pioneer's choice

The earth, plowed by mines, shuddered. Clods of mud again showered the stunned pioneer Volodya and his five comrades from the partisan detachment, who lay down by the ravine. Somewhere over the hill, a German mortar platoon was beating, hidden from the eyes of the partisans.

Pressed into the ground, Volodya forced himself to lean out over the edge of the shelter and start firing at the advancing infantry. Raising the machine gun, he squeezed the trigger in the direction of the machine gun crew. But suddenly the weapon quickly fell silent, spitting out the last cartridges. Volodya immediately rolled down the edge of the ravine and looked hopefully at two friends, such as he pioneers — Tolka and Vanya.

Fear, rage and hatred flared up in him at once at the sight of the frozen bodies of two boys clutching their rifles in a death grip. Tired Tolya pushed his face into the grass scorched by the hot Sun. He fell asleep forever, as did his friend Vanya with a bloody face, who looked at Volodya at the last moment.

Ceasing to notice the whistling bullets above him, the pioneer automatically began to change the box magazine of the captured machine gun.

"The last one," he mouthed.

Volodka's gaze darted for a moment to the other side, where the squad commander and comrade corporal were still fighting. Not a single emotion could be read on the dusty faces of the adult partisans, fiercely firing at the enemies.

Shaking his head and throwing off heavy thoughts, the pioneer climbed up, grabbing the hard rock of the soil with calloused fingers. It was getting hotter and hotter, but it wasn't the blinding Sun that burned the boy's heart.

More at this moment, not fearing death, Volodya climbed out from behind the shelter to the waist. Holding the machine gun tightly, he began to pour fire on the fascists, not really aiming. He did not think, guided only by a sense of revenge. One of the Germans fell down, struck by a stray bullet. The oblique grin itself came out from the pleasure of seeing the beast writhing in its death throes. The machine sneezed, choking on the last cartridge and shrilly fell silent.

In response to the desperate pioneer, almost a dozen barrels of rifles and submachine guns were pointed. For the last time, the lungs of the little partisan were filled with hot air, saturated with the smells of blood and gunpowder.

That's it, he said to himself, listening to the thudding blood in his temples and pumping her heart.

The bright light blinded Volodya. Closing his eyes, he loosened his grip on the empty machine gun, preparing for the inevitable pain. The light enveloped him more and more tightly, penetrating through his tightly closed eyelids. Explosion. And the pioneer swayed back. Another mine exploded somewhere nearby, but somehow quieter than before.

Is this death? — a thought flashed by, but Volodya did not have time to comprehend it, already falling to the bottom of the ravine and losing consciousness.

***

Cold… So unusual after the hot steppe, but at the same time pleasant and soothing. Volodka would have been lying there, not thinking about anything and enjoying the long-awaited peace, if he hadn't felt something touch his right cheek.

Abruptly opening his eyes, the pioneer rested his gaze on a snowy breast bound with a golden breastplate that shone with sapphires. Afraid not to move, but even to shift his gaze, he watched the chest of an unprecedented creature slowly rise and fall while breathing.

Finally, the unknown creature lowered its head to the level of the pioneer's eyes. From what he saw, the boy opened his mouth in amazement. In front of him stood something resembling a horse with large purple eyes. Behind her floated an unearthly mane, shimmering with all the colors of the rainbow, and her head was decorated with a twisted horn and a small crown resting on it.

"Who are you?" the horse asked kindly and warmly, flashing kindness in his eyes.

Stunned, Volodya did not answer. He was still trying to figure out what was happening to him right now. Having mastered himself, the boy suddenly jerked, turned over and quickly crawled out from under the figure hanging over him. The horse with the unusual face did not pursue him, giving him time to get up.

Volodya turned to the horse and, clenching his fists, prepared to fight back. But the white horse was not very offended by this behavior of the foreigner, still calmly looking with eyes full of sympathy for him.

Breathing quickly, as if after a long run, the pioneer began to think what to do next, but as luck would have it, nothing came to mind. And the horse continued to call out in a soothing human voice:

"Don't be afraid of me. I'm not going to hurt you."

Gradually gaining courage, the pioneer pulled himself together and unclenched his fists.

"Volodya Krasnov." the boy's thin voice sounded. "Pioneer and partisan of the Red Army."

It seemed that the white horse with the horn was surprised, but what Volodya could not understand.

"See, nothing bad happened," the mare nodded approvingly and smiled. "And I'm Celestia. The Equestria Princess."

But this did not help much in overcoming the distrust that was established at first glance, especially intensified after the last words. Celestia understood that in front of her was just a frightened foal, albeit from another world, in need of support and explanations.

A jacket that was too big and worn out in battle, wide trousers, and black boots, that's all that was with Volodya. The young partisan had neither a machine gun nor grenades. Unless that…

The pioneer, in hope, slowly put his right hand under his jacket and with growing joy felt the pleasant handle of the revolver. He forgot that he didn't have time to use it in battle, leaving it at the last moment.

Watching the two-legged creature's strange actions, Celestia tilted her head slightly to one side in obvious confusion. Over the course of her long life, her sixth sense began to identify danger almost perfectly and find a way out where logic was powerless. And now it was necessary to do something, say something and not let the foal's fear of her develop.

"Trust me, I won't hurt you. I've been helping my little ponies all my life, protecting them and protecting them. And it's not because I'm a princess. From power for more than a thousand years, I did not become a tyrant, I did not execute someone who even deserved it, and I certainly will not offend a little foal." at the end of her monologue, she lay down on her stomach, making her position clear.

The seeds of doubt thrown into the sweet speeches of the princess acted immediately. Volodya stopped pulling out his revolver and thought, suppressing his instinctive fear of this princess by force of will. But it wasn't easy. Insidious fear bit and whispered about lies, — there are no good monarchs. And there is a reason that the princess is in power, not the queen. She probably killed her parents to get the throne. This was the last straw and the pioneer trembled, snatching the revolver with a sharp movement.

"I don't believe you!" shouted Volodka and pointed his weapon at Celestia.

He expected her to stand up, attack, or at least call the guards, but she completely ignored this attack, humbly waiting for something else.

"Why not?" the mare calmly replied.

"There are no good kings and queens! They have always oppressed the common people, waged their imperialist wars and could do whatever they wanted, considering themselves the anointed of God."

At the end of his words, the boy cocked the trigger. The mechanism of the revolver clicked softly, notifying the owner of readiness. But again everything went wrong, as Volodka had imagined for himself. The mare continued to consciously ignore the weapons pointed at her and the danger of death.

"And how many did you, Volodya, know of such kings? Maybe I'm different from them after all? I'm not asking you to believe my words right now, just get to know me better. And you will always have time to decide whether it is bad or good."

It's true. A pioneer should always be with a cold head and a burning heart, but not reveling in stupid and shameful fear like now. Volodya thought shyly to himself and lowered the revolver.

Seeing how the ice of distrust cracked, Celestia smiled contentedly at her first success. She had already begun to think that no words would work on him, but the risk was justified.

"How about starting with something simpler? For example, tell me about yourself, and I'll tell you." offered Celestia with a sweet smile.

Suddenly, Volodya was attacked by fatigue and, on his legs, the boy sat down on the floor, but he did not let go of the weapon from his hands. He lowered his head and stared at his pants, he spent some time collecting his thoughts, thinking what to answer, what he could tell about himself. Finally, he came up with a certain idea that would describe him best.

"Last summer, fascists attacked my country. They were not people, but animals, burning everything and everyone in their path without regret. My hometown was under occupation. Death, with a cross and a rifle in his hands, came to a place where life was in full swing. In an instant, the bombs took hundreds and thousands of people to the next world. But even surrounded by fascists, we did not stop resisting. Partisan detachments appeared, and I was in one of them. I went there voluntarily, realizing that I could die at any minute… So I was killed by a mine explosion." Volodka finished the story again with a fallen head.

"You're not dead," came the mare's whisper. "As long as I'm around, you'll live and never see war again."

The pioneer hardly looked up, full of despair and remained riveted by lilac eyes, in which not only sadness and sorrow could be seen, but also the strongest determination.