//------------------------------// // Like a Bird in the Morning // Story: Fangs and Wings and other Things // by Kinetic Heat //------------------------------// The ground feels soft on my cheek. I don't think it has ever felt this soft before. The mixture of mud, sand, and dust is so comfortable to lie on. Maybe I should get rid of my mattress, with a ground as soft as this I think I really don't need a mattress. I could lie here a bit longer. It's starting to get warm. I like when it's warm. It almost feels like home. Then again, pretty much everywhere warm is pretty comfortable. Cold places are rarely like home, that is unless you grew up somewhere where it's always cold, in that case cold would probably feel like home to you. I turn my head a little, I want to see what's around me. Weird, all I see is black. I don't remember closing my eyes. Weird again, I can't open my eyes. Uh! Why does my head hurt so badly all of a sudden? Why does my nose feel like I have a cold? Is that blood in my mouth? I groan. Now there are voices. They're yelling and shouting. Why do I lie on the ground in the first place? I have to remember. Come on, brain, start thinking. What was the last memory? Little Big Horn, yeah, he challenged me... Yesterday. What next? Oh, I remember! Choice of weaponry! Of course there would be none, we are minotaurs of honor. In my head I can see the crowd gathering around Little Big Horn and me. They look excited. Well, if you patch a hulk of muscle against a wimp like me, you know the show's gonna be big. After that, the warm up. Little Big Horn is an all out power house fighter. Not much brains, but he makes up for it in pure strength. He relies solely on the fact that I can't overpower him, and his massive right horn. He uses it too much, too often, there is my first chance to get him down. I heard once that he broke his left leg in a fight, and the wound didn't heal right afterward. I should definitely use that as an advantage. Now I get the memory back. The fight started and Little Big Horn went right at me as he always does, trying to strangle me or break me down right where I stand. I dodged to the side and tried a lucky punch at his kidney, but the muscle was way too thick. He tried to hit me with a back hand, but I dodged again. I have to rely on my speed and agility if I want to leave this field unharmed. Little Big Horn shook his head and dashed for me again. You know what they say, twice is the charm. The next time I aimed low and tried to land a kick against his knee, therefore diving down and sitting on the ground. What I forgot about was his second knee, which hit me right in the face. A bull such as Little Big Horn has an amazing amount of force in his leg, I can tell now. That must have been the moment when my lights went out and I made closer contact with this incredibly soft ground. On second thought, this ground somehow doesn't seem that soft anymore, frankly. Also, there is something wet and sticky on my cheek, and if I were to be honest I would really like to get up now. I groan again and try to stem against the not-so-soft-anymore ground, but the mud is clutching to me. I give up for now and rather concentrate on opening my eyes. All the strength I can muster at the moment goes into my eye lids. It might sound trivial, but when a three centner bull runs right into your face, you know you are going to have a hard time doing even that little a thing as flapping your lashes. Finally I manage to crack open just a little bit and the incoming light creates an explosion before my retina. Through the narrow opening of my lid, the beams get fractured and all I see is a rainbow around a star in the center of my confined vision. Then, slowly, I force my eye fully open and take in my surroundings. A crowd has formed a ring around a pit, limited by a few sticks in the bare earth, cheering me on to get up and fighting again. With some effort, I open my second eye and analyze the situation. Although I lay on the ground and my head aches like a herd of buffaloes has stampeded over it- thank you oh so very much, Little Big Horn- the rest of my body seems to be unharmed, with only a few specks of mud here and there. My eyes adapt to the brightness of the bright shining moon and as my vision returns, so does my memory. The crowd is mainly consisting of the members of my platoon, all of them strong trustworthy bulls. I look down over my body and pat off the dust that sticks to my aquamarine fur. The fight had to go on, I knew. Little Big Horn challenged me, and a challenge he shall have. I stretch my arm over my head and feel the stretching of sinew in my side, then repeat with the other side. I bow down to touch my hooves with the tips of my fingers and then bend backwards until I hear by backbone crack. My head rolls over my shoulder belt, I look to the left, I look to the right, on the ground and up in the sky. Ultimately, I let my knuckles crack and shoot Little Big Horn a mocking smile. “'Sat all you got?” I ask, sliding back into my fighting stance. I can see my taunt taking effect as a vein becomes visible on his forehead. He roars a battle cry and charges in for the next attack. Like a steam rolling train, Little Big Horn comes at me, head thrust forward, arms to the side, mind set to tackling me. This time, I operate with more caution than last time. The moment when he is inches before me, I jump high, leap over his head, and squat down on his upper back. When the realization catches up to him, I catapult myself off him and the momentum makes him lose his balance. As Little Big Horn lands face-long in the mud, I land on both my hooves and roll over my shoulder, relieving my joints from the pressure for once, and second for extra style points. As I look over to where Little Big Horn is lying, I hear the other bulls shouting cheers and laughing. I wave over and bow down, and they erupt in more laughter. This is how it's supposed to be, with me in the center and the applause rolling around me. I hear a furious snort from behind me and catch sight of Little Big Horn who has gotten back on his hooves and now looks even more pissed than before. I could hardly believe it, if I didn't see it myself. His strong hands open and close, his shoulders and arms in spams of rage and his teeth bared to a wild snarl. I think I can even make out a popped capillary in his one eye. ”Mocking Jay!” he roars, smacking his fists against his chest. Okay, I admit, this was kinda intimidating. But if I show him, and most of all the crowd, that I'm starting to get second thoughts, my reputation is done for. I have a hypothesis that the angrier Little Big Horn gets, the stronger he becomes. In other words, I need to take him down soon enough, or I might get myself a big load of pain. He charges forward one more time, a strategy that has proven successful as often as not and I feel the ground beneath my hooves shaking. He reaches his hands forward, wanting to grab me, to crush me. I make a quick dodge to his left side, which unfortunately goes not without Little Big Horn's notice. He tries a sweep to the side with his arms, and misses me only by a hairs width. Now is the time frame in which I have to make my move. I dive into a roll and try to land a kick against his week knee. Suddenly, a powerful hand clutches my outstretched leg and stops it inches before Little Big Horn's knee. I look at the and, trace the arm that connects to it upwards to the shoulder and look into two eyes. I can almost read them saying “Got you.” I smile an exculpatory smile and try to retract my leg. Not to mention, it doesn't work the way I would have liked it to work. I am yanked upwards and dangle several feet in the air, getting a magnificent look at Little Big Horns bulky abdominal muscles. I wonder if it's too late to say a prayer. Then, I feel like falling, followed by the feeling of getting all the air out of my lungs as I hit the ground Little Big Horn has smashed me in. Suddenly, my vision becomes blurry and I can't seem to be able to breath properly. I only notice how a hulking figure nears. Have I mentioned that the ground feels rather soft? It's really quite comfortable, let me tell you. As I get lifted up by two of the surrounding bulls, my daydream gets rudely interrupted. I feel my limp body being dragged out of the arena with the dull noise of the crowd all around me. I'm thankful for the darkness this time, that way they can't see my bleeding face. I hope. A good few feet away from the the battleground, I regain my senses to a degree that allows me to see the world clearly again. Two of my comrades are pulling me towards one end of the camp, to a tent thrice as big as the ones you'd normally see here around. The dark brown tarpaulin consists of wool, leather, and cotton and stands at twice the height of any bull. Torches are set around it in a circle, giving what little light there was to take back the night. The tent is divided in three sections, two side tents and one big in between. Flags hang lifelessly from the tips. The entrance gets lifted up and mounted on the tips of two spears as I half walk half and half crawl inside. Said inside is provided with a set of camp beds in four neat rows, a few pillars that hold swords, maces, spears, and other weaponry in one of the smaller side sections, armory such as breastplates, helmets, and chain vests in the other. The main section is equipped with stands full of maps of the surrounding area. The borders of the area displayed could surely not be reached in a days march. A huge round desk is standing in the center of the room, behind it a minotaur with a bushy gray-black mustachio leaned over it, as he leans over yet another map. At the sound of the three of us entering the tent, he lifts his steel-gray eyes off the parchment and looks directly at me. The shudders his icy gaze is giving me makes want to go back and lay down on the warm, comfortable ground. I swallow dryly and wait for what is happening next. With a short nod, the two minotaurs who helped me in leave the tent with a salute. I fold my hands before my belly and rock back and forth on my hooves. I try to ignore the freezing look the older bull is giving me and start to whistle. I look around, everywhere, anywhere, just not at him or I swear he would make me an icicle. As there is yet a reaction to retrieve from him, I try to initiate the conversation. “Nice weather we got, eh?” ”Mocking Jay, I swear by the horns of the Great Father Above,” he growls, his beard jumping up and down with every word. Admitted, it's not the way I had hoped he would pick up on the small talk, but at least we are talking now. “The next time you start a haggle with Iron Hide, I'll make sure it's the last time.” ”How am I to interpret this? I mean, it could mean that you ship him off to another platoon, or you gonna de-grade him, so he's my subordinate, or-” ”If your fists were only half as fast as your mouth,” the old bull intercepts, “you wouldn't have to be dragged off the sparring grounds half the time you get there.” His message is as clear as his chilling stare. I gulp what response I had down and wait for him to talk on. He blinks, and only the slightest slither of warmth gets into his eyes. He looks down on his map again and snorts. “Come over here for a moment, I don't want you to freeze on the spot.” ”Yes, Commander.” Cautiously, I walk over to the desk and look at the map. The desk is half a dozen steps in diameter, and the map already leaps over its edges. It displays a detailed bird's eye view on an area with a mountain ridge to the north-east, covering pretty much a quarter of the map to that side, and a bunch of circular forms that cling to it. At the opposite side of the mountain, several levels of what seems like a random accumulation of circles, rectangles, and squares take up the rest of the map almost to the boarders. ”Do you now what this is?” asks the Commander. I shake my head and shrug. “A map?” The commander sighs. “Yes, the piece of parchment in front of you is clearly and doubtlessly a map. But what can you see on the map? Do you have any idea of where this place is located?” I take a sharper look and start to think. “It's not the typical type cities are built by minotaurs,” I begin. “The forms are too linear, no way this is one of our villages. The griffons don't build on the ground, so this must be a pony city.” ”Correct.” The commander nods his approval and points his finger at the center of the circles in the middle. “What you are seeing here is the capital of Equestria, Canterlot.” I raise an eyebrow. ”Commander, not to be rude, but why are you showing me this? We're still at least a good three weeks away from the border of Equestria and we need to wait for the other tribes to join up with us.” Chuckling in amusement, the Commander crosses his arms before his brawny chest. “Because I believe the reason for our quite singular day-night rhythm to be there. Something must have happened to the princesses, else we wouldn't be in this darkness.” As I set to a retort, he hushes me with a raised finger. “I want you and some of the other bulls to form a squad and scout out the situation. Retrieve as much information as you can. I will pick your company myself.” That startles me a bit. “Wow, wow, wow, one second please. Why me? I only got my battalion two weeks ago and I don't even know all their names so far. You really think I'm fitted for this mission?” A thought springs in my head. “Why not send Iron Hide? He's obviously cleverer and more experienced than me, also I hear that he's very very smart.” Is that the faint taste of vomit in the back of my throat? ”In ambushes, skirmishes, and battle tactics, yes. But that is not what is of need here. Do me a favor and never challenge him again while I am in office, I am sick of your childish banter. I assign you to this mission, and you better get along with your companions.” He raises a finger. “Confidence is useful, but humbleness is a virtue. Remember, pride goes before a fall.” He dismisses me with a wave of his hand and I walk back to my tent. That was unexpected.