> The Epic of a Diamond Dog
>  by Ravencrofte
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Ch.1 In the Beginning
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ch.1 In the Beginning

In the beginning, there was dust, dirt, and sweat. I stepped back, panting heavily. My opponent leaped through the haze, jaws wide, aiming for my throat. I lashed out with one massive paw and made contact just below his left ear. The blow pushed his head away, and he smashed into me with his shoulder. We crashed into the dirt.
This fight should not have been this difficult. I was bigger, faster, and stronger. I was a chieftain’s son, trained and schooled in the art of war. He was a detainee, a prisoner from a raid on a rival clan. He was the lesser dog.
We gouged, bit, and clawed for superior position. He fought his way on top. I felt his paw close around my throat. Tucking in a foreleg, I kicked up into his vulnerable belly. He exhaled uncontrollably as the air was forced from his lungs. He paused, working his mouth in frantic gulps but finding no substance. I took the moment to loop a paw under his right shoulder and another on top of his left. Thrusting up with my hips, I flipped him over my head and onto his back. I rolled to my feet and sprang at him, my jaws closing around his throat just as he found a breath.
A sharp whistle cut through the air.
I stared down into my opponent’s eyes, breathing in the stink of his fur. He looked back with those wide, white eyes, pupils shrunk to the size of a claw point. He was visibly shaking.  
Is this how all of us face death?
The battle was over, but ultimately, the choice was mine. Would I deliver the fatal bite? It would be a mercy, for then he could go to join his ancestors in the afterlife. If not, then he would remain our training aid to spar with us again and again and again.
I released my hold. He made no move to regain his footing. I trotted back to my clansman.
“Ember! That was totally amazing, how you just threw him in the air like that,” said Spoke, the short grey Diamond Dog to my left. He enthusiastically reenacted the final moments of my fight. Like most of the clansman, Spoke was of Pitbullton descent, characterized by the huge under bite with two big teeth jutting up from his lower lip. To my right was a black Diamond Dog named Rod, a Wolvonus dog like myself. We enjoyed our sharper, longer muzzles and more angular form.
Rod presented me with my diamond collar. I slid it back on, eyeing it appraisingly as it shown against my red and white fur.
“Well done, Ember,” Rod said. That was Rod: few words but practical, the counter to the affluent Spoke. Like Diamond Dogs and Ponies; polar opposites of each other.        	
The whistle blew again, and another fight ensued. My competitor had been replaced with another prisoner and was fighting another member of my clan. My father, a massive grey Diamond Dog with a whistle around his neck, was circling the ring of eager competitors. Only the Pitbullton guards carried weapons and armor. A handful of them guarded the prisoners who were as eager to fight as the clansmen.
I saw Rod observing me critically. “You could use a bath,” he said.
I looked down at myself. He was right: I was bleeding from numerous smaller cuts and scrapes I hadn’t noticed before. The red clayish earth had mixed with my blood and caked into my fur. Rod and Spoke didn’t look any better; both had been in four fights already.
I looked up to the sun and found it a half-paw height from the horizon. There was still plenty of time before the sun-setting prayer.
I nodded. “To the river”.
“Yeah! To the river,” squealed Spoke. “Let’s go to that really deep spot and I can jump off the rock and doggy paddle and—” I stopped listening.
I felt my father’s glaring eye on me as I left the sparring circle.
The river Yark was one of the few open sources of water: it flowed from the mountains that dominated the north-western sky, through the city of Dogmatis, the imperial capital, and wound its way along the base of the mountain before turning north as the edge of Firebrand territory. The Firebrand clan controlled a large section of land along the southern bank, having driven several smaller clans out of the surrounding area.
We left by the Eastern Gate. Outside the walls, there were two things in abundance: rocks and sporadic clusters of tough vegetation with leathery leaves and thorny spines called Dogs-head. Only the most desperate of animals would eat Dogs-head.
I maneuvered around the clusters, trotting down the shallow slope to the river. The twisting blue ribbon of life was paralleled by twin strips of green. As we grew closer, the green formed into the shapes of ferns, palm trees, and grasses. There were the hunting grounds where fat goats, pigs, and birds could be found.
Spoke dashed ahead and plunged into the undergrowth.  A great splash erupted just out of sight. I slipped under the leaves, around several trees, and found myself at the water’s edge. Spoke had already paddled out into the middle of the river where a gentle current slowly pushed him downriver.
Scrunching up on my haunches, I leapt out over the water. I crashed through the clear surface. The water was a shock, and I felt my whole body tense with the cold. I remained below only momentarily before bobbing back to the surface. I looked behind me and saw Rod following suit.
I paddled back to the shallows.
Grabbing a flat river stone from the bottom, I began to scrub; the weeks of dirt held stubbornly at first, but under my persistent attention it slowly began to ebb away. I temporarily removed my collar and washed it thoroughly. I repeated the same process with my neck before sliding the collar back into place. Spoke finally joined us so we scrubbed each other’s backs in turn. While Spoke attended to Rod, I stole a moment and gazed longingly downriver.
What lay beyond the bend of the great river Yark? On the other side of the mountain were the rolling waves of sand and desilet land.  And beyond that? The elders could only speculate. Someday I would find out.
When I could no longer stand the river, I pulled myself out and lay down in the sweet grass. The village was surrounded by gravel and rocks; sleeping outdoors was less than ideal. The grass felt good, just like my mattress. I rubbed my cheek against its soft embrace.
There was a rustling in the underbrush; my ears twitched in its direction. I rolled upright. The offending fern moved again. I crouched, my belly low to the ground. The fern moved once more. I pounced. My paws cut through the ferns and came away with a rabbit. I secured it with one thick paw around its neck. It futilely kicked the empty air with its legs.
“You got a rabbit!” exclaimed Spoke from behind me. He licked his chop. “He’ll make a nice snack.” Rod was still pulling himself from the river. He looked our way but remained silent.
Snacks, food; my thoughts conjured up wonder memories of meat sizzling over a fire. My stomach told me its opinion. It was close to dinner, but there was also plenty of food at camp. Should I kill it?
Too long horn blasts echoed overhead.
Was it that time already? I glanced at the sun and found it just touching the horizon.
I released the rabbit.
The three of us sprinted back to the village, sliding in at the back of the crowd just at the elder ascended the raised platform. Once again I felt my father’s disapproving gaze. I ignored him.
The elder spoke, his low, raspy voice perfectly audible over the hushed crowd.
“Another day has ended. Let us give thanks to Emperor Uni who raises the sun and the moon in accordance to the ancient traditions. Let us give thanks to him, our god in mortal flesh, for protecting us from the vile ponies”.
The hot food was brought out. I snapped my head around as its intoxicating aroma wafted up my nose. I hadn’t heard the elder dismiss us, but everyone else was moving to their places. I quickly joined Spoke and Rod in the Warriors circle. We were given wooden plates and bowls by the slaves. Then the roasts were passed along by their skewer sticks. Our bowls were filled with hot gravy broth, and we gulped it down greedily. Next, fish and reptiles baked in honey, crawfish in camel butter, and bowled snails just waiting to be sucked out of their shell.
The servants finished serving us. Their iron collars clanked as they sat down in their own circle. It was said in some clans the servants waited until the meal was done and had to salvage their own dinners from what was left. The Emperor had blessed us for many years. No one went hungry in the Firebrand Clan.
I felt my eyes starting to droop. I took to my feet to shake the sleepiness away.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said to Rod and Spoke. Rod merely nodded in acknowledgement. Spoke gurgled a reply through a mouthful of meat and gravy. I trotted to my home, now heavy with food.
I rolled back the flap and entered my small, single room hut. The fires from outside passed through the open window and cast themselves across the room in dancing hues of red and orange. My low bed was tucked into one corner. My breastplate, helmet, sword, and spear hung on pegs set in the wall above the bed. They were of excellent craftsmanship, the finest a father could buy for his son. I ignored them.
My treasures lined the far wall: books, maps, and trinkets from across the empire. They had been acquired from the various trade caravans that would pass through.  There was a sling from animal herders far to the south, a jeweled necklace from the miners to the west, and a pair of horseshoes. The horseshoes were more like slippers that went over the feet and laced in the back, made from some bright pink cloth I had never encountered. They probably were not sanctioned by the Empire but this far from the capital no one really cared. The books were crammed haphazardly into their shelf; Empire editions only.
The maps were of the Empire. I had marked the borders of the Firebrand Clan, along with those of our neighbors. Comparatively, we controlled a sizable portion, the entire western border of the Empire belonged to us. As far as the eye can see ,my father would say. We enforced those boundaries with sword and spear.
I grabbed a history book, not sure what I was in the mood for. I flipped it open to its first page.
In the beginning…Emperor Uni created the heavens, the earth, and the river Yark, and ruled justly over all the land…
Maybe not; I put it back and grabbed an Adventure book, Emperor Uni and The Wicked Pony of the West.
I curled up on my bed, reading by the light of the flickering flames. The stories always started off the same: Emperor Uni facing off against impossible odds. In this one, he faced his most terrifying enemy yet: the Evil Princess Pony of the Night. She had destroyed much of the land and was now attacking the Empire with her army of dark fiends. Emperor Uni was vastly outnumbered. He had summoned up his bravest warriors, and together they were driving the Evil Princess back.
I felt my eyes grow heavy as I reached the bottom of page 15. By page 29 I was having serious trouble keeping them open. I didn’t remember reaching page 30.
I was running along the far bank of the river Yark. The ground was passing swiftly under paw. An eagle soared high above me. Even he could not keep pace with my dash across the land.
The river bend was up ahead. I cut inland, taking the short route instead of following the true path. My horizon was obscured by tall grasses. I plowed through them, my nose leading the way.  I met the river on the other side. I howled gleefully, changing my direction to parallel its shores. Before me a deep canyon rose, swallowing the river into its gaping mouth. To my left lay an expanse of sandy desert that stretched on into eternity.
A dark, shapeless form appeared on the opposite shore. I did not know why or how, but it would kill me if I touched it. Silently it glided across the river, aiming for a point downriver where we would surely meet. I turned away, heading to the desert. My paws slipped in the loose sand. I pressed on, up one hill of sand and down another. I lost my footing and tumbled into the sand.
A soft rumbling echoed far in the distance. I groaned irritably and rolled upright, ears twitching, trying to triangulate the noise. For some reason, it sounded important. I listened intently. There it was again, louder, but I still couldn’t discern it. I learned forward. I heard it again, three short blasts from a horn, the signal for danger. Danger. DANGER!
I rolled out of bed and onto my feet, my chest pounding as if I had just completed all the running in my dreams. The horn sounded again: three short blasts. Were we under attack? I grabbed my sword and sprang outside, ready to face the enemy. Other warriors were already ahead of me, running to the Eastern gate. I followed them, eager to join the action.
What had I missed while I slept?
It was still night: The moon hadn’t yet reached its zenith and the torches still burned, notably dimmer than before. I had been asleep only a short while.
A crowd had gathered at the east gate. I stood on my hind legs, trying to get a glimpse of what was happening. My father was in the thick of it; his head was bent towards something on the ground. He barked for silence, and a great hush befell the crowd. Then a single word was heard. Quickly it ripped through the crowd, passing from the lips of all of those gathered around.
Ponies!
 



> Ch.2 Scout and Ponies
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------



A scout had returned to us. He was sprawled out on the ground, panting heavily.  He fended off offers of food but guzzled water. Finally, when he had breath enough to speak, he told us everything.  
His name was Rough Hide, and he had been patrolling our eastern territory for two days with his brother, Hard Stone. Late in the afternoon, they had spotted a troop of ponies. The pair of scouts had tracked the ponies until they made camp that evening.  Rough Hide had run all the way to alert the clan while Hard Stone stayed behind. 
“How many are there?” asked my father.
“About thirty or so,” replied Rough Hide.
“How far away?” My father looked to the moon. Gauging time?
“Twenty miles to the east, give or take. I’ll lead the way.” Rough Hide climbed uncertainly to his feet.
“Rest a while longer,” my father told him before addressing the clan.
“Tonight, Emperor Uni has surely blessed our clan. He has given us the chance to strike at our most hated foe. Go, grab your weapons, but leave behind your armor; speed and silence are essential if we are to catch them before daybreak. Bring no provisions. We leave as soon as I am ready to go.”
I cut a path through the dispersing crowd to my father’s side.
“Do you really think we’ll catch them?” I asked.
“Emperor willing, we will.” He laid a paw on my shoulder. “Tonight, my son, you will prove yourself a warrior by destroying our enemies.”
I trotted away, feeling uneasy. I tried to brush it away, but its biting persistence was worse than fleas. It still occupied my thoughts when I entered my hut.
I grabbed my belt and buckled it on around my waist. My sword slid silently into its sheath. I took a long look around my hut, running through a mental checklist of anything I might want to take. 
I spotted my sling. I was a decent shot and could consistently hit a dog-size target. After a quick debate, I tucked it into my belt. I checked my hut once more before rejoining the others.
My father led the procession out the gate, setting off at an easy lope that a diamond dog could keep up all day. The scout was beside him. I could hear only brief conversations as the scout corrected our path. The rest of us maintained strict silence.
The moon and stars aided us in our nightly trek across the land. The stars held our legends and folklore. My ancestors were all up there, watching over me. One day I would join them in the neverending race across the night sky. 
The moon was Emperor Uni’s own creation, his gift to all Diamond Dogs to battle the blackness of night. For many years it had held the face of a pony, to remind us of our most hated enemy, the Emperor had decreed.  Now it was gone, and the moon gazed blankly over the land.
I skirted a clump of dogs-head.
My eyes had adapted to the darkness, casting my world into gray and various shades of black. With the moonlight, I could identify the Diamond Dogs around me. Beyond fifty or sixty feet, the colors and shapes melted into a web of shadows. At least the scout seemed to know where he was going.
I was still breathing normally, but I could feel droplets of sweat starting to form. Would we rest before striking at the ponies or attack them right away?
What did ponies look like? Various books gave the impression of dark, bat-like creatures.  They probably had leathery wings, fangs, red eyes, and horns. I shuddered at how similar my image of ponies were to that of demons.
I looked overhead and couldn’t believe how far the moon had shifted. Daylight was quickly nearing.
I collided with the Diamond Dog ahead of me. He snapped his jaws at me, but remained silent.  We were slowing down: moving at a slow trot, then a walk, and finally stopped. I peered over the heads of those in front of me. 
We must have stopped on a hill; before me the stars surged out of the ground from far below and arched across the sky, occupying most of our horizon. Just off in the distance, I could see faint lights glowing from what appeared to be a stand of trees.
“Work your legs. Don’t let your limbs get stiff.” The order was passed along from mouth to mouth in hushed whispers. My father vanished into the darkness along with the scout.
I stomped in place.  
That uneasy feeling had returned, but this time amplified.
We had clearly traveled beyond our own borders. If there were truly only about thirty or so ponies, then how could they possibly attack us? Driving away other Diamond Dogs so that the clan would have something to eat the next day was one thing, but a raid against those who didn’t pose a threat?
A wind whipped in from the south. I shivered.
Was I going soft? These were ponies: a vile sub-dog species that threatened the Empire. They were demon bat creatures, and they needed to be eliminated!
My father returned, this time with another Diamond Dog I assumed to be Hard Stone.
We started to move again.
The light appeared to be coming from three separate fires. They illuminated the perimeter of the camp and the wagons within. 
We stopped at the edge of the trees.
I had to look away from the fires; the light was making my eyes water.
There was a rush of wings, and a pony landed in front of us.
I held my breath.
The first pony I had ever seen looked sleek and strong. Hard lines around his face, head, and jaw gave a strong indication of being male. His coat was colored a bright teal, and he flew on feathered wings.
There were no horns, or fangs, or red eyes!
He threw a bundle of sticks on the fire before flying to the next. The pony repeated the process at this fire, then the next. He took off once more and landed on top of a wagon.  From his vantage point, he slowly scanned the sleeping camp. 
I thought for sure he would see us.
He wasn’t that far away. I could probably hit him with a stone. I drew out my sling and felt along the ground for a sizable rock. I found one and slipped it into the pocket of the sling.
My father shattered the night with a vicious, guttural cry. The call was echoed by every dog, and we surged into the camp in an unbreakable wave.
I sidestepped the mass of dogs and took aim. The pony was perfectly silhouetted against the night sky. Off to my left, another pony took flight. I ignored it. I whirled the stone overhead, then released it with a snap of the leather cord. The rock passed within inches of the pony, missing him completely, but then struck a small, white form as it was shooting skywards. 
I watched as that white form faulted, sputtered, and then crashed out of sight. 
I started in its direction, but then a great blast of fire rocketed overhead.  I drew my sword and went to investigate.
It wasn’t our first time facing magic. The neighboring Bone Clan had a mystic who would attack us with various spells in our occasional border skirmishes. They were frightening, but if you could tackle the magic user, then you would disrupt their spell. Without magic, the caster was just an undersized dog.
A white pony with a single glowing horn was fending off a dozen Diamond Dogs. His horn glowed bright, and another gale of fire scorched our ranks, scattering dogs in all directions. A pair of Diamond Dogs leapt at him from either side, and together they crashed to the ground. 
A brawl ensued. 
The teal pony from earlier leapt into the fray. He freed the brown pony, and together they fled into the night. The other Diamond Dogs pursued them.
I went after my own prize.
It was crying. I followed the sobs to a little white pony curled up on the ground.  My stone had hit its left wing, and now it was bent at an odd angle. The little pony strongly reminded me of male puppies when they were first separated from their mothers.
It looked up at me. “Please Mr. Dog, don’t eat me,” it sobbed.
A shrieking hail cut the night.
“Momma! Momma!” cried the little pony. When no reply came, the pony resumed sobbing.
There was a crashing in the undergrowth, and Spoke appeared.
“There you are, Ember.” Spoke was grinning wildly, prancing from foot to foot. “You missed out on a great chase. Did you see that pony I tackled? They all got away, though.”
He spotted the little pony.
“Oh, oh, oh, pony,” he exclaimed excitedly. He went up and sniffed it. “Kind of small, isn’t he?”
I corrected him. “I think it’s a she.”
Spoke took to prancing around the pony, singing, “Ember caught a sla-ave. Ember caught a sla-ave”.
The bushes to my left rustled, and my father appeared.  He looked from me, to Spoke, and then to the pony.
“Good job, son, now finish her off.”
I couldn’t bring myself to hurt the pony.  She was so young, so little; her sobs made me cringe. She would be flying off with her own kind if my stone hadn’t hit her.
I straightened up, thrusting out my chest and stretching out to my full height. I was nearly as tall as my father.  I looked him in the eye. My lips curled in a snarl.
“She is my slave; my property. I decide what I do with her.”
Spoke stopped his rambunctious show. He glanced worriedly between my father and me.
Another Diamond Dog appeared.
“Chieftain,” he started to say, but stopped when he saw us staring at each other.
My father looked away. I had won.
While my father talked with the newcomer, I drew Spoke to my side.
“Go to the wagons and fetch me some strong rope. I need a collar and leash for this pony.”
Spoke ran off.
I nudged the pony with my foot. “Get up, little pony,” I told her.  She continued to sob.
“Get up,” I hissed, this time prodding her with the butt of my sword.
“Leave me alone, Mr. Dog,” she cried, curling up into a tighter ball.
Please get up, oh please get up, I wanted to beg. A master who couldn’t control his own slave was no master at all. If she didn’t follow my orders, then another dog would surely challenge me for possession. Father might even insist on a whipping to set her straight. I didn’t want to think of what that whip would do to her small body.
I silently asked for her forgiveness for what I was about to do.
I lightly placed one paw on her broken wing. She gasped in pain. I lowered my head and hissed in her ear, “Get up or I will make it hurt worse.”
Reluctantly she rolled to her feet. Spoke returned with the rope. I tied it around her neck.
What is your name?” I asked.
“Kitty Hawk,” she said, wiping away her tears.
“Kitty Hawk,” I proclaimed, “from this day forth, you belong to me.”
                



> Ch.3 No Meat for Me Part 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ch.3 Part 1 No Meat for Me

It was a beautiful sunrise: a thick band of crimson preceded the sun, followed by corresponding ribbons of amber and gold. The sun finally peeked its head up, gazing adoringly over the land, inching slowly above the horizon. It was still cold, but quickly warming up.
Nearly everyone was busy looting the camp: they pulled out large bundles of colored cloths, strange clothes, and intricate gadgets. One box sprang open, and a stuffed pony popped out, arms wide, bouncing back and forth on a large spring. The nearest warrior carved it up with his sword. My father examined the interior of one of the wagons, and upon seeing so many exotic things, announced that we would be taking it all back to the village.
Everything that had been taken out now had to be put back into the wagons.
I fought to hold back a yawn.
I wrapped Kitty Hawk’s broken wing with strips of cloth taken from one of the wagons. She bit down hard on a stick as I did so, fresh tears welling up in her eyes. I tried to be gentle.
“There, all done,” I said, tying the loose ends together. It wasn’t the first time I had bandaged a wing. The village kept a few chickens around. Their eggs were delicious, but they were dumber than stones, constantly finding new and creative ways to hurt themselves or worse.
Kitty Hawk spit out the stick. She lightly moved her wing, wincing.
“Are you sure I’ll fly again?” She looked at me expectantly with those big, blue eyes.
“Yes, it’s worked for chickens. I’ve never seen one who didn’t fly afterwards.”
Kitty Hawk examined her wing once more, then tucked it in close to her side. “Thank you, Mister Dog,” she mumbled to the ground.
“Call me Ember,” I insisted.
I left her leashed to a tree and trotted over to Rod and Spoke.
The pair was trying to readjust the harness on the pony wagons to Rod’s much larger frame. The ponies carried no leather, but cloth and rope was in abundance. Rod was testing the chest strap that Spoke had added to the original harness.
“It will do,” said Rod, and he pulled the wagon a few feet or so.
“All ready to go?” I asked.
Rod nodded.
“We are going to be rich dogs,” exclaimed Spoke, nearly leaping off the ground. “Once we get these back to the village, and the merchant comes, we are going to have so many jewels we can roll around in them!”
“The chieftain gets the largest share,” I reminded him, “and the majority will help pay for other things for the village.” At his downtrodden face, I quickly added, “But I have no doubt that all the warriors will be handsomely paid.”
We all perked up our ears at the sound of a horn blast. The wagons were being hauled into position. I said goodbye to my friends and returned to Kitty Hawk.
When it was time to leave, I gave a light tug on her leash. She didn’t move. Her eyes and rump were still fixed to the ground. It took several gentle nudges just to get her to rise. As we marched away, she gazed longingly behind us, the empty campsite quickly obscured by the trees.
“Will I ever see my parents again?” she asked.
I thought about it. “I’ll make you a deal. If you stay on your best behavior, I will personally make sure that you see your parents again.”
She persisted. “You promise?” I could see the first fragments of hope in her face since her capture.
“I swear it on my ancestors.”
She cocked her head sideways. “What does that mean?”
I had to lower my head down just to make eye contact with her. “It means I would sooner give up being a Diamond Dog then go back on my word.”
“So it’s like an ultra-super-duper promise?”
I thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, something like that.”
She looked up at me with those big, blue eyes. “Thank you, Mister… um, Ember.”
This little pony was going to turn me into a softy!
The sun was rising higher in the sky. Compared to last night’s mad dash, we were making painfully slow progress with the wagons. I guessed it would be around late evening before we returned to the village.
I was still getting inquisitive glances from the other warriors. One by one they would stop by, sniff Kitty Hawk, examine her critically, and then leave. It was almost as if they hadn’t spent the previous night chasing ponies through the woods!
Kitty Hawk had remained silent so, far but now spoke up. “I’m hungry,” she said.
My stomach growled at the thought of food. It was only past midday. There would be no stopping until we reached the village.
“I’m sorry, I don’t have any,” I said.
We marched on in silence. A stiff wind from the west kicked up our dust and billowed it out behind us in great majestic sails.
“I’m thirsty,” she said.
“Do you see any water?” I gestured to the dry countryside.
Again, there was silence.
“My hooves hurt,” she said.
I looked down at her with a weak smile. “So do mine.”
The sun was two paws-width above the horizon when we finally reached the village. The women and the puppies came out to meet us. They marveled at the wagon. They gasped when they saw Kitty Hawk, some pulling their puppies in close.
A Pittbullton puppy escaped his mother’s grasp and patted over to Kitty Hawk. He gave her the silliest look, barked, and then ran circles around us.
Kitty Hawk didn’t seem to notice: her head was hanging near the ground, eyes half closed, her hooves dragging in the dirt. I took her to my hut and showed her a spot on the floor. 
“You’ll sleep here.”
She didn’t even look twice at the indicated spot, just dragged herself over and hopped on my bed where she curled up and promptly fell asleep.
I opened my mouth to protest, but stopped. Poor kid had had a rough day. I left her there. For me, there was still more work to do.
The wagons were stripped. Everything was sorted into two piles: metal and non-metal. Out here on the western edge of the Empire, metal was very rare. Anything and everything was taken: drawer handles, axle nuts, joints, pivots, springs, and shocks were replaced with wooden, stone, or leather equivalents. Only sewing needles and iron-bound barrels were spared from the forge of the blacksmith.
All the fabrics were brought out before the elders. They discussed at length with the chieftain as to what to do with them. The clothes were very pretty, and they quickly caught the eye of many of the women. They cooed over them, comparing the colors and patterns, giggling as they tried them on.
The elders concluded their discussion and announced their decision. The women howled their indignation as the fabrics were packed away. The chieftain refused their protests, insisting that they be traded for plain fabrics and more useful items.
Dinner consisted of burnt rabbit and watery soup. I grimaced but ate anyways. My father loudly voiced his opinion. The women upturned their noses and showed him their backs.
The chieftain might make all the decisions, but it was the women who ultimately controlled the life of the village.
I went back to my hut feeling miserable; the raid on the ponies had only managed to turn the villagers against one another. At least Kitty Hawk was getting a good night’s sleep. I tried to move her, but she kicked out with her legs, and then rolled over, mumbling under her breath. I couldn’t bring myself to wake her. I left a bowl of meat and soup on the desk for her.
Grabbing a goat skin and a spare blanket, I curled up at the foot of my bed. I methodically filtered out the noises of the village. Finally, I was left with just my own thoughts and the sound of my own breathing. I didn’t remember falling asleep.

PLEASE LEAVE ADDITIONAL COMMENTS HERE





> Ch.3 No meat for me Part 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ch.3 Part 2 No Meat for Me

I was roused from my dream by a frantic voice.
It had been a bad dream: I had been eating dogs-head at some unknown point along the river Yark. It was palatable if cooked, but still tasted bitter.
I heard that voice again and raised my head to investigate.
Kitty Hawk was thrashing in her sleep, moaning, “No, don’t leave me.”
Was it better to wake her from her nightmare? I decided against it and stood up, stretching as I went. My muscles felt cramped and my back hurt. I was not going to spend a second night on the floor.
“Mom! Dad!” cried Kitty Hawk. She bolted up, looking around expectantly. She spotted me and sighed before lying back down.
“You miss them, don’t you?”
She nodded.
Was there anything I could say to help? Sorry about breaking your wing. Your parents still love you, but right now they probably think you’re dead. That definitely wasn’t going to work.
The silence was dragging into eternity.
“Here’s some food if you’re hungry.” I slid over the bowl of cold meat and soup.  She sniffed it critically, and then took an experimental taste. She leapt back as if the soup had bitten her. Frantically, she wiped her tongue to be rid of any traces.
“It tastes like blood! What’s in it?”
I examined the soup critically. “Water, oil, fat, and meat.”
“I can’t eat that,” said Kitty Hawk.
What a spoiled brat!
“It might not be the same kind of food that you’re use too, but you need to eat it.”
“No,” she insisted, “you don’t understand. I cannot eat meat. I am a herbivore.”
“A what?”
“A herbivore; I eat plants,” she explained.
“Plants!” That was like saying I should give up being a Diamond Dog and go live alongside the wild game.
“Show me your teeth,” I demanded. She did, presenting two  rows of flat, crushing teeth. They were remarkably similar to the kind found in goats.
Ponies really did not eat meat. It looked like many of my books needed revision, especially in the fiction books where ponies devoured their helpless Diamond Dog victims. Was that the only thing they’d gotten wrong?
“Ponies are very strange,” I said to no one in particular. I grabbed the cold food and dumped it outside.
“Come on; let’s go find you some… plants.” The sheer thought of eating nothing but plants was horrifying.
I led the way to the community kitchens.
The sun had yet to crest the horizon. Most of the village was still asleep. Two pairs of tired-looking sentries guarded each gate.
A light mist hung in the air: the promise of another hot day.
Elder Rose was watching the kitchens. She was one of those aggravating few who never seemed to sleep, and at the same time have limitless energy. She was getting old enough that she now required a cane to walk on her hind legs. Sure enough, she was using it to support herself while she stirred a simmering pot on the brick stove. I sniffed the air. “Is that leftovers from last night?”
“Yes indeed, Ember. I always said you had the best nose in camp.” She spotted Kitty Hawk. “Oh my! And you brought your pony. I haven’t seen one since I was a young woman.” She dropped to all fours and padded over to Kitty Hawk.
Kitty Hawk inched nervously towards the door. “Hold still, girl,” said Elder Rose. “I don’t bite; at least not too hard. My husband never complained, bless his soul.”  She examined Kitty Hawk as she would freshly caught game: moving her head side to side, running her paw through her mane and along her back. She unfurled the right wing, staring intently as every feather, and then turned to the left one. With soothing words, she carefully stretched it out. Kitty Hawk winced but otherwise made no protest. “Looks like you did as good as job as any,” she said, studying the bandage. She carefully refolded the wing. “I don’t see why the emperor makes such a fuss about ponies.”
“Where did you see the other pony?” I asked.
“It was many years ago,” said Elder Rose, staring whimsically off into the distance. “A merchant came by with a pony he purchased. He was on his way to sell her in the capital. A ‘Desert Pony’ he called her, charged us two small jewels just to look at her; she wasn’t nearly as pretty as yours.”
She smiled at the memory before shaking herself back to the present. “Oh, there I go, telling old stories again. Where are my manners?  I’m Elder Rose, and what’s your name, little pony?”
Kitty Hawk put on her best smile.“My name’s Kitty Hawk, ma’am”
“Oh, aren’t you too cute. Would you like something to eat?”.
I quickly interjected. “That’s why we’re here. Kitty Hawk can’t eat meat. She only eats plants.”
Elder Rose looked taken aback. “Plants? Well, I never.”
“Ma’am,” piped up Kitty Hawk. We both looked at her. “There were some bags of wheat and oats in the wagons. Do you know where they got to?”
“Wheat and oats? Hm… were they those little grains? The chickens took a liking to them, so we stashed them in the shed as feed. Would you be a darling, Ember, and go retrieve two of them?”
I did. They were anything but light.
Kitty Hawk and I stood amazed as Elder Rose immediately went to work, mixing the grains with water and honey. She made several “cakes,” which Kitty gobbled down until she looked like she was going to pop.
Suddenly Kitty Hawk started to cry.
Elder Rose wrapped her in a hug. “What’s the matter, dear? Did they taste that bad?”
“No, they were delicious, just like how my mom use to make them,” she sobbed.
Not knowing what else to do, I went to the back of the kitchen and grabbed three dried sausages.
“I’ll leave her in your care. Make sure you show her around,” I said on my way out. Elder Rose, still cradling the crying pony, gave me a reassuring nod.
The sun had finally made its appearance. Other dogs were moving about now. I spotted Rod and Spoke.
“Here you go,” I said and threw them each a sausage. They devoured them.
The three of us hustled to the village center, where my father was issuing assignments for the day.
“Three volunteers for the Western Patrol,” I called out.  
My father nodded his agreement. “Be sure to take full weapons and armor. There’s been movement along the boundary.”
We left by the western gate in full battle gear: breastplate and helmet, spears carried by leather straps attached to the armor, belt and sword. A packed lunch would see us through until we returned in the evening.  
I set the pace: starting off in a walk, then a lope, and then an easy run. The exercise warmed me up and stretched out my muscles.  It was refreshing to stop thinking and just focus on the ground under my paws. I didn’t slow until we reached the hunting grounds. We kept going west, occasionally deviating for a drink of water. We stopped for lunch at midday. A quick swim in the river provided a great refresher.
We were strapping our armor back on when we heard a terrified bleat upriver.  I turned to Rod.
“Are we the only clansman out this far?” I asked.
Rod nodded. “We won’t hunt this far west for another week.”                 
“Oh, oh oh! Let’s go find it! Let’s go find it,” Spoke barked excitedly.
“Easy there. We’re close to the border. If it is Bone Clan activity, I would like to sneak up on them quietly.”
Spoke quieted down but pranced around excitedly.
We silently worked our way through the underbrush, moving as quickly as we dared. My nose told me what lay ahead before we found it.  There was a pool of blood mixed with hoof and paw prints. The Diamond Dog tracks led away.
We soon found them: one held a spear while another dragged the goat. They wore no collars. I couldn’t tell if they were Bone Clan or not. If they died here, they would do so as nameless dogs. Needless to say, they were still Diamond Dogs, and they were stealing from my clan!
“Attack!” I cried and then charged.


PLEASE LEAVE ADDITIONAL COMMENTS HERE


 

> Ch.4 The outside world
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ch.4 The Outside World

Both dogs whirled around as we came charging out of the underbrush. The one with the spear leapt into a good fighting stance and leveled his weapon at us, guarding his companion who attempted to escape with the stolen prize. The spear wielder tried to block me, but I simply ran around him. Rob and Spoke could contend with him. The dog with the goat was mine!
I unlatched my spear. Stopping momentarily to aim, I threw it, hard. The Diamond Dog raised the goat as a shield, and the spear embedded itself in the body. Growling, I drew my sword and lunged. He dropped the goat and drew a long dagger. The ring of metal on metal sang through the air as he parried the thrust. Then he attacked and I parried.
We traded blows. He fought aggressively, but from the start it was apparent that I was winning. My sword had twice the size of his dagger, and my reach was much longer. Whenever he parried my sword, I swung at him with my other paw. He would dodge and duck away, and then bring his dagger up in time to block my sword. I pressed him, driving him backwards. 
As we crossed blades I really saw my opponent for the first time: he was Pittbullton, shorter and skinnier than I, with a grey coat. The skin around his eyes and cheek were a little too tight. I could see his eyes flash with every strike of his blade. He wanted to kill me. He wanted to win. Too bad!
I brought my sword down in a heavy chop. He raised his dagger to parry. The weaker metal of his dagger could no longer stand the abuse and shattered just above the hilt.
We both looked at the broken shards lying on the ground. I grinned at him.
“Run,” I said. 
He stared at me, trembling. He took a step back but then changed his mind; instead he dove for the segments of his broken dagger. I drove him away with a sharp kick.
“Mine,” I said, and this time I emphasized my point with that of the sword. He glanced once more at the metal and then turned and fled. I saw Spoke and Rod’s victim, now spear-less, chase after his friend, sporting several long cuts across his flank. 
Bending down, I collected the broken bits and placed them carefully in my pouch.
Rod and Spoke joined me. 
“We showed them, that’s for sure”, said Spoke.
Rod gazed after the fleeing intruders. “They’ll be back,” he said.
“Eventually,” I replied as I went to retrieve my spear. I had to place a foot on the goat and wiggle it around before a hard yank set it free; it had nearly gone all the way through.
I groaned when I saw the sun. “Let’s load up this goat and get back to the village.” I would prefer not to be late for dinner.
The trip back was uneventful. We traded carrying the goat and the captured spear. It made running awkward. We spotted the village just as dusk was beginning to settle. It was completely dark by the time we made it to the western gate. The sentries actually growled as we approached but let us through once they saw who it was beneath the helmets.
Most of the village had already eaten. Even the servants had sat down. I frowned when I didn’t see Kitty Hawk amongst them.
I made straight for my father. He was talking with the elders but fell silent when we neared. So did the rest of the clan.
I groveled before him. “Chief, apologies for being late; we have successfully defended the clan’s land from thieves.” Hastily I laid out our offering from the day and a brief report.
My father stepped closer. He carefully looked over each of us, and then examined the broken knife and the spear. I thought I spotted a small grin spread across his muzzle, but it was gone the next instant.
“You have done well. Take the goat to the kitchens. You three may sit in the place of honor tonight. Dirt Claw!” The last part was directed at another dog. “See to it that we keep a pack of scouts along the border, night and day. Any strange dog that enters our lands will leave with only his spirit.”
The dog in question leapt to his feet and disappeared into the night.
We sat to the left of the elders, facing the clan. Kitty Hawk appeared and handed us our dishes.
“Where were you?” I asked, accepting my dishes.
“With Elder Rose. She’s been really nice to me.”
I noticed she had a strange double-sided pack on her back.
“What’s that?” I asked, pointing to her pack.
“It’s a saddle pack. Elder Rose saw how much trouble I was having carrying things, so she asked me how we do it back home. I told her about saddle packs. She had one brought to me. I think this one belonged to a mare named North Star.”
Indeed, the “saddle pack” was several sizes too large, so big in fact that it almost dragged on the ground.
Another servant appeared with the food. It was substantially better fare than last night. I gobbled it down greedily. Kitty Hawk disappeared with the other slave.
I was busy munching on a greasy bird leg when Elder Rose sat down beside me. I set my food down and washed my paws as best as I could.
“How was Kitty Hawk’s first day?” I asked.
“She’s a good worker, but she has her moments. I asked her to bring me a chicken; when she saw me kill it she burst into tears. She has absolutely refused to help with the food, but she’s eager to do everything else. Many clansmen don’t like her, but as long as I’m around they won’t try anything.”
Elder Rose produced a wine skin and took a long draught before offering it to me. I took a sip of the sweet liquor, feeling its warmth spread to my limbs.
Elder Rose continued, “I would hate to see a life of slavery crush such a young, independent spirit.” On a darker note, she said, “Your father will insist on having her wings clipped.”
I avoided looking at Elder Rose. She was right, of course. Kitty Hawk was never meant to be here, slaving for Diamond Dogs. Once she couldn’t fly, there would be little hope of getting her back to her own kind.
How would I keep the oath I’d sworn to her only yesterday?
I took another sip of the wine and handed it back. “He can insist all he likes, but she’s my property.”
Elder Rose leaned in closer so as to not be overheard. “Do you plan on releasing her?”
I hadn’t really thought about it, but then again I’d known the answer all along. 
“Yes,” I said, but then added, “I swore on my ancestors that she would see her parents again. Once her wing is healed, I’ll set her free.” Elder Rose raised an eyebrow but made no comment.
The voices around us descended into a meaningless babble, and I felt like a solitary island in the middle of the river Yark. Elder Rose turned away from me to look at the stars, occasionally sipping from the wine skin.
Why wouldn’t she talk to me? Did I do something wrong? Did I somehow embarrass the clan? What if my father found out what I was really up to? Would he take Kitty Hawk away?
I began to squirm in my seat.
No, I couldn’t run around, chasing my own tail about what the clan thought or what if’s. This was my choice, my decision. Not to follow through now would prove my incompetence as a leader.
Elder Rose finished off the wine. When she spoke again, she did so slowly. “You have my support in this. The clan won’t like it, but I gave up long ago on what they think of me. You, on the other hand, have a tremendous amount to loose. They will see you as weak. If you ever want to be chief, you will have to fight twice as hard.”
With those words she stood up and left. I looked at my food but suddenly I didn’t feel very hungry. I excused myself and returned back to my hut. There was light coming from inside. I rolled back the door flap to find Kitty Hawk on the floor, reading one of my books by candlelight. I plopped onto my bed.
“Did you find a book you like?”
“Ember,” she said, looking up at me, “these books are all wrong.”
I glanced at what she was reading: History of the Empire.
“How so?” I wasn’t that interest in arguing the finer points of Diamond Dog history. Sure, they might have gotten a few things wrong, like ponies eating meat. Right now though, I needed to think about my future and how I was going to keep my oath to Kitty Hawk.
“It says here that this Emperor Uni raises the sun and the moon, but only Princess Celestia can raise the sun, while Princess Luna raises the moon.”
I stared at her. What she was suggesting was traitorous, that our emperor didn’t have control over the powers of this world. Not having control of the two greatest objects would completely undermine his authority.
I prepared a sharp reprimand, but held my tongue. She was only a kid. They were so easily influenced, especially by ignorant parents.
The books had already been wrong about ponies eating meat, I wonder what else they had messed up on?
“Do have any proof? Have you seen this Princess Celestia raise the sun?”
“Yes,” she answered, so fast that she caught me off guard. “I’ve seen her do it every day, but it’s really awesome at the Summer Sun Celebration.” She then launched into a detailed recollection of the event, about its history and meaning, and finally ended with Princess Celestia flying into the sky and using her magic to bring the sun up behind her. “It was the most amazing thing I’d ever seen,” she concluded.
I stared at her dumbfounded. “So you’re saying that in your country, Equestria, everyone has seen these two raise the sun and the moon? And that this Princess Luna was the Pony in the Moon, because she turned evil, and was banished by her sister?”
Kitty Hawk thought about it for a second. “Well no, probably not everypony. I live in Canterlot, so I get to see them do it all the time. Princess Luna was evil, but now she’s good. I met her at the Nightmare Night Festival. She was so pretty.”
I could only stare helplessly at Kitty Hawk. She had on the biggest smile I had ever seen. The confidence of how she spoke and the level of her enthusiasm left little doubt in my mind. She really did believe everything she had just said.
“Kitty Hawk,” I said, “I need you to promise not to tell this to any Diamond Dog, ever. They will get really angry at you, and they might hurt you. Do you promise?”
She looked puzzled at my words but promised.
“Good.” I smiled at her. “Time for bed,” I said, and I blew out the candle.
I curled up on my mattress, forcing myself to relax. My body complied easily enough, but my mind refused to give in. Instead it ran wild: going through Kitty Hawk’s words, seeking for possible explanations, recalling paragraphs from my books. There was no possible way Princess Celestia could raise the sun, or that Princess Luna had been the pony on the moon; there was no way any of that could be true. Could it?
I would just have to go to Equestria and find out for myself. 


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> Ch.5 The merchant 
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ch.5 The Merchant 

                I woke up with a wing full of feathers tickling my nose. The culprit was curled up right in front of my face, making soft snoring sounds. Apparently, she had decided that my bed was more comfortable than the ground.
She was definitely sleeping on the floor tonight.
                I propped myself up on my elbows and paws, climbing over her gingerly as not to wake her. I snuck out of my hut and went to the kitchens. Elder Rose was already there, slowly stirring the pot of leftovers. Did she even go home at night?
                “Ember! Just the dog I’m looking for. Here you go.” She handed me a plate of oat cakes, still hot.
                If she kept this up, she was going to spoil that little pony rotten.
                “What about me?” I objected. If Kitty Hawk was going to get hot breakfast every morning, then Elder Rose could as least do the same for me. It was absurd to think that a slave would get preferential treatment over her master.
                “You’ve got two paws, go get it; but you take care of that pony first. She ain’t going to feed herself.”           
     		   I growled my displeasure. “I am the master, she’s the slave.”
        	She growled back. “I control the kitchens. If you want food, feed Kitty Hawk pony first”.
Reluctantly, I marched my way back to my hut.
                I rocked Kitty Hawk gently until she woke up. “Breakfast,” I announced and presented her with the plate. I sat back and watched as she munched her way through the cakes.
                Suddenly she stopped mid-bite and raised her head, ears twitching back and forth.
                “I hear bells,” she said.
                Confused, I perked up my ears. Sure enough, I heard the ringing of tiny bells, and then the jingle-jangle of a tambourine. A wide grin spread across my face.
                “The merchant!” I said, and then to Kitty Hawk, “don’t leave the hut,” before I bolted out the door.
                Every Diamond Dog was outside, eagerly looking down the road. The bulky wagons soon appeared, each pulled by a team of slaves. The tiny bells on the wagons chimed away, clashing with the groaning of wood and the grinding of the wheels on loose rock. The procession was led by an armor-clad soldier and a dancing slave with a tambourine. They looked neither right nor left, marching straight through the eastern gate and into the center of the village.
                “Halt,” roared the soldier, and the wagons stopped with one final note from the bells. A golden, and rather fat, Wolvonus dog in brightly colored robes stepped forth. He took an exaggerated bow to the clansman.
                “Firebrand Clan, I, Silver Tongue, have returned.” He scanned the eager faces and stopped when he found one he wanted. He motioned for her to step forth.
                Leave it to the merchant to spot the prettiest in the clan.
                “Now look here, miss. It’s true that you have the beauty of which angels sing songs, but you could do better. Now try this on for size.” He produced a bright copper necklace with a small red gem. He fastened it around her throat and stepped back.
                He raised his voice to the crowd. “What do you think? What do you think! Doesn’t it look gorgeous?” Indeed, it did look good on her; or maybe it was just the woman who was wearing it. “Made in the capital and brought to you for the low-low price of ten jewels.”
                The Clansman surged forth, shouldering each other for room. The merchant held up another necklace. Diamond Dogs eagerly held up their jewels.
                “Back. GET BACK!” My father appeared and drove back the mob with snaps and snarls. He calmly turned to the merchant.
                “Silver Tongue, it is good to see you. As you well know, the chief and the elders are the first to deal with merchants, then the clan.” The Diamond Dogs behind him growled. My father silenced them with a sharp bark.
                The elders appeared, sporting equally colorful, if faded, garments. They paraded through the village and up to the merchant. Each bowed and greeted the merchant in turn; as if they hadn’t done this a hundred times before! My father quickly ushered them all into his house and closed the flap behind him.
                That left the rest of us milling around, staring at closed wagons guarded by a dozen soldiers. As I watched, the slaves were fed and watered from buckets and troughs. Many of them pissed right there in the middle of the street as if they had forgotten what it was to be a Diamond Dog. Disgusted, I returned to my hut.
                “What happened?” Kitty Hawk was still lying on my bed. 
I told her.
Kitty Hawk looked at me inquisitively. “If this merchant causes problems, then why do you let him in the village?”
                “Because we need him as much as he needs us. Not many merchants are willing to travel this far from the capital. The more profitable trade routes are dominated by wealthier traders. Small traders like Silver Tongue are forced to come to us. We need iron ingots for tools and weapons, and salt for skinning and cooking, amongst other things. The Firebrand Clan would not survive without him.”
                “So now what?” she asked.
                “We wait for them to finish negotiations, probably just in time for lunch. Until then, boredom rules all.”
                My stomach rumbled at the mention of food. A thought occurred to me. “How about we go visit Elder Rose. I bet she has something we can do.”
                “Ok,” said Kitty Hawk excitedly, hopping off the bed.
                Elder Rose was indeed happy to see us and quick to put me to work. She put Kitty Hawk on a stool and pestered her with loads of questions, especially when Kitty Hawk started talking about Equestria. Occasionally she slipped her a bit of honey. I listened from the background.
                For the most part, it was just the three of us. Occasionally a servant would interrupt for a request of something or other. I had just finished preparing the lunches when Rob poked his nose in.
                 “Ember, this is for you.” He tossed me a small, hefty purse. It was filled to the brim with jewels.
                “Is this...” I started, but he was already gone.
                “What was that about?” asked Elder Rose.
                I held up the bag of jewels. “My payment for the raid.”
                Elder Rose busied herself with the food. “Looks like those old dogs finally got something productive done for once. They’ll start coming in here looking for a meal. You two run along now.” She sent us off with our lunches wrapped in two small bundles.
                We passed the merchant on our way back to my hut. The captured wagons had already been added to Silver Tongue’s train. The slaves were fixing our improvised harnesses.
                Diamond Dogs crowded around Silver Tongue as his voice flowed over them as if straight from the river Yark. Jewels exchanged hands. The clansmen came away with various trinkets, clothes, and other paraphernalia.
                I approached warily. I didn’t see anything of interest.
                One of the soldiers slipped to Silver Tongue’s side and whispered in his ear.
                He stopped, momentarily frozen in place. He whispered something to his soldier, who only nodded. The soldier pointed straight at me.
                “Make a hole, make a hole!” shouted Silver Tongue as he cut a path through the crowd and stopped before me. He shook my paw vigorously. “Pleasure, pleasure to meet you my young friend, and what is it that you have here?” He was looking down at Kitty Hawk with a creepy smile. 
She was doing her best to hide behind me.
                “Don’t be shy, little one,” continued Silver Tongue. He looked back at me, beaming. “Am I guesting correctly that you are her master?”
                “ Yes, but—”
                He waved my words away. “Splendid, splendid. Step right up here and tell me if you like anything you see.” He practically dragged me to the wagons. Kitty Hawk followed closely behind.
                 “I’ve been saving some treasures for a young dog such as yourself.” Silver Tongue opened several boxes containing golden and jewel-encrusted weapons and armor. I could hear those around me whispering excitedly.
                “Not interested,” I said.
                “Nonsense, nonsense, every dog has his price. How about some of my slaves? I’m sure we can find a few that strike your fancy. Heck, you sell me that pony and I’ll throw in ten of them, free of charge.”
                “She’s not for sale,” I said forcefully.
                There was grumbling from the other Diamond Dogs. The soldier around Silver Tongue stepped forward, paws gripping their sword hilts. Silver Tongue bore in on me. I could smell old fish on his breath.
                 “How about one of my wagons and everything it contains? Two? I’ll give you a third one for free.”
                I retreated, backing out of the crowd.
                “Be reasonable about this,” pressed Silver Tongue. “I can make you very rich, just sell me that pony!” 
That last statement almost sounded like a threat.
                I didn’t answer him. His piercing gazed followed me as I left, Kitty Hawk close to my side. We didn’t stop until we were inside my hut.
                “I have a bad feeling about Silver Tongue,” I said. “Don’t leave my side tonight, not until he’s far, far away.”
                There was silence, then, “Ember?”
                I looked down at Kitty Hawk.
                “Thanks for not selling me.”
                I grinned and ruffled her mane. “I’ll never sell you,” I said.
                
PLEASE LEAVE ADDITIONAL COMMENTS HERE



> Ch.6 Night raid part 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

        	        	The goat from yesterday, leftovers, and old preserves were combined into a magnificent feast. The food was salty, sweet, spicy, and contained even more strange and delicious flavors. I ate until I could only clutch my stomach and moan.
Silver Tongue sat beside my father. Between them they shared several platters of food and many wineskins. My father said something that caused Silver Tongue to choke on his food, and then spew it everywhere. They roared with laughter.
I didn’t see any of Silver Tongue’s soldiers anywhere. They had been clinging to him like flees all day, but now they were absent. The wagons had disappeared as well. Did he tell them to head off without him?
Many of the clansmen wore their festive robes. Some of them circulated from group to group, showing off their newly acquired treasurers. Others took to dancing around the large bonfire; swirling, and weaving, and lurching to the thumping of the drums.
Spoke stumbled over, and placed a paw on my shoulder to steady himself. He took another drink from the wineskin in his hand. Leaning in close he said, “You see Lilley over there,” and he pointed to a beautiful black Pitbullton. “I’m going over there and win her heart with this!” He held up one of Silver Tongues copper necklaces.
I sighed. “I have it on good authority that she’s been given four of those already.”
The smile on his face sunk away.
I added quickly, “But I hear that her sister Pedal doesn’t have any suitors.”
The smile returned. “You’re the best friend a dog can have,” said Spoke, and he marched off.
Someone small ran into my back. I turned around and saw Kitty Hawk. She wobbled, but then held herself steady. There was a pained look on her face.
“I was serving food to some Diamond Dogs,” she said, her voice quivering, “and I was given these wineskins. They ordered me to drink them. It tasted really sweet so I drank some more,” tears welling up in her eyes. “Everything is tilted sideways and I feel like I’m going to be sick.”
I embraced her in a hug.
“Do you want to go back to the hut?”
She fought back her tears with a sniffle and nodded.
I picked her up, cradling the poor pony in my arms.
I started back to my hut, but then detoured, and stopped to see Elder Rose. She was looking very pleased with her. Several empty wine skins were lying nearby.
“Heading to bed already,” asked Elder Rose, her speech slurred.
“Kitty Hawk was given wine and forced to drink it,” I explained.
“Oh,” and with that Elder Rose climbed uncertainly to her feet. “I have a suspicion of who that might be.” She went in search of the culprit.
I took Kitty Hawk back to my hut. I placed her on the floor, and retrieved a small medicine chest I kept under my bed. I pulled out a small packet of powder. Judging Kitty Hawk’s weight, I poured as glass of water from a pitcher, and added only a dash of the powder.
“Here you go,” and I gave her the cup. She drank it, and handed the cup back.
“That tasted funny,” commented Kitty Hawk. She started to ask “what’s it suppose to—” but stopped. She looked confused for a moment, then cover her mouth as her stomach heaved. She bolted out the door. I listened to her retch several times. I really didn’t want to think about the mess that would greet me tomorrow morning.
I put the medicine chest away.
Kitty Hawk came back inside, and I handed her another glass of water.
“It’s just water,” I reassured her. She drank it, and then two more. “Feel better?” She nodded. “Time for bed”.
She leapt on to my bed and snuggled into the mattress.
I sighed reluctantly. One of these days I was going to force her to sleep on the floor; but not tonight, or tomorrow, or even the next day.
I curled in beside her, feeling the warm little bundle again my chest.
I closed my eyes, but for some reason sleep eluded me. I lay awake: unmoving, listening to the sound of village. The celebration petered off, and then stopped. Now only the night bugs moved about, singing their songs.
I heard the soft padding of paws on packed earth. There was a sloppy wet squish outside. I couldn’t help but grin; that dog must have the worst of luck.
“Gross,” said a Diamond Dog.
Try as I might I couldn’t place the voice. Strange; I knew everyone in the village. Was he one of Silver Tongue’s dogs?
Someone else snickered. There was a scraping sound, probably the first dog trying to wipe his paws off on the ground.
“Shut it,” hissed a third voice. I instantly connected this one with Silver Tongue.
What was he doing up and about at this hour? I strained my ears.
Silver Tongue continued, “you two search these huts. If you find that pony, bring her straight to me”.
I ground my teeth. So if you want something you just take it? Just you wait until I get my teeth around your neck!
“Got it,” replied one voice.
"Ok," said the other.
That made two voices I didn’t recognize.
“And do it quietly,” hissed Silver Tongue. I heard him slip away.
There was some bickering outside that I couldn’t make out. A brief silence followed, but then I heard someone walk away.
My door flap was pushed open. A strange Pittbullton slipped inside, and let the flap close behind him.
I held my breath; one eye half open, watching the intruder.
He scanned the darkness and spotted us. He moved silently across the room, and stopped before the bed. He was grinning wolfishly.
“There you are, pony.” He reached for Kitty Hawk.
I lashed out with one leg, and made contact with his head.
He stumbled back, reeling.	
I bolted from the bed; knocking Kitty Hawk to the floor in the process. The Diamond Dog raised his head, fearful white eyes staring at me as my right paw smashed into his muzzle. He fell backwards. His head struck the wall with a sickening crack. He collapsed into a heap.
I paused, listening if anyone had heard the common. All was silent. I turned my attention back to Diamond Dog at my feet.
I’d never seen this dog before. I slipped his collar off and examined it in the faint light: he was a member of the Bone clan.
“Ember, what’s wrong,” asked Kitty Hawk, wiping the sleep from her eyes.
“We’re under attack,” I whispered.




> Ch.6 Night raid part 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I buckled on my armor, then my sword belt. I donned my helmet and secured it in place with the chin strap. I experimented with several chomping motions, making sure the chip strap wouldn’t prevent me from using my teeth in a fight. Finally, I turned to Kitty Hawk.
“Ready to go?”
She had taken a dark towel and secured it around her throat in an improvised cloak. It effectively hid her white coat.
She nodded.
I paused by the door, listening. All I could hear were the snores from the unwelcomed and unconscious house guest at my feet.
I stepped outside.
Shadows stretched their darkened tendrils across the village. The full moon was low in the horizon; it was close to dawn. Nothing moved.
I motioned for Kitty Hawk to follow.
I had to sound the alarm. To do that, I needed to get to the Fire Tower. It was the tallest building in the village. A dog was always posted there day and night.  The great horn was mounted on top. Its bellow would warn the village and the surrounding countryside against the danger.
We sneaked through the village, slipping in and out of the shadows. I stopped at the edge of a narrow alley. Studying the shadows, I found the alley to be clear. I slipped inside, Kitty Hawk at my heels.
Another dog entered from the other end. He looked up at me in surprise.
Was he friend or foe?
“Is that you, Dirt Claw?” he asked. “Did you find the pony?”
My right paw made contact just below his left ear. He staggered, raising one arm in a hasty defense as his other went for his sword. He opened his mouth to shout. My left paw cut upwards and smashed into the bottom of his jaw. I heard his bones crack. I struck him again, and again, and again, until he was reduced to a moaning lump on the ground. I kicked him once more in the head for good measure.
I stepped over the unfortunate dog and stopped at the edge of the alley. I peeked around the corner.
“Ember,” whimpered Kitty Hawk.
I looked down at her.
“You’re scaring me.”
I crouched down beside her. “These dogs are threatening you, my friends, my family, and my clan. I will do whatever is necessary to defeat them.”
She still looked frightened.
I gave her a soft smile. “Kitty Hawk, the only thing I can guarantee is that by first light, you will be safe.”
That seemed to work. She smile weakly back at me. “Ok,” she said.
I patting her reassuringly and stood up. I scanned our surroundings once more.
There was a Diamond Dog moving from one hut to another. Then another appeared, doing the same on the opposite side of the street. We slipped past the pair, unnoticed.
We found ourselves at the base of the Fire Tower. The great structure loomed overhead. A long spiral staircase wound its way along the side of the build and up to the top.
“Find someplace to hide,” I told Kitty Hawk. She looked as if she was going to object.
“It’s going to get very chaotic. Do you want to see me hurting others?”
She shook her head.
“Go hide. I’ll be back for you.”
I crept up the staircase, sword in paw. I stopped at the edge of the shadows. The rest of the tower was bathed in moon light. There was no helping it; I silently charged up the remaining stairs.
I nearly collided into the dog manning the post. “What? Who’s...” he started as his eyes flicked from my drawn sword to my face. I recognized him first, or at least that he wasn’t part of my clan. I didn’t need to see his Bone Clan collar shining in the moonlight.
I plowed into him. We crashed to the floor, rolling dangerously close to the edge. He futilely claws and scratched at my armor. I struck with my sword hilt wherever I could find flesh.
He kicked out and rolled away. We paused for a minute to catch our breath, examining the other across the narrow landing.
He snarled and leapt at me. I dodged to the right. His snarl turned into a terrified shriek as he slid out into open space. He fell, narrowly missing two huts, and hit the ground with a sickening splat. He did not move again.
I turned away from my first kill. I didn’t want to think about what had just transpired. Right now, I needed to alert the clan.
Grabbing the mouthpiece, I inhaled a deep breath and blew three short blasts.
The thundering notes shattered the silence
I took another deep breath and blew three more notes.
A spear came flying up from the ground. It struck my armor, and bounced off. I spotted the dog who had thrown it. I saw him bare this teeth, and then start climbing the stairs.
I sounded one more warning, and then took to the stairs. I met my opponent half way down.
The spiraling staircase worked to my advantage. The right-handed turn blocked most of my opponent’s sword movements. He attempted the awkward duel until I landed a cut on his arm. He promptly switched to his left paw. I drove down the stairs.
Suddenly he cried out in pain. I wasted no time and rammed my pommel into his muzzle. He collapsed, falling off the stairs, and landed on the roof of a hut.
Kitty Hawk was standing before me, spitting out a mouthful of fur.
“You bit him?” I asked in surprise.
“Yuck,” complained Kitty Hawk, trying to wipe her tongue clean.
I shook my head in amazement. “Thanks for your help,” I told her, “but go back to hiding. Things are going to get real ugly.”
She nodded and disappeared.
I finally got off the stairs and looked around. I could hear sporadic fighting. A howl sounded off to my left. A cry for help!
I raced to the aid of a clansman, and found him fighting three Bone Clan dogs. I leapt on the nearest one. We rolled across the ground until two more of my clansman showed up. As my clansman chased the three into the night, I looked around for another fight.
I slipped amongst the huts. There were individual contests going on everywhere. I helped out when I spotted a clansman at a numerical disadvantage.
I came to the main road through town and spied a pair of dogs sneaking towards the east gate. I jump out, sword brandished towards the pair. I found myself facing Silver Tongue and an unknown and very large dog.
“Ah, how are you doing, my boy?” said Silver Tongue casually, but his eyes betrayed him as he glancing around nervously. He readjusted a sack carried over one shoulder. “If you don’t mind, I’ll just be leaving. I’m not much of a fighter.”
“What’s in the sack?” I asked.
“Just some trade goods. Now if you don’t might...” He made to go around me, but I leveled my sword at his gut.
“Show me,” I demanded.
The sack kicked and squirmed. I could hear a muffled voice coming from within.
“Is that Kitty Hawk?” I snarled, taking a step towards the merchant.
He gave a helpless shrug. “Well, you see, you never appreciated her true value anyways.”
“Give her back! And I may let you live.”
“Now there you’re wrong,” said Silver Tongue. He indicated the giant next to him. “I got Brute Strength here on loan from the Bone Clan; amazing what a bag of jewels can get you. I’ll let you two go at it.”
I started towards the portly merchant, but Brute Strength stepped between us. From his hip, he drew out a blade twice the length of my own.
“Your opponent is here, little pup,” he growled.
He swung his great sword at me, the blade humming as it cut through the air. I rolled out of the way. Brute Strength swiftly brought the sword back around, and made to cleave me in two. I dodged again. 
I saw Silver Tongue making his escape. I tried to pursue him, but Brute Strength drove me back with his blade.
“Keep your eyes on me, or I may just take your head,” he said. 
I parried his next attack, and gasped as the shock tore through my arm. I felt my paw go numb.
Brute Strength brought his sword overhead, advancing on me.
“I got him,” cried a familiar voice. Spoke wrapped himself around the giant’s legs, and together they crashed to the ground. 
I lept into the fray.
Legs and limps sprouted out in every direction. I clawed through them until I found my opponent. Spike and I went after him with tooth and claw, and me with the butt end of my sword.   Brute strength managed to wiggle one paw free and, grabbing a hold of Spike and smashed him into the nearest building. Then he latched onto me and rolled in the dirt. 
He kicked the sword from my paw. He lunged for my throat. I ducked my head and launched for his own throat. Our teeth clashed. 
A large weight crashed into his side and slip us apart. Brute Strength quickly found his feet.  Spike was beside me once more, breathing through gasps of pain and holding a spear. I snatched my sword out of the dirt. 
Brute Strength eyed us, first Spike and then me. Then suddenly he sat down cross legged, paws resting on his knees.
“I give up,” he said. 
I blinked. Spoke worked his mouth but nothing came out. 
Brute Strength glanced between the two of us a second time. “What are you waiting for,” he said, “go get your pony”.
Neither of us moved. 
Brute Strength sighed. He pointed at Spike. “The blow I delivered should have knocked you out cold. No doubt you have several fractured and broken bones. To still be standing beside your kinsman says a good deal about your strength and your loyalty”. Next he pointed at me. “If you fight this hard for your pony then she must be very precious to you. My clan leader has ordered me to follow Silver Tongue due to the jewels he paid us, but he is no longer here to “follow”. I am a Dog of my honor. When I see a wrong I mean to right it. Go, young warrior. I will resist no further”.
Spike and I exchanged glances. He only shrugged, cringing as he did so.
I sprinted after the merchant.
I caught him just before the east gate. Leaping, I tackled him to the ground, the sack tumbling away. I rolled the merchant over and held my sword point just above his throat.
“Give me a reason,” I growled.
He said nothing.
I bashed him in the face with my sword pommel.
I left the dazed merchant and went to Kitty Hawk. I carefully drew her out of the sack and cut away her bonds and gag.
“Ember, you came for me,” she cried, and wrapped her hooves around my neck. I embraced her in a one-handed hug. She began to weep.
The two guards from the gate ran towards us.
“Get the pony,” moaned Silver Tongue, clutching at his face.
I glanced at the two guards. They were dressed in full Firebrand armor, but I didn’t recognize the faces. They leveled their spears at me. I clutched Kitty Hawk close to my chest with my free hand. My sword danced from one opponent to the other.
This was going to be interesting.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” My father appeared behind them.
He was bleeding from several cuts, but there was no sign of weakness as he advanced on the faux guards. He whirled a spear overhead, its tip and shaft caked in dried blood. Rob appeared beside me.
“Surrender,” he growled.
The pair split and ran for the gate. My father dispatched the first one in an instant. The second made it all the way to the gate before he was ambushed by several clansmen.
I looked up in time to see the first rays of light brush over the village.

Many of the Bone Clan had escaped. Those left behind were bound and placed in the center of the village, with the exception of Brute Strength. He sat in the middle of street, unmoving. His great sword lay in front of him. My father briefly talked to him, and then left him where he was.
The casualties were counted: screeching wails arose as each of twelve dead clansmen were named. The eight enemy dead, six Bone Clan and two wagons guards, were dragged outside the village and burned.
The villagers snapped at the captives. They demanded vengeance.
I spotted Spoke, covered in bandages but cheerful. We talked briefly about the night’s events.
It was mid-morning when my father had Silver Tongue dragged before him. I grinned when I saw the blow I’d given him had swelled and turned a nasty shade of purple.
My father stood proud before the merchant. He roared at the fat dog, “How did you sneak the Bone Clan past my guards?”
“Simple, really,” replied Silver Tongue. “I sent a message to the Bone Clan with an offer they couldn’t refuse. Then, during the feast, I replaced your gate guards with my own.”
“Why!”
“It was only a business opportunity,” shrugged Silver Tongue.
“And what would be so valuable that you would bribe our enemy to help you?”
“Why, the pony, of course.”
All eyes turned to Kitty Hawk. She was standing beside me. I felt her press against me as the angry glares of the villages assaulted her.
My father studied her for a moment, and turned back to the merchant.
“And what would you have done with her?”
“Sell her to the emperor. He personally collects little ponies; pays a very nice price.”
“How much,” growled my father.
“How much what?” grinned the merchant.
My father snapped his teeth in front of the merchant’s face. “How much is the pony worth?”
The merchant looked around, gauging his surroundings. “The whole village and everyone in it,” he said casually.
The merchant’s words cut through me. I looked down at Kitty Hawk as if just seeing her for the first time. She was worth more jewels than what I could possibly fit into my hut. For that amount of jewels, we could hire an army and dominate every clan around us.
My father leaned in close to the merchant. “What’s to stop me from tearing your throat out right now?”
The merchant shrugged. “Your clan can’t survive without my goods. You need me.”
My father glared at Silver Tongue, before addressing the clan.
“Bring Silver Tongue and the elders to my hut.” Then he growled to Silver Tongue, but loud enough for everyone to hear, “We will negotiate your punishment.”
Silver Tongue was hauled away. My father turned and walked over to me. He stopped, looking first at Kitty Hawk, and then at me.
I straightened up and met my father’s gaze. His eyes were hard and fierce. Whatever he said would be final. There would be no argument.
“Tomorrow morning,” commanded my father, “you will take six of the clansmen, go to the capital, and sell that pony.”
         



> Ch.7 Journey Begins
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	My father left us. Most of the clan returned back to their daily activates. The dead would be buried that evening, after the ancestral rights had been performed.  The captives would be ransomed back to their clan. That only left Kitty Hawk.
I watched her, her face betraying her inner thoughts as my father’s words took hold. She went from confusion, to comprehension, then to fear and terror as the simple truth set in: that she would never see her family again.  
She fled in tears.
I found her in my hut. She lay with her face pressed into my mattress. She shuttered and sobbed, her wails muffled by the cloth. An ever increasing wet spot radiated away from her.
Not knowing what else to do, I lightly brushed her mane.
“Kitty Hawk?” My voiced cracked as I said her name. There was no way I could be crying too. Just something in my eye.
“Don’t touch me," she screamed. I withdrew my paw.
I heard Kitty Hawk’s stomach growl. Mine answered in almost the same instant. Neither of us had eaten anything all day.
“Do you want some food,” I ventured weakly. I wasn’t hungry, but my body disagreed. Kitty Hawk didn’t answer. I looked dejectedly at the floor.
Was this really it? Just wait until tomorrow, and march her off to the capital?  
I would go to my father. Maybe we could come to some agreement were Kitty Hawk could stay.
“Kitty Hawk….I’ll figure something out, I promise.”
"Don't make promises that you can't keep,” she screamed at me, before slamming her face back into the mattress.
I left her there.
The chieftain's hut was the biggest in the village; of course it also doubled as the meeting room for the elders, and the temple to the ancestors.
I approached the hut wearily. Was there a way to talk him out of selling Kitty Hawk? I could give regular payments to the clan, and keep Kitty Hawk. I could never achieve Kitty Hawk’s full price, even with two life times. There had to be a solution. The thought of her serving the Emperor the rest of her life was insufferable. 
And then there was my promise to her.
No use delaying any longer. I reached for the door flap. It was opened by two armored soldiers. I hopped aside and let them pass.
Between the soldier hung a resigned Silver Tongue. He was wearing only a neutral expression, but when he saw me he smiled. He opened his mouth to say something, but one of the soldiers growled. He closed it again. They led him away in the direction of the prison.
Next, the Elders emerged. Most seemed not to notice me. Those who did glared at me out of the corner of their eye. Elder Rose was the last to emerge. She looked at me coolly and left. 
My father was reading a sheet of paper when I enter, but put it aside when he say me. 
“Dad,” I said, “I would like to talk to you about the pony.”
He looked around the hut and saw that we were alone. He motioned for me to have a seat on a cushion. He himself stretched out on a small mattress. I heard several joints pop as he did so.
I never realized how old my father looked until now. There was grey hair around his muzzle and scattered sporadically through his coat. His muscles looked less firm than I remembered from my puppy years. In some places the skin was hanging loose from his body, as it there was too much of it. There was a weariness in his voice as he spoke, devoid of its usual fierce command and authority.
“It is just the two of us. Speak freely my son.”
“Dad, if its a matter of jewels, I’m sure I can find a way to pay the clan—”
My father waved away my words.
“You could sell the pony for one jewel, and it wouldn't make a difference to me. The problem is that that slave is the most valuable item in this village. Other clans will be tempted to raid, us just to get her, as what happened last night. By keeping her here you are endangering the entire clan.” 
I started to object but stopped. 
My father smiled weakly. He stood up, and came to lie beside me. He placed a paw on my shoulder.
“You are the only pup your mother gave me. In many ways you are just like her: caring, compassionate, and kind. You also inherited my fierceness and skill as a warrior.  Go on my son, get rid of her as you see fit.”
As I made to leave the hut, my father said one more thing, and I suddenly wished that last night an enemy’s spear had found its mark. 
“One day, you will replace me as chieftain of the Firebrand Clan. Make me proud, my son.”
I left the hut, unable to look my father in the eye.
It was impossible to keep Kitty Hawk. There would be no waiting until her wing healed. She was too valuable. Twelve clansmen had already died on her behalf. How many more would follow if she stay?
I smiled halfheartedly when I found the solution. I didn’t want it to be so, and yet I knew it was the only way.  To uphold my promise, to make sure that she saw her parents again, I needed to personally get Kitty Hawk home.
I needed to leave the village.
If I was going to take Kitty Hawk back we would need food, shelter, supplies. To get her back to “Equestria” would take a week if not more. 
I creeped through the village, trying not to look suspicious. Go to the kitchens, get some supplies, and leave the village; just a normal day.
I peaked inside the community kitchens and didn’t see anyone. I slipped into the pantry. I started to fill an empty sack with dried sausages, but stopped. I would also need room for Kitty Hawks grains. Plus, we might not be near the river the whole time, so we would needed water skins. If we were to have any chance of reaching Equestria I needed a traveling pack.
“What are you doing Ember?”
I nearly leaped out of skin.
I turned to face Elder Rose, putting on my best smile. Several other dogs had entered the kitchens with her.
“Um, getting lunch,” I suggested. Her eyes traveled to the sack I was filling with food.
She advanced on me. “You wouldn’t be thinking of doing anything rash, now would you?”
“No, absolutely not,” I said quickly; too quickly.
“Good,” she said, narrowing her eyes, “because you should be giving that pony ready for market. Right? You should go down to the river and give her a bath.”
Was that a wink I saw?
“Er, yes, I’m right on it,” I said, squeezing past Elder Rose. Her eyes followed all the way to the door.
I breathed easier once I was outside. Unfortunately there was nowhere left to go but back to the hut.
Going down to the river sounded very appealing right now. I really needed to get out get out of the village. I needed room to think.
I entered the hut. Kitty Hawk hadn’t moved. I padded over to her.
“Come on,” I said, “let’s go down to the river.”
“No,” she moaned.
“Let’s go,” I pressed.
“No,” she repeated.
I picked her up.
She fought me; biting and kicked with all her might.  Her screams were greater than those for the dead, making me cringe as they assaulted my ears. She hit me, again and again, until she had no strength left. Finally she subsided and sunk into my arms, her tears wetting my fur.
We left by the west gate; Kitty Hawk still cradled in my arms.The gate guards eyed me suspiciously, but made no move to stop us. I carried her down to the waters edge. 
I sat down in the shallows with Kitty Hawk on my lap. I splashed water over top of her. She gasped at the cold water, but still said nothing.
Slowly, gently, I washing away the accumulated dust and grime from her coat. I didn’t know how to wash her wings so I left them alone. When I was done, I once again held a white pony. 
I placed her in a sunny spot on the grass to dry. Plunging back into the river, I swam out into the lazy current, and then back several times. Finally I pulled myself from the river, and shook myself dry. 
Kitty Hawk had stopped crying. Instead she stared blankly out over the river, to the north-east, in the direction of her home. 
A rustling of the bushes announces an approaching Diamond Dog. 
Elder Rose stepped out; across her back was Kitty Hawk’s saddle pack. She dumped the pack at my feet. 
She saw my confused look. “What? You think I want to see Kitty Hawk sold to the Emperor any more than you do?”
I peaked into the bags: two large bags of food, a knife, a blanket, my sword and corresponding belt, fire starter, small cooking pot, a small bag of jewels, two water skins, and my sling. I looked back at her in amazement.
“But, I thought you...” I started. 
She smiled at me. “Get going you two. Best to cross the river. The clan won’t pursue you once you cross into enemy territory. Don’t let the contents of the bag get wet.”
“Thank you,” was all I muster. 
Kitty was watching us, her eyes growing wide. Suddenly she leapt up and threw herself onto Elder Rose, smothering her with “thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.”      	
Elder Rose ruffled her mane. “Get going,” she said, kissing Kitty Hawk on the head, and then vanished. 
I looked across the river to the far bank. This is it then; no turning back now.
“Can you swim,” I asked Kitty Hawk.
“No,” answered Kitty Hawk, looking slightly panicked. 
She clung to my back as I paddled across the river. I asked if she was scared. She bravely answered no. Her trembling body said otherwise. As soon as we reach land she jumped off, and kissed the ground. 
I started back for the pack. Just as I emerged out of the river, the bushes rustled once again. Rod stepped forth. Spoke was at his side. 
We looked at one another in surprise. 
“Ember,” said Spoke, “we’ve been looking all over for you. The Elders want to see you and the pony, immediately”. He looked at the saddle pack before me. “What’s with the pack? Going some where?”
“He is leaving us,” state Rod. He was looking past me to the far bank. 
“Leaving us, but why?” Spoke had a pained look on his face.
“Go,” I commanded, “tell my father what I’ve done.”
“We can’t talk you out of this, can we,” asked Rod.
I shook my head.
“But, but, but,” Spoke stammered. 
“Come! Our duty is to the clan. They must be informed.” Rod turned and left. Spoke, his face still a torrent of sadness and pain, gazed at me one more time before he reluctantly followed. 
I’ll miss you, I wanted to say but instead swallowed my words. I turned and plunged into the river; the saddle bag held up high. 
I emerged on the other side. The saddle pack was perfectly dry. 
I fitted the saddle back onto my back, readjusting its position until it sat comfortably. 
“Ready to go home,” I asked Kitty Hawk.
“Yep,” she said, the worlds biggest smile on her face.
We started off, following the river. Kitty Hawk was skipping along beside me.
“I can’t wait for you to meet my parents,” she said. “We live in this beautifully little house, and then theres the garden, and my mom makes the best carrot stew...”
Home; maybe if I didn’t look back I wouldn’t cry.
A wailing howl sounded from somewhere behind us.
"What is it?" asked Kitty Hawk.
"My father," I said solemnly. 
I turned, and face my father across the distance. I howled my reply. I love you Dad. Have faith, I shall return.



> Ch.8 Tall grass part 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	A low mist covered the ground. It clung to everything, leaving cold, wet droplets that twinkled in the first light of dawn. I was impervious to the cold: safe and warm under the blanket with a small feathery bundle pressed up against my side. Unfortunately, it was well past time to get a move on.
I slipped out from under the blanket. I stretched first, hearing joints pop and stiff muscles start to loosen. A night spent outdoors, without the comfort of my mattress, probably the first of many.
Retrieving the saddle pack, I took a bite of the dried sausage. I chewed slowly, savoring the flavor, before swallowing. My stomach growled indignantly as I placed the rest back into the pack. I needed to make it last.
I gently rocked Kitty Hawk awake. She raised her head, looking at me sleepily.
"Breakfast," I said and offered her the feed bag. "Eat quickly, we’re moving out soon."
Reluctantly, she shrugged out of the blanket.
Once she finished eating, I packed everything away and buckled on my sword belt. The belt felt awkward, since it was trying to occupying the same space on my hips as the saddle pack. Finally, I looped the belt over my left shoulder and buckled it across my chest.
I started off at an easy trot; Kitty Hawk prancing along beside me. It was only a brief silence before she started asking those questions. Are we there yet? How long is it going to take?
She was just like an excited puppy on his first adventure outside the village walls.
I sighed inwardly, trying to answer her questions as best as I could.
We curved inland, leaving the river and the hunting grounds behind. By going this way, I hoped to cut the curve of the river, decreasing the distance and saving time. There was also a better chance of avoiding other Diamond Dogs if we were away from the main hunting grounds.
As we continued inland, the land flattened. The usual red earth was replaced by brown, gritty soil. Thick grasses grew here, tall enough that I couldn’t see over the top. I took the lead, mashing a path through the grass for Kitty Hawk to follow.
A stiff wind was blowing from the south.  With the wind came numerous clouds that condensed overhead. I silently prayed for it not to rain.
I was having difficulty plotting a straight course. The grasses obscured the horizon; all I had was the sun to guide me. A slight bump rose above the land. I changed our path to meet it.
Climbing to its crest, I trampled the grasses there, enough to afford me a view. Sure enough, the rise was just high enough for me to look out across the swaying sea of green. As I did so, I found myself fixating on an object directly in front of me. Smoke, which should have alerted me to its location, was blown away by the breeze.  I had discovered a Diamond Dog village.
We were way too close!
I instinctively crouched.
“Ember, what is it?” asked Kitty Hawk.
I brought her up beside me, and showed her the village.
“Oh...” she said. I motioned for her to go back the way we had come. I followed her on my belly.
We ate lunch at the base to the rise. Kitty Hawk munched happily on her grains. I sat, tense, taking only small bites. My paw twitched towards my sword hilt every time a blade of grass danced playfully in the wind or a group of foliage rustled slightly. I expected to see Diamond Dogs leap out as us.
It felt like it was a little past midday, but it was hard to tell; the clouds had completely obscured the sun. They swirled en masse overhead, seething and writhing as they grew dark with power. A growl of thunder announced their intentions.
It was definitely going to rain.
We finished eating and packed away the food. Striking off, we started the long trek around the village, giving it a wide berth. It didn’t take long for us to reach its northernmost edge. Now we could start heading Northeast again and meet up with the river once more. Maybe we would get to the hunting grounds and find a tree to shelter under before the rain hit us?
That was the plan, until I heard voices.
I pulled Kitty Hawk next to me and we crouched low, both of my ears tracking the sounds through the grass.
“Ember, do you think-” said Kitty Hawk, but I held my paw over her mouth, silencing her. She looked at me questioningly. I shook my head. The message sunk in, and she remained silent.
There were two of them. I could hear them clearly. They were but a short distance away! Their path would take them directly in front of us, luckily with neither of them being the wiser.
I felt the breeze blowing from behind me. Darn it! We were downwind of them. Any moment they would smell us and come to investigate.
I slowly drew out my sword.
I saw Kitty Hawk’s eyes widen at the sight of my naked blade.
“Ember, please don’t,” she hissed, pleading.
I said nothing, focusing intently on the voices.
Keep going, and do not stop! Do not make me kill you, I silently begged them.
I heard one stop, and then the other shortly after.
“I smell sausages,” said the first.
Great!
“You always think you smell food,” chastised the second. “I’m surprised you don’t eat the whole village into a famine. Come on, let’s get back to the village before it starts to rain.”
“No,” insisted the first, “I really do smell sausages.”
He started crashing through the grass directly towards us!
I crouched even lower, willing myself to be sucked into the earth. My paw was gripping the hilt of my sword so hard that it shook. Kitty Hawk was pressing into my side, trembling.
Silently, I counted the seconds until he appeared. 
Five.
I could hear the sniffing of his nose that was leading him directly to our hiding spot. 
Four.
I saw the gleaming tip of a spear sparkling in the sun.
Three.
He was nearly on top of us, I could scarcely force myself to breath. 
Two.
I could smell him; of grass and meat, dust and sweat.
One.
A black paw reached forth and pushed aside the last clump of grass.

> Ch.8 Tall Grass Part 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	I sprang out of the grass, grabbed the Diamond Dog by the head, and slammed him into the earth. He stared blankly up at me, momentarily stunned. I kicked his weapon away. 
I pointed my sword at his companion. “Drop the spear!”
The pair had been hunting rabbits; a string of hares hung from each of their waists. The second dog leveled his spear at me, growling. He started to advance, but stopped when I turned my sword onto his clansman. 
“Drop it!” I shouted, “or I’ll gut him”.
The second Diamond Dog narrowed his eyes. He looked from me, to my sword, and finally to his clansman. He growled, low and threatening, but threw his spear next to the first one. 
I dived away from the pair, and snatched up both spears. 
The first dog rolled to his feet. He looked around, dazed and confused, and then shook his head. He joined his companion. Together they glared at me. 
Kitty Hawk fought her way out of the brush. She looked cautiously at the pair of dogs, both gawking back at her, and then trotted over to my side. 
I cut the spears in two my sword, and threw the pieces back to their owners.
“Leave us alone,” I commanded, returning my sword to its sheath. To Kitty Hawk I hissed, “let’s go”. 
Together we retreated backwards.
“You won’t get far, intruder,” said the second Diamond Dog, stepping forwards and retrieving the broken weapons.
“We are only passing through,” I reassure him.
“You’re trespassing in Iron Clan territory!” 
I did not reply. My eyes never left the pair until the tall grasses blocked my view. 
I turned, and started pushing through the grass at a double-quick pace. 
A long howl rose up into the sky.
I cursed under my breath.
“What does that mean?” asked Kitty Hawk shrilly.
“They’re summoning the clan! Get on my back,” I ordered. She did so. 
“Hold on,” I hollered, and plowed through the grass in the mad dash to the north-east.
I blazed my own trail, straight ahead, headless of whatever stood in my path. Blades of grass snatched and cut at my face as they whipped by. I tried to enlarge my stride into a full gallop, but my paws kept slipping between the grass crowns and digging into the sod beneath.
I heard enraged barking behind me and off to both sides. They were trying to cut us off. 
I put on an extra burst of speed. 
“Ember! Slow down! I’m slipping!” cried Kitty Hawk.
Hold on, I silently played. I didn’t have breath enough to speak.
The sky was a black torrent of anger and strife. It let loose with a menacing growl that rumbled across the land. Thick, heavy rain drops assaulted us. The wind added its own battle cry to the mix; a howling gale, frothing and riving as it tore overhead.
The light was fading fast.
“Ember!” cried Kitty Hawk, and I felt her slide off my back. 
I wheeled around.
Kitty Hawk struggled to her feet. 
“Ember, I’m sorry! I just can’t grip anymore,” she cried. “I’ll run behind you.”
Too late: the barking on our left and right had surpassed our position. The encirclement was complete.
I grabbed her and we left our trail, swerving through the grass until I found a shallow depression.
“Here,” and I forced her into the depression with the blanket on top. I laid down beside her.
I drew my sword.
It was now completely dark. Rain pelted us from all sides. The wind cut through my wet fur, and I shivered. 
Lightning flashed, illuminating a Diamond Dog as he walked directly in front of me. He turned away, poking in the grass with his spear. All the dog had to do was turn around and see us!
Another flash of lightning, this one was much closer. I saw that the dog wore no armor. I grimaced; atleast I had a way to even the odds. He continued to probe the grass before him, oblivious to the eyes on his back.
 Rising slightly, I delicately picked my steps, careful as not to disturb any foliage. I prowled closer, my belly scraping over the earth. I would have to be quick. 
I crouched, ready to spring. 
Another dog appeared beside him. My target turned to the newcomer. He cocked his head, trying to hear him over the storm. 
I sunk back down.
“Is the chief crazy!” yelled the newcomer. “We need to get to shelter!”
My target turned and accosted his clansman. “No one is leaving until we find that intruder!”
The newcomer scoffed. “The intruder can stay out here and die. We need to get back before the same happens to us!”
My target pointed to the sky with his spear. “The chieftain doesn't care if fire and brimstone are raining from the sky! We are going to find that intruder, even if it’s the-”.
The world exploded.
For a moment, nothing existed: no sound, no smells, only a white so intense that it burned my eyes. Then my ears started to ring. The white world gradually faded away. 
Once more I was amongst the grasses, wet and cold, surrounded by dark slender shades that bowed to the wrath of the wind.
A large, dark shape lay at my feet. I could make out a muzzle, ears, and singed fur. It was my target; sizzling and popping, and smelling sickeningly of cooked meat. His eyes stared fixedly into space. His arm was frozen, extended outwards, the end of his paw had been obliterated and the spear was gone. His companion was nowhere to be seen.
        I had to force the contents of my stomach back down. 
        I slipped back to Kitty Hawk.
        “Ember, what was that?” asked a shivering Kitty Hawk, poking her head out from under her wet blanket. I placed myself between her and the grisly view. 
        “Come on, lets go find another hiding spot.” We settled into a place some distance away from the corpse. 
        A mournful howl sounded above the roar of nature’s fury. 
        I gave Kitty Hawk a reassuring smile.
        “Their heading back home,” I told her.
“Good,” replied Kitty Hawk, teeth chattering as she huddled in the wet blanket. “Ember, can we have a fire? I’m really cold.”
        I looked around. Nothing was going to light, not in this weather. 
        This night was almost identical to my first night beyond the walls. I had been a young pup, soaked from the rain and shivering. My father had… dug a trench!
        I dug in the ground until it was big enough to fit Kitty Hawk. I cut several bundles of grass with my sword and lined the trench. Finally, I coaxed Kitty Hawk to lie down on her side and then situated myself on top.
        Kitty Hawk made no sound, and after several moments I asked her, “are you comfortable?”
        “No, every time I move my wing hurts, and I have a really bad itch on the end of my nose”.
        “Are you warm?”
        “Yes.”
        “Good,” I said, and rested my head on my paws.
I lay there, shivering, facing the brunt of the storm. Beneath me, my young charge slept safe and warm. I settled in for a long night.


 
	

> Ch.9 The Chase part 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

        	I woke up.
Dark tendrils, stark against the horizon, trashed in the wild antics of the wind. Beyond them was a realm of sodden darkness which wailed and roared and shuddered like a living thing. It tore the night apart, raging all around. I was a lonely pebble, braced against the madness surrounding me.
I raised my head and peered up at the sky.
There was no way to tell the passing of time. The sky concealed the moon and the stars in a black veil from one end of the horizon to the next. A half night could have come and gone, each moment reluctant to progress to the next. Only the collective water droplets, falling individually from the end of my nose, gave any reassurance that the world still slogged painfully onward.
I sucked my limbs in tighter, trying anything to find that elusive warmth.
The storm frothed and writhed, its fury far from spent. A bolt of lightning flashed, splitting the sky and granting brief snatches of the battlefield above. One, two, three, I counted before the thunder replied. Volleys of rain pierced my fur, running freely down my backside. Each new blast of wind bringing shocks and shivers that coursed through my body. My teeth chattered freely.
I laid my head back down upon my paws.
Memories crept through my mind. There were many good ones: of my father, of Spoke and Rob, of faces coming and going, of days spend in the sun with sword and spear. Even if my body succumbed to the wet and cold, at least I would be warm.
I plucked the best memory and replayed it before my eyes.
My first hunt: I was a puppy of ten years, with only a small spear. My father was crouching beside me, giving me tips and instructions. He gave me a pat on the back, just before I was released with the others to drive the wild game from the trees and into the waiting jaws of the clan.
We had feasted that night. Gathering  around the grand fire, the elders told the tales of the Great Dogs: Balto the Brave, Tallen the Trickster, and Whisper the Wise. When the elders had exhausted the old tales drums and flutes played. We sang the songs of the clan, carrying on until the first light of morning.
I tried not to shed any tears, but they poured forth unabated. They were lost in the tiny rivers that cascaded down my face. The sounds of my sorrows were drowned out by nature’s wrath.
I woke again just after dawn. I didn’t remember falling asleep, but the kiss of the sun on my eyes forced me to shield them with my paw. I stood up, much to the protest of my cramped limbs, and vigorously shook myself. I gazed up to the sky and found it smiling down on me. The storm had moved off to the northwest, still lashing the ground with its anger, leaving behind a serine silence.
I nuzzled Kitty Hawk until she opened her eyes.
“Good morning,” I said, putting on my best smile. She smiled too, passing me the damp blanket which I added it to our water-logged supplies. She shivered in the early morning chill.
Kitty Hawk rose from the shallow trench, stretched and yawned. She had developed large spots on her white coat where the dried mud had caked into her mane and tail. It was a good thing there were no puddles large enough to see my reflection; I probably looked worse.
“Did you sleep well?” I asked as I emptied out the saddle pack and inspected our meager possessions.
“I was all nice and warm, and didn’t even wake up once,” she said with a big smile. “How about you?”
“I slept really well too,” I lied.
Our small bag of jewels back into the saddle pack, followed by our two water skins; one half full and the other empty. The wax paper around the tinder box and fire-starter was still intact. They too went back into the saddle pack.
“Did we lose those Dogs?” asked Kitty Hawk as she tried to peer over the grass around us.
“I think so,” I replied, only half listening.
My sling was made of hemp cord and would dry out, given enough time. I tied it around my neck. There were several yards of loose cord, which I bound together and threw into the sack. I opened a small pouch containing thin line and several hooks. At least if we camped by the river tonight I might be able to catch a fish or two. I placed the fishing gear carefully inside the saddle pack.
All that was left was the blanket and the food.
The blanket would dry; whether from body heat or the steady breath of the wind, it would be ready for use by nightfall. The musk of mold and mildew would forever cling to the fabric, a potent reminder of this miserable night. All the same, we would use it day and night until the end of this journey.
These same could not be said for the food.
It was completely soaked, and in the case of the grains, turned to mush. We had a day at most before tiny hairs sprung forth. It would be inedible, and maybe even make us violently ill if we did. We would be forced to scavenge for food, hunt for goats and rabbits, as well as plants for Kitty Hawk. Hunting and gathering would considerably shorten the total distance covered in a day. I could go a day or two without eating, but not Kitty Hawk. To listen to her belly growl as she moaned for food… no, she would eat, even if I had to starve.
There was always Dogs-head. At least then we would both have something to fill our bellies. The thought of eating the plant made me cringe, coupled with the memories of the bitter-tasting plant fibers. The leaves had to be cooked by fire just to render them palatable. A fire would take time, and probably give away our camp location. The major plus side was that Dogs-head was readably abundant, just not here in the grasslands.
“What’s for breakfast?” asked Kitty Hawk.
With a grimace I handed her the feed bag. Kitty Hawk looked with dismay at her breakfast, then up at me with pleading eyes.
I gave her a weak smile. “Eat as much as you can. This may be the last good meal for a while.”
We ate in silence.
I tried not to choke on the sausages. They were so saturated it was like chewing on over-cooked meat, sinew and flesh fighting every attempt of tooth and claw. Kitty Hawk was too busy to notice my blight as she tried to slurp her food without it pouring down her front.
We left shortly thereafter. I slogged through the wet grass, blazing a trail for Kitty Hawk to follow. She did so, holding back tentatively as each new clump of grass bathed me with their collective droplets. She only followed once she was certain that all the water had fallen on me.
“Where are we going?” Kitty Hawk pranced behind me, leaping gleefully from one paw print to the next.
“To the River,” I said. I pushed aside a large clump of grass, but my paw slipped, and the wet leaves swung back and smacked me in the face. Irritably, I trampled the leaves until they laid flat.
“Why?” she asked.
I looked over my shoulder and found her staring skywards. She was watching a bird fly as it soared high above. Her uninjured wing was twitching.
“Because we are low on water, and there’s more food.”
“Are we going to find more food?”
“Do you want to eat mush for breakfast, lunch, dinner?”
“No thank you, yuck.”
The grasses were noticeably shorter; I could almost peek over their tops. The soil was now a reddish-brown clay. Water had collected in large, shallow pools. I waded through while Kitty Hawk hopped from grass clump to grass clump, giggling as she did so.
“Are we there yet?” she asked, just before she tripped and went sprawling into a puddle. I bit my lower lip to hide my laughter. She shook herself off and continued from where she had fallen.
“No,” I answered.
“Are we there yet?”
“No.”
“Are we there yet?”
I pulled back a clump of grass, and the sight made me grin. I turned back to Kitty Hawk. “How about you come take a look?”
She did so, peering upon the great expanse of open land. The familiar sight of Dogs-head greeted us. The green ribbon could be seen adorning the horizon, separated from us by no more than the distance of a short run.
“The river,” she cried and bounded forth. I echoed her cry with a howl and trotted to keep pace with the excited pony. She sported a grin so wide it must have hurt.
“Ember,” she asked as she bounded along beside me, “can we have a fire tonight?”
“You bet,” I said.
“You’re the best, Ember.”
Something about her words made me swell with joy. I beamed at her. She grinned at me.
Her grin was infectious, and soon it crested my lips as well. Tonight there would be a fire and hot food, maybe even a bath if we had time, fresh river trout if I got lucky, soft grass to sleep on, and no rain clouds in sight. Just for this night we could lie around and relax, tell silly stories, and not worry about tomorrow.
A long and piercing howl echoed from the south.


> Ch.9 The Chase part 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

                 The howl curled into the sky, stretching far and wide. It was alone for now, but soon others would join it. I strained my eyes and picked up a dark form on a light-colored hill. The form in question shifted, and something metallic gleamed just above it. The message repeated once more. Although I did not know the howl code of these dogs, I did discern the one word that was common amongst all the clans: “Enemy.”
                I turned to Kitty Hawk, pondering how best to break the bad news. She was listening too, scarcely breathing as her ears twitched, then she looked up at me with downcast eyes. She spoke first.
                “Does this mean there won’t be any fire tonight?”
                Of all the things to worry about: not the mob of dogs that would soon overrun this spot, nor our food supplies that would be spoiled by the end of the day. The sun was rising, already promising to cook the ground and all those who dwelt there. The night was a long ways off, and we might not live to see it.
                I bit my lip to stop from laughing hysterically.
                “Sorry, but no,” I finally said.
                Kitty Hawk looked down, scraping at the ground with her hoof. She gave a startled yelp as I scooped her up and deposited her on my back. “Hold on,” I cried as I shot off to the north, my paws kicking up clods of dirt behind me.
                Kitty Hawk grabbed a hold of the sling still around my neck. It bit into my throat, uncomfortable, but not enough to choke. I looked back and found her holding on as best she could: legs gripping my sides with the sling firmly held in her mouth.
                It felt good to run. My joints still groaned after a night spent in the cold and rain, but they slowly loosened with every step. My head bobbing in time with my legs.
                I kicked off the ground, nothing between me and the earth but the rushing air, then my paws came back and struck the ground as one. Half the time I spent suspended in the air, the other half spent to make me airborne once again.
The trees along the river drifted past, zipping along in the opposite direction. My ears were overwhelmed with the sound of my own breathing. I fixed my eyes on the path ahead.
The sun rose higher, making the air hot, sticky, and oppressive, like being smothered with a wet blanket. 
                I chanced a glance behind me.
         There were thirty or so pursuers, strung out in a ragged line. The distance made them appear to be the size of pebbles. They carried swords and spears; some wore armor, most did not. 
They did not concern me. 
I was one of the fastest runners in the Firebrand Clan. They were working hard to catch up, but all I had to do was maintain the distance. At this place many of the dogs would collapse before midday. I was not running very hard, my natural stride eating up the distance.
What did concern me were the three dogs now a stone throw’s length behind, and getting closer.
        They were slim, almost slender, with wiry frames, grey coats and beady little rat eyes. These dogs carried neither swords or spears, but instead a half-dozen bolos, lengths of cord with a rock tied to either end, clattered around their necks.  They ran on delicate paws, their small heads and whippy tails bobbing as they did so. I probably outweighed two of them combined,  but they were fast.
        They spread out: one on either side and the third behind me. 
        “ ‘Mber, l’k oot!” cried Kitty Hawk through the sling in her mouth. 
        “Hold on!” I shouted.
        The dog on my left sped ahead, then ground to a halt and whipped a bolo at me in one fluid motion. I leapt skywards, and the bolo flew harmlessly under my paws before coming to a halt in a cloud of dust. 
        I pushed on.
        This time it was the dog on the right who sprinted forwards and then unleashed his bolo at me. I slammed to a stop, nearly dislodging Kitty Hawk, and the bolo whizzed by. I resumed running but charged the dog on the left. He simply skirted away. I growled and barked at the three.
        “Cowards, cravens!” I called them. They ignored my taunts, only continuing to pace beside me. 
        The dog on my left tried again, and I successfully dodged it, but a bolo flew up from behind and tangled around my rear legs. I crashed to the ground. Kitty Hawk was thrown free and tumbled into the dirt. 
        The dog from the right turned sharply and dove in, mouth agape with teeth bare, reaching for Kitty Hawk. I roared, drew my sword and leapt, the bolo still tangled around my legs. The dog leaned away, as far as his body could stretch, and I only shaved off some of his neck hair. I rolled onto my back, slipped my sword between my legs and sliced upwards. The cord parted easily.  
I leapt to my feet. The three circled. I glowered at them, cursing both them and their ancestors. A bolo flew at me from behind, and I blocked it with my sword. The cord wrapped around the steel, but I dislodged it with a flick of my blade. Another bolo flew in from my left, and I chopped downwards, splitting the cord and sending the stones flying to either side. 
I watch them circling me, like jackals waiting for a wounded beast to bleed out. They made no move to close the distance, simply biding their time. I could see the ever approaching dust cloud. The pack was getting closer with each beat of my heart.
Kitty Hawk was dazed, staggering as she struggled to rise. I sheathed my sword, gathered her up in my jaws, and ran. A bolo whirled at me but missed.
The chase resumed in earnest. 
Twin towers of painted white stones rose up before me. The Firebrand Clan used similar markers along the edge of its territory. But would this clan chase me beyond their borders? 
I put on a burst of speed. 
With my jaws occupied the three dogs took to nipping at my heels. A good bite on my hamstring would effectively cripple me. I watched them from the corner of my eye.
One of the dogs got too close. Dropping Kitty Hawk into the dust, I reversed my direction in midair and smashed into the dog in question. We went down in a mad scramble of paws, teeth, and claws. He threw up his limbs to keep my jaws away from his vulnerable throat. I caught one of his paws in my teeth and chomped down. Hard. Bones groaned and snapped. I tasted warm blood in my mouth. 
I released my hold and kicked free of the dog. 
The confrontation took mere moments. The other two dogs were still turning around. I scooped Kitty Hawk into my jaws and continued the run. 
Two of the dogs were pounding after me as fast as their legs could take them, but the third was falling behind. He was limping. Blood dripped from his wounded paw. He would run again, but for now he was out of the fight. 
I would have grinned if my mouth wasn’t full of feathers and fur. 
The remaining pair were on either side of me. They curled back their lips and showed their teeth. There was a fierce fire in their eyes. They wanted revenge. They wanted blood. 
The white towers loomed ever nearer. 
The dog on the left slammed into me, the dog on the right wrapped himself around my paws, and the three of us crashed into the ground. Kitty Hawk went flying free. 
One of the dogs wiggled his way free and leapt after her. He grabbed Kitty Hawk in his jaws and shook her violently to and fro. She cried out in a terrified shrieking scream.
That scream shook something deep inside my soul. I let loose a torrent of rage and hate that billowed from my throat in a primitive, guttural roar. In one violent motion I threw my opponent, drew my sword and leapt at the tormentor. My world had condensed to Kitty Hawk and the beast that held her. 
All I saw was red, as his neck separated from his shoulders and flopped around on the ground. The body didn’t know it was dead. It remained defiantly upright, stiff and rigid.
I turned my blade onto my last opponent. He wisely remained out of range.
The remainder of the clan was much too close. There was no time to dawdle. I scooped up Kitty Hawk as gingerly as possible. She was still screaming, her face a mask of tears.
We passed beyond the white towers with only a single bolo to hinder our progress. 
The clan did not follow. 

> Ch.10 Past Sins
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	“I’m fine,” protested Kitty Hawk as I checked her over yet again, probably for the third or fourth time. I started with her good wing, running my paw along its length and feeling for any abrasions, breaks, or cuts. I gently lifted her other wing, which was healing nicely. Finding nothing wrong, I moved onto the rest of her body, running my paws through her fur, checking each hoof, and finally her mane and tail. Besides a few ruffled feathers, she had come out of the incident completely unscathed.
 Reluctantly, I released her, and she hopped off my lap. 
“I swear, you act like you're my dad,” she said.
I stared at Kitty Hawk, silently fighting back the emotions that her statement stirred up.
        It was late evening, the first stars shining through the fading twilight. Our small fire blazed away in its shallow pit. Bugs chirped in the darkness. The river Yark drifted by, adding its quiet hush to the sounds of the night.
        The sounds were interrupted as Kitty Hawk returned to her dinner, noisily chomping through a date. Rearing up, she cocked her head and spit the seed into the night. Her ears stood at attention, only relenting at the sound of a distant splash. She smiled mischievously. 
        The bags of food had spoiled by midday. We had dumped the contents and kept the bags. Here, well beyond the borders of any clan, food was bountiful. A quick search produced dates and plums, small melons and young ferns. I caught several large river trout, and afterwards waded through the shallows, snatching up crayfish by hand. One had pinched me with his claws, but I had the last laugh: he had tasted delicious. Several leafs of dogs-head cooked in the fire. The leaves would keep for several days, making them excellent trail food. 
            I reached down and retrieved one of the skewered rabbit from over the fire, the skin just starting to get crispy. Turning away from Kitty Hawk, I devouring my meal in secret.  She had protested when I caught it, turned a bit green when I killed it, and left completely when the preparation process started.
           I thoroughly cleaned the bones and hurled the remains into the night.
        Kitty Hawk burped, a loud monstrous thing that echoed into the night. She smacked her full stomach with affection. Rising, she waddled over to the saddle pack and pulled out the blanket. She dragged it over to me, wrapped it around her once, twice, three times, and then plopped down on the ground, facing the fire. 
        “I’m so stuffed,” she moaned.
        “Then don’t eat so much,” I said, reaching down and ruffling her mane. After her bath, her mane had puffed up into little clouds; too bad I didn't have a brush to fix it.
        I stared into the fire, listening to the wood snap and pop. I didn’t want to admit it to Kitty Hawk, but I was weary. My muscles felt tight, and my limbs were heavy. My eyelids were sinking. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep them up. 
        I let out a long yawn. 
        We had left the clan far behind. We were safe, underneath the stars, all alone. Safe and warm. 
        The flames morphed into an endless processions of dancers. They bobbed and weaved,  twirled and fluttered, spinning as they lept skywards. They enchanted me with their song, hypnotized me with their moments, and welcomed me to sleep with their warming touch.
        “EMBER!”
        Her cry shot through me like a lightning bolt. I went flying to my feet, blinking the sleep from my eyes. My sword appeared in my hand. My pounding heart filled my ears. Kitty Hawk was pointing to my left where a purple ball of flame was writhing in midair.
        “Magic,” I growled. I yanked Kitty Hawk out of her blanket cocoon and placed her behind me. I held my sword before me, ready for anything. The purple fire started to spin in place, then faster and faster. A low hum resonated from it, rapidly increasing to a screech as the flames accelerated. Suddenly it expanded, stretching to the height of a dog and leaving a white glossy surface in its center. 
Spoke appeared on the other side, howled joyfully when he spotted me. 
“Ember,” he cried, dancing in place. “Where are you? Are you alright? Are you hurt? We’ve been so worried about you, You father hasn’t been doing well, keeps saying how its all his fault, And then mystics keep saying how you’re breaking the ancient laws and that if you don't return you’re going to be put to death.” Spoke finally stopped for a breath and grinned at me wolfishly. 
“Spoke,” I said, tentatively lowering my blade. “Is that really you?”
“Yeah, last I checked. Oh! What are you seeing? The mystics said this was like a reflection in the river, but you can see another dog on the other side and talk over long distances.” 
“Spoke! Stop,” I said, raising my paw for emphasis. He promptly shut up.  
I returned my weapon to its sheath. 
“Now, what happened? And explain it slowly,” I emphasized.  
Kitty Hawk had snuck out from behind me and cautiously crept towards the manifestation.  She tentatively reached up a hoof.
“Kitty Hawk, don’t!” I said, but it was too late. She put her hoof through it and the magic instantly condensed into a tiny speck, vanishing with a little poof of smoke. I stared at her, working my jaw back and forth; I couldn’t decide whether to laugh or to scold her.
 Kitty Hawk looked back at me helplessly before hanging her head, ears splayed back as she scraped the ground with an idle hoof.
“I didn’t mean to break it,” she said, all the while refusing to look me in the eyes.
I sighed, any anger I had held escaping with it. “Come here,” I said, opening my arms. When she didn’t approach, I stepped forwards and scooped her up, holding her close to my chest. 
“I doubt you broke it,” I whispered in her ear, “but don't go poking strange things, especially when they involve magic. You don’t know what will happen."
Kitty Hawk started to babble out apologies but I shushed her with a finger to her lips.
We both looked up as the purple fire reappeared. It swirled, expanded, and once again Spoke was staring at us. 
“Hey,” said Spoke, "the Mystics say not to do that. Something about ‘maintaining the spell over long distances'. You should have seen them jump when the spell imploded. It gave them both a nasty shock. Oh! Hey, Kitty Hawk!” Spoke waved at us.
Kitty Hawk tentatively waved back. 
“Ok, Spoke,” I said, unable to return the wave with my arms full, “ why are there Mystics in the village?”
"Because of you."
The subsequent silence chirped with the sounds of various night bugs. I ground my teeth, searching for the right words. A thousand questions buzzed madly around my head.
Finally, I asked, “What do you mean ‘because of you?’ ” 
“The mystics say that you're violating the ancient code of the Dog. You have to come back.”
“What?!” I just stared at Spoke, dumbfounded. 
“Yeah! By traveling beyond the borders of the empire, you are violating the ancient code meant to keep Dogs pure and free from being corrupted by the lesser races.”
I looked down at Kitty Hawk in my arms. She gave me a tentative smile. I might have only known her a short time, but never once had she proved herself less than a dog; if anything, she was smarter than a few I could name. She was bright and innocent, unspoiled by the harsh world around her. Take away the wings and she might as well have been a puppy. A lost, scared puppy far away from home. And I was going to take her back.
Looking up at Spoke, I narrowed my eyes, my lips drew upwards in a snarl. It was only with extreme self-control that I didn’t roar at him.
“Exactly how are ponies ‘lesser races’?” I asked.
        “I don’t know,” answered Spoke. He turned to his left, listening to someone I could not see. When he turned back, his answer only made my anger burn brighter: “The mystics say because they aren't dogs.” 
         I closed my eyes, breathing deeply. 
        Off in the night, a twig snapped. Then another. I swiveled an ear in the direction of the noise, listening for more. The wind picked up, bringing along with it the stench of salt, urine, and unwashed bodies.
        I opened my eyes.
        “Tell me Spoke, how did the Magi learn about Kitty Hawk and me anyways?”
        “Silver Tongue. As soon as we let him go, he went straight to the capital. The Magi arrived just after you left.” 
        I felt my anger surge within me, and I stood there shaking with fury. If I ever saw that accursed mutt of a bitch again, I would cut his head off. Then I would chop his corpse up and leave it for the birds to feed upon.
        “Please tell my father that I love him.”
        “Will do,” said Spoke with a grin.
        I put Kitty Hawk down and picked up a rock. 
        “I’m going now,” I said, rolling the rock around in my paw. “I am going to take Kitty Hawk home.”
        “You can’t!” said Spoke. “If you leave the empire, the mystics will kill you.” 
        “Then that’s a risk I will have to take. Goodbye.” I was sad to say goodbye to a friend I had known for so long.
“Don’t leave! The mystics say I’m supposed to keep talking to you.”
“Yes, I bet you are,” I said just before I hurled the stone. It passed through the magical apparition, and the spell winked out of existence.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something twinkle in the light. I twisted to the right just as a spear zipped past and embedded itself in the tree with a solid “thunk”. I drew my blade and faced the darkness. A low, menacing growl rumbled up from my throat. 
 I felt Kitty Hawk huddled beside me.
Three dogs emerged: a Pitbullton, a Wolvonus, and one of the thin, grey dogs that had done such a good job of trying to ensnare me with their bolos; he was the only one I had not managed to wound or kill. 
“Blood Bath, you missed him,” said the Wolvonus dog. “He was standing right there, and you missed him.” He continued to point at me for emphasis, all the while looking at the Pitbullton. His voice cracked as he spoke. Upon closer inspection, I placed him at barely out of his puppy years. He carried a sword.
The Pitbullton called “Blood Bath” ignored his taller companion, instead keeping his eyes narrowed at me. What he lacked in height he made up for in broad, muscular shoulders. He was the only one who wore armor: a solid piece of metal with countless scrapes and dents. A pair of swords hung from his belt, one on either hip. There was no emotion from him, only a set of calculating eyes that watched my every move.
The third one just glared at me with fierce, burning eyes. He gripped his spear so hard that his paws shook. His breath came and went through a silent snarl. 
“He he,” said the Wolvonus ‘pup’. “Rapid Ranger, are you going to make him suffer because he killed your brother?”
“Shut it, Scrap, before I rip your Emperor-forsaken throat out.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” said the Wolvonus dog “Scrap”, raising his paws in surrender. “I just thought you would want to skewer him on your spear and then rip their innards out.  You know, like how Blood Bath executes prisoners? I would too if he had killed one of my family.”
“SHUT UP!” barked Rapid Ranger before turning back towards me. Ignoring the pitiful look from Scrap, he said, “You can chop off his paws, but leave him alive. I want him alive long enough to see me gut that pony in front of him.”
Blood Bath only acknowledged with a grunt. 
“Leave now,” I said. “Please, there doesn’t have to be any more death.” I looked at each of the dogs in turn. Somehow I already knew that any reasoning with them was worthless.
        Scrap scoffed at me. “No way you...you... accursed mutt of a slave bitch. The Magi are offering a reward of five hundred jewels to whoever brings them your head.”
        “SCRAP!” roared Rapid Ranger. “Shut your trap and follow me. Blood Bath, take the other side.” Rapid Ranger started circling around from the right. Blood Bath came in on the left. 
        “Leave,” I hollered, backing up into the darkened treeline. My pleas fell on deaf ears. 
        “Kitty Hawk,” I hissed out of the corner of my mouth, never taking my eyes off of my enemies. “Go to the river. If anyone comes after you, I want you to swim to the other side. Do you understand?” She might drown attempting to do so, but it was better than the alternative. 
        “But Ember-”
        “Go,” I yelled.
        I heard the clop of hooves as she ran off into the night. 
        Blood Bath drew both his swords in one fluid motion. Rapid Ranger leveled his spear. Scrap only sneared, chiming in with, “You’re a dead dog.” When no one replied, he only shrugged. “Looks like you guys got this covered. I’ll go find the pony.” He started after Kitty Hawk.
        “Get back here, you yellow-bellied worthless mutt,” hissed Rapid Ranger.
        I moved to intercept Scrap. Blood Bath lunged an instant later, and our blades crashed. He brought down his second sword with frightening speed, and I had to dodge to keep him from hacking my arm off. 
“Your fight is here,” growled Blood Bath in a deep gravelly voice that had all the emotion of a rock.
I chanced a look behind me, but both Scrap and Kitty Hawk were gone. 
Rapid Ranger thrust with his spear, and I knocked it to the side. Blood Bath slashed at my face, and I leapt away.  I circled around the pair, trying to keep Rapid Ranger between Blood Bath and me.
I saw the spear tip flash in the light. I redirected the tip with my sword, but then Rapid Ranger reversed the spear and swung the butt end at my legs. I blocked it before he could trip me up. Twin points dove at my chest. I leaned back as far as I could go, watching in horrid fascination as Blood Bath’s swords crossed above me like a set of scissors. 
Denied his quick victory, Blood Bath lashed out with a vicious kick, sending me flying backwards. 
With a thud, I hit the ground and sprawled out in an undignified mess. My paws found the ground under me. I swiftly rose to standing position. The ground wobbled beneath me but held firm. With a shake of my head, I once again faced my enemies. 
Blood Bath was advancing rapidly, his twin swords singing for blood. Rapid Ranger was just behind him, spear at the ready and a determined grin on his face. 
I felt the fire at my back, so close that it was singeing my fur. A log poked me in the back. I reached behind and grabbed it. The embers burned into my paw. My teeth ground together as I fought back the pain.
The pair of blades came slicing in. I blocked the first one with my sword but met the second with the flaming log. The two met with a shower of ash and flame. Blood Bath screamed as he caught most of it in the face. I made to advance, but then the spear snaked out from under Blood Bath’s arm.
Now it was my turn to scream in pain. I dropped the log and retreated, clutching the gash at my side. Blood Bath was still rubbing his eyes, but Rapid Ranger advanced. 
The small dog lashed out with his spear, thrusting at the face, my stomach, my legs, any place where he could try and reach me. I beat each attack back in turn, but Rapid Ranger never relented. 
He cursed me, raged and bellowed to the emperor to strike me down, to his dead brother to grant him strength to avenge his murderer. His eyes burned with a fury that only my death could soothe. 
He thrust too far, and I seized the spear with my blistered paw. Bringing my sword down, I chopped off the spearpoint. I fell back, breathing heavily. Rapid Ranger glared from his spear point on the ground, to his broken weapon, and then to me. He roared for all he was worth. 
Blood Bath appeared behind the smaller dog. With a savage kick, he sent Rapid Ranger stumbling forwards. It was blissfully easy to extend my blade and let the smaller dog become impaled upon the metal.
I tried to wrench my blade free of the bleeding body, but Blood Bath was already on top of me. He struck me in the head with the hilt of his blades. 
Each blow rattled my teeth. Pain coursed through my body. My world was starting to close around me. 
I fell backwards, abandoning my sword in the corpse. 
Blood Bath stepped towards me. His twin blades twinkled in the firelight. A wicked grin spread across his face.
“You kicked him,” I managed to stutter as I back away from the deranged dog. “You knew I would kill him.” My world was still reeling from the earlier blows. I glanced wildly about for a weapon.
“Yes,” hissed Blood Bath. “Now it’s just you and me.” He ran a long tongue across his teeth.
“Why?” We were starting to circle back towards the fire. If I could just get enough space between us to wrench my sword free...
The grin vanished from Blood Bath’s face. He actually paused for a moment to think. What he said chilled me to my soul. “I wanted to laugh as he died upon your sword.”
“Um,” I said, thinking quickly. Blood Bath seemed less concerned about killing me while we were talking. Maybe I could keep this going until I found a weapon. There was my sword, and then my sling. The spear from earlier was still stuck in the tree.
 “Only three of you came after me? What happened to the rest of your clan?”
“The Chieftain didn’t want to lose any more dogs pursuing one trespasser, no matter how many jewels those Magi offered him. I volunteered because I wanted to see you bleed. Rapid Ranger joined because of revenge, and Scrap…? I don’t know why that mutt came along.” 
We were back where we had started. Rapid Ranger was lying at my feet in a pool of blood. My sword protruded from his backside. 
“And,” said Blood Bath, stopping before me. His eyes flicked down to my sword as if he could tell what I was thinking. “I prefer to kill with my teeth and claws.” With a flick of his wrists, he embedded both swords into the earth. Then he leapt at me.
We crashed to the ground in a snarling mass of teeth and claws. 
        Immediately I felt that I was trying to stop a massive rock from rolling downhill. He was strong. Even as I tried to go for his throat, he would hit me repeatedly with powerful blows.
I sucked myself low to the ground, hugging his body with my own. My paws found the ground, and I used them as leverage to gain dominance. I rolled on top. Blood Bath thrust upwards with his hips, and suddenly I was airborne.
Hitting the dirt, I rolled and found my feet almost instantly. I whirled around just in time to meet Blood Bath head-on. Our teeth clashed.
 I bashed him with my shoulder. Going low, I nipped at his legs, then when he withdrew his limbs, I clawed at his throat. He took a step back, one and then another. I pounded on him, attacking relentlessly, desperately. I was winning. I could do this.
A meaty paw smashed into the side of my head. 
I fell backwards, reeling from the blow. My ears were ringing. The world was tilting drunkenly, and I stumbled, trying to regain my balance.  
Something slammed into with the force of a war club. I found myself on my back, looking up to Blood Bath as he stood over me. He wore a manic grin with all his teeth showing. His eyes were fixed with rapt attention on my own. His breath was hot and heavy. 
He took his time and straddled me, seating most of his weight on my chest. 
I screamed at my body to respond, to keep pushing, to keep fighting. Just one more slash, one more bite. I could do this. I could win.
My body just lay there in the dust.  
Blood Bath closed his paws over my throat. He stared down into my eyes. His paws started to slowly squeeze the life out of me. 
Suddenly I found new strength in my limbs. I raised my paws and beat on those gripping my throat. I pounded on Blood Bath’s arms, but I would have had better luck bending iron. 
Darkness crept in from all sides.
Not here, not now. I still had to get Kitty Hawk home. Get her home and then maybe find an honorable death. But not today!
The world was completely dark. My limbs flailed wildly. Somewhere off in the distance, I could hear the drums of the ancients, calling me to my ancestors.
My paw struck something. Unable to see, I gripped the object and thrust blindly upwards. And then collapsed into nothing.
I drifted there in darkness. No sound, no light, just an eternal void that had swallowed me. The drummers were still calling to me, but they were distant, muffled, coming from behind a wall I could not see.
Suddenly, pain licked down my body with an intense fire, from my side, from my throat, from my blistered and burned paw. I screamed, and after that scream came a flood of cool, fresh air into my lungs.
Slowly, light returned to my world. 
Blood Bath was still on top. He stared fixedly at me, eyes boring into my own. His paws still wrapped their digits my throat. The only thing that had changed was that the whole left side of his body, and mine for that matter, were covered in blood.
A spear point was embedded in his neck. The same one I had hacked off of Rapid Ranger’s weapon. 
I looked over at the smaller grey dog. He stared back at me, eyes glassy in death. The body lay just out of reach, but a paw was extended towards us. A smile, which I was certain hadn’t been there before, was frozen upon his face.
Rapid Ranger had had the last laugh.
I gave the corpse of  Blood Bath a push, and he fell over onto his side, limbs stiff and locked, still trying to strangle an imaginary copy of me.
Sitting up, I surveyed the camp, unwilling and unable to do anything more. In the chaos, my stuff had become scattered across the ground. Correction: our stuff. 
Kitty Hawk!
My body fiercely protested as I rose up on unsteady legs. I cursed under my breath as I put weight on my injured paw. I could rest when I was dead.
Kitty Hawk was out there with Scrap. I suddenly had a flash of blood, feathers, and teeth. All I would find would be a small prone figure on the ground. But as I peered out into the darkness, I was struck with a new dilemma: which way?
Just as I took my first steps, Scrap stumbled out of the foliage.  
“Be still, you accursed bitch,” he cursed at the thrashing bundle in his arms.
Rising to my full height, I bellowed for all the world to hear: “SCRAP! LET HER GO!”
The dog stopped instantly in his tracks. I could only imagine what I must have looked like, but he paled at the sight before him. He backed up, clumsily trying to simultaneously contain Kitty Hawk and draw his blade.
With only one arm holding her, Kitty Hawk became a menace to behold: kicking in all directions, biting anything she could reach. She managed to get her teeth around Scrap’s paw and chomped down.
The dog screamed, flailing his paw wildly about with Kitty Hawk attached to the end. 
In one fluid motion, I grabbed one of Blood Bath’s discarded blades and sent it spinning end over end. Turned out the point was weighted, causing the pommel to smack Scrap in the head with a “crack!”
The dog fell backwards onto the ground.
Kitty Hawk was sent flying. She hit and the ground and rolled, before coming to a stop in a heep. I ran to her and gently lifted her . 
“Kitty Hawk, are you ok? Are you hurt?”
She gave me a broad, cross-eyed grin.
“Ember!”  was all she said as she rubbed her head against my chest. 
I pulled her in close, whispering in her ear, “I’m so sorry. I will never send you away, never, ever again.”
A disoriented Scrap was slowly regaining his legs. A thin river of blood ran down his forehead. He struggled to draw his sword free from its sheath but found it too challenging. Instead, he picked up the sword I had thrown and pointed it at me.
“Drop it,” I growled.
“I’ll...I’ll,” Scrap managed to mumble.
“You’ll what?” I said.  
“I’ll kill you,” he said. “For honor, for my clan.”
With a sad smile, I put Kitty Hawk down. Stepping over to Rapid Ranger’s corpse, I braced one leg against it and gripped the pommel solidly with both paws. I withdrew my sword with a sickening sucking sound. 
I pointed the blood-encrusted steel at my enemy.
“Leave...Now!”
He still seemed to have reservations, so I helped him along by attacking. 
I bellowed with all my rage as I beat upon his sword, driving him back mercilessly. Our swords clanged as I struck again and again and again. A root caught Scrap’s foot, and he stumbled. I slid my blade in, caught his hand guard, and, with a flick of my wrist, sent the sword spinning off into the night. 
“Go, now!” I hissed as I stood over the dog. My sword was still raised, ready to finish him if he so much as twitched in the wrong direction. 
The dog stood frozen in place. 
I issued my final threat: “If you don't leave, I’ll start cutting off parts.” I glanced down at a particularly precious appendage, hinting at where I would start.  The realization finally take a hold. 
Scrap took one last look at me before scampering off into the night.

> Ch.11 The Desert part 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	I awoke with a start. 

It was the silent, blue time just before dawn. A thick mist hung in the air. Drops of moisture clung to my nose.

A scan of the surroundings and a sniff of the air told me that I was alone. With a long sigh, I laid my head back down. Yet my mind did not relax. Shadows lurched just beyond the damp haze that surrounded me. 

A form drew close. The grey abyss parted, and Rapid River stumbled out. He collapsed on the ground before me. My sword was still lodged in his body. 

I froze.

Even as he drew his last breath, the dog extended his paw towards me, a smile slowly spreading upon his lips. His eyes glassed over in death. I stared at the corpse until it dissolved into nothing.

The mist slithered and swirled. 

Next, Blood Bath appeared, and I nearly bolted. He wore that crazy, manic grin. His paws stretched out to encircle my neck. Before he could reach me, he too turned back into a grey, formless cloud.

I lay there, gasping, staring fixedly at where the two forms had vanished. Sweat rolled down my back despite the cold. My paws twitched, my mind telling me to run, to flee, to get away from...something. 

Kitty Hawk shifted beside me.

        She stretched out, her little hooves prodding me in uncomfortable places. A loud, long yawn echoed from under the blanket. Task accomplished, she pulled in all her limbs, drew herself up, and buried her head into the fur of my belly.

        I exhaled the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. My heart was still pounding, but now it was easier to ignore. The rush I had been feeling was slowly starting to fade.

        A swell of anger overtook me.

        This was pathetic. Here I was, a warrior, a defender of my clan, and a proud descendent of my ancestors, laid low by memories. These feeling of terror and fright were for those who had no honor!  Out here in this wilderness, I would stand strong.

        Yet again, the icy fangs of fear started to nip away at my resolves. 

I took all my feelings and mashed them into a single, tangled ball before shoving them deep down inside. 

Suddenly, my limbs felt stiff and heavy, as if I had been running all night. Shifting slightly brought a flare of pain from my side that coursed through me like frozen lightning. Half my body was cold with sweat, and the other half felt sickly and sticky, with the fur matted together in clumps. 

        I needed a bath.

With supreme care I extracted myself from Kitty Hawk and the blanket. My injured paw throbbed the moment it touched the ground. I cringed and walked, slowly, to the river. 

No matter how bad the pain was, my head  was always held high.

        Soon I stood at the water’s edge, overlooking its great expanse and the opposite shore. The river chugged along, slow and steady, ever constant. Clear, clean water swirled before me.

I stepped into its depths.

Instantly the freezing water bit deep. I inhaled sharply, but pushed doggedly onwards until the water came up to my chest. My lower extremities were soon numb with cold. 

I retrieved a large, flat stone from the river bottom and began to scrub vigorously. Around me, the water turned pink as the dried blood came out of my fur and was carried away by the river. I scrubbed myself until my paws ached with the effort. Then I added river mud and finally immersed myself fully in the water. 

        When I emerged from the water, I was shivering but clean. My wet fur clung to my sides. I weighed twice as much as before. A good shake got rid of most of the water. 

        Kitty Hawk was awake when I returned. She greeted me with a sleepy smile from the warm depths of the blanket. Her pout when I packed it away was almost comical. 
        
        There was no camp to attend to: last night we had gathered everything that we could salvage and left the death behind us. The night had enveloped us in her veil. I had led the way, going parallel to the moon. Only when the pale eye was directly above us did we finally stop. Kitty Hawk, who already was having difficulty keeping her head up, fell asleep as soon as she laid down. I had drawn the blanket over us, and together we had slept safe, sound, and warm. 

        We ate our breakfast as we walked.

The sun was rising high, disbanding the mist, and opening our horizon to a thin haze shimmering in the distance. Kitty Hawk rode on my back. She was humming to herself some cheery, fast-paced tune. Occasionally, she would tap along with her song, drumming the notes on my body. I rolled my eyes. 

Why did I even put up with this?

        Suddenly, pain burned through my wounded paw and cut a path up my arm. I gasped, my jaw working out a silent scream. The initial wave passed, and the throbbing set in.

The culprit proved to be a sharp rock. I glared at the offender with all the pent-up fury from this morning. It was bad enough that my paw hurt with every step, and now this! An inspection only revealed a thin cut and a few drops of blood. 

Gingerly, I placed it back on the ground.

        “Are you ok?” asked Kitty Hawk as she tried to peer over my shoulder. I could hear the concern in her voice. Those words caused something inside of me to cringe in guilt. 

“I’m fine,” I growled, and instantly regretted it. Trying to reassure her with a false smile did little to erase the frown on her face.

        “I can get off and walk,” she offered, and she made to dismount. 

        “It’s ok,” I said. In truth, she hardly weighed more than a sack of stones. I had carried far heavier loads. 

Kitty Hawk didn't press the issue, but the concerned look remained. I returned to watching the ground pass under my paws, with a greater emphasis on what lay buried in the dirt; each step was a painful reminder. 

Only a few more days until we reached the border of Equestria. That was, if my mental map was correct. We would know soon enough; I would be proven correct if we spotted a desert off to our left before nightfall. Tomorrow, we would walk to the gorge, the furthest boundary of the empire. From there, another day’s walk would bring us up to a forest and the land of ponies.

But if we stayed inside the borders of the empire, would the mystics try and kill me again? Not again, oh please not again. The cut on my side still burned. Sooner or later, they were going to be successful. What if they employed poisons? What if I slowly died out here and left Kitty Hawk all alone? What if a predator found her? What if she starved to death? It would be a mercy to….

“Gah!” With a vigorous shake of my head, I attempted to dislodge that line of thought from my brain. We were going to make it. We had to. Or at least she would.

I would give my life to make sure that happened. 

“Look, Ember!” said Kitty Hawk, shattering my thoughts. She was practically bouncing on my back, pointing over my shoulder at a line of light colored hills in the distance. “The desert,” she squealed happily. “That’s the way we came from Equestria.”
        
        “You came through the desert?” I asked, studying the landscape off to our left with great interest. We were closer than I thought. 

             How far had we traveled last night?

        “Yeah. We crossed through there. It was really hot, but there was a super nice desert pony who was with us.”

        “There are ponies living in the desert?” I had always been told that the place was only inhabited by dark spirits. I had been planning to avoid the desert at all cost, but if there were ponies living there...
        
        Kitty Hawk was nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah! They live in these great big tents and move around a lot, but my dad gave one of the ponies some bits, and he lead us to the other end; I think we came out somewhere up ahead. Then we crossed the river and continued south.”

        I watched the desert, thinking, calculating. Maybe….maybe they would accept payment from a diamond dog. The jewels in my pack are as valuable as any currency. I wonder…

And a bird fell on my head. 

It was a crow, its small black body rigid in death. Yet there was no visible wounds. I stared at it in confusion, and then up to the sky as if it would generously give me the answer. A twinkle in the sunlight was only a momentary warning before another form crashed to earth just off to my left. This one was a hawk. 

“Ember!” shouted Kitty Hawk, pointing off to my right as yet another dead bird. And then another, and another. Dead birds rained down around us. 

I turned and ran from the death, straight to the river, seeking shelter under a tall tree. But even the tree was dying: its leaves were rapidly turning from green to red and gold.

“Ember,” said Kitty Hawk, but this time in a painful whimper. 

I turned and looked at her.

She was wilting before my eyes: the color and luster were draining from her fur and feathers. Patches of grey appeared across her white coat. She pulled her limbs in close and began to shiver despite the heat of the day. 

And then she was silent. 

        For a moment I thought she stopped breathing. I leaning in close, placing my ear right next to her lips. Only the faintest rasp could be heard as she drew breath, and even that sounded labored. 

“Kitty Hawk. Kitty Hawk!” I shouted, near panic. It was like she couldn’t even see me: her head lolling to one side, eyes staring off into the distance. Not knowing what else to do, I hugged her to my chest. 

I felt her tiny heart flutter inside her chest. 

The world darkened.

A chill swept through me, biting through my fur and to my core. I exhaled, and watched in horror as the breath escaped in a cloud of vapor. Thin strands of frost spider-webbed their way across the ground.

And then it ended: the light from the sun returned with a blazing intensity and a wave of welcomed heat. 

Kitty Hawk came alive with a sudden jerk. She gasped, desperately seeking to fill her lungs. Then a scream escaped from within her, a long, deafened cry. I hugged her closer, even as she thrashed wildly.

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” I said.

Instantly, she stopped struggling and went limp in my arms. Her scream was replaced with a terrible sob. 

“What happened?”

“I don’t know,” she cried through her tears. “I just felt so...wrong, like everything was leaving.”

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” I said, rubbing her back reassuringly. 

Looking up, I found an endless parade of dead things floating in the river.

“Are you going to be ok?” I asked, turning to look back at Kitty Hawk. She sniffled, wiped away her tears with a hoof, and nodded. I gave her another hug for good measure. 

A large shadow passed over us. 

I turned my eyes skyward and gaped at the great black bird, or what looked like a bird. It lacked any sharp features, the body seamless and constantly shifting. I took note of a distinct lack of flapping from its wings.

The bird in question circled us three times before landing a stone throw’s distance away. Now closer, I could see that its body was a writhing mass of black flames surrounding a semi-solid purple body. It looked at us, but it had no eyes to speak of.

The bird kneeled in the dirt, and from its back slid a figure dressed in full armor. I instantly recognized him and growled. Scrap only looked back with a contemptuous grin on his face. 

“Ah, Ember, don’t be like that. I’ve only come to kill you and take your pony back to the capital.”



> Ch.11 the Desert Part 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ch.11 the desert part 2

        We stared at each other across the expanse. A gust of wind kicked up a cloud of dust in the barren land between. The ghastly bird let out a brief cry. All else was silent. 

        A drop of sweat ran down my brow and into my eyes. 

        “Did you know,” said Scrap casually, producing a small jug and a long, black whistle from the pouch on his hip, “that Diamond Dogs have no magic of our own? And that we must harvest it from other sources?” 

        I eyed the dog warily. Kitty Hawk huddled against my side.

Scrap continued, slowly pacing back and forth. “The Mystics told me all of this, just before they killed several clan prisoners and created this bird.” He indicated the silent condor. “And, according to the mystics, ponies are full of magic.” 

He took a moment's pause, then looked me straight in the eye, a rather manic grin spreading across his muzzle. “Don’t you get it? That’s what makes ponies so valuable. They are a living magic source. That’s why they won't let you leave, especially with…” Scrap fell silent, searching for the right word.

“It!” he finally declared, pointing at Kitty Hawk.

I tightened my grip on my sword. With my other paw, I withdrew my sling. A low, threatening growl rumbled from my throat. Kitty Hawk pressed herself into my side.
        
“Let’s just get this over with,” said Scrap resolutely, “then I have to go find a new clan.”

My ears perked up at his statement.

“You have to find a new clan?” I asked. 

Truthfully, I didn’t care about his answer. Instead, I used the time to search the ground for a nice rock. I spotted one within easy reach and said a silent prayer of thanks to my ancestors. 

Scrap glared at me. “Thanks to you. When I returned last night, without Rapid Ranger or Blood Bath, not even your head to show for my deeds, I was branded a coward and banished.” He pointed at his chest, concealed by the armor he wore. 

I had seen a coward's mark once before. The branded mark of a hoof and a leaf would forever be imprinted on a dog's hide. Those two symbols conveyed a simple message: “Here is a dog only worthy of being prey”. 

Scrap continued. “The mystics found me and offered a chance at redemption. I may always be a coward, but after I kill you, I’ll be a rich coward.” He drew the whistle to his lips and blew. 

The whistles’ unholy screech set my fur on end and my stomach to rebel. I managed to keep my breakfast down, but only just. Kitty Hawk was managing to do the same, but when she saw the dead birds around us begin to wiggle, she puked and then clung to my leg in terror. 

Not only had the birds been summoned by that sound, but all manner of dead things: the small animals from their underground burrows, the fish from the river, even the nightcrawlers from under the rocks and fallen brush. They jerked, twitched, then as one slithered their way to Scrap like leeches to a bleeding fish.

Everything about this was wrong. 

In an instant, I decided to put a stop to it here and now. Snatching my pre-selected stone from the ground, I loaded it into my sling and took aim. Scrap was a perfect target, completely oblivious to my action. 

The dog in question now uncorked the jug and tilted it over the nearest corpse. From its mouth, he spilled an inky-black liquid that shimmered in its own darkness. The liquid engulfed the corpse and sprouted up around it. A body rose up from ground, much the same texture and color as the condor, in a form that could only be described as a Shadow Hound. 

It fixed its eyes on me.

I stared back, frozen as I was, my mouth hanging open in a silent scream. My eyes remained wretchedly open, forced to drink in its every horror. The Shadow Hound only stared back with unfocused, empty eyes. It opened its mouth to reveal rows of jagged teeth, breathing  wisps of blackness. All the while, black flames licked over its body.  

Suddenly the spell was broken.

 I fell to my knees, gasping. “Ember,” cried Kitty Hawk as she huddled at my feet. I pulled her in close. Her small frame shook uncontrollably in my grasp. 

She looked up at me with her eyes wide in terror. “Please Ember,” was all she said. She stared at me, imploring me to do something, to make it go away. I smiled reassuringly at her, speaking with more faith then I felt. 

“I’ll protect you,” I said.

Tearing myself away from Kitty Hawk, I set my sights on Scrap.

“You like it?” he asked, staring at his creation with morbid infatuation. Slowly, he reached out and began to pet it. “This will be your doom,” he said, never taking his eyes away from the Shadow Hound. “And then I will take your pony...she doesn’t need her wings.”

“No,” I growled. 

Once more I whipped the sling over my head. It cut through the air at dazzling speed. Taking a deep breath, I roared my challenge: “I will not let you hurt her!” In one fluid motion, I stepped forwards and sent my missile hurtling at Scrap’s head. 

He looked up, just in time to see my stone fill his vision. The Shadow Hound leapt between, taking the stone in its side with a wet “smack”. It tumbled from the impact, rolling to a stop at Scraps’ feet. 

        Scrap watched the Shadow Hound for a long moment, then threw his head back and laughed. His cackle made me shift uncomfortably from foot to foot. When he recovered himself, he looked even more manic than before.

“You might want to try again,” said Scrap. Sure enough, the Shadow Hound was already rising back to its feet. It turned to face me once more, but now with a chunk missing and my stone clearly visible in its body. Licking his lips, Scrap uttered two words: “Kill him.”

The Shadow Hound charged. I leapt forwards, my sword out front. It went for my throat, mouth agape and showing all its teeth. I slashed out and took its head cleanly off as it passed. 

Even as its head fell to the ground, the Shadow Hound had spun around and this time slammed into me, throwing us both to the ground. I threw it off and rolled to my feet. The headless dog charged again. I slashed out. Its front legs left its body, and the rest of it crashed to the ground.

Now how do I kill this thing?

I looked on, watching the Shadow Hound flounder in the dirt, kicking its remaining legs as it tried to get at me. In the middle of its body was the corpse of a bird. On a hunch I drove my sword into said corpse. 

The hound exploded.

 A cloud of ash obscured my vision for a moment. Steam and vapors rose off in wafts. When the air cleared, the only remains of the Shadow Hound was a black stain on the ground.

“Is it gone?” asked Kitty Hawk. She was trying to peer around me, all the while remaining several feet away.

“It is,” I said. 

With that taken care of, I turned my attention back to Scrap. He was still smiling.

 “You’re a mad dog,” I spat. 

Scrap smile only broadened at the insult. “Mad? Oh, poor Ember, you’re such a fool. You're a dead dog walking. I’ll simply take that pony after I’m finished shredding your bleeding corpse.”

I growled at him, pointing my sword directly at him. “You have threatened Kitty Hawk and myself for the last time. Now it’s my turn. I will end you!”

Scrap laughed again. Without a word he tipped his jug over two more corpses and a pair of Shadow Hounds rose up in their place. “I forgot to mention,” said Scrap as he made yet another hound, “ that all it takes is one of these to kill you. Their bite, although not instantly fatal, will kill you in four days. If I was you, I’d run. You see? This is where you die.” By the time he had finished speaking, three more hounds had joined his ranks. 

I felt my courage fall as my enemies rose up before me. My heart quickened; my lungs were already gasping for air. I sheathed my sword and turned my back on the enemy. Kitty Hawk was looking past me, fixated on each new Shadow Hound that appeared. 

I scooped her up and onto my back. 

“Ember, what do we do?” asked Kitty Hawk as she clung to me.

“The only thing we can do: Run!”
 
	
> Ch.11 The Desert Part 3
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

11 part 3

Silence. 

There were no sounds of yelps or barks. There was no “clang” of weapons or the sounds of heavy breathing. Only the pitter-patter of their paws marked their passage.

I glanced behind me and found the Shadow Hounds spread out in a solid mass behind me. Eerie. Black. All set on my death. 

Unfortunately, the army of shadows was slowly gaining. 

I cursed them under my breath and put on an extra boost of speed. 

The shadow of a bird flittered over the ground just off to my left. I tried to look up, but the sun was in my eyes. Somewhere up there Scrap was watching from his mount, commanding his Shadow Hounds like some grand director watching his drama unfold. 

“Are we going to make it?” asked Kitty Hawk, watching the enemy from her perch on my back. I only grinned at her, unable to find the breath to answer. She took my silence as reassurance. Leaving me to out-run the hounds, she focus on our horizon. 

A low hill was before us. Upon cresting it, I almost got lost in the sight before us. It was only a short pause before I plunged down the other side and towards our destination. 

Kitty Hawk let out a low whistle. “The desert,” she said, giving words to my own thoughts.
        
        Indeed it was: a great shimmering sea of sand, stretching from one horizon to the other. Under paw, the rocky ground was quickly replaced by a hot sand. Monstrous rolling waves dominated the landscape. Between two such waves was a narrow path of beaten dirt. Mysteriously, it was free of sand. 

        I kept running.

Glancing behind once more, I found our dogged pursuers spreading out with both ends pulling ahead. I watched, helpless, as the Shadow Hounds continues to gained ground. They ran tirelessly, even as I felt my own starting to slow. Soon, they had us bracketed in a half-moon formation. 

In an instant, I saw their plan. They would complete their encirclement and then swarm us. There would be no escape. 

Ahead was the narrow trail into the desert. On either side were Shadow Hounds. I dug down for my inner strength and set my eyes on our destination. 

The lead Hounds began to close the loop.

The path, that's all there was. I had to do it. I had to get there. There was no other option. It was so close now.

And so were the Shadow Hounds: closing in from either side, rushing to meet me.

“Ember!” cried Kitty Hawk as she too saw our impending doom.

A low growl built up in my gut, then bellowed forth in a roar. I surged ahead. The leading edges dived in. 

Their necks stretched out, mouths open, teeth seeking my flesh. 

They dove for my legs.

I leapt for the gap. 

Beneath me, the Hounds collided in a sickening impact. More Hounds slammed into those as everyone tried to get to their target at once. A great wiggling black mass grew beneath me.

I landed on solid ground with a jarring impact, lost my footing and skidded across the dirt. Something popped in my left front leg. A wave of pain followed, and I ground my teeth against it. 

The black mass of Shadow Hounds squirmed and writhed, none of them able to disentangle themselves from the other. That wouldn’t last for long. It would take Scrap some time to figure it out, but he would have them back on us as soon as possible. 
        
My young charge was still on my back, her legs gripping me like a vice. I looked back and saw her eyes squeezed shut. “You ok?”  I asked between gasps. 

“Yeah,” she answered, not yet daring to open her eyes. 

I crawled back onto my feet. My left shoulder screamed at me as I tried to put weight on my paw. I elected to to run on two legs instead.

“Time to get off,” I said, and helped Kitty Hawk to the ground. 

“You ok, Ember?” she asked, watching me wince every time I moved my shoulder.

“I’ll be fine,” I said with a reassuring smile. Glancing once more at the mass of Shadow Hounds, I continued, “we need to get going. Come on.” Turning away, we followed the beaten trail. It led through the dunes, twisting this way and that. We ran as fast as we could. 

The trail seemed to never end; the sand dunes enclosed around us like a fortress. It was hot, so very hot. The sun shone directly upon us. I used my right paw to wipe the sweat from my brow.

Nothing stirred in the landscape. 

I paused for a moment and listened. There was nothing up ahead, but  from behind I detected the faint pitter-patter of paws on dirt. I let out a frustrated groan.
        
“What’s wrong?” asked Kitty Hawk.

        “They’re coming,” I said and drew my sword. “Come, we must move faster.” I pushed her along, one eye watching our back. 

        The noise steadily increased. Glancing back behind us, I saw the lead dog around the bend. “Move, Move!” I shouted. Kitty Hawk was running as fast as her legs could take her. I ran behind her, watching the ever-approaching pack. 
        
        Suddenly, the dunes fell away and open desert lay before us. In all directions lay gently rolling hills of sand. The land was obscured in a shimmering haze, making everything slightly out of focus.

        A look behind sent chills through my body: Shadow Hounds pouring from the dunes in mass.

I snatched Kitty Hawk up in my bad arm, grinding my teeth against the pain. 

They were closing in, the sound of their paws filling my ears. We were almost there, almost free. Just had to get through the desert, then we would be out of Diamond Dog lands. We were so close. I glanced once more behind us…

...and ran smack into a semi-solid block of air. It felt like I was covered in tree sap, every movement sluggish and weighty. The very air pulled at my fur, fighting my passage through. I put one paw in front of the other, then another. As suddenly as it happened, the resistance vanished, and I stumbled out the other side. 

“What was that?” asked Kitty Hawk. 

She tried to wiggle in my grasp, to see behind us. Her movement reignited the pain in my shoulder, and I dropped her. Kitty Hawk looked up at me from her position on the hot sand, and I looked down at her. Together, we turned.

A wall of solid, shimmering air blocked our return. On the other side, only fuzzy shapes shifted about. It made me think of trying to look through a cloudy crystal.

This new discovery also sealed our fate. It had caused us to momentarily forget our peril. Even as we looked on, the Shadow Hounds stepped through. 

I shoved Kitty Hawk unceremoniously behind me. Curing myself, I turned to face each new enemy as they appeared. Soon they were too numerous to count. 

The Shadow Hounds advanced.

As they came closer, a dark cloud grew from each of the Shadow Hounds. With each step the clouds grew larger, but the Hounds seems to become smaller. Their bodies were slowly being distorted, their forms not quite able to hold together. 

The nearest Shadow Hound leapt at me. I raised my sword to strike it down, but before it could reach me, the Hound collapsed into a cloud of ash and was blown away. In quick succession it happened to a second, and then a third. 

In an instant, I realized what was happening: bits of their bodies were tearing themselves loose and forming the clouds. Then in cloud form, the bits of ash would float off into the air, drifting away on a non-existent breeze. In a few moments, they all vanished.

I continued to stare for several seconds, unable to believe that certain death had been there only moments ago.

        “Are they gone?” asked Kitty Hawk, sharing the same amazement as me. 

        I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know” was my answer.

        A loud hissing noise came from overhead. We both looked up. High above, Scrap passed through the barrier, still riding on the back of his condor. Just like the Shadows Hounds, it began to disintegrate as well. 

Scrap shouted in triumph when he spotted us. Those shouts soon turned to fear. He turned his mount towards the ground, but it was too late. His mount turned into ash, leaving Scrap to a free-fall the rest of the way. 

The dog plummeted just out of sight.

        For the first time since seeing Scrap, I let my myself relax. My shoulders dropped. The sword felt heavy in my hand. Each joint reminded me of how I had abused it through our ordeal. The left still throbbed, but it would hopefully heal in a day or two. The heat, although oppressive and causing my fur to be soaked in sweat, was helping with the pain.

           “It’s finally done.” I sighed. Sheathing my sword, I sat down. 

        Kitty Hawk snuggled up against my side. “Ember, whatever that was, I'm thankful.”

        “Me too.”

        There was a long pause before Kitty Hawk spoke up again. “Thank you for keeping me safe,” she added.

        She yelped in surprise as I snatched her up into a tight embrace. 

        “You’re welcome,” I whispered into her ear.

        A most unwelcome thought slipped into my mind. I tried to ignore it, but it persisted: what if Scrap survived? The Mystics could have given him some magic to survive great falls. Maybe something to stave off death altogether? 

        I growled out loud. Setting Kitty Hawk down, I stood up again and drew my sword. One last task to do.

            “What's wrong?” asked Kitty Hawk. 

        “I’m going to make sure it’s done. Wait here.” And with that, I set off towards where I’d last seen that damn dog.

        The sun, though drifting off to the west, was still bearing down with its full fury. I wiped the sweat from my brow. Hot sand engulfed my paws with each step, making each step sluggish and unpleasant. Examining one, I found small blisters beginning to form. Kitty Hawk and I would soon be burnt to a crisp if we didn't leave this land. The original plan was to skirt the desert, not wade through its depths. 

        I crested the low hill. From its peak, I commanded a grand view of the open valley. It was uniform, barren sand until the next low hill. The only exception was a large black bubble with a dog on top. Said bubble was slowly disintegrating, leaving its host very much alive and unharmed. With an irritated bark, I marched towards my target. 

        Scrap spotted me and quickly scrambled to his feet. He frantically glanced around but found us utterly alone. The dog still had his armor and sword. Either way, this would be over quickly. 

Whatever courage or fear the dog had kept him from running. As I approached, he began to get frantic. He looked everywhere, digging in the sand. I was almost on top of him when he finally found it; he yanked the jug out of the sand. He turned to face me, grinning once more. 

I growled. “It's over: your hounds are gone, your bird is gone. You have no more corpses. Fight me and die like a warrior.” 

“You don’t need a dead body for this stuff to work,” said Scrap and turned the jug on himself. 

        He poured the liquid onto his arm, and it was consumed in black fire. From it grew a monstrous black arm, several times the size of its owner's body. Even as Scrap brought his new appendage overhead, ready to squash me like a fly, it was already beginning to disintegrate. 

“Looks like Mystic magic doesn't work here,” I said coolly. 

Scrap growled. He brought his fist down upon me. I rolled to the left. The magic arm hit the sand and exploded into ash. 

I grinned at him. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

Scrap cursed me, then incessantly screamed, “Die! Die already!” He applied more liquid to his arm. 

Another magic arm grew. This time, he swiped at me. I ducked and cut it with my sword as it passed overhead. Part of the arm came off. Scrap brought the remaining magical limb back around for another try, but the magic was already gone. He upturned the jug once more, and found it empty. 

I advanced.

Scrap stumbled backwards and onto his butt. He drew his sword, the whole weapon trembling as his arms shook. Glaring down at the wretch, I shouted, “Stand up! Fight me!” Scrap was frantically working his jaw, but no words were coming out. 

With a heavy blow, I sent his sword spinning off into the sand.

That seemed to snap him out of it, because he suddenly found his voice. “What makes you do it?” he asked. “What makes you keep going? Why do you persist? Why will you just not die?”
“Because,” I said, baring my teeth, “I made a promise to a pony. I will see her safely home. I will overcome any obstacle before me, and I will destroy anyone who threatens her!” Gripping my sword in both paws, I brought it down in a vicious two-handed swing. Scrap collapsed into the sand, head and body falling in opposite directions. 

I stood there for some time afterwards, just watching. The body turned gray. Blood soaked the sand before drying in place. 

“Ember?”

With a jolt and a jump I spun around, finding Kitty Hawk. She looked up at me with the most kind, caring eyes. I took a deep breath and sheathed my sword. 

“Is it over now?” she asked.

I nodded. On a second thought, I opened my arms. “Come here,” I said and scooped her up with my good arm. Together, we went back the way we had come. 

The wall of shimmering air was gone. So were the dunes. Now only desert stretched as far as the eye could see. A look behind us revealed that even our most recent tracks had vanished. 

“What do we do?” asked Kitty Hawk.

“The only thing we can do: try and find our way out.”
	
	
	
	

> Ch.12 A turn of Fate part 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	It was some time in the early morning, that stretch of purgatory between night and dawn when the world is coldest. The moon had long ago gone to bed. Even the stars were turning off one by one. A thin line of orange stretched across the horizon in a malicious smile, promising another hot day.

The only down side of the night was its freezing bite. My breath rose up in a puff of fog and flittered away. I shivered involuntarily underneath the blanket. 

Beside me, Kitty Hawk stirred in her sleep. 

We had spend two days in this desert: two days of hunger, two days of thirst, two days of having our hides branded by the sun. Each movement was a chore. Pain was a constant companion. 

Somewhere deep inside, a part of me wished that it would stop. It would be easy to just stay here, let the sun cook us yet again; just wait to die. We had no food and little water. Could we still make it? Maybe, but it would be so easy just to give up and die.

Yet, as I huddled under my impromptu shelter, freezing under the thin blanket, looking out into the wasteland of sand and bitter night, I knew I could not. Not yet. The little bundle under my arm said I couldn’t. Somehow, we had to make it. 

“Life is hell,” said a little voice in my head. I had to agree with it.

The faintest of breezes slipped under the blanket and chilled my tortured hide. The sun would rise soon, and it promised another murderous day. It was time to get up.

I started to rise, only for my legs to remind me how much they hurt; my left shoulder doubly so. Every limb was stiff and sore, cramped tightly. The deep muscles screamed. I opened my mouth in a silent cry of pain. Then I was on my feet. A few steps helped loosen my joints. 

There was a loud yawn, and Kitty Hawk poked her head out from under the blanket.  “Good morning, Ember,” she said, blinking the sand from her eyes. Those eyes traveled up to the sky and beyond to the stars. She let out a groan before pulling herself to her hooves.  “Ember, why are we up? The sun hasn’t risen yet.”

“Exactly,” I said. “We need to get an early start before the heat gets very bad.”

Kitty Hawk didn’t seem too enthusiastic with this news. With a shudder and a shake, she rose to her hooves and kicked the blanket off. With a sigh, she came to stand beside me, head hanging low.

Poor girl had been doing a lot of walking. I would have let her ride, but it was too painful with my sun burns. 

“Did you sleep well?” I asked.

She nodded her head. With a weak smile, she stuck out her tongue. “Yep. I dreamed of a big lake, and swimming, and there was snow cones and everything.”

“Good,” I said and tried to copy her smile, but my cheeks hurt too much. The next moment I was fighting off a yawn. It was a good thing that at least one of us had gotten some sleep. 

As I packed away the blanket, I caught Kitty Hawk looking longingly at the sky. Her wings fluttered at her side. 

Suddenly, there came a growl. I looked at Kitty Hawk. Her stomach repeated its call. She smiled sheepishly. 

“Sorry,” I said. “There’s nothing to eat.”  Guilt and shame coursed through my veins. I was responsible for her. I should have made sure she was taken care of. And here I was, failing at my duty. 

“I know,” she said with a smile. Somehow those words made me feel even worse. 

“That’s not true,” reminded a little voice. “There’s a nice juicy pony right in front of you.” My stomach growled. “Just one little bite,” continued the voice. My tongue flicked across my pointy teeth. 

A jolt shot through my body. It was enough to snap me out of it. Quickly, I slammed the door on those dark thoughts. This was Kitty Hawk I was thinking about. She wasn’t some rabbit or deer. She was young, innocent,“So juicy…”

“When are we going to get home?” asked Kitty Hawk, completely unaware of my struggle.

I thought about her question. It helped to suppress my darker desires. “If we can get out of this desert soon, maybe three to four more days.”

That was a big if: if we could find water, if we could find our way out, if no major landmarks stood between us and the land of Equestria, if we didn’t get lost, if we didn’t die, if,  if, if... There were a lot of if’s.

And to what end? To hand her back over to other ponies and say “goodbye”. I had come to care for her, to be her guardian against the world. What would I do if I didn’t have her by my side?

Kitty Hawk interrupted my thoughts with a loud burp. “Can I have some water?” she asked.

I pulled out our canteen. It was depressingly light. Kitty Hawk took a big drink before handing it back to me. I took a small sip, just enough to wet my lips; there was so little left. The canteen went back into the saddle bags. 

Then we were off. 

____________________________________________________________________________

It was so hot I could have cracked an egg and cooked it on my face. The heat was continuous, relentless in its assault. The hot sand baked our undersides. The sun continued its murderous onslaught from on high. I was panting heavily. Each step was a chore. 

My coat itched in the most annoying of places. I looked over at Kitty Hawk who resembled a dirty puff ball. The poor kid looked downtrodden in her fur and feathers.

A dribble of sweat stung my eyes. I wiped my forehead with the back of a paw. It only ground sand into my fur. 

I took a short drink from the water skin. There wasn’t much left. I shook the skin to get an answer. The skin told me that there was only a mouthful or two left. My body told me that I shouldn't be shaking things with my left arm, as it was still swollen from our harrowing escape.  I offered the water to my charge.

Kitty Hawk gleefully took the water. She tipped it back with one wing and emptied it contents. I packed the skin away.

“What’s that?” asked Kitty Hawk, pointing off to a point in the distant. I summoned the energy to bring my head up. All I could see were slithering snakes of heat. 

“I can't see anything,” I replied. “What does it look like?”

“A grey bulge on the horizon.” 

“Sounds great,” I said wearily; talking hurt too much. “Lead on, I’ll follow.” 

She did just that: scampering ahead on her little legs, wings held straight out on either side. Reluctantly, I started after her.

A slight embankment nearly tripped me. My paws fought for solid footing, and up I went. The shifting sand only made a half-hearted attempt to impede my climb. 

The top held a surprise: concealed between twin ribbons of sand was a continuous sheet of sandstone. It was wide enough for three dogs to walk side by side, snaking out behind and stretching on into the future. As least the road wouldn’t shift with each step.  

I raised my head and spotted Kitty Hawk getting further away. Strangely enough, she seemed to be following the road. I trudged after her, head hung down, watching the movement of my limbs. The right paw moved forward one step. The process was repeated by its doppelganger. The third paw copied the examples of the first two, and finally the fourth paw followed suit. The process restarted with the first. 

“I found it,” said Kitty Hawk, and I had to suddenly stop myself from tripping over her.  “What do you think?” With one hoof she gestured in front of us. I raised my head.

We were both confronted with a mass of shimmering semi-solid air. The mass slowly curved away in either direction, forming, from what I could see, into a giant bubble.

“Can we go through it?”  asked Kitty Hawk in her infinite optimism. “I want to see. I want to see.” I watched her nearly bounce with excitement. It was nice to see that her enthusiasm had returned.

“Sure,” I said, the sun sapping away any energy to argue. It wasn’t like we weren’t going to die soon without water or hadn’t eaten for days. In fact, it would probably be easier to just roll over and die.

Kitty Hawk had other plans. “Let's go,” she said, grabbing my paw and practically dragging me to the bubble. 

And then she was gone. 

If I hadn’t been watching her closely, I would have missed it: a ripple of air momentarily marked her location and then was still.

“Stop! Kitty Hawk, come back!” I shouted. There was no reply. “That little…” I began but stopped. My jaw worked back and forth, teeth grinding together in frustration. 

Magic was the worst. If it wasn’t being used to distract or actively kill me, it was the perfect trap to separate small, exploratory ponies from their protectors. When I found Kitty Hawk, she was getting a stern talking-to. How many times would I have to say, “Don’t go touching anything that glows, sparkles, or is obviously magical,” before it finally sunk in?

After taking several a deep breaths, I clenched my eyes shut and pushed forwards. There was resistance. I pushed harder. The substance flexed. I put one paw in front of the other, forcing my way in.Then the resistance gave way and I burst out the other side. 

My first shock was being smacked in the face by a large leaf. The next shock was the feeling of water pouring down my front. A gasp of pain escaped from my lips, followed by a sigh as it soothed some of the burns and blisters across my hide. Pushing the leaf aside, I found myself on the edge of a jungle.

A sticky, humid heat plastered my fur down. The foliage towered up in solid slabs of greenness. Such giants played hosts to forests of vines, flowers of every color, and hordes of critters that slithered, scrawled, and flittered through the canopy. The dirt wasn’t dirt at all, but layers upon layers of dead plants. The only viable route through the mass was a small path with waterlogged wagon ruts. 

My attention instantly zeroed in on the water. I plunged my head in and drank greedily. The water was dirty and mixed with bits of plant, with tiny critters that flicked across the surface, but had never tasted so good. Strength returned to my body with each gulp. I finally stopped when my stomach threatened to burst. 

A shriek echoed from deep in the jungle. “Kitty Hawk!” I shouted back. No one answered. I cursed myself for leaving her alone. Scrambling over the underbrush, I nearly tripped but caught myself. Leaves, vines, and thorns grabbed at me in my headlong plunge through the underbrush. I moved around trees, under and over logs, blasted through shrubs and dared anything to stop me. Another shriek came slightly to my left. I corrected course. The tree line broke, and I found myself on the edge of a small lake.

I frantically looked around for my charge. “Kitty Hawk! Kitty Hawk!” I called out. There was no answer. 

She surfaced closed to shore, treating water. “Ember,” she said when she saw me, and paddled over. 

“Are you hurt?” I asked as she pulled herself from the lake. 

“No, I’m fine,” she said, water dripping from her coat. “The water feels so good.”

I took a deep breath and collapsed on the ground. It was Kitty Hawk’s turn to rush to my side. “Are you ok?” she asked.

“Yes, just tired.” 

I looked around from my lowly position, taking it all in: jungle, water, and wildlife. Here was everything we needed to live, concealed right in the middle of the desert. It was almost a dream.

“Ember, can we stay here?” asked Kitty Hawk.

“I think that is a great idea,” I replied.

“Can we have a fire?”

“Absolutely.”

“And tell ghost stories?”

“Sure.”

“And, and…” I could see the ideas whirling just behind her eyes.

I cut her off. “Kitty Hawk, whatever you want, we’ll do it.”

Kitty Hawk’s smile was so wide I was afraid it would split her face.  


> Ch.12 A turn of fate part 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	A pale moon glided overhead. The inhabitants of the lake were noisily getting about their nightly business. My toes dug themselves into the cooling sand. A warm fire crackled. Occasionally, it sounded with a snap and a hiss as the flames discovered pockets of water in the very green wood. All of this though, had to compete against Kitty Hawk and her very tall tale.

“So Rainbow Dash was like WEEEoow,” Kitty Hawk used her hoof to imitate a pony in flight. “She was diving faster and faster, and then...BOOM!” She threw her hooves up, a little too enthusiastically, and toppled off her log. 

I raised an eyebrow. “And then what happened?” I asked, taking the last gulp of my turtle stew. Once licked clean, the shell got tossed into a pit with the remains of my dinner, now totaling two turtles, a snake, and an unlucky bird I’d taken with sling and stone. 

Kitty Hawk righted herself in the sand. She grinned at me and said, “She exploded rainbows.”

“No way,” I said, leaning forwards.

“Yeah way. Rainbows exploded out in all directions. Not only that, but she caught the falling pony and the Wonderbolts.”

“Ah huh,” I said, unconvinced.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” huffed Kitty Hawk.

“Nope.”

“I was there. I saw it happen,” she said regally, holder her ground.

“When I see a pony explode rainbows, I’ll believe it,” I said. 

Kitty Hawk looked at me haughtily. Her lips parted in a frown, jaw working back and forth as if chewing on a retort. Then, with a shrug, it all vanished and her goofy smile returned.

“Ok,” she said and hopped onto her log. “You turn.”

“My turn?” I asked.

“Yes, silly. I told a story, and now you have to tell one.”

“Most Diamond Dog stories involve war and fighting, some of it against ponies. Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Yep,” she said, wiggling her rump and settling in: eyes fixed on me and ears forward.

“Ok,” I said with a shrug. 

Now, what to tell her? My village had plenty of ancestors and heroic deeds to go with. There was the pacification of the Brand Clan. My grandfather, then a member of the Fire Clan, had led that attack.  Afterwards, he’d had the clan leader put to the sword and claimed leadership of both clans, forming the Firebrand Clan.

Or maybe not.

I stared into the fire, thinking. How about one from my own life? Now, what was the name of that dog again?

“I’ve got it,” I announced and smiled at Kitty Hawk. “How about I tell you the story of how my father became leader of the Firebrand Clan.”  

Kitty Hawk leaned forwards.

“The story starts on one hot day. The Firebrand chief was getting very old and would soon be unable to lead the village. So, one day, he brought together the two lead contesters for the position: my father, Blaze, and a brave warrior named Dogmatic. Together, with their sons along for the ride, we set off for the capital of the dog empire, the Holy City.





Five dogs stood outside the massive gates: huge slabs of camelthorn wood held together by iron bands. It was so tall that the young Ember had to crane his head back, and only then to have his view blocked by the corbels.

The guard at the gate was ignoring the pleading from the Firebrand chief. “You get one day,” he said. “Or else you get to wait on the whims of Emperor Uni, while in his dungeon.”

The Firebrand chief clenched and unclenched his paws, his breathing coming through clenched teeth. A low growl started and then died in the back of his throat. “We need to see the wise council. As you say, since they are on this ‘religious holiday,’ then we will need to stay for more than one day.”

“You get one day,” the guard repeated, “and be grateful.”

The day was already getting hot as the sun climbed higher. Soon it would be midday. Daylight was wasting away.

“Fine,” snapped the clan leader. He signaled to his entourage and, with one last glare at the guard, led the way into the Holy City. He set out at a rapid pace, even with his limp.

The guard yelled after them, “If you go to the Council Hall, you may find a clerk with nothing better to do.”
Just as the guard had said, the Council Hall was deserted. Five sets of eyes stared down long halls inhabited by massive pillars and nothing else. Somewhere a door opened and closed.

Blaze stepped up next to his clan leader. “Sir, we should look elsewhere for counsel in our matter.”

“I realize that,” said the clan leader, “but where else are we to find dogs both wise and respected.”

A door banged open next to the party, and all heads turned to look. A dog in an iron collar was pushing a mop and a pail. He glanced our way and then quickly looked back down. 

“Excuse me, slave,” said the clan leader.

“Yes?” asked the slave, keeping his eyes to the floor and tail between his legs.

“If I was to seek wisdom in this city, where would I go?” asked the clan leader.

“Go to the market place,” said the slave, “and ask for Dogenes.”

“Who is this Dogenes?” asked the clan leader.

“He is the greatest philosopher. Go, he can give you counsel for your problems.” The slave bowed once and then shuffled away.






Ember continued “Together, we all went to the market. We looked high and low, but could not find Dogenes. With the sun starting to head towards the horizon, we settled down by a fountain. There, next to us, was a dog living in a barrel. The clan leader asked him…”

My story faltered, died, and flittered away into the night.
Kitty sat attentively, watching me. When nothing happened, she stared harder. Then her tail started flipping back and forth and she dug at her log with an idle hoof. 

Finally she could stand it no more. “What did he ask him,” pressed Kitty Hawk.

I held up my paw to silence her. 

Kitty Hawk cocked her head inquisitively. “What is it?” she asked. 

I ignored her. 

My ears were perked up, trying to filter out the buzzing, croaking, and the occasional hoot. Somewhere out there, something didn’t belong. I listened hard. 

“Ember,” Kitty Hawk persisted.

“Shhh,” I hissed.

Slowly, I turned my head this way and that. What had I heard that had put me on edge? Where had it come from? 

I found it again. It was coming from the jungle. Something was heading directly for us, growing louder: the creak and groan of metal and wood, the clip-clop of hooves, and many voices.

Of course there would be visitors: wagon ruts, tails and roads. Someone had built it. No sanctuary like this would go unnoticed. And now they were here. 

I dashed to and fro, running like a mad dog. Nothing could mask our mass of footprints. At least, I could conceal our camp: sand to smother the fire, blanket, food, and water skin shoved into the saddle pack, my sword across my back, sling at the ready.

Now what?

Something was missing. I frantically looked around. ‘She’ was heading towards the noise. 

“Kitty Hawk,” I hissed as loud as I dared. “Get back here now.”

She was almost to the edge of the jungle before she turned to me with the biggest grin I’d ever seen.

“Ember,” she said, “they’re speaking High Equestrian.” Seeing my incredulous face, she added, “They’re ponies.”

Ponies.

Here.

Great. Just my luck. Now I couldn’t even fight them or risk hurting Kitty Hawk’s feeling.

What to do, what to do, what to do…? 

We could hide in the jungle and wait for them to leave. We could escape now and face the desert. We could…

It was Kitty Hawk who made the choice. She sat patiently at the edge of the jungle. Shortly, two large ponies emerged. Cloaks covered their bodies except for their legs, but the hoods were thrown back, showing two very colorful bodies. They were pulling a wagon, engaged in a heated debate, and completely oblivious to us.

Both had a certain feminine look to them.

“The proper way to complete a dandelion sandwich is with mayonnaise, pickles, and lettuce,” said the bright blue pony on the left. Her black hair was tied back with a bow. A horn jutted from her forehead.

“Absolutely not,” countered the white pony on the right. “You add hay fries and colby-jack cheese. It's absolutely delicious.” Her yellow hair hung loose.

“Then it becomes a hay fry sandwich,” countered the first.

The pair were nearly on top of Kitty Hawk before she piped up in her energetic, cheerful voice, “Hi, I’m Kitty Hawk.”

Both stopped and turned to look down at her. Several seconds of silence passed. It was the white pony who spoke first. “Pleasure to meet you, Kitty Hawk. I’m Lily Blossom. Where did you come from?”

If I could, I would have rushed forward and shoved a paw over Kitty Hawk’s mouth.

“We came from the Diamond Dog lands and are heading to Equestria,” she said.

I prayed to the stars above: “Please silence her now so that we can make our escape.” Turned out no one was listening.

“We?” asked Lily Blossom.

“Ember and I,” replied Kitty Hawk. “I’m his slave.”

I groaned inwardly.

“Slave?” asked the blue pony, a hint of caution in her voice. “Is this ‘Ember’ a um, a um…”

“He’s a Diamond Dog,” said Kitty Hawk.

That did it. All possibility of a secret escape had just gone and drowned itself in the lake. I was going to be a prisoner of ponies because of Kitty Hawk and her ‘overactive-habit-of-sharing-everything’ with strangers.

The light blue pony was looking noticeably paler. Lily Blossom whispered something into her ear. The blue pony unhitched herself from her wagon and trotted towards the jungle. Once in the trees, she broke out into a furious gallop.

Lily turned back to Kitty Hawk, a forced smile plastered across her face. “Tell me, little one,” she asked, “where is Ember?”

“Oh, he’s over there,” the little traitor pointed her hoof directly at me.

Lily Blossom was doing her best not to stare in my direction. Her smile was still glued in place. “That’s nice,” she said.

There was a pregnant silence. 

“I know,” said Lily Blossom, unhooking herself from her wagon, “I’ve got some oat cookies in the back of my wagon. Would you like one?”

“Yes please,” said Kitty Hawk, jumping into the air with excitement.

I didn’t trust these strangers. There was no force of wills, no negotiations, alliances or truce. This ‘Hi, who are you?’ didn’t mean they weren’t an enemy.

“Excellent,” said Lily Blossom, “how about you come to the back of my wagon.”

It was time to retrieve Kitty Hawk. One female pony couldn’t be too much to deal with. Could it?

The pony instantly stiffened when she saw me rise. Her eyes went wide, her pupils dashing about as if trying to decide which way to bolt. The stench of fear coming off of her was intoxicating. 

I walked forwards, slowly, deliberately. 

Lily Blossom clamped her eyes shut. Her chest was pumping in quick succession, ears splayed back, nostrils flared. Only her legs seemed unwilling to move. “Hello,” she said in a voice that was barely above a squeak. 

I ignored her and instead turned to my charge. “It’s time to go,” I said, reaching for Kitty Hawk.

“But Ember,” whined Kitty Hawk. “Can’t we stay?”

“Yes, please stay,” echoed Lily Blossom.

Finally I turned to Lily Blossom.  Her eyes were still fiercely clamped shut and she was muttering something under her breath. Listening closely, I heard her repeat, “please don't kill me, please don’t kill me...”

“Why would you want me to stay?” I asked, crossing my arms and staring pointedly at the pony. 

“It’s always nice to share a meal with strangers and make new friends,” said Lily Blossom. When nothing happened, she cracked one eye and quickly shut it again. “We’ll be bound by the law of desert hospitality if you accept,” she added.

“What is the “law” of hospitality?” I asked.

“I know, I know!” said Kitty Hawk, bouncing at my feet. She assumed what she thought was a regal stance. “No party may inflict harm against the other while the agreement of hospitality remains in effect.”

“Where did you hear that?” asked Lily Blossom. She looked down at Kitty Hawk. I got the feeling that she was doing her best to pretend that I was only a repulsive statue. 

Kitty Hawk’s smile dropped a little. “From a desert pony who led my family through the desert. That was before I met Ember.”

“If I accept,” I asked tentatively, “then you and your clan cannot attack me?”

“That’s correct,” she said, still not looking at me.

“We accept,” said Kitty Hawk, all smiles again.

I glared down at her. 

All eyes turned towards me.

Something large and fast burst through the jungle canopy. Its outline briefly cut across the moon. Thunderous hoof steps were closing in on us. The time for our escape was past.

“Then I accept,” I said and sat down in the sand. 


> Ch.12 A turn of fate part 3
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------



The flying pony swooped in. His blue coat was almost black against the night sky. His two-tone purple hair was slightly easier. In his hooves was a crossbow. It was pointed directly at me. 

I didn’t like it.

“Get away from the dog,” shouted the flying pony. He raised the crossbow to his cheek.

I let out a warning growl.

Lily Blossom waved at the flying pony. “I offer him hospitality,” she said.

“I said get away from him,” repeated the flying pony. 

“I OFFERED HIM HOSPITALITY,” shouted Lily Blossom.

This time the flying pony heard her. After a brief glance at me, he turned to Lily Blossom. Several different expressions while he tried to process what Lily had said. He sputtered for several seconds before he found his voice. 

“You did what?!” he shouted.

“I offered him hospitality,” she replied, her smile never faltering.

“Why? What did you do that for? He’s the enemy,” the flying pony gestured at me with one hoof.

“He’s alone and had a pony with him,” she offered

Kitty Hawk chose that moment to make herself known to the newcomer. She jumped up and down, waving at the newcomer. “Hi, I’m Kitty Hawk,” she said. Her position also put her in the line of fire of that crossbow.

The flying pony mumbled something unintelligible to himself. In the end, he just crossed his front legs and glared. At least the crossbow was pointed elsewhere.

More ponies burst from the underbrush. They came in all colors and sizes, with wings, or horn, or none at all. A few wore armor. Each had a weapon.

The ponies spread out and circled me. They stepped closer, weapons leveled at me. I uttered a low, menacing growl. My paw inched towards my sword.

“I offered him hospitality!” shouted Lily Blossom.

“What?” shouted one. The cry echoed around the circle. 

“It’s true,” said the blue winged pony. He was now joined by other flying ponies.

Grumbling broke out amongst themselves.

“Everyone, stand down!” shouted a new voice. This came from outside the circle. 

A new pony stepped through the circle. She stood tall, with light green coat and yellow hair. This newcomer took purposeful strides towards me, her eyes never leaving mine. Unlike the others, she was not armed. An Iron collar hung around her neck. 

She stopped just out of my reach. 

I watched her.

She watched me.

The pony turned to Lily Blossom.

“Did you offer him Desert Hospitality?” she asked in a voice so calm and relaxed she might as well been asking for a favor.

“Yes, I did,” said Lily Blossom with a bob of her head.

The mare took in a deep breath and exhaled it. She turned to the flying pony. “Clear Skies,” she said. 

The blue flying pony went ridged and snapped a smart saluted her. “Yes, Ma’am?”

“Gather the wagons and set up camp on the far side of the lake. I’ll deal with this,” she said. 

The flying pony, Clear Skies, studied me for a moment longer before putting his hoof to his mouth and blew two long whistles. 

“You heard her,” he shouted. “Every pony move out to the other side of the lake.”

More grumbling followed, but in clumps of two or three the ponies walked away. Soon, a train of wagons pushed through the jungle, heading to the far side of the lake. Several ponies stopped to watch me. There was even a group of foals. 

“I’ll go join the camp,” said Lily Blossom. She started to hook herself up to her wagon.

“How about you stay here,” the new pony suggested. “You’re on diplomatic duty since you are the one who offered hospitality.”

Lily Blossom started to object.

“You offered him hospitality, you help solve the problem,” the pony said.

“Hi, I’m Kitty Hawk,” said the white puff ball at my feet, injecting herself into the conversation. “I’m Ember’s slave.”

The pony turned and smiled at the youngster. “Pleasure to meet you, Kitty Hawk. My name is Apple Honey, former slave of Emperor Uni.”

It took a moment for her words to make sense: former slave...of the emperor? I just sat and stared, for the first time in my journey completely lost for words. 

Then a terrible thought entered my mind: What if she despises Diamond Dogs for enslaving her? Will she have me killed?

Apple Honey turned, took two steps to me and offered her hoof and a smile. “Hello, I’m Apple Honey. You’re Ember, I presume?”

I watched her closely. Her smile didn’t seem false. I glanced at her hoof and back up. She continued to smile. 

It didn’t seem like a trick or a trap.

Slowly, tentatively, I reached out and grasped her hoof. 

“I’m Apple Honey, leader of the Apple Caravan who inhabit these deserts. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said as we shook.

“Likewise,” I said, still unsure of her intentions. 

“Lily Blossom,” called Apple Honey without looking away from me, “I hear you keep a stash of cookies in your wagon. Can you bring us some cookies?”

“Sure,” said Lily Blossom and disappeared into her wagon.

Apple Honey leaned in close. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her sharp words catching me by surprise. 

“Traveling,” I said, a little taken aback.

“Where to,” she pressed. 

“To Equestria,” I replied. 

“Why?” 

Her rapid-fire questions were unsettling, but I saw no reason to lie to her.

“I’m taking her back to her family,” I said, gesturing towards Kitty Hawk.

Honey Apple briefly glanced at Kitty Hawk.

“What Clan do you belong to?” she asked. “I don’t see a collar.”

“Firebrand. I took my collar off when I left my clan.”

This caused Honey Apple to think for a moment. She bit her lower lip and looked skywards. Her eyes flicked back and forth as if reading a mental paper in her mind.

“Firebrand,” she said at last, “large clan, far East of the empire, stable with no long term enemies, currently led by Chief Blaze.”

Upon seeing the surprised look on my face, she grinned. “There are certain dogs willing to sell anything for jewels: information, ponies, other dogs. It pays to stay on top of internal Empire politics.” 

A thought came to mind. “This dog wouldn’t by chance be a wandering merchant?”

Honey Apple didn’t reply, but her grin expanded to show even more teeth.

“Found them,” announced Lily Blossom and appeared with a box in her teeth. She set them down in front of us.

Honey Apple took out three and offered one to Kitty Hawk and I. Kitty Hawk messily  devoured hers. I cautiously took a nibble. It was made of honey and oats. 

“This relationship is going to be built on trust,” said Honey Apple, between bites of her cookie. “Tonight, you will stay on this side of the lake. Tomorrow, we will discuss entering the camp. If everything goes well, you might be able to join us as we cross the desert.”

With that, Honey Apple finished her cookie. She gestured to Lily Blossom. “Grab your wagon, and let’s go. We need to settle the camp and put everyone at ease.”

Honey Apple turned to Kitty Hawk. “What’s wrong with your wing?” she asked, looking at the bandage. 

“It was broken,” said Kitty Hawk, raising her wing up for Honey Apple’s inspection. 

“Come over to the camp in the morning. I will have one of our medical staff take look at it,” she said.

“Okay,” said Kitty Hawk.

With that, the two ponies left. 

“Yeah, ponies!” cried Kitty Hawk. “Did you see the other foals? I’ll have playmates.”

“Yes, I did see them,” I said, still deep in thought. 

Tomorrow was going to be an interesting day. 	

	
	




> Ch.13 Traveling Companions part 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The corpse of Scrap lay rotting in the desert. Trapped between sand and sun, the epidermis had turned to wrinkled leather. Inside, an army of insects worked furiously. They swarmed through the corpse, carving out deeper sections as their expanding population consumed the dead flesh.

Scrap’s head was a short distance away with its face in the sand. The mouth hung open. Flies licked across the remains of the neck. One eyeball was suspended from its nerve, staring sightless as the ground. At least, until a vulture plucked the eye and swallowed whole. The bird rolled the head to the other side and ate the second eye. It had a trouble with the tongue but finally ripped it free and guzzled down its ghoulish meal. With all the easy bits gone, it returned back to the corpse and the other three vultures that were currently picking at it.

They squabbled amongst themselves. One bird pulled its bald head from the neck cavity, holding a wet and lumpy prize. Another bird attacked the anus. The last two bird fought for an opening just underneath the chest plate and the guts inside.

Suddenly, the sand exploded upwards. The birds ran away, their great wings pumping to get them airborne. They squawked and screamed for their stolen meal. Down below, two hooded figures approached the body.

The first hooded figure was an immense Diamond Dog. From head to tail, he rippled with muscles that threatened to burst from his skin. His face was taken up by a huge overbite, his lower jaw having more in common with a shovel.

The second dog was unusually portly. He waddled to keep up with his bigger companion. The belt around his expanded gut kept it from dragging on the ground.

Both dogs stopped next to the corpse.

“Idiot,” the larger dog said in a deep growl.

“Well,” snivelled the fat dog, “all that work, and,” another sniffle, “ and he still couldn’t do it. Never send a mutt to do a dog's job.”

“We underestimated him,” commented the big dog.

“Yeah, well,” the fat dog snivelled and twitched, “we’ve tried to kill him twice. I’m going to make sure that this last one works. The trap will spring as soon as he leaves the safety of the sand.” The fat dog turned to go. “Grab the head and let’s get out of this pony forsaken desert; it’s draining my magic.”

The bigger dog extended a paw, and a black magical field enveloped the head. He turned and left, the head following. The pair retraced their footsteps. Another set of dogs waited for them at the edge of the desert, holding open the barrier that separated the desert from the dog lands.

I came awake all at once. Leaping to my feet, I drew my sword, blade humming in my hands. A dark figure lunged at me from the fog, and I slashed out. The blade carved the morning mist in two, but found nothing.

The light was just beginning to slip out of hiding. Long shadowy fingers stretched across the ground. The air was damp and cold. No ground animal stirred nor did any bird sing. Only the lake moved, gently kissing the shore. Everything else was still.

I was alone.

Wait! Where’s Kitty Hawk? I frantically tossed aside great chunks of sand but found nothing.  Moving beyond my camp, I found a trail of tiny hoof marks. They hugged the lake, heading in the direction of the pony camp. Wisps of smoke marked their location behind a low hill.

Bing! Dang! Ding!

My ears swiveled about. The sounds were coming from the opposite shore. I spied a group of ponies throwing themselves at one another. Sunlight glinted off metal. Circling around and shouting at the ponies was a certain light green female pony.

Kitty Hawk was probably in the camp. I needed make sure she was okay. To get into there, I needed to talk to Honey Apple. This meant putting myself before ponies again. I took a deep breath and started towards the ponies.

How would I persuade Honey Apple? Best to speak plainly and get to the point. “I just want to check one Kitty Hawk,” I ventured to the morning mist.

There came no reply.

Apple Honey had the power and the right to say no. I did not like it. Regardless, I was at the mercy of ponies. “Diplomacy” would prove challenging.

The world was a much simpler place when everyone just wanted to kill you.

Honey Apple was the first to spot me. At I approached, several flying ponies nervously took to the air. They flew low circles over the group, wooden swords and spears held in their hoof. I spotted the pony Clear Skies amongst their number.

Honey Apple trotted out to meet me. She wore a set of plated armor that protected her throat, chest, sides, and belly. A thick white gown underneath served as padding.

“Is there something I can help you with?” she asked, stopping short. She kept glancing down.

I followed her gaze. My sword was held tightly in my paw. Little water droplets clung to the blade. I looked back at Honey Apple. She maintained a very firm but cautious stance.

To any sensible pony, it looked like I was ready to attack. With a low curse, I drove my blade into the sand. Not knowing what else to do with my paws, I dropped to all fours. Now I was only slightly taller than the pony.

“I want to enter the camp,” I said firmly.

Finally Honey Apple looking away from my sword and back to me. “Why?” she ventured.

“I can’t find Kitty Hawk. Do you know where she is?”

“I do,” confirmed Honey Apple, ”I saw her this morning. She was with our nurse, Fluorescent Nightingale.”

“May I enter the camp?” I repeated, taking a step forwards.

“Hmm,” Apple Honey looked to the group behind her and then back to me. “You may enter if you leave your sword behind.”

I uttered a low and menacing growl.

“And,” she continued unabated, “you have to beat me in one-on-one unarmed combat.”

Her challenge brought my thoughts to a crashing halt. This small pony was challenging me. I was probably twice her weight and more than twice her height when on two legs. I gave her a sideways glace, trying to gauge her motives.

“I will easily defeat you,” I said.

“Maybe, maybe not,” she said with a grin.

This pony was teasing me.

“All I have to do is defeat you in unarmed combat? And no one else will interfere?”

“That’s correct,” she said.

I mulled over her words.

“Then I will defeat you,” I said.

Honey Apple called behind her, “Gather around, everypony. I am going to fight Ember.”

This news stunned her followers as much as it had me. They gathered around curiously, forming a semicircle behind their leader.

Honey Apple started to the right; I mirrored her movement.

“Rules are simple,” said Honey Apple as we circled each other. “No death blows, no teeth, when one pony cries out that they give up or they tap their opponent three times, the fighters must break apart. Do you agree?”

“I do,” I said.

“Good. This is between you and me, Ember. And no one else interfere, no matter what it looks like,” she said pointedly to the ponies around her. Many ponies grumbled unhappily, followed by the clanking of wooden weapons and the shifting of armor.

“Now, let’s...” she started, turning back towards me, but I was already charging towards her. I shifted onto two legs, opening my arms wide to envelop and crush her smaller form.

She watch and waited. I was nearly upon her. Then she spun, planned her front hooves and delivered a double hoof kick. She caught me square in the chest.

Something cracked.

I collapsed to the ground. My mouth instinctively gaped for air, but my lungs refused to work. One moment passed, then another. Finally my body remembered how to work and drew in a great lungful of air and sand. I launched into a coughing fit.

When I finally got back to my feet, I found Honey Apple stand over me.

“Something about you going to “defeat me”?” she asked, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

I said nothing.

“How about we call that round one?” she offered.

We parted and resumed our previous positions. With a free paw, I rubbed where she had kicked me. A rib shifted under my skin.

Honey Apple lowered her body into a very aggressive stance. “This time, don’t hold back.”

“I won’t anymore,” I hissed.

She charged, and I followed suit. We met in the middle with a storm of paws, hooves, and sand. I swiped at her, but she dodged left. I lunged, and she spun right and came back around with a kick.  I ducked and countered with a punch. It caught her in the side plate, and I felt the metal buckle under the blow. She was lifted up and tossed across the sand, limbs flying in all directions. She quickly regained her hooves, but her eyes were crossed and she kept stumbling to the right.

“Let’s call that round two,” she said, stumbling her way back to the other ponies.

The ponies came to her aid, but she waved them off. “This is between him and me,” she repeated. I could see the concern in their eyes.

Honey Apple turned to face me.

My respect for her was growing: I no longer saw a small pony but a seasoned warrior.

“Last round,” she said with a wince. I met her with a wide grin.

I charged. She stood her ground. I lunged. She ducked and kicked out at my legs. I crashed to the ground but came at her again. She dodged left. I moved with her. She launched herself at my face, wrapping her whole body around my head, and together we crashed into the sand. I found her rear legs around my throat while the rest of her body attempted pin my arms.

“Give up,” she shouted.

“Never!” I growled, trying to wrench my arms free.

Wamb! A hoof contacted with my head. My vision greyed.

“Give up,” she repeated.

“Never!” I reared up with my rear legs, trying to catch her body.

Wamb! Another hoof struck my skull. My vision narrowed.

“Give up!”

“No…”

Wamb!

Everything went black.
> Ch.13 Traveling Companions Part 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

To say that my head throbbed was an understatement. It felt more akin to someone driving a dagger into my brain and then wrench the blade too and fro. But the pain was lessening, reluctant to give up it hold on my on my body.

Somewhere out there, beyond the dark haze of my vision, was an intense blue light. Beyond the light was a river of voices: flowing, crashing, forming a constant babble that drowned out my thoughts.

It felt good to be alive.

“Are you almost done,” asked a very concerned and very familiar voice.

“Almost,” said a second and unknown voice.

“Maybe I need to kick him again. That dog is more stubborn than a mule.” This sounded like Honey Apple.

“If you so much as stand up, I will put you into a medically induced coma. You’re wounds are quite serious. Honey Apple, you’ve not a young as you use to be.”

“Oh hush,” replied Honey Apple.

“He’s coming around,” exclaimed Kitty Hawk.

“Good,” said the voice. “Hun, if you could wake him? It’s best that he see’s a familiar face.” The intense blue light fade.

“Ember, wake up, it’s time to wake up.”

I blinked several times. The four or five Kitty Hawk’s swimming over me finally solidified into one. “Hey Ember,” she said with a smile.

I smiled back. “Good morning, if that is, it is still morning.”

“You were only out for a few minutes,” said the unknown voice. It belonged to a horned pony, with a light blue coat and black hair. “My name is Fluorescent Nightingale. How are you feeling?”

“Much better,” I said.

“See Florescent, I didn’t do to much damage. Now, can you take care of these minor injuries so that I can get back to work,” asked Honey Apple. She was sitting beside me and carrying my sword on her back. The weapons looked ridiculous on her, being was slightly longer than her body.

“Minor injures? Minor Injuries!” screamed Fluorescent Nightingale. “Six broken ribs, a punctured lung, and a mild concussion are not minor injuries!”

“Whatever,” said Honey Apple.

Fluorescent Nightingale stared daggers at Honey Apple. I could practically see the steam coming off her face. Then a light blue aura enveloped Fluorescent horn and an identical one enveloped Honey Apple. “Fine,” said Fluorescent Nightingale. “I won’t be as nice to you as I was to Ember. Mending broken ribs isn’t exactly painless you know.”

Honey Apple didn't utter a sound, but I saw her jaw clench and eyes focus in concentration

I pushed myself up with my arms. For the first time I noticed that I was surrounded on all sides by ponies. They all looked at me curiously. Some even extended their noses forward to sniff me.

“Can I leave,” I asked, first looking at Honey Apple and then Fluorescent Nightingale.

“Yes,” said Fluorescent, her eyes scrunched up in concentration.

“Not yet,” said Honey Apple through clenched teeth. She turned to address our audience. “Ponies, let this be a lesson for you: Diamond Dogs are bigger, stronger, and heavier. We can beat them in a sprint but over distance a dog will win. If you find yourself in a one-to-one fight, run away. Always fight in pairs. That goes for Pegasi as well,” she said, looking pointedly at the flying ponies. “Diamond Dog’s are known for their skill with sling and crossbow.”

She turned back to me.

“Ember,” she said, “ I wish to extend the offer of temporary membership with our caravan. Raise one paw.”

I did so.

“Do you swear to never take up arms against the ponies here as long as you travel with us? To defend the camp and all who dwell in it? To follow my orders, even if it may lead to your death?”

There wasn’t much of a choice here, she had already bested me in a fight.

“I do,” I said

“Then I welcome you to our caravan.”

There came a thunder of hooves. I looked around. All the ponies were stomping the ground.

Kitty Hawk threw herself around my neck.

Rising to my feet, I pushed Kitty Hawk onto my back. The crowd parted before me.

“Looks like she’s Head Bitch,” I said, gesturing at Honey Apple.

“Head Bitch?” asked Kitty Hawk.

“A very honorable title in the clan. It belongs to a female who has proven her dominance and skill in combat.”

Suddenly I looked back at Kitty Hawk. There was something was missing. It had to do with how she ruffled her wings.

“Kitty Hawk, where is your wing splint and bandage?”

“Isn’t it amazing!” she said, stretching out her wings. “Fluorescent Nightingale fixed it!”

“That is amazing,” I agreed. She could fly again. My guilt of hurting her was now gone.

Keeping track of her was going to be so much harder.


____________________________________________________________________________


I didn’t need Kitty Hawk’s excited squeals of “dinner time” to know that food was ready. The other ponies had been slowly drifting towards the center of the camp. A pawful of foals was making the tasks much harder by darting through the legs of the adults.

Our destination was a large circle of rugs laid out around a fire. There seemed to be no seating order: ponies sat with groups of three or more, talking casually. No sooner had we sat then a pony tapped me on the shoulder. It was a large male that I did not know.

“Come,” he said, “Honey Apple wishes for you to sit next to her.”

He followed the stallion and found two empty rugs next to Honey Apple. She motioned for us to sit. The mare was looking much better then after our fight this morning.

“I’m so glad you could join us this evening,” she said with a smile.

“As am I,” I replied, taking a seat.

Kitty Hawk was staring fixedly at a bowl beside Honey Apply. It was filled with a stranger shiny fruit.

“Are those crystallized plums,” she asked, practically salivating.

“They are. Would you like one,” asked Honey Apple, sliding the bowl over.

Kitty Hawk didn’t reply, instead swiping two of the plumbs. She placed both of them in her mouth and spend the next few moments moaning in ecstasy. She swallowed. “I haven’t had crystallized plums in forever,” she said. “Where did you get them?”

Honey Apple leaned in close. “There are many sweets to be had in this caravan. You just have to know which pony has them, and what they are willing to trade for.”

My ears twitched, honing in on an unusual sound: the fire crewed through wood with a hiss and crackle, a night bug buzzed near my ear, and….? There were no voices.

I looked and found everyone looking expectantly at Honey Apple.

The Mare in question had also noticed as well. She addressed her followers with a smile. “My friends and followers, healers, explorers, and warriors, another day has come and done. Let us give thanks for the food tonight, and for the Diamond Dog Ember, who has agreed to travel with us in peace.”

I smiled nervously, not certain what to do with the eyes of so many ponies upon me.
“Now,” sounded Honey Apple with a clap of her hooves, “thank Celestia and pass the potatoes: let’s eat!”

On cue, several ponies emerged from behind a tapestry with plates and bowl held aloft. Several were placed nearby, smelling of strange spices and sweet aromas. A pony stopped before me and I looked up to see Florescent Nightingale with a dish held in her magic.

“We are well aware of the needs of carnivores,” she said with a smile and placed the dish in front of me, I leaned forward to inhale the sweet aroma: fish fried palm oil.

“Thank you,” I said and took a piece.

The food was delicious, and I ate several pieces before reminding myself to slow down.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” asked Honey Apple.

I gratefully accepted the offered beverage. It was sweet and rich, but strangely heavy. Almost immediately I felt tingly and numb.

Honey Apple smiled at me over her glass. “If you like it, I’ll introduce you to some of the fine stocks I have back in Equestria. We should be back there in 7 days or so.”

I nodded in appreciation and finished my cup.

Some pony started on a tambourine and another started in on a high pitched flute. Soon a dancer appeared before the fire. She wove in and out, bright flags of silk swaying through the air as she twirled about. I sat there, staring, unable to look away. She had become a bird: to rise and fall, fly long and hard, flit and flitter across the ground, and then die.

I blinked and the spell was broken. Ponies had risen and were stomping their hooves, cheering for the dancer. She bowed to her audience in turn. Then, with a last flurry of silk, she made her exit.

Older ponies began to leave in pairs.

Honey Apple leaned over to me. “It’s time to give the adults some alone time,” she said with a sly grin. “Foals and adolescents, come here please, its story time.” This was followed by a cheer and a stampede of tiny hooves.

“What do you want to hear,” asked Honey Apple, looking at the many excited faces.

“How about Dragonshy?” asked one.

“I want to hear more about The Mysterious Mare Do Well,” said another.

“A Friend in Deed,” sounded a third.

“Hmm,” Honey Apple scanned over her audience.“What about something new?” She turned to me. “Ember, do you have a story to tell?”

I was about to speak before Kitty Hawk jumped up excitedly, “he does, he does.” She looked at me expectantly.

Looks like I wasn’t getting out of this one. I coughed and cleared my throat. Everyone looked at me expectantly.

“Many years ago,” I started, feeling a little flush from the attention of so many, “my father, the clan leader, Rim, Spoke, and I had traveled to the capital. My clan leader needed help deciding who was going to be leader of the FireBrand Clan. The clan leader was told to seek wisdom from Dogenes at the fountain. We found no one, except for a stray mutt living in a barrel. The FireBrand Chief went to talk to a dog in a barrel…”
> Ch.13 Traveling Companions Part 3
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The market was deserted. A second look revealed an old dog nearly the same color as the sun baked stone. He was lying in a barrel, next to the fountain, head resting on his paws. Nothing disturbed him: not the sun, nor the heat, not even the wind as it spread the dust more evenly across the stones.

“Where can I find Dogenes?” asked the clan leader.

The old dog opened one sleepy eye. “You can find him in an old wine barrel next to the fountain in the marketplace,” he said.

“Thank you,” said the clan leader and turned away. Then he checked himself. He looked over the fountain, the barrel, and finally to the old dog inside. “Are you Dogenes?” he asked.

“I am that I am,” said Dogenes. He took the opportunity to scratch himself vigorously, dislodging a flea. “Mutt, astronomer, and philosopher: tell me your problem, and I will give you an answer.”

The clan leader still looked doubtful.

Blaze stepped up. “We accept your counsel if you can answer this question: why should we listen to an old dog in a barrel?”

Dogenes seemed to weigh the question in his mind. Stepping out of his barrel, he said: “Look left and then right. What do you see?”

“Streets and houses,” replied Blaze.

“And no smoke from the chimneys? No bartering or gambling? I’ll tell you what it means: no dogs!” pressed Dogenes. “This place is a sham of the empire where no poverty and no crime exists. In fact, hardly any dogs live here. Only the Magi and a pawful of slaves and soldiers. Without the Magi, this place would fall, and the United Diamond Dog Empire with it.”

Five dogs looked about. The whole place was eerily quiet. It was Blaze who broke the silence.

“What of you?” asked Blaze.

Dogenes said with a smile, “I remain and remind the emperor of a world beyond his walls. My presence is a thorn in his side, a stone against his house of glass, and yet I remain. Now come, tell me of your problem, and I will answer.”

The clan leader motioned for the two grown dogs to stand beside him. “I am growing old in years, and my ability to lead the clan is coming to an end. Before you stand my two best dogs, Blaze and Rim, both talented and skilled in their own craft. How do I choose who is best to lead the clan?”

Dogenes looked from one to the other: from the slim Wolfvonus to the thick grey Pitbullton, who had much in common with a tree stump. He looked at the smaller two dogs accompanying them, both a spitting image of their respective parent. Then he looked up at the sun, and then to the deserted streets.

Finally he addressed his audience. “What you seek is for one dog to follow the other without strife. If you name one over the other, the lesser will strike down his superior or divide the clan. Let me tell you this: regardless of what happens here, if the winner fares poorly in affairs of the clan, the lesser will rise against the chosen.”

“Then so be it,” said the clan leader with a sigh.

Dogenes raised his paw for silence. “Far be it from hopelessness! I propose a contest to determine your immediate heir. The winner will need cunning, speed, and strength in order to win.”

“What is this contest?” asked the clan leader.

“Each dog will face the other in unarmed combat. Beyond that, they can do whatever they please. When the sun goes down, the last dog standing will be clan leader. If both dogs are still on all four paws, then you split your clan between the two.”

Blaze and Rim looked at one another.

“I accept,” said Rim with a grin and a hungry look at his opponent.

Blaze bit his lip. “Tell me, Dogenes: although we must face each other in unarmed combat, what can we do beyond that?”

“Anything your mind can come up with,” he said and reached over and tapped Blaze on the forehead for emphasis.

The former glared at Dogenes but finally said, “Then I accept as well.”

________________________________________________________________________

The two dogs were a stone throw’s distance apart, watching, waiting.  Dogenes, self appointed referee, occupied the center. He raised one paw, carefully watching the shadows shrink beneath him. They would start at the appointed time of high noon.

Blaze ignored Rim as he stretched out on his back, stretching one leg and then the other. He smiled as his joints popped in unison. The heat was picking up, and any creature with better things to do was sitting in the shade. Sweat dripped from Blaze’s brow.

“Are you going to win, dad?” asked Ember. He stood next to his father, a worried expression on his face.

“It doesn’t really matter,” said Blaze. At Ember’s puzzled look, Blaze continued: “Either I win, or we divide the clan. Rim has little in the way of administrative skills. I suspect that in a few years, we will part ways.”

“So are you just going to give up?” asked Ember.

Blaze eyed his son. “Never give up,” he said. “‘Giving up’ is for fools and cowards. They are little better then feed for prey. Remember, there is more than one way to win a battle and not every battle do you have to fight.”

Ember stared at his father with something closely akin to hero worship.

“Now go join the clan leader in the shade,” said Blaze.

Ember scampered off, joining the clan leader and Rim’s son under an overhang. The young diamond dog looked to his counterpart. The young Pitbullton was eagerly dancing from paw to paw.

“My dad’s going to beat your dad,” he taunted.

“We’ll see,” said Ember as he turned to watched his father.

Blaze was now washing the top of his head with a wet paw.

“My dad is going to get yours with a right hook, and then check him left, and then smash him into the ground, and then the fight will be over.”

“Hush,” said the clan leader. “There will be plenty of time for that kind of talk after the fight. For now, stay with me, or I will smack both of your behinds so hard you won't be able to lift your tails.”

“Yes, sir,” the two pups answered in chorus.

“Go!” shouted Dogenes and jumped out of the way. Rim charged, his lumbering stride eating up the distance. He gave a mighty roar.

Blaze looked up from his bathing. He watched Rim approach for several seconds, then turned and ran down an alley between two buildings.

“Ha, he runs like a coward,” called the Pitbullton pup. “Get him, dad! Chew him up and spit him out!”

Ember kept his thoughts to himself.

Rim skidded to a halt. He watched Blaze run away. The big dog turned to Dogenes in confusion. The philosopher waved him on. “Go and catch him. If both of you are still standing at sunset, then you split the clan,” he said.

With a grunt, Rim rushed after his opponent.

The marketplace was once again silent. Ears, young and old, twitched back and forth, straining out the background.

Something crashed in the distance and was marked by a dust cloud spilling upwards.

A loud “Thunk” sounded behind them. The trio whirled around to find Dogenes resting on his cane. “Well, come along,” he said. “Must make sure that they both play fair.” He started after the combatants. The others fell along in stride.

___________________________________________________________________________

The tally stood as such: four destroyed houses, three laps along the wall, and two panting dogs. Each warrior watched the other, drool hanging from mouths, great globs of slobber splatting onto baked stone. Nearby, four pairs of eyes watched them from the lengthening shadows.

A little, solitary sentry guarding the door was watching them. Now he spoke. “Get a move on. The city closes at sundown. Anyone still inside the walls will be thrown into the dungeon.”

“I would rather split the clan than concede,” said Blaze, leaning against the warm stones of the city wall.

Rim ground his teeth in teeth in frustration. He glanced at the clan leader and then at Blaze. With a great bellow, he charged.

Wham! The Pitbullton rebounded off the stone wall.

Ember blinked, not certain what he had just seen. It looked like his father had picked up his opponent and flung him against the wall. Or maybe it was more redirecting. He made a note to ask about it later.

Now Blaze was on top of the stumbling dog, grabbing his front legs and wrestling him to the ground.

“Stay down,” shouted Blaze as he tried to keep the much-larger dog underneath him.

Rim response was to fume, sputter, and thrash as he tried to dislodge Blaze.

Crack!

Rim howled in pain.

His son cried out.

Ember winced at the unnatural angle of Rim’s front leg.

Blaze hurriedly backed away. “I am victorious,” he announced.

Rim rose onto three legs. “To hell you are.”

“He cannot stand on four legs,” continued Blaze.

At this, Dogenes raised an eyebrow. He turned and address Rim. “Stand on all fours. If you fail, then Blaze is Clan Leader. Did I not say,‘on all four paws’? Now stand on all fours like a dog or forfeit the match.”

Rim growled at Dogenes but stood.

All eyes watched him.

With a growl of pain he fell collapsed back onto his haunches.

All eyes turned to Dogenes. He did nothing. So did everyone else.

Then Rim dropped his gaze and with a deep breath and grunt of pain said, “I recognize Blaze as the new clan leader.”

Ember cheered and ran into his father's open arms. “You did it,” he cried as they nuzzled.

The young Pitbullton was beside his dad. A tear wetted the stones.

“Dad? Are you ok?” he asked, wiping his eyes.

Rim looked at his young son. “Sorry Spoke, I lost,” he said. With a grunt he rose onto three legs.

“You must be getting out of here,” said Dogenes. “Quickly, move.”

“Thank you,” said the old clan leader. “Thank you for overseeing this contest.”

“Halt!”

All eyes turned to the sentry.

His smile opened to reveal all his teeth, and even a few that were missing. With predatory intent, he advanced on the group.

“The sun has gone down,” he said. “You are all under arrest.”

“But sir,” said Blaze, stepping forward, “it’s not sundown yet.”

Tongues of light still licked over the wall.

The guard sneered. “It’s whatever time I say it is,” said the dog, “and it’s two jewels for every dog I bring to the emperor. Are you going to come quietly, or are you going to resist?” A paw rested on his sword hilt.

Wack! Thud! Clang!

Dogenes stood triumphantly over the fallen guard, grinning. Something seemed odd about that cane. Maybe it was the way Dogenes was twirling it, or how he had used said cane to fell the dog with so few blows. It was probably heavier than it looked.

“Use the gate,” he said, not taking his eyes off his victim. No one moved. He looked up and found five incredulous faces staring back at him. “Well, get a move on,” he emphasized, pointing at the gate.

That broke the spell: Blaze start herding everyone out of the city.

Dogenes hadn’t move, his free paw caressing his muzzle in thought.

“Thank you,” said Blaze, giving a deep bow to the elder dog.

“Run along and take care of your clan. I will do what I can here for our Empire,” said Dogenes.

Blaze shut the gate, and the bolt dropped into place.

________________________________________________________________________


I looked around at the world of wide eyes and attentive faces.

“That’s how my father became clan leader,” I said, concluding the story.

Silence hung heavy over the herd.

“That's so cool!” Of course it was Kitty Hawk. The other foals broke into excited chatter.

“Tell us another one,” sounded a tiny little thing of to my left.

“More, more,” echoed the others, swarming me in a mass of cuteness and tiny hooves. I looked around helplessly. “Well...,” I said, thinking hard.

Honey Apple took over, saving me from death by cooties, slobber, and a miniature stampede. “It’s time to go to bed,” she said.

A chorus of “Aw, do we have to?” rolled out from the foals, but Honey Apple stood her ground.

“Yes,” said the mare, “and last one in their wagon is going to take a cold dip in the lake.”

Small puffs of sand marked the retreating hooves.

I stood up and stretched, feeling my back pop. With a free paw, I stifled a yawn. Next to me, Kitty Hawk was doing the same.

“You have a good night, Ember,” said Honey Apple, and she turned to go.

“I would like my sword back,” I said.

Honey Apple turned. “I believe the Diamond Dog’s have a saying: ‘To the victors go the spoils.’ I will make you a deal: if you stay true to your promise, I will return your sword.”

I thought about it, but at the moment there didn’t seem to be many options.

“I feel secure when I hold it at night,” I confessed. Then silently cursed myself. Warriors didn’t willingly display such weakness. Being with these ponies was making me soft.

Honey Apple nodded in understanding.

“Ember, I am probably the only pony in this camp who can go hoof to hoof with you in unarmed combat. Even so, it’s a coin [toss?] of who will win. ”

As I thought about these words, another yawn escaped my muzzle. “Come on,” I said to the sleepy form next to me. I hoisted her onto my back and turned to go.

“Ember?”

I looked back.

The mare was smirking. “If it had been armed combat, I doubt I would have come out alive.”
> Ch.14 Night of Fire, Tooth, and Claw
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun was almost gone before Honey Apple called a halt. With a collective sigh, the caravan slowed and finally stopped. The wagons were circled and fires lit. Some took the opportunity to talk to their friends, while others simply flopped into the warm sand. I found a warm mound of sand and laid down. Only a moment passed before I was attacked by an energetic fuzzball. 

“Hi, Ember,” she chirped, jumping up and down on my back. “I missed you. What did you do all day?”

I thought about it for a moment. “I marched, I marched some more, and I continued marching. What about you, Kitty Hawk? What did you do all day?”

Kitty Hawk rubbed her chin in thought. “Let me see: I ate a lot of cookies, I drank a lot of water, and I farted. I also pooped and peed. Or was that before I ate the cookies?”

“I didn’t need to know that,” I said. 

“You said you wanted to know what I did all day.”

Grinning, I said, “I did, didn’t I?”

“Dinner! Dinner!” echoed the cry. 

We followed the cry and took our seats. Prayers were said and the food passed around. Then some pony popped the top on a keg of cider. A mug was placed before me and filled. I nodded my thanks. 

The cider made one pony particularly brazen. She grabbed a lute and leapt into the center. Playing a joyous tune, she began to sing:
(Original song)

Sunny is a handsome colt, and asked me for to wed
And I would marry Sunny but me father up and said
I’m sorry to tell you daughter, whatyour mother never knew,
For Sunny is a colt of mine, and so is kin to you

Then a chorus joined in:

The colt that I will marry, will be handsome, strong, and tall
And He will sing my praises, and be at my beck and call
The colt that I will marry, will keep me satiated
And every night in bed I’ll pray, that we are not related

Ilium in a handsome colt, and so is Coldy Jack
So too is Micki, Gritty, and his younger brother Mac
But father was a busy stud, and so far his seed did spread
He told me they’re my brothers all, so save my maidenhead
 
The colt that I will marry, will be handsome, strong, and tall
And He will sing my praises, and be at my beck and call
The colt that I will marry, will keep me satiated
And every night in bed I’ll pray, that we are not related
 
You never saw a lass so sad and sorry as I was
All the colts in town were kin, and me father was the cause
If I should die a single maid for dad’s adulterous sport
I think I’ll go to mother for his wanderings to report

Now mother said didn’t I teach ye to forgive and to forget
Your father sowed his wild oats, and on that ye shouldn’t fret
Your father may be father to all of the lads, but still
He’s not the one who sired you, so marry who you will!

The colt that I will marry, will be handsome, strong, and tall
And He will sing my praises, and be at my beck and call
And since me mother thwittled with a sailor come from sea
I’ll find myself a handsome colt who’ll not be kin to me

The ending of the song was immediately followed by a thundering of hooves. There were more than a few faces in various shades of blush. Kitty Hawk, sitting next to me with a puzzled look, turned and asked, “Um, Ember, what did they mean when…”

I cut her off. “Big rocks. Really big rock!” 

She started, “But she said..”

“Fillies, colts, dandelions.”

“You’re not going to answer me, are you.”

“Nope,” I answered shamelessly.

From out of the night sky came a blue pegasus. He landed next to us, sending up a cloud of dust. Many ponies shielded their food from the cloud, glaring daggers at the interrupter. I recognized him as the one called Clear Skies. He marched to Honey Apple and saluted smartly, saying, “Ma’am, I bring terrible news.”

Honey Apple leapt to her hooves. A hush descended over the camp. Even the bugs and night critters were silent. “What is it?” demanded Honey Apple. “What threatens the caravan?”

Clear Skies answered with one word: “Rats!”

______

The blue pegasus led our small war party to a short bluff. He motioned to Honey Apple, who was working her way to the edge. She poked her head up for several minutes. Once satisfied, she motioned me to join her. 

Keeping my belly in the sand, I crawled up next to her. Then Honey Apple pointed out what she had been looking at: a crop of rocks with a sizable hole leading into the earth. Light flickered from inside its depths. 

“What is that?” I asked.

“A Rat hole,” said Honey Apple, disdain dripping from her words. Her nostrils flared as if she could smell it from this distance. Scents of hatred and fear wafted off of her in equal measures.

“We have rats back home. They make a wonderful snack when fried and dipped in honey. I don’t see what the problem is.”

“Were they big rats? Really big rats?” she asked. I still gave her a blank look and she pointed with her hoof. I followed it to the entrance of the cave. “There, at the entrance of the cave. Do you see those two brown lumps?”

I looked. There were two “lumps” next to the hole that I had taken as boulders. Then one of them moved. It was about half the size of a pony, with beady little eyes and wire tail. 

I gulped. “That is a big rat,”

Honey Apple motioned me to follow her back down to the others. “Technically, they are known as Sand Shrews, but those who wander the desert called them Rats. They are nasty little vermin with a poisonous bite. They eat everything in an area and then scurry to a new hole. What makes them even worse is that they’re smart.”

Once we rejoined the others, Honey Apple pulled everyone into a huddle. “Who first spotted them?” she asked. A pegasus raised his hoof. “You get a double ration of cider, good job.” His joyful cry nearly broke our cover. Everypony glared at him, and he notably shrank with a sheepish grin. Everyone turned back to Honey Apple. “Now listen up: I want everyone in full battle-rattle. The caravan will travel until day break, one pegasus in front as a scout, one pulling up the rear, and the rest flying in low circles around us. I want earth ponies armed with swords and shields; it’s going to be close quarters. Unicorns in the center with Liquid Fire. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” they answered in unison. The ponies raced back towards camp, leaving Honey Apple and me to catch up. As we jogged through the cool night, I asked, “How do the Rats threaten ponies? Are they that great of a threat?”

“They’ve been known to attack caravans and take live ponies back to their holes,” Honey Apple explained. “The sooner we are away from here, the better.” As if thinking the same thing, we quickened our pace.

The camp was already moving at a brisk pace when we returned. The strongest ponies moved in the center, hauling three or four wagons each, freeing up the rest for guard duty. Everyone was in full armor: helmet, breast, belly, back, and greaves. Thick cotton undercoats kept everyone warm, as well as keeping any clunking to a minimum. 

We moved to the front of the column, where Fluorescent Nightingale was the only pony hauling a single wagon. A familiar head was poking out from underneath the canvas. I jogged over to her.

“How are you holding up, Kitty Hawk?” I asked.

The little pony grinned at me. “Are we under attack?! This is so exciting!”

I made a face. “Are the rest of the foals in there? Maybe you should stay inside.”

“Nah,” she said. “Some of the young ones got pretty cranky from the sudden move and all. Ms. Nightingale gave them a potion to help them sleep. But not me. I want to see all the action. This is just like our escape from the Dog Lands.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, uncertain about whether to hug her close or hide her away for safety. It was Honey Apple who interrupted the moment. Behind her came a unicorn with armor and weapons held aloft by magic. 

She said, “Ember, I want you to fall out and put these one, then join me up front.”

I pointed to one item in particular, raising my upper lip in disgust. “I’m not using that,” I said. 

Honey Apple seemed to read my mind. “You will. As your Clan Leader, I order you to use a shield.”

“As my what?”

“As your Clan Leader. You fought me in combat and lost. Then you submitted to my leadership by taking a pledge. That makes me your Clan Leader. Now use the shield.” 

She was right. By all the laws of the Diamond Dog, she was my Clan Leader. I growled my displeasure but took the equipment. 

The armor was slightly big but fit well enough. I tightened the buckles down as far as they would go. There was my sword along with a longer, straight-bladed sword that tapered to a point. They got attached to my belt. I gave the spear some experimental swings and thrusts and found it to my liking. Finally, I slid the shield into my arm. It was a simple wooden round shield with a metal rim, providing protection from my shoulder to my knees. A set of greaves covered the rest. 

Honey Apple gave me a once-over when I rejoined her in the front. “Not bad,” she said, “I’m glad to see it fits you.”

I asked, “Do you always keep a set of Diamond Dog armor and weapons on hand?”

“You’re not the first Dog ally we’ve had,” she explained. That statement left me with a flood of questions. But, as we moved under the night sky, me on two legs and the rest on four, it was probably the wrong time to ask. 

A blue pegasus pony, the one called Clear Skies, swopped in low. “We’ve got Rats up ahead,” he called down.

“Damn Celestia’s perky tits,” she cursed, shaking a hoof to the sky. Several ponies stared at the mane. Honey Apple ignored them, and instead addressed Clear Skies, saying, “Take a dozen pegasi and try to whittle down their number before we get there.” Clear Skies saluted and flew into the night. Honey Apple leaned over  to Fluorescent Nightingale. “I want Liquid Fire up front. Pass the word along.”

Several unicorns made their way to us, carrying several large bags. I was handed one of the smaller bags. Inside were many bottles filled with a red liquid. Each bottle had a cork stopper with a string attached. 

“Liquid Fire,” explained Honey Apple. “The bottles are near indestructible while the cork’s in place. Once you pull the cork out, the liquid mixes with air and becomes highly explosive. You throw it and ‘Kaboom!’ It’s great for flushing Rats out of their holes.” 

“I’ll keep it in mind,” I said as I tied the bag to my belt. 

Up above, several pegasi dodged and weaved. Crude missiles flew through the night, missed the pegasi, only to came down on us. They bounded harmlessly off the magical shields held aloft. I snatched up an arrow and examined it closely: it consisted of a less-then-straight stick with a glass tip and and feather fletchings, all bound together with leather lacing. 

The little “tinks” on the overhead shields intensified, turning into a continuous hail. “Damn these Rats,” cursed Honey Apple. The caravan was slowing down. 

I asked, “Let me charge ahead and clear the road?” 

The mare nodded in approval. “Go forth and do what you can, but take a scout.” She called down a bright, almost neon green pegasus. “Minty, I want you to scout ahead for Ember and direct him towards the archers that are giving us problems.” Minty snapped a salute and zoomed skywards. I ran after her, my shield held aloft for protection. 

Shortly thereafter, Minty returned. She pointed just left of the road, towards a shallow ditch. “In there,” she said. I found a dozen Rats. They screamed in terror and fled, but I was upon them, hacking and slashing among their number until nothing moved. 

Minty came to hover next to me. She looked like she was about to be sick but swallowed it back down. “Come on, there are more pockets of these things,” she said. I followed her. We found more, and more, and more. 

Behind us, a bolt of light shot up into the air and exploded into a brilliant flash. “Oh sweet Celestia,” uttered my pegasus companion. She started to fly back. “Wait,” I called to her. “What does that mean?” 

“They need help!” called Minty as she zoomed ahead. I dashed after her.

The caravan had halted. Surrounding it was a tidal wave of brown bodies that threatened to drown the thin line of ponies. Bottles flew overhead, crashing amongst the Rats and sending up gouts of flame. Rats burned and sizzled, shrieking as they cooked in their own juices. 

Pegasi rained down arrows. Even more flew up. Somewhere up above, a pony cried in pain.

I charged, my long stride eating up the distance. There was a mischief of Rats, all firing arrows. Drawing a bottle of Fire, I pulled the cork and threw. It shattered against a brown body, spraying fiery liquid in all directions. They scattered, streaking flames and smoke, like comets in the night sky. 

Weary eyes glanced back at their burning companions. Whiskers twitched in the fire light. They stared into the night, searching, seeking, but blinded by the barrage of pyrotechnics. 

I hefted my spear and took aim. With a great heave, the weapon few into the mass of bodies. It impaled something that screamed and threshed. They pointed and gestured. 

Raising my muzzle to the sky, I howled. The long and clear notes heralded across the great expanse. I called to my ancestors. I called the battle cries of old. I called for the blood of my enemies and for none to be left alive. 

All the Rats turned to face me. Many fumbled their arrows in an attempt to notch. Those in front tried to brace their short spears.

I brought my shield into place and held it close. My sword appeared in my paw. Peering over the rim, I eyed my prey. 

Nothing moved. 

I charged, closing the distance, bellowing my ancestral battle cry. Arrows clattered off my shield or flew overhead. The first rank tried to retreat over those behind. Then I plowed into them.

Rats went flying. More were trampled under foot. I swung my blade in all directions and always found something soft and squishy yielding to it.

“Incoming!” boomed a voice. I instinctively ducked down and raised my shield. Flames exploded all around. Then great magical blasts swept the sand. The earth writhed and shook, swallowing both the living and the dead. 

I turned left and right, but found only corpses. 

“Ember!”

I whirled around and raised my sword. There was a bloody, exhausted, but determined looking Honey Apple. She said, “They took Fluorescent Nightingale.”

___

Ice ran through my veins. Suddenly my legs gave way, and I collapsed to the sand. My limbs hung limply at my side. “How?” I asked. Then, in a burst of panic, “How about everyone else? What about Kitty Hawk?!”

“The ground collapsed under the lead cart, and she was dragged into their tunnel.” Upon seeing my worried look, Honey Apple added, “Kitty Hawk is fine.”

I followed Honey Apple back to the caravan. The remains of Rats were strewn in all directions. The place stank of death and charred meat. 

The caravan had been drawn into a circle, with the wounded laid out in the center. Many ponies were wounded, with others attending to them. Honey Apple was announcing, “The poison the Rats put on their weapons is making the wounded sick. Administer the antidote and force them to drink lots of water. As soon as the most critical are stable, we are going to move out.”

I rounded on Honey Apple. “What about Nightingale?” I demanded. 

Honey Apple glared at me, but then softened her gaze. “We have too many wounded. I can’t spare the ponies, in good fighting shape, to go and get her. I don’t like it any more then you, but I’ve got to think of the whole caravan. The sooner we are out of here, the better.”

“I’ll get her back,” I said, hardly able to believe the words leaving my own mouth. But now I was committed. “Get the caravan moving; we’ll meet you at sunrise.” 

“That’s crazy!” whinnied Honey Apple. “They took her back to their Rat Hole. There will be thousands of Rats in there. How do you expect to win?”

“I don’t know,” I confessed, starting the long trek to the Rat Hole. Then thinking quickly, I added “but she makes Kitty Hawk smile. I’ve got to try.”

__________

“This is crazy,” I muttered to myself as I crawled right up to the Rat Hole. “This is foolhardy, stupid, and crazy.” But here I was. I paused to peek over a boulder. There was no one guarding the entrance. Only an open expanse of earth separated me from the cave.

I looked all around, tried to peer into darkened shadows, sniffed the air, and rotated my head left and right while listening for the tiniest of sounds: an owl hooting, the wind rustling the sand, crickets chirping. 

But inside the cave came voices: squeaks, squeals, and yips in reply. Dim light danced just inside. And smells: of filth, rot, and unwashed bodies. 

I made a dash for the cave, kicking up sand in my wake, and stopped just inside the entrance. My heart pounded in my ears. The night was still. 

Into its depths I traveled, along the floor and walls worn smooth by countless paws. Green light bloomed out of swaths of glowing fungi sprouting from cracks in the rock. Now came the steady drip of water and sticky humidity.

I followed the path ever deeper, the walls getting ever narrower. Twice I had to squish through passages never designed for any dog. My shield and equipment scraped against stone in deafening shrieks. Still nothing came. Nothing challenged me. 

Then the path widened into a great expanse: fungi clung to every surface, more numerous than stars, flooding the whole room with a green hue. Here and there jewels sparkled from the rock face. Light fractured and danced. The whole scene was eerily beautiful. 

Below me, with the path descending along its wall, was a cavern so massive that it could fit half of my village back home inside it. Numerous smaller tunnels branched off from this cavern and descended even deeper, but it was the occupants that caught my eye.

The room was filled with Rats of every shape and size. They scurried, legions upon legions, out of one tunnel and down another. Each moved with purpose and determination. The pitter-patter of many feet drowned out the soft thuds of my own paws.

There, in the center of the room, sitting above the scurry, was a great Rat on a throne of skulls. He was taller than me, as wide as a door, with more rolls and curves than a river.

And he was singing: (dum da da, da dum da da)


Rats we are and Rats we be


Live in darkness, all we see


 


No food in belly


Crying young.


 


We all grow fungi from our dung


 


No land, no riches, seed to sow


Given ground where nothing grow


 


No food in belly


Starving young


 


Lot of rat, we all die young 


 


Now Rats forever, Rats we die


Only dream to touch the sky


 


No food in belly


Dying young


 


Killing ponies such great fun


 


We steal and bite and kill what may


None do care what  rats may say


 


No food in bellies


Lying Sun


 


Cursed by Queen to roast and run


 


Mischief rat is all you’ll see


Scoundrels, thieves, all we can be


The last note echoed into the darkness. The King stood and took a bow. The rats carried on.

Now The King raised his spear, a very wicked-looking thing with many barbs, hooks, and points, and slammed the butt into the ground three times. The whole mischief stopped and looked. “Bring forth the pony!” bellowed the Rat King.

His subjects scurried to obey. Soon they emerged out of the far tunnel with Fluorescent Nightingale in tow. She was covered with wounds and cuts but stood tall. A chain hung around her neck, each link echoing its neighbor: clink, clink, clink.

“Ah,” said the Rat King, looking down his long narrow snout at her. “Welcome, my little pony,” he sneered. 

Fluorescent Nightingale inclined her head. “The pleasure is all mine, but I do not know your name, oh great Rat.” 

The Rat King spread his arms wide. “I am The Rat King, ruler of this mischief and head scoundrel of the desert colonies.”

During this exchange, I crept down the path. Everyone's attention was on Nightingale and The King. Once at the bottom, I hunkered down in the deepest shadow and waited. 

Fluorescent Nightingale once again inclined her head. “Indeed you are the biggest and strongest of all those gathered here, nothing less than a king. As the ruler of your kin, I ask for leave to rejoin my own.”

The Rat King threw back his head and laughed. His great belly shook and his body heaved with the effort. The noise shook the room, dislodging dust from the walls. Many Rats joined in until the sound shook dust from the walls. 

Once finished, the King held up his hand and the room quieted once again. With one finger, he flicked away a solitary tear. Now he faced Fluorescent Nightingale with a toothy grin.

“It’s funny to hear an enemy beg for its life,” he said. Stepping off his throne, he waddled over. Nightingale shifted nervously. The chains around her neck answered in turn. The King continued, “Isn’t it funny that not one of my warriors begged for their lives while your pony set them alight?” 

“That was battle,” protested Nightingale. “But I take it that the battle is over. Contact my caravan. I’m sure they would be happy to make a trade for my safe passage.”

The Rat king turned and snatched a skull from his throne. He presented it to Fluorescent Nightingale. The skull had belonged to a unicorn, now nothing more then white bone. “He begged for his life too,” said the Rat King wistfully, “but in the end he was too delicious to be set free.” Fluorescent Nightingale retreated from the skull. Her nostril flared, and her eyes went wide. All around, Rats squeaked and cheered. “Time for you to die!” announced the King as he raised his spear.

“No!” I bellowed, sword and shield at the ready. The Rats scattered, vanishing down their holes. Only the Rat King stayed, blinking in stupefied amazement. 

The drip drip of water filled the void. Skinny snouts poked cautiously out of holes, whiskers twitching. I tightened the grip on my shield.

“Devil Dog,” said the Rat King, breaking the silence. “I saw your exploits on the battlefield. The night would have been ours if not for you.” Now he pointed the spear at me, “I should kill you first because of how many warriors you cost us.”

“Just try it,” I challenged him. 

“Rats!” called the King, and thousands of furry bodies stood at the ready.

I took a hesitant step back. The bag on my belt jingled and clinked. Looking down, an idea came to me. I grinned at the Rat King. 

Reaching into the bag, I produced a bottle of Liquid Fire. “I’ll send you and your mischief to the after life,” I said, tossing the bottle up and down. Rats hissed and shrieked. The King’s eyes followed the bottle hypnotically. “How about it, King? Give me the pony, or I’ll burn you all”.

“And yourself with us,” challenged the Rat King. “You don’t seem the type.”

“Try me.”

“Rats!” called the King.

“Better yet,” I said, my mind racing. “I challenge you to a duel. Winner walks free.” 

The Rat King watched me some more. “So be it,” he said. “Just, for all our sakes, put that bottle away.”

I started to say that it was fine and it wouldn’t explode until the string is pulled but then stopped. Maybe they didn’t know. Regardless, I put the bottle away.

“Rats!” said the King. “Bring me my armor!” The mischief rushed to his aid. They scraped, scrambled, huffed, and puffed until he mostly fit into his “armor”. The mismatched pieces, consisting of arrowheads and scraps, were held together by mail rings and leather straps. A rusted, shapeless helm was crammed onto the King’s head. Task complete, the rats returned to their holes. The Rat King faced me, now closely resembling a metal pear. 

“You,” said the King, pointing at Florescent Nightingale, “against the wall. One glow of your horn, and my rats will kill you.” Nightingale complied, her chains echoing her movements.

“Now where were we?” started the King. I charged. The King met me with his spear, and his attack glanced off my shield. The Rat King tried to turn away, but my sword cut through leather cord, and a chunk of armor clattered to the floor. The King caught me with his counterweight, and I staggered back.

He lunged, and I parried. Our weapons sent sparks into the darkness. We circled, and again our weapons clashed.  “Come and get me!” huffed the Rat King. 

I sneered. “I just need to wait until you wear yourself out.”

The Rat King cursed. He swung his spear, and I ducked, then charged him with my shield. I slammed into him, only to rebound back. The Rat King started towards me, spear up high. “It’s time for you to die.” He lunged. I raised my shield. The spear sank into the wood and held firm.

I tugged one way, he tugged the other. The spear stayed. The Rat King growled in frustration.  “I know, right,” I said and pushed hard. That got me nowhere.  

Now the King pushed. I found myself losing ground. Ditching my shield, I drew my second sword. The Rat King furiously shook his spear, trying to dislodge my shield. 

I grinned and rushed forward. The Rat King swung his improved club. I shouldered the blow and began hacking at his armor: metal links broke, straps severed, gaps in his armor appeared. 

The King turned and fled. I saw an opening and brought my sword down in a long arc. I severed his tail, and blood went spurting high. 

The severed member flopped on the floor. It wiggled and twitched, blood pooling around it. I looked around for its owner, but the King was gone.

Chink, chink, chink. Fluorescent Nightingale stood next me, looking at the floppy, limp limb. She said, “Thank you. I wasn’t expecting a rescue.”

“We’re not out of here yet,” I said. 

“Not without these.” She gripped the spear in her magic and yanked it free. She threw it at my feet. “Take that and the shield. Give me your swords, and I’ll cover our rear.”

We clambered our way up the path, keeping watch on the void below. Down below, the ground seethed and writhed with the mass of brown bodies. They squeaked and yipped, then as one started after us with the gnashing of teeth.

“Move it!” I shoved Nightingale up the tunnel.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Ending this,” I said, pulled the sack off my belt. Grabbing a handful of strings, I yanked out the corks.

“You’ll kill them all! That’s not the pony way!” cried Nightingale.

“I’m no pony,” I said, and tossed the bag. 

We ran: up the stone passage, squeezed through narrow openings, onwards and onwards. Rolling black smoke billowed up, clinging to the ceiling and giving the air a chemical taste. Its was getting harder to breathe. I found myself having to stop and cough. The smoke was only getting worse, burning my eyes and throat. I felt along the wall, pulling myself onwards.The smoke closed in. I grabbed the stone for support, doing everything I could to remain upright. Then my legs gave out and I fell, helmet bouncing painfully off the stone. I lay there, hacking and wheezing. Darkness closed in around me. Yet, up ahead, a glow of light appeared. It cut through the smoke and haze. Enveloped in a magical aura, I was yanked unceremoniously up the passage.

__________

Slowly, the sun crept above the land. It cast long tendrils across the sand, cutting through shadows and bringing all within its gaze. The golden rays quickly warmed the ground, promising another hot day.

A circle of wagons now occupied a large depression. The exhausted ponies lay in the sand. They slept, seeking a few hours of rest until the heat made that impossible. Only a few were awake, one of them being a white filly pegasus.

Kitty Hawk sat and watched the distant hills. Her tail flipped anxiously back and forth, betraying her worried state. She sat, unmoving, waiting for my return. Her ears barely twisted at the sound of crunching sand.

Honey Apple sat down beside her. Silence rained. A bird chirped. Honey Apple stifled a yawn. Finally, she said, “It’s time to go to sleep, little one.”

“I need to wait for Ember,” said Kitty Hawk, still staring straight ahead. “He’s coming.” Her words rang with unwavering conviction.

“How do you know that?” asked Honey Apple.

“He still has to get me back to my parents.” 

Honey Apple gave the filly a questioning look. “Get you back to your parents? Were you snatched away?”

Finally Kitty Hawk turned from her staring contest with the landscape. “I got wounded during a raid and left behind. Ember feels responsible for what he did to me. He’s trying to make amends.”

“What he did to you?” Honey Apple couldn't hide an edge of alarm from creeping into her voice. “Did he hurt you? Did he, um, ah…”

Kitty Hawk gave a wicked grin. She seemed to take enjoyment in watching the older pony squirm. Finally, she confessed, “He hit me with a stone and broke my wing. I don’t think he knows that I know. In some ways I’m glad it was him. I haven’t met any other dogs that are as caring, loyal, and doggedly determined as he.”

Honey Apple sighed with relief. 

Kitty Hawk returned to watching the landscape. Honey Apple sat quietly beside her. The sun crept higher.

“There they are,” said Kitty Hawk and she spread her wings.

“Where?” asked Honey Apple, peering for any indicators. 

“I’ve got pegasus eyes. Or did you forget?” Kitty Hawk flew into the sky, leaving a frustrated Honey Apple galloping after her. 

__________

My only warning was a rush of air and a loud “Ember!” before a white fluff ball wrapped herself around my face. 

“Hermrhmm,” I said.

Kitty Hawk released my muzzle. “What was that?” she asked.

“I said, ‘it’s good to see you too.’”

Kitty Hawk gave me the biggest puppy eyes before throwing herself around my neck. “I missed you.”

A winded Honey Apple joined our little group. She had to stop and catch her breath before saying, “You made it. I had my doubts.”

Fluorescent Nightingale stomped forwards, coming snout to snout with her leader. “No thanks to you,” she said.

Honey Apple hurriedly backpedaled, tripped, and fell on her rump. “Nothing personal,” the mare spouted, trying to hold the irate unicorn at arms’ distance. “I had to get the caravan out of danger.”

“I could have used a rescue!”

“We had too many wounded. And no one died, by the way.”

Nightingale pushed forwards, forcing Honey Apple onto her back. “I would have died and been rat food if Ember hadn’t come rescued me.”

“I’m sorry, okay? There wasn’t any other choice.”

“Fine,” said Nightingale, “but don’t expect me to come running when you get wounded.” She stomped off.

Kitty Hawk took the moment to give me a good once-over. Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “You smell like smoke and wet dog,” she said. “What’s this red dried crusty stuff? Is it katchup?”

“Let’s call it that,” I lied shamelessly. 

“You need a bath.”

“Thanks,” I said, following in line behind Honey Apple as she led the way back to the caravan.
> Ch. 15 part 1 Monsters, Old Enemies, And Death
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Part 1

There was darkness. empty, eternal, and unyielding, smothering me in a coffin of silence. Then came the chains: clink, clink, clink. Claws clicked on stone. Water dripped from the darkness and splashed against the floor. Blood seeped across the floor, inching closer. I scrambled back. “Ember,” the voices whispered. 

Things emerged from the darkness, with many mouths and twice as many eyes. Some appeared with intact bodies. Others dripped blood form gorish wounds. Still more sported sickening burns, their bodies an angry collage of brown, red, and black. “Ember,” they called.

The creatures were upon me, and I fought them back with tooth and claw. All they did was redouble their efforts. They yanked, and tore, and howled at me. “You killed us,” they screamed. 

Individual faces extracted themselves from the masses. I could see dogs, and ponies, and rats. There was a dog I had killed back in the Firebrand village, and then there was Rapid Ranger, and Scrap, and the skinny mutt who’s head I’d taken, and more, and more, and more. They push, and clambered, and drowned me beneath their masses. Fat fingers encircled my throat.

I woke up howling, twisted up in my bedroll. I cast it aside, only to be confronted by a cold, empty night. All was silent and still. 

Visions of blood and bodies still swam before my eyes. The night slowly replaced those images, but I could still hear their wails. A potent cocktail of dread and fear coursed through my system. I shuddered as waves of cold shivers racked my body. 

Water dripped from my face and onto the sand. A closer inspection revealed a steady stream of tears. I hurriedly wiped them away.

It was a twilight morning: the time when darkness held firm and the world lingered in dreams. Crickets sang to the night. An owl hooted. Beside me, Kitty Hawk shifted, her pillow clutched against her chest as she watched me. “Ember, are you alright?”

“Yeah,” I lied. I could feel her concern radiating out like the sun’s warmth. “Why would you think I was unwell?”

“You were thrashing in your sleep,” she said. 

“I’m fine,” I assured her. There was no way I could convey the blade slowly twisting in my soul. How could I explain the phantoms that haunted me.

“Ok,” said Kitty Hawk and she laid back down. She fought to keep her eyes open, watching me, but soon she was snoring softly. I watched her in contemplative silence. 

The vivid dream still haunted my memory. Returning to sleep held all the appeal of ramming my face into a cactus. Instead, I wrapped my arms around myself, intent on waiting for the night to pass. But my bladder had other ideas.

With a sigh, I quickly rose and made my way to the edge of the camp. This isolated area proved ideal for my needs. I raised one leg and let loose, signing with relief. 

Behind me came the clink of metal on metal. Hastily I tried to pinch it off.  I glanced left and right, craning my neck in search of an enemy. A pair of eyes stared at me from under the visor of a helmet. I instantly wished they belonged to an enemy  

Honey Apple did little to hide her smirk. Even as my embarrassment showed clear, she did not avert her eyes. Her constant surveillance made it impossible to continue. “Can you excuse me?” I asked, raising one leg into the air. It was my hope that she would take the hint.

Appearly my message was not clear enough.“By all means, don’t let me stop you,” said Honey Apple. I glared at her but achieved little. At last she resumed staring off into space, casually leaning against her spear. I finished with much concentration and force of will. My business concluded, I starting back towards camp. 

That mare could be infuriating at times. It was as if she knew more than was she was telling. So knowing, so aggravating. Was it even possible that I could challenge her for leadership of the caravan? Would ponies follow a Diamond Dog?

When I looked up again, I found myself back were I had started. It appeared my legs had taken the liberty of going where they pleased. With little else to do, I took a seat next to Honey Apple. 

“How are you doing this fine morning, Ember the Hero?” she asked. “Taking a Hero’s piss?”

I growled at her. “Not you too! It was fine the first night, but now everypony wants to thank me and hug me, and give me stuff, and everything else. I didn’t do anything special.”

Honey Apple grinned. “Yes you did. You brought Fluorescent Nightingale back to us. We, and I, had given her up for dead.”

She took one look at my narrow, fierce expression and nearly keeled over from laughing. “Fine, fine,” she conceded. “I’ll drop the ‘Hero’ part. Best of luck convincing every other pony to do the same.”

We lapsed back into silence.

“Can’t sleep?” Honey Apple asked.

“ I'm already up,” I said. “No point in laying back down.” In truth, she was correct, but I didn’t want to admit as such. “What about yourself? Guarding the caravan?”

“No,” she replied, “I just like waiting in full armor for the sun rise.” I gave her a queer look. In reply, Honey Apple grinned and her eyes twinkled with mirth.

“I take it your words were meant as a joke?” 

“Of course,” she said. Seeing my questioning look, she continued, “Even leaders should perform the menial tasks of a camp. I will never ask some pony to do something that I am not willing to do myself. On occasion even I will dig toilets and pull guard duty.”

There was plenty of wisdom to her words. It would be useful information when I took command of a pack. “I will remember that,” I said. 

We returned to silence for some time, only broken by the clink of metal as Honey Apple shifted position. The dawn's light slowly turned the sky from black to blue. I could now see the desert, the sand, and beyond. A light breeze sent chills through my fur.

Honey Apple asked, “What are you planning to do once you get to Equestria?”

I looked at her and blinked. It wasn’t something I had devoted much thought to. With all the fleeing and fighting, actually getting to Equestria seemed more of a fantasy. But now, on the precipice, the end in sight, only one lingering question remained: what would I do? 

Honey Apple read the silence and guessed at my thoughts. “I only asked because today is our last day in this desert. By tonight, we will be camping within the borders of the Pony Nation. Will you put away your sword, settle down, and become domesticated?”

“I don’t know what I will do,” I confessed. “That’s not something I can answer at this moment.” The prospect itself seemed very daunting. 

Honey Apple continued, “If you want, I can help you get a job. Got a cousin in a little town called Ponyville. It’s pleasant, not too big. Far enough away from the main pony cities.”

With nothing else to suggest, I said, “It sounds like a place to start.”

A wonderful smell wove its way past my nose. I saw Honey Apple sniffing the air as well. “Smells like the kitchen is open,” she stated. Then her stomach growled, and she gave me a sheepish look. 

“Would you like me to fetch you something?” I asked.

Honey Apple dismissed my offer with a wave of her hoof. “Neigh, a pony will be along shortly with my breakfast. Go and eat, hero.”

I glared at her. She smile back. I rolled my eyes. “If you say so,” I grumbled and turned towards camp. 

The kitchen was alive and bustling with activity. I followed my nose to a bowling pot. The cook looked up from her work and I found a familiar face staring a me.

“Good morning, Lily Blossom,” I said. She smiled and enthusiastically waved at me, garbling a “hello uth tu Ember uth helo,” around a wooden spoon held in her mouth. I rolled my eyes, but where she couldn’t see it. I continued, “Smells good.”

Lily Blossom set her spoon down. “Please, hero, come and eat. It’s just beans, lentils, butter, cream, honey, and oats. I didn't know dogs liked pony food.”

Doing my best to ignore the “hero” bit, I nodded with all the sagely wisdom of my years. “True,” I agreed, “but a hungry dog will eat almost anything put before him. If it's hot and filling, I can manage the taste.” Wordlessly Lily Blossom poured me a bowl. I took it and began to eat while forgoing the offered spoon.

The mare had been right in one respect: the meal was catered to the taste of ponies and not dogs. Regardless, I returned an empty bowl. Putting on my best smile, I said, “Much appreciated.”

I quickly turned and left before Lily Blossom could offer seconds. Once out of sight, I scraped my tongue with a finger and did my best to wash the taste from my mouth. Pony fare indeed. It was in desperate need of fat, gristle, and chewy flesh.

Suddenly the morning was shattered by a screaming pony. The unicorn in question came flying up from her camp, kicking her blanket away and putting as much distance between herself and the offending fabric. “Snake!” she announced, pointing at her bed.

I stocked over to where she indicated and threw back the blanket. A copper-colored snake looked back at me. It flicked its tongue, eyes and head fixated on me, rattle shaking threateningly. A quick search produced a shovel, and I brought it down upon the serpent. I struck it again and again until it stopped moving. Raising the snake up high, I showed the camp my prize. 

The frightened unicorn had returned. She tentatively inched closer, looked between me and the snake. “That was quite unnecessary, Ember the Hero. You didn’t have to kill the poor thing.”

I flashed my canines at her. “It is necessary if you plan to eat it,” I said. Task complete, I headed back to Lily Blossom with my breakfast in hand. I might even make use of my new-found fame and get a Hero’s breakfast. 

____________________________________________

We broke camp before the sun had risen above the horizon and continued our trek north. I trailed just behind the lead cart, with Kitty Hawk at my side providing a never-ending stream of commentary. She continued, “When we get to Equestria, you can eat ice cream, and chocolate, and more ice cream. And then there is candy and donuts.” It was plain to see where her thoughts lay.

The morning chill soon gave way to a sweltering heat. I drank from my water skin, panting to stave off the heat. “And then there are cookies, oh, I love cookies, and then sweet buns, and dumplings,” said Kitty Hawk.

The little pony skipped at my side, undeterred by my silence. She pressed on with her one-sided conversation: “Waffles, and pancakes, and cloud cake. Mom always preferred cloud cake, but on his birthday dad always asked for carrot cake.” 

There was such a shocking silence that I feared Kitty Hawk had fallen down a hole. I was even more distressed to find her walking beside me, head down, and kicking up sand with a hoof. I asked, “Is something the matter?”

Kitty Hawk kept her eyes on the sand. She remain quiet for so long that I feared she had not heard me. I was about to repeat the question when she spoke. “Mom and dad,” came her reply at barely more than a whisper.

I moved closer to her, doing my best to comfort the young pony without stopping. I said, “In all our time spent together, you have never spoken but a few words about your parents. Why now? Is it because we are near your home?”

When she did look at me, her eyes brimmed with tears. “It's because I wanted to avoid thinking about them,” she wailed. Now her tears ran freely and soaked the sand.

Without a second thought I scooped her up into my arms. She didn't even protest as I held her close to my chest. “I'm so sorry,” I said.

Kitty Hawk wiped her eyes on my fur. “We got separated during your surprise attack. I panicked and tried to fly away. After I was captured, I was really scared, and lost. I tried not to think about them because that only made me cry even more. You were so very nice to me that it helped me forget I had lost my parents.” She buried her head into my chest and sobbed. Many ponies looked my way but none interjected, except for Fluorescent Nightingale who offered up a piece of melting chocolate. 

My charge nibbled on the sweet thoughtfully. Once finished, and when most of the chocolate was off her face, she continued: “I know Mama would never stop looking for me, and Papa would be by her side trying to comfort her. I can’t imagine what life has been like for them since we got separated. Maybe they think I’m dead.”

Hold her close, I quietly admitted: “I’m sorry, Kitty Hawk: I’m sorry you got separated from your parents, I’m sorry you were so scared, I’m sorry for everything that has happened. It’s all my fault. I’m the one that brought you down. I am the one that broke your wing. I am at fault.”

Kitty Hawk looked up at me, trying her best to form a grin. “I know. I’ve always known.”

I gaped at her, trying to find the right thing to say, but words eluded me. Kitty Hawk reached up a hoof and shut my jaw. She said, “It’s ok, Ember, I forgive you.” I finally cried. She cried. We hugged each other close.

When all our tears were gone, I finally put Kitty Hawk down. “I’m going to get you home,” I said. Kitty Hawk smiled, an infectious grin that split her face.  She cried, “Last one to Equestria is a rotten egg!” and took off at a dead sprint. I chased after her, laughing and grinning like a loon. 

For just a few precious moments, I forgot the world. We ran wild and free, not thinking of the the blazing sun, nor our violent and often bloody journeys to leave the dog empire. For that brief window of time, I chased Kitty Hawk across the sand without a care in the world.

We only stopped only when we ran out of sand. The desert barrier, a great shimming wall of magic,  blocked our path. It glistened in the sun like a single sheet of glass. I pressed a paw against its surface. Small waves rippled out in all directions. 

Beyond the barrier, beyond the line in the sand, lay a world that would be equal parts amazing and alien from the life I was leaving behind. Gone would be the my old life. The stories I had learned as a pup would die long with it, replaced by new tales spoken by foreign groups in a foreign land. Without my culture, with my kin, and land, would I even still be a dog? 

“What are you waiting for? Come on, silly,” said Kitty Hawk. She disappeared into the barrier. Leave it to the young to smash thoughtful insight and soul-searching with the subtleties of a hammer.

Once again, I felt the barrier cling to me. It clawed and grabbed, trying to force me back. I pushed on. The viscous mass steadily gave way. And then I was on the other side.

I was immediately attacked by the smell of Green, and Wet, Rich Earth, the chitters of birds and the scurry of furry critters. The sudden assault left me feeling dizzy. I collapsed onto my butt, simply stunned into silence. The forest around me made time look young: giant wood pillars supported the sky, branches criss-crossed above in spidery webs, roots crawled across the ground, and the ground wasn't ground at all, but layers upon layers of decaying vegetation.

There was a ripple in the air beside us, and a pony stepped through. It was a pegasus type, with bandages on one flank and a wing in a sling. I grimaced at her wounds. The pony spoke, and I instantly connected her to the one called Minty, my scout and escort from the night before. She said “Hello, Hero. Is this your first time seeing the Forest of Ghastly Gorge?”

“It is quite amazing,” I said, once more reframing from rolling my eyes. After a moment's hesitation, I simply nodded in acceptance of the title. “I have never seen anything like it before.” My eyes followed a particularly monstrous tree as it rose up and up into the darkened canopy. “I could spend many days here and not tire of of its splendor.”

Minty replied, “This is just one of Equestria’s many forests. Enjoy it while we pass through, but we are not staying. Just ahead there is the Friendship River. Once we cross it, we will travel to the small farming community of Ponyville and then onto Canterlot.”

I nodded in agreement. Tonight, I would have to ask Honey Apple to pull up the map and show me the lands that lay ahead. “I will have to return and explore it on my own,” I commented to no one in particular. 

The forest made it painfully clear, after I smacked my head into a low-hanging branch, that I should pay attention to where I was walking. Indeed, the entire place was full of sticks and brambles and potholes and other little hazards. Branches reached down with spindly fingers and scraped my hide. In many places, we had to force our way through the deep brush. But soon the vegetation and trees faded away and large open prairie lay before us.

Kitty Hawk was the first to spot something wrong. She had taken to the relatively empty sky but quickly returned to us. “Ember,” she said, eyes wide and gesturing towards the prairie, “there are wagons scattered in the tall grass. I think I even saw a pony or two, but they are all bloated and ugly. I didn't see any movement .”

“Oh sweet Celestia,” said Minty, suddenly looking quite pale. “Was there a crescent moon on the side of the wagons? Was it the Sunset Caravan?” She pranced from hoof to hoof.

Kitty Hawk took a frightened step back. “I don’t know,” she confessed. She slid ever closer to me as Minty became even more agitated.

The mare tried to turn in place. Her wagon groaned from the strain. Frantically, the pony unhitched herself. “I will go back and tell the caravan,” she said, kicking up a cloud of dust as she sprinted back into the woods. 

Kitty Hawk looked to me. “What do we do?” she asked.

Looking around, with no weapons or armor, and no allies to be seen, I made my decision. “Follow me,” I said and dropped to my belly. Slowly, deliberately, I slithered my way through the tall grass.

I parted a large clump of grass and immediately wished I hadn’t. We were upwind from the body, and I hadn’t smell it until now. The nauseating odor clung to the air, so potent I could almost touch it.  My stomach tried to climb out of my mouth. Only by sheer force of will did I force it back down.

The carcass lay on its side: head down, eyes closed, and tongue out. The limbs were scattered in all directions, but worse of all was the dark, empty belly cavity. The pony’s once-yellow coat was now more grey, with bright purple splotches scattered across its surface. The whole thing was dull and quiet, with only the brief hush of the grass to disturb it. 

Something was wrong. Very wrong. My hackles rose, and I felt the beginning of a low growl form in my throat. There was something missing, and I couldn’t put my paw on it. I stared, looking, listening, but only greeted with silence. 

Silence: even in death the corpse should have been vibrant with life. There was no buzz of insects or the circle of carrion birds. Just the empty body, quite and still.

I turned from the dead pony. “Come on, Kitty Hawk,” I said, picking another path around and away from the corpse. “Stay close to me. And don’t touch anything, got it?” 

She didn’t reply. When I frantically looked around, I found Kitty Hawk sitting next to the corpse, staring into its open belly. To my horror, she slowly, tentatively, reached out a hoof. 

“No!” I cried and bolted towards her, but I was too late. To my horror I saw her poke the body. Almostly instantly, she pulled it away. I froze, watching her and then the dead pony.

“Ember?” said Kitty Hawk,  holding up her hoof for inspection. “It’s cold.” There was frost covering her toe. 

When nothing happened, I released the breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. “Come here,” I said and forcefully pulled Kitty Hawk into my arms. Turning away, I began to scold her. But a snap and a pop froze me into silence. Slowly I turned toward the sound. 

The skin rippled and bones shifted. It moved here and there: the twitch of a leg, the shift of the head, or the swish of the tail. Unholy sounds echoed from inside the corpse. Then, the head rose up and turned towards us. It gazed into my soul through twin black orbs. The mouth opened and said, “I see you, Ember.”
> Ch. 15 part 2 Monsters, Old Enemies, and Fire.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I simply stood and stared. Nothing moved between us, and even the wind and sun seemed to hold their bated breath. My mind was screaming and pounding within the confines of my skull. It ordered me to move, to flee, to get away from the necrotic monster. When that failed, my mind dropped to its knees and began to beg and plead for me to do something, anything. My body simply refused to listen. I was trapped, frozen in place, drowning in the horror before me.

Those eyes locked with mine and stared back: dark, empty pits stretching into a sickening void. They pried past my flesh and blood to tear at my very being. Even as my essence howled in agony, and I knew that thing couldn’t be alive, I still couldn’t shake those eyes. 

“Celestia’s hot milky tits,” said Kitty Hawk. Those eyes shifted onto her, and the spell broke. I too found myself facing the fluff ball in my arms. 

Words utterly failed me. My jaw flapped, but nothing came out. There was a pregnant pause, and then Kitty Hawk asked, “Are you a zombie?”

The eyes bore into her. “No, young fool. I am Scrap, given new life by the Magi. I am here to kill you and take my revenge.”

“No way,” she countered. “Scrap was way too pathetic to be as cool as you, Mr. Zombie.”

The dead pony, now Scrap, growled through clenched teeth, “I am not a zombie. I am Scrap!”

“But Scrap died. Ember killed him. I saw the body,” Kitty Hawk insisted.

“SUCH IS THE PREREQUISITE FOR BEING BROUGHT BACK FROM THE DEAD!”

“But you’re in a dead body. And you’re moving. So that makes you a zombie, or an undead, or a vengeful spirit bound by magic in a fleshy cocoon until such time as your task can be fulfilled and you can be released.”

Scrap pointed a decaying hoof at Kitty Hawk. “I’m going to make Ember watch as I rip the wings from your body. Then I’m going to strangle him with his own intestines.”

My old enemy was here. Once more he would try to kill Kitty Hawk and I. Suddenly, I found myself able to move and think. 

“Yeah, no,” I said and turned to go. With a heave, I tossed Kitty Hawk skywards. “Fly and go find the others. Tell Honey Apple I need my weapons and armor.” Now free of my burden, my feet took flight.

As I fled, I was struck by thoughts of my father. If he could see me now: weaponless and running from a fight. “You stupid whelp,” he would be shouting.

Scrap violently yanked me out of my thoughts. “I’ll kill you!” shouted the dead pony. Then a big thump and scream of rage.

I scampered away into the labyrinth of tall grasses: staying low, moving on all fours. First I went left, then right, and even backtracking. It wasn’t long before I was hopelessly lost. “Ember, O Ember, come here so I can kill you!” Scrap’s voice rang out overhead. 

It was getting closer: tantalizing, almost playfully. “Ember, Ember,” he continued. “Oh where, oh where has my little dog gone? Oh where, oh where could he be?” The wind rose, and with it came the smell of putrid gore. 

I bolted blindly through the maze with my enemy closing in, and yet I dared not raise my head. Every which way was grass. It stretched on in an endless expanse, blocking out everything but the sun. I chose another direction at random and plunged on.

Grasses whipped at my nose and face. Paws drove me onwards. The sound of my ragged breath roared in my ears. My thundering heart shook my whole body. Scrap’s voice called in the distance, “I know where you are. You can’t hide from me. I can see you!”

I threw myself into a depression: listening, looking, sniffing the air. That foul carcass was far away, but something else lay ahead. Tentatively, I followed my nose through grass. The green sea parted, and I came upon a small clearing. It was occupied by a circle of wagons.

There were no ponies about, dead or otherwise. There were dark stains on the ground and some of the wagons had been torn in half, but not a soul could be seen. I approached the wagons, licking my lips nervously.

Torn canvas flapped in the breeze. A solitary wheel spun lazily in the air, squeaking on an ungreased shaft. Amongst the circled wagons, timber groaned as something shifted. A frozen breath passed over the back of my neck. “Did you miss me, Ember?” said a voice from behind. 

I jumped, leaving my skin on the ground, and whirling around to face my adversary. Immediately I wished I hadn’t. The smell nearly caused me to faint, but the horror held me in place. 

A unicorn stood there, half its skull sheared off, part of its jaw, and one working eye. Most of its white coat was stained a reddish brown. Black rotten innards squished and oozed as it moved. Inky darkness filled the eye.

It opened its putrid mouth, and in Scrap’s voice, it said, “I am in the air.” It gestured up. I diverted my eyes for a half a breath. A rotting pegasus hovered overhead, fleshy pieces falling off with every flap. Scrap continued, “I’m on the ground,” and an undead lime-green earth pony with three legs emerged from the grass. “And all around.” The yellow pony from earlier approached from my left. The quartet echoed, “There is no place you can hide. Now it's time to die.”

The four undead ponies approached me, each more horrible than the last. I retreated. My back slammed into rough wood. There came the breaking of timber and a show of splinters. A revolting pony head looked down at me. It grinned, revealing a mouth full of wiggling bugs. 

I dropped to the ground, trying not to just scream in sheer terror. My whole body shook uncontrollably. A thousand thoughts raced through my mind. 

The undead moved in. I tried to scramble as far away as possible but there was a wheel at my back. There was space underneath the wagon, and I threw myself into it. The undead ponies only laughed in unison. 

A pair of sickly cold hooves shot out and wrapped themselves around my neck. I grabbed at them. Chunks of flesh and fur came off in my paws. I tried to wipe the dead flesh off on the ground, but my stomach would have none of it and launched a full on rebellion to go up and out.

There was laughter next to my ear. Unmentionable juices soaked into my fur. The hooves only tightened. Darkness crept into the edges of my vision. 

Swallowing my own sickness, I once again grabbed the hooves. There was wet, exposed bone beneath my paws. I yanked violently. The bones snapped. Both hooves went limp.

More limbs snaked in from all sides. I clawed them away, and yet they persisted. I muffled my shrieking mouth as the hooves ran over my body. They grabbed and yanked, trying to pull me out from under the wagon. In desperation, I intertwined my arms in a wagon wheel and hung on for dear life. A head snuck in, its rotten tongue flicking in and out like a snake. Scrap grinned maliciously at me and said, “I've got you now. Come to daddy.” The dead ponies laughed, and it echoed inside my skull. 

Then the world exploded into blind light and searing heat. 

I instinctively covered my face and turned away from the inferno. But my ears heard that terrible laugher turn to screams of agency. There were several small explosions, and something hot and sticky landed on me. It turned out to be steaming entrails; I hastily scrapped them aside. 

The world was free of fire, but the heat still radiated off the ground in great waves. Hesitantly, I pulled myself out from underneath the charred remains of the wagon. The dead lay scattered about, most in small pieces that smoked and hissed. 

A helping hoof was extended, and I gladly accepted. Fluorescent Nightingale offered me a friendly smile.  Surprising myself, I swept her up in a hug. “Thank you,” I said, relieved to be done with the nightmare. “I am truly glad to have ponies with me.”

There were about a dozen other ponies, all suited up and armed. Each gave me a nod and a smile in return. There was even a welcoming figure hovering overhead.

Kitty Hawk waved down at me. “See, I led them right to you.” She glowed with pride. Then a grimace passed over her face, and she held her hoof over her nose. “Burnt zombies smells bad.”

I hadn’t noticed until now, but the smell took the brief lull in my terror to wallop me in the face. Even fire couldn’t ease the stench of rotten flesh. Now it just smelled sickly sweet and burnt. 

A half-charred pony raised the remains of its head. “Damn you ponies to Tartarus. I will get you in my...” started Scrap, before a dozen spears pierced its body. His parting words were lost in a wet gurgle, but the body continued to thrash. 

“Idiots!” cried Fluorescent Nightingale, firing up her horn. She snatched a sword from one of the ponies and chopped the zombie’s head off. She immediately followed up with a bottle of Liquid Fire. “What did I tell you?” She looked pointedly at the other ponies. “Cut and burn! It’s the only way these things stay down!”

“Again, thank you,” I said, eyeing the other corpses for signs of movement. As we turned to go, a black mist arose from the ruined corpses. “That can't be good,” I commented. 

We arrived back at the wagon circle, now a fortress of shields and spear points. Magic shields hummed over everything. In the center of the circle was Honey Apple poring over a map, and a nervous looking Lily Blossom hooked up to a wagon.  Several colts and fillies poked their heads out from underneath the canvas. Lily Blossom waved when she saw me, but otherwise pranced in place. 

Honey Apple acknowledged my presences with a grunt. She pointed at my collection of armor and weapons. “Suit up. Then I need your help to get us out of this mess.”

Fluorescent Nightingale and Kitty Hawk moved to help me. “She really is glad to have you back,” said Nightingale as she strapped down my chest and back plates. I nodded in understanding as I slipped on my helmet and slid my swords into place. I tried not to think of the sticky sweetness in my fur, now pressed closer by the armor.

All three of us joined Honey Apple.

I gave Kitty Hawk the look. She glowered back. I narrowed my eyes and shook my head. The little fuzzy ball copied my expression.  I didn’t flinch. With a “harumph,” she flew to Lily Blossom and settled on top of the wagon. Both ears turned my way.

Honey Apple was pointing on the map, an area I guessed to be our current location. “The pegasi report about 40 or 50 moving corpses, which is about right if a caravan was lost with all hooves. But I’m receiving not only reports of Crescent Moon’s markers, but three cupcakes as well as crossed roses. That makes three caravans and approximately 100 ponies unaccounted. I don’t like it.”

“Three caravans!” Fluorescent Nightingale nearly shouted. “Shh,” hissed Honey Apple. A few ponies looked our way. Nightingale looked ready to bolt. “Three caravans,” she continued in a hushed whisper. “One caravan, I get. We’re explorers, it’s an occupational hazard. The loss of two caravans is not unheard of. But three!”

“Why can’t we just rush through them like the rats?” I asked.

“I don’t know how they will react,” confessed Honey Apple. “Rats attack in waves. You kill off enough in a single wave and the rest retreat. Or they get enough to eat. Either way they retreat. With undead, you have maybe a very powerful spell caster or a lot of smaller ones. I don't know who or what is controlling them.”

“Scrap,” I said.

“Scrap?” asked Honey Apple.

I explained. “He was a dog I killed many days ago. Apparently, he is in control of the undead.” A noticeable shiver ran down my back. “At least the ones i’ve met.”

Honey Apple gave me a questioning look. “You mean they’re a hive mind?” Seeing my questioning look, she continued, “They think as one. One controller?”

“Yes,” I agreed.

Honey Apple turned back to the map. Suddenly she stomped the ground in frustration. “Damn Luna’s lustrous lower lips.” She looked up at the sun. “We have about six hours of daylight, and then...”

“They pick us off one by one while we try and rest,” I finished. The prospect of night fighting held little appeal. In the morning we would all be exhausted, yet the enemy would persist. Would the caravan even survive? 

Honey Apple nodded as if reading my thoughts. “Our best hope is to get across the Friendship River. Ambient Equestrian magic will help to degrade this ‘Scrap’ and the corpses he controls. But until then…” She started taking measurements with her hoof. Her conclusion revealed itself as a grim look on her face. “A half hour’s heavy running without wagons, wounded, armor, or fighting.”

A blue pegasus interrupted us by swooping in and saluting smartly. “All the corpses have stopped moving, and black mist is rising from their bodies,” he reported. Nightingale, Honey Apple, and I all looked at one another.

“Where is it collecting?” asked Honey Apple. 

The pegasus didn’t say anything, just pointed with his hoof. We all followed it to just beyond the circle of wagons. Quickly condensing over the meadow was a black cloud; twisting and writhing in the blackness, it took shape. The ponies in front were starting to nervously shift back and forth. 

First two legs planted themselves firmly on the ground. Then two arms followed: they flexed their big, fat pony-sized fingers. And finally a head: with big pointed ears, a long wolvonus snout, and rows upon rows of teeth. “Hello, Ember,” it said as twin wagon-wheel-sized eyes focused on the caravan. “It’s time to die!”

“Run!” shouted Honey Apple “Get away from it!”

“Fire!” roared a contradictory order from above. Bow strings twanged. Arrows riddled Scrap’s form. They stopped and sank into the gelatinous body. Scrap roared with laughter, then reached out a monstrous paw and swatted a pegasi from the sky. The body hit the ground with a wet, sickening splat. 

Now he turned towards us. Rearing back one arm, he brought it crashing down on the caravan. The magic shields buckled under the blow. Every casting unicorn was thrown to their knees. Anything touching Scrap--wagons, armor, weapons, and ponies--were drawn into his body. The ponies quickly rescued their comrades before any could be sucked inside. 

“Get out!” shouted Honey Apple as she pushed ponies left and right. Many tripped over themselves to get away. The camp parted, but not quickly enough. 

Kitty Hawk cried in alarm. I looked to see Lily Blossom, eyes wide with fear, backpedaling away from Scrap and taking the cart of fillies and colts with her. I left after her. Grabbing the pony by the neck, I dragged her and the cart to one side. 

I could see Honey running from group to group, shouting orders. 

Scrap examined his arm. His acquired goodies floated inside. Then he grinned maliciously down at us. “I guess I’m not all powerful, but let’s try round two!” he moved to crush the Caravan in a single blow.

“Hey! Ugly Mutt! Bite my tail!”

Scrap looked down to see Honey Apple at his feet. His lips peeled back in a predatory grin. “Nighty night, little pony,” and he raised a foot to squash her. 

Honey Apple hurled a burlap bag at him and called out, “Nightingale. Do it now!” A bolt of lightning zipped through the air. The bag exploded. Scrap was caught in the fiery shower.

The gigantic dog stumbled back and fell, hitting the ground with a mighty boom that shook the ground. He desperately tried to wipe away the flames as they licked up his body and started to consume the wood inside his form. Black ichor popped and sizzled. “You blasted pony!” roared Scrap.

Honey Apple turned and bellowed orders. “Gather the wounded into carts. Ready more Liquid Fire! Run to the river!” Ponies, once shaken before Scrap, now scrambled to obey. 

“Ember, she won’t move!” called Kitty Hawk. She was futilely trying to pull Lily Blossom in the directions of the others. The mare stood riveted to spot, fixed by the burning monster and the flames reaching high into the sky. 

A stallon joined us and together we still couldn’t get her to budge. Out of desperation, I reached out and smacked Lily Blossom on the rump. “Giddy-up,” I shouted. Lily Blossom whinnied and then bolted after the others. Her wagon bounced along behind her.

I nodded my thanks to the stallion before snatching Kitty Hawk out of the air. “Go with her and stay away from danger,” I said.

‘Not very likely,” she countered.

“Fine. Then stay close.” I dropped to all fours and raced after the fleeing ponies. Kitty Hawk flew overhead.

Behind us, the towering inferno found its feet and turned towards us. Scrap roared, and it shook the sky. “I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you all!” Scrap launched himself after us. He was quickly closing the distance. Already I could feel the blistering heat.

“Go left!” shouted Kitty Hawk. I turned hard, dug my claws into the ground, and shot off in the new direction. Scrap tried the same thing: his massive paws slid across the burning grass and then the rest of him followed suit. He hit the ground with a booming thud. Scrap came back up with a frustrated snarl.

Now he came at us with his burning arms opened wide. He was almost on top of me. “I’ve got you now Ember!” he cried triumphantly. His arms circled in. Then the world flashed white, and I was hurled off my feet by a hurricane of heat and noise.

I was lying in smoldering grass. Dozens of fires revolved in my vision, finally condensing down to three little embers that circled my vision. My ears rang. My mind was listless, almost dull, with little thoughts here and there as if to say it was still working. My world slipped over to one side. Twin Kitty Hawks appeared in my vision. “Are you hurt?” they asked. 

Slowly, I regained my feet. Everything slid into focus. My body ached. My fur was singed and covered in numerous small burns. Thankfully, now there was only one Kitty Hawk lie to. “I’ll be fine,” I said with a smile. 

Two sets of hooves galloped over to us and Honey Apple appeared in my vision. “You look like a dragon chewed you up but didn’t like the taste. Can you walk on your own?”

“I’ll be fine,” I repeated. My body screamed at each movement. The ringing in my ears was a dull ache. If I kept putting one paw in front of the other, I could just make to the river.

Honey Apple looked like she was about to say something but just nodded. She turned and marked a path through the labyrinth of small grass fires.“I’m glad that monster exploded when he did.” 

“You knew he was going to burn and explode?” I asked. Walking and talking helped to distract from the pain. 

“Not truly, no. But that wagon he absorbed just happen to hold several bags of Liquid Fire. I’m glad no one was seriously injured, except for the one.” The pegasus from earlier hadn’t looked alive last I’d seen her. 

“Is he dead?” asked Kitty Hawk, poking at a sizzling black lump of ooze. 

“Let’s not stick around to find out,” said Honey Apple. “Come on, the river’s not far.”

As we marched away, little fires started to consolidate into bigger ones. Smoke filled the skies. The air was becoming thick, and I started to have a coughing fit. The smoke stung my eyes. “We need to get out of here,” I said.

“Follow me,” called Honey Apple. We purchased through the haze. Someone appeared to be listening, because at that moment, the wind picked up. It blew the fire and smoke away from us. 

I could now see the dust trail left by fleeing Equestrians. More than half had hung back, all seasoned warriors by the look of them. There was even a cart hauling wounded. 

As the smoke turned, it left behind little black clouds in the sky. Those clouds began to squirm and wiggle. Then they shot into the ground at seemingly random points. 

“Oh no,” I said. 

There came a rumbling under my feet. The ground heaved, and a pony’s head came out. It snarled and snapped at me.

Kitty Hawk pointed to the thing at my feet and cried, “Zombies!”
> Ch. 15 part 3 Monsters, Old Enemies, and Fire
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I didn’t move so much as react: drawing my sword and driving it into the zombie’s skull. The zombie still thrashed about, just now resembling a unicorn with my sword sticking out of its head. I stepped forward to retrieve my blade, but my paws began to shake uncontrollably. 

Finally, Honey Apple stepped in and lopped off it head. She removed any parts of the zombie from my sword and handed it back to me. “Are you alright?” she asked. 

There was no way I couldn’t be alright. There was no other option but to be alright. We were in the middle of a battle. We had to keep on fighting. We had to win. At least I told myself all of this, even as my world started to tilt sideways and swim in and out of focus. 

I started to answer but screams and shouts erupted all around us. Right before us, a pony backed away from a zombie rising from the ground, only to be bitten in the heel by another. Honey Apple ran over to help.

“Ember? What’s happening to you?” asked Kitty Hawk. Her words were thick and distorted. They came in waves and booms. 

“I’ve got to get through this,” I mumbled to myself. “I’ve got to keep moving, I’ve got to keep fighting.” My sword betrayed my trembling paws. I tightened my grip, but that only made the shaking worse. I gripped it tightly with both paws. 

“Ember?” persisted Kitty Hawk.

Whatever she had to say didn’t matter. There was no way I could stop. I had to keep going. I had to get her home. “Keep fighting,” I told myself, “have to save Kitty Hawk.” 

Kitty Hawk was shouting something, waving her arms frantically. I couldn’t even hear her. Sound and sight were shifting through fields of grey.

I kept repeating my words over and over, turning it into a mantra: “Just keep fighting. Just keep fighting. Just keep fighting.” My legs were beginning to shake. I stumbled but caught myself on one knee. 

Two hooves reached over and gently pried the blade from my paws. The sword clattered to the ground at my feet. I was gently guided to a passing cart.

“Fluorescent Nightingale,” came Honey Apple’s voice somewhere nearby. “Ember’s in a bad way. Load him up with the wounded and see what you can do.”

A magical field snatched me up and deposited me in the cart. Said cart was filled with four ponies, all in bad shape: two were missing limbs, one had a bloody bandage wrapped around his head, and the last had been run through with a spear. The speared pony chose that moment to start coughing up blood and pieces of lung. 

Fluorescent turned on the pony, fire raging in her eyes. “Don’t you die on me!” she roared, horn glowing bright. She ripped open a package and shoved a cocktail of liquids down the ponies throat before binding his wounds.The poor pony couldn’t even protest his rough treatment.

There was a clatter at my feet. I looked down to find my sword. Picking up the blade, my paw automatically conformed to the rough bound handle. I looked to the wounded ponies. Compared to the rest of the poor whelps in the wagon, I was still in good shape. “I can still fight,” I protested and started to rise. 

“Oh, no you don’t!” Fluorescent Nightingale turned her fury upon me. She began her examination, finally locking eyes with me. “That's a hell of a concussion,” she concluded and started pulling out more potions. My protests were drowned in a mixture that burned and bubbled on its way down. I was left hacking and coughing.

Fluorescent Nightingale nodded in satisfaction. “That should elevate most of the symptoms, but if you keep this up, it’s only going to get worse. Just sit and rest.” She turned to her other patients. 

A head and two hooves appeared over the lip of the wagon. The skin hung loosely to one side of the face. The stench was overpowering. It two black eyes settled on me. “There you are,” said the zombie. It started to pull the rest of its rotten self up and over.

Twin hooves smashed into the zombie’s head. Bone crunched. The ruined face turned towards its attacker, only for Fluorescent Nightingale to launch another pulverizing buck. Its head shot back, neck snapped, and the zombie collapsed to the ground. 

Only once the zombie was burning did Nightingale turn her wrath on the poor soul hitched to the wagon. She shouted, “Get this bucket moving or I’ll cut you into little pieces and feed you to the zombies myself!” The threat flew over the head of our decapitated driver. 

Fluorescent roared at the corpse, rage rolling off of her in great waves of steam. She ripped the body from the harness and strapped herself in its place. “It’s going to be a bumpy ride,” she hollered. The cart shot forwards, and I tumbled backwards, striking my head against the wooden railing. 

My head was ringing again. It throbbed inside my skull. Each bounce only intensified the pain.

For a moment, I couldn’t remember where or who I was. There was a wooden railing in front of me and a smoke-filled sky overhead. It was impossible to move, so I just listened: the thunder of hooves, the ring of metal on metal, the strain and groans of the wagon. 

My face repeatedly smacked against the rough wood of the cart. There was a big bounce, and I went airborne before crashing back down. My sword was getting in the way, so I grabbed it.

Why did I have a sword? And why was I in a wagon? There were ponies, and Kitty Hawk, and Fluorescence Nightingale, and a battle. I finally sat up. Fluorescent Nightingale was screaming again, “Get out of my way,” and carved through a zombie with a beam of fire.

Another zombie lunged at her but collapsed halfway as if its strings had been cut. Black mist rose from its body and condensed into a black cloud. “He’s coming back!” shouted Honey Apple. Previously engaged ponies now took flight. Pegasi hovered overhead. 

Scrap, once more a monstrous dog, scanned the ground before centering on me. “Now I’ll kill you!” he boomed. Scrap dropped to all fours. Instead of charging after me, he collapsed to the ground. Scrap looked and discovered half of his right arm was missing. “What kind of trickery is this?” he yelled, waving the stump in the air. 

“The kind where you burn!” Honey Apple hurled another bag of Liquid Fire at him. An arrow zipped in, but Scrap caught it in his hand. The bag of Liquid Fire was absorbed by his body. 

“You’ve caused quite enough trouble,” said Scrap, and he struck Honey Apple. His massive paw lifted her off the ground. She sailed through the air, hit the ground once, twice, and rolled to a stop in a cloud of dust. 

“Honey Apple!” The cry had barely left my lips but I was already out of the cart and stumbling towards her.  I had to get to her side. Silently I uttered, “Please let her be alive.”

Each step felt like the ground was trying to swallow me up. My head throbbed. Darkness once more crept into my vision. Somewhere Fluorescent Nightingale was hurling death threats at me.

Honey Apple was lying on her side, her green coat and yellow hair slowly turning red. There was no movement.

I knelt in the dust by her side. Slowly, tentatively, lovingly, I rolled her towards me. A trickle of blood escaped down the side of her mouth. Her tongue rolled to one side. With great apprehension, I placed my ear on her chest. Her heart was beating slowly and her breathing was labored, but she was alive.

“You know, you should really take a mare to dinner first before getting this close.” 

If I could have done so, I would have leapt away, but it hurt too much. A fierce blush was rising to my face, and I forcefully pushed it back down. In the end, I settled for not looking too embarrassed. 

The words were on the tip of my tongue. There they squirmed and fluttered, trying to escape the confines of my mouth. I mulled them around, debating, and finally caved. “I care,” I admitted. “I had to make sure you were all right.”

Her grin was pained. Those sparkling eyes brimmed with tears. She reached up a bloody hoof and touched my cheek. “It hurts to breathe right now, but Fluorescent Nightingale will fix it.”

Rocks jumped. The ground shook. Towering high above, Scrap advanced on our position. “Time to finish this,” he said.

The air filled with the mighty roar of a thousand screaming voices. Then a lance of fire split the sky. It sliced through Scrap’s head and into his belly where it ignited the Liquid Fire trapped there. The subsequent explosion spewed flaming bits across the landscape. 

Fluorescent Nightingale collapsed next to me, still strapped into the wagon, her blackened horn smoking. “I’m done,” she said and promptly passed out. 

“Ember,” said Honey Apple through clenched teeth, “I suspect there will be another wave of zombies. You need to get out of here. Leave us and go.”

“Not very likely,” I said and got to my feet. Grabbing Honey Apple around her barrel, I heaved her into the cart. Next to her I placed the unconscious Fluorescent Nightingale. 

“What about the zombies?” asked Honey Apple.

“While they’re gnawing on my ankles, I’ll chop their heads off.” The complicated pony harness would require more time to figure out than I had to give. Instead, I grabbed the lead rope in my mouth and started to pull.

The cart was heavy with its load. Its wheels creaked and wood groaned. But soon we were up to speed, with my passenger bouncing along. I set my sights on the river. 

A zombie’s head burst above the ground and snapped fiercely at me. I stepped on the offending head and pushed on. A jerk on the rope shifted the cart just enough for a wheel to pass over and crush the zombie’s skull. 

Something smashed into the cart. The rope was ripped from my mouth, and for a moment there I thought it would flip. The cart rolled perilously on two wheels, before crashing back on all four. I looked and saw two more zombies throw themselves against the wood. Once again, the cart rocked dangerously to one side. Tearing myself from the cart, I drew my sword and advanced. “Come and taste my steel!” I cried.

The zombies turned towards me, lowered their heads, and collectively charged me. Then something zipped out of the sky and pinned one zombie to its neighbor. Each tripped up the other, and they crashed. 

A young pegasus hovered nearby, reloading his crossbow. “I’ve got you covered. Get across the river!” he called. I nodded in thanks. Once more I grabbed the rope and pushed on. 

Another zombie came at me head on. A feathered shaft took the zombie in the leg and stitched it to his side. The zombie continued on three legs. “Don’t you have any fire?’ I called to the pegasus. 

The former garbled a “No” around his bowstring as he locked it into place. “I’ve got arrows,” replied the pegasus as he notched another and fired. This one knocked the zombie off his hooves. 

“I’ve got one!” shouted a white fuzzball as she flashed in overhead. Kitty Hawk had to flare her wings before taking aim and dropping her payload. The bottle burst and covered the zombie in flames.

The great clear waters of the Friendship River lay just ahead. Many ponies stood apprehensively on the opposite bank. I didn’t need to count to know that many comrades were missing. 

Something broke inside. I wept and cried and shouted for the ponies who lay dead on the field behind me. They were gone, and for what? Because an old enemy of mine wanted revenge. Silently I took a vow: no more, save one, would die today. 

I doubled my efforts, putting on a burst of speed. The wagon bounced violently behind me. My head was throbbing, my chest ached, and once again darkness clawed at my vision. 

“Here come more!” shouted the pegasus. Five zombies moved to cut us off from the river. I growled in anger but turned away. Somewhere there had to be a ford I could cross. 

“I’ve got them!” said a new arrival at my side. It was a mare, bloodied, but still carrying her spear and shield. 

“Protect the cart!” I shouted at her through the rope. 

“But I can help drive them off!” shouted the mare.

Honey Apple appeared at the edge of the cart. She spat blood and then yelled, “Do as he says, Honeysuckle. We need help getting across the river.”

“You got it, boss,” replied Honeysuckle.

Up ahead was a large, shallow pool. I turned and plunged in. The freezing water soon was up to my chest. I strained for the bottom, tugging and pulling, moving ever forwards.

The wagon slowed in the soft river mud. Quickly it sucked in the wheels and refused to yield. Honeysuckle pushed fiercely from behind but achieved little. 

There was a multitude of splashing behind me. I turned and saw the zombies coming in after us. Hastily, I turned to face them, swords in paw.

One zombie was ahead of the rest. The former unicorn lowered its head and tried to skewer me. I slashed at its face, but my sword got stuck in its skull. Now the unicorn was on top of me, and we plunged underwater. 

My back hit the body bottom, casting up a cloud of silt. I tried to first roll and then get my legs under me. Four hooves shoved me back down. They pinned into place while the water pressed in from all sides.

That precious breath of air was quickly running out. My lungs burned with the effort. I grabbed and clawed at my attacker. Each movement was slow and sluggish. 

His oppressive weight pushed me down into the river. Deeper and deeper I sank. The surface sparkled up above. Desperately, I stretched a paw out to reach it. 

Then the weight was lifted. I shot to the surface and gasped. It was now my opponent's turn to be underwater, pinned there by Honeysuckle’s spear and the mare standing proudly, if tired, on top of him. 

“Fire!” The approaching zombies were instantly turned into pincushions as many arrows pierced each one. Several wings of pegasus swooped in with spears and swords. Whole zombies were carried out of the water where they were dismembered into smaller and smaller pieces. 

“We’ve got wounded here!” I shouted.

More pegasi moved in and carried out the wounded. Honey Apple only mildly protested. Another pegasus moved in and offered me a hoof. I declined, instead retrieving my sword and trudging towards the opposite bank. I emerged from the water: wet, freezing, half-drowned, exhausted, but triumphant. The same could not be said for those around me. 

The wounded were laid out on the ground. They screamed and shouted and cried for loved ones while a multitude of ponies, mostly pegasi, attended to them. Other ponies just sat, hugging themselves or others. Grizzled veterans just stared off into nothing. A pony threw herself into the river; the water turned pink as the blood and gore was washed from her armor. 

It was too much. One faulty step, and the ground rose up to meet me. Darkness opened her arms. Consciousness wavered. Sounds and sights moved in a blur. My only focus was simply breathing: in and out, in and out. Time faded.

“Here he comes!” shouted some pony. 

“Fire!” 

“I’ll kill you all!”

“Ember!” 

I was roughly grabbed and dragged away from the river. My rescuer grunted and groaned. “Can you get any heavier?” they cursed.

Scrap howled at us from the opposite bank. His once-monstrous body was thin, almost wispy. He pounded the ground in rage with his stumpy arms. Scrap’s one good leg looked comical when compared to its half-sized partner.  “I will kill you!” he shouted.  

I wrenched myself free from my rescuer and dropped to all fours. The ground once again tried to claim me. I stood fast until the wave of dizziness had passed. Now I raised myself up and stood defiantly before my old enemy. 

“Scrap!” I bellowed across the distance. “I am your target. I am your enemy. Come and try to kill me. Or are you all bark and no bite?”

Scrap bared his rows of fangs. “I’ve tried: time and time again, I’ve tried to kill you, and yet you persist. How do you do it, Ember? How do you keep living? How do you keep fighting? How, Ember? How?”

“Never give up!” I hollered back at him. “Persist until the end. Fight with your last breath.”

Scrap barked at me. “I did! I tried to kill you at every opportunity, and look where it got me: a rotten abomination made from the dead. My only purpose left is to kill you.”

I planted my feet and drew my blade. “Then come and get me, you gelded whelp! This ends now!”

Scrap roared with fury and charged into the water. “On that we can both agree!” The ground shook with his approach. 

Honeysuckle appeared at my side. I glared at her. “This is my fight. I can do it alone. No one else needs to get hurt,” I growled.

“There are three things you should know about ponies,” she said as she leveled her spear. “We are cute as heck, we’re more stubborn than mules, and we do things together.”

Another pony appeared at my side, and then another. A wing of pegasi took position overhead, crossbows primed and ready. Honey Apple hobbled up beside me. She gave me a warm, blood-filled smile before turning her attention to Scrap. She wiped a swath of pink foaming blood from her muzzle and said “Get over it, Ember. You’re part of a larger family now.”

I growled at them all. Couldn’t they see that I was trying to protect them? “Don’t blame me if you get hurt.”

“We’re explorers: it’s an occupational hazard.”

“Fire!” Bowstrings thundered. A hail of shafts shot forth. They all hit Scrap with a collective “thack”. The monster faltered for a moment.

“Charge!” I shouted and rushed at my enemy. Hooves pounded all around me. Spears pierced the black ichor.  Scrap stumbled and fell, crashing onto the ground. Several ponies were absorbed into his body. 

I leapt into the fray, slashing with my blades. The ichor parted easily. I hacked and slashed until I could grab ahold of a pony and pull them out. Then I rescued another. 

Scrap came flying up, scattering ponies in all direction. He smashed at anything in his path. “Damn you!  Damn you all!”

I cut into his leg, just above his knee. A second slash cut the appendage, and Scrap fell. I waylaid into his other leg and severed that as well. The amputated limbs quickly dissolved into dust.

More spears stabbed into him. Swords cut away both his arms. Arrows filled his form. Ponies were freed from his body as it was carved into smaller and smaller pieces. Scrap screamed in rage.

I stepped before the wiggling worm that was my enemy. The once mighty, lording Scrap could only spit hate and curses at those around him. He turned to me and screamed, “Damn you to the afterlife, Ember! Species traitor! Lowest mutt! Leaderless tramp! Flea-bitten cur! He-Who-Copulates-With-Prey!”

There, between his eyes, was a large mass darker then the rest of him. It was difficult to make out as Scrap writhed about, but I thought I saw a face, ears, and eyes. An idea quickly formed. “Spear!” I commanded, and one was pressed into my waiting paw.  I stepped forth.

“Scrap!” I roared, and the dog focused on me. “Once you were a proud dog and roamed the lands of our empire. Look at you now: a rotten, festering wound. It is time that you took your pleas for vengeance to our ancestors. I pray that they send you to the deepest fire pits. May you burn for all of eternity.”

“Curse you and the fruit of your loins! Curse you and all your relatives! Curse you and your pony ilk!” 

I took a step forward and thrust into the dark mass, putting my weight behind It. The spear struck something solid. Scrap had to cross his eyes to see the pole sticking out of his head. 

A pinprick of light appeared. It spread across the black ichor, the body cracking and splitting. Scrap started to scream. His shrill note filled the air, shaking the ground, and reverberating inside my throbbing skull. His voice reached a fevered pitch. Then his body exploded into a cloud of dust. 

Silence gripped the land. The wind rustled the grasses at my feet. The flames of battle carved their way through the distant meadow. 

I took a breath, and then another one. Scrap was gone. The ponies were safe. Kitty Hawk was safe. I was free from the Empire. 

Another breath, and then another. I handed the spear back to its owner. “Well done, everypony. Well done.” My head felt like it was slitting at its seems. My limbs and back throbbed with pain. Gore and dust plastered me from my ears to my toes. I nodded to Honey Apple. “I’m going to lie down,” I said, took one step, and collapsed into darkness.
> The meeting with Luna
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The world felt warm and soft. A blanket of cloud gently kissed me to sleep. I drifted between the words of dreams and consciousness. 

Now, slowly, the fog petered off, thinning to reveal grasses, and trees, and ferns. I was once more in a grassy bed next to the river Yark. The sun played peekaboo through the overhanging branches, warming one side of me. I rolled over, letting it warm the other side. The branches and the leaves chimed away as they synchronized with the whistling wind. The river genteelly flowed by. A fish or two jumped, disrupting the pristine surface with an irregular beat.

The collective symphony of life hummed all around me. Everything was peaceful and calm. If this was the afterlife, then it was not such a bad place. Why had I fought so hard to stay away?

In the distance, horns bellowed and the drums pounded. They called to me to the land of the undying. They wanted me to join their ranks, to be a member of the great pack in the sky. All my ancestors were there; they greeted me with smiles, beckoning me to come forth.

“Come join us,” they called.

Hooves beat on a rocky path, their sharp clicks shattering my euphoric state.

Irritably, I raised my head and searched for its source.

A pony appeared. She was nearly black, with wings and a horn, her mane holding the night sky within its strands. Her armor glistened with a dark radiance, a crescent moon upon her breast and flank.

She appeared to be our on a casual walk: stopping to smell the flowers, watching a rabbit as it hopped on by. She turned to the river just as a great fish leaped clear of its surface, droplets twinkling in the sunlight, before it plunged back below. Her current path would take her directly past me and yet she seemed not to care. She was getting too close for my comfort.

I growled.

She stopped, cocked her head, and then smiled.

“Be not afraid, for I come in peace,” she said. Her words flowed smoother then the surface of the river Yark. I bared my fangs; I dared her to take another step. She did not move, only watched. Her face was kind with a disarming smile. I glared back.

She sat down, folding her legs underneath her body. I continued to watch. She made no movement. Finally I laid my head back down on my paws. My eyes never left hers.

“Who are you?” I asked. It was strange to have a pony in my own secret place. She didn’t feel threatening, or an intrusion, or some illusion of the magi. It was almost as if this plane of existence was an extension of me as much as it was to her. Maybe this was purgatory, to be locked together with a strange pony.

“I am Princess Luna,” she said.

“According to the books i’ve read, you are the evil Princess of the Night. Have you come to pay me a visit?” half to myself. She looked nothing like who I imagined: far too graceful, far too majestic. Indeed, the title of princess was very befitting.

“Evil,” she said solemnly, “once, yes. I tried to take the throne from my sister, and it cost me a thousand years of solitude from this world. I no longer have those desires.”

If she wasn’t evil, or at least not claiming to be, then why was she here? Why wasn’t I feasting with my ancestors? Why was I not chasing the stars in the eternal race across the sky?

“Am I dead?” I asked.

“No,” she answered, “but you came very close. You were lucky to have the help that you did.”

Maybe; I was very happy just before she arrived. If my life was to continue, then so be it. “If I’m not dead, then this has to be a dream. Why are you here?”

She took some time to preen her wing before answering.

“I raise the moon at night and visit the dreams of those who sleep. You are the first Diamond Dog I have had the pleasure of visiting in many years. Does it frighten you that someone else can spy on your dreams?”

“No.” In truth, it didn’t feel weird, or alien, or even remotely disconcerting. She was more of a soft glow that enveloped me, a shield against the darker horrors that lay inside the unconscious mind.

A question popped into my mind.

“Whatever happened to Kitty Hawk?” Strange I should be asking such a thing. Did it even matter now. 

My question kindled a spark within my chest. An idea was forthcoming; there was a task left undone. I needed to see it through

Princess Luna stood up and stretched.

“Why don’t you go and find out? Wake up, Ember, wake up.”

My eyes snapped open.