//------------------------------//
// Brothers in Arms 
// Story: Wind and Stone 
// by Ruirik 
//------------------------------//

	Wood crackled in the flames of the Lookout's hearth, filling the air with the fragrant scent of burning maple logs. Pathfinder sat beside the flames, the orange light dancing in his tired eyes. He only looked up when Cirrus offered him a cup of tea that filled the air with the scent of fragrant jasmine.

“Thank you,” Pathfinder said, offering a small, but genuine smile to Cirrus. “You know, I was scared of fire for the longest time,” the old stallion said, his voice barely more than a scratchy whisper. He held up his right foreleg, showing Stalwart a small patch of gray flesh where no fur grew. “I made the mistake of saying I was cold once. Todesangt, he took a candle from his desk,” Finder said, the wooden chair creaking as he leaned forward and swiped at an invisible candle. “He grabbed my hoof and held it just over the flame until he was sure I didn’t know where the legions were moving.”

Stalwart flinched from the thought and refocused his gaze on the old stallion. “Pathfinder…”

“You really lose track of time when you’re in pain,” Finder continued while his hoof moved to rub at a faded triangular scar between his neck and shoulder. “A second feels like an hour, a minute feels like a week.” The old stallion laughed bitterly. “Let me tell you, son, it doesn’t make it hurt any less when a griffon is twisting your blood feathers.” Pathfinder said, lifting the mug in his hooves and swiftly guzzling the entire thing. “I knew it was only eight days, of course, but I never really knew it months later.” 

“How?”

Pathfinder didn’t look to Stalwart, his attention focused on a gash in the wooden table. He had put it there himself a long time ago. Such a very long time ago.

"Finder?"

Zwei and Ensis need to be oiled and sharpened, Finder thought as he rolled the flesh of his cheek between his teeth.

Cirrus gently nudge Finder’s shoulder. “Songbird?

"Hm?” Finder seemed jarred by the touch, his eyes glancing about the room before setting on Cirrus. “Oh, I’m sorry, Cirrus, my dear. Where was I?”

“The boy asked you a question.”

"Hmm? Pathfinder's gaze shifted from Cirrus to the guardspony. “I’m sorry, son, what was it you said?”

"How...how did you escape?" Stalwart repeated, his voice scarcely more than a whisper. “How did anypony survive that?”

"There was no escape, Stalwart," Pathfinder said, his eyes downcast while his wings and shoulders sagged.

"Then how are you here?"

Finder took a sip of his tea and let out a sigh. “All droughts end in rain.”





Carver stared into the warm mug of ale in his hooves, his thoughts drifting aimlessly like the ponies around him. Summer and Windshear sat with him, both also nursing full mugs with nary a sip taken from them. They had left two empty seats at their table. One beside Carver, the other between Summer and Windshear. On occasion one would glance up, perhaps to catch the attention of another, but quickly glance down again. The same could be said for the many other soldiers that filled the bar. Some wore their armor, cleaned as best it could be after the battle of Nimbus, while others had shirked off their gear at the earliest possible moment, all too eager to rid themselves of the burdens of the Legion.

Carver hefted his mug to his lips and swallowed a mouthful of ale. It tasted like ash on his tongue. "Summer?"

The mare acknowledged him with a simple glance up from her drink.

"Thank you," he said, offering her a smile. "For helping my sister."

Summer's gaze softened, if only a little before, she nodded to him. "You're welcome," she said, raising her mug to her lips and taking in a mouthfull of ale. "Thanks... for asking, I mean."

A smile blossomed on Carver's lips, and the one eyed stallion felt almost giddy at the meagre response. Seeing his mother's smile when he had come home alive was one thing, seeing the smile of Summer was quite another. "She's doing better," he said after a moment's pause. Hefting his own drink to his lips, Carver swallowed a mouth of ale before continuing. "Mal says that she's much more comfortable now."

"Good," Summer said with a small nod. "That's very good. She'll need to rest more though, she does too much for a mare that far along."
"Hah, try telling her that," Carver said with a ghost of a smile.

A slow shrug of her wings was all the answer Summer could muster for him. He watched as she lifted her ale to her lips and took a small sip into her mouth. Judging by the light frown that pulled the corners of her mouth downwards, the ale tasted no better to her than it had for him.

“I never asked, but do either of you have siblings?” asked Carver, his eye flicking from Summer to Windshear and back.
Summer answered with a shake of her head.

“Can’t rightly tell you,” Windshear said, his feathers ruffling when he shrugged his wings. “I was told I was neither the first nor last of my father’s bastards. Haven’t met any of ‘em, though.”

“Where are you from, anyway, Shear?” Carver asked.

Chuckling to himself, Windshear shook his head before answering. “My mother was from Stratopolis, but I don’t know where I was born. She traveled a lot and always took me with her.” Pausing, he took a moment to consider before he continued. “My first memories are from Pileus, but I’ve been to most every city in the Empire.”

The idea of having no real family base confused Carver, and his head dipped slightly towards his shoulder. “Surely you must’ve had grandparents or cousins or something.”

Again Windshear shrugged. “Probably, but Mom never spoke of them, so...yeah. It was just us. That’s why I volunteered to join the Legion the minute this damn war broke out.” Looking up, Windshear’s eyes found Carver’s and a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Nothing better than a brother or sister in the Legion, right?”

“I suppose, but...well, what about your mother?” Carver asked.

Windshear shrugged. “What about her? She’s been dead for damn near three years.”

“Oh,” Carver said, his wings ruffling and his ears flicking back. “Sorry.”

“Nothing you gotta be sorry for, Carver,” Windshear said with an earnest smile. “You two, Dawn, the kid, you’re like the siblings I never had.”
Carver’s eye drifted to the empty seat at his side, and then to the one between his friends. He felt his heart sink. Dawn’s melodic voice no longer teased and prodded in tune with Summer’s. Finder no longer hid behind his wing, his eyes sparkling with curiosity and a drive for adventure.

It’s your fault, whispered the voice in the back of his mind as he took another drink of the ash flavored brew.

“He was fourteen,” Carver said, placing his mug on their table with a gentle tap. “Finder, I mean.”

“I know,” Summer said, her eyes remaining fixed on her own drink. “He told Dawn. She told me.”

Windshear looked to Summer with a bit of a smile. “They were a cute pair.” Windshear couldn’t help but chuckle as he pushed his drink aside. “You two remember when we first got to Nimbus? How he fluttered after her when she told him she was gonna show him around? I’ve never seen a kid so enchanted.”

“Oh Gods.” Carver shook his head and chuckled. “Hey, Summer, how’d you meet Dawn, anyway?”

Summer was quiet for a few moments, her eyes gazing into the dull reflections that danced on the surface of her ale before she spoke. “We grew up together. Her father, a stallion named Galen, is a brilliant doctor. Taught me everything I know, as a matter of fact,” Summer said, her eyes lighting up just a bit at the thought of those halcyon days. “When father was away at political events, Galen would take me to watch surgeries. I was...” Summer paused and clucked her tongue for a moment, one eye closing as she thought. “Five or six when I saw my first one. Dawn...” Summer’s ears drooped back slightly. “She couldn’t have been more than four.” Sighing heavily, Summer ran a hoof through her mane and sniffed again. "What about Finder? Where'd you pick him up?"

"I ran into him in Stratopolis," Carver answered, smiling just a bit when he recalled that day. "I was rushing around looking for the recruiting office, and then this little stick of a colt wandered right into my path.” The stallion chuckled, his head shaking slowly and his shoulders sagging. “I ran right over him and didn’t even realize what happened until I hear this little voice shouting ‘you’re squishing me!’”

Windshear snorted, his own head shaking at the thought of it. “Yeah, that sounds like the kid.”

“And he starts hounding me to get him in,” Carver said with a laugh. "Just on, and on, and on... and... and..." A trembling breath escaped Carver and he slumped forward in his seat. "Gods..." he said with a shudder, his hooves grasping at his temples. "Gods, why... why didn't I tell him to get lost?"

"Because you're a fool," Summer said, earning a scornful glare from Windshear that she ignored. She sighed and ran a hoof through her mane before leaning over to place a hoof on Carver's shoulder. "Look at me, Carver."

After taking a moment to collect himself, Carver lifted his head until his eye caught hers. He had expected an admonishment, perhaps in the form of a slap or speech about his weakness. Instead all he saw in her emerald eyes was regret.

“This war made fools of us all,” she said, her ears folding slightly back. Her lips pulled into a tight frown and her nose seemed to crumple as she sniffled once. 

Carver didn’t need to guess what she was thinking about. He took his mug in his right hoof and reached up with his left where he placed it over Summer’s. “To Dawn,” he toasted, lifting the drink off the worn table.

“To Pathfinder,” Summer answered, lifting her mug to meet his.

“To Nimbus,” Windshear said last, his mug clunking against theirs.

As one, the three pegasi tipped their cups back and swallowed another mouthful of ale. Carver’s mug hit the table first, followed by Windshear's. Summer took a second, then a third drink before her mug joined theirs.

“How’s your eye?” she asked.

Carver shrugged his wings before answering. “Still blind.”

Summer motioned him close with a hoof. “Come here.”

“You’re not gonna slap me again, are you?” Carver asked with a knowing grin.

“Carver, shut up and take off the bandage.”

He chuckled softly but soon reached up with his hooves to feel around for the knot that held the filthy gauze to his face. Before he could find it, however, the door to the bar kicked open, drawing the attentions of everypony present within. A white on gray stallion marched in, wearing his damaged Nimban armor proudly.

“By the order of The Legate of Nimbus, Iron Rain,” the stallion declared for the entire room to hear. “All the Shields of Nimbus able to fight are to assemble at the parade grounds on the east side of Nyx.”

A dozen chairs scraped across the stone floor as ponies stood to answer the call. Carver watched the tremor in Windshear’s muscles and the tense frown that pulled at his lips. Summer, too, had stood, her wings twitching at her sides.

“S’cuse me, sir,” Windshear said, pushing himself quickly to his hooves and looking to Haze. “Think you got room for a Cirran?”

Haze’s eyebrow arched upward and his head cocked to the side. “Well, I'll be damned, Windshear, was it?"

"Yes sir," Windshear answered, smiling a bit. "We gonna kill some of the hybrid bastards?"

“Damn right we are.” Haze nodded his head. "We’ve discovered a griffon labor camp, and you can bet your ass we’re gonna flay every last hybrid there. Long as your Centurion can spare you, then you’re welcome to the party.”

Carver didn’t bother to look at Windshear before he stood up. “I’m his Centurion, he can go if I can.”

“The more the better,” Haze said, the scales of his wingblades scraping together when he shrugged. “Anypony else?”

Silence, thick as pitch greeted Haze’s ears. He frowned and drew a deep breath into his lungs. “Nimbans, move out,” he ordered as he turned and disappeared out the door once again. 

Carver looked to his ale and almost reflexively reached out to finish it before he caught himself. His hoof hesitated just behind the wooden tankard, and after a moment’s thought he pulled it away. “No,” he said to himself, running to catch up to Summer who had already made it to the door. “You got all you need?” he asked her quickly.

“There’s no bandages left in the city,” Summer answered with a scowl. “All I got is some shredded blankets and the vinegar and wine your mother gave me as payment.”

“I might still have my emergency kit in my haversack,” Windshear said, trotting up beside Summer. “No promises on that though."

Summer made a curt snort, but it was Carver who spoke first. “All right, get your gear and we’ll meet at the Pillar of Roamulus, ten minutes. Wind,” he said, looking to the pale-blue stallion. “You’re gonna be my wingpony, so find yourself a good spear and watch my blind-side. Summer—”

“I’ll be with the Nimban medical team,” she answered instantly. “And I damned well better not see either of you until this battle’s over.”
Carver nodded. “Same goes for you, Summer.”

Summer could only scoff as she moved out of the bar and took to the skies.





In the fields outside of Nyx, Iron Rain sat on a small hill that looked over to the empty skies where Nimbus had been. She drew in a deep breath, which she held for several moments before she could hold it down no longer. Her eyes grew dark and her jaw clenched tight, and she forced herself to swallow the knot that formed in her throat. 

Weakness was the last thing she could afford now.

Forcing her gaze away from the empty sky, Rain limped towards the opposite end of the hill, her rear leg stiff and colored purple from the hybrid’s warhammer. She bit back a curse and pushed forward, coming to a stop when she could see her ad hoc legion assemble. Thorn, who had been milling there for several minutes, glanced at Rain’s leg.

“That thing gonna slow you down?” asked Thorn as she casually picked at her left hoof with the tip of her stiletto. “Because if it is, you’d be better off staying back.”

Rain’s tail gave an irritated flick. “Not today, Thorn.”

“It’s a fair question, Rain,” she said, inspecting her hoof boredly. “You’re not in fighting shape right now.”

“I said shut up,” Rain said with a growl. "Or are you gonna suckerpunch me now?"

Thorn looked over, her eyes locking with Rain’s for a few moments before she glanced away. “We had our orders, Rain,” she said quietly. “Haze, me, both of us would do it again.” Her lips pulled down into a frown. “So would Red and Stone.”

Rain scoffed and shook her head. “I have a duty to Nimbus, just as you do, Thorn." She turned to face her friend. "And it sure as Hell isn't popping out foals so the damned line continues."

Sheathing her blade, Thorn stood and walked to Rain where she placed a hoof on the Legate's shoulder. "It's not getting killed for glory either. We need you alive, Rain. Not just Nimbus or your father’s memory, but your people, Haze, and me. I’m sorry, Rain, but you’re not someone we can afford to lose."

Rain's hoof mirrored Thorn's and gently clacked against the cold steel of her armored shoulder. "I know," she said in a gentle tone, "but I have to do this. Do you understand?”

A sigh was all Thorn could muster. “Rains,” she mumbled with a shake of her head. “I’m not pretending to be you if you get stabbed in the neck.”

Despite everything, Rain couldn’t help but snort with amusement at the quip. “You’re not tall enough,” she shot back. “And you’d need to learn how to use a proper sword over that needle you call a blade.” She glanced towards Nyx just as Haze flew over and came to a landing just in front of her. “How many?” she asked.

“I found about a hundred, plus a couple Cirran volunteers,” he answered after a quick salute.

A single eyebrow arched upwards on Rain’s head. “Cirrans, huh?”

“Mmhmm.” Haze nodded and grinned “And you’ll never guess who I found, Rain.”

Rain simply blinked, her lips turned down in an impatient frown.

Haze held his grin for several long seconds before he forced a laugh. “Remember the runt Red found in that closet? The spearpony, I mean.”

It took Rain a few moments to think before she snorted, her frown turning to a bemused grin. “Red’s pet Cirran?”

“Mmhmm.” Haze nodded with a swish of his tail. “Alive and kicking.”

“I’ll be damned,” Rain said, shaking her head with an amused smirk. “What was his name?” 

Thorn spoke first, which earned an annoyed glower from Haze. “Windshear.” 

“I see,” Rain said, her hoof thoughtfully scratching her cheek. “He survived where the rest of his centuria was destroyed.”

“You’re not seriously thinking of offering a Cirran a place in the Storm, are you?” Thorn asked with an incredulous look.

“Red was a bastard,” Rain said as she turned to Thorn. “But there wasn’t a pony alive with a better eye for talent on the battlefield."

“But—”

“Thorn!” Rain snapped, her fearsome glare forcing Thorn to flinch away. Nodding to her, Rain looked again at the formation as the last troops formed into line. Together, Haze and Thorn had found her almost three hundred soldiers. Less than she had hoped for, but still good given the short time they had to organize. “Haze,” she said without looking to the stallion. “We’ll divide into three sections. You’re the right wing, Thorn, you’re the left. I’ll take the center.”

“What’s our plan?” Thorn asked, her tone flat as she walked up to Rain’s side.

Rain took two steps forward, stopping at a patch of bare dirt. She scraped her hoof back and forth across it to brush away small twigs as well as the natural contours of the earth. Her wing then stretched out, and with the featherknife of her wingblade she drew a small circle in the ground. “This is the camp,” she said, glancing at Thorn and haze to ensure they were paying attention before drawing an X to the west. “This is Nyx. I’ll take my forces and hit them head on,” Rain began, her bladed wing scratching a line from Nyx to the camp. 

“Haze, I want you to take your wing and hit them hard from the right. We’ll push them east and make room for the medics to get to the prison barns.” She looked to Thorn and grinned. “Thorn, you move your forces here,” she said, drawing a small line along the griffon’s retreat path. “There’s heavy cloud coverage today, so you should be able to get in place unobserved. Once there, wait until we’re heavily engaged and the griffons start to fall back. Then you sweep in with your forces...” Rain slashed her wingblade through the ground, leaving a deep scar in the dirt. “And crush them.”

“No prisoners, I presume?” Haze asked.

To her own surprise, the question gave Iron Rain pause. She found herself chewing on the inside of her cheek and questioning what was the right decision. A week ago she had ordered no prisoners. But that had been a different battle, and Nimbus had fallen all the same. “If…” she began slowly, the words tasting foul on her tongue. “If they surrender, take them captive. We can trade them to Gold Moon for medicine, bandages, and a better location." Rain smirked a bit and glanced up at Haze. "Plus I'd bet my wings the interrogators would love to get their hooves on some live hybrids.” 

"I think I'd like to get my hooves on one a bit more," Haze growled, his tail twitching and a ghost of a grin on his lips.

“Soon, my friend," Rain said, standing up and looking to her waiting troops. She could hear the muted conversations they carried out and could almost imagine what they were saying. "No reserve for this fight," Rain said as she stepped forward to her troops. "The scouts and pickets report no other griffon movement in the area, meaning they're just as tired as we are after Nimbus. So we're gonna run over them with everything we've got and get this over with in a single strike. And Thorn," she turned to the smaller mare. "Make sure they don't get a single messenger out. Leave at two dozen Ekdromoi in the clouds. Make sure they understand that their role is to only attack fleeing griffons."
Thorn offered a curt nod. "By your command."

Rain turned her attention back to Haze and gave him a simple nod. With that he stood up straighter, marched to the front of the assembled soldiers, and bellowed out in a rough voice, “Nimbans, form your ranks!”

Silence fell instantaneously across the assembled troops, and in only a moment they had formed three tight columns of almost one hundred soldiers apiece. Rain gave them a moment, partially to let them settle, but more to let her feel the pride settle in her breast at the site of the Nimbans—of her Nimbans. With a simple breath, Iron Rain stepped forward to address her troops.

“Brothers… sisters,” Rain said, her voice echoing over the silent legion assembled before her. “For the past week you have endured in the face of the unendurable. The greatest defeat in Nimban history. But today, I stand here to tell you that I consider myself the luckiest mare on the face of Cirra. For I have walked through the fields of battle for as long as I can remember, and always I have seen the pride of our nation.” 

Rain paused, her icy gaze scanning the faces in the crowd before her. “When you look around,” she continued, her words slow and carefully chosen. “How could you not consider it a privilege to fight alongside the finest soldiers to ever take to the field of battle?” She took a step closer to her soldiers, grimacing from the pain in her leg. Haze and Thorn followed without hesitation, but made no move to support her. “There isn’t a mare or stallion among you that doesn’t know the pain of sacrifice, nor the thrill of victory. And there isn’t a single one of you that wouldn’t give your last breath for the pony at your side.”

Rain shook her head and began to pace, forcing the pain in her leg to the back of her mind. “Today, my friends, we will show the hybrids that Nimbus is not defeated yet. Today we will attack and rescue our countrymen who our enemy has shackled! We will not allow our brothers and sisters to suffer! We will not stand for even a single drop of pegasus blood to be spilt!” Rain drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, fire seeming to burn in her eyes.

“Brothers,” she said, extending her right wing towards Haze. “Sisters.” Her left wing opened towards Thorn. “Nimbus is more than cloudstone, forges, and monuments. Nimbus is more than titles and past glories. Nimbus is a promise. A sacred promise from Kataigismós herself that we few will bear! A promise to smother the flames of war and safeguard the sons and daughters of Cirra from the monsters that nip at our hooves!”

Rain clutched at the hilt of her borrowed sword with her hoof and tore it from the black leather scabbard it wore. “Who among you will answer the call?”

“Ahhooh!” her legion shouted, their hooves stomping against the cold earth.

“Who among you will keep the sacred promise?”

“Ahhooh!” they shouted again, louder than before.

Rain grinned and pointed her blade to the east. “Then sound the horns and call the cry!”

“How many of them can we make die!” her legion answered her, their voices echoing across the fields of Nyx.

“Nimbans!” Rain called, leaping into the air and flapping her powerful wings to gain altitude. “Fly now! Fly for the fallen, fly for those we’ve left behind, and for all the souls yet unborn! Center, on me!”

"Right wing, on me!" Haze shouted as he took to the skies as well, a hoof motioning for his column to follow.

"Left wing, on me!" Thorn shouted last, throwing her hoof into the air as she took flight.

The three wings separated at once, the simple maneuver drilled into their heads from the day they were old enough to fly. Haze and Thorn exchanged a nod with Rain before they split off with their soldiers flying in formation behind. Rain smiled and powered forward with her regiment. 

Nimbus was gone, but she would ensure it would never be forgotten.





Cloudburst wiped his foreleg across his eyes and sniffled quietly. His jaw ached and his right eye was swollen completely shut from the beating he’d received from the three hybrids. His hoof moved up after finishing with his eyes, running through his mane and gingerly feeling the tender lump behind his right ear that one of the griffons had given him. Still, all of his pain he would have traded in an instant to spare the shattered colt beside him.

A painful, shuddering breath escaped Pathfinder, and he trembled on the ground where he lay in blood and vomit. Cloudburst had done his best to clean the colt up, but with no water and only shreds of filthy cloth bandages, there had been little he could do. Taking a deep breath, he reached out and delicately placed his hoof on Finder’s mane, petting the unconscious pegasus. He doubted it helped Pathfinder, but he doubted anything short of a miracle from the Gods above would help anymore.

Thunder rumbled from the skies he couldn’t see and a solitary griffon walked into the prison. Cloudburst caught a brief glimpse of two guards outside the door wearing black armor with elaborate silver trim that mirrored the armor of the griffon standing in the entryway. It took Cloudburst a few moments to recognize the ravenlike hybrid as the master of the camp, and he felt his anguish give way to fury.

In Schäfer’s right talon, he carried a large metal bucket that sloshed with water. On his left side was sheathed the zweihander he carried seemingly everywhere. The blade was nearly as long as Cloudburst was, nose to tail, and seemed like a surprisingly plain weapon for a hybrid of his stature. He stayed near the door a moment, a look of revulsion on his face from the smell of the barn. After a few moments, however, he stepped forward, his gaze fixed on Pathfinder.

"Get back!" Cloudburst screamed at Schäfer, seething hate at the dark griffon officer. He forced himself into a standing position, though his right foreleg hurt too badly to bear any weight. “I swear to whatever miserable gods you monsters believe in that I’ll kill you if you touch him!”

Schäfer held up an empty talon, his face bearing the smallest of frowns. "Peace, soldat. I seek only—”

“Haven’t you monsters done enough?” Cloudburst seethed at the griffon officer. “Feed us alive to the dogs, work us to death digging graves and cutting rock with nothing but our hooves?” the legionary spat, eyes full of hatred for the griffon officer. “Wasn’t that fun enough for you bastards anymore?”

“Monsters!” a mare’s voice shouted from the back of the barn.

“You fucking animals!” screamed a stallion.

“Gods curse you all!”

The surviving ponies cursed, spat, and screamed. Their chains rattled and their hooves pounded on the cold earth below. Schäfer did not flinch from their anger. He kept his attention focused on the ravaged colt splayed out on the cold earth. He moved closer, setting the bucket onto the floor. Schäfer sighed and shook his head at the sight of the colt and sat on his haunches beside him.

”Es tut mir so leid, mein kleiner,” Schäfer said quietly, his talons grasping the rim of the bucket and dragging it closer.

Tears dripped down Cloudburst's cheeks and his jaw began to tremble. “He's just a kid…” Cloudburst said, his voice dropping to a whimper. The stallion shook his head and clenched his eyes shut, trying to will himself to be strong in front of the enemy. His lips pulled back into a broad grimace that split his face from ear to ear.

“I have son his age,” Schäfer explained in a quiet voice as he dipped his talons into the buckets and clutched at a soaked cloth suspended in the water. He wrung much of the water from the rough fibers before slowing moving towards Pathfinder. “Easy,” he whispered to Finder before glancing over to look Cloudburst in the eyes. “Still just a hatchling, and so very curious about the world. He is a good boy. Smart, artistic, a bit too sensitive, but I suppose that is my fault. I think of him, and I see this,” he said, wiping a stain from Finder’s cheek. “And I find myself angered beyond reason.”

The cloth pressed up against Finder’s cheek, delicately wiping the once-green fur clean of the fluids that stained it. Pathfinder flinched and whimpered at the touch, but only just. It hurt too terribly to move. “Shh, little one," Schäfer said, his voice maintaining its quiet tone. "Rest now, for they cannot hurt you anymore.”

Cloudburst sneered and spat at Schäfer’s talons. “Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?”

“No,” Schäfer said simply as he dipped the cloth into the water again. “I think of my wife and my children.” He paused for a moment to look at Cloudburst and smile. “Much like you ponies would, I suspect.”

“Pity, I can’t get married until this war’s done,” Cloudburst growled.

Schäfer offered only a sad shake of his head and continued. “I personally executed those three an hour ago. Their corpses are on display in front of the barracks.”

“Bullshit,” Cloudburst balked.

Schäfer looked to Cloudburst and slowly shook his head. “I know you think us monsters. Beasts. I swear to you though, we are not lacking in honor." Shafer paused, dipping the cloth in the bucket and gently wiping Pathfinder’s mouth. “What they did was inexcusable, and an affront to all my kind.”

“Why should I believe you?” Cloudburst asked, his eyes narrowing warily.

A lazy shrug of his wings was all the answer Schäfer gave. Again he dipped the cloth into the bucket and wrung the excess water free. He reached forward, gingerly wiping Finder’s flanks and thighs. Finder made a strangled moan, his small frame instinctively trying to curl into a fetal position.

After he had cleaned Finder’s body, Schäfer set the cloth back into the bucket and allowed himself a sigh. He reached to his right hip where a long bladed dagger was sheathed and drew it with a resigned slowness. With his left talons, Schäfer lifted Pathfinder’s chin from the ground and pressed the blade to his throat.

Golden eyes just barely fluttered open, and Cloudburst flinched away as Schäfer looked into Finder’s gaze. Pathfinder seemed aware of what was happening, and answered Schäfer by leaning his head forward onto the blade. Cloudburst waited for the sound of the blade cutting flesh, the wet gurgle of blood and air escaping, and the final scrapes and struggles of a colt’s death throes. For the longest time, though, he heard nothing. And then he heard a sound he never expected to hear. The sound of the dagger being sheathed, and a griffon sighing.

“Pony,” Schäfer began in a hushed tone. “What is your name?”

Cloudburst hesitated, his brows knitting together and his ears twitching at the question. The change in Schäfer’s tone seemed to take all the Cirrans in the room by surprise, and many whispered to each other as he finally answered. ”... Cloudburst.”

“And the hatchling’s name?”

“Pathfinder,” Cloudburst answered, his eyes quickly glancing to the trembling colt.

Schäfer nodded slowly, his talons lightly scratching under his beak.  “Where is he from?”

“A place your kind will never reach,” Cloudburst growled.

The griffon officer nodded for a moment, his talons scratching at the bottom of his chin. He looked to Cloudburst, then back to Pathfinder, and finally sighed once more. “Would you know the way?”

Cloudburst was taken aback by the question, and found himself speechless for a moment. “W-what?”

“I asked if you would know the way,” Schäfer repeated plainly, his eyes studying Cloudburst. 

“Don’t tell him!” a mare shouted from the back, her sentiment being repeated by nearly all of the pegasi that still lived in the dingy barn. 

“If…” Cloudburst started, his words trailing off and his eyes briefly flicking towards his fellow Cirrans. “If I did?”

The caged answer was all Schäfer seemed to need, and with a nod he reached into a pouch on his belt and produced a simple key. Cloudburst could only stare in confusion as Finder’s collar was unlocked, followed by his own. “Wait for night to fall, then take him out though the grave pit. You will have a short time during the shift change where that section will be unguarded.” He paused for a moment to glance back to the door. Once certain his guards hadn’t heard a breath, Schäfer continued. “From there head west to the nearest pony city.”

“Why—”

“You may tell them of this camp, if you wish, but by the time you get there I will have moved this camp far from the front, and the Oathsworn will have done away with whoever is left alive,” Schäfer said, his head dipping a bit and a scowl coming to the corners of his dark beak. 
Cloudburst shook his head, cringing from the ache in his neck that the simple motion caused. “Why would you do that? You’re a fuckin’ hybrid. You expect me to really think you’d put your neck on the line for a couple ponies?” The question was hissed as Cloudburst bared his blunt teeth at Schäfer.

“My father was one of the Canii Auxillia.” Schäfer chuckled at the look on Cloudburst’s face, as well as the looks from several of the ponies chained up. “Yes, my father fought for Cirra for decades, as did many of my clan. I met a few of his Cirran officers as a fledgling.” A nostalgic, almost happy look seemed to ghost across Schäfer’s face at the thought. “They were kind to me, and an honorable sort. My father taught me their ways, their language, and hoped I would follow in his path one day.”

“That makes two of us,” Cloudburst said, keeping a wary eye on the griffon, even if his body relaxed ever so slightly.

“My heart is with my kind, though,” Schäfer continued as he looked down at Pathfinder with a sympathetic frown. “And while I, like every proud griffon, want to live free from the shackles of the Emperor’s of Cirra, this… this is not the war I wanted.” A final sigh left Schäfer’s beak and he gently rubbed his talons through Finder’s mane. “I beg of you, pony, take this little one as far from here as you can. I cannot lower myself to the barbarism of Cirra and wet my blade with a child’s blood.”

Thunder rumbled overhead followed by the gentle patter of rain on the rotted wood panels that made up their prison roof. Schäfer took the sound as his cue, and rose up to his full height once more. “Do you accept?” he asked as he looked upon the hateful gazes of the few remaining pegasi in the back. “Or shall I give this task to another?”

Cloudburst’s mouth hung open for a moment and he spared his fellow soldiers a glance. They all looked to him with the same eyes. Pleading, betrayed, yet understanding. One face, however, pressed forward in his mind. She smiled to him, her mane billowing gently in the warm summer breeze. The loving look in her soft blue eyes beckoning him to her side. With a trembling breath, Cloudburst gave his answer. "I... I will."





For the first time since Nimbus had fallen, Iron Rain felt alive. Behind her, over one-hundred of her Nimbans flew in perfect formation, each one with their eyes forward. Their attention focused on the thin trails of smoke from the forges of the hybrid camp. Rain watched it as well, her eyes scanning for any sign that the hybrids had noticed her charge. 

Luck, at least so far, had been on her side for once. 

Thunder rumbled from the gray clouds that painted the skies far above them, but Rain paid it no mind. She was the tip of the spear, her Nimbans the hammer.. Everypony was burning for retribution after the calamity that befell them at Nimbus.

Yet while flying to the fight that awaited her, Rain couldn't help but feel a tinge of sorrow in her gut. Red wasn't whooping and hollering. Stonewall wasn't keeping his silent watch, and old Downburst was no longer there to look over her shoulder and offer his counsel. In no small measure it galled Iron Rain that she missed that most about her father's right hoof.

Her musings were cut short as she heard the wail of griffon horns in the distance. The hybrids had noticed her all too obvious approach, and like fools they rushed to meet her. Dozens upon dozens of griffons had already taken to the skies. They flew on their own, lacking any formation that might grant their small number strength enough to match her own. All the while other griffons in the camp ran to and fro in a desperate attempt to gather more of their comrades from what Rain could only assume was the barracks or mess hall.

With a growl, Rain drew her sword, and behind her she heard the scrape of metal as her Nimbans unsheathed their blades as well. For her the weapon felt far too light. Rain was used to the heft of the griffon zweihander she had wielded since her first battle. And with her leg far from healed, she lacked the power to wield her old sword on the ground. Still, she had to admit a certain advantage in the standard issue blade. Its smaller size and significantly reduced weight made it foal’s play for Rain to use. For her that little blade felt like it was no more than a switch in her teeth. 

She grinned wildly around the leather wrapped hilt. This would be fun.

The nearest griffon brandished a war axe in his talons and hefted the heavy weapon high over his head, the keen edge of the blade jagged and damaged from battle. He swung downward, aiming to bury the axe into Rain’s skull, but Rain was too quick. She tucked her left wing and pulled into a tight spin, diving downwards with her eyes locked to the unarmored stomach of the hybrid. She barely felt the lurch of her blade as it carved through the griffon’s belly and exited from his back.

While he fell to the cold earth, now half the beast he used to be, Rain pumped her wings and set her sights on the next griffon. The brown and speckled white hybrid levelled a javelin at her and threw it with all his might. Rain tracked the glisten of light off the metal blade and waited until the last possible moment to roll out of the way. He reached for his sword, still sheathed in the scabbard strapped to his side, but Rain didn’t let him draw it. She slashed upward, using her wings to give power to the blow and felt her blade slash across his chest. Blood from the gushing wound splattered across her side, and the hybrid fell away with a pained scream.

A pair of griffons came at her next, brandishing rusted blades which they swung at her with reckless aggression. Rain twisted, feeling the tip of the first blade deflect harmlessly off her armor, and before the griffon could recover she lashed out with her wingblade, slicing open his throat. His partner screamed and lunged for her, but Rain was prepared, and with a simple twist of her head she allowed the griffon to fall on her sword. But the griffon didn’t fall so quickly, and with the last of his strength he hooked his claws under Rain’s armor. Rain thought quickly and twisted her blade at the same time as she swung her left foreleg upward. The hybrid’s agonized squeal as the blade of her bracer slashed into his groin was like music to her ears.

Her sword slipped free of his chest as he fell away, clutching what was left of his genitals as he fell. Rain allowed herself a smirk and powered forward. To her left a pair of Nimbans engaged another griffon; one kept the hybrid's attention, parrying his sword with her own, while her partner slipped behind the distracted griffon and speared the beast through the back of his skull. The hybrid convulsed violently, blood spurting out of his nose before he fell away, dead.

Rain continued, flying upwards as high as she could over the battle. More griffons filled the air below her, and Rain loosed a fierce howl as she dove into their disorganized ranks. The first griffon noticed her too late, and her blade cut through the back of his neck, severing his head from his body. She lashed out with her right wing, catching another griffon's wing and splattering her armor with his blood. Twisting around, Rain bucked, feeling the hybrid’s ribs snap from the force of the blow as she propelled herself to the next opponent. 

He threw a hand axe at her, which Rain deflected with her sword. She returned the favor, sending her sword rocketing into his chest. The beast made a wet gag, his body snapping backwards as Rain tackled him, ripping the sword free with a wet slurp and a trail of stringy red tissue. Three hybrids flew for her, but she was ready. Grasping the dying hybrid's wing, she flung him towards his comrades, one of whom squawked and dropped his sword to catch the dying griffon. Rain flew over his head, rear hooves bucking out and crushing through his unarmored skull and lashing out with her wings, scoring a kill from each of her wingblades.

A flash in the corner of her eye made Rain twist around as a sword cut the air where her head had been a moment before. The griffon didn't give her time to recover, and he swung at her neck with his claws. Rain lowered her head, letting his talons hit the side of her helmet as she lashed out with her wingblades. He fell back, but not far enough. Thinking quickly, Rain tore the helmet from her head and threw it. The griffon didn’t have a chance to react before the cold metal smashed into his beak, leaving Rain to dive under the wide slash of his sword and split his gut open with her own. 

All around her more and more pegasi filled the skies, and the the surviving griffons pulled back towards the camp where more of their number had rallied. While Rain seemed to still have near full strength for her company, the element of surprise had been lost. The griffons, now organized into a regiment of over one hundred, rose to meet her. 

Rain twisted around in the air and whistled to her troops. They followed her lead, feinting to the north and leading the griffon formation further from the camp. Rain looked over her shoulder, grinning a bit. Griffons had a remarkable focus; it was one of their strengths as a species, and Rain was all too happy to exploit it.

With their attention locked to her force she let them chase her away, right to where Haze should have been lying in wait. Fear gnawed at the back of her mind. She hadn't seen him approach, nor had there been so much as a feather to indicate he was even in position. Had she attacked too early?

Rain twisted her neck, glancing at her Nimbans. How many would she lose if she was forced into a battle of attrition?

Then she heard it; the thunderous roar of Haze's force which fell from the clouds above. Haze flew at the front, his sword sheathed at his side, and Rain turned with her troops to join their renewed charge. They loosed a rain of javelins into the griffon charge, catching many of the hybrids off guard. A second volley followed the first just before Haze’s pegasi met them in a clash of metal and flesh. 

Rain’s forces joined the fray only a moment later, their blades tearing through flesh, fur, feather, and bone with glee. Already crippled from the javelins, the griffon formation collapsed almost immediately. The few survivors fled back towards the camp where their commander hurriedly rallied them into defensive positions.

Spotting Haze in the crowded skies, Rain called out to catch his attention as she flew up to him. Beside him flew two stallions, one she recognized, the other she did not. “You’re late, Haze, I thought you got lost.”

“Hah, as if I’d ever miss this!” Haze laughed, flapping his wings hard to clean the blood from his wingblades. “Is this all they have? The scouts thought they had more.”

“We’ll be swimming in the bastards if any of their runners make it past Thorn,” Rain said before turning her attention to the other stallions. “Windshear, right?”

Nodding in affirmation, Windshear adjusted his bloodstained spear under his hoof. “Good to see you again, Ma’am. Sorry about Nimbus.”

Rain nodded. “Who’s your friend, Kid?”

“Carver, ma’am,” the one-eyed stallion answered, “I was with the Cirran Eighth.”

“Rain, look!” Haze shouted, his hoof pointing to the prison.

She snapped her head forward and for a moment was confused by his urgency, until she spotted flames rise from the nearest of the prison barns. A hybrid holding two chained hounds in one of his talons and a torch in the other shouted orders to a pair of griffons that followed him. Armed with torches and swords they moved for the other two barns. The drizzle of rain slowed the spread of the flames, but was far from enough to smother them completely. 

“Fuck!” Rain cursed loudly. “Alright, you three on me, we go over the remaining griffons and get the survivors out of that barn.”

“I hope Thorn can see this,” Haze said before drawing his sword.

Rain shook her head. “Thorn’s a good soldier, she’ll be watching.” 

“We don’t know how many griffons are hiding over there,” Carver said, glancing over to Rain and back to the flames that danced up the wooden planks. “If you’re wrong—”

“Go crawl back to Cirra if you can’t stomach a fight!” Rain barked at him. “We’re not letting our kin be murdered! Nimbans!” Rain called to her combined wings. “Haze, with me, we’ll take the closest barn. You two, intercept the hybrids going for the other barns. I want those bastards dead!”

“You got it,” Windshear said, his hoof lashing out and smacking against Carver’s breastplate. “C’mon, Carver, we got work to do!”

Carver bit down on his lip and growled, but nodded to Rain and carried out her orders all the same. Windshear flew alongside him, dutifully protective the Centurion’s blind side. Rain watched them for only a moment, then returned her attention to her troops. “Nimbans, attack!”

They charged, hurling what javelins they had left into the griffon lines. Rain didn’t see how many fell as she and Haze flew over the frenzied battle. They landed, splattering mud from their hurried charge towards the burning barn. Rain heard screaming from inside, no doubt from the prisoners trying to flee from the building flames. 

“Esst!” shouted the torch bearing griffon, releasing the chains of the dogs from his talons before he fled from their sight. They roared, barreling towards Rain and Haze, foam tearing at the corners of their mouths and their yellow stained teeth bared with fearsome snarls.

Haze rolled to the left as the nearest hound leapt for him and lashed out with his wingblade. The hound made a piteous howl as the featherknife split its side open, staining the muck with blood and intestines. He spun around, his sword cutting through the back of the dog’s neck and severing the head from the body to finish the beast.

The second dog lunged for Rain, but she couldn’t roll with her hind leg still crippled. Instead she planted her weight and swung her sword into the hound’s gaping muzzle. It made a brief gag, the top of its head tumbling away while the rest of the body crumpled into the mud in a twitching heap. Rain jumped over the carcass, using her wings to carry her towards the barn.

“Nice,” Haze commented, running beside her.

“Thanks,” she said, pushing through the canvas strips that made up the entrance to the barn. 

The pungent stench of the barn nearly made the Nimbans gag, but the thick smoke and flames licking at the corner of the building forced them to push it aside. Pegasi, emaciated, battered, and filthy screamed for help, pulling at their chains with what little strength they had left, but to no avail. Rain and Haze glanced at each other and wordlessly charged towards the bound pegasi.

Rain stopped at the very first row, her eyes growing wide and her mouth falling open when she recognized the little green colt laying unconscious on the floor. The shackle around his neck, as well as his neighbor’s, had been left unlatched, though for what reason, Iron Rain did not know. What she did know, what had stuck with her since Nimbus, had been his name.

“Pathfinder?” 

The colt didn’t stir to acknowledge her, but the teal stallion huddled beside him looked surprised. “Y-you know him?”

“We’ve met,” Rain said, glancing to the back of the barn where Haze was trying to break the chains, but to no avail. 

“Rain, help me!” he shouted to her between strikes of his sword. 

“Stay there,” Rain said, tossing Cloudburst her dagger before rushing to Haze’s side. 

His fevered strikes had left the iron links battered and chipped, but far from broken. She wrapped her hoof around the chain and pulled it taught, straining against the metal links with all her might. Haze struck again, and for a moment Rain hoped the chain had snapped, only to feel that hope torn away from her when she got a good look at it. 

Around them the captured pegasi screamed and pleaded. 

“Get us out of here!”

“Please, Legate, don’t leave us!”

“Legate Rain!”

“I don’t wanna burn! Please don’t let me burn!”

The voices shouted to her, over and over again, with the stallion they worked to free struggling to get away from the flames licking at the wall beside him. Rain moved, putting herself between him and the wall with her wings flared out to try and shield him from the building heat. It soaked into the scales of her wingblades, steadily roasting the flesh and feathers underneath. Rain ignored it as best she could; with a grimace and a growl she tore at his chain again.

“Haze, switch with me,” Rain said, quickly grasping at the neck of his armor and yanking him towards her. “You,” she said, looking to the panicked stallion they were trying to free. “Hey, focus on me, soldier!” Her hoof lightly smacked his cheek. “I need you to pull that chain tight with Haze here. We’re gonna get you out, understand?”

The stallion answered her with a quick nod, his eyes darting back and forth between his chain and the flames. "Y-yes ma'am."

"Now pull! Pull!" she shouted once Haze was in position.

Both stallions strained with all their might against the stubborn chain and the metal made the softest of groans at their efforts. Rain took a breath to calm herself and lined her blade with the dent Haze had left in the links. She rose up on her hind legs, blade held high above her head, and brought it down with all she had. Her sword impacted the chain with a snap, and the blade she had borrowed from the governor’s mansion promptly snapped in two. 

“Piece of shit!” Rain shouted, throwing the useless weapon away. Her eyes caught on the deep notch her attack had left in the chain, then darted back to Haze.

“Rain,” Haze began, his eyes flicking from the fire that steadily encroached on him and the unbroken chain they strained against. “Rain, what are we gonna do?”

She lunged over, teeth grasping the pommel of his sword and tearing it free of the scabbard. Adjusting her grip, she rose up once more and slammed the blade down with renewed vigor, her blows raining down on the wrought iron again and again. 

“Fucking... break!” she roared at the stubborn metal. “Fucking! Break!” 

Her borrowed sword snapped in two, the bent and dented blade spinning through the air and clattering onto the dirt.





Clang!

The metallic clang of steel on iron rang in Pathfinder's ears, making them twitch and angle away from the noise. His head ached as though squeezed between the hull of a full fishing cog and the heavy timbers of the dock. Yet terrible as that pain was it did nothing to dull the ache in the rest of his body, nor remove the vile taste that lingered in his mouth.  

Clang!

Finder groaned and tried to raise his hooves to cover his ears. They didn’t move far, only succeeding in drawing shallow lines in the dirt. Gods that sound was annoying. 

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Shut up… he wanted to scream, but the only sound that escaped his lips was a quiet groan. 

A hoof slipped around his torso and gently held him. Pathfinder’s heart seemed to freeze for a moment before it began to race, increasing the throbbing in his head. Another moan, this time louder, but no more distinct came from the colt.

“Easy, kid,” Cloudburst whispered, a hoof petting Finder’s mane. “Help’s here. We’re gonna get out of this.”

Pathfinder’s hooves scraped across the dirt floor until he could find the wherewithal to plant them. He growled and heaved his aching body up, away from Cloudburst who released him almost more from astonishment than anything. “Don’t…”

“Kid,” Cloudburst said, reaching out a tentative hoof once again, but was quickly slapped away by a small green hoof. “Finder?”

“Don’t... touch me,” he managed to say, coughing from the effort of the few words. 

His eyes searched the barn, stinging from the acrid smoke that filled the air. To the back of the room he saw her, Iron Rain, wildly attacking a stallion's shackle with what was left of her shattered sword. It struck Finder as strange; there were easier ways to break a chain. His father had shown Longbow and Finder long ago when they were learning to help in the smithy.

Finder looked around, the walls of the prison looking like the Altan smithy to his weary eyes. Where ponies screamed he saw only discarded tools. Where there were flames licking at the walls he saw the forges full of iron ingots being slowly worked into anchors, hooks, and countless other parts. At his hooves he spotted the knife that had been left at Cloudburst’s side, and Pathfinder leaned down to take it in his teeth. It wasn't the ideal tool for the job, but it would certainly work. Pathfinder cringed from the motion and how it made the throbbing in his head feel even worse. 

Stepping forward on unsteady legs, Finder moved towards Rain. Each step sent arcs of pain through him, like hot knives slipped between his muscles. Limping forward, he growled at a spike of pain in his thigh where Magnus had shot him. A fury, unlike any the colt had ever felt seemed to encompass his very being. The griffon emperor terrified him, and Finder hated him for that. He hated that he was helpless to save Longbow, he hated how he was helpless to save Dawn, and he hated how he had been helpless to save himself.

Finder would sooner die than be than be helpless again.

Rain bashed what was left of her sword on the stallion’s chain, roaring in fury all the while. Pathfinder lifted a hoof and pushed at her side with what strength he could muster, though it hardly seemed to stall the large mare. A moment’s pause was all he needed, and Finder slipped the blade of the knife into the damaged link where he twisted it as far as he could. 

The dented iron groaned for a moment before a sharp snap pierced the air, and the link opened. Haze reacted first, pulling the stallion away from the post he’d been shackled to and moving for Finder.

“Nice one, kid,” he said, a hoof patting Finder’s back. “Rain—”

“I’ll get get him to the medics,” she said, pausing to help the freed stallion to his hooves. “Stand tall, soldier,” she said, taking the knife from Pathfinder and giving it to the newly freed stallion.  “We need you now.”

“M-ma’am,” he coughed before standing tall. Taking the blade from Rain, he limped over to the next pegasus and slipped the knife into one of the links. Haze followed close behind and pulled the chain taught just before he twisted. Once more the link popped open with a tinney snap, and Rain allowed herself the briefest of smiles before slipping a wing across Finder’s back and ushering him for the door.

“C’mon, kid, you’re outta here first.”

Finder couldn’t argue with that.

She walked slowly, her naturally long gait small and plodding for his shorter legs to keep up. Finder moved as quickly as he could, but with his mangled body each step turned into its own form of torment. Again he gritted his teeth and forced himself to continue. So very few steps were left between him and the open skies that Finder could all but taste the air of freedom.

Finder dared to close his eyes and let his head come to rest on cool armor that protected Rain’s chest. He imagined the rhythm of her heart, steady like the waves crashing against the shoreline. It was almost like he could smell the salt in the air once more, even through the thick smoke that welled up in the barn. 

He squinted when they passed through the leather drape that made the door, muted, gray light painful to his eyes after so long in the dark. He felt rain drizzle into his mane and coat, as though trying to wash clean the stains upon his soul. Around him came the fervent cries of battle, pegasus and griffon alike struggling in a pitched duel to the death. 

Unlike Nimbus, this time it was the pegasi who had strength in numbers, and the griffons that hadn't been cut down were being quickly forced back. Pathfinder wondered, albeit briefly, why they didn't retreat. Not that he minded seeing them cut to pieces. For what they did to Longbow, Dawn, Aurum, and for what they had done to him, he hoped they all died.

Something made the hair on the back of Finder's neck stand on end, and craning his neck around Finder looked behind them. His eyes grew wide and his heart stuttered in his chest. Gnade's own eyes widened and before Rain could move, he lunged.

Finder leapt. Metal flashed.

The blade caught Finder just behind his left shoulder and tore down his body towards his flank. Pathfinder stumbled and coughed, blood sputtering out from his lips after Gnade pulled the spear free of his body. Iron Rain lunged for the griffon, her wing blades slashing at the griffon’s eyes as he backpedaled desperately to escape her assault.

"You fucking coward!" she screamed, dropping low and lashing out with her wingblades again.

Gnade leapt backwards and clasped his spear in both talons, then lunged forward again. Rain dodged the strike easily, and the blood-soaked blade stabbed harmlessly into the dirt. Before he could recover, Rain struck out with her hoof and the wooden shaft snapped in half. She sliced with a wingblade again, forcing Gnade away while she grabbed the bladed half of the spear in her teeth and set her sights on the griffon once again.

He discarded the broken shaft and reached under his left wing for a dagger, but Rain charged him before he could draw it. She swung the spearblade at him, cutting the air with a whistle and following through with a series of rapid strikes with her wingblades. Gnade stumbled backwards and tore his dagger free of its scabbard, trying to block or parry Rain's furious strikes. The flat of the spear blade slapped the back of Gnade's talon, and he yelped out in pain as his dagger flew from his hand and tumbled through the dirt.

A growl built in his throat, and with a scream of rage he lunged for her, but Rain was ready for it. She crouched low, legs coiling tightly under her body, then leapt at him leading with the tip of the spear. Gnade flared out his wings in an effort to stop, but it was too late, and the spear pierced into the right side of his chest, just under the collar bone and sunk deep into his body.

Rain jumped back, releasing the spear from her teeth and slashing at the griffon with her wingblades. Gnade coughed, vivid red blood sputtering from his beak as he struggled to stay standing. He glared at Rain, hatred seething from his eyes.

"Du denkst du hast gewonnen, Pony", he gurgled, spitting more blood onto the dirt. ”Du hast mich nicht getötet! Du kannst mich gar nicht töten!" Gnade loosed a terrible scream and wrapped his talons around the broken spear. He pulled it free of his body, blood spilling into his fur and feathers, staining them red.

Rain's eyes narrowed and her lips pulled into a tight line. Gnade leveled the bloodsoaked spear at her, his body trembling visibly from the effort. 

"Ich... bin Gnade," he growled through labored breaths. A snarl took place of a pained cringe when he stepped towards her. "Ich bin... ein Krieger..." He took another step forward, more blood gushing from the wound in his chest. Rain took a step back.

"Ich... bin..." Gnade stopped, his knees buckling and body growing still. "der Tot..."

Gnade collapsed forward, his armor clattering as his body crashed onto the cold, wet earth. Blood pooled around him and his broken, bloody, spear rolled free of his grip. Rain watched him for a moment longer before she let out the breath she didn't know she'd been holding. 

"Kid," she whispered, turning and running back to Finder, leaving Gnade's lifeless corpse in the mud.

Pathfinder stared at the dead griffon and smiled weakly. Rain was at his side in a moment, her hooves frantically digging through her haversack for a bandage. She cursed under her breath and pressed her hooves to the wound, making Finder whimper. 

Her hooves pressed on the torn sides of his flesh, forcing the wound closed. “You’re gonna be alright, Kid.”

Finder didn’t need to see her face to know she was lying.

“Medic! Get over here!” Rain shouted again.

A pony Finder couldn’t see landed, and he heard the staccato tap of hoofbeats running closer. The voice he heard, however, made his ears twitch.

“Oh Gods, Finder?!”

Rain seemed just as surprised. “Summer? You know this kid?”

“He was in my unit, move.” Summer pushed the larger mare out of the way and pulled the rag bandages she had from Nyx out of her bag, pressing them to Finder’s wounds. “You’re gonna be fine, Pathfinder,” she assured him when he moaned in pain. “I’ll take good care of you.”

“Holy shit, Finder?!” another familiar voice rang out, but Finder couldn’t put a name to it. Pathfinder tried to look, but found it too hard to move. He was tired… so very tired.

Carver and Windshear skidded to a stop in front of him, and he felt Carver’s hooves cradle his head. “Finder? H-hey, hang in there kid.”

“Windshear,” Rain pointed a hoof to the spearpony who stood up straighter at the commanding tone. She pointed a hoof to Gnade’s corpse. “Grab the keys off that griffon and get them to Haze. Move!”

“Ma’am.” He gave a curt nod before running off.

Rain turned her attention back to Pathfinder. “Summer, what do you need?”

“Someone get me a bucket and more bandages!” Summer shouted. “Carver, I need your hooves here. Put pressure right next to mine. And somepony get a fire going, I need the cautery blades!”

“Got it,” he answered, and Finder’s head started to spin from the pain.

“Finder,” Summer called to him, a hoof slapping his cheek firmly. “Finder you gotta stay awake for me now, you understand?”

He didn’t understand, and the world seemed to drift away to Finder, as though he had found himself sinking into the ocean. They called his name, but he couldn’t answer. No, he didn’t want to answer. 

He was so tired.





“Finder? Finder!” Summer shouted to the unconscious colt, her hoof shaking him roughly. “Shit. Alright, we gotta work fast. Carver, keep that pressure up.”

"Got it."

Rain watched Summer for a moment, the medic pulling fresh rags from her back and pressing them on top of the bandages streaked with the vivid red of Finder's blood. She then turned to where her Nimbans had pushed the remaining griffons back into their barracks.

"Damn," she growled, leaping in the air and flying to the scene as quickly as she could. Ahead she saw Thorn marshalling the Nimbans back, a sight that brought a smile to Rain's lips. Fighting griffons in an enclosed space was never a good idea.

"Thorn!" she called to her friend once she was close enough. "Report!"

Twisting in the air, Thorn greeted Rain with a nod. "Bastards have fallen back into the barracks. I say we burn em out."

"Not yet," Rain said, landing out front of the building, though with a safe distance from the door, just in case one of the hybrids tried an ambush. Beside her landed Thorn and several other heavily armored soldiers. They stood tall beside Rain, eyes forward and weapons at the ready. 

"Griffons!" she shouted to the building. "Übergeben Sie!"

A strange quiet filled the battlefield.

“Pony Commander,” a male voice called back in rough Cirran. “I am Erhard Schäfer of the Canii.”

"Canii? As in the Cirran Auxillia?" Thorn asked in hushed tones. "What's one of their clan doing here?"

"Blood before oath," Rain answered with a shrug of her wings. "Either way, not our concern right now." Clearing her throat, Rain addressed the griffon once more. “Schäfer of the Canii, I am The Legate of Nimbus, Iron Rain. Surrender.” 

“Legate Rain,” he continued after a notable pause. “I wish to discuss terms. Do I have your word I will not be cut down if I come outside?”

“Oh the temptation,” Rain muttered to Thorn and earned a soft chuckle from the smaller mare. “Schäfer of the Canii… you have my word that no Nimban shall harm you.”

He stepped out from the shadow of the barracks, his zweihander sheathed at his side. Blood clung to his armor and feathers, but the upright manner in which he carried himself led Rain to believe it was from another hybrid. Schäfer took a long look at the pegasi that surrounded him, and seemed to sag at the sight.

“We had thought the Rains died with Nimbus,” Schäfer observed with the casual manner of one discussing the weather.

“As long as there is war there will be Rains,” she answered. 

"Truely."

"Now then, if you would be so kind as to surrender."

"Then we are at an impasse." Schäfer motioned with a talon to the barracks behind him. "I will not consign my men to Cirran torture and execution. If we must die, then why should we not die fighting, and perhaps kill a few more Nimbans in the process."

Rain smiled and nodded her head. "You could do that. You could run back into your barracks and hope we come charging in. But I'll just have my soldiers set fire to the building. Your men will burn, and those that try to flee will be captured anyway. I’m sure more than a few of my men would love it if you would try that.”

“A trade then,” he offered with an upturned talon. “Myself, willingly and without issue, in exchange for the wounded and the younger soldiers to be allowed to retreat peacefully.”

“No.”

“No?”

“You seem to misunderstand your position, griffon,” Rain growled the word with barely-veiled hatred. “I will show you the mercy that you didn’t show our prisoners. Your wings will be shackled, your weapons taken, and you will be paraded in chains through the city and held until the war is over or your master offers a hostage trade. That, Schäfer, is what you will get. Now surrender, or die.”

Schäfer shook his head. "Magnus will never trade for hostages. Even if he did we would be executed on the spot."

"That isn't my problem."

“Have not enough died on these fields already?” he asked her with a twitch of his lion like tail. “How many thousands at Hengstead, tens of thousands at Nimbus? How many more before it's enough? All I ask is mercy. Not for myself, but for the wounded and the young."

“Mercy?” Rain balked at the idea, the scales of her wingblades hissing as her wings flitted angrily. “Mercy like the kind you showed that colt?” Rain pointed a hoof to where Summer feverishly worked to stem Finder’s bleeding. “Shall I carve your flesh, break your wings, and do Gods know what else to you?" Rain paused, her nostrils flaring and her eyes closing for a moment. When she opened them again she had calmed, and looked to Schäfer with a deliberate shake of her head. "No, griffon, I will show you the mercy of a swift death, or chains."

Schäfer drew his sword and pointed the blade at Rain. She didn't move, though her Nimbans all readied themselves for a fight. "I will not allow my men to be butchered like animals!"

"Everything dies," Rain said and turned her gaze upwards. "Nimbans, on my order, burn them out!"

Schäfer's beak fell open for a moment before he recovered with a look of anger. "You canno—"

"I can and I will," Rain answered coldly.

"There's nothing to be—"

"Ready torches!" Rain shouted over the griffon's protests.

Schäfer’s eyes widened, then quickly narrowed, and a sort of anguished darkness filled them. Slowly the tip of his sword fell, inch by inch, until it tapped softly against the ground. He looked Rain in the eye and bowed his head. “Wait..." Grasping his sword by the blade he angled the hilt to Rain and took a cautious step forward. "I surrender.”

He tossed the sword forward and it landed with dull clap against the ground. Rain's eyes remained fixed on Schäfer; even without a sword, griffons were dangerous creatures. No smile came to Rain's lips as she nodded to Schäfer. "Very good. Your soldiers will leave the building one at a time, they will place their weapons on the ground, and they will be escorted away."

“May… may I have a moment?” he asked, head tilted slightly down. “To address my men?”

Rain nodded again, waiting until Schäfer had turned and moved to the door of the barracks before she reached down and picked up the sword. It was a few inches longer than her old zweihander, with parrying spikes near the base of the blade as well as a leatherbound segment between the parrying spikes and the guard. Rain tested the weight, giving the sword a slow cut through the air, and smiled.

It would be a worthy replacement.

A pained yelp caught her attention, and Rain looked up to see Schäfer stumble backwards, a talon clutching at his cheek and blood seeping between his talons. A younger griffon charged out of the barracks wielding a bloodied dagger in his talons which he slashed at Schäfer again. 

“Canii-Feigling!” he shouted.

Schäfer reached out for the younger griffon, only to lean backwards to dodge another cut. “Nein, Sieg! Nein!”

But the young griffon ignored Schäfer’s command. He looked at Rain, green eyes wide like a frightened foal’s. “Die 'mächtigen Rains glauben sie können ein paar Worte sagen und schon werden wir uns verneigen.” He spat at her and bared his teeth. "Wir werden nicht knien! Nich vor euch! Nicht vor eurem falschen Gott! Vor niemandem!”

Rain said nothing, only taking a moment to exchange a look with Thorn. The hybrid charged forward, his dagger held high above his head and his free talons outstretched in a grabbing motion before him. Rain and Thorn waited for him to get close, then Thorn leapt, tearing her stiletto free of its sheath and lunging for the griffon. 

Her attack caught the young hybrid off guard, and before he could react Thorn had slammed her shoulder into his unarmored side. He tumbled across the ground, his sword clattering away from his hand and landing near one of the Nimban soldiers, who quickly stepped on the blade and pulled it further from the griffon. Thorn didn't wait for the griffon to recover, and with a flap of her wings she landed on his back and raised her stiletto up

"Nein!" Schäfer pleaded, but he was too late. The griffon spasmed as Thorn's blade embedded itself into the crown of his skull, the mare pulling the blade free before leaping off the hybrid and moving back to Rain's side. The whole field watched as the hybrid stumbled and twitched, his claws swinging wildly at the empty air. A wave of laughter and taunts came from the surrounding Nimbans, many of whom called out to the dying hybrid, inviting him to try and attack them.

"There's no need for this cruelty," Schäfer yelled to the pegasi, and Rain was inclined to agree.

She stepped forward, hefting Schäfer's Zweihander in her teeth. Where her old sword had been balanced heavily towards the tip of the blade, this zweihander had the weight evenly distributed between the blade and the pommel. Rain almost found herself wanting to compliment the smith, he had done a fine job crafting the sword. 

The spasming hybrid looked directly at Rain, but didn't seem to see her approach. His claws lashed out again and again, but at enemies only he seemed to perceive. It gave Rain all the time she needed to raise the sword, and bring it down on his neck. The griffon's body collapsed to the ground, his head tumbling away. His body twitched once before growing still, and Rain stabbed the zweihander into the ground. 

"Now then, I believe you were surrendering?"





“Medic,” Cloudburst coughed, limping over to Summer. “W-what—”

“Get him outta here!” Summer shouted, throwing blood soaked rags aside and feverishly pressing clean ones into the gaping wound. Windshear nodded once and quickly dragged Cloudburst away from the grisly scene. “And where’s my kauterion, Carver?”

“I don’t speak Nimban, Summer!” Carver shouted at her as he tore through the haversacks of dead griffons in a search for bandages.

Summer gritted her teeth to suppress a growl. “The Gods damned cautery blades!”

“Coming through!” Haze shouted, a steel bucket full of hot coals hooked around his sword. “Fuck this is hot!”

Carver shook his head in disbelief. “The Hell did—”

“It’s a work camp,” Haze explained quickly, not stopping to look Carver in the eye. “The forges are still hot as Hell.”

Summer took a deep breath and carefully peeled back the bandages. Her eyes searched the gaping wound, looking for the most serious areas of bleeding. What she saw, however, made her heart sink. The wound went from Finder's shoulder almost to his flank, with at least two ribs that she could see being badly broken. Deeper still she could see the muscle tissue between the ribs, shredded and leaking a steady stream of blood down the colt's chest.

Glancing to the bucket she looked at the handles of her cautery blades. The half-moon shaped blades were parchment thin, designed to heat quickly and sear closed gushing wounds. But they weren't nearly big enough for what she faced now.

Think, think, think! she chanted to herself as she looked around. 

"What are you waiting for, Summer?" Carver demanded, looking desperately between her and Pathfinder. 

"This isn't gonna work," she answered and cursed under her breath. Then she saw it, the hilt of a broken Nimban gladius laying amongst the broken chains and half buried by the collapsed logs of the burning barn. "You." She pointed a blood-smeared hoof at Haze. "Hold pressure on this for a minute."

"Got it," he said, moving forward and placing his hooves near Carver's.

Summer galloped into the burning barn, raising a wing to shield herself from the worst of the heat as she got to the back wall. The blade was caught under a burning log, and the flames that licked at the air gave Summer only the briefest of pauses before she reached down and took the hilt in her teeth. With a mighty grunt she pulled the sword free of its prison, and noticed that the broken edge of the gladius had bent into a wide forward facing hook.

It would do nicely.

Flying out of the barn Summer jammed the sword into the bucket of coals alongside her normal cautery blades. She reached into her haversack and produced a hardened leather flask with a cork top. Popping the cork out, Summer slipped a hoof under Finder's head and lifted it off the ground. 

"Hey, Finder," she whispered, forcing a smile to her lips. "I need you to drink a little of this for me now, alright?"

Finder didn't answer, and to some extent she doubted he could even see her through the glassy half-lidded eyes that stared up at her. Still she poured the liquid into his mouth and took a small measure of relief from the weak gag it earned from him. She forced his muzzle closed and gently rubbed his throat with her hoof, waiting until she felt him swallow before releasing him. 

"The hell was that?" Carver asked.

"Undiluted wine," she answered, pouring the rest of it onto the coals which burst into energetic flames. Summer glanced at Windshear when he ran up to them, a worried look on his face.

"Nimbans," Thorn's rough voice barked. "Prep the wounded for transport. I want them headed back to Nyx in five minutes. Use the blankets in the hybrid barracks to wrap up the dead. Not one more pony is getting buried here!" She marched over to where Summer worked on Finder, and the medic barely spared her a glance before splinting the other wing. "What are you doing?"

"I'd think that's an obvious one, Thorn," Haze answered. 

"I'm asking the medic," Thorn said, taking a step closer and inspecting Finder. "This colt's three hooves in the grave. Bag him and lets get a move on."

Carver was the first to his hooves, his wings flared out and a vicious glint in his eye. "What'd you say?"

"The truth you clearly can't see through that patch on your face," Thorn answered. "He's lost too much blood, and probably doesn't have much of a lung anymore. Best to put him out of his misery. Don't you medics have a spike for this?"

Summer's eyes grew wide and her mind flashed back to Nimbus. She pulled Finder closer to her and tore the broken gladius from the bucket of coals, pointing the glowing tip at Thorn. "I'll kill you before I let that happen!"

"Whoa, whoa!" Haze shot up and put himself between Thorn and Summer. "Hey, let's put the weapons down for a sec. Save the stabbing for griffons, yeah?"

"It's simple mercy," Thorn said after sheathing her stiletto. "Kid's gonna die either way. Best now, surrounded by friendly faces.”

"He's not gonna die!" Summer growled through the hilt in her teeth. "I won't let him."

"And you don't get to make that call," Carver added, his wings lowering slightly.

Thorn motioned her wing to the group and shook her head. "One colt goes down and suddenly there's four ponies off the line. Five if we count him. Should we expect this for every casualty? Hell, a few dozen go down and suddenly we're out half the regiment!" She looked to Haze and shook her head, her eyebrows knitting together. "You can't tell me you think this is a good idea, too, Haze."

"I'd back you up if the fight was still going, but it's over now, Thorn," he said, approaching his marefriend and placing a hoof on her back. "We've won, now we have to attend to the wounded as best we can." Haze smiled to her. "I wouldn't leave you, or Rain."

"Then you should know better." Thorn pulled away from the touch and scowled. "We’re weapons Haze! And a broken weapon must be discarded and replaced. Sentimentality has no place on the battlefield, Rain is—"

"Don't speak for me, Thorn," Rain interrupted, limping up to the scene with her newly claimed sword tucked under her right wing. "What's going on?"

"I'm busy, Iron," Summer answered, fishing out her last bandages and turning back to Finder's wounds.

"Wasting time and, if I might remind you, limited resources," Thorn said, casting a disgusted glare at Summer, which the latter mare ignored. 

Rain said nothing for a moment, instead resting her gaze on Pathfinder’s pained face. “Summer,” she started to speak, her words deliberate and carefully chosen. “What are the odds?” she asked, but Summer had no answer for her. Rain sighed and shook her head. “I see. Do what you can.”

As she started to walk away, Thorn cast her a tetchy look. “Rain?”

Iron Rain walked past Thorn and motioned for the smaller mare to follow her. “Rain, what are you—”

"He saved my life, Thorn. At the very least I owe him a chance to recover." Her wing unfolded and draped across Thorn’s back. “And I owe his brother too. Now come on, I have a job for you.”

Summer’s glare lingered on Thorn until the mare had disappeared with Rain amongst the throng of Nimbans hurriedly moving about the camp. Only then did she take a breath and return her attention to Pathfinder. 

"What can I do?" Haze asked quickly.

Summer reached over and pulled the broken sword from the flaming coals. An orange glow filled the hot steel, and Summer slipped it back into the bucket as she turned to the three stallions. “You," she pointed to Haze, "I want you to hold him here." She motioned to Finder's ankles. "Carver, put your hooves here, Shear, I want you there,” Summer continued, pointing to each spot in turn. “Hold tight now and don’t let him move. Ready?”

"You got it," Haze said, settling most of his weight on the colt's legs.

Carver took a moment to gulp a mouthful of air into his lungs while his hooves pressed down on Finder’s shoulder. “Ready.”

A nod was the only indication Windshear made.

Summer held one hoof to the bandages on Finder's chest as she drew the sword from the bucket again. The heat had further bent the tip downwards, creating the perfect shape for her needs. Summer drew in a deep breath and pulled the bandages away. "Sorry kid," she said before pressing the glowing metal into the wound. 

Flesh sizzled, and to Summer's horror Pathfinder hardly made a whimper. The weak struggles he did give were easily held by the three stallions. She held the blade tight against the wound until it was fully sealed then pulled the sword away and stuck it back into the coals.  Leaning down, she pressed her ear to Finder's chest, above the raw wound, and closed her eyes.

For a terrible moment, she heard nothing, and a cold dread built in her gut. Then, like a beacon in the dark of night she heard it: a single beat followed by a second, then a third. Summer listened to each one in succession, and after what felt like an age she let out a breath and stood up. 

“Fortune favors you, Finder,” she said, wiping at her brow with a hoof.

Glancing at his body for a moment, Summer pushed the minor lacerations from her mind. Terrible as they looked and as painful as they had to be there were still bigger issues for the colt.The little wounds would have to be cataloged and cared for later. For now Summer focused on his wing, where she could see the dent where the bones had been broken.

“Carver,” she said, carefully rolling Finder towards her so she could get a look at his other wing. “I need two splint sticks. Now.”

“You got it,” he said, running off at a full gallop to find them. Summer watched him for a moment, having seen the tears in his eye before he could wipe them away.

“You think he’ll live?” asked Haze, the simple question earning a glare from Summer.

“Of course he will."

Windshear’s hoof clasped Summer’s shoulder. “Easy, Summer, we’re all on the same side here.”

Her glare lingered on Haze for a moment longer before she started to relax. Her hooves gently took Finder's wing and extended it out fully. His face tensed slightly, but he made no sound of discomfort. The lack of noise concerned Summer nearly as much as the spear wound. 

She ran her hoof across the bones in his wing, feeling for the breaks and smoothing out the ragged feathers. "Radial...ulna..." she mumbled, ignoring the confused glance of the medically untrained stallions. Rolling Pathfinder towards her again, she repeated the process on his other wing. "Humerus." She sighed and let Finder down again, her hoof stroking through his filthy mane. "Don't worry, kid, I'll get you fixed up."

"Nimbans," Rain's voice echoed through the camp. "Prepare to move out. I want any papers, letters, maps, or personal correspondence taken. If it's got writing, I want it! Second priority is bandages and medicines. Limit your trophies to weapons and armor only, we don't have any use for claws or beaks. Archers, take whatever feathers you can gather in the next couple of minutes. Move!"

Summer glanced over towards the sound of the voice before returning her attention to Pathfinder. Carver returned a moment later, dropping a small bundle of sticks beside her. 

"It's all I could find."

"They'll work, thanks." She sorted through the pile quickly, picking each one up in turn and sizing it against Finder's small wing. "Here we go," she said, setting the stick aside and pulling a long strip of cloth from her bag. "Alright, hold him down now."

Three sets of hooves pressed down on Finder again while Summer took hold of the broken wing. She felt around for the bones, then gave a firm tug, pulling them into place as quickly as she could. Finder squirmed, but the weak struggle was worthless against three grown stallions. Summer started to splint the wing, but Finder began to panic. His ragged breaths quickened and his body trembled. 

"Don't let him move!" 

Carver dropped onto his belly and cupped Finder's cheeks in his hooves. "Hey, hey Finder, it's me, buddy. It's Carver." His hoof slipped up, petting through the colt's mane gently. "You're safe now. Summer's just gotta fix your wings. You're safe."

"Keep that up, Carver," Summer said, quickly wrapping the splinted wing.

"We're here for you, Finder," Carver continued, his voice growing quiet as he pressed his forehead to Pathfinder's. "You're safe. It's alright..." The stallion's voice broke, and Summer caught the glint of a tear slipping down his cheek. "They can't hurt you any more..."

"Got it." Summer finished her improvised splint on Finder's left wing. "Okay, roll him forward a bit, I need to get to the other one."

“How do you know Legate Rain?” Haze asked after a moment.

“Father is the Nimban delegate in the Cirran Senate,” Summer answered while pressing a clean bandage to Finder’s chest. 

Haze blinked once. “So...you’re Senator Celsus’ kid?” 

“Yeah, I’m his daughter, big deal. Either get back to helping or get out of the way.”

Nodding, Haze took one more look at Finder then stood up. “I should catch up with Rain. There’s lots to do yet. Were there any other survivors in the other two barns?” 

Windshear nodded. “Yes sir, and we found somepony you know.”

Haze froze for a moment. “Who?”

“Stonewall.”

Haze reached forward and grabbed the neck of Windshear’s armor. “Where is he?” he demanded.

“With the rest of the wounded, I thin—” Windshear fell backwards as Haze shoved him away and flew towards where the rest of the wounded had been gathered for treatment. Shaking his head, Windshear couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re welcome,” he mumbled.

“Carver, Shear, lift him up, I gotta wrap this bandage,” Summer said, drawing their attentions back to Finder.

Together they gingerly lifted Finder off the dirt, with Windshear supporting the colt’s body and Carver cradling his head. Summer worked quickly to wrap the cauterized wound. It wasn’t completely covered; she didn’t have enough bandage left for that, but at least it would be somewhat protected on the journey back to Nyx.

Pathfinder’s eyes clenched tightly then wearily cracked open. His unfocused gaze settled on Carver, who didn’t notice until they all heard the weak voice. "...Carv..." he whispered, followed by a weak cough.

"That's right Finder," Carver said, grinning ear to ear. "It's me, and Summer and Windshear are right here too."

“Damn right, squirt,” Windshear said, “you gotta try harder to get rid of us.”

"...came...back..." 

“What’d he say? Summer asked, tying off the bandage and lowering her ear closer to Finder’s mouth.

“Came...back,” Finder whispered again, his eyes closing and his head falling limp into Carver’s hooves.

Summer put a hoof to Finder’s throat and sighed in relief when she felt his steady pulse. Her hoof moved to Finder’s cheek which she gently stroked. “Of course we came back for you, kid.”

Carver nodded once, his hoof petting Finder’s mane. 

“You two stay with him, I’m going to find a stretcher,” Summer said, waiting for her friends to nod before she galloped away.