Spike let out a small groan, feeling a pressure from his bladder. He opened his eyes, briefly dazed by the foreign room he was in, to find he was alongside Rarity. She slept with her back flush to his chest, leaving his hand wrapped underneath the woman’s side.

“How’d…?” he muttered to himself, trying to shake away the cobwebs from his mind. On realizing their closeness, he adjusted himself back some, heat flooding through his skin. He carefully pulled his hand from under Rarity’s body. The woman gave a small moan in protest. Spike froze, his hand resting directly under her wide hips. When she seemed to fall back into a deep slumber, he moved his hand free and paused.
Brushing a bang behind her ear, he took a brief moment to just observed her, dead to the world. He couldn’t say she was cute when she was asleep—she was beautiful. Painfully so. When she was free from the worries of her daily life, she looked so much like an angel that it hurt Spike’s heart.

He rose cautiously, doing his best to not make a noise aside from the slight groan of the springs rising back into place, and rolled out of bed, headed to the bathroom. Relieving himself, he stepped back out to the bedroom, glancing habitually towards the room’s door. He froze, an alarm in his head all but screaming at him of danger. But what was… There!

Cut against the bright light of the hallway pouring through the bottom of the door were four pairs of shadows, standing unmoving in the light. On closer inspection, Spike noticed the doorknob slowly move and adjust, as if it was being quietly tampered with from the hallway.

Oh shit… Spike thought. He turned and quickly grabbed Rarity’s shoulder, then put a hand over her mouth. “Get up,” he sharply hissed, not taking his eyes away from the door. “Hurry.”

Blue eyes looked at him questioningly before sharpening as he felt a hand grab his collar and pull him over her, onto the bed. Rarity was above him, her hand gripping tight as she blinked the sleep out of her eyes. When she saw it was just Spike, she let go, recoiling and saying, “S-sorry, Spike.” She reached down and pulled him to his feet. “It felt like my heart was about to burst, waking up with someone grabbing me like that.”

“There’s someone at the door—they’re trying to get in,” he explained urgently. They both heard a click as one of the two door locks were opened. “What do we need to do?”

Rising quickly, Rarity grabbed at her bag near the bed. A moment later, she pulled out a pistol and checked the chamber, switching the safety off. “Arm ourselves and take cover?” she offered. “No one was supposed to come after us, were they?” Her words came out in a quiet, but steady, whisper, just loud enough for Spike to hear. But inside, her heart beat quickly, her mind racing to catch up from just awakening. It was supposed to be so easy…

She shook her head vigorously. The thought came unbidden—they had expected this from day one. Prepared for it. There was no time for whining, only action. A little impatient, she snapped, “Well, Spike?”

“Shit, ok, ok.” He glanced out at the balcony. “Brace the door with the chair—that will buy us some time.” He briefly shut his eyes, his mind going through a rapid series of plans and ideas. “At least two at the door, I bet another two sets watching them from multiple angles. If they’ve got the door covered smart, we won’t be able to get out into the hallway safely with just the two of us.” He snapped to attention, grabbing everything within arm’s distance and loading up a bag. “As soon as you’re done with the chair, put on some clothes, then we go out the balcony and drop down.” He moved over to the heavy cache and squatted down, cracking it open and pulling out a hefty black stock. “Come on, come on…” he muttered, frantically attaching a barrel to the stock, then quickly screwing on a scope.

Rarity, meanwhile, wasted no time, moving as soon as Spike finished saying ‘chair’. As quickly but quietly as she could manage, she pulled out one of the dining room chairs. Unlike the sort of chairs she was used to, which were elegantly built and thin, these were simple and thick. Minding the gun in her hand, she lifted one and moved it to the door—the flat back fit snuggly, the solid legs promising to hold out against only the most determined attacks. Just in time, too, as Rarity distinctly heard a second click come from the door. It was pushed against—the chair held true. Both of them heard a quiet expletive from the other side.

“Hurry! Get dressed,” Spike ordered, loading the rifle in his hands with a fresh magazine, then tossing it to the side to dig out another piece from the cache. He quickly attached a pump to the collapsible shotgun stock and screwed on a barrel to the gun. “Scan outside with the rifle—I’ll try and get everything I can ready to haul.”

“One thing at a time, dear,” she replied, a thoughtful expression on her face. Hefting the gun, she considered shooting through the door at whoever was on the other side. But she decided it was too much a risk—it could have been anyone, after all. Turning away from the door, she set her pistol on the table and grabbed the same bag she had before.

Quickly stripping off the shorts and thin tee, she dressed as fast as she could, doing her best to ignore the bangs coming from the room’s door. She cursed under her breath the necessity of layers to fight off the cold. Still, with her years of work with clothing, a little over a minute later she was picking up the rifle Spike had put together and headed for the doors to the balcony.

Rarity approached carefully and, hefting the gun, used the barrel to slowly part the thin curtain. As she had feared, she could only see so much from inside. “Spike,” she said, “I’m going to have look from outside. Do hurry, if you will?”

“Going as fast as I can,” he said, loading slug after slug into the shotgun. His hands shook and he dropped a round onto the floor. With a swear, he grabbed it and fed it into the gun, before grabbing a pair of pants and quickly throwing them on. “Look,” he agreed, pulling up the slacks with a hand, just as the whole room shook from a blow to the door. “Quick!”

Throwing open the door, Rarity’s hair blew outward as the cold wind bit into the exposed skin of her face. Squinting against the sunglare on the snow and the pain of the wind, she took four quick steps forward, dropping to a knee and using the railing as cover. When no shots rang out, she risked looking over and scanned the perimeter, first with her eyes then through the scope. There, barely visible through the hellacious ice and snow that blew across the balcony, was a man in white camouflage, laying on the ground on top of a hill, a rifle posed and taking aim towards her.

Despite herself, she panicked and fired, knowing she had missed. She dropped again below the railing, moving quickly to the left as a shot tore through the material where she had just been. Whoever they were, they were professionals. And taking no prisoners.

“We’ve got sharpshooters in the snow, Spike!” she called, crawling towards the opening. “Clearly hostile!”

“If you can’t make the shot, suppress!” he barked, throwing on a jacket. “I’m almost—”
—a gun blasted from the hallway, tearing out a chunk of the door. Spike snapped for the shotgun, grabbing it by its strap, then firing from the hip and nearly deafening them both from the blast. He kept the gun aimed at the entrance, balancing it in his hand by clutching the stock in his armpit, and grabbed a pistol from the cache. He tucked it into his pants, then looked at his computer. Without a moment’s remorse, he fired the shotgun into the laptop, showering the room with electronic pieces. He pumped the gun once more and grabbed a bag, groaning under its weight. “Let’s go, let’s go!” the boy barked, looking towards the door again.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any smoke grenades on you, would you, Spike?” she asked, judging the position of the shooter as best she could. She moved back to the railing, near where the shot had torn through. Putting her own rifle’s barrel to the hole, she tried to match the angle as best she could to the shattered wood, and fired. Though she doubted she had hit the shooter, there was no return fire.

“If I did, I would have used them to get us out into the hall,” he said, sweat running down his face despite the harsh chill of the room. He tossed the bag he managed to fill over the railing and looked desperately towards Rarity. “Fire off another round, I’ll jump, then do the same for you when I hit the ground. It’s a crapshoot, but it’s our only chance.”

Nodding, she said, “Be careful.” Part of her wanted to argue, but she knew if they stayed they’d die for sure. This was likely their only way out. “At three. Two. One… Go!” she cried, slightly adjusting the angle of her rifle and firing again.

Spike made the dash to the balcony and cleared the railing in a heartbeat, already in the air before he remembered how much he hated heights. “Fuck!” he shouted, making the drop into a snowbank, landing on his stomach and letting out a wheeze as the air was knocked out of him. He recovered seconds later, grabbing the shotgun and firing vaguely towards the distance. He pumped his gun and shot again. “Move!” he snapped, spending one more slug for good measure.

She slung the rifle over before following with a loud scream, half of fear and half adrenaline. This is what she had worried over yet expected as inevitable for the past few weeks. It was likely she would be shaking later, but at the moment most of what she felt was… excitement. Thrill.

The crack of a gunshot followed by more splintering wood brought her back to the moment. She winced, feeling a light pinch at her cheek just before the world went white as she landed in the snow. Thankfully it had snowed through the night, making the snow relatively fresh and powdery, rather than icy solid.

Spike reached down, pulling with all his might to hoist her up. “Shit, uh, let’s go around front—we’ll commandeer a snowmobile! We have to go!” He reached down, grabbing the bag and slinging it over his shoulders, before digging into his pockets and loading up a few more slugs as he waded through the snow. Another round went off, striking a few feet from them. Spike wildly fired another suppressing round. “Stay to my side, Rarity,” he panted out, sucking in the freezing air and shuffling through as quick as he could. “We’re gonna make it. I gotcha... I gotcha.”

“Wait!” she said, reaching out to pick up the rifle and sling it over her shoulder. “Hand me my pistol. You lead and I’ll cover us, quick!”

Spike pulled out the pistol and quickly thrust it towards her. “I got a few clips in my pockets too.” He reached in with his free hand and held them out to the woman, not looking her direction. “Let’s go!”

“After you, darling,” she replied, grabbing the clips and stuffing them in her thick coat’s pockets. She started firing, slow but steady, towards the far treeline where she had spotted the sniper. Spike took off, running and stumbling through the snow, slipping once or twice but picking himself right back up again. He rounded the corner and dove behind the inn’s front porch. Sitting for a moment, he caught his breath and waited for Rarity. He scanned the area, spotting the shack the snowmobiles sat in. It was completely exposed, about two hundred feet away, out in the open with no real cover, but it was their best bet—Spike was sure he couldn’t drive the car safely in these conditions.

“Just our damn luck,” he said to himself, rising to a half-crouch, then taking off across the field, counting on Rarity to cover him. She grimaced, but remained silent, changing the clip and watching carefully for the attackers.

He cleared the distance and scowled at the padlock that protected the door handles. Though he was far from a strong man, he still had no problems bringing the stock of the gun down and breaking open the lock, tossing it to the side and throwing open the door. He shouldered the shotgun and made his way to one of the snowmobiles and hopped on, twisting the key and bringing it to life. Smoke quickly filled the room, choking him and making him cough. He reversed the vehicle, rocketing towards Rarity when he was outside. Just a hair short of the porch, he stopped and turned the vehicle so that it faced back towards the shack again.

“Get on,” he instructed, grimacing as the cold was starting to numb his face.

She climbed on, wrapping her free hand around his waist, scanning this way and that with the gun in the other. “Remind me to talk to you about your dramatic one liners, Spi—down!” She fired behind them—one of the men had jumped off the balcony and followed their path. He fell without a word, crumpling into the snow.

The young man didn’t even question her words. Following them with a blind obedience, he lowered his body, going as flush as he could against the vehicle’s engine, just as the resort’s front door was thrown open and several men appeared, firing rounds towards the snowmobile, one spreading wide and cracking the small window at the front. Spike gunned the engine and took off across the fields, the men sprinting after them and firing their guns.

As they rocketed through the parking lot, he glanced at an open field behind a wooden fence.

“Hang on!” he called out, wincing and squeezing his eyes shut before they even got to the barricade. They crashed through, Spike revving the engine once more as they climbed over the debris. He drove to the middle of the field before slowing down a hair. “I think we’re ok now.”

The sound of multiple engines coming to life and quickly approaching them answered him far better than words could.

“Goddamnit!” Spike grit his teeth, pushing the snowmobile to its limits once more. “Rarity, you gotta watch our back! I’ll try to keep it steady for you.”

“Roger! Can you scoot forward anymore?” Rarity grabbed for the bag, as Spike shuffled forward, making a small noise of discomfort. Stashing her pistol, she began pulling out shells to reload the shotgun on Spike’s back. “This should improve my chances!” she cried over the sound of the snowmobile’s engine, pulling the strap over Spike’s head and around her own.

“I’ve got buckshot in the other pocket—might work better than a slug!” he called out over the whine of the engine. Behind them, Rarity could see the first of the snowmobiles coming through the fence line, making a beeline for the two.

“Now you tell me!” she yelled, annoyed. Realizing they were nearly out of time, she pushed herself back from Spike then—her heart flipping at the speed they were going—she lifted one leg over the vehicle and twisted in one motion, quickly lifting the other so she was straddling it again. Only now she was facing backwards.

Sliding as close to Spike as she could, she had just enough room to half-lean against the seat. It was awkward and she could feel the crick in her back forming already, but she hoped it would give her better stability and aim. “This is absolutely crazy!” she cried.

“You don’t have to tell me!” Spike shouted back, not risking looking behind him and instead focusing on the drive. While still open, rocks decorated the field, each one peaking over the ground a potential deathtrap at the speed they were going. Numerous times he had to jerk to either side to avoid a catastrophic wreck and each time he winced, a small part of him expecting Rarity to shriek and fall off. But each time, he felt the reassuring pressure on his back from her own and he breathed a sigh of relief.

As their pursuers closed, Rarity took aim. Not for the rider, which she would have with shot, but for the larger and more predictable target of the snowmobile. More or less it had to move straight to continue the pursuit. As she tried to steady from the subtle rises and falls as they rocketed over the snow, she saw the rider draw his own weapon and level it towards them.

This time, she didn’t panic. Letting in a slow breath, she brought the shotgun level, aimed just in front of the snowmobile, and fired. The driver, so focused on lining up his own shot, couldn’t react in time as the slug tore into the front of the vehicle. There was the sound of grinding metal and a large puff of dark smoke from the exhaust as the machine began slowing.

It wasn’t slowing fast enough, however, to avoid the rock sticking out of the snow in front of him. The driver dropped his gun and twisted at the handlebars, but to no avail as they stuck fast. Rarity let out a victorious laugh as the man’s snowmobile hit the rock and went up and over to the side, landing on the driver and rolling for several feet. “Scratch one pursuer, Spike. Permanently.”

“Good work!” Spike called out, a grim smile exposing his canines. He swore when he saw what was fast approaching. “Rarity, woods ahead. Load up that buckshot as soon as you can. I’d reach in my pocket for you, but I don’t want to let go of the bar.”

“Roger!” she replied, carefully switching out rounds. It was difficult, and she thanked the adrenaline steadying her hands as she smoothly loaded shell after shell. “Is going through the woods advisable?” she asked, a hint of worry creeping through.

“Better than turning around!” he shouted back, his eyes hard slits as he stared at the fast approaching trees. “There’s no other options here!”

As if to punctuate his words, Rarity nearly jumped at the whoosh of air as they began passing through the trees. Not being able to see, she swallowed hard and watched behind them, trusting Spike to get them through safely.

“I think there’s a clearing after just a bit! Hang on!” Jerking the snowmobile to the side, he narrowly dodged a jutting rock. He let out a swear as they passed over a hidden branch, briefly losing control of the vehicle before regaining their balance. Rarity yelped loudly as she felt herself go up and then down quickly. Reseating herself, she moved a hand back, grasping for Spike and giving his arm a quick squeeze.

“It’s just our second date, dear, let’s not make it too exciting, yes?”

“Don’t know how you can quip at a time like this!” he shot back, gritting his teeth and blindly squeezing her hand before returning to his work. Twisting hard, he whipped to the side and slammed on the brakes to avoid a fallen tree. Gasing for all he was worth, the engine howled as the snow behind them erupted from the treads. None too soon, as they heard more men fast approaching. “Shoot! Shoot!”

Not needing to be told twice, Rarity readied the shotgun until she saw movement behind them. She fired, lightly wincing at the loud blast, but scored nothing but splinters as a tree absorbed most of her shot. Another shot ended the same; she swore under her breath. The snowmobile finally started accelerating, just as a close shot blasted past where she was a moment ago.

Too close! she thought, bracing the weapon again. Sooner or later the terrain will get us both shot. I have to stop them! Focusing, she waited until she could tell which movement was which. “Three behind us!” she called, certain of it. She began tracking one, though quickly, and found its pattern. Aim, lead, fire, she told herself, slowly, again and again, using the even repetition to lessen the distractions surrounding her.

Another pull of the trigger was followed by more splinters, but also the sound of tearing metal and a loud crash as the rider failed to avoid the next tree. Rarity wasted no time with celebration and began repeating the process for the next target. After two more misses, she growled in frustration and let loose her remaining rounds. It was foolish, but seemed to work as she soon lost sight of the second pursuer.

Well… She decided Spike didn’t need to know all the details. “Just one more, Spike! Hold on a little longer!”

“Trying!” he said, finally up to speed again. Spike turned in a fairly graceful arc, shooting snow behind him. “Duck!” he called. Rarity lowered her head just as a heavy branch blew past them. “I think we’re close to the edge of the woods.”

Rarity heaved a sigh of relief, then gave a thoughtful hum. Turning her head, she called, “Spike—when we’re clear, stop as soon as you can.”

He slowed down, coming to a coast as they past by some of the last scattered trees and saplings in the area. He tilted his head back and exhaled before slumping forward.

Weapon gripped tight, Rarity waited, listening as the last enemy’s engine sounds came closer and closer. Three seconds later, their pursuer charged free from the trees, right as she squeezed the trigger. A split second after that he was blasted back, his snowmobile shooting forward and losing control. His body landed in the snow hard, unmoving and staining the pristine white a sickly, greenish-red color.

Both Spike and Rarity looked at one another wide-eyed. The group had had their suspicions, but…

Swallowing hard, Rarity asked, her voice wavering slightly, “D-does that look… normal to you, Spike? I mean, you don’t think...”

“Pinkie would say ‘the proof’s in the pudding.’ While that ain’t pudding, I think that says enough.” He let go of the handle and turned, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You ok?”

She put her hand over his, then moved to rub her shoulder. “Fine, for now. And a bit sore, but alive. Ask me again when I come down from the rush.” She looked again at the corpse bleeding into the snow and shivered.

“It’s not your fault,” Spike said. “He was trying to kill us.”

“It’s not so much that, Spike,” she said, slowly. “I mean, they’re not even human, as far as we know, right? No, distasteful as that is, I was actually contemplating the fact they’re here at all.” Giving the young man a serious look, she added, “Our simple mission just got complicated, don’t you think?”

“I…” He gave it a moment’s thought. “I guess it has, yeah.” Spike turned, killing the engine to the snowmobile. “I don’t understand how they found us. I mean, I’m positive I wasn’t followed getting to the train station, and it would have been obvious if someone was gunning for us on the drive up here—we would have just got pushed into one of the valleys lining the road. Would have been easy, so why now?”

Taking her own moment to think, she offered, “Perhaps it’s not planned? They just stumbled upon us in a stroke of bad luck?” She snapped her fingers. “Or—oh, that’s not good.”

“You’re thinking what I’m thinking?” he guessed, sparing a brief glance behind him.

“They’re not actually here for us,” she breathed. “Your contact?”

He grunted in agreement. “Either they caught wind of what he found, or…”

Her brow furrowing, Rarity tried to think of what else it could be. Realization dawned, and her face fell. “Just how much about this contact do you know, Spike?”

“What I had in the dossier I gave you. But I don’t know him, like, personally. I mean, I did a pretty heavy background check on the guy—no real contacts in the army, no Camelot elites rubbing elbows with him, nothing.”

Clicking her tongue, Rarity said nothing. Hesitantly, she headed toward the corpse, saying, “Maybe he’ll have some answers for us.”

“Worth a shot.” He looked over at the woman. “Hey, Gems…”

Kneeling down next to the remains, she said, not looking back, “Mmm?”

“I’m sorry I had you tag along. I just wasn’t, you know…” He bit at his bottom lip, collecting his thoughts. “I don’t like putting you through this.”

Rarity stopped and turned her head, giving Spike a steely gaze. “Spike!” she said icily. “Are you implying I’m here by any other reason than my own choice?” Spike flinched—she wasn’t yelling, but her tone was red-hot steel, passionate and unyielding. “That moi would be led by the nose like a child? Even by you?”

He clenched his fists, frowning. “Your choice or not, I just don’t like having stuff like this happen to you—to any of the girls. It’s bad enough when I have control of the situation, but look at where we’re at.” Spike wearily gestured his hands to either side, at the woods and at the field they found themselves in. “I wouldn’t call this ‘by the books.’”

The crunch crunch crunch of boots in snow alerted him to her approach. Her face was still flat, her glare still hard. “In the nearly five years since you and Twila came to Mansfield, when has anything we’ve done been ‘by the book’?” She thought a moment. “Twila’s habits notwithstanding.” Her expression softened as she rested a hand on his shoulder, gripping it tight. “It’s OK, Spike. I’m scared too. For the others, for you. But at the same time that gives me the courage to go on.” Smiling, she added, “That we’re all in this together. That it’s our choice. Yours too, young man.”

“I…” He swallowed and briefly turned, wiping at his face. “I know pragmatism’s the name of the game. But I’m not like Jack or Dash. I can’t just… shut off during something like this.” He took a small step forward, tightly hugging her waist and staring at the body of the man Rarity had slain. “If you get hurt I don’t know what I’ll do.”

He felt a tight pressure on his back as she wrapped her own arms around him. Smiling to try and fight back her own tears, she kissed the top of his head, holding him tightly. “You’ll do whatever you can to keep yourself and the others safe. The same is true for all of us—because, no matter what we may say or how we might act, none of us could ever ‘shut off’ how much we care.” She pulled back slightly, moving a hand to his chin and directing his gaze to hers. “You truly are the best, Spike, that you care so much. Thank you.”

He stared up into her eyes, briefly lost in them despite the circumstances. He reluctantly looked away to break himself from her spell, nodding. “Y-you’re welcome.” Gesturing over, he pointed at the corpse. “I don’t want to do it, but let’s look him over like you said.”

“Right,” she agreed, going back to the grisly work.

A few minutes searching turned up little more than some extra ammunition, a dead cell phone, and pocket lint. Rarity hmmed, curious as she unfolded a wallet. “Nothing. No money or cards, no ID.”

“Like it’s a prop,” he muttered. “A pawn for the queen’s use.”

“Seems likely. Must be why the phone is dead. I doubt it was ever even—oh! Except…” She pulled a small flap inside the wallet, revealing a pair of small photos. The figures in them were small and blurry, but the hair color alone marked them as her and Spike. “That settles that, then. They’re definitely after us. And… Look! This is from yesterday! We’re skiing, see?”

“Someone was watching us,” he said, swearing under his breath. “I never even considered looking for anyone—the drink beforehand must have clouded me more than I thought.”

“Don’t judge yourself too harshly, Spike,” Rarity said soothingly. “You couldn’t have known. No one could have possibly known we were out here, not by any reasonable means. Clearly the Queen’s men are far from reasonable. My real question is: How soon did they find us? And: Can they do it again?”

He didn’t like the potential answers to those questions. “Let’s get back on the snowmobile, Gems. I can’t say I feel safe right now.”

“Agreed.” Putting action to words, she grabbed Spike’s hand and dashed to the machine. “To our contact now, you think?”

“I don’t think he’ll mind an early-bird visit, given the circumstances,” he agreed, swinging his legs over it and waiting as Rarity did the same. “We’ll be there in a jiffy. Just gotta follow the trail we skied on yesterday. Easy.”

He revved the engine and they took off across the cold, frozen fields.

It wasn’t long before the terrain turned rocky as they came to the base of one of the ski paths leading up to the mountain they had traveled down yesterday. He stopped, pointing ahead. “Just gotta go up a bit,” he stated, trailing his finger up the snowy hillside, then making a backwards C, over a valley littered with dozens of trees. “Then go around that valley up ahead.” He gestured once more, squinting through the heavy snow in the pitch-black night to no avail. He did remember that at the very limits of his vision yesterday was a small mountain, jutting like a sort of island above the treeline. “We pass by another mountain range on our left and we’re a stone’s throw.”

They puttered farther along the trail, traveling up as they maneuvered past rocks and branches. As they approached the apex of the hill they traveled on, Spike noticed a naturally made wall sealing off most of the rest of the hilltop, save for an archway the width of a car. Though they traveled up this same path earlier in daylight, now he couldn’t help but be afraid as to what was on the other side, hidden by the stone slabs.

“I’m going to gas it,” he cautioned. “Hang tight.” He felt the pressure around his middle increase. Revving the engine once more, they blasted forward. When they’d crossed the barrier, a part of him was hardly surprised when they blew past two men wearing white camo suits and ski masks, each holding an assault rifle. They spared a double-take, then opened fire. Bullets shot by, raining down upon them like hell unleashed. One hit the frame of the snowmobile, another the tread; Spike grit his teeth and began to fishtail down the path, spewing the hundreds of rocks and stones that lined the narrow path with snow as he desperately tried to keep the beast under control. He rightened it, then glancing ahead. It dawned on him they were heading right for a line of waist-high rope tied between two trees.

“Shi—” he screamed out, cracking hard against the rope and getting knocked backwards into Rarity, throwing them both off the snowmobile. It flew blindly ahead and crashed into a pile of rocks.

Spike lay on the ground, groaning and clutching his chest. It felt like all the wind he ever had breathed was just punched out of him. He stared numbly to the sky, disoriented. Rarity was little better, having took the brunt of the landing. Snow had pushed its way up the back of her jacket, which started freezing her.

She blinked, the world spinning for a moment before she realized what had happened. Turning over, she found Spike and half-crawled, half-drug herself in his direction. “Spike… Are you, damn, are you alright?” She was finding it hard to focus. The world was spinning slightly and took on a fuzzy hue.

Her voice snapped him free from his daze. He winced, sitting up. “I’m fine. Gems, we gotta—”

Another blast fired from behind them. Rushing, he struggled to his feet then grabbed her hand, pulling her to her knees. Taking her arm over his shoulder, he said, “They think we’re still near the cart. We have to run, Gems.” He strained against her weight, tugging against her, only succeeding at dragging her a few feet. “Come on, Rarity. Snap out of it, please!” He looked down at his hand and decided to bring out desperate measures. “Goddamnit!” he called out with a grimace, squinting his eyes shut and looking away as he slapped her across the face.

For a moment, there was no change. Her face remained blank, unfocused. But slowly her eyes cleared, then darted back and forth, surveying the scene. Finally, her brow furrowed, and she said, “I needed that—now let’s move! Do we have any weapons?”

“Do you still have your pistol?!” he asked, hefting the small satchel he wore at his side. “I don’t have much—just some clips and a few supplies.”

Unzipping the large pocket, she pulled out the weapon and readied it. “We’ll have to make do, then. Which way?” she asked, unsure if she meant their enemy or their destination.

Another blast rang out, sending a small puff of snow by the vehicle. Spike gave a panicked glance around them and quickly put a hand to her back, ushering her towards a gap between a set of large nearby stones.

“Anywhere but here, come on!” he shouted, squeezing through the stones and coming through to another field spotted with trees.

Following closely, Rarity turned, hefting the gun to cover their retreat. They made their way around rocks and down a sharp incline. Lights started to blink on and appear behind them by trees and rocks, then fan out, forming a half-circle around them and slowly starting to close in as Spike and Rarity ran through the snow, panting and straining against the terrain.

“They’re herding us,” he realized. “Shit...”

“Can we break through? Slip the net?” Rarity asked, already knowing the answer.

“If we had more time or heavier guns to suppress them. As we are now…” He swallowed. “If I see any way for us to get out of this, I’ll do it. I’m not giving up yet.”

“So we keep moving.” It wasn’t a question.

“It’s either that or getting shot in the back,” he grimly replied, staring straight ahead. “They know that we know what this is.”

It was a mere three minutes when the edge of a cliffside came into view, its bottom disappearing in the darkness. From behind them came the crunch of boots, growing progressively louder.

He glanced over at Rarity, who seemed painfully calm, but for a few signs he had learned to watch for. A faint sheen of perspiration on her forehead, an unhealthy tinge to her normally pristine pale skin. It broke his heart seeing her like this. It was all his damn fault.

“There’s a lot I wanted to say to you, you know?” he quietly muttered with a bitter, apologetic smile on his face as they crept closer to the edge.

She returned a similar smile. “Me too, Spike.” Glancing down the cliff face, she swallowed hard and found his hand. “I suppose our luck was bound to run out sooner or later, yes?”

He tightened his grip on her hand, trembling violently in her grasp as he stared at the small rays of light gathering towards them. Deranged moths swarming towards a flame. He swallowed and said what needed said. “You know what’ll happen if they catch us, right?”

Rarity closed her eyes tightly. It was indeed painfully obvious. Unwilled, the scene began playing out, terribly easy to predict. If they took her and Spike alive, they would be tortured, broken until they told all. But the true terror? What they would tell would be about their friends. And then…

She scoffed, opening her eyes and twisting her lips into a defiant snarl. “If you think I’m letting some… some… thing! take my place, well think again.” Laughing darkly, she added, “There’s no way they could possibly capture my impeccable taste, or my savoir faire. No, I’ve worked too hard on my reputation to let them spoil it. Right, Spike?” she lightly batted his shoulder with her arm.

“You’re… you’re one of a kind,” he agreed, choking out a response. His eyes scrunched tightly and he grimaced, shaking his head briskly. “Nothing could be like you.”

The faint outline of people, or, rather, creatures shaped like people, came into focus. Their eyes were blank and emotionless; their guns were held casually in their hands, as if they were already prepared for a surrender.

“Bet they have tranq rounds in a few of those guns,” he said, putting on a brave face but still trembling like a newborn foal in Rarity’s grip. “They don’t care about their own casualties, now that we have no way out.” He looked over to her, his eyes bloodshot and nose running. “Guess it’s either a pistol or the cliffs…” Spike nodded at the weapon in her hands. “I just… don’t know if I could pu—”

Putting a finger to his lips, Rarity quickly said, “Shh… I know, I know. I would never be able to do it, either.” Raising the gun, she tossed it over the cliff. She turned back to Spike, taking his other hand and squeezing them tightly. “There’s only one way for us, Spike—together.”

“Alright. We just… jump and close our eyes. It’ll… We’ll feel like we’re flying, right?”

“Put your hands up!” they heard a man command them. Spike did his best to drown his voice out.

“O-on three,” he whispered, burying his face into her body and tightly squeezing her.

Though he couldn’t see her face, Rarity turned her head and closed her eyes, trying to hide the tears that were already freezing along her cheeks. She squeezed him tight and, more to herself, whispered, “I… I lov—loved every second of it.” Then, gritting her teeth, she yelled, “Three!” and pulled Spike with her over the cliff.

Time seemed eternal for the first moment they were airborne. The spell was broken by gunshots. Spike opened his eyes and watched the cliffside, first an arm’s reach away, then a foot, then finally they were plummeting downward. He was too scared to scream, too scared to do anything but hold Rarity tightly in his arms and pray to Elondrie that it’d be over quick.

Over for you, not for her, a voice told him. His mind raced at that thought and his heart skipped a beat. If there was any chance she could make it through this, he’d take it. He twisted them both in the air, wrapping his limbs around as much of her body as he could, and faced upward, his back and form against the fast-approaching sea of trees. He never got to say what he needed to to her, but maybe, just maybe, he could show her.

She could count on him.