The next day we came across a narrow valley. Dust frowned as she led the way. "It's supposed to be defensible. Before, I thought that was a good thing. Now, maybe not so much." She looked over her shoulders. "Diggers, forward! I don't trust her. Sweep below ground, look for mines, but don't, for the love of god, actually touch them."

Several volunteers stepped forward, though most looked nervous about the job. They dug at the ground and soon vanished from sight. Like a game of Minesweeper in reverse, hooves came out of the ground, pushing up rocks to mark where the mines were found, and there were an uncomfortable number of them.

Sandra frowned as another was marked. "Jesus. Imagine if we just tried to walk through that?"

My reply was cut off as a muffled explosion made the ground shake beneath us. Dirt and some shreds of a brave pony flew up into the air before peace returned to the deadly field. I winced with sympathy even as I felt out over the area. Most of the dots were bright and well, but one was cold. Despite the futility of it, I gave a pull on that dot. Cindy helped silently, and our teleport worked in reverse, drawing the injured and likely dead soul to us.

A torn body appeared on the grass just in front of us. She was unconscious and bleeding terribly. Her left foreleg was gone from the knee on and the right side of her face looked like it had gone through a shredder.

Sandra shuddered violently before lashing out her tongues at us. Without asking, she drew powerfully, her tongues going bright with the energy she could find in our large form. She threw her tongues around the critically injured pony more carefully and let it free into her. The mare suddenly came awake, screaming and howling in what must have been immense pain.

Another pony rushed forward with a satchel with a red cross on it. Some symbols stayed the same no matter the language. The pony settled beside the hurt pony and began working on her, bandaging the worst bleeds. With Sandra's feed of life-giving energies and the doctor's rapid care, she was pulled back from the brink of death. Maimed, but alive. Her screams only stopped when the doctor gave her an injection to knock her out.

Sandra sagged to the ground when the doctor proclaimed her stable. I didn't feel much better, though the powerful reserve of gift in me was already restoring the energy stolen. I couldn't blame Sandra for her quick action, considering it had saved a life. "Good job, Sandra."

She smiled and nodded. "Yeah... I guess I could have joined the mine detail, but..."

Dusk shook his head. "It's better that you're here to help the doctors."

She frowned. "I didn't stay because of that. I stayed because I'm scared." She turned away. "I won't lie about that. That could have been me... I can taste her blood." She curled on herself, shuddering. Dusk advanced and flopped on top of her, and the two began to cuddle, dealing with the stress of things in their own way. I could hear him murmuring encouraging things, but my attention slid back to the field of mines.

Luck was on our side. Only one other mine went off, and that one only inflicted cuts and gashes, without outright removing limbs from the pony that set it off. The pony was literally made of stone, much like Crystal, but more of a granite appearance. He saluted as he reported the situation. "I'm fine to return to duty!" And he went right back in, despite bleeding a little. The doctor at least got him to stop long enough for some basic bandaging.

One of the soldiers shook his head. "I can't do this. These civvies are totally showing us up. Come on, let's go!" The others let out a cheer together, and they vanished into the ground, joining the rest in marking the mines. About half an hour later, the field was declared 'safe', insomuch that the mines were clearly marked and could be walked around. The mine sweepers were thanked with enthusiastic claps on the shoulder, bro-hoofs, and outright hugs. With the horrifying task complete, morale raised, and we advanced into the deadly field, keeping well away from the markers that blood had been shed to place.

We left the crippled pony behind, guarded by two silent ferals that stood guard over her with a fierce protectiveness.

We all let out a breath of relief when we reached the other side. Not very far ahead was a solid looking hatch. Like a barn cellar door, only made of cement. "She has a bunker?" I approached carefully and nudged at it. It was as solid as it looked, and a tug on the handle accomplished little.

Dust Kicker nodded. "I've only been in here a few times. I'm guessing she's changed the password." Dust moved up and her horn glowed as she tried the buttons on the console beside the heavy door. It gave an angry beep in reply. "Yep. I'm officially on the shit list." She frowned and banged on the door with a hoof. "Open up! We're here to talk, damn it."

The door gave off a loud hiss and Dust Kicker backed away. "It's opening!"

With a soft pop, it came unsealed, then started swinging upwards, allowing the barrel of a minigun to emerge, attached to the solid form of a bruiser of a pony. Cindy put up a shield in front of us, though I didn't feel confident trying to deflect the punishment that device could put out. I felt for the pony's gift. There was none. Even as the gun span up, I tried to find the gift. Neon had cleaned this one out? Did she do it specifically to prevent me from doing what I was going to do?

Author's Notes:

Mines are no joke. People go through this every day in the real world, and they don't have Sandra around.

Oh wait, minigun, quick, duck!

Neon is protecting her turf with increasingly violent means. Not even typos dare to come this close.