She remembered the smiles of her friends when she had returned to Maederhallow. Wanderer had smiled wide and welcomed her back with a nod that said he expected to see her again. Tormod’s welcome was even friendlier, but he stopped himself just shy of outright hugging her. Faithful, however, hadn’t held any such reservations. The young doe crushed her in a gleeful hug that Trixie hesitantly returned—certainly not expecting such a reaction from the normally reserved doe.

From their hug, Trixie had seen the stoney glare Tourmaline gave her; she hadn’t let it ruin the the good cheer. No matter what, she wasn’t going to let Tourmaline second guess herself ever again.

It had been a week ago, and she remembered it with a smile, but now Trixie stood in the medical tent with Tormod, Wanderer, and the Elder, watching as the restrained Scarlet Scroll neighed in terror as the Elder’s antlers glowed with a golden aura. The same magic surrounded the pegasus as she pulled against her restraints.

The Elder grunted, a bead of sweat rolling down his face. His brow furrowed more and the magic surrounding his antlers grew brighter. In turn, the aura surrounding Scarlet became brighter and she thrashed around, screaming. The light grew brighter until, with a gasp, the Elder let his magic fade and the aura surrounding her vanished.

“Still no?” Wanderer asked, casting a pitying glance at the whimpering Scarlet. She calmed, though still panting as she eyed the four of them with wide, fearful eyes.

The Elder shook his head. “I’ve made no more progress than before. While she has regained part of her awareness, the disease will not allow me to speed the healing.”

“What about the cure you told us about?” Tormod asked, shifting his weight off of his injured leg. “Will it work?”

The Elder nodded, his ear flicking. “It will. The Great Mother has already given us much of her sap. We await only the coming of the full moon to collect the full moon berries to complete it.”

Trixie looked back at Scarlet, remembering what little time she had spent around her. While she had been aloof, she knew the mare wasn’t a bad pony. Standoffish, faintly unsettling, yes, but not bad.

Listening to her whimpers now, they sounded so much like quiet pleas for help that Trixie had to look away. “Nopony should go through this.”

“Nopony,” Wanderer echoed, his tone firm.

She looked back at him and caught him looking away. “Trixie apologizes, Wanderer.”

He waved it away with his trademark lopsided grin. “Don’t worry. It only makes me want to help her that much more.”

The tent’s flap lifted with the Elder’s magic and he nodded. “Come. Our presence only causes her distress. Let’s step outside to speak.”

When the four stepped out of the conical tent, Trixie looked around the deer village. Many of them went about their daily business with grim frowns; there was little conversation going between them. She knew they would soon start their campaign to whittle away at the Bringer’s forces and that was the reason for their moods. Once the cure was complete, they would begin capturing the pony cultists and curing them of the Gorgon’s mind control and destroying her monstrous creatures.

They all knew what was at stake. Not only of their civilization but all of Equestria as a whole. Such responsibility weighed down on the backs of every buck and doe in the village.

Trixie winced, it also weighed down on her and her fellow ponies as well. Pushing the thought aside she lifted her gaze to the sky—difficult or not, she was going to show them all that she was the Great and Powerful Trixie.

Tormod squinted at the brightness of the sunlight as he left the tent. “The full moon is not far away. When will we go after the berries?”

“In a couple days time,” the Elder said. “It will take two to reach the closest clearing they grow, and we will need as many of them as we can collect. Once we have them, my healers will brew the cure so that your kin may be saved.”

Wanderer clopped his hooves together. “When they do, I’m going with them. I’ll carry all of them if I have to.”

A faint smile appeared on the Elder’s muzzle. “Your strength will be helpful, earth-tamer. It will help greatly in fact.”

“If he doesn’t get lost along the way,” Tormod said with a roll of his eyes—earning a quiet giggle from Trixie.

Wanderer gave his friend a glower. “At least your humor is still intact.”

Before the Elder could continue, a shout of, ‘Atlaz!’ caused them all to turn. A doe warrior came running towards them, her eyes wide and breathing ragged.

As the Elder entered a rapid discussion with the doe, Trixie turned as Tourmaline landed next to them.

“What’s happening?” she asked, pushing her mane back out of her eyes.

“We don’t know,” Tormod said, watching and listening to the exchange. “They’re talking too fast for me to catch it.”

“Do you know anything?” Trixie asked her.

Tourmaline gave her a quick narrowed glance. “If I did, I wouldn’t have asked. I saw her running from the forest and followed her to find out.”

Trixie wanted to snap but she knew it wasn’t worth the frustration. She reminded herself again to not speak with the annoying pegasus.

She caught Wanderer staring at Tourmaline before the pegasus turned to look at him. “What?”

He looked away. “Nothing… Just glad to see you.”

Even to Trixie, he sounded hollow.

Tourmaline stared at him for a moment before turning her gaze back to the deer. Trixie could have sworn she saw moisture under Tourmaline’s eyes before the pegasus forced it back.

After what sounded like a curse, the Elder turned back to them.

“We’ve got a problem?” Tourmaline asked before he could speak. Earning a nudge and a shake of his head from her brother.

“To put it lightly, sky-rider,” the Elder said, a frown on his muzzle. “A swarm of the boring beetles are being led through the forest and they are destroying the clearings where the full moon berries grow.”

Wanderer sucked in a breath. “Why? They have the key, why continue to destroy the forest?”

“Isn’t it obvious, Wanderer?” Tormod asked, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. “They know we have Scarlet Scroll, and the Gorgon likely knows the deer know of a cure for her mind control disease.”

He facehooved at Wanderer’s blank look. “They’re trying to stop us from making the cure.”

“Exactly, aura-weaver.” The Elder nodded. “The Gorgon and her Harbinger know that the Great Mother’s gifts are a threat to her plans. Eliminating the cure will mean we will have to resort to slaying her Bringers, and she would revel in that fact.”

A sickened feeling formed in Trixie’s gut. “Doesn’t she care about them at all? They are her followers—brain washed or not. How can she be so cruel?”

A dark scowl erupted across the Elder’s face. “Know this about the Gorgon, aura-weaver, she does not care for life—any life. She would see all of her Bringers dead than cured, and us along with them.”

“Disgusting,” Wanderer spat.

“Is Harbinger leading them?” Tourmaline asked, a snarl escaping her.

He shook his head. “No. They are being lead by an earth-tamer in armor.” The Elder glanced towards the towering oak tree that stood above them. “We have seen him before. He is a skilled warrior and he has sent a number of our people back to the Mother’s embrace.”

Tourmaline followed his gaze and winced. “Then he needs to be stopped. Along with those beetles.”

The Elder’s visage hardened. “We are in agreement, sky-rider. I will assemble willing warriors to protect the closest gove so they can keep him at bay so the berries can ripen.”

Wanderer tugged his hat on his head. “I’m going. I won’t let him get those berries.”

The Elder turned a look his way. “You realize that in doing so, you may have to face your fellow kin in battle. I do not foresee him turning his blade because you are a pony as well.”

Wanderer’s determination slipped some but quickly returned. “Doesn’t matter. If it means I have to beat him to a pulp to help everypony, I’ll do it.”

The Elder’s expression didn’t change. “And if you are forced to take his life?”

“It won’t come to that,” Wanderer said, standing straighter.

The Elder watched him for a moment before sighing. “I hope it does not, earth-tamer. I hope it does not.”

“I’m going too,” Tourmaline said, her wings flaring. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to stop him.”

Wanderer turned a look her way. “Even kill him?”

“If I have too,” she said, lifting her head up and not even looking at him.

Tormod sighed after a moment of staring at the two and Trixie saw he was likely giving serious thought to strangling them both. “If they’re going, so am I.”

Trixie winced, casting a look at his braced leg. “Trixie doesn’t think that is a good idea, Tormod. Your leg is still hurting you.”

He shook his head. “No. I can walk. I can help. I’m not an invalid.”

“We know you’re not, Tormod,” Tourmaline said, wrapping a wing around his withers. “But I’ve seen you walk around the village, you still hurt when you’re on your leg for too long. I don’t want you hurting yourself more because you’re being stubborn.”

He turned a scathing glare her way. “Said the kettle to the pot! I’m not being stubborn! I’m just…” he sighed, seeming to deflate. “I’m tired of being useless.”

She nuzzled him. “You’re not useless, Tormod. We just don’t want to see you hurt again.”

“Besides,” Wanderer piped up. “We want you fully healed up so you can join us again. We’d be lost without you, you know?”

A smile tugged at Tormod’s lips and he raised his head. “And knowing you, you would.”

Wanderer grinned and gave his friend a light punch on the shoulder, which earned a hiss from the unicorn and a glare from the other two.

Wanderer held his hooves up. “Sorry. Forgot.”

“If it is any reconciliation, aura-weaver, while they are away, I will begin teaching you and the other aura-weaver some of our magics,” the Elder said. “Including a spell that might be necessary to stop the releasing ritual should it take place.”

“What do you mean?” Tormod asked as the four of them turned curious looks at the Elder.

“Something I will speak of later.” He looked at Tourmaline and Wanderer. “When you both go, you must pick as many berries as you can. The more we have, the more cure we can produce. We do not know the exact number of the Bringers, so an excess of the cure would be needed.”

Trixie wasn’t sure what it was, but something inside her clicked and she stepped forward. “Trixie wants to go as well.”

The three of them turned surprised looks her way, but the Elder raised an eyebrow. “I had wanted to instruct you both with the spell I mentioned, aura-weaver. You do not wish to learn?”

“Trixie does, but she wants to help with the sick too.” She gave her mane a toss. “With Trixie’s magic, she can harvest the berries faster than picking them by hoof. That way everyp—body can collect them and leave sooner.”

“She’s got a point,” Wanderer said, his tail flicking. “Having her magic might help in a fight too.”

The Elder hummed and turned a look at Tourmaline. “Sky-rider?”

She huffed and turned away. “At this point, I don’t care what she does.”

He nodded. “Then I will gather the warriors and we shall meet in the village’s center and go forth from there.”

As they dispersed, Trixie watched as Wanderer and Tourmaline shared a long look with each other. Finally, it was Tourmaline who broke the look and took to the sky. Seeing Wanderer lower his head, a sigh escaping him, she wondered if there wasn’t anything she could do to help them as well.

The group of thirty deer and three ponies had set camp for the night. Less than a day away from the grove where the full moon berries grew, Faithful Watcher had insisted the war band was well rested before they arrived. The cicadas sang their songs, and an owl hooted from not far away as the three ponies rested near their campfire.

Trixie smiled as the fire warmed her fur, basking in the feeling. She turned to watch as Faithful Watcher went about making sure the camp was set. Buck and doe alike gave the younger complete respect, following her orders without question.

Trixie turned to the two as Wanderer wrote in his log book, and Tourmaline rested on a tree branch overhead.

“She is a skilled leader,” Trixie said, nodding toward Faith when the two looked at her. “She’s so young, yet all the adults follow her as if the Elder was speaking to them.”

“It make sense,” Wanderer said as he went back to his writing. “She is the Elder’s granddaughter.”

“It is more than that, earth-tamer,” they heard the voice of Risen Hart say as he joined them, carrying some baskets of fruit. “Faithful Watcher will be the next Elder when our own returns to the Mother’s embrace.”

Tourmaline peered down to look at him as he set down the bowls for them to enjoy. “You mean die? I thought he lived forever like Princess Celestia and Princess Luna.”

He shakes his head. “No, the Elder lives for a longer time than most of the White Tail, but he does not have an eternal life span.”

“He said he remembers the time when Tyranny was still around like he was actually there,” she said, her tone taking an accusatory edge.

The buck averted his gaze a moment. “It is said that the memories of all the past Elders are passed down to the next Elder in line. It is how our people keep our history and preserve our way of life.”

Wanderer chewed on his pencil. “So something like a memory transfer or something?”

A soft frown tugged at the corner of Trixie’s mouth. “Trixie’s not sure if she would like that. How can they tell their own memories from the older ones? It sounds… wrong somehow.”

Rish shrugged. “It is our way, aura-weaver, it has been as it has been for many generations of the White Tails. It has kept us safe for all that time, why would we change it now?”

“We’re not saying you should change it,” Tourmaline said with a swish of her tail. “We just find it… odd. I guess.”

“Mm. Much the same as we find many of the things the pony tribes do.”

Wanderer looked over at him. “So what do you think of us ponies, Risen Hart? We know you learned to speak Equestrian, but why? Did the Elder ask you to?”

He shook his head. “No. I…” He looked in the direction of Faithful Watcher, even as she still spoke with other deer warriors. “I learned because… Faithful had asked me to.”

“She did?” Wanderer asked, even as the other two looked at the buck curiously.

Nodding, he turned back to regard them. “Faithful Watcher has… always enjoyed hearing of our tribe’s history. Especially when it dealt with that of the pony tribes.” He tilted his head a bit. “Even when most of the history was about our conflicts of the past, she still wanted to learn. She has always had an odd desire to learn more of you all.”

Trixie tilted her head. “Trixie wonders why?”

He shook his head. “I do not know. Maybe a genuine curiosity, a desire to learn, I do not know.” He turned an affectionate smile back at the doe’s way. “She is… amazing, and will be strong leader. I envy her love of life. How she considers all life sacred and only takes a life if she must.” He sighed. “There are times I wish I saw things as she does.”

Trixie smiled a bit. “Trixie thinks you have a crush on her.”

His reaction was immediate. The fur around his cheeks turned a darker color, and he looked away before clearing his throat. “We of the White Tail do not express our desires openly. We have been taught that our loved ones might be taken away at any moment and do not forge deep bonds.”

“But you do, don’t you?” Wanderer said with a knowing smirk.

Risen averted his eyes, blushing again. He stood up and cleared his throat once more. “From our latest scout reports, we will reach the grove sooner than the beetle horde, but with little time to prepare. You all should seek your beds and be ready for tomorrow. The sake of your fellow ponies will be at stake.”

Tourmaline rolled her eyes as she munched on one of the fruits. “Thank you for reminding us.”

He nodded and bid them goodnight. Wanderer watched him go for a moment before humming and going back to his writing—grabbing a stray piece of fruit to eat. His pencil twirling and turning in his mouth as he wrote in his log book—something he did every evening that Trixie recalled.

As he wrote, she caught Tourmaline staring at him. Trixie saw a myriad of emotions in her eyes. Doubt, anger, sadness were just a few she recognized, but there was one emotion she knew all too well: uncertainty. Tourmaline had a strand of her teal mane in her mouth, chewing on the ends, as she stared at the oblivious Wanderer. After a moment, her eyes widened and she irritably tucked the strand back behind an ear and spoke.

“What’re you writing about, Wanderer?”

He looked up from his writing to blink at her before his eyes hardened a bit. “About what we just talked about,” he said.

Tourmaline’s eyebrow shot up, she obviously knew he was lying as much as Trixie did. Before she could say anything else, Faithful called over to them.

“Wanderer, Tourmaline, can you both come here? I need to speak with you.”

A sigh escaped Wanderer as he tucked his book and pencil away in his saddle bag. “Be right there,” he called back. He turned a look Trixie’s way. “We’ll be back.”

She gave them a nod as they walked away, watching them go. Finally, she sighed and settled on her belly, taking in a deep inhale of the early autumn air. With the humidity finally starting to let up, she realized just how pleasent the forest was. The smell of the loam and the trees set her mind at ease. Despite knowing that the fate of helpless ponies depended on her ability to collect quickly, she felt at peace. Ever since making the choice to return to Maederhallow, she felt like a great weight had been lifted off of her withers. Even so, she privately admitted it had placed a new one on her back, but it was one she felt… good, in carrying.

Her ears flicked as the wind blew through, and she lifted her gaze to see the moon trying to shine through the canopy of the forest. The branches parting enough for her to catch a glimpse of the nearly-full moon.

A wisp of a smile tugged at her lips. “Hello again, my friend. It has been so long since Trixie saw you last.”

The tree leaves rustled in the wind, and she felt her smile grow. “Trixie hasn’t forgotten, she has just been very busy.”

The moonlight shone down, illuminating her camp in its glow.

She closed her eyes for a moment before whispering, “Thank you.”

Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but Trixie found her gaze drawn to Wanderer’s saddlebags. The logbook stuck out of the corner of the flap and Trixie found herself curious as to what he might had been writing about.

She shook her head. “No, Trixie, that’s his personal journal. It’s not your place to pry.”

‘But what harm would a little peek do?’

Not allowing that thought to take root, she looked away to occupy her mind on something else. A certain tree’s bark, a deer’s tent, or even her own hooves—which were dying for a hooficure—but, inevitably, she found her gaze drifting back to the saddlebag and the book.

‘No, Trixie, it isn’t proper to snoop.’

The wind blew again and a moon beam landed squarely on the saddlebag.

‘Well, if she says so…’

Casting a quick glance at Wanderer, she saw that he was in deep discussion with Tourmaline, Faithful, Risen, and a number of other deer. Seeing him busy, she lit her horn and the small book drifted over. She knew it was wrong to pry but a book with the thoughts of a well-traveled adventurer was a hard thing to resist.

Cracking open the book, she scanned the latest entry. What she read certainly wasn’t about the White Tail Elder. Her eyes slowly widened as she read, a few tears gathering around her eyes as she read the final entry. She flipped a few pages back to the entry after the day the key had been taken from them. Her breath caught as she read Wanderer’s thoughts, and she turned a sad look at the earth pony as he stood unaware his private thoughts were being read.

Trixie brought a hoof up to dash away at her eyes, if the two came back and saw she had been crying, it would lead to some awkward questions. Levitating the book back where she had gotten it, she climbed into the privacy of her tent. As she lay on her bedroll, she knew there were two others who needed to read that book. The one who had to read it first was in Maederhallow, and he would make sure the second would read it in turn.

The wind seemed loud to Wanderer as he sat within the grove, looking over the silvery plants as they swayed in the increasing winds. When Tourmaline had reported that a rain storm was on its way, he feared the berries would not ripen without the full moon. Faithful had assured them that they would be ready rather or not the moon actually shined down upon them. Even so, he felt his worry rise as the large white berries rested on their stems. He even went so far as to try to coax the plants to bloom himself, but all he received in turn was a sense of patience.

A huff escaped him, patience was a hard thing to hold onto as he knew the swarm of beetles was coming after them. From what Risen Hart had told him, the beetles were protected by a thick carapace that the deer had to use hoof blades or spears to pierce. Wanderer knew he was stronger than the deer, so he had declined a weapon—confident he could take them down without them.

That hadn’t stopped Tourmaline from accepting a spear, however. Even now, he watched as she practiced using it. Her flight and speed combined with the reach of the spear would suit her well for quick hit-and-run strikes. As he watched her, he felt that increasingly familiar sickness in his gut. What had happened to her? Where was the Tourmaline he loved? When did this angry, blood-thirsty Tourmaline replace his friend who was always so willing to laugh at things? Always able to let things roll off her back like rain water off her feathers? Why did this happen? What did he do to cause it?

A sigh escaped him, his ears pinning back under his hat. He wanted his Tourmaline back so badly it ached, but how could she have been so angry all this time? When she had called for the death of Scarlet Scroll, he remembered berating her—saying some nasty things in the process. While he didn’t regret standing up for Scarlet, he knew what he had said was out of anger. Thinking back on what he said brought about a wince, but he knew he wasn’t the only one in the wrong—so was she.

He looked to the sky as the clouds blew past with the winds. ‘I just want things to be as they were… but… I can’t apologize. Not until she does too.’

Growling, he tugged at his mane. A swarm of dangerous beetles was on their way to destroy the ingredients to save Scarlet Scroll and the others, and all he could do is think about Tourmaline. Why couldn’t he focus?

“Trixie thinks if you keep pulling at your mane like that, you’re going to go bald.”

He turned to find the unicorn sitting next to him, her silvery mane blowing in the breeze. Realizing he must’ve really been in deep thought for her to sit next to him without him noticing.

He gave a soft shake of his head. “Might be a good look for me,” he said, his lopsided grin painted its way onto his face. “Just thinking ahead is all.”

She hummed and turned to look at the plants. “Trixie can’t wait to see them ripen. She expects it will be a sight to see.”

“Maybe.” He glanced over at Tourmaline before looking back. “Having your magic with us will help harvest them faster. I’m not looking forward to fighting those bugs.”

He felt her shudder next to him, her facing paling a bit. “If they are like the one Trixie saw on the day… Tormod was hurt, neither is Trixie.”

“Hey, with all of us together, we can handle it,” he said with his grin on his face once more. “I won’t let them get the berries. Too many ponies are counting on them.”

She turned to regard him and he shifted his weight under her gaze. “Are you all right, Wanderer?”

Again, his grin appeared. “Yeah, I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.”

Her gaze didn’t let up. “You know, Trixie is a performer and she can recognize an act when she sees one.”

The grin faded. “I don’t know what you mean.”

She pointed at his face. “Your smile. Trixie can tell it’s fake.”

Averting his gaze for a moment, he said, “It’s hard to smile these days.”

Nodding, she sat up straighter. “And Trixie agrees. But she thinks she understands you better now.”

An eyebrow inched up as he regarded her. “Do tell.”

A light rain began to fall as she spoke. “Trixie thinks you’re feeling guilty about everything that’s happened. With you, Tourmaline, Tormod, the Bringers, even with Trixie, even though not everything that has happened is your fault, you still blame yourself.”

He lowered his gaze to his hooves. Why did that seem to hit so deeply? “What if it is my fault though? Something I did and didn’t realize? Like with you and—”

A light-blue hoof pressed over his muzzle. “Trixie knows now that wasn’t you, but that nasty Tyranny who did that to her. When Trixie heard your story, and saw your expression, she knew it wasn’t really your fault—well, after she had time to think about it.” She lowered her hoof to the ground and he stuck his tongue out to get the leafy taste off. “Trixie has forgiven you for that.”

We he looked back at her, he saw she was giving him a soft smile. “But Trixie thinks you need to stop blaming yourself for everything. It isn’t healthy.”

A sigh escaped him and he glanced at Tourmaline as she spoke with Faithful. “Easier said than done,” he said, the rain beginning to fall in earnest.

She hummed, following his gaze. “Maybe, but Trixie thinks you should try.”

Scoffing, he said, “If she’ll even listen to me. Which she won’t.”

When she didn’t respond, he turned to her, tilting his head. “Trixie?”

Seeing her biting at her lip, his brow furrowed, but she spoke before he could. “Maybe you should speak to someone who she would listen to.”

He blinked. “Who would she listen to that isn’t me?”

She gave him a long steady look.

Conking himself on his forehead, he muttered, “Tormod. Duh.”

A grin crossed her face but she stopped as the sky began to darken.

“The sun is setting!” they heard Faith shout. “The berries will soon ripen!”

The two scrambled to their hooves, even as Tourmaline landed next to him and tucked the spear under her wing. “What were you talking about?” she asked.

“Tormod,” he said, an ear flicking. “Something I need to ask him when we get back.” He stared at her for a moment before he decided to test the waters. “You all right?”

“I’m fine,” she said, giving Trixie a glance before looking at the berry plants.

‘Still lukewarm, it seems.’

Even as the rain pounded in a steady drone, and the wind causing the branches to sway, Wanderer felt his excitement grow. He saw that many of the deer had baskets and pouches ready for the moment the berries ripened—their expressions as eager as his own. The moment they did, they would pick as many as they could and carry them to safety. If they were fast enough, they might even get everything picked and get away before the beetles showed up!

His eyes widened as the large white berries started to glow a golden aura. As one, the berries glowed brighter for a second before turning a nice golden color—looking exactly like mini full moons on a stem. His eyes wide, Wanderer let his natural magic flow through the earth and he could feel a sense accomplishment from the plants. A small smile grew on his face as he knew they were proud to share their bounty with the world.

As he and the deer began harvesting, he felt a sense of elation rise up in him. Maybe everything was going to work out for once! Maybe they would have to worry abou—

As if Discord himself was laughing at him, his gaze darted to the side as he heard the chitinous sounds approach. As one, the entire group whirled to find the horde of disgusting, black-carapaced beetles emerge from the trees. Their yellow eyes glowed in the deepening gloom and Wanderer winced at the sight of the large protruding horn that jutted from their foreheads. The sheer reek they emitted caused his stomach to turn, threatening to empty on him then and there. He saw that each of their six legs ended in sharp spikes, and he knew he was going to have to be careful of each and everyone one.

“So, the savages have recruited ponies as well?” a voice said. “The master was correct in assuming you would be here.”

Wanderer turned towards the voice and he saw an earth pony larger than he step from behind the bugs. The maroon-maned stallion stood dressed in a metal cuirass and helm, a sword belted on his side. As Wanderer glared at him, he saw the pony had no more awareness in his eyes than Scarlet Scroll had.

“Harbinger too afraid to come out himself?” Wanderer snarled as he and the deer turned to face the horde.

The armed pony turned his dead gaze to him. “The master has ordered the destruction of these plants. Step aside or be torn to shreds.”

“Ain’t happening, buddy,” Tourmaline said, taking her spear in both front hooves. “Run back to your master and tell him we’re coming for him after we beat the snot out of you.”

Stalwart drew his blade. “Your defiance was noted.” He made some awful clicking sounds and the beetles gave a horrible shriek in turn. Tearing at the ground, the beetles thundered for the deer line.

“Miz cqa Nzauc Vicqaz!” Faith shouted, and the deer gave war cries of their own and bounded ahead for the monsters.

Wanderer turned to Trixie as Tourmaline took off. “Get the berries harvested! We’ll keep them off of you!”

She gulped, her eyes wide. “A-Alright!”

Tugging his hat on his head, he turned to gallop for the fight even as he heard her magic come to life. Trusting her to do as needed, he galloped full tackle into the closest beetle as it tried to gore a deer warrior. The force of his charge flipped the beetle on its back, its legs thrashing to right itself. The deer warrior leapt at its exposed underbelly and drove his hoof blade deeply. Orange ichor erupted from the wound as the beetle gave an ear-piercing shriek.

Wanderer didn’t have time to make sure it was dead. He turned away as he saw a doe go down under the trampling legs of the swarm.

“No!” he shouted, but the poor doe was pierced by two different legs before another beetle gored her. It lifted the weakly struggling doe up even as another warrior engaged the second beetle. Wanderer dug his hooves in and slammed a fore hoof into the bug’s face. Even as he saw the carapace crack, and ichor flow, he realized their shells were a lot harder than he expected. He ignored the pain and whirled to buck it in the face. The doe gave a weak cry as she flew from the beetle—even as it collapsed.

He was by her side, grimacing at her wounds. “Hey! You’re gonna be all right! Stay with me!”

She coughed, “M-Mother…” before lying still.

An enraged shout escaped his throat and he charged back into the fray.

As mindless as the beetles were, they were cunning enough to be dangerous. Wanderer saw a few of the warriors go down, but he saw many more beetles fall to spear and blade. Faithful Watcher’s hoof blade found weak points in the carapace and bound away before her targets could whirl on her—only to open themselves to another strike. He saw Tourmaline dive in and out of the fray, her spear dripping with the foul ichor.

Wanderer’s gaze turned sharply as he caught sight of the armored pony walking for Trixie—who was still frantically picking the berries—his blade held out to his side.

“Trixie!” Wanderer shouted and charged after Stalwart.

The mercenary turned on him and leveled his sword, his visage still dead of emotion.

Wanderer skid to a stop, just shy of impaling himself on the blade. He swore as rolled to the side as Stalwart lunged ahead with a slash. Recovering from his roll, Wanderer kicked the mercenary in his armored chest.

“We’re trying to help you!” Wanderer yelled as the mercenary grunted from the blow.

Stalwart turned back to him. “Die.” He lifted his blade and slashed at Wanderer’s head.

Ducking in time to avoid a nasty shortening, Wanderer sprung up from his crouch to tackle Stalwart. The two grunted but Wanderer found that Stalwart was a lot sturder than he. He knew he was in a bad spot, but didn’t have time to do anything before he felt the pommel of the blade smash him across the muzzle.

He landed with a grunt and rolled away in time for the mercenary to plant his sword into the same spot Wanderer just vacated. He used the opening to buck the mercenary, flipping him over.

Wanderer was on him in an instant, punching at the supine mercenary. As Stalwart tried to squirm away, Wanderer only slugged him harder.

“Stay down already!” Wanderer brought back a hoof and punched again… only to have it caught mid-strike.

“The Mistress hasn’t commanded it,” Stalwart said before slugging Wanderer. Hot pain erupted from his snout along with flashes of light in his vision . He felt his back hit the muddy soil and rolled away onto his hooves—which wobbled as he got back up.

Shaking his head to clear the dancing lights, Wanderer threw up a foreleg to block a punch only to find it was a feint. The resulting punch caused another bout of dancing stars in his vision. He skipped back to put some distance between them but found Stalwart had kept up with him. His eyes widened and he ducked under a heavy swing. He jabbed twice at Stalwart’s exposed abdomen but received a blow to the back of the head that sent him stumbling to land face first into the wet ground.

Wanderer wiped the mud from his face, spitting out a mouthful of leaves. ‘Damn it, he’s strong! Where are Tourmaline and F—’

His thoughts were interrupted as he felt his mane pulled from behind. He hissed and turned to grab at the hoof that held him only to open himself to the punch that slammed him to the ground.

He laid spread out on the ground, the rain falling on his face. As much as he tried to return his focus, he could only think of the dancing stars in his vision. The pain in his muzzle burned hotly but he could only stare ahead.

“Tourmaline?”

Nothing came back to his plea. The falling of the rain and the distant sound of fighting was all he heard, but none of registered past the ache. Where were his friends? Why was he alone? He turned to see the deer still in a fierce battle with the beetles, but he couldn’t see Tourmaline anywhere. Where was she? Is she—

His breath was blasted out of him when a hoof stomped down on him. He looked up to see Stalwart standing over him, his hoof pressing down on his barrel. The mercenary looked down at him with that same dead look in his eyes and lifted his retrieved blade.

“For defying the Mistress, only death awaits.”

The point of the sword hoved above him.

‘Tormod?’

The rain fell from above but his gaze was stuck to Stalwart’s.

‘Trixie?’

All sound had vanished, save for the frantic beating of his heart and ragged breathing.

‘Tourmaline?’

This was it. He was going to die. There was no one around to save him. His life would be ended in a forest where only his killer would see his time ended.

‘Help...me.’

A gleam glinted off the sword before a cerise beam blasted it from the mercenary’s grip. They both turned to see Trixie glaring fiercely at Stalwart, her horn a bright light in the gloom.

“Trixie will not let you harm her friend!”

Before any of them could further react, a shriek of rage preceded Stalwart being tackled off of Wanderer by a teal blur.

His senses returned as he watched Tourmaline tackle Stalwart to the ground. Even after bouncing off of him, she flapped her wings and came back with a kick that caught the mercenary in the face as he tried to get back to his hooves.

Aching like never before, Wanderer struggled to his hooves. He knew that Tourmaline wouldn’t last against Stalwart. She was faster, but he was stronger and could endure anything she threw at him. Even after he got to his hooves, Wanderer wondered what he could do to even make a difference. Stalwart had already beaten him once, so what difference would it make this time?

His head snapped up as heard Tourmaline gasp and saw that Stalwart had caught her by the tail and slammed her to the ground.

“Tourmaline!” He started forward when his hoof kicked something. Looking down, he saw a discarded hoof blade from one of the fallen deer warriors. As he looked at the weapon, a part of him screamed to kick it away, but the part of him that was screaming for him to save Tourmaline demanded he pick it up and use it.

He thought earlier on his vow: where he refused to kill. Would he really break that promise now? Could he?

His gaze snapped up to see Stalwart had pinned Tourmaline down and his hooves were pressing against her neck. She thrashed and slapped at him, but there was no breaking his grip. The panic in her eyes caused all other thought to leave Wanderer’s mind.

All he saw was a red haze as he galloped for them. “Get your hooves off of her!”

Stalwart looked up in time to take a rage-induced haymaker to the muzzle. The mercenary bounced away, and Tourmaline gasped in the air her lungs had begged for.

The mercenary had barely gained his hooves before Wanderer was there, punching at him wildly. Even as Stalwart backpedaled from the assault, Wanderer kept up with him. Landing punch after furious punch on the mercenary. Frantic screams of, “I’ll kill you!” erupted from him over and over as his only thought was to stop this monster who was hurting his friend.

In a fit of desperation, Stalwart lunged after him. Wanderer brought his forelegs up to hold the thrashing mercenary at bay as they landed with a heavy thud.

Just as Wanderer felt his strength starting to give way, Stalwart arched his back, and Wanderer felt a wave of hot splash over him.

Once more, all sound had ceased, and Wanderer looked up to see the point of a spear tip just inches from his snout. The mercenary’s life blood pouring down from his wound and onto Wanderer. He looked past the mercenary to see a stricken Faithful Watcher scream something at him, tears running in rivers down her eyes.

His eyes widened in horror as the red haze vanished and he gave a scream of denial. He looked at Stalwart’s face as it seemed the light had returned to his eyes.

“T-Thank… you…” he whispered before the lights went out of his eyes once more and he slumped.

Wanderer stared at the unseeing eyes for a moment before a horrified gasp escaped him and he pushed the dead mercenary off. He scooted away from the body as fast as he could but stopped as he felt his back strike a tree.

He didn’t register his name being called out. Instead, his eyes fell to his bloody hooves and chest. With another scream, he desperately tried to wipe it away.

‘It’s not coming off! Why won’t it come off!’

“Wanderer!”

His head jerked up to see Faithful standing over him, looking at him with concern past the grief he saw in her brown eyes. “Wanderer, are you all right?”

The tightening in his throat refused to let him answer. All he could see was the blood and Stalwart’s eyes as the light faded from them.

“Wanderer! Please answer us!” Trixie shouted from his other side.

He looked past them to see that the fighting was over, the beetles either down or thrashing in their last moments. Ignoring that, he instead looked to see Tourmaline staring at him from not far away. Her hoof still lay across where Stalwart had tried to strangle her, but it was her eyes that he saw the most.

Her violet irises were wide, and they held a myriad of different emotions. Confusion, shock, fear, relief, and… regret?

His gaze fell back to his blood-covered body for a moment before it all crashed down on him as if the Mother Oak had fallen atop of him.

Wanderer’s scream rent the air.

Author's Notes:

I swear Gdocs goes out of its way to make things harder on me. Had to go back, line by line, and erase every bolding and italicizing script it decided to throw on here for no good reason.

So, what do you think? Things looking pretty rough for our heroes, eh?

As always, thanks for reading!