//------------------------------// // Chapter 1: Rainbow Dash, Soldier of Fortune // Story: A Star to Steer Me By // by Journeyman //------------------------------// Chapter 1 - Rainbow Dash, Soldier of Fortune THUNK! Dash’s greatsword cut through the rich brown dirt of the forest floor. Her adversary, a beastial wolf - one of a pack - snarled as it darted away to avoid the attack. “This will be easy, they said. You can do this in an afternoon, they said,” she lamented. Her adversaries were a small pack of wolves that had been tormenting the neighboring town of New Brook for quite some time. Their attacks on livestock and thieving from food stores were numerous, equalling only those on townsfolk. She had offered her sword up for the job and was selected for the contract above the half dozen or so others who showed up for the bounty. “Dash” was more than just a name, she was the fastest blade around. Dash heaved her sword in her hands, slung it across her back, and slid a foot forward in a battle stance. The pack didn’t take too long to find; a single warrior alone in the forest, no appreciable backup, and three hours from sunset? Easy prey for a wolf pack. The real trouble was Brokenfang, a notoriously wily and vicious she-bitch and pack leader. Named for her chipped right canine, she led the pack and used them to attempt to flank her for an easy kill. Dash would not fall victim so easily. The forest was rich with life and color, but the distinct slinking of wolves through the underbrush, especially overeager pups, was distinguishable in the forest din. It was mere luck that the one cutting off her escape was naught but a pup compared to Brokenfang. Instead of waiting for Brokenfang to close the snare around Dash, as proper battle tactics would suggest, the pup attempted to blitz her flank. ‘Twas foolish, to attack such an experienced warrior alone. The speed of Dash’s blade was furious and fast, dispatching the pup with a few quick strokes of her sword. Brokenfang and her remaining pack rushed to help, but Dash was ready and no longer had her back to a wolf. Two other male wolves stood to her left and right, but had not moved an inch otherwise. Brokenfang herself stood atop a group of downed trees behind them, watching the bounty hunter through her amber eyes. The wolf held the high ground and used herself as bait so her pack could attack Dash’s unprotected back. It was a clever tactic; there was good reason Brokenfang had a 400 bit bounty on her hide. Dash smiled, turned, and vanished into the underbrush. It wasn’t out of any fearful instinct, but a desire to set the battlefield herself, and in her favor. Had she stayed, she did not believe her success was reasonably assured. Even the best case scenario would have her limping out of the woods and recovering for at least a fortnight. There was courage, and then there was tactical retreat. She smiled as she ran. Even under the weight of her sword and armor, her pace was swift. She leapt over fallen logs and scattered shrubbery, wove around great oaks centuries old, and jumped across rocky crevasses, all with the speed that her name implied. She laughed in exhilaration, loving the feel of slicing through the air as the wind burned her face and her muscles ached from exertion. The pitter-patter of feet echoed in her wake as the wolves ran to keep up. They were gaining ground slowly, but she still had enough strength to put on an extra burst of speed.  She giggled uncharacteristically, knowing there was nothing quite like the knowledge she was being hunted. The fear, the adrenaline, knowing that there could be danger or death lurking in the shadows... the excitement gave Dash a love of pursuit and a tingle between her legs. She flung a springy sapling branch behind her and heard a pursuer yelp. Steadily, the trees became smaller, fewer, and far in between, for she rapidly approached a sharp, rocky precipice carved into the earth long ago. Without missing a beat, she completed a jump to the other side, adjusted her sword to avoid accidentally harming herself, and rolled to dispel the momentum. The other side held a wide, clear field dotted only with ferns, bushes and other minor underbrush. ‘This will do nicely,’ she thought. Her ears perked up upon hearing beastial panting. Dash gripped the handle of her greatsword, pivoted sharply, and swung in an arc. One of the males had followed her mighty leap across the precipice and right into the path of her swing. The momentum of the wolf’s jump shook her grip but did nothing to dispel the damage the greatsword carved. The sword sliced through the wolf like a hot knife through butter, cutting through muscle and sinew and crushing bones on contact. A spray of dark red blood hit her face as the wolf died instantly from the blow. Stumbling back, she furiously rubbed her eyes to clear away the burning fluid. She did not have long, for she heard running feet and an accompanying growl. Cursing to herself, she raised her blade as the wolf sprung across the precipice. A dark shadow flew across her vision in front of her and she heard the scrambling of clawed feet; one of the wolves made it across. Fate had expunged the last few seconds given to clear her obfuscated sight. The shadow in front of her blurred with movement and Dash swung half hazardly in a desperate attempt to wound her foe. The slash hissed through the air and hit only empty space, just as a large mass of fur crashed into her side. She and her sword fell to the ground as the pair tussled. The beast roared in triumphant fury and lunged for her throat. In a last-ditch attempt to spare herself from the beast’s rage as it lunged for her throat, she thrust her forearm into the beasts gullet. She yelped in pain as the wolf growled and shook the flesh in its mouth, tearing into her arm bit by bit; the cured leather vambrace with its interlaced steel discs gave her modest protection, but the steel could not protect everything. Blood began to pool in her vambrace as the wolf shook her forearm a second time. Scrambling with her unentangled arm, she reached down to her hip to her trusty dagger. She yanked the blade out of its cheap leather sheath and plunged it into the wolf’s neck. The wolf yelped in pain, letting go of her arm. Dash delivered a kick to the wolf’s head and heard an additional yelp. Rolling to the side, she picked up her greatsword. Taking a quick gamble, she scrubbed at her eyes once more to help clear away the spots and burning pain. The world was slowly coming into focus with the rich green of the forest leaves and deep brown of thick trunks and patches of dirt. She took a breath; the scent of sap, loam, and the mild iron of the wolves’ and her own blood flooded her nostrils. She performed her brief meditation to help calm her mind: her heartbeat slowed, her arm ceased it trembles of pain, and her vision cleared enough to see a mass of gray and a glint of metal. The wolf had reached around with its teeth and pulled out the dagger by the small wooden pommel. It was growling slightly but that decayed into pained whimpers before the wolf started hobbling away from her. It tried to lick the wound, but it was too close to its head to do so. Its iron gray fur was stained bright red with its hemorrhaging blood; the poor beast would not last an hour with that wound, let alone the night. Dash kept her ears sharp and heard nothing other than the two of them in the immediate vicinity. She acted quickly; she wasn’t cruel enough to let the wolf suffer the wrath of a forest night. She sprinted the five yards to the wolf and slammed the flat of her sword on the base of the wolf’s neck. Crack! The wolf fell without a sound and blood pooled from its stab wound. Dash kneeled down next to the fallen wolf and peeled back its canine lips. No broken canine... There wasn’t even a rustle of leaves as a large mass of fur and fangs leapt from the underbrush from her right, forcing her to drop prone. The coarse fur brushed against her armor and the motion had caught the looped leather that held her hair in place, causing it to spill out in droves. Waist-length hair with every hue of the rainbow glinted dully in the evening sun, but there was no time to secure it back in its place. Dash got back up to one leg and pointed her blade at her attacker, her hair swinging to the side like a cloak. Brokenfang had gotten to her feet as well and was glaring daggers at Dash, lips pulled back over her teeth. A small trail of saliva dripped from her lips as she let out a particularly deep growl that resembled more of a hiss. Dash rose to both feet and Brokenfang fidgeted forward a step at the sudden movement. She never blinked, always watching for a moment of weakness of opportunity of attack. Brokenfang was set on revenge for her pack’s demise, but fleeing was always an option for the beast. The grasses and shrubbery were small in the immediate clearing with the forest becoming significantly more dense at the edges; She would lose Brokenfang for sure if she bolted. However, Brokenfang was furious and had not stopped growling in challenge at her opponent. Dash had killed her pack and she intended to settle the score with the mercenary. Brokenfang was noticeably larger than the other two, outweighing even her mate. A solid iron coat stain with streaks of silver with a soft white underbelly, deep blue eyes, and heavily scarred from pack duels and incursions with fellow predators. Even for a wolf, Brokenfang was large; with her armor and weapons, she  only had about eighty pounds on the wolf, but the fight to come would be a test of speed, not skill or strength. Dash’s arm was already wounded and would hinder use of her sword. Brokenfang knew it too; the scent was heavy in the air, an iron tang that even Dash was beginning to smell and nothing else. She was only ten yards away from Brokenfang when the wolf chose to strike. She came low and fast, zig-zagging through the brush to nip at her heels. Dash, blade held low, swung left to cut at her unprotected sides. Brokenfang leapt back to avoid the swing and dove forward in its wake. Brokenfang was only three yards away; definitely not enough time to readjust her sword. Dash let go with her right hand and grabbed at the bandolier of knives around her chest. With a flick of her wrist, the blade twirled through the air. Brokenfang scampered to a stop and the flying knife just barely missed, severing a few hairs off her flank. She had taken the time to return to her sword and heaved it down in a mighty arc. Now on the defensive, Brokenfang retreated a few steps before her greatsword cut a shallow gash across her right flank. She yelped in pain before jumping ahead a step. Using the momentum to turn herself around in midair, Brokenfang’s lipped curved in a growl before her face met her left boot. Brokenfang scrambled back, momentarily stunned at the blow. Dash brought her sword straight up and let it slam down flat first; she didn’t wish for Brokenfang’s body or pelt to return unrecognizable, for she would lose the bounty. Brokenfang had recovered from the kick just in time to retreat even further, but not soon enough. Brokenfang’s left foreleg was crushed under the weight of the sword, breaking the bones like twigs. Brokenfang gave a cry of pain that echoed across the clearing and into the forest. Her cry bounced off the precipice walls, giving the impression that the forest itself answered her pain. The fight had a victor and Brokenfang knew it. She turned tail and hobbled as fast as she could to the encompassing forest darkness. Dash would have none of that; dropping her greatsword and retrieving her fallen knife, she sprinted and tackled the lone wolf. The two flailed and rolled to a stop, Brokenfang coming out on top. Placing her good paw on herr chest, she opened her jaw of pointed teeth and prepared to tear out her throat. Brokenfang never got the chance, for as the pair ceased their tumble, Dash’s blade was already at Brokenfang’s throat. The wolf’s jugular opened and her head slumped onto Dash’s chest without the slightest hint of trouble. Brokenfang was slain before she even knew she was injured. The fight now over for good, Dash panted from the night’s exertion and her body burning excess adrenaline. Her head fell to the ground and was cushioned by the soft dirt and her now blood-soaked hair. She shoved Brokenfang’s body off of her, lest her armor get any filthier than it already was. “...Now how am I going to get you back?” Dash had stashed some gear early on in her hunt for the pack. Her satchel contained some rations, extra knives, a whetstone, her coin purse, hunting supplies, flint and steel, a cheap lantern, a few bandages, and disinfectant. Most of her bandages and disinfectant was used on her arm after she had pried her vambrace and gauntlet off. Her blood had dried and had clung to her arm like glue. It took a knife and a few minutes of patience to chisel at her vambrace and blood. Now Dash had a small cut on her forearm because her patience ran out too soon. Having cleaned her remaining wounds in one of the forest’s bubbling brooks, Dash set out with sword slung across her back. A 400 bit bounty was very nice indeed for an afternoon’s work, but with a little more work, she could add a few more bits to her reward. She found the corpses of Brokenfang and her two mates with not much effort. Pulling out her belt knife, she went to work on its skinning their hide. After a vertical cut to the abdomen and one down each leg, Dash began to work on remove the pelt. She would lose a few bits for the knife wound and would still need to clean the skin for later, but even poor skins could fetch a fair price. “But it’s better than dying,” Dash said out loud. She finished with her work, cleaning off a few more scraps of flesh on the hide before turning to the other male. She tsked; that one was nearly cut in half. The hide was useless, but the scraps of leather could be used for repairs, but not much else. It took only a third of the time as the first and not even a third was salvageable. Now for Brokenfang. The she-bitch’s hide was in fair shape, so she might be able to bump up the bounty a few bits as a trophy. “Won’t you just be the coolest thing nailed to someone’s wall?” Taking a few minutes to open her belly, cut the windpipe and esophagus, and removing the internal organs, Dash hoisted the skin over her shoulders. Her armor was already stained with blood, so a little more to clean out later wouldn’t hurt. “But it’s going to be a bitch to clean the blood out of the nicks and crannies later.” Dash held up the head of Brokenfang to her face. “No offense.” It was a small detour to retrieve the skin of the pup, especially to maneuver around the precipice, but she made the trip all the same.  After another stop at the brook to wash away any remaining blood on herself, the skins attached to her belt, and Brokenfang around her neck, Dash was off. It was an hour after nightfall when she finally left the confines of the forest. She had to break out the copper lantern, and with a few flicks of the flint and steel, ruby-red flames flickered to life and tasted the crisp night air. The town was a half hour walk, but she took her time. The air was still warm with early summer and tinged with the scents of people, wood smoke, and the remains of the just-finished dinner. The smell of cooked fowls, potatoes, celery stew, roaring fires, malt beer, smoked ham, salted pork, mutton chop, cornbread, aged cedar, cherry pies, and… Dash took an additional sniff of the air. Oh yes, they did have some. Dash walked through the tall grasses and eventually made her way to a cobblestone path lined with wooden fences and dangling lanterns to illuminate the path into New Brook. It was far too late into the night to return home to Ponyville, so a local inn would be in order. A single individual had already left town and started extinguishing the lanterns; such devices were only left lit during the twilight hours to conserve oil. Dash set her lantern down and pulled out her extensive mane of hair from its binding to her armor. Her waist-length rainbow locks moved back and forth in the slight breeze and she sighed as the wind cooled the sweat soaked into her clothes and hair. Dash picked her lantern back up and made her way into New Brook. The town was rather modest and rustic compared to her own hometown. While her town was not much larger, the town of New Brook consisted mostly of wooden dwellings with thatched roofs. The majority of homes were single or double rooms and only the town hall was made out of stone. The main cobblestone path was set on only the main roads with the branches turning into dirt or gravel. Farther ahead in the center of town, a large town square circled a small park where vendors could more easily sell their wares. Dash blew out her lantern, but her approach still drew notice. “Ah, the mighty hunter returns!” “Dash!” “You’ve found her! I knew you’d never left us down!” “Rainbow Dash!” “She did it!” “Rainbow Dash!” “Rainbow Dash!” “Rainbow Dash!” A small crowd had gathered and had begun to cheer in unison. Out of the multitude of people gathered, out of all the browns, grays, yellows, reds, and greens, not a single soul had the multi-hued hair like hers. Even the children, some of whom hid behind their parent’s pants and apron strings, only possessed a single color for their head. Dash rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly, but still ate up the attention. “Oh, it was no problem at all. She wasn’t too hard to take care of.” Dash set down the lantern and removed Brokenfang’s body. She placed a hand on Brokenfang’s head and mouth and began to flap the head comically at the children. “Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf!?” Some of the kids laughed at the joke while a few hid their faces and started crying. The children’s parents gave Dash a stern look, but could not stay mad at their savior for long. It was half an hour before the crowd dispersed enough for Dash to move off. One particularly rabid civilian demanded a blow-by-blow account of what happened since she ventured in the forest and Dash happily obliged with a mercenary’s usual flair for the dramatic and embellishment. She was particularly proud of her tale of how she managed to kill one of the wolves by breaking its neck with her bare hands. Given that her armor was still drenched in bits of gore, she was certain they believed that along with the rest of her tale. Eventually she escaped and made her way deeper into the small town. Shops and houses both lined the main road of New Brook. Most of them were a combination of both, the shopkeepers living above or below the store they ran. There wasn’t anything too extravagant in the town: the usual carpenters, masons, a guild of lumberjacks, a few blacksmiths, a fletcher, a couple of inns, merchants, and a couple dozen others. She found one particular inn with a sign depicting a roaring hearth, a residence built like a farmhouse more than anything, and stepped inside. The wooden interior had several pictures of past events the town had held or witnessed: parades and pageants, the annual Winter Wrap-Ups and Summer Sun Celebrations, notable figures passing through like the cellist Octavia, and even one of Dash alongside a trophy boar. The inn had three rows of wooden tables and benches to her left, stairs to the rooms in front of her, and a counter and door that lead to the kitchen in the back. A short, portly man, bald save for a waist-length iron gray beard, was washing tables with a rag and a bowl of warm, soapy water. He looked up when he heard her enter. “Ol’ Dash! Yer here!” “It’s good to be back Hearth.”          “Ah see yer comin’ wit’ ah trophy, eh? Ah need ahnother picture fer me wall?” “Weeeeeell, yeah!” Tender Hearth gave a laugh and waddled to the counter in back. The people of New Brook or even the wandering merchants that occasionally came to town could never identify the accent Hearth spoke. From what Dash had heard, Hearth came into town about seven years ago with the bright idea to start an inn to cater directly to the travelers and merchants, whereas all the others in town were built solely for people in town and those under temporary travel. It took some time, a little investment, and a lot of elbow grease, but Hearth did it. Hearth’s charisma earned him many friends and he was always asked what he did before he came to town, but Hearth always avoided it. Hearth came back with a clipboard. “Yer in luck; ol’ Tender Hearth here got ah room wit’ yer name on it. Need some grub to pass ta’ time? Some ale? Ah shank o’ somethin’ in back?” One of the barmaids, a petite little thing in brown pigtails, lugged a steaming bucket of water past him and up the stairs. “A mug of cider, some apples, and that room for the night.” Hearth gave another throaty laugh. “Always ta’ same.” Dash raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you don’t have some; I could smell it from the outskirts.” Hearth waved a hand to assuage her concerns. “Sure, sure, sure, ah got some left o’er in one o’ them kegs in back.” He waddled back into the kitchen and she leaned her head on a hand and sighed. Good old Hearth would never change. Hearth nudged the kitchen double doors with his hip, juggling a half dozen apples and a steaming mug of cider in his arms. Dash grinned as he set them down and took a draft first. Warm cider slid down her throat, making her give a content mewl of pleasure. There was nothing quite like Hearth’s cider, mixed with cinnamon and a dash of lemon and orange. Hearth only had a smile of curiosity mixed with satisfaction. It was as if she did this all the time and he could never figure out why. Dash set down the mug and picked up one of the apples. Shining it on a clean part of her leather armor, she bit into it and tart juice run down her lips. Finishing it and tossing the core, The bounty hunter paid the man his due from her coin purse, scooped up her food and drink, and made her way upstairs. “Last ‘un on ta’ right!” Dash yelled her thanks and entered her room. It was fairly spacious with a cold fireplace on the far right, a single bed in the corner, a dresser and nightstand, two stout chairs and a wooden table, a small bronze tub for washing stood to the right, and a window of the town and night sky was on the wall on her left. Two full basins of steaming water stood ready on the nightstand. “Good ol’ Hearth.” She set her meal next to the nightstand and began to shed her gear for the night. Her coin purse, satchel, lantern, and skins were thrown in the corner and the Brokenfang skin set gently on one of the chairs. Next her gauntlets and accompanying vambraces, rough leather things with steel disks on the forearms tied tightly. She set those on the table; they would need to be cleaned later. Next her bandolier of knives, belt knife, and great sword joined the corner. Her boots came off next, simple brownish leather work boots built to last, no flourish or fashion at all. A few splashes of red stained the leather, so they were set on the floor next to the table. Next the greaves, which were surprisingly clean of blood, so they headed for the corner. Now for the hard part. The shoulder pads had a trick, a combination of straps and ties securing them to her chest armor. All of her armor was made from boar hide, salted to provide protection from the elements and lined with wolf hair. The shoulders pads were cheap but sturdy, faded to a dull yellow over time but still holding up. They joined the gauntlets. Her breastplate had the same trick; more belts and lengths of string securing it to her shoulders and chest. The interlocking plates of leather help deflect and redirect the momentum of blows, but Dash’s tendency to take dangerous and stressful jobs put a lot of strain on her armor. It was already filled with cuts and nicks, and one small chunk of her breastplate was torn off altogether, a memento of a boar tusk from the picture downstairs. She unhooked the last loop and began pulling her armor above her head. The interlocking plates that covered her lower chest and abdomen were showing signs of coming undone. She’d need to have her armor taken in for repairs. Maybe buy a whole new set if she was unlucky. The armor slipped off and hit the floor with a heavy thud. Dash stood on her toes in her gray shirt and stretched her limbs as far as they would go, feeling a cascade of small pops and cracks up her legs, back, and arms. She removed her woolen socks next before stretching one more time, finally free of the cumbersome but necessary armor. “Let’s get a little light in here.” Cleaning her armor in the light was troublesome enough; the enshrouding after a little work with the tinder, she soon had a low flame licking at the wood placed in the hearth. The soft glow wasn’t enough to produce much heat, but it was enough light to continue her task. She grabbed some of the cleaning supplies from the nightstand and a bowl of water, and started on cleaning each and every bit of armor on the table. It took another half hour to scrub every nook and cranny and by the time she was done, she was exhausted and just wanted to go to bed after her hunt. However, there was still one thing she wanted to do. Dash stood once again and removed the doublet, her padded coat that eased the discomfort of running and moving in her armor. She then removed her shirt and sighed as the cool night air ran across her naked skin. She closed her eyes. She could feel the wind as if it sang to her. It whisked into the room, circling her bare feet, up her waist and flat, toned abdomen, it hardened her nipples with the air before it came to her head and she tasted it: cold air mixed with winds from the mountains to the west and filled with rainwater. A storm was brewing. A soft flutter echoed through the room. ‘Not yet.’ Dash thought and fought the urges she felt. Dash scrutinized the window at the other end of the room. There were no adjacent buildings to worry about seeing her; she knew that Hearth’s inn was the second tallest building in town, the tallest being the town hall on the other side of town. She snuck over to the side of the window and peeked out... No noticeable sources of light or movement. That was good news. Dash gave a triumphant grin and stepped back into the confines of her room. She locked the door, just in case, of course, and stretched. Really stretched this time. Unfurling from their her back, a pair of great, majestic wings stretched to their full fifteen foot limits. “It’s been too long. Waaaaay too long,” Dash cooed to herself, feeling every small bone in her wings pop little by little as they got the exercise they’ve been denied since she started this hunt. Each wing had several neat rows of feathers ending in smaller pinfeathers near the base of the skin. Both were ruffled due to being compressed and rubbed in her armor for so long. The color was that of a very light blue, tinged with only a slight bit of red on the edges of each feather. Dash’s wings retracted before she then squatted and began to sprint. Right towards the window. Her wings folded prone to her back as Dash dove out the window. The fall was quick; she was only on the second story after all. Her wings snapped out fast, catching a cushion of wind to break her fall before steadying herself with a few flaps. Her wings flapped a few more times to gain some upward momentum, kicking up dust and debris in the process. Some villagers headed to the small patch of ground, curious as to the source of the noise, but Dash was long gone and off like a shot. Higher and higher she flew, each wing beat in time with her own racing heart. Faster and faster she soared until New Brook was only a mass of smudged yellow light and black buildings in the cool night. Her woolen pants flapped wildly in the beating wind with only her belt to keep them attached. And then she stopped. For the briefest moment, time stopped for “Rainbow” Dash. The sun was set and the moon was already above the horizon. The stars were out and the constellations stretched across the heavens: Merlin the Magus, the Dread Dragon, the Blind Sage, the Equestrian Founders, the Dove. Luna was indeed a gifted mistress. There was a mass of wispy cumulous clinging to the mountains to the east, a sign of the storm to come. A soft twinkle in the south marked her home. As if to answer, a dull glow to the north marked the capitol. Throughout all of this, the wind still did not lift its gentle whisper. So quiet... Dash breathed it all in in the space of a second and closed her wings. She started to fall, plummeting faster and faster, but still held a content smile on her lips. Having gained sufficient speed, she laughed, for it was time for the fun part. Dash flipped her body forward and sped to the ground like a bullet. She let out an ecstatic giggle as her aerodynamic posture rocketed her towards the hard ground and the wind tossed her hair like a gale. If it were day, any other flier would see a rainbow streak across the skies at that speed, but the night would not grant identification to the harbinger of such a marvelous event. She unfolded her wings and caught a warm thermal leftover from the day gone past. She glided with incredible speed, racing southward in the night with only the stars to guide her. She loved the feeling of racing with absolutely nothing holding her back. Others preferred simpler pastimes, but nothing Dash had ever experienced contained a pleasure so immediate and visceral. It was not that she was going somewhere, it was that she was going, the knowledge that something was happening in the here and now and that she could relish and revel in its powerful, belligerent nature. It was within minutes that she finally reached home. A few lights were on and some people were still milling about in Ponyville Square. How she longed to be back tonight, but she still had to bring her gear back with her, but especially the Bloodfang pelt; there was no use in coming back at all without that. Dash was ready to head back north to New Brook, but spotted a figure racing from one of the town patrols straight to her. “Cloudkicker?” Even if it was, the figure was moving awfully slow to catch her. “Please; you need a couple more years of practice to catch the likes of me,” she said to herself. No use in saying it any louder, just in case it was someone she didn't know. Dash banked right and, readjusting her forward momentum, raced away like a shot. She couldn’t help but laugh to herself. ‘Didn’t even know what hit her.’ She thought. Cloudkicker would have the advantage of currently having better night vision than her due to her time in the light of New Brook and her room’s hearth, but her massive speed and maneuverability outweighed that small disadvantage. The darkness was deep enough to hide her completely if she could gain enough distance on Cloudkicker. She looked back and saw that Cloudkicker’s silhouette trail further and further behind her until she just broke off pursuit altogether; there was no use chasing something he couldn’t follow or track beyond the shroud of night She looked forward once more as the scattered lights of New Brook get steadily larger and larger. A giggle started to bubble from her chest. It got harder and harder to suppress until she heard it escape her own lips, which soon devolved into full laughter. “I. Am. AWESOME!” Chapter Commentary: LINK Editors: Material Defender, Wolfmaster1337, Ryan Darling