The battlefield raged with the sounds of combat. Major Grimhoof could see his commander screaming an order, but the deafening roars of the dragons drowned them out. Flapping his wings hard against the pouring rain, he struggled through the clashes of thunder and lightning to where he had last seen members of his unit. A snarling green dragon the size of Canterlot mountain went sailing past him, buffeting Grim with wind and sending him tumbling through the sky in a spray of water. He squinted through the din and could just barely make out a squad of ponies hacking at the dragon, pegasi welding long, electrified lances stabbing at its face and soft belly.
Banking against the gale stirred up by the dragon, he righted himself and dropped down towards the dragon's head. An emerald eye rolled toward him at the last moment, vast and ageless depths sending shivers down his spine. Bracing his own lance, he threw his weight down and pierced the skull of the dragon, sending it crashing to the earth far below.
"Sir!" A small blue pony flapped up beside him, having to yell into his ear to be heard. "Commander Hightop said to move against the pink she-beast! It looks like they're trying to break north!"
Grimhoof nodded, plunging after the falling dragon. He had to retrieve his lance. Lighting crashed behind him, illuminating the ghastly scene of carnage that was his reality. Ponies were burned or devoured mid air, wings and feathers swirling away into the storm. Smaller dragons fought one on one with Pegasi welding the lightning lances, larger dragons faced multiple squads of ponies buzzing around their heads and wings. Take off a dragon's wing and they'd be grounded. On the ground, the Unicorns and Earth ponies could actually do something for once, casting deep and mysterious spells that would immobilise the magic resistant beast, allowing for capture or safe dispatch. The blackened sky burned with flames spouted from their jaws, great jets of flame that crackled and turned the rain to steam, causing a haze to fall over the fight.
Shouts and cries echoed around him as Grimhoof landed on the falling dragon's head. Gripping his staff in his teeth, he tore out the lance, tasting death on his tongue. He braced his legs against the dragon, shooting back up into the sky, flapping hard to regain his lost momentum. He could see the clouds above forming heavier and darker shades and despite the fires there was a bite to the wind. There would be snow soon. They had to take down the pink behemoth before it began to fall. While their feathers insulated them against the cold for a time, the dragons possessed the internal fire that would keep them warm for much, much longer. In a battle of endurance against the cold, the beasts would win the day.
He could see her, she was enormous. She must be thousands of years old, perhaps more. His heart thudded in his chest all the way to his hoof tips and his stomach twisted. They had no hope of killing her, he could already see that. All they could do was try to weaken her enough that she would turn back. He could smell fire and ash from below, they must be nearing the ruins of Baltimare. That was now a dragon stronghold. The teams had flown farther off course that they'd realised if they were this far south. Scanning the sky in between flashes of lightning, he spotted his commander directing teams to flank the enormous beast, aiming at her wings. Grimhoof soared down towards him, landing on a tuft of cloud.
"Commander! Sir!" Grim had to scream to be heard over the deafening thrumming of wings the size of a skyscraper flapping. "Baltimare is just south of here! We've gone too far south!"
The Commander cursed, tearing his eyes off the pink dragon to look below. The jagged tips of broken buildings could just be made out through the steam and rain. "Take a squad a move north! Try to create a cloud bank to hold this beast back! She doesn't pass the Foal Mountains!"
Grimhoof nodded, opening his wings and shooting back up into the clouds. It was freezing up here, and he could feel the ice forming along his primaries, but it was a brief reprieve from the battle. His mane whipped around his face, and his eyes swam with tears from the cold. He had to find the strongest fliers in their team, they would have a hell of a time moving a cloud bank around in this gale. Gulping the frosty air, he aimed to drop back through the cloud cover when an eerie howl reached his ears. Ice flooded his veins, the fur on his back stood up and he could feel panic setting into his gut. The howl went up again and Grimhoof turned, his eyes wide with fear.
Wendigos. Come to feast upon the hatred of war.
Only one so far, but one was enough. Dropping from the clouds like a stone, he ripped a small horn from his vest, blowing as hard as he could. The magically enhanced sound cut through the battlefield, pony and dragon alike turning their heads upward to the sky. The Wendigo let out another scream, and it was like a spell had broken. The soldiers scattered, dragons turning back south towards their captured territory, and ponies forming groups to begin their own retreat.
Giving the horn one last blow, Grimhoof dropped to where is squad had regrouped, many of them covered in dragon viscera.
"To me!" He bellowed. "North! TO ME!"
The behemoth would have to wait until another day. Wendigos were old magic, deep and fearsome. They would feast upon dragon and pony alike until they all froze in the mud. It was a ceasefire, but only temporary. The dragon's hunger for territory and pony victims wouldn't be cooled by wendigos, they could expect another battle on the break of the storm. He scanned his team, taking note of their injuries and fatigue. They could make it as far as Hoofer Hill, a small fort.
Snow began to fall.