Clipped Wings

by Desrium

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Just when you thought things couldn't change anymore, they do. And yet, some things never change.

Just where did he go wrong?

Falcon Wing awoke in a muddy ditch five miles past the center of nowhere. Most other ponies would have been in extreme agony, but the red colt managed his most recent beating well enough. A bit of a dull pain, but he was numbed to everything else and from what he could see through his spinning vision, that wasn't because he was lacking anything. His body was quite whole in spite of his latest physical conflict.

Meaning he was several times better off after this last incident than he was during that first night.

Wait, no. He put a hoof on his forehead and did not feel his Pipeye there. He reached for his flanks and realized he did not have his saddlebags either. As his vision focused, he saw he didn't have his overcoat on. He only had his vest, badly torn up and lacking the straps of bandoliers. It was blood stained from the deep gashes in the red colt's hide.

He groaned. Not only was he knocked unconscious and dumped Celestia knows where, but he was robbed too? And so thoroughly? Then again, could he have expected anything else?

Falcon laid back in his dirt bed -- finding the moist dirt to be somewhat comfortable -- and looked up to the skies over the Equestrian heartland. The midday sun shone through drooping, dark green trees that grew thick and large. Trees full of life. Life that was once confined to the Everfree Forest alone a month ago.

Because a month ago the Gardens of Equestria hadn't been activated.

He was in the swamp. The Froggy Bottom Swamp, he recalled. He was here with Alana. Why were they here? His memory turned up something about finding herbs for some zebras in a place called Glyphmark, a settlement of theirs at the base of the Canterlot Mountains -- or what remained of them -- to help them with their weird zebra potion making. What potion in particular?

What potion was worth getting knocked out, dumped in a ditch and robbed?

And while he was wondering about that, where was Alana anyway?

As if Celestia herself were listening in on his inner musings, the red colt heard the caramel mare's voice "Falcon Wing!"

He raised his head slowly, seeing the silhouette of her figure against that brilliant circle in the sky. She was a lot bulkier than he last remembered... and it did not take long for him to find out why.

She slid down into the ditch carrying four large saddlebags, his and her own. On her forehead was his Pipeye.

"Hey y --" he rasped only for Alana to stamp down into the moist dirt, making an underwhelming squelching noise that still carried her intended message: shut up. Falcon fell silent, understanding why she would want him to stop talking. He was a mess. She undid his vest and prepared to get down to business.

She put her bags down and pulled out disinfectant and clean rags. Memories of his visits to Patchenfix returned to him as she cleaned his wounds, the familiar sting nipping at his body. When that was done, she carefully stored the bloodied cloths away in her saddlebags for wash in the future then wrapped him in healing bandages. His wounds were not extensive enough to warrant a health potion and it was best that it was saved for a more serious circumstance, but she couldn't afford to leave them exposed in such an environment.

When his vest was back on, the gauze was visible through the cuts in it, dark red staining it but the wounds would heal shortly.

Alana gave him a drink from his canteen, propping him up with her foreleg to do so. After that she pulled off the Pipeye and fastened it back to his head. He smiled. "Good to know that before whatever stroke of stupidity got me in this mess, I was smart enough to give all my valuables to you," he said weakly, though he was feeling his strength return to him quickly.

She returned the smile and replied, "What kind of an earth pony would I be if I couldn't carry a bit extra weight?"

"As good as a wingless pegasus, I'd imagine," the red colt said with a good humored smirk. She gave him a gentle nudge in the shoulder.

"You're not so bad when you aren't unconscious and left for dead," she assured him in her strange way.

"Yeah...speaking of which, how'd this all happen?" Falcon Wing asked.

It was a long story .

"There are ponies... here? Experimenting on animals...?" Falcon queried when Alana was finished speaking. She nodded.

"We came across their camp not too long ago and not too far away. We saw their cages... and the magic they were doing... if it could be called that... anyway, you wanted to free them and I agreed... but we both knew what could have happened to you if you got caught. You left me with everything you have and went in. And they found you. I thought you were going to die, mister hero,"

Falcon Wing scoffed. "It'd take a lot more than them to put me down! Have you even seen my cutie mark? I have one of those now in case you haven't been looking at my flanks over the last few weeks!" he said, trying to be as charming as he could to lighten the caramel mare's spirits. He succeeded in making her blush. Was that a good thing?

Inwardly, he was kicking himself and kicking himself hard. Sure he gave Alana everything he considered valuable... but his overcoat too? "Did I not think I'd need that cloak to sneak properly!?" he chided himself. He could have been dead now because of that mistake. He should have been dead. The fact he wasn't meant something was up in this swamp and Falcon Wing suspected magical experimentation on animals was not the end of it.

"What kind of experiments were these ponies doing?" Falcon Wing asked Alana, wriggling his way out of her admittedly tender hold.

"I... I don't know. Maybe Steiner would have some idea... all I know is that they gave me bad feelings. There's a wrongness to them," she said.

"Ugh. This shit never changes..." Falcon Wing muttered. He walked over to his saddlebags, pulled down his Pipeye and went through the sorter spell. He pulled his cloak out and put it on.

"... Falcon..." Alana began with some trepidation. "... what are you --"

"I'm going back in. And going back in properly. Dear Celestia, how could I be so smart and dumb at the same time!? Sure they won't see the bright red pony sneaking into their camp in broad daylight! What a flawless plan!" said the red colt. He got the 10 millimeter from the bag and its holster. He put the strap over himself and stowed the gun away. Properly meant preparing for that inevitability.

"But you're still recovering!" Alana protested.

"Learning experience, and I learned. Boy did I learn..."

Equestria was no longer a wasteland, its soil was purged of the taint and radiation. It was healed of those blights, but there was still the cancer that remained after 200 years.