Salvation

by Sandstorm Inkwell

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Oh, holes, how confusing you are. Used to sleep and used to bury, I think to myself as I stick my E-Tool into the side of the hole that the squad and me were going to sleep in. Smiley and Gonz had joined us halfway in. With the four of us digging, it didn't take too long to make a five-man hole in the ground.

When we were finished, Kilborn appeared with some camouflaged netting to put over the top. Where he found it I'll never know but we had it and didn't wait to put it over the hole. Anything that might keep a mortar round from hitting us in our sleep was welcome.

When we were done with the hole, we noticed that some fires had been lit. With nothing else to do, the five of us stripped off our vests, rifles, and helmets before walking over to the closest fire. It was surrounded with French Armored guys. However, seeing as how we were on the same side, we politely made our way close to the fire.

“Stupide, les Americains Imperial,” I hear muttered from a small grouping of men.

“Whoa!” Gonz shouts. I turn to see him pointing at one of the French men. Likely the one who spoke.

“Did Frenchie just call us 'Stupid, Imperial Americans'?” He asks, almost rhetorically.

“I think he did,” Jones replies, glaring at said French tanker. I hear footsteps and turn to see that one had stepped froward, two men following him.

“If he did?” he asks with a thick accent.

“If he did,” Gonz starts, turning his glare to the new man, “I suggest you get your flags adjusted accordingly.”

The look of confusion on the man's face made me laugh, “What you mean?”

“I mean,” Gonz took a step towards the man and his cronies, Jones and Smiley following into step behind him, “you better rip off the red and blue and get ready to wave the white like you always do.”

“Hey!” Sarge barks, stepping between the two groups, “Everyone calm down! The real enemy is on the other side of the berm, not in here.”

Whatever response came was unheard by me as a sudden pain flares in the back of my head. Shaking it away, I turn around to see a tanker with his fist still raised and a look of anger on his face.

“Hell no!” I shout, jumping at the tanker and planting a fist into his face. It wasn't long before the entire fire-lit area turned into a brawl. Being outnumbered, the five of us quickly found ourselves in a pentagon shape with the French tankers around us. Punching, kicking, biting, all was fair and even Sarge wasn't exempt from the fight.

Two tankers decided to come at me at once, both punching at the same time. Blocking the punch to my face, I took the punch to the stomach. It knocked out some of my air but didn't do much else. However, the two were quick to do follow-up punches. Again, I blocked the face shot but took a gut shot.

“Fuck this,” I mutter before drawing my leg back and sending it up. I caught the gut puncher right in the family jewels. His eyes bulged as he curled up and fell to the ground. With him down, I focused on the face-puncher. When he threw another punch, I grabbed his arm and twisted it so he was spun around. With his arm now behind his back, I kick him away.

He is quick to return with another punch meant for my face. Rolling my eyes, I duck down and swipe his legs out from underneath him. When he hit the ground, I deliver a punch to his gut so he'd stay down for awhile.

Then I'm back on the defensive as three more charge at me. This time, there's no opening as they stagger their strikes. One punches, the next punches, the last punches and then the first punches again. The endless cycle begins to tire me out and when I'm on the verge of collapse, a new pair of voices ring through my ears. My ears only pick up the English voice,

“Ten-SHUN!”

In the background, I think I hear someone call the same in French. Nonetheless, all of the fighters suddenly freeze and come to attention. Well, the ones who were still on two feet did. The ones on the ground stayed on the ground.

“American Infantry, follow me,” the voice orders. I turn to see the others already walking away. Walking after them, I look around to survey the damage. All of the French tankers have some sort of injury and about a third of them were laying on the ground. Looking at my squad, I saw how they walked and realized that none of us got away unharmed either. The difference, though, was that we were all still on two feet.

Finally, the man leading us stops well away from the fire and turns to face us. We gather around him and, in the moonlight, I spy the rank tab of a First Lieutenant. I unconsciously stand a bit straighter as he looks over us with a disapproving stare.

“What the hell was that about?” he asks.

“Sir,” Kilborn begins, “we were just trying to be near the fire when one of the tankers made a remark that one of my squad found offending. The situation grew worse when three other tankers joined in. It entirely dissolved when a tanker took a swing at one of my men and connected. We were merely defending ourselves, sir.”

“I see Sergeant,” he replied slowly, as if chewing on the information, “return to your quarters for the night. From now on, you are not to be around the French tanker crews at night. Understood?”

“Yes sir.”

“Carry on then.”

Kilborn saluted the man, who saluted back, before watching the officer walk away.

“Ranger?” Jones asks suddenly.

“Definitely not a Marine,” I reply.

“Stuff it you two,” Kilborn orders, “let's get back to the hole and sleep off tonight. I'm sure we'll be doing a lot tomorrow as we get adjusted to this camp.”

Yeah, I think to myself as I turn and begin the trek back with the others, a whole lot of nothing.

/--\

I'm in a forest, I think to myself, looking around. A part of me realized this was a dream but the rest of me didn't exactly care.

“Scootaloo.”

I jump and turn around to see a large, dark blue pony looking down at me.

“Princess Luna?” I ask, seeing the wings and horn.

“Yes Scootaloo, it is I, Princess Luna.”

“Why are you in my dream?”

“You have much worry and sadness inside you,” she explains, “What is it that plagues you?”

I look down at the stone path and scratch a hoof against one of the rocks, “Tyler's off fighting. That's what the problem is.”

“Is this all that ails you?”

“No. I had gotten over it with Twilight but then Pipsqueak showed up. He was acting so weird and kept prying,” I explain, looking up at Luna to see that she had sat down. She was also smiling at me.

“Why do you think he was acting this way?”

“I don't know...”

“Then let me ask this. How did his actions make you feel?” she asked.

“It made me sad because I had to remember that Tyler could not return,” I reply, the emotions creeping back up on me. No, not in front of Luna.

“Is sadness all you felt?”

I look at Luna in surprise, tilting my head to the side as well. Then I look back at the ground as I ravage my head. Did I feel anything else? I think back to when he was questioning me and pushed aside the sadness. What else might I have felt? I keep searching until I finally have an answer.

“I... I felt... cared for,” I reply, unsure. 'Cared for' doesn't seem right.

“Ah. You felt... cared for and yet you pushed him away. Why is this?” she asks. What's with the questioning?

“Because I was mad and sad that he brought up the thing about Tyler,” I reply. I then look at Luna with a frown, “I feel kind of bad for pushing him away.”

“Why is this?”

I sit on the ground and look at my tail, which is curled in tight beside me, “Because I don't want to be alone right now.”

“But you are not alone. You have Twilight, Spike, and your friends Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle.”

“Twilight has her studies to do and Spike is... well, he's Spike. I don't think he knows the definition of 'serious conversation'. Apple Bloom has her farm work and Sweetie Belle, she...” I pause, thinking to the look in her eyes when she saw the hat, “I think she's grown to dislike humans.”

“Ah, yes. I know all about this growing feeling,” Luna says, more to herself than to me. She blinks and shakes her head before looking back at me, “This leaves only one pony, does it not?”

“Pipsqueak?” I look back at the ground, “But I yelled at him. How would he ever listen to a word I say now?”

I hear Luna stand and make her way to me. A crystal horseshoe enters my sight before being placed under my chin and raising my head to look Luna in the eyes. When I was looking at her face, I feel the hoof move from my chin to my chest.

“The answer to that, lies in here, Scootaloo,” she states, softly tapping my chest. With this, she smiles before bending down so her mouth was close to my ear.

“Awaken young Scootaloo.”