The sun split through the trees like horizontal lightning. Shards of light bounced off the morning dew that hung from the pine needles. In a small grassy clearing, a heavily bandaged mare perched on the edge of a fallen tree trunk, slumped forwards over herself. The faint sounds of beating snare drums, marching hooves and shouted words weaved through the ancient forest, tickling Iskra’s ears, but she took little notice. Set down before her; a pen and parchment, blank, save for two words.

I’m sorry.

She didn’t know what else she could say, if there was anything left to say at all. It was her duty as a Nys’stralla captain to write condolences to her fallen soldiers' families, though written words only allowed for so much meaning and sentiment to be expressed, and all her attempts at letters found herself falling pitifully short of expressing how angry, alone, afraid, and sorry she truly was.

She glanced around at the foliage. Despite the onset of autumn, there was still so much green in the world. So much life. A small brook surged past the clearing just ahead of her, its banks swollen and broken. Colourful songbirds dipped and dived between the evergreen boughs, and small woodland animals scurried from place to place in the lush, damp undergrowth. She couldn’t find it in herself to enjoy any of it.

Iskra closed her eyes tightly shut, desperately wishing there was something in that damned forest that could convince her everything would be alright. She was shivering, but she was fooling herself to think that it was from the cold. Perplexed, she hugged herself with trembling forelimbs; the past few days had given her a lot of time to think.

Lying in the hospital bed for days on end, gritting her teeth from the blinding pain her body had inflicted upon it, courtesy of the Drakes. She’d spent the time staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling, doctors and nurses and soldiers and civilians coming and going and coming again, speaking words and uttering sentiments she couldn’t understand at the time. Even now, only one thought broke its way through the remnants of narcotic deluge: she should’ve died instead.

She couldn’t hope to be that lucky; the leaves and the wind and the rain and the cloying stink of river moss filling her nostrils bore apathetic testament to that uncomfortable fact. She was, for lack of a better word, alive. And she was alone. Confused, and angry too.

She should have died in Windridge. That much was clear in her mind. She’d replayed the events of those weeks in excruciating detail over and over in her head, each time coming to the unsettling conclusion that she could have, and should have, done so much more. Over half her battalion lay dead, the town they’d given their lives for now under enemy occupation. A more naive mare may be able to convince herself that the Drakes would bury her fallen soldiers, but she’d seen enough by now to know better.

Iskra inhaled, and exhaled, suppressing the urge to kick and scream against all that was unfair and wrong in the world. All those years of military training, of memorising her ancestors' great deeds, of honing her physical skills, all had done very little to prepare her for how… dirty, the physical reality had been.

They’d spoken not one word about the viscera and the blood and the way the bones would crack and splinter when up against the butt end of a rifle. They’d spoken nothing of the abject terror and horror of standing by and watching friends and comrades ripped apart and discarded with all the ceremony of dropping a used cigarette. The screaming too; Drake or Thestral, their screams sounded all too similar. No matter how many times she’d scrubbed her hooves clean, she couldn’t get rid of the scarlet glint that haunted her waking hours.

If there was any honour or pride to be found in what she’d done, Iskra failed to see it. She stared down at the paper: her heart screamed the words, but her mouth and hooves seemed unable to find their shape. Instead, her mind spoke through the silence to nobody else. She held her face in her hooves, wishing she could just claw it off.

Some time had passed before she decided to move again. She flipped the cover of her notebook with a miserable sigh, placing it neatly into the green canvas bag on her flank. She glanced at the sun through the trees, realising she’d spent almost the entire morning out in the forest. She was almost late for her meeting with the Equestrian liaison officer in Cantermere, so reluctantly she left the sleepy forest grove behind her, following her hooves and her ears back to the city.

She felt more akin to a ghost than a thestral, silently drifting through throngs of silent soldiers heading to and from the impossibly grand city gates. The walls stretched outwards, spanning the horizon east to west as far as the eye could see. It was hard not to feel small in comparison, the looming city gates seeming to swallow up those who passed under them like some ancient, megalithic beast frozen in stone and mortar. In reality, Cantermere took on the role of the capital city of Nys’strova in everything but name. The mountainous city spilled out across the surrounding area for miles and miles, its buildings and castle and walls having stood for centuries, a lasting testament to the hopes and dreams of their ancestors. Throughout its long history, not once had the city fallen out of thestral hooves, not even during the chaotic closing moments of the lunar rebellion.

She regarded all of this with an empty, slack gaze, quickly disappearing into the crowds as she passed underneath the gates and into the city proper. She hung her head low, hoping to avoid the attention of the unicorn guards flanking either side of the wide street. Her pace was slow, her breaths measured, as she steeled her nerves for the coming day.

***

Iskra fidgeted with her hooves, slowly shifting her weight from one side to the other. Each movement brought with it a fresh wave of pain from her injured shoulder, but she merely gritted her teeth, choosing to welcome the sensation, however uncomfortable. It reminded her that she was still alive.

She took a moment to rest, feeling somewhat nauseated from her long walk across Cantermere to the airship landing docks. Wiping invisible sweat from her brow, she cast a wary look at her surroundings, taken aback by the sheer amount of activity she was witnessing. Hundreds of thestrals worked tirelessly, unloading heavy wooden crates packed with important supplies for the war efforts from the hulking frames of docked airships. She struggled to identify any singular word or phrase being shouted across the mele, the whole scene coming across as something out of a dream rather than reality. To the far end of the loading platforms she watched Equestrian soldiers streaming down the wooden gangways, forming up into their squads in the meagre amount of space that was still available. She hadn’t been waiting all too long, but she’d already counted that the Equestrian soldiers she alone had seen would have outnumbered what remained of her own battalion two to one.

Upon this realisation, a sour, bitter feeling began growing in her stomach, stoked on by the consistent pain radiating from her shoulder. She scowled, kicking a small stone across the ground in frustration.

“Captain Iskra, I assume?” A stallion's voice broke through the backdrop. A golden pegasus stallion was approaching her, a dark blue cloak hanging off his muscular shoulders. He smiled politely, coming to a gentle stop just a few paces from where she stood.

“Amber Dawn.” Iskra replied curtly, pushing herself away from the wall she’d been leaning on. “You wanted to see me?”

“I apologise, I wish you’d been given more time to recover, but that’s a luxury we don’t have at the moment.” Amber Dawn expressed, glancing skywards briefly before bringing his attention back to Iskra. “Would you mind walking with me?” He gestured a hoof out towards the wide expanse of the airship dockyards.

“As long as you don’t mind walking too slowly,” Iskra responded with a grunt, her curiosity starting to get the better of her as she wanted to get a reading on the Pegasus. “Why have you requested my presence here?” She pressed him lightly, struggling to keep her tone even. “Surely you’ve been given the chance to look through the Windridge report I’ve drafted?” She couldn’t help from wincing as the last words left her mouth, distantly hoping Amber Dawn wouldn’t notice.

“Regrettably, I haven’t had the time to look through it fully,” Amber Dawn admitted, earning a particularly piercing glare from Iskra as he led her along the edges of the loading platforms. “I’ve always found it far more useful to get my information first hoof,” he ducked his head beneath a wooden crane. “Any additional information you’re able to provide on the Drake forces would be of the utmost use to me.”

Iskra clamped down on her urge to scream, instead choosing to narrow her eyes in focus. They came to a pause, allowing for a small group of Equestrian soldiers to pass in front of them. She waited for them to pass before eventually formulating a reply. “You had all this,” She waved a shaking hoof in front of them, gesturing towards the equipment and soldiers currently unloading, “And you just left us to fend for ourselves?”

“I’m sorry?” Amber quickly replied, his face scrunching in confusion.

“Do you…” Iskra began, but quickly trailed off as the anger that had been growing inside her finally reached its zenith. She took a deep breath, struggling to force her brain into cooperation. “At the start of the war, there were just under a thousand thestrals in my battalion. We had commanders, medical attachments, our own ancillary departments, anything and everything you can think of that allowed us to be combat effective.” She spoke slowly, an inescapable bile rising from the pit of her stomach. “We held onto Windridge for just under one month, alone!” She threw a poisonous glare at Amber Dawn. “Would you care to take a guess how many of us made it out of that hell alive?”

“Fifty seven.” Amber Dawn responded morosely, his face and tone softening as he stopped walking, turning about to face the thestral mare dead on. “I was in Ly’synia when we first received word of the Drake incursion, the telegram found its way into my hooves two days after the first attack.” He swallowed an uncomfortable lump in his throat, ears dropping to the side of his head.

“Fifty seven,” Iskra intoned icily, refusing to break eye contact with the pegasus no matter what.

“As a foal, I was always told that the Nys’stralla stood amongst the best militaries on the continent,” She scoffed, pawing a hoof across the ground. “Disciplined, organised, brave to the very last…” She paused, flexing her leathery wings about her body in wide, stiff motions before continuing her tirade. She reasserted her gaze, “We had orders to hold Windridge, and that’s exactly what we did.”

You did exactly what was asked of you, Iskra,” Amber Dawn consoled her, his words soft but direct. “It was a difficult situation, but you performed your duty admirably.”

She frowned, eyes trained on her hooves and the ground. “I was just the last idiot left standing.” She glanced upwards, glare hardening. She shook herself out, tucking her unkempt mane behind her ears. “You want information on the Drakes, right?” She spat out the words, her voice hoarse and raspy. “They’re stronger than us, they outnumber us twice over, and the Margravine is an idiot to think that she can stop them!” She stomped her hoof for emphasis, cringing involuntarily as another horrendous wave of pain bolted directly up her leg. She spun on a sixpence, stray tail hairs whipping across Amber Dawn’s nose, snorting through her nose as she strode off in the opposite direction.

“Iskra? Stop! Where are you going?” Amber Dawn called out, taking a few steps forwards to follow the mare.

“Anywhere that isn’t here!” Iskra shouted over her shoulder, angrily barging past multiple gawking bystanders. She angled her head downwards, preferring to direct her gaze anywhere other than their burning eyes.

Amber Dawn burst into a swift trot, rounding on the mare's side to block her exit. “Stop, please,” He stated calmly, placing a hoof firmly against her shoulder.

“What do you want from me?” Iskra hissed, glowering upwards at the stallion's impassable face. “I have nothing left to give you!! I’ve already told you, we can’t beat them!” Her voice wavered on the edge of a sob, but the anger soon took hold once more. “Your fellow Equestrians seem to have gotten the memo,” She spat, voice dripping with venom. “There’s nothing left to do here apart from leave, before more lives are pointlessly wasted.”

“That’s what we’re trying to prevent!” Amber Dawn spoke softly but with emphasis. “I can’t take back any of what you’ve been through, I wish I could, but I can’t.” He held his gaze on the smaller mare, watching carefully for her reaction. He swallowed an uncomfortable lump in his throat, levelling himself with her. “But you deserve to know the truth…” A pause. “Our position isn’t exactly favourable. The Drakes do outnumber us, even with the addiction of an entire Equestrian battalion. The Nys’strovan leadership has agreed on defensive tactics, intending to hold the Drakes at bay just north of the city. The plan is to hold on here until significant reinforcements can arrive from Ly’synia… As it stands, that’s really our only option.” He blinked, waiting for Iskra to speak.

She remained still, quietly contemplating the Pegasus' information.

“You’re the highest ranking officer to survive any recent encounter with the Drakes,” Amber Dawn continued, grinding his hoof against the loose stones. “I have to believe there’s a reason for that…” He glanced upwards, taking a moment to consider his wording. “You’re obviously an intelligent and resourceful leader, you wouldn’t be alive if you weren’t, and I’m willing to bet on the fact that you’re able to improvise and make do with little to no resources,” He smiled hopefully at her. “Like I said before, anything you can tell me will be useful.”

“I…” Iskra inhaled sharply, bottom lip trembling. “I don’t know…” She trailed off, turning her face away from Amber Dawn. Her eyes swept across the landing strip, soon coming to rest on a small group that had gathered at the far end of the platforms. She cocked her head to one side, watching with curiosity as a group of nervously assembled civilians were ushered along the wooden gangways by equally anxious looking soldiers. She closed her eyes, pursing her lips as she exhaled long and hard.

Every instinct she had was telling her to run, spread her wings and leave that awful place. A smarter mare would have turned tail and ran, far and fast, but she remained standing where she was, stuck and torn between the two maddening impulses. The midday sun gently warmed her bare skin, and she found that all the noise and activity and life surrounding her was a strangely welcome, if uncomfortable sensation.

“Iskra?” Amber’s voice broke through the silence.

“I’ll help you,” Iskra finally replied through gritted teeth. She turned to face Amber Dawn. “I doubt I'll be of much use if it comes down to another fight…” She smiled sheepishly. “That being said, I’m willing to assist you with evacuations, and I’ll try to answer any questions you have relating to the Drakes.”

“Thank you, Iskra.” Amber Dawn replied brightly, smiling appreciatively. “I know you’re still recovering, but the help is greatly appreciated.”

“I’ve just got a few things I need to take care of first,” Iskra frowned.

“Of course,” Amber Dawn replied, removing a checklist from his saddlebags. He glanced upwards. “Come and find me once you’re ready And again, thank you.”

Iskra nodded once, a smile made of paper hanging off her tongue. She was ready to leave, when a commotion from across the landing docks drew her attention. A large group of thestral soldiers had gathered at the entrance gates, drawing the attention of a mixed group of Equestrian soldiers and thestral civilians. A stallion in white armour stood at their head, engaged in what seemed like a heated conversation with an Equestrian guardspony. A single battle emblem identified the newcomers as members of the Cantermere city guard.

Amber Dawn scrunched his nose in confusion, glancing towards Iskra. “Friends of yours?” He asked hopefully, a noticeable edge in his voice.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Iskra muttered, nodding her head for Amber Dawn to follow her as she moved forwards to greet the newcomers. They quickly closed the distance between the two groups, the armoured stallion raising his head upon sight of Amber Dawn.

“How can we help you?” Amber Dawn inquired, coming to a halt alongside Iskra.

The stallion cleared his throat. “I am Lieutenant Druska, of the Cantermere guard.” He glanced at Iskra, hesitating upon sight of the injured Thestral. He cleared his throat. “I am under orders to take over the evacuation operations here.”

Amber Dawn glanced sideways at Iskra, the pair sharing a confused look between themselves.

“On whose authority?” Amber Dawn inquired.

Druska remained silent, regarding the Pegasus with what seemed like disinterest.

“Who gave you these orders?” Iskra pressed herself forwards, bringing herself face to face with Lieutenant Druska.

“The general, Fosse,” Druska replied, his body a statue. “And you would be?”

“Captain Iskra, fourth rifles battalion of the Nys’stralla,” Iskra replied flatly, taking mild enjoyment from the stallion's reaction.

Druska scrunched his face in confusion. “I was expecting someone taller…” He mumbled out loud before thinking, flinching as Iskra’s eyes narrowed in outrage.

“And I was expecting a stallion,” Iskra shot back with a piercing glare. She reached forwards and snatched the paper dispatch from Druska’s hooves, humming quietly as her eyes scanned the document. When she finished reading, she crumpled it up in her hooves. She tossed it back at Druska, smirking subtly as the crimped up orders bounced off his forehead.

“Leave.” Iskra told him, projecting her voice so the rest of the group would be able to hear. “Now.”

The lieutenant tilted his head in confusion. “We… we have orders from Fosse to-,” Druska began, but was quickly interrupted by Iskra.

“The Margravine herself has assigned the Equestrian forces here to oversee the evacuations,” Iskra replied, stepping closer to Druska. “Our orders don’t come from anyone else. Is that clear?”

She maintained eye contact with Druska, everyone else remaining silent as the pair stood staring at each other, until Druska eventually relented.

“You’ll regret this,” Druska mumbled under his breath, ensuring that only Iskra would hear him. With that, he turned on his rear legs, the group of guards in front of him parting to allow for his exit.

Iskra and Amber Dawn stood in silence, neither one attempting to move until the Cantermere guards were long gone. Amber Dawn was the first to speak.

“What did those orders say?” He inquired, glancing across to face the mare.

Iskra sighed. “Fosse is attempting to wrestle control of the airship landing docks out of the Margravines hooves,” she scuffed her hoof along the ground, kicking at the loose pebbles. “If I were to guess, I’d imagine he’s realised that the dice are loaded, and wants to secure his escape before all hell breaks loose.”

“And they thought this would work?” Amber Dawn gestured forwards with a hoof.

“He’ll be back, and with more friends next time,” Iskra replied, flexing her wings about her body. She turned to face Amber Dawn. “I agreed to help you, but I need you to do me a favour first.”

“Thank you, Iskra,” Amber replied, seemingly encouraged by Iskra’s reassertion. “What do you need?”

“I need you to secure transport for everyone remaining in my battalion,” Iskra stated quietly. “Our wounded are already being processed, but I need additional spaces for those currently fit for duty.” A pause. “They’ve done more than enough. I’m not about to leave them trapped in this butcher's yard.”

Amber Dawn remained quiet for a moment, considering Iskra’s request. “And for yourself?”

Iskra closed her eyes, exhaling through her nose. “The Nys’stralla dies, it does not surrender.” She looked up at Amber Dawn. “It’s my duty to ensure as many thestrals as possible can escape this city. I can’t do that if I run away once again.”

Amber Dawn didn’t reply outright. “Fifty seven, right?”

Iskra smiled. It was a small and sad thing.

Author's Note

~Wear me like a stone~
~Hate me when you’re all alone~