//------------------------------//
// LTV 1.2 On the Road Again 
// Story: The Life and Times of Veridian Emerald (LTV) 
// by ColgateVeridian 
//------------------------------//

LTV 1.2 “On the Road Again”

Under the command of Trotski, the rebel group from the Resistance was returning from their previous, successful mission of intercepting a Soviet supply caravan. For the first time in a long time, they had minimal casualties, putting the group in high spirits. Last night’s arrival of their newest member, Veridian, also helped to boost their morale. Normally, the Queen would prohibit a pregnant mare from going on any assignment, but thanks to eloquent speeches from both Crimson and Trotski, she allowed it to pass. Besides, in these struggling times, she needed as many hooves on deck as she could get. News of their success will not only please, but also surprise the Queen when they report back.
Despite the late night, they needed to continue their trek back to Stalliongrad. Everypony had to take down their own, small, respective shelters. Crimson was allowed to share a tent with mate while she was still pregnant. But now, after the birth, under the Queen’s orders, he had to sleep in his own. Crimson was awoken by one of the night guards who had the last shift. He groggily dismissed the guard from his tent and stretched out in his hammock.
Crimson rolled off his hammock, nearly falling, but less-than-gracefully saved himself from smashing his face into the dirt. After shaking out his golden yellow mane, he got to work on taking his shelter down. Standing up on his rear hooves, he fumbled around with one of the knots that held his hammock to the roof. The knot had tightened itself from the weight Crimson had put on it in his sleep, and his lack of fingers made it extremely difficult to undo. Confound these hooves, he thought to himself, I must learn a spell to do this for me next time. He eventually was able to loosen it enough to where the rope slid off the pole and coiled on the ground. Crimson sighed when he looked over to see that he was only half-way done.
Reluctantly, he turned to the second knot and began working on that one. Putting all of his focus into untying his hammock, Crimson did not realize the presence of another had entered his tent. At least not until this presence made contact with his blank flank. Alarmed, Crimson spun around o his rear hooves, ducking his head, and pointed his horn directly at the intruder’s neck. He did not move an inch, but quietly said, “easy there comrade, it’s just me.” Embarrassed that he just nearly killed his superior and friend, he backed off and apologized. “No need for that,” Trotski dismissed, “I should have announced my arrival, but I couldn’t be seen coming here, what I need to ask you is secret. Is the colt here with you?” “No, we let Heartsong have him for the night; she is his mother after all.” Trotski took in a deep breath, then continued, “Very well then, let’s get to business. What do you plan on doing with your little alicorn? Surely, you do not plan on getting rid of him?”
After the full night’s rest, Crimson got over the initial shock of his colt’s birth, and was able to think more reasonably. “I have decided that we will keep him, obviously, but there still are problems that we must consult with the Queen about.” A look of relief fell over the Captain and he said, “Thank Celestia, that’s exactly what I was hoping to hear. I knew you would come to your senses, you’re a reasonable stallion.” “Good, Heartsong will undoubtedly have the same feelings.” responded Crimson. “The Queen is very wise and will more than likely have the answers you are looking for, Crimson. Now, allow me to help you finish packing, our conversation has gotten you a little behind…”
Crimson agreed to his offer and together they finished rolling up his hammock, and packed his satchels with his books and an assortment of items that were stolen from the Soviets including quills, parchment, and a small pouch of coins. Crimson then picked his hooded cloak off the ground before stepping outside to take down the tent. He threw on his whit, hooded cloak, but only wrapped his yellow mask around his neck, not seeing any reason to hide his face at the moment. Together, Crimson and Trotski worked to take the stakes out of the ground, pull the tarps off the pole framework, and remove the poles. After rolling the tarp up with the wooden poles on the inside of them, he slung the bundle over his pack and secured it tightly.
Trotski had overestimated the time it would take them to break-down the shelter, and Crimson now had a little free time before their breakfast rations. He decided to go check up on his mate and colt on the other side of the camp. It was only a short walk and he quickly reached Heartsong’s area, which she too had already packed up. Crimson affectionately rubbed his face into hers before bidding her good morning and turned to see his colt. He found Veridian strapped into a small, cloth saddle that was fashioned to fit Heartsong. When Veridian saw his father approaching, he lowered his ears and fluttered his wings in an adorable manner before making a cute, little squeak. “Are you sure you’ll be able to carry all of your gear and the child at the same time?” Crimson asked his mate who answered, “Another pony who didn’t have anything to carry is going to hold my gear. I get to have Veridian on my back instead. Besides, I already was carrying our little foal with my gear before he was born.”
It soon was time to start traveling again; their next stop was the hidden Resistance Base in Stalliongrad, and to the Queen herself. Crimson helped fasten the saddle to his mate, and then his own gear to himself. He took his position next to Trotski near the front of the group and was instructed to eat as they walked, they wanted to arrive early.