//------------------------------// // Chapter Thirty Eight - The Reign of Steel // Story: When The Snow Melts // by Bluespectre //------------------------------// CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT THE REIGN OF STEEL A roaring sound filled Rush’s ears as he plummeted through the swirling fog. The unearthly orange glow of the light around him, although strange, at the same time felt oddly soothing. He had managed to shoot that damned thing at least, and with any luck, it would have been enough to help the princess. He released a forlorn sigh, staring at the white nothingness that whirled around him. At any moment, the land would come up to meet him, his descent meeting hard reality. Then he would be free of this world, this life, but still, he would have liked to have seen her one last time. Rush closed his eyes, picturing the world of lush grass, the blue sky and yellow sun, and a pair of beautiful purple eyes gazing into his. Rush smiled, reaching out to her... The ground smashed into him, the jarring lurch throwing him across the ground and driving the wind from him. He blinked; he was still alive? All around, the world was fragments of wood, tile, snow and— “Oh gods… no!” Celestia lay in a heap beside him, one of her wings lying at an unnatural angle and her eyes tightly closed. He hurried over to her, lifting her head in his hands while looking her over. “Tia? Tia! Dear gods, no!” The princess’ eyes flickered open, gazing up at him weakly. “Rush? Are you hurt?” “I’m fine, Tia, but… oh gods, you’re hurt!” She smiled weakly. “Not… too badly, I don’t think.” The princess tried to move, coughing and grimacing. “I don’t think I’ll be flying for a while, though.” Rush held her and stroked her mane. “I’ll get you out of here, don’t worry. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not so long as I live.” “And that won’t be long, human.” Rush turned slowly to see the all-too-familiar form of the thestral, Rend. The beast smirked at him, reaching round to take hold of the bolt from his side and pulling it free before throwing the bloodied object at his feet. “Come to die?” Rush smoothly drew his sword. “I’ve come to send you to hell, demon.” Rend laughed maniacally. “YOU? Send ME to hell?” He spat a gobbet of blood on the snow. “You sickening monkeys are nothing, NOTHING! You live in squabbling gangs in your hovels, terrified of the night, praying for the dawn so you can continue to populate this place with your pathetic kind. You’re like sheep, soft and weak!” The thestral lifted his axe, his long tongue snaking out and licking the blood off its blade. “Delicious…” Rush changed the grip on his sword, closing the distance with the beast, leading it away from the downed princess. Rend smiled. “I wonder how alicorn tastes?” he asked with a smirk. “Shall we see?” Rush charged.   *********************   Thorn yanked the debris away from his body. Chunks of wood, plaster, and tiles covered him from head to foot, his body battered and torn from the violent impact with what had once been someone’s home. Thankfully, the occupants had apparently fled long before the armoured thestral had smashed through their roof. Thorn was furious with himself for allowing that human to ride him. What had he been thinking?! The weight had hindered him, slowing his reaction, and that impulsive decision to carry him into battle had cost the frail creature his life, and now he himself was injured. With a shout of anger and frustration, Thorn finally pulled himself free of the evidence of his ungraceful landing. He checked himself over, snorting the dust and filth from his nose as he did so. A quick check revealed dented armour, cuts, and bruises but, thank the goddess, no broken bones. A bolt of pain tore down his side and staggered him. Ah, maybe he shouldn’t have been so quick to thank the goddess after all. It wasn’t that surprising, really, considering the fire damage to his wing, and the speed of his uncontrolled descent… the damned thing was broken. Considering how many times he’d actually broken them in battle, he was surprised he could still fly at all. A thestral’s wings were their strength, but also a weakness, which was why they mostly fought on the ground. Wings were best used for rapid mobility, so it was strange indeed to find the princess fighting the boy in the air. Whatever the child had been thinking, he’d still managed to nearly kill him, and the goddess knew what was happening with the princess now. A final shake threw off the last of the detritus, but some had lodged painfully under his armour and in the vicious wound he’d taken to the neck earlier. It didn’t seem as deep as he’d feared, but it still hurt like hell. Looking about himself, he tried to get his bearings. They couldn’t be that far away, surely? ********************* Celestia watched helplessly as Rush’s sword flashed through air, the polished edge deflecting off the thestral’s axe. Rend laughed and shrieked manically, jumping, dodging, and swinging his great axe with what appeared to be complete abandon. What looked to be dangerously careless openings in his attacks were all quickly closed, despite Rush’s speed and skill. She noticed something in the thestral’s movements, the way he danced away, his half-hearted attacks… He was playing with Rush. She wanted to warn Rush, to call out to him, but her chest felt like it was on fire. She closed her eyes momentarily, biting back a cry as she tried to stand. The pain was familiar, one she remembered from a day playing with Luna that had involved their early attempts at flight and resulted in a broken rib. Luna had cried more than Celestia had, her younger sister’s distress at her condition having been heart-breaking. Celestia gritted her teeth; what had happened since that day had broken hers. Rush stood there, panting for breath and wiping the sweat from his brow. Damn it all, he was too out of condition. Years of harsh life had hardened him, true, but the suppleness needed for nimble and sustained sword work was draining him faster than a bucket full of holes. The thestral knew it as well; the damn thing was toying with him and enjoying every moment of it. It stared at him, its teeth glinting in the light from the burning building behind it.   “Tired? You look it!” Rush remained silent. “Oh dear.” It chuckled. “Looks like the lady’s been hurt. Running to her rescue, are you?” The thestral began to circle him, dragging the great axe through the snow in an almost leisurely fashion. “What I can’t understand, and maybe you can help me here, is what you see in her?” Rend stopped to lean on his axe’s haft. “I mean, she’s got a cute flank and oh that rump!” Rush glared hatred at the creature as it taunted him. “Yes, I suppose I can see why you lust after her, human, but what does she see in you, I wonder? You? A helpless pink monkey? Who could ever imagine the two of you could…?” Rend took an exaggerated intake of breath, covering his mouth in mock outrage. “My goddess, you have, haven’t you? You’ve ploughed the mare…” He shouted to Celestia. “Tell me, Princess, how well does the human buck?” It was too much. Fury seethed through Rush’s body, and he attacked with complete abandon. Rend laughed, ducking the first strike, but his overconfidence had inadvertently made an opening that he couldn’t cover in time for Rush’s sword thrust. The steel bit through flesh, blood spraying from the wound onto the churned snow and mud. Crying out, Rend fell back on his haunches, avoiding a deeper wound that would probably have been fatal. He readied his axe and huffed out a snort of blood. “Looks like I underestimated you, human.” The thestral grimaced. “This ends now.” With a howling war cry, the thestral came at him. In a whirlwind of fire, steel, and hooves, it was all Rush could do to stay alive. Rend was a killing machine and highly trained. Rush, on the other hand, had rudimentary sword training that he’d taken to naturally enough, but he was certainly no seasoned warrior. The thestral’s axe snarled past his face by mere inches before hooves crashed into him. Rush heard as well as felt the crack as ribs gave way, and he was flung to the ground like a broken toy. Spitting blood, he caught a glimpse of the axe and rolled to one side, narrowly avoiding having his skull cleaved in two. He didn’t get far. Rend’s hoof smashed him across the side of the head. “Why won’t you just… DIE!” A crossbow bolt whirled out of the smoke, clipping the thestral’s shoulder. Momentarily distracted, Rush seized his opportunity and dived to one side, avoiding Rend’s next attack. The young warrior backed away, glaring hatred at Rush and at the great armoured creature that was advancing on them. Standing in the firelight, spiked black armour dented from countless wars, eyes burning a deep scarlet, Storm Major Thorn looked every part the commensurate thestral warrior. Rush felt a lump in his throat as he stared at him. This was a real soldier of the moon goddess, a true warrior; one Rend could have been… The young thestral raged at the older one. “You… You COWARD! You TRAITOR!” Rend screeched in fury. “You betrayed the goddess, you betrayed our people, and you betrayed ME!” Thorn dropped the crossbow, removing his axe and taking a breath. His eyes never left the other thestral, not even for a moment. “I have come to kill you. I have nothing more to say.” He rose to his hind legs, shifting his weight and hefting his axe. Rend blasted a stream of fire up into the sky. “The goddess is with me, you old fool! Your time is over; my time is now! REND! LORD REND!” The young warrior snatched at the small bottle beneath his throat and inhaled its contents in a singular long snort. The effect was instantaneous, and terrifying. Rend coughed a spray of blood and began to shake, his muscles visibly bulging. His eyes were the worst part, flaring from red to almost white, smoke pouring from his mouth as he made a loud strangling sound. Thorn simply stood there. “Rush,” he said levelly, still watching the other thestral. “Get the princess out of here. If I can, I’ll meet you at the cabin. Go now.” Rush nodded, quickly sheathing his sword and hurrying to help raise Celestia to her hooves. Rend’s insanely staring eyes locked onto the princess before Thorn called to him. “I thought you were the goddess’ warrior, Rend? Still trying to kill the defenceless, the innocent? You are no warrior of our goddess. You are a coward, a pitiable foal.” The object of Rend’s hate was before him, the princess forgotten. He dared to taunt him? Didn’t he know who he was? He was Lord Rend! The chosen warrior, the future ruler of this dung pile world. “When I have finished with you, you will kneel before me and beg for death!” Rend shrieked, the smoke pouring from his mouth.  Uttering the war cry of his people, Rend charged. Thorn waited, shifting the balance ever so slightly, waiting for just the right moment. Rend came howling, blood and smoke spraying from his muzzle. Thorn had seen it once before, when a warrior had gone too far and taken haj to the point where the only option had been to put him down like the mad beast he had become. The boy was almost on him, the axe in his forehooves swinging down. The look of triumph in the youngster’s face was almost painful to see. “Tragic,” he whispered as he sidestepped the downward stroke. With frightening efficiency, Thorn’s axe came up from behind. Nothing could stop that blade now. Rend staggered forward, gasping and turning, his legs and chest pouring with blood from the terrible wound. Thorn was impressed; the boy should have been almost dead by now. It was probably only the haj keeping him on his hooves. “You… You think you’ve won, old stallion?” Rend coughed. “I still have a little… surprise… for you!” Reaching into his pannier, Rend pulled out a bundle of what look like metal tubes. With dawning realisation, Thorn tried to duck, but it was too late. With what sounded like a rumble of thunder and smoke, the gun barrels discharged their deadly payload. Thorn slid along the ground. He’d avoided the majority of the deadly projectiles, but one had struck his leg, burying itself deep into the flesh. Another had penetrated his chest armour, a third entering the muscle on his hind leg. He coughed, the pain roaring through him like white hot brands. With a deep gasp for air, Thorn unleashed a blast of flame at Rend.     The younger warrior laughed. It was weak flame, far too weak to cause damage. “What was that supposed to be?” Rend spat as he staggered forward. “You are weak… feeble, a fossil that should have been put out to pasture long ago.” He sneered down at Thorn. “I’ll tell you what, Storm Major, I’ll extend a helping hoof, a little ‘gift’ from the goddess. The gift of death as I send you into the eternal night.” Thorn looked up at him weakly. “You really do talk too much, boy.” He grinned. Rend stared at him, then sniffed the air. With horrible realisation, he suddenly noticed the wisp of smoke rising from his still-armoured haunches. Howling, the thestral twisted and bucked, trying to reach the smoking device. With surprising speed, Thorn leaped to his hooves, twirled, and bucked the young one into the wreckage of the burning building. Thorn was already moving away when he heard the blast behind him. He fixed his eyes straight ahead, clearing his mind; that fool didn’t deserve another wasted thought… ***************** Rush and Celestia hurried as quickly as they could away from the village and up into the hills. She was hurt, her wing broken and body covered in numerous gashes and cuts. Her breathing sounded laboured as well. Rush stopped and turned. “Tia, wait. You’re hurt. I need to—" The princess shook her head. “No, Rush. There’s no time—we have to go now. We’ll need to recover the box, and then I’ll open the portal home.” He took a deep breath, fighting back his fear for her health. “Do you have enough magic?” Celestia nodded. “Yes, but only just. I daren’t use much more.” “Then take that armour off, Tia, please,” Rush pleaded. “It’s slowing you down.” She smiled. “I don’t want to leave this behind. It belonged to a far greater alicorn than I. Look, Rush, it’s not far now.” Her purple eyes shone with determination. “I’ll be fine.” Rush sighed. “You’re more stubborn than I am, your Majesty.” Celestia shrugged, giving her mane a shake. “Probably, Rush, probably.” She raised an eyebrow and gave him a cheeky wink. Rush couldn’t help but laugh aloud, the winter seeming that less chilly. The two of them forged ahead, following the almost concealed track up through the trees that went into the forest and to Rush’s home. ***************** Rush pushed the door open, the hinges groaning under the strain. With no regular heat, the wood had swollen, the all-pervading snow and ice now inside the house as well as out. The fire pit, once the welcome focal point of his home, had been reduced to a mess of frozen burnt wood, the rest of the room looking ransacked. Rush stared about him, his heart like lead in his chest. “My home…” Celestia gently nuzzled him. “Rush… I’m so sorry.” He reached up and held her head against his chest. “It’s alright, Tia. It’s the heart that makes the home.” She smiled at him. “That sounded very Equestrian, Rush!” Looking at the ruins of his life, Rush felt strangely relieved. This was the end. The new beginning, the new chapter in Equestria, was about to begin. He walked over to the loose floorboard, clearing away the snow to retrieve the box. His hand groped around in the space, finding… nothing. He looked up at Celestia. “It… It’s gone!” She stared at him. “It can’t be! It must be there; it must be! I put it back there for safekeeping!” A note of panic entered her voice as she began searching the room. Rush felt cold. He knew, in his heart, he knew; the way the snow had been shallower here, the board put back the wrong way… someone had stolen the box. Celestia collapsed next to him, her face a picture of anguish. “Oh gods, Rush,” she said weakly. “What are we going to do? What are we going to do…?” Rush pulled out the broom from the corner of his room and began to sweep out snow from around the fire pit. “What we’re going to do, Princess, is get warm and get a bloody good cup of tea.” The wood was still dry, for the most part. Rush had always kept it well-stacked for use during bad weather, and his diligence had paid off. The bamboo was no good for firewood, so he’d had to travel out into the forested areas with his sled and axe. It was hard work, but he would have gladly done it all again just for this moment with the princess. Blowing on the faintly glowing shavings, the fire began to catch, sending smoke up as he continued to feed the slowly building flames. Before long, the fire began to blaze, the warmth welcome to both body and soul. Celestia stared blankly into the flames while Rush found them both a couple of blankets from the chest in the corner. Gently wrapping the blanket around her, he reached down and touched her hoof. “Tia, can I take off the breast plate and listen to your chest?” She nodded, allowing him to reach the concealed clasps and detach the large plate. He’d forgotten how light the armour was despite its appearance. It was a beautifully made example of the armourer’s craft, and he once more marvelled at the intricate scrollwork, the intertwined flowers and vines embossed into its surface. Somehow, it seemed to be a part of her, reflecting who she was both inside and out. Celestia sighed next to him, her breath warm in the chilly room. He could smell her, that feminine scent that filled his nostrils with its allure. Rush could feel himself blushing as he leaned down and listened to her breathing. “Take as deep a breath as you can.” Nodding, Celestia took several breaths, wincing in pain at the last one. Rush ran his hands carefully over her chest, feeling for any damage, any breaks. The princess gasped. “Sorry, did that hurt?” “No…” He glided his hands over her soft fur, so warm and smooth beneath his fingers. Rush could feel a heat running through him and not just from the fire. Celestia watched him as he checked her over, noting his hair, his eyes, the swell of his muscles. She wondered how he would take to life in Equestria, and if they could find the magic to turn him into who he truly was… a stallion. She sniffed his hair, giving him a light nuzzle. Her heart stirred. “You have one, maybe two broken ribs, not mention the cuts and abrasions. If I had my medicine chest here…” He shook his head angrily. “All the years I’ve had the bloody thing and now I need it, some thieving—” Celestia suddenly grabbed him in her forehooves and pulled him into her chest. “Never mind that now. Just be close to me; you’re freezing cold.” “Watch those ribs!” he admonished, minding how close he was to her. The princess chuckled, her voice taking on a sultry tone that made him feel like his heart was going to burst from his chest. “Of course, doctor. Now shush a moment and let’s listen for the water boiling.” Gently enclosed in her forelegs, the warmth from Celestia’s body made Rush feel as if all his troubles and worries were drifting away. Even his leg wasn’t hurting as much as it had been. He yawned; it had all been a real drain on his energy and emotions. The fear, the strain both mental and physical, had sucked him almost completely dry. He could feel his eyes closing, but refused to sleep. The water would be boiling soon. Celestia leaned her head against Rush, listening to his heart beating. The gash on his leg had been deep, but hadn’t cut anything too serious, otherwise he could well have bled out before she’d noticed him limping. She’d risked using a little magic to heal it as well as his cracked ribs, but they would still need time. Fortunately, once back in Equestria, they’d be able to get all of that fixed up enough to get back to the castle and have him checked over properly. But what of the box? The key to the Elements of Harmony? She sighed. After all those years, it had been so close that she’d even held it in her hooves. Now she was right back where she had been before she came to this world. The princess listened. Rush’s heartbeat was strong, level, a rhythmic thump that was beginning to make her drowsy. Around them, all they could hear was the silence of the forest in winter, the snap of the fire, and the water beginning to bubble. Whoever had ransacked the house was probably long gone, not even realising what the box was, or more specifically, what it contained. She could go back to the town, try to speak to Lord Ire, but would that accomplish anything? She didn’t even know if he was alive or dead. A shuffling sound from outside made her sit up. Thorn? Celestia magicked over her halberd and readied herself for a fight. Rush opened his eyes, whispering, “Someone’s there.” Quickly, he was on his feet and clipping the chest armour back on Celestia before drawing his sword. Whatever came through that door would be dead before it made it even one step… “Thorn!” The thestral staggered in, dropping to the floor with a grunt of pain and exhaustion. Celestia quickly hurried outside, looking around. “He’s on his own. I can’t see anypony else.” Rush gave him a quick examination, shaking his head at the major’s injuries. “It’s not good—he’s been shot. If I don’t get the bullets out, he’ll die.” Celestia’s mane quivered. “Get them out?” She raised an eyebrow. “I could use magic, but I don’t know what I’m looking for, and I may do more harm than good.” Rush shook his head. “Wait here. Hopefully they didn’t steal everything of use here.” He hurried over to the corner of the room where a lot of his rarely used, or just simply discarded junk, sat haphazardly. Despite a build-up of snow, it looked the same as it always had done. Old spades, rope, broken chair pieces—all of it was unceremoniously seized and thrown to one side. It had to be here! He hadn’t used it for so long, but—yes! A large battered wooden box covered in a musty leather-lined lid sat beneath the last of the carelessly discarded items. A few moments later, it finally yielded to his determined onslaught. Dragging the box free, Rush brought it over to the light of the fireplace and hauled open the heavy lid. “What’s that?” Celestia asked curiously. “Medical equipment from my army days.” He began rummaging through it. “It’s for field surgery, so it’s a little more… crude.” Thorn’s breathing was laboured, and he winced in pain as Celestia unbuckled his armour and pulled it away. Probably, she supposed, not unlike Rush had done with her. Strange though… not that long ago, the mere thought of even being near to one of these terrible creatures was unthinkable. Now, this one needed their help, and he had even helped them in a way. She still didn’t trust him, though, after what she’d seen, the acts they were capable of… “Tia?” “Oh!” She jerked back into the present. Rush handed her another kettle of water. “Can you please put this on the fire? I need to clean these.” He opened a small velvet-lined box containing some of the most frightening objects Celestia had ever seen. Shining despite languishing in the box for years, the array of long metal probes, pincers, even saws, glinted almost blood red in the firelight. She covered her mouth and looked away, her stomach lurching. If it affected Rush, or if he noticed her reaction, he never said. Right now, he looked calm, self-assured… professional. Celestia took a deep breath and placed the kettle on the fire as Rush took out a selection of wax-sealed jars and packets. He sniffed their various contents and nodded to himself. “Good,” he murmured, “they’ve not dried out.” Turning to Celestia, his face took on a serious cast. “Tia, I’ll need you to hold him down. If he thrashes, I won’t be able to get the bullets out and it could cause more damage.” “R… Ropes…” Thorn’s voice was little more than a whisper but still seemed to echo around them. Rush moved his head closer to the injured major. “Ropes?” Thorn’s lips moved ever so slightly, the strain showing all too clearly in his eyes. “Tie… my legs, and… muzzle.” Celestia balked. “Tie your muzzle?” Rush nodded to his patient. “Of course, Major, I understand.” Taking a bundle of rope from the wall, Rush returned to the thestral’s side and began tying the ropes as firmly as he could without endangering the major’s circulation. The princess shook her head in disbelief. “Why?” Rush never paused. “He’s a proud warrior, and this is going to hurt… a lot.” Celestia leaned across, placing her hoof on his arm. “Rush, I can take him into the netherworld while you…” the princess closed her eyes before continuing, “do what you must do.” Rush nodded. His training had instilled in him the ability to shut out his emotions, to ignore the cries and pleading of the wounded as he worked on them. He did what he had to, to save lives. Sometimes, at the loneliest and darkest hours of the night, he could hear them… see the pain in the eyes as he worked. If Tia could help Thorn, dull the pain somehow, it had to be worth it. Lowering her horn near to the pitiful figure of the downed warrior, the mare’s horn began to glow, sending shadows out across the room. Thorn shivered for a moment and then settled back down, his breathing beginning to even out and the lines on his face visibly relaxing. Rush smiled to himself. Thorn wouldn’t have to consciously face what happened next, but how long Tia could keep him ‘away’ from the rigours his body was going through, he didn’t know. He’d have to work quickly ***************** Celestia watched Thorn as he floated in the sea of stars, his eyes wide in wonder. In some respects, and from certain angles, she could almost forget what he was. This creature was one of her sister’s soldiers, brought here from the Wither world to wreak havoc in hers. She had to admit, the thestrals were quite enigmatic beings, a close relative of Equestrian ponies from what little she knew of them, and most of that had been gleaned from fighting them. Despite Thorn’s apparent geniality, she was acutely aware of the fact that he was still one of them. They were an incredibly brutal, strong, and deadly foe, a truly powerful addition to the army of the night. The princess pondered her sister’s decision to use such an odd people. What had she promised them? Land? Wealth? Thorn had said something about offering them hope, a chance at a new beginning. She decided she’d have to look more deeply into this strange race when she returned to the castle and its secret libraries. She felt a chill at the thought. There were some things buried there in the bowels of the castle library that could warp the mind of the unwary; books of power and forbidden magics that were as deadly on the page as when spoken or cast. But, if there were something there to help her understand her enemy, it was worth looking. Perhaps she would learn something here… Thorn looked about himself and spotted the animated images of his life, the little windows into the past and the self which Rush had inadvertently used to help reveal who he truly was. The thestral warrior drifted toward the closest of the images. Celestia, keeping herself hidden, floated nearer, filled with curiosity. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to have a little peek? It was dark, very dark. The sand beneath their hooves was as black as the void, with nothing but an expanse of desert as far as the eye could see. There were no rocks, no trees… nothing but that colourless sand. On the distant horizon, a range of hills were outlined against the shadowy sky. Around them were masses of thestrals, all uniformly armoured in black with an assortment of wicked-looking weapons: axes, swords, spears, and some even the princess had never seen before. Not far away, another hoard of the creatures stood silently beneath banners emblazoned with yellow stripes, echoing the highlights on their spiked armour. Other than that, they all looked very much alike: muscular, yet gaunt with those strange fiery eyes. On closer examination, the princess noticed, many actually had different subtle shades to their fur, manes, and tails—greens, blues, and even purples adding a sombre splash of colour to the drab surroundings. Their eyes differed to a degree as well. Celestia could see clearly that some blazed with the more common red glow, but others were green, yellow, and even white. Her hackles went up just looking at them. A horn blew, others taking up its haunting refrain along the battle lines. With a howl, the yellow-trimmed warriors charged. The thunder of hooves, despite being muffled by the black sand, was deafening. The wan light glinted off their strangely crystalline weapons as they thundered forward, drawing the eye. The princess closed hers as the two lines impacted with a deafening crash that shook the ground. Celestia forced herself to look, and quickly wished she hadn’t. The death in the village had been nothing… nothing compared to this! Heads, legs, pieces of what had once been living beings were hacked and hewn, the screams of pain and rage mingling with the cries of the dying. She shook. Dear gods, no wonder her people had suffered such terrible losses. The thestrals’ sheer determination to kill, to win at any cost, was… unimaginable; even against their own people. Celestia felt physically sick, but was determined to watch, to observe and record in her mind everything she saw. Maybe there would be something here, something that would help her in the war against them when she returned home. The scene changed to a thestral warrior lying on the blood-soaked sand, looking up at a young one… Thorn? Celestia covered her mouth with her hoof in shock. He was so young, not much more than a foal! How could they put him into battle and all its horrors at such a tender age? Thorn leaned down, taking off his helmet. “Father…” The older thestral coughed, pain etched in his features as he tried to smile up at his son. “Thorn… don’t… don’t mourn. Take my armour and my axe to… remember me.” He coughed again, blood spraying onto the ground. “In that, and in your soul… I will live on.” Thorn looked up at the retreating army of armoured thestrals, their yellow banners snapping triumphantly in the faint breeze. He stared at them emotionlessly. “They took Mother.” His father tried to nod, but only managed to close his eyes, his breathing increasingly shallow and ragged. “It is the way of the world, Thorn. She can bear foals, and the Yellow Sands tribe have fewer now than ever. If… If they don’t have more young, they will die out, and we… we will die out.” A racking cough overtook his father. He grabbed Thorn’s foreleg in his hooves. “Soon… Soon there will be no more of us, and we will be no more than… a memory.” “A memory…” Thorn echoed quietly, watching the distant figure of his mother walking away with the other tribe’s warriors. “Thorn…” He looked down. His father’s eyes were now nothing but a guttering candle compared to the raging fires he remembered growing up with him. The older warrior choked back a cough. “Thorn! Don’t… Don’t let hate enter your heart, my son. Be its… master. Be… yourself…” The fires, once so bright, went out. Thorn laid his father’s head on the unforgiving ground and lifted his muzzle to the sky, letting out an ear-piercing howl. A howl of anger, of pain, of loss… the lonely song of the thestral. Suddenly, Celestia was back in the wooden house, her connection broken. “Rush?” He nodded to her, wiping the sweat from his brow and washing the blood from his hands. “I’ve removed the bullets. Nothing major has been hit, but he’s going to be in a lot of pain for a while. I’ve treated the wounds the best I can with the washes and ointments.” He pointed to Thorn’s leg. “The stitches should hold, but he’ll need help through the portal, Tia.” Celestia sighed in relief, reaching out a hoof to Rush’s face. “You look exhausted.” Rush shrugged, a wry smile on his face. “I am. What about you?” “I’ll live.” Drying his hands on a cloth, Rush reached over to the old box and removed the lid, holding it out for the princess to smell. She inhaled deeply, sighing in satisfaction and giving him a smile, that special smile he’d come to love so much. Rush rearranged the two cups he’d salvaged earlier. “Tea?”