Shae doubts her entire repertoire of bestiary encyclopedias has any instructions on how to cope with a prosthetically enhanced gryphon with an apparent sadistic streak, because that would be very useful against her current intimidating foe and his thief army. Screeches and caws fill the air as many more large and well equipped gryphons take their perches around the ancient garden, each one more angry than the last.

Ezio brandishes his talons and points to the four ponies below him. “You see, we may be thieves and scoundrels, but we still outmatch all of you in talon to hoof combat, as I will now demonstrate. Let them have it, brethren!”

“Shae! On me!” shouts Caro. He barely manages to deflect the hit and charges two closer gryphons, finding the hard way that he can’t land a single swipe of his sword. He’s far too slow.

Shae runs to his side, constantly looking up for fear of being snatched and dropped from the skies. Or worse, carried off to feed some hatchlings. Gryphons are notorious for that sort of thing.

“Now would be a-” Caro ducks to the right to avoid a gryphon’s swooping attack, “-good time to-” another’s talon leaves a deep gash in his flank. “Urgh... bollocks!” He shakes off the pain and lunges with his sword, cursing the weight slowing him down. “Use your magic!”

“B-b-but...” Shae is having difficulty holding her voice and the rest of her body steady from sheer terror. In fact, it’s for that reason that she can’t even spark her horn. She tries lighting up every offensive spell she can think of. Plasma ball. Lightning bolt. Anti-gravity field. Not so much as a flare works. “I’m sorry!”

Her apology is met with a gryphon knocking her upside the head with a mace. Her jaw rattles from the impact as she coughs up blood.

A genuine injury. It isn’t a paper cut or a bruise from tripping over. It hurts. A lot.

The gryphon makes another swing, bringing the mace down on Shae’s back. She swears she hears a snap as she slams to the hard ground. As if to add insult, she’s kicked down the stairs, sending her rolling into the one statue that isn’t demolished, a legendary alicorn with a long, ever flowing mane.

“F-Fauste?”

Tohro is pleasantly surprised at Tangerine’s aptitude in battle. He has to compliment her abilities, even though he’s aware she had a blade to Shae’s neck just minutes ago.

“You know, for a sly bitch of a general, you sure know your way around your weapons!”

“Why, thank you.”

The gryphons keep bombarding Tangerine with axes and crossbows but her armor is incredibly durable, allowing her to take the blows in stride.

One gryphon makes an ear-piercing battle cry and bum-rushes Tangerine, who puts up her gauntlets. The gryphon is unable to come to a stop and ends up impaled on the blades. Tangerine tosses her aside.

The other gryphon, enraged by the death of his partner, makes a landing and draws a ridiculously long katana from his belt. Even from several feet away a quick swing strikes Tangerine across her face, leaving her with a bleeding muzzle. She shakes it off for the moment.

“Blackwing!” she shouts, side stepping to Tohro. Before he can object to anything, he is promptly tossed through the frigid air towards the katana-wielding gryphon. The collision knocks them both in the air and over the ledge. Tohro winds up and gives the sucker a haymaker, sending him careening down the mountain with no hope of recovery. Torho catches himself and flies back to the battleground.

“You’re uncommonly strong, lady,” he says to Tangerine. “Would it kill you to ask next time before you use me as a battering ram?”

“I’m a pragmatist, Blackwing. Besides, odds are you would have said no.”

Tohro laughs. “Clearly you don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

Tohro’s laughter is cut short when he realizes that he’s fighting alongside the divine damned imperial general! This woman is responsible for the deaths of many blackwings more skilled and dangerous than him. It would be better to abandon her to be ripped apart by the gryphons, but abandoning her would mean abandoning Caro...

“Dammit!” he shouts. “Why does life have to be so ironic?!”

“Here, allow me to make things simpler,” says the big black gryphon, as he makes a heavy landing. The ground cracks at his feet. He unsheathes two meat cleavers, which spark as he drags them along the ground. If he’s trying to be imposing, it’s working. “I will kill you, loot your severed corpse, and your friends won’t do a damn thing to stop me.”

Tohro does the one thing he can do when he’s scared out of his wits: talk. “Technically, the earthwalker is my friend. The unicorn is an acquaintance, and OH FUCK!”

He feels the cleavers cut his hair as he ducks. He jumps the next swing and backs away from another. He equips his new crossbow and fires from the hip, not having enough time to aim down the sights. The gryphon is quick enough to sidestep the shot.

Tohro is down to five arrows and firing blind isn’t going to do him any good. He jumps in and whacks the gryphon in his bad eye. He reels back from the pain.

“Dammit! Kenway! Support!” he yells.

Tohro is caught unshod when another gryphon makes him a landing spot and relieves him of his crossbow.

For reasons Tohro cannot fathom, Tangerine sees fit to body slam Kenway, pin him to the ground and, with a single swing of her gauntlets, remove his head.

Backed into a corner with no hope of survival. Is it Tuesday already?

Caro has bruises and cuts all over his neck and forelegs, and the shock is starting to wear off. The sting of his injuries against the blisteringly cold wind is enough to make him cringe and drop his sword.

This doesn’t make sense, he thinks. The gryphons are closing in on him, flourishing their katanas, hammers and maces. I’m better than this! I can cleave an imperial soldier in two without error. I can kill a dragon! What the hell is wrong with me? The answer dawns on him as he barely dodges the hammer swing of a red eyed gryphon. I’m not angry enough.

His bloodlust hasn’t kicked in because he doesn’t desire any blood. He wants to kill the gryphons, or at least knock them out, but what he cares about more than that is surviving. For the moment he curses Jarl Drake and Tohro inadvertently teaching him to calm down and value his life.

Another swing of the hammer soars over his head. It’s so painful to dodge, with his ruined legs and all, that he begins to question whether or not taking the hit would have been a better alternative.

He ducks another swing, only this one lands a hit behind him. On Shae. She shrieks and collapses from the hit, sobbing as more blood leaks from her mouth.

Caro can tell Shae, cowering behind him against the Fauste statue, is suppressing the urge to scream. She’s not the only one. Caro has the injury induced idea that if he yells enough the gryphons will leave him and the others alone. What a childish thought.

Then he realizes something. If he had become so enraged in the past to the point of being an unstoppable force of murder and mayhem, what if the same thing could happen to Shae?

“Hey...” he says to the cowering unicorn between labored breaths. “Get angry...”

“Wha...” she utters weakly.

“Just... do it... and don’t stop...” Thud. An uppercut with a jagged mace makes him lose his lunch and a lot more blood. He tumbles over onto his back and the world goes blurry.

He’s dead. No, wait, he’s alive. He’s alive! He’s hardly alive. He’s dying. He’ll be dead. Shae’s mind is racing at a thousand kilometers a second and she can barely breath. She has been holding back a scream. She wants to, desperately, but what good would it do? She would only show the gryphons how terrified she is.

With one of their primary targets out of commission, the four gryphons advance on her and begin their punishment.

With every blow to her head, body and legs, her vision fades a little bit more and images of everypony she knows and loves flash before her.

Her mother and father, dressed in their emerald robes. The most beloved alchemy and astronomy professors in Wintercolt Academy’s relatively short history.

Headmaster Frosthelm, the elderly stallion who never doubts her, who constantly assures her she will take his place someday far in the future.

Eavesdrop, the girl who taught Shae how to cloak herself. She can almost match Shae in intelligence, but she has the upper hoof in cunning.

Lancer, the colt who looks up to Shae. He was going to ask me out on a date, wasn’t he? Looking back, she would have said yes, had she not been so foolishly preoccupied.

Sundance... the prancing party pony who doesn’t know when to stop smiling. Shae misses her most of all. She wishes so much she had cuddled with Sundance underneath the covers instead of attending class... perhaps she wouldn’t have ended up here, broken and shattered by the vengeful Thieves Guild for no reason other than being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The thought of leaving her loved ones behind is enough to turn her misery and sadness into anger. Anger turns into fury. Fury turns into rage. She lets out that scream, and it’s so loud the gryphons have to throw their weapons aside and clutch their heads, as if they’re trying to keep their skulls together.

“Dammit! What the hell is that noise?!” shouts Tohro. His ears quiver as the high-pitched whine ravages his senses.

“Hell is that noise, Blackwing,” says Tangerine, who is unfettered by the noise.

Tangerine and Tohro watch as Shae slowly levitates into the air, surrounded by a lavender aura that pulses through the sky and causes the dead flowers and grass to ripple. Her eyes have lost all their features, becoming blank, emotionless and downright eerie.

As her gashes and lesions heal, her screaming finally falls silent, much to the relief of the gryphons surrounding her.

The aura’s intensity lessens, though Shae is still airborne.

Tohro wipes his brow and flaps his ears, trying to get the ringing out of his head. “Divines... Glad that’s over.”

Until this point, he thought of Shae only as a weak unicorn squib that had gotten in way over her head. He wants to apologize to her several times over for ever assuming such a thing.

“Way to go, girl!" Tohro cheers. "Now, get out of there!”

“Move, soldier!” shouts Tangerine

Shae doesn’t hear them. She doesn’t even acknowledge them. She just floats there, ominously.

The gryphons are still cowering from the aftereffects of the screaming. Ezio is the first to stand, though he struggles to keep his balance. “Come on, then!” he shouts. His voice is skewed as well. “She’s exposed! Gut her!” He flies in close and swings both of his swords.

“NO!" Tohro reaches out hopelessly, certain that the young unicorn is going to die. He braces for the sight and sound of spilt innards.

Instead, the swords don’t touch Shae. They clash against an invisible force and are thrown aside, and the gryphon leader is left prone. The other gryphons pound on the force field to no avail. All of them are left without weapons and any idea how to cope with this act of magic.

Shae’s eyes and horn suddenly grow brighter than before, more blinding than the light of the sun. She spreads her legs, raises her head, and mutters in an echoing monotone, “Begone.”

The blast is indiscriminate. Every gryphon and pony in sight is thrown from the garden through the air at breakneck velocity. Many gryphons have their backs shattered when they collide with pillars. One is impaled on Fauste’s marble horn.

For Tohro, the world is spinning so fast, it has become a mismatched streak of white, brown, grey and blue. It takes every muscle in his chest to keep himself from vomiting. He hates being in the air with no control over his speed or direction.

Then, the world slows down again, just like when he was in the stalemate with Tangerine. The moment is too perfect. He’s face to face with Ezio, whose shocked expression is almost comical. Then, a crossbow flies by, just within Tohro’s reach. He snags it, spins around and loads the one bolt that survived the blast. He then aims for the ugly, hot blooded, murderous bonesucker of a bird.

“Jackpot.” He pulls the trigger.

The gryphon is dead the instant the arrow lands between his eyes and tears through his head. Tohro finally allows himself to black out.

Shae is the first to open her eyes and see the motionless face of a dead gryphon. She’s far too exhausted to let out another shriek, or even a gasp. She just rolls away slowly and uses the stone wall for support as she stands up.

The garden is gone. The pillars collapsed and plowed their way into a dark and dank cave entrance. A several hundred year old object torn apart in seconds.

“I did that,” says Shae. She thinks she should be horrified at how much power she let off at once, sending several gryphons to a muddy grave, but she’s too happy at the revelation of being alive and well. She makes a silent cheer.

She does a spot check, looking for Caro and Tohro amongst the bodies of the thieves. They both have landed face up in a puddle of murky water with their legs entangled. The sight is amusing until Shae notices the water is turning a dirty red from the lesions covering Caro’s body, which are leaking streams of fresh blood.

“You took every single one of those injuries to protect me?” Shae asks Caro, despite his being unconscious. She pulls him away from Tohro with difficulty. He’s quite heavy from his muscles alone and his pauldron is getting in the way. She removes it and tosses it aside, leaving him completely naked. Shae has to hold back a blush. She can’t help but find Caro’s rugged turquoise figure rather endearing.

“Alright, let’s see if I can do this...” Healing magic is yet another practice Shae has no difficulties in, provided her horn decides to work. The cave is illuminated with her signature magenta hue. “It works!” she shouts. She then passes her horn over Caro’s wounds. His skin closes up and his welts disappear. His irregular breathing returns to normal.

As his eyes open, he mutters, “You’re a loud one.”

On top of her magical abilities returning to her, Shae’s glee is amplified at knowing Caro’s alive. She shudders at the thought of losing one of two ponies who had offered her unconditional protection. Such kindness is indispensable, and she can only return the favor by giving Caro an ecstatic hug, which he doesn't reciprocate, backing away awkwardly,

Noticing the the bits and pieces of the garden’s decorations obstructing their easy exit, Caro curses under his breath. “Not that I’m unhappy that you saved our lives, but please never do that again.”

Shae thinks, I only did it because you told me to, but, okay. “How did you know about magical overdrive?”

Caro shakes his head. “I didn’t. It’s just... the last time Tohro and I were under stress in a life threatening confrontation, our captors ended up dead, by my blade. I assumed something similar would happen to you, you just had to,” he charades air escaping his mouth, “let it out.”

“Magic overdrive mostly happens to infants, actually," says Shae. "You know how it is, them letting their emotions out all at once. No conservation of magical potential.” Shae shines light on the stalactites leading to a passage further down the cave and nods. “Do you think we should go this way?”

“Let us wake Tohro first, see if he needs any help. Prepare your healing magic, if you can.” Caro leaps to his white pegasus friend and nudges him, causing him to stir.

There are no significant injuries on Tohro’s body other than a few points of blunt impact and some light cuts from talons on his cheek.

Shae looks over him as well, smiling at the sight of minimal damage. “I think he’s just unconscious from my force spell. He’ll be quite alright.”

As Shae mends Tohro’s cuts, her mind brings forth a realization that she hasn’t fully comprehended until now. She remembers that Tangerine had accused Caro of the massacre at Reinoc, the very thing she had been intent on investigating. The academic part of her sinks down, knowing that if what Tangerine said is true, there is nothing magical or unequine about the incident and the subject of her extracurricular project will have to be reconsidered. The emotional part of her, the one at the helm at the moment, goes rigid.

She has been in the presence of, fought alongside, took life saving advice from, and healed a mass murderer. She looks at Caro through her peripheral vision. He doesn’t look the part. Sure, his face and body are chiseled, but a few days in the Equestrian fields will do that to anypony. He seems relatively stable, especially in comparison to the depraved bandits slobbering over her.

Then again, Caro was quick on the draw when it came to killing the bandits, but honestly, had she the abilities at the time, Shae would have done the same. Those were the horses that had threatened to disembowel her or bend her over (Or both) several times.

Caro seems to be only as much a killer as is anypony else who needs to fight in self defense. That is the sort of thing a traveler must have the capacity to do in such bloodthirsty times. Such is the way of the twilight age.

Shae isn’t going to pretend she didn’t hear what Tangerine said. Instead, she decides to go for broke, getting the answer she wants before the questions eat her alive, even if it means risking losing Caro’s protection.

“Did you kill the...?” she asks. Only half the question escapes her mouth before she second guesses it.

Caro looks to her. “Hmm? Kill who?”

He speaks the word ‘kill’ so casually. Maybe he isn’t stable...

Shae decides to ask again, only this time using slightly more vague words. “Were you at Reinoc?”

Caro sighs, moving a hoof to his face. Is it to hide shame, or has been in this sort of conversation before? Shae wonders.

“I didn’t kill them,” he states bluntly.

The cave is already deathly silent, aside from drops of water and slight drafts leaking in from outside, but the moment seems even more mute.

“I don't expect you to believe me.” Caro sits on his haunches near Tohro, waiting for him to wake.

Shae isn’t sure who to believe, either the Imperial soldier who had a blade to her neck not a half hour ago or the earthwalker who saved her life. The comparison is foalish, but the Empire couldn’t, or at least shouldn’t be wrong. Tangerine had just been caught up in the moment. Perhaps. Caro could be a cold blooded killer with a really good poker face, too. There is no knowing for certain, and Shae plays a mental game of catch with her loyalties until she has another overdue epiphany. “Wait, so, if you were in Reinoc, then... what did happen?”

Caro’s eyes, which had been darting back and forth between Shae, unconscious Tohro and his own reflection, go stiff, as if he’s staring all the way to an unseeable horizon. He shudders and bows his head, sighing.

“You don’t want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head again.

“I see.”

Shae bottles up her frustration. She can just imagine the progress report she will have to send to Headmaster Frosthelm, telling him she’s locked in a dead stalemate. Or dead.

I’m in Beak Falls Barrow, which nopony has ever left alive or sane, with ponies from all three sides of this bloody war! A Blackwing, General Tangerine and the colt the Empire wants dead. Sorry, I guess I won’t be able to complete my independent study!

What a cruel joke.

The queasy feeling in Tohro’s stomach accompanies an uncomfortable wetness. As his senses return, he reaches out and feels a clump of rugged, dirty hair...

“Hey. Relax,” says a young yet rugged voice.

He's touching Caro’s hair. Of course Caro would be the one to wake him up. He can see a smudge of turquoise in what little vision his drowsiness allows for. Frankly, he’d rather wake up to Sugar and Spice, and let them heal his body with their nurturing juices... but returning to Ivarstable will have to wait. He has an earthwalker to take care of, and what is he doing, lying down in a mud puddle?

“‘Tis a flesh wound, mate.” Sitting up proves to be a burden on his stomach but that problem can be set aside. “Come on, let’s keep it going, I’m ready.”

“No thanks in small part to Shae," says Caro. "It seems her going berserk brought her magic back.”

“So that’s what all that screaming was about?”

“Must have triggered my banshee spell,” says Shae. “I mean, I really was screaming. I was terrified. My magic just decided to take over for a little bit.”

Tohro reminds himself that he needs to apologize for ever thinking her weak, but he can’t quite form the words. Sentimentality isn’t a puddle he likes to wade in. As such, he removes himself from his wet resting spot and looks about for the one thing he felt rightfully belonged to him. He killed its owner, after all.

A ray of sunlight had found its way through the wreckage, shining its warm glow on the body of the black gryphon leader, his head still sporting a blood soaked arrow. The only part of his corpse that was the least bit inviting were his spilt wallet of possibly dozens of bits and his golden prosthetic arm.

Tohro licks his lips, trotting to his prize with a slight skip. “Come here, my beautiful golden talons.”

The wreckage shifts ever so slightly, revealing more sunlight that reflects off the last yellow coated, orange maned, heavily armored mare Tohro wants to see at this particular moment.

General Tangerine cuts the golden talons from the leader’s false arm and hides them away. “Now then, Blackwing... where were we?”

The fragile string of the temporary alliance Tohro and Tangerine had formed is cut by a swing of her broadsword. Her fighting style is unlike anything Caro has ever seen from a fellow earthwalker. While most of his kind grip their weapons in their mouth or forehooves, his preference being the former, Tangerine holds her gleaming sword in her tail.

What a fool! Caro thinks. She’s completely defenseless on three sides!

Not that he’s complaining. As much as it would further stain his and Tohro’s record with red, her going down in a fight for such an unorthodox stunt would be actually hilarious, in a gruesome sort of way.

Tohro makes the first move, lunging at the general with his wing blades spread wide. He makes several spinning swings and kicks, all of which Tangerine ducks and dodges. She bucks Tohro when his back is turned and swings her blade. He rolls away and only receives a gash on his skintight armor. Any closer and he would have had more than a flesh wound.

Caro realizes that Tangerine is far more competent in this sort of fighting style than he anticipated. Of course. She’s a bloody general. On top of that, she still has her bladed gauntlets, which Tohro has to fly to dodge. He takes a page from Kenway’s book and divebombs the general. She topples over, unable to stand under the weight of a pegasus and her own steel armor. She finds herself relieved of the golden talons.

“And stay down,” says Tohro. He gives the talons a good look over, as if they are a sultry barmaid. "Don't follow us, General. You're not needed here."

The cavern widens gradually, leading to what must have been a camping spot for the Thieves Guild. Stepping around the makeshift fire pits and wool sleeping pouches, Caro notices small tidbits left behind by the gryphons when their leader made the call for duty. He collects spilt coins and scraps of leather, as well as a flask filled with an indescribable orange stew-like substance. It does smell decent enough, though.

Shae’s trust in Caro has lessened. He can tell by the way she keeps her distance, whereas before she didn’t want to be out of his sight for a second. It’s offensive to him, honestly. He wishes she had never asked him about Reinoc. If he could only tell her without being reduced to a sobbing wreck...

“Huh,” says Shae as she looks to an archway decorating the path further into the Barrow. “Wonder what that is?”

The flickering light of Shae’s horn and still burning fire pits grants just enough light for the text on the archway to be readable.

Caro reads it aloud. “It says, ‘The Precursors Welcome Thee.’”

“Um... It most certainly doesn’t.”

Caro scoffs. “Shae, I may have the appearance of a barbarian but I think I know plain equine when I read it.”

“That’s just the thing. That’s not plain equine.”

Caro turns back to the archway to read the text again and put this silly argument to an end and finds... he can’t read it. It had looked like a roughly carved message a moment ago. Now it has the appearance of claw marks and burns. “What in the world...”

Shae nickers and presses on. “The light is just playing tricks on you. Don’t think yourself mad.”

Caro is quite sure he isn’t crazy, or at least he does his best to pretend otherwise, but this hallucination or whatever it was leaves him rather mad indeed.

Tohro flutters to the head of the group, now in possession of several silver and gold necklaces and looking obnoxiously proud of himself. Caro is concerned that this sudden bout of greed is falling out of hoof.

“What do you intend to do with those?”

Tohro whips his mane about, showing off his jewelry. “I’m sure the merchants of Trottingham will cough up a healthy sum of bits for this stuff.”

Caro isn’t impressed in the slightest.

“Hey, this doesn’t make me a thief, not by a long shot,” says Tohro, reading Caro’s disapproving expression. “We’ll be giving back to our brethren and our wallets a will be a decent bit heavier. It’s a win-win situation, yes?”

While that is undeniable, Caro can’t help but feel that the rest of the Thieves Guild won’t have the same opinion when they find one of their largest excavations raided, on top of several of their own killed, all by just a few little ponies.

Descending the cracked circular staircase, Caro hears Shae’s pained scream from below and smells a brief whiff of smoke. He gallops to her as fast as the stairs let him and finds her collapsed on the dirty floor with a bleeding left hind leg. The burnt carcass of a large feral rodent lies next to her.

“Damn skeever got me!” she shouts, her voice strained from holding back tears.

Caro has had the luxury of never encountering a skeever before today, but he remembers the stories from Master well enough. They take refuge in damp, shaded environments. They don’t discriminate between friend and foe, only knowing food. Their teeth are venomous, though not to the point of deadly, just causing their victim to lose sensation wherever bitten. Luckily, the bite wounds are easily treated with natural ingredients, but an unlucky traveler caught unawares dreads when the rest of the skeever’s family comes back to their weakened prey for second helpings.

“This really burns,” Shae says with a pathetic laugh. “I don’t know any remedy spells.”

“What the hell should we do, then?” asks Tohro, his greedy smile fading.

Shae waves away his panic and reaches into her pouch. “I have some healing potions, don’t worry. I’m not completely helpless,” she says as she levitates a red vial to her mouth and takes a swig. She struggles to her hooves, keeping her injured leg off the ground. “Okay, this will numb the pain for a while, but it won’t actually fix anything. I’ll have to prepare a proper cure soon.”

Caro sees her leg is already becoming discolored and inflamed. “Don’t worry,” he says, though he’s trying to reassure himself more than her. She’s carrying herself with a decent amount of confidence for the moment. He’d hate to see her lose it when the burning pain comes back.

“As soon as we find Boysenberry’s gemstone and get the hell out of here, you’ll be right as rain,” says Tohro.

“Can you walk?” asks Caro.

Shae has to do an awkward exercise of moving on three hooves, moving far slower than desirable. "I'll manage."

Caro approaches her, wrapping his foreleg around her back and giving her a reassuring pat. "Don't worry. I'll keep you safe."

Carrying Shae on his back, Tohro makes fluttering jumps between stones on the way down a vertical shaft.

Tohro almost gags when Shae tightens her grip around his neck. “Calm down, love. You’re in capable hooves. I have the balance of a mountain goat that has the finesse of an interpretive dancer.”

“It’s just... a really steep drop.”

Tohro thinks he has Shae figured out. She has a tendency to display confidence in the light of danger, at least until danger shows its ugly face. After that, she seems to go catatonic. At least she handled the Skeever with finesse, minus her bum leg.

“I hope I haven’t been a burden,” she says.

Tohro makes the next leap, landing on another platform without error. “Are you serious?” he says. “Caro and I would be long dead by now if you hadn’t brought your pretty little face to the party. By the way, thank you.”

Shae giggles, burying her face into Tohro’s blonde mane. “No, thank you. I never thought I’d feel so save around a Blackwing and a wanted felon. You’re such kind souls.”

“Not everypony in this land has an ulterior motive, just an ungodly amount of them. If only Equestria had more kindred spirits such as us, huh?”

“Mmmhmm...” Shae braces herself for the final gap. With a single hop, skip and jump, Tohro makes yet another flawless landing and lets the purple unicorn disembark.

“Thank you for choosing Blackwing Carriages,” he jests. He then walks back to the ledge and shouts upward. “Need a lift, mate?”

Caro’s distant voice echoes off the walls. “With a sword and knife upon my back and several pounds on you? I’ll take the safe way down.”

Tohro tenses up as he hears the less than graceful jumps by his earthwalker friend. The stones jutting from the walls aren’t as able to sustain Caro as well as a light bodied pegasus, shifting underneath his weight, until the last platform crumbles and collapses. He makes a leap of faith but comes up short of the ledge.

“No!” shouts Shae.

“Caro!”

Tohro feels something inside him drop, much like his friend cascading into the darkness to a sudden and bloody end...

“Oh, don’t anypony come and help me, for fuck’s sake!”

A turquoise hoof reaches over the ledge. Tohro cheers inside his head and helps his friend onto solid ground, albeit with some difficulty. He is rather heavy. “Don’t you scare me like that,” says Tohro, realizing how fast his heart is pounding.

“Calm yourself, I’m fine.”

Of course, when it comes to fighting for his life, Caro won’t so much as bat his eye. It’s the time between brawls that he may decide to have a mental breakdown or three. Tohro worries that while he may be able to satisfy Caro’s request to visit Riverhoof and get him to Shokenda unscathed, would the poor fellow still have a mind of his own?

The question looms over Tohro falls behind the rest of the group, out of Shae’s magenta light, allowing the darkness of the cave surround him and render the way completely unseeable. His heart is pounding again, this time from a different kind of panic. Anypony in their right mind is scared of darkness to some extent, but Tohro is a full fletched nyctophobic. His legs begin shaking uncontrollably and sweat forms on his brow.

“Oh no... Oh, sweet Epona, no... Caro! Caro! ...Shae? Divines, somepony help!”

He feels the brush of a cold hoof upon his wither, causing him to stand rigid and hold his breath. He then sighs of relief.

“Agh... dammit, you two. Now you’re just being cruel, sneaking up on me like-”

Tohro turns his head, and is thrown to the ground before he can draw his wing blades to strike a decaying, white-eyed skeleton of a pony. It looks like a corpse that refuses to stay dead, and it’s hell bent on making one of its own as it draws an onyx longsword.

If it weren’t for the perpetual darkness, Tohro would close his eyes and scream. He only does the latter.