A War

by Comma Typer

Yearning for Home Fires

Weeks later

Winter.

Everything blanketed in a sleet of snow, from the ground to the small houses lining the road for a while. The few ponies who were outside wore earmuffs, scarves, hats, and sweaters. One pony sitting on a comfy chair outside sipped his hot cocoa.

But, the carriage galloped onward, leaving the tiny town as quickly as it entered.

Into the snowy countryside where nothing but snow and dead plants remained under a gray sky.

Bitingly cold.

Cold enough that one of the passengers, a red Earth pony, shivered while clattering his teeth. "I-I d-don't know h-how you f-folk s-survive th-this!"

The burly white unicorn remained silent, looking out to the open snow.

"C-Come o-on, H-Hondo Flanks!" the first passenger said, hugging himself with his forehooves. "A-At least b-back there, w-we had f-fireplaces e-everywhere!"

Remained silent.

A bump.

The carriage rocked and the two passengers bumped their heads on the ceiling.

"Ow!"

Hondo Flanks remained silent.

---

"C-Can you make this quick?" the Earth pony asked as the two, carrying heavy and packed saddle bags, ascended a narrow staircase lit up by several lights. "I-I need to g-get my back to my family and some w-warmth! So far N-North and i-it's g-giving m-me c-c-cold—"

Hondo reached the end of the stairs and turned to the left.

Saw a sparse row of doors before him.

Walked up to one of them.

Knocked on it.

Waited.

Hoofsteps from inside.

Door knob glowed, turning.

Opening.

"Dad?"

Hondo nodded.

"Daddy!"

Hondo and Sweetie Belle hugged each other, Hondo lifting his daughter up and then hugging her again, embracing her.

The red pony took a few steps back, looking around him with nervous eyes. "I-I th-think I'll just stay d-downstairs f-for you, OK?"

He ran downstairs, his hooffalls loud and clear.

"I missed you," Hondo said, ruffling her mane. "What about you tell me everything tonight when your Mom and your sister get here?"

Sweetie's smile faded.

Hondo looked at her surprised. "What's wrong?"

Sweetie gulped. "About Rarity..."

She walked back into the room.

Hondo followed.

It was a nice room. The whole floor was carpeted, the walls were painted white, and the paintings were few but good enough—it smelled of roses. Little windows led to the freezing outside, the icy urban environment of snowy Manehattan. A dining table and some chairs on the left, three beds on the right.

Sweetie walked her way to the table.

Grabbed the note on it and hoofed it to her father.

"Rarity's staying overnight in the mill," Sweetie said.

Hondo knitted his eyebrows. "That's unfortunate, but she'll be back tomorrow morning. I'm sure."

Sweetie shook her head and tapped the note with her hoof. "It says over here that Rarity's staying for a week."

"A full seven-day week?!" Hondo shouted in shock. "We'd be past Hearth's Warming by the time she comes home! I even brought some souvenirs from camp for her and...wait." He pointed to the ceiling, a smile creeping up on his face. "What about we don't bring Rarity to the Hearth's Warming party, but we bring the Hearth's Warming party to Rarity?"

Sweetie shook her head and brought out another note from her mane. "I got this one after the first note. It says the mill won't be accepting any visitors during the week."

Hondo shook his head again. "That doesn't make sense. They're overproducing when a lot of us are on holiday leave. What's the big push for clothes for?"

"Stock?" Sweetie suggested, tilting her head.

He sighed.

Slumped himself on a chair at the table, dropping his bags to the floor with loud thuds.

Sweetie hopped on to the chair beside him.

"But, you're one of the soldiers who use their clothes," Sweetie said. "Maybe you could...you could try convincing the boss there to get Rarity. I really don't want her to miss out."

"I don't, too," Hondo spoke, looking up to the ceiling.

Silence in that cold room.

"I'll try my best," he said, slinging his bags back to his torso and went out of the chair.

"Wait, you're leaving already?"

"Better early than late," he quipped, heading to the door.

Sweetie jumped out of the chair, went around, and stopped right before him.

They looked at each other with dull eyes.

Sweetie drooped her head. "Yeah...you'll be back, anyway. You're far away from those evil Crystals."

Hondo nodded, a frown glistening on his face. "Yes. I'll be safe and here again before you know it. I'll even bring Apple Cinnamon here inside—the buddy I told you about in my letters. That ought to cheer you up even more."

"I'll see."

Silence.

Hondo opened the door.

Back into the hallway.

Sweetie waved at him.

Hondo waved at her.

He trotted downstairs.

Sweetie closed the door.

Walked to the table.

Brought out a piece of paper, a quill, and an inkwell from one of the drawers nearby.

Placed them on the table.

Glanced at the windows.

Their white winter lights shining through.

Sweetie turned to the paper before her.

And wrote.

"'Dear Apple Bloom...'"

---

Then, it was nighttime.

Sweetie looked out the window.

Dark purple clear sky. The moon was glowing and so were the stars.

The lights of Manehattan radiated out, illuminating the snow-laced streets in their tremendous glare. On those streets and roads, several carriages ran about, stopping at each narrow house to drop off soldiers on leave. Few of those reunions were happy ones, with hugs and kisses and laughs and pats on the head while hearty greetings splashed all over.

Many of those reunions, however, were of a bitter note.

From one carriage, additional passengers alighted to carry a paralyzed soldier to his family's forelegs—and, not that, too, for the stretcher-bearers went up the stairs, opened the door, and trotted inside with the family following them, crying and weeping.

At the foot of another house, a healthy and whole soldier stepped down to the sidewalk, a merry smile of delight on his face as he journeyed up the stairs only to encounter a letter on the door. He read it, tore it out of the door, stomped down the stairs, yelled at the carriage pony, and off he was, being transported to somewhere else.

The house beside him had a more eventful state of affairs. A seasoned fighter and warrior, holding a model spear decorated with ribbons and medals, got out of the carriage as he was met and embraced by all of his family and his relatives.

Only to fall down.

Gasps and screams prevailed as his legs shook, his mouth locked, and his eyes went crazy and darted here and there. One of his cousins galloped away, calling for an ambulance by shouting at each carriage that might have looked like it.

That toughened soldier lay there on the sidewalk, under the orange streetlight.

Staring upward with an open mouth, but saying nothing but mere syllables—what sounded like nonsense.

Surrounded by his family panicking, screaming—a fearless few rushed to his aid, checking for his pulse and for his blood pressure and applying medical measures to him.

Yet, his shaken state did not go away.

The ringing bell of an incoming ambulance carriage resounded, other vehicles giving way.

A knock on the door.

Sweetie turned around, galloped, and opened it.

Outside, there was Hondo with his bags and also that pink Cookie Crumbles, a gray pegasus mailpony, and that red Earth pony.

"Sorry for being late," Hondo apologized, scratching his mane, "but I had to pick up your Mom and accompany Apple Cinnamon." He gestured to the red pony who waved at Sweetie. "Finally, I don't know why but this Derpy here—" pointed at the mailpony who kept smiling "—was standing outside the apartment."

Sweetie nodded.

Then hugged her Mom and Dad.

"Aww, that's so sweet!" Derpy blurted out. "Do you have mail for me to send?"

"Don't ruin the m-moment!" Apple Cinnamon lashed out. "Th-This is a family thing!"

"Oh. Sorry!" Derpy grinned awkwardly and hovered a few steps away.

---

The mailmare flapped her wings in freezing conditions, yet she braved the snowy weather even against near pitch darkness of the night and, finally, reached Cloudsdale.

At this time of year, Cloudsdale was trimmed with festive lights and green wreaths. Piles of gifts had popped up left and right and, inside houses, the traditional Hearth's Warming pine tree—whether real or fake was up for heated discussion—was present alongside mistletoes, hats, and jingling bells. From the dainty suburbs to the noisy industrial area where the weather factory resided, pegasi shook or bumped hooves in that holiday cheer, although there were not that many pegasi roaming around outside.

Well, except for one specific part of Cloudsdale.

At a town square where a statue of a goggled pegasus was stuck forever in a flying position, a great throng of ponies huddled around, waiting. Among the winged ponies, there were also Earth ponies and unicorns with pegasus escorts, glancing at them from time to time—one of them checked his watch at rather short intervals.

Trumpeteers and other brass ponies, clothed in fancy and gaudy ceremonial uniforms, stood ready with their trumpets, trombones, and tubas.

All eyes watching the dark sky.

All ears toward the clear sky.

As Derpy inserted some mail into a corner's post box, she looked up as well.

Then, several pegasi overhead, carrying Cloudsdale flags.

The crowd erupted into cheer. Throwing balloons and streamers and confetti into the air, they littered the square with their decorations on which the flag-bearers landed.

Not far from them, four Wonderbolts came into view in the sky.

The crowd exploded into wild whoops and stomps as they landed.

Swarmed them with words.

Questions.

Shouts.

Adorations.

Flashes.

Requests for autographs.

Spitfire removed her goggles and held up a wing.

Everyone stopped.

The square descended into silence.

Crickets chirped from inside a pony's collection jar.

"Thank you for the welcome," Spitfire said in a loud voice, putting on a smile while the rest of the Cloudsdale Wonderbolts stood beside her. "But, we are very tired from our tenure in the war. Give us a good night's rest and let's continue the celebrations tomorrow morning. OK?"

The Wonderbolts spread their wings and flew away, leaving their supporting crowd behind on the ground.

Or on the clouds, as the case may be.

---

Derpy hovered over the quiet streets, indulging in a mint-flavored candy cane while she flew.

She paused at a little bungalow roofed with a puffy cloud. Its yard was sprinkled with bushes of native "cloud berries"—berries that thrived in cloud bushes. Tiny compared to a strawberry or a blueberry, they were colorful, coming in a variety of different hues.

On the otherwise unassuming door, there was the Wonderbolts logo. A lightning bolt with two wings.

Derpy went to it and placed one small package into the house's mailbox.

The door opened.

Derpy looked at the resident.

"Oh, it's you, Derpy," a light blue pegasus said, brushing her windswept white mane. She waved at the mailpony. "Hope to see you again everyday."

Derpy nodded. "Of course, Fleetfoot!"

She was off, flying past more houses, streetlights, and vibrant holiday lights.

Stopped in front of another house, this one of greater status. It had two stories, had a little patch of fake grass on the cloud lawn, and had multi-floor windows.

She could also hear crying from the inside.

Derpy unzipped a part of her bag and took out an envelope.

Addressed "To Wonderbolt Second Commander Soarin".

She looked back at the house.

Through the curtained windows, crying.

She placed the envelope inside his mailbox and flew out.

After a good part of the minute passed by, she reached the Rainbow Dash house.

Derpy pulled out a small bag of letters and put it inside the mailbox.

The door swung open.

"I'm tired of getting cheered on for everything I do!" Rainbow roared at her parents holding Rainbow Dash flags as they stood in the hallway

She hovered outside, facing her Mom and Dad.

Pointing at them.

"Not everything I did 'for the cause' was good! You know what I did? You wanna know what I did?"

Bow and Windy, hugging each other, nodded. "O-Of course, h-honey!" Windy said, her voice and smile breaking. "Why, w-wasn't it—"

"I killed nine."

The parents closed their mouths.

"Hundred."

They gasped, looked at each other with terrified expressions. Eyes wide, already red.

"Yeah." Rainbow crossed her forelegs. "Your daughter's killed over nine hundred Crystal ponies—and, no, Mom and Dad, they are ponies. I will say that word. They're just like us!"

"But, Dashie," Bow spoke, twirling his hoof around, "it can't possibly be that bad! They're not themselves—"

"I don't care!"

Derpy stepped back, zipping her bag.

"Why can't I at least send them to jail? Or, maybe give them a sleeping potion that will put them in a coma until this all ends? Or, well, anything else other than outright murdering them?!"

Silence.

Bow and Windy shivering.

"I know Sombra's an evil pony. I know we have to stop him. But, I don't want to get rewarded for stooping down to his level! I didn't just kill, you know! I rained down poison gas on them, too! I let them suffer—and, it wasn't my choice! I was told by the general that they're the latest thing and that they'll end the war in a matter of days! That was months ago and we are no closer to peace at all!"

The parents whimpering, wiping their eyes.

"Yeah! Cry and cry all you want, but it's...it's not just weird! No, it's evil to see my parents...to see you...you gave me tender love and care, you treated others like they're the best creatures in the world—you even gave Gilda no odd looks when I introduced you to her while she was alive! Fluttershy—she's a pegasus, too, but you didn't let her shyness stop you from being nice! You even let those fashion hacks into the house without question!"

Silence.

Whimpering.

"But, when it's a Crystal pony...you tell me to go punch them in the face! To kick them! To immobilize them, to neutralize them, to kill them because they're a menace to us!"

She pointed at her mechanical wing.

"Is this what being so good at killing's supposed to do to you?! Is it?!"

Then, she flew away.

Passing by Derpy.

Glared at her.

Derpy shuddered and hid her face behind her mailbag.

Rainbow hovered off.

Left the two parents crying at the hallway.

Derpy felt it in her eyes, too.

Closed them.

Fixed her bag.

Opened her wings and flew out.

---

The hands on the Ponyville Tower clock moved.

It was eight o' clock sharp in the evening, in that cold night.

Derpy flew past the tower and trotted her way on the snow-cleared paths. There was not that many ponies outside here, too; a lot of them were inside their houses, warming themselves up. Some were stretching their hooves at the family hearth, fire lapping out of the burning logs. There were the usual Hearth's Warming decorations: wreaths, mistletoes, bells, ribbons, pine trees, candy canes, holiday lights, and snow.

At one of the houses, Derpy landed, inserted a package in the mailbox, and flew away singing a carol.

The mailbox stood there for a while.

A good while.

Hours passed and the last of those outside had gone in their cottages, though many buildings still had their lights on and one could peer into their windows and see a mild party going on with large feasts being served on the table.

Then, a figure hobbled his way to the mailbox's house and knocked.

Fast hoofsteps from inside.

Door lurched open.

Rumble looked up and down and gasped. "Thunderlane! Is that you?! Wow! Mom and Dad are off in Canterlot to ask about you—they're going to be in for one big surprise when they come home and—"

Thunderlane collapsed to the ground.

"Thunderlane!"

Rumble rushed to his unconscious brother whose legs were shivering.

"Where's a doctor when you need one?! Help!"

Comments

[Sir Budginton]

900, that...that is a lot. The most a human has ever gotten was 542, a Finnish sniper known as the “white death” during the winter war against the soviets. But I’m guessing 900 is still within the realm of possibility.

Also, maybe, just maybe, rumble will get an eye opener from his brother. I can dream right.