The Rose Way

Panicked screams filled the air. A mother sobbing, crying out as fellow ponies held her lest she try jumping after the foal bobbing helplessly in the water.

All around him, Rosethorn Seed could hear ponies trying to call for pegasi, the Merrieguard, Rosewater. Anypony.

They wouldn’t get there in time. Raindrop Dancer didn’t have time to wait.

His horn lit. Tendrils of fuschia snaked toward the water again, reaching as far as he could stretch his magic to try and hook them under the colt’s hooves. Sweat beaded down his brow. Seed gritted his teeth, ignoring the strain on his horn, and tried to push farther. Just a little farther …

The tendrils fizzled and died, dissolving into a pitiful pink mist before they ever had a hope of reaching the colt.

“Damn it!” he gasped, desperate for breath. Seed set his hooves on the edge and tried to lean lower. If he could just get himself a little closer. He heard Petal call out, no doubt cautioning him before she gripped him for balance. If he could close the distance a little more …

Fizzle.

Failure.

Horror flooded his chest like the Merrie’s swell during rainy season. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a realization sparked.

I’m about to look into my friends’ son’s eyes as he sinks beneath the surface, a voice whispered in his ear, even as he watched Dancer fight to get his head above the waves. I’m about to watch a foal drown.

Where the rutting hell was the Merrieguard? Where the rutting hell was—

The shrieking of wind being rent asunder sent a lance of pain through his ears. Grimacing, Seed looked to the sky, praying to the stars that he might see a glimpse of red armor.

His prayers were answered. Not by Merrie.

But Damme.

A bolt of blue lightning descended from the heavens, gaining speed with each passing second as it shot toward the water. As it drew near, Seed watched, eyes wide and full of awe. Time seemed to slow. He could see.

He could see familiar blue wings folded to the pegasus’s side, hooves outstretched, reaching. And a blue muzzle speckled with stormy gray dapples.

Something snapped.

The wind tore the helm from the pegasus’s head to reveal a set of gray-blue eyes that froze Seed’s heart in place. A glimpse that lasted an eternity in only half a second before the Dammeguard passed him by like a shot.

The backdraft nearly ripped Seed straight off the bridge. As he managed to right himself, he felt a presence near his right shoulder, and leapt to the side. A dull ker-clunk sounded out over the bridge like thunder.

None turned.

None could breathe.

Seed thought he heard the pegasus cry out, just as he pulled up. Blue hooves skimmed the surface, Seed pinched the edge of the bridge in his hooves and gritted his teeth. “Please. Please, please, please, please, please—“

The pegasus ascended at a steep angle and rolled over as he rose over the bridge, and in his hooves—

“DANCER!”

Raindrop Dancer hung limply in his savior’s hooves. Seed felt his heart lodging in his throat, even as the Dammeguard pegasus arched his back and headed himself toward the beach.

On the Merrie side of the river.

All around him, the crowd whipped into a frenzy. The ponies surged toward the Merrie end, eager to rush forth and hurry to the foal’s aid. Across the way, Seed could see Merrieguard—finally—skidding to a halt and turning about face to follow the Dammeguard pegasus.

At this distance, Seed couldn’t tell who was at the forefront. It looked like Kiss. It might be Kiss.

If it wasn’t …

He turned and made to run. His shin struck something hard and heavy, and metal. Wincing, Seed glanced down and noticed the blue helm of the Dammeguard, its strap torn free of its fastenings, rolling lazily on its side.

Stars above.

“Seed!” Petal yelled in his ear. “We need to get down there! Dancer—“

Seed snapped out of his stupor. Even to himself, his voice sounded like it came from miles away, “Yes.” In a flash of fuschia, the bridge vanished. His hooves settled on the sandy shores of the Merrie River. A hundred lengths ahead, he could see the Dammeguard pegasus, hunched over Dancer’s huddled form.

He could see the pegasus leaning down, pressing a hoof into Dancer’s back in a rhythmic motion to coax forth any water from his lungs and get him breathing properly again. Staying with the little tyke until he was safe.

Dancer shivered and shuddered, coughing as he curled into a ball.

But he was alive.

Alive was all that mattered. Dancer was alive, and a Dammeguard had saved him. Thank the Mare and every star in the sky.

Now Seed just had to make sure the Merrieguard didn’t arrest him for crossing the river for a rescue. Gratification would come afterward.

It would come.

Seed bounded across the beach, his eyes flitting between the Dammeguard and the Merrieguard in their rosy red armor, trying to see who was at the front of the pack. Kiss. Please let it be you, Kiss. Don’t let it be one of Roseate’s.

His hooves thudded against the sand, every step an effort not to slip and lose his balance as he tried to outrun the others. Anything to make sure they knew what happened. Anything to get to that pegasus first.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Seed knew that pegasus.

He knew those wings. Somehow.

Barely fifty paces away, he managed to get a decent look at that messy gray mane, the dapples running down the back of his neck and disappearing beneath the high, collar of his blue armor. The satchel slung over his shoulders harkening to deliveries not yet arrived to their destination. One of the riverside rapid couriers.

Out of the corner of his eye, Seed finally got a look at the stallion leading the Merrieguard charge—Rosewood Kiss, thank the stars.

But then Kiss had to open his mouth.

The burly earth pony took the steps down from the road to the beach in a leap, staggering a step under the weight of his armor. His eyes found the Dammeguard again, and he called out, “Dammeguard!”

The pegasus’s head snapped up. He turned and caught sight of Kiss and his patrol, then his ear flicked and swiveled toward Seed. His eyes followed.

Those stormy, gray-blue eyes bored into Seed’s own. Intense focus now smothered beneath a veneer of mounting horror.

Mighty blue wings unfurled with a snap of wind.

Damn! No, no, no! Seed picked up the pace. His lungs burning, exhausted from his efforts to reach for Dancer and teleport to full range took their toll. “Wait!” he gasped. “Wait!”

“Dammeguard! Stop! Stop!” A desperate edge had bled into Kiss’s tone. “Dammeguard, stop!”

Seed was but ten paces from the Dammeguard. All he had to do was make it. He reached out, and cried, “Don’t—“

The pegasus pumped his wings once, and shot into the air like a bolt from a crossbow. The wind whipped around them, throwing sand and shells into the air, into the eyes of Seed and the Merrieguard around them.

Seed skidded to a halt, eyes wide and hooves digging divots in the sand as he tried to avoid kneeing Dancer in the face. He glanced up after the pegasus, then down at Dancer, and back again. Cursing, he dropped and leaned in close, pressing his forehead against Dancer’s to listen for his breathing.

What he got was the frantic, blubbering cries of a colt. Scared to death, cold, and wet. But alive.

Thank the stars. Seed held Dancer close to his chest. He laid his chin atop the young colt’s mane and tried to whisper words of comfort in his ear. Still, the stallion stole a look upward and felt his heart sink into the pit of his stomach.

That Dammeguard pegasus was already back across the river, and still going, bound for the heart of Damme.

As far away from Merrie as he could get.

His ears flicked to the sound of Kiss coming to a halt, followed shortly thereafter by his squad. Cursing, he grumbled, “Damn it, why the hell did he run?”

Seed fixed him with a look. “Probably because he noticed Merrieguard running at him and realized he was on the wrong side of the river, Kiss.”

The earth pony’s ears splayed. “Oh.” He shifted in place, his expression abashed. A few of his squad mates shifted to hide behind him. “Er. Oops?”

“You nonce.”

“Sorry.”

Sighing, Seed busied himself calming Dancer. He could already hear the thunder of hooves. The crowd racing across the shoreline to check on the poor foal. The stallion cast one final look across the river, right over the crest of Damme’s neat, orderly skyline.

No sign of Dancer’s rescuer showed again.

Sand skidded and slapped him across the face as Raindrop Flowers dove upon her baby boy and clutched him tight as though he might dissolve should she ever let go. Her lovers surrounded her mere seconds after she appeared, the colt’s father merely had to send a pleading glance at Seed that he could take his place.

His ears twitched to the sounds of choked crying and sniffling breath. Seed looked to his friends again, and winced. They were all so huddled together. So desperate to hold Dancer.

Hemmed in by a ring of Merriers, and some Dammers, too. All just here to make sure.

Each spectator to a miracle.

He stepped forward and raised his voice. “Everypony move back!” he shouted. “Give them space!”

The ponies nearest tried, but the rest of the crowd was still surging forward. Seed grimaced. They were too frazzled, too concerned for Dancer.

“Get back!” he barked again. “Give him some room, he’s breathing! Give him air”

Some of the frontrunners turned to take up his cry, telling those behind them to listen and stop moving forward. Slowly, the circle around them widened, granting the family a small measure of sanctity amid the chaos.

He turned again, and there was Rosewater. Auntie Rosewater, after six years apart from the Garden, was here, at the forefront like their mothers would’ve intended. The leaders of the village. And, with her, Dazzle.

The question in her eyes was as clear as day: Is Dancer safe?

Seed made to open to assure her the poor colt was well, but had to sidestep when he noticed another mare, a midwife from the village, bustling forth from the crowd. She barely spared either Rosethorn a glance before she hurried to the family’s side, a testament to her devotion to her charge.

“What happened?” Rosewater asked.

“He fell,” Seed answered simply, just as Petal came to stand by his side. He flicked a glance toward the bridge. “He was trying to race his boat better, I think. He wanted to win.” He closed his eyes, looking tired. “I tried to reach him from the bridge, but he was too far by the time I teleported and reoriented.”

“You did all you could. Do you know who it was that saved him?” Rosewater nodded her head to the helmet Petal still held. “That’s his?”

“It is,” Petal said, clutching it tighter with her spell, then relaxing. “Can you get a scent from it?”

She could, and so could Seed. He drew upon his gifts and let his markings glow faintly. Musty stallion scent, sweat, and a touch of fear. Mixed with it, he noticed, were a couple scents rather interesting for a Dammer to wear.

Inviting, almost teasing. Orange blossoms and rainwater, blending rather nicely with a pegasus’s naturally cirrus-tinged musk.

What an interesting stallion indeed, he mused. From the ring of the crowd, he noticed Roseheath, garbed in her event helper’s tabard and with her doctor’s bags at the ready. Her eyes were focused on Dancer alone, even as Rosewater and Seed offered their thanks.

The mark of a good doctor. Her patient’s health took precedent over niceties.

Roselyn came bounding up with the rest of Dancer’s family—his father, Fertile Soil, and his second parents, Silver Drop and Rumble Wagon.

Good. Stars, they needed to be here. Even if all they could do was stand by, faces ashen, and watch Roseheath gently coax poor Flowers to part with their son so she could check him.

Which left him with one thing to do in the interim.

Seed reached out with a tendril of magic so he might gently tug the helm free of Petal’s magic and into his own. He offered her a smile, then turned so he might brush a gentle shoulder against one of Dancer’s mothers. “Silver,” he murmured.

Icy blue eyes met his, full of tears. Some had already stained tracks down her beautiful muzzle.

He pressed the Dammeguard’s helm into her chest, and guided one of her hooves to cup it. “Hold onto that,” he instructed. “You, Rumble, Fertie, Raindops, Dancer. Hold onto that until we can find him and give it back, okay?”

Silver Drop tried to speak. Whatever words she’d chosen died in her throat, choked by emotion.

Her grip on the helm tightened, though. She managed a stiff nod, firm and resolute. Just like those who came of Canterlot’s working class before her.

The familiar rattle of Merrieguard armor drew his attention to Kiss again. Kiss spared him a nod before turning to Rosewater. “My lady Rosewater,” he said, casting a glance toward Rosewine Bridge, where several figures stood on the Damme side. “We received an official offer of aid from Damme if any is needed. Lord Collar and Cloudy Rosewing saw the entire event from their vantage.”

And she without any momentum. She must be beating herself up for not leaping first. “Everything appears to be handled, but I should go meet with him and explain that the situation is in control now.”

“I’ll go with you, auntie,” Seed said, his voice low. “I should thank him for his swift offer. And offer our thanks to Dancer’s savior.”

“Of course.” Rosewater nudged him lightly with her shoulder and glanced behind. “Petal, can you handle events here if anything happens?”

“I’ll stay to help, too,” Dazzle said, glancing at the bridge, then back to Petal. “I have some first aid training. It won’t do much good, but I can at least assist Roseheath.”

Rosewater didn’t argue against his presence.

Instead, she simply spared him a nod and the slightest of smiles. Together, just as they’d been growing up, they followed the Merrieguard back to Rosewine Bridge, where Prim Collar, Damme’s protector and aegis against each of the Rosethorns of Rose Palace awaited.

If Rosemary were here, there would be a complete set. If only.

Four Dammeguards stood alongside him. Surprisingly, Collar didn’t seem to be sporting any weapons. Then again, if gossip held true and he really had managed a stalemate with Rosewater, perhaps he didn’t find need to carry anything but his wit and nature as stoic as the bluffs of Rosewine Hill.

Of course, the fact that a truce was in play might also have something to do with it.

So here he stood, side by side with his aunt. Looking into the eyes of a stallion everypony in Merrie knew and feared and, privately, admired. It was little secret that Primline Collar had been the most eligible bachelor in either city, prior to that date with Cloudy Rosewing that raised such a delightful stir on both sides of the river. And with such a figure, such vigor in his step, fire in his eyes, and a jawline like it was cut from marble?

Unbidden, a memory floated to the forefront of Seed’s mind. He could feel the heat readying to rise in his cheeks, a rare show of fluster. Oh. Oh, stars, don’t let him remember that night. Please don’t let him remember me tripping over my own tongue while flirting.

Rosewater spoke first, as was her right as Collar’s counterpart. “My lord Primline Collar,” she greeted above the rush of the waters below. “We would have treaty peace to talk. I, and my cousin have thanks to give.”

Seed let the memory recede from the foreground and focused himself instead on keeping his expression, even while his eyes flitted between Collar and his Dammeguards. Behind them, he worked to suss out any sign of faltering or inability to meet his gaze.

“I saw the aftermath,” Collar replied, his voice smooth and soothing. “Please, tell me the foal is unharmed.”

“He is.” The slightest telling of relief showed in his posture. Rational, reasonable. “Thanks in large part to your courier’s efforts, though he did not stay around to let his family properly show their gratitude. I think he was scared off by the crowd.”

Here, Seed felt that heat rise and refuse to be quashed. He coughed and ducked his head, a sheepish grin playing upon his lips. “Rose Seed, my lord. I, er, apologize for my people’s enthusiasm. And my own. We’re a rather close-knit community and, well, when somepony does a great deed, they tend to think about little things like comfort last.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Seed caught one of the Dammeguard rolling his eyes. A pegasus of the Primfeather line, a branch member, by the lighter gray dapples gracing his snout. Several shades lighter than the pegasus who’d flown across the Merrie.

Dapples. Could it have been a Primfeather? Of all families for a rescuer to come from?

He almost missed Collar fixing him with a quizzical look. “Rose Seed,” he said, brows furrowing just slightly. He blinked. “Last year’s Autumn Gala in Merrie. You showed me around some of the sweets and pastry vendors. And, as I recall… rather a goodly few vintners as well.”

Oh. Oh just rut me with a pole right now. Seed’s ears flattened to his mane. He coughed into his foreleg, ignoring the amused sidelong look he felt sent from Rosewater. “Ah, aheh, yes. I recall I got rather … sauced.”

“Mayhap, yes, but I had a good time all the same. It was a refreshing taste of something different.” Collar smiled, bowed his head, and turned his attention back to Rosewater. “My lady, I would be happy to convey any thanks to the courier, should he be able to be found. He took off at quite a clip.”

Rosewater narrowed her eyes briefly at him, in a look Seed rather recognized. The same she wore when he or Rosemary tried to get one over on her, and she knew there was a bucket of water about to drop somewhere.

But then relaxed and nodded. “I barely caught a glimpse of him myself, my lord, I was hoping you would know his name. The family is grateful. More than grateful. He’s a hero, Lord Collar, and he would be well looked after for the day, the week, if he chose to visit.” She paused, her eyes meeting his firmly as she added, “I would personally ensure his well being.”

The Primfeather stallion snorted, and drew both Rosethorns’ eyes to him. And with their gaze, came Collar’s as well. He quickly skirted around behind one of the earth ponies, a rather stocky mare, and positioned her between he and the Rosethorns.

Well, that about matched most encounters of Primfeather nobles these days. But Seed put it aside to return his gaze to the others.

Who doesn’t want to be seen? A twitch of the ear here, an ill-timed flick of the tail or failure to meet his eyes there. Everything, everything had a meaning, as his mother would say. Who’s hoping they don’t have to talk?

He found Collar’s eyes again. It took an effort not to frown. The problem most Prims had with their own stoicism tended to come when talking about things personal to them, or secrets they held difficulty keeping.

Collar, though …

His words were just as slippery as any Merrier.

I sense your hoof, Rosemary. He flicked a sidelong look at Rosewater. And yours.

“My apologies and thanks at once,” Collar said, jarring him from his thoughts. “For my subordinate’s disdain, and for the offer. We were, of course, happy to save the foal, and no thanks is necessary. This conflict between us has nothing to do with the youngest of both of our cities, and it’s my wish that the young foal… what is his name?”

Seed stole a quick glance between the heirs of both cities. Okay. Let’s play along and see how well you do with Rose games, Collar.

“Raindrop Dancer,” he replied, offering an upturned hoof. “He’s a wonderful little colt, and he really does live up to his name. Every rainstorm, he’s outside, dancing to his heart’s content.” He chuckled, his eyes crinkling as he smiled broadly. “Little guy really brings up the vineyard’s spirits.”

“All the more reason I would wish for him, and his entire family,” he said, fixing Seed with a look he couldn’t quite place, “be free of the conflict that so drives our cities apart. Please give them my thanks, and I wish I could do more, but we’re busy with preparations for the gala, but our city is open to them should they wish it.”

“My thanks, my lord. And speaking of the gala, we’ll be there, my Petal and I,” Seed said laconically, a lazy smile gracing his lips. “I would love to enquire more personably about the identity of the courier.”

“Of course, of course,” Collar chuckled, flicking a look at Rosewater, and receiving a slight twitching of her lips. “I would give you prime pick of real estate to set up, Rose Seed. If you would visit the palace oh, say in five days time, at around two in the afternoon? I have some free time.”

Rosewater gave him a curious look, but nodded and smiled at the end. “Do not forget, my lord, we have our negotiations that morning as well.”

“I have not forgotten, my lady. Your cousin has been a delight, as many of my guard can attest to, some more personally than others.” He bowed his head as Platinum’s ears went rigidly straight and her coat shivered. “Would that the rest of your family were so courteous.”

Rosemary, Rosemary, Rosemary. You could catch fish without a net.

“I try to set an example,” Rosewater said with a sigh, then rolled her gaze to Seed. “He is as good as his word, Seed. Should he find the pegasus and the pegasus be willing, you will have your name and I will do all I can to facilitate a meeting between family and saviour. I doubt he knows that he would be lauded and loved.”

Seed gave her a long, searching look, then nodded briefly. Prodding and poking could wait. For now. “Of course, my lady. He, er, also left his helm behind. The, aheh, the family said they wanted to hold onto it until they could give it to him personally. Not as a ransom, I assure you.”

Collar chuckled. “A padded helm makes a poor hostage in any case.”

“That it does, but they kept it because they want to show him how grateful they are. He would be a guest of honor at our table, and theirs, and his safety assured.”

“Doubly,” Rosewater added, fixing Collar with a firm look.

“Point well taken,” Collar said, raising a hoof and smiling placatingly. “I will do my utmost to ensure that he is found and that he knows just how much his actions are appreciated.” He tapped his hoof lightly on the ground before either cousin could start in on him again. “Now, I believe that we ought return to our cities and continue our businesses.”

Rosewater’s eyes flinched up to meet his, then away, and licked her lips. She was readying herself for something. “Of course, my lord. I have no doubt that little Dancer will want to dance, once he’s had a chance to warm up and take a nap. And we still have our dance tonight.”

Interesting. His brows raised, Seed settled in for a moment, curious at this byplay. He watched, his lazy smile firmly affixed, and took a moment to search another for tells.

There were some things one just couldn’t hide from family. No matter how much time was spent apart. Not when so much had been shared together in days gone by.

And to that end, he let this beloved auntie offer her invitation that Collar join them for a dance, and he convey his sincere want were it not for the risk. This sort of casual talk, an almost amicable tone to the conversation, that’s what ponies needed here.

Stars, if Rosewater was actually finding friendship across the river, anything was possible.

But this spoke to something more. Something deeper.

His ears twitched. Aha.

“Your safety would be guaranteed by the treaty, my lord, and myself personally, as I’ve done twice before.” There it was.

An offer bound by the treaty.

“I’ll accompany you, my lord, as added protection, if you truly wish to show our ponies that unity and cooperation is possible,” one of the Dammeguard said from his side, her eyes locked on Rosewater. “I admit to being intrigued by the event.”

“Then, let this be my formal statement of intent. I’ll be there for the dance tonight. I must arrange a few things with my parents and Cloudy first.” Collar offered a smile and bow of his head. “But I’ll be there before the festivities begin.”

Satisfied, for the time being, Seed bowed his thanks, then turned with Rosewater to make the return trip to Merrie. Back to where a crying foal and relieved family still lingered on the beach, if the distant crowd was any indication.

Seed counted in his head, waiting for the awkward silence to be filled.

Sure enough. “He is as good as his word,” Rosewater reiterated.

“I never implied otherwise,” came his reply.

“No, but I know that look.”

“This is my look.”

“It’s the same look you’d wear when Budding and I told you and Rosemary no sweets until after dinner. Don’t you try to pull that on me.” He could almost feel the glare of an old foalsitter boring through the side of his head. “Time, Seed. Give Collar time, and let him work on finding and persuading that courier.”

Seed hid a smile, instead heaving a feigned sigh to satisfy her expectations. “Very well, auntie, if you insist.” He cast his gaze skyward. “How long?”

That gave Rosewater pause. “The Gala,” she said, finally. “A show of good faith and unity should serve a fitting deadline, no?”

Now, that, Seed couldn’t argue. And it gave him a chance to concoct a little show as well.

Still, he had to hide that smile. His friendship is so important you’ve missed something so obvious, auntie? “The Primrose Gala, then. I put my faith in your hooves, and his.”

“My thanks.” With that, she let the matter drop, and shifted to a talk of care. Care for Dancer and how they might ensure this never happened again.

All the while, that little detail she’d missed went unnoticed. And Kiss let that lazy smile slowly turn into a devious smirk.

Yes, Auntie Rosewater had laid down the law and told him not to have cookies before dinner again. Were he feeling petulant and a pony’s mental state not involved, he just might have pushed farther. Still, there was an angle he could play.

After all, she never said he couldn’t smell the cookies while they waited in the jar.

It just so happened that the jar currently rested in the hooves of Raindrop Dancer.

He’d landed in a narrow alleyway. Where, he had no idea. Damme. Somewhere in Damme. Not Merrie.

Not Merrie.

That much told him it was safe.

For now.

A safe place that he could stop and catch his breath. And stop the scenes playing about in his head. A night full of Rosethorn scene mages, himself caught, struggling in tangle vines, and now …

Now …

Merriers. Merrieguard.

Rushing water.

A foal’s head slipping beneath the waves, ponies screaming.

He clutched his head in his hooves and squeezed his eyes shut, willing it all to stop. Let the noise leave, let the memories subside, for just a moment. Just a moment.

Too much all at once. Too many things.

Too many ponies.

All coming for him.

Rose Palace awaited. The Baroness and her daughters, just like that night.

A heavy fog. Darkness and silence. He tried to cry out, but his voice never passed his lips. He could see spell fire amidst the fog, flickering like lightning. The pegasus unfurled his wings and gave a mighty pump, shooting off toward the sky like a bolt.

Then a band of shimmering rose red caught his ankles and dragged him to ground, a pair of tangle vines exploded against his chest and side. He toppled over in a heap, kicking and flailing, desperate to escape.

A pair of mares emerged from the fog. One stern and resolute, the other fearful. The fearful one bit her lip and looked down at him for but a bare second, her horn lighting red.

The vines wrapped almost lovingly around his shoulders and began to bloom flowers, their pleasant scents filling his nose, coaxing him to relax. Just relax and look at the pretty mares, let them take care of everything and just—

Nonononono! his mind shrieked. He tried to kick the vines off his legs. He had to get free! He had to get to the palace!

The mare looked away and stepped over him, her tail quivering. Sound began to fill his ears again, he could hear his comrades crying out in panic, even as magic crackled and zipped overhead.

A silken wrap bound his mouth and covered his nose. The scents of roses filled his every breath.

The second mare looked down upon him like a vision from heaven. Her husky voice pierced through that vision in a stern whisper, and became his will, “Stop. Relax.”

Somewhere in the distance, another voice called his name. Stride huddled in on himself and shook. Her voice. Haughty, cruel, and full of wicked lust again. Those purple lights, like dancing fey, slithering toward him through the fog. Only this time, the Rose Terror’s spell wouldn’t set him free.

Collar wasn’t be their prize today. They were coming back. They were coming for him this time.

He’d crossed the river.

But the foal …

Questions. Collar had asked him those questions during training. He was a Dammeguard, risk and sacrifice went lockstep with the position.

Questions.

A life at risk …

A hoof touched his shoulder. “Stride?”

He screamed and leapt, turning and batting the hoof away as he backpedalled until he hit the wall. His eyes were wide, his chest heaving as he gazed into a set of worried eyes.

Eyes the same shade of pink as watermelons.

Rose eyes.

Cloudy Rose’s wings, green as grass, folded to her sides. She held a hoof out to him and spoke, but her voice didn’t reach Stride’s ears.

Another floated to him through time and memory.

The first of that grouping of questions Lord Collar had said were most important the day he was chosen for service:

How fast can you fly when somepony might be hurt should you not reach them, Prim Stride?