//------------------------------//
// Chapter Eight: Run Rabbit, Run 
// Story: Snowrunners 
// by Argonaut44 
//------------------------------//

‘Get up.’
The wind ran past her like a gentle wave, rolling over her drooping shoulders and bloody, wounded wings. Her head was hung low, and her eyes were shut tight, as if to block out the world around her completely. There was a whispering voice clawing at the satin drapes that were drawn over her blistered heart. Though, the voice was drowned in silence, for the grey skies up above and thin blades of green grass down below were all one in the same at that moment, a great pit devoid of warmth or longing. 
Since day one, her life ahead of her was an upstream river, one in which drowning often seemed preferable to desperately treading water. 
In search of dreams, in search of love, she had long been battling against  wicked thoughts of taking her own life or rescinding her hindered hopes for self-improvement.
Among the many tumbling memories knocking about her head, while snot dripped from her nose and fresh tears stayed watering down her cheeks, Guardian Angel recalled one in particular. The very last day she had seen her oldest brother, the pony who had been her greatest advocate against her father’s scorn, and sometimes the only pony who made any effort to make sure she was doing alright. Growing up having to fend for herself in nearly every arena, it was her oldest brother, Vambrace, who inspired her to find the strength and courage she very well needed, to overcome any and all adversity. Those sentiments were wearing thin at the moment, though still she held onto them for dear life. 
“I can’t say there’s much to be jealous of,” she remembered him saying to her, while she was sitting on his bed while he stood by the doorway of his bedroom, his packed duffle bag sitting right near his dresser. Unlike her own room, which was barren and plain, Vambrace’s room had always been full of bright furniture and keepsakes from over the years. Their father had never expressed an interest in letting Guardian decorate her room. Often Guardian would find herself preferring to hang around in Vambrace’s room rather than her own, not only for the livelier scenery, but also, of course, to spend time with her brother. He was the closest friend she had.
The war had just begun a little more than a week prior, and Guardian , who was still a royal guard, had been in the process of transferring to a unit out in the front. Vambrace, however, would be the first to see the war, and little did either of them know that this would be their final meeting. 
“They barely feed you out there. Even officers, we don’t get much. If you do decide to join up out there, Guardian, be smart and make a case for going south,” Vambrace said, and Guardian had been listening with eager ears. “I hear too many stories everyday of all sorts of really bad stuff going on up north. I don’t want you up there, if you have to be anywhere but Canterlot.”
“I want to fight! Help you, even! Celestia knows me, sort of, I could get a spot in her Corps! Then we could be together,” Guardian argued, fantasizing about getting to fight alongside Vambrace and Celestia. 
Vambrace smiled down at her, admiring her warrior spirit in spite of her relative inexperience. His smile quickly faded, though, as he feared the possibility of Guardian eagerly running to her grave. 
“Not in the Corps. I won’t let you. I’ll tell Celestia not to let you in, either, I’m not afraid to give her a piece of my mind,” he said, laughing as he raised his hoof up pretend-aggressively, “I’m serious though. If you really want to go out and fight, it’s your choice. But please, don’t go north. And stay away from the ponies with big ambitions. They always go to where the trouble is.”
Guardian sighed, her heart punctured by a dagger of dejection. Tears crept out from the corners of her eyes, and her face was bright red.  
“What?” Vambrace asked, having noticed her miserable expression, “What’s wrong?”
“You...I…” Guardian sputtered, but couldn’t bring herself to speak coherently. 
“Hey, come on, you can talk to me,” Vambrace said, sitting himself down beside her, wrapping his front leg around her affectionately. 
“I can’t be doing nothing while all this goes on. I have to help, I have to be a part of this!” Guardian exclaimed. 
“I know, I know. I just don’t want you to get hurt,” Vambrace said. 
“I want to get hurt! I want to fight, I want to make you all proud! Make dad proud! This is my chance, don’t you get it? I have to get sent out there, I just have to!”
Vambrace stayed silent for a moment, hesitating on how deep to push things in regard to their father. He wasn’t home at the moment, though Vambrace still wasn’t quite comfortable dishing out any vocal criticisms.  
“I don’t know what dad really wants. From any of us. That’s not what you should be worrying about,” Vambrace said. 
“Not worrying about it? That’s all I worry about! Every day it’s the same! I’m nothing, I’m pathetic!”
“Hey, quit it, would you?” Vambrace said, grabbing her by the ear, forcing her to look him in the eyes. 
“You got into the academy, first try. You passed way ahead of those other ponies, you barely even had to apply to get a spot on the royal guard...You keep telling yourself you’re at a disadvantage, and you start to believe it. But you’re doing  great. You’re smart, you’re strong, so you’re at least gonna last longer than me, probably,” Vambrace said, getting Guardian to let out a small laugh through her soft, whimpering cries. “Don’t ever let anypony keep you down, you understand? Dad, teachers, nopony...You have to believe in yourself first, then you show ‘em all. You already have. I’m not gonna stop you, if you want to fight...You know I love you, Guardian. And Chain does too, and mom. And, I think, deep down somewhere, even dad does too,” Vambrace said. 
“Really?” Guardian asked, her voice quivering as she cried. 
“Yeah.”
Guardian sighed, wiping her eyes and trying to recollect herself. 
“Sorry…” she said, embarrassed, letting her head fall on his shoulder. 
“It’s ok...Now I really do have to go, ok? I don’t think I can be late this time…” Vambrace said, reaching for the handle to a dark green duffel bag on the ground packed with his belongings. 
“Ok...Bye! I love you!” Guardian called out, and already her left hoof was shaking with fear over him leaving. 
Standing in the doorway, Vambrace stopped to smile back at her, leaving with a sturdy wave and a final set of words.
“Don’t stop. OK? Don’t ever stop.” 

That was the last day she would ever see him again, and less than two weeks later Guardian would be told of Vambrace’s untimely death. No less in a battle that Guardian herself probably would’ve died in too, had she made a greater effort to push for inclusion in the Celestial Corps. Some days she had wondered if she could’ve done something differently, that would have given her a chance to save his life. Though such a chance was long gone already.
Kneeling in the grass in front of her was a pale-lavender unicorn with icy blue eyes, covered in blood. Guardian had been silently lying in front of what was left of Silver Saber for what felt like hours, the cool breeze swaying over her soft-swept coat. Guardian couldn’t bring herself to move, nor do much at all except to sit where she was. Her friend, her best friend in the whole world, was dead, lying just inches from where she was sitting. Though, as a consolation, Guardian had never seen such peace on Silver’s face before. A pony who had been slighted and disregarded endlessly since her demotion, Silver had finally caught a break, though only under the most tragic of circumstances. And, on top of the grief, it was Guardian herself who had killed Silver, to her own horror. Guardian wasn’t sure she had a choice if she wanted to go on to live and deliver the letter, but regardless, her heart was heavy and damp with agonizing guilt and shame. 
Considerably, there wasn’t anything quite worse than being left alone in the darkest of times. When Guardian had nopony else, she had always had Silver, though now she truly was all on her own. It stung all over, and she wasn’t quite sure she even had the strength to carry on at all, even to just lift herself off the ground. For all those ponies who had called her weak, and pathetic, and insignificant, she was struggling against her belief that she was now proving them right. Perhaps she was indeed a disgrace, and perhaps the mission was doomed to fail the moment she was picked for it. 
Vambrace’s words stuck out to her, however, the longer she reflected sitting on the grass. If by some miracle all the death and pain wrought on this journey could be rectified, or avenged, it seemed clear that Guardian would have to be the one to do it. No one else was left, after all. She couldn’t stop, not while she was still breathing, not when she had promised Silver to see the mission through. 
She was still alive, whether she liked it or not, and for the sake of everything she had lost already, she had but one remaining goal to accomplish. Deliver the letter.
The voice returned inside her, and soon it grew loud enough that she could not possibly avoid it. 
‘Get up.’ 
Guardian’s breaths drew heavier and quicker, until she eventually discovered the fiery motivation she needed to lift herself up to her hooves off the grass. Grabbing her spear, she began her trot forwards down the grassy hills towards the nearby river. She didn’t look back at Silver, nor Sundance, who lay dead not too far, by the rocks. Though they were no longer walking beside her, she could feel both of their spirits inside her, as a part of her, and thus she felt even more invigorated.

Her trot turned into a jog, and then into a sprint, while she huffed and puffed, pushing herself through the inescapable pain that was screaming out from her horrendously wounded wings. Her confrontation with the rebel ponies, and Silver too, had also left her with some mildly bothersome injuries, though she tried her best to ignore all the pain, running straight for the docks by the river. 
Her hooves came down heavy against the soft grass of the hills, as Guardian descended down towards the docks. 
Stepping onto the slippery wet hardwood of the Pine Hearth docks, Guardian spied a boat small enough for one pony to row, sitting at the very end of one of the wooden strips. 
“Hey! That’s her!” yelled somepony from down the docks. Guardian ignored him, storming off towards the rowboat. She felt invincible, though that didn’t mean she was careless, checking her back to make sure there weren’t too many rebel ponies in pursuit. 
By the time she made it to the rowboat, a pack of eight rebels had just arrived at the other end of the docks, brandishing an assortment of terrifying sharp weapons. By this point, Guardian was correct to assume that the rebels couldn’t care less about keeping her alive. They had tried that with Silver, and certainly the ensuing incidents served as a valuable lesson.
Guardian jumped into the boat, and searched for the oars, which were left sitting inside. However, before she could get to her escape, she still had to deal with an iron chain tied from the boat to the dock, locked tight with a thick padlock. 
“Shoot!” Guardian muttered, resorting to her spear to try and sever the chain. The rebels had already broken into a sprint in an effort to stop her, adding to Guardian’s anxiety. She swung the spear down twice in a row, with little effect. 
“Don’t let her escape!” yelled one of the rebels. 
Guardian could see the rebels were nearly upon her, and, in a furious last attempt, she swung the spear as hard as she could down upon the chain. An ear-piercing scratching metal sound gave Guardian hope, and she saw that she had indeed made a distinct crack in the metal of the chain. But, it had yet to be fully broken.
Before she could finish the job on the chain, the rebels had already arrived at the boat. Guardian welcomed the first rebel with her spear to his gut, quickly pulling it out and whacking another in the face. The rebel lost his balance, and toppled over the edge of the dock into the river, struggling to keep himself afloat due to the weight of his armor. 
Before the other rebels could attack her, Guardian stabbed down at the chain two more times, and a loud clanking sound signaled to her that she had found success. The broken chain fell down off the boat, and now Guardian had a real shot at rowing over the river. 
She pecked another rebel in the chest, before using her spear against the edge of the dock to try and propel herself forward. 
“Get her!” yelled one of the rebels, to the only two pegasi in their group. 
Guardian’s boat had been pushed far enough away from the dock so that the rebels couldn’t reach her, but that wasn’t an issue for the pegasi, who sprang into the air after her. Guardian jutted her spear forward into the air, grunting as she desperately avoided being hit herself by their swinging axe and sword, respectively. She managed to slice across one rebel’s knee, sending him screaming and falling into the river. 
The other rebel, however, had more luck, cutting his sword down right into Guardian’s shoulder, slicing through her flesh. Guardian screamed in pain, and vengefully stabbed the rebel through the stomach, sending him and his sword also collapsing into the sea. 
Guardian gripped her bleeding shoulder, out of breath and struggling to withhold a panic attack. 
The remaining four rebels still alive standing on the dock watched Guardian as she picked up the oars in the boat and began rowing, groaning with every pull as her weary muscles were put to the test. 

She had evaded the rebels, at least for the meantime, rowing back and forth, pushing her boat across the river. The current wasn’t as ferocious as the rapids where Halo had nearly drowned in days earlier, though it was strong enough that Guardian began to wonder if she’d even be able to make it across. Every push of the oars seemed to make no difference, as her meek little row boat was thrown back and forth across the rushing waves of the river. After days of traveling and all of her wounds, she was certainly not in any condition to be rowing through such treacherous waters. But she was without another choice, as her wings were far too damaged to fly properly. The very thought of trying to move her wings at all gave Guardian goosebumps. The pain was already nearly unbearable, and no matter how long Guardian put up with it, she never could get used to it.  
After nearly forty minutes of excruciating, energy-depleting rowing, Guardian could reach the grassy bank of the north side of the river. She practically fell out of the boat onto the grass, landing hard on her side, narrowly saving her broken wings from being squashed. She gasped for breath as if it was her first, now soaking wet from the splashing waves. On top of everything else, now she had a strong chance of freezing to death, though she hardly cared given everything else that she was putting up with. 
Clawing up at a tree to bring herself to her hooves, Guardian began her jog forwards, entering the forests. She wasn’t sure how far it would be until she found the 19th Batallion’s camp, though given how large it was said to be, she had hope it wouldn’t be too much running. 
She tried her best to maintain a fairly fast pace, sprinting through the forest as if she was being chased. She had already been decently fast to begin with, such that her injuries didn’t reduce her speed too drastically. 

Shadows ran over her head and in the path in front of her, and Guardian prayed that she had imagined it. 
Her fears were realized, when at least ten pegasi rebel soldiers came crashing down in the ground in front and behind her, blocking her off completely on either side. She was out of breath from the sprint, but still had her spear held at the ready. She was barely in any condition to fight, though she knew how much depended on her. She absolutely could not fail. Not after everything she had already lost. 
Of the five pegasi rebels standing in front of her, the one in the middle took a few steps forward, lifting off his helmet, to reveal a fuzzy-blonde headed pony with a light purple coat. He was Goldfinch, now the commanding officer of the Airborne Brigade in the wake of Fire Streak’s untimely death.
He stared at her, watching as she struggled to catch her breath, holding her spear weakly up in the air. 
“You’ve seen better days,” said Goldfinch, almost pitying her, before remembering it was her who was responsible for the death of his colonel. 
“We’ve seen what’s become of your friend. The traitor too. Bad deal,” Goldfinch said, as if he was offering some sympathies. 
“It’s gonna be a worse deal for you,” Guardian muttered. 
The rebels all laughed at her threat, finding her to be an easy target. Goldfinch was dead serious, however, seemingly more aware than the others of the threat Guardian posed. 
“I would’ve liked to have kept you alive. To see no more bloodshed, but it seems neither of us can know peace,” Goldfinch said. 
“We don’t have to do this...I don’t want to hurt any of you, I really don’t,” Guardian said. Goldfinch scowled, his competitive spirits being challenged. 
“Those are lousy last words, I must say,” Goldfinch said, subtly turning his head to the side to let the rebels know that the pleasantries were now over. 
Guardian took the chance to act first, swinging her spear in a circle around her, hoping to buy her some distance before trying to escape.
She succeeded to some degree, slicing open the throats of one rebel in front of her and another behind her.
She charged forwards, stabbing another rebel right up through the throat, ducking down instinctively to avoid any attacks from behind. From the corner of her eye, she saw a rebel approach her from her back right, sticking her spear in that direction without looking, to hear a satisfying crunching of bones and pierced skin.
Guardian dove through a narrow opening between two of the rebels rushing towards her.
Now with a temporary gateway, Guardian flung back into a sprint, making off into the forest at full speed. 
“Shoot her down!” Goldfinch ordered, calling out to the several patrols of rebels approaching from behind, late to the scene. 
Guardian had no clue how far the finish line was, focusing solely on not slowing down. She wouldn’t have long, she knew it, and she wouldn’t accept being killed or captured when she was so close to the end. 
Magical bullets, shooting out from both the tips of rebel unicorns’ horns and rebel earth ponies’ rifles, whizzed past Guardian from afar. 
She tried her best to stay as low to the ground as possible, shuddering every time a bullet blasted dangerously close to her head, ramming instead into trees or bushes. 

She screamed in pain, when a bullet pierced through her back left thigh, significantly weakening her stride. Now burdened by a limp, she could hear the sound of rebels pursuing her from behind, which was enough to motivate her to keep going, despite how close she felt to brushing upon death. 

Not more than ten staggered steps forward, Guardian burst through a final treeline, where she was shocked to find an abrupt end to the forested terrain, replaced instead by a large clearing. Straight ahead of her was a line of battlements, constructed from sandbags, wooden fixtures, and an array of other objects, surrounding the interior campsite, filled to the brim with tents, wooden structures, and ponies and creatures of all sorts. 
However, the new change of terrain hardly meant her situation had improved. 
Taking a wide gander around from the base of the treeline extending far in a line in either direction, Guardian bore witness to a battle of tremendous scope, shells bombarding every inch of dirt stretching out from the battlements ahead. From the treeline, beams and bullets of magic came screeching out from the forest towards the camp, and far off in the distance Guardian could see soldiers battling with spears and swords and axes, a large cloud of smoke piling high from where they were fighting.  Cannon fire flew in hot red heaps of fire flowering from earthen  mounds littered with bones.    
All around her, dust and shrapnel sprang up from the earth and out from the trees, swabbing the air with a dense, unbreathable gaseous mixture. Guardian’s nose flared, the air reeking of strange chemicals and odorous natural scents, undoubtedly the rotting remains of ponies. 
Guardian sprung alert again, when the rebel ponies that had been following her suddenly reignited their fire from back behind in the forest. 
Guardian was terrified, now trapped between the pursuing rebels behind her and the treacherous battle ahead of her. It was a half-mile before she’d reach the battlements of the 19th Battallion’s camp. Under normal circumstances, that would be a cinch, but given her injuries and the ensuing obstacles in front and behind her, her hope for success was beginning to dwindle. 
“Damn it,” Guardian muttered, realizing she was going to have to take one last suicidal risk. 
Right as a magical beam zapped through the bark of a tree next to her, Guardian mustered every remaining ounce of strength inside her, and leaped forwards out from the brush. 
Her breath was short, trying not to breathe in the dark yellowish gaseous clouds drifting through the air, what she suspected was poisonous gas.
She picked up on the rebels behind her beginning to spring out of the treeline, and hoped that they would be deterred by the battlefield she had just run into. But, to her distress, they persisted, running after her at full speed. 
Guardian grunted with every step as she ran as hard as she could, bullets whizzing past her from in front, behind, and on either side of her. The gas and smoke in the air increased as she neared the center of the field, and it didn’t take long before she ran right into somepony. 
She collapsed into him, both of them tumbling to the ground. Guardian scampered to her hooves, glancing down at who she realized was a rebel pony. 
“Hey!” he yelled, reaching for a knife sheathed in his belt strap. 
Guardian immediately swung her hoof across his face and returned to her hooves, just as two more rebels quickly approached from ahead of her. 
Before the rebel on the ground could stab her in the ankle with his knife, she acted first and stomped hard on his wrist. He hollered in pain and let go of the knife, while Guardian pushed her spear forwards towards the two rebels ahead of her. 
Her blade pierced straight through the chest of one of the rebels, while the other moved towards her with an axe in his hoof, swinging straight for her head. 
Terrified, she grunted and dodged the blade, landing on the ground. In the same movement, she managed to trip the axe-wielding rebel with her hoof, causing him to barrel down into the rebel with a broken-wrist lying on the ground. 
Guardian groaned and rose to her hooves, but then immediately came crashing back down, when a bullet sprang straight through her side. She screamed in pain, beginning to hyperventilate as she lay on the dirt beneath the wispy clouds of smoke, the thunderous sounds of cannonfire and distant yelling ringing in her ears. 
Guardian’s breath was trembling, while she forced herself up to her hooves, avoiding putting any pressure on her injured leg. 
Now having to deal with another injury, Guardian again pushed herself forward on her three good legs, still while the rebels behind her began to catch up. 
Gaining a good distance, Guardian suddenly found herself toppling over the edge of the ground, landing face first in a puddle of thick mud. 
“What the hell?” yelled somepony nearby. 
Before she could drown in the mud with her face completely submerged, the pony who had spoken grabbed a hold of Guardian and lifted her up, sitting her down against the wall of mud and dirt she had fallen over. She had fallen inside a trench, though she was so disoriented she wasn’t yet sure of that. 
“Hey, Swift! Swift, get over here! Get over here!” the pony kneeling beside Guardian yelled. 
Guardian regained her senses after her headache began to settle, mud and dirt now stuck inside several of her wounds, adding a terrible stinging sensation to the list of things plaguing Guardian’s well-being. 
The pony in front of her was a young stallion, with short unkempt dark green hair, a clean-shaven face, and striking eyes. He was clad in golden armor, a sight that Guardian was beyond relieved to see.
Two more ponies quickly arrived at the spot in the muddy trench where Guardian was laying. The first was a white stallion with wispy light grey hair hidden beneath his helmet, and the other was a mare, with a light orange coat and yellow eyes. Her mane was red-orange and a pale yellow, also hidden beneath her golden helmet. All three of these new faces were royal soldiers, exactly who Guardian had been on the search for. 
“Good Celestia!” exclaimed the white stallion, who Guardian quickly deduced to be the one the green soldier had called Swift.
 	“Who the hell are you?!” yelled the green stallion, glancing at the other two royal soldiers for support. Guardian, who was shivering, bleeding, and completely out of breath, not to mention out of sorts after a very close call with being shot and stabbed to death. was still struggling to make sense of what was happening. 
“I said, who the hell are you?!” the green stallion asked again, this time a bit more aggressively, backing away and raising his spear towards her, sticking the blade right up to her neck. The other two quickly did the same with their spears, leaving her with virtually no chance to escape. 
“Don’t! Don’t!” Guardian squeaked, snapping out of her temporary daze. She dropped her spear to the ground, half out of fear and half out of exhaustion. She wasn’t quite sure she could fight anymore ponies, especially ones that already had her by the throat. Despite her apparent surrender, the royal soldiers neglected to remove their spears from her neck. She gulped, trying to calm herself down. 
“I’m Guardian Angel, 23rd Regiment! Have the 19th left yet?!” Guardian said, her voice quivering, her eyes darting between the three soldiers sporadically.
“23rd? How the hell did you get up here? That’s miles south, over the mountains,” Swift said, skeptically. They all flinched and crouched down slightly, when a particularly large explosion ruptured against the dirt not too far from where they were standing. Once the smoke cleared and everypony had ensured they were all alive and unharmed, they resumed their interrogatory stances. 
“She’s lying,” said the orange mare soldier, “She’s a rebel, she’s wearing some disguise she picked off some pony. Probably just heard the regiment name.”
“Have the 19th left yet?!” Guardian yelled, angrily, causing all of the soldiers to step back slightly in fright. Guardian had little interest in explaining everything to these ponies, considering her deadline.  
“Left? What do you mean?” the green stallion asked, carefully being vague so as not to reveal any information to a pony whose allegiances he was still skeptical of. 
“The 19th, 44th! 62nd! They’re here, they’re set to leave for the northwestern shore! Today!” Guardian wailed, close to crying, both out of relief that she had made it to friendly lines but also of fear that she would be inhibited by her own allies.
The soldiers all seem to be stunned, given that the assault was largely meant to be kept under wraps.  
“How the hell do you know that?!” yelled Swift. 
“Don’t listen to her, she’s clearly-:” started the orange mare. 
“Shut up, shut up...Ok, why are you here?” the green stallion said, slowly lowering his spear. Though, he was still suspicious of this pony, whose face he had never seen before.  
“Just please, have they left yet?” Guardian stammered. 
“They’ve started off just an hour ago, they’re leaving in companies of 200, heading out in waves every twenty minutes or so. Three have been sent already. These rebels out here are trying to stop our assault, to distract us right here,” the green stallion started, before being interrupted by another thundering blast of magical fire rummaging through the trench wall nearby. He regained his train of thought and glanced back down at Guardian. “It’s less than a day’s march to the sea. How is it you knew of this? And where the hell did you come from?” he asked. 
“Please, you have to let me talk to Commander Moonbeam, it’s very, very urgent! All those ponies you’ve sent, they’re going to die!” Guardian yelled, coming across as more than a little unhinged.
“Hey, calm down, calm down,” the green stallion lead soldier said, glancing at Swift and the orange mare as if Guardian was completely out of her mind, “Look, we can’t just let you see the marshal, he’s very busy at the moment. And first we have to get you identified first...and, good Celestia, what the hell happened to you?” the lead soldier asked, just noticing her mangled wings tucked behind her back, bent in unnatural ways. He glanced at the other two, who were equally horrified by the Guardian’s brutally warped wings. 
By then, Guardian had finally had enough of the soldiers’ resistance. Catching them all off guard, she sprang up to her hooves and dashed straight through the green stallion and Swift, sprinting towards the inner battlements. Though she had escaped, she hadn’t been able to pick her spear back up, now unarmed. 
“Hey!” the green stallion yelled, raising his spear back up and giving chase. 
Guardian ran through the winding trenches, towards the inner campsite, where she imagined the officers would be. The attack she had narrowly escaped through must have been a reverse distraction effort, as Guardian quickly concluded, meant to make the royalists believe that their assault had the rebels afraid and on the run 
Behind her, the three soldiers were in hot pursuit, still thrown for a loop as to who this pegasus was and what she was doing. 
“That’s it! Sunshine, alert the sentry! Lock down every building!” the green stallion ordered. The orange mare, Sunshine, nodded without a word, breaking off from the chase to carry out the command. 
After another minute of rigorous chasing, Guardian’s heart skipped a beat, when the alarms began to sound off in the interior of the camp.
“Hey! Stop running! We’re not gonna hurt you!” the green stallion yelled out to Guardian, though she wasn’t sure she believed him. She just didn’t have time to explain everything to them, not while there were ponies already en route to their own graves. 
Then, she stopped dead in her tracks, when ahead of her, ten royal soldiers rounded a corner of the trench, blocking off her route. 
Guardian spun her head behind her, and saw the green stallion and Swift blocking the way behind.
Guardian sighed angrily, quickly thinking over her options. 
“Hey, take it easy, are you listening to me?” the green stallion asked, trying to be gentle towards Guardian, who was visibly half-delirious. 
Guardian shook her head aggressively, realizing she had but one route to take if she wanted to stop the assault in time. 
“Hey! Whoa, what the hell are you-Stop!” the green stallion yelled, while Guardian rushed towards the left wall of the trench, climbing up over the mud onto the above ground.
“Stop her!” yelled Swift, though before any of them could reach her, she was already over the edge. 
Guardian immediately took off, carefully making sure not to step on any stray mines, barbed wire, deep holes or trench pits. The mud on the ground was thick, having been ravaged repeatedly by explosions and magic fire. Every step she took felt like she was sinking deeper into the ground.
Bullets whizzed past her, though Guardian tried her best to ignore everything else and focus solely on maintaining her pace, and reaching the camp. 
A bomb then descended down from above, exploding on impact in a chaotic storm of fire and sparks. The shockwave was so powerful, that Guardian herself was flung off the edge of the ground, tumbling down into a nearby trench. She groaned on the ground, her bones rattled and her head aching like mad. 
“There she is!” yelled a pony from behind her, the green stallion, leading the pack of soldiers who were still chasing her down. 
She scurried up back to her hooves and ran, hoping to make it inside before she could be caught. 
The wooden walls that surrounded the camp interior were straight ahead of her now, to her delight.  Running out from the trenches, Guardian quickly spotted an opportunity in the form of a large hole in the wall towards her left, the remnants of a previous explosion, just barely wide enough for a pony to fit through. 
She ran straight towards it, just as the soldiers behind her began to exit out of the trench. 
Jumping through the hole, she was stuck for a moment, having to wiggle her way side to side until she could pass all the way through. The splintery edges of the hole scratched against her skin, though Guardian was so full of adrenaline she barely felt it.  
“Stop!” yelled the green stallion, as he attempted to pass through the hole the same as Guardian had. Though, he was struggling far more, as he was too physically large to force himself through. 
Wasting no time to get her bearing, she kept her stride into the interior of the camp. The campsite consisted mostly of tents and wooden buildings, similar to her old back lines camp. As she ran, she saw most ponies weren’t by their tents, and each empty cot reminded her of how many ponies would die lest she be the one to save their lives. 
She rushed through the winding walkways of the campsite, uncertain where exactly to find the pony she was looking for. 
She nearly ran right into another soldier, who had been filling up his canteen with water from a well. 
“Commander Moonbeam, I need to speak to him!” Guardian sputtered, desperately out of breath. 
The soldier barely paid her any notice, staring down at his canteen. 
“First right past the cafeteria, building on the left corner,” he replied, nonchalantly, as if he was cursed to give directions for a living.
“Thank you!” Guardian chirped through her airy breaths, before restarting her sprint. 
Guardian tilted her head back to see the green stallion and several other soldiers still running after her, invigorating Guardian to run as if her own life was at stake. 
She saw what had to be the cafeteria, the largest building in the camp, trash cans filled to the brim standing idly outside. She rounded off a right and continued down through the dirt, heading straight for the small wooden building on the left corner of the camp. 
She desperately reached out for the doorknob and twisted it open, right as the green stallion tackled her to the ground. 
The door swung open, revealing a room of royal officers hovering around a large map sitting on a table.
Guardian screamed in agony, the stallion having completely crushed her already damaged wings during the tackle. He realized what he had done, and remorsefully jumped off of her, leaving her a sobbing mess on the ground. 
“What in the hell?” yelled one of the officers inside, as soon as Guardian began screaming.
Guardian got herself under control, as soon as she had caught sight of the officers from the ground, and quickly brought herself to her hooves using the door for support, storming inside triumphantly. Whimpering, shivering, covered in blood, and physically exerted beyond reason, Guardian managed to make it up to her hooves, staring the frightened officers dead in the eyes. Their uniforms were polished and clean, not a medal out of place.  
“What is the meaning of this?” asked one officer, glaring at Guardian with contempt, disgusted with how filthy and bludgeoned Guardian appeared. 
“Commander Moonbeam!” she exclaimed, her breath choked and her voice strained. The green stallion, and several of the other soldiers who had been following him, also stepped through the doors after her, nervously expecting to take some flack for Guardian’s unannounced intrusion. 
“Sir, I’m sorry, she-” the green stallion began, before Moonbeam himself could cut him off. 
“Who are you, Corporal?” asked Moonbeam, a tall dark blue pony with a short cut black mane. He was an older stallion, and his head was covered snugly in a prim officer’s hat. Wading through the group of officers to confront Guardian by the door, he stared at her with complete bafflement, unsure what to make of this stranger pony who seemed to be closing in on death. He had recognized her lower rank by her uniform, and also took notice of her painful wounds, which made his gaze twist with disgust. 
“And what’s happened to you?” he added, the other officers all equally put off by Guardian’s arrival.
“Sir! You must stop the assault! Call them back, do not send anymore!” Guardian said, still gasping for breath. 
Moonbeam stared at her in disbelief, before turning back at the other officers as if to revel in a good joke.
“Call them back, you say! Ha! Only once we have the rebels running off to the coast to escape us, you say call them back!” Moonbeam said, chuckling to himself, lowering his head in amusement. He lifted his head again, resuming his serious demeanor. “No, I think not. I will not be held back by the folly of Canterlot patricians nor generals twiddling their hooves in their castles. Not this time,” Moonbeam said, slowly turning his back on a horrified Guardian. 
“You don’t understand!” Guardian said, tearing off her helmet and retrieving the letter she had hidden inside. She ripped the tape off and brought the letter up for them all to see. The officers, and Moonbeam, who had turned back around out of curiosity, all stared at her, now even more confused. 
Guardian extended the letter to Moonbeam, the envelope still relatively dry and intact. 
“I’m from the 23rd Regiment sir, these orders are from High Command, I’ve been sent to relay the order to call off the assault, sir.” Guardian said, trying her best to regain her calm. 
“23rd Regiment. Of course. How are things down south, may I ask? Warm and comfortable, no doubt. While we fight your battles up here,” Moonbeam said, pridefully. 
“Sir, I made a promise that I would see this message through! I’ve risked my life to get this to you! It’s a trap, sir, you’re walking into a trap! If you march on that city, you’ll head straight into a massacre! They’ll all be slaughtered!” Guardian exclaimed, catching all of the officers’ attention simultaneously. 
Moonbeam stared at her, incredulously, slowly coming to terms with this revelation. 
“Please, just read this,” Guardian said, presenting the letter a second time. 
Moonbeam glared at her with scorn, but conceded, receiving the off-white envelope and tearing it open. He unfolded the letter and took a full minute to read it, before scoffing in disappointment. 
“Not even in my dreams, could we have been so close…” he muttered, before meeting Guardian’s unstable gaze. 
“Do it then,” he said, practically spitting out the words. When nopony moved, he became irritated, practically throwing the letter across the table as he swiveled around to repeat himself. 
“I said, do it! Call them back. Cancel the assault,” Moonbeam said, spitefully. 
While the officers suddenly flew into a frenzy, some storming out the door to yell out at the large companies of soldiers preparing to set forth on their doomed attack, Moonbeam slowly turned back to Guardian. 
“We were very much on the brink, weren’t we...That’ll do for you then, Corporal,” Moonbeam said, regretfully, “And perhaps tomorrow another 23rd Regiment pony will come to deliver a new order, this time to proceed ahead anyway.”
He managed a weak smile, as if he didn’t expect anything less from the upper crust ponies who gave him commands. 
“One day this will all be at an end...And either we will remain or they, but only one. Only one,” Moonbeam muttered, at an immense loss over what would’ve been his crowning achievement in the war. Guardian lifted her head up to face Moonbeam, who still seemed to utterly despise her. 
“See to your wounds. Sergeant Dire there will show you where…” Moonbeam said, nodding at the green stallion who had tackled her just moments earlier, whose name Guardian now knew. 
Despite his indication for her dismissal, Guardian didn’t budge. For some reason, she expected some sort of gratitude from the Field Marshall, or at the very least an acknowledgement, for saving not only thousands of his ponies, but perhaps also his reputation. 
Though, she would receive no kindness from him, at least not that day. He noticed she had yet to leave, and his tolerated politeness soon began to strain. 
“And if you ever barge in here again like that, Corporal, I’ll see to it you’re properly dealt with. Now leave, before I come up with some other reason to send you to the medic,” Moonbeam growled.
Guardian put up no rebuttal, meekly turning around and following the direction of Sergeant Dire, who was still somewhat at a loss for words.
“Well done, Corporal,” said one of the officers, shaking Guardian’s hoof as she was escorted out of the room. 

   Helped along by a stunned Sergeant Dire, Guardian watched from afar as rows of troops were disassembled by distressed officers, scattering back into the camp. 
A smile found its way to her face, and she was unable to even count how many ponies she saw. The lot of them seemed either relieved or disappointed, the consequence of how much excitement was directed towards what was thought to be the final act of the war. Little did any of them know that the result would have been just as final, but against their favor. 
She saw some groups of soldiers cheering and practically jumping for joy, having been spared a grueling march and a likely ill-fate. 
Dire helped Guardian along, preventing her from fainting or collapsing in exhaustion every time she seemed to daze off or stumble over her hooves. He felt guilt for trying to inhibit her, worsened by the knowledge that she had effectively just saved his own life, upon thousands of others. 
Passing them on their way to a large white tent structure was a group of eight ponies, who all caught notice of Guardian as she limped along. 
“Who the hell is that?” asked one, though none of them knew. 
“That’s what you get with transfers, they get themselves killed. Bloody morons,” said another, prompting the group to laugh at Guardian’s expense. 
They ignored her and moved along, stepping aside to permit her and Dire to enter the medical tent. 
“Good heavens!” cried out the nurse, Redheart, a white earth pony with pink hair tied back in a messy bun.
“What’s happened?! Dire! Set her down here, right here I said! Be careful!” she said, flustered as she got a closer look at Guardian’s aching, bloodied body. Dire gently helped Guardian lie down on a cot near the center of the medical tent. He briefly examined her as she lay with her eyes closed on the table, and, despite how terrible her injuries were, still he had to acknowledge he felt a subtle attraction towards her. He admired her persistence above all else, and became consumed with dread knowing that he could have stalled the order she was sent to deliver. 
Guardian was laying on her side, getting a full view of the pony on the cot next to her. His right front leg had been blown clean off, now just a stump wrapped up in bloodied bandages. Guardian tried to shut her eyes to avoid having to look, though the sight was already burned into her memory. 
“Do you want me to stay?” Dire asked Redheart, who angrily shook her head. 
“You’ll only get in the way. If you want to be useful, Dire, go down to the deck and find Doctor Hoofburn, tell him it’s absolutely an emergency,” Redheart said, rummaging through a cabinet of equipment while Guardian lay groaning on the cot. 
“Anything else?” Dire asked, hopeful for a chance to do what he can to help Guardian. 
“No! Just go already,” Redheart said, frantically. 
Dire glanced down at Guardian one last time, remorsefully, and turned to leave, having hoped to be able to help fix Guardian to make up for his previous actions.
“You’ve lost a lot of blood, and your wings need immediate surgery,” Redheart said to Guardian, whose eyes were half open. “I’m going to put you under. OK?” 
Guardian mumbled something that probably meant ‘yes,’ prompting Redheart to reach over for a plastic facemask with a gas tube attached. Muzzling it over Guardian’s mouth and nose, Guardian soon saw the world turn to a blur, until her mind shut off completely. 





Drifting awake, Guardian took a few moments before opening her eyes, and found that her cot had been moved to the front of the medical tent, near the entrance. She was wearing a tight-fitting hospital gown, and her body felt clean for the first time in weeks. Her blue coat felt fresh and free of dirt and blood stains, a strange feeling that Guardian would have to get used to again. 
“Oh, you’re awake!” came the voice of Redheart, dashing around some other medical cots near her to stand at Guardian’s side. 
“The surgery was a success!” Redheart exclaimed. Guardian glanced behind her back at her wings, which were both wrapped tight in bandages. They had their traditional shape to them though, which made Guardian break into a subconscious set of thankful prayers. She had tried to avoid thinking about her wings earlier, as the pain was so terrible, she had to avoid thinking about how she would likely never be able to use them again. And for any pegasus, let alone one who loved flying as much as Guardian, losing her flight would be beyond devastating. But now that there was indeed hope again, Guardian felt like crying, overwhelmed by relief.   
 “You’ll need to rest for a few days at least. You’ll be able to fly again, just as well as you used to, but don’t rush things. Let them heal,” Redheart said, warmly extending a hoof holding a glass of water. 
“Drink,” she ordered, and Guardian graciously accepted the command. She quickly began drinking the water, greedily, to try and aid her dehydration and exhaustion. 
“Your Colonel sent a letter, congratulating you for your work,” Redheart said, “Oh, and is there a Silver Saber here too somewhere?”
Guardian paused her drinking, her eyes suddenly falling to the floor, somberly. 
“No, there’s not,” Guardian replied. 
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Redheart said, quickly connecting the dots. She hurriedly tried to change the subject. “Your Colonel has admitted you for indefinite medical leave. He’s recommended for a grand series of medals. And, he wants you to know that Princess Twilight Sparkle has heard of what’s happened, and very much wants to meet with you! Can you believe that?” Redheart said, excitedly. 
Guardian’s eyes widened, slightly intimidated by being sought after by a princess. Not even Celestia, of whom she served loyally for years, had ever cared to really get to know her. 
“Would you be able to give a message to Colonel Splinter, for me?” Guardian asked. 
“Of course!” Redheart chimed, picking up a notepad and grabbing a pencil in her mouth from a nearby table. Guardian took a moment to collect her thoughts, thinking over precisely what she wanted to say. 
“Tell him, that during the trek it became unavoidable to pass through the town Pine Hearth. And tell him that the town has suffered numerous casualties...civilians, rebels… and Corporal Silver too. I want him to make sure everypony there gets a proper burial, even the rebels too. And any survivors need to be taken care of. Do you have all that?” Guardian asked, hoping Honey Pie and her family, and any other townsponies of Pine Hearth, were still alive. 
“Uh-huh,” Redheart said, unable to speak with the pencil in her mouth. She set the pencil down and stuffed the notepad in the pocket of her white jacket. 
Guardian finished off her water, satisfied, and held the cup down in her lap.
Redheart smiled, content with her work and Guardian’s cooperation, reaching back for the cup. 
“Ok. You just sit there, and don’t move,” Redheart said. 
“Thank you,” Guardian said, smiling softly. Redheart trotted off gleefully, another pony well-taken care of under her watch. 
Guardian let her head fall back on her pillow, sighing in relief now that the pain in her wings had indeed subsided. There were bandages looped around every cut and possibly-infected scrape on her body, including her recent shoulder injury and bullet wounds.
She noticed her helmet and armor sitting in a box nearby, but made no effort to grab for it. Her eyelids were heavy, and her body sore. She intended to rest, though her plans were quickly interrupted. 
“Uh, hey.”
Guardian lifted her head back up, to see a somewhat familiar face, that being Sergeant Dire, the green-colored pegasus with dark mossy hair and a clean-shaven face, the pony who had first welcomed her to the camp, though not under particularly good circumstances.  
“Uh, Guardian, right?” he asked, nervously. Upon their first meeting, Guardian had been covered in blood and dirt, and thus he hadn’t really known what the pony really looked like. And now that she had been cleaned up, he was a bit taken aback by her looks, and immediately his brain began to freeze up.  
“Angel. Guardian Angel,” she said, smiling and raising her hoof for a polite hoofshake. Dire smiled and accepted, though his intentions for visiting seemed to extend beyond simple introductions.
“I’m Dire. Look, uh, I just wanted to come and apologize. For holding you up, and what I did to your wings, too…” he said, uncomfortable with having to admit his fault. 
“Oh, you don’t have to apologize for that,” Guardian said, having forgotten that he had crushed her wings under his entire body weight earlier. All of the pain experienced in the past few days felt like it was all one continuous thing, and Guardian was far too exhausted to harbor any vengeful hatred towards anypony right then, especially not the ponies on her own side. 
“Yeah...If there’s uh...If there’s anything I could do for you,” Dire began, quickly losing his train of thought as soon as he watched Guardian bat her eyes a few times. 
“I think...just let me rest a little for now. But I’d love to talk more later,” Guardian said, though Dire couldn’t tell if she was being serious or not. 
“Alright, you take it easy. Sorry, again,” Dire said, awkwardly stumbling out from the tent. Guardian had meant what she said, as she was admittedly in need of some friends in this new camp, where she hardly knew anypony. 
She followed through on her claim, resting her eyes, hoping to get some much-needed sleep. Her mind drifted back down, and her body grew limp, as she fell into a blissful slumber.





Waking up a few hours later, Guardian felt more relaxed, until she again caught sight of all the injuries on her body. Every wound, every cut and scrape and bruise, reminded her of the journey she had made, and the ponies she had lost along the way. She wasn’t sure how much was her fault, though, naturally she took the blame on herself entirely. 
She had no burning desire for a medal, nor a trophy or anything of that sort. Saving those ponies’ lives was all she had really cared about, through and through. Recognition and appreciation would be pleasant enough, though with the officers she usually had to deal with, even that would be a longshot. She wondered what her old regiment was saying about her, if anything, and whether they even knew she was alive, or that Silver wasn’t. 
“Guardian Angel?” asked a pony in a brown hat trotting through the large flaps of the medical tent. 
Guardian raised her head in surprise, though she didn’t recognize the pony who had called out to her. 
“Mail,” the pony said, raising up a single letter for her to see. 
Guardian raised a weak hoof to receive the envelope, though before she could say thanks or anything, the mailpony had already turned to leave. 
She hesitantly glanced down at the letter, stamped with the emblem of the War Department Office. Realization swept through her like a gust of wind. 
She ripped the envelope apart, and found inside a neatly-folded letter.

Guardian,
 It has reached your mother and I here in Canterlot of what you have managed to do in the northern front, traversing through the forests to deliver orders that prevented a terrible loss to Equestria. I will be the first to say that you have served your country to the highest degree, and for that, I, your mother, and Equestria, owe you our gratitude. The loss of your brothers pains me still, as you must know. I am old now. And I cannot weigh the burden of a heavy heart against you any longer, while there remains light in this world. You are my daughter. You will always be my daughter.


Your father, 

                        O.M. Archangel  

Guardian read the letter three times, before laying it down in her lap, stunned. For all that she had cried and sulked over with her family strife, she could never imagine it would be her father himself who would try to resolve things between them. 
She wasn’t entirely sure how to feel, partially still resentful of her father for waiting until she nearly died fighting to express his pride in her. ‘Too little too late,’ she wanted to say. But she was also amazed, grateful even, that she had gotten his appreciation at all. 
Despite how much she wanted to hate him, for all the abuse and cruelty she had been dealt growing up, she couldn’t bring herself to do so. He was her father, and though he was strict, and cold, and often merciless towards her, she had never stopped trying to impress him. And now that she had done it, she felt a great weight be lifted from her own heart, just as Archangel had written about himself. She wasn’t sure he deserved her forgiveness, or if she was even supposed to forgive him; but she was too exhausted and had crept too close to the pale face of death one too many times to harbor a grudge against her father.  
She wanted to forgive him, in spite of the past. She wanted to move on, to live with a family that loved her, in the wake of the loss of her brothers. Whatever remnants of her family could still be salvaged, she would be open towards. She pressed the letter against her chest, and held it there, shutting her eyes.

That night, Guardian fell asleep with little effort, her body weary and her mind still swirling through a chaotic mess of thoughts. She would rather not think about the pain that had a grip around her heart, though the tighter it became, the harder it was to ignore. 





Days later, Guardian was deemed by Nurse Redheart to be fit to leave the medical tent, though was strictly prohibited from doing anything too adventurous. Luckily, she was already well-spent on adventurous behavior already. 
She squirmed out of the hospital gown she was wearing, folded it neatly, and set it down atop her bed, of which she also remade, for the sake of politeness. She glanced down at her armor, and found herself resisting the urge to put it all back on. It seemed to mock her from below in its box, reciting a cold retelling of every grave fault that she held against her own heart. 
Despite her hesitation, she did proceed to climb back into the armor, stuffing her head back into her helmet. Her armor was still stained red in some spots, though Guardian didn’t find herself as insistent about maintaining its grandeur any longer, at least not for the meantime. 
The battle outside the camp had largely calmed down, likely due to the cancellation of the assault. Guardian had correctly guessed the rebels had been staging a reverse distraction, and as soon as the jig was up, they hadn’t taken long to pull their efforts back. The camp was now more full of life and activity than before, the thousands of ponies whose lives were largely indebted to Guardian now celebrating another day alive and an arguable victory over the rebel scheme to end the war. 
Guardian saw ponies laughing, eating, and celebrating with each other, drinking and smoking contraband, enjoying the cool breeze as it blew like a trumpet’s horn. 
Guardian trotted through the camp, walking for the first time in days, her muscles still sore and her emotional state weak. She was craving some sort of comfort, though there was little to be found in the camp. Ponies would walk right by her as if she was invisible, and after a point Guardian was beginning to feel isolated yet again. She hadn’t expected a parade in her honor or anything ridiculous, but to be ignored completely did her withered mental state no favors at all. 
“Guardian!” called out a stallion’s voice. 
Guardian turned her head to catch Sergeant Dire trotting up to her, excitedly. 
“You’re out! How’re you feeling?” Dire asked, energetically. Unbeknownst to Guardian, Dire had been practicing what he would say to her for days, using his friend Sunshine as a test mare. 
“Alright...I’m alright,” Guardian replied, softly. 
“So uh, how long are you gonna be around here?” Dire asked. 
“Oh, um, just a few days, probably. I’m getting sent home for medical leave,” Guardian said, recalling what Redheart had said to her. 
“I’m getting sent back home in two weeks, maybe we could meet up again, huh? How’s that?” Dire asked, excitedly.  
Guardian raised her eyebrows, realizing what the stallion was attempting. 
“Are you trying to make a pass at me?” Guardian asked, coyly smirking. 
“What? No! No, of course I’m not,” Dire said, shaking his head and fidgeting relentlessly, internally surprised that Guardian would dare to be so blunt. 
“No, it’s ok, I just meant, if you were, uh...that wouldn’t be a problem with me,” Guardian said, her face turning red, biting her lip in embarrassment. 
Dire hesitated, and then smiled. 
“I’ll see you in Canterlot then?” Dire asked. 
“I’d like that,” Guardian said, smiling sheepishly. 
Dire nodded energetically, beginning to back away, seemingly having to get back to something. 
“You’ll meet some of my friends tonight, I’m sure you’ve got some stories for us!” Dire said, as he trotted backwards, locked in trance with Guardian’s soft orange eyes. 
“Bye,” Guardian said, waving, smiling to herself. 
Once Dire had disappeared around a corner, Guardian continued trotting off through the camp, aimlessly wandering to try and get comfortable with the layout of the area. She would be leaving in a few days, no doubt, though she never liked to be unfamiliar with the land she was on. 
Rounding a corner of one wooden building, Guardian noticed something a few yards ahead. A crowd of ponies, gathered around something, laughing and jeering, likely somewhat under the influence. 
Guardian approached the scene cautiously, entering the crowd to see what was happening. The crowd of royal soldiers numbered twenty, all of them appearing to be drunk, likely following the recent celebrations. 
After carefully pushing her way deeper into the crowd, she caught sight of what the commotion was about: a pony, held down on the ground in restraints, being subjected to an overwhelming blast of mocking and thrown objects. Guardian’s eyes widened in shock, realizing that the pony was a pony she recognized. With a fuzzy blonde head and a light purple coat, the stallion was on the ground, groaning in pain as he fell victim to a barrage of merciless kicks from the royal soldiers surrounding him. 
Guardian quickly made her way to the front, careful not to let anypony shove into her injuries too much. 
Once at the front, she stared down at Goldfinch, the rebel officer who had led the pursuit into the woods after her, and she felt sympathy for him, in spite of the fact he would have very likely been the one to kill her not just days earlier. 
In the midst of the kicking and cruel jeers, eventually Goldfinch caught sight of Guardian from the ground, and she expected him to become enraged, or perhaps even beg her for mercy, though he did neither. He merely smiled, shaking his head in disbelief that she was alive. 
The royal soldiers began to settle down, as soon as two royal officers began strutting their way through the crowd to see what the commotion was over. 
“What is the meaning of this?” yelled the first officer, a stern-faced mare with bright velvet hair and a red coat. 
The soldiers drew quiet, unsure whether they were going to be on the receiving end of a reprimand or not. 
“What’s this? A rebel? An officer rebel?! Why has nopony reported this? Instead you take him into the streets to beat him like a dog! Are we animals? Come, see to it now. String him on the gallows, that’ll make good use for him. Rebel rats, trying to play a trick on us. Let this be a lesson to the others. After, hang him from the post in the square yard! Let them over the ridge see, let them all see!” the mare said, cackling while Goldfinch was still lurching over in pain, covered in bruises from the onslaught of beatings. 
“Ma’am,” Guardian said, first softly, though nopony could hear her over the loud cheering of the royals. 
“Ma’am!” Guardian said again, this time catching the officer’s attention. 
The officer raised an eyebrow, not recognizing the corporal who was calling after her. The crowd quickly became quiet again. 
“You can’t kill this pony,” Guardian said, angrily. 
The officer stared at her blankly, in shock. 
“What?” the officer said.  
Goldfinch raised his head in surprise, confused as to what Guardian was doing. 
“I know him. Just days ago he was hunting me down through the forest. He meant to kill me,” Guardian said. 
The officer seemed not to believe Guardian, her gaze shifting down to Goldfinch on the ground. 
“Is that right?” she asked, lifting his chin up with her hoof. 
He gulped, slightly out of breath from enduring the beatings, and nervous over his very life being at stake. 
“Yes, that’s right,” Goldfinch said, spitefully.
The office’s eyes rose back up to Guardian, slightly impressed. 
“What of it? What does his life matter to you?” the officer demanded. 
“It isn’t right to kill him. Please, don’t. I’m asking you not to,” Guardian said, hoping to end the continued bloodshed brought about by her mission. 
Goldfinch stared at Guardian, stunned, while the officer pondered things over. 
“Fine. Doesn’t matter much to me either way. Throw him in the brig,” the officer ordered. 
Once she had stormed off, the crowd quickly began to disperse. Two of the soldiers moved to pick up Goldfinch, while he and Guardian’s eyes stayed locked on each other.
He didn’t have to say aloud his gratitude for Guardian to understand, for his eyes were wide, crying out an unexpected thanks. And, in turn, Guardian was radiating a sense of forgiveness, deciding that more death would not avenge anypony. 

After watching Goldfinch be dragged away, Guardian trotted towards the entrance of the camp out into the forests, heading out of the camp and down the road to the nearby royal-friendly town where she had learned soldiers tended to head over to cool off. The town’s name was Wickerville, sitting in a small clearing among some green trees, bustling with a decent population of ponies. 
Guardian stopped short before stepping onto the main road into the town, sighing. She lifted off her helmet, and unbuckled her boots and chest armor as well, hiding it all inside a bush near the side of the road. She quickly tied her hair back into a ponytail, trying to get used to having her head stuffed inside her helmet. 
Shuddering against the cool breeze, her mane was rustled by the wind, and Guardian felt free for the first time in years.
She trotted into the town, and received little to no attention as a newcomer. The town was full of life, ponies smiling and talking with one another, eating outside beneath street-spanning streamers, and working their trades during the day.
Guardian entered the town pub, named the Foggy Notion, hoping to get some sort of food or drink to lift her spirits. 
Inside, she took a seat on the bar, a pack of grovely old stallions sitting at a table behind her, loudly drinking and chatting as if they were the only ones in the place. 
Sitting in a type of place where Guardian would once go to wind down or celebrate some joyful occasion with friends, she noticed a disconnect, one that she was still unfamiliar with. It was different now, to just be a normal pony sitting in a bar on a cloudy afternoon. The world was still cold and grey, and it was as though the sunlight of yesteryear was now little more than a childhood memory, or a pretend fiction dreamed up to distract from the dark reality. Who was she, now that she was free from the constraints of the front? Abandoned on a mountain of complexities that she couldn’t even understand, withering away like snow in the springtime. She dreaded having to meet Twilight Sparkle, or anypony in the Canterlot elite for that matter. She had no interest in being barraged by tedious questions, the answers of which could only be understood by those who had experienced. Answers that could not be revealed, topics that could not be discussed. The horrors were hers. She could not speak of such things, not until she had at least sorted some of it out for her own.  
“What can I get you?” the bartender, a young gold-colored stallion earth pony, asked, snapping Guardian out of her existential daydreaming.  
“Just water, please. Thank you,” Guardian said, politely. 
The bartender nodded and grabbed a cup from underneath the bar, filling it up with water from a small tap, and setting it down in front of her. 
“That’s free by the way, but you’ve got to get something else if you want to sit there,” he said,  trying his best not to be rude about the restaurant policy. 
“Oh, ok, sorry, uh...I’ll have some hay fries, do you have that?” Guardian asked.
“We do, I’ll get that for you,” the bartender said, before trotting off behind a door into the backroom kitchen.
Guardian sipped at her glass of water, and she began to find some comfort in memories of ordinary life. She hadn’t thought a town like this could still exist during the war, when everything else was in grand upheaval. 
She thought back at Pine Hearth, a town that was perhaps not unlike the one she was in now, with ponies of all sorts, living happy lives. These ponies were safe, and thriving, which, to some extent, validated Guardian’s resolve. 
“And I’ll tell you what, they’re still afraid to send the troops past Vanhoover! Can you believe that? We ought to throw everything we have at them already, or admit defeat!” said one of the old stallions behind her, of whom Guardian was unable not to overhear. 
“How many bits are those saps always asking for down main street? I don’t know what the hell they’re doing out there with my money, but they don’t seem to be doing much! Lollygagging!” said another. 
“They don’t train those ponies enough, that’s the problem. They’re weak, and they don’t get anything done. Lazy buggers,” said the third, after he took a deep sip from his mug. 
“Aye, and those soldiers up the road, they’re witless. They don’t see the big picture, none of them. I hear them complaining, talking about things they couldn’t understand. All they know is their own little pockets of the war that they’ve been through,” said the one who had first spoken, “If they were in charge, Equestria would be rubble already.” 
Guardian was shocked, and wondered if they would be saying similar things if she was still wearing her armor.  
“Here you go, hay fries,” the bartender said, preventing her from proceeding to turn around and give those stallions a piece of her mind.
“Oh, thank you, here,” Guardian said, laying down some bits on the surface of the bar table. 
“I think I’ll take these to go,” Guardian said, deciding she wouldn’t want to be spending any more time listening to those ponies. 

On the way back to the camp, Guardian relocated where she had hid her armor, and found it was still there. 
She stared into her reflection in the shiny gold surface, the image shaded in red, her own blood from days earlier. She sighed, stuffing the armor all back into her duffel bag, carrying on down the road.

Re-entering the camp, Guardian was surprised to see most of the ponies were gathering around something up ahead, by the parade field. 
Taking a closer look, she stood beside the cafeteria wall, staring up at an impressive-looking stallion standing tall on a wooden podium, hundreds and hundreds of ponies standing around, all eyes on him as he spoke.
Shining Armor was dressed in his formal armor, standing pridefully behind a wooden podium atop the raised platform, staring down intently on the ponies below. 
“Friends...I’m going to be telling you the truth today...This has been a hard time for us,” Shining said, “And the longer it takes to clear this area...it will continue to be hard. The supply constraints won’t be any better, not anytime soon, and I apologize for that, sincerely…” 
He went on, though Guardian couldn’t bring herself to continue listening after a while. She recalled his speech verbatim, as the send-off words for Periwinkle Radiance’s 13th Velvet Regiment, of whom were now all dead, to her despair. Gradually, she could no longer deny it, what Silver had insisted on numerous occasions, that the violence had to be pointless. The war would rage on, seemingly to no end, until only a few ponies were left to live in the ravaged world that was left over. 
Or rather, that was the conclusion that Guardian was resisting. After everything she had been through, the easiest route of all would be to look only at the cold reality, where ponies were killed senselessly and horrors of unimaginable sorts were left as stains on her psyche. But what compelled Guardian further was the very hope she had first clung onto. Walking into the mountain passage, she hadn’t known if she was to even survive. What she did know, however, was the value of fighting for other ponies’ lives. Life, and the beauty of nature, creations, and relationships that came with it, was the sole thing Guardian believed in entirely. Hope for a better life had carried her through her childhood and adolescence, resisting the urge to give up to her self-deprecation and into her father’s resentment. Hope for a good life had helped her through her military career. And maybe she would never have the ideal life she wanted, with a family of her own to love, provide for, and protect, but she certainly wouldn’t have a chance lest she hope for such. 
And she may have been able to show that, even to Silver if she had survived. She would never stop, no matter the pain or hardships. There was good in the world still, even in simple and miniscule forms. The little moments caught among the chaotic forces were what had to be salvaged. And should she forget that, and allow misery to consume her, she knew what routes ponies could be driven down. 
The life of a soldier, and the value it had, therefore seemed to be carelessly, wholly insignificant. Tossed into the fires to carry out a goal that may never be realized.  Those that survived the depths they were forcibly plunged down into would never again see the world the same. Not as long as the darkness of some evil forces still lingered. For though many had died, memories, regrets, and atrocities remained, clawing at the damaged minds of ponies who would have much preferred a normal life. A life free of pain, a life free of death. But the world was not so, and perhaps it never would be. 
And after witnessing those horrors, and living with a strange kind of guilt, Guardian could barely stand herself any longer. She felt attached to the darkness now, as if it had already had a hold of her, inescapable. To return home, she realized, would mean an inevitable, inescapable alienation from the society she had risked her life for, the ponies she cherished, and the things she used to love. 
Though it may have been all senseless, could she admit to herself that there was no point? That the ponies she had loved and fought to protect died for nothing? The war carried on, and each casualty was another drop of rain in an ocean of sorrow. It was wrong, and it was evil, Guardian knew this already. But she could not bring herself to say they died in vain, she would not even allow the notion to cross her mind. To die for life was of the noblest acts. And for those ponies killed in the cruelest of ways, for unjust causes, they certainly did not deserve such fates. But their memories would live on, and be carried over greener hills of tomorrow, where, with hope, the world may look a bit brighter. The memories of the past, the struggles and the obstacles all the same, were what shaped the very beings of ponies big and small. And through it all they would grow into stronger ponies, wiser and more fit to create a better world. 
Guardian could no longer look to her own side as the spotless heroes she had once dreamed them up as. She recalled Silver, and the slight of their superiors’ towards her, even in death. Nopony had asked about her. Nopony seemed to notice, and perhaps better that they did not, for they would not care anyways. But without Silver, Guardian might never have escaped that dreadful rebel town, and all these ponies in her new camp would very well be dead. She was no longer sure she could say she believed in the cause, whatever that really was. Another trick, Guardian imagined Silver would say. She missed her terribly. Her voice could no longer taunt her, her breath could no longer inform her that she was not alone. Now the world seemed to be emptier, and emptier still. There were a thousand stories like hers, after all. 
So the war would continue, and new stories would perhaps be told, as if there was nothing before it that mattered. It was a cycle, and the longer it spun, the taller the tower of corpses would climb into the sky. Guardian was indeed disillusioned, to some extent, with the acclaimed infallibility of her superiors and those that ruled over her beloved land. Guardian of all ponies was very well familiar with the evil that dwelled in some rebel ponies, she had the scars to prove it. But she knew equally as well that not every pony on the enemy side was a sadistic killer. Some were just scared, some were just angry, some were just doing what they believed they had to for the sake of protecting their loved ones. Guardian believed the majority were in the latter category. It was the royalists' villainization of the opposition that made peace implausible. 
She still loathed the Witch Queen with all her heart for the death of Vambrace, and there were other rebel ponies’ whose faces she remembered, monstrous thugs who still walked the earth without shame. But if no more ponies had to die, and if some compromise could one day be made, Guardian would find that to be a better solution in favor of more war.  
She would continue to mourn Silver, the kind of friend that only came once a lifetime. She would remain alive in Guardian’s heart for as long as Guardian still drew breath. She hoped that Silver was happy, wherever she was now, and that she could know peace, peace that she never knew in life.  
 Just as staunchly as when she had first joined the front, Guardian had hope. And then, in the distant cavalcade of dark thunderous clouds and black smoke above her, Guardian saw the first rays of sunlight burst through the sky, for the first time in months.  
Her furnace-orange eyes reflected the light of the sun, that streamed down softly around the feathery clouds. A smile soon burst onto Guardian’s face, as the sunlight illuminated the world around her. For challenges overcome and challenges ahead, Guardian was ready, her strength intact and her spirit stronger than ever. In spite of everything, hope remained. Hope that peace would one day be restored to Equestria, hope that the light of the sun would last unto tomorrow. For as long as she was alive, as long as she was breathing, there was hope. 
And the words returned to her then, calmly running along the beat of her heart, like a stream of water. And she shut her eyes and dreamt of all she held dear, and all that there was still left to gain, and she knew then that she would endure. 

 Through even the longest and darkest of nights, it will be there.