In Victory, We Are the Losers

by daOtterGuy

Pest

“Git, you blasted vermin!” Rockhoof yelled, waving his shovel threateningly at the trespasser.

The brown fox swiped at Rockhoof with a claw, drawing three thin lines of red across his chest. He swung his shovel, wincing from the pain as he did. The fox jumped back and hissed at him.

“Go bother someone else, you infernal creature!” Rockhoof shouted.

He took another swing with the blunt side of his shovel. It connected against the fox’s head with a satisfying thunk. The fox leapt away, shook its head, then hissed at Rockhoof again.

“Hah!” Rockhoof called out triumphantly. “More of that to follow if you don’t scamper off, ya blight!”

The fox angrily barked at him, then dashed off into the underbrush, leaving a victorious Rockhoof.

“Teach’em for messing with me,” Rockhoof said. “Darn thing comin’ back again and again… and again.” He felt himself slump as he realized that his opponent was completely undeterred by Rockhoof’s defense. “Even vermin don’t think I’m strong.” He drew himself back up then called out, “Well, if it comes back, I’ll just chase’em off again!”

He trotted back to the deep groove in the dirt he slept in. It was situated before a large cave with his village’s heraldry raised next to it. Placed nearby was an overflowing stockpile of food that, with careful rationing, would hopefully last him until his people inside the cave had recovered from what had afflicted them.

The plague had happened suddenly and rapidly. One of his clanstallions had returned from a nearby settlement with the affliction, which quickly spread through the village. Rockhoof was the only one not to catch it and, as the only able-bodied pony left, was left to guard the cave entrance to ensure no one would interrupt the healing rite his village was performing inside.

Rockhoof couldn’t understand the glyphs used to perform the rite (amongst many things in his village), but he could at least make sure no one interrupted them.

Laying down in his ditch, Rockhoof winced. Dirt had grazed his new wounds, and he lacked any type of bandages to remedy the situation. It would most likely become yet another scar, but was another amongst the myriad of burn marks that crisscrossed his body from working the Trench.

Despite the pain, and the loneliness, and the weather that seemed to want to drench him with rain every other day, he would persevere. This was his duty. His purpose. He would succeed. He would—

“Heyo!”

He shot into an upright position with a scream. He levelled his shovel in the direction of the voice and hoped he looked intimidating, not on the verge of wetting himself.

“Good reaction time,” the voice remarked. “Many aren’t as quick as you.”

On inspection, Rockhoof was surprised to find the trespasser to be a Breezie, of all things. Diminutive in size with small insectoid wings, two antennae on her head, and a puff of golden mane that ringed her head like a halo. She had incredibly angular features, like the sharp side of a knife, and was dressed in heavy plate mail (for her size), wearing a crown of laurel around her head.

“Why are you here?” Rockhoof demanded, calming down significantly at finding one who belonged to a famously docile race. “Aye thought Breezies preferred to keep to themselves.”

“Glad you asked,” the new face replied. “My name is Nike, and I’m here to see you.”

“Why would you be here for me?” Rockhoof asked, suspicious. “Is this some kinda trick to reach my clan?”

“I could care less about those bunch of dullards.” Nike rolled her eyes. “No, I’m just here to see you. I have a proposition. One I’m sure you’ll be very interested in.”

“I find your words hard to believe.” Rockhoof narrowed his eyes.

“Look, I get it. Some stranger appears out of nowhere and offers you a random deal out of the blue.” She flitted in close to Rockhoof’s face, startling him. “But what’s more important? Your distrust?” She leaned in closer to his ear, her next words sweet as honey. “Or strength?”

Despite his apprehension, yearning grew within him. A tantalizing promise of what he lacked, what he was supposed to have, yet never got. “What’s your proposition?”

Nike grinned, revealing far too many sharp teeth.