//------------------------------// // No Desertion // Story: No Hero // by CptBrony //------------------------------// No Desertion Boulder walked the mists as if it were nothing these days. He had taken to walking them when he found out that no one else had walked them before. At least, the only pony who knew had never walked them before. He had fought against many plights in life. Famine, when he delivered food and water to starving and dying ponies and other races around the world. Disease, when he delivered medicine to the sick and dying. Terror, when he battled against those who killed innocents. Such things he did, that others could live. Life seemed to matter less to him these days than it used to. Strictly speaking, he had none of it, wandering the mists the way he did. No one here did; that was why they were here. Life was meaningless, except that it determined if you got here or not. So maybe it was important. Princess Luna told him how ponies received guidance here. How long ago was that? Days? Weeks? Months? Years? Or was it longer ago? Boulder couldn’t tell; for all he knew, everything in the world could be dead now. He never knew that much in life except what his gut and his superior officer told him. Princess Luna told him that she didn’t guide gryphons or zebras or dragons or anything other than ponies. So where were they? Did they come here at all? That zebra from so long ago had owed him an answer, and Luna told him that she couldn’t find him. So Boulder set out himself to find him. Now, here he was, wandering the foggy wastes, where his hooves soundlessly clicked and clacked against the ground. Yet he could still hear them, in his mind. Maybe it was just an aftereffect of being here for however long he had been here. Songs played in his head from the many cultures he encountered. It was a part of how he kept his sanity when he was alone in life and in where he was now. One particular tune from a forested place rang frequently, as he had heard it quite a bit. Though he had never been to the place himself, the culture of the kohkeeree frogs had truly fascinated him. At first in this wasteland, he thought he could find the zebra on his own, just by looking. But that was not to be; sight has a way of warping here. Sound doesn’t exist. He had to learn to see without sight, hear without listening, and feel without touching. He didn’t care to taste or touch anyone he found here, though. And he had learned. “Hello?” Boulder called out in the fashion he learned. “Hello? Who is there?” a voice called back. “I am here,” Boulder said, approaching the soul. “I am here to guide you, young dragon.” “Where?” the young dragon asked. “To where all living beings can go, if only they are shown the way,” Boulder said. They started walking toward their destination. “You’re so young to be here,” Boulder said. “I was very sick,” the young dragon said. “But I feel much better now.” “I am glad,” Boulder said. “This journey may take time. Let me tell you about all that I have learned of the world, now that I am outside it…” And Boulder told the stories he had learned over the days, or weeks, or months, or years, to the young dragon. Another soul who only needed to be shown the right way, and the only being who was willing to show him that way, because… Just because someone is different doesn’t mean they don’t deserve your guidance.