//------------------------------// // A Good Fight (or a series of them, culminating in an epic battle and then dinner around an open fire) // Story: Valentine's Day // by Admiral Biscuit //------------------------------// Valentine's Day Admiral Biscuit Buttercup tentatively placed a hoof on the rotten log, keeping his eyes down to make sure that his footing was good. He had broader hooves than KitKat, which would make the log more challenging. Then he heard her shout, and looked up just in time to see her get molepiled by a multitude of moleponies (they may be beneath you, but nothing’s beneath them), and any consideration of footing vanished in the urgency of the moment. She’d carefully picked her way across the log, testing with each step to make sure that her hoof was secure. He crossed at a full gallop, ignoring the splintering cracking sounds from the log under him. It didn’t matter; he could run the last few ponylengths in the air if he had to. Buttercup entered the fray with a flying leap, forehooves already targeted. He heard bones splinter as he landed, and twisted to kick out at another, sending it flying. He ducked down as KitKat’s tabarzin whistled by his head—she was no shrinking violet; she might have gotten ambushed and might be outnumbered, but she wasn’t going to go down without a fight. This was what he loved, being in the thick of it. Just doing without having to think. There had been ten moleponies alive when he landed, and now there were only seven. Six—one staggered off, grievously wounded. He knocked a pair of heads together, taking down another pair, and with only four left standing, the duo was able to make short work of the quartet. After making sure that they were all dead, KitKat and Buttercup washed their weapons (her tabarzin and his hooves) in the stream, and then they washed themselves. So much for walking across the log and staying dry. “Do they count?” KitKat asked. “I dunno, they’d have had to come through the portal and then dug tunnels.”  “Coulda come through a while ago, and then dug their tunnels.” Buttercup nodded. “Couldn’t cross the stream, wanted to set up camp next to it. Lotsa things probably cross on the log.” “Not anymore.” The log had broken when Buttercup had jumped off it—that last application of force had been too much for it. One half was still on the bank, its splintered end trailing in the water . . . and next spring, when the snow melted and the water levels came up, it’d be dragged in and make its way downstream, only to jam up somewhere else. That was the circle of life; it might have started out as an acorn that a squirrel buried, and then been the habitat of squirrels and birds, and then it was a home for grubs and stuff, a food source for woodpeckers. Then it had fallen over and been a bridge, and now it was a nice sunning spot for turtles, or maybe a launch ramp for otters. They continued their trek southwest. A few more random encounters with monsters didn’t account for much. Well, except that on the way back they could follow the trail of corpses, which was almost as good as breadcrumbs. Scratch that, it was better. Birds might eat the breadcrumbs, but while some of the corpses they left behind were almost surely being pecked at by scavenger birds right now, there was no chance that they’d eat all of it before they’d found the portal and dealt with it. A strange stillness had overcome the forest, an unnatural quiet. There was still the rustling of leaves, the occasional snap of a stick as the two of them walked, but all the normal animals were silent, or gone.  Understandable; most forest dwellers wouldn’t be interested in staying around the source of all the monsters. Most. The two of them paused as an opossum snuffled across the path, paying them no mind as it went on its way. The forest was nearly silent, and then there was a strange magical tinkle and a distant flash, as imagined as seen. To KitKat, it wasn’t worthy of note; it had passed just below her consciousness. To Buttercup, it might as well have been a flashing neon sign. He stood stock still, ears locked on to the distant noise, the fur on his back standing straight up. KitKat might have been oblivious to the noise of a rogue portal vomiting out another monster, but Buttercup’s sudden statue stop was unmissable. A lesser pony might have asked him if he was okay, or if she’d noticed his ear lock, asked him what he heard. She did not; he was still listening and he’d tell her in time. She kept her ears swiveling, just in case something more immediate was sneaking up on them. It wasn’t time to draw her axe, not yet. “We’re close,” he said, lowering his head and returning his ears to a neutral position. I felt it, I heard it. Be ready.” KitKat was ready and willing. KitKat was eager. It had been a while since she’d been more than a glorified foalsitter to some employer—it felt like years. (And then there was the Wizard, but she tried not to remember those times.) Walking through the woods was nice. Visiting a pub was nice. Being in battle was fantastic, and this mission had delivered. Especially today; everything had been really well paced, just enough time between encounters to cool down and relax a little, and then they were in it again. A few easy scrums, and a few more challenging. Her shoulder throbbed from where a molepony had bitten down, and she was sore from using her tabarzin—the good kind of sore. She shivered as a chill wind blew through the forest, an out-of-place arctic breeze, bringing memories of crisp fall days, or a winter overstaying its welcome. “It’s big.” “I’ll go first, so it doesn’t get you.” Buttercup scoffed. Even to a pony who didn’t know much about portals, it was obvious that this was where the portal was. Or maybe not; after all, they were on a mission to find (and close) a portal in a ‘haunted’ forest, so it was natural to assume that anything unnatural was a portal. Well, except for the molepones and lobstrosity and eldritch horrors and so on—KitKat was biased to assume that anything that wasn't a creature and didn’t belong in a forest might be a portal, or near a portal. If portals could vomit out any number of monsters, they could also potentially eject a 1969 Chevrolet C-10 pickup. The giant circle of snow didn’t belong, nor did the chill wind emanating from it. That was, to KitKat’s mind, a pretty good clue that they’d found the portal. An even bigger clue was the giant skeleton guarding it. Or perhaps he’d just emerged from it. Or she; gendering skeletons was beyond KitKat’s ken. A wiser mare might have turned tail and galloped off. KitKat pulled her tabarzin out of its sheath and charged into battle. To say that the battle was epic would be an understatement. Had there been witnesses to the battle, it would have rated at least one ballad. The one advantage that the undead had was that they were already dead. While both KitKat and Buttercup knew plenty of ways to turn something living into something dead, those methods were far less effective against something that was already dead, and could not be hindered by becoming deader. A wizard (NOT The Wizard) could have cast a spell to explode it, or a cleric could have banished it, but neither KitKat nor Buttercup had much in the ways of wizardy, nor were they skilled in clerical work, so they did what they did best, waded in and started whittling the skeleton down to a manageable size. KitKat was light on her hooves and maneuverable, something that worked to her advantage as she juked a strike from an axe which was the grandsire of her tabarzin. Buttercup was not light on his hooves, and he took the flat of the axe directly to his side, launching him off his hooves and through a tree. He shook the stars out of his vision and charged back in—Buttercup was a very durable stallion.  Each of them chipped off bones as they could, both knowing full well that there wouldn’t be a coup de grâce on a skeleton. KitKat darted in and ducked back out, working her tabarzin, while Buttercup bucked and bit, shattering its bones with his heavy steel horseshoes. The battle lasted into the evening, and they finished the fight as the daylight faded into darkness, the melee only illuminated by the faint flickering light of the portal. And then it was done; the skeleton’s bones were scattered all around, each of them twitching as it tried to reform itself into its full form. Given time, it would. They both knew this. Fortunately, a solution was at hoof. They tossed the bones, one-by-one, back into the portal. Everything except the skull, they kept that behind. Once that was done, Buttercup worked his magic on the portal itself. He tore it out of the ground and folded it over on itself, sweat pouring from his brow as he worked. Finally, it was crumpled down into something that could be held in one’s hoof, certainly compact enough that nothing could get through except for wasps and spiders. Compact enough that it fit into a magical jar which Buttercup carried in his saddlebags for this very purpose. Some portals could be crumpled up and tossed back into themselves, but this wasn’t that kind. This one needed a different kind of disposal, and they’d deal with that later. For now, it had been found and neutralized and all that was left for them was to walk back out of the forest—now assuredly not haunted—and collect the second half of their pay (both of them were experienced enough adventurers to demand half pay up front). That was a problem for tomorrow. As the stars spread overhead in the dawning dark, KitKat and Buttercup set up camp in the churned-up snow. He pitched the tent, and she started the fire, piling on plenty of wood. They cooked their dinner first, and both ate in silence. Taking turns at the one bowl that they had—they both preferred to pack light. Once they were finished they looked up at the stars for a while, or the sparks drifting up from the fire, and then KitKat grabbed the skull and tossed it in the fire. It glowed like molten steel and then the flames changed color, bathing them in harsh electric blue light. And then it was gone, and the two ponies watched the fire burn low and then crawled into the tent, bundling themselves under their blankets. It was the best Hearts and Hooves day that KitKat had ever had.