//------------------------------// // Homecoming // Story: Wind and Stone // by Ruirik //------------------------------// Pathfinder’s heart raced, a slow building dread having lodged itself in his chest. They were heading to Altus. He was going home. A warm home, his mother and father. But no Longbow. Their family would never be whole again. Every second, every flap of Rain’s strong wings, every inch they drew closer his fear grew. How could he look his parents in the eye? Tell them that Longbow was dead and it was his fault? He didn’t fear his father. Finder had no doubt he was in for a beating if he was lucky. Nothing Phalanx could say or do could possibly hurt worse than what he’d already suffered. No, it was his mother that terrified Finder. He had not forgotten the horrible crying in their house the night Longbow had been called to service. It had taken father hours to calm her down, and even then the pain had seemed like a nearly unbearable weight on her shoulders, threatening to crush her should she lose her will for even a moment. Now he would have to look his mother in the eye, and deliver the news he could still barely acknowledge himself. “Kid, you’re choking me,” Rain reprimanded him, lightly slapping a fetlock around her neck. “Sorry,” he said, loosening his forelegs a little. Rain’s short hair billowed and fluttered with every flap of her wings. It tickled his nose, drove her scent into his sinuses. It made him think of the wind. Strong, unrelenting, carrying with it traces of sweat, static, and spring rain. Was that a scent from being raised in a cloud city, he wondered, or was it just Rain? Subconsciously he leaned forward, nose pressing to the base of her neck. He closed his eyes and let that scent distract him. He remembered it from that first moment they’d rescued him. The night he’d woken thrashing and screaming, reliving the nightmare of the camp. Strong limbs wrapped around him, stopping him from tearing open his side again. That scent was what he remembered along with the soft humming of a nameless tune in his ear. “You okay back there?” She asked. “No,” he answered, shuddering on her back. Rain was quiet a moment, then inquired further. “You’re almost home, I’d think you’d be excited.” Pathfinder said nothing, his mind wandering to that last night at home. He hadn’t even had the courage to say goodbye. Rain seemed to sense what he was thinking, and after a moment her voice cut through his memories again. “You’re afraid to tell them about Longbow.” He whimpered, nodding a little. A flap of her wings, a moment of gliding on a winter thermal. “I’ll tell them.” “You….what?” “I’ll tell them,” she said again. “I made him part of my unit after the siege started.  He was my responsibility. I’ll tell them.” Finder shook his head. “No… I have to do this.” “You really don’t,” she said, wings flapping once to gain a little altitude. She found a thermal she could glide on for a while letting her passenger think her offer over. “You know, I had an older brother too.” Finder chewed on his lower lip for a moment, asked “What was his name?” “Steel.” Another flap of her wings. “We didn’t get along like you and Longbow. He was a mean, hard-headed, jackass.” “What happened to him?” He asked, regretting the question almost the moment it left his lips. “Saving my life,” Rain answered. “It was on my agoge. Thorn and I were being hunted by a group of griffons. Father sent Steel to check on me. He killed a few of the griffons before they killed him. I killed the rest.” Rain’s eyes closed a moment. Finder couldn’t see the look on her face, didn’t need to. His forelegs lightly squeezed around her chest while his cheek rested against her neck. It wasn’t much of a hug, but he felt her hoof gratefully touch his. “It was one of the hardest moments of my life… bringing his body home to Father.” She craned her neck around, catching his eye. “You don’t need to shoulder that burden, Pathfinder.” “I do…thank you, though, Rain.” They flew in silence for the better part of the day, stopping for a break and rations around noon. Thorn got a fire going to stave off the winter chill, which they all huddled around while Haze cleaned a goose he and Windshear managed to catch. Pathfinder hid under Rain’s wing, his eyes tightly closed so he wouldn’t see the grisly work. While the bird cooked over the open flame Summer took the opportunity to change Finder’s bandages. The wound in his side was largely sealed, though still raw. The gouges in his flesh left by the hybrid’s claws had largely scarred over as well. The worst of them, mostly on his flanks, were still raw though. Rain held his hoof, petted his mane, while Summer cleaned and dressed those. Lunch was eaten in a companionable silence, after which Finder dozed against Rain’s side. Her wing wrapped around him like a blanket, shielding him from the cold. “This is bullshit,” Summer growled while changing the bandage on Rain’s eye. “We should be flying the other direction.” “Shut it, Summer,” Rain said in a tired voice. “Why?” Summer asked, tying a new cloth around Rain’s head for a makeshift patch. “Why should I die in some backwater town instead of killing as many griffons as I can?” “What would be the point of that, Summer?” Carver asked. “Fucking revenge,” she spat. “It’s not revenge, it’s just suicide,” Carver said, rubbing his forehead. Thorn chuckled. “You say that like those are mutually exclusive ends.” “Better than dying running with our tails between our legs.” Summer looked over her work, then moved closer to the fire. For a moment her gaze drifted up as another band of refugees flew overhead, headed towards Altus. “I want to die with a little pride at least.” “You all saw what Magnus can do,” Rain said. She didn’t yell or raise her voice. “We can’t defeat him. Not with what we’ve got left. If we run south to the tribal lands we might be able to hold out for a few months, but they’d still find us. I will not sacrifice what’s left of our culture.” “So what?” Summer asked. “We just surrender?” Rain shook her head, her wing flexing around Pathfinder for a moment, then resuming its warm embrace. “The new Emperor is sending an expedition over the sea to find somewhere to settle. We fly to a new land, rebuild, and live to fight another day.” “Tsh,” Summer scoffed. “It’ll take twenty years to rebuild the legion.” “Now whose thinking with her groin?” Carver teased, getting a goose bone thrown at his head. “Hurricane’s a godsdamned fool,” Summer said, her wings flapping. “You should be Empress, Rain.” Rain shook her head. “We’re going to Altus, Summer,” Rain said, looking the other mare in the eye. “We’ll dig in there, protect the civilians. If Stratopolis gets Magnus to sue for peace, then we’ll find a new place to settle. If not and the scouts find new land, then we’ll cross the sea and make our home there. Maybe in twenty years we’ll come back with a Legion that will avenge what happened here.” Pausing for a drink of water, Rain continued. “I’m not asking you, any of you, to trust some pony you’ve never heard of. But you trust me. If any pony here doesn’t, say your piece now.” No pony spoke, just as she’d expected. Yet Finder noticed she had been holding her breath, and only let it out when her comrades affirmed their faith in her. “You know where I stand,” Thorn said, forelegs folded over her chest. “Dead is dead,” Haze concurred with a nod, a wing around Thorn’s back. “Nothing glorious or great about it.” “I don’t like this Rain,” Summer growled. “I’ll never forgive those Hybrid fuckers. But I’ll follow your lead.” She smiled, the fire in her eyes contained, at least for the moment. “Some pony’s gotta keep you in more or less one piece. Rain chuckled a little, shook her head. A bit of wine was passed around, each pegasus taking a swig until the flask was emptied. Once the last of the fire had burned down to embers, Rain laid down, letting Finder climb onto her back. A moment later they were back in the air, flying the rest of the afternoon. It was nearing sunset when Finder caught the first scent of home. Salt was in the air, just a trace. He wondered if Rain even noticed it. Immediately he was flooded with thoughts of home. The crash of waves against the sea wall, the smell of fish being offloaded from nets and processed, the acrid smell of their smokehouses working day and night to preserve their catch. “Calm down, kid,” Rain said, interrupting his thoughts. “I can feel your heart pounding like you just flew the Marathon.” “Sorry.” The closer they drew to the sea, the worse Finder felt. It felt like a rock had formed in place of his stomach. Altus wasn’t in view, yet they could already see thousands of tents and simple lean to shelters set up by refugees from all across the Empire. Countless little fires were spread through the camps, and Pathfinder could see ponies gathered around all of them. By the smell of it, many were cooking. Finder held Rain tighter. Altus was coming into view. The town was dark, covered in deep shadows from the looming storm clouds overhead. A chill wind swept inland from the sea. A whimper escaped Pathfinder’s lips. He wished it was Longbow’s back he was riding on. He would give both his wings and all four legs for his brother to be with him again. “Where am I landing?” Rain shouted over the winter winds. “Agenholt,” answered Pathfinder. “Just breathe,” Rain’s hoof found his own, rubbing over it gently. “You’ll be alright. I’m here for you.” “Father’s gonna kill me.” “He’ll have to get through me first.” Finder wanted to argue. To tell Rain the stories his father had told of the last war with the griffons, or how he’d beaten Finder over every infraction, and beaten Longbow when the elder brother tried to protect his sibling. Yet no matter how hard he tried to speak, no sounds escaped his muzzle. All too soon they landed in the town square. Countless pegasi were milling about, none of whom Finder recognized from almost a year earlier. ‘Gods,’ Finder thought as he stared out at the sea of unfamiliar faces. ‘Who are all these ponies?’ It felt like all of Cirra had congregated on the banks of Altus. The sleepy town Pathfinder had left shortly after turning fourteen was overrun by ponies from all corners of the Empire. Nimbans, Trontii, Nyxians, and many more. Finder heard accents from parts of the Empire he never imagined. “Point where we’re going,” Rain interrupted his thoughts. “You’re gonna get run over if I let you down here.” Pathfinder felt heat blossom in his cheeks. Still, he pointed a hoof towards the coast. “W-we’re on the hill past the town square. It’s not too far.” Rain nodded, turned to her Storm, said “Alright, fillies, let’s get this kid home.” Slowly, Rain pushed her way through the throng of ponies wandering aimlessly through Altus. Within the town limits countess pegasi flew to and fro, trying desperately to find lost loved ones. Bit by bit they worked their way through Altus. Altus, the backwater town of Cirra, now mother of exiles, the refuse of the empire huddled, teeming on her shores. Past the town square the made their way up the hills. Pathfinder guided their way, through the clogged streets made progress slow. He was grateful for that. No matter how badly he longed to see his mother and father, the fear of facing them was equally potent. Yet, all too soon, and somehow not soon enough, there they were, standing before the simple home he was born in. Finder noticed his mother’s garden, the skeletal remains of her flowers dead in the frozen ground. “Breathe,” Rain told him. He couldn’t, really, but Finder still nodded and tried all the same. Pathfinder felt as though the sounds of the world were fading away around him. Nothing that anypony said registered with his ears. Sliding off of Rain’s back, he hobbled down the cobblestone walk to the door. The world around him narrowed further. Finder tried to lift his hoof to knock, but found that his limb wouldn’t respond to his will. All that mattered was the door, standing there, waiting for him to push it open. In the end, it was Rain’s hoof that knocked on the door while Finder stood paralyzed. Her wing briefly slid over his back, lightly holding him for a moment before the comforting weight drifted away. “Breathe, Finder.” A breath. One. Two. Three. Four. Inhale. Finder swallowed the tight lump in his throat. The door groaned, Finder’s hoof pushed it open further. The hinges creaked, the pained moan of old metal hinges saturated by sea salt. An earthy scent hit Finder’s nose almost immediately. It was the scent of home, a scent that he’d never appreciated until that moment. It was that scent that greeted him after long days of flying, drawing maps of the countryside and coastline. All that was missing was the scent of his mother’s fish soup and the fragrant logs burning in the hearth. “Mom? Father?” Darkness greeted him. The house was frigid, a slight smell of dust lingering in the air. Pathfinder shivered, limped in. The floorboards groaned under his hooves echoing through the empty room. Over the back of a kitchen chair he saw his mother’s blanket, neatly folded like she always left it when not in use. “They must be out,” Finder said, feeling relief at their absence. “I bet Dad is out at sea fishing. The tide was out anyway, so he won’t be ashore until this evening. Mom must be helping treat the wounded.” “The tide what?” Rain asked, confused. “There’s high and low tides, like now when the water is low and you can see the barnacles on the docks.” Pathfinder pointed to the sturdy beams holding up the structures of the dock. “At high tide the water comes up almost to the deck of the piers. If there’s rough weather the waves break over them and it’s really slippery.” “I’ll stick to inland,” Rain chuckled. “That sounds annoying as Hell.” Pathfinder smiled, made his way over to the hearth, and set to work making a fire. He clenched his eyes tightly, forcing his right wing to open. The trembling limb dipped into a wicker basket that held a small amount of kindling, which he laid onto the ash coated bricks. His breathing grew labored, the pain making his wing feel like it was throbbing, yet he persevered. Looking around, Pathfinder realized that there were no candles lit in the house. Usually his parents always kept at least one candle or lantern lit at all hours, just in case they needed to start a fire fresh. “Huh, I guess they must be rationing lantern oil and candles,” Finder said, “Something’s not right,” Thorn mumbled, pacing the living room with her wings half open. “This place looks like it’s been empty for a while. What pony doesn’t have a fire going in the middle of winter?” “Father is out fishing. There’s so many ponies to feed now. And Mom always helps out around town when she can.” He smiled up at Rain. “I bet she’s at the Commons, probably cooking some fish stew.” Pathfinder licked his lips, then scrounged for his father’s flint stone from a metal tin next to the hearth. “You guys would like it. It’s got fish and vegetables, bacon, maybe some shellfish when we catch them. Mom might make it for us one of these days!” He paused, staring down at the flint. “It’ll be just like back then…” He clenched his eyes shut, forced the memories of happier days back. Holding the larger stone in his left hoof, the striking stone in his right, Finder struck the flint. Instantly he yelped, both stones clattering on the floor while he clutched his left shoulder. Summer and Rain were at his side in an instant, Rain picking up the flintstones while Summer checked his wound. “You alright, kid?” Summer asked, carefully peeling the bandage back to make sure nothing was torn. Finder nodded. “Just...stings.” “Easy, kid,” Rain said, striking the stones until the sparks began to burn the kindling. “I’m not seeing any food in the place,” Carver said, casually browsing through the kitchen. “Or…or any pots or pans.” “There’s half of the Empire huddled outside,” Finder argued. “Mom wouldn’t let anypony go hungry or cold. She’s out there right now, probably helping make food for everypony.” “Kid,” Windshear stepped closer to the colt, putting a hoof gingerly on his shoulder. Finder pulled away as quickly as he could, heart racing a little at being touched. “Why are all of you acting so weird?” He asked, putting some more sticks onto the growing fire. The five pegasi simply looked at him with concern etched on their faces. “Lets warm the house up and when Mom gets home tonight I’m sure she’ll make a nice dinner for everypony.” With a small grunt, Finder rose to his hooves and took the lantern from beside the hearth. There was no oil in the glass jar, though there looked like enough wick was left to last a few days. It wasn’t a big deal, though. Finder knew where his father kept a small bottle of oil for emergencies. Limping, with Carver following slightly behind him, he made his way to his parents bedroom. The door was closed, as it almost always was, and finder nudged it open easily. He took a step inside— “Father, you’re crushing my hoof.” Startling, Pathfinder glanced to Gray Rain and made a sad laugh. He released Gray’s hoof, which he’d scarcely realized he’d been clutching. “Sorry, son.” Stalwart leaned forward. “A-are you alright?” “Not at all,” Pathfinder admitted, the old stallion’s voice cracking while tears pooled in his eyes. “Come, father,” Gray slid a foreleg around Finder’s shoulders. “Lets take you home.” “Cirrus!” Finder called out. “The Reserve.” “What?” The barmare balked. “But, you said-” “Now.” Confused, Stalwart asked the question while Gray studied his father with an unreadable expression. “The Reserve?” Nodding, Pathfinder leaned against the table, a fetlock wiping his eyes, “When he retired, Commander Hurricane took up brewing. Made some damned good ale in the old Cirran style. Me? I got into distilling as a hobby when I was home. One night we put our heads together and made a little collaboration.” Pathfinder leaned back while Cirrus put out three small glasses, each filled with a half shot of a reddish-gold liquid. Pathfinder lifted his cup with a wing, motioned it in a toast to Stalwart and Gray, then tilted his head back, emptying the contents down his throat. Gray did the same, though his face twisted like he’d either been punched square in the nose, or had tried eating a lemon. Stalwart took a more cautious approach with his beverage, and the sip he took was so potent he almost spat it out. “Celestia, that’s horrible!” “We made it strong,” Finder explained. “Strong medicine for the pains we couldn’t cover with bandages.” “Father…” Taking his son’s hoof again, Pathfinder offered Gray a smile. He couldn’t stop the tears that dripped down his cheeks, nor the thin sheet of ice that formed on his wings. “I’m telling you Rain, something is wrong here,” Thorn growled, pacing to and fro. “We shouldn’t be in this damn house. That kid shouldn’t be in there.” “What’s gotten into you, Thorn?” Rain asked. The small mare growled again, ears flat, tail lashing. “You can’t smell it? Don’t tell me you’re this dense, Rain.” “What are you—” A crash, glass shattering on the floor. Instinct took over, Rain leapt towards the sound, tearing her knife free of its sheath. She knocked Carver over, galloped into the bedroom, and skidded to a stop. Pathfinder stood there, still as stone, his golden eyes staring ahead. Just ahead of him was his parents bed. Laying there, facing the door, was a mare. Her coat was similar in color to Pathfinder’s, with a long, blonde, mane. She was emaciated, ribs visible through her coat, with sunken cheeks. Her feathers were ragged, and Rain noticed dried blood around her muzzle. Held loosely in her hoof was a small wooden toy carved to look like a Cirran Legionnaire. The colors were painted to look like Longbow. Rain couldn’t tell what color her eyes were, they had become glossed over, milky and white. “Mom…” Finder said, his breath barely more than a whisper. He hobbled over to the side of the bed, pressing his nose to the mare’s chest. “Mom...wake up...i-it’s me. It’s Pathfinder…” “Summer!” Rain shouted. “Please...mom… Please don’t leave me...” The medic skidded into the room, roughly shoving Rain aside before making her way to the bed, She didn’t need to touch the mare in the bed to know the result, but put an ear to her chest all the same. After a long moment she looked to Pathfinder, sorrow plain on her face. “Finder...I’m sorry…” she lowered her head, ears splaying out. He shook his head, his breath coming in ragged pants. The color drained from his cheeks before he collapsed. Rain only barely managed to catch him. She rubbed a hoof over his brow, wincing at the broken look on his face. “Come on, kid,” Rain said softly, “Carver, help me lift him up.” Nodding, Carver stepped into the bedroom. He shivered, tried not to look at the body stretched out on the bed. Gently, he helped Rain lift Finder up, placing the colt on her back and carrying him out of the room. Thorn followed them out a few moments later, a folded parchment in her wing. “Rain.” Rain turned, an eyebrow rising slightly. “She left a note.” Gulping, Rain nodded and extended a wing to take the letter. She walked outside, wandering through the crowded streets until they came to the shoreline. Gently, Rain helped Finder off her back. He was limp, almost lifeless save for his shallow breathing. Rain moved behind him, wrapping her wings around his frail body to shield him from the wind. Once he was as comfortable as she could make him, Rain opened the folded parchment and scanned the lines. “Should I read it to you?” she asked. Finder said nothing, though she saw the moisture building in his eyes. Rain nodded, cleared her throat, and read. Phalanx, my love, If you’re reading this, then I pray you’ve brought our boys safely home. Every night I dream of you, the sweet smiles of our sons on a warm summer day. I want so badly to see you all again, to hold our boys tight and never let them go. I fear, though, I can feel my health failing. So many ponies are coming in from all over the Empire. There’s no food left. All the fish seem to have gone for warmer waters.  And worst of all, disease is spreading uncontrolled. So, my dear Phalanx, lest I not be able to see you again, I feel impelled to write a few lines. I pray they fall under your eyes if you return home, and I am no more. Forgive my many faults, and the pains I have caused you and our boys over these past years. How thoughtless and foolish these frail bones have been. How gladly I would wash away with my blood and tears the spots on your happiness I have caused the three of you and shield with my body you and our children from the wicked winds of this world. My soul is balmed, at least in part, by the happiness we, by the grace of the Gods, we were able to enjoy while here. And though I weep at the idea I won’t be with you to watch our boys grow into honorable stallions, to see them love, wed, and raise foals of their own, know that my spirit will be with all of you. So, my beloved Phalanx, if these are indeed my final words, please read them to Longbow and Pathfinder. Longbow, Pathfinder, my love for you is deathless. Even now as I lay here, my heart clenched in icy claws, and my body weak, my heart is full of bliss. All those wonderful moments you gave your father and I. I pray you boys have been safe this past year, and though it has broken my heart to know you are far from home surrounded by danger, I am so very proud of you both. Longbow,your father and I have watched you grow from a sweet colt into a noble young stallion. I can never forget when you picked up your first bow. You held it like you were born with it. Over the years you’ve helped me care for your brother when I was too ill. Forgive me, son, for failing you so badly and for so long. Would that maybe things had been different I could have been a better mother to you, and not just a pony you had to worry about. I am so very proud of you, son, and know that you will do wonderful things in this life. Pathfinder, my sweet little boy. From the day you were born I knew you were special. You have a heart too big for your chest and eyes that see the world in more detail than I could imagine. Your father and I wept when you left after your brother, but we were also so very proud of you. You became a stallion that day, not the little colt frolicking with your brother in fields of golden wheat or shallow tide. You grew up so fast, and I know that one day you will be a doting father with beautiful little foals of your own. My loves, do not grieve for me or think me dead. Think of me as merely gone away, for I shall pass this way again, and in the Great Skies we shall be reunited as a family. Until then, in brightest day or blackest night, amidst your happiest and most dour moments, always, always, know that I am with you. When you feel the ocean’s breeze on your cheek, it shall be my breath. Or the warm summer air passes through your manes, t’is my spirit passing by. Phalanx, Longbow, Pathfinder, my love your you is boundless, and even now carries me through these cold nights without you at home. Möbius bless and protect you all, and know I am with you. Sea Breeze Rain felt tears on her cheeks as she folded the letter. Her thoughts drifted far from the rolling waves of the sea to the golden fields of Nimbus, where her own family was dead and buried. What she would have given for a letter like that from her Father or Mother. Finder’s hoof squeezed hers like a lifeline. Evening fell over Altus. Tens of thousands of ponies huddled around small fires. What little food or forage they could get was shared between them. An uneasy quiet reigned over the small fishing village, punctuated with muffled coughs or cries. On that secluded little hill, Haze, Windshear, and Carver had dug a hole in the garden out back of the colt’s home. The body of the colt’s mother had carefully been wrapped in the sheets she had passed in and lowered to the bottom of the grave. The colt hadn’t spoken a word since his collapse. He hadn’t cried, couldn’t cry. All that was left inside his soul was drained. He simply felt empty. The cold of winter, the warmth of Rain’s wing over his back, he felt none of it. Her body lay there in the cold earth, wrapped tight in those old sheets. Words were said, a service held. Everything sounded so muffled. There were eyes looking to him, expectant, as though wanting him to say something. Eventually they turned away. The wing on his back held him tighter. A pony, Summer, he thought, was first to move. The tip of her shovel pushed down into the frozen dirt. She held the scoop aloft, waiting for a sign the colt could never give. A gulp, a breath, and the shovel full of dirt was tossed into the pit. The colt felt some relief. It hadn’t landed on her face. Minutes turned to hours, the colt sat by the grave, staring at the mound of soil where his mother now slept. He had a vague awareness of movement all around him, the  cold on his back when Rain had left him to attend to her own duties. He sat by the grave, silent, until the sun started to dip beyond the west horizon. He rose slowly, limped towards the cold ocean. Frost had set on his wings, but he didn’t care. The sandy shores crunched under his hooves like glass. He dug around in the sand with a hoof, the motion reflexive. The colt’s hoof quickly bumped into something smooth and sharp. Eyes glanced down, and the colt observed the dark brown shell of an ensis clam. The shell was long, with a subtle curve like a Cirran sword. He ran the side of his hoof along the edge, the clam slid further down into the sand. Darkness slowly overtook the light. The ocean waves crashed along the shores, sea foam lapping at his hooves, washing away all sign of the clam. He remained where he was on the beach until the moon was well overhead, frigid waves lapping at his hooves and haunches, the chill of winter making every breath visible. What was left, the colt wondered. Everything, everyone, was gone. Longbow, his father, and now his mother too. All of them, gone. The colt rose to unsteady hooves. The town was speckled with thousands of little fires, ponies gathered around them for warmth. The colt hobbled off the beach, towards the building he once called home. But it wasn’t home now. It was nothing more than wood and stone. Pushing the door open, the colt observed Haze, Carver, and Windshear all asleep in the living room. The stallions were huddled around the hearth, the flames from the fire low and dim. Shivering, the colt tossed a fresh log on the flames. Sparks danced up the chimney, swirling in the air before fading to nothing. The colt watched the three stallions, a frown pulling at his lips for a moment. Limping to his room, he peeled away the top sheet from his bed. It had been perfectly made since he’d left, and he could smell his mother on the sheet. The colt shivered again, and took the sheet back to the living room where he laid it over Carver. Moving back to the bedroom, he took Longbow’s sheet. He was stalled for a few moments, smelling his brother on the sheet. The fond memories were quickly overwhelmed by the horrors of Nimbus. He heard his brother’s screams as Magnus tore the wings from his body. The colt shuddered again, quickly taking the sheet from the bed and laid it over Windshear. Wincing, the colt went to the kitchen. There, over the kitchen stove, he pulled out another sheet from the warming cupboard. The sheet was cold, like most things in the dead house. The colt sat on the kitchen floor, held the cotton sheet to his nose. He smelled his mother in the soft fibers. Gods, how it made his heart ache. She was gone. The lingering scent was all that was left of her. The colt knew it was his fault she was gone. His fault that his mother’s health failed, his fault Longbow was dead, his fault that his father went to feathertop. The colt shuddered. He limped into the living room, added another log to the fire, and laid the last sheet over Haze. The sleeping stallion snored softly, his face at peace in the sweet embrace of dreams. The colt smiled a little, pain lancing through his heart. Mom, Longbow, Dad, they would never snore again. They would never laugh, cry, love, hurt, or feel. They were gone, and he could never feel their warm embrace again. Making his way back to the kitchen, the colt took a knife from the drawer. The colt held the blade in his teeth, limped into his parents bedroom, then sat at his mother’s side of the bed. He spat the knife into a hoof, took a breath, and stared at the blade. Rain was worried. She had been worried before the colt had blacked out in her forelegs, shocked as he’d been at the sight of his mother’s body, cold and stiff in the bed before him. The funeral had been an impromptu affair, something that she felt bad about. The mare that Rain never knew, but had found affection for her sons, seemed to deserve better than a quick burial and the sad excuse for a service they’d given her. She’d sat with Pathfinder through the whole service, kept her wing around his back. When they’d buried the colt’s mother, she’d kept her wing tight around his back. And after the simple grave had been filled, and a simple cairn erected, she’d stayed with him for over an hour. Silently, they sat before the simple grave. Rain didn’t try to force him to say anything, her thoughts wandering to her own mother’s funeral. Back then, she’d just been Iron: a little filly too young to realize what was going on. She remembered her brother crying and her father stoic. It was only later, when the crowds and criers were gone, in the privacy of the Nimban Palace, that she’d wandered in on her father weeping. She had come in search of a goodnight story, and had instead found herself consoling her own father, the way only an innocent child could. Pathfinder was older than most ponies in Nimbus who met death up close, and Rain observed sad eyes on the colt. It was similar to the look she remembered seeing in her father’s eyes after that funeral. Strong facades often were like poor levies: they held for a time, but always broke when one turned their attention elsewhere. She never forgot the sight of her father weeping at the foot of his bed. “Rain?” Blinking, Rain pulled her gaze away from the small fire in the Altus City Hall. Thorn stood with here, bags visible under the smaller mare’s eyes. Her red mane, crested with white tips, seemed more dull than usual, yet her blonde coat seemed to glow. “You alright?” Nodding, Rain answered “Yeah, why?” “Well, you haven’t been listening for the last hour,” Thorn answered, chuckling. “Not like there’s anything important going on in the world.” Rain shrugged her wings. “Just a bad feeling.” A pause, Thorn’s brow lifted. “About what? The kid?” Rain closed her eyes a moment, nodded. “You saw him.” “Yeah. It’s a nasty blow.” “Think you might talk to him?” “Hah,” Thorn balked at the idea. “I’m still not convinced Celsus shouldn’t have spiked him at the camp.” Rain shot a cold glare at her friend, who returned it easily. “Don’t give me that look, Rain. You of all ponies should understand.” “I’d think one could say the same for you,” her voice lowered and Rain’s eye narrowed. “Rose.” The small mare bristled. “Don’t call me that,” She hissed. Rain smirked, just a little, turned on a hoof, and marched through the freezing night towards Pathfinder’s house. Something in her gut told her she needed to be there. She heard Thorn following behind her, and the two moved in silence. Entering the house, Rain briefly noted the snoring stallions, huddled as they were around the fire in the hearth. Then, a glint caught her eye. Rain looked up,  her lone eye straining in the dark house. Motion from the bedroom caught her eye. She moved forward quickly, Thorn close behind. They stopped at the door, and Rain gasped. Pathfinder twisted his neck around, his heart momentarily stopping when he heard sound behind him. Rain, Thorn, they were standing in the door, attention fully focused on him. He’d peeled off all his bandages, the gauze laid out over the floor. His left wing hung limp, his raw flank exposed with the tip of the blade leveled over the flesh, and his heart. “Finder…” Rain spoke his name softly, her mouth hanging open and horror in her eye.  She swayed a moment, reeled back until her haunches met the floor. “I…I understand.” Look away he thought.  His heart began to pound, a tightness filled his chest. Please just look away. There was a tear in Rain’s eye. She stood still at the door, Thorn at her side. Neither mare moved an inch. Why wouldn’t they just look away? Why couldn’t they just let him have this one moment alone? He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. The knife prodded the tender, trembling flesh on his chest. All he needed was one moment of strength. Just one moment of courage and it would be over. But with Rain’s eye on him, all his courage, all the resolve, had drained from his soul. Finder gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes shut. He willed himself to move, to just take that one, sharp, pull. Gnade’s spear hadn’t hurt when it pierced his chest so many months ago. Surviving it had been where the pain had made itself known. A hoofstep quietly met his ears, followed by another, then another still. Finder struggled to control his breathing. His eyes were burning, hooves trembling, he could barely keep his grip on the knife. Rain’s cool hoof laid over his own, steadying it just enough. Finder tensed, the tip of the knife digging into his scar. He felt to trickle of blood leak down his chest. “She wouldn’t have wanted this,” Rain whispered, her breath warm on his ear. “None of them would have.” Breaths grew quicker, his throat felt like it was closing up. Mother, Father, Longbow, he could see all their faces clear as day. Yet they had all gone, now. Gone to a place he could never follow. “Finder. Finder, look at me.” Rain’s words were commanding, they forced him to look up at her. He expected disgust, anger, the same sort that his father or Skyhammer would. Yet all he saw was that pained, patient, understanding. Her hoof held firm over top of his, the knife trembled in his hoof. “You’ve suffered,” she stared, her voice barely more than a whisper. “You’ve suffered more than anypony ought to. I-if you want to end it all here, now…I-I won’t stop you. You deserve peace.” Finder let out a breath, his body trembling under her strong hooves. “You’re brave, Finder. Braver than any colt I’ve ever known.” Rain’s wing slid around his back, her warmth shielding him from winter’s bite. “You put yourself into the middle of a war, not even knowing what that would mean. But you know, now. And now that you understand, you have a choice.” Her hoof moved, slowly, resting on the pommel of the knife. “You can end it here and now. Or you can put that knife down. But understand: if you put that knife down, you’re making an oath, not just to me, but to your mother, and Longbow too. A promise that no much harder things get, no matter how much pain you feel, you will endure. You will survive. Because your brothers and sisters are counting on you.” Her hoof lifted his chin, bringing his eyes up to hers. “We’ll always be here for you, Finder. No matter what happens, we’ll be here. And you will survive.” A breath, a pause. Golden eyes looked up into the solitary blue orb. The knife clattered to the floor. “So I did,” Pathfinder said in a quiet voice. “Even now, when it feels like I’m a waste of breath.” He lifted his mug to his lips, let the Old Cirran drain down his throat in a single gulp. Sighing, his head looked up to the window, to the black, storming, skies high above. “They’re all gone now. Rain, Carver, Rose, Summer, Haze…” He shook his head. “But I’ve kept my promise. S’all I know how to do.” Biting his lip for a moment, Stalwart leaned forward in his stool. “So…So what—” “No,” Gray spoke up, rose from his stool, and looked to Finder. “Father, you’ve said more than enough for today. Soldier, if Father wishes to discuss more, he will find you.” “But—” “Goodnight, soldier.” Gray Rain put a wing around his father’s back, and led the old soldier out of the Legates Lookout.