Fallout Equestria: A Touch of Spice

Brynhildr stealthily moved through the ruined playground, ducking and rolling between the rusted play-set and the broken slide, staying out of sight. The wind howled eerily through the delipidated old schoolhouse to her left, but her mind was sharp. Focused. She was a creature of the night, descended from mighty warriors who stood guard at the side of the Goddess Luna. She felt her wing brush against a rock, scraping painfully against the thin membrane and yet she did not cry out.

Ten feet.

The long dead grass crumbled under her hooves with each step she took. Brynhildr hunched lower to the ground, her slitted eyes fixed squarely upon her innocent target, ignorant to the beast that was stalking her every move. Bryn felt the anticipation of the hunt blooming in her chest, and her mouth watered slightly in anticipation of plunging her fangs into the tender flesh of her victim.

Eight feet.

The clouds opened and a soft rain began to fall, which only sharpened Brynhildr’s senses. She was a demon who thrived in the worst weather, nothing could hold her back from her kill. Ever closer she inched, pressed firmly against the dirt where green grass had grown a lifetime ago and foals had once gamboled without a care. Her prey began to sing softly, piling sand into a cracked bucket then dumping it into a small pile.

Six feet.

Curiosity nibbled at Brynhildr, her prey was constructing a strange building out of the now damp sand. The victim had no idea at her impending death, instead now surrounded by a halo of light rain that made her pink mane hang limp. Uncorrupted purity was held within those shoulders and Bryn was going to devour it. Brynhildr felt a bizarre urge to play with the creature blossom in her chest. Steeling herself against the whims of childhood, she pressed forward.

Four feet.

Brynhildr paused as her meal stopped singing and looked at the sky, slinking low to blend her dark form into the shadows of the monolithic equipment that had once been a playhouse - now little more than a skeletal bundle of sticks. The innocent foal looked back down at her muddy hooves, resuming the beautiful song in her high, sweet voice. Bryn licked her lips and resumed her snail crawl along the dust.

Three feet.

She tensed her haunches, preparing to leap upon her unsuspecting mark. Spreading her wings, she mentally began to count to three, aiming for the throat.

The singing paused and Brynhildr froze.

The small foal looked over her mint shoulder at the darker bat-pony, who stared back with wide eyes, her jaw agape with the anticipation of the first blow.

“Check it out, Bryn. I made Canterlot castle!” Bubble Spice squeaked, her voice excited to share her sculpture with Brynhildr. She sighed in exasperation, miffed at the loss of her hunt. Bryn scampered over to the sandpit and stared in awe at the huge mound that Bubble had made. She felt briefly impressed before remembering she was supposed to be hunting.

“It doesn't look anything like Canterlot castle dummy!” Brynhildr scowled at the sandy mound, streaked grey with ash. She prodded it with her hoof, leaving a dent in the side. “There are no towers or nuthin! Everypony who’s anypony knows that Canterlot has towers.”

“Like you'd know!” Bubble flicked sand at her friend.

Brushing the sand from her coat, Brynhildr turned her angry scowl on Bubble. ”You ruined my hunt.”

“I knew you were there the whole time. You aren't exactly stealthy, you were singing along with me.”

“Was not!”

“Was too!”

“Was not!”

“Was too!”

“Was not times infinity.”

“Was too times infinity plus one!”

Bubble stuck her tongue out at Bryn, who glared angrily at her before both the foals dissolved into giggles.

Brynhildr leaned back on her hooves, a breathless grin on her face at the sight of her friend rolling on the dirt laughing, and her eyes twinkled mischievously. Climbing to her hooves, she took to the air, her small wings flapping quickly to get high enough to dive bomb Bubble and teach her not to underestimate the might and strength of the legendary batpony race! Guardians of the moon and the night! They did not sing while hunting!

Turning in the air, she looked down at Bubble who had assumed a battle position below her, ready for a fight. Their eyes met like pink and purple fire. Their mouths opened in unison with a battle cry.

“For Canterlot!” Bubble Spice bellowed, launching herself into an air born leap.

“For Luna!” Howled Brynhildr in return, plummeting downwards with broad strokes of her wings. Her heart raced and her wings burned yet she did not falter in the charge.

The two fillies met mid air in a flurry of kicks and punches before crashing back down onto the scarred earth. Over and over they rolled, each tearing furiously into the other to gain the upper hoof. Pain sparked where Bubble’s powerful hooves connected with Brynhildr’s face, backed by the strength of the earth pony race. Her head snapped back and Bubble wrapped her legs around Brynhildr’s throat, squeezing down.

Brynhildr felt her wing muscles scream in desperation for freedom as she fought to gain the air once again, the sky was her own and she held the advantage above any creature. Sinking her teeth into Bubble’s leg, she felt her fangs pierce the delicate skin and Bubble yelped in surprise, releasing her iron grip on Brynhildr’s throat. Seizing the opportunity, Bryn scrambled back towards the clouds, only to be pulled sharply down by the weight of Bubble gripping her short tail in her teeth, her eyes sparkling with the fire of battle. Bubble was grinning up at her through the mouthful of fur, obviously confident in keeping Bryn to the ground. Brynhildr narrowed her eyes, and Bubble’s widened in shock when she realised what was coming.

“I will never surrender!” Brynhildr screamed, aiming her hoof so that it would connect with Bubble’s muzzle, who gasped out a sharp cry of pain.

Bubble released her tail, stunned from the blow. She hit the ground and lay still, ashy sand billowing up around her.

Bryn took to the sky proper, picking up an imaginary lance and aiming it down to the foal who dared to challenge a fearsome soldier of Luna’s army. Puffing out her chest in triumph at her impending victory, she stared Bubble in the eye as she hurled the crackling electrical lance downwards, letting out her most thunderous Royal Canterlot Voice, passed down to her from her father.

“YOU WILL PERISH HERE FOUL HEATHEN. YOU FOUGHT VALIANTLY. NOW DIE!”

Bubble shrieked in agony when the lance collided with her. She flailed around, enthusiastically dying in the most dramatic way that she could. Finally her death throes came to an end, and she lay still, her tongue sticking out pitifully and her eyes squeezed shut, a hoof dramatically held to her forehead.

Pleased with herself, Brynhildr dove down, and began to feast upon her winnings.

“Om nom nom nom.” Her mouth tickled against Bubble’s side, who curled up in a ball hooting with laughter at the attack.

“Stooooop!” she begged, but Brynhildr steeled herself and mercilessly nibbled down her friend’s ribs, where she was most ticklish.

“OM NOM NOM NOM” Bryn laughed, gently nipping her friend before flopping down on her back, throwing her hooves into the sky and staring at their dark colour against the grey of the clouds. The rain had stopped at some point and they hadn’t even noticed.

Mint hooves joined her own, and together they lay there in the dirt, surrounded by the skeletons of a playground that had once bustled with life long ago.