Wrangel's POV
Wrangel slowly opened his eyes and looked around, noting that the sun was going down over the mountains around him. "This isn't my house," He said aloud, as he began to notice that this didn't even look like anywhere he had even been before. "It's so...dark? And-" He stopped as he looked down and saw two off-white hooves. "Where are my hands!?" He yelled in shock as he tried to stand up, only to fall on his back and see two more. I am...a horse? Or a pony- Then, as he tried to stand again, he spotted a feathered wing the same colour of his coat on his side. Or a...Pegasus? As he focused more on the wing, he realized he could move it like an extra arm. "This feels...strangely natural," He said as he continued to move it and its twin on the other side. "Maybe I can-" He stopped as he heard what sounded like hoofbeats beside him. And he turned to see a yellow pegasus with a white and black mane (and beard?) wearing what appeared to be an old Imperial Russian General's uniform. What am I looking at, the old Tsarist flag? However, even from that distance, he could tell he was about a head taller. Well, at least that stayed the same.
"Кто ты?" (Who are you) Asked the yellow pony in Russian with expression.
Pyotr quickly shook off his stupor and cleared his throat to recompose himself. "I am Pyotr Nikolayevich Wrangel," He stated with authority. "Now, who are you?"
The other pony stood up straight and gestured to himself with a hoof. "I am Major-General Sergei Ivanovich Mosin," He said in a similar tone as Pyotr's jaw went slack.
But once again, he quickly recomposed himself. "Wait, as in, the inventor of the Mosin Nagant Rifle?" He asked in a questioning tone.
Mosin puffed up his chest and tried to stand on his hind hooves. "The one and on-ly!" He said as he lost his balance and fell forward. Wait...WHAT!?
Wrangel then pointed at Mosin as his expression became fearful. "B-But you died. In 1902 you died," He stated as he recoiled from him. Wait, maybe I'm in heaven, but...how did I die? He paused as he turned his thoughts to what he was doing before... And his eyes widened as he remembered the burning in his chest after he had drunk his wine. I must have been poisoned! "But that means... Where and what are we?"
Mosin had gotten off the ground and dusted off his uniform. "I have no idea," He said with a shrug as he looked around. "Although, wherever we are, it's beautiful,"
Wrangel then took a deep breath, and he found the air to be the cleanest- Wait, what's that? He then sniffed again and found the smell to be familiar. "Is that smoke?" He asked as he turned his head and saw smoke rising in the distance. "What is-" He then stopped as he heard more hoofsteps, and he turned to see two more pegasi. The first had a red coat, white mane (and a small mustache) with a visor cap covering most of it. While wearing small, round glasses and a general's uniform... That had the tri-colour chevron of the volunteer army on its left sleeve, along with the Order of St. George, a belt, and sabre. Wait, is that...Drozdovsky? The second had a pure, white coat, a black mane (a large mustache and a chin beard) with a similar cap, no chevron, the same medal, a belt, a sabre, and two white dress lanyards. And Markov? How come I'm the only one without a uniform!? Maybe it's because I died when I was no longer a soldier? "General Markov? General Drozdovsky?" He asked as their eyes widened, and Mosin looked at him with curiosity.
"General Wrangel!?" They both shouted as they shook away their initial shock and came closer.
"Wait, you're all Generals too!?" Asked Mosin as they all turned to look at him.
Wrangel frowned solemnly in response. "Well, I was..." He said as Markov and Drozdovsky took off their caps and lowered their heads somberly in understanding.
Mosin, on the other hand, had his brow cocked in confusion as he turned to Wrangel. "What do you mean you were? Were you sacked?"
Drozdovsky then placed the cap back on before turning to Mosin. "And, you are?"
Mosin straightened himself, turned, and cleared his throat. "I am Major-General Sergei Ivanovich Mosin. And who are you two?" He asked as Drozdovsky and Markov seemed puzzled before Drozdovsky sighed, and Markov shook his head.
Drozdovsky then recomposed himself. "I am Major-General Mikhail Gordeevich Drozdovsky. And it is a pleasure to meet you," He said as he extended a hoof, which Mosin shook.
After which, he stepped aside and allowed Markov to extended his own hoof. "And I am Lieutenant-General Sergey Leonidovich Markov," He said as Mosin shook it before turning back to Wrangel.
"Now, will you answer my question?" He asked him with a cocked brow.
Wrangel then sighed. "I knew I would have to tell you at some point... But, the Russian Empire is no more," He said solemnly as Mosin's eyes widened in shock.
"W-What do you mean, how is that possible!?" He shouted at him as he began to sob. Then, suddenly, he jumped at Wrangel and pinned him. "How could this happen!?" He shouted as Markov and Drozdovsky pryed him off.
Wrangel then stood back up and dusted himself off as Mosin glared at him with tear-filled eyes. "The Socialists overthrew and murdered the Tsar and started a civil war against his supporters," He stated as he stepped closer to Mosin, who now bore a look of solemn understanding. "And we were among said supporters," After he was finished, Mosin suddenly broke free and rushed at Wrangel... Only to embrace him.
"I-I am sorry, Pyotr Nikolayevich, I-I-" He continued to sob as Wrangel tried to comfort him. I could only imagine if I was in his position...
Wrangel then broke the embrace and looked Mosin in the eye. "I know this is hard to take. But we need to mo-"
"Ugh, curse these stupid hooves!" They heard a feminine voice bellow out. And they turned to see a navy-blue pony with an indigo mane stumble out of a bush to their left. But, what stuck out to them, was that the pony's coat and eyes shimmered like crystal. Well, at least I'm not the only one now. "And what are you staring at?" She asked in a deadpan tone as she turned to them with a cocked brow.
Wrangel cleared his throat and turned his body to her, letting go of Mosin in the process. "I am Pyotr Nikolayevich Wrangel," He began as he pointed to the others, introducing them one by one. "Now, who might you be?"
She then stood at attention. "I am Maria Leontievna Bochkareva," She stated as Wrangel put a hoof to his chin. I believe her name sounds familiar... Wait, I remember!
Wrangel turned back to her. "Wait, aren't you the woman who partitioned the Tsar to join the army?" He asked to which she nodded.
Mosin, upon hearing this cocked his brow at her. "You...joined the army?" He asked as he began laughing. "No wonder the Empire fell if it had to be defended by a woman!" However, none of the others seemed amused.
Markov stepped forward and put a hoof on her withers, much to her annoyance. "Well, from what I heard from my friend, General Kornilov, Miss Bochkareva was not only a loyal supporter of the Tsar. But, she is most likely braver than some of the men formerly under my command," He stated, which seemed to silence Mosin, and Bochkareva to look at him in surprise. "And, in 1917, when most of the soldiers at the front had lost their fighting spirit. She led a few hundred women in an attack on the enemy lines and broke through, losing a third or half of the battalion. Which was known as The 1st Women's Battalion of Death," Once he had finished, both Bochkareva's and Mosin's jaws hung slack. "What?"
Mosin was the first to regain his composure. "Well now, that does sound impressive," He said as Bochkareva shook her head before turning to Markov.
"Now look, I never said I sup-" Markov then put his hoof over her muzzle before she could finish. And then began laughing awkwardly as Wrangel and Mosin of them looked on in confusion. Drozdovsky, however, seemed to understand.
Markov's POV
"I am sorry, but I would like to have a word with Miss Bochkareva," He said as the others still looked confused. "Alone," The others then nodded as she glanced up at him in anger. And he took her aside until they were out of earshot. "What was that?" He asked as he let go of her.
"Why did you lie? I never said I supported the Tsar," She said as she sat on her flank, crossed her forelegs, and glared at him.
He then sighed before looking back at her. "I had to,"
"And why is that?" She asked as she cocked a brow.
He then got closer to her and gestured to the others. "Because not a moment before you had shown yourself. Mosin had Wrangel pinned to the ground once he told him that the Empire had fallen," He explained as her eyes widened in shock before gesturing to himself. "And, while I may have known others that initially supported the revolution. I, Drozdovsky, Wrangel, and Mosin are Monarchists. So please, don't say such things in front of the others?" He looked at her with pleading eyes. I know that she's a peasant, but I hope that she can at least keep her mouth shut! After all, we must stick together!
She then mumbled before sighing. "Fine, I'll try," She grumbled as she stood back up.
Markov shook his head. "I will accept that. Alright, now let's get back to the others," He said as they began walking back towards them.
Drozdovsky's POV
Once they were all back together, Wrangel had suggested they head northeast, as he had seen smoke earlier, and the rest of the group agreed. And, as they crested a hill, a familiar sight greeted them... A brunt-out village with empty fields. Well, this is certainly not heaven. Drozdovsky thought to himself, as he and Markov shared looks of worry with each other, before nodding and galloping ahead of the group. Casing the others to give chase. As he ran, he scanned the area for any signs of life...and found his eyes lying on an amethyst-coated pony with long emerald green and blue mane. And, as soon as he saw it lying there, he decided it was a good idea to approach it slowly, allowing the others to catch up with them. "What do you think your-" Started Wrangel before stopping as Drozdovsky and Markov gestured towards the pony. And he and the others walked until they were all standing around the pony.
Then, he realized that she (he presumed it was a she, as it appeared curvier, smaller in stature, and had a longer mane and tail than he and the other...stallions?) Instead of resting as he thought before, she was unconscious. "Well, who's going to wake her up?" Asked Markov as the others put a hoof to their chins.
"Maybe I should do it?" Asked Bochkareva as she picked up a broken stem, but the others all gave her a glare that said: Don't you dare! "Fine," She said as she dropped it, sat on her flank, and crossed her forelegs while turning away. Drozdovsky then turned back to the pony. And, began to find her to be one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. Maybe...
"I'll do it," Drozdovsky said as he stepped forward, and, before any of the others could react, he shook her awake. "Are you alright?" He asked as she stood up in a daze. But, as soon as she opened her eyes, she began to panic.
"E-E-EQUESTRIANS!"