• Published 2nd Apr 2016
  • 2,669 Views, 27 Comments

Do No Harm - Holy



Throughout her dangerous career, Daring Do has never actually had to kill anyone. Faced with no other choice, she finally has to.

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Do No Harm

Wind rushed around Daring’s form as she pushed herself so hard the air stung her eyes. She ignored the searing pain in her right wing, flapping as hard as her body would allow. Once she thought she was far enough away, she turned hard into a nearby tree and flapped against her own momentum, wincing as she felt the wind pass through her bloody feathers. Daring collapsed against a branch, fighting to take deep breaths to satisfy her aching muscles. Once the adrenaline faded out of her system, Daring let out a whine as the various pains of the cuts and bruises throughout her body finally caught up to her. She extended out her wing, one eye open to hesitantly take a look at the damage.

Raising the aching limb above her head, Daring’s heart dropped when she saw the sunlight peering through the hole leaking blood across her feathers. Being able to see the swaying branches of the jungle through her wing made her heart beat frantically, as she felt panic edge in and attempt to cloud her thinking. Daring grimaced and took a deep breath. Now was no time to lose control of herself; any slip-up and she’d be dead.

Daring peaked out between the leaves surrounding her to the ground below, scanning the ground for the bright white feathers that would surely stand out from the foliage. Daring kept her muscles tensed, ready to duck back behind the trunk just in case she saw the glint of that iron arrowhead and the shimmer of those dark red eyes. Seeing nothing but the vast green and brown of that humid jungle, Daring slumped back against the treeand closed her eyes tightly as she tried to suppress a whine.

Daring’s body froze and her blood ran cold when she heard the soft rustle of leaves between her ragged breaths. Her eyes snapped towards the source, focusing on the image of a rugged griffon scanning through the trees and drawing another arrow from the quiver on her back. She knocked it against the bow in her talons, ready to take the next shot as soon as her eyes caught sight of her prey.

Daring’s mind raced with everything she could do to get out of this. With the massive bounty on her head in this country, there’s no way she could talk this griffon out of it, and with how fast she put an arrow into her and had her talons on Daring, there was no way she could beat her in a fair fight. Daring grit her teeth, wishing she would’ve just left well enough alone. No random artifact from a lost civilization was worth dying on the other side of the world for.

Daring could feel the panic building up inside her again as the griffon’s eyes passed across the tree she was hiding in. She froze in place, careful not to jerk away and give her position away. Once the griffon’s eyes passed by, Daring let out a sigh of momentary relief. Her mind brought up the images of the wanted poster she caught a glimpse of in that little village. The only word she recognized on it was ‘alive’ alongside all those zeros. Daring clenched her teeth again, resolving not to die after hours of torture in that asshole warlord’s mansion. She had to get out of here, but she had to take care of this griffon first.

Daring shifted on the branch, focusing her vision on the griffon stalking through the underbrush below her. There was no way she was getting away from her. She’d tracked Daring for the last two days, and being this close, there was no way Daring could shake her now.

Daring knew what she had to do. Her focus shifted to the survival knife strapped to her chest. If she acted now, she could just drop down on the griffon, taking her by surprise and get out of here without another scratch. Daring leaned her head down, taking the handle of the blade in her mouth, but never taking her gaze off her hunter.

The taste of the wooden grip in her mouth and the churning in her stomach made Daring uneasy. She pushed any inhibition from her mind, reminding herself about the consequences of thinking twice with this bounty hunter and how it got a hole in her wing the first time. Without another thought, Daring forced her weight forward violently, shaking the tree branch around her as she shot out of it and raced towards the ground at the griffon.

The sound of rustling leaves made the griffon turn around with a quick jolt. Her eyes met Daring's as she leveled her bow up to her, quickly letting the notched arrow fly. Daring felt the nip of sharpened steel at her neck right before impact. It didn't matter; Daring was falling too fast to have dodged it, and her knife was already honing in on her target. The sound of metal sinking into flesh was all Daring could focus on in the tangle of limbs. She hit the ground hard, driving the wind out of her lungs and her mind panicked at the pain shooting through her limbs. The torrent of pain washing over her as she slammed against the dirt made Daring wonder how many bones that might have just broken. Her adrenaline brought her back up to her hooves once she saw that the fur and feathers around her were still moving.

Daring snapped upright, ignoring the pain throughout her body. She hunched down into a fighting stance, ready for the griffon's next strike, but her eyes widened once she met the consequences of her actions.

The griffon in front of her was grasping desperately at her neck, her polished yellow talons circling around the steel, not sure what to do with the protruding metal. Her usual white plumage was now stained a deep red as blood flowed freely out of her neck. The griffon could do nothing but thrash in the leaves of the forest floor as her life slowly drained out of her. She gasped and gurgled as the blood dripped out of her beak every time she attempted to take a breath. Each desperate cough was weaker than the last and had more blood in it. Daring felt the warm splatter against her cheek as the griffon heaved.

The bounty hunter looked at Daring, a pleading expression in her eyes. They were no longer enemies in that instance. When it came down to imminent death, she just wanted help, something to keep her away from her impending demise. Daring didn't do anything; she didn't feel like she could do anything. She just sat there and watched as the blood continued to pool in the dirt at her hooves and splatter against her face and chest.

Daring felt a lump forming in her throat at the sight. She couldn't look away. The griffon just kept looking into her eyes, pleading for her to do something. She looked like a child that had just fallen down that was just looking to her parents for help, begging them to just take the pain away. Daring knew she couldn't do anything, and that even if she could, this griffon would just end up leading her to a grisly death anyway.

Still, something inside of her begged to do something. Something screamed at her to try and save this griffon before it was too late. Hold the wound closed, try to give her a tracheotomy, take the knife out and bandage the wound, just do something. Daring shoved that voice down, reminding herself of the mangled corpses she'd seen come from that warlord's torture room. It had to be her or Daring. There was no other choice.

As she watched the life drain out of her victim, Daring couldn't help but let her logical side slip away. She could feel the guilt and regret seizing her already. This wasn't how she wanted it. She never wanted to live in a world of kill or be killed. She was just an archaeologist with a taste for adventure. Taking a life was never in the dreams she'd made for herself.

The griffon's last few coughs and gasps faded away as she collapsed into the dirt, her eyes still fixed on Daring. Her bloody hand slipped away from the knife lodged in her neck and collapsed to the ground next to her. Daring watched as the life left her eyes, those eyes that were still centered on her. Even though they were staring right at her, Daring knew there was nothing behind them anymore. That cold, empty look, not focused on anything in particular, was pointed right at her. The last little spurts of blood coated the shiny steel sticking out of her neck, until all that was left were a few occasional drops into the pool.

As Daring's adrenaline continued to fade, her sense of smell returned to her as well. The sudden stench of copper was intoxicating, and with it covering her face and shirt, she couldn't find a place to get away from it. The warm sensation of blood dripping down her neck and face and the pool surrounding her hooves stacked onto the sensation, and Daring couldn't bear it anymore. She turned her head and threw up what little she had eaten, tears stinging her eyes as she closed them tightly.

Daring's usual tough exterior faded as she felt those cold, dead eyes on her. Once she lifted her head and spit the last of the bile off her tongue, she couldn't help but return her gaze to her first kill.

A thousand thoughts raced through Daring's head. This griffon had an entire life behind her. Daring couldn't even imagine what she grew up like living in this third-world country, but it was still a life. Every second of that was a waste now. Every lesson she learned, all her likes and dislikes, her smiles and cries, all of her emotions, everything that made this griffon her was gone forever now... and it was Daring's fault.

Daring tried to hold back a tiny whine as she felt tears rolling down her cheeks. She didn't want to do it. If she didn't she would've died. It was either Daring or her; there was no other way... right? Doubts filled Daring's mind and made her feel even more sick. Maybe there was something she could have said, something she could have done to convince her that killing was wrong, something that would just let both of them go home and go on with their lives.

She tried to reason with herself that this griffon was just going to take more lives, and by killing her she probably saved hundreds. The logic was sound, but it didn't make Daring feel any better. There was literally blood on her hooves and whatever thought crossed her mind it always came back to the same thing: you killed someone.

Daring looked at the wound she inflicted. There was no way she could slip the knife out and return it to its sheath. The haunting sound of it slipping into the griffon's throat resonated in Daring's mind, and she grimaced at the thought. From the blood on the ground to the shine of the metal in her throat, nothing made Daring more uneasy than the dead eyes watching her, blaming her for the suffering she'd caused. You did this, they said, you ended this life, this precious gift of a soul and being that will never exist again. This was the only life this griffon had, the only chance in this world, and you took it away. What if she had a family to take care of? What if she didn't really want to do this, and was just forced to? Daring would never know now.

Daring felt like a monster. How this griffon could do what she just did for a living was beyond her. Daring took a few tentative steps away, the eyes still transfixed on her, chastising her.

She turned away, closing her eyes, but she could still feel that cold, dead glare on her body, just as apparent as the caking blood all over her fur.

Daring jumped to her hooves and started running. The entire reason she came to this forgotten country was lost on her. She just wanted to go home and get the image of those dead eyes staring at her out of her head. So she ran, she ran as fast as her exhausted hooves would take her. She just wanted to forget. Daring just wanted to go back to her old life, before she was a killer.

She would never be able to forget, no matter how far she ran from it. No one can forget their first.

Author's Note:

Just a little bit of practice I felt was worthy enough to post.

Comments ( 27 )

Damn. Real heavy there. Very well done.

Loved it.

Speaking from experience, m8?

This fits perfectly into my headcanon with Daring Do. Well done!

Well I certainly didn't expect that from you. That was really something else.

Really nice, I love it

7086663
Sort of.
7086754
What were you expecting?

Never look your enemy in the eye, because in the end, those eyes are all you see.

In today's world of killing games and heavy action movies with scores of enemies being dispatched, reading this is a reminder about how the actual deed, especially to one who didn't want to kill in the first place, is much more grisly then we could ever have imagined.

You captured this perfectly.

7086788 Certainly not something so thoughtful. I mean, you're Holy(of course, you know that). I was expecting shameless clop from "Holy has posted a new story" up until I read the description.

Really like this. I find too many stories deal with the taking of life in really unrealistic ways.

The sudden stench of copper was intoxicating, and with it

May I suggest nauseating instead of intoxicating, given the whole situation.

Good story overall, it certainly drove home what it sent our to do. The descriptions were good and characters made sense. A good read.

I heard someone mention recently that introverts experience emotions more intensely than others, and that made a ton of sense to me. That would explain why death bothers me more than it seems to bother people around me. It may not mean much to the viewer, or to the action hero who dishes it out, but it means everything to the character (or, heaven forbid, the person—but that's a whole 'nother issue) who's dying.

Subject matter and SA praise notwithstanding, I was pretty reluctant to read this. Your godawful resumé features too many fucking Mane Six tags and not a single goddamn Spike tag.

Holy #14 · May 23rd, 2016 · · 1 ·

7238483
I've had a lot of my writing called bad before, but this is definitely the first time someone said it was bad because it didn't include Spike. First time for everything I guess.:rainbowlaugh:

Just to quell your curiosity: I don't care that much for Spike. None of my stories include him for a reason.:raritywink:

7238483
7239731

I can see where the guy's going with this, because Spike's pretty much a part of the group. Not that I read your stories too much, so I wouldn't really know.

7239809
Not if I have anything to say about it.

7239823 Gotta love egos.

Wanderer D
Moderator

7239826 Dude practically telling others what they should be writing about, starts antagonizing others about their egos. Yeah. No one is obligated to write about characters they don't like or don't feel they are important to their story, be them Spike, Twilight Sparkle, Sombra, etc.

Don't go pretending you possess a higher moral ground because you like Spike and Holy doesn't.

Spike's absence in a story where he doesn't need to be doesn't make him a better or worse character, but at least keeps the story focused on what it should be.

7239836 Did I come off as Mr. Pretentious and not a guy with a joke to share?

Meh, I guess I can't blame you, it can be hard to read sarcasm by text. I don't really agree with the other guy on that Spike should be in these stories. He does some kind of a point, I'm just trying to convey it in a non-asshole way.

Wanderer D
Moderator

7239844 Yeah, I'm afraid if that was sarcasm I failed to recognize it. Dealt with too many "sbl's" to have much faith left in the powers of sarcasm and satirical response.

7239921 Yeah, I'm a friend of Holy's, so I'm probably a bit too easygoing sometimes.

Daring Do finally shanks a motherf**ker.

pre14.deviantart.net/06d7/th/pre/f/2013/128/f/1/it_s_me__uniqueskd__by_uniqueskd-d64j8uf.jpg

Approved. 10 out of 10.

(also, little bit off-topic advertising here, but I'm available for birthday parties, wedding receptions, and offing people who looked at your girlfriend the wrong way. You'll find my contact details in the mail tomorrow?

Even if it's something that no one should ever have to experience, it's good to see an author address the act of killing as it really should be, :fluttershysad:

... I'd post my usual 'Pirate Approved' thingy, but the stupid grin on my face don't feel appropriate for a vignette like this, :trixieshiftleft:

I'm guessing the idea is to make Daring her own character? Someone that lives in a land of peace that hasn't had to take a life in an entire career in the collective cesspools of the world? Yeah, Indiana Jones was a WWI veteran that killed around twenty Nazi's and/or henchmen per movie.

Now don't get me wrong. As a first kill experience this is accurate to a disturbing and tragic to a degree. But this sort of deal would be expected from around the second adventure. Not one that is a further down her career.

Though Daring's lack of poetic dialogue regarding her first act of murder is rather disappointing considering that she is supposed to be a rather educated character.

A character of mine describes at one point how each kill chips away a small piece of your soul. That you begin to feel emptier and less equine/human each time you spill blood. That the smell of iron is the closest you can come to the smell of blood; and what really makes you sick to your stomach, what really is disturbing is that at the bottom of your soul you enjoyed it.... That predatory thrill during the hunt edges you to seek it.... But afterwards, once the weight of your actions sink in you can't look yourself in the mirror anymore, you can't stand your own solitary presence without a flask of whiskey nearby. That you have become just another monster in the long list of freaks with crimson in their hooves. That is when you know you have become part of the damned, walking the thin line between life and death....

The griffon's last few coughs and gasps faded away as she collapsed into the dirt, her eyes still fixed on Daring. Her bloody hand slipped away from the knife lodged in her neck and collapsed to the ground next to her. Daring watched as the life left her eyes, those eyes that were still centered on her. Even though they were staring right at her, Daring knew there was nothing behind them anymore. That cold, empty look, not focused on anything in particular, was pointed right at her.

Requiscant in pace

I want to read it, because I love your work, but I know I shouldn't, because PTSD. I don't really know what to do here.

Damn, Daring Do got that PTSD.

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