Two stallions sat in the middle of Golden Oaks Library, the larger of the two having claimed the couch, and the smaller, demoted to the floor. Sparks was the unlucky one with his flanks on the hardwood, and Barns was trying to get as comfortable as he could in the brown tinted armor he was recently reprimanded for taking off, and ordered to put back on; Sarge sometimes took his job a bit too seriously, especially when their most recent orders were to house-sit a library and safeguard a baby dragon. Barns had his mahogany eyes on the most interesting blank patch of wall in the house, while Sparks' ice blue gaze was glued to his hooves.

"You know what I just noticed," began the blonde colt slowly, looking at his copper wrist gauntlets intently.

"What?" responded Barns in his telltale southern accent, flicking his long, rust colored mane out of his eyes.

"We're the tech guys, right?"

"Yeah," agreed the red stallion.

"So, we're always working with electricity and stuff."

"Right," agreed Barns again.

"So, why are we wearing one of the most conductive metals in the world as armor?"

Both stallions were silent as Sparks waited to be answered, and Barns tried to think of one. The thought had never crossed their minds before, and now it had slapped them directly in the face.

There was a long silence as the two stallions tried to think of a reason, and their eyes became dazed as they were hit by a merciless, oncoming freight train loaded down with realization, as well as a few shipments of snafu and fubar. They felt a little sad; only a little.

But then, Barns lightened the mood.

"At least we're not in the Labor Platoon."

Sparks shuddered at the thought.

The following silence ended soon, and a deep, strong voice called in from outside through an open window.

"Any movement in there?"

"Negatory Sarge!" yelled back Barns automatically, "Operation 'Don't Let The Dragon Leave The House' is progressin' smoothly. How's Operation 'Patch The Hole In The Wall' goin'?"

"I could use some help!" came the low pitched reply.

"Sorry sir," yelled Barns, getting a bit more comfortable on the couch, "but we need at least two sets of eyes to watch all the potential escape routes in here! I'd love to help, but I have to comply with my standin' operational duties! Maybe we could call for some reinforcements from the Corps of Engineers; ya know, the mare's Division?!"

Sparks gave a silent hoof bump to his comrade for coming up with the idea, which was nothing less than pure genius.

"Not necessary!" replied Sarge to prompt a depressed sigh from the two inside, "I need a detailed situation update in there ASAP!"

"Roger Dodger!"

The sounds of a hammer pounding nails into wood outside continued, and Sparks yelled into the deep interior of the library.

"Spike, how ya doin' back there?!"

No response.

"Oh Mr. Draaa-gon," Barns sang out as he made his way towards the first floor room the dragon had claimed was his bedroom, "We got some more pancakes out here! And caaaa-ndyyy.

"Dude, could you possibly sound any more rapey?" whispered Sparks from behind him.

"Shut-up, you'll scare him away."

"I guess you can."

"Shut up Sparks!"

The colt went quiet, stifling a few quiet giggles as Barns kept going towards the door.

"Spike, what's up? Come on now, I'm just checkin' on ya."

Again, no response.

"Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to tell him what the unicorn did. When he heard, he locked himself up in there good. Hay, we haven't even heard from him since."

Barns reached the door, opening it to find it leading down into an unfinished, dusty, cob-web ridden basement.

"Ugh," Sparks said suddenly at his side, "He sleeps down there?"

"Not much of a bedroom is it?" added Barns.

It took the red stallion more than a few moments to realize the complete accuracy of his sarcasm, and his eyes widened as he trotted down the stairs with an oblivious colt in tow.

"Oh, buck me," mumbled Barns as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Spike!" yelled Sparks as he began checking under anything and everything and inside every sealed cabinet door, "Here boy!"

"He's not a dog."

"Hey, I barely even know the guy. I don't know what he likes to be called," said Sparks as he turned over an ancient looking pile of cleaning supplies to find no dragon concealed by their mass, "Hay, he might as well be some kind of a pet if this is his room. There isn't even a bed."

"Dammit Sparks," said Barns as he looked around desperately, "that's because this ain't his room."

"So, where is he?"

"Ya know for how smart you are, you're one of the biggest idiots I know."

"Ok, but still, where is he?"

Barns didn't answer; his attention had been captivated by the window, and he made his way over to it. It swung loosely open, being a generous height above the floor of the basement, and several old, tattered sheets and blankets were knotted together to form a rope that ascended through it.

Barns noticed a small paper tied into the rope's knots, and grabbed it, peering in closer to read its dull writing.

"Dear Soldiers,

I'm going after Twilight. She shouldn't be out there alone for something I did. Don't come after me.

-Spike"

"Crap," mumbled Sparks over Barn's shoulder, "That's not good."

"Sarge is gonna be pissed."

Twilight felt herself come awake, but refused to open her eyes at first. Her head hurt, and she squeezed her eyelids together, trying to shut out the immense pain in her temple.

Though her head hurt, the rest of her body was extremely comfortable; a bit sore maybe, but she was lying on her back, and was surrounded by a soft, warm embrace. She nearly involuntarily snuggled down when a thought crossed her mind; she had no idea where she was.

Sounds began to register in her ears, and she felt them twitching before she opened her eyes to look; the soft crackling of a fire, a distant hum of wind, and voices, low and indiscernible in the quiet.

She opened her eyes, slowly, and she felt something pressed against the side of her head move with her flexing cheek muscles. She reached up to her temple; there was a bandage wrapped around her skull, and when she withdrew her hoof, a small dot of crimson blood had tainted her hide, apparently having leaked through the linen.

She was in some sort of home; a single, large room with a fire pit in its center and walls adorned with things of all sorts, from weapons hanging off of mounts on the walls to trinkets and charms hanging from the ceiling. It was strangely homely, despite the lack of civilized things; no sink, no other rooms, only a single room filled with simple wooden, hide covered furniture.

Her fascination for her new setting was quickly seized by the beginnings of a conversation, and she looked over to the center of the room to see three ponies around a fire.

They had gathered around the flame; one, a tall, lean, navy blue stallion, tended to a pair of cauldrons over the fire; another, a gold-hued mare of a thin, but defined stature, sat on a small bed of sorts a small distance from the blaze; a third, a brown stallion with an immensely thick chest and equally built legs, sat at a small table, going through her saddlebags. They were all earth ponies, and all had the same long, dark, mane woven into a single tight braid.

Their faces and upper chests were exposed, but they wore tanned animal skin coats, their hoods thrown back onto their shoulders and their face covers pulled down around the fronts of their necks. None of them spoke now, but they all seemed healthily content.

The largest of them was very intrigued with her luggage's contents, as the others were with cooking over the fire, and one by one, he inspected each thing she'd brought with her. He brought out a quill, looking over it carefully as he held it up to catch the fire's light, and seemed to be trying to discern its purpose. Apparently he thought it pointless, as he let it go with a dissatisfied grunt, and let it flutter back down to the ground.

Next, he retrieved a block of cheese from the saddlebag, and turned it in his hooves curiously. He looked at it confused, and then passed it under his nose as he inhaled through his nostrils. An eyebrow raised, and next, slowly and gingerly, he placed his tongue against the white flesh of the cheese. He pulled his tongue back in, smacked his lips together twice as he processed the taste, smiled, and then took a generous portion of the food into his mouth with an enormous bite.

He sighed contentedly, chewing with the entirety of his mouth full, and in the process, intrigued the mare on the other side of the fire. She looked up, interested by the recent discovery, and his mouth still full, the stallion tossed the remnant of the block of cheese to the mare. She caught it, and likewise, cautiously inspected it before she herself tasted it, and seemed to like it as well.

"Das gud, ye?" rumbled the large stallion after swallowing, raising his voice to finish his statement to indicate a question, and the mare nodded enthusiastically.

She offered a bit of the cheese to the third, the one stirring the pot, but he ignored the offer. The big stallion found her maps and the rest of her food, and likewise, shared it with the mare, who tried to do the same to the other stallion, but again, he denied, occupied with stirring the cauldrons.

Twilight was uncomfortable with them around at first, but she soon gripped the improbability of her being in danger.

If they'd meant to harm her, they'd had plenty of chances already, and the fact that she was not only alive but being given shelter was definite proof that she was safe.

The brown stallion kept going through her things, eventually finding the sterling mirror she'd brought with as a gift; he seemed not to care that it may be for him, and anything but gently, he placed the delicate trinket on the table with a thud, and Twilight barely rustled the sheets as she flinched.

The sound Twilight's movement produced, though barely even audible to her, was apparently discernible to her company, and the blonde hued mare's ears perked up as her head snapped to her resting place.

The others noticed her interest peak, and likewise, looked towards the bed. Twilight feigned to be asleep; she fooled none of them.

The navy stallion dipped a ladle into one of the cauldrons, and filled a small wooden saucer with its contents. He plodded towards the bed, and even though Twilight hid underneath the blankets draped over her, he prodded her with an outstretched hoof. He had no luck in convincing her to move, so he gently pulled the blankets back, exposing her head and shoulders, reminiscent of a foal trying to urge a parent out of bed. She rolled over, and he knelt down at the bed's side.

She sat up, trying to avoid eye contact. Apparently he didn't like that, as the stallion turned her face towards his, not roughly, but firmly. She looked into his eyes; amber and intense, with fire dancing in their irises. She remembered the look in his eyes, as well as the ram's horns anchored into the hood on his back; he was the stallion from the mountain, the one that rode the obsidian wyvern.

He stared into her eyes, not blinking, and neither smiling nor frowning, until he clapped her on the shoulder, pulled her close to him, and mumbled a collection of sounds.

"Torra serra."

His voice wasn't too low, and had a soothing quality even though what he was saying was a mystery. Once finished with his apparent greeting, he held the wooden saucer to her lips. She drew away; the smell was enough to compel her to withdraw, but the brown, lumpy surface repulsed her completely.

But, the stallion was insistent.

"Drink," he petitioned softly.

Twilight's shocked expression took her focus off of the unknown liquid under her nose, and she stared bewildered into the stallion's amber eyes.

"You speak Equestrian?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"That is not important. This is important," he said, and again, tilted the bowl towards her lips.

"What is it?" Twilight asked.

"Medicine," came the response, "You are hurt. Please drink."

Twilight reluctantly accepted, and managed a small sip before she nearly gagged. She choked down the liquid, but the taste lingered. She tried scraping her tongue against the roof of her mouth, but it did nothing.

"What's in that?" she asked, disgusted.

The stallion responded casually, "Sage, pig's blood and dragon bile."

His voice was devoid of an accent, and he annunciated each syllable properly and carefully.

"Where am I?" she asked, only to have the rest of the 'medicine' pushed into her mouth.

"A safe place," came the response.

He set the wooden vessel on the ground next to the bed, its contents having been downed by the unwilling patient, and he reached out to touch her forehead as she winced. He rubbed his hooves together, ridding them of the dots of blood that leaked through the linen, and began unwrapping the cloth from around her forehead.

"So, how can you speak Equestrian?" she asked.

"Merchants from Trottingham going over the mountains to the Crystal Empire many years ago that lost their way. I found the survivors. I gave them shelter, and in exchange, they taught me to speak their language. Since then, I've passed a bit on to the others, but most still prefer our tongue."

He finished unwinding the bandage, and replaced it, tying a fresh strip of linen around her head.

"A rock hit your head. You were knocked out," he explained, "We took you back with us. What were you doing on the scarred mountain?"

"Mt. Massive?" she replied.

"If that's what you call it."

"I was, umm, looking for you. You are the Windriders?"

"Windriders?" he replied, tying off the bandage, "If that's what they call us in the valley, then yes, we are the them. Unless...are there any others that have done what we have?"

"Well, no," Twilight said, realizing it was a stupid question.

A small silence interrupted them, and the stallion used the time to retrieve a bowl of broth from the larger of the cauldrons, returning once his vessel was full. He flicked his braid over his shoulder, and began to blow on the steaming broth.

"What are you called?" he asked before taking a drink from the bowl.

"I'm Twilight Sparkle," she replied, "what about you?"

"My name is Brand in your tongue, 'son of fire'.

"Brand," she reiterated, "well, it's good to meet you."

He took another drink, and held it towards her in a wordless offer, but she shook her head no. Rather, as he swallowed, she looked to the other side of the tent to the others, still intently watching her.

"Are they friends of yours?" she asked, tilting her head in the direction of the fire.

"Kin," answered the mare, joining in the conversation and revealing she too knew Equestrian, "Cousins."

Suddenly, the brown stallion at the table spoke, loudly and in a guttural rumble.

"Un kitruben. Vi morta la."

His face was stern and scrunched into a glare, and his massive forelimbs were propped up menacingly on the table. The mare began to speak to him, seeming to try and calm him down, and the two began into a muffled debate.

"Thresh, we have a guest. Speak so she can understand," scolded Brand, but the others ignored him, and continued arguing in an incomprehensible language.

"What are they saying?" asked the unicorn nervously.

"Thresh thinks we should have left you; he doesn't trust you. Merda and I decided to take you back here. He doesn't like outsiders."

"Well why not?" she asked.

The big stallion got up violently from the table, and stalked towards the door after pulling his bear skin up and over his head. Before leaving, he glared once at the bed-ridden unicorn, and then stomped outside.

"Ever since the last travelers came, the ones from Trottingham, many of us have been resentful. Some think outsiders cannot be trusted, others simply want to stay secluded."

"Why is everypony so worried about outsiders."

"They tried to steal eggs," came the reply, but not from the stallion; the mare said it from the other side of the room, "I trust you won't do the same."

Twilight was silent for a while as she came to realize the fates of the last 'outsiders', and suddenly, the scimitars and daggers all over the walls seemed much sharper.

"What do you think Brand?" she asked, "About outsiders?"

"I think you're fine," he replied, "but it doesn't matter what I think; it matters what Uncle thinks. "

"Who's Uncle?"

"The chief."

He pushed her down a bit into her bed, coaxing her to sleep.

"You'd better rest. Your council is tomorrow. Then we'll find out what we'll do with you."

Author's Notes:

Sorry this chapter took so long to release. Life has hit me with a wave of shiz as of late. More should come soon.