//------------------------------// // The Mare of the Equestrian Eighth // Story: The Mare of the Equestrian Eighth // by The 24th Pegasus //------------------------------// The Mare of the Equestrian Eighth The 24th Pegasus The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Saw the headlines on that day. She snatched the paper in her teeth And dropped two bits to pay.   She couldn’t fly back home to read The paper she had bought. Instead she found a place to glean The info that she sought.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Dropped the paper on a table. “War Declared!" Its title screamed, “Reserves, head to your stables!”   The mare read on, her excitement piqued; The paper spoke at length. King Sombra, the feared lord of shadow, Had returned to full strength.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Read the reports of the battles. “Our colts are strong,” the paper said, “Yet need more in the saddle!”   “So now what are you waiting for?” The paper asked quite clearly. “Stop standing around, stop looking lost! The army needs you dearly!”   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Wasted not a breath that day. She flew back to her Cloudsdale home And on her bed she lay:   Wallet, ID, and bits too; A nice dress for the road; Toothbrush, toothpaste, and some floss; The rest in her abode.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Left her house with a light pack. Blue wings fluttered over neighbors; She never once looked back.   Across the floating city’s sky Her wings did carry true, Until here a white building stood; Its purpose there, she knew.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Wasted no time at the door. She barged right in, her shoulders square, And looked across the floor.   Lines of ponies, some hundreds strong, Were queued up at the tables. And at each desk, in golden garb, Were soldiers and their labels.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Knew which desk she desired. For even though the line was long, The mare there, she admired.   Captain Spitfire, in the flesh! And at the stable, too? Did she turn in her uniform? And with the army, flew?   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Painfully waited in line. The minutes crept by, and then the hours, Then finally, that shine.   Spitfire, decked in golden arms, Raised an eyebrow at the mare. “So, Rainbow Dash, you here to fight?” She gave a knowing stare.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Proudly stood up tall. “Yes, ma’am, I am, and ready to serve.” Her tail betrayed it all.   Nodding, the captain pressed her hoof Atop the mare’s signed forms. A small black mark, a black horseshoe, A passage to the storms.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth From cheek to cheek she smiled “Welcome to the Eighth, kid,” The captain’s smirk was wild.   Some ponies showed her where to go; She let them take the lead. Now she was here, no turning back, No matter how she’d bleed.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Soon found herself in camp. The days were bleak and rainy. Her mane was always damp.   She slept next to her wing mates. She crawled with them through mud. They suffered from the sergeant’s wrath Through tears, sweat, and blood.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Learned to fly in tight formation. She learned how to fight with hoof and wing. She learned to defend her station.   She learned the marching orders. She learned the battle cries. She learned to hate the enemy. She learned to guard the skies.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth For weeks on end, she thrived. While lesser ponies cracked and split In boot camp, she survived.   She graduated top in class High marks in every skill. But there was one thing that she did not learn And that was how to kill.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Knew the tactics, knew the score. But no amount of combat drills Could prepare her for war.   By Spitfire’s side she flew to fight; Hoof-picked to join the elite. They flew to lands far to the north And fought to see through sleet.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Had never seen a war. But then she saw the casualties: Thousands, maybe more.   In frigid snow, on blood red sheets The ponies lay there dying. Their comrades stood off to the side Their faces screwed and crying.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Just couldn’t look away. The cries of pain and suffering And all this in a day?   Where once she thought she’d find a fight She now saw only death. This wasn’t grand, this wasn’t fair And then she took a breath.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Saw those yellow wings turn. Together, the Eighth plunged through the wind And her flesh began to burn   Heart racing, wings pumping, limbs full of lead The mare did join the fight. The front was now a bloody mess. The lines of ponies, tight.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Followed her captain’s lead. They folded their wings, put nose to ground, And swiftly picked up speed.   Like a hammer on an anvil, Valkyries of death and pain, The Mighty Eighth slammed Sombra’s lines And tore their center in twain.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Hardly thought that fight. Her wings were fueled by instinct, And instinct led them right.   Helmets split, skulls were crunched, And ribs were broke in two. Blood splatter, screams of death, Sharp crimson on her blue.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Didn’t know when it was over. Next thing she knew, she was back at camp And staring into her clovers.   She didn’t have an appetite. She couldn’t even eat. Was this what it was like to fly As one of the elite?   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Left the mess without a peep. While her comrades drank and partied, She cried herself to sleep.   The nightmares soon both came and went And left her short of rest. But even still, on the next day, She had to fight her best.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth For three months now she fought. The days never got easier. But she learned to own her thoughts.   Her mane grown out, her tail cut short, She made an impressive vet. And now she watched the new recruits Who hadn’t seen war yet.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Had swiftly climbed the ranks. She only had to crush her soul And the mark on both her flanks.   No more the happy stuntsmare. No more the lazy kid. The privates called her cruel and cold; She noticed when they hid.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Tasted her share of defeat. The lines were shifted so many times; She hated to retreat.   She hated the Crystals with all her soul. She hated watching friends fall. But even then, for all she’d done, She hated herself most of all.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Watched Celestia from up high. The white alicorn appeared unannounced In a carriage from the sky   She didn’t want the Princess here; She distracted from the fight. But seeing the way ponies’ eyes lit up… Maybe the Princess was right.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Almost saw the attack too late. While Celestia spoke and raised morale, King Sombra threw all his weight.   Thousands of Crystals, with one thing in mind: To end the solar reign And as the mare flew, the onslaught began With arrows falling as rain.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Fought a brutal fight that day She took on twenty, and when it was won, On the hard ground she lay.   Her squad mates were the first to her side Then the doctors and medics, too. They took her up and back to camp And buried a bit of blue.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Woke only to despair. For one side was both feathery and warm But the other side was bare.   She didn’t cry; she simply couldn’t She’d last cried so long ago. Instead she withdrew inside herself And bottled up her woe.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Now a grounded, one-winged mare Knew her fighting days were over. To dream of flying, she didn’t dare.   For days she lay in misery Even when they sent her home. She found a knife, and in the night— Thankfully, she hit a bone.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Lay there, slick with blood. An old friend from Cloudsdale found her. She looked funny, covered in mud.   Fluttershee, or Fluttershy? The poor mare couldn’t remember. But tender hooves did work their magic And with their bandages, saved her.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Lay on the bathroom floor. And while her friend flew to get help, She found the tears sought for.   They took her to the hospital. They asked about the knife. Yes, she told them, and calmly admitted She’d tried to end her life. The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Was placed into a ward. She’d rest in here, a friendly place; She was unbelievably bored.   The words they spoke were all the same Even though the faces, new. But no matter how they talked and talked They couldn’t bring back her blue. The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Lamented in her bed. And as the days both came and went, She wished that she was dead. What world awaited beyond this room? A world stripped bare of flight? Was such a world worth living in When not a thing feels right? The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Stopped talking to the nurse. She withdrew inside herself; Her condition got much worse.    But then she got a visitor, A mare of lavender and horn. She said she was an engineer An oath to help, she’d sworn. The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Dared to hope and dream. Could this mare be speaking the truth? Were the skies nearer than they seem? This mare who came from Canterlot; Twilight, she was named. She promised to give the gift of flight But could she do what she claimed? The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Saw no other choice. She wanted the skies, she wanted her wings; She gave these thoughts her voice.   Twilight smiled and took her aside, And they made plans that night. When they were done, the mare was gay But felt even then, her fright.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Waited a long time for her wing. She didn’t see Twilight again And didn’t know what she’d bring.   But then one day, Twilight returned With burlap on her back. It opened to reveal a wing; Not blue, but nearly black.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Stared in awe at the device Could this roughened steel contraption Redeem her sacrifice?   Twilight led her through the basics Of this shiny metal wing. Then they took her back to place The brace to hold the thing.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Returned from the table. Twilight met her and began to test Whether to move the thing, she was able.   They walked behind the hospital And began to do the test. The mare only had to give thought; The machine did all the rest.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Learned to fly again that day. It took her several hours, But she soon found her way.   From loops and twirls to flips and dives The machine was precise. It executed her every thought. Such a wonderful device!   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Spent that whole day flying. So it was with surprise that Twilight saw Upon her descent, crying.   She rushed forward to give a hug And asked her what was wrong. The answer the mare gave was simple: She’d been grounded for too long.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Left the hospital that day. And even though it needed tuning, The machine gave her a way:   To return to battle in the north; To soar those bloody skies; To finally find her friends again And fight right by their sides.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Returned to much fanfare. It raised the spirits of the reeling army To know that she was there.   It was several days before she fought, But when she did, she knew That this was where her soul belonged, Amongst the blood and blue. The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Returned, weary and worn. She’d led the charge at Sapphire Pass; She’d stomped King Sombra’s horn.   So now to the droll life of citizenry The hero finally returned. Some nights she dreamt of losing her wing, And the flesh on her shoulder burned.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Watched as the world moved on. She drifted the land, from town to town; She never stayed very long.   What need did the world have for heroes? What good were ponies like her? Just an ugly scar from years of war; A reminder of how things were.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Lost everything on the Earth. She lost her money, home, youth, and more, But most of all, her mirth.   The days of being an Equestrian hero Felt like so long ago. Ponies would look her way and see her wing, Then avert their eyes and go.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Pulled in what jobs she could. But they were barely enough to keep her fed; When she could leave, she would.   She hardly cared to fly these days; What reason did she care? She was only a broken relic of the past, A flying freak of a mare.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Drifted into Canterlot Where after much inquiry and trial, She found the mare she sought.   The post war years had done Twilight well; An academy of her own. Twilight, surprised at first, soon took her in To her own three story home.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Sipped the tea that Twilight made. It was fancy tea, in a fancy house, With cushions made of suede.   Twilight asked what brought her here, And the mare could only shrug. She gave no response, least not in words, But gave Twilight a hug.   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth For once, didn’t weep that day. Though her gut roiled and grumbled, She had nothing left to say.   She left Twilight behind at her home And took back to the street. She sought a secluded place to hide, From the public eye, retreat   The mare of the Equestrian Eighth Felt a stirring in her heart. It was the first in many months; Maybe it knew to depart.   And so, that night, in the shadowed wharf, Now that she’d seen her friend, She strung a length of rope up high, With a loop beyond the bend.   And on the next day Equestria knew, The dockhooves on the wharf found a bit of blue.