Scootaloo carefully examined the scratch built model of one of the most important bits of dirt she’d ever had to agonize over. Ghastly Gorge stretched over five hundred miles, serpentining into the southern lands of Equestria. There were exactly three bridges on the entire bloody thing, and all three were positioned next to fortified Equestrian Guard compounds. The only natural crossing was the subject of Scootaloo’s beady glare, built in miniature by a couple of the raver ponies Vinyl had shown up with.

“Our target is a naturally occurring stone bridge, approximately ten yards across,” said Skandranon the griffon, scratching at his eyepatch absently before pointing at it with his talon. “And a hundred an’ fifty yards long. It’s got pony height railings and drains to keep it from becoming a nightmare during the rainy season.” He frowned for a moment - though that was hard to notice sometimes with griffons. “It’s connected ta’ Harmony Road, an’ is the most direct route to Appleloosa from Ponyville. Lotsa heavy scrub on the roadside leadin up to it, coupla’ pear orchards nearby. Lotsa ivy on the cliff sides, an’ of course, the opposite end’s got the two big wheat fields. ” He looked up at Scootaloo then with that sharp golden eye, his beak gaping slightly in a smile. “Be honest with ya, Crusader. I ain’t seen a better spot for an ambush in all of my days.”

Scootaloo had to chuckle a little at that one, shaking her head. “Let’s just make sure it’s us that’s doing the ambushing.” She took in a deep breath and held it for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. That didn’t work terribly well, so she went to her usual second choice - bluffing and buying time. “Okay. Let’s pool what we’ve got together and figure out how to make this work. We’re only gonna get one shot at this. Go out there, see who’s in.” She stood up from where she had been sitting - a raised chair that put her equal with anypony else in the room. The rest of the creatures in the room stood up too, most of them - including Skandranon - filing out and chatting animatedly to one another.

Another week of successful raids. Another week of minimal casualties. Only Thunderlane had gotten seriously hurt, and only then because Scootaloo hadn’t been paying attention, and he’d had to throw himself in front of a scythe blade. He’d recover fine, but he’d have one impressive looking scar on his chest for the rest of his life. She agonized over that mistake, but no one here except Skandranon and the Deerfolk knew what ‘fighting’ really meant. Even then, only Skan had combat experience.

Still, they were somehow staying ahead of the game. Often just one bare step ahead of it, with the Shadow and all of its terror nipping at their heels… but like Vinyl said, ‘So long as you never stop moving, they’ll still have to work at hitting ya.’ So they kept moving, kept hitting, and running and hitting again. They were barely bee sting attacks - not more than thorns in Captain Winterlight’s side.

Ah yes. Winterlight. It had been the raid on that big convoy that had finally given Scootaloo a name to attach to their foe. Some pegasus had decided to take up the name of a famous monster from the days of the Nightmare War, probably to make themselves seem more badass. It didn’t impress Scootaloo, but it was just more proof they were dealing with the kind of idiots who thought that sort of thing was cool.

Scootaloo sighed heavily and stuck her head on her hoof, glaring at the topographical map. The problem was plain and simple - she could see a pretty good plan, probably the same one Skandranon was seeing. The old griffon had taught her a lot, and nearly a month of doing this had given her a few surprising insights into the chaos of combat and planning a fight to win it. The problem was, they didn’t have the numbers to pull it off. They’d need at least another hundred or so ponies - preferably earth ponies who could hold a line while the pegasi did their thing.

Zecora’s limbs wrapped around her shoulders and she leaned back into the spicy-smelling zebrican, feeling herself instantly relax. Zecora had become almost like a big sister to her, and Scootaloo was - for once in her life - thankful for the sappy hugs. It made ignoring the pains and stresses of being ‘in charge’ that much easier. “Thanks, Zecora,” Scoots smiled faintly, hoping that the incipient headache she was feeling would just go away for once. They’d been coming regularly now, every few days there was a new one mucking up her head.

A gentle hoof pressed into her forehead and Zecora whispered something in the weird language of her race, and the headache slowly faded away. “You are pushing yourself too hard, little one,” Zecora scolded her softly, like she always did. And like she always did, she sighed heavily and gave Scootaloo a little bop on the head. “Silly filly.” There was a note of fondness in those words, and Scootaloo had to grin a little at it.

But there was work to do, and not enough time for comforts. “Yeah, yeah. Come on, Zecora. We’ve got to go figure out how to pull off the impossible.” She pushed herself off the risen chair and down to the floor, then pulled her cloak’s hood over her head. “Any ideas?” she quipped as they both walked toward the tent flaps, wondering if maybe Zecora had been sitting on a trump card or two they could use.

But Zecora shook her head slowly. “Nothing I would use at this time. I would prefer to save my ah… big whammies as Berry calls them, for the truly decisive moments.” The flaps gave way to shoulders, and they were outside the stuffy tent, the fresh air already doing wonders for her mood. Zecora closed her eyes and raised her head up, her ears twitching as a breeze gently flowed past them. “Odd… There is a noise upon the wind I have not heard before.” She took in a deep inhale of breath and Scootaloo - not wanting to feel left out - did the same and…

How odd. Her sense of smell had always been good - all pegasi had pretty spectacular senses - but she couldn’t see any reason for her to be smelling things like blood and metal and… she froze, mid sniff, and felt a dread fall over her. Oh horseapples. Blood and metal meant battles, and that meant… “TO ARMS!” she screeched and ran pell-mell for where she’d parked her scooter near the massive central camp fire. Other ponies stared at her in shock for a moment, until the sound of pealing bells shattered their shock. Somepony had spotted possible foes.

Scootaloo flung her dagger over her back and took only a moment to make sure her shield was well seated on her scooter before hopping onto it and buzzing up her stubby wings as fast as she could. Wind billowed her cloak back and soon she was off, ducking and dodging through the camp as dozens of ponies and other refugees grabbed up weapons and armor and made for the ridge.

Plans to defend the camp had been lain down on day one - and fortunately, the entire thing was in what Skandranon had called a ‘superb defensive position’. Only one way to get up from the ground via a long and narrow path, the dense trees and foliage meant a large flying force wasn’t going to be able to attack en masse, and nopony knew exactly what the White Doe could - or would do - to defend her home turf.

Getting to the ridgeline was hectic, but Scootaloo had raced through this camp enough times in an effort to burn off stress. The bells were still being frantically rung by a trio of fillies from Scootaloo’s class as she arrived, pulling up to a stop just before the edge of the ridge with a scattering of dead leaves and dust. “Crusader. It would appear we have unexpected guests,” Caederyn said laconically, as still as a tree and showing absolutely no stress whatsoever. The Deerfolk captain swept his gaze through the trees, as though he could see through them. “A large force of griffons in heavy armor bearing weapons of war approaching from the west.”

“Griffons. Great,” Scootaloo muttered softly, rolling her shoulders. Something really, really bad must have happened in the griffon kingdoms for the Shadow to already have the forces to send back to Equestria. “So, how should we arrange our - ” she began to speak when the sound of hundreds of armored boots slapping against the ground interrupted her. The sound of the march was ominous and militarily precise as it approached like a gathering thunderstorm.

Skandranon was there a moment later, muttering swear words under his breath every step of the way up to the ridge before pausing, his ears twitching wildly. “Crusader… that… It can’t be,” he muttered loudly enough for everypony around to hear. From out of the wilderness then came a blast of horn music - a rising scale of notes that sent Scootaloo’s fur to standing upon end. The air seemed charged with magical power at the sound of it - and for some reason - her fear of attack was banished into the winds.

Following the horn came a low growl of sound that rose up into a cacophony of voices all calling out at once, “Hallooooooo!” The sound rolled through the trees with an almost physical force of sound, and the growl came again as voices rose in sonorous chorus together, “HALLOOOOOOOO!” The sound came again, and every pony and creature upon the ridgeline stared in shock into the trees, where the rumbling sound of boots continued to approach unabated.

Scootaloo didn’t know what to do… or say, or even think. Fortunately… “It’s the Legion,” whispered Skandranon, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “It’s the call of the Legion! HEY! EVERYONE! ANSWER BACK!” he screamed out down the ridgeline, and then cupped his talons around his beak and screamed out into the forest, his voice a single piercing note, “Hallooooo!” The sound rang out through the trees as dozens of other ponies appeared wearing their makeshift armor and bearing spears and crossbows.

For a minute, Scootaloo hesitated. Then… I have to trust my friends to know what they’re doing. “You heard him, everypony!” she called out herself - and the rest of the ponies on the ridge nodded - the word being quickly passed down by word of mouth and wild gestures from many creatures. More ponies arrived and were quickly informed - all of them forming up on the ridge in a solid line of creatures.

As one, they cupped their hooves, talons, and other appendages about their mouths and called back together… Scootaloo joining them and trying to imbue every bit of the vibrant fire that burned in her heart in the words. If they truly were friends, they would feel the flames too… and perhaps, they would join them. “HALLOOOOOO!” went out the return call, sounding subtly but distinctly different from the mouths of ponies and deerfolk alike.

Skandranon stood there with a shimmer in his eyes that spoke of tears and happiness alike as their call echoed back through the forest. “We’ve gotta go out an’ meet ‘em, Crusader! HAH! I knew Roam’d send help!” And off he was, cavorting back through the camp with nary another word to Scootaloo, who stared at his retreating back with some level of bemusement. At least the camp isn’t under attack…. Huh, I’d better go find Zecora.

She turned her scooter on the spot, only to have Caedryn stop her with a well placed hoof on her back wheel. “Take heed, Crusader. I have words of wisdom you must hear.” His voice was firm, and much less ethereal than she’d ever heard it before. He didn’t sound like some kind of ghost anymore… he sounded like a wise old uncle. “When you meet with the one who leads these griffons, do not show any hesitation. Treat him as an equal, and demand his respect. You have taken the fight to the Shadow with few to no resources of your own, and have earned such.” Okay, a cranky wise old uncle who had a problem with these foals all over his lawn… but wise none the less.

Scootaloo had to grin at him though. She knew all too well about not backing down from the strong… she’d learned that lesson after dealing with Babs Seed. Backing down only encouraged them to run roughshod over you. “Right. I want you with us when we meet them, then. I’m gonna go get Zecora.” She shoved his hoof off her scooter with a well placed kick and sped off down into the camp, leaving the bemused deerfolk behind her.

As she blazed through the camp, she could feel the fierce fire in her heart. If help truly had come, maybe taking Ghastly Gorge for themselves wouldn’t be so impossible after all...

Caesar Scipio Grifficanus sank down onto the stool with a gusty sigh, stretching out his wings and wincing at the feel of fatigue in them. “I’d forgotten how exhausting war maneuvers were,” he grumbled softly, wishing more than anything that he had someone who could massage the ache out of these wings… and when he was being honest, he probably could have had someone. But that would involve giving orders he wasn’t terribly comfortable with giving.

By law and custom, the Praetorian Guard would do absolutely any task for the Caesar. Refusing an order was simply out of the question, no matter what that order might be. The Caesar was - by the strictest definitions of griffon law - an absolute ruler to be obeyed under all circumstances by all loyal citizens of the empire. In practice, this power wasn’t nearly as comprehensive with the civilian population, but amongst the Praetorians it was a matter of pride.

In fact, training to be in the Praetorian Guard included the same kind of rigorous sexual instruction that royal courtesans underwent, with the logic being that it would be far more prudent for a Caesar to get his rocks off with someone who was utterly dedicated to preserving his life rather than someone else who might have a political axe to grind. For Scipio of course, this was all very, very uncomfortable territory to have his mind in, but… well, he understood the logic at least, even if this position seemed tailor made to create a massive ego in a griffon.

Fortunately, he had no shortage of those around him ready to beat his ego back down to size. “Quit whining, brother,” Gilda said with a none-too-gentle smack across the back of his head. “We’re all tired as fuck, and we all need a couple days rest. Hopefully we’ll get it here but…” She shifted, her talons gripping his old war spear nervously. “I dunno. Something about this place gives me the jibblies.” She shivered a little, and Scipio had to grin at that.

“Relax. The Doe would not have sent us here without knowing we would find allies. Besides, there must be a Legion scouting party out here if they knew how to respond to the call.” That had been a welcome surprise for Scipio, even if it hadn’t sounded precisely correct for a group of the Legion. The flight into Equestria had been surprisingly easy, with nothing more than a cursory encounter with a group of pegasus scouts who had immediately run like fury. “Still, I wonder about this strange pegasus filly the Doe talked about. She acted like she was… important somehow.” Scipio felt a little frown cross his face, tapping the ancient war spear onto the ground beside him.

Gilda shook her head and snorted a little in derision. “None of my business, Bro. You’re the one that’s gotta deal with the high muckity-mucks now.” She grinned and poked him in the side with her talon teasingly. “Just imagine, now you get to be the one who glares at the stupid servants when they’ve forgotten something. ” And then her beak twisted into a great imitation of their father’s disapproving stare, and he had to give off a soft but strained laugh. That was their father, alright…. Scipio hoped he was okay.

“Caesar. Scouts report a party approaching from deeper into the forest. They’re bearing banners and are… a little ragged about the edges.” The stern and somewhat disapproving voice of the female Praetorian commander Iron Feather clipped through his conversation with his sister, reminding him of the duties to come. Still, he wasn’t surprised that the ad-hoc resistance that had formed here was less than professional.

So he smiled faintly, raising his empty talon to waggle at her. “Don’t speak down of them, commander. Once upon a time, a young pegasus named Fierce Hurricane had but a single hoof stitched banner to her name. Last I checked, a great many of our finely sewn banners still hung in the hall of Cloudsdale, and hers remains untouched where she left it two thousand years ago.” The Praetorian commander winced a little at the rebuke in his voice, and he gave off a fierce griffon grin. Lets see what the White Doe sees in this pegasus then, he thought with a great deal of curiosity.

A few minutes later, the group appeared through the trees - the sound of many hooves and feet moving independently of one another. A single crimson banner hung from a freshly cut tree limb, bearing a bright blue shield with a rampant white pony upon it. A subtle buzzing sound hung in the air, confusing him for a moment until he saw the lead figure of the group.

She rode some kind of wheeled contraption - a scooter, if he guessed correctly. A heavy round shield with the same device crudely painted on it was wedged in front of the handles, and a heavy looking sickled dagger hung on her back. Her wings were still very small - indicating her young age - and she wore a beautiful red silk cloak with the same emblem stitched into the back. It billowed behind her as she rode, propelled by her pegasus magic and the force of her wings beating very hard, like a hummingbird.

Instantly, Scipio was struck by the look of steely resolve in her eyes. Her youth and all the things it entailed were rendered irrelevant by that look. Something… something important had to have been taken from her. A parent, a friend, perhaps a lover. Do Equestrian youth take lovers like Roamish youth did? Mm. Need to check on that. Whatever it was, Umbra had made a truly monumental error in taking it. Scipio knew that look - he had seen it before in the eyes of Legionnaires determined to repay the debt of blood incurred by their enemies. This little pegasus filly would stop at nothing to get her vengeance against the Dark Sun.

He smiled. He could work with that.

The rest of her entourage was a mishmash of races, species, and representatives of all the world. A zebrican shaman - possibly a potions mistress given her bandolier of vials - strode next to her with a look of her own resolve. A deerfolk ranger warrior was there too, as were a number of older ponies - a unicorn mare wearing the unmistakable garb of a professional mage stood out the most, though. And there was a scarred and sturdy looking griffon there too, wearing a black eyepatch and marching with the look of a seasoned veteran. He’d been the one tasked to carry the banner, and he looked quite proud to do so.

Scipio stared for a moment as the group came into speaking range at the Griffon, wondering why he seemed familiar before shaking off the feeling. The filly on her scooter came right up to within two or three feet of Scipio, staring at him with fearless violet eyes. Silence reigned between them until she finally spoke. Her voice was rough but clear - pitched loud enough so that even his personal guard could hear them. “Welcome to the White Tail Woods, Mister…” she trailed off, obviously wanting to get him to respond with his name.

He could have laughed a little - no formality, no proclamations. Just introductions. Oh yes, he could definitely work with this one. “I am Caesar Scipio Grifficanus, little pegasus. And just who are you, then?” he asked with an arched eyebrow as the griffon holding her banner gave off a stifled gasp. Scipio might have sighed if the situation wasn’t already tense enough - he was going to be getting that reaction for a long time, he was sure.

The filly cocked an eyebrow right back at him, then grinned in a devil-may-care sort of way. “I’m Crusader Scootaloo, and this is my territory by the command of the White Doe. What brings you to my woods, Scipio?” she shot right back, and this time the Praetorian guard stifled a gasp at her complete disregard for his title and authority. There was no fear in her gaze - and no concern either. That was a little frightening actually… and it served to remind Scipio of exactly what they’d walked into here.

He only paused for a moment to consider their situation. Surrounded by dense foliage and trees in every direction, they were no doubt surrounded by pockets of crossbows and archers prepared to rain death upon his forces. Just because his scouts hadn’t found them meant nothing. The deerfolk were masters of stealth and ambush, and if the griffon carrying her banner truly was a Legion veteran, he no doubt would have informed her as to Legion scouting practices. Those two things combined meant she was the one definitively in charge here, not he.

Fortunately, none of that bothered Scipio one bit. “We have come because the Shadow has fallen upon Roam.” He did not need to pretend the anguish he felt as he bowed his head, gripping his war spear firmly. “Our lands are shattered, and the Dark Sun has claimed the Eternal City for her own. The White Doe told us there was one here who sought to bring the fight to the Shadow.”

Scipio paused for a moment and took in a deep breath, wondering if perhaps a bit of drama was needed here… and decided to give it a try anyway. “Once upon a time, Crusader Scootaloo, griffon and pony alike stood together against the Long Night and the Nightmare Queen. Though many years of conflict lie between us, we have never forgotten the boundless courage of Ponykind.” He stood up, flaring out his wings and pressing his talons over his heart. “We come to aid you in your battle against the Long Night again, Crusader. Would you have us?”

The young filly cocked her head to one side for a moment, her eyes darting over him and then to his sister beside him. Her eyes widened for a moment, her lips moving involuntarily. “Gilda! What the buck…” she paused, then shook her head a little as if to clear it. “Caedryn, is this guy clean?” she asked quietly of the deerfolk captain beside her. The deerfolk’s eyes fixed upon Scipio’s for a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity and then….

“Yes, Crusader. He too bears a weapon that can bring ruin upon the Shadow. That alone is proof that he speaks no lies to you.” The deerfolk’s cool voice held a distinct undercurrent of… excitement. Something Scipio wasn’t sure how to parse at first, but made sense. The deerfolk legendarily hated the Dark Sun and all of her works, and the more force they could bring to bear in war against them, the happier they would be.

Scootaloo nodded slowly, and turned with a slow smile to him. There was a glint of mischief in her eyes, and Scipio had to wonder what she was planning. “Alright then. I accept your offer of loyalty, Scipio.” Scipio damn near spat at that bold, utterly insane statement… and nearly gave off a massive belly laugh. What a cunning little filly she was! And her next words were even better by his rights, as she turned a little on the spot. Speaking casually - but commandingly.

“Welcome to the Cutie Mark Crusade, Crusader Scipio. We’ve got work to do.”