Third person, jungle:

Clare immediately brought his rifle up but relaxed as he realized it was just a painting on a large tree. He sighed to himself but then soon realized the paint was fresh meaning one of two things. Either The Apache had predicted that he’d be there or this was the marking for something that the zebras used.

Clare quickly thought out his options then lay down flat and began to crawl through the tall grass. As he continued on, his breathing became heavier. He tried to slow his breathing but found he couldn’t. He stopped and rolled over so he was facing the treetops and slowed his breathing considerably. He sighed then rolled back onto his stomach and continued on.

As he continued on through the deep grass he stopped as he was faced with a thin line of wire that was attached to a grenade pin tied to a small stick. It was a booby trap. A crude trap but very effective in the deep grass. Clare took out a pair of wire snips and cut the wire then pocketed the grenade.

As he was about to continue he stopped as he saw the mark of the white skull again. It was formatted similar to that of a pony skull, or perhaps a zebra skull. This must’ve been their way of telling each other that there was a booby trap nearby.

Clare was about to continue on when he heard the slow steady breathing of a calm zebra… zebras. He froze as zebras trotted by, barely a few feet away from him but luckily they didn’t spot him in the tall grass. Clare waited for the last zebra to pass then very slowly crept up to his feet and stalked up behind the trailing zebra. The zebras were separated by a few yards.

Clare grabbed the mouth of the zebra and quickly slit his throat with his razor sharp bowie knife. The zebra’s eyes widened as his life poured out and soon he died of blood loss. Clare set the zebra to the ground silently but then realized the zebra had a canister of white paint with him. So these zebras were the markers. Clare got a sly smile on his face.

“<That stupid paint carrier probably stopped to take a shit>” cursed one of the zebras in native tongue. “<Yeah, don’t bother with him. He can find his own way back>” said the commander as he pulled out his can of paint and quickly painted a white skull on the tree close to the land mine. “<Hurry, we must get to the next trap>” ordered the commanding zebra.

As the continued to walk along they stopped as they saw the strung up body of their comrade. His throat was slit and he had been dead for a while now. “<Stupid shit probably ran into one of those G.I.s>” the commander said.

“<Wait sir, look. The symbol of the white skull>” one of the younger zebras pointed out. On the chest of the zebra there was a white skull painted into his fur. But it was not resembled after a pony or zebra skull. It was a human skull.

“<It is not one of our markings. It is probably a scare tactic. Let’s continue on>” the commander ordered but the young zebra stepped closer to the dead zebra. As he finally stepped in front of the strung up zebra he fell through a covered hole in the ground.

“ACK!” he screamed and the others rushed over to him. He had fallen into a pit filled with sharp pointy sticks that had been tipped with poison. The deadly neurotoxin now coursed through his body but he died from the trauma of the spears that stuck through his body in several spots.

“<Leave him. Let’s go>” ordered the commander and they continued on. “<He uses The Apache’s sign against us>” whispered one of the zebras, frightened by the symbol that had been used against them. “<Shut up, it was probably just some joke one of the ponies decided to do>” hissed the commander.

As they trotted through the jungle they stopped again as they spotted another human painted skull. “<Sir, it’s the skull. It must be another trap>” whispered one of the zebras. “<Shut your mouth. Look, it is only paint. It cannot hurt us>” the commander said then led his troops forward.

As they continued forwards they all looked at the painted skull in fear. They should’ve been watching where they were walking and they would’ve spotted the wire trap that was in plain view for anyone looking down at the trail.

One of the zebras walked into the wire and it snapped. “Eh?... AAAIIEEEEE!” the zebra screamed as a giant log fell from its supports and crushed his body beneath its massive weight.

The three remaining zebras looked in fear at the dead zebra. One of the zebras fell to the ground. “<This is insanity. We are being hunted by something… not of this world. It is no common enemy, not a pony… he is something else. He hunts us down one by one and uses The Apache’s symbol against us>” the zebra cried in fear.

The commander kicked the zebra in the gut. “<Get up. You disgust me. Are you a zebra or a wretched coward?>” he hissed but the terrified zebra refused to stand up. The zebra commander pulled out a TT-33 Tokarev pistol and fired a single 7.62x25mm round through the zebra’s head and looked to the other zebra. He pointed the pistol at him as well.

“<Are you a coward, shall I kill you as well?>” the commander asked and the remaining zebra shook his head quickly. The commander dropped his AK47 to the ground and rolled the dead zebra over. He grabbed the executed zebra’s Russian Mosin Nagant, that was fitted with a high magnification scope.

“<It is just a pony. And like any pony, he or she can be killed with a gun>” the commander whispered. “<Now follow me>” he hissed.

Far to the west of the main battlefield sat another battlefield that was roughly 1,000 yards across. The commander sat at one end of the field and waited as he looked through his scope. It was a heavily modified scope mount that allowed the rifle to be fit with a 12x zoom scope and he was able to look across the sniper field. The scope was musty however and hadn’t been properly cared for and hence the sides of the scope were stained with smears of mud and grit.

The commander cursed the already dead zebra for not taking better care of his rifle’s scope. He muttered curses to himself as he watched the lone zebra trot through the large field.

The zebra that trotted slowly through the fields was sweating heavily, not because of the heat but because he knew what was about to happen to him. This was but a mere game, played by two snipers. The prize of second place was death and only one could come out alive, and he knew his fate had already been sealed from the beginning.

He was but a mere pawn in this madman’s game. He thought of his wife back at their hut. How she would cook him rice and thought briefly of their young foal. The beautiful smile of his only child which he knew he would never see ever again except for in memories when he passed to the other world.

His final thoughts, he hoped, would be of his loving wife and child. They both smile as they looked to him coming home victorious. A lone tear trickled down his face. He opened his mouth to whisper a prayer but soon closed his mouth figuring nothing needed to be said.

The zebra stopped in the middle of the field, figuring he’d make himself an easy target and hopefully his enemy would give him a quick death. “<What is he doing>” hissed the zebra commander. He waited for several seconds then in his fury and anger, he lined his scope crosshairs on the zebras back. “<Move you ungrateful shit>” the commander hissed but suddenly the barrel of an SVD Dragunov pressed up against his temple. His mouth gapped wide open.

“<Do not be foolish, you are no sniper or you would know patience and tolerance>” The Apache hissed. “<Please, make it quick>” the commander begged and she smirked then knelt down beside him and gave him her SVD. “<It is more accurate and has a cleaner scope>” she told the commander and he gawked at her offer.

“<If you survive than I shall take you in as my apprentice and teach you how to properly kill ponies>” she told him and he nodded as he rested the SVD Dragunov on a bipod mount then steadied his aim.

The Apache used the battered Mosin Nagant to peer down the battlefield. “<Keep your hoof off the trigger until you are ready to fire>” The Apache ordered him and he did as she ordered.

On the other side of the battlefield sat Sergeant Major Clare, with a pair of spotting binoculars resting in a tree beside his head. He looked through his non-reflective scope and watched the zebra who stood in the middle of the field. He was in deep thought, Clare could tell. He hated taking the first shot during a sniper battle but he was going to have to wrap this up quickly before the others needed his help again.

“<I have days friend. Let us see how long you can wait>” the commander sneered to himself. The zebra in the middle of the field thought of his wife and child. In his fantasy he walked through a beautiful pasture towards them. His young son galloped up to him. “<Daddy, daddy you’re home>” the son cried out in happiness. In his fantasy he grabbed his son and lifted him into the air, twirling their bodies around. Tears flowed from his shut eyes.

Like a crack of thunder the mighty Model 70 .300 Winchester Magnum thundered through the still air.

KA-BOOM

The zebra was literally tossed through the air as the mighty .300 magnum round slammed through his body and blew out a large exit wound in his back. The commander quickly shifted his aim towards where the muzzle flash had come from.

“<Dial in the scope for a closer look and try and look for the reflective flash of his spotting scope>” The Apache ordered.

SGM. Clare:

I sat there and waited then suddenly the spotting binoculars beside my head erupted as a lone high caliber round slammed into them. I flinched as pieces of the binoculars hit my face but I quickly looked down the scope and dialed in the zoom further.

I saw the reflection of a high powered scope mounted to an SVD Dragunov. The Apache was behind her rifle, checking her handy work of my destroyed binoculars. I guess about now she’s probably realizing I wasn’t behind them. I dialed in my scope a little further and aimed right at her scope and pulled the trigger.

KA-BOOM

My Model 70 Winchester boomed again and the figure behind the rifle dropped like a sack of potatoes, I hit her. I had to. After my shot she just dropped. Dropping like that was a sure sign that she was dead. I got up and raced across the field as fast as I could and finally arrived at the other side of the field and looked for the body.

I finally found the body. It was a zebra, with its head blown off. At this point I couldn’t tell if it was The Apache or not and I wasn’t gonna go feeling for her tits or anything because I had one sure fact on my side. That was her rifle she had. I remember it because of the large amount of kill notches scratched into the stock.

I walked over to the body and looked a little closer. The bullet had traveled right through the scope and into her face. It was the one in a million shot, the shot she wanted. I’d leave her body here for any zebra to see. Maybe then they’d think twice about messing with the shadow guards and if not… well I’d be around.

I pulled out my dog tags and gave them a kiss, they probably weren’t good luck but I always kissed my dog tags after a successful sniper dual. The hairs prickled up on my neck and I could tell something wasn’t right. I began to back pedal and then there was a thunderous gunshot that cracked through the air. I lept behind a tree. I had no idea where that had come from.

I peeked around the tree and saw a lone silhouette in the thick brush. It was the real Apache and she was using an old battered Russian rifle. The scope was so beaten up that it gave off no light reflection. Shit, she had used a decoy. I ducked behind the tree as yet another shot went off and chipped at the tree beside my face.

Splinters stuck into my face and I pulled out the thicker pieces of splinters then let out a deep sigh as I brought my Model 70 close to my chest. This was going to be a heart pounding battle, I could already feel it.