I was flying over the swamp, the rank fetid water impeding my perception even further than the stupid fog did. Though the fog was just about the only thing separating me from the blades of the pegasi behind me. At least, I hoped they were behind me. That's where I think I'm hearing the clanking from. Maybe they split up? I wish. Maybe they quit? Don't even get my hopes up. Every wing beat puts you one wing beat ahead of them. Every wing beat brought a massive tearing pain through them. The satchel and the spear on my back beat a staccato bea against each other as I tried to keep my wings as silen as possible.

Will I even get out of this alive? Probably not, that blood stone is probably about out of magic. When that goes, I'm dead. Said bloodstone was the only thing preventing me from dying of thirst or keeling over from the exhaustion I felt.  That's the kind of magic that I approve of! Not those stupid magic mortars they wiped out camp with.

I, Valder of the Silent, was a scout. A scout that had been cut off by what could only be the enemies ENTIRE offensive line coming out of nowhere. My camp disintegrated in a mass of blood and burning, the other two who were with me dying in their beds. I, who had been returning from a hunting drip, fresh kill drug behind me, narrowly avoided getting the soul blown out of me by the enemy. So I ran. Five broke off to follow me, I managed to take out two of them with what little prepared magic the zebra had provided me with. Not that it mattered, I think at least one of them is magic augmented, probably with a direct link back to their main general. If I stopped for more than the brief hours that they took to rest, or if they even suspected that I was more than the average soldier, I could have Hunter squads after me.

And I was an average soldier. Standard childhood, standard childhood friends that joined he army at the same time... Just like every other griffon I knew, I had been born in the army camps to one of the army followers. You know, the "Paid companions"? Yeah, one of those was my mother before she kicked me out when I was five. I wandered around and attended school and eventually joined the army. Oh right, I almost forgot about my title. The army camp that I was born in was called The Silent. Yeah, cool name. But really, I'm just glad I wasn't named Kelder. I swear, there were at least three Kelders in the barracks at any given time, and only one of them was my friend. Though, if that army line kept moving ahead after it cut me off, there was a good chance that he would be dead.

I narrowly avoided hitting a tree and my wing tips brushed the stinky swamp below. The fog made seeing any object more than ten feet in front of me nigh impossible. Which really made me think that the mage augment behind me had a tracking spell on me. Which was also the reason why I hadn't escaped yet. I had one last trick in the satchel that I could use to my advantage. A teleport geared to the nearest ley line would certainly make my getaway easy, but if I was being tracked it wouldn't matter. Another issue with me activating that teleport was the fact that I was in enemy territory. It would just be bad luck if I managed to ditch the tracking spell and ended up teleporting into an enemy fortress. I didn't have much of a choice beside that.

My wings were growing numb, and my feathers were doted with dried salt. Thankfully, the pegasi behind me had managed to miss with their eye powder, otherwise my flight eyelid would be out of commission and my eyes would be burning with salt. It's a small thing to be thankful about, but really, I should be counting what few blessings I have. Like not being born a wimp. I was average as far as griffons go, and had witnessed many times how the little griffon always got the worst meat from the kills that the adults brought out from their hunting. I had the golden back half that my father supposedly was blessed with, and my face was a medium grey, something that while uncommon back at the camp was not entirely unheard of. It attracted the girls though. Heh...

A bolt of red magic zoomed by as the augment used up one of the charges of magic embedded in his suit of armor to blow a hole in the fog. They were still behind me. And I was running out of energy and ideas. Joining the scouts had been the logical thing to do for me. I had a scout's build; high endurance and silent wings. I could use a spear, and best of all, the scouts were very rarely sent out into direct combat! All you had to do was fight twenty or so years in the war and you could live well for the rest of your life! And even better, when I had passed basic training I had been sent to the middle of nowhere in Goric swamp! The enemy never attacked here! The entire swamp was a no magic zone, so their annoying magic mortars weren't half as effective in here. Five hundred miles of swamp marked this border between my home country and Equestria.

I checked my satchel for anything that I had missed, maybe there was something in it that would patch the fog up enough that they wouldn't have a clear sight on me? Hey, a griffon can hope! And maybe there will be a bath or something to get this salt off of me? My feathers are matted and I think I'm about to lose them! I need those to fly! All that I found in the satchel was a jar of poison, the bloodstone which I tucked back in before I lost and was really dead, and a single magic disrupter. I won't claim to know how it works, but apparently it can disrupt magic that is being cast on something. I wanted to use it on the augment, but I only had one and the blasted thing wouldn't say still.

It was ok though, the fog thickened again. And the air felt thicker to my poor wings. I was a scout! A scout sent to scout in the middle of nowhere with out armor, which told me that nothing was supposed to happen while I was scouting! I wish this stupid war would end!

Yeah, like that's gonna happen in my life time. The war has been going on for at least two centuries before you were born, eggbrain, and it's till going to be going on after you are long dead! Cacophony himself couldn't stop this war and you know he's been trying to! Self reflection aside, I began to wonder what life would be like without war. If no one had to die.

A tree limb getting blown up by another charge of the augment's armor snapped me out of my pacifistic and probably treasonous thoughts. The fog was thinning again. I felt something hat had been bothering me, like some weird itch decided to leave me.

"Shells! Egg breaker!" I swore. That was the blood stone shattering. My one life line had given out before I could get to safety. I was probably going to have to resort to drastic measures. Or teleport.

A squirrel stared at me and my claws lazily impaled it's stupid body. Why was there a squirrel out in the middle of a swamp anyway? Three blurs whizzed through the fog. My pursuers had flown by me. I was alive. But for how long?