of a black mamba bite. Bullets whistled violently through the air. One missed them entirely, flying an inch under mare’s stomach. Another grazed the nape of her neck, tearing a streak of skin off. The last struck her already injured front leg, piercing through it like it was made of butter, and borrowing itself in the floor underneath. She felt like a small swarm of bees stung her again and again into traumatized limb while a heapful of smoldering coals burnt her neck. She screamed, tears blurring her sight and falling down.

Two cars neared the exit from the storm: another condensed wall of sand and rocks. Another crimson lightning lit the skies on fire, raining down glistening grains of glass. Random chunks of scraps and debris that was picked up by the winds, flew haphazardly all around. A long piece of bent metal whistled through the skies and came down like onto conestoga’s supercharger and bouncing off of it. The bulky box of metal on the car’s hood set ablaze, sending streaks of flame and smoke out of every cylinder. The metal projectile flew towards the terrified ex-gunner filly.

The mauve mare jumped in front of her without hesitation. The bent spear punched through her stomach with a thump, staining the white linen robes in crimson and sending her in a spin. She didn’t feel pain, just a momentary pressure and then nothing but the hot wet stickiness of the blood, running down her stomach. Three shots rang as the cars hit the sandy wall. One of them hit the mare’s back, piercing through it, grazing filly’s leg and disappearing in the flooring. The mare didn’t care anymore. The only thing she could manage to do was to give a weak but warm reassuring smile to the filly. Her body was too heavy and numb to move.

Only one car left the storm.

Spike hit the brakes, cricketed the hoofbrake and jumped out of the tarantass. The filly looked horrified at the impaled mare, not daring to come near.

“This looks bad.” He stated, approaching the dam, “Saving youngsters who were tasked with killing you again?” He joked, pulling out a small box from the driver’s seat and placing it down beside her. The shiny chrome container squeaked open, revealing several small flasks of green and orange liquids, a box of painkillers and a roll of bandages. “This will hurt.” He announced, standing behind the mare, placing one hoof on her back and biting the metal. She just rolled her eyes with a tortured sigh.

He jabbed the metal out of mare’s body. Her heavy body dropped with a loud thump, a tired scream escaping her mouth. The stallion quickly turned her over, shoving an open flask into her mouth. The liquid was bitter and tart, but she drank it as if already accustomed to the taste. The bleeding began to stop, her wounds slowly getting smaller. “These are weak, but they will do.” He said, opening the second one. A hoof stopped him from pouring it down her throat. The mare pointed at the fillies deeply grazed leg.

“This is a scratch, you need it more, please, drink it.” The filly spoke. Her voice was surprisingly sweet and melodic, like a newly blossoming flower.

The mare did not resist anymore. Another gulp of the potion went down. Her vision began to clear. She could finally see what Spike looked like. A tall, fit earth pony stallion with a clay and mazut painted body. He had deep sapphire eyes that looked along the horizon, checking if anyone was coming. His lips were dried up and shriveled, his surprisingly well taken care of teeth peeking through. “Even though I had to kill you, you still saved my flank, just like you save her flank just now.” He nodded to the filly, whose clay began to droop, revealing her mantis-green coat that matched her emerald eyes. “Then, you saved my flank again when that shitface Blitz blasted me with a shotgun. And then again when Red and Pimpy grew hungry and ate away all my life juices.” He pointed at two lumps on his neck while pulling out the hook that was still under mare’s collarbone. “Time I finally started repaying you.” That made the mare chuckle and cough at the same time. Spike opened a flask of orange liquid and poured it in mare’s mouth. It tasted sweet and spicy. A surge of newfound strength overtaken the mare. She nodded in appreciation.

The earth pony filly passed the bolt cutter to Spike. He snapped the chains, but no matter how hard he tried, not the braces nor the collar, nor the muzzle would come off. The mauve mare gestured that it was ok. She got up.

“Eight years ago, you’ve shown me that there is still good in this damned shithole.” Spike lectured, “Today you have proven it once again. You can never come back to the Citadel, but neither I or this one can follow you.”

The mare’s face expressed concern.

“Don’t worry.” Spike reassured, “To the Flawless everything will look like an accident: the storm came in and destroyed the cars. And blew you to pieces as well, as far as I know. I cannot give you a car or a gun. But take this.” He pulled out a pair of saddle bags. “There is a map, a compass, a canister of water, and a can of potatoes.” He placed it onto the mare. She squealed, her entire body still aching. “If you ever need help, know that you have at least one pony in the Citadel who is on your side.” Spike added.

“Two.” The filly added, “There are two...”