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Chapter 1: Southern Wind1,868 words
Chapter 2: A Ponyville Day1,685 words
Chapter 3: The Meeting1,709 words
Chapter 4: A Royal Council1,987 words
Chapter 5: The Trench819 words
Chapter 6: The Redoubt630 words
Conclusion: Triage806 words

Conclusion: Triage

The light taping of rain against canvas droned on as the distant light flashes of artillery illuminated the night sky. Prayers, pained screams, and agonizing groans, as well as the distant rumble of battle filled the air as Apple family general approached the series of tents that made up the field hospital, the adjutant and escort following close behind. The assistant tightly clutched the clipboard with the general’s schedule as the official entourage approached the scene of butchery before them. The equestrian push for the confederate capital had just begun about a week ago, with only a few points falling in the confederate first line of defensive positions. Yet, casualties were already mounting faster than expected; the crudeness of the hospital reflected that.

“Make way!” a group of stretcher bearers shouted as they passed the general’s group, advancing between the rows of beds.

“Take them to the triage area!” one of the doctors ordered, not even looking up from the large shrapnel wound in the flank of a barely conscious pegasus that he was frantically stitching up.

The grounds around the field hospital were a quagmire of mud and blood. The rain mixed with the blood and waste as nurses dumped the dirty water that had been used to disinfect the surgical tools that were in almost constant use.

The visit had been planned to raise morale among the soldiers, show them that even at their lowest point their officers were with them. To this effect, it seemed to have been a mixed bag. Of the ponies that noticed their presence, some would smile and react positively, one stallion with a bandaged eye and head exclaimed,

“General! Don’t look so concerned, we gave 'em tartarus!” a weary smile on his tired face.

Others weren’t so glad to see their commanding officer, a badly injured pegasus mare glared at them with tearful eyes before she turned back to sobbing over her missing hind leg. Most however were too busy to even notice them. Some doctors with bloody hooves quickly saluted as the general’s retinue passed by before quickly resuming their work. As they moved past one recently vacated blood-stained cot. One earth pony nurse with pink mane and light blue eyes stopped and begged the general to halt the offensive,

“We can’t handle the volume! Please, look at the carnage! General, these aren’t Changelings we are fighting! They are ponies! Please, can’t we talk it out?!” She begged impotently, her snow white coat and face splattered with droplets of blood. She was quickly admonished by her accompanying doctor, before being forced to move onto the next patient.

As they moved in between the groups of tents that made up the field hospital, the retinue reached an open area. The scene before them seemed like it came from the worst of nightmares. On one side, piles of filled bags laid arrayed beside and atop each other waiting for transport, on each one of them written in white paint were a city or town, and an id number. On the other side of the field was a scene that made everypony in the general’s staff stop. Rows upon rows of lifeless ponies, some whole, others with their severed or mangled limbs placed on top of them, and others little more than barely recognizable piles of flesh. Yet it was two forms among the hundreds that made the Apple officer freeze.

“No, please, no!” the general let out as a cold hollow sensation filled the earth pony’s body.

“General, are you ok?” the adjutant asked with concern as the general stumbled forward towards the line of corpses.

“Please no, no more, not them” the general said in an increasingly panicked tone, tears filling the Apple pony’s eyes as he approached two of the forms stretched out on the mud.

On the right a mare in a royal army sergeant's uniform laid with a large hole in her chest, a yellow apple cutie mark was discernible from under her torn attire; her tattered blond mane rested on the muddy ground. Her eyes, that once lighted up the festive family reunions gazed emptly at the starless night sky.

On the left, a young colt laid in a bloodstained gray uniform, his dark mane a bloody tattered mess. Though his face was badly disfigured by shrapnel, the blood spattered pies in his cutie mark left no doubt of his identity, for the general had seen it in many Apple family reunions.

The Apple clan member in high ranking uniform could only weep, his entourage silently watching, the sounds of falling rain, distant artillery fire, and screams from the nearby tents barely concealing the sobs of the general. Besides the two Apple ponies, many more ponies eternally slept, some in royalist blue, some in rebel gray; they all rested on the same muddy field.

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