Warm air came from the greater north.
Bitter smells fell with.
Seeding the town of Bulgrind. Before...
Her nose rose under the brunt of cold. Iron.
Gun powder. Steel.
She turned. Her eyes catching a cracked mirror held under old rubble.
Glowing green. Before soon...that too was covered in snow.
Out past where they and...she knew.
They breathed.
Her fellows.
Light from her eyes reflected back. Taunting her. Feeding her...lies.
They are not lies...Ling number 5320.
Whisphered within the confines of her mind.
"Treasonous thoughts are too be expected. After all ling's. We all understand the tempation of the food."
She spat snow and spit. Watching as the bitter tongue of frost took the shot. Mid-flight it froze. Falling with whisphered sound.
It reeked of nothing on the ground.
Just...like...her.
Deny. Deny. Deny.
Whisphered like so much silk and twine.
She stooked the embers. What few remain. Bleed fires that she could spy with her narrowed eye.
Her hoove dug into her Olenia issued vest. One eye glumly gazing at the twisting winds.
Shuffling through...cards...that one favored a picture of the fair lady.
Her vision pulled Aina from that solitary spot. Into the embrace of a mare. Fashioned from class and shear want.
She tended too the embers.
Allowing it too feed and take...
Before the pale of a tiny flame. She allowed her disguise too drop. To feel that memory.
She blew.
Sparks bloomed into the frigid air.
Hot blush warmed her caparece. Even the holding of such a piece of ponykind. Gave her something.
A wetness came and went under the dry icy winds. The slickness that drained unto her legs. She squiremed.
A sound fell from a house.
Her head spun sharp. Blushing mad.
She gazed at the shape. A large thing queerly made of wood. A glimmer of red tamed a door. Tempting her that way.
Surely after such sweeping...inflitration. She would get her...promotion.
Taking a moment. She spied the nob on the wind breaker. She took hold of the nob.
Turning.With open glee she watched as the windbreaker opened. Letting out a-
CREEEEEK- KA!
It blocked some manner of wind in thin sheets of metal. Allowing the bloom of fire to become a broad flame.
That is not necessary, Ling 5320. The flame will either go out or be literally snuff by abuse of fire
Aina...as captain...
I remember what happened too him.
Before the touch of wonder could leave her. She ignored the testy voice that said.
I see...
After a breath. She closed then opened her eyes. Paying no heed too the wetness that called itself regret.
Though...the tears did turn too ice on her caprace.
She leaned closer at the wonder. That even as she could list all the ways it worked. She still-
CRACK.
Leaning back from the fire and most curious wonderment. She gazed reluctant. Not wanting...
She took her breath of cold. With that done. She shifted. The body of a tall bulky deer. Mare with that a streak of red in her mane.
Even her nose felt the touch of red.
Shaking the snow. And feeling the stiffiness of a wellfitted uniform once again. She put one hoove in front of the other.
Slow and careful. Eyes sharp even as the sound of another crack fell into her mind.
Seeming too linger. Spreading ideas that laid their nest. Made of knotted roots and careful mud.
She looked down as she walked. Briefly. Dreaming that instead of a lonely and scared blue uniform. Their lay a shiny glowing green metal besides.
A touch of gold and maybe...red. She looked breathing in that frigid air.
Hoping something red and hopeful would leave here with her. Please.
Please.
Please.
For a moment she was sure...
She alone bore the vision of her...enemy. The deer.
Bursting into sudden speed. The canter swept past mostly empty streets and mostly empty eyes. Her fellows hung open and naked. Their true forms festered as line after line of pods lay in some cases...over pools of red. As the home of Bulgrind had been scattered.
Blotted by what some would call flys...or insects.
For once the voices caught silence. Taking head as turned her back on her kin.
Her hooves pushed and then broke heavy snow.
Before long with panting breath and sweat touched brow. She stood before that same flash of red.
What lay before her? Only a door of red laquered wood.
She felt the urge to knock. The urge took her before she could stop herself.
Hoove on wood.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
The slamming of something against the door.
Her brearth caught. Training long bound too worn muscles. Acting ounce again less on thought but more...out of age old survival.
"Hell-o?" Cracked a voice.
"Momma?"
She knocked again.
The shuffling of hooves.
"Hello." Aina said. Voice turning soft and sweet.
The silence held like a string played in D sharp.
"I can help you."
What sure to be a cat-pony? Or the lone pony in storm of deer. Was...
In truth. A Fawn covered in jelly. Eyes wide then...narrowed. The bitter cold shot forth. Stealing a glance at her lowered throat.
Before bounding onto her back in unrelenting fury.
In response she simply flipped. Careful as she was too only toss her...relatively lightly.
The small body flung off pinging off of a cushion into...a cracked and chipped but...unbroken pod.
Crack. And a wail broke through the haze of grief and madness.
She lay their crying as slowly eyes glazed with pain. Ached too sleep...forever.
Sweeping the rush of revulsion at...this. She sprung forward.
She undid her rifle from its place. Taking care too go fast but assured. Laying it by a the shattered remains of a table.
Taking in. The slick red that slowly drained from the fawn. Eyes wide in shock. She....
"I need a favor." Aina spoke
Under the cut of a sword made of pure memory. She spoke.
Ling 5001 winced. But still held firm.
"No."
"Give her a week." Aina said.
"Five days."
"Three."
"Two."
"Three and a cash of love."
"Fat is the new in. You want commander? Your going to have too look the part....no?"
"Fine, but how will she?"
"My soldiers are too beat too think much of anything. Especially...with all that will come. Who would miss one...filly."
She said as she stared. The fillys eyes wide. Glazed with the sheen of horror. That ate with...a great mouth and...
Smack.
Eyes wide and cold.
'Listen too me. Filly. You have one job. Give a message. Too the sun-bug."
She swallowed.
"I am going to save you."
Under a addled mind and even greater pain. The filly held her broken leg. A death sentence in the cold. Especially now...
She closed her eyes. She knew. She would never see her mother and sister again.
"Look at me. Filly."
Her hoove found the lip of her muzzle.
"Neither of us has the time. You... are dying. The town will be overrun soon and...we do not have a choice."
A set of dull haunted eyes gazed westword. As the tell tale groan and the haunted screams of somefilly began...again.
For the fourth time.
Before long their was silence. The march of a green and black banner would soon fly over the town.
When the few brave enough dared to check the house with the red door. They only found pods.
Blood.
And a single body which rested a deck of cards. All of the same mare. A three of diamonds...
Still.
Before the new day was raised.
A mare with glowing green eyes left the ruins of her...home. Held a picture of a mare stained with a splatter of red.
With that and her life...
After the Grear War would begin in earnest. Ponys would begin to call what happened something of a...Rarity.