In Golden Armor

Somewhere down the line, a whistle blew.  Then another, and another.  Soon, Hard Case was blowing his, and scrambling out of the trench.  Red Ink pulled himself up after Sharp Lance, and drew his sword.  There was no sound besides the shrill cry of the whistles, the clanking of armor, and the thumps of hooves and talons in the dirt.  When the whistles ceased their scream, all that was left was sounds of a company run.

Red Ink closed his eyes, and was able to picture himself galloping with his company, not at war, but through a lush forest.  There was no war.  White Knight was still alive, and galloping ahead of him.  To his left was Long Shot and to his right was his best friend, Linked Chain.  Behind him was Worn Rag; the eighteen year old colt from Manehatten.

Then the lines collided.  Red Ink forced his weary eyes open to see somepony from a separate company deflect a griffin's parry before thrusting his own sword into the side of the griffin.  Ink slowed to a halt and looked around as ponies and griffins fell in horrifying embraces.

Without his saying so, his body lunged forward and rammed his short sword deep into the back of a griffin who had tackled a fellow guard.  Ink pulled his sword out before a griffin warrior whipped a mace forward, pulverizing the dead griffin.  Before Ink could react, another guard blind sided the griffin and sent them both toppling to the ground.  The two were soon lost in a sea of young boys fighting.

Red Ink still couldn't hear anything.  He didn't hear the griffin scream when he brought the sword edge across his throat, and he didn't hear the pony scream when the blade reached the end of its curve; the blood of the griffin mixed and ran with the pony's before sliding down onto the earth.

Bolts of magic shot overhead, and pony artillery hammered the griffin lines.  But that was all far away from Ink.  All that mattered was the young griffin in front of him, and how he needed to shove his sword into him until he stopped moving so they could win.  And so he did just that.  However, the battle was far from over.

Ink heard another whistle blow, signaling for a retreat.  The ground shook with the thunder of artillery as the ponies magicked the griffin lines. Ink turned and started back to his lines.  He glanced to his left and saw Short Sword galloping next to him, eyes staring straight ahead with a calm expression.  Ink continued to gallop until he reached the trenches, where he slowed down, and turned around.

Behind him, griffin survivors were picking off ponies who'd been left behind.  Ink stared out until he saw Short Sword struggling to his hooves.  A griffin warrior was behind him, sword raised high in the air above.  The griffin hesitated for just a second, before bringing it down on Short Sword.  The griffin stared down at the body for a second, before looking up, and right into Red Ink's eyes.

And then the griffin was gone.  Lost in a haze of green smoke as the blast faded away.  Red Ink felt hooves pull him into the trenches as the ponies magicked no pony's land once again.  But Ink couldn't forget the griffin's eyes.  They were a vibrant, cheerful orange.  They were so much like his.

____

Red Ink slowly faded back into reality.  Night had fallen, and his date would arrive at any second.  Ink found himself staring at the mirror across the room, two orbs of orange staring right back.  He contained a shudder, before turning to the door.  He saw the silhouette of a mare through the window.  Mustering his courage, Ink stood up and trotted to the door.

He gulped before pulling it open.  On the other side was a tall, steel colored unicorn mare.  Her hair was a light shade of blue, and was pulled back into a tail with the bangs tied with dark grey braids.  Her tail was braided at the base.  Her eyes were a deep green but shone with curiosity and intelligence.  "Hi, nice to finally meet you face to face."  Her name was Wonderwall.