Chapter VIII

Scootaloo

I watched in horrified awe as Geoff dragged the dead manticore away from our hiding spot, a shimmering trail of blood reflecting the moonlight from the short grass of the field. Sweetie Belle looked like she was going to be sick. . . for that matter, Diamond Tiara was already retching in the corner, fighting back vomit with a force of will I wouldn't have guessed she was capable of.

The meowing of the second manticore caused my head to spin around fast enough that I flinched in pain as a loud pop echoed through the night. This one was smaller, but no less terrifying. All the others in the hole were busy hiding their eyes, some sniffling and tears were present, but not from me. I was scared, but I had to be tough for the other girls and be there for them. That's what Rainbow Dash would do.

. . . Rainbow Dash also never would've come out into the forest in the middle of the night, though.

I stayed low in the hole, glancing between the new manticore and Geoff as he hadn't yet noticed the new arrival. The beast was making its way across the clearing, when it stopped next to the fresh trail of gore linking Geoff and our hideout. My heart sank as it stopped, sniffed, and turned toward us.

I wanted nothing more than to scream, to shout for Geoff to save us again, but I knew that our best shot would be to stay hidden and pray to Celestia that he would notice before we were filly-chow.

Shushing the girls, I squeezed my own eyes shut and put myself between them and the manticore, and it snarled. I thought my blood was going to freeze, until the scariest noise ever known to filly-kind sounded for the second time that night.

*HssCra-Cra-Crack*

All three of us flinched in unison, squeezing tighter together, as the thing that Geoff had snapped three times in rapid succession. It sounded different when it was aimed in our direction, the loud bang it made preceded by a slight hiss, like a rock flew by really fast. I opened my eyes as the manticore charged at him.

Please, I pleaded, Please get it!

He didn't. I watched, horrified, as the beast charged wildly, swinging its stinger overhead and toward Geoff's chest. He had dropped his weapon, and pulled something from his hip that I couldn't see, but he was too late. The manticore's stinger sailed forward and punctured his left shoulder between the joint and his neck, and down a few inches from the top. My scream was drowned out entirely as a massive roar echoed through the clearing, followed by a blood curdling scream of pain from Geoff.

I shifted my eyes just in time to see the timber wolf come back, and body slam the manticore easily thirty yards before beginning to circle it, snarling. I watched in awe as the two titans began trading blows, a twig flying off the timber wolf, a gouge through the manticore's hide. It was about three seconds into the fight before I heard the panicked voices of my friends calling after me.

That was when I realized that I had bolted straight for Geoff, about two seconds ago. I began to panic again, being unprotected with a fight going on so close by, but I carried on. I knew he was hurt, worse than me or my friends had ever been before. I wanted to help him, needed to help him, he was the reason we were even alive to be scared, and I couldn't face Rainbow without having done anything to help him.

Geoff

My nose itched.

Heh, funny what you notice when you're screaming in pain from an eight inch long hypodermic needle filled with God-knows-what sailing through your shoulder. I was fairly sure there was some arterial damage, from the amount of blood pouring from the quarter inch wide hole going through my collar bone and out my shoulder blade, but that was purely pain and adrenaline that swept my focus into a point.

What brought me out of that tunnel was an orange hoof pressing a cloth to the wound and applying pressure to stop the bleeding. With that, my vision exploded to its normal field of view, though my focus was not lessened in the slightest.

What I saw confused me. Scootaloo, the orange filly, one of the children I had been tasked with protecting, was holding a. . . ripped piece of my pant leg to my shoulder. Tears rolled down her face, landing on mine as she focused all of her attention on the wound. It was a sad sight, with all the force her little body could apply, I barely felt anything but more pain on the wound. Blood still flowed out, unhindered by about fifteen pounds of filly pressing against it, but she still gave it her all.

Tears began to form in my own eyes as I realized how futile it was, I was going to die here, for real this time. Bleeding out in the middle of some forest right in front of a fucking child that was trying her damnedest to save me. I blinked the tears back, rolling my head to the right a bit to get a clear view of her.

Darkness encroached upon my field of view, the hazy blackness of death crawling in to claim me. I knew it was hopeless, she knew it was hopeless, and yet she still struggled with all of her might. It was touching, really. Slowly, I brought my right arm around, dropping my pistol into the dirt with a soft thud. I put my hand on top of her vibrant purple mane.

She paused, glancing at my face in confusion as I gave her a sad smile. Her tears only increased in number, and I felt somehow guilty for putting her through this. I was sure it would be traumatizing for her. With one fluid motion, I put my hand around her barrel, lifting the incredibly light weight filly to my right side. She struggled, saying something about stopping the bleeding, but her words went ignored as I pulled her into a hug.

At that point, all her determination left her. She buried her face into my neck as she sobbed, and I wanted to say something. . . but whatever it was, I couldn't remember. Darkness took me silently, no heaving or choking on my own fluids, no violent shuddering, just a long sigh as my body went limp, still holding the sobbing kid.

Somewhere in the blackness of my mind, I took note that Scootaloo was pulled away by something that sounded like a bunch of two by fours rattling together.

Alpha

With the manticore dealt with, its beaten corpse already cooling, I turned back to Geoff. I had been hoping to reach him in time, but regrettably, that was not the case. I could see the pool of blood under him from where I stood, and began the trek to retrieve him. In his arm, a crying filly could be seen. Scootaloo, I think she was called. One of the bunch that came adventuring because of a childish challenge. I sincerely hoped that she would never forget this night, the same for her friends as well.

A slumber party, a dare, and a dead man. All in one evening. These fillies would surely be scarred for life, if not longer. Silently, I willed a branch forward, acting as an arm as I scooped her out of Geoff's grasp. She struggled, of course, and if there was anything to gain from it, I would've told her that he would be fine. His body being unable to maintain consciousness was a long ways off from being dead, and his heart was still thudding away as I sent my will through the forest around me, silently asking the trees to maintain his life force until his wounds could be seen to.

"Nala," I called over the pack's network, "The Human has been injured. Come retrieve him and return to the den to assess his condition."

"Yes, Alpha," she replied. She was our fastest, as well as one of the few who held to her pony side even in her wolf form. She was like a mother to the pack, always caring and kind, though most others so seldom showed any emotion at all.

I collected the other fillies, arranging them on my shoulders as Nala leapt gracefully into the clearing with barely a glance in my direction. The fillies were a mess, huddling together and crying as I wove between the living pillars of the Everfree.

Geoff

I sat alone in a cozy study, a high backed leather desk chair under me and an almost comically oversized cigar burning between my fingers. I was wearing what I thought looked like an expensive white suit, but for the sake of the song playing, it seemed appropriate to wear a black ballistics vest over the suit coat. I picked up the tumbler from the desk, half filled with two ice cubes and a couple fingers of whiskey as I indulged in my own personal heaven. A cozy fire crackled in the corner, and on a whim, an Xbox materialized before me on the desk, along with a copy of Halo: Reach and my P226 appearing beside two controllers.

As I was about to turn the console on and call up an old buddy, who had been dead about as long as I was surviving, the doorknob twisted and the large oak door swung inward. Coincidentally, this turn of events happened in time with the final chorus of the song, prompting me to grab my pistol in my right hand, holding my cigar in my left. As Luna entered, I sang along rather loudly. . . or shouted, definitely shouted.

"When they come for me, I'll be sitting at my desk. With a gun in my hand, wearing a bulletproof vest singing, 'My, my, my, how the time does fly, when you know you're gonna die by the end of the night.' And said hey!"

Her look of absolute confusion made me crack right the fuck up. I, inwardly, breathed a huge sigh of relief upon seeing her. She meant that I was alive, and dreaming. Or she was a construct made by my subconscious to keep me company in my personal heaven. Either way, this was the first time, aside from my arrival, that she'd visited my dreamscape instead of me falling ungraciously into hers.

"Well," she began after a moment of confusion, "That song was certainly. . ."

"Great?" I laughed, interrupting her.

". . . Loud," she finished, causing my laughter to grow as I flicked a hand and materialized a huge flat screen TV that was, surprise, connected to the Xbox with a length of HDMI cord.

She examined the setup cautiously, before waving a wing and materializing a large beanbag chair beside my desk. Glancing jealously at her, admittedly, more comfortable looking chair, I promptly disposed of the cigar, suit, whiskey, and desk. Opting to summon a similar beanbag chair next to hers as the Xbox floated slowly to the ground and powered on all by itself. Dream logic, because fuck normality.

"What is all this?" Luna asked, curiously glancing around the room.

"My study," I quipped, "Also, my man cave for the evening." I thought about telling her about the encounter in the Everfree, but decided to just enjoy myself for the time being.

She giggled at that, plopping down on her beanbag with a whump and eyeing the TV curiously as the Xbox dashboard came up.

I flexed my fingers at her, "Gonna want a pair of these, Lu."

She raised her eyebrow at the nickname before bringing up her forehooves.

What happened next was not meant for the eyes of mortals. Her hooves morphed into navy blue hands. She giggled in her victory as I gave her my best, 'Oh-God-What-The-Shitting-Fuck' face. (OGWTSF for short)

"Please, Luna. For the love of all that is holy, please just change into a human. Hands on your forelegs is just wrong on so many levels," I cringed as she looked at me in confusion.

"Oh fine," she pouted, her whole form shimmering as I noticed idly that my vest and suit had been swapped at some point for a pair of long shorts and a loose T-shirt.

But when she was done, holy fuck. Before me sat the incarnation of beauty. Her flowing hair had receded to its normal, sky blue state, falling around her shoulders and covering her pale breasts in an absolutely thrilling way. I'm not ashamed to admit that it took me a full five seconds to realize she was nude, another five seconds for my ability to speak to return, and another five seconds for her to start to shift uncomfortably.

"Geoff," she questioned, "Are you alright?"

"NAKED," I blurted, so fucking smooth. "I. . . I mean," I shielded my eyes, turning away to save whatever few atoms of my decency were left, "Please put some clothes on, Luna."

She giggled, a sound which, coming from her current form, tested my restraint thoroughly.

"Can't handle a naked female when she's your own species, but a naked pony is just fine?" She asked sweetly, but when I turned to tell her exactly what I thought of that, I was greeted by clothing like I had asked, almost.

She was now wearing a loose fitting T-shirt, and a pair of panties. Not that I was looking, but the panties were definitely black, with a small white moon on the front.

I nodded dumbly, sinking into my own beanbag as I handed her a controller, player two, before realizing I hadn't responded to her question.

"Dammit Lu," I griped, "Naked ponies is the norm, naked humans is. . . well, you saw the magazines yourself." Her laughter was heaven as she threw her head back, scattering her hair behind her. She seemed so much more relaxed in the dreams than she did in person, though maybe it was because her older sister was always around in the waking world.

I sighed, starting a two player match on our now IMAX sized screen, that somehow fit into my study. Yeah, dream logic. I love that shit. I heard Luna give a rather loud snort, still laughing at my response.

"Fuck you," I grumbled, immediately using a sniper rifle to dome her as she abruptly stopped laughing.

I looked at her, and she looked. . . well sad doesn't begin to cover it. She looked fucking devastated. Tears in her eyes, mouth agape, she turned to me.

"You just. . . Killed. . . me?" She squeaked, nearly bursting into tears.

"NO! Luna don't, it's just a game, calm down, it's okay!" I shouted frantically, pulling her into a hug for some reason, or rather, it was a good enough excuse to get closer to her. In the back of my mind I knew she was a pony, but even in a dream, it was contact with a female of my own species that I hadn't had in years.

Which is when I noticed the wicked grin on her face as her hands maneuvered the controller behind my back. With a loud bang, I felt my own controller vibrate as my spartan dropped dead.

"Son of a," I stated dumbly, glancing at the shit eating grin on Luna's face as my respawn timer ticked away. "You're dirty," I griped, "That's some dirty shit right there, Lu." She quirked her head to the side with an innocent (I totally know what I fucking did you gullible fuck) smile.

And with that fucking beautiful, I-hate-that-smile-so-much, grin, we dove into the game, laughing and beating the hell out of each other with each kill, because in dreamland, punches only tickle.

Author's Note

Here it is! An update, finally!
I apologize for taking so long, been having computer issues and work has been a bitch. Hopefully, I'll get back to my old routine of getting a chapter out every few days, instead of these multi-month breaks.

As always, criticism is appreciated, as long as it's constructive and not just a rambling flame wall-o-text.

Fakto out, peace.