A red haze blinded Sunlight’s vision as he felt himself fall back into an unrecognizable oblivion. Sunlight could feel an enormous pressure collect in his lungs as a shroud of darkness slowly consumed him. With a thud, his back fell flatly against an obscure surface. A pure frost fell over Sunlight’s body as the pressure from his lungs lifted; his throat throbbed with a numbing parchness. He forced his eyes open, the haze flead from his vision, and was welcomed to a shimmering pool of water with yellow and red gouges intertwined with one another, fastening and branching themselves to the pool’s center. Within the pool’s center, stood the Equestrian flag, tattered and burnt at the ends, rippling the water with its massive spike protruding outwards. The entirety of the flag had set ablaze and sank to the pool’s empty void as the veins of colors followed.
With some effort, and some tension in his throat, he cracked his lips open to speak out to this pool -- for some unknown reason. The pool slowly emptied itself, flooding the center as soon as the first hum of a word was vocalized in his throat. Then a burning sensation shot through his spine, almost like a nail hammered itself to his side. With each strenuous movement he made to cradle the burn only drove his body into an intense, torpid plague. The darkness began engrossing Sunlight’s body further into its compressed core. His head was all that laid above the tarry substance. Hopelessness -- hopelessness is all that ran through his mind, like a winding cog restarting itself with no end. He ceased his struggle against the undistinguished force sucking him in and allowed himself to be consumed by the darkness. His heart pound as sweat formed on his brow; tears made themselves known by rolling down his cheeks as his very soul was enclosed, breathing was next to impossible as the force drove him further in its belly.
Scrapes and screeches rang in his ears, nagging him to waken from his sleep. He opened his eyes to a pillow drenched in sweat and tears. To his right laid Roadway -- faced down on his pillow with his flank in the air -- snoring like a beast under his covers. The barracks flustered with clanks and screaming, bells and buzzers; the sound of soldiers digging into their hooflockers and pulling out their valuables to stuff into their already congested saddlebags. Sunlight quivered pathetically under his disheveled bed covers. He tucked his hooves under his moist pillow and weeped.
“I want to go home,” he moaned softly to himself. “I’m sick of this place. I just want to wake up in my old room.”
Concern and doubt brewed violently in his mind, the thought of death was too great, his stomach turned, his world crumbled before him; when suddenly, a tremendous force flew him in the air: mattress, bed covers, and pillow followed. Sunlight landed face first into the stone mason floor. The bone in his muzzle cracked, blood flowed endlessly from his nostril as he tried to stop the flood with both of his hooves.
Sir Strong appeared from behind Sunlight’s bed and yelled with his exasperated voice, “Get the hell up soldier and get your flank to the armory!” white vapor escaped from the holes on his helm; his glacial carpet eyes, bore daggers into Sunlight’s own.
Sir Strong approached Roadway’s bed with the same malevolent swagger he naturally carried. Sir Strong placed his iron wing under Roadway’s bed and with one powerful jerk, flung Roadway and his bed. Roadway scrambled off the floor in a shock. Roadway picked himself up and stood in attention with a salute, his bed sheets draped over his face. Sir Strong tore the sheet from his face and met his medal muzzle with Roadway’s own, eyes locked.
“Stay the hell up and get your flank to the armory!” Sir Strong yelled, making Roadways’s mind pulsate annoyingly.
Sir Strong left the two as they were. Roadway watched circumspectly at Sir Strong until he left. Roadway fell to the floor and went right back to sleep. The blood dripped from Sunlight’s muzzle as he did his best to nurse his wound.
“Roadway.” Sunlight squeaked, “Roadway.” Sunlight recited loudly, “Roadway!”
Roadway expelled off the floor, landing on all fours and yelled, “Yes, sir!”
“No, Roadway. My nose. Its bleeding.” Sunlight said between wheezes.
Roadway cocked his head, exhausted and frustrated, saw the blood sprinkled over the mason floor and asked, “Bro, what happened?”
Sunlight held to his muzzle tighter, “Sir Strong thats what happened. The bastard flipped my bed. I can’t stop the bleeding.”
Roadway approached Sunlight and reached out to remove Sunlight’s hooves, “Bro, move your hooves, let me take a look.”
Sunlight muzzle pointed upwards as blood drooled from his nostril, the sight was disturbing to swallow.
Roadway, baffled and disgusted, said, “Oh no, okay, keep your head up and go to the Medical Wing. They should be able to snap your nose back in place. Don’t worry about your things, I’ll go get it. Now move.”
Roadway scampered off, stumbling and falling as he went. Sunlight kept his pace steady, being careful not to drop his spoils of blood. With the departure of the soldiers from the barracks, it became unsettlingly quite, only driving his imprudent hast. Open hooflockers lined the fronts of the endless arrays of beds, left neatly tucked and prepared for the next night the soldier it accompanied, may return.
With the absence of his bed cover, Sunlight shivered, his teeth rattled uncontrollable, the tips of his ears felt detached. Sunlight noted the taste of iron in his maw. He quickened his pace as he saw soldiers line in fixed formations. The looks on their faces were indistinguishable, neither a look of fear, or remorse; androids enlisted into a huge meat grinder. Sunlight approached the Medical Wing’s door that was embellished gold and purple rods, emphasizing an image of a cross.
Sunlight shifted his weight on the door and pressed it open. The door gradually open with a creak the hinges made. His breathing quicken, lightheadedness quickly over encumbered his mind.
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Star Dust kept close to the wall. Whispers carried through the halls; she sharpened her ears to catch the noise. Soft blue light watered throughout an opened door where the whisperers lied. Star Dust soften her pace as she neared the door.
The whispers became clear. “But, Celestia, if we advance in this weather we are sure to lose more ponies than we can save.”
Another whisper hissed, “Celestia, I must agree with Sir Strong, the amount of casualties would be too great, we would be doing more harm than good. Celestia, please reconsider your orders, we can wait till spring.”
The argument continued with the absence of Celestia’s hushed tone. Star Dust’s curiosity grew with each uncompleted rebuttal. She glanced inside and saw a lightly armored unicorn, sitting, inattentive to Sir Strong’s rambles. His hoof propped his head, the table near him was scattered with books, letters, documents, and a map, spread with miniature statues representing massive armies on Equestrian land. From his horn, fired energy that fed a purple sphere. Star Dust’s ability to define magical spells was something rarely found in her own knowledge. A simple use of deduction was necessary: the sphere was a form communication, a discussion between General and Queen within its glossy threshold.
The sphere suddenly shattered into a thousand blue and violet shards, falling then liquefied into the concrete.
“That insufferable fool!” yelled Sir Strong, causing Star Dust to retreat from the door.
“Sir Strong! Calm yourself. What did she say?” said the unicorn.
“She’s a stubborn mule.” Sir Strong spat, “She refuses to withhold our forces from this relentless cold. Shining Armor, do you not see how many lives this cold will take, we’re better off letting those grifs enter Canterlot without a fight. And not only that, her idiotic nephew is accompanying us, as well. Do you remember what that fool has done to you and I?” Sir Strong sat at his desk and wistfully stared off into military square.
“Sir Strong, are you afraid?” Shining Armor asked, “If its death, you must cut that tumor from your train of thought.”
Sir Strong turned and gazed at him with his dead eyes. “I’ve been a part of this conflict for too long, the thought of death has vanished from my mind long ago. I only worry for my troops and my loved ones, nothing else.”
“Sir Strong, its not only about Equestria's troops, its about the safety and protection of all of Equestrians. I understand you care for these troops, but sacrifices must be made here. We have no other choice.”
Shining Armor started for the door. “I’ll leave you to think. Don't take all day.”
Star Dust took to the air and blended with the marble ceiling. Shining Armor proceed to the end of the hall. He was out of sight, Star Dust returned to the door with swiftness, she leveled her breathing to match the emptiness of the Ward. Sir Strong continued to stare off into the distance. His thoughts were scrambled; heat accumulated in his disguise he called armor. Clouds gathered, foreshadowing the torture a head, taunting Sir Strong with thunders booms. Star Dust gathered her courage and approached Sir Strong, taking care not to alert him. His features were mysterious. Star Dust yearned to see his complete, physical physique. She has seen what he was capable of, but never the else, she wanted to see more. The warmth of his lips pressed against her own was all she knew, but once again, she wanted more. Her goal was clear, all she need was to pursue it.
She whispered, “Sir Strong?”
Sir Strong flicked his wings in a startle, he turned and faced the source. “Aw, courier, you’re here. I have some letters a need you to deliver.”
Her heart torn in two, a lump formed in her throat. “What, you don’t remember me?"
"No." he said, "No I don't."
"I was the one who saved you at The Battle of Snake River. I was the one who hauled your flank back to camp from the piles of dead."
The recollection of that day struck him. Neck deep in mud and decay. The smell of rotten meat engulfed the air around him. "You?" he continued
"I was the one who nursed you back to health. I was the one who made and fed you your meals.” Star Dust wiped the tears collecting at the edge of her sight. “I was the one that you invited to your tent.”
“Shut up.”
She continued,“I was the one that you said you loved.”
Sir Strong was quick to respond, “You were on your flank and below my waist when I said that. It meant nothing. I can't deal with this now.”
He left his seat and then the room. Anger quickly ensued Star Dust. Revenge was in order. But what could she do? A simple field medic could do nothing to harm a pony with such a barbaric stature, and attitude. If physical harm can not be done, than emotional mischief must be in order. She wiped the rest of her roguish tears from her sight. Light shimmered from the desk, it quickly grabbed her attention. What layed on the desk was a letter, neatly rolled and tied with a silky red bow. She unraveled the letter with a simple tug on the bow. What the letter read, and contained, crushed her. A picture of the very mare and filly confining Sir Strong to the ludicrous chore of commitment. She snatched the two from the desk and trotted off.
From the balcony she overwatched the movement of troops, aligning themselves in, small, fixed orders. Star Dust unsheathed the letter and photograph from her wing. She glanced once again at that picture. Their smiles, radiating with joy and bliss of the simplicity of life. It angered her further. She threw the photo on the snowy ground and pressed on it with her hoof, she took her maw and held one end and pulled, tearing the two ponies apart, letting them fly aimlessly in the winter’s breeze. The letter and bow was all that was left. The letter sat pleasantly on the railing of the balcony. She nudged the letter off with disdain and tucked the bow under her plumage.
The Medical Wing was dark, nothing was audible but Star Dust’s heavy hooves on marbled floor. Star Dust contained the feeling of remorse, but it stilled loomed over her like a bothered wasp in a hot summers day. Confinement -- confinement was what she needed, the emptiness added to this, but the lack of comfort needed to be arranged. Her only thoughts were her bed, alongside her personal possessions: a clock, medical bags, and a family photo. Star Dust’s family was devoted to Celestia's rule; her father made sure he instilled that discipline into his children, as he would expect with their own. As devoted as they were, they followed blindly to their own demise. There was nothing heroic about their death, ‘just another casualty on the battlefield,’ their generals would say. And their death for the cost of what, a strip of land? No heroics, just one big meat grinder, grinding her seven siblings with no end.
The Medical Wing’s doors were swung open. A body laid lifeless near a pool of blood. The scary figure, surrounded by darkness, froze Star Dust’s blood. She snapped her self from her trance and raced to her patient. His muzzle, drenched in blood, pointed upwards. She placed her over his neck, pulsations erupted at a normal past. He was obviously unconscious from the lost of the blood, strangely enough, his breathing was at a steady past as well. Taking this opportunity, she placed her hoof at the base of his muzzle and forced it down. She couldn't help but feel that she knew this stallion.
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Sunlight felt the burning sensation from his nose settle. The way to the military square was filled with soldiers. Roadway already prepared his gear at the entrance of the barracks. The gates, leading to the outskirts of Canterlot, were open. Soldiers gathered frantically around the single mailbox in the entire camp, each delivering their own personal letter to whoever they cared dearly. With this opportunity, he made his way to the box line. Papers littered the snowy ground. He made use of his armor as a flat surface and used a discarded letter to write his own. Checking the back side, he found a failed attempt for a letter, from what he can tell. Some words were difficult to read.
It read,
-#-
Dear ___,
I miss the both of you so much. The thought of being away from you two is driving me mad. Its only been a _______ the cold has already frozen the ends of my ears. The amount of ponies here is intolerable, the constant rasping in my ears that _____ brings from that mighty tower of hers is weathering me away. The soldiers here are unprepared, the lack of training and sup ____ k of steel and ammo, its all going to deepest part of the Underworld and I’m being dragged in. I wish -- I wish, I could just leave this all behind me, but you know I can’t, and I know better than that. I don’t know what’s going to happen. It pains me to tell you this, but ______ I have to ask you one more thing before I end this letter: If I die, DON’T say an_
-#-
The rest of the letter was distorted and unreadable. Sunlight was bewildered by the statements proposed by this letter. He quickly denounced these fallacies and tossed the parchment aside. With a nod of disappointment from that lie. He picked up another parchment and began writing with the many writing utensils left behind.
-*-
Dear Mother and Father,
I don’t know how to start this letter so I’ll just begin. Thing here have been doing well. The weather is nice and warm with a few cold breezes now and then, but nothing I can’t handle. My friend Roadway has been doing well, too, packed full of energy as always.The barracks has faired well against the blistering cold, I only hope my tent well be the same.
Why my tent? We’re being deployed, yes deployed, to the shores of Equestria. It’s just a simple patrol run, nothing major. I hope to come back home soon, after I had a few drinks at the beach, of course. Tell Rising Sun that I killed some grifs for him. Make up a story until I actually kill one those conniving bastards. I apologize for my language. Then I’ll tell you the real story on how I slit one of those beasts necks. And what the hay I’ll bring back a souvenir for proof. Maybe a helmet, or a dagger , I’ll bring something back.
Wish me luck, I’m not going to be needing any of it anyways.
Your loving son,
Sunlight
-*-
It was short, but his large print made up for it. Sunlight approached the mailbox, unprepared. He reload his thoughts from that letter and chuckled lightly from the stupidity of it. He was well fed every day and everypony he saw was fully prepared for what's to come. He slid part of the litter into the rectangular hole; his maw still firmly grasped the corner. The statements from that letter pressed heavily on his mind. He bit down firmly and receded his letter away. The thought of that letter, the thought of his parents reading his own letter --a lie as well-- from there eldest son, was heart wrenching. He could picture their reaction: his mother crying at the sight of the infamous courier, letting tears flow carelessly on the floor; his father seated, expressionless, debating with himself whether or not to leave the bubble he created to comfort his wife; his brother sitting cluelessly from afar with his favorite wonderbolt doll clutched lightly in his maw, doing his best to read the print delivered by that pony at the door.