//------------------------------// // Chapter 18: Departures // Story: Flight 19 // by ImChangingmynameforreaso //------------------------------// Chapter 18: Departures The wind made a low moaning sound as it rose, buffeting the eastern side of the monastery and making the windowpanes shiver and rattle in their framework.  Midnight glanced over at the window and shivered despite the closeness of the fire beside her. If ever there was a sound for how I feel right now, she thought, that’s it.  She pushed the feeling away with an effort and returned to drying her mane and forelock, scrubbing herself vigorously with the rough, homespun towel the gryphons had provided.  The bathing facilities here were primitive, but at least they had them. Growing up in Equestria had definitely left her with an appreciation for the niceties, however, and she missed the modern bathhouse from the barracks back in Canterlot.  There was something to be said for being able to control the water temperature to your own liking instead of having to have it heated up, poured into an overhead basin and trying to get clean before it went from hot to tepid to icy cold.  A chilly draft curled about her legs and she shivered again, glancing over her shoulder. The door to her room was ajar, and Terrence’s feathered face peeked around the jamb, peering at her in amusement.  “Catch you at a bad time?” Midnight jerked, emitting a startled squeak and nearly dropping the towel.  “Do you mind?” “No, of course not.”  The gryphon shouldered his way into the room and shut the door behind him.  “Go ahead and finish, I’ll wait.” “You’re too kind,” she said, deadpan, and turned away again.  “What’s so all blasted important you had to barge in here?” “The Pentachoron.”  Terrence shifted his weight restlessly from one claw to the other as he stood near the door.  “I wanted to discuss a few things with you about it.” Midnight let the towel slip down her mane to rest on her shoulders as she rounded on the gryphon.  “I think I’ve heard about all I want to hear from you on that subject,” she said in a clipped tone.  “You’ve done wonders so far telling us practically nothing about it, I’m fairly sure a bit more nothing won’t be necessary.” “I was named its Guardian for a reason,” he replied testily.  “You proved yourself worthy to retrieve it.  That allows me to explain a bit more now, or as much as I can, anyway.  Alternatively, you can go wandering off into the wilderness on your own with it and be damned to you.  It’s all the same to me at this point.” Midnight drew in a long breath and let it out slowly.  “Fine.  Explain away, then.” “And be damned to me?  Fair enough.”  One side of his beak quirked up in a crooked smile, but Terrence’s eyes remained fixed directly on hers.  “There are... not rules, shall we say, but a couple of guidelines I want to share with you.”  He indicated the small brush sitting on her desk.  “Want some help?” “No.”  Midnight slipped her forehoof into the loop on the brush and began smoothing out the damp tangles of her forelock.  “What guidelines?” “First and foremost: you recovered the Pentachoron.”  His eyes strayed to the gem where it lay on the desk, seeming at home in the new golden clasp the gryphons had fashioned for it.  A fine, glittering chain was coiled up beside it, attached to the clasp with an intricately formed hook and eye.  “It’s yours now.  You don’t exactly own it... think of it more as an unwilling guest of yours.” “I’ve done prisoner escorts before,” the mare replied, pausing a moment to sort out a knotted tangle in her mane.  “I think I can handle this.” “That’s actually not a bad analogy.  Except this time your prisoner is not exactly restrained.”  Terrence looked at her, then back at the gem again uneasily.  “A bit of tact might come in handy now and again.” “We... seemed to understand each other better using a more direct approach.”  Midnight thought back to the ultimatum she had laid down on the simulacrum of Fluttershy.  A bit late for tact, I’m afraid. “As you will.”  Terrence seemed to become even more restless.  “As I’m sure you know, the Pentachoron likes to... communicate.” “You got that right, buster.”  She blinked at her own retort; the ponies had picked up more and more of the humans’ expressions as time had gone on.  She was going to have to watch that.  “I mean... yes, I’ve noticed that.” “Not everything it says is worth listening to.”  Terrence frowned.  “No, that’s not quite right.  Not everything it says... is useful to you, I should say.”  He sighed unhappily.  “All I know is that you might not always want to pay attention to what it tells you.  On occasion, it’s not very helpful.” Ooooh, someone’s moody today.  The voice of the stone spoke up in the distant space within Midnight’s consciousness.  Maybe you’ll pay attention to what I tell you and learn something, since he obviously didn’t. Midnight stopped brushing out her mane and glanced over at the gem where it sat quietly, the multifaceted surface gleaming wickedly as it reflected the firelight.  “Thank you, Terrence,” she said carefully.  “I’ll keep that in mind.” ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The backpack sagged to one side, then slipped out of Taylor’s hands and fell to the floor, spilling its contents across the room.  “Son of a bitch!” Stivers’ face appeared in the doorway.  “Having problems, Charlie?” “I know damn well I’ve packed this little bastard before.  This is the same stuff I came here with.  I swear it seems like its smaller somehow, now.”  Taylor straightened up, sighing, and scratched absently at his chin, hearing the rasp of his fingers against the stubble on his cheeks.  “I sure as hell didn’t buy up all the souvenirs at the monastery gift shop.” Stivers leaned against the doorway, eyeing the other officer critically.  “You ought to shave that crap.  I’ll borrow Sword’s kit if you don’t want to ask him yourself.” “Nah.”  Taylor had thought the idea of ponies needing to shave laughable until Crimson Hoof had shown him a picture of an uncle with a handlebar mustache.  It was just one more surreal thing that now seemed commonplace.  “Figured I’d let it grow out a bit.  It’s not like we’re having inspection or anything.”  Taylor stroked his chin theatrically.  “Don’t I look all debonaire and intriguing?” “You look like a bum,” Stivers said laconically.  “Shave that shit.” “Gee, thanks, Mom.”  Taylor flapped a hand at the other pilot in dismissal and began gathering his things up off of the floor.  “What time are we bugging out of here?” “After lunch.”  Stivers shrugged.  “Terrence suggested it, and it seemed reasonable enough.  Start off with a good meal in our bellies, and we’ll make a nice distance down the mountainside before it gets dark.  I don’t wanna push it, we’ve been pretty slack while we’ve been here.  We can take our time and get back into shape.” “The sooner, the better.”  Taylor grunted as he bent double, trying to fold his bedroll into a shape smaller than the fabric was willing to go.  “I’m ready to get the hell out of here.” “What, don’t like all this clear mountain air?” The lieutenant shoved the bedroll forcibly into the pack.  “I’m ready to get back to America.  Hamburgers, cars, and airplanes that do what I tell them and don’t spout nonsensical bullshit about magical portals and amulets that want to eat my soul.”  He glanced over his shoulder at Stivers.  “I’d walk through a ring of fire if I saw Miami on the other side of it right now, and to hell with all of this.” Stivers held his hands out placatingly.  “Reading you loud and clear, Charlie.  It’s me, remember?” “Yeah, yeah.”  Taylor bent and retrieved the battered pack of cigarettes from where it had fallen on the floor.  He regarded it critically for a moment, then tucked it into a shirt pocket.  “I’m just over all of this.  I want to go home.” “We’re almost there.”  Stivers knelt and began picking up the clothing and other items that had fallen out the pack, handing them to Taylor while the lieutenant repacked his gear.  “I was thinking...” “Mistake number one.” “Ha-ha,” Stivers growled.  “Look... I know this is all real and everything.  We pretty much decided that a long time ago.  But... you think we’ll remember any of it?  After we get back home, I mean?” Taylor paused, his pack clutched loosely in one hand.  In the other he held a plastic packet full of dried strips of beef.  He looked at it for a moment, turning it this way and that, and watching the light from the window skate across the reflective surface.  The drawing of the cartoon cow on the front of it grinned at him maniacally, the gryphonnic script written above it indecipherable.  “I really don’t know.” The Marine glanced at him.  “Do you want to remember it?” Taylor blinked and shoved the packet into his pack.  “I don’t know,” he repeated.  “Hand me that blanket, would you?” --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Lunch turned out to be light and simple: fresh baked bread, butter and juice.  The gryphons had left them in privacy for their last meal at the monastery, and the group found themselves lingering somewhat over their food; several times, one of the ponies or pilots would look up and catch the eyes of one of their companions.  One would open their mouth as if to say something, and then close it again, and the other would nod as if some unspoken communication had passed between them.  Despite the surreal experience they had undergone with the Pentachoron, the monastery had been relatively peaceful and quiet.  There seemed to be something in the air here (maybe the lack of oxygen, Hoof had quipped) that helped ease the mind.  It didn’t make your worries go away, but it did at least seem to make them bearable, to a degree. William stunned them all by announcing that he intended to stay with the monks, at least for awhile.  “Dere’s a bunch o’ stuff 'ere I’ve na’ had a pleasure ta' read yet.”  His eyes fairly glowed with enthusiasm.  “This place’s a freakin’ gold mine, ey? There won’t be a gryphon within twenty days flight o’ 'ere yule 'ave better stories an' tales than I will.  An’ I’m jus’ gettin’ started.” “Well, of course, that’s your decision.”  Sword struggled valiantly to keep the look of pure enjoyment from his face.  “We’ll miss your sterling company, of course.” “Really?” The pony gave up and smirked.  “No.  But I’m glad you’ve found a focus for yourself, at least.” “Yah, and I’m gonna dedicate my first song to you lot.”  William looked off in the distance, his eyes slightly unfocussed.  “The tale o’ ten... um.”  He blinked and frowned.  “Titles are hard.  I’ll think o’ somethin’.”         The expression of alarm on Sword’s face grew rapidly.  “You know, maybe you should save that tale for some other time.  Long after we’re gone, perhaps.”         “Yah, it’ll take me a bit to get it all down, anyhow.”  William shifted back and forth for a moment, an odd expression forming on his features.  “Ey, um... I never did thank you, Shinysides, for savin’ my arse back in Clawttowa.  So, um... thanks, ey?”         Sword cleared his throat and fidgeted uncomfortably.  “Well, of course.  No reason not to... duty and all, you know—”         Midnight stepped forward and winked.  “What the captain means is, ‘You’re welcome,’ William.”  She bent forward and placed a kiss on the gryphon’s cheek.  “Take care of yourself, and try not to get into too much trouble when we’re gone, hmm?”         William flushed alarmingly and glanced away.  “Yah, sure, Lady.”  He glanced up at her, his expression almost miserable.  “Thanks for bein’ nice to me and all.  Even when nobody else was.”         “Of course, William.  Don’t frown so, your beak will get stuck like that and you’ll go through life looking horribly grim all the time.”  She tapped him under the chin gently with a forehoof.  “Come on, now.  Perhaps some day you’ll come regale us with your tales at Canterlot, hmm?”         Stivers chuckled out loud at that.  “I’d like to see the look on Celestia’s face when that happens.”  He glanced idly at the small gryphon who sat across the table from him.  “You really going to make up a song about all this, William?  With us in it?”  He indicated the other humans with a wave of his hand.         “It’d almost be worth staying to hear that one,” Taylor observed.  “Right now I’d like to find out how the end goes.  ‘And they lived happily ever after’ works for me.”         “Yah,” William managed.  He looked up and down the table at the assembled group, and the ghost of a smile touched at the corners of his beak.  “I kinda like that me-self.” Noon had passed and the afternoon was well underway when the group thanked their hosts and finally emerged from the front entrance of the monastery.  Feet and hooves crunched in the crust of snow that still lay on the ground, but the breeze was fresh and clear, and they all paused a moment and regarded the view of the valleys spread out below them. “I’m definitely going to miss it here.” Shadow said with a sigh. “Theres a lot we could learn about just... scattered in the books.” “Seriously,” Taylor replied, “I still can’t believe you can read, Shadow.” “Buck you, Taylor.” Shadow responded curtly, a slight smirk on his face.  The sound of a throat clearing itself harshly cut across the group and they looked over to see Sword glaring at them fiercely. “Sorry,” Shadow said in a contrite tone.  “Buck you, sir.” The human laughed, but Sword remained unimpressed.  “I see we have a lot of work ahead of us.  Some... rehabilitation will be in order when we return.” “Not me.”  Hoof’s expression was pure innocence.  “I already wrote ‘I will not be insubordinate’ a thousand times on the back of my pack.” “That’s good.”  Sword turned away and began fiddling with the straps on his own harness.  “I’ll be sure to fill that one up with rocks when I make you run ten miles with it.” Grubel leaned over towards Hoof and lowered his voice.  “Somebody didn’t like your snowpony, I think.” Terrence and several of the other gryphons had gathered in the courtyard to bid them a final goodbye.  The abbott stepped forward and nodded at all of them, then placed a foreclaw on Midnight’s shoulder.  “Farewell, then.   Mind what I told you, miss.  I hope you fare better than others have with your burden.” She glanced down briefly where the Pentachoron swung on its chain round her neck.  “I hope so too.  I’ll do the best I can, Terrence.” “Then that’ll have to do, won’t it?”  His voice wavered and he looked away, and then back once more.  “Clear skies to all of you, for all your days to come.” “I’ll drink to that,” Taylor said.  “Come on, let’s do this.”  He strode forward, leading the group across the open area toward the small cut where the stone stairway led downward from the top of the plateau.  The others followed in trail, hooves and boots crunching the snow down as they cut a swathe through the white blanket that lay upon the ground.  They slowed momentarily and began descending single-file down the stairway, and Midnight made herself face forward as she waited her turn to go.  I won’t look back.  I won’t. She did anyway.  The rest of the gryphons had gone back inside the building, but Terrence still stood out in front of the monolithic building, alone, his cloak flapping in the wind as he watched them.  His eyes met hers for a moment, and he nodded one last time. Midnight lifted a forehoof and waved at him, then turned and descended the rocky stairs, the sound of her hooves clicking on the rock loud in her ears.  Here we go... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The trip back down the winding path along the mountainside was much easier than their arrival had been; not only was the weather much more accommodating this time, but the path had been swept clear of ice.  When they came to the jutting overhang that had nearly brought Thompson to ruin, they were surprised to see a group of gryphons busily working around the rock face.  A sturdy wooden platform was anchored into the mountainside, and the work party appeared to be installing a railing along the outer edge. “Better late than never,” Gallivan observed.  “No complaints here, though.  I wasn’t lookin’ forward to having to squeeze around that bastard again.  And a railing, to boot.”  He frowned for a moment.  “How come it’s so friggin’ big, though?  We could damn near walk four abreast over that thing.” “Supply wagons, I should expect.”  Sword looked over the construction with a critical eye.  “It’s certainly wide enough, and the monks would have to purchase things from other areas that they can’t grow or make on their own.” “Wagons?  Jesus.”  Taylor blanched at the thought of driving something like a fully loaded wagon that close to the sheer drop to one side.  “Not Mama Taylor’s little boy, I’m skipping that duty, thanks.” “I’m with you there, Sir.”  Thompson tested the edge of the new woodwork gingerly with the toe of a boot.  “One fall was enough for me.” Gruebel clapped him on the back, making the other Marine jump reflexively.  “Nah, that wasn’t a fall.  That was vertical flight training.” “Ha.  Ha.”  Thompson eyed him sourly.  “I’ll remember that when your session comes up, smartass.  Just for that, you can lead us across.  Just to make sure the construction is sound, and all.” “Fine, I’ll take point.”  Grubel stepped forward, and the gryphons working near him moved back, eyeing the big human nervously.  “Buncha cowards.”  His light tone belied his evident wariness as the Marine moved slowly across the new span, the boards creaking under his weight.  He paused three quarters of the way across and glanced over his shoulder to see the others waiting patiently, all staring at him.  “What?” “Just enjoying your tightrope act,” Taylor grinned.  “It’s meant to support wagons, you goof.  I don’t think you’re gonna fall through the damn thing.”  The lieutenant shrugged his pack higher onto his shoulders and strode out onto the makeshift bridge.  “C’mon, Cinderella, let’s get back home before the coach turns back into a pumpkin.”  The wood resounded with the thumping of his boots, and then with the reverberation of hooves as well as the group followed after him.  The platform extended well past the overhang of rock that had caused them so much consternation before, and gradually merged back into the rocky path once it had widened enough.  Soon enough rock and snow crunched underfoot once more as they spread out into their marching formation without a word, moving single-file back down the path that spiraled around the outer edge of the mountainside.  The air was still, the silence broken only by their footsteps, the sound of snow crunching underfoot and the occasional muttered curse from pilot or pony as someone tripped over a hidden rock. The top of a fir tree hove into view on their right side, springing up from further down the slope to soar up to their level, and Gallivan resisted an urge to reach out to try and touch it.  “Too damn quiet for me.” “You wanna call cadence, Sarge?”  Gruebel glanced over his shoulder and grinned.  “Haven’t done one of those in awhile.” “And you won’t now, either.”  Gallivan’s tone was firm.  “I’ve heard you sing, and I had to go to sickbay to get my ears to stop bleeding.” “Ooooh, burn,” Hoof hissed.  “Ten points to the Sarge.” “You kiss his ass any more, you’re gonna have skidmarks on your nose,” Gruebel growled.  “You got a better idea?” “As a matter of fact, I do.”  Hoof glanced over his shoulder.  “You mind a little singing, Sir?  Just to pass the time?” Sword shrugged.  “Noise discipline isn’t  a problem right now.  Besides, did it ever stop you before when I told you to be quiet?” “Just checking, Sir.”  Hoof grinned and turned back to face down the path.  He walked along for a few paces more, then began to step in an odd, rhythmic pattern, stamping his hooves down firmly on every other step. Between his stamps, his left wing rose a bit and flapped back down firmly on the hilt of his weapon, making it clack against his armor with a sharp sound that echoed off the rocks. A few paces further and all of the ponies fell into the same pattern, marching perfectly in step and stomping heavily on every other pace.  Stivers felt a chill sweep over him as Hoof began humming an odd tune, and then the pony burst out into a loud chant.  His voice was clear and fair, the verse in an odd accent totally unlike his normal speaking voice. CRIMSON HOOF: Up, my lads!  The sun's arise Night is at an end Greet the scarlet eastern skies Our duties now begin.   Mind your sword! Be sure he's keen And keep him close indeed For when your foe at last is seen His service you will need.   (ALL, CHORUS) For we are the Guards of Equestria! All hail yon fair Celestia! Beg her blessing on us all And bow in service to her halls! Mind your step now, high and fine, Stand ye fast and hold our line, Step now, step now, 'ware, make way! The Guard is on the march this day.   SHINING STAR: March, my lads! The sun's on high Yon sky is blue and fair Take wing and keep a wary eye Let our enemies beware.   Mind your spear! Hold him proud And keep him by your side For when the charge is sounded loud He'll sweep your foes aside.   (ALL, CHORUS) For we are the Guards of Equestria! All hail yon fair Celestia! Beg her blessing on us all And bow in service to her halls! Mind your step now, high and fine, Stand ye fast and hold our line, Step now, step now, 'ware, make way! The Guard is on the march this day.   SHADOW: March, my lads!  The sun goes west And brings the end of day Duty calls, we'll take no rest 'Til evil's brought to bay.   Mind your hooves!  Hear their sound! When steel has turned to rust Pound thy foe and leave him down And bloody in the dust.   (ALL, CHORUS) For we are the Guards of Equestria! All hail yon fair Celestia! Beg her blessing on us all And bow in service to her halls! Mind your step now, high and fine, Stand ye fast and hold our line, Step now, step now, 'ware, make way! The Guard is on the march this day.   MIDNIGHT ARROW: March, my lads!  The moon's arise Fear not the nighted land Greet the silver eastern skies And Luna's silver band.   Mind your bow!  Strong and light, Bend it true and well. Set your foes within its sight And send them all to hell.   (ALL, SHOUTING:) HAR-AIII!!!   (ALL, CHORUS) For we are the Guards of Equestria! Hail the rise of fair Luna! Beg her blessing on us all And bow in service to her halls! Mind your step now, high and fine, Stand ye fast and hold our line, Step now, step now, make your fight! The Guard is on the march this night.   GOLDEN SWORD: Slow my lads, the moon's on high The day is at a close We've one more duty, you and I Before we'll take repose.   Mind your fallen! Duty calls, Lay them to their rest Sing their names out, heroes, all Who've given of their best.   (ALL, CHORUS) For we are the Guards of Equestria! Hail Luna and Celestia! Beg their blessing on us all And bow in service to their halls! Mind your step now, high and fine, Stand ye fast and hold our line, For thy family, hearth and land, The Royal Guard shall always stand.         The last echoes died away slowly, and the ponies slowly resumed their normal pace, but still unconsciously marching in tandem, their hooves making a regular crunching sound on the snow and gravel underneath.  Shadow laughed merrily, reaching out to clap Star on the shoulder and nearly knocking the other pony over.  “That was awesome!  I love that song.”         “Yeah, I noticed.”  Star rubbed his shoulder and winced, then grinned at his friend.  “That was fun, though.  I don’t think I’ve sung that once since the dress review last year.”         Stivers whistled slowly, his eyebrows lifted.  “I’ll be double-damned.  That was pretty impressive.  If I heard that one going by, I’d be half-tempted to sign up and join you guys.”         Golden Sword chuckled and shook his head.  “You’d be surprised how many recruits we do get after one of those reviews.  How do you think I joined up?”  He nodded at the human’s surprised expression.  “I was just barely old enough to do it, too.  Went home and told my family about it.  You should have seen the look on my father’s face.”  He shook his head at the memory.  “I thought for sure he was going to toss me out the window.  Which was funny to me at the time, considering he’d done a stretch of service himself.”         “Really?  What’d your old man say about it?”         “Nothing, actually.”  Sword flipped a rock out of his path absently with a forehoof without breaking stride.  “He took a deep breath, nodded and then went into his office and closed the door.  I didn’t really understand it at the time.”  His mouth twitched.  “I have a much better idea now, of course.”         Stivers looked at him for a moment, then nodded wordlessly and gripped the stallion’s shoulder for a moment.  Letting his hand drop away, he glanced around, surveying the thickening wood to their right, and cleared his throat.  “Alright, folks.  Heads up and eyes open.  We’re back in the wild now, so keep an eye out.”         A chorus of acknowledgements drifted back to him, and Stivers settled into an even stride.  He hitched his pack up slightly so that it rode more comfortably on his shoulders and let his eyes work their accustomed scan, ahead, to the sides, and turning around every now and again to check behind him where Taylor had settled in as rearguard.  They’d come this far, won their prize, and were heading back, and Stivers was damned if he’d get sloppy now. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------         A shout went up from her left, and Midnight glanced over to where Taylor and Star were huddled around the ring of stones where they’d laid the tinder for their fire.  A small flame was winking and burning merrily, and it danced about as the pilot leaned in to blow on it and fan the embers into a full blaze.         “Nice work,” Star said approvingly.  “You’re getting better at this, sir.”         “Thanks.  Last time I did that, I was on a Scouting trip in the Appalachians,” Taylor said.  He leaned back and stretched, his spine emitting a dull pop.  “Ooch.  Wasn’t quite as tough back then.”  He handed the small bow-like tool back to Star and watched idly as the pony put it back in his pack.  “That’s why God invented lighters.  Spinning a stick to set something on fire is a pain in the back.  And the ass.”         Midnight chuckled quietly to herself at the thought of a donkey suddenly braying out in pain; the metaphors the humans used sometimes had an odd double effect.  She stretched out on her bedroll for a moment, glancing up through the canopy of the trees overhead and watched as the last dregs of light faded from the sky.  Stars winked out clearly in between the branches, and the thought felt comforting to her, as if the glimmering embers in the heavens were a sign for her and her alone.         The dell they lay in was itself familiar; it was the same site where they’d encamped when they’d been ascending the mountain trail, and with darkness coming on fast, it seemed sensible to take shelter in the same spot.  She noted with some amusement that everypony had even placed their bedrolls and packs in the same places, as if the small clearing was a barracks and all of them had assigned areas to place their supplies.  The humans had done so as well; it was odd how much the two species were alike.  Although with this particular group being military soldiers, they had more in common with the humans than a typical pony would. Or maybe not, she mused idly.  She had no real idea what ‘normal’ humans would act like; she had a very limited group of examples to work off of.  Shrugging to herself, she rolled to one side and rummaged through her pack for a moment before pulling out the slim volume she used as her journal.  She deliberately flipped past her last entry to the next set of unused pages, so as to prevent what she had written before to influence her thoughts.  Picking up her pencil, she rolled it idly in her teeth for a moment before flicking it out straight and beginning to write. Dear Fluttershy; I’ve lost track of the days I’ve been gone on this treck. The mountains were cold, and the monastery was beautiful, and the Pentachoron is something else entirely. It’s… Extremely hard to describe in words. It talked to me, in a sense. Pulled me into itself and then spoke of my past, and my future. Even now, I can feel it pulling lightly on my conciousness. It is definitely powerful magic, but I have no idea what the Princess could use it for. Charlie still isn’t talking to me outside a professional standpoint. We still work together, and eat together and that other military nonsense, but that fight… I think it broke something inside of him… And inside of me. If I don’t talk to him about it soon, I think it’ll rend the group as well. They know something happened. Every soldier knows when his buddy is feeling down… And they see us avoiding each other. They’re smart enough to put two and two together. If one of us doesn’t make the move… A log in the fire popped, making her jump, and she stared at the flames for a moment before returning to her journal. Regardless, We’re on the road again! We’re finally coming home. I’m finally coming home. I’ll be able to finally give you these letters, by hoof, and I’ll finally be able to tell you how I feel. I love you Fluttershy. Now more than ever. These past few weeks… It just makes me think of how much I don’t want to lose you. On that topic, Even as myself and Charlie grow apart, the bonds between our two groups grow stronger. I’ve even caught Gallivan and Gruebel thinking about staying. As much as it pains me to say this, I don’t want them to leave. I don’t want them to go home. Does that make me a bad pony? I want them to be happy, but I want to be happy along side them… What would you do, Fluttershy? My emotions are still reeling from the various feelings I’ve had while descending the mountain; Fear, concern, anger, love… All of those and more, intermixing and making deadly cocktails that can both create and resolve horrible situations… Even now, sadness, fear, and even hints of lingering betrayal still swarm my mind. It’s hard to put quill to paper tonight. It’s hard to organize my thoughts. It’s hard to just… keep going… The pentachoron chose me… It won’t go to anyone else. This is a burden I, and I alone must carry. These last few days have made me realise something else about this quest: I just want to toss this stupid rock and come home to you, Fluttershy. I think I’m going to ask you to marry me when I get back. Yes, that sounds nice.         Midnight sat back for a moment, re-reading what she had just written, suppressing a sudden urge to scratch it out.  She closed the journal with a snap and tucked it and her pencil away in her bag again.  She’d said as much to Taylor just before they’d had their fight, and her feelings on the matter hadn’t changed.  If she couldn’t write it in her own journal, how could she expect to face the pegasus when she got back and ask the question to her face?         You think too much, she told herself firmly.  Just let it go.  Rummaging through her pack once more, she pulled out one of the apples that Sword had given her and bit into it firmly, closing her eyes and letting the taste fill her senses.         “How’s it goin’, Ell-Tee?”  Gallivan had wandered over and was eyeing her with some amusement.  “Enjoying dinner?”         She swallowed and nodded at the sergeant.  “Oh yes.  I wish we could have gotten more of these from the gryphons, but they’re not too much into fruit, unfortunately.”         Gallivan chuckled quietly.  “Well, we could pick some more up on the way back.  We have to pass by there again to get out of here, after all.”  He waved an arm absently off towards the south towards where Clawttowa lay hidden in the distant mountain range.  “Who do you want on tap for guard tonight?”         “Gruebel can start us off.  I’ll take the mid-watch at midnight.”  She frowned for a moment.  “Any suggestions for the four to eight shift?”         Gallivan eyed the group absently.  “We’re all fair game, honestly.  Everybody’s pretty rested up.  I’ll take it if you want.”         “Are you sure?”         “Yeah, no problem.”   He lowered his voice.  “The dreams are fine right now.  I’m just not really a heavy sleeper at the moment though.  Getting up at that hour is pretty normal for me at this point, really.”         Midnight eyed him curiously.  The sergeant had not spoken of his dreams since the rough patch he’d had weeks ago, when they’d still been in the desert.  The fact that he’d brought it up on his own, without any prompting from her, set a small alarm bell ringing in her head.  “You sure?”  she asked again.         “Yes ma’am.  Things aren’t… pleasant exactly, but it’s not as bad as before.”  He held up one hand in an odd gesture.  “Scout’s honor.”         “Very well, then, I’ll take your word for it.”  She settled back with a sigh and looked up at the tall human.  “I take it you’ll give Gruebel the good news, then?”         Gallivan grinned, his teeth gleaming in the firelight.  “What, pass up a chance to piss off ol’ grumpy pants?  I wouldn’t turn that down for a million bucks.”  He tossed off a salute.  “G’night, ma’am.”         “Goodnight, Sergeant.”  The mare watched him stroll away over towards where Gruebel was sitting, then she grabbed her blankets and settled back onto the bedroll.  Pulling the covers up to her chin, she lay still for a moment, watching the tree limbs sway slowly over her head, first concealing, then revealing the glimmering silver of the stars above.  Uttering a short, quiet prayer to Luna, she closed her eyes and let sleep come, the quiet sounds of the breeze and muttered conversations from her companions following her down into her dreams.         Another set of eyes watched her from the far edge of the firelight for a moment, then turned away and vanished into the undergrowth without a sound.