//------------------------------//
// Chapter 32 
// Story: The Book of Friendship 
// by BillyColt 
//------------------------------//


Chapter 32


The first sensation that Eagle had upon waking was the smell of wood filling his nostrils. His brain pounded in panic; wooden houses were the dwelling of the enemy earth ponies. He wasn’t safe there. He shot up in fright and then his brain exploded in pain.

“Ah!” he yelped, falling back down and hitting something soft. As his mind cleared and he was able to think past the pain, he realized he was lying on a bed. He looked up at the wooden ceiling above him, and at some curtains hanging around him. Calming down, he considered his first instincts to run away, but he realized that he couldn’t move his wings at all; they were bound to the side of his body.

“Oh!” said another voice. Eagle fell flat back onto the bed, reflexively pulling the covers over himself. At this point, he noticed something around his neck.

A head poked through the curtains. Eagle recognized it immediately—that blue-faced pussy. His broken glasses had been replaced by another, identical pair.

“Well, you’re awake,” said Scroll. “Had to drag you out here all the way through the snow.” He stepped through the curtains, revealing that he had a tray on his back. “I fixed you something to eat.”

Eagle stared at the food on his back. Oatmeal, a banana, an apple, and a hot steaming mug of… “What is that?” he asked.

“Hot cocoa,” said Scroll. “I mean, the town’s snowed in and all.” He set the tray down on a stand next to the bed. “Now you’ll have to excuse me,” he said. “I have to go.”

He stared at the curtains Scroll had exited through. Then he looked to the breakfast tray. Then he looked to the eating utensils…

He ripped the thing off of his neck, clasped the knife in his mouth, and pulled himself out of bed. His mind and his back were screaming for him to just lie there, but he had to get out of there quickly. He could handle pain, anyway. He’d been trained for that.

He stepped through the curtain and found himself in a large room. Tables were scattered around and there were a few shelves stacked with books. Scroll was by the door, about to leave, but he must have heard him, because he turned around in surprise.

“What are you doing?” Scroll asked.

“Getting out,” said Eagle, glaring and holding the knife menacingly.

Scroll just stared blankly at him, his eyes running him over. “No,” he said at length. “You’re not.”

Eagle clenched his teeth down on the knife. “Oh?” he asked. “You’re gonna stop me?”

“I don’t think I need to,” said Scroll. He straightened his glasses and looked him over, from head to hooftip. “Are you seriously threatening me? Right now? Look, let me explain a few things to you. One: your wings are broken. They need time to set and heal, meaning you aren’t going to be doing any flying any time soon. And they’re in a cast, and you can’t get them out without my help. Two: you’re an injured pegasus, I’m a healthy earth pony. If push comes to shove, I can easily overpower you in your current state. Three…” He looked at the open door. The light streamed in, too bright to see what lay beyond. “If you walk out that door, you are going to be up against every single pony on the island, and none of them will show you the same kindness I have. They will kill you if they get the chance, same as you would to them.”

Eagle took a step back. He thought this pony was supposed to be a complete pussy, but now… now he was scaring him.

“Four,” continued Scroll, “nopony is coming back for you. I’ve been here long enough to notice that General Storm doesn’t bother with prisoners. They won’t help you. Meaning…” He adjusted his glasses. “That I’m the only one who can help you. You go out that door and you’re completely on your own, and you won’t last.”

Eagle backed into a table, which spooked him into jumping.

“Oh,” said Scroll. “And five: that’s a plastic butter knife.”

Eagle dropped the knife and sat down in a chair.

“What’s your name again?” asked Scroll.

“Eagle.”

“Hello, Eagle,” said Scroll. “My name is Brother Scroll. I’m with the Fraternity of the Joyous Friends of Princess Celestia. And I’m your only friend in the whole wide world.”

Eagle sat there in stunned silence. Scroll was right: he was stuck here, and there wasn’t a single thing he could do.

“You should get back to bed,” said Scroll, gently nodding his head in the direction of the cot. “Eat before your breakfast gets cold. And put your scarf back on. It’ll keep you warm and cozy.”

And with that, Brother Scroll exited through the doors and went off to the town.

___________




It was as though Scroll crossed some sort of magic threshold into winter. The white sands of the beach melted into a layer of snow as he crossed over into the town. Scroll had wrapped himself in a red scarf, an accessory that he found many of the ponies in town lacked.

Most of the ponies in town were at the usual routine of trying to pick up the pieces. One pony was hauling a wagon of scrapped wood, straining his shoulders as he tried to plough through the snow. A mare was digging a pile of snow in front of her house, trying to get at the door.

Fewer buildings had been destroyed—the pegasi hadn’t brought in their usual tornados. But few of the locals were as experienced or comfortable with the snow, as they shivered and watched the vapors of their own breaths with horror.

The snow only served to make their attitudes colder. He found himself receiving three separate disparagements for his scarf, and one pony even shoved him into the snow without so much as an “excuse me.”

“Watch it!” shouted the lout.

Scroll stood up again and brushed the snow off of himself. “Sorry!” he called, his voice cracking slightly in the cold.

He saw a ball of children moving through the roads. What they were doing, he had no idea. They all clumped together, milling around as though completely lost. Scroll wondered if he should approach them and try to help, but in what way he couldn’t think.

Then, down by the piers at the town, he saw ships. For a moment he hoped that they were there to carry supplies from the Fraternity, but he saw the sails. Black sails, and as he looked at the bodies of the ships he noticed they seemed much… nastier than the usual merchant ships, plated in jagged, spiky metal.

Part of him was curious, but another part told him to stay away from them, and so he continued on his way.

___________

Tap had been pleased indeed to find that her house hadn’t been destroyed. This meant, of course, that she could resume with her business, rather than frustrate herself with getting the place rebuilt.

However, all was not as she left it—there were a few bottles conspicuously absent.

“Assholes,” said Tap. “I can just see them—‘Hey guys, free beer!’” She turned to Barrel. “Next attack I’m leaving a surprise. Maybe I’ll piss in the bottles. Or have Scroll jack off in them.”

“Whu—?” asked Barrel, who was trying as best as he could to position a broom in his mouth.

“Wingers stole my booze!” Tap exclaimed.

“Least no one’s here buying...” mumbled Barrel

He was right—at the moment there wasn’t exactly a whole lot of business. Everyone else was busy with rebuilding, so there was little time for drinking, even if the place weren’t in shambles. Still, it gave her a breather for the moment as she cleaned up. So she tidied the counter and checked the kitchen while Barrel swept broken glass and the last week’s puke off the floor. All in all, Tap was thrilled that the tavern came through the battle and looked only marginally worse than usual.

Well, there was one pony who wanted a drink. Bottletop threw the door open, beaming. “I’m still not dead!” he announced triumphantly. “Let’s get hammered!”

“We’re closed,” moaned Tap.

Bottletop stood there for a moment. “Oh,” he said in a lower voice. “Okay then. I’ll come back later.” And with that, he turned around and walked outside.

Barrel shivered slightly. “Brr,” he said. “It’s cold.”

“We can light a fire later,” said Tap.

“Can we make smores?”

“Huh?” asked Tap.

“Something the missionaries taught me how to make,” explained Barrel. “Well… no, we don’t have any… nevermind.”

The door opened, and large, thumping hoofsteps sounded. Tap looked and was about to tell him that they weren’t open, but she quickly realized that wasn’t the best idea.

“Well,” said General Quake, “lucky you.”

“Yes,” said Tap. “Very lucky. You care for a drink after kicking ass?”

Quake lumbered right into the room, his hooves smashing down on bits of broken bottles, before seating himself at a table. He was out of his armor, and his mane even dirtier and messier than usual. There was a vicious red mark on his forehead over his eye, making him look even angrier than usual. “I could use a drink. Fucking cowards piss me off.”

“‘Hit-and-run,’ right?” asked Tap.

“More like ‘shoot-and-shit-yourself,’” said Quake.

Tap brought him one of the few bottles that wasn’t broken or half-empty (“Half-full!” she heard White chime in her mind).

“And then when it’s all over, the ponies come bitching to me,” he muttered. He took the bottle with his oversized hoof and raised his head in an oddly high-pitched, mocking voice. “‘Oh, how are we going to have enough food until we get our businesses running again?’ ‘I don’t have enough wood!’ ‘My spine’s broken!’”

“Shit,” said Tap. “Whose spine got broken?”

“Who gives a shit?” asked Quake. “I got an island to run! Shit to do!”

“Ah,” said Tap, settling behind the counter. “So, what are you doin’?”

Quake sat where he was, his chair creaking slightly under his weight. “I dunno,” he said. “I’m bored.” He drained the entire bottle of beer, and then tossed it at the wall behind him. Barrel winced as the bottle shattered and glass scattered over the floor. “I mean, fuck, my job doesn’t get any easier.”

“Maybe you should take a day off?” Barrel suggested.

Quake slowly turned and looked at Barrel. His eyebrow arched in a look of perplexed confusion, as if wondering whether that was a stupid idea. Barrel shrank away a little and went back to cleaning in slow, small sweeps.

“Too bad we can’t head over and kick their shit in,” said Quake. “Fucking cowards, both of ‘em—King Horner and Flying Megabitch.” He was silent for a few seconds. “She kicked me in the face.”

“You get any hits in?” asked Tap.

Quake grumbled something she couldn’t make out. “She’s fast,” said Quake. “She’s fast and she throws fucking bolts everywhere.”

The door opened again. Tap groaned. “Look, we’re not open!”

Scroll shrank in the doorframe. “Sorry,” he said. “I’ll just go then.”

Barrel, however, was more welcoming. “Scroll!” he said. “I just remembered I finished that book!”

“Oh?” asked Scroll. “How’d you like it?”

“It was great!”

“You hold book club in here?” Quake asked Tap, his voice a low, mildly-annoyed rumble.

Tap simply shrugged. “It’s new. Apparently.”

“’Cause I didn’t come here for fucking book club.”

“The twist blew my mind!” said Barrel. “It was like…”

“Yeah, it was a good one,” said Scroll, nodding.

“Hold on, I’ll go get it,” said Barrel, waddling out of the room.

Quake turned in his seat and looked at Scroll with a flat, dull, annoyed expression. “The fuck are you doing here?” he asked.

“Huh?” asked Scroll.

“Are you here for a reason?” asked Quake, glaring at him. “’Cause I don’t see any dicks here for you to suck.”

Scroll shrank back a little. “I’m just… checking up on things. I mean, the town’s all covered in snow and there are these ships in the harbor and—”

“Wait,” said Quake. “Ships?”

“Uhh, yeah,” said Scroll. “They have black sails and—”

“Shit,” said Quake. With a speed that betrayed his brutish, sluggish appearance, he rose from his seat and marched out the door, roughly shoving Scroll to the floor.

Scroll winced and let out a high-pitched squeak.

“Something wrong?” asked Tap.

“Nothing, nothing…” Scroll whispered. Slowly and deliberately, he started to stand up. “I just think I was sitting in some glass. And…” He took a sniff. “I think somepony peed in it.”

“I heard that if ponies are peeing in your bar, it means you’re doing something right,” said Barrel. Tap shot him a dubious look, before looking back at Scroll.

“So what are you up to?” asked Tap.

“Well, like I said,” said Scroll, adjusting his glasses. He moved towards a chair as though meaning to sit down in it, but seemed to decide against it and simply stood in place, shifting weight from hoof to hoof. “The snow is everywhere. Though on the bright side, this could help the water situation a bit.”

“Huh?” asked Tap. “How?”

“Well, you see,” said Scroll, adjusting his glasses, “there are different states of matter—water, mainly, has…”

“Short version, please,” Tap droned loudly.

“Eheh…” said Scroll. “Well, snow is frozen water. Just, like, collect it in pans, melt it down, and you have drinkable water.”

“Thank you,” said Tap. “So, it cold over at your place?”

“No,” said Scroll. “The pegasi just ignored it. There’s no snow anywhere out of town. Anyway...” His hoof brushed the floor. “If you don’t need any help, I’ll leave you to it.”

Tap stood there and watched him as he walked to the door. His pace was slow and deliberate, especially with the hind legs.

“You know,” said Tap, “I don’t get why you didn’t just shoot that soldier.” Scroll turned around and opened his mouth. “I mean, as opposed to leaving him to bleed to death in the snow. I get you have that whole ‘pacifist’ thing, but come on, that’d be a mercy kill.”

“W-well…” said Scroll, fidgeting the glasses with a shaky hoof.

Tap narrowed her eyes at him. “Scroll…?” she asked. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Uh…” Scroll’s eyes shifted. “Well, I haven’t told you a lot of things…”

Tap took a very, very slow step towards him. “Scroll, did you do something with the soldier?”

Scroll’s hoof was so shaky he couldn’t even grip his glasses and instead hit himself in the cheek.

“Scroll, what did you do?”

“Nothing!” Scroll squeaked.

Tap groaned and pressed her hoof into her forehead so hard it was a wonder she didn’t leave a dent. “You did something,” she said. “You… let me guess, you dragged him over to the library, didn’t you?”

Scroll just stood there, his hooves frozen to the floor and his eyes looking everywhere except at Tap.

“Oh, fuck, you did,” said Tap, her mouth agape. “You brought a wi—”

“Please don’t use that language.”

“A pegasus into your home?”

“Well,” said Scroll. “It’s not that different from having a unicorn in my home.”

“Wh… no,” said Tap, shaking her hoof and her head. “No, I’m not gonna ask ‘why,’ because I know exactly the answer I’m gonna get, it’s the same answer you give for everything you do…”

“I couldn’t just leave him there,” said Scroll. “He was lying there, crying in pain. And I couldn’t kill him. Tap, he’s just a kid!”

“So what are you gonna do?” asked Tap. “Nurse him back to health and read him bedtime stories?”

“That’s… mostly what I had in mind…” said Scroll. He looked back at Tap, his expression strained. “It’s what White would do.”

Tap sighed and walked back to the bar, shooting narrow-eyed glares at the shards of glass on the floor as she stepped around them.

Barrel walked back into the room, carrying the book in his mouth. “Fffd d!” he muffled.

“Oh, thank you,” said Scroll. He walked over to him and Barrel gave the book back. “I’ll see you later, then,” he said, nodding to him and then to Tap. “There’s a lot of work we all have to do.”

Tap stood there, watching as he left the tavern. Then, as the door shut, she snapped out of her glazed stupor and marched after him.

“Tap, what’re you—”

“I’ll be back in a minute, Barrel,” said Tap. She headed out the door and saw him walking away in the middle of the road. “Scroll!”

“Huh?” Scroll turned around.

“Look, I just need to tell you something,” said Tap, walking up to him.

“Well… uh… what is it?” Scroll asked, fidgeting with his glasses.

“I don’t care what it is you’re doing with that soldier. Or anything you do,” she said with a sigh. “Do whatever it is you’re gonna do with your mission thing. Just leave my brother out of it.”

“I wasn’t…”

“Just leave him out,” she growled.

Scroll stood there in silence, and then nodded. “I understand,” he muttered. He looked out into the street. “I’ll leave him alone.”

Tap nodded and turned to walk back to the tavern. But she stopped when she heard Scroll speak again.

“I saw some foals earlier,” said Scroll. “Out in the cold. With all the fighting, I… I guess a lot of them don’t have parents.”

“No shit,” said Tap. “When our parents died, we had to take over and run the tavern ourselves. After we rebuilt it.”

Scroll just stared off into the snow.

“Anyway, I gotta take care of some stuff,” said Tap, turning back into the tavern. “Let me know if that book of yours has any helpful advice for dealing with a snow storm.”

And out of the corner of her eye, she saw Scroll’s ears flick.

___________


Tap sighed, looking at the sad little fireplace in the corner of the room, its embers too feeble to sputter up a spark. Time to go out and get some more wood, thought Tap. Luckily, she had enough money that she wouldn’t have to deal with the other wood for right now.

Holding her purse in her mouth, she stepped out the door, but stopped when a big blue blur breezed right past her.

“Woo!” called Scroll. He was soon followed by a bunch of other, smaller blurs, careening down the snow-filled street without a care in the world.

“What on…”

Barrel poked his head out of the doorway behind her. “That looks fun,” he said. “I wanna do it.”

“I…” Tap said, blinking. “What is he…” She turned around. “Hold on a second.” She circled into the mission room, which by now had been used to house various odds & ends and Barrel’s makeshift recovery bed. However, it still had a small stack of books on one of the tables. She marched up to it and took one of them, opening The Book of Friendship over past the section with all the letters and stories, and over to the “Fun Activities for Friends” section.

“Winter sports for snowy days…” she muttered. “Sledding, snowponies… Oh, fuck me…”

Barrel walked in after her. “You okay, sis?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just a bit…” She turned around and saw him, with a length of blue cloth around his neck. “What is that?” she asked. “Where did you get it?”

“Oh!” said Barrel. “It’s a scarf! Brother Scroll gave me one.”

“Just now?” asked Tap dubiously.

“Uh-huh,” said Barrel, quickly nodding his head. “He had one for you, too…” He held out another scarf, this one the same shade of red as Tap’s mane.

Tap slowly, cautiously extended her hoof and took it, eyeing it strangely as though she suspected it would try to poison her.

“They’re really comfy,” said Barrel. “Go on, try it.”

Tap tossed it around her neck, and then unexpectedly smiled. “Yes. I guess it is.”

She stepped out into the street and was taken aback at how the icy-cold air stung at her skin and numbed her hooves. The scarf made it more bearable, though. She plodded through the snow, hearing it crunch beneath her hooves. The Equestrians go through this every year? she thought as she struggled to move her hooves through the thick layer of snow. They make it happen? Why would anypony do that?

In short, Tap quickly decided that snow sucked and it was terrible. All she could think about while she walked down the road was how nice it would be to sit by a warm fire with a blanket.

She could hear the foals yelling. “Watch out!” one of them called, before something cold and wet hit her in the face. Tap stumbled backwards, and the air was filled with flying snowballs.

“Tap!” called Scroll. “Get down!”

“Huh?”

“Back here!”

Tap ran behind a wall, where Scroll was hiding. “Scroll?” she asked. “What’s going on?”

“They’ve got me pinned down,” explained Scroll.

“I…” Tap saw a mound of snowballs at his hooves. In Scroll’s hoof he held another snowball, and he himself looked like he had taken a beating with those things. His scarf was covered in white flecks of snow, and his mane was looking wet and disheveled.

“Come out!” called one of foals. Soon, others repeated it. “Come out! Come out!” and soon it became a chant. “Come out! Come out! Come out! Come out!”

“Scroll?” asked Tap, narrowing her eyes.

“Yeah?” asked Scroll, looking at her.

“What the hell is this?”

“It’s a snowball fight!” said Scroll. “It’s fun! And I’m losing!”

Tap picked up one of the snowballs and stared at it in disbelief. The foals’ chant of “Come out! Come out! Come out!” She looked right at Scroll, and then pressed the snowball into his forehead.

Scroll stood there for a moment, his own snowball falling out of his hoof. “Traitor,” he mumbled.

___________


Buzz looked over his collection of stools and small tables. Most of them were too small for an adult pony. The ones that weren’t were crooked or wobbled. At least none of his three-legged stools wobbled anymore.

He sat down and sighed. He didn’t know what he’d do. With his father here he didn’t have to worry, but now that he was alone and had to support himself, he… He couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t do it. He wasn’t ready. And he had nowhere to turn.

He sat down on one of his stools. The small ones were crafted as fine as any, but they only suited foals.

Foals… he could hear them all shouting and running outside. They were having fun, not a care in the—

Wait, thought Buzz. The fuck are they so happy about?

Buzz walked to the door and looked out. He saw the crowd of foals running, tossing snowballs ahead, and looked on, utterly baffled. “Whu?” he sputtered. “What’s going on?”

“Brother Scroll’s teaching us about winter stuff!” called one of the foals. “We’re having a snowball fight!”

Buzz stood there by the window and watched the foals pass by. Then, after the passed the corner, he opened the door and ran after him.

___________


Tap sat on a wooden box and just watched from the distance, her scarf warm and snug around her neck. Scroll rolled a large snowball over the ground, the foals following his example, some of them working on the same one as his. He placed it in the middle of the ground and began rolling another one. It wasn’t just snow, though—Scroll got the idea of rolling cannonballs to give them a bit of a start on a larger size.

“What are you doing again?” asked Tap.

“Snow ponies!” called Scroll, before turning back to the foals. “Okay, that’s good,” he instructed. “Now you put a smaller one on top here for a head…”

One of the foals tossed a snowball at Scroll’s head. He stood there, blinking. Tap giggled.

Another, slightly older foal puzzled over his snow-covered cannonball. “I don’t get it,” he said. “What’s the point?”

“Um…” said Scroll. “There isn’t one.”

“There’s no point?” asked the foal, his hoof on the snowball. “Then why are were doing it?”

“Umm... Tap?” Scroll asked. “The… the book?” He waved his hoof at her, gesturing to the book beside her.

Tap looked down at the book beside her and turned it to Winter Sports for Snowy Days. “Well?” she asked. “What do you want me to do?”

“Um…” said Scroll, his face flushing slightly. “Help explain?”

Tap rolled her eyes and read, “Just because it’s chilly and gloomy outside doesn’t mean you have to be, too! There are many fun activities you and your friends can do in winter time, from sledding to ice skating to—”

“That doesn’t answer the question,” the foal said flatly. He looked around and snorted. “I have to work. I don’t have time for this.” He snorted and walked off.

“But, um…” Scroll started, but shrank back. “Okay.”

Some more foals dispersed from the crowd, going back in different directions. Many of them stayed behind, watching Scroll.

“Well,” said Scroll, taking a deep breath and straightening his glasses. “Why don’t you all continue without me while I plan our next activity.” The foals went to it as Scroll walked up to Tap, a painful smile plastered on his face, and said, “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“That’s okay,” said Tap, deadpanning, “you almost fooled me.” She looked off down the road. “You know, that foal had a point. A lot of these kids who don’t have parents have to look after themselves. At a rebuilding time like this they’re the ones who need to pull their weight and get back on their hooves.”

“I guess,” said Scroll, sighing, “but I think about Clip, and I—”

“Oh, taking in Clip was totally great,” said Tap, “I’m not saying you did anything wrong there. But that was because you could take him in. These foals, though?” She looked out at them, then she looked at Scroll. He stood there, staring blankly, lost in thought. “Scroll?” she asked. “Please tell me you’re not getting a terrible idea.”

Scroll winced. “It’s not terrible… I don’t think it is, anyway…”

“Well, you can’t take them all in,” said Tap. “Not with him.”

Scroll’s uneasy smile drooped and he sagged slightly. “I just need to think of something.”

“Yeah,” said Tap, getting off of the barrel. “You do that. I got some other stuff I have to take care of. See ya around.”

Scroll sat down on the barrel where she had been sitting, watching the foals play. The wheels in his head turned and turned. He’d get an idea. Maybe he already had one.

___________


“Excuse me,” said Eagle. “What the fuck is the point of all this?”

He was back on the Storm Cloud. They all were, him and a bunch of soldiers, back before he met that snivelling shit-pussy missionary. Back when he was busy being annoyed by that other missionary, Brother Sky, who had carefully arranged some stupid obstacle course.

“This,” explained Sky, “is a team-building exercise. It’s important for your relationships as a, um, well… a team.”

“Relationships? Sounds gay,” laughed Eagle.

“If you’re not interested then you can go do something else,” said Sky through nearly-gritted teeth.

“No no no nooooo,” said Eagle. “I’m very interested in this relationships stuff. Just, can I get paired up with a hottie?” There were a few chuckles from the other pegasi. Brother Sky looked up at the platform above them. General Storm stood there, looking down, her eyes cold and impassive. She was unlikely to do anything; she was just here to watch.

Sky looked back at Eagle. “Leave. Now.” The other pegasi made chants of “ooh!” and “it’s on, now.”

Eagle chuckled and walked up to him. “Make me, bitch.”

“Do you just get a kick out of being a douchebag?” asked Sky. “‘Cause you’re a douchebag.”

In a flash, Eagle swung his hoof and clocked Brother Sky right in the nose. Sky reeled back, covering his face with his hoof.

“Douchebag, right,” said Eagle. “So it’s my job to clean out the pussy. That’s you.” He sneered. “You think you’re top shit and everything, but nopony gives a fuck.”

Sky took a step back. “Nopony gives a fuck…” he repeated. “Right. Not here. But you know something, Eagle? I don’t think anypony gives a fuck about you, either.” He lowered his hoof. His nose was bleeding profusely. “But the funny part is that somepony does give a fuck about me. Back home I got a mom and dad. If they’ve found out that I had to fly away from Earthquake Island for my life, then they’re worried sick. And if I die, then, well, haha,” he laughed darkly. “There’s probably gonna be, like… a funeral and stuff. They’ll get photographs of me and have a service. They’ll talk about things I did. I have friends and family back home, Eagle. What do you have?”

He was met by another hoof to the face, this one knocking him down. He didn’t have time to register as more blows came, hitting him in the chest and the stomach. Eagle looked down at him. “I have a gun,” he said. “Not that I need it to kick your ass.”

Sky looked up at at General Storm, still watching, her stoney expression unchanged. “Then kick my ass,” he whispered. “That’s all you can do. And then you’ll die. Bleeding. Screaming. And alone. And then nopony will care. There won’t be a funeral or a service. I’ve seen a lot of you die, and nothing happens,” he said. “You will die, and you will leave nothing behind. Like you never existed.”

___________


Eagle awoke with a start, sweating profusely. Thankfully he had left the curtains open, giving himself some much-needed breathing space. He heard the door open.

“Well, that was fun,” announced Scroll, trotting inside.

“Uh?” groaned Eagle.

“Oh, good, you’re back there,” said Scroll, trotting over by his bedside. “How was your breakfast?”

The tray of food lay on the bedside, covered in crumbs. “Uh, it was good,” said Eagle. “Thanks.”

Scroll trotted over to the desk and started sorting through papers. “Real lucky the Fraternity sent us a crate full of scarves for Hearth’s Warming,” said Scroll. “Though… I shouldn’t be that happy. It’s only here because the town got snowed in. I dunno. Maybe snowing the town in was better than tornados.”

Eagle snorted and looked up at the ceiling. “Are you done?” he asked.

Scroll looked at him for a moment, quietly. Eagle raised an eyebrow in suspicion. “What are you doing?” he asked. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Not enough ponies,” said Scroll quietly. “Not enough for tornados and a direct attack. Not at the same time. So it’s the same with you.”

“Huh?” asked Eagle.

“When Storm tried to kill me me she mocked me for being a ‘civilian,’” said Scroll. “The Storm Cloud doesn’t have civilians, does it? Every pony there goes into the armed forces and joins in the attacks here. You… you’re practically a foal yourself. And Clip got tossed off the cloud because he couldn’t fly. Couldn’t fight,” said Scroll. “You’re throwing every pony you have into your military and you’re dying faster than you can replace anypony.”

“Seriously, stop looking at me like that,” said Eagle. “It’s creeping me the fuck out.”

“Sorry,” said Scroll, turning away. He looked over his papers. “You’re killing each other.”

“And who the fuck asked you?” asked Eagle. He moved to sit up.

“Careful,” said Scroll, raising a hoof. “Don’t want to stress your wings.” He lowered his hoof again as Eagle lay back down. Then, after a moment’s pause, Scroll turned around again, his eyes narrowed. “And I think I will chime in, seeing how it’s kinda my job.”

“Fuck you.”

Scroll snorted. “Most ponies like you at your age are shoving foals in lockers or stealing lunch money or, or giving swirlies. You, on the other hoof…” He shook his head. “Well, at least I get a reason for your attacks. When the unicorns attack, however… they don’t take food or anything. They take a lot of prisoners, though… I just wish I knew why.”

“Why didn’t you kill me?” asked Eagle. Scroll turned around. “You could have. You could have easily finished me off. You and your friend had my gun. You could have shot me or stomped my head, or…” His voice trailed off.

Scroll sorted his papers into a nice, neat stack, and put them back in the desk drawer. He got up to leave and head back out the door, but not without turning to Eagle and saying, “Because I’m not like you.”

___________


General Quake watched as the soldiers hauled that massive crates into the camp. He smirked as they filed in. His breath crystalized in the air, somehow more frightening than it should have been.

“I should have done this a long time ago,” he said, watching as the last crate rolled into the camp.

Gunner and Trigger Mark were on their way out, Trigger Mark looking sternly ahead and Gunner rattling on about something. Quake didn’t really care, because Gunner was kind of stupid and gave him a headache.

“The fuck do you two think you’re going?” he asked. The soldiers stopped. Gunner opened his mouth to say something, most likely ‘umm,’ but Quake cut him off. “I want you in the camp.”

“Yes sir,” said Trigger Mark, helping to turn Gunner around before they both marched back inside.

“I’m guessing you’re really excited about what was on that boat,” said Tap’s voice. Quake turned around and saw her standing there in the snow, with the red scarf around her neck. He smiled.

“It’s the best fucking thing I’ve had in weeks,” he said.

“Those weren’t Equestrian ships,” observed Tap, looking back down the road in the direction of the harbor. “They sure didn’t look like it.”

“No,” he said, his mouth stretched into a disturbingly eager smile, “Equestria wouldn’t sell these to me. Not for cheap, anyway.”

“Is it something I get to see?” asked Tap, crossing her forelegs demurely. “Or is this a military secret?”

Quake chuckled, and one could swear the snow vibrated just a little. “Oh, by all means, come inside and take a look.” He stepped aside and raised a hoof, signalling her inside. She passed by and he watched lustily after her. “So,” he said, following her into the camp. “What can I do you for?”

Tap turned her head and looked back at him. “I was actually thinking I’d like a blanket.”

Quake cut in front of her. “You look pretty in that scarf,” he said. “Where’d you get it? Brother Scroll give it to you?”

“Yes,” said Tap. Quickly, she changed the subject. “Actually, you got any spare firewood, too?”

“Yeah,” said Quake. “I got plenty in my stash. You can take as much as you like.”

“Generous,” said Tap.

“Well, I’m in a great fucking mood right now,” said Quake. Tap’s face bore an expression of a mix of amusement and weirded out curiousity. “You’ll see.”

He led her to the middle of the camp, where the big black crates stood. “Everyone get your asses here!” he shouted.

Soldiers ran up and stood at attention, some like professionals, some like they’d just woken up. However, all the soldiers there stood in rows in front of Quake, who looked up and down them all.

“So, I’ve made a deal with some folks out to the west,” he said, gesturing to the massive crates behind him. “And they’ve made a delivery that couldn’t have come at a better fucking time.”

He walked up to one of the crates, turned around, and kicked it. The wood splintered and the fragments of the box fell away, revealing the contents inside.

It was something like a two-pony bicycle, except with a massive propeller and mounted with dual machine guns.

“Wow!” said Gunner, a smile coming across his face. Then the smile drooped and he leaned over to Trigger Mark. “What is it?”

“We’re gonna have two soldiers to each of these,” explained Quake. “General Cunt has used her usual ass-tics of hitting us and running away. Except this time, we’re gonna follow and beat their asses while they’re still licking their assholes.”

The soldiers smiled, looking over all the boxes. There was a dull murmuring sound. This had gotten them excited.

“We head out tonight!” said Quake. “We’re gonna fly after them and rain hell on their little raincloud. Strafe ‘em with machine guns and then charge on their houses. That’ll show em not to—”

“You can’t walk on clouds,” said Tap. General Quake fell silent and slowly turned to face her. His expression had turned to annoyed confusion. Tap cleared her throat. “Uh… non-pegasus ponies can’t walk on clouds.”

“The fuck do you know that?” asked Quake.

Tap looked around at the soldiers, all of them looking at her curiously. “I read it,” she said simply.

“Sir?” said Trigger Mark. “She’s correct. I’ve read it, too.”

Gunner looked at him. “Really?”

“It’s in the missionaries’ book,” Trigger Mark explained, shoving a hoof over Gunner’s mouth. “Non-pegasi need special spells to walk on clouds.”

“Shit,” said General Quake. His eyebrows furrowed in thought. “We can still bullet-fuck ‘em, right?”

“Don’t see why not,” said Trigger Mark, shrugging.

Quake grunted. “Good enough. We leave tonight.” His mouth curled into a crude smile. “We’re gonna find ‘em and make them pay for every last piece of shit they did. We’re gonna bullet-fuck ‘em, all right…” He looked back up at the soldiers. “Everyone make sure you’re ready tonight.”

The soldiers nodded and went about their business. Quake stood there for a moment, smiling to himself, basking in his own satisfaction. However, that was soon broken.

“Sir—Ow!” said his lieutenant.

Quake had responded by hitting him on the head. “Don’t interrupt me when I’m thinking,” he said. “Or when I’m talking. Or fucking.”

“Sorry, sir,” said the lieutenant, nursing the now-rising lump on his head.

“So what the fuck is it?” asked Quake.

“The, uh…” the Lieutenant babbled. “The missionary is here with a letter.”

Quake snorted. “Remember the part I said about fucking?”

The Lieutenant took a nervous step back. “Yes, sir?”

“If you ever interrupt my fucking with that,” he said, glaring. “I am going to smear you over the side of the mountain.”

___________


General Quake looked over the letter. Then he looked up at Scroll. Then he looked back to the letter. His lieutenants stood by the opening of his tent, while Tap sat behind him.

Scroll sat down, nervously twiddling his hooves and looking aimlessly from soldier to soldier. His jaw rocked back and forth slightly. Quake couldn’t look at him for more than a few seconds without getting the immense urge to punt him out of the camp.

“This is fucking stupid,” said Quake. He looked at Scroll. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be the stupid one.”

“This isn’t stupid,” said Scroll. “It’s the moral thing to do.”

“Oh, this shit…” Quake mumbled.

“General,” said Scroll, his voice nearly shaking, “there are a lot of foals here who don’t have parents. These foals have to fend for themselves. They have…” he stopped. “I remember Clip. He had nowhere to go, so he had to pick up garbage to keep himself living. I know there’s Buzz, who has to try to take over his dad’s carpentry business since the unicorns took his father away. And there’s more of them, like with—”

“Did you prepare a fucking list or something?” asked Quake. “Get to the fucking point?”

“General,” said Scroll. “General… I want these foals to have a better life. We can help. We can get these foals on the next ship to Equestria. The Fraternity can get them into foster care, help them find families who want to take in foals to raise. We can…” He forced a smile. “We can give them loving families. Childhoods. Educations. We can raise them in a better, kinder world. We can give them a chance to have something more.  Me I… I’m just one pony, I… I can’t do all that much. I need you to help me.” He slowly approached, his back hunched over in a preemptive cringe. “You don’t know what this means to me. You… you’re responsible for this island. These foals are yours. I need you to do this. Please… I just need you to say yes.”

Quake stared at him. Scroll stared back, holding his breath. Quake continued to just watch him, in the hopes that Scroll would pass out in front of him, but when it turned out that that would take too long, he answered. “No,” he said.

“I—wh—”

Quake crumpled up the letter and stomped it. “That’s my answer. They’re my foals, you say. Well, I’m sure as fuck not giving them up. I need them to keep rebuilding and fighting.”

“But—” Scroll sputtered.

“Actually, no, that’s not why I’m saying ‘no,’” said Quake. “I’m actually saying ‘no’ because I want you to go fuck yourself.”

Scroll silenced himself and took a step back. “I don’t understand it,” he said softly. “You’d refuse that just to spite me.”

“Sure as fuck,” said Quake. “Now don’t come back unless you have a letter about how great your week was having anal sex with your mission-buddy.”

“But I—”

Quake rose from his seat and, in a massive brown blur cleared the gap between himself and Scroll.

“No buts,” barked Quake.

“I-i-if I don’t do that,” said Scroll, stumbling backwards and falling on his rear, “maybe, uh, maybe I could, uh…” His eyes flicked back and forth, looking to the other ponies as though hoping they could offer some support. “Send for some more ponies to help? We could set up a, uh, a thing here and—”

Quake stopped that with a swift hoof. Scroll saw stars flash before his eyes as it smashed into his face. He could feel his nose break, and his glasses snap and shatter. Not again… he thought.

“I think I have all the missionaries I need,” Quake said, snorting. He looked down at Scroll, who had instantly crumpled onto the ground, clutching his nose. “I don’t give a shit what you do with the kids, but you aren’t taking them to Equestria and you’re not bring more of your friends here. You got that?” Scroll didn’t even dare squirm. “Well?”

Scroll squeaked out a meek “yes sir,” through his hooves.

“Good,” said Quake. However, he put a hoof to Scroll’s head. “And another thing…” He lowered his head. “You never, ever tell me how I run my island.” He lifted his hoof and stepped away. “Now get out.”

Scroll clumsily pulled himself up and scampered out of the camp, protectively covering his bleeding nose with a hoof.

___________


Scroll sat at the desk, breathing easy and watching as the foals sat around, drinking their cocoa and eating grilled cheese sandwiches.

Scroll was rather pleased with himself for having come up with a solution to his dilemma. He didn’t have to do anything at all. He just looked over to the corner of the room, where the curtains were drawn. Scroll had taken the additional precaution of roping it off and hanging a sign that read: WARNING: Boring Books!

This seemed to do the trick. For the time being, Scroll looked over his letter and took a sip of lemonade. He chewed on his quill, trying to think of a way to write it. He decided, ultimately, to simply say things were underway and that he was working with the foals. Maybe he’d be able to take a picture with them.

It would play into what Quake wanted. “Everything’s going great. Please give us more stuff,” he thought pitifully. He dipped the quill into the inkwell and began to write. He was less pleased with the fact that he had now run out of glasses and had to resort to the last thing in his case: a monocle.

The foals continued to amuse themselves. A few of them looked over the bookshelves, but soon lost interest.

Buzz was among them, and walked over to the desk. “Brother Scroll?” he asked.

Scroll looked away from his letter and down at the colt. “Yes?” he asked, the quill sticking out through his teeth. “Is there something you wanted?”

“Not really,” Buzz mumbled. “Apart from everything to go back to normal.”

“Whose normal?” asked Scroll, spitting out the quill.

“I just want my father back,” said Buzz. “And Brother White. I miss them.”

Scroll, looked over at him and slouched forward in his seat. “So do I.” He nodded.

“It’s my fault they’re gone,” said Buzz, staring straight into the floor.

“Now, Buzz…”

“No! It is!” said Buzz, looking up. His eyes seemed to shake a bit as tears began to well in them. “If I hadn’t run and gone... if I didn’t hide, then dad wouldn’t have gotten captured, and Barrel wouldn’t have gotten shot, and White wouldn’t have—”

“Buzz,” said Scroll, firmly but gently. “You had no way of knowing what would happen. And, as someone who was there when White, well… had to run for his life, I can safely say that you had no part in it.”

“Still feels like it,” said Buzz. “After everything I did…” He looked back down, sagging his shoulders. “I tried to kill him,” he said softly. “I tried to kill him for no reason. I… I did that. A-and I’ll never not have done that. At first I thought it’d be, like, funny, but now I think about it more and more and—” His voice broke. “Now he’s gone and I’ll never be able to say I’m sorry. And my father’s gone and… I’ll never be able to face it. I lied to him. I told him a lie so he’d go after White a-and now he’s gone and I might never see him again and it’s all my fault and—”

Scroll put a comforting hoof on the colt’s shoulder. “Buzz,” he said. Buzz made a loud sniff and looked up at him. “I don’t know your father very well, but one thing I know for sure is that he loves you very much.”

Buzz made another loud sniff and wiped his nose with his hoof. “I… I guess… I just wish they were back.”

“I know,” said Scroll, looking up at the wall. “So do I…”

Buzz got up. “I should go,” he said. “I need to carve more stuff. I have to manage the shop.”

Scroll smiled. “I’m sure when your father gets back he’ll be very proud of you for running it while he’s gone.”

“You think so?”

Scroll nodded. “I think so.”

Buzz took a deep breath and trod out the door, leaving Scroll to return to his letter. However, something else drew his attention.

“Nuh…” came a soft moan from behind the curtain.

“What was that?” asked one of the foals.

“What was what?” squeaked Scroll, perhaps a little too quickly.

“It came from behind the curtain,” said another foal. Before Scroll could say anything, however, the soft moan came again.

“There’s somepony behind there,” said the first foal.

As he saw the foals begin to approach the curtain, Scroll bolted from the desk in front of them. One of the foals reached out a hoof to touch the curtain, and Scroll slapped it away. “Stop!” he yelped, his brain racing to try to think of something. “Uh… that pony is very sick.”

“What’s he sick with?” asked the foal.

Time seemed frozen for Scroll. He felt a ponderous sinking feeling on him, as though he were inside a wet cardboard box, trying desperately to hold it up, while on a set of tracks where two trains were about to crash into each other on his location. For a moment, an impulse screamed in his ear to do what he would do in that situation: drop everything and run away, screaming like a pansy.

“Uhh…” said Scroll, his face almost dead. “Boredom.”

“Boredom?”

“Yeah,” said Scroll. He pointed a hoof to the sign. “He read the boring books. And now he’s bored.” One of the foals took a tentative step forward. “Stay back!” warned Scroll, jerking forward and startling the foal backwards. “It’s contagious!” He looked at the curtain. “You, uh… tell them how bored you are?”

There was a pregnant silence before Eagle spoke. “Yes,” he said. “Very, very bored.”

“See?” asked Scroll, smiling weakly. “And it’s contagious. So you can’t see him or you’ll get bored, too. And then it’ll be a, uh, an epidemic!”

“I don’t know what that means,” said a foal.

“Something bad!” said Scroll.

The other foals looked at him disbelievingly, looking from him to each other to the sign. One foal mumbled ‘I can’t read.’ Scroll looked around at the others as the curtain ruffled slightly with another cough.

Shit, thought Scroll.

“What kind of book is it?” asked a foal, standing on his tippy-hooves. There was a dense silence.

“Well?” asked Scroll through a pained smile. “What, uh… what kind of book are you reading?”

“Uh…” said Eagle. “A boring one.”

“What’s it about?” asked another foal.

“It’s about, um…” said Eagle.

For a moment the color fell from Scroll’s face as he envisioned the world coming down around him, starting with the library and ending with a giant sign that said ‘Scroll You Fucking Idiot.’ Then, Eagle spoke again.

“It’s about a stallion. He walks to the edge of a cliff and looks down,” he said. Scroll’s ears pricked up. “He looks down. The cliff is so high he can’t see the ground at the bottom. He thinks about the way he walked, the things he walked from, and wonders if any of it was worth doing. The whole story is him, standing at the edge and looking down. He doesn’t know if he’s going to jump off or if he’s going to turn around again and head back on down.”

Scroll was completely silent. So were the foals. They sat in their seats, looking straight ahead as though they could see the pony behind the curtain and the sign.

“Wow,” said one of the foals. “That really does sound boring.”

___________


Barrel was very proud of himself. He’d managed to clean the entire floor except for a corner. That one corner was presently piled with splinters and broken glass. He figured he’d just wait for Tap to get home and help him with that. It shouldn’t be too hard, he reasoned. It was only one pile.

Satisfied with the job he’d done, he went over to the bathroom, prepared to take a celebratory dump. He decided against trying to clean it, as it was just bound to get dirty. He could’ve sworn that certain puke stains on the floor dated back more than an attack or two before; older than this incarnation of the tavern.

Still, he’d mentioned numerous times to Tap that he thought they should plug up those holes in the stall walls. Tap said not to worry about it, but he couldn’t help eyeing them when he sat down.

This time, however, before he sat down to relieve himself, he noticed some odd patch down in the pit. He squinted his eyes, but couldn’t make it out in the dim lamplight.

“Barrel?” called his sister. He looked up. “I’m home. I see you got the place cleaned up… mostly.”

“I’m in here!” Barrel answered. “I found something funny in the toilet.”

“You didn’t touch it, did you?”

“No!”

There was a soft thud, and Tap made her way over to the bathroom. She had a folded-up blanket on her back. “I got a blanket and some firewood,” she said, approaching the stall. “Thought it’d help warm up a little. Barrel was still peering into the toilet, so she stepped up next to him and slipped the blanket over his back. He looked up at her.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Any time,” said Tap, putting her arm around his shoulder.

Barrel smiled and looked down at the toilet. “So, I think there’s something down there.”

Tap leaned over, peering down. “What is it?”

“I dunno,” said Barrel. “Think we could, like, fish it out?”

“Yeah, I’ll take care of it,” said Tap. “Why don’t you head over by the fireplace? I got some wood and I can start a fire.”

Barrel nodded and they both walked out of the bathroom. Tap soon went back in with a long wooden pole while he got in a seat in front of the fireplace, wrapping himself in the blanket. It was warm and soft and had a changing red-and-blue pattern. He hummed softly in contentment.

“Oh, fuck!” shouted Tap. Barrel started up. She marched out of the room and threw something on the floor.

“What is it?” asked Barrel, looking over at it. It was a small, white (though less white than it might have been, owing to it being covered in piss and shit), crystalline device.

“It’s a unicorn teleporter.”

___________


General Quake hunched over, his hulking form bent over the table. His nostrils flared and he made a face.

“It smells like shit,” he said.

The fireplace was lit. Barrel sat in front of it, seemingly not listening to the conversation, wrapped in a warm blanket and drinking a cup of warm water. Tap did not have any cocoa on hoof. Quake watched him curiously, recognizing the blanket he’d given her. Next to Quake sat his lieutenant on one side and Trigger Mark on the other.

“Well, Barrel did find it in the toilet,” said Tap. “So what does this mean?”

“It means the dickheads have been at it again,” said Quake. “We need to fucking root through this town and find them. And then smash ‘em.”

“Shit,” said Tap, “does this mean you’re calling off that attack tonight?”

“Fuck no,” Quake grunted, sitting up. “We’re not getting another chance like this.”

“Well,” said Tap, leaning her head back and forth. “We could wait for another attack…”

Quake snorted.

The door found itself thrown open as Scroll waltzed in. “Tap, I was wondering if I could borrow some water!” he shouted in a loud, but tired voice.

“It's downstairs," answered Tap.

“I, uh…” Scroll stepped into the room and looked over at Quake at the table. “What’s going on?”

“None of your fucking business,” said Quake, hiding the teleporter. Scroll leaned over to his side, trying to see around him, and nearly fell over. “The fuck are you wearing?”

Scroll backed up. “Uhh… it’s a monocle.”

“I know what a monocle is!” barked Quake, making Scroll jump. “Why are you wearing one?”

“I, uh…” Scroll pawed the floor and looked at Trigger Mark and Tap, as though hoping for support. “I ran out of glasses. I wrote mom a letter asking for more,” said Scroll. “I said I, uh, sat on the box.”

“Great,” said Quake, waving a hoof. “Now fuck off.”

“The water’s in the cellar,” said Tap, motioning towards the door.

Scroll nodded and walked over to the cellar door, disappearing down the stairs. Quake watched him and then looked back at Tap.

“So you two’re still fucking?” he asked.

Tap rolled her eyes. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Sir?” asked Trigger Mark. “What about…” He looked down at the device. “This?”

Quake snorted. He raised his hoof over the table, ready to slam it down and smash the table and the teleporter to splinters. Tap winced, but Quake didn’t bring it down. Instead, he smiled a leery smile. “No,” he said, slowly lowering his hoof. “I won’t smash it,” he said. “We’ll gather them all up and set it up so that when the unicorns come, they’ll be right there, and we can shoot them all there before they fucking know where they are.” He chortled. “Monarch thinks he’s so fucking smart. He’ll see.” He looked at Tap. “We’ll get everypony in town looking for these. Round ‘em all up, maybe we can find the little horner bastard who’s hiding them and smash his fucking face in.”

Tap’s eyes wandered to the door. “Well, that sounds like a plan,” she said.

“That’ll delay the snow-clearing,” said Trigger Mark.

“Too bad,” said Quake. “We’ll have just have to put up with the cold for a while longer.”

“Uhh, sir?” asked the lieutenant. “I just have to wonder… even if we do collect them all…” Quake turned a glaring eye on him and he shrank a little. “Well, there’s still the possibility that they could overwhelm whoever’s there.”

“He’s right, sir,” said Trigger Mark. “We can’t have all the soldiers stationed on it at all times, and if they start coming in fast, we might not be able to react in time.”

Quake made a deep sound, as though thinking. “You’re right…” Then he smiled again. “I got a better idea. We won’t need bullets.”

Trigger Mark, Tap, and the lieutenant exchanged glances. Quake continued, his voice dripping with self-satisfaction.

“We hang ‘em all high. Let them come in and then fall to the ground and then…” He slammed his hoof down on the table, smashing it to splinters and rattling the tavern around them.

___________


Scroll, water bucket in mouth, nodded politely to Tap, grimacing at the remains of the table. He walked out the door, careful not to spill any water. As his hooves crunched the snow, he stopped and realized that he didn’t need to get any water at all. He could have simply filled the bucket with snow and waited for it to melt.

At times like this, Scroll worried he wasn’t as smart as he thought he was.

Crunch, crunch, crunch went the snow beneath his hooves. He set down the bucket for a moment, catching his breath and watching the vapor chill in the air. He smiled and took a few more breaths, just watching the air freeze like a light smoke.

He bent down to pick up the bucket again, but his monocle fell in with a light splash. With a short sigh, he picked up the bucket. He didn’t really need the monocle to walk.

Though he did admit that it was harder to see. He squinted, trying to make his way through the town. This was the right way, he thought as he turned a corner. It looked familiar, at least. He hoped. He came to a dead end in an alley.

Oh, he thought. He looked down at the water bucket and the monocle inside it. Deciding to spare himself the trouble of trying to guess through his blurry vision, he set down the bucket and pulled the lens out by the cord fastening it to his neck. He roughly placed it back on his face and saw that he was, as he suspected, not on the right track.

“Stupid jerks always breaking my…” he mumbled, picking up the bucket and turning to walk back the way he came, this time with decent vision.

However, when he turned around, he bumped right into somepony. The bucket of water tipped and spilled all over a cloaked pony, soaking him in the front.

“Gah!” said the pony, jumping back. There was a bright spark, as a small crystalline device floated out from beneath the cloak. “Oh, no…” It shook in midair as the other pony cursed.

Scroll, however, had to take a moment to process what had just happened. “Uh…” Then it clicked. “You’re a unicorn!”

The pony stopped and stared at him. Beneath the hood of his cloak, Scroll could see a furious glare, as a gun floated out and pointed directly at his face.

All Scroll could do was say, “This has been a surprisingly shitty day so far…”

However, before the unicorn could pull the trigger, a voice called out. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Scroll and the unicorn both turned and saw Gunner standing at the entrance to the alley. As soon as the unicorn could aim his gun, Gunner’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit!”

BANG!

Gunner just barely managed to duck out of the way as the bullet hit a trash can. “We got a horner here!” he shouted.

“Shit!” spat the unicorn.

Scroll had, for a moment, considered running away, but a surge of magic grabbed him by his neck. He felt himself wrenched off of the ground, in front of the unicorn. The gun floated next to him, pointed at his head.
 
Soldiers began to pile in from behind Gunner, their guns pointed at the unicorn.

“Stay back!” said the unicorn, taking a slow step backwards. “One wrong move and this guy dies!” 

The soldiers looked at him, then at Scroll, then at each other. None of them opened fire.

The unicorn looked at the entrance to the alley way, and then behind him. A dead end. No doors in the alleyway, either, just some rocks, snow, and bits of debris. He took a step back, dragging Scroll with him.

Trigger Mark stepped from behind the wall. “You’re surrounded!” he said. “Give yourself up!”

“P-please?” asked Scroll. “Please do as he says?”

“Shut it!” hissed the unicorn through gritted teeth. “You’ll just shoot me either way!”

Then the ground began to shake.

“What—” said the unicorn.

Scroll, however, knew what was coming. “At least I don’t have any more glasses to break…”

General Quake stepped into view behind the soldiers. He looked from them, over to the unicorn, then to Scroll, then to the soldiers again. “The fuck is this?” he asked.

“Unicorn, sir!” said the Lieutenant. “He has the missionary hostage!”

“No fucking shit,” said Quake. “I wouldn’t have figured that out from the horn and the gun pointed at the faggot’s head.” He looked over at the unicorn. “So!” He boomed. “You’re the asswipe who’s been planting shit!”

“Stay back!” said the unicorn, drawing backwards again. “One wrong move and I shoot.”

“Uh…” said Scroll, as he strained his neck to try to face his captor. “Mister?”

General Quake didn’t move from where he was, but slowly, slowly he tilted his head and a small smirk grew on his face.

“I really don’t think he cares.”

General Quake plodded through, the snow not even slowing his tracks. The unicorn’s eyes went wide and, fortunately for his hostage, he forgot to shoot him.

He backed up, dragging Scroll with him, looking around the alleyway for some way out. There were none. He looked back up at Quake, who was still advancing, and turned his gun on him.

Before he could pull the trigger, however, Quake slammed one of his feet back down on the ground, shaking the island. Snow and ice fell from the roof, an icicle nearly hitting Scroll in the shoulder. The unicorn, however, stumbled and lost his footing, dropping both Scroll and the gun.

Scroll hit a faceful of snow on the ground and barely saw as Quake swept past him. There was a shout. He turned his head and saw Quake rear up, lifting the unicorn into the air. Then he looked away and he heard a crunch, a squish, and the ground shook again.

When General Quake walked past him again, he left bloody hoofprints in the snow.

“Jackshit didn’t even shoot,” he said. “What a pussy.”

The soldiers dispersed slowly, as Quake barked orders. “Now find the shit he left behind! I want all of it found!”

Scroll pulled himself up and looked at the spent, shorted teleporter the unicorn had been using. Then he looked up at the soldiers, and his eyes focused on the sheepish, belittled Lieutenant. And then Brother Scroll got another idea.

“Hey!” he said, trotting after the Lieutenant. “Heeey, buddy!”

The Lieutenant blinked. “Uhh, yeah?”

Scroll carried the spent teleporter in his mouth. “I heard you had a bit of a unicorn problem, and I got an idea…”

___________


The water machine the earth ponies had taken from the unicorns was, fortunately, still chugging along. Two earth ponies stood by as it pumped hundreds of gallons of water into a giant pit in the mountain caves.

The lieutenant stood in between Tap and the general and the other soldiers, looking up at the ceiling. “We can hang them up there,” he explained. “Then when they attack, they’ll show up up there, and then they’ll fall in the water below.” He walked around the edge of the pit, looking at the other soldiers. “You can line up soldiers around here, pointing inwards. You’ll have the soldiers trapped.”

“Like shooting apples in a barrel,” said Tap, tilting her head admiringly.

“Well, uh…” said the Lieutenant. “No ‘shooting.’”

“We fucking get it already,” Quake grunted. “Take ‘em alive, trade ‘em for King Horner’s hostages.”

“Pretty much, yeah…” said the Lieutenant.

“And those foals get their parents back…” muttered Tap. “Sounds like a plan.”

Quake, meanwhile, just looked into the pit as the water poured in, his face as hard and unexpressive as stone. The Lieutenant looked at him; he hadn’t shot down the idea, but he was still worried…

Quake stepped up to the edge and turned around. “If they’re going to be here…” He bent his hind legs and squatted. “I don’t have to make it fucking cozy.”

There was a mighty crack of wind and the soldiers watched, many of them shuffling awkwardly, as General Quake shat and shat into the pit of water.

Tap cleared her throat. “Well…” she said. “I’m just wondering, don’t the unicorns have stuff that lets them teleport out? Not all of them, I guess, but still.”

Nopony answered. Gunner was still staring, open-mouthed, at Quake. Quake screwed his face as more wind broke from his ass.

“Well, uh…” said the Lieutenant at length. “That’s what the water’s for. The devices the, uh, horners have on them will short out.”

Quake finished his business and stood up. “Ughh…” he groaned. “Well, good work,” he said. “You said something that wasn’t fucking stupid. If this actually works maybe you’ll get promoted.”

“Really?” asked the Lieutenant, his face lighting up.

Quake didn’t answer, but just stormed out of the cave. The other soldiers piled out, leaving just Tap and the Lieutenant.

“He liked it…” said the Lieutenant. “He actually liked something I did! That’s never happened before!”

“Uh-huh…” said Tap, looking at him. “Was that your idea?”

The Lieutenant’s smile twitched. “Yes?”

Tap nodded. “Uh-huh. Well,” she said, looking at him. “Here’s hoping that promotion works.”

The Lieutenant walked out, singing a little to himself, with Tap following after him.

When she reached the edge of the cave, she stopped and sighed, looking back over the town.

“So did it work?” asked a voice.

Tap turned and saw Scroll hiding near the mouth of the cave.

“It hasn’t happened yet,” said Tap.

“I know,” said Scroll, stepping out of the shadows. “But is he using the idea?”

Tap sighed. “Yes.”

Scroll pumped his hoof in the air.

“So, you got a new idea and fed it to him?” asked Tap disbelievingly.

“Well…” said Scroll, pawing nervously at the ground, “he was in a better position than me.”

“He isn’t exactly Quake’s most trusted advisor,” said Tap.

“No,” said Scroll, “but…” He punctuated it with a hoof-movement. “He is part of Quake’s military circle. I’m not. Quake, well… really, really doesn’t like me and, uh… I don’t want my monocle broken.”

Tap tilted her head. “So you feed it to the guy most desperate for Quake’s approval and hoped the general would go for it?”

“Well,” said Scroll, rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought the idea was good enough to stand.”

Tap chuckled. “That’s pretty Marechiavellian of you.”

Scroll blinked.

“Hey,” said Tap, turning down the path. “I read. Sometimes.”

The two of them walked down the mountain path. Scroll could look out and see what seemed such a jarring shift to him; there were the acres and acres of the island forest farmland, completely untouched by the attack, and then there was the town, snowed in like it had been the worst blizzard imaginable.

“Maybe they’ll be able to trade the hostages for White,” said Tap. “Maybe even the other missionary guy.” She nudged Scroll gently. “I’ll bet you’d like that.”

“I would,” said Scroll, nodding. He sighed. “I miss him a lot.”

“I miss him, too,” said Tap, looking up at the sky. “He always did make me smile. The other unicorn, less so.”

“Brother Shine?”

“Yeah,” Tap laughed. “I did not like him. He was just this… this spineless ass. Spineless and turned his nose up at everything, like he was better than everypony.” She paused for a thought. “I guess White also thought he was better than everypony, but… he wasn’t a dick. Ah well. I guess… they’re gone because Quake ran them off, so… Well, maybe he’s cooled down by now.”

Scroll stopped by the edge for a moment, looking at the whited-out town. Tap peered at him.

“So how’s the little monster you got?” asked Tap.

Scroll turned his head. “Huh?”

“The pegasus,” said Tap, cautiously looking back and forth along the path to make sure nopony was eavesdropping. “What did you think I was talking about?”

Scroll blushed a little and fidgeted with his monocle. “I think he’s doing okay. It wasn’t a problem when I had the foals over.”

Tap rolled her eyes and slouched forward in a sigh. “Yeah, keep that up.”

“Hey, it’s nice,” said Scroll defensively. “He told them a story—”

“What?” asked Tap, balking.

“From behind a curtain!” Scroll added rapidly. “They just thought he was bored!”

“I’m not going to ask you to explain,” said Tap, shaking her head, “I gave up on that a while ago. Just as long as this doesn’t get you killed, I guess that’s fine with me.”

“He’s just a kid, Tap,” said Scroll. “I just—”

“All right, already!” said Tap, walking past him and rolling her eyes. “Sheesh, Scroll, I don’t need a heartfelt speech. I just wanted to know if that was going okay. A simple ‘he hasn’t succeeded in murdering me yet’ would have been fine.”

“Sorry,” said Scroll, following after her.

They entered into the town. Ponies were scurrying about, soldier and civilian alike, turning over garbage cans, rocks, floorboards, and everything else that could hide something. Quake hadn’t wasted any time getting to work.

“Poor Quake,” said Tap, leaning against a wooden beam. “He just wanted some time to cool off and now he’s got all this to worry about. Clearing snow, finding unicorn beacons, attacking the pegasi tonight…”

“Huh?” asked Scroll, turning his head sharply. “What did you say?”

“Nothin’,” said Tap, resuming her walk without a look at him. “By the way, you got any cocoa at the library?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I thought Barrel would like it,” said Tap.

They approached the front door of her tavern, which was hanging open slightly, letting the glow of the fire show through the cracks. Barrel had gotten remarkably good at not burning the place down in the last few years, Tap was sometimes proud to think.

“If this idea of yours works, I’m gonna…” she said, thinking. “I dunno what I’ll do. Probably stare at you in shock.”

“I’ll probably be staring, too,” said Scroll, giggling a little. “I’ll come back later with some cocoa for Barrel. You gonna be opening the tavern soon?”

“Probably tomorrow morning,” said Tap, looking up. “I’ll probably get a lot of business.”

Scroll nodded. “Well, I’ll see you later, then. And thanks.”

Tap’s hoof had been on the door when she heard that. She looked back at him. “Thanks for what?”

“For being a friend,” said Scroll.

Tap looked at him for a moment. “Oh,” she said. “You’re welcome, I guess…”

And with that, she stepped inside and closed the door.