It had been days since the raid, days since Granite had entered the camp, days since he had learned that his daughter was doomed. Every now and then, his thoughts darkly shifted to the wife he had already lost… to the son who surely resented him for wallowing in despair.
A pegasus landed and walked up behind him.
“…Go away, Canary. I really-”
“Wrong pony. Try again.”
“…Thunderstruck?” he asked, turning around.
“Bingo,” she responded, smiling softly.
“You can’t help me…”
Thunderstruck frowned, hesitating.
“You know, your family misses you.”
“What family?” Granite growled.
“All ninety-eight of us.”