//------------------------------// // Hitting Targets // Story: Bluebird // by Hammerhead //------------------------------// Hey Silverstream, How are things going in Ponyville? I’m sure it’s busy what with the new term at school for you, Smolder, and Ocellus. Guessing the same would go for Yona at Rarity’s Boutique and Sandbar with lifeguarding. Hopefully, there will be some time to find out. My offer to meet in Canterlot is still open by the way. Sorry if I sounded weird in my last letter, I didn’t get much time to think properly. Doing combat exercises and new training regimes are awesome until your body starts to ache, and I’ve been trying to put more effort into studying because I’ve decided to go for Canterlot Palace. In short, I’m doing fine, I’ll keep on updating you and the others, even if I have to write in the middle of the night to do so. Don’t worry, it’s not just you guys who I’m getting along with, tomorrow I’m hanging out with one of my platoon buddies at the shooting range. Her name’s Pound Sterling, she does archery there and tells me she’s good at it. I’ll let you know how true that is, till next time. Gallus The shooting range was at the edge of some woodlands and looked like two giant huts built out of logs, both several metres apart with two missing walls facing each other. One hut had structured targets both big and small, and the other had the ponies with their bows and arrows. In between was the fine cut green grass field, except with distinct straight evenly spaced parallel lines drawn, going from one hut to another, representing the firing lanes for each pony. Gallus had arrived alongside Pound Sterling with a small group of pegasus and earth ponies. She had been doing archery with them for the archery club since she signed up back in the first term. They were clearly regulars, most of them walked their way up the dirt path with bows strapped to the sides of their bodies or hung off their wings. Each bow was of different colours and slightly different shapes, perhaps brought from their homes, some more expensive than others. They also had quivers strapped to their forearm, and with each step, a sound of rattling could be heard from the arrows moving around the rim of the tube. Although Pound Sterling walked nonchalantly ahead of the route she regularly made with her fellow archers, she didn’t have any bow or quiver with her until they got into the shooting hut to meet with the archery instructor. She was an earth pony, a pale green mare with a long ginger mane, her cutie mark conveniently a drawn bow with an arrow. As she ushered in the archers, she grabbed a simple brown wooden bow and a worn leather quiver with arrows, along with a pair of metal cuffs from a long rack hanging on the wall and approached the griffon and pegasus. “Welcome back Sterling, here’s your bow and arrows,” she jovially greeted before passing over the equipment. After the bow and arrow was no longer in her hoof, she noticed the blue griffon standing beside her. There was a curious pause as she figured out why he was there, Gallus appeared unfazed, having long been used to the ponies discovering his presence for the first time. She eventually shook her head and turned back to Sterling. “I see you brought a retriever with you today?” “Aye ma’am,” Pound Sterling promptly answered with a nod. “Very well,” the instructor replied, “he’s your responsibility so be sure he knows the safety procedures,” As the instructor walked past to talk with another archer, Gallus raised an eyebrow, “Retriever?” he said as he turned to Pound Sterling for clarification. “Aye, stay bahind me an’ afta ah shoot the arrows, an’ she says the range is clear, you retrieve ‘em fra the targets.” Upon explaining, Pound Sterling noticed Gallus’ questioning face shift to a frown, not expecting to be working for her. “Soz, usually it’s just m’self but can’t ‘ave ya sit ‘n watch.” The pair made their way to a lane closest to the middle, and Pound Sterling began to strap the quiver to her left forearm. As Gallus looked back towards the entrance, he noticed a load of unicorns arrive. There were as many unicorns as there were pegasus and earth ponies already stationed in the range, and yet none of them had bows or quivers on there. “Lot of unicorns here in the archery club.” Gallus casually remarked. However, Pound Sterling gave a disgruntled sigh. “Nah, they’re from horn shootin' club,” she replied begrudgingly, “we ‘afta share the range wid ‘em sometimes.” The unicorns then moved in to fill the ranges to the left of the pair, some using towels to wipe and polish their horns, ensuring they were nice and clean. As far as Gallus was concerned, the horn shooting club talked amongst themselves, not even batting an eye at the archers on the opposite side. Perhaps having two clubs shared the range made things a little tight, the club had a cadet at each lane bar one the left of Gallus and Sterling. There was also an instructor on each end of the range, along with a few more staff ponies preparing the targets. Regardless, if the unicorns weren’t going to cause issues, Gallus was hopeful that he won’t be bothered by any of them. “Oh, it’s you, retrieving arrows, are we?” He turned to the sound of a posh and regal tone and noticed a pale violet unicorn mare looking at him with a jaded glance. He knew his hopes were dashed the moment he recognised the mare was one of the ponies that often walked alongside the snooty jerk that was Coalstone. “Pruminant, right?” The mare smirked, “Oh, so you can remember,” she sardonically replied, a cheek confirmation of her name. “Here I was hoping not to get bothered during practice,” she then uttered coldly under her breath. Hearing it clearly, Gallus narrowed his eyes as he stared towards her whilst she began to wrap a cloth around her horn, polishing it whilst being careful not to ruin the tied-up bun holding her garnet mane in place. Sterling didn’t approve of the remark herself, sending a darted glare her way as well. “Well, we woz ‘ere fust, so you’re just gonna afta not botha uz then.” Upon hearing Sterling speak in her thick accent, Pruminant’s ear perked up, turned to the pegasus and tilted her head. There was something about the accent that felt oddly familiar, but she couldn’t place a hoof on it, leaving her curious as Pound Sterling was preoccupied with fitting the metal cuffs on the wrist of her forehooves. “Range clear!” the instructor bellowed, gathering the attention of all cadets on the range, as well as ordering the few staff ponies to clear the range. The horn shooting instructor gave the same call, queuing Pruminant to prepare her horn to shoot. Whatever suspicions she had would have to wait. “Fire on my mark! Begin!” As soon as the instructor made her call, a barrage of periodical arrows and bright beams fired from one end of the range to the other, hitting the wood and straw structures covered by large tarp sheets, leaving holes within the circles drawn on them. The head of each unicorn visibly jolted back as a flash of light emerged from the tip of their horns as a coloured laser would blast out of their horn. As colourful as it was to see, it was also loud, the sound of over a dozen tiny cannons blasting off on one side of the range. It was incredible to see how focused the other cadets were, unfazed by the whistles and puffs beside them. To keep his mind off the noise, Gallus focused on Pound Sterling and took note of how she held and drew her bow. Considering the lack of talons to grip onto the handle and string, Gallus had wondered from the beginning how ponies handled such weapons, and he found the answer in those metal cuffs attached to Sterling’s wrists. The cuff on her left had round spring clamps that hooked onto the handle, securing the bow perpendicular to her forearm, whilst the cuff on her right had two hooks that extended out beyond her hoof that fastened onto the strings. After pulling out an arrow from the quiver with her teeth and placing it between the string and the rest of the handle, she pulled the string back with her right hoof. After taking a long and calm breath, she simply twisted her hoof and the hooks released, straightening the string in such a rapid motion that it propelled the arrow right out of the bow, zipping across the range until it reached the target, impaling the straw a third of the way in. Based on their best guess, the location of the arrow was well within the ten rings that encompassed the target and was right of the two most central rings, an eight-point shot. The unicorns eventually stopped firing and retrieved their towels, their horns needing to cool down after firing caused the tips to glow with immense heat. It gave Pruminant time to think again about the way Pound Sterling talked to her. Although the pegasus had drawn another arrow ready to fire, and she had a nagging urge not to be rude, Pruminant had the urge to confront her. “Okay miss pegasus, I must ask,” she conceded. “You wouldn’t happen to be from Trottingh’m, would you?” It wasn’t a good time to ask Sterling questions, but she tried. “Aye…” she answered with a groan layered on top as she was in the middle of using her strength for holding the ever-tightening string as far out as it could. Suddenly, Pruminant grew wide, and she started to smile. “Oh my Celestia, so am I!” she beamed with elation, as Sterling twisted her hoof to release the arrow and hit the target for another eight points, this time left of centre. No longer under the strain of her bow, Sterling turned back to Pruminant with a raised eyebrow. As confused as she was, Pruminant continued with an air of relief. “Here I am, three years as the only Trottish pony at Canterlot University, and so far, four months thinking I was the only Trottish pony here at the Academy as well.” Gallus furrowed his brow. It might have been his lack of understanding of the Trottingham area, but he couldn’t tell if Pruminant was telling the truth, at least not from her own accent. Sure, she had a funny way of saying Canterlot, as if there was an R after the first A, and she missed the A in Trottingham like Pound Sterling does, but Sterling also missed a lot of other letters when she spoke with her accent. He glanced over to Sterling and caught her giving a half-smile before she returned to drawing another bow, perhaps Trottingham more dialects than he was aware of. “You must think that’s silly unless you haven’t seen any other ponies from Trottingh’m yourself?” Pruminant continued after feeling sheepish over her concerns of being left out. “Uh… no, ah haven’t,” Sterling answered with another grunt, before releasing another arrow. This time it was slightly above centre, slightly further away, earning seven points. Pruminant sighed, “I do miss West Bridleford,” she remarked, beginning to reminisce. “Growing up I used to go to the market square to browse through all the shops or enjoy the theatre. Not to mention the grand park or the river, though, I’m sure you know the scenic spots as well as I do.” Pound Sterling drew another arrow and nodded. “Ah know th’ Shetland Forest.” She released the arrow, and this time it drove right through the middle, a bullseye. “Yes!” Pruminant elated with a gasp, “Shetland Forest! That’s my favourite place!” Pound Sterling started to beam, “So’s mine, ah used to camp there often with mah folks.” Being given a feeling of determination, she grabbed her last arrow and pulled the string back as far as it would go, she gave a hardened smirk as she prepared to fire. “My little brother and I used to go hiking there all the time when we were little, so perhaps we passed each other in the past?” Pruminant blissfully remarked as Sterling released the arrow. It was another bullseye. “Range clear!” the instructor called out, leading to a brief silence. “Lower your bows, retrieve your arrows!” “Must say, you’re a pretty good shot.” Pruminant complimented the archer, observing the arrows stuck within the target, all close to the middle. Pound Sterling took it with pride. “Thanks, yur not bad yuself.” She returned, observing the burn mark on the target next to her, most burn marks also being close to the centre. “Must be a Trottingh’m thing then, we always hit our targets.” As the two giggled at Pruminant’s flattering quip, Gallus took his turn as a retriever to get Sterling’s arrows, flying over to the hut with the targets. It was a lot more frustrating of a task than Gallus realised, as he groaned when he looked back to see Sterling happily talking and laughing along with Pruminant. He insisted to himself that part of the frustration was retrieving the arrow, Sterling’s last arrow had dug in more than half the way deep, so no matter how much he pulled and twisted, no matter if he used both his arms and legs to pull it out, it wouldn’t budge. However, there was something that bothered him about how nice Pruminant was being, knowing that one of her friends was a pompous bully to him and Scythe. It made him suspicious, could it be that she’s being nice because Coalstone isn’t encouraging her to be mean to Sterling, or was she being friendly because they had something in common. Either was possible or would make his involvement a lot more awkward. On the other claw though, if Sterling and Pruminant are on good terms, perhaps Pruminant could then see things differently with him. After finally pulling out all of Sterling’s arrows, he flew back over and placed them back in her quiver. He decided to hang back and listen in to their conversation, at this rate he’d be sure to have one more unicorn he could tolerate being around. “Range clear! Fire on my mark! Begin!” The unicorns began to fire again, as the pegasus and earth ponies began drawing their bows and firing. Unlike the other unicorns, Pruminant held off on firing, too engaged with her current conversation. “Okay, so enough about me. Judging by your accent, I’m guessing you’re northern Trottingh’m?” she asked curiously, rubbing her chin. Pound Sterling released her arrow, and it landed just below the centre circle with a nine-point shot. She subtly shrugs her shoulders at the slight miss of a third bullseye and nodded. “Aye, Northeast.” Pruminant continued to rub her chin more in hard thought. “Northeast, hmm… Let me guess if I can narrow it down.” She readies her horn and began to fire between each of her guesses. One-shot, “Pacerborough?” no response. Another shot, “Shadowfax?” no response. The third shot, “Oooh is it Breton Spa?” she asked with an eager giddiness. “I’ve heard the bathhouse there is divine!” Pound Sterling decided to cut to the chase with an answer. “Nah, ah’m fra Tackyford.” She then started to draw her next bow. Suddenly, Pruminant stopped firing, and her smile quickly faded. “Oh,” her voice lowered with disappointment. “That would explain the accent…” Sterling hesitated slightly in response as she released her arrow, it landed much lower than before, giving six points. “Wot’s ‘a supposed ta mean?” she questioned Pruminant, her voice deepened slightly in frustration. Pruminant started to get cautious, “Well… I recall Tackyford being a… how should I put this… rough area of Trottingh’m?” she explained nervously with a shaky grin. “It’s not an area my parents would let me go through, and even if I did, I was told there isn’t anything worth seeing.” Starting to frown again, taking offence at the claim. “Tackyford ‘as gran’ stuff if you’re lookin’ ‘ard enuff” she responded in disagreement and drew another arrow. “Gran’ bars, gran’ markets, there’s a girt arcade n’ bowlin’ alley.” She released the arrow, smirked as it landed in the eight-point ring. “Wouldn’t say it’s too rough, a’ve there all my life an’ took care of miself, same wi’ mah folks, and mah gran’folks back when it woz a small minin’ village.” “Ah yes,” Pruminant began to recall and nod, “my family owned the mines there.” As another arrow was drawn, Pound Sterling sighed. “Sure, ah want it to be better, it ain’t fancy, but ah‘ve friends ‘n family, we work ‘ard, an’ ‘elp each otha. it’s ‘ome, wouldn’t live anywhere else.” “Fair enough, it’s your choice to live in a place like that.” Sterling’s hooves suddenly slipped, releasing the arrow unexpectedly, landing on the right edge of the target. It was hard to tell if it was two points or one, but to Pound Sterling, she was mad at something else. “Whatya mean ‘my choice’?” she snapped at Pruminant, darting a glare in her direction. “I’m just saying, if you wanted to live somewhere or do something better, you could just move instead of putting up with living in a place you know is not safe or clean.” Pruminant tried to rationalise as she threw up her hooves in defence. “Try thinking that when ya folks barely earn enuff for a roof o’er ya head, when a yooth has to work ta ‘elp pay tha bills.” Sterling snapped back. “They could get a better job.” “If thee can fin’ anotha job.” “Well, they could learn a new profession, that’s what Trottingham University is good for.” “Yeah, if they could pay for it, since they can’t get a scholarship as I did.” “Well, I didn’t say it was easy, but ponies should work to make their lives better, cut out things they don’t need, save for a rainy day, hmm?” “Well, how ‘bout you elites in West Bridleford pay us better so we could save for a rainy day, hmm?” Gallus was starting to see the conversation going downhill faster than gravity could control, each time Pruminant gave an excuse in her calm and blissful manner, Pound Sterling was snapping back sharper and louder. He hoped he could step in to calm things down, but when one pony had a glowing horn ready to fire and another had a bow and arrow ready to fire, Sterling continued. “Mah gran’folks did most of the work, yet most of the dosh stayed with th’ owners who barely did anything.” Pruminant, having kept her cool for most of the argument, started to narrow her eyes at the new accusation thrown her way. “I’ll have you know, my great-grandparents not only paid to maintain the mines yours worked on, but also negotiate the best price of the minerals to help keep the mines running, your grandparents employed, and build up Trottingham into the fine city that it is.” She fired back, jabbing the air with her hoof as she made each point. “It’s because of them that there is a university and a scholarship that you’re so grateful for, I hardly think you should be judging them for making the right choices in life.” “Well, woz it th’ right choice ta close th’ mines?” Sterling countered with her own facts. “Leave mah gran'folks outta work, leave Tackyford to fend for itself while ya enjoyed spendin’ ya fortunes on ya grand parks ‘n shops ‘n theatres, then say it’s our choice to live in a dump?” “That’s not what I…!”  Gallus finally decided it was time to step in, he flew in between them. “Ponies, please!” he stated calmly as he held his arms outward. Acting as a barrier between them, keeping them far apart, it finally led to some silence whilst the other cadets were preoccupied with firing at their targets. With both a defiant pegasus and a defensive griffon in her sights, Pruminant took a deep breath. “Look, we are here at the Royal Guard Academy, everything here is paid for by the E.U.P. Guard” she carried on, returning to her calm demeanour. “There is nothing stopping you from experiencing the high life, you could make friends with the wealthy and nobility, enjoy sports like polo or beagling, try out some fine dining, work towards getting into one of the noble regiments.” “Nevertheless, I’ve never seen you before in the recreational rooms where the other upper-class ponies hang out, and your friends are…” she gave a jaded glance to Gallus, before setting her eyes back at Sterling “let’s say interesting.” Gallus levelled his eyebrows, even the nicest thing she can say about him felt insulting. “I’m also guessing you plan to leave the Academy as an officer in a simple infantry regiment?” “Ta dragoons…” Sterling answered through her teeth. Pruminant returned a smug grin and raised her nose. “Ah, the Trottingh’m Dragoons, I rest my case.” Although calmed herself, Sterling wasn’t feeling any better than before Gallus intervened. “Well, there’s nothin’ stopping ya from experiencin’ a life different from yours” she rebuked, countering Pruminant’s point onto her. “Maybe try doin’ archery or cross countreh, eat common food. Guess ah’m the on’y workin-class pegasus you’ve spoken ta, and you’re grit at gettin’ on mah nerves. Shootin’ from ya horn is only good if ya wanna be in tha Royal Lasers or sumthin’.” Pruminant continued to be smug, “Oh please, I’m here training for something much better,” she remarked in a snobbish tone, her hoof pressed against her chest and her nose stuck up in the air, Gallus feeling an unpleasant air of familiarity emanating from her. “My top choice is the Canterlot Palace Royal Guards, to be an officer of the best unicorn projectile combatants in the whole military, they call themselves the Blasters. My advantages already give me a good chance of getting in, at least better than your bird friend over there.” She then set her sights on Gallus, staring at him condescendingly with a smirk. “Tell me, what good would a griffon provide to Equestria’s military, let alone the royal palace, over a pony born and bred here? Do you even sing the national anthem every morning like the other cadets?” While he might have given her a slight chance earlier, Gallus had reached his own limit with her. Deep down, he knew he didn’t, but doesn’t see what that has to do with him being at Canterlot Palace, and what gives her the right with her attitude to ask what good a griffon could do when she couldn’t show some respect? He was ready to give her a piece of his mind, “‘e don’t ‘ave ta answer to ya” sharply said Sterling, cutting Gallus off before drawing a new arrow to point straight at the target. “’e’s doin wha’ ‘e wants and e’s proud of it, so am ah. ‘e can do much more for Equestria an’ tha Griffons by wurkin’ for an ally than somepony joinin’ for themselves.” As Sterling gave her the cold shoulder, Pruminant gave one last look at Gallus, seeing him fold his arms and stare daggers at her, before raising her nose at the two of them. “Hmph. Well, I’m sure you tell yourself that to feel better,” she snidely remarked, before turning back to the firing range. Besides, she had a few more shots left to do. She readied her horn, letting it glow a bright purple as it charged up. She set her sights on the target, and blast, a laser shoots out. Just one second later however, a bright purple explosion emits right in front of her, particles scattering in all directions like a firework triggering within metres from her. “Halt! Misfire on the range!” the instructor yelled, causing all the cadets to stop, archers lowered their bows and unicorns held their fire as they watched the purple explosion glow and slowly dissipate. When the particles all but disappeared, Pruminant could see on the ground was the remains of an arrow scattered on the grass. That one single arrow had managed to catch Pruminant’s blast and caused it to scatter in a thousand directions, being obliterated in the process, in a shot that an expert could calculate the odds of occurring as one in thousands. It didn’t take long to guess who it was, Pruminant and every other pony looked in surprise as Pound Sterling still had her bow held up, pointed deliberately to the left side of the range, in the direction of the explosion. After the pegasus lowered her bow, she turned to Pruminant with one final smirk. “Ya reet about one thin’” she commented before her smirk faded and she glowered, “Trottin’h’m ponies always hit their target.” She then threw her bow, arrows, and cuffs to the ground and stormed out of the lane and away from the shooting range. As the room fell to an uncomfortable silence, Gallus instinctively left to follow her. Fortunately for Gallus, Pound Sterling wasn’t far away, and despite being in mid-flight was not too far from the ground. That didn’t change that Gallus had to pick up the pace to catch up with her, and even then, he needed to overtake her in order to stop her from moving any further. Her emotion was hard to decipher, as she kept her head pointing down to the ground, with her mane casting a shadow over her eyes. It wasn’t hard for Gallus to guess it wasn’t good, so he was compelled to remain cautious. “Hey… Sterling… you alright? That was… a lot…” he said slowly, getting no response as Sterling kept her head low. He needed to be more supportive. “You know, you don’t have to speak for me, but you shouldn’t let Pruminant get to you.” “Du know wha’ it’s like, Bluebird?” Sterling asked in a gravelled voice, gritting her teeth as she held back her anger as a single tear streamed down her muzzle. “Bein’ told ya life waz onny yur fault by ‘em who woz better off than ya?” That was unfortunately a no brainer for Gallus, think of how many griffons wonder where his parents are, or why he stayed with Grandpa Gruff for so long like he didn’t have any other options aside. It’s not like Griffonstone had an orphanage, or any other griffon to take care of him, it was either putting up with the old-timer or putting up with the streets and whatever scraps it had. He shook his head violently, trying to put the memories away for the moment. “Yeah, I do…” he eventually answered. “Is it true ya want ta be in th’ Palace Guards?” This question felt harder for Gallus to answer. He had his reasons, but he had to consider that being an officer for the Canterlot Palace Guards meant inevitably working with Coalstone, and ponies like him. He nodded slowly. “It’s true.” He didn’t want Sterling to think he’ll end up like them, but he didn’t want to lie either. There was a pause before Sterling made a response. “Well, when you get in, don’t forget where you came from,” she advised him. Gallus couldn’t help but smirk, “I don’t think I can, just look at me” he joked, gesturing to his entire griffon body. Pound Sterling chuckled for the first time all day, “Ah’m feelin’ better now” she said as she raised her head, smiling confidently. “Wanna try firin’ a bow ‘n arrow?” “Sure,” Gallus answered, returning a smile. To avoid another confrontation, the instructor has all the archers move down lanes upon Gallus and Pound Sterling’s return, ensuring they are far apart from the unicorns. Although still allowed to continue using a bow and arrows for the day, Sterling kept her word and gave Gallus a try at firing instead. Thanks to his talons, he didn’t need any cuffs to help him handle and draw the arrow back, but Sterling was there to keep him steady. Gallus focused his eyes on the target in front of him, his arm holding the string as tight as he could. After one deep breath, he let go, allowing the arrow to fly off and away. After it travels across the entire range, the arrow stops after piercing the target. Bullseye.