//------------------------------//
// Chapter 5 
// Story: Reflected Reflections 
// by kudzuhaiku 
//------------------------------//

  	As the companions continued up the passage, following the path that looked the most worn in, they came upon a troubling sight. Two dead spiders lay on the tunnel floor up ahead, and Garlic silently moved ahead to investigate while Fogwalker and Sunrise stayed close together a short distance away. 

“It’s clear,” Garlic announced after looking around. “And this is worrisome.” 

“Aren’t dead spiders a good thing?” Sunrise questioned. 

“What killed them?” Fogwalker asked, giving a pointed stare to Sunrise. 

The unicorn looked thoughtful for a moment and then her face twisted into a scowl. She pushed her glasses up on her nasal bridge as her ears drooped down against her face. “Whatever killed them could be a threat to us.” 

“Very good,” Garlic said in a voice that was shockingly free of sarcasm. “You’re getting better… nice work Sunrise.” 

“Gosh, thank you,” Sunrise gushed, looking embarrassed from the sincere praise she had been given. “So… dead spiders.” 

“Really big dead spiders,” Garlic agreed, his ears splaying out sideways. “I don’t like it. Not at all. Pony eating spiders.” 

“So what killed the spiders?” Sunrise questioned, her eyes glancing at the torch she was levitating in her magic. 

“Seeing as how the poison glands and the fangs have been ripped out, I’d say goblins,” Garlic responded, peering up the passage ahead of them. 

“Goblins use spider poison?” Sunrise asked in a quavering voice, her eyes now blinking rapidly. 

“Yeah. Any sort of poison really. Giant spiders like these, the poison doesn’t kill ya, it paralyses you so the spider can wrap you up in webbing and eat you alive. Later. When it feels peckish,” Fogwalker explained. 

“I don’t like this,” Sunrise whimpered in a hard to make out voice.  

“Nopony likes this,” Fogwalker stated. 

“I was actually kind of enjoying the trip… right up until this point,” Garlic announced, looking first at Fogwalker and then at Sunrise. 

“That’s because you’re sick and depraved, and that is exactly why I like you,” Fogwalker replied, grinning a half a grin. 

“We should get moving,” Garlic commanded, his gaze falling upon the torch as his thoughts turned towards how much time they had. 



 

“Up there, there is a little cubby up along the side of the cavern. We should rest there for a while, have a bite to eat,” Garlic suggested. 

“The spiders can get us there,” Sunrise said in a worried voice. 

“But the goblins can’t reach us, and that’s good. I’ll go check it out and then fly each of you up there,” Fogwalker responded, spreading her wings and taking off. 

The pegasus looked into the cubby, trying to see in the dim light. Fogwalker peered into the black space, and after a moment of allowing her eyes to adjust, saw faint bits of white. She landed on the edge and clucked her tongue. “Poor bastard,” she whispered to herself, looking at the pegasus skeleton. It was wearing armor, which had been badly damaged. The backplate had been split open and a long gash ran down the length of metal. She could see gouges in the ribs and the vertabrae, indicating the wound had been deep, painful, and ultimately, fatal. 

There was still a perfectly good helmet however, a large helmet for a large head. Using her wing, she carefully pulled the helmet free, gave it a shake, and held it up for a better look. It was heavy, a build similar to her own, had a visor, good face protection, and was in remarkably good condition, or so it seemed in the dim light. It was made to look like a wolf, the design was unique, but Fogwalker could not remember any pegasus that had worn a wolf themed helmet. 

“There’s a skeleton up here. Pegasus. Found a nice helmet,” Fogwalker announced as she set the helmet down upon the stone. She lept from the cubby, spread her wings, and glided down towards the cavern floor. She swooped, snatched the chubby unicorn first, and with a few flaps of her powerful wings, she lifted Sunrise to the cubby. 

Sunrise let out a fearful moan when she saw the bones, but to her credit, she did not scream. She backed against the wall furthest from the bones and fell silent, eyeing the bones and the ruined armor in silence as Fogwalker went down to fetch Garlic. 

Fogwalker wrapped her forelegs around Garlic, there was a lot of pony there to grab, heaved, and had trouble lifting the solid earth pony, his armor, and his saddlebags. She huffed, she puffed, she strained, she even farted once from her effort, and with a fierce growl, she finally got him airborne. Her wings aching, she hefted the much larger earth pony up to the cubby and set him down. She landed beside him, took a deep breath, and then focused all of her will on not collapsing. 

“You’re a whole lot of pony,” Fogwalker heaved in a raspy voice. 

“This helmet is magical,” Sunrise announced. 

“It is?” Garlic responded, looking down at the helm on the stone at his hooves. 

“No rust,” Sunrise stated. “The rest of the armor is rusted.” 

“I wonder if it will fit me,” Garlic said, eyeing the helmet. “Sure is a nice looking bit of armor,” he added, dropping his head down low to get a good look. “My family is too poor to outfit me properly.”

Still breathing hard, Fogwalker lifted the helmet with her wings, shook out more dust, and then placed it upon Garlic’s head. She suffered a peculiar sensation as she did so, for a moment the helmet was clearly too small, but then the helmet seemed larger, or perhaps the world just seemed a little smaller. 

“It fits perfectly,” Garlic announced. He lifted the visor away from his eyes with a hoof and then tapped upon the steel wolf’s muzzle. His ears were inside of the pointed wolf’s ears. The helm was snug and rather comfortable. He gave his head a toss, just as he had seen Fogwalker do, and the visor slid down over his eyes. 

“Who wants rations?” Fogwalker inquired. “We have hardtack, more hardtack, oats, cracked corn, and hardtack.” 

“Hmm, so many options, I feel overwhelmed,” Garlic mused as he lifted the visor from his eyes. “You know, one of my mother’s onion pies sound really good.” 

“Onion pie?” Sunrise asked, looking just a little disturbed. 

“We’re onion farmers. We grow onions. We didn’t have much, but we always had onions. Onion salad, onion soup, onion gravy over onions, and hot onion pie,” Garlic said in a wistful voice, thinking of home. “It is how my mother lures my father over to stay for a while.” 

“They’re not married?” Sunrise asked, her eyes blinking away watery tears as the greasy smoke from the torch drifted into her face. 

“Naw,” Garlic replied, shaking his head. “But they are good friends. Which I suppose is good. My father was chosen because of his size and stamina and the matchmaker convinced my grandmother that he would give my mother a big foal.” 

“HAH! The matchmaker lied,” Fogwalker said as she sat down and rested. 

“I suppose nopony expected a giant,” Garlic admitted. “Anyhow, my father was nice to my mother about the whole thing. He could have just bred with her and moved on, but he didn’t. He was friendly and came around and even spent time with me, telling me all of the things I need to know to be a good colt… and later on, how to be a good stallion.” 

“Heck, I know my father, but he never stuck around. He took his money and left. He was angry that I was a female… he wanted a male to carry on his legacy. Still, he’s nice enough but short tempered,” Fogwalker said, looking at her companions. 

“I want to be married someday,” Sunrise confessed in a hopeful voice. “I’ve heard so many stories about it, sounds romantic.” 

“The Canterlot unicorns did it,” Garlic said, shaking his head. “Seems impractical.” 

“How so?” Fogwalker asked as she took off her helmet and got a bit more comfortable. 

Shrugging, Garlic did not reply on the issue. “Help me take my helmet off,” he asked. 

Using her wings, Fogwalker pulled off Garlic’s new helmet and set it down upon the stone. She wiped some dirt off from his face and smiled, glad for a chance to be close and touch him. She could smell him when she was this close, he smelled like sweat, oilcloth hemp canvas, and steel. Unable to help herself, she leaned closer and inhaled deeply. 

“Foggy, what are you doing?” Garlic inquired, looking at the still sniffing mare. 

“Getting a whiff of you, Stinky,” Fogwalker replied as she dared to look upwards. 

“You two seem like such good friends,” Sunrise observed as she watched the pair. 

“We’re close,” Fogwalker admitted as she turned to look at Sunrise. 

“Oh, I can’t stand her,” Garlic grumbled, shaking his head. 

“I don’t think you’re being honest,” Sunrise stated, looking up at the earth pony. 

Garlic snorted but remained silent. Instead of a reply, he bent his head around, pulled open his left saddlebag with his teeth, stuck his head inside, pulled out a biscuit, and then tried to eat it without dropping to much of it. He crunched on the hard iron ration, made a disgusted face, shuddered with revulsion, and then choked down the rest of his meal. 

“That bad?” Sunrise asked. 

The big earth pony nodded, reached his head around, and grabbed another biscuit to eat. It crunched between his teeth and little biscuit crumbs fell down to the stone he was sitting upon. He heaved a sad sigh and sent more crumbs flying from his lips. 

“I’ll take first watch,” Fogwalker announced. “Sunrise, eat and get some shuteye.” 



 

“Foggy?” 

Fogwalker, who was almost asleep, opened one eye and looked at up Garlic, who was just starting his watch. He looked apprehensive, worried, fearful even, and she lifted her head in alarm. 

“About what was said earlier… you are my friend,” Garlic admitted, unable to look at Fogwalker when he offered his confession. “And, uh, well, uh…” 

“Is there something else you want to say?” Fogwalker whispered as she peered up at the big earth pony. 

“Never mind,” Garlic said, shaking his head. “Get some sleep.” 

Yawning, Garlic stretched himself out a bit, eyed the candle that was burning, looked at Sunrise who was sleeping soundly, wrapped in a blanket from her saddlebags, and then finally, he gazed at Fogwalker. He sighed and thought of his father. 

Gasser Van der Grease loved Red Onion Pie in his own way, or so Garlic supposed. He had once asked his dad about marriage and Gasser had patiently explained that there was no good logical reason to ruin a perfectly good friendship with something like marriage. Garlic shook his head, trying to understand his parents. They were friends, they were close, and continued to have romantic relations not at all related to foal making, as Gasser tended to come around when his mother wasn’t in season. 

It was a very confusing relationship for Garlic, who did not know what to make of it. Breeding was done by arrangement or consent and then ponies went on with their lives. Gasser and Red Onion Pie’s arrangement seemed an awful like marriage, except for the whole living together part. Gasser was a traveler, a draft pony that pulled wagons and hauled gear for the unicorn merchant’s guild, hauling supplies and goods with the caravans. Red Onion Pie lived on the onion farm with her sister Sweet Onion Pie and their mother, his grandmother, Pearl Onion Pie. 

His mother had wanted a filly, somepony to carry on the family name of Pie, but Garlic had come instead. His grandmother had been the one to name him Garlic and he had taken his father’s family name. Garlic might not have been an onion, but he belonged in the dirt with the rest of them. His early years had been spent pulling a plow, harvesting onions, and hauling said onions to market for his family. All those years of hard work had barely returned anything. He had made more money in one month working as a Preserver than his family usually made during a good year with a perfect growing season. 

When he had been given his first pay, Garlic had come to the painful realisation that earth ponies, farmers, stayed on the bottom, down in the dirt, pegasi could make a living hiring themselves out as soldiers, and unicorns were in charge. Working in the lowest ranks of the Guardians for one month and making more than his family did in one whole year had been a sobering experience for Garlic, that first sack of coins had defined and illustrated his poverty in a way that nothing else could. 

Of course, Garlic kept nothing for himself, he wanted his mother, his aunt, and his grandmother to be comfortable and happy. They had worked hard all of their lives and had nothing to show for it. He stared at the burning candle and thought about the entirety of his life, everything that had brought him to this point, and then he looked at Fogwalker. If he had a foal with her, there was a chance it would be born with wings and be big like he was. Strong. That foal would have a future. There was a chance it might not have wings, but still be big and strong… that foal might also have a future if the right sorts of ponies nudged him or her along and made sure there was plenty of combat training from an early age. If however, the foal was just the common garden variety earth pony, it would be back to the dirt, pulling a plow or a wagon, breaking its back to earn in a year what a soldier made in a month. 

Garlic had no illusions though. His family having money depended entirely upon him staying alive and there was no guarantee of that. He could die on this trip or the next one. If he died, they would be dirt poor again, with nothing to show for it, save for the coins his grandmother was no doubt squirreling away. 

As much as Fogwalker annoyed him, he was fond of her. She didn’t care about class or tribe, she probably had never once given thought to how their potential foal might turn out, or what sort of wretched future it might have. There was also the fact that her parents and her brothers might just have him killed if he ever took her up on her offer. She was prime breeding stock, she came from a long line of decorated soldiers, and with the way things worked, would probably be bred with somepony more her equal, whether she wanted to be or not. It was much harder on females than males in this situation. Saying no might mean being cast out from her family with nothing. Garlic wondered if Fogwalker would cave to their demands or defy them. He wasn’t sure. 

Fogwalker Fetlocks never thought about these sorts of things. She never thought about consequences. She never once slowed down to think about the long term effects from one careless moment. It was what Garlic appreciated about her more than anything, her carefree attitude and the fact that she simply did not care, she lived in the moment, largely unfettered by worry about the future. 

Garlic wanted to be with her, he wanted his first time to be with her, but with things being the way they were, it was better to keep pushing her away, better for both of them, better for her future, better for his future, better for everypony involved. It was better to remain friends, comrades, fellow soldiers with one another. 

“I wish things were different,” Garlic whispered as he stared at the flickering candle.