//------------------------------// // Ch.13 Traveling Companions part 1 // Story: The Epic of a Diamond Dog // by Ravencrofte //------------------------------// The corpse of Scrap lay rotting in the desert. Trapped between sand and sun, the epidermis had turned to wrinkled leather. Inside, an army of insects worked furiously. They swarmed through the corpse, carving out deeper sections as their expanding population consumed the dead flesh. Scrap’s head was a short distance away with its face in the sand. The mouth hung open. Flies licked across the remains of the neck. One eyeball was suspended from its nerve, staring sightless as the ground. At least, until a vulture plucked the eye and swallowed whole. The bird rolled the head to the other side and ate the second eye. It had a trouble with the tongue but finally ripped it free and guzzled down its ghoulish meal. With all the easy bits gone, it returned back to the corpse and the other three vultures that were currently picking at it. They squabbled amongst themselves. One bird pulled its bald head from the neck cavity, holding a wet and lumpy prize. Another bird attacked the anus. The last two bird fought for an opening just underneath the chest plate and the guts inside. Suddenly, the sand exploded upwards. The birds ran away, their great wings pumping to get them airborne. They squawked and screamed for their stolen meal. Down below, two hooded figures approached the body. The first hooded figure was an immense Diamond Dog. From head to tail, he rippled with muscles that threatened to burst from his skin. His face was taken up by a huge overbite, his lower jaw having more in common with a shovel. The second dog was unusually portly. He waddled to keep up with his bigger companion. The belt around his expanded gut kept it from dragging on the ground. Both dogs stopped next to the corpse. “Idiot,” the larger dog said in a deep growl. “Well,” snivelled the fat dog, “all that work, and,” another sniffle, “ and he still couldn’t do it. Never send a mutt to do a dog's job.” “We underestimated him,” commented the big dog. “Yeah, well,” the fat dog snivelled and twitched, “we’ve tried to kill him twice. I’m going to make sure that this last one works. The trap will spring as soon as he leaves the safety of the sand.” The fat dog turned to go. “Grab the head and let’s get out of this pony forsaken desert; it’s draining my magic.” The bigger dog extended a paw, and a black magical field enveloped the head. He turned and left, the head following. The pair retraced their footsteps. Another set of dogs waited for them at the edge of the desert, holding open the barrier that separated the desert from the dog lands. I came awake all at once. Leaping to my feet, I drew my sword, blade humming in my hands. A dark figure lunged at me from the fog, and I slashed out. The blade carved the morning mist in two, but found nothing. The light was just beginning to slip out of hiding. Long shadowy fingers stretched across the ground. The air was damp and cold. No ground animal stirred nor did any bird sing. Only the lake moved, gently kissing the shore. Everything else was still. I was alone. Wait! Where’s Kitty Hawk? I frantically tossed aside great chunks of sand but found nothing.  Moving beyond my camp, I found a trail of tiny hoof marks. They hugged the lake, heading in the direction of the pony camp. Wisps of smoke marked their location behind a low hill. Bing! Dang! Ding! My ears swiveled about. The sounds were coming from the opposite shore. I spied a group of ponies throwing themselves at one another. Sunlight glinted off metal. Circling around and shouting at the ponies was a certain light green female pony. Kitty Hawk was probably in the camp. I needed make sure she was okay. To get into there, I needed to talk to Honey Apple. This meant putting myself before ponies again. I took a deep breath and started towards the ponies. How would I persuade Honey Apple? Best to speak plainly and get to the point. “I just want to check one Kitty Hawk,” I ventured to the morning mist. There came no reply. Apple Honey had the power and the right to say no. I did not like it. Regardless, I was at the mercy of ponies. “Diplomacy” would prove challenging. The world was a much simpler place when everyone just wanted to kill you. Honey Apple was the first to spot me. At I approached, several flying ponies nervously took to the air. They flew low circles over the group, wooden swords and spears held in their hoof. I spotted the pony Clear Skies amongst their number. Honey Apple trotted out to meet me. She wore a set of plated armor that protected her throat, chest, sides, and belly. A thick white gown underneath served as padding. “Is there something I can help you with?” she asked, stopping short. She kept glancing down. I followed her gaze. My sword was held tightly in my paw. Little water droplets clung to the blade. I looked back at Honey Apple. She maintained a very firm but cautious stance. To any sensible pony, it looked like I was ready to attack. With a low curse, I drove my blade into the sand. Not knowing what else to do with my paws, I dropped to all fours. Now I was only slightly taller than the pony. “I want to enter the camp,” I said firmly. Finally Honey Apple looking away from my sword and back to me. “Why?” she ventured. “I can’t find Kitty Hawk. Do you know where she is?” “I do,” confirmed Honey Apple, ”I saw her this morning. She was with our nurse, Fluorescent Nightingale.” “May I enter the camp?” I repeated, taking a step forwards. “Hmm,” Apple Honey looked to the group behind her and then back to me. “You may enter if you leave your sword behind.” I uttered a low and menacing growl. “And,” she continued unabated, “you have to beat me in one-on-one unarmed combat.” Her challenge brought my thoughts to a crashing halt. This small pony was challenging me. I was probably twice her weight and more than twice her height when on two legs. I gave her a sideways glace, trying to gauge her motives. “I will easily defeat you,” I said. “Maybe, maybe not,” she said with a grin. This pony was teasing me. “All I have to do is defeat you in unarmed combat? And no one else will interfere?” “That’s correct,” she said. I mulled over her words. “Then I will defeat you,” I said. Honey Apple called behind her, “Gather around, everypony. I am going to fight Ember.” This news stunned her followers as much as it had me. They gathered around curiously, forming a semicircle behind their leader. Honey Apple started to the right; I mirrored her movement. “Rules are simple,” said Honey Apple as we circled each other. “No death blows, no teeth, when one pony cries out that they give up or they tap their opponent three times, the fighters must break apart. Do you agree?” “I do,” I said. “Good. This is between you and me, Ember. And no one else interfere, no matter what it looks like,” she said pointedly to the ponies around her. Many ponies grumbled unhappily, followed by the clanking of wooden weapons and the shifting of armor. “Now, let’s...” she started, turning back towards me, but I was already charging towards her. I shifted onto two legs, opening my arms wide to envelop and crush her smaller form. She watch and waited. I was nearly upon her. Then she spun, planned her front hooves and delivered a double hoof kick. She caught me square in the chest. Something cracked. I collapsed to the ground. My mouth instinctively gaped for air, but my lungs refused to work. One moment passed, then another. Finally my body remembered how to work and drew in a great lungful of air and sand. I launched into a coughing fit. When I finally got back to my feet, I found Honey Apple stand over me. “Something about you going to “defeat me”?” she asked, her eyes twinkling with mirth. I said nothing. “How about we call that round one?” she offered. We parted and resumed our previous positions. With a free paw, I rubbed where she had kicked me. A rib shifted under my skin. Honey Apple lowered her body into a very aggressive stance. “This time, don’t hold back.” “I won’t anymore,” I hissed. She charged, and I followed suit. We met in the middle with a storm of paws, hooves, and sand. I swiped at her, but she dodged left. I lunged, and she spun right and came back around with a kick.  I ducked and countered with a punch. It caught her in the side plate, and I felt the metal buckle under the blow. She was lifted up and tossed across the sand, limbs flying in all directions. She quickly regained her hooves, but her eyes were crossed and she kept stumbling to the right. “Let’s call that round two,” she said, stumbling her way back to the other ponies. The ponies came to her aid, but she waved them off. “This is between him and me,” she repeated. I could see the concern in their eyes. Honey Apple turned to face me. My respect for her was growing: I no longer saw a small pony but a seasoned warrior. “Last round,” she said with a wince. I met her with a wide grin. I charged. She stood her ground. I lunged. She ducked and kicked out at my legs. I crashed to the ground but came at her again. She dodged left. I moved with her. She launched herself at my face, wrapping her whole body around my head, and together we crashed into the sand. I found her rear legs around my throat while the rest of her body attempted pin my arms. “Give up,” she shouted. “Never!” I growled, trying to wrench my arms free. Wamb! A hoof contacted with my head. My vision greyed. “Give up,” she repeated. “Never!” I reared up with my rear legs, trying to catch her body. Wamb! Another hoof struck my skull. My vision narrowed. “Give up!” “No…” Wamb! Everything went black.