Quickdraw awoke to pain. His back and the left side of his face hurt immensely. He blinked, wondering where he was. The room appeared to be in the mines, its oppressive stone walls seemingly bearing down upon him. Something was strange, though. This room seemed almost clean in comparison to the rest of the mines - better lit too. Quickdraw stretched his neck, trying to get a better look of the strange room. What he saw, however, caused him to let out a strained cry of despair.
A large, feathered body lay on a bed next to Quickdraw, its black tipped wings bent and covered with blood.
"Storm," he croaked, his throat tightening in worry. "Storm, get up."
Storm wasn't moving.
"No, don't do this. Storm, don't do this to me."
The feathered mass twitched, the muscular form wriggling to find a more comfortable position.
It was at that moment that an off-white, bloodstained unicorn decided to walk into the room, almost immediately spotting the grey stallion and rushing to his side.
"Oh, you shouldn't be awake yet. I suppose the painkillers are wearing off," she tutted, her voice displaying her worry.
"But why? What happened?"
"Well, when your friend over there brought you in, you were in a pretty bad state."
"How bad was it? And why is Storm here too?"
"Well sweetie, when that gryphon brought you in, your back and left eye were torn to shreds," she began. "We immediately took you to a medic to try to patch you up. Unfortunately your eye was beyond our abilities to save."
Quickdraw felt himself raising a hoof to the vertical stitches running down his face.
"But I can still see! What happened?"
The mare looked to the gryphon, the look on her face telling Quickdraw everything he needed to know.
"Get me a mirror," he said quietly.
The mare stood stock still, silent.
"GET ME A FUCKING MIRROR!" he roared.
The mare let out a small squeak before levitating a small hand mirror over to the panicked stallion.
Quickdraw looked into the reflective surface, seeing the damage that the dog had caused. He could see the tight, bloody bandages wrapped around his midsection, most likely concealing more stitches. He could see the wounds on his face, a criss-crossing pattern of stitch-work and scarred flesh. Most of all though, he could see his eyes. His right eye remained the same, an ice blue. His left, however, had a thick, messy, vertical line of stitches.
It was red.
The same colour as Storm's.
Looking over to his friend, he noticed for the first time that the large gryphon was awake.
"Well hey there buddy," he said, his voice croaking. "You're awake. I gotta say, that eye looks good on you."
Quickdraw could only stand there, staring at the bandaged and padded area on Storm's face where his eye used to be. Staring at the shaved fur on his forelegs, where rows upon rows of stitches held together torn flesh. Quickdraw guessed that something serious had happened, but he couldn't remember anything.
"Storm, what happened?" the stallion asked, tearing up at the sight of his friend.
Storm looked softly at the nurse, motioning to move the stallion closer to him. Taking her cue, she slowly pushed the beds together with her magic before leaving the two to their conversation.
"Well kid... I'm not sure how to tell you this," Storm said slowly. "That dog, the one with the barbed whip, came around. He was pretty mad and I guess he took it out on us. Don't worry though, when he tore your eye out I pounced him. Tore the fucker's throat out before taking his eye too. Hell, when I ended that mutt, all I could hear was the shouts of prisoners and dogs, heading to battle. I guess I must have dragged you to the nearest pony I could find who must have brought us here."
Quickdraw stared at Storm, his mind going blank as he tried to comprehend the information being thrown in his face.
"Kid, you alright? You look a little woozy there," Storm said, worry starting to creep into his voice.
"Wha?" The stallion choked.
Storm hesitated, "When I killed that dog, the prisoners took it as a sign of rebellion. We're at war kiddo. A filthy, underground, slave revolt, but a war none the less. We were damn lucky that the first things the slaves took were the med-ward and the food supplies. I guess the slaves took it as a sign or something, I don't really know the politics kid."
The stallion stared, his mind working a mile a minute.
"B-but why me," he stammered. "Why would one dog being killed start a rebellion like that? So many other prisoners have been hurt or killed. Even the dogs have suffered casualties, by their own or by slaves trying to escape. So why me?"
"I don't know kid."
"So, you killed the dog that whipped me, started a fucking rebellion and don't even know why?" Quickdraw screeched, pushing the gryphon away.
"Well, it was either that or watch you die!" Storm yelled back, his voice cracking at the mere thought.
"Then why did you give me your eye?" The stallion whimpered, his voice dropping to sub-sonic levels.
"Because," the warrior said softly, "nobody so young should live in so much pain. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I knew that I could have let you keep your sight, even at the cost of my own. I'm sorry kid, but what's done, is done. And for the record, I'd give my life for you if worse came to worse, kiddo."
Upon hearing those words, Quickdraw couldn't hold back. He let his tears flow freely, though they only flowed from his one blue eye. Storm slowly, carefully, wrapped a wing around the sobbing unicorn, holding him close until he fell asleep.