Sunset

She was flying, then fire consumed her body. She then found herself floating in a sea of darkness, paralyzed. Then a wash of pastel colors filled her blurred vision, seeming to bring her out of the darkness. Her eyes fluttered open, blinking away the drowsiness. But as she awoke, she knew something was off about her body. Something was missing.

The strange bat pony found herself lying in a canvas bed, feeling numb and strange. She looked at herself from her pink hooves to her light purple neck. Everything was there. then she tried to fold her wings to her sides. Something was off. She looked to her right. Her wing was fine, folded neatly to her side. There were a few bruises and scratches on them, and a dull ache filled the bones of the wing. She watched blood course through the transparent veins of her patagium. All was fine.

But when she looked to her left, she was shocked out of her wits.

There was only a weeping, bandaged numb where her wing should have been.

She looked around wildly, terrified. She had no clue where she was. She wanted to cry out for help, but there was no pony else in the tent. The bat pony fell off the cot, and wobbly got off the ground. She flipped her long mane out of her face, which looked like a waterfall of dark blues, midnight purples, and mountain greens mixed together. A sweet looking nurse pony popped her head into the tent, and then trotted outside with a concerned look on her face.

Little did she know that she would begin the process of making one of the strongest weapons for this war.

Goldie Sugar came galloping into the tent behind the surgeon and a few nurses. She entered the tent, and immediately drew her pistol. She pointed it at the strange bat pony, the one she had saved a few hours back. She put herself in between the nurses and the bat pony, her mind full of both awe and the urge to protect the medical staff. With just one look, Goldie was able to tell that the strange bat pony was the perfect weapon of war. Powerful body, bright pink bat eyes, and powerful wings.

Well, now only one powerful wing, which was flapping around maniacally. The crazed bat pony was thrashing wildly, throwing tools everywhere. Goldie stood her ground as the surgeons and medical staff stood behind her, shielding themselves with a table. The bat pony grabbed a scalpel, and through it. Goldie's large golden ears went back as the scalpel few towards her face. Time seemed to slow, and she closed her eyes.

But nothing hit her.

She popped open her eyes and saw that the scalpel was suspended in the air, held up by Silver Scopes silver-blue magic.

Goldie Sugar nodded at him and smiled. He put down the scalpel on a mayo stand and shot a blast of blue magic at the wild bat pony. As the blue magic hit the bat pony it wrapped around her body and made her freeze, suspended in the air in an awkward position.

The bat pony tried to move, but she couldn’t. She found herself with a shocked expression as her quickened breathing slowed down. She looked around as much as she could, trying to find out where she was. She recognized the canvas of the tent, and the smell of antiseptics, but that was all. She tried looking at the faces of the ponies, but she didn’t recognize a single one. After all, the bat pony was a weapon, not a social pony.

Goldie looked into the eyes of the crazed pony and saw something.

It was a look she knew. Panic. Fear.

Goldie nodded at Silver Scope to put her down, and the Bat Pony fell to the ground, a shocked heap of fur and wings. Goldie smiled an almost mother-like smile.

“Hey,” Goldie Sugar said, gently, “what's your name?”

“A-Aurora.” The Bat Pony said, trying to snap out of her fear.

“It’s alright Aurora, you’re safe.” Goldie cooed.

“What happened to my wing? Where is it?” Aurora asked, voice shaking.

“You… youre wing was amputated in an accident.” The yellow pony stammered, averting her eyes from the bat ponie’s sad pink eyes. Aurora turned her face away, trying to hide the fearful tears from the other ponies. “I am so sorry,” Goldie lifted her eyes, and looked at Aurora in a way no pony ever did.

It was a look of genuine care and concern.

“I, I’m just a weapon,” Aurora stammered, “I can be fixed.”

“You are a pony my dear,” Goldie’s voice changed into a more comforting, motherly one, “You need to relax and heal. I bet that the head surgeon will let you have some time off.” Goldie looked over to the head surgeon, a taller stallion with dark grey eyes. He nodded in agreement.

“Miss, silly question,” Aurora looked at Goldie, admiration filling her, “Are you what they all, a friend?”

“Well,” Goldie said, thinking, “I guess I am.”