Translation Dictionary (only used once at the end)

Chapter 15: The Widening Gyre

The chill wind of early morning bit into Stivers’ cheeks as they emerged from the cavern entrance. The combination of cold and early morning sunlight was enough to wake you up in one hell of a hurry, and he scrambled to pull the hood of the patchwork cloak up over his head. “Damn, that’s cold!”

“Dawn in the mountains.” Sword agreed. The pony shivered slightly beside him as he adjusted his own cloak. “Personally, I’d rather be snoozing on a hillside outside Canterlot.” Exhaling a puff of white vapor in the chilly air, he moved to one side to clear the entranceway for the others. “Even the desert would be something of an improvement. I hate the cold.” he groused.

Stivers moved over to stand beside him and the two watched as the rest of their troop filed out, blinking owlishly in the morning sun. Stivers knew every one of them by sight now, but still, out of habit, he counted off to himself as each one emerged and moved together in a loose group, grumbling about the early morning reveille in time-honored military tradition. One particular shape caught his eye, and he glanced over at Sword, leaning close and lowering his voice. “Are you sure about this?”

“No, but I really don’t see how we have much of an option.” Sword sighed as he watched William’s diminutive form join the others. “It’s fairly obvious he’s been here before, and we know of at least one group of locals who don’t exactly look on him with a kindly eye. We leave him here, he’s liable to be beaten at the very least, or sold at auction at one of the markets.”

“Sold?” The distaste was obvious in Stivers’ voice. “I didn’t know the people in this land went in for slavery.”

“We’re not in Equestria anymore, Captain.” Sword looked away and spat. “I’ve no more relish for the idea than you do, but it’s the way of the land, here. Again, that’s why he’s still with us.” The pony shrugged. “He presents more problems than I’d like, but I can’t just leave the lad here. From what the sergeant said, he probably would have ended up getting caught and killed had we left him behind.”

“In that case, you got no argument from me. I’ll tell Gruebel to watch out for him. Don’t want him wandering off and getting eaten or something while we’re on the trail,” Stivers said, laughing.

“I don’t want any one of us getting chewed on, either. Make sure they keep close order march today.” Sword moved off toward Taylor, who was fussing with one of his packstrapts. “And no, I’m not joking.”

Stivers watched him go, the grin fading from his face. “Camping next to Lake Waccamaw this sure as hell ain’t,” he grumbled. “Gallivan! Gruebel! Get over here for a minute.”

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Sword set a deceptively easy pace, the same one he had held to after they had been forced to abandon the aircraft and head out cross-country. The well-traveled road through the mountains was much easier terrain to walk on, despite the steady upward slope. It took William no little amount of trouble to match their pace; the gryphon had no shortage of willpower, but the poor fellow had legs half again as short as anypony else’s in the party. It was all Taylor could do to keep from laughing at him as he struggled to keep up for the first few hours. Several times he had started to offer words of encouragement to the little featherbrain, but Gallivan had advised him against it. “Notice how he ain’t complainin’ a bit, sir? He’ll tough it out. If you say anything to him, it’ll just piss him off.”

The sergeant was marching at the same pace, with a fully loaded pack on his back, and hadn’t so much as wheezed all morning, much to Taylor’s annoyance. When they had started, the lieutenant had been looking around idly, admiring the way the mountainsides gleamed in the sunlight above where the treeline ended. Two hours later into the march and Taylor was more intent on watching his boots move one ahead of the other, and sneaking a glance up ahead occasionally to see if Sword or Stivers looked like they were going to call a halt.

I’m a pilot. I get paid to sit on my ass and drive a bomber around the sky, not this ground-pounding shit. “Well, I don’t want him to fall over on us or something,” Taylor puffed.

“Yes sir, I hear you.” Gallivan glanced idly at Taylor’s red face for a moment. “How you holdin’ up, sir?”

“I’m doin’ fine,” Taylor said, more rapidly than he wanted to. “Legs were sore right when we started, but I’m fine now, I can go all day if we need to.”

Gallivan grinned. “That’s what he’s sayin’ too, sir, just not out loud, if you get me. He’ll be fine.”

And he was fine, surprisingly enough. By the time they stopped for a breather to eat lunch (and that was Golden Sword in a nutshell, Taylor thought; waiting until lunchtime to work in a rest break was just the kind of efficiency that pony loved), the little gryphon seemed to have little trouble keeping abreast of them, although he did ask Sword once why they didn’t just fly instead.

“Because only half of us have wings,” the pegasus had replied. “And we still have a long way to go yet.”

“Oh really, ey? An’ where are we goin’, if ye don’ mind me askin’?”

“The monastery in the Shadow Whisper Mountains,” Sword said patiently.

“Yah, I remember ya sayin’ d’at much to that moke back a’ th’ pass.” William picked up a small rock in one claw and flung it ahead of them, watching it bounce and clatter across the rocks off to one side. “Wha’ I mean is, which one, yah know?”

Sword was about to give the little nuisance a lecture on noise discipline when the full import of the question struck him. “What do you mean, ‘which one?’”

“Which monastery? D’ere’s f’er er five up in those peaks, I wagger.” the gryphon said absently. “They always go up d’ere to do d’eir prayin’ and what not. Which one they go to depends on what d’ey’re prayin’ for. Which one you headed to?”

“I have no idea,” the stallion admitted after a long moment of silence. “I wasn’t aware there were multiple sites.”

“Hah! Figured as much, ey. Yer only ponies after all.” William shrugged. “Doesn’t ma’er to me, one’s as good as th’ other. I figure I can get a bagful o’ stories regardless which you go to. An’ since you ‘ave no idea which one ya need, we can hit ‘em all up, an’ I can get bucket loads o’ good tales.”

“We did not travel this far from home to indulge you in a story gathering spree,” Sword snapped testily. “Once we find the place we’re looking for, you can go hound the monks to your heart’s content. And if you don’t like the pace I set, feel free to fly wherever you want. I just brought you with us so those cretins back in Clawttowa didn’t dissect you out of spite.”

William looked up in surprise and grinned. “Huh. An’ here I thought yah didn’ like me!”

“I don’t.” Sword said, and stalked away.

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The size and scale of the mountain terrain was breathtakingly beautiful to both the ponies and the humans, most of whom had never even seen a landscape like the one they now traveled through except in pictures. Taylor was the lone exception, and likened it to the terrain in Alaska. William the gryphon, who had grown up here, barely even gave the high peaks a second glance; the youngster spent most of his time avoiding the officers and mingling with the troops themselves. His oddly warbling voice could be heard from time to time regaling them with one song or another, or one of the strange tales of gryphonic lore he had picked up. Both Shining Star and Gallivan found these fascinating and would while away the time listening to the young gryphon and then asking him a flurry of questions about each tale or song. Star was naturally curious about almost anything, and soaked up the information eagerly, always asking penetrating questions about who did what and why regarding half-mythical events that had happened centuries ago. Gallivan, on the other hand, seemed to find some surcease in the lore itself; the big Marine would often repeat parts of the tales back to William to make sure he had it memorized correctly, and he and the gryphon would enter into impromptu quizzing sessions about some obscure element from the distant past. The others found it somewhat odd that the big man took so much interest in the subject, but nopony could deny that it seemed to ease the sergeant’s mind somewhat. His sleep was unbroken and solid, and whatever demons from his past that laid there waiting had been defanged, at least for now.

The impressive vistas before them soon began to become somewhat monotonous as they continued to journey further south. As William mentioned during one break, one mountain pretty much looks like another, and the others found it hard to disagree. There was very little foot traffic on the road they were on, mostly traders traveling to and from Clawttowa with wagons loaded with goods of one type or another. These took only minor interest in the odd group of ponies and humans, and that quickly melted away when the group showed no signs of purchasing anything.

Five days after they had left the trading center of Clawttowa, they finally struck the branch path that was indicated on the map. Leaving the main road, they began following the new trail, which headed off toward the southeast. The path was not as well tended here, and the ground about them rose and fell sharply. The main road was quickly lost to sight as the timber growth on the lower slopes of the mountains made an appearance, and they soon seemed to be traveling along a path lined with wooden sentinels, evergreen trees that seemed to be mostly fir and some other odd kind of growth that the humans were unable to identify.

Thompson picked up a fallen bough of the strange wood as they walked and flexed it for a moment. “What the heck is this stuff? It’s almost like pine, but the bark is just...weird.”

“Oh, tha’s spiritwood. It grows on all d’e mountains ‘round ‘ere.” William looked at the trees beside them with a blatant lack of interest. “Smells funny in springtime too.”

“Spiritwood? What the hell is that?” Gruebel looked at the trees with sudden suspicion. “These things aren’t gonna jump up out of the ground and eat me for usin’ em for firewood or something, are they?”

William stared at him as if he’d gone mad. “Uh... no. They are... just trees. You know, wood, nee’les, cones. Chop em down, build houses an’ wagons with ‘em.” He shrugged. “I’s just a name, ey. Dunno why d’ey’re called that.”

“Well, since the local flora is decidedly not dangerous, let’s gather up some of it before we lose all the light.” Sword glanced up at the lowering sun. “This is as good a place as any to make camp for the evening.”

The routine was well established enough at this point that the pegasus didn’t have to say another word. Moving off to one side of the path, the enlisted troops began clearing away the ground in a reasonably open spot, sweeping aside large patches of dead needles and gathering up the scattered branches and other detritus. Sword and the other officers fanned out, gathering up larger branches and chunks of wood as they found them to keep the fire going throughout the night; they had resolved to try and use any dead wood they found along the way and save the fuel they had gathered prior to entering the mountains for an emergency.

Midnight followed Taylor upslope away from the camping site, picking up the smaller branches that she was able to manage and poking them through one of the loosened straps of her pack. The pilot ranged on ahead and gathered up the larger or unwieldy pieces, stacking them loosely in the crook of one arm. They foraged ahead for several minutes, the stillness of the forest around them broken only by the sighing of the wind through the treetops and the occasional snatch of conversation from the others from below and behind them.

“Whoop, look out, you’ve got one running away from you.” Midnight called out to the pilot. One of the branches under Taylor’s arm had twisted and slipped down, threatening to snag on his trousers and trip him up.

“Oh, thanks.” Taylor stopped and readjusted the armload of wood he was carrying and then resumed walking uphill.

Midnight looked after him for a moment, frowning. Ever since the group had entered the mountains, the pilot had seemed out of sorts and pensive, his normally constant running commentary of chatter absent. Admittedly, she found some of his jokes a bit childish at times, and annoying on occasion, but the human was invariably a fount of good cheer, albeit inane on occasion. It obviously grated on Golden Sword when Taylor refused to take something seriously, but Midnight had gotten used to it at this point and found it provided a welcome break from the normal stress of duty. It was, in its own way, somewhat endearing to her, and she found its absence to be more than a little unsettling.

“How are you feeling? I don’t know about you, but I’m definitely ready to sit down for the day. My hooves are killing me.” Midnight stopped and shook one foreleg in the air for emphasis.

“Hmm?” Taylor turned and glanced at her for a moment. “Sorry, I was woolgathering there.”

“I was just asking how you were feeling.” Midnight braced her hind legs and stretched out, feeling her spine pop. “Oooh, that’s better. I think this whole walking all day thing is better left to the earth ponies. Me, I’d rather be flying.”

“Mmhmm.” The human made a noncommittal sound and kept walking up the hill, picking up another branch and tucking it under his arm. To Midnight’s eye, it looked like he had quite enough already, but he kept on going, peering about. “I guess so.”

Midnight suppressed a growl of exasperation and trotted up the slope until she stood next to him. “Hey, are you okay? Really?”

To her surprise, he jerked as if he’d been prodded with a red-hot poker. “Everybody keeps asking me that, and I keep telling everybody I’m fine. Christ.” He kicked a fir cone viciously with one boot, sending it flying off into the gloaming.

The pegasus flinched involuntarily at that. “Taylor... I know it’s tough, being grounded and everything.”

“What?” Taylor stopped hunting for another cone to kick and glanced down at her. “What are you talking about?”

She drew in a deep breath and plunged ahead. “Not being able to fly, having to adapt to all this ground work... I’m aware it’s not exactly what you trained for or are especially fond of.” She craned her head back and loosened one of the straps of her pack, shrugging out of it and dropping it to the ground. “I’m not just a pony, I’m a pegasus. I love the sky, and flying. There’s a degree of control to it... you don’t think about it, you just tuck a wing and you go where you want. Even if you’re flying formation, you’re the one in charge of staying where you’re at, so you slow down or speed up, twitch your tail a bit to stay in line...well, I know you don’t, but you know what I mean.” She looked up and regarded the human with a kind eye. “You’re in control of it all when you’re up there in the sky. Except we’re not in the sky now, are we?”

Taylor just stood there for a moment, looking at her with a curious expression on his features. “Yeah, you’re right about that, I guess.” He glanced around for a moment, then crouched down and set the bundle of brush and branches on the soft loamy carpet of needles underfoot. “I hadn’t actually thought about it, to be honest.” He rubbed his left arm where the wood had been pinching him and looked at her with a wry smile. “Are you psychoanalyzing me, now?”

“No, you big sod, I was checking to see how you were because I was worried,” she replied, a bit testily. “If it’s an imposition I’ll just be quiet and leave you alone if you want.”

He simply stood there for a moment, studying her features. “Point taken,” he said at last. “Yeah, you’re right... and to be honest, I hadn’t thought about it, but it does bother me, a bit.” He glanced upward at the darkening sky visible through the treetops, watching a few faint stars begin to appear. “Not much I can do about it though, I’ll get over it. Hell, I think I’m actually getting used to walking all day. Not that it’s become my favorite choice for relaxing in those dull moments when we’re not being attacked by man-eating monsters.”

Midnight smiled a bit; that, at least, sounded more like Taylor’s normal self. “I can think of better things to do in my off moments.”

“Yeah, I noticed that, actually.” Taylor knelt down, wincing as his knees popped, and began picking up the wood again, stacking it more carefully in the crook of his left arm. “I keep seeing you writing off and on while we’re in camp. Is Sword making you keep track of how many ounces of oats we eat every day or something?”

“No, he’s not really that bad about supplies.” Midnight made a mental note to not mention the idea to Golden Sword; he might actually find it attractive. “No, that’s just my own thing. I write in it now and again when we have a spare moment to rest.”

Taylor chuckled softly as he continued to pick up the branches. “Methinks I hear a diarist in our midst. Been writing down your thoughts about this insane trip of ours?”

“Well... sort of. I mean, not exactly.” She began blushing madly. “It’s... well, it’s sort of a journal, yes, but it’s not exactly just for me.”

The human nearly dropped one of the branches and cursed loudly, shaking his hand. “Goddam it, I need that knuckle.” He picked the wood back up and smacked it into place on top of the pile, wincing. “So, who are you writing for, posterity? Or are you going to turn it into a story you can tell back home?” Taylor laughed. “Maybe you can squeeze William for some of that cash of his and let him buy the rights to tell it around here.”

“Uh, not exactly.” Letting the little gryphon set his eyes on her journal was the last thing Midnight would do. “It’s... well, I’m kind of keeping track of things. So that when we get back home, somepony can read about it. About what happened, and how I felt about everything.” She glanced up timidly at Taylor as he stood back up. “I was actually kind of hoping to find out what you thought about it... you know, if you’d like to read a little bit? Maybe?”

Taylor glanced at her and stopped fussing with the wood; it was the same odd tone of voice he’d heard from her before when the gryphon had been hawking his jewelry at the ponies. “Um. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m guessing this particular pony is not exactly just somebody who lives next door or anything.”

Midnight was thankful for the descending dusk, for it mostly hid the bright flush under the fur of her cheeks. “That’s right. It’s for somepony I really care about. My very special somepony.” Oh sweet Celestia, I can’t believe I came out and said it!

He smiled suddenly, the gloomy expression on his face vanishing with startling rapidity. “Holy crap, I had no idea you were seeing someone. Why didn’t you say anything about it before?”

“Well, it was kind of sudden... it all really came together right before we left home.” She smiled hesitantly at him. “We really didn’t have a lot of time together, so I thought of this as a kind of way to keep in touch, you know? Even if I can’t send the letters anywhere, it’s a way of reaching out—”

“—and talking to them all the same.” Taylor nodded. “Midnight, I’ve written more than a few of those while I was at sea during the war. The censors mark out all the vital stuff, but still you can try and let them know what you feel like.” He leaned back against a nearby tree, the bundle of firewood all but forgotten under his arm. “So who is he? Do I know him?”

She laughed reflexively. “Know, yes, but it’s not a he, silly. It’s a she. Miss Fluttershy.” The relief swept through her, draining through her body and seeming to flow down her legs and out of her, leaving her feeling light as air. She suddenly felt as if she could jump and soar over the treetops without using her wings. There, I said it out loud, he knows, the world knows, everyone knows now.

Taylor simply stood there, looking at her with a quizzical expression on his face, a small line furrowed between his eyebrows. “She? What about her?”

“She’s my very special somepony. I just... oh gods, Taylor, you know, there’s no words for how I feel around her.” That small, panicked voice that normally spoke up in Midnight’s brain at times like this just sat back, stunned at the words that had finally found the place to pour forth. “She’s the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. If... when we make it back, I’m going to ask her for sure.”

The human was still standing there motionless, that odd look still on his face. “Wait, she’s the yellow one that yelled at me when we first met, right?”

“Well, yes, but you did shoot her friend the bear,” Midnight said. The laughter in her voice trailed away as she looked at him. “Taylor, I’m sure she’s not still mad at you about it. You were trying to defend yourself after all.”

Taylor began waving his hand at her as if trying to flag down a taxi on a busy street. “Whoa whoa there, Nellie. You can’t hook up with her.”

“Why not?” Was there something that Fluttershy hadn’t told her? If so, how had Taylor found out? Midnight’s ears drooped backward as she looked at him. “I mean, I talked to her about it, and everything, before we left. Right before we left, I know, and I was in a hurry and we didn’t talk long, but—”

“Midnight, what the hell’s wrong with you? You can’t marry her. She’s... well, she’s female.” Taylor was looking at her as if she’d grown a second head. “It’s kind of hard to have kids and have a family when you’re both lugging around the same set of equipment.”

The pegasus stared at him, her jaw agape. The lightweight, floating feeling she had been feeling moments before had been replaced by a tingling numbness in all of her limbs. “What... how can you say that? What has that got to do with anything?”

“Last time I checked, that was the whole point of falling in love and getting married. Unless I didn’t get the latest fleet bulletin on romance and—”

“Don’t you dare make a joke out of this!” Midnight yelled at him, the sound echoing around them and flying back from the rocks and trees hidden in the darkness. “If you don’t understand, fine. If you don’t like it, fine. But I only told you about it because I trusted you, Taylor, so don’t you dare laugh at me!”

Taylor looked at her for a moment, and then threw the armload of wood to one side. Midnight jerked backward reflexively at the movement, the branches clattering against each other as they tumbled away “Oh, talk about humor, now that statement is as funny as shit.” He folded his arms and glared at her. “Since when am I suddenly your bosom confidante?”

Midnight shook her head, her eyes wide as she took a step backward. “What? I don’t—”

“Oh, don’t give me that ‘I don’t understand you, I’m just a pony’ shit. Not after that big lecture from Golden Sword about what a cancer we are from just being here. I got dragged here against my will and suddenly I’m as welcome as the fucking bubonic plague just because I’m drawing breath.” Taylor gritted his teeth. “I’m sick to death of being told how much I’m not wanted around here when all I want to do is get back home before some critter with six tails and four mouths eats my ass. And don’t tell me how much you trust me when I damn well know better. Hell, you told me yourself. ‘Taylor, I’d lie to you with a smile if I thought you were a threat to my home,’” he mimicked savagely, his voice rising to a wavering falsetto.

She stood still for a moment, until the words clicked into place in her memory. “Wait, that?” Midnight stared at him, astounded. “I didn’t mean you! I was talking about William! I felt sorry for him, but I didn’t trust him! I wasn’t talking about you. I never meant I didn’t trust you.”

“And I’m supposed to just believe that?” Taylor snorted and uncrossed his arms, flapping them at her dismissively as he bent and began to pick up the wood once more. “Piss on it. I don’t care anymore. Maybe Thompson was right back in Canterlot. Maybe this is all just some damned setup. All I know is I’m gonna watch out for myself and to hell with the rest of the world.”

Midnight watched him in silence as he picked up the scattered brush piece by piece from where he had thrown it in anger. His words tumbled and spun inside her head, and she tried desperately to think of something, anything, to refute the horrible statement he had made. Everything she could think of came up empty, however... just words, more words, meaningless ones like the ones she had tossed off carelessly that had started this whole mess. Harmless in of themselves, they had turned on the man before her and somehow been twisted into poison. His image doubled, then tripled in her vision as her eyes filled with tears.

“Of course I trust you,” she said in a low voice. “You’re the only friend I have.” Choking back a sob, she lunged forward and seized her pack, slinging around one shoulder and turning to plunge blindly back down the hill toward the camp.

Taylor stopped and watched her flee, the golden sheen of her armor winking in and out of sight in the dim light before vanishing from view. He crouched where he was for a moment, then stood up and looked at the handful of wood he carried in one arm. One of the smaller branches had a fir cone still attached to it, and he reached up and plucked it off carefully, holding the fragile construction in one palm.

“Well, that’s just great,” he muttered, and flung it into the night.

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Gruebel had just gotten the fire pit cleaned out to his satisfaction, an uneven row of rocks surrounding it to keep the damned thing from spreading out and setting the whole forest on fire. He was busy arranging the small bundle of kindling when the shouting from further up the slope had begun.

“What the hell is that?” He stood up, peering through the trees in the fading light, but was unable to see anything.

“Sounds like Th’ Lady is rather pissed aboot somet’in’.” William said. The gryphon had not bothered to join the others in going to gather wood or setting up the camp, and merely stood to one side, preening his wing feathers and looking incredibly bored.

“Yeah, I know.” Gruebel couldn’t make out the words themselves, but the breeze brought him enough of the noise to know that it was not a cry of distress or pain; someone was catching some serious heat. “Who the hell is she—”

Another, lower, heavier shout drifted back down to them, and Grubel immediately bent back to his work again, stripping the small branches and twigs and piling them up neatly in the center of the pit. “Okay, never mind.”

“Ey, d’at sounds like ‘er buddy, th’ tall fella,” William opined. “Wha’s goin’ on, ey?”

“Don’t know, don’t wanna know.” Gruebel tossed a branch to one side for later use. “Never get into the middle of somebody else’s argument. Especially when they’re both brass-hats.” He stood up and brushed the dirt off of the knees of his coveralls and grimaced. “Christ, they’re really goin’ at it. Everything within five miles of here is gonna hear that shit.”

Gallivan and Thompson appeared, the latter carrying several of the small, oddly shaped canteens that the ponies used for storing water. “What the heck is that ruckus about?” asked the sergeant. “We can hear it clear down to the stream down there.”

“I dunno, but the skipper’s gonna shit nickels if they don’t pipe down soon,” Gruebel growled. “I—” He broke off as Midnight trotted into the small clearing, her pack askew over one shoulder. Several small branches were secured in the other loop of the sturdy bag, dragging behind her as she stalked toward them. The Marines immediately busied themselves with unpacking the gear and finishing the setup of camp, setting out the satchels of food to one side and unfolding their bedrolls. Only William watched, intrigued, as Midnight walked over to where Gruebel still stood by the fire pit.

“Here’s a bit of wood to get you started,” she said in an unsteady voice. She paused and cleared her throat, then continued in a stronger tone. “Taylor should be along shortly with a larger load. If he doesn’t drop it on the way down the hill.”

“Thanks, Ell-Tee,” Gruebel replied neutrally. “This is fine to start with.” He untangled her pack strap from the wood and pushed the tinder to one side, handing her pack back. “I’ll get the fire goin’ in no time.”

“Certainly. Thank you, corporal.” She picked up the loose strap in her teeth and dragged her bag over to the far side of the clearing, tossing it onto her bedroll with a flick of her head. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No ma’am,” Gruebel said carefully. The sub-lieutenant was plainly in a state of high pissoff at the moment, and he didn’t want a dose of that. “Everything’s under control, here.”

“Well, that’s a pleasant change.” Midnight sighed heavily and then looked at William, who was still staring at her in fascination. “Can I help you with something?” she asked frostily.

“Oy, you’re all up aboot it, aren't cha?” William glanced back upslope, but there was no sign of Taylor at the moment. “What’d the big fella do, drop a piece o’ wood and scratch yer armour or somet’in’?”

Gruebel covered his face with one hand. Ohhhh shit, kid.

Midnight’s eyes narrowed until they became glittering indigo slits. “No. And I don’t want to hear another word out of you about it, unless you’d like to roost in a tree tonight.”

Sword and Stivers stepped into the clearing and made their way over to where Gruebel was doing his best to ignore everything but the small bit of flame he had just created. “I see you’re at your usual charming best,” Sword said as he passed the gryphon. “Keep up at this rate, and you’ll be able to alienate all of us by moonrise.”

William looked wounded. “Wha’ did I do?”

Sword ignored him and glanced over at Midnight. “All well, Lieutenant?”

“Yes sir,” she replied crisply. “Just... a minor difference of opinion.”

“Very well, then.” Without another word he handed off his bundle of wood to Gruebel and ambled over to sit down next to the growing fire. “Nice work,” he said approvingly, looking at the careful arrangement of stones. Gruebel had swept the ground mostly clean, down to the bare earth, and had cleared the carpet of fir needles away for another foot outside of that for good measure.

“Yessir, thank you,” Gruebel said. “I kinda wasn’t wanting to burn to death in my sleep, you know?”

“Don’t even joke about that shit.” Thompson shivered and sat down. “I still remember being stuck burning in that friggin bomber on the way down. When I finally punch my ticket, I hope to hell it never happens like that again.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Gallivan said agreeably. “I’m sure you’ll go out nobly. You’ll probably walk off a cliff or something.”

Thompson was just gathering himself for a suitably salty retort when he saw Taylor appear at the edge of the firelight, his arms freighted with another load of wood. “Heya, Lieutenant,” he called. “What do you think about this?”

Taylor blinked, coming to a standstill and holding the wood to his chest carefully. “About what?”

“Ol’ grumpy Gus here thinks I’m gonna end my days by falling off a mountain or something.” Thompson snorted. “Me, I plan on goin’ out like a hero. I’m gonna sacrifice myself for the ultimate cause.”

“What’s that?” Gruebel asked. He sat down, gingerly massaging his ankle. “Running like a little girl after you get your ass kicked playing acey-ducey?”

“Nah. When we get back home I’m gonna kill off a bottle of bourbon and then fling myself in front of all the dames waitin to welcome us back. I won’t let you guys down, I promise.”

“Thompson, the only woman waiting for you when we get back home is the meter maid waiting to collect on the fine because you double-parked out in front of the base,” Gallivan said. The sergeant stood up and walked over to Taylor. “I’ll take that, sir.”

“Huh? Oh. Thanks,” Taylor said, shifting the bundle of wood over to the Marine’s waiting arms. He looked around for a moment, then located his pack and walked over to pick it up. “I don’t think that’s the best end to my existence I could think of, Thompson.” He began rummaging through the backpack and moved over to sit down on the other side of the clearing from where Midnight lay.

Stivers took note of the placement, the two lieutenants seated across from each other with the campfire in between like the opposite points of a compass. He glanced at Sword, and the pony merely shrugged and said nothing.

“I always thought I’d get it charging a machine gun on some crappy beach somewhere,” Gruebel said. “War’s over now though. Besides, I get to fly my way into battle. Beats the hell out of sitting in a hole waiting to have an artillery shell fall on my head.”

“Yeah, and that’s thicker than the armor plating on a battleship,” Thompson said with a grin. “Shell’d just ricochet off and hit the guy next to you.”

“As long as you’re beside me then, I’ll never be afraid,” Gruebel shot back. “Hey, how about you, Lieutenant? You never did say how you’d like to go.” He looked expectantly at Taylor. “C’mon sir, give.”

Taylor didn’t respond for a moment, staring at the crackling flames as Gruebel fed the growing fire. “In the air,” he said at last. “I want to go out flying my plane. And I want to stay up there long enough to see the bastard that shot me down burn before I hit the ground.”

Silence filled the camp, broken only by the snapping sound as the hungry flames devoured the wood.

“Well, that beats walking off a cliff, I suppose,” Sword said at last. “Apple, anyone?”

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Midnight shivered under the cloak that draped over her armor, warding off the chilly air as she paced slowly around the perimeter of the camp. The fire had died down to a low flicker, and she paused now and again to throw a piece of wood on it to keep it going before resuming her walk. She had asked for the low watch, the dull time of the night between midnight and the dawn when the body’s ebb was at its lowest, and she welcomed the bite of the cold air on her ears as she paced steadily. The cold kept her alert and awake, and better still, it kept her from thinking too much.

Well, mostly. The oddly morbid conversation amongst the humans had stuck in her head like a buzzing fly that just won’t leave you alone, no matter how much you switch your tail at the darn thing. What was it, she wondered, that had made them so callous regarding death, that they could just... chat about it? Even joke about it? They would talk, now and again, in bits and snatches, about the war they had just recently been involved in. It was always something horrible, and there was never any doubt that they were relieved it was all over. But the strange undercurrent in their voices hinted at something else... the memories were so incredibly sharp and brilliant for them it seemed, even about things that had happened years ago. It was as if the flames of their lives had been banked low, waiting for that brief moment for conflict to fan them to brilliance. If that was how humans really were, she could begin to understand Princess Celestia’s concern about having them in Equestria for any length of time.

She glanced over and saw Gallivan, curled up under his blanket, and suddenly felt ashamed. The sergeant had been relatively quiet of late, his sleep at least outwardly untouched by the dark shadows that had stalked him that night in the desert. There, at least, was one human who was not like the others. He certainly didn’t revel in “the good old times.”

That thought was totally unworthy of you, and them, she told herself abruptly. They’re professionals, and are just quite good at what they do. Which was certainly true enough. They were, if nothing else, far more experienced in combat than she was. The minor confrontation when she had first met the pilots notwithstanding, her first real encounter in combat had been the battle with the dust devils in the desert. Her training had taken over and she had reacted automatically at Sword’s first shout of trouble, ordering Taylor to cover her without a thought as she shot the creatures off of Shining Star. The human hadn’t even questioned her, had simply dropped back to support her without a word with the simple trust of one soldier for another. And he had stood by her while they crouched in the shadow of the bomber while the otherworldly scream of the machine gun had blown the demons into shreds.

Midnight stopped and slumped against a tree, finally allowing her to glance over at the other lieutenant’s sleeping form. Hearing him talk earlier had torn at her, the pain and longing in his voice evident as he spoke of flying once more, and perishing in battle in the sky. Having to stay mostly ground bound to accompany the humans was bad enough, and she could well understand how restricted he felt. Cramped, tied down and bound to the earth, and the poor man didn’t even have his own set of wings he could use to escape, even for a little while. When she’d tried to comfort him earlier in the day, she hadn’t been completely wrong about what had been bothering him. At least, not entirely. The root of it all seemed to come down to that little joke she had made, however. A harmless, simple little jest that wasn’t even directed at him, but had been taken entirely wrong.

Get a grip on yourself, filly. That voice that spoke up in her head occasionally began prodding her insistently. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was a silly little joke. If he wants to act like a little colt and be pouty about something that doesn’t even matter, then there’s nothing you can do to change his mind.

“But it does matter,” she whispered. “What can I do? He’s my friend.”

Is he? Is he really? After getting all worked up over nothing? After listening to you share your life’s biggest secret and then throwing it back in your face? That’s selfish of him, and inconsiderate. You can do better than that. That’s not a friend. You don’t need to put up with that. And you don’t have to.

Midnight rubbed her cheek with a forehoof and groaned. “I can’t believe I’m arguing with myself about this.” She drew in a deep breath and resumed her course around the outer ring of the camp area. It wouldn’t have been so bad if not for the fact that the little voice was rarely wrong...

A muffled rustle and snap of a twig off to her left made her freeze in place, the argument in her mind forgotten in an instant. She turned her head and gazed off into the darkness, her ears flicking slowly against the chill metal of her helmet. She cursed herself for having looked so long at the camp area; her night vision was mostly gone from the flickering light of the campfire and she waited impatiently for her eyes to adjust.

Another muffled snap, and then a rustling sound greeted her. Something was moving toward her slowly, something roughly her own size, or nearly so. Her nostrils flared as she tried to pick up a scent of some kind, but the wind was from behind her, so whatever was out there already knew she was there and what she was. She crouched down, her weight shifting to her haunches as she drew her bow out and nocked an arrow in place with one smooth motion.

“Go ahead, come on,” she hissed. The events of the day washed over her in a red wave and she was suddenly eager and willing, ready to transfix the creature drawing closer and watch it bleed. “Come on in and have a taste, why not?”

The ground before her was becoming clearer, standing out in sharp relief as the moon suddenly sailed out from behind a cloud and lit up the earth in silent, silver glory. A low line of undergrowth ten meters ahead of her shook as the creature’s weight pressed against it, and then it gave way.

William emerged from the bushes and stopped cold, staring at her, his beak open in shock. “Don’t shoot! It’s me, Lady!”

Midnight stood poised a moment longer, the arrow aimed squarely at the gryphon’s chest, and then she slowly released the tension on the bow and let it drop down. “What are you doing, you damned idiot? I almost shot you!”

“Sweet lovin’ Edna, I hadda go pee. Don’ you ever use th’ bathroom?”

“Oh for...” Midnight let her head roll back and she stared up at the cloud scudded sky for a moment. “Next time tell someone before you go like that.” She began shaking. “Don’t you ever leave camp without telling someone, do you hear me?”

“Sheesh. One minute you ponies is tellin’ me ta get lost, the next yer yellin’ at me because I stayed out past me bedtime.” The gryphon walked past her, eyeing her distrustfully as he headed over to where Gruebel lay. “Make up yer friggin’ minds, why don’t cha?”

“Stow it before you wake the others,” she snapped. “Now get back to bed.”

“Yes Mummy,” William said in a high falsetto and then scooted over and began worming his way under Gruebel’s blanket. “Oy, now that’s the wrong end, there...”

Midnight stood for a moment longer, watching him until the blankets had stopped moving. Her fore legs felt numb from more than the cold, and she trembled to think how close she had come to actually shooting the little fledgeling gryphon. The dull heat of anger had fled as abruptly as it had come and she slid the arrow back into the quiver on her side, reslinging her bow across one shoulder and pausing to take a deep breath of the frigid night air.

The stark brilliance of the forest around her faded back into murky night and she looked back up to see the milky orb of the moon almost obscured by clouds. There was a faint, misty halo around the circumference of the glowing sphere of light and she knew well enough from her basic flight training that bad weather was likely in the offing soon. She would have to let Sword know when he awoke. She resumed her patrol around the camp, ears flicking busily at each sound that came from the darkness that surrounded them, but these were only the normal sounds of the night, a faint rustle of wind through leaves and nothing more. Pausing to shift her quiver to a more comfortable position, she glanced down and saw Taylor’s sleeping form nearby. The pilot had rolled over in his sleep and his blanket had shifted to one side, and he reflexively curled up against the cold air, shivering.

Midnight looked at him for a moment, and then stepped over, catching one corner of the blanket in her teeth and tugging it gently until it covered his legs once more. She waited until he stopped shaking and was quiet again, and then moved on, continuing her watch as the night drained away.

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Gruebel held out his right hand and let the snowflake settle into it, watching it melt into a tiny droplet of cold water. “Well if that ain’t the cat’s piss,” he grumbled.

“Well, we knew it was bound to happen sooner or later. I agree with you, though; I wish it had been later.” Golden Sword glanced up uneasily at the sky. The clouds had been thickening since daybreak, with a few last patches of blue fighting to be seen before being swallowed entirely by the undulating blanket that hung overhead. By the time they had finished breakfast and packed their things, the overcast was total. The combination of their height and the lowering clouds was unsettling; it was almost tempting to put up a hand or a hoof and see if you could tear a rent in the billowing mass above.

“You want to see if we can pick it up a notch, then?” Stivers glanced at Sword. “If this crap keeps falling steady, we’re gonna lose the trail in short order, and I don’t think there’s a whole lot of hotels open around here.”

“Agreed. You heard him, troops. Let’s move it. I don’t expect doubletime out of you, not on this slope, but let’s try for time and a half, shall we?” Without waiting, Sword moved off in the lead, his hooves moving in an odd stutterstep that was the bastard child of a normal pony’s walk and a full-out trot. The others followed, settling themselves into a long, single file line that stretched out for a full twenty meters, with Sword in the lead and Gallivan bringing up the rear.

“Why am I reminded of boot camp?” Thompson said to no one in particular. “Oh yeah, now I remember. Jogging uphill with a full pack. Oh, except now it’s up a mountain in the snow, instead of through the sand and hills in South Carolina. It’s great to see how much I’ve done with my life since then.”

“Save your wind, Marine.” Gallivan’s voice came floating back up the line to him. “You’re gonna want it back before too long.”

He was proven wrong, however. Twenty minutes into the jog, the path rose sharply in grade and began curving to the south. The ground was falling away on their left, the tree dotted slope getting lower and lower until the treetops on it were nearly at shoulder height on the humans. The ground to the right of them rose up as well until it became nearly a vertical slope blocking their view. Small stones and the occasional larger boulder lay in the narrowing path, a sure sign that rockslides were at least common in this area, and they all began casting nervous glances upslope to their right as they moved on.

The wind began freshening, its icy fingers tickling and prodding at the edges of their cloaks as they worked their way higher. The snowfall was thicker now, with occasional eddies in the wind making odd swirling and dancing patterns before their eyes for a few seconds, and then being torn away again as the wind tired of its play. Sword slowed their pace back to a walk, and the group instinctively drew closer together, bunching up until you could read out with a forehoof and touch your companion in front of you. Up ahead, the path narrowed to a ledge about a foot wide and wound around an outthrust spur of rock, twisting out of sight on the other side and appearing to bend back toward the southwest. The wind, still rising, gusted for a brief moment, the eddy around the outstretched rock making an unearthly wail as it fought free and flung icy spray in their faces.

“Oh, shit,” Stivers said unhappily. “There’s a damned crosswind on the other side of that thing. The wind’s almost full on out of the southwest... we go around that, we’re gonna be pinned up against the rock with no cover.”

“Should we hold up here, then?” Taylor asked. “Huddle up against the wall here and see if it slacks off some?”

“I don’t think that’s an option.” Midnight was peering up at the sky, watching the roiling motion of the clouds. “This is a fairly large front moving in, and it doesn’t look like it wants to go anywhere any time soon.” She flinched and snorted as a spat of snow struck her in the muzzle. “It could hang around anywhere from a couple of days to a week, from the look of it.”

“How do you know?” Taylor glanced up. “It could blow itself out overnight—”

“I took meteorology in my basic flight training,” she said curtly. “Didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Taylor replied, biting back a retort. “I did indeed.”

“Well, I stayed awake for mine.” Midnight shivered, her wings clamped tightly against her sides. “We need to keep moving and find better shelter somewhere else, or else we’re going to freeze to death before morning. All these eddies will blow any fire out long before we can get it going, and if the wind shifts, we’ll have no protection at all.”

“Agreed.” Sword glanced back at the group and then looked up at Stivers. “I’ll go first. I’ll let you know how bad the crosswind is so the rest of you can prepare yourselves for it.”

Stivers returned his gaze evenly. “And what makes you a better choice than me for that?”

“Well, if I get blown off...” Sword’s wings flicked out to full extension and he grinned. “I can always come back for a second try.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get you. Goddam smart ass ponies.” Stivers chuckled and knocked his knuckles against the armor on Sword’s back. “Go get ‘em, tiger.” He stood and watched the pegasus pace slowly forward and edge his face around the edge of the rock outcropping ahead, then draw back for a moment, shivering.

“Sweet Celestia, that wind’s cold!” he called back to them. “It’s got a bite to it, Captain, watch out for it!”

They huddled together and watched as Sword stepped fully out from behind the rock’s shelter and exposed himself to the full brunt of the wind. His cloak billowed out over his left shoulder, snapping testily in the wind as he moved carefully along the narrow ledge, placing each hoof firmly and pausing to test his footing before moving again. Slowly, step by step, he worked his way around the overhang until he was completely out of sight on the other side.

A long moment passed, and then they heard a faint call over the wind’s howl. “...up next!”

Stivers started to step forward, and felt a hand on his shoulder. “Pardon me, sir, do you mind if I cut in?” Taylor stepped around him and walked toward the outcropping.

“Charlie, wait.” Stivers moved forward to stop him. “Let me go. If the wind catches you—”

“No great loss. You still have a lot of ground-pounding to do, and that’s your forte. Besides, Mama Taylor’s lil’ boy was born to fly.” He gripped the outthrust rock in both hands and began to edge around it.

“Taylor, wait!” Midnight shuffled uneasily where she stood, her eyes on the lieutenant’s feet. “Watch where you—”

“Stow it,” Stivers said, holding up a hand in front of her. “Don’t distract him. Come on Charlie, don’t screw up now.”

“I can still hear you,” Taylor shot back. His fingers were almost immediately numb where they touched the rock, and he shuffled along carefully, the rough edges of the granite biting into his chest. He felt one of his feet shift position without warning, and he uttered a curse, his knuckles turning white as he increased his grip. “Watch your footing, there’s ice here!” He glanced back over his shoulder and saw Stivers and Midnight watching him, their eyes wide.

Stivers’ waved an arm, his mouth dropping open in a soundless shout as the wind stole his words away, but the meaning was clear. Go!

“Yeah, yeah, keep your panties on straight,” Taylor growled. The wind tugged at him again and he closed his eyes, waiting for it to subside. A few seconds later it obliged and he opened his eyes and began shuffling around the rock again, keeping his gaze fixed on his own hands. Shuffle, shuffle, shift your grip. Wash, rinse, repeat. Finally, he risked a glance down and saw that the narrow ledge was once more a wide enough path that he could place his feet without feeling the dropoff beneath his boot heels. He felt his whole body relax, as if he were a gigantic clenched fist. “Holy shit, that was intense.”

“Wasn’t it, though?” Sword stood next to him, the pony’s cloak billowing in the wind. “You did fine, considering you’re twice my height and have half as many legs. I can see where the hands come in handy, though.”

“‘Hands come in handy?’” Taylor groaned. “You just made that one up, didn’t you?”

“I knew you’d like that,” the pony chuckled. He raised his voice and shouted over the howling gusts. “All clear! Next up!”

One by one each of them worked their way around the spur of rock. Midnight and Star came next, the mare stepping carefully past it without a word, while the stallion took a bit more time, eyeing his hooves mistrustfully and cursing every third or fourth step. Gruebel, Crimson Hoof and Shadow followed, and Sword flinched as he saw their cloaks swirling as the wind caught and tossed them about.

“We should have taken the damned things off before we started,” he growled to Stivers. “No help for it now, though.”

“They’ll be all right,” the Marine replied. He watched as Thompson began working his way around the rock. “They seem to have caught the hang of it—”

The wind seemed to draw itself back and then come raging at them suddenly, shifting almost sixty degrees in less than ten seconds. The flap on one side of Thompson’s pack flapped in the disturbance and then flew open, creating an opening which the gust sought eagerly. It filled the open gap and yanked at the hapless Marine, throwing him off balance and making him miss his grip. One foot slipped, and he wavered for a moment, tottering on the brink.

“HANG ON!!!” Stivers bellowed. He leapt forward, reaching out and slamming down on his chest on the rocky ledge, his outstretched arms seizing one of Thompson’s hands as the other Marine went completely over the side. Stivers heard the sergeant’s gasp as his body slammed into the rock of the mountainside, the impact shaking them both and nearly unseating his grip on Thompson’s arm. The jolt pulled him forward and Stivers flailed for purchase with his free hand as he felt himself slipping along the icy rock toward the edge.

Hands seized his left leg in a firm grip, and he felt a tug on his right, and his sliding motion stopped. He could sense the looming shape of Gallivan to one side as the Marine wormed his way around the rock. “Sir, hold on, I’ll—”

“Get your ass off that ledge,” Stivers hissed through clenched teeth. “You try and help now and you’ll go over the side with him. Who’s got my legs?”

“Taylor, Midnight and Star. Give me a second and I’ll help.”

“Hold my legs. You can’t do jack shit on this end.” Stivers looked down at Thompson’s pale, frightened face. “Hang on Howie, we’ll get you up in a jiffy.” The Marine nodded back at him with a jerk of his head.

He heard an outcry from Sword and saw a blur of motion in one corner of his eye. Shadow had thrown his pack and cloak aside and launched himself into the air, the wildly swirling currents tossing the pegasus about like a paper airplane. The pony did a complete barrel roll and fought his way back to the cliff edge, disappearing out of Stivers’ sight. Thompson’s weight eased suddenly, and Stivers grabbed hold of his arm with both hands.

“Now!” he yelled over his shoulder. “Pull us up!”

Behind him, Taylor and Gallivan began hauling back, slipping and sliding as their boots sought purchase on the icy rock. Midnight and Star did the same on the other side, their teeth clenched in the fabric of the leg of Stivers’ pants. Heaving and yanking, they pulled back until Thompson’s form was visible. The shaken Marine grabbed at the rock with his other hand and helped pull himself back up onto the ledge. Behind him, Shadow flailed at the air and managed to find purchase on the rock for his hooves and he alighted, folding his wings back to his sides and shivering uncontrollably.

Thompson rolled onto his back, panting, and stared at the pegasus. “Thanks buddy. You just saved my ass. You too, skipper.”

“No problem,” Stivers wheezed, slapping the Marine on the chest. “Just don’t do that again, huh? They warned you about walking off a cliff, remember?”

“I didn’t walk off, I slipped.” Thompson let his head roll back to rest against the frozen rock, looking up at the grey sky that still spat snow at them. “You grabbed me, and then Shadow damn near carried me back up on his back.”

“I just flew under you, put my head up against your flank and pushed,” the pony replied. “It was tough trying to stay airborne in that wind, though.”

“I bet.” Thompson suddenly burst out laughing, the adrenaline slowly draining away. “Good thing I didn’t shit myself when I went over, huh?”

“Yeah, I didn’t think of that.” Shadow chuckled and brushed reflexively at the crumpled crest atop his helmet. “I appreciate that, though.” He shivered again, his teeth chattering. “Um, anypony catch my cloak? I think I tossed it over—” He broke off, pointing with a forehoof past them, his eyes wide.

They all turned and saw a huddled shape on the path beyond them, the cowl of its own cloak thrown back to display the feathered head, the beadwork and other accents flying back as its feathers swirled in the wind. The gryphon’s yellow eyes regarded them for a moment, and then the beak opened and made a clucking noise.

“You know,” it said, “if you’d quit trying to save money and sign up for a tour group, this sort of thing would happen less often.”