Author's Note
Wow! So, this was a LONG time coming! I’ve been working on this story since . . . oh, goodness, probably last autumn, or maybe earlier. When did RDR2 come out? Some time after that, is all I know. 
As usual, I do not claim to be a master author. I hope it turned out readable, and if not, I’m sure you all will let me know! 
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, and I look forward to hearing your thoughts! Until next time, Harmonia Invictus!
Hurt
Helpless
“Are you calm now?” Her tone was calm enough when she asked it, but I could hear the concern underneath. Concern for me, I supposed. I didn’t need it. I didn’t need her pity, or her worry. I needed to get up, to move. To be free to go where I wished.
To go see Dropsy.
Instead, I breathed, closing my eyes and gritting my teeth, and nodded.
“What happened?” I asked, trying to stay calm.
“She went out after a perp. The one who’s been stealing from the doctor’s office, by North Tack.”
I breathed out, the sound hissing between my teeth as my hands clinched into fists. “I told her to wait for me.”
“Where were you?”
I looked up at her, feeling a rush of energy burning through me, almost painful as it raced up my back. I stood, back arching as I bared my teeth, growling in frustration.
“I was out dealing with some Timberwolves that have been causing problems for the southern farms. They came up out of the Everfree a couple weeks ago. . . .” I trailed off, turning and walking to the window, looking out over the sparkling lights of the Crystal City at night. My eyes drifted off to the north, past the flickering lights and the green meadows, out to the wall of cold, white death held at bay by the Empire’s magic. I have always thought it was foolish to rely so heavily on magic.
I reached up and touched my horn, or what was left it, the broken nub polished smooth from years of just such touching. Magic could fail. I knew that better than anypony.
“Tempest?” Princess Cadence’s voice came to my ears, and I got the sense that it wasn’t the first time she had said it. I turned looking at her.
“What happened?” I asked again, wanting to know everything. I still hadn’t been allowed in to see her. Glitter Drops was my oldest friend. For a long time I blamed her for what had happened to me, and for abandoning me afterwards, but our reunion here in the Empire had cleared a lot of things up, and I was feeling happy. At peace, really, for the first time since I was a filly.
Now she was in the hospital, due to some . . .
At Cadence’s silence, I stepped forward, stopping only when she looked back up at me again. “Cadence . . . Please.” I had to grind the word out, and I saw the pity on her face, and felt like I was going to be sick, but I had to know.
She sighed, standing up and walking past me, going over to the same window I had been looking out of. She did not turn, did not look at me, and softly began to speak.
“She went out on her own. She thought she could talk to him, convince him to come back.”
“I told her that wouldn’t work!”
“She thought differently. And you mustn’t blame her for that, Tempest. We so rarely have to deal with somepony like . . . well . . . “
“Like me.”
The bitterness in my voice came through loud and clear because she turned back, looking at me and took a breath, possibly to argue. I looked into her eyes and she hesitated, then flinched and nodded roughly, turning back to the window. I’d say it didn’t hurt. That I was different from the rest of my kind, and that was a good thing. It made me stronger, tougher, better.
I would say that, if it were true.
Instead, I ground me teeth, and gestured at her reflection to continue.
“She . . . she said she found them. . . . “
“Them?”
“There were four of them.”
I felt the breath leave me. How had I not seen that? Of course there would be a gang. Low life scavengers like those always traveled in packs. I looked up as I felt her eyes on me, and something in them made my heart stutter.
“You mustn’t blame her, Tempest, or yourself.”
“What?” I asked, standing and walking over to her. “What happened?!”
She turned her eyes away from me, her body making to follow, but I caught her arm in my hand, forcing her to meet my gaze. She looked at me, and I saw it in her eyes. Pain, sorrow, pity, remorse. . . .
“No.” I said, stepping back, feeling like my knees were going to give out.
“Tempest, it’s not your fault.”
“I should have been here!”
“It is not your fault, Fizzlepop!”
“Shut up! Only Dropsy can call me that, and she’s in there now, because of me!”
“No, Fi- Tempest, stop!”
It was too late. I had stormed out of the waiting room and down the hall. I knew the room number. The princess had told me that earlier, promising she would let me go see her, but only if I sat and talked with her first.
I had set, and I had talked. And I had listened, and I had seen, the things she had said, and the things she had not.
Four stallions, and my one soft, gentle friend. My mare friend, out in the wilderness, alone, with four stallions who had stolen drugs from a free clinic, and had beaten an old grandmare half to death on the sidewalk.
Lightning, how was she still alive?
I walked through the door and stopped, my breath leaving me. She was still alive because they had thought she wasn’t. The side of her face was swollen, her eye blacked, and it was clear she had to be missing a few teeth. One arm was in a cast, and her right leg was in traction. The bandages around her torso spoke of broken ribs, and those around her head. . . .
They had done a number on her, that was for sure.
I could feel myself shutting down, going into tactical mode, assessing the situation coldly, rationally, without feeling or heart. The minute I recognized, I wondered how Dropsy would feel about it. The minute I thought of her, and not just of the injuries on the pony in front of me, the minute I thought of her name. . . .
I broke. I shattered into a thousand pieces.
When Cadence came in, I was kneeling beside the bed, my upper body sprawled across it, both of my hands clutching lightly at the blanket that covered her, and I was weeping. My face buried into her side, tears streaming from my eyes and my chest wracked with sobs.
I felt her hand, soft, warm and stronger than it looked, on my shoulder. I tried to bite back the tears, the emotions, but it was so hard. The only pony in the world that I counted as a true friend, who I let use my real name, was lying her, half-dead and . . . and I didn’t want to think of what else. And it was my fault.
All my fault.
As though she were reading my thoughts, Cadence squeezed my shoulder and spoke, softly, from right next to me. “It is not your fault, Tempest. You couldn’t have known, and couldn’t have done anything to stop her anyway.”
“I shou- . . .I should have be-en there.” I said, softly, voice catching and breaking as I spoke.
“It’s alright, Tempest. . . “
I looked up at her from tear stained eyes and shook my head. “No. It’s not. And it never will be. . . .”
Cadence opened her mouth to speak, but then just sighed and put an arm around my shoulders. I felt so weak, so helpless, but I couldn’t deny it.
I needed it, right then. I lay my head on her shoulder and wept, next to my friend’s hospital bed.
The Hunt Begins
The guns were loaded. A double-action revolver and lever-action rifle, both chambered in .44 caliber to save on ammo storage, only wise when on the trail. A bandolier and a gunbelt, both filled with cartridges, should suffice. The revolver was holstered on my left hip, butt forward for an easy crossdraw that kept the gun out of the way until it was needed. The rifle was slung across my back.
I was bundled up tightly against the cold, a thick stocking cap covering my ears and broken horn easily enough, and a thick, warm coat over a sweater, undershirt, trousers and underwear. It was a long, cold trip ahead. A heavy duty knapsack filled with rations, a map, compass and some other emergency supplies, and a hefty knife all completed my equipment.
I stepped out of the door of my simple little home, a few minutes walk from the edge of town and took a breath of the frigid air. I was ready.
I had left the hospital hours ago. Sitting around, doing nothing, waiting for Dropsy to wake up . . . hoping she would wake up. . . .
It had driven me nuts. I couldn’t stand the inaction, the helplessness. I had broken down with Cadence, but it wouldn’t happen again. I was back in control, and I had a mission.
I was going hunting. They would pay for what they had done, all of them. Whether I brought them in alive or not, didn’t matter to me. That might not have been the Equestrian way. I’m sure Princess Twilight would be disappointed. But that was the thing. I wasn’t Twilight Sparkle.
I would do this my way, and when it was over, I would either be back home in time to see Dropsy wake up, or I’d be dead. Simple as that. It wasn’t the first time I had gone out knowing I might die, though it could well be the last. All it would take was one lucky shot, one bullet with my name on it, and I’d be dead.
I won’t lie, I almost stopped. Almost turned around. Thinking about what it would do to Dropsy if she woke and found I had died trying to avenge her. . . .
But I had to do something, and nothing wasn’t an option.
No, I was going hunting, and that was final.
I was ready.
I had to be.
For Dropsy.
For me.
The Long, Cold Trail
It took me most of the morning to get out of the city and up into the mountains. Into the cold, the snow, and the ice. Up to where it happened. I followed the direction gleaned from a quick and ugly interrogation of one of the senior rangers at the office. He thought he could pull rank on me, and refuse to tell me what I wanted. I didn’t need to lift more than an eyebrow and he broke.
Ponies are so weak.
My thoughts whirled as I traveled, nothing to focus on but putting one thickly wrapped hoof in front of the other and occasionally shifting the weight of my rifle on it’s sling. My mind turned back, back to before I returned to Equestria, before Twilight had shown me that friendship wasn’t a waste of time, and that there was good in the world.
Back to my time with the Storm King’s army. Looking back now, I felt like such a fool to have not realized that he was simply using me, but at the time all I could feel was my own hate, all I could feel was the pain of my horn every night, as though it were freshly sheared off whenever my head touched my pillow. The nightmares would come around, with roaring eyes and gleaming claws and fur like a million stars, and I would wake screaming.
The training was brutal, the King pressing me, shoving me, forcing me to be harder, faster, stronger than any other soldier in his army. Turning me into a weapon he intended to let loose on my former country. Softened by decades of peace, and a bright present brought on by the Elements of Harmony, it was no wonder they fell so quickly to him. To me.
All but her. Twilight had persevered, and with the strength of her friends behind her, she had not only bested me time and time again, she had defeated the King at his own game. She had shown me that peace and harmony were worthwhile goals.
So what was I doing out here?
The rage was still there, but time and discomfort had dulled it’s edges, and I could now review my actions with a more level head. I could lie to myself, and say I had come out here to capture those responsible, bring them in for a fair trial. I could even do just that, and everything would be alright. I knew that, soft though she may seem, Cadence would not go lightly on anycreature who had sullied the very ideal of love the way these bastards had.
They would rot in a dungeon, if she had anything to do with it.
I could bring them in. It would be easy. Bring them in, let Cadence deal with it her way, be a hero in everypony’s eyes, including Glitter Drops.
But that’s not what I wanted. The dishonesty of it would eat at my heart and soul forever, because it was not my intent, when I had come out here, and it wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted blood, pure and simple. I wanted them to die by my hand, wanted to hear them scream, beg and plead for mercy, and receive none.
Was it the sort of thing a good pony would want? No. The thought of what Twilight, what Dropsy would think of me sent wave after wave of sick guilt rolling through my chest and stomach. But it wouldn’t stop me. I had promised myself that the four responsible for this would die, and that was all there was to it.
It wasn’t what a good pony would do. But I wasn’t a good pony.
Nightmares & Morality
“I’m not worth it, Dropsy.” My voice echoed softly through the cold night air outside the Ranger station where I and Glitter Drops lived and worked for several months out of the year. We were out on the porch, her sitting in a chair, and me leaning on the railing. We had been talking about the past, when she brought up what brought me back to Equestria. The invasion of Canterlot and the capture of the princesses.
She had asked me what I had done before that, and that had led to silence on my part, which stretched long enough that she had asked me what was wrong. And that was when I said it, the thought that had plagued me for months since Twilight had saved me from the Storm King on the castle balcony. The thought that kept me up at night, for fear of what awaited me should I sleep.
“I’m not worth it, Dropsy.”
“Worth . . . it? What?”
“Saving.” I said, softly, and heard her shift in the chair, but I didn’t look. I knew she probably looked shocked, offended. I knew she would argue before the words left her mouth, but I let her go on.
“What are you talking about, Fizzy? Of course you’re worth saving! Why would you think you’re not?! The princesses forgave you for what you did during the invasion-”
My snort of derision cut her off, and I felt her stare. I sighed, then shook my head. “What? What did I do? Encased them in dark crystal, and enslaved some ponies . . . Dropsy . . . I . . . That’s nothing . . . Nothing, compared to what I’ve done, elsewhere, do you understand?”
I turned and looked her in the eye, and saw her sitting there, mouth open as though to argue, but something in my eyes had made her stop, made her hesitate. She slowly closed her mouth, looking thoughtful and . . . afraid. I won’t lie, the sight sent a spike of ice colder than the wind and snow around us through my heart.
She finally spoke, voice soft, hesitant. “What . . . What else have you . . . done, Fizzy?”
I looked at her, looked at her innocence, her peace and tranquility, and in that moment I almost hated her, as I had for years before. I also envied her, and in that confused whirl of emotions, I spoke in a way I would not have otherwise.
Honestly.
“I killed creatures, Dropsy. fourteen, two griffins, six ponies, three Abyssinians, a yeti and two hippogriffs. Hunted them and killed them, like a griffin does it’s prey, all for money. And that was before I met the Storm King. Under his command, I led the siege of Abyssinia, herded men, women and children to enslavement and death. I ruined lives, destroyed families and ended kingdoms.”
As I spoke, I watched her gentle face go stiff, eyes going distant as she tried to separate herself from what I was saying. I stepped forward until I was looming over her, looking down at her, and watching as she shrank away from me. A whimper left her and a shiver ran up my spine.
It was that which made me stop, to think, and realize what i was doing. My anger dissipated as quickly as it came and I fell to one knee beside her, putting my hand on her leg. “Oh, Dropsy, I’m sorry! I . . . I should never have told you that!” I looked down, hiding my eyes in shame. A moment later, I felt her soft touch on my mane, and glanced up, seeing her look at me, tears in her eyes.
“I . . . I’m glad you told me, Fizzlepop.” She said, and I frowned at her, my question in my eyes, and she smiled, albeit with a fragile, sick edge to it. “Fizzy . . . I can’t imagine carrying something like that around inside . . . That is not a weight you should have to carry alone.”
She leaned forward, cupping my face in one hand, and her smile warmed a bit, her eyes beginning to shine again, and this time . . . that innocence, and peace, was beautiful to me, a thing to be cherished and protected. She continued in a soft voice. “Fizzy . . . The fact that you apologized for scaring me . . . for hurting me . . . that, if nothing else, means you do deserve to be saved, even if you don’t believe it.”
I felt the sting of tears in my eyes, and with a sob, I buried my face in her chest, crying softly as she held me, rocking me back and forth. “I love you, Dropsy. . . .” I whispered, softly, to myself.
I stood, leaning against the railing of Twilight’s Castle in Ponyville, staring out over the town sprawled out along the river below. It was all so . . . quiet, so peaceful and normal. It made me feel . . . uncomfortable, to say the least. I felt out of place, like I was a spare piece in a puzzle that was already complete. All these ponies were at home here. Even Pinkie, as odd and strange as she was, was welcomed, and fit right in, like she belonged.
I didn’t, and I could feel it. So could many of the others in town, I knew. I had worked, hard, to help repair the damage here and in Canterlot, that had been caused by the invasion I had helped lead, and they had all accepted me, and forgiven me. But the very speed with which that forgiveness was handed out was one of the problems. These ponies didn’t know me. They didn’t know what I had done, before and after I came into the Storm King’s service. Why would they simply hand me a home, without knowing if I deserved it or not?
It made it worse that I knew, in my heart, that I did not.
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?”
I turned at the voice behind me, one I was just starting to learn well. Starlight Glimmer stood behind me, leaning up against the frame of the door out onto the balcony. She was wearing a simple pair of trousers and a cotton blouse which showed a bit more cleavage than might have been strictly appropriate. One thing I had learned about Starlight, however, was that she was by no means concerned with what others thought of her, a trait I secretly envied.
I narrowed my eyes at her and frowned. “Why would you think that?”
She smirked and shook her head, pushing off from the door and stepping out beside me, hooves clicking softly on the crystal floor. “Did you forget? I’ve done some bad things, before, as well.”
I snorted, shaking my head. “Leading a cult hardly compares to what I’ve done.”
She paused, looking at me, and I saw something in her eyes, then. A darkness I occasionally saw in my own, when I made the mistake of looking into a mirror. “You’d be surprised, at some of the things that entails.” She said, voice cold.
I looked at her for a moment longer, then turned, looking back out over the village, frowning. “Well . . . What if I do intend to leave, hm? Are you going to stop me?”
She leaned up against the railing beside me, looking out at the village. She was silent, in thought, for a long moment, before she spoke once more, voice soft and distant. “I would be lying if I said that I had not thought before of leaving . . . of taking off with Trixie in her wagon and never looking back. But . . . I’m afraid if I did, I’d turn back to the way I used to be.” She looked at me, fear in the back of her eyes. “Twilight and the others, this town? They keep me grounded, remind me of who I really am.”
“But what if that other pony is who you really are?”
“That . . . is what scares me the most, and makes me certain that I will stay.”
I stared at her for a moment, then snorted and looked out over the village again, as the sun began to set in the distance, painting the sky a brilliant shade of golden orange. “That’s the difference between us, Starlight: You hide from your fears. I face them head on.”
She looked at me sideways. “I’m not hiding, Tempest.”
“Sure you’re not.” I said, a bit more sarcastically than I maybe should have.
Starlight looked at me for a long moment, before pushing off the railing and patting my shoulder. “Believe what you will, Tempest. It’s not my place to tell you what to think. Or do, for that matter. You leave if that’s what you feel you need to do. Just know that you’ll always have a place here, if you need one.”
And so it was, less than a week later that, with nothing but the clothes on my back and a well stocked satchel on my hip, I set off, under the premise of trying to spread the word of friendship through the lands. In reality, I was trying to find myself, and to assuage my own guilty soul by fixing those things I had broken. I walked off from that peaceful town, feeling like I was heading for a brighter future, the sun warm on my face.
Heat.
Heat on my face.
Smoke in my lungs, and around me the glow of fire, in my ears the crack of guns, the roar of combatants and the screams of the dying. Panthera, the capital of Abyssinia, was burning to the ground around me, as I watched the Storm King’s soldiers . . . my soldiers, carry out my orders. Homes were torched, families torn apart, and any who resisted. . . .
Gunshots broke the night again.
I felt the air being squeezed out of my chest, and I spun away from the carnage, feeling the weight of my revolver in my hand.
“You’re a bad pony.” A voice whispered behind me, and I whirled, aiming my gun into the smoke, which had now grown so thick that it obscured my vision.
“Who said that?! Who are you?!” I snarled, looking around me at the smoke, which swirled and billowed from within, creating illusions of shapes, of faces screaming out at me. A griffin, a yeti, a pony. . . .
Their faces haunted me. Glaring at me, accusing me, screaming at me, and I screamed back.
“You’re a monster.” The voice spoke again, and I spun.
“No!” I snarled, pulling the trigger. The gun cracked, flame splintered the dark, and the smoke whirled away, revealing Dropsy, clutching a bloody hole in her chest. She stared at me with pity, as I screamed, and screamed. . . .
And so I awoke, gasping for breath, the scream lodged in the bottom of my throat. I sat up in my bedroll, inside the rocky overhang I had built my fire in the night before. The sun was cresting over the horizon to the east, glaring off of the frigid, snow covered landscape around me. I was drenched in a lather of sweat, and I wiped it off my brow, blowing out a breath as I relaxed. It was just a dream.
Just a dream. . . .
And a memory. So many bad things, I had done. Evil, for lack of a better word, and yet . . . and yet, there were still those who thought I was worth fighting for, thought I deserved forgiveness and a home. Friendship, and love. Maybe . . . Maybe it wasn’t too late, for that. For me.
But what if I pushed myself too far? How far was too far? When would I look up, and realize that I had crossed a line I could not go back over.
When would it be too late?
Destiny
It wasn’t hard to track them, once I had found where . . . where it happened. It had not snowed since, and the powder was disturbed, in some places scraped away to the dirt below. It was easy enough to follow the motions of what had happened, from a cluster of chaotic hoofprints, a spatter of now frozen blood in the snow, to the patches where she had gone to the ground, struggling. Being pushed this way, pulled that . . . . More blood. . . .
I found myself on my knees, grinding my teeth, shaking in fresh rage at the knowledge of what had happened here, to my closest . . . my only friend. These bastards had to pay for what they had done!
Rising, I had found their trail easily enough, where they had headed off into the mountains. Taking my rifle from my shoulder I set out to follow them. To run them to ground and put an end to this. For her.
For myself.
Was that all I was really doing here? Was it a lie, I was telling myself, that I was here to avenge her? Was I really here to avenge myself? Maybe. Maybe this was all to make me feel better. But what did it matter? I was a bad pony, I knew this. I wasn’t worth it. Wasn’t worth friendship, or salvation . . . or love. The only thing I was worth, all I had ever been worth, was destruction. It was all I was good at, all I had been, since I lost my horn.
But, Dropsy didn’t think so. She had told me I was worth it. Held me close as I wept, and promised me so much, through her touch, and her embrace. She had shown me that I could be more than I thought, if I only tried. She had given me her heart and soul, that day.
Would she want me out here, with the intent in my heart to kill these stallions for what they had done? Would she want to know that more blood, more pain had been wrought because of her?
No. No, of course not. I breathed out as I came to a stop by a tree, looking out into an open clearing, a small cabin resting out in the midst of the snow covered field, surrounded by trees and overshadowed by the high, craggy peaks of the mountains. I watched a young stallion, perhaps twenty years old, maybe less, awkwardly carrying a stack of firewood to the door, heavy wool coat flapping around his legs. He had a revolver holstered on his hip, but it looked as awkward as his gait through the snow.
He was little more than a colt, but my tracking skills were as good as ever. This was where they had come. Which meant he was one of them. One of those who had violated what should not have been violated. The voice in my head, the voice which now sounded so much more like that of another, one who was dead and gone, and the world better for it, whispering, telling me to kill, maim, destroy. . . .
He deserves it. . . .
Does he? He’s a kid. Stupid, stupid kid. Does he deserve to die for a mistake? Do any of them deserve that? Dropsy wouldn’t think so. Neither would Princess Twilight, or Princess Cadence. I leaned up against the tree beside me, watching as the door opened by an unseen hand, allowing the colt to step inside. I sighed out a heavy breath, looking down at the rifle, held in a white knuckle grip. If I went in there . . . did what I wanted . . . in what way would I be better than them? Better than him?
Better than myself?
I took a deep breath and looked back along my trail, which was quickly fading from view, as the sun began to set off to the west. Cadence would not have let me go. She would have sent Rangers after me, surely. All I had to do was backtrack, find them. I knew where the culprits were, now. I could bring the Rangers right to their doorstep, surround them, arrest them and bring them in, to face the justice of the Crystal Empire. They would rot in a dungeon, and I would have done the right thing.
I could look Glitter Drops in the eye, knowing I had done the right thing.
I sighed again, shoulders sagging, and pushed myself up, preparing to begin the trek back through the cold. I felt the wind biting at me through my coat, and the sting of fresh snow starting to fall. The guards would need my help, to find their way up here, anyway. I took a step out, my hoof crunching through the soft, white surface of the powder that surrounded everything, this high up in the mountains. . . .
A scream cut through the freezing air, the sound of a mare or, more likely, a filly in danger, terrified for her life and safety.
It was coming from the cabin.
Before I realized it, I had spun around and was stalking through the snow towards the building, working the lever on my rifle to chamber a round. I approached with caution, moving up and pressing my side into the building, and sliding over to one of the windows, which was glowing in the dusk with lamplight from within.
Inside, the young colt, an earth pony, stood watching as two older stallions, a unicorn and earth pony, circled, half naked, herding a young earth pony mare, who could not have been eighteen yet, around the room. The mare was naked, shivering and bruised, malnourished. She had clearly been here for a few days, at least, and had been used roughly.
Sitting in the back corner, sipping a cup of coffee, was a pegasus stallion, a rifle leaning up against the wall next to him, and a pistol holstered on his hip. He was grinning and goading the pair of stallions on, as they toyed with the young mare. As I watched, the young stallion shifted on his hooves, and I saw one hand running up to his groin, which he stroked, the corner of his mouth turning up in a leer.
With a slow breath, I slid under the window, over to the door, then stood up and squared off, reaching up and pulling off my stocking cap, revealing the broken nub of my horn. The mare inside screamed again, and one of the stallions laughed, and I felt my anger boil up from within. It boiled up, from my stomach, tingled up my spine, raced through my brainstem and up to my horn. It glowed, and crackled with electricity, and a sound like a thunderclap echoed through the cold night as broken magic bolted forth and struck the door. Part of the door vaporized, blowing to ashen splinters, and the other part was ripped off it’s hinges to go flying into the room.
I stalked through the hole, raising my rifle to my shoulder, my eyes tracking over to the pegasus sitting in the chair, next to his rifle.
My finger felt the barest pressure, my shoulder the slightest buck, and my ears rang from the crack.
Blood spattered the wall behind him as the bullet took him between the eyes, his head barely moving, as his eyes went blank and he slumped, motionless into his chair.
Everyone froze for a second, blinking in confusion.
I worked the lever on the rifle, the sound loud in the sudden silence. Then the girl screamed again, and everything happened at once.
The boy staggered sideways, reaching for his gun on his belt, and my eyes locked on to him.
Crack.
The bullet caught him in the side and he yelped, backing away, his gun clearing his holster as I chambered a fresh round. One of the others was scrambling over to the corpse of the pegasus, trying to get to the rifle, while the other turned and ran for the back of the house.
Crack.
He twitched, blood spattering the doorframe as he passed into the back hall out of sight.
Bang.
The boy’s revolver fired at me, and I swung my rifle around while stepping away from him and to the side, towards the girl who had crawled off into the corner. My hands worked the lever of my rifle, as his thumbed for the hammer of his gun.
Crack.
Bang.
My shot took him through the chest, and he gasped, stepping back into the wall, breath leaving him as he slumped against it, chest heaving as blood ran from the wound, but he still tried to raise his gun, tried to reach the hammer.
I heard the clatter as the other stallion, the unicorn, grabbed up his friend’s rifle, and I turned, working the lever on my own. He was lifting it to his shoulder, the lever already down and ready to go back up, to chamber a cartridge, when I fired.
Crack.
His head jerked, blood once again spattering the wall, and he fell into a heap on the floor, and then seemed to sink into himself, his entire body . . . deflating, almost, as blood spread out from under his head where he lay.
I heard the hammer of the boy’s gun click as he managed to get it cocked, and turned, working the lever of my rifle once more, while again stepping, moving, further into the room.
Bang.
Click.
Rifle was empty, I went for my belt, drawing my double action revolver as he reached for the hammer of his single action again.
Bang, bang. Bang.
Three shots, two to the chest and, as he wheezed, leaning forward, the last one to the top of his head, and he simply dropped like a puppet who’s strings had been cut, landing in a heap on the floor, and, like his fellow, seeming to sink and deflate, as his corpse settled.
I pulled the hammer back on my revolver and looked around, blinking into the haze of gun smoke that filled the air, my ears ringing. I became aware of a sound, and turned, finding the girl to be holding her ears, still screaming, eyes squeezed tightly shut. I turned back and walked around to the hallway, looking at the back door of the house, which hung open, swinging in the wind, blood covering the knob.
I lowered my gun, slowly dropping the hammer, and leaned against the wall, breathing hard. I felt it, then, in my right side, down low, and looked to see blood spreading across my coat, where one of the young colt’s shots had hit home. I closed my eyes and leaned my head up against the wall. I breathed slowly, calmly. I holstered my revolver, and reloaded my rifle slowly, as I pushed myself up and walked back into the front room.
It stank of gunfire and blood, and death. The girl had stopped screaming, and was now sitting, holding her knees to her breast, looking with wide, glassy eyes at the carnage around her. I walked over to her, slinging my rifle over my shoulder, and stiffly bent down next to her.
“Hey, girl.” I said, softly, and she flinched, her eyes snapping over to lock onto me. I looked at her, for a long moment, and she looked at me, then I slowly stood up and held out my hand. She hesitantly reached out and took it, and I pulled her up, snatching a blanket off of the floor nearby. She shied away from it, and I could only imagine what thoughts it brought into her mind.
“It’s freezing outside. It will keep you warm. You can burn it, later.” I said, softly, and she looked away, but didn’t pull away this time, as I put the blanket around her shoulders. I led her outside, where darkness had fallen, but not from the setting of the sun. The snow was here, with a vengeance, coming down so heavily you couldn’t see more than a few dozen yards in any direction.
The girl was shivering hard already, and I was feeling cold, too. I looked back at the cabin, then off into the darkness, where the guards were, hopefully, out searching. They might have heard the shots, but it was unlikely, from inside the cabin. They’d need a guide, some way to find us.
“Wait here.” I said, touching her shoulder, and she looked at me, eyes wide. I nodded, then turned and walked back into the cabin. After a few minutes of searching, I found the tin can of fuel they used to light the wood stove at the back of the cabin. I unscrewed the cap with numb fingers, and began to spread the fluid all around the cabin, over the bodies of it’s former inhabitants.
I dropped the can and stepped to the doorway, turning and looking back into the cabin. A small effort of will, and a spark of magic lit from my horn, touching the fuel coated floor, and set it alight. I turned and walked out into the snow, feeling the growing heat at my back. The girl turned, staring into the flames, but I kept watching out, where I thought the guard would be coming from.
I had meant to do the right thing, but life had it’s way, and now they were dead, as I had wanted to begin with. I didn’t feel better. I wondered how Dropsy would react, when she found out. Especially about the boy. He was so young. Why had he pulled his gun . . . why had he kept shooting. . . .
Why?
“Hey!” I heard the girl yelp, and that was the first I knew that I was laying in the snow. I blinked up at her frightened expression, lit by the flames of the cabin. I smiled up at her softly, reaching up and touching her face. I couldn’t feel it, my fingers were so cold.
“Hey. You’re safe. They’ll be here, soon.” I said, softly, lowering my hand. It had been a long, long walk up here, and then the fight . . . it only made sense I was so tired, and cold. I sighed softly, letting my eyes drift shut, and somewhere, I heard my name being called, but it drifted into the fog of sleep and dreams, and somewhere in the distance, I could see him. The Storm King, staring at me. I stared back at him, and felt my horn spark in challenge. He turned without a word, and disappeared into the darkness, which swept in, and carried me off to peace.
Worthy
Pain. That was the first thing I felt when I woke up.
Good. That meant I was alive.
I slowly worked at prying my eyes open, and flinched at the bright light of the of magic lights in the hospital. That was enough for me to know I was back in the Crystal Empire, in the hospital, or possibly the castle. I felt a crushing weight on my heart and soul, as I recalled what had happened. I had tried, I really had tried to do the right thing, but then . . . I couldn’t leave that girl there. Couldn’t let that happen to her. What if . . . Was there some other way I could have handled that situation? Couldn’t I have confronted them? Called them out? Anything would have worked to get their attention off of the girl. But, no. My old training, my instincts, had kicked in, and it was all out of my control from there.
That boy . . . he was young, stupid and controlled by his hormones. He didn’t deserve that, did he?
I lay there with my eyes shut, breathing heavily, teeth grinding as I fought with myself. There was no way I could ever look Dropsy in the eyes again, after this. I had tried, but I had failed. So much blood on my hands. So much death . . .
“So much death . . . “ I said, softly, to myself, feeling tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.
“Yes.” Said a voice from beside me, soft and tired, but gentle and full of love. I opened my eyes and turned in shock, seeing Glitter Drops sitting beside my bed. Her face was still swollen in places, and her leg was till in a cast. She was seated in a wheelchair beside my bed, looking haggard and worn, with a hollow distance in her eyes. In spite of all that, though, she smiled at me. It was fragile, and a little sharp, but it was real.
“D-Dropsy?” I said, moving to rise, and felt the pain in my side get worse.
“Easy, now, Fizzy! You shouldn’t try to move. Doc said you were lucky. That bullet barely missed your liver and kidney. As it was, you nearly bled to death before the Princess and the Rangers found you.” She leaned back in her chair stiffly, a pained look on her face. “Smart idea, by the way. Setting fire to the cabin.”
I lay back in the bed, and turned my eyes away from her, not wanting to see her eyes, to see the look she might hold in them for me. “Yeah. Smart.”
“Fizzy? What is it?”
“I tried, Dropsy. I was going to go back, get the guards, bring them . . . I tried to do the right thing, but . . . But . . . “
“But what?”
At the sharp tone of her voice I turned and looked at her, and saw her giving me a look that she usually reserved for foolish children, or more foolish adults.
“Fizzy, what . . . I don’t even know what to say, right now,” she continued. “You’re acting like an idiot!”
“What? Dropsy, I-”
“Quiet!” She snapped, and, at the uncharacteristic sharpness in her tone, I was silenced.
“Fizzy, you listen to me, and you listen well. No matter why you went out there . . . no matter what your intent, what’s done is done. And because of you, four stallions are dead.”
“Four?”
She nodded. “Yes. They found the other about a mile from the cabin. He died from blood loss and exposure.”
I looked away, gritting my teeth, and I felt her hand on my arm again, squeezing. “So many . . . Just more . . . I . . . “
“Fizzy.”
I looked back to her again, seeing her eyes shining at me.
“Fizzy, yes . . . you took four lives. The lives of four stallions who would have been sentenced to the dungeons anyway, to rot away the rest of their lives. Some might say, you saved them from a fate worse than death. And, besides, Fizzlepop, you’re forgetting one tiny, but terribly important detail.”
At my blank look, she shook her head, chuckling softly. “The girl, silly filly! Because of you, she’s safe, and back with her family.” Her gaze went a bit distant, and her touch on my arm a bit tighter. “True, she’s . . . not fully herself. Nopony would be, after . . . after . . . “ She trailed off, eyes going distant, and brimming with tears.
Ignoring the pain, I sat up, leaned over and put my hand on her face. Her eyes turned up, looking at me, meeting mine and gazing deep into me, for a long, long moment. Then I had her head on my bare chest, her tears in my fur, and I was petting her mane softly, speaking quiet nothings into her ear, soothing her.
I felt her slowly relaxing in my grip, and for the first time, I felt, not only that something good had come from what I had done, but, more than that . . . I felt as though I had a place. And it was here, with this beautiful mare beside me. Nothing was ever going to hurt her again, if I had anything to do with it. Even if I had to tie myself to her and never leave, I would see to it.
That was a promise.
