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A bitter wind swept up through the valley, bringing with it wisps of early morning mist. The sun hung low in the eastern sky, just peeking over the low foothills that marked the edge of the mountain range. To the west, stars fled from the rays of light, fading away into oblivion as the sun stained the sky a pale red. In spite of the beautiful vista, Captain Swift's eyes were firmly trained on the scene below.

Down in the valley, crimson banners flapped in the breeze as soldiers buzzed around the camp. Glints of light showed where troops moved between the hundreds of neatly aligned tents in gleaming armour. The occasional clang of a blacksmith's hammer or the yelling of an officer were the only sounds that could be heard over the whistling wind, though it did bring with it the smells of camp life: the scent of latrines, smoke and of cooking meat were all whisked high into the mountains.

Unbeknown to those going about their business below, two prone figures lay on the upper slopes of the mountain. Hidden in a small copse of trees, they would be unnoticeable even without their carefully designed camouflage. The pair lay in silence, watching. Occasionally one would slowly write down a few words or take a few minutes to make a careful sketch of the camp below.

Time passed and the sun rose higher into the sky as a column of infantry appeared on the foothills, moving lazily toward the camp. As the hours ticked by, the army began to enter the valley, taking a brief rest before attempting the tiring climb ahead. Judging by the sloppy formations and lack of gleaming armour, this wasn't a professional army. The troops were clearly bipedal -too small to be minotaurs. It looked, however, like the officers were all quadrupeds, hovering above their soldiers, cajoling them and trying to hurry their progress.

For the first time, one of the silent watchers spoke.

"Looks like diamond dogs, huh captain?"

Swift remained silent. Motionless. He hoped his partner would follow his lead.

"How many? Couple thousand?"

Naturally, Swift's hope had been in vain.

He'd objected to being sent out with someone so green, but orders were orders. There had been reassurances that Private Gallant Heart had showed excellent potential during training, that the mission wasn't dangerous, that Swift was more than capable of handling the both of them. Swift lacked his superiors' certainty. Every mission was dangerous.

Scrutinizing the crawling sea of troops, the captain counted their banners. After a few minutes, he'd picked out four. Though he couldn't see the details, he recognised the colour schemes. A dark green flag for a regiment of engineers, two red banners for infantry and one of the pale blue ones for the crossbow dogs.

Four banners. Four regiments. Each regiment about 600 troops strong. Each 600 troops having 8 or 9 officers. Plus the cooks, quartermasters, keepers of the baggage train...

"Between two and a half and three thousand," Swift stated, keeping his voice low, speaking softly.

"You think so, captain?" Gallant asked, his voice barely below conversation level.

Why would he say that if he didn't think it? Swift held his tongue though, though his partner continued.

"What do you think they're travelling up here for, captain?"

His partner's speech made Swift wince. Already, Gallant was showing his lack of experience. Talking so openly? Addressing him by his rank during a mission? All it would take is one hostile snooping around and their cover would be compromised. Of course, if they were captured, Gallant's parents would ransom him back before anyone even noticed Swift was missing. The perks of having a rich, well connected family Swift supposed.

"Silence."

Swift frowned beneath his cloak. He knew that in time, Gallant would be moved to a different branch of the military. He wasn't suited for the Equestrian Expeditionary Force, the EED. Heck, it was right there in his name: Gallant Heart.

Brave. Courageous. Heroic. Fine things for a knight in an old fairy tale, but out here there were more important things. Caution. Cunning. Patience. All of which Gallant seemed to be lacking.

Swift turned his attention back to the movement below. The army was making slow progress. Lots of supplies to carry. Made Swift wonder why the Kingdom was bringing its diamond dog levies to the pass. Not much worth defending up here.

The silence continued, and the pair remained at their lofty viewpoint.

After a time, the reinforcements finally arrived at the camp. They set up their tents: a disorganised confusion of darkly coloured shelters standing in sharp contrast to the organisation of the rest of the camp. As they worked on putting up the tents, other canines were busily fortifying the area, digging ditches and piling the earth into simple walls. The work slowed as the sun drifted westward, and the flurry of activity had stopped completely by the time the sun had moved behind the higher mountains.

Above, the observers remained silent and stationary. The stars once more shone through the darkening sky, and finally- for the first time -the pair moved.

They crawled backwards, moving carefully enough that anyone watching the copse would believe he'd see nothing more than the foliage blowing in the wind. After several minutes, they deemed themselves suitably obscured by the trees and stood, shaking out their sore limbs. Gallant voiced his discomfort.

"Damn, I can barely feel my wings."

His companion raised a foliage-hoof to his mouth. Silence. The younger pegasus grinned sheepishly but his partner was already moving.

The pair crept through the thin cover, just another spot of moving darkness amongst the blankness of the copse floor. Eventually Swift stopped, Gallant damn near walking into the back of him. Bending down, the captain moved aside a leafy branch, reaching into a shallow pit to remove their stashed packs.

Passing one to his partner, he took the other bag and opened it, taking out a meagre pack of rations. Gallant did the same, and the pair ate in silence. After another hour, it'd be time to leave; the brief window of darkness before the moon would have risen enough to cast its light onto the valley. As much as Swift would have liked to stay, these were their last rations. Although he was no stranger to missing a few days food, he doubted his companion would be quite as keen, and Swift was damned if he was going to listen to the kid whine.

Finishing his rations, Swift hunkered down at the edge of the clearing, Gallant resting opposite him.

Soon it would be time to move. A short flight round the highest peak, a rush through the next valley and then they should be far away enough from the camp to have to worry about being spotted by any patrols. Perhaps they could try to stay low for the next few valleys after that. Patience and caution had always paid off for Swift.

Swift's mind ground to a halt. He'd heard something. His ears perked up, straining for sound over the whistling wind. There it was. A voice... no, a pair of voices. He raised a hoof toward his partner, gesturing him to get down. The pegasi both shrank into the shadows, their camouflaged outfits blending seamlessly with the copse floor. After a few moments, the voices were clear enough to hear.

"...why you don't just go up here." A female voice sneered.

"On a night like tonight?" The responding voice is hoarse, almost grating. "May as well just piss on myself, save the wind the bother."

There's a few moments of silence, before the second voice speaks again.

"I'm gonna put down there. Back soon."

A shadow appeared in the clearing, getting bigger as a griffon swooped into a smooth landing. He was pretty small for a griffon, thin and short, too small to be a warrior. A scout? There was the rustle of chainmail below his thick leather jerkin as he moved to a tree, his back to the ponies.

"Don't take too long down there! It's fucking freezing!"

The griffon in the clearing gave a snort.

"Hurrying me along ain't helping!"

He muttered something under his breath as he shifted his weight from hind paw to hind paw.

Swift flicked his eyes over to Gallant. The kid looked white, terrified. This was bad. A more experienced soldier would trust in his gear and stay hidden. The griffon would do his business, then leave without spotting them. All it would take is one peep out of the kid and they would be in trouble, to put it lightly.

Not for the first time, Swift cursed his luck for being landed Gallant as a partner.

A satisfied groan from the griffon accompanied the sudden sound of water hitting the dirt. After a short time, the stream cut off, and the scout turned to leave. Swift relaxed infinitesimally. The griffon would leave none the wiser, and after a while, Swift could get back home before anything else went wrong. Or at least, that's what he hoped.

The griffon took a few steps toward the middle of the clearing, and then stopped abruptly, facing Swift. Swift's heart jumped to his mouth, but he remained silent. The scout took a step back, and looked down. He prodded at something with a claw, then picked it up. The captain found himself holding his breath as he recognised a ration packet from earlier. Had the kid just thrown his wrapper on the ground? The griffon was blocking his sight of the private, making him even more nervous.

The griffon examined the torn wrapping for moment, giving it a tentative sniff.

"You done down there?" The voice from above called.

Giving the wrapping one last glance, the scout tossed it aside.

"Yeah, just com-" The griffon let out a shocked squawk, and Swift's eyes widened as he saw a point of metal sliding out of the griffon's neck.

The griffon begins thrashing around, revealing Gallant, slack-jawed as the panicking bird pulled away, Gallant's knife still firmly stuck in its neck.

With a cry of alarm, the other griffon swooped down. She drew her sword, shouting questions at her dying comrade. Instead of landing instantly, she hovered for a moment, trying to see what was going on in the dark clearing.

There was a soft thud as Swift's throwing knife slammed into her neck, just below her skull. She seized up, and fell, clawing desperately at her throat. Swift leap, aiming for the screeching male griffon. He slammed into the scout, knocking him over and winding him. Quickly standing, the pegasus slammed his front hooves onto the griffon's skull. Putting his whole weight into it, the first blow knocked the griffon senseless. The second gave a sickening crack as the griffon's skill began to give. The third and final strike gave a disgusting squelching noise, dark globs spattering the pony. The griffon was finally silent, his skull reduced to mush. Swift stood and drew his own knife. The other griffon had managed to pull out the throwing knife, her claws desperately clamped over the wound, a strange wheezing noise the only sound she could make. With a few steps, Swift was close enough to finish her. His knife slid into the base of her skull in an easy motion born of countless repetitions, putting an end to her.

The whole encounter had taken less than 5 seconds. In that time, Gallant hadn't moved an inch, his mouth hanging open, his hoof outstretched like he was still holding his knife. Swift moved back to his shocked partner and gave him a strong slap.

"Focus, private."

The rookie nodded, blinking like a moron. Swift would have liked to give him a good kicking right about then, but there were bigger things to worry about.

"On me Gallant. Like glue."

If the alarm was raised, they would be outflown by the griffons. Over flat terrain, at lower altitudes and without any strong wind, a pegasus' smaller wingspan allowed for quicker manoeuvring, for higher acceleration. Griffons were, on the whole, built for endurance: they could fly much further than a pegasus, their larger wings allowing them to fly higher, to use the winds more efficiently.

The pair hustled through the copse, silent trees surrounding them. Every bush a potential enemy, every waving branch an incoming weapon.

Up here, the atmosphere was thinner. Flying was harder work, and the wind would make it a lot more tiring. The griffons' larger wingspans would allow them to ride those winds easier, to catch up with Swift before he'd even made it over the next valley.

Speed wasn't the answer here. If they wanted to get out, stealth was what they needed. Swift grabbed Gallant, and pointed to an opening at the base of a cliff.

"See that cave? We're aiming for that. Stay low, go steady and don't stop."

Caves criss-crossed the entire mountain was. If they could get inside, they'd be hidden from any hostile attentions. They could try to find a path through the mountain, come out on the other side while the griffons were searching elsewhere.

A shout of alarm from behind made Gallant jump, and he took off, aiming for the cave.

Swift swore under his breath, following just a moment later. They hadn't checked the coast was clear. Once again, he found himself cursing his partner's inexperience.

The rush of danger never lessened, no matter how many times Swift was in it. The dark mountainside blurred underneath him, and he was half expecting at any moment to hear the twang of a bow, to feel an inch of hard iron pierce his skin.

It was only a few seconds before the mouth of the cave loomed up in front of him- a dark, gaping wound in the mountainside. With a flare of his wings, Swift flew into the cave, catching up with Gallant. Before the darkness finally consumed him, he glanced over his shoulder.

Swift's heart sank as he saw at least a dozen griffons hovering over the copse. Through the gloom, he could barely make out one griffon hovering in front of the rest, a single claw outstretch. Pointing straight at the cave.

Continuing their flight, Swift and Gallant slowed down in the pitch dark. After they had made their way a short way into the cave, Swift made a gesture and a sickly yellow glow lit the winding passage. Gallant activated his own lightstone, but even with their combined illumination, it was tough going. Stalagmites and stalactites flew past like fangs from some colossal beast, bursting out of the darkness only to disappear just as quickly behind them. He had overtaken Gallant now, and was leading the young pegasus through the treacherous belly of the mountain.

The passage suddenly opened into a large cavern, and Swift flew up slightly, dodging a stalactite hanging from the ceiling. The cavern was dominated by the gurgling roar of water below, an underground stream bisecting the chamber.

Swift jumped at a loud thud from behind him.

Spinning around, he swore to himself as he spotted Gallant, lying on the floor groaning. His right wing was hanging limp, and he was blinking rapidly, staring at a trickle of blood dripping from the end of it. Must have caught it on a stalactite.

Swooping back, Swift cast an eye over the wing. There was a small gash on the first joint, and it was swelling up. Looked like Gallant wouldn't be flying any further.

The rookie started to babble something, but Swift ignored him, pulling the pony to his hooves.

"RUN!"

Swift ran, practically dragging Gallant behind him. Not for the first time, he cursed his inexperienced partner.

At the middle of the cavern, Swift stopped. The floor ended in front of him, replaced by open air. Unseen through the darkness, a river raged far below.

Scooping his partner up, Swift lifted off. With a few wingbeats, he was over the ravine, ready to run again. Gallant was desperately pointing, trying to say something.

Swift glanced over his shoulder, and spotted what the rookie was babbling about. When Gallant had been knocked down, his pack had come loose. It was sitting in the middle of the floor, the lightstone on it still active.

Cursing his shitty luck, he took off again. The pack contained their report. If the griffons found it, they would have evidence that Equestria had been spying on them.

Flying faster than he felt comfortable in the dark, he soon landed by the pack, scooping it up.

Swift's heart sank as he heard calls from the way they'd come, the sound of wings beating. Turning, he spread his wings and lifted off again.

Halfway across the cavern, he heard a shout from behind him.

His heart froze in his chest as it was followed by the twang of a bowstring. A grey-brown blur shot past him, wide of the mark, and he redoubled his efforts.

He was just arriving at the ravine when he heard a second twang. This time, he wasn't so lucky.

The arrow slammed into his right wing, sending white hot pain coursing through his body. He was beginning to lose altitude. He wasn't going to make it over the chasm.

Mustering his willpower, Swift gave a lame flap of his wings, the pain intensifying. It wasn't much of a lift, but it was enough.

Slamming into the side of the ravine, Swift's hooves scrabbled for purchase as he desperately gasped in air that the impact had knocked out of him.

He could feel himself slipping slowly backwards, his panicked attempts at flapping only temporarily delaying his inevitable fall.

Swift's eyes swept the darkness in front of him. Gallant was there somewhere, invisible in the pitch black without his lightstone. Could Gallant not see him?

"Help!"

They were members of the Equestrian Expeditionary Force. They didn't abandon their weapons, their orders or their comrades. That's what Swift told himself.

The cry into the darkness went unanswered. There were more shouts behind him, the sound of arrows being fumbled into bows, swearing as the griffons became tangled in their rush to catch him.

With a flinch, the captain felt his last bit of purchase slipping as an arrow stuck sparks next to him. He knew he couldn't get out of this, that he was going down that drop one way or another. Better to try to have some control over it.

He slipped Gallant's pack off his back and, a few seconds later, flung himself into the roaring darkness.

*~*

The griffon padded his way over to the chasm, his breath steaming in the torchlight. He peered into the ravine, nothing but blackness meeting his gaze. After a few seconds silence, he spat into the chasm.

"Well, that's the end of that."

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