//------------------------------// // Chapter VIII // Story: Shattered // by sunstar93 //------------------------------// Macintosh slams his hoof on the ground, the force disrupting a thin stack of papers on Applejack’s desk. “We need to go get him!” Macintosh snorts, his emerald eyes burning with grief. “An’ where exactly are you thinkin’ he is?” Applejack snaps. “Mah guess is the Everfree Forest, and there ain’t no way in hell I’m sendin’ mah ponies in there.” “Ya have to!” Mac argues, his voice becoming strained. “He’s mah son, AJ.” Applejack matches Macintosh’s eyes with her one, studying the pain reflected in their dull depths. She’s never seen Mac this upset or worried before. “Ah know, Big Mac,” Applejack sighs, lowering her voice. For a moment, she once again becomes Macintosh’s little sister, shedding her role as Supreme Commander, momentarily forgetting the raging war. “He’s mah family, too, ya know. And don’t ya think Ah’m makin’ myself worried sick about him? But there jus’ ain’t no use goin’ after him if we don’t even know where he is. Ah can’t lose you, too. And Apple Bloom, she’s been locked up in her shop since yesterday. How do ya think she’d feel if ya got yourself lost or killed?” Applejack closes her eye and takes a slow breath, trying her best to calm her frayed nerves. “Ah know this ain’t the answer ya wanna hear, Big Mac, but it’s the only one Ah can give: he’s gotta find his own way back. I jus’ can’t risk it, or you. Besides, Ah need ya here.” Macintosh holds his breath, unable to accept the words coming from his sister’s mouth. That’s it? They were just going to leave him to find his own way back to them? He finally exhales, a little more forcefully than intended, and his ears fold back against his neck. “He’s all Ah got, AJ. Ah wanna be mad, but Ah can’t. All Ah can be is worried and sick and sad.” Mac didn’t really want to share his feelings with Applejack, but what good would it do to hold them inside? “Ah just want him safe. That’s it.” “Me too, Mac,” Applejack replies softly. She flicks her ears forward and stands up straighter. “Can ya send Striker in when ya get a chance? Ah need a word with him.” Mac nods his head, his tail drooping as he shuffles from the room. Applejack listens as the echo of his hoof steps die away, and again as Striker approaches her office. “Commander?” Striker says formally. Applejack stares at the blazing orange stallion, admiring his spiky ginger mane and shining cobalt eyes. “Ah just wanted to ask ya to keep an eye on mah brother. Ah’m afraid he may do somethin’ rash. He’s definitely not feelin’ like himself. If ya suspect anything, notify me at once.” * * * I can’t sleep, and I know that it is nowhere near dawn. My already limited vision is worse at night, without any light, when the murky shadows merge with the darkness and everything becomes one endless black mass. I sit at my desk, littered with books I can’t read and maps I can’t study. I hate having to ask for help; even asking another pony to read a letter to me is humiliating. And even worse when I need to ask one of the zebras to translate a message for me. I can hear Storm’s steady breathing echoing from the opposite side of the room. After telling him about his mother- I had no idea he didn’t know, though I should have suspected it- he collapsed. Fainted. A huge stallion reduced to a crumpled heap at my hooves. My magic wasn’t enough to levitate him, so some of the other ponies helped to carry him to my hut where I could keep an eye on him. Or so the saying goes, I guess. I use my magic to illuminate the room, a soft beam of light glowing from the tip of my horn. The light is enough to cut through the thick blackness, and I can just make out the fuzzy outline of Storm on the bed. He doesn’t really fit, his back hooves hanging off the edge. But it’s better than leaving him on the ground. And I don’t really sleep much these days anyway. Earlier I overheard two of the refugee ponies giggling about him, commenting on how handsome he is. And, though I don’t wish it often, I want my sight back, even if just for a moment, to see him. I know that I have just met him- and, not to forget, taken him prisoner- but already he has begun to tug on a small piece of my heart. He is hard-headed and demanding, and for most of the time I have known him he has been unconscious. So what is it that I find attractive about such a stubborn stallion? * * * My heart leaps and freezes as I open my eyes, panic setting in before I recognize where I am. Sky Feather is standing a few feet away from the end of the bed, the tip of her horn glowing and lighting the room, her blank eyes gazing in my direction. I push myself up, my knees locking and my back legs wobbling as I try to stand, not unlike a newborn colt. Lately it seems like I have trouble staying on my hooves. “So, anymore secrets you would like to reveal to me?” I ask bitterly, startling Sky Feather out of her thoughts. “I thought you knew,” she replied calmly, her voice weary. “Yes, I fainted out of delight that somepony else knew my mother,” I hiss. But really, I am disgusted. How can I be related to such a deplorable pony? I can’t help but to stare at Sky Feather’s eyes, marveling in revulsion at the thought of somepony taking away her sight, and in such a cruel way. Her body tenses and her voice turns to ice. “Well excuse me for trying to enlighten you,” she snaps. “I just thought you should know why-” “Why you ordered a Timberwolf to attack me and bring me here? Why you’re just using me? I don’t even know you! As far as I was concerned, you never even existed until today!” I can see that my words have cut her. Maybe I’m being too harsh… “I’m not the one who kept you in the dark!” She edges closer to me and there is no mistaking the venom in her tone. “And I’m also not the one torturing ponies, ripping off their cutie marks and branding them with hot irons! Sewing and stitching them back together and forcing them to work to death! Using them in experiments! Forcing somepony to watch as their own brother is drained of his magic, lifeless as a doll, burned and scarred beyond his own recognition! Do you think I asked for that?!” The last two statements come out as a scratchy scream, her voice straining to fight back the tears I know she wants to cry. Her violet eyes begin to water and her cheeks are flushed bright red. She sharply turns her face away and hides behind her dark indigo mane. I cannot even bring myself to apologize. It won’t help and she’ll just hear them as empty words.