//------------------------------// // Some Nights I Stay Up // Story: Where The Heart Lies // by Broman //------------------------------// Hammer slowly opened his eyes. The first thing he felt was the searing heat in his left shoulder. He tossed and turned in a makeshift bed, sweat pouring down the side of his body. The pinching and tearing in his shoulder was evident enough that he thought he would go mad if it remained any longer. When he thought he would scream out, he felt a soft hoof placed on his chest. He looked up and saw Silverwing staring down at him with a concerned, but also relieved look. “Oh good, you're awake,” she said, her relief evident. Hammer closed his eyes and cringed at the pain. Noticing this, Silverwing lifted a hoof and placed it on top of his forehead. “You're burning up. Here…” She went and grabbed a wet rag from a bucket and began wiping away the sweat that accumulated on his brow. “What… what happened? Where am I?” Hammer asked, still clinging to his left shoulder. He breathed a little bit easier as she rubbed the wet cloth against his coat. Silverwing looked at him thoughtfully before replying. “When you were escorting Brutus, you tripped over one of the bodies and landed hard. Your wound reopened and you passed out soon afterwards from thrashing about. We set up camp outside of these hills, and the rest of the troops have been busy burying the dead for hours. It was the least we can do for them,” she carefully explained as Hammer took it all in. “And what about Brutus?” he asked, still seething from the pain. Silverwing continued to wipe away the sweat that came down his head, making sure that Hammer was at ease, if only slightly. “He’s been busy saying prayers to each of the graves,” she said, taking the cloth and wringing it out into the bowel. “He’s been going at this for hours now,” she explained, looking behind her towards the tent entrance. “Who are you waiting… for?” he asked, drawing in heavy breaths. He felt his body tense from the pinching in his shoulder, adding to the pain. “One of Strong Oak’s rangers is a healer. I was told that she would arrive here soon,” she said. Not a moment later, the flap opened up and two cervines entered. One of them was Swift Leaf, bringing a small roll of medical supplies. The other was a female, with hazel eyes and long golden hair that went past her neck. She bent down to his level and gave a small reassuring smile. “I am known as Cottontail. I am a healer among my kind. We will make sure that you are stable and provided with much rest,” she said as she placed a hoof onto his wounded shoulder, removing the thin layer of fabric that separated the wound from the frigid air. Hammer seethed a little as he felt the fabric removed, feeling as if his own skin was peeling off once again. She inspected his wound for a moment, observing and sometimes touching him with her forehoof. She looked at Swift Leaf, who had already began to grab a purple paste substance from the supplies. Even from his bed, Hammer recognized its scent of rich elderberries. “This is an ointment that will help ease your pain, but also give a numbing sensation. This is needed in the healing process as I work,” Cottontail said as she turned to Silverwing. “Please, hold his body; it will help.” Silverwing moved without question. She placed her hooves onto his chest as Cottontail began to work. The moment she placed the paste onto his wounded shoulder, his eyes flared and he began thrashing in pain. “Hold him steady, please,” Cottontail said, and Silverwing did as instructed. The paste oozed into his wound, and Hammer could not help from feeling the pain. It felt like ice penetrating deep into his bones, and his body wanted to reject it. He kept shaking, seething at the stinging sensation, all the while Silverwing kept him at bay. After a few moments, the paste began to take effect and he felt his whole shoulder go numb. He lost all feeling and movement, and he breathed out in ragged breaths. As he did this, he focused his attention on Silverwing. She had that caring look in her eyes, something that he always loved about her. He didn’t know why, but whenever he saw her, those eyes captivated him, telling him that he would be alright. “Drink this,” Cottontail said, producing a cup in front of his face. Without a word, he pressed his lips against the cup and downed the drink in a few quick gulps. He shuddered a bit from the aftertaste, but it was soothing at least. “What was that?” he asked, his vision beginning to blur. “The milk of the poppy,” Cottontail replied. He now began to feel even more woozy from the strange drink. Whatever it was doing, it was working fast. “Don’t worry,” he heard Cottontail speak, her head moving side to side in his vision. “It will help you rest while I do my work. I will do all I can to mend your shoulder, but it will be up to you in the rest of the healing.” “Up to... me?” he slurred as his vision faded in and out, beginning to lose consciousness. “Yes. With a wound like yours, it will take time to recover. If we were in my homeland, you would be given to our magis and be healed in less than a fortnight. However, out here in the wild, and with winter coming, you will need the Goddess and your strength to heal your body,” she explained. Hammer began shaking his head back and forth, trying to stay awake a little longer. “Cottontail, we need to work quickly,” he heard Silverwing speak. He turned toward the sound of her voice, but he could barely see her. “This will take time, but with the three of us here, we can mange. Hammer will be in good hooves, but it will be up him to overcome this scar,” Swift Leaf said, but Hammer could barely register it. His focus was on her again. His captain, the mare he really cared about. He felt his strength fading and his mind going to rest, but he fought to stay awake. He needed to at least say it. “He’s shaking again. What did that drink do?” Silverwing asked, worry filled her voice. “His body is trying to reject the drink, but he will be still soon. Sleep is almost upon him. Once he is in slumber, we can proceed,” Cottontail said, giving off a reassuring voice. Silverwing turned to face Hammer. He felt something brush against his mane, and he could see her blue eyes staring at him. “You can pull through this, Hammer. Let it flow and relax,” she said, and he felt his body calm at her gentle voice. “I believe in you. You can survive this,” she said. Though his vision was blurring more every second, he could still see her wonderful, serene smile. He went to speak, saying something softly that neither he nor her could hear. “What?” Silverwing asked, leaning a little bit closer to him. “What is it, Hammer?” He took a ragged breath, coughing briefly before feeling a smile creep up the sides of his countenance. He said it again, slow yet audible to her and her alone. He still couldn’t hear it, but he knew he had finally said it. Immediately, he noticed Silverwing’s eyes begin to open wide, but he could not tell what emotion she was expressing. It was the last thing he saw before the medicine took over, and his vision turned to darkness. **** Quicksilver was soaring over the land again, his wings stretched to their furthest extent. He surveyed the land; it was peaceful and serene, but most of all, it was beautiful. He did a little corkscrew in the air, followed by a few loops. He loved this feeling, losing himself completely in the sky around him. The skies were his own, the ocean of grass was his own, and he could fly to his heart's content. He heard the playful sounds of young foals nearby, and he noticed two such foals flying alongside him. They were ecstatic, cheerful and, above all, excited as he was when he flew. He took a deep breath and felt happy to be with them. “Someone help us!” A cry broke his concentration. He saw the lands begin to change, and the foals had disappeared by the time he looked back where they were. He drastically turned the other way, trying to escape the blackness that was consuming everything around him. He quickened his pace, trying to out- distance himself and the shrouds darkness. He turned around, and he saw several gryphons descending upon him. He felt their talons seize him, and he closed his eyes in pain. When he opened them up, he was no longer in the skies. Quicksilver was in the City of Prancy again. The whole city was still in its desolate ruin, bits of buildings falling off from the recent battle. But that was the least of his worries. He was surrounded by the Nomad Gryphons, all eerily quiet as they awaited for something, anything to happen. He heard several cries before him, yet he didn’t know where they came from. He then heard the twangs of crossbows, and the cries were swiftly silent. Following where the arrows shot, he saw a number of dead gryphons on the ground near a wall, each one having several arrows pierced deep into their bodies. The gryphons that were alive held crossbows in their claws, each one bearing no remorse or pity to their comrades. As he looked at the dead gryphons, he then started to realize something. He recognized them. He wasn’t quite sure from where, but he knew their faces. As he contemplated this, he soon found himself near a large oak tree, and he noticed a half dozen gryphons encircling it’s roots. He heard more cries, all pleading to be spared. He heard a loud thunk upon wood, and the voices were snuffed. He turned and spotted the roots of the tree, and saw four gryphon bodies on the roots, their heads missing. The trail of blood went downward and he saw the gryphons’ heads, each one having a surprised or shocked expression frozen on their faces. Another uneasy feeling washed over him, and he felt a chill in the air. He recognized these gryphons as well. “Please! I don’t want to die!” he heard somepony cry from behind, and he turned to see a gryphon Nomad being dragged by the one he hated, Sharp Beak. The colonel dragged the young blood forward, the younger gryphon being pulled helplessly through the ground, while he held a chain in his other claw. He stopped before the base of the tree, threw the chain upward and wrapped it around the largest branches. Without warning, Sharp Beak placed his talons onto the young blood back and snapped both of his wings in two. The young blood cried and flailed about as his wings became limp, and in a desperate attempt to escape, he began to crawl away, crying out as he did. He was given no respite as Sharp Beak came forward and wrapped the chain around the young blood’s neck, cutting off his cries. Sharp Beak then lifted the end of the chain, revealing a large metal hook that would be used in a butchers shop, and thrust it into the gryphons neck. Blood began spilling out of the young blood’s neck, and he began crying and gagging as the chain tightened around him. Sharp Beak soon backed off, and the young blood was forcibly pulled back and lifted in the air. Quicksilver could only watch in horror as the young blood was pulled into the air, its claws grasping around the chain and his shattered wings flailing about to stay airborne. But it was no use, and the young blood’s struggles lessened as the first minute passed. As the last of the gryphon’s breath escaped him, his left arm left his neck, and was soon followed by the right. His voice was silent, leaving nothing but a hanging corpse. Quicksilver recognized this very gryphon as well, his face etched even deeper into his mind as he swung there in the gentle breeze. Each one tore at his mind, each face he knew, each name that was spoken. They all came crashing down on him like water upon a rock. He tried to back away, his instinct to fly away. He opened his wings, desperate to fly out of this nightmare. He was stopped when he felt a pair of claws on his left wing. He looked up and saw Sharp Beak standing over him, murderous intent in his eyes. Without a word, the gryphon twisted and snapped his left wing, severing his chance at freedom in the skies. Quicksilver cried out, and blackness enveloped him. *** Quicksilver let out a small cry as he found himself awake in the tent. Sweat poured down his brow, and he felt he was roasting. He closed his eyes, trying to focus, trying to calm his ragged and sleep deprived mind. He tried to recall the faces, the names of the gryphons he had seen, but they all kept going blank within his mind. Sharp Beak was brutal against his people, so determined to ensure his power was not tested by others. His mad sense of justice against his own kind made him all the more deadly. Quicksilver believed, without a doubt, that Sharp Beak would kill him before he got a chance at freedom. He placed his hoofs over his face, and he almost felt like weeping on the spot. “Are you always this loud when you awake from a nightmare?” Gretchen’s voice broke the silence, and Quicksilver turned in startled surprise. He saw the hen staring at him with a troubled and tired look, although she looked more annoyed that her rest as been disturbed. She also, to his surprise, had some bed mane (or feathers, in this case), the feathers sticking out in a few awkward places from her sleeping position. “How… how long have you been awake?” he asked, wondering what she might say, but also trying very hard not to stare at her bed feathers. “Long enough, fletching. Yet this is the fifth time since you’ve been here that you have awakened from a nightmare,” she stated. He stared at her in shock. She had known all this time and he didn’t even know about it! “At first,” she continued, “I just assumed that you kept waking up from nightmares because of the environment you’re in. Although, I believe that it goes deeper than that,” she said. He was about to ask back before she swiftly brought a claw up, stopping him. “Don’t ask long questions, fletching. I’m already tired as is, and I’m not much in the mood to dwell on giving long answers,” she said, clear irritation in her voice as her feathers ruffled up. Quicksilver watched as her feathers got bigger at first, before she shook her head in a quick motion and returned them to their normal position. It was kind of funny to watch, almost reminding how a chicken or other birds ruffled their feathers before shaking off any dust or water that was on them. Choosing quickly on how to ask her, he took a breath before proceeding. “So what do you think is causing my nightmares?” he asked, hoping his question would be given a straight answer. It didn’t take long for her to reply back. “There is fear in you, fletching. You are afraid of something, and that is what’s driving you awake at night,” she said bluntly, not skipping a beat in her words. “To top that off, I think that it’s not Sharp Beak that you fear, but something else,” she explained, her words becoming clearer as the seconds went by. He turned away and lowered his head back on the ground, contemplating on how to respond. Minutes passed, and only the silence remained between them. He closed his eyes, but he didn’t come up with an answer. “What is it that you wish, fletching? What do you want to return to when this war is over?” she asked, her tone a little calmer. Quicksilver opened his eyes, the question lingering in his mind. Taking a steady breath, he said, “I guess… well… I’m not sure what I’m afraid of. I’ve seen so many things in this war that would break anypony. Such horrors upon innocents, so much death that has taken over this land. It makes you wonder just how one can overcome such adversities while still maintaining your sanity. “However,” he paused, as Gretchen listened word for word. “There has been a certain beauty that has taken place in this war. “When we passed through Prance and into the countryside, I’ve seen things that gives me hope. Families and communities coming together. Each one being strong and connected. Despite all the horror that this war has wrought, I’ve seen so much love and compassion among the citizens that they will be prepared to have a normal life when the war is over. It made me think what I want for my future too, you know,” he said, lifting up his left wing and allowing it to stand straight in the air. He inspected the wing, seeing the clear bandage over his wound. He stared at it for a time, not even noticing the tears forming in his eyes. “And what is that, Fletching?” Gretchen asked. “A family,” he said bluntly. “All I… I want to have.... is a family.” It was then the tears began to flow over his numbed cheeks. “I want to be there when I have my first foal. I want to be there when it takes its first steps. I want to be there when it tries to fly.” He took a shuddered breath, more tears beginning to flow as he tried to compose himself, but to no avail. “I want to fly with my children. I want to show them the same freedom as I do. I want to show them everything, and yet here I am, trapped in a prison camp with no chances of being let go. The longer I stay here, the more I fear I might lose my ability to fly. I don’t want that taken away. I want to have my freedom and have the family I always wanted...and to fly with them. That’s all I want, just to be with them. I would be half of a pegasus if I became crippled and have to stand by, watching my children learn to fly without their father.” After he finished, he placed a hoof over his eyes, covering the tears that fell past his face. His left wing lowered back to his side as he continued to cry, almost whimpering. “So the Fletching does have a heart,” Gretchen said, trying to sound like she was bored, but clearly wasn’t. “And I hope you reach that goal,” she added, making him turn to her with tear filled eyes. Gretchen’s golden eyes stared at him and he saw something that looked like pity, but showed more compassion. Gretchen nodded and placed her head back on her hay. “You gave me a lot to think about, Fletching. Get some sleep. We’ll discuss this later.” With that, she finished and soundly went back to sleep. Wiping away the last of the tears, Quicksilver turned in for the night and went promptly to bed, having a strong feeling that his dreams will be peaceful through the rest of the night.