Dota 2

The gates shut close, the screeching grate of metal on metal echoing out across the snow coated mountainsides.

“Formation.” The peach earth mare steps past the three cloaked rangers, her bare crimson mane already blessed with a fine layer of powder. Peering over her shoulder, she frowns. They bump into each other, mumbling curses before at last settling into position. Below them, the snow had been kicked up, hoofprints burrowed several feet deep. Hours before those tracks would fade.

Rookies. But they need the training and experience. Her pride be damned, she was one of them once upon a time.

She returns her attention to the vanguard. A good twenty yards of vision through the snow fall. Better than most days. “Follow,” she whispers, advancing in light steps. The formation shuffles after her.

Two hours of traversing snow fields, weaving through dense forests. They stand in a small clearing, surrounded by a thick batch of evergreens. Large enough to hold them, small enough to ward off any attention. She raises her hoof. “Rest here. Ah’ll patrol.”

Sighs of relief arise as they begin securing the area. Axes sheathed, snow cleared, cots out on the dirt, bows unhitched and wrapped in cloth. She grimaces. At least they know how to care for their equipment.

The rookies are well stationed now, one resting on her back while the other two stallions murmured to one another. With any luck they’d get a good half hour’s worth of sleep. Satisfied, she begins monitoring the surrounding woods, searching every inch for any sign of recent activity. In truth it should be one of the rookies on patrol. Rangers leading the vanguard were cautioned to get plenty of rest. Out here though? Her rules. She didn’t trust any of them to do this job. A harsh truth, but one that might keep them all alive.

But there’s nothing. No displaced snow, scarred foilage. A gentle yet nipping breeze accompanies the drifting sheet of snowflakes. Closing her eyes, the patterned swaying of branches in the wind soothes her hearing. Everything was as it should be. Normal. Normal was wrong here. She had been trained to worry, be cautious, fear every step.

Yet so peaceful.

The mare has fallen asleep, the two stallions continuing their conversation while lying upon their blankets. They fall silent as she approaches. They’re afraid of her. Good. With the serenity that surrounded them, something had to keep them on their hooves.

“First patrol?” she asks.

They share a brief glance. “Y-yeah.” The smaller stallion speaks up first. “Passed the test just a few days ago. Got a ninety-eight on the marksmare section.” The stallion stutters along until he reaches his last words, boasting them out with a hint of pride.

“Impressive.” She nods. “Hope that skill carries over ta moving targets.”

The stallion recoils. “O-of course.”

“And you.” His partner perks up. “Got any earth shatterin’ scores ta tell?”

He shakes his head, pulling off a half-bow from his position. “No lady. Average. Just enough to pass and avoid sanitation duties.”

She can’t help but smirk. “Are ya satisfied now, that ya passed? No regrets?”

Now it’s his turn to smile. “Lady, I would travel another day’s worth of scouting before enduring such torment again.”

“Good. It’s doing its job then.”

He begins chuckling as she turns, returning to patrol. Could definitely be worse. It has been worse. Colt a few weeks back. Drifted off from the main pack. When they had finally tracked him down, half-buried in snow, eyelids frozen shut, body—

A tingling kisses her hooves. “Shh!” She silences the still laughing rookie with a hiss. Closing her eyes and relaxing her form, she listens, praying for that same natural normality.

Again, the ground moves, as if the earth itself shivered. She opens her eyes. “Do ya’ll feel that?”

Both rookies look to her with confusion. “Feel what, lady?”

Stronger now. Damnit. “Up. All of you. Up. You.” She shakes the mare, causing her to jump into waking. “Up. We’re moving. Returning to fort.”

“Already?” The smaller stallion asks. “But it’s only been a few hours!”

He yelps as she lifts him to his hooves. She grits her teeth. “Shut up and follow my orders. Get your cot, cover the dirt, and get in formation. Understand?”

A nod. She backs away, allowing the stallion to begin folding his cot. Stallion two has already gathered his belongings and covered his mark, shuffling his hooves with nervous twitches. The mare shovels at the powder with her hooves, filling in the exposed black dirt.

Another quake, this time powerful enough to cause all three rookies to freeze. “Formation! Now!”

They waste no time, fear eclipsing all questions or exhaustion. The moment they’re in place, she sets off with a half-gallop. Straight to the fort. No detours.

Only minutes later and a soft, brief rumble seeps through the woods, causing the top layer of powder to jump.

“W-what the hell was that?” the stallion whimpers.

Shouting erupts from the east gate. She abandons her post, sprinting through the practice fields, past the archery range, past the barracks, past the living quarters, bursting through the crowd of ponies that had gathered.

“Make way to the infirmary! Alert the doctor!” A bass voice roars, drowning out the frenzy of talk.

Infirmary? Doctor? But the only patrol that had been out... by the goddess. The mare groans, her body limp as she’s hoisted onto a stretcher crafted from leaves and branches.

“Sis, can ya hear me? What happened?” She’s frantic, begging for a response.

The mare’s eyes are only half-open, a thick line of foam drooling out from her mouth. Still, she manages to choke one word before she’s carried away: “Monster.”

“Keep up.” Her half-gallop picks up pace, already causing her rookies to begin stumbling. Were she a coward, outrunning them would be a simple task. She holds back, focusing a part of her hearing on the chaotic drumming of twelve hooves.

Eight hooves now. One had fallen. Mister ninety-eight. He slouches on one hoof, heavy, wheezing breaths racking his frame. “Get up.”

He looks to her as if she’s insane. “But we’ve been galloping for an hour straight!”

“Then we must be close to the fort. Up!”

The whole forest moves. Trees shake off their white coats, the ground dances, swirling like quicksand. All three rookies begin struggling forward, fear having returned.

She gets one last glimpse of the tear in her sister’s foreleg before the doctor wraps it in gauze. Green, caustic. The wound would never fully heal. At least she’s alive.

“Thanks,” she bows her head to the doctor as he finishes.

Peering down at the bandaged leg, he purses his lips with distraught eyes. “I used every poultice, every herb the situation called for, but the wound will most likely have to be covered for the rest of her life. Different bandages every week. Constant fits of pain. The only other option is ampu—”

“That’s enough doc.” Her sister waves him off, as if swatting at a fly. “Thank ya kindly for patchin’ me up. Now send somepony to fetch ma brother.”

“Of course.” He takes it as a cue, leaving them alone. Smart.

Silence prevails for several more moments as her sister holds the foreleg aloft, inspecting the bandage.

“Well?” She’s looking at her with a cocked eyebrow. Even laying upon the cot, covered with a wool blanket, her intimidation radiates.

“What happened out there?” she dares to ask.

She snorts. “Went out as a patrol of three, as ya should know, came back alone and almost dyin’. Whatcha think happened?”

Bitter. Very. Not like her sister at all. She seems to recognize this as well, her face softening as she lays back, resting against the pillow. “Sorry. I was just...” she sighs “just so damn close ta savin’ em. Two rooks, fresh out of trainin’. Almost took the bastards head off with ma axe soon as he popped out, but ah missed. Only got his chest.”

Now she’s curious. “Who?”

“Not a who. A what. Monster.” She snorts. Does that when she wants to keep tough. “All started out we were patrollin’ like always, when the ground started to shake. Three beats, and then...”

“And then?”

Her sister looks away, staring straight forward with cold, dead eyes. “All hell broke loose.”

This clearing. She knows this clearing. They’re only about a five minute gallop from the fort.

The earth gives a violent shudder, nearly throwing her to the ground. All three rookies lose their balance, collapsing into the snow.

“Up!” she shouts.

Ninety-eight coughs and hacks, falling back to his knees before he can fully right himself. Shit. They didn’t have time for this. She gallops to his side, grabbing his foreleg and dragging him forward. “Come on! Go go go!”

Thump.

Everypony stops, looking to one another.

Thump.

It was unlike anything she’s ever heard before, as if a colossus uses the world itself as a giant drum.

Thump.

She sucks in a breath, nodding to her comrades. “Get ready.”

All hell breaks loose.

Her vision shakes as large cracks begin sprouting from the ground. Ninety-eight’s foreleg is ripped from her gasp, separating them as half the chunks of land shoot up into the air, the other half sinking into the ground. Through the snapping of crust, she can hear the rookies screaming something unintelligible. She staggers forward, barely able to cling to a strip of land as the dirt behind her gives way. Instinct took over, her hooves dragging her up, away from the abyss.

Reaching the top of the cropping awards her with a view of the chaos below. Off to the right, the
the mare struggles to stay above ground, dancing from plate to plate. The stallion has disappeared, likely sucked up by the earth.

On the other side, ninety eight. He’s lying belly-up on the snow, miraculously staying above ground despite the chaos around him.

Then she sees it. Emerging from between the cracked earth. A monster.

Her mind jolts at the sight, trying to make sense of things. It’s a pony technically, or used to be at least. The muzzle, mane, brown coat are all there. Then the six glowing eyes. Then the enormous, green-tipped pincers. Then the six skittering legs in place of legs and hooves. The source of the earthquake comes in the form of its thick spade tail constantly slamming against the ground. In some twisted way, it reminds her of the small scorpions she’d find when she was younger, out in the south, while visiting her cousin.

It wastes no time. No searching for targets, no surveying the battle. The moment it erupts from the dirt, it advances upon ninety-eight.

What can she do? She opens her mouth, yet can barely hear her own scream. Lifts her bow, only to nearly fall from her perch into the shifting soil below. Tries to rise only to be thrown back to her stomach. So she watches.

Fast is the first thing she takes note of. Despite the abandonment of its hooves, it had settled into its new six legs with frightening efficiency. Within seconds it crosses the distance, towering over the poor stallion.

One of its pincers snake out, grabbing the rookie and lifting it above its head, his mouth gaping in a silent scream. Any second now and she’d hear it, see it. That rare, sick cracking of bones. The slow, agonizing folding of flesh and—

The colt explodes. A shower of blood red, bone white, and glowing green shoots out in all directions, staining the snow. The smell of blood and flesh is thick. She doubles over and nearly vomits, yet holds it in. Keep going. Know the situation. Know your enemy.

The monster’s pincers are now empty aside from a few chunks of meat. Wherever the green liquid had landed from the explosion, a smoking crater now stood.

Yet there was one thing in their favor now: the earthquake had stopped. Their turn.

She lifts her left foreleg, snapping her hoof into the cuff of the bow. With a strong tug to the left and a short jerk up, it comes unfastened from her back, her hoof now in complete control of the weapon.

At the same time she leans for her right quiver, clenching one of the arrows between her teeth. In one swift motion she swings her neck back around, notching the arrow as soon as the weapon and ammo meet.

All done in a single blink of an eye. Not her best, but it would do.

The monster is on the move once more, his target the mare on the opposite side of the clearing. The mare has her own bow ready, drawing back the string. Too long a shot for her. It’s a clear miss. It’ll be on top of her before she can fire another.

She stands in a perfect spot, perpendicular to the action before her. Steady breaths. Stay calm. Stay focused. The hinge protruding from her right hoof helps to draw the bow back. All that’s left now is to let slip, fire.

Painted wood. Hanging sheets. Clay disks. Even a few birds, though she’d never confess. To hell if she misses a six-by-ten scorpion pony monster.

Her hoof jerks away along with the hinge, releasing the string.

A gut-wrenching hiss fills the clearing. She lowers her bow, then curses. For the first time in years, her arrow had forsaken the path of her eyes, aimed directly at the monster’s head. Instead, it protrudes from its armored side.

Six eyes turn to look at her. Yes. Come here you bastard. Goddess knows if she could out-maneuver this thing, but she stood a better chance than the rookie.

Merely a passing acknowledgement. It continues rampaging forward.

“To me! Run to me!” Hopefully it couldn’t understand them. Then again, did it really matter by now?

The mare begins running along the treeline towards her, skirting the clearing. Too slow, wouldn’t make it. She leaps down from her perch, pulling another arrow as she gallops to meet the mare. Obviously just shooting at it won’t get its attention. Have to be more direct.

So she plants herself between them. The mare has stopped behind her, readying her own bow. The monster is now charging right at her. Very stupid. If the monster didn’t kill her, sister would after hearing the story.

Two arrows strike, the one from behind her hitting its right pincer, her own digging into its chest. As the creature recoils, she gets a clear view of its abdomen. A single thick scar runs its length.

Another arrow notched. Down the sites, six glowing eyes. She’s in control now. Won’t miss. She releases the string.

Both pincers dive down. It digs. Like a sharpened axe through rotwood, the ground parts underneath it, causing the arrow to soar past.

Was it retreating? She turns to call out to the rookie, warn her to be wary.

The familiar crack starts up again. She plants her hooves, preparing for another earthquake. Yes? No? Is it gone?

The newly dug hole ruptures, dirt and snow flying into the air.

For a split second, she’s blinded by a thick cloud of dust. She blinks rapidly, fighting against her body’s screams to close her eyes. Another rumble. This time, however, the ground surges after her, crudely tipped spirals of crust lancing into the sky.

Her vision saves her life, giving just enough time to react. With a push of her hooves she dives, narrowly avoiding being speared alive. She twists during the roll. The move gives her perfect display of the mare. Shaking, terrified, fumbling with her bow to notch another arrow, the unnoticed surge of earth only seconds away.

“Dive!” she screams.

The mare looks up. Her eyes widen in terror an instant before the path of destruction meets her.

Once more, she fights not to close her eyes.

The lance of earth tears through the rookie’s center, ripping out her back and lifting her a good two feet from her hooves before finishing. Front and back legs flail wildly. Screams become pained gurgles as blood and spittle fly from her mouth and stomach. It persists for a few sick seconds before she finally falls limp, that same look of wide-eyed terror stuck on her corpse.

An ear splitting crack breaks her from the morbid sight. The monster surfaces once more, peering back over its shoulder at its skewered prey.

It grins, finding enjoyment in its work.

Sentient. She guessed it before. Too intelligent, too calculated. But to see it confirmed before her very eyes? Horrifiying.

Hooves shake as she begins to notch another arrow. Nopony left but her. The others murdered without remorse. Adrenaline begins to fade, replaced by true fear.

Now he looks to her. The grin widens. He begins skittering parallel to the treeline, closing the gap between them. Years of training slip from memory as she aims, eyes darting, breathing frantic.

A hit, but a clear miss to the eyes as she wanted, instead impacting his shoulder blade. Despite the lime fluid that drips from the wound and a second hiss of pain, he continues barreling towards her, the rush of victory washing away all pain.

Thoughts become primal, twitch based.

No time to notch another arrow. Too fast. Too close. Dodge! Roll! Dive! Do something!

The pincer swoops down. High. She ducks. A loud clack and rush of wind sound over her head.

Looking up only conveys how exposed she is.

The monster towers over her, rearing back its second pincer. She rolls. Snow kicks up as he slams the ground she had just lain in. Can’t keep dodging. Eventually, one would land. One is all it would take.

In the precious few moments she has, she rotates her left hoof. While her bow lies snapped against her inner foreleg, her axe is sheathed, belted to her outer foreleg. She slams her right hoof into the cuff, rips the axe free, then slashes it into the nearest target.

Pincer? Leg? Celestia knows what she hit, but it worked. The monster reels back in pain, thrashing wildly. Now if she could just get on her hooves...

Blotches of red flash as a part of the flailing beast slams into her, sending her airborn. A gentle breeze, weightlessness. Relaxing. Is this what flying felt like?

Then she hits the ground. Several yards of tumbling later and she comes to a stop, a metallic, bitter taste in her mouth. Please let those crunches be snow.

Not that it matters. As she struggles to her hooves, spitting blood, the monster ceases its thrashing, settling its six burning eyes upon her. Hopeless. She had only left dents. A few holes and a scratch was nothing to that thing. Her? Everything hurt. Legs burning, head throbbing, exhausted. Years of training, believing she was the best, for nothing. She’d failed. Failed herself, failed her comrades, failed her brother and sister, failed—

“Lady?”

Both her and the creature look towards the muffled call.

The stallion. Alive. Half of him pokes up from the snow, clearly having just dug himself free. His gaze shifts from her to the monster, an expression of pure terror forming across his face.

The battle is frozen in time. They form a near perfect triangle between each other, her closer to the center of the clearing while the monster and stallion run parallel to the treeline.

She can read the monster’s thoughts through its eyes and actions as it glances between them. Finish off the mare, or kill the stallion while he’s still pinned down?

It gives her one last gaze before bolting towards the stallion. The rookie cries out, fighting to free himself.

No way he’ll make it. No way she can stop it.

And yet her thoughts resurface. Don’t fail. Save him. Return home.

The quick, primal instincts begin to merge with her memories.

“Now what the hay is that? Ya plan to swing it around like some flail or somethin’?”

Instinct has her reach underneath her belly, to her left side. Training has her tug the rope free.

Only about a fourth of the distance crossed. She sees it now. It’s tired, slower, a slight limp in its movement.

“No! Here, lemme show ya. Just gotta find a target. Hmmmm...”

She loops the rope around her shoulder, galloping forward, in the intersection between the two.

Halfway. The stallion is still struggling. There’s a forest of trees behind the creature, a sea of targets.

“Well ain’t that a way ta prove yer sister wrong! You tied up Stonetree like a rampagin’ hog!” Her sister chuckles, then shakes her head. “Kinda like in the old days, back at the Acres?” She says with a lowered voice, as if recalling a fond memory.

She smiles back. “Exactly like ‘em.”

A few yards. Now or never. The rope slips from her shoulder, into her right hoof. As it slides down, she draws back her right foreleg, thrusting it forward.

The rope flies out, its two ball-weighted ends allowing it to twirl horizontal through the air. Perfect throw.

And for the first time since the chaos began, perfect aim as well. The ball at one end of the rope makes contact with the monster’s right pincer arm. Doesn’t stop there. The other ball continues past, wrapping around a tree directly behind him.

Not until the creature’s arm is thrown back does it realize the projectile was no arrow. Skittering legs come to a forceful stop as the rope reaches its full length. At first it simply pulls at the rope. A minor annoyance.

She fires an arrow. Three. Hits the upper chest, the monster convulsing. Just a bit higher.

It wisens up, using its second pincer to tear at the rope. It hisses triumphantly as it breaks free, diverting its attention from the helpless stallion to her.

Another arrow. Two. The victorious cry turns into a roar of pain as the point strikes it straight in the eyes.

Satisfying, but no. Lower.

Pincers slash wildly as the monster drops any defense it once held, charging towards her.

Closer than she thought. She can either shoot or attempt a dodge.

She notches another, waiting until the beast is nearly upon her. She fires. One. Before it even leaves the bow, she knows its a direct hit. The way it soars, arcing slightly. The missile lands square between its head and chest, into the throat.

The same gurgling she had heard coming from the mare only a minute before returns, deeper. The creature continues stumbling forward, one pincer at its own throat, the other outstretched towards her.

Zero. Her last arrow.

She pulls the bow back as far as possible. Wood creaks, string strains. It doesn’t even arc as it fires. Straight through the throat, causing the monster’s head to come loose, severed with the help of the first arrow.

The body thrashes, skittering a few yards more before collapsing before her hooves.

It was over, right? She stands there, staring at the corpse. Twitch. Twitch. Then finally, still. She collapses, closing her eyes. Patterned wind, branches swaying, soft clear cool breeze. Peaceful again.

“Uh, lady?”

Oh. Shit. Eyes snap back open, a sky of yellow, purple, and grey greeting her. Every muscle screams as she rolls back onto her stomach. But rest could come later. She staggers to her hooves and trots past the monster’s body. The rookie stallion is still half-stuck in the snow, struggling to pull himself out. It would appear comical, if not for his violent shivering. Any longer and hypothermia would set in.

“I need you push with me. Give it everything you’ve got. On my count, okay?” He nods. Bending down, she wraps her left leg around his neck and head, the right under the stallion’s own left leg. “Ready? One... two... three!” She pulls, he pushes. For a dreadful instant, she fears they won’t have the combined strength. Then, slowly, the ground sifts as he slides out, falling atop her. They roll from each other, rising to their hooves.

He’s in way worse a condition. Almost a mirror image of the wayward colt, frozen solid weeks ago. Nevertheless, he bows his head. “T-thanks. T-t-thought I was trapped. Completely d-dark.” His frozen eyes drift to the creature’s corpse. “S-sorry I couldn’t h-help.”

She rips off her own cloak and wraps it around him, ignoring the nipping cold that begins tickling her back. “Its fine. Nothing you could have done. Come on, let’s get you back to the fort.”

She makes to trot on, his leg resting across her back. He doesn’t budge.

“Wait. I w-want to see this.”

Talking about the monster of course. As much as she’s concerned, she’s just as curious as her companion. She trots them closer to the corpse.

For a while they stand there, staring. The legs, pincers, tail... keeping things simple, it was a pony mixed with a scorpion. That said, what the hell created it? Why attack them? Two ponies murdered, and they had no reason, no clear motive.

The stallion looks to the distance, where the still-skewered mare hung. Then to the chunks of flesh that still dotted the clearing. Now back to the creature, his eyes running the length of its massive body.

He shakes his head. “What? W-why?”

She opens her mouth only to say nothing. It had been sentient. Yet it talked of no motive, showed no remorse, no hesitation in its killing. There was a word for that.

She pats him on the back, whispering as she turns him away.

“Monster.”