//------------------------------// // In The Dark // Story: Book 1 - The Behemoth came to Canterlot // by Equimorto //------------------------------// "Have you ever heard about the soldier and the white mare, captain?" The mare quirked an eyebrow. "I have not," she replied. "It's an old story. Old even for me. Ponies used to tell it around bonfires, and before then sing it to the crowds in the streets," explained the stallion. "I've been thinking about it, recently." The mare leaned closer, brushing her grey-purple mane aside. "What's the story about?" she asked, curious. "Well, there's a couple different versions." The stallion looked out the window into the distance for a moment. "It tends to happen when a story is around for long enough." He chuckled. "There's a consistent core to it, but if you don't mind I think I'll embellish it a little. I like this version better than the trimmed down one. Anything against it?" The captain shook her head, and then had to push her mane out of the way again. The stallion leaned back into his seat. "There had been a war. A long, bloody war, that had threatened to destroy the country," he began to tell. "But it was over. It had been won, finally. And ponies got to go home. They returned to their families, to their cities. Things would get better, and the victory was celebrated across the whole country. "There was a soldier. Young. He hadn't seen most of the war, though he'd heard stories about it. By the time he'd joined, along with the others his age, things were already looking better. They'd been the final push needed to win, and hadn't really met all that much resistance or danger. To them, to him, war had been mostly a spectre of fear, dreaded when sent to face it. "But the spectre was dead now. The war was over, and there was nothing left to fear. And so the soldier partied with his comrades, and they drank and sang and played music and danced till the morning light, and burnt their uniforms in the fire. And they laughed. "But then, the soldier saw her. Like a ghost in the crowd, the white mare staring at him with malice in her eyes." The stallion adjusted himself, and added, "The white mare is death, by the way. It was more obvious back when that was a common image. But cultural details aside, let's get back to the story." He continued, "The soldier was shocked. Afraid. The night had been like a dream, and he awoke to bitter and cold reality. And so he ran. For two entire days and nights, he ran away, barely sleeping or eating, afraid of what he had seen. And after the days and the nights of running, his muscles aching and his heart pounding, he saw the walls of the great capital in the distance, and by dawn he reached its gates. "But once he arrived, he stopped and fell to his knees, and a raspy scream left his throat. Because the white mare was there, waiting for him. And the soldier looked at her, and started to cry, and he said, 'I saw you staring at me with malice, two days ago. I ran away from you, and yet here I find you again'. But the mare replied to him, 'It wasn't malice in my eyes, but confusion. I was expecting you here at this hour. You were so far two days ago, I feared you wouldn't make our appointment in time'." The captain blinked, some confusion evident on her face. "Lieutenant Sombra, if I may ask... What is dawn?" Sombra just gave a little smile at that. "Oh, don't mind that, I apologise. Details. Sometimes, I still fall back to outdated terminologies, out of habit."