Chapter 16: Contrapasso

The group simply stared at the newcomer for a moment, unsure of what to make of this apparition that had seemingly sprung from the rock itself. Sword opened his mouth to reply, but a scuffling and cursing came from behind them and he turned around to see William working his way around the rock in the path, his foreclaws clutching at the icy stone. The little gryphon looked up at them, opening his beak to say something to the prone Thompson, and then came to an abrupt halt at the sight of the stranger.

“Oh, look a’ tha’, will you? Y’er one of d’ose monks, ey?”

“Yes, and I presume all of you aren’t,” the larger gryphon replied in good humor. “Allow me to welcome you to the Shadow Whisper Mountains. Although it seems you’ve already encountered the rougher side of things.” He frowned, looking at the narrow path that wound around the overhang. “I’ll have to tell the abbott about that. There must have been a rock fall from higher up... that path was easily twice as wide last week.”

Sword stepped forward and ducked his head in a short bow of greeting. “That’s very nice, Mr... what was your name again?”

“Did I forget that again? My apologies.” The gryphon spread his wings out from underneath his cloak and bowed in return. “You may call me Terrence.”

“Terrence. My name is Golden Sword, and these are my companions.” The pegasus shivered. “And we’re very cold and tired. Is there someplace nearby we can rest out of the wind?”

“Oh yes, yes of course. Though it’s not out of the wind.”

“I beg your pardon?” Sword cocked his head quizzically.

“Resting place. It’s not out of the wind at all, no place is, not up here. But you will be when you’re inside, oh yes.” The gryphon tittered to himself and straightened up. “Follow along, and try not to fall off the mountain again. It’s a long climb back up, and there’s nothing new to see.”

They stared at in silence for a moment. Crimson Hoof glanced at Shadow, tapped a forehoof against his own helmet and crossed his eyes. “Somepony’s walkin’ around with only one saddlebag on,” he muttered.

The larger pegasus nodded, shivering as he slipped his cloak back over his armour. Slinging his pack, he began following the others as the gryphon led them on up the path. He caught Hoof’s eye again and shrugged, the motion speaking for him. What choice have we got?

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The path wound along the exposed southern face of the mountain, and they all hunched down against the blast of the wind which now openly hammered at them. The rock face behind them took the full brunt force of it, and several times they were nearly plastered flat against it as the gusts rose and fell. The path was much wider here now, however, wide enough that they could walk two abreast with plenty of space on either side of them, but they still instinctively clustered together near the rock face itself and stayed clear of the drop to their left. Thompson’s accident had shaken them... that had simply been too close for comfort.

Squinting through the swirling haze of snow around his face, Stivers could see a dim grey shape looming ahead. As they drew nearer, it resolved itself into a rocky defile, and the path led straight into it, the walls rising on either side of them and cutting off the brunt of the wind’s fury. They followed the gryphon thankfully into it, the rough contours of stone reducing the wind’s presence to a howling moan over their heads.

“Oh yeah, that’s definitely better.” Taylor jerked at the sound of his own voice, suddenly audible now in the narrow confines of the stone throat. He leaned forward, looking ahead at the shrouded gryphon in the lead. “Thanks, buddy, you’re a life-saver.”

“Hmmm? Oh, this is not our destination, oh no, merely the path to it.” Terrence paused and shook ice from his talons. “Much like life, our path winds up and around...and ends up at a high flat place with an amazing view.”

Taylor looked askance at the gryphon and then over at Sword. The pegasus ignored his glance and spoke up. “So I take it you live at a monastery up higher on the mountain, then?”

“Yes, that’s true.” Terrence looked at him with a dubious expression. “Why would you take it? I like living there.”

“What? I don’t quite follow.”

“Nonsense, you already are.” Terrence chuckled. “My, you are a confused bunch. I see why you’ve come to seek out enlightenment with us.”

“Uh, we didn’t exactly come here for enlightenment.” Stivers stepped in smoothly, seeing Golden Sword’s expression. “We actually came to—”

“Oh no, I was afraid of that. And I was so hopeful.” The gryphon sighed, pulling the cowl of his hood back and looking at them, disappointment evident on his features. “I was right the first time. You are tourists, aren’t you? That’s why I didn’t recognize the tall fellows.”

“We are not tourists,” Stivers said, his own annoyance beginning to rise. “We were sent here on a quest.”

“With ponies?” Terrence stared at him, scowling. “Oh please tell me they’re not trying to make the next Daring Do movie here. We already told the film company we don’t allow them to shoot this high up in the mountains.”

“Wait, they’re making another movie already? Sweet!” Star laughed, and then clammed up as the other ponies turned to stare at him. “What? The first one was cool.”

“That’s not why we’re here.” Midnight looked back at the gryphon. “We came here seeking the Pentachoron. Do you know of it?”

The twinkling light in the gryphon’s eyes died back a bit and he looked at her with renewed interest. “Ohhhhhh,” he sighed. “That actually makes sense. Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”

“You didn’t actually ask us,” she replied levelly. “Did you?”

The gryphon’s face distorted oddly, and she realized he was doing his best to grin. “Oh, you’re good,” he said. “The abbott is going to love talking to you.” He brushed snow from his cloak and drew the hood back over his head. “Come on then, no time to dawdle. It’s almost noon, and lunch will be ready soon.”

Taylor looked up at the overcast sky overhead, slate grey scudded with faster moving white wisps that seemed to move in odd directions. “How the hell can you tell what time it is? I haven’t seen the sun for hours.”

Terrence stopped and lifted his left foreclaw, displaying a bright gleam of chrome and silver. “Picked this up last time I was in Clawttowa,” he said proudly. “NiCad battery, never needs winding. Keeps perfect time.”

“A what battery?” Taylor felt lost, as if he was back in the clearing on their first day in Equestria, their shattered aircraft still smoldering behind him. “Buddy, I have no idea—”

“You should pick one up on your way home. Don’t forget. And don’t let on I got a deal. The vendor’s my cousin. He’d hate it if I told everyone.” Without another word, the gryphon headed on up the slope, forcing them to fall in behind him or be left behind.

The defile angled sharply to the right and headed upward at a steep angle, cutting deeper into the rocky surface of the mountain. The slope they were on increased in its upward progress, and began showing signs of physical manipulation; there were rough steps carved into the granite surface that showed long usage, a deep dip in the center of each of them plainly visible. The walls on either side closed in, becoming narrower, but Taylor did not find this particularly bothersome like the tunnel at Clawttowa had been. There was still open sky overhead and plenty of light, and that feeling of being trapped in a cocoon never manifested itself. Craning his head up, he could see the lip of the top of the ledge above coming closer, and soon enough the emerged onto a level area. As soon as his head was clear, he looked around and came to a complete stop. “Holy cow...”

An impact in the back of his knees announced that his stop was a bit sudden for the pony following him. “Mind giving a warning before you just freeze up like that?” Midnight said testily. “I think I just dented my helmet.”

“To hell with that,” he said. “Midnight, come up here and look at this.”

“I would, if you weren’t standing in front of me. Not moving.”

Taylor resumed climbing the last of the steps, and Midnight followed him up, still trying to straighten her helmet on her head. A lock of her mane stuck out from under the edge, and she stopped for a moment, gripping the helm with both her forehooves and reseating it properly. “There. Now, what was it you so badly wanted me to... oh, my.” Her hooves dropped down, crunching on the snow as she stared about them.

The mountaintop here was almost completely flattened out in a wide, oval area, almost three hundred meters across and half that again long, forming a wide natural amphitheatre. Outthrust spikes of rock dotted the edge here and there, and she surmised they were in the remnants of an ancient volcano caldera, long since dormant. The flat surface was covered in a thin layer of snow that was steadily thickening due to the storm, but that was not what had caught her glance.

The monastery was immense. Seemingly built out of wood and stone, the structure towered up into the air before her, with thick wooden beams crossing together and forming an apex over the entrance. It was roughly rectangular, with semicircular ends forming a smooth curve on either side of it in contrast to the rest of the angular structure. It was at least four stories high, with steeply slanting roofs on each level, and what almost looked like a kind of minaret or cupola on the ends of the second level. Large wooden supports soared from each stage of it, and on their tips were hoof-carved (claw carved, who knew?) symbols and signs, looking cabalistic and somewhat ominous against the sky.

“Oh Celestia,” she breathed, her words carried away in white puffs in the wind. “Terrence, that’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it?” he replied proudly. “It’s outside too, but it’s the inside, I really like.”

“It must be marvelous if it looks anything like that,” she said, still staring at the building.

“Looks? Looks like home to me. Inside’s warm though, outside’s not. Want to try it?” Terrence clapped his wings together and shivered. “I’m cold.”

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The interior of the building was just as impressive, Stivers found, and one hell of a lot warmer. The group had filed inside and stood in the large foyer area, struck to silence by the intricate cross-work of the beams and supports that held up the walls. Arching high overhead to the wooden ceiling and back down again in a series of inverted ‘v’ shapes, they formed a large part of the area they stood in. The foyer opened out into what Stivers supposed was a common area or meeting hall, and a stonework fireplace stood at the far end, well stoked and roaring merrily. He stood in place for a moment, closing his eyes and letting the warmth soak into him, hearing the snow melting and dripping off of his cloak onto the floorboards and not caring about the mess he was making. “Damn, that feels good.”

“Told you.” Terrence signaled with a foreclaw, and several other gryphons appeared and began helping the monk out of his cloak. “Don’t be shy, you can take off your garments here. Well, not all of them,” he laughed. “We just met after all.”

One of the other gryphons gathered their cloaks for them, eyeing them curiously but not saying anything as they handed over the heavy winter garments. He stopped at Gallivan and peered up at the tall human. The Marine found the unblinking yellow gaze unsettling, and he handed over his cloak with alacrity. “I want that cleaned, and go easy on the starch, huh?”

“Oh, don’t bother,” Terrence said. The gryphon had walked over into the common area and settled himself on a wooden bench. “They don’t speak to anyone. I don’t think I’ve ever heard them do it, anyway.”

The servant gryphon said nothing and hurried off with the stack of wet clothes. “What, they take a vow of silence or something?”

“No, they’re just horrible conversationalists. That’s why I talk to myself, mostly. You should try it sometime. I never have to worry about saying anything inappropriate, and I always know how to reply.” Terrence cackled with good humor and smoothed the feathers around his eyes with a foreclaw. “So, you’re here about the Pentachoron, are you?”

“Yes, that’s why we came.” Golden Sword walked idly about the room, peering up at the dim shadows where the firelight did not illuminate.

“Yes, I know, you told me that,” Terrence replied, sounding slightly annoyed. “Why state the obvious?”

“Because you asked,” Midnight said. She glanced at her commander, watching him pace around the end of the bench where the gryphon sat.

“Oh yes, I did, didn’t I? I forgot to, last time. Just making sure.” Terrence sighed and looked at the crackling flames in the hearth for a moment. “It’s been a terribly long time since anyone’s come about that little thing. It’s a shame, really.”

“How so?” Stivers moved forward and sat down on a nearby stool, wincing as it creaked under his weight. “I thought this thing was supposed to be some mysterious artifact.”

“Oh it is, it is. I was just hoping someone would come by and clean it once in awhile. It gets terribly dusty from disuse, you know.” Terrence shrugged and then brightened as one of the other monks appeared. “Oh, wonderful! Lunch is here! Would you... care to join me?” His voice sounded somewhat apprehensive.

“That sounds like a fine idea to me,” Stivers replied. “Um... do you have anything we could eat? We’re not exactly from around here, and we all have different ideas of taste.”

Terrence’s eyes widened. “You mean you’d all like to have your own separate meals?”

“If it wouldn’t be too much of a bother.” Sword rose. “Some of us eat meat, some don’t.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful. I don’t have to share my sandwich, then.” Terrence smiled. “Usually when I ask someone to join me for lunch they eat more than their share, and then I end up with the crust or something equally hideous.”

Taylor blinked, nonplussed. “Yeah, most of us usually have our own separate meals. It’s just the way we were raised.”

“Do you know how frightfully considerate that is? I’ll have to write that down sometime.” The gryphon immediately bent over the end table next to his bench and began digging at the wooden surface with a foreclaw, scratching out several alien looking letters before sitting back with a sigh. “There, all done.”

William had squeezed through the forest of legs and sidled up next to the older gryphon. He peered at the surface of the table and frowned. “Ey, you just wrote ‘that’ on yer table.”

“I said I would, didn’t I? I try to keep my word, you know.” Terrence eyed the smaller gryphon for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “Or do you? I’d swear I’ve seen you before.”

William glanced around, shrinking down suddenly as everyone looked at him. “Uh, not that I know of. I’m from Three Peaks. Maybe in Clawttowa?”

“No, no no... oh, I know!” Terrence brightened. “I remember where it was!”

“Where?” Sword asked, his voice lilting innocently.

“It was outside!” Terrence clapped his wings together in delight. “I love it when those mnemonics classes pay off. Now then. About the Pentachoron.” The monk’s yellow eyes blinked at them as he regarded them steadily. “I’ll have to get the abbott’s permission for you to see it. I think I can get you a discount off the tour group rate, since there’s more than five of you and you do have a minor, we don’t charge full price for those—”

“Um, Terrence? We’re not here to take pictures of it. We’re not tourists, remember?” Stivers crossed his arms to put his hands in a safe place; he wanted to reach out and smack the monk so badly he could almost taste it. “We were sent here to... to retrieve it.”

Terrence frowned as the smaller servants appeared again, bearing in two large platters of sandwiches. “Retrieve it? Why? Did someone move it again? It was there last night when I checked.”

“No. I’m sure it’s still here. We were sent to retrieve it from here by Princess Celestia.” Stivers gestured to the other humans standing nearby. “We’re not from here. And we’re not from Clawttowa, either, or Canterlot. We’re not from this world. We need it to get home.”

The gryphon looked at him askance, his eyes narrowing. “You want to use it to get home? Forgive me for saying so, but it’s kind of small, and doesn’t roll very well. You wouldn’t fit on it anyway, not all of you.” He reached down and snagged one of the sandwiches off of a platter, biting into it with a muffled crunching sound.

Gruebel stepped forward and eyed the sandwich carefully. “What the hell is in that? Is that bacon?”

Terrence stopped chewing and moved his beak experimentally. “Yes...?”

“Real bacon? Not hay bacon? Honest to God Bacon?” Gruebel pressed.

“Actually, it’s pork bacon, I think.” Terrence looked at him oddly. “What’s an Honestogod? Some kind of shrew?”

“Nevermind.” Gruebel picked a sandwich off one plate and stacked it on top of another, helping himself to both. “Hello, lovely. It’s been a while.” He bit down on the sandwich and closed his eyes in utter bliss. “Oh, that’s... perfect.”

Midnight picked a sandwich off of the other platter, peering under the bread warily to confirm there was nothing but vegetable matter hidden inside. “Its magic, Terrence.” she said quietly. “We need the Pentachoron so that Princess Celestia can use its magic to send them home.”

The gryphon stopped in mid-chew and looked at her keenly, his eyes narrowing abruptly. He chewed twice and swallowed heavily. “Ahh, so that’s it. You should have said so.”

“You didn’t ask. Again.” She smiled crookedly at him.

Terrence groaned and clapped a wing to his head. “Oh, drat, I did it again, didn’t I? Well. You can’t see it anyway, not now.” He uncurled his wing and waved toward the roof aimlessly. “If it’s to be used properly, you have to have a clear, sunny day, and that’s out of the question at the moment. Besides, only the abbott can admit you to the archive chamber where it’s stored. And I can’t bother him at the moment anyway; he’s having lunch too, you know.”

Taylor stared at the gryphon, his jaw agape. “You mean we can’t even see it until the sun comes out again?” He waved his arms angrily. “Hell, that could take weeks—”

“Days,” Midnight interrupted. “I told you, a few days to a week.”

“Days, then,” Taylor continued, shooting her a glare. “What the hell are we supposed to do in the meantime?”

Terrence sat silently for a moment, one talon tapping against his lower beak in thought. Brightening, he looked up at Taylor and motioned with a foreclaw. “Have a sandwich while you wait?”

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Fluttershy,

We finally made it to the monastery. Our trip up the mountains was long, arduous, and cold, but finally, we are here. I can’t even begin to describe the building we are now residing inside, as that would most likely do it a great injustice.

Oh well, can’t learn without failing, right? The outer courtyard is massive, sculpted statues of what I can only assume are griffon heroes dot the perimeter. the building itself is like a giant piece of art; Sculpted pillars, giant sculpted oak doors, various images sculpted into the sides of the building. I think the monks really like to sculpt...

The inside is even greater, by leaps and bounds... Imagine the inside of Canterlot palace, but amplify that by a magnitude of at least 10. Symbols line the walls, with meanings I can’t even begin to understand, and from what I can tell, neither do the monks.

The monks themselves are a fun lot, or at least one of them is. Terrance. His name is Terrance. And he is the only monk who seems to have working vocal cords... He won’t say why the others don’t talk, but they seem to hold Terrance in high regard regardless.

Our goal, the object we went on this quest for, is locked away in this temple. Somewhere, so close, and yet still so far. Terrance informed us that only the abbot could give permission for travelers to see it. And he also said ‘The the abbot was going to be entertaining guests for a bit, and that we were not to disturb him.’

I was sneaking around a little earlier looking for the abbot and his guests, but when I got to the abbot’s chambers, they were empty. Everytime I check somewhere where the abbot would be, or even should be, he is never there. I have found no clue of his guests either. There may very well be parts of this monastery that are secret, because not even Terrance seems to be able to keep track of all the guests.

I forgot to mention the weather. It’s dreadful right now. We were assigned beds in the various gender specific wings. I get to share the female wing with 30 some griffons, who are just as mute as the rest. I’ve been observing them in their nightly ritual, and seems that before bed (which is at sundown for most of the monks) they all press their heads to the floor in some kind of ritual. Their mouths move as if they’re talking, but all I can think of is silent prayer... I’m not entirely sure what these gryphon monks are praying about... or for... or to...

Regardless, they may know how to put up a grand building, but their beds leave something to be desired. It’s not much more than a padded mat, but sleeping outdoors for a couple of weeks has made me very appreciative of even that much. Sleeping on rocks sucks.

Back on the topic of weather; It’s snowing outside like you wouldn’t believe. I’ve never seen a winter storm like this before, even in the mountains around Canterlot. I guess it’s because we’re so far south or something, but it’s something that’s got to be seen to be believed. The wind is really howling... and I don’t mean that it sounds like howling, I mean it’s literally howling. It’s nice and warm in here though. I have my own little fireplace (because the griffons are all asleep) and everything, so it’s not really too bad, but the windows are a bit drafty. I can see the corner of the page of my journal flipping up and down in a little breeze that’s coming through one pane of glass. I guess it’s not sealed very well, or it’s just old. This whole place looks so ancient. I wonder how long it’s been here?

I really wish you were here right now. That wind’s making me shiver a bit...I wish you were next to me and we could sit here and talk together. It would be warmer... I’d be warmer.

There is... another topic I’ve been avoiding. It is really plaguing me, and I don’t know how to go about dealing with it. The weather is making us all irritable, and I guess something like it was bound to happen... but it was such a stupid reason!

Let me just get to it. I’m dodging around it like some filly who tripped over a hornet’s nest. I had a fight with Taylor the other day. Not a kicking or biting fight... I don’t think he’d ever do something like that to anypony. But we had an argument, you know? Back when we met the little gryphon (he’s still with us, can you believe it?), I made a sillyfilly joke about being able to lie to anypony’s face if they were a danger to us, or to Equestria. I was talking about the little gryphon, I mean, we’d just met him and all, and it was kind of odd the way he just... showed up that night. I wasn’t the only one, and we’ve all tried to be careful around him, although he really is kind of pathetic sometimes. I think he had to grow up too soon... I know how that feels.

The fight, though... Taylor thought that what I’d said was about him. Because of what the Princess Celestia had told him and the other humans back in the library that day we brought them in. That they could destroy us. I believed her then... I’m not so sure now. I don’t think she was lying to all of us, but I think she might have been wrong, at least a bit.

Taylor got mad... and I think he’s been mad, for awhile now, because of what I said. He’s wrong about it... it was never about him. But he got really angry and said nothing I said mattered because I didn’t trust him, and I don’t think he trusts me anymore because of it. And it blew up because I told him about you! He... I really thought he was my best friend, the only one I’ve really had since I was little. He asked about what I kept writing and I said it was to you, that you were my very special somepony... yes, you are, and yes, I said it. I said it out loud, and I felt so glad, because I thought he’d be happy for us, you know?

Well, he wasn’t. He got this stupid confused look on his face, and I HATE it when he looks like that, because I know he’s NOT dumb! He acts like a total ass sometimes and it’s really annoying because I know he does it to hide how he really feels about things! Then he said you and I couldn’t be together because we’re both mares, because you and I couldn’t have children so we shouldn’t be together and what the HELL does that have to do with loving anypony? Maybe it’s because he’s human, maybe it’s a stupid human thing, and if so, then it’s no wonder they’re always fighting each other all the time and trying to kill each other with those machines they like to make for every single stupid thing they do.

I know this probably upsets you to read, but I have nowhere else to go now. I got mad at him for just.... I mean, I could have dealt with it if he’d just said he didn’t approve or didn’t like it and just left it alone. It would have hurt, but I could have lived with that. No, he had to do his stupid STUPID Taylor crap again and make a joke out of it. And that was when things turned really bad. I yelled at him and told him to stop laughing about it, because it wasn’t funny. Then he yelled at me and then I found out what he really thought. That I didn’t trust him and that I was just following along and watching them, like Captain Sword keeps telling me to do, and that’s not the way it is! Or was. Oh, WHATEVER! He made me feel guilty because of something I said which I didn’t even mean about him, and that’s what really fries my flanks. I didn’t DO anything wrong! I couldn’t say anything else after that. I was just upset and ran away from him. I ran away again, like a coward.

I really don’t know what to say to him anymore. So I just try to keep out of the way and avoid him now. How sad is that? I know he’s upset, too, and sometimes I actually think about trying to talk to him again... but I won’t be laughed at again, Fluttershy. I will NOT. This whole mission has been full of secrets and half-told truths since the start and I am so tired of it all. I’m tired of being a guardspony and having to look out for everything at once. I’m so far away from you now, and all I want to do is go home, sit down with you and just be there. Everything feels wrong now, and I’m afraid, really afraid, and I don’t know why.

I miss you so much. I hope you think of me today... or tonight. Maybe it’ll clear up, and we can both look at the sky together. Maybe at the same star, at the same time...

Oh Celestia, I wish you could really read this, Fluttershy. I love you.

~Midnight

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The old door was slightly ajar, and Taylor knocked once and pushed it open enough to poke his head through the gap. It creaked slightly and he saw Midnight Arrow jump at the noise. The mare sat at an old desk in one corner, and she slammed the book in front of her shut and whirled to stare at him, wide-eyed.

“Sorry, I, uh, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He glanced at the door. “It was open a bit, and I just thought, uh...”

Midnight’s frightened expression eased off a bit, and she nodded. “It’s fine,” she said neutrally. “I normally leave it open a bit unless I’m asleep.”

He looked at the book and recognized the scuffed grey cover immediately. “Writing again, huh?”

“Yes.” The pegasus twisted slightly, reaching down to pick up her pencil where it had fallen from the desk, gripping it in her teeth and rising up to drop it neatly next to her journal. “What did you want?”

All of last week. To do over again. Taylor took a deep breath and began again. “A couple of us are down in the common room with Terrence.” He grinned lopsidedly. “Thompson is trying to show him how to play pinochle with a deck of gryphon Tarot cards.” The pilot chuckled. “It’s so many kinds of wrong, I’m not sure who’s winning or losing.”

“I don’t know what that game is,” she replied tonelessly, and shrugged. “I don’t think I’d get much out of it, but thank you for asking.”

“Yeah. Yeah, right, sorry.” Taylor leaned against the doorjamb, looking away from her at the fireplace on the other side of the room, the flames slowly turning the wood to glowing ash. Midnight’s armor was stacked neatly beside the mat she used as a bed, the burnished golden surface reflecting the gleam of the fire and flickering hypnotically. He focused on that and tried again. “Um, anyway, you’re welcome to come hang out anyway, if you want.”

“No, I have a few things here I need to work on. I’ll see you at dinner time, though.” She turned away, the thick ebon sheaf of her mane falling over her near side and obscuring her face from him. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

Dismissed. The word hung unspoken in the air between them, but he’d heard that tone enough from senior officers before to recognize it, and it burned. Technically speaking, he outranked her by at least one or two grades, at least as far as he’d been able to determine, but now wasn’t the time to discuss the niceties of rank and protocol.

“Right,” he said, gritting his teeth. “Sorry to disturb you.” He yanked his head back and pulled the door to once more, leaving it just barely ajar as he’d found it. To hell with it. If she wanted to close it, she could damn well get up and do it herself. He did a neat right-face on his boot heel and stalked back down the hallway toward his own room, in what he thought of as the “men’s barracks.” He’d grab his cloak and his pack of Luckies and go outside to have a smoke so he wouldn’t burn this wooden mausoleum down, and then come back inside and play some cards with Howie, Crimson Hoof and that nutball gryphon and forget about everything else for a bit.

Sure, go ahead, ignore it. That’ll make everything better.

“Oh, go to hell,” he snarled at the door of his room. Kicking it open, he walked across the small space to where his own bedroll lay and crouched down, rummaging through his pack. “I asked her if she wanted to come out, she said no. Fine. Dunno why I bothered in the first place. God damn it where the hell are... ah.” His fingers seized upon the paper wrapper tucked into the corner of his bag and pulled it out carefully. “Damn moody pony with a case of the monthlies wants to stare at the wall, fine.” His voice dropped into a passable imitation of Humphrey Bogart. “It’s just you and me, kid,” he said to the pack of cigarettes. “In all the monasteries, in all the towns, in all this frigged up world, you hadda walk into mine.” He shook one cigarette halfway out of the pack, tucked it into a corner of his mouth, and grabbed for his cloak. Shrugging it on, he spun and walked out into the hallway, and stopped, listening.

The corridor formed a “T” here where the hallway that connected the male and female quarters intersected. There was a series of low noises coming from one of the quarters in the women’s section, from the one he had just fled a moment ago. He couldn’t place the sound for a moment, and then it clicked home. He’d only heard it once before, and that had been only recently. He walked forward slowly, reaching up and removing the cigarette without thinking and tucked it into a pocket. Stopping beside the still partially open door, he tilted his head and looked through the open gap.

Midnight sat before the desk as before, her head down on top of her crossed forelegs, crying. Her shoulders shook with the effort it took to try and keep the sound in, but the muffled sniffling still carried clearly and smote Taylor on the ears. He felt his face burn and he looked away, quickly.

Jesus Christ, either say something now or just leave her alone. Turn around and walk away before she hears you. Or sees you. She already made her point, and so did you, so better if you leave her alone before you fuck up again, you idiot.

He started to back away, and then froze as he saw her move. Her head had lifted and she was looking away from him, at the rickety window beside her desk. He could see the frost gathered at one corner of the lower pane and the dim shape of her reflection in the glass as she looked outside.

Did she see my reflection? he thought, panicked. No, she’s just looking at the snow. Leave for God’s sake!

He took two quiet steps backward away from the door, and stopped as he heard her voice fill the air in the tiny room, shaky at first and then stronger as she began singing quietly.

The southern wind is speaking loud

Its voice as cold as stone

It speaks of memories, sad and proud

And thoughts of you at home

I hear it whisper, quiet now

Of all that’s come to pass

It tells me not to worry, how

That nothing really lasts

But I know that you’re still out there

Across the miles I see

That shining place, your smiling face

You’re waiting there for me

Though angry eyes and cloudy skies

Will try to hem me in

I’ll pass them by and fly away

No matter what any of them say

I’ll find a way to come back home

To you.

The northern wind is speaking now

Its voice is warm and kind

It whispers to me, it tells me how

To leave this pain behind

I hear it whisper, gently of

How safe that you must be

It tells me not to worry, love

That you still pray for me

And I know that you’re still out there

Across the miles between

This barren land, the burning sand

Among the hills of green

Though angry eyes and cloudy skies

Will try to hem me in

I’ll pass them by and fly away

No matter what any of them say

I’ll find a way to come back home

To you.

Midnight’s voice broke on the last word and Taylor heard her crying again. He reached out and touched the door for a moment, feeling the rough grain of the wood against his palm.

Leave it alone. Remember why you’re here. Sword had been right. The pilots had brought enough strife and misery into the lives of the ponies. The sooner this was over with, the better, before something else happened. They would be gone quick enough anyway, once the weather cleared and they could finally get to use the damned artifact hidden in this place to go home.

Turn around and leave it alone. Leave her alone. You owe her that much, at least.

He stared at the door for a moment longer, then lowered his hand and slowly walked away.

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Crimson Hoof sighed and pushed the coverlet away from himself, shivering a bit as the cold air hit his fur. It was delightfully warm and comfy just lying in the bedroll, with all the cold air on the other side of the covers, but the pony had gone to bed early last night and had woken up in the small hours of the morning. Out of consideration for anypony else who might be sleeping, he had laid in the dark for three quarters of an hour now, staring at the ceiling and thinking absent thoughts and trying to go back to sleep. They had been at the monastery for two days now and there were only so many times you could play a game with someone, or try to have a conversation with a non-responsive gryphon monk, before things got a bit boring. The pony rolled upright and sat still for a moment, debating on whether or not to go into the common room and just sit in front of the fire and hope the warmth of the blaze would put him back to sleep until somepony else woke up.

He eased his hooves onto the floor and winced, flattening his ears at the loud creaking noise from the wooden boards underneath him. Each of the ponies and humans had been given their own room to stay in, and Hoof had found the vacant accommodations somewhat suspicious until the gryphon Terrence had told them that the monastery was rarely ever more than half full of residents. It had originally been built centuries ago when there had been a larger number of occupants, but as the older residents had died off or moved away, there had been fewer and fewer replacements. Apparently being a member of this particular order was not the going thing among gryphon society.

I can understand why, the pony thought absently, stretching and listening to his joints pop. If I had to move up here and spend all day staring at the end of my nose and thinking deep thoughts, I’d look into a change of occupation myself.

He glanced at his armor and decided against trying to put it on. He wasn’t on duty, he had no intention of going anywhere worth mentioning, and the thing was just too noisy to put on. It only had a couple of simple straps and buckles, but the brass and gold fittings invariably knocked against the armor plate when you were trying to put it on, and he didn’t feel like arousing Golden Sword’s wrath. The captain was notoriously fond of his sleep, and waking him up by accident would be something Hoof categorized under “unacceptable mission risk.” The pegasus stepped carefully across the room, wincing at each creak of the floor, and then stopped, his ears perking up fully, suddenly aware of how quiet the place actually was. It took him a moment to identify it, and he felt a bit foolish at how long it had taken him to notice.

The wind outside had stopped. At least it had given over from the moaning howl that had been droning on monotonously in the background of Hoof’s hearing for the past two days. Gingerly working his way over to the window, he peered outside and could dimly make out the outline of the edge of the rocky escarpment that formed the edge of the plateau they were on. Snowflakes still ticked off the window at irregular windows, but it was a quiet, gentle sound now instead of the steady hiss that the storm had thrown upon them since their arrival here. The weather system was slowly passing, just as Midnight had said it would. Another day or two and maybe the sun would show up and they could get the hoof out of here.

He sighed again, seeing the condensation from his breath form on the inside surface of the glass. Nopony else was likely to be up, but sitting here was just as boring as lying in bed, he decided. Might as well go look at the fire and see if it’s still orange, or something. He walked carefully across the room and took the old-fashioned ringbolt handle of the door in his teeth, turning it carefully with a twist of his head until he heard it click.

The door squeaked as he pushed it open and peered out into the corridor. Similar doors lined both sides of the hallway, all closed, with presumably sleeping pilots, ponies and gryphons behind them. Golden Sword’s room was right across from his and he closed his own door carefully, wincing again as it squeaked shut.

Somepony around here needs to oil the hinges. And the floor. And every other hoofin’ thing around here.

He trod carefully past Sword’s door on the left, then past Taylor’s, and Shadow’s across from it on the right. Turning left at the intersection where the male and female quarters met, he trotted down a short passage and descended a small flight of four steps that led into the central common area, the ever present firelight making him stop and squint while his eyes adjusted from the darkness. Blinking rapidly, he saw Terrence slouched along one of the many benches in the central area, apparently reading a book and eating popcorn out of a bowl. The gryphon looked up at him, chewing, and waved. “Up early.”

“Yeah. Got tired of lyin’ around in bed.” Hoof stretched out a hind leg and yawned. “What time is it, anyway?”

Terrence looked up at the ceiling for a moment. “About five o’clock or so, Equestria time.”

Hoof blinked and looked at him oddly. “Uh. What time is it in gryphon time, then?”

“About five o’clock or so.”

Crimson Hoof shook his head and shot the gryphon an annoyed look. “Then why’d you tell me what time it was in Equestrian time if it’s the same buckin’ time?”

Terrence clacked his beak and grinned. “If I’d said five o’clock our time, you’d have asked me what the pony time was, wouldn’t you?”

The pegasus gritted his teeth and nodded. “Okay, you win. What time’s breakfast?”

“Pony time or gryphon time?”

“From now,” Hoof grated. It really was too early for this pile of horseapples.

“Well, in that case, I guess it’d be at breakfast time. Which would be in a couple of hours.”

“Okay, thanks.” Hoof looked around for a moment, nonplussed. He really had meant to just come in here and curl up in a chair or on a bench and try to snooze the remainder of the night away, but any further desire to sleep was mostly gone now, and he really didn’t want to sit in the same room with this kooky gryphon. He bit his lower lip, debating a moment, and then trotted into the foyer. Spotting his cloak, he gripped it in his teeth and pulled it from the rack that hung next to the door with a lithe twist of his head. “I’m gonna go outside for a few and get some air.”

“Why?” Terrence stopped and sniffed carefully. “There’s plenty of it in here. Isn’t there?” An alarmed look appeared on his face. “At least I thought so.”

“Never mind. I’ll be back in a bit.” Crimson Hoof shrugged his cloak on, wrapping it around himself carefully and hooking the clasp at his neck. It was a looser fit than normal, having been designed to be worn over armour, and it rasped slightly against the floor as he pulled the front door open and walked outside. The light dusting of snow in the entranceway crunched under his hooves as he pulled the door shut, and then he walked slowly out into the monastery’s courtyard, lifting his hooves carefully and feeling for purchase as the icy cover got deeper. The cold bit into him at once and he stopped for a moment, shivering and looking about.

The ancient caldera that formed the plateau where the monastery stood was covered in a deep, even field of white, glimmering softly in the dim light. The sky was still overcast, the snow still coming down in a silent, steady curtain, but it was a fairly tame looking coverlet of rippling clouds overhead, and not the roiling mass of confusion that had been in place during the storm that had greeted their arrival. It seemed odd that the gryphons allowed such chaotic weather and he wondered if their weather squads were just bad at their job or if the place was like the Everfree forest, and the winds and rain just showed up when they liked.

Mentally shrugging, Hoof resumed walking, pacing aimlessly through the dense pack of snow, pausing every third or fourth step to flick the icy crust from his forehooves like a cat. It was deeper out here, the thick snowfall coming up to his belly as he pushed through it, a lone ship in a white sea. He saw a shapeless lump of snow up ahead and angled towards it, drawing even with it and stopping to rest, his breath pluming out before him in small white jets.

“What have we got under here, huh?” he muttered under his breath. The sound of his voice fell flat, swallowed up by the steadily falling snow. He felt his mane prick up in alarm and he looked around quickly, relaxing a bit when he saw the warm yellow glow from a few windows visible about thirty meters behind him. Walking around out here because he was bored and then getting lost would have been a sorry way to start the day, and would have taken some explaining when he got back, for certain. He turned back to the lump in the snow and lifted a forehoof, tapping at it gingerly. They hadn’t taken a particularly detailed look around the place when they’d arrived, and he didn’t want to crack his hoof against a piece of stone sculpture or a birdbath. The snow flaked away and dropped, and he saw a hint of deep green, the smell of wood and sap wafting toward him.

Crimson Hoof began brushing carefully at the greenery, uncovering a small fir sapling less than a meter in height. Digging down a bit more, he reached the base, and saw that the young tree had somehow managed to take root in a small crack in the rocky ground that formed the floor of the basin. He began pushing the snow further away from it, clearing a small open space until the sapling was completely free of the covering, and stood back to admire his hoofwork.

“Fly away, young one, fly away and join your siblings! You’re free!” Hoof chuckled and snorted, feeling a little foolish but not really caring. He didn’t exactly know why he’d bothered, but the scene looked... right, somehow. The mound of snow he’d piled up around the periphery spoiled the effect somewhat though, and he mulled it over for a moment, then grinned to himself, his ears pricking up straight in delight. Reaching out with his forehooves, he crouched down and dug into the white coverlet of snow in front of him, dragging it towards himself and hugging it against his chest until he had a large shapeless mass of snow clumped together about half of his size. He sat back and put his forehooves on it, pushing carefully near the base, and grunted in satisfaction as the mass lifted up and rolled forward, gathering more snow with it as it moved. It tipped over and flopped down, and he repeated the motion, rolling it carefully around the edge of where he’d been clearing the tree, the mass of snow and ice slowly growing in size. The pegasus made two circuits of the sapling, lifting, pushing and guiding the snow with his forelegs and hooves until he was satisfied he’d reached critical mass.

Time to build a snowpony.

He pushed the mass down carefully, seating it against the hardened crust underneath until it refused to move when he tapped it with a hoof. He began smoothing out the top of it, brushing aside little hardened clumps of ice and making a low, curved surface that vaguely resembled a pony’s back. The sides were next, and then the hard part, the belly; you had to dig the snow away carefully to try to make the legs come out, but if you dug too hard, you were liable to pull the pony’s leg off, or worse, take a chunk of snow out from the belly and then you’d have all hell to pay to try and get the shape right again. He cleared the central portion out until the legs finally began to take a rough semblance of the proper form and then paused for a few moments, blowing on his tingling hooves and letting them warm back up as he regarded the snowpony with a critical eye.

A crunching sound drifted up from behind him and he looked over his shoulder to see a tall, huddled mass walking toward him, heavily bundled in one of the patchwork cloaks that the humans had been given. It was still fairly dark, and Hoof sniffed for a moment before waving a hoof in greeting. “Hey, what’s up? What’re you doin’ out here?”

“Was wonderin’ the same thing about you. Terrance said you’d gone out, figured I’d come say howdy.” Gruebel sniffed hard and exhaled a long plume of white into the frosty air. “Colder than a witch’s tit up here.”

Hoof had prided himself on being able to interpret the euphemisms the humans tossed out for the other ponies, but it took him a minute to puzzle that particular one out. He finally got it and snorted in laughter. “I guess so. Woke up, wasn’t tired, didn’t feel like sitting next to the featherhead in there. Every time he opens his mouth I get a headache.”

“Don’t I know it.” The Marine eyed the construction of snow and ice before them for a moment and then chuckled. “Well I’ll be damned. You makin’ a snowman?”

“Snowpony.” Hoof’s cheeks colored slightly and he snorted at a snowflake that had drifted into one nostril, wiping at his face with a forehoof. “Almost got the body done, but I have to get the head made now. That’s the toughest part.” It was also the part he’d never really been good at. You either left a little snow to make the head and it looked too small, or you made a nice head that always ended up falling off the end of the neck, and then the other colts laughed at The Headless Snowhorse.

Gruebel took out a cigarette he had bummed from Taylor the previous evening and stuck it in a corner of his mouth. “Huh. Mind if I help?”

The pegasus blinked, then shrugged, mildly surprised at the offer. “Sure, if you want. Think you can make him a head?”

There was a muted clink as Gruebel flicked open his lighter and the flame glowed bright orange in the dimness as he cupped it carefully around the end of the cigarette for a moment, then snapped it shut. He dragged deep and exhaled, a cloud of smoke and steam obscuring his face momentarily. “Sure thing. It’s a he, huh?”

“Well, duh.” Hoof gestured toward the carefully arched neck he had painstakingly smoothed out with his hooves. “Can’t you tell?”

“You’re the boss, whatever you say.” Gruebel looked around and then crouched down, scooping up a double handful of snow and beginning to press it together. “See if you can find a long stick or something. Doesn’t have to be thick, just long.”

“Okay.” Hoof glanced around, then trotted over to the sapling he had uncovered and began nosing through the snow around it. A brief search yielded nothing, and the pony was just about to give up when he spotted a small dark shape poking up out of the white coverlet near the sprig of green. Pawing at it carefully with a forehoof, he uncovered a small wooden shaft just over a foot long, rounded at one end and broken off at the other. “Check this out. Will this work?”

Gruebel stood up with a grunt and walked carefully over to where Hoof was pointing. The Marine bent over and fished the wooden remnant out, brushing away the ice and dirt that caked its surface. “Yeah, this’ll work. Looks like the handle off of a hoe or a shovel or something.” He reached up and tweezed a splinter from the ragged end and tossed it over his shoulder. “Now we’re cookin.”

Crimson Hoof trotted along behind him as Gruebel walked back to the body of the unfinished snowpony and watched as the man carefully began working the wooden handle into the neck area. “Uh... what are you doing?”

“Gonna give his head somethin’ to stick to.” Gruebel slowly pushed the handle down until half of it was invisible, buried in the curved neck area. “It’s all about the balance.”

“Oh, I get it!” Hoof saw immediately what Gruebel was referring to and felt somewhat foolish, although to be fair, the last time he’d tried to build something like this, he’d just been a little colt. “Nice, we can put whatever we want to on there, now.”

“Knock yourself out.” Gruebel motioned to the lump of snow next to his left boot. “I got the head kinda formed up, but you’re probably better at this than I am.”

The pegasus stared at the featureless snow head for a moment, then grinned fiendishly. “I got an idea.” He crouched down and began chipping at the mass of snow and ice delicately with one hoof, cursing under his breath as a too-large chunk flew away and had to be packed down again. “Oh, this is gonna be wicked.”

Gruebel looked over his shoulder from where he had been clearing away the snowpony’s hooves. “Do I even wanna know?”

“I’m totally putting the captain’s face on here.” Hoof snickered, the sound somewhere between a low laugh and a whinny. “The Ice King of Pegasi himself.”

Gruebel snorted. “Does this attitude have anything to do with the fact that you’re still a corporal? Not that I have a problem with it, I’m just curious.”

The pony looked at him, surprised and a little embarrassed. “Um... yeah, a little. Okay, maybe a lot, I guess.” He looked down and resumed working on the face, and Gruebel could see dim outlines of features emerging rapidly from the ice. “You know how Mr. Taylor always says this stuff, then has this look on his face because he didn’t mean for anypony else to hear it?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen that a couple of times.”

Hoof continued to work busily, scraping a forehoof carefully down one side of the head, and a jawline emerged from the snow sculpture. “Well, I kinda say stuff, but I really could care less if anypony hears it.” He paused and looked at the head critically, then nodded to himself and began working on the opposite side. “I made corporal because I’m really good at what I do. I’m still a corporal because I could care less about why I’m doing it.”

Gruebel took another drag on his cigarette, the ember glowing a cherry red in the dimness. “Not really liking army life, I guess?”

“Hate it.” Hoof laughed again, the sound a little forced this time. “I joined up because if I hadn’t, I probably would have ended up getting kicked out at home.” He paused for a breather, sitting back and closing his eyes. “Let’s see. I ‘exhibited signs of restlessness and misguided energy, and would benefit from a more structured lifestyle,’ if I remember right.”

“Why do I get the feeling you were in a courtroom when this happened?” Gruebel eyed the pony curiously. “The last time I heard crap like that I was in front of a judge advocate.”

“That didn’t take you long,” Hoof acknowledged. “Yeah.” The pony tucked his head and gripped one corner of his cloak and pulled it back, exposing his front right shoulder. “See the mark?”

Gruebel bent closer, squinting, and could dimly make out a ragged looking shape on the pony’s shoulder muscle, a black squiggle that looked like it had been scorched into the fur. “Jesus Christ, they did that to you?”

“What? No, no.” Hoof let the cloak drop back into place, shivering at the momentary cold air that had crept in under his covering. “That’s the mark from the gang I was in at the time.” His muzzle twisted in a wry grin. “It was supposed to be a lightning bolt. We were the Thunderheads.”

Gruebel cocked an eyebrow. “You were a street punk, huh?”

“Yep.” The pegasus rubbed his shoulder absently, as if the mark still pained him. “That was my initiation mark. Showed I was one of the group, that I belonged. They heated up a piece of wire and branded me in this stupid little ceremony we held in an abandoned house. I still remember how proud I felt that I didn’t cry when they fried me with that. Celestia’s wings, that hurt.”

Gruebel began clearing the snow away from the sculpture’s hooves again. “So what’d you do that got you pinched?”

Hoof laughed again. “You won’t believe it. Even I didn’t, at the time.”

“Try me.”

The pony shrugged and began working on the snow head in front of him once more. “I stole an apple off of somepony’s cart. Thought they weren’t looking. They weren’t. The constable who was behind me was, though.”

Gruebel coughed abruptly, the cigarette flying away and landing in the snow between his feet as he guffawed. “Holy shit, you shoplifted right in front of a cop? You dumbass.”

“I know, right?” Hoof’s grin was genuine; the human’s amusement at his predicament matched his own attitude toward the whole situation. “Of course nopony in the gang was gonna stick up for me. None of them even showed up for the trial. Cowards.” He reached out with a foreleg and smoothed out the snowpony’s nose, then tapped it delicately with a forehoof to give it nostrils, flaring heroically, of course. “I had a choice. Go to detention for six months and counseling for a year on probation, or else join a cadet corps in town.” He stopped and peered at Gruebel, a faint tone of indignation appearing in his voice. “They didn’t tell me about the fine print when I stamped my hoof on the paper. The print that says they can conscript me for up to six years when I completed the course.”

“Damn. You got screwed, blued, and tattooed, fella.”

“It worked out, I guess.” Hoof began tapping at the top of the snow head, forming a pair of huge ears; he’d worry about the detail in a minute. “It was my first real job, and it paid pretty well. I earned my corporal’s stripes, and was honestly surprised when my application to the guard was accepted.” He snorted. “They must have been hard up for members at the time.”

“I doubt that.” Gruebel looked at the head that the pegasus was absentmindedly detailing. The features bore more than a passing resemblance to Golden Sword; the detail that Hoof had been picking out was striking in its meticulousness. “I kinda got the feeling that the guard for your princesses doesn’t just pick members on a whim.” The Marine pointed at the snow head and looked at Hoof. “And I’m pretty sure they don’t teach that kind of stuff in basic training.”

The pony looked at him uncertainly. “Does it look okay? Sometimes I have trouble with eyes. They’re hard to get the detail right on....”

Gruebel leaned down until he had Hoof’s own eyes fixed in his gaze. “I swear to God, when your term is up, if you don’t get a job creating and selling stuff like this, I’m gonna come back to this world from wherever I am and kick your silly ass.” He pointed a finger at the sweeping curve of the snowpony’s jawline, where Hoof had scored a mark to make the muscle stand out and catch the lightl. “I’m lucky if my snow man has eyes. Do you know how much people would pay for stuff like this?”

“Snowponies?” Hoof chuckled. “There’s not much business for them back home—”

“It’s art, you moron!” Gruebel ran a hand through his own hair in frustration. “Have you ever tried doing this with clay? Or painting? Drawing? Anything like that?”

Crimson Hoof shuffled uncertainly, a light rosette of color appearing on his cheeks. “Well.... I draw sometimes. I have a little book in my barracks...”

“It’s hidden under your mattress, isn’t it? Like a damned Vargas centerfold.” Gruebel shook his head and picked up the final piece of the snowpony, setting it carefully in place on the projecting piece of wood and seating it firmly. He released it slowly and stood up, taking several steps back. “All done.”

The snowpony stared back at them, the eyes seeming to look past them at something on the horizon, some approaching destiny it was ready to meet. The head blended smoothly into the flowing lines of the arched neck, grooved lines picking out the detail of the forelock and mane. The body was broad, finely muscled, the tapered legs seeming to hold the frozen animal in poise as it prepared to launch itself forward.

Hoof suddenly clapped a foreleg over his eyes and groaned. “Oh horseapples, I knew I was forgetting something.” He pointed. “Tell me what’s wrong. Just look at it.”

Gruebel cocked his head and studied the sculpture carefully for a moment, then shrugged. “Must be a pony thing, then. I’m missing it.”

“It’s a pegasus, dammit!” Hoof stomped a hindleg and spat. “I forgot the bucking wings.”

The human opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. Hoof was right. The snowpony looked poised for flight, but there was no way it was going to get off the ground in its current configuration. “Oh, shit. I didn’t even think about that.”

“It’s got the boss’s face on it, too. No wings... that’s about the worst insult you can throw at a pegasus, except for calling him a gelding. And that works for anypony. At least the guys.”

Gruebel bent and retrieved his half-smoked cigarette from where it had landed in the snow, eyeing it critically for a moment before tucking it back in his mouth and relighting it. “So tell me,” he said, his voice muffled as he cupped his hands around the flame of the lighter. “Does pissing your captain off really bother you that much? I only ask because you didn’t seem to give a shit a while ago.”

Hoof paused, considering, then shook his head. “No... I guess not. It’s just a joke, it’s not like I’m disobeying orders or anything.”

“Well, that’s good.” A cloud of smoke drifted away as Gruebel snapped the lighter closed and tucked it away in his pocket. “Cause yon snowpony ain’t got no bits under his nethers, either.”

“Huh? Well of course he doesn’t, you don’t put that on a snowpo—” Hoof broke off, awareness dawning on him as he thought on what he had just told Gruebel about pony etiquette. He stood back and took in the form of his creation. It was unmistakably proud, majestic, and a work of art. It was an exact caricature of his commanding officer. And it embodied the two most infuriating insults you could hurl at a male pegasus.

“It’s perfect,” Hoof sighed.

“I’m glad we agree.” Gruebel took one last drag on the butt and pitched it to the side where it hissed out in the snow. “Can we go in now? Before I freeze my bits off?”

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“Okay, hold on, lemme get this straight.” Crimson Hoof shifted position in the chair he had commandeered and looked across the room at Gallivan. “So when you told William to ‘pony up’ you meant he should cough up some cash? I thought you were tellin’ him he should grow up or something.”

Gallivan shook his head. “Nah. That wouldn’t make any sense. He had the money, so he had to pay up for the drinks. Pay up. Pony up. Get it?”

“No.” Hoof rubbed his own chin idly for a moment, then shrugged and took a long pull from the mug he had perched beside him on the arm of the chair. “Your equestrian slang doesn’t make much sense to me, Sarge, sorry.”

“It’s funny how you do seem to have a lot of it, though.” Midnight Arrow sipped delicately from her own mug for a moment. “And you use it in all kinds of odd ways. Like your machines, you said a while back you measure their output in horsepower.”

“That’s actually easy to explain.” Stivers waved a hand in the air idly. “A century ago we didn’t even have very much mechanization. Much of the heavy labor and transportation needs we had we used horses for. So when engines began to be built, they measured their capacity in the equivalent of ‘horse power.’ So a tractor would be as strong, say, as eight or ten horses. It was an easy way to tell just how useful all those new inventions were at the time, and it’s just never gone away.”

“That’s one useful thing your tech has done, at least.” Golden Sword spoke from his comfortable sprawl at the end of a long couch; the pegasus had staked out the seat and had hardly moved since they had all gathered in the common room after dinner. “It got you out of the habit of using slave labor.”

“Sword, they weren’t slaves. They were just... animals.” Stivers frowned. “Our world isn’t the same, you know that.” The Marine paused and took a drink from the ceramic mug at his elbow; each of the pilots and ponies had helped themselves to one at their hosts’ behest, and the spiced cider went down damned fine on a chilly night like this. He closed his eyes for a moment and savored the slight burn as it settled in his belly. “They’re nothing like you. They’re not really intelligent. And none of our animals talk.”

“So now we’re animals, are we?” Sword’s eyes gleamed with good humour as he needled Stivers mercilessly. “To think of all the progress I thought we’d made, Captain.”

“Technically, by definition, we’re all animals,” Taylor added, coming to Stivers’ support. “I think the communication thing is what draws the line for intelligence.”

“Let me know when you say something intelligent, Charlie,” Stivers said in a deadpan tone. “I’ll file a report and upgrade your status.”

There were several chuckles as Taylor’s face reddened slightly, and the lieutenant restrained the retort that sprang to his lips with an effort. “I believe we were talking about metaphors.”

Stivers gave him a thumbs up. “Okay, your turn. What’s another horse or pony related expression of ours?”

Taylor stretched out in the chair he sat in, hunched down with his legs sprawled out before him, the heel of one boot perched on the toe of the other. He waggled his feet for a moment as he thought. “Oh, I know. We have one for when we’re talking about moving fast or running from one place to another. ‘Hoofing it.’”

There was dead silence for a moment, and then Crimson Hoof uttered a choked laugh. “You have to be kidding me.”

Taylor glanced over at him, and then looked around as several snickers were heard from the other ponies. “What’s so funny?”

Golden Sword had a forehoof clapped over one eye and was shaking helplessly with repressed laughter. “Lieutenant? You want to take this one?” he said to Midnight.

Midnight Arrow shot her commander a look that suggested she could cheerfully strangle him, but cleared her throat and obliged. “That’s... probably not an expression you’d want to use in polite company here.” Her cheeks showed a faint blush under the dark blue fur that deepened as she continued. “It involves a bit of self... absorption, and some alone time with... oneself.”

Crimson Hoof had been in the middle of taking another drink and coughed, spraying cinnamon and apple-flavored laughter onto the floor. “Ma’am, that’s the most delicate description I’ve ever heard for it.” He dug the elbow of his left foreleg into Shadow’s side. “Bet you got caught hoofing it once or twice, eh buddy?”

Shadow looked up from the book he had been peering at intently, his expression slightly lost. “Huh? What?”

“I said, I bet you got caught—” Hoof blinked, frowning down at the larger pegasus. “What the hay are you reading?”

“Uh, nothing. Just something I found.” Shadow’s red fur almost managed to hide his own blush, but not entirely.

“Found where?” Shining Star perked up his ears and stood from where he had been laying in front of the fire.

“I-In the bookcase.” Shadow pointed across the room at the large cabinet stuffed with books and scrolls in various states of disrepair. “I asked Terrance if it was ok to read something and he said he didn’t mind.”

“Okay, but what is it, that has you so engrossed that you’re missing out on this conversation?” Star asked incredulously. “I thought you’d be all for a talk involving masturbation.”

Upon the mention of the actual meaning of the phrase, Midnight coughed lightly, and all of the humans burst out laughing. “You guys were...” Shadow said, tailing off, trying to figure out just how a conversation like that would start with officers present. “Whatever,” he said, sighing. “It’s a book on ancient gryphon myths.”

“Gryphonnic myths?” Star asked, grabbing the tome from Shadow’s grasp and peering at the opened section, much to the disdain of the red pegasus. “Cane and Able? Haven’t heard this one in a long time.” Star said wistfully.

Shadow looked at the other pegasus leeringly, before blushing slightly. “It’s written in some stupid poetic verse, and I can’t make heads or tails of it.” he said, dejected.

“That’s because the writer probably wrote this a millennia ago.” Star peered at the odd poem. “The language was different then, and it’s written in didactic hexameter, which doesn’t make it any easier for a modern palate.”

“Jesus, Star, you just made my brain ache.” Taylor shifted slightly; the odd way he had been sitting was making his left leg go to sleep. “Wanna translate that for us cavemen?”

“Sure. I actually know this one pretty well. So...who wants to hear a story full of two gryphons trying to please one of their gods?” Star asked, the gleam of a storyteller in his eye. Upon receiving the consent of the various creatures in the room, and the rapid nodding of a small gryphon, Star handed the book back to Shadow and began the tale of two brothers.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The two brothers of Cane and Able grew up together, without a family, but being blessed by the gods with intelligence, they didn’t need one. Cane, grew up to be a metal worker, and Able, a farmer of the lesser races.

Cane built all sorts of things for the betterment of the farm, and being the eldest of the brothers, was often tasked with the responsibility of managing all of the aspects of farm life, but would sometimes delegate some of it too his eager younger brother. Able would use his large herds of oxen and ponies to till fields, milk the cattle, kill the chicken, and generally do anything that would help the two brothers survive.

They lived in harmony for a while, neither being superior to the other, as both needed the other to survive. Cane could not get the animals to listen, nor Able, work the forge. When they went to the market, Able would sell excess milk, or meat, and Cane would buy tools and other such things for his craft with the money they gained. Able did not mind, as that meant Cane could increase the productivity of his herds with machines.

For years the two brothers lived like this, until one day, a traveler stopped by their farm. This was not unusual, as their farm was famous for it’s amazing output. The traveler said he was a messenger of the gods, and he had come to collect the tax for their special abilities to excel at what they did. Cane, who was a skeptic, refused.

Able, however, gave the man three of his oxen. The man thanked able, and gave him a magical boon, that could turn milk into liquid chocolate, and then left. Cane could not believe this, and quickly outraged by the sudden popularity of his brothers new chocolate producing cows. The days at the market brought far more revenue now, but every day Cane could feel his love for his brother slipping.

It was from then on, every year, the tax collector would come, and ask for payment. The next year, Able gave some his chocolate producing cows, and was again given a boon. Cane gave some of his finest crafted tools. The tax collector, however, did not like the tools, as who needs tools, when you are a god? Cane was outraged, and demanded to know why the tax collector accepted offerings of food, but not tools. The tax collector calmly replied that even gods enjoy eating.

The cycle repeated for several years, Cane would give his best effort, and would receive nothing, yet his brother would put little effort into his flock, and use the latest boon to give the gods something new, thus gaining another boon.

Eventually, Cane had had it with his brother, and in secret, forged a mighty Iron blade. The next time the tax collector came, Able gave his crop as always, and again, received a boon. When Cane’s turn came, however, he did not present the tax collector with anything. He said to wait ten minutes. So the tax collector waited, as Cane went off.

Ten minutes later, Cane returned with the head of his brother, and gave it to the collector, saying “You favour him, now take him. This is my offering.”. The tax collector scowled at the arrogant display, and marked Cane as a traitor to the gryphons. He took Cane’s forging powers, and the farm, and left him with nothing, before saying “This is the mark of the Traitor. You shall never again be safe, but neither shall you be hunted. Everywhere you go, you will be recognized as one who betrayed a God.”

Cane simply looked at the tax collector, and at his ruined farm, before nodding, and saying “Good.”

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Everyone except William was staring at Shining Star in open-mouthed shock, while the gryphon was simply nodding. Star took that as a sign to elaborate on what happened at the end. “It’s said that Cane then went on to found the entire Gryphon Empire, and the God he betrayed, was never mentioned again, anywhere. In fact, I think ‘Cane’ removed him from history...”

The humans shared a few glances with each other, before Stivers decided to end the abrupt silence with a “Damn”. “That is so similar to one of the stories in the Bible, it’s scary.”

“What’s the bible?” Star asked.

“The Bible,” Taylor began, “is probably the most influential book in human history. It depicts...” He paused, frowning for a moment, trying to frame his thoughts. “Literally, at its core, it’s a history book. It tells about the creation of the world, and the beginnings of the human race. It talks about God, and lays down laws for humanity to follow. We use it for moral inspiration, and for guidance.”

“That’s a pretty tall order for one book,” Star said after a moment. “What’s your god’s name?”

Taylor blinked. “Um... I not sure He really has a name. We usually just call Him God.”

“That’s... kind of boring,” the pegasus said. “No offense,” he added rapidly. “I’m just... it’s kind of weird.”

“Well, that’s what we call Him,” Stivers broke in. “I think there’s a couple of names mentioned in the Old Testament, but there’s no real handle like you guys have for the Princesses.”

“What does he look like?” Midnight asked, her ears perking.

“Um...” Stivers looked at the other humans. “We don’t really know, honestly. We really don’t get to see him until after we die.”

“Well that sucks,” Hoof responded. “We can just go see Princess Celestia or Princess Luna any time we want. At least when we’re not on duty.”

“Although, to be fair, they’re not really ‘goddesses’ in the truest sense of the word,” Midnight said. “They are immortal, as far as we know, though, so they’re essentially the closest thing Equestria really has. We understand the concept of worshiping deities though, although we don’t really do it ourselves.”

“Well,” Stivers continued, “We’re supposed to be made in our god’s image, so we assume He looks like us, in some way.”

“Most folks do,” William broke in. “Every tale I’ve heard from some other race that talked about their gods has ‘em looking just like them. Makes sense yours does, too.”

“That’s... pretty accurate, actually.” Star looked at the gryphon in surprise and with a slight nod of approval. “Nice catch on that detail.”

William ruffled his feathers and preened for a moment at the compliment. “So, what happened in your version of the story, eh?” he asked Taylor. “Ya said it was similar.”

“Pretty much the same thing.” Taylor shrugged. “The two brothers offered up a sacrifice, Abel’s was accepted, Cain’s wasn’t. Cain got jealous and killed Abel and then was cast out for his crimes. I don’t think he went on to found anything though; he just vanishes after that.”

“Weird.” Star frowned and took a sip of the mulled cider. “Ponies don’t really have anything close to that in our history or legends, but both gryphons and you have a story that’s almost identical. Maybe it’s because you’re both carnivorous or something.”

“Wait... you’re saying we have the same legends because we eat meat?” Gruebel snorted. “That’s pretty far fetched, Star.”

“Well, it’s just a theory.” The pony huffed. “I’m trying to find the similarities and make a connection.”

“For one, I’m glad we don’t have anything like that in our history.” Midnight shivered and looked at the fireplace, the orange glow reflecting in her eyes. “I can’t imagine killing my sibling over something like that.”

“You haven’t met my sister,” Hoof said. “She kicked my flank for taking the last cookie once. That mare was just mean.”

“There’s a lot of stories like that in the Bible,” Stivers said. “They usually make some point or teach a lesson. They’re called parables.”

Star brightened. “Hey, what about that other one you mentioned? The one you said that sounded like the song of Prince Aurora?”

“Who, me?” Stivers looked blank. “I don’t remember.”

“It was about some battle, you said. The battle of three hundred something.”

“Oh! That was Thermopylae.” Stivers nodded. “That was actual history though, not a fable or a myth.”

“When history lives long enough, it becomes legend.” Shadow intoned, then blushed as everyone looked at him. “I didn’t make that up, I just read it somewhere.”

“Dude, there’s hope for you yet.” Star grinned and punched the larger pony lightly on the shoulder. “Keep it up, I didn’t know you read Hooficurus.”

“Who?”

Star sighed. “Anyway, what about the three hundred battle?”

“Well, it happened a long time ago, over two thousand years before our time, at least.” Stivers took a long pull out of his mug and settled back into his chair. “You guys seem to keep an impressive amount of things in recent memory, but to us, that’s ancient history.”

“480 BC, if I remember right,” Gallivan added.

“Damn, the monolith speaketh.” Taylor grinned. “I didn’t know you were a history buff.”

“I’m not, sir, but I do know my battles.” Gallivan shrugged.

“Anyway, there was an invasion in Greece... it’s a country in our world that lies on the edge of a big sea. Greece was invaded by Persia across the narrow strait that lies between the countries... I think they had several hundred thousand soldiers, at least.” Stivers grinned as he saw William listening to him intently, no doubt filing the details away in his memory. The Marine held his mug up, swirling it around slowly. “They took the Greeks pretty much by surprise or something, and they didn’t have much time to get an army together that could stop the Persians in time. So eventually there ended up a small group that got together and set up at the pass of Thermopylae that the Persians had to pass through to get to the interior of Greece where all the cities were. Problem was, there were only a few thousand of them, and most of them were just citizens, really. The only professional soldiers were a group of three hundred Spartans.”

Sword winced. “That’s not good. Citizen soldiers are usually not much better than farmers with pitchforks.”

Taylor laughed. “Actually, most of our own army at the moment is made of citizen soldiers. They volunteered when the war started, and they did pretty good. We gave ‘em more than a pitchfork, though.”

“Still, all of that considered, the Greeks didn’t have enough troops to really stop the Persians.” Stivers glanced over at Sword. “Outnumbered by roughly 1000 to 1.”

The pony’s eyes widened, and there were several low whistles from the others. “That’s... a bit steep,” Sword admitted.

“Well, the long and the short of it was, they had to buy time for Greece to get its shit together and get their army moving. So they set up at the pass the Persians had to go through and made them fight their way through.” Stivers shook his head. “They eventually lost the battle of course, but they ended up winning the war, because they bought enough time that Greece kicked Persia’s ass back across the strait and out of their homeland.”

“They sacrificed themselves for their homeland.” Sword nodded. “I can see why your people would remember this battle. It’s a noble cause.”

“Why did the Persians attack in the first place?” Midnight asked. “Were they angry at the Greeks?”

“Honestly, probably not.” Stivers held up a hand in supplication. “We still don’t know a great deal about that period in history; nobody wrote much down unless it was about a great battle. It’s pretty much what our people did back then. We were still pretty primitive. No machines, no electricity or running water, no engines of any kind. Back then, countries invaded each other to take what the other people had, and to gain power. Hell, maybe they were bored.”

The mare continued to stare at him intently. “And now that you have invented all those things? Are your people any different? Have they changed?”

Stivers hesitated, then glanced at Taylor. The war that had nearly consumed his entire world for the past six years flashed through his mind, along with the newly created weapons that had helped bring it to a final close. “I don’t know if I have a good answer for that.”

Silence hung for a moment, and then it was Gallivan that spoke. “No ma’am. Not really. We’ve just gotten better at it, is all.” The sergeant tilted his head back and swallowed the last of his cider.

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“Come on you guys, I’m telling you we can do it!” Shadow grinned. “When have I ever steered you wrong?”

“Hmm, let me think about that one.” Shining Star rubbed his chin with a forehoof. “Oh, I know. How about the other week when you decided looking through Lieutenant Arrow’s journal was a good idea?”

“No way!” Crimson Hoof glanced at Shadow incredulously from where he lay on his bedroll. The three ponies were in his room where they had gathered to sit and shoot the breeze for a bit; the others had gone to bed after chatting around the fire in the common room, but Shadow and Star had not been particularly tired and had gone to Hoof’s room to hang out for a while. Crimson Hoof was one of the more fun guard ponies to socialize with; as long as you weren’t actually on duty, he really didn’t worry about protocol and was willing to listen to pretty much anything you had to say.

Luckily, he wasn’t a blabbermouth, either, Shadow thought to himself. “Yeah, thanks for just blurting that out.”

“Hoof doesn’t care. Do you?” Star glanced at the other pony that lay sprawled lazily on the bed.

“Did you read anything juicy?” Hoof inquired.

“Actually, no...”

“Boooorring.” Hoof stretched his wings and began fussing over a feather that was loose. “Friggin’ molts. I hate it when they just hang there and don’t wanna drop off.”

“We, uh, kinda got caught before we could read anything,” Shadow muttered.

Hoof quit poking at the loosened feather with his forehoof and stared at the other two, a wicked grin beginning to spread over his muzzle. “Wait. You two got busted by the Ice Queen?”

“Yeah.” Star grimaced.

Crimson Hoof burst out into laughter, letting his head drop back onto the pillows behind him. “Holy horseapples. No wonder she was busting your flanks all the way to the pass.” He snickered, holding his sides and trying to keep the noise down in consideration of the sleeping ponies in the rooms around him. “Oh, that’s priceless. And you didn’t even get a peek at her diary to make up for it, either.”

“Glad you think it was funny, flankmane,” Shadow groused. “I thought she was gonna geld me when she poked me in the rear with her bow.”

Crimson Hoof coughed and snorted, his eyes leaking tears as the pegasus fought to keep from bellowing a gale of laughter into his friend’s face. “Wait! Was that the squeal we all heard?”

“Um... yeah.”

Hoof curled into a fetal ball, his forelegs wrapped around his ribs, the laughter reduced to a wheezing gurgle as the pony fought for breath. “Oh... my... Celestia, that is...” He turned his head to one side, burying his face in a pillow, and the other two heard the muffled growling sound of his mirth seeping through.

“Anyway,” Shadow sighed, “I thought of this earlier. We can do it, I know we can. Nobody’ll know but us.”

Hoof managed to get control finally, hiccupping and sniffing. “In other circumstances it might be fun, but I don’t think you’re going to be able to pull off a panty raid on a group of lady gryphons. First of all, do they even wear panties? All I see them in is those robes.”

“Well, we’ll find out, won’t we?” Shadow’s chin stuck out stubbornly.

Hoof stared at him. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” He glanced at Star. “I think he took your little jibe to heart, bud.”

“What?” Star jumped and blinked. “Shadow, that whole thing about hoofing it was a joke, for Luna’s sake. It means something else entirely to the humans, and we found out by accident. We weren’t even really talking about it at all.”

“Don’t care.” Shadow’s expression was set firmly. “I’m gonna do it. I’ll bring you back a prize if you’re too chicken to go with me.”

“Buck buck buck,” Hoof said, and leaned back again. “Not me. Besides, they’re monks. Or monkettes. Whatever. You go to gryphon hell for stealing monkette panties.”

“Really?” Shadow looked mortified for a moment, then frowned. “Wait, you said you didn’t even know if they wore them. How do you know if you go to hell for stealing them then?”

“It was a trick question on the corporal’s test we had to take, don’t you remember? Most of the ponies guessed, and we found out after what the answer was.” Hoof grinned wickedly and winked. “I got it right, actually.”

“Dude you are such a flankmane,” Star grumbled. “He’s just yanking your tail, Shadow. Look, I’ll go with you, okay? But just for a moment. We go, we look around in their room, and then we come back. You can say you’ve seen a sight no other pony has before.” And that would be the truth, Star knew.

“You called me dude.” Hoof beamed at Star. “You’re so cute when you try to be hip, Braniac. I can’t wait to see what you do when you grow up.”

“Oh, stuff it,” Star snapped crossly. “C’mon, let’s get this over with.” The pegasus trotted over to the door and opened it, peering out into the hall. “Coast is clear. Let’s go.”

Shadow moved out to join him and the two ponies slowly eased their way down the hall toward the intersection where the living quarters for the males met the ladies’ section. Without their armor on, they were surprisingly quiet, but Star flinched at every creak the floorboards made. His ears flicked from side to side constantly, and the little settling sounds the structure naturally produced made him jump a little every time. He grumbled inwardly to himself, wondering again how he kept getting into situations like this.

Why doesn’t anypony ever listen to me?

Star heard a low, uneven humming sound and froze in place. Turning his head, he watched as Shadow stepped forward a few paces and then stopped, looking in all directions and humming to himself. “What in the hay are you doing?”

“What?” Shadow stopped and stared at him.

“That noise? It’s... noisy.” Star hissed. “Are you trying to get caught?”

“Are you kidding? That’s my theme music.” Shadow hummed a few bars in demonstration. “Every action hero has to have theme music.”

“Okay, Action Hero, your adventure is about to end if you don’t shut up,” Star growled. “You’re about to hum your haunches right past Lieutenant Taylor’s door.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Shadow brightened. “He’s a pretty fun guy. Wanna see if he wants to come along?”

“No!” Star exclaimed, then clapped a forehoof to his own mouth. “No,” he repeated in a lower voice. “Bad idea number eight hundred and twelve of yours. Just keep going, for Celestia’s sake. And stop with the music.”

The two edged forward another few lengths, and then paused at the intersection itself. To their left, it opened out into the short hallway that led to the common room. Behind them were their own rooms. Ahead... lay destiny. Or purgatory. Star wasn’t sure which just yet. “Shadow... I really think we should go back. We’re still okay, but if we head over there...”

“What, are you gonna wimp out on me now?” The burly pegasus looked over his shoulder and gave Star a withering glance. “Fine, wuss out and leave me to do it myself. I’ll bring you back a present.”

“No way.” Star sighed. There was no way he could just let Shadow blunder on alone into whatever was coming; Star was just not built that way. The two ponies had been friends ever since they had met when joining the Royal Guard, and their relationship had never really changed, even after Shadow’s promotion. The running joke around the barracks was that if Shadow was ever sent out on a lone pony mission, he would have Star tucked away in his saddlebags as part of his survival kit. “Just... nevermind. Just be quiet and go.”

Shadow turned back and crouched down, moving one careful step at a time.

“After we cross the intersection. Anypony in the common room can see you right now, you lug,” Star said.

“Oh.” Shadow grinned sheepishly and walked past the open doorway, into the opposite hall. The two paused for a moment, taking in the wide walkway and the line of doors on either side.

“We’re in hostile territory now,” Shadow said, his voice dropped down low. “If I don’t make it back, kid, tell my folks... well, just tell ‘em, all right?”

“Will you stop that?” Star swatted the other pony in the haunch and moved around him to take the lead. “Just follow me and do what I do.” He held his head up high and sniffed, his ears flicking rapidly. “The one off to the left there... we have to get past it.”

“Okay, so go,” Shadow replied. “What’s the problem?”

“That’s Lieutenant Arrow’s room,” Star said, deadpan.

“Oh.” Shadow’s whole form seemed to shrink suddenly.

“Still sure you wanna do this?” Star asked him sweetly. “I mean, if she hears us, I’m sure nothing bad will happen.” The tone of voice he used indicated he was sure of anything but that.

“No, we gotta.” Shadow’s expression grew suddenly determined. “Our honour depends on it.”

“Our honour? I don’t have anything to prove.”

“Sure you do. You’re proving you’re not a chicken like Hoof was.” The calculating look appeared in Shadow’s eyes again. “Aren’t you?”

“I don’t even...” Star sighed. “Nevermind. Just... quiet, remember?” Without waiting for a reply, he eased a forehoof forward gingerly and began moving slowly one step at a time, past Midnight Arrow’s quarters. The closed door loomed off to his left side, and Star had to fight to keep from staring at it as they walked past—

Wait. Had it just moved?

The pegasus froze, staring intently at it, checking to see if there was any motion. The latch on the left side cast a dim shadow in the low light, and he couldn’t see any change in the outline of it.

No, it was his imagination again. He turned away deliberately and kept on moving forward, one careful step after another, until both of them were safely past.

“Good work,” Shadow whispered, and Star nearly jumped out of his own hide. “Let’s try the next one down.”

Star bit back the retort that rose up reflexively and swallowed it. “Too close. One more door down. And the opposite side of the hall. I’m not going in a room that’s right next door to Midnight’s room. If you wanna die that way, go right ahead.”

“Oh... oh yeah.” Shadow beamed. “I’m glad you came along, you always think of the smart things.”

Yeah, and this whole expedition wasn’t my idea, either, was it? Star sighed and kept going, moving forward carefully once more. If it had been possible for him to tiptoe on the edges of his hooves, he would have tried it. “Okay, this one on the right here.” He stopped and pressed his ear to the door carefully, listening with his eyes closed.

“What do you hear?” Shadow asked.

“You,” Star groused. “Also a dragon, rumbling about how he’s going to eat two dumbflank ponies in about two minutes.”

“Really?” Shadow blinked. “I didn’t think the rooms were that big.”

“Joking, Shadow,” Star said wearily. He closed his eyes again and listened. He could hear a few murmuring voices, and the high pitch indicated that the prospective targets were very likely females. “There’s at least a couple of girls on the other side.”

“In that case, stand back and watch the master at work.” Shadow pushed past him, flicked the handle on the door and pushed it open, striding through the opening without even a pause. He paced into the sudden silence that fell and stopped, his head thrown back proudly. “Hellooo, ladies.”

Star peered around the larger pegasus and saw one... two... three... four gryphons, all very much female. All were also very much not in their usual cowls or cloaks. “Um... evening, ladies. How... um, how are you?” He jabbed Shadow in the haunch. “You’re blocking the door.”

Shadow moved aside, and Star moved quickly into the room and pushed the door closed behind them. Turning back, he saw that none of the gryphons had moved, and were still lying where they had been; the four were sprawled out on their bed mats, peering at him and Shadow in utter fascination. “Um... hello?”

“Good even, sirs,” said the one farthest to their right. She was the smallest of the four, and had an odd spotted pattern on the feathers on her wings. “What can we do for our fine guests this night?” She stood up and stretched lithely, then stilled herself, patiently waiting for a response.

Shadow snorted and arched his neck. “The question is,” he returned in a deep basso voice, “what can we do for you?”

Star leaned in close to Shadow’s left side. “Go ahead,” he whispered. “Ask them for their panties.”

Shadow gave him an irritated look. “What part of raid did you not get? You don’t ask for panties.”

“Maybe not, but you’d better ask if they even have them. Cause they aren’t showing any signs of ‘em right now,” Star hissed. “Look, let’s just leave, okay?”

The spotted gryphon walked closer and moved around to their right, stopping between them and the door and shredding Star’s escape plan. “That’s very kind of you,” she said. “But since you are our guests here, it would be unbecoming of us to have you do us any favors.”

“That’s the first time I’ve heard any of you other than Terrence say anything,” Star blurted, unable to help himself. “How come you never speak?”

“Oh, we talk to each other all the time. Our vows do require us to restrain ourselves from inane conversation with others during the performance of our daily duties, however.” The gryphon eyed him unselfconsciously, obviously sizing him up. “Within our own chambers, however, we are free to do as we like.”

“Well then,” Shadow grinned, “today’s your lucky day.”

Shining Star groaned and jabbed his friend with a forehoof. “Will you stop that? Look, we came, we saw, can we go now?”

“Not without panties,” Shadow intoned at full volume. “Hoof would never believe us.”

There were several giggles from the gryphons, and the spotted one behind them offered a wry smile. “Our discipline forbids the use of concealing undergarments. They have been found to promote... unclean thoughts.” Her eyes were fixed on Star, and the pegasus could have sworn that she licked her beak hungrily. “We work to purge ourselves of such thoughts daily.”

“T-That’s good,” Star stammered. “We don’t want to corrupt you or cause any interference with your devoutness.”

“Sure we do,” Shadow said. He looked at Star warily. “You do know why we came here, right?”

“Temptation is good for the soul,” the one that Star had begun to think of as Spots said. Her yellow eyes glittered and the catlike tail lashed as she spoke. “It reminds us of all that we have yet to accomplish, and gives us goals to achieve. Have you come to help... remind us?” Her tail lashed again and smacked against the door handle, knocking it askew and unlatching the exit.

“No,” Star blurted rapidly. The door’s open...maybe we can just run out when they’re not looking.

“Yes,” Shadow countered.

“No,” Star repeated more strongly. The unwavering stare from Spots was making his nerve endings jump beyond belief. “We just wanted to say hello. Really, we should be going, now. It’s... oh, look how late it is!”

Spots ambled slowly up and stopped even with Star, peering closely at him. “It’s ten o’clock. What are you, in grade school?” The other gryphons had risen from their places and begun pacing in a circle around the two ponies.

Star kept trying to back toward the door, but the circling gryphons kept brushing against him and pushing him forward again. The pegasus jumped every time their oddly textured fur and feathers rustled against his own. “No. But... I have a report! Yes, a report to write. My commander will be angry if I don’t get it done before morning.” He offered Spots a commiserating smile. “You don’t want him to be angry at me, do you?”

“Don’t worry,” she cooed. “I’ll explain everything to him.”

Oh, this is SO not good, Star thought. “I don’t think he’d accept that.”

“What report did you have to write?” Shadow asked curiously. “I mean, we haven’t done anything in almost a week to write a report about.” He offered Spots a winning grin. “It’s okay, ma’am, he’s just shy.”

“Oh, that’s fine.” Spots chuckled and leaned in close to Star. “Tell you what, ponyboy. I’ll give you something to write home about, hmm?”

“Oh, I do hope you do,” a familiar contralto voice said from behind them. “These two seem rather fond of reading diaries and journals. I’d love to see what they can come up with on their own.”

Star blinked, then turned slowly to look at his friend. Shadow stared back at him, the larger pegasus’ eyes widened in fear. “Is that...?”

“Yes. Yes it is.” The voice drew level with his head, and Star could see Shadow staring over his own shoulder, beginning to tremble. “I just came to remind you that it is past your bedtime.” Midnight’s voice dropped down to a whisper, and Star could feel her breath on his ear. “Far past your bedtime. I’d move along now, if I were you. I’d have to file a disciplinary report if you stay much longer... and you know how I loathe paperwork.”

“Y-Yes, ma’am,” he stammered. “Bedtime, ma’am.” Shadow simply nodded rapidly in agreement.

“On the double-quick this time,” Midnight said. “Oh, and I think you can dispense with the music on the way back.” She shook her head, the dark curls of her forelock dropping over one eye and giving her a fey expression. “Action heroes don’t have ‘retreating back to my room’ music.”

“You heard that?” Shadow managed.

“The theme music to the Daring-Do movie? I was pretty sure gryphons wouldn’t go in for much of that.” Midnight smirked. “Next time, try a covert approach. And check to make sure I’m actually in my room instead of coming out of Sword’s room, seeing you two lunatics and following you all the way down the hall.”

Star simply stared at her, dumbstruck.

“Beddy-bye, now,” she said. “Shoo.” Midnight followed the two males out into the hallway and watched them as they slunk back to their rooms. She chuckled and looked back at the gryphons, who were still giggling, but with a different sound now. “Thank you, ladies.”

Spots tucked her head and swept a foreclaw across her front in a bow. “Any time, Miss Arrow.” She snickered. “I was just going to run them off originally, but then I smelled you out in the hall and figured we’d have a little fun with them first. The short one was kind of cute.” She shook her head, grinning. “I haven’t had that much fun in years.”

“I’m sure.” Midnight paused in the doorway. “That was a pretty convincing act, I admit. Dare I ask what would have happened if I hadn’t shown up?”

“Edna knows,” Spots said, and winked. “I sure don’t.” The other gryphons burst out laughing as she ushered the pegasus out and closed the door.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Midnight’s ear flicked at the knocking sound, and she forced one eye open, peering blearily at the door, as if the portal itself had decided to offend her by spontaneously making noise. She lifted her head from the pillow and forced her muzzle, tongue and teeth to go through the complicated procedure required to form an intelligible response. “Yes?”

The door cracked open enough to emit a human head to peer in. “Sorry to wake you, ma’am,” Gallivan said.

“That’s fine, sergeant.” Midnight had grown to rather like the introverted Marine. He had fallen into the unofficial role of company first sergeant, and as such had appointed himself the duty to see to the officers’ needs, as if they were a group of foals who needed tending to. Considering the sizes of the egos of some officers she had known, the concept wasn’t as far fetched as one might think, she reflected. “Did I oversleep?” She frowned and lifted her head further, peering blearily across the room at the old clock that hung on the opposite wall.

“No ma’am, actually, it’s just after six. Captain Stivers is the duty officer this morning, and breakfast isn’t for another hour.”

“Then what’s wrong?” She frowned, brushing her sleep-tousled forelock out of her eyes absently, still staring at the carved wooden clock that hung on the wall. It ticked softly, the pendulum suspended beneath it moving slowly back and forth in steady sweeps. 6:08. Right, that seemed correct enough, but something was off about the whole thing.

“Nothing’s wrong, actually.” Gallivan grinned, giving the mare a moment to figure it out. She had just woken up, after all, and it had taken him several moments on his own to realize the change.

“Then what is it?” Midnight asked, a tone of annoyance beginning to creep into her voice. First sergeants were allowed a lot of leeway, but needling your officer when she was barely conscious (and really wanting another hour of sleep) was pushing it. “I’m not in the mood for games at this—” She stopped, still staring at the clock. The time was right, but the light... the light was wrong. There was a dim shadow cast by the clock’s frame on the otherwise featureless wall. She sat fully upright on the bedroll, her coverlet falling away as she jerked her gaze to the left, looking out the window.

Her window faced to the east, and the horizon was sharply delineated by the mountain ranges visible in the distance. The sun peeked over the edge of the escarpments, filling the eastern sky with a strong reddish-orange glow that she hadn’t seen for a week now. The sky still held a few scuds of cloud, but they were mere scraplings of the smothering blanket that had hung over their heads for days. She looked back at Gallivan, all semblance of sleep wiped instantly from her face. “It’s out!”

“I know.” He grinned. She was quicker than he was; it had taken him several moments to figure it out. “Still want to sleep in?”

“Hell no.” Midnight tossed the coverlet aside and stood up. “Let’s go get breakfast and then corner that gryphon.”

“Right now?”

“Sergeant,” she sighed, “do you really need me to remind you we don’t wear clothes most of the time? I don’t have to dress.”

“No ma’am,” Gallivan replied. “You might wanna, um, brush your mane first, though,” he said as tactfully as he could manage. “I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t think it’s regulation right now.”

Midnight blinked, then lifted a forehoof and patted herself on the back of the neck. Her mane was sleep-teased into a cloud of ebon strands that seemed to be trying to flee in every direction. “Oh. Um... yes. Thank you, sergeant. Give me ten minutes, and then I’ll be down for breakfast.”

“Better make it fifteen,” Gallivan advised.

The mare shot him a dirty look, noting the innocent expression he held on his face. “Thank you, sergeant, that will be all.”

“Aye-aye, ma’am.” The Marine chuckled and retreated, closing the door behind him.

-----

“So the sun is up?” Terrence blinked at the assembled group. “Well, I should hope so. It usually does that every morning, you know.”

“We can see it,” Stivers clarified. “The sun’s out. You said when the sun came out, we could go see the abbott and the Pentachoron.”

“Oh, it’s out! Well, that’s splendid, I had no idea.” Terrence took a sip of coffee from the cup before him as he sat at the large dining table. The gryphon’s chair was located directly in front of a large bay window, the sunlight bathing him in a golden glow that made him look almost ethereal. “It’s about time, I was getting tired of all those clouds.”

“About the abbot,” Stivers said again. Keeping Terrence on topic was like trying to herd cats through a rainstorm. “Can we go see him now?”

“I’m afraid not, but please be patient. I’ll go make the arrangements as soon as we’re done with breakfast.” Terrence frowned severely at his coffee cup, then picked several lumps of sugar out of a bowl nearby and dunked them into the offensive liquid, stirring it for a moment. “They never make it sweet enough,” he grumbled.

“How long will that take, do you think?” Midnight was seated to one side of the gryphon, where she had been nibbling absently at a piece of buttered toast. “We really are in a hurry, Terrence.”

“I know, my dear. I promise you I’ll expedite matters as much as possible. It may be a couple of hours, though. The abbot is very set in his ways, and preparations for things like this take a bit of time as well.” Terrence patted her shoulder with a foreclaw. “I’ll do what I can. In the meantime, why don’t you all get a bit of air when you’re done eating? Go enjoy the sunshine. I’m sure you’re tired of being stuck in here with us stodgy old fellows.”

“This place isn’t that bad,” Star offered. “I really like your library, sir.”

“But we are stodgy, then?” Terrence’s face fell. “I was afraid of that.”

“What?” Star blinked. “No, I didn’t say that.”

“But I did, and you didn’t refute it. I was right.” Terrence wrapped his wings around himself and hid his face.

“No, you’re not! You’re very learned,” Star said rapidly.

“Now you’re just being diplomatic.”

“And you are having entirely too much fun teasing him,” Midnight shot back. “Terrence, please. This is very important to us. To all of us.”

“Foiled again, and by such beauty, too.” Terrence chuckled and nodded. “I’ll get to work at once. In the meantime, please do go out and enjoy the sun.” His smile subsided. “When you see the Pentachoron, you may cherish memories of light and joy.”

--------

The sun was well into the sky now, the vault overhead a brilliant azure deepening to midnight blue directly overhead. Crimson Hoof stood in the snow that lay in front of the monastery. Next to him were Gruebel and Gallivan, their heads thrown back as the three peered up into the miles of clear air. “That is awesome flying weather. I wish you guys had wings, we could go up for a spin.”

“If we had wings, we wouldn’t have half the problems we do, I think.” Gruebel kicked at the snow, sending a white spray of brilliance sparkling into the air.

“You don’t mind if I go up for a minute, do you?” Hoof asked.

“Hell no,” Gallivan said. “Why would we?”

“Well, because you can’t,” Hoof replied. “It kinda sucks that you can’t fly, and I didn’t want to make you feel bad.”

“Hoof, you do whatever the hell you feel like, okay? You won’t hurt our feelings.” Gallivan mock punched the pony on the shoulder. “Go burn off some energy.”

“Sweet!” Crimson Hoof gathered himself and launched into the air, calling out to the other pegasi. Soon the entire group of ponies was airborne, darting and swooping amongst one another, with various catcalls and laughter mixed in as they flitted about, clearly enjoying themselves. As Hoof had mentioned, the ponies had mostly refrained from flying while travelling with their human companions, mainly out of consideration for the ground-bound abilities of the pilots. The air was clearly their natural element however, and from the display it was plain that they had missed it enormously.

Stivers walked over to the two Marines who stood under the swirling cloud of pegasi and laughed. “You know what’s really goofy? We’re sitting here under five flying ponies and all I can think about is how nice the sky looks today.”

Gallivan snorted. “Yeah, I think we’ve been here a little too long, sir. A fella could get used to this.”

“Not me.” Gruebel crossed his arms. “You go native if you want, Sarge. Me, I miss my bacon sandwiches. And my ham sandwiches. And steak. With baked potatoes. Pork chops.”

“Roas’ beef.” William’s voice came from behind them, and the Marines looked over their shoulders to see the little gryphon standing near Stivers, looking off into the distance absently. “Bake’ turkey. Chicken an’ almost anyt’ing else, ey?” His beak clacked and he fairly drooled. “Hamburgers. Grilled, na’ fried in th’ friggin’ pan.”

“Kid, I like how you think,” Gruebel said.

“Hard to argue with that kind of logic,” Stivers agreed. He saw Taylor walking towards them, a long stick in one hand. “What you got, Charlie?”

“Something to keep us occupied while we’re waiting for those gryphons to find the damn keys to the vault, or whatever the hell they’re doing.” Taylor held up the stick, which upon closer inspection was actually the handle from either a rake or a shovel with the metal implement removed.

“I hope you weren’t planning on beating us with that while we run laps, sir,” Gruebel said warily.

“You? No.” Taylor grinned. “I had something else in mind for that.” He dug into one of his pockets. “Borrowed this from one of the other monks; they were playing catch with one of them the other day.” He removed his hand from his pocket and displayed a small ball, obviously handcrafted, the rough leather stitching on the cover circling around it. “Feel like taking a few swings?”

“You’re on, sir.” Gallivan grinned back fiendishly. “I used to catch back when I was in high school, be warned.”

“Duly noted.” He tossed the ball to Gallivan and handed the stick to Stivers. “First up?”

“Fine by me.” The four of them moved away from the looming presence of the monastery, kicking some of the snow aside as they went. “Hard to have a decent game out here with all this crap on the ground.”

“It’ll just give you a cushion when you have to dive for the ball,” Taylor said. “Or are you one of those wimps who just flails at it and lets it sail on by for extra bases?”

“A bumped elbow or knee isn’t gonna make me go run to mama,” Stivers growled. “If you can even hit the damned thing.”

“We’ll see, won’t we?” Taylor laughed and ran over to where Thompson stood gazing across the valley below them. “C’mon, Frankenpuss. We’re doin a ballgame.”

“Huh?” Thompson looked around and saw his commander taking a few warmup swings with the shovel handle. “Are you kidding me?”

Taylor flipped the ball up into the air and snagged it one-handed as it came back down. “Never in life, dear. Now shag your ass over to shortstop. Ole Smiley McGee up there probably can’t hit it out of the infield.”

Stivers simply crouched in place, swinging the makeshift bat slowly. “Try me and find out, squidhead.”

“Oh, now it starts. Gang up on the Navy boy.” Taylor waited until Gallivan was in place, hunched down slightly behind Stivers. “Let’s see if you can even hit the thing first.”

“Ell-Tee, I don’t have a glove on,” Gallivan said evenly. “And it’s damn near freezing. So you might wanna hold back on the fastballs, if you don’t mind.”

Taylor grunted in response, but then nodded; the sergeant did have a point. He drew himself up straight, waited a moment, then made an exaggerated windup motion and tossed the ball at Stivers. It arced up and then dropped down, making a low chunk sound as it fell into the snow in front of the captain. “Shit.”

Stivers snorted. “I know you’re Navy, Taylor, but Jesus, you can’t throw harder than that?”

“I don’t wanna break his fingers off,” Taylor snapped. He hadn’t thought of a glove earlier; seeing the gryphons playing with the ball had just set off a spark in his brain, and the sight of Stivers standing there holding the ‘bat’ had touched off a wave of homesickness in him that was almost palpable. “Okay, maybe this was a bad idea.”

“Hold on, sir.” Gallivan fumbled around for a moment, twisting the cloak that was bundled over his shoulders and pulling the long hem up. He folded it over carefully, then again, forming a double layer. Gripping the folds with his hands, he held it up. “Think you can hit that target?”

“Let’s find out.” Taylor set himself again, then wound up and threw more normally, but still taking a lot of speed off the ball. It sailed neatly through the air and into the makeshift glove with a soft thumping sound. “How’s that?”

“Felt like strike one to me,” Gallivan said evenly.

“What?” Stivers looked down at the sergeant. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“Okay, just a practice pitch, then.” Gallivan calmly threw the ball back to Taylor. “Don’t argue with the ump again, sir, or you’re out of the game.”

“Wait, you’re catching, and calling the pitches? How can you do that?”

“Because I can.” Gallivan grinned widely. “Next one counts, sir. Better pay attention.”

Stivers did try gamely, but several pitches later the one hit he managed to get flew about thirty feet into the air and came straight back down into Thompson’s hands. “Fly out,” Gallivan called. “Who’s next?”

“Hey, what’re you guys doin’?” Shadow’s voice called from behind them. The pegasus glided over to land neatly beside Stivers. “Is that a game?”

“It’s the game,” Taylor said. “Baseball. Our national pastime, and one our commanding officer is sadly negligent in. Wanna try?”

Gallivan chuckled. Asking Shadow if he wanted to ‘try’ something was tantamount to a direct dare. “Here’s the rules. Taylor’s the pitcher. He throws the ball to me. I’m the catcher. You have to try and hit the ball. If you do hit it, you have to touch three ‘bases’ and then come back here to home to score a run. And you can’t let them touch you with the ball if you’re not touching a base.”

“Ooh, we have something like this, but you don’t have any bases to touch.” Shadow frowned at the snowy cover. “Um...where are the bases?”

“Yeah, we might need those.” Stivers’ voice rose to a bellow. “Marines! We need bases, on the double. Set em up.”

The other ponies drifted over and began listening in on Gallivan’s instructions while Thompson, Gruebel and Taylor created makeshift ‘bases’ out of small rocks, doing their best to estimate the distances. “C’mon, guys, you’ve seen this game before. Thirty meters in between bases. Ninety feet.”

“Thirty meters?” Hoof looked dubiously towards where first base had been set up and looked back at Gallivan. “That’s it? I have to hit the ball and just run and touch that without anypony touching me with the ball first?”

“It’s not as easy as it looks.” Gallivan pointed at Taylor, who had finished setting up third base and was flipping the ball absently up in the air and catching it again. “He’ll try to throw it to me, but you won’t know how fast he’s throwing it, or whether it will be straight or a curve. And if you hit it and someone catches it before it touches the ground, you’re automatically out.”

“Wait, a curve? How do you throw something straight and make it curve?” Shadow’s expression showed that the pony thought his tail was being yanked.

“Hey, Lieutenant!” Gallivan crouched down. “You got a deuce ball you can show us?”

“Haven’t tried that one in awhile, but I’ll give it a shot.” He held the ball for a moment, and adjusted his grip on it. Straightening, he wound up and threw. The ball arced toward them, then dropped down and hooked to one side. Gallivan grunted as he leaned over and grabbed it before it could hop away.

Star whistled. “Holy horseapples.”

“Damn, that was nasty, sir.” The sergeant tossed the ball back. “How come you don’t do this for a living?”

“Knees. Besides, I’m okay at pitching, but I never really got into it too much. Plays hell with your shoulder and arm, and that makes it hard to fly an airplane.” Taylor shrugged. “I played through college, and pretty much dropped it when I graduated.”

“That’s what you got pitching to you,” Gallivan stated. “An old washed out college boy who ain’t pitched in years. Now go kick his ass.” He clapped Shadow on the shoulder. “The rest of you. One person or pony near each base to guard , with a fourth person in between second base and third.” He pointed. “The rest of you, in the outfield. We can all take turns at bat, and once you’re on base or out, someone else can take a turn.”

“Even me?” William asked.

“Sure, if you want to.” Gallivan shrugged. “It’s up to you. Just wait your turn.”

“So we can hit it pretty much anywhere as long as it’s not caught before it touches the ground?” Golden Sword was eyeing the makeshift bases, mentally gauging how long it would take to move from one to the next. The game seemed too simple to him, honestly.

“If hit it to the right of first base,” Gallivan said, pointing, “or to the left of third, it’s foul. That counts as a strike, unless you already have two. Swing and miss the ball, or if the ball goes over home plate without being hit, that’s a strike. Three strikes and you’re out.”

“Ohh.” Sword nodded. That was better. Aim was important now, and so was speed and coordination. The person throwing the ball also made a difference, and that turned it into a one-on-one duel between the hitter and the thrower. And dueling was something he particularly enjoyed. “Fair enough, then. Shall we alternate? Shadow can go, and then one of you, and then a pegasus. Back and forth.”

“Wha’ aboot me, ey? I ain’t a pegasus, and I sure ain’t one o’ you humans.” William pouted.

“You can go in my place, kid.” Gallivan ruffled the gryphon’s head feathers. “Sound good to you?”

“Thanks, tha’s great!” William grinned suddenly, a real smile that was startling from the normally taciturn and grouchy adolescent. The gryphon had spent most of his time alone, either listening to the monks talk, which was rare, or nosing through the books in the library. It was nice to see him remembering to be a kid again, even for a little while.

“Oh yeah. By the way. No flying. You can jump to catch the ball, but no flapping wings allowed. Okay, let’s do this.” Taylor flipped the ball up in the air again, catching it with a dexterous snap of his wrist and watched as the group spread out, the pilots taking a few moments to show the ponies where to stand and what to do if the ball came their way. “Everybody ready?”

A chorus of shouts announced the affirmative answer. “Let’s play ball, then!” He straightened up, gripped the ball tightly and grinned fiendishly at Shadow. “I’ll make it painless, rookie.”

Shadow snorted and picked up the makeshift bat in his jaws, swinging it once experimentally. “Bring it, Ell-Tee.” He stood still just in front and to one side of where Gallivan crouched, like the sergeant had told him to. “I’ll try not to hurt you too bad.”

“Oh, dear me, I feel so faint.” Taylor wound up, kicking high with his left leg and threw. The ball arced toward Shadow, and the pony whipped the stick up and around. It nicked the ball and sent it spinning into the dirt behind him.

“Horsefeathers!”

“Foul ball. Strike one.” Gallivan returned the ball to Taylor. The Marine frowned for a moment, trying to remember the signals he had used back in school, then dropped his right hand down where it was masked by his legs and flicked his forefinger out and toward the pony.

Taylor nodded in return and grinned wider.

Oh, shit, Gallivan thought. The Marine braced himself and waited as Taylor rocked back this time and then his windup uncoiled, the lieutenant not merely throwing this time but pitching the ball like it was meant to be pitched. The rough leather sphere made a hissing sound as it blurred toward Gallivan and he threw his padded hands up out sheer reflex. There was a dull thwack sound as the ball buried itself in the layers of cloth.

“Strike two,” Gallivan managed, trying to make his voice sound normal. He returned the ball to Taylor once more and began rearranging the wrapped end of his cloak into a tighter bundle, his hands now numb and stinging.

Shadow stood where he had been, still poised as if waiting for the ball. “Sweet Celestia,” he breathed. The delivery had been so fast, the pony had not even swung. “How can you hit that?”

“It’s all about timing,” Taylor said. He felt a bit guilty for damn near vaporizing Gallivan’s hands, but the smug look was now gone from Shadow’s face. “You have to keep your eye on the ball and try to figure out what I’m doing.” He decided to show a little mercy and offered up a mid-range pitch, and the pony flicked his head and made contact with the ball. It sailed up and over Taylor’s head, then down into the outstretched palms of a waiting Gruebel. “Fly out!”

“My bat?” Gruebel tossed the ball back to Taylor.

“Sure, why not? Hey Shadow, switch places with Gruebel?”

“Gotcha!” Shadow grinned and headed out to where Gruebel had been standing near second base. He was out, but he had hit the ball, after all.

They continued switching out batters as each one took a turn at the plate. Gruebel struck out on four pitches and headed back out into the field, cursing under his breath at a grinning Taylor. Sword followed, and the pegasus obliged by smacking the first pitch he got right back at Taylor in a line drive, making the other officer duck. “Shiiiit!”

“Ball’s in play!” Gallivan bellowed. Sword had already taken off for first base at full gallop, and the pony slowed, tapping the flat pile of stones with a forehoof as he rounded it and took off again, the snow flying up from his hooves.

“Holy shit, he’s goin’ two!” Thompson was over on third base, watching with wide eyes. “Throw him out!”

Shining Star was out in center field where the ball had landed, making a dull chuffing sound as it cratered into the crust of snow. He nosed about for a moment, then located the brown leather ball and fished it out, snorting ice from his nostrils. Thompson’s shout made him look up in alarm, and the pony realized that there was no way in hell he could throw the ball the required distance before Sword made it to his goal. The ponies were perfectly capable of tossing objects across short gaps, but this game had been designed with a throwing limb with a wider range of motion than his foreleg had, not to mention a few extra joints.

Unless...

Star tossed the ball straight up into the air and flicked out his right wing, catching it in the arc of primary feathers. Cupping it, he spun and flicked his wing out straight, praying. Please don’t drop it, pleasepleaseplease...

The ball shot from his wingtip and arrowed toward second base. Gruebel was guarding the position, and the Marine’s eyes widened as he saw the ball zip toward him. This was gonna be close.

Stivers, who was standing back behind Gallivan, saw the same thing. “Slide, Sword! Slide!” he bellowed. “Don’t let him tag you with the ball!”

The pegasus obliged, throwing himself into a headlong slide, the snow flying up in a plume as he collided with Gruebel’s leg, his golden-yellow tail sticking up like a flag. The Marine cursed as he caught the ball, nearly dropping it for a moment and then making a half-hearted swipe at the pony before giving up.

“Safe with a double!” Taylor laughed. “Holy shit, Sword, that was amazing. You’re a friggin’ natural.”

Sword stood up and bowed, then shook himself, sending ice crystals flying in every direction. “Thank you,” he panted. He started to move off, intending to give somepony else a turn, when Taylor motioned for him to halt.

“Hold on. We got eleven people. Let’s see if we can get you home.” Taylor looked back at Stivers. “Your turn, jarhead.”

Stivers stepped up without a word and promptly smacked Taylor’s next pitch high into the air. It arced up and over towards where William was standing in the right side of the ‘outfield.’

Golden Sword had tensed himself up to run, but stopped at a word from Gruebel. “Wait. If he catches it, the skipper’s out. But you can touch the base and then haul ass. It’s called a sacrifice fly. But if you don’t tag up, they’ll throw it to me and then you’re out, too.”

“Thank you,” Sword panted, still slightly out of breath. The game had seemed simple enough on the surface, but it seemed to have several underlying layers of complexity. It was definitely good exercise, although it had obviously been designed to be played in a more temperate climate. And it was fun, pure and simple. If he had the chance, he intended to get Stivers to explain it more fully to him later; Sword had to take this back to Canterlot and share it with the other guards.

“No problem.” Gruebel watched the ball arc down carefully. “It’s no fun if you don’t play fair.” He watched William shifting uncertainly. “Oh shit, I think he lost sight of it...”

William had a perfect line of sight to the ball; its dark form was easily picked out against the bright blue sky. He simply didn’t believe that he didn’t have to move to catch it; it was coming straight to him. He flicked out a wing in imitation of Star and caught it neatly, drawing a cheer from several of the ponies.

“Tag up and go, now!” Gruebel hissed to Sword, and then he raised his voice. “Relay to me! Throw it in, Willie!”

Golden Sword didn’t wait to watch the gryphon try to figure out how to wing the ball in as Star had. The pegasus touched the rocky base and was moving in an instant, his breath pluming out from his muzzle in quick puffs as he broke into a gallop again, sprinting toward Thompson. The human moved out of his way and bellowed behind him as Sword turned once more, heading back toward Gallivan. “Throw home!”

“Oh, you have got to be shitting me,” Gallivan groaned, moving to block the plate. He saw Sword bulling in toward him at full speed, then glanced to his right to see Gruebel field the throw from William and turn to relay it to Gallivan, trying to stop the run from scoring. Gruebel’s throw was off balance, and his aim less than perfect, to Gallivan’s relief. He had to move to one side to catch it, and the pegasus shot past his left side, neighing with glee as he touched home.

“Score one for the Royal Guard!” Sword shouted, then pranced in place, unable to help himself. The other ponies cheered again, and the pilots clapped to show their approval as well. It had been one hell of a play.

Stivers switched places with Taylor to give the lieutenant a break, and the pilot ambled over to where Sword stood, his grey-furred sides moving rapidly as the pony regained his wind. “I wish I could show you my home,” Taylor said. “I’d take you to Yankee Stadium, Sword, and let you get a look at the Bronx Bombers. You’d go apeshit.”

Sword chuckled; he’d spent enough time with this particular officer that the epithet was no longer a challenge to translate. “I’d like that, I think.”

“It’d be swell.” Taylor laughed. “We’d have to skip the hot dogs, but you could put the hurt on the peanuts and Crackerjacks. A couple of beers...” He trailed off, lost in the vision for a moment. Out in the makeshift field before them, William had declined his turn at bat and one of the ponies took his place, quickly scoring another hit and running to base. They’d picked up the game’s basics rapidly, and their depth perception was uncanny.

“I think I’d like that,” Sword repeated, and was surprised to realize he actually meant it. “If the Princess could find a way...” He cut himself off, suddenly aware of the absurdity of it. His whole mission was intended to get these humans out of his world, forever, not establish contact with their world. The concept was so frighteningly appealing that he pushed it away immediately. “Well. I’d better get back out there. Don’t forget to take your turn.”

“Oh, I will.” Taylor snickered, watching as Thompson took another ungainly swing at Stivers pitching. “I like lasties, I’m gonna wait til everyone else has a shot.” Thompson swung again and went down with three strikes. “Won’t take long at this rate.”

“Well enough.” Sword started to trot away, then paused. “Thank you for sharing this with us, Lieutenant.”

Taylor blinked at the odd tone in the captain’s voice. “Sure thing, fella.” He watched Sword canter out into right field where the pony out there had come in to switch places. Which was odd, because she’d just been up to bat a few moments ago, he realized. What the hell...

Stivers exchanged a few words with Midnight and then handed the ball over before walking towards Taylor. “Your turn, hotshot. Everyone else has gone, and my shoulder’s bitching.” He rubbed the offending joint gingerly.

“But—”

“I told her the basics of it. Now shag your ass up to the plate. Unless you’re afraid of being pitched to by a lady.” Stivers’ eyes twinkled with repressed mirth.

Taylor glared at him. “I’m authorizing a field promotion. You’re an asshole. Major asshole.”

“Noted and logged. Now go take your hacks.”

Midnight stood quietly, relieved when Taylor finally got up and walked over to pick up the old wooden handle. She hadn’t exactly planned this particular combination of opponents, but the pegasus had watched avidly as both Taylor and Stivers had stood here, throwing the ball in over and over, trying to make it do their bidding. The sheer physics of it fascinated her; making a round object fly through the air, now straight, now looping, curving, slowing down or speeding up almost on command, it seemed. Stivers had explained to her in simple terms how it worked, and the realization that it was a combination of aerodynamics and firing the ball like an arrow at a target had her hooked. She had to try this, at least once.

She just wished it had been somepony else’s turn at bat when the time came.

Sighing, she shrugged the feeling of dread that was trying to creep over her off and picked up the ball in her teeth before dropping it into her outstretched left wing. She’d taken a moment to ask Star how he’d thrown the ball in earlier; several of the ponies as well as William had tried to copy the move, but none had been as successful at it. This was a bit different though. Stivers had told her that holding the ball a particular way and then twisting his hand another way made it do things, and she wanted to see if it was possible for her as well. Her hoof and foreleg weren’t up to the task, but the wing might work, if she did it right. Facing this particular opponent added another level of urgency to something that had originally been simply a fun idea. Midnight desperately did not want to screw this up and accidentally hit him.

Even more, she didn’t want him to hit the ball. Here goes nothing. She flexed her wing and stood sideways, as she had seen Taylor do, and heard a low chuckle from Gallivan as the Marine uttered something to Taylor that sounded like southpaw. That was nonsense, she had wings and hooves, not paws. And the direction she was facing was anything but south. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then rocked back and spun, flipping her wing out as Star had told her.

The ball tumbled clumsily, and she watched it bounce in the dirt before hopping up and being caught by Gallivan. “Shit!” The word jumped from her lips unbidden.

There were several laughs, and she felt her cheeks burn. Gallivan tossed the ball back to her. “You been hangin’ around with us too long, Ell-Tee. Take your time, relax.”

“Right. Sorry about that.” Midnight settled herself again and flipped the ball around in her wing, trying to get it settled the way she wanted, tucked slightly in between two of the long primary feathers...there. It would have been easier if Taylor wasn’t glaring at her like that, his eyes flicking every time she—

The realization hit her. He wasn’t looking at her. He was watching the ball. She shifted her left wing a bit and bit back a grin as he jumped slightly, his eyes following every movement. So that was it. She flexed her wing and watched him twitch again, the pilot crouched slightly, the stick in his hands making slow, lazy circles as he waved it back and forth.

The mare’s eyes narrowed as she met his gaze. I own you.

Midnight rocked back and then twisted, uncurling her wing and flicking it out just so, and the ball made a familiar hissing sound as it whipped through the space between them. Taylor grunted as he swung hard, and there was a loud thwack sound as the ball zipped past him to sink into the layers of cloth wrapped around Gallivan’s hands.

“Strike one. Count’s one and one,” Gallivan said neutrally, returning the ball to the mare.

“You think so? Stay tuned.” Taylor dug his left foot into the ground ahead of him and crouched like a hunting cat, his weight shifted to his right foot behind him.

Midnight pursed her lips and blew a stray lock of ebon mane out of her eyes. Okay, so that worked. Won’t work twice, though. I surprised him with that one. She reset herself and then wound up and delivered again, her forelegs crossing for a moment and then uncrossing in unconscious imitation of the human’s pitching motion as she strode a step forward, flinging the ball toward him.

She immediately wished she could call it back. It was an off-speed pitch, one that looked just like the fastball that she had just thrown but much slower, meant to deceive the hitter and throw off his timing. But she had thrown it too high, and she could see the smile on his face as he prepared to kill the leather sphere. He strode forward, swinging hard, and the old tool handle emitted a resounding crack that only the humans were familiar with.

“Oh shit, there it goes!” yelled Thompson. “Wave bye-bye to mama!”

The ball zipped through the air, ascending in an arc that topped out high overhead. Midnight could see Shining Star racing after it, but there was no way the pegasus would be able to catch it short of becoming airborne. There was simply not enough room left. She stood dejectedly, watching the ball as it descended, ricocheting off a rocky outcropping at the edge of the escarpment around them and dropping back to the ground.

Taylor had paused at the plate to watch his handiwork and was just starting to jog to first, preparing to round the bases in a home run trot, when Gallivan’s voice froze him in his tracks.

“Foul ball.”

“What?” Taylor stopped short and looked around disbelievingly. Gallivan stood directly behind the roughshod pile of rocks they had been using as home plate, his gaze fixed on a line that ran directly between it and where Thompson stood at third base. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“Ball was fair until it hit the outfield, then the wind shifted it. I tracked it all the way, Lieutenant.” He waved an arm at Star and nodded to the pony, who had trotted out to retrieve the ball. “Count’s one and two. One ball, two strikes.”

“Oh my sainted aunt.” Taylor sighed and trudged back to pick up the wooden handle again. Midnight stood frozen, looking at Gallivan with the same amount of disbelief that Taylor had just displayed.

Gallivan nodded back at her and grinned. “Still alive. Keep goin’, ma’am. You’re doin’ pretty good.”

Midnight offered a weak smile in return and nodded, feeling her legs tremble. I’m running out of ideas, here. She turned away for a moment to collect herself, watching as Star trotted up to her.

“Here you go, ma’am.” He handed her the ball. The leather cover was badly scuffed, and looked like it was ready to surrender to destiny and come apart if it was struck hard again.

“Thank you.” Midnight took it and started to turn away, then stopped as Star caught her eye.

“Don’t worry, you can get him, ma’am.” He winked. “Kick his ass, Lieutenant.”

“Affirmative.” She watched as Star turned back and cantered out to left field again, the pony shooting insults merrily to Thompson as he passed. Aware of the others’ eyes on her, she took another deep breath and turned around to face Taylor again. Okay. Speed worked. Can’t do it again. Slow... didn’t work as well. Definitely NOT doing that again. She paused, considering, thinking of all the movements she’d seen Taylor employing when he’d been up here earlier, throwing.

Okay, that might work.

Midnight fluffed her left wing, letting the ball shift around in the pocket of feathers as she set herself again, planting her hooves firmly. She stared at Taylor, past him, not registering his little motions, but concentrating on her wing. The feathers spread apart again, then closed once more, and it felt right. Time to see if it would work.

She spun about and pitched the ball to him, her wing flicking out and making an odd little motion as the ball spun loose. It was high again, and slow, though not as slow as her last throw. Still, it was a fat, easy target, and she saw him smile again as he began to swing at it.

The ball dropped and hooked sharply, curving under Taylor’s whipping bat to sock itself snugly into Gallivan’s grasp.

“Strike three. You’re out, Lieutenant.”

Taylor staggered, off-balance from the force of his swing. He glanced dumbly at Gallivan, then out to look at Midnight, who merely stood there, looking at him with an odd expression on her face. No, not at him, but past him. Taylor turned around and saw Terrence striding toward them, a gryphon on either side of him as he walked delicately through the snow and stopped, facing them.

“Had fun? That’s good. It’s time to see what you came for.” He executed an odd bow. “The Pentachoron awaits.”

Author's Notes:

I would like to thank Steampunk Brony for creating an actual musical version of the song we wrote. It wasn't what we had in mind, but we love it all the same. Have a listen here!