There Could Be Zebras About

“I miss them, Sarge.”

“Don’t think about it. Just keep moving.”

“Private?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s just rest for a while here. This cactus is better than nothing.”

“C’mon Sarge, we can still make it by sundown. Those cliffs can’t be less than 5 miles.”

“I’m worried about your hoof Private, bugger the distance. My old mum always used to nag me about looking after my hooves, and Celestia forbid if I’ll let you get away with it.”
“It’s not so bad, just a bit of a twist. It’ll be right as rain in a few hours.”

“That’s only if you don’t make it worse!”

“Ok! Ok. I’m.. ah.. sitting and resting as ordered, Sarge.”

“Good. For at least…”

“At least what?”

“We lost the chronometer, didn’t we?”

“‘Fraid so Sarge.”

“Damn.”

“It’s not like it’s gonna get us out of here any longer I guess.”

“You’re probably right. Sun’s been baking us for too damn long.”

“Don’t suppose Celestia can turn it down a bit, Sarge, just for us?”

“You go to Canterlot and ask her nicely then and see what happens.”

“I’m trying to but you told me to stop, you silly sausage.”

“Don’t joke! I’m not losing you, not after…”

“...right you are, Sarge.”

“So, until the shade from the cactus moves across and hits that pebble there, we rest.”

“We’d best be off, Sarge.”

“Buh, what, carrots!”

“You awake, Sarge? It’s cooling down now.”

“Wuh, what, you… you let me fall asleep?”

“You looked pretty tired!”

“We’ve got ground to cover!”

“Well, we won’t be cooking to death when we cover it now.”
“Cooking or a zebra’s spear up my plot, take your pick Private!”

“Chill, it’s all clear. I’ve been looking through the binoculars, not seen anything follow us down to the plain.”

“Ah, well, thank Celestia for small mercies.”

“...and, you were right. I did need a rest. The fetlock’s still sore, but I can still trot.”

“Good, and I’m still going to nag you right up until we’re seeing a doc back at the barracks.”

“Hope so, Sarge.”

“Right, let’s check the kit and get out of here. How’s the water doing?”

“My canteen’s still pretty full, but I took the last drops out of yours.”

“Could be worse I suppose. Hopefully there’s a stream somewhere in those cliffs. Still looking clear out there?”

“Probably. Seemed clear a few minutes ago.”

“Give it another look, and I’ll pop the binocs in the pack.”

“...there’s some heat-haze Sarge, but nothing else moving.”

“It’s cooling down Private, heat haze?”

“Looks like it.”

“Hmm. Looks like it. Let’s not mess about any longer.”

“What do you reckon Sarge, push on through the night?”

“What do you think my old mum would say about your hoof?”

“Fair enough, not spotted a good campsite though.”

“True, maybe a little further, into the rocky outcrops. Maybe some plants too, anything for moisture. Good for a little longer, Private?”

“I can manage.”

“Right, quick breather here. Let’s have a look through the binocs one last time, before it gets too dark.”

“Here.”

“Something’s been bugging me, let’s see-”

“There’s-”

“Buck! They’re onto us!”

“What?”

“Stow those and pop them in my pack, right now! We are hoofing it!”

“Right, buck, uh, there.”

“Good. Go!”

“What… how?”

“The bloody stripes Private! Don’t slow down!

“Uh, I know they’re camo Sarge, but I checked!”

“Yep and on the flat, in the heat, it all blends in like you wouldn’t believe!”

“How, uh, how close?”

“Dunno, the desert all blends into one. Buck, maybe a few hours behind us?”

“I, uh, sorry, Sarge. I’m right behind you.”

“No point in looking back now, Private. We’re getting to those cliffs, and we’re gonna lose them.”

“Sarge, check out this cave!”

“Private?”

“There's something reflecting the moonlight in it, looks like water!”

“By Celestia, finally good luck. Let's have a look.”

“It's, uh, kinda muddy.”

“Look Private, I hate it when they call us mud-eaters but we're both Earth Ponies, we can handle it. We need the water.”

“What if they find the muddy tracks? The zebs seem pretty clued in.”

“Well, we need the water. Not much use being stealthy if you're a corpse.”

“Guess you're right about that one Sarge. Here's the canteen.”

“Might as well drink some now too. Come on, let's get to it.”

…

“Bleurgh, damn, Sarge, I'm not gonna try to repeat that one.”

“Ugh! Buck, that’s awful. Should make those smarmy unicorns back in HQ taste it and see how funny it gets then.”

“And the canteens?”

“I guess we're repeating it a few times until we get back.”

“Yuck. Want me to fill the other one?”

“I think we need some pure water as a back-up to wash that filth down.”

“What now Sarge? My, er, leg isn't doing so well after that charge into the foothills.”

“Hmm. You said it yourself, we're gonna leave muddy tracks, not sure if we can get it all off enough to fool a zebra. If we can't hide from them and can't run from them, what else can we do?”

“There is one thing Sarge.”

“Doesn't sound very good from the way you're saying it.”

“Well, I'm the slow one. Maybe if you went on ahead, you might be able to outrun-”

“Not a chance, Private. If it comes to that, I'm standing and fighting by your side.”

“We didn't before though, for the rest.”

“Look, I… it's not good. Maybe we should have died like heroes, like the rest. But we didn't. Maybe it was the right call, but it still feels shameful.”

“Yeah, I guess. I don't feel like a hero though Sarge. I'm scared.”

“Me too, Private.”

“...I don't wanna die.”

“We'll think of something, Private. Trust me.”

“Like what? They're gonna catch up with us tonight. We can run, we can't fight, we can't hide anywhere. It's hopeless. We're hopeless.”

“OK, maybe some options are out. There must be something.”

“We're up to our knees in mud, sleep-deprived, dehydrated, what can we do?”

“Think Private! We're not dead yet! How can we turn it to our advantage?”

“What, being a half-dead muddy mess? Come off it, we're bucked.”

“OK, the mud, how do we avoid getting tracked?”

“If there's a river we could trot through it, clear the trail, but there's not, just this muddy pit.’

“Bingo! That's it! The one thing they won't expect.”

“Yeah? Better than a zebra tracker?”

“They can track us wherever we go if we leave here covered in mud, but what if we don't actually leave?”

“Then they see us sitting here like a pair of idiots?”

“No, no, we make it look like we leave, muddy hoofprints going in and out, all messed up. Rub some mud off on the plants, leave a muddy rag. Make ‘em think we left while we just sit buried in the mud in this cave. Surely no zebra's mad enough to jump in it like us.”

“Buck Sarge, you're a genius or a mad pony. Dunno which.”

“Are you in?”

“Doubt there's anything else we can do.”

“I hear hooves, Sarge. Galloping.”

“Still as stone, Private, you hear me. We can still do this.”

“If… we can't,”

“What?”

“Thanks, Sarge.”

“Private, it's been an honour.”