Statistics are very impersonal. They make even the worst of times appear to be nothing more than an equation that can be filed away as irrelevant or unnoteworthy. Catastrophes can be sorted into trivial numbers and graphs for leisurely perusal at a vague onlooker’s convenience, and then put away without a second thought. Numbers are easy to accept. Numbers are unfeeling. Numbers are comforting.

The numbers just can't ease the pain this time.

Songring has once again been attacked, and if you believe the statistics, we stood tall and valiantly in the face of overwhelming darkness. Like a shining, heroic beacon, Songring did not falter and gave not an inch of soil to the ambushers, despite how terribly outnumbered the militia was during the encounter. Seven defenders stood bravely against what seemed to be a horde of beasts.

Twenty-six members of the nearby, hostile, Deicidian pony civilization lie dead in the fields before Songring, left where they fell.

Two ponies of Songring lie silently in coffins that are too small to ever need to exist.

Why? What force that has a say in this could possibly have a reason for such things to happen? Is Songring not troubled enough? What hubris has Songring shown that makes us worthy of destruction?

I don't know what or who to believe in, except for the cruelty of chance once again.

The early months of the season were prosperous for us. The bathhouse was finally completed, and a united sigh of relief was breathed by the residents. It is constructed in the form of a waterfall cascading down a steep incline against the Charmedsmile (near the canyon to the east, going towards the Light Waters). Silversight has constructed statues of various charming figures and calming creatures to be placed within the low walls around the waterfall for decoration, and a number of soaps and brushes have been stored there for use by the settlers when they see fit to take a relaxing break in the cool mist and gentle downpour of the filtered waters. Machina constructed a dual-pump system that hoists the water and filters it twice to create this waterfall for us. It is connected to two windmills that slowly rotate and carry the water up. It was a joyous day for Songring, and one that I certainly wish had lasted longer than it did.

The bath was the start of something troubling, as it seems to attract danger to the settlement due to the damp atmosphere it creates and the many nooks and crevices it provides to hide in. I would have expected nothing more than insects to take residence there that would be a nuisance, but it seems worse vermin also took a liking to the relative safety within. Songring had another close encounter with a thief: Another Deicidian pony, as I was informed. This one was not like the feral pony that I had the chance to dissect last year. Instead, this creature had a large, leathery tentacle growing from its forehead in the place where a horn might be located on a unicorn. Dirtnap informed me later, during the disposal of the remains, that it is properly termed as a “hapticorn.” Laying in wait amongst the waters of the bath, it took its chance to strike out at Teardrop when she went for a quick rinse and to wash her favorite painting smock. I assume she was a prime target because of her frail nature and weak stature. The thief would have made away with her belongings if not for the sheer martial brilliance of an ex-soldier here in Songring: A tawny pegasus that wished to be called "Heartstrike", who heard the scream and immediately flew into action with a copper spear clenched in his teeth. With that spear, he mutilated the thief beyond recognition and took back the belongings it had tried to steal.

He is an ex-soldier, I have come to find, because he was fired as a member of Canterlot's royal guard. Though trained to be an elite soldier, he simply never could control his violent urges to undo the wrongdoings of others, with or without command. Stepping beyond his boundaries one too many times, he found himself court-martialled and then discharged from service. He now works as a wandering mercenary, so his elite skills as a spear handling warrior do not go to waste in a world he feels needs it more than it will acknowledge.

I have a feeling that the thief was actually a forward scout, because it was only a week after that time that the first group of ambushers came over the hills to the east and charged down the mountainside, with bloodlust in their eyes, upon the residents of Songring. The militia rallied with whatever weapons they could find, mostly picking up the armaments that had been left behind by the previous ambushers (clubs and spears), and braced for the assault. Our time to react was short, and so the battle started much closer to Songring's doorstep than it should have. I was forced into the apartment halls for my safety during this assault. I brought Silence with me so that we could watch from my bedroom window and give orders to the militia telepathically from an elevated perspective. Silence's ability came in handy during this time, as it allowed me to watch the battle objectively and still be able to issue helpful warnings, and order the militia into formations that limited their exposure to incoming attacks as well as some of the craftier contenders.

Dawnstar joined the battle fairly early. I told her to come back and stop being foolish, but she refused to answer when Silence informed her of my command to fall back and tend to the settlers by rounding them up into the dining and apartment halls. She disobeyed a direct order and instead chose to fight alongside the militia, which I can only assume was an act of redemption on her part. This meant that the other settlers went without direct command to lie low, and they too summoned the courage to join the fray to offer distraction and support for our own soldiers. Their safety was compromised, but I cannot be angry at them, for I believe it is the only reason our defenders were able to hold their own so well against the superior numbers of our enemy. The confusion gave us the advantage because I was there to give them guidance through it, while the attackers were left to muddle and wade through the chaos.

A second group of ambushers came from the bridge, having approached from the southern mountain range in an attempt to flank us. Salmon held the bridge for as long as he could, successfully tossing one of the invaders into the water and avoiding the others until more help could arrive in the form of Heartstrike and Flick. They took up arms and used the bridge as a bottleneck to funnel the larger group of attackers into reasonable numbers. During this time, Tye Dye, in a frenzy, rallied upon the remainder of the first wave of ambushers and began to brutalize them to try to give other militiaponies the chance to break away and assist in holding the bridge. It left only Bunsen and Tye Dye at the bottom of the eastern mountain range, with Bunsen hurling contaminants from her saddlebag to blind and choke the assailants and allow Tye Dye to furiously deliver a finishing blow.

A third wave charged from the northeast soon after, leaving the two ponies at the eastern mountain range without any support. I ordered them to fall back to Springfield's farm and try to redirect the fight to them there, where I requested that any of the militiamen who could, should break away from the bridge and go offer support. None of them could be spared, however, so instead Springfield, Maple and Willow took up what arms they could and stood ready with Tye Dye and Bunsen at the farm. Despite the field being trampled during the encounter, the tactic was a success. The territory was familiar enough to Springfield that he was able to guide the others to advantageous positions and places of firm soil while the attackers fumbled about in the loose dirt and lost their footing many times, which cost them dearly.

The confusion was our greatest advantage and allowed us to successfully defend Songring... but at what cost did it come? The attackers were not the only ones who suffered from the mayhem.

I got to see it for myself. As the wounded were lay down in the fields and everyone started to assess to what degree they had been injured, Dawnstar came to me in an uproar and pulled my attention elsewhere, telling me that she did not know what to do. I approached with a hazy mind, still trying to bask in the comfort that Songring was not going to go up in flames that day, then I saw Hyacinth resting on the ground and nudging something next to her, pleading.

"Come on, Glory, we have to go. Please get up... We have to go get help for momma. She still needs help, Glory, please get up... Please just wake up..."

Hyacinth rocked her baby sister with her hooves, trying to stir the still unicorn foal. She was just old enough to walk at that time, yet she would not stand and would not open her eyes. The side of her chest was dented in, and there were no movement in the small body aside from those due to Hyacinth's machinations. I got close to Hyacinth and tried to pick her up, feeling the filly shaking. I asked what had happened, and what she was doing here.

Hyacinth told me that her mother was in the infirmary and needed help. She and her baby sister, Morningglory had gone to try to find anyone to help them, to ask someone to come to the infirmary as quickly as they could to help Riverscar. In doing so, they walked right into the chaos of the battle, and one of the ambushers had caught sight of them. He had broken past the ruckus and struck at them, delivering a blow to the side of Hyacinth's little sister with the blunt end of his axe. Hyacinth had suffered a cut from a downward swing that was only interrupted when Dawnstar rushed in and kicked the attacker in the neck with all of her force, dazing him.

I checked the still little body next to Hyacinth, hoping desperately that my assumptions were not true. It is a curse to be right sometimes, however, as the protective solidity of her ribcage could no longer be found with any form of pressing, and nothing shifted within her. No breaths. No heartbeat. The little cream-colored unicorn with the saffron-and-blue mane lie on her side with her eyes closed, amidst the fields of turmoil.

"She won't get up, Mr. Ben. We still have to help momma, but she won't get up."

I hugged Hyacinth to my chest, trying to console us both, as I stroked her head and tried to hide her sight from the scene before and beside her. "Let's go help your momma then, Hyacinth. She still needs help, and your little sister isn't quite up to the task right now." I didn't know what else to tell her. How can you tell that to a child? How will I ever explain what she has witnessed to her?

I did my best to avoid it and merely carried Hyacinth with me as I took her to the infirmary, but when it rains, it pours.

We found Riverscar curled up in one of the infirmary beds, lying on her side and weeping loudly as she hid away from the sight of us standing in the door. I set Hyacinth down then as she struggled to rush to her mother's side, but I stopped her from approaching the distraught mare and told her that she needed to go outside for a bit. I assured her that I would help Riverscar, but I needed her to help me by finding Springfield and Bunsen and telling them to join me as soon as possible. Hyacinth ran as fast as she could to heed my request, leaving me alone in the infirmary to hear the deep, guttural cries of the mother on the bed while she receded deeper into her own pelt.

I stepped close to get her attention, calling her by name and resting a hand on her side gently to ask her what was wrong. At first she would not answer, merely cringing at my touch and shifting uneasily, still crying deeply and shaking in the bed. Glancing her over, I looked for wounds or signs of illness, but could only see that the bed was damp, and that she was holding something in her front legs that she refused to let me see at first.

"She won't drink," I heard her mutter through a tight throat, opening her eyes to view me as she shifted her legs and allowed me to see something small, and barely covered in indigo-colored hair, pressed to her stomach. "Why won't she feed, Mr. Prodder? Why won't she?"

Riverscar held a newborn foal against her, quiet and still, as she pressed it to her belly. The tiny creature did not move a muscle. The moments passed as I tried to pull my sight away from the stillborn filly to look into the terrified eyes of her mother as she waited for me to answer. The mare looked to me for hope, as if I could make it all better. She wanted me to tell her what was wrong and to just make it go away. Her sniffles and quakes made my throat close, and I could barely breathe as I was pressed to answer her. My response is one that is the best I could muster, and the words fell out of me like a weight.

"I'm so sorry."

Her face turned down, after the finality of my words registered, to view the unnaturally still foal in her grasp. The sight caused her to erupt in another bellowing sob as she buried her face once again, curling her body tighter around her daughter and away from my sight. Springfield and Bunsen came in soon after to see me standing over the weeping pony, my shoulders hanging wearily at my sides. Terrible knowledge clouded their features as I simply looked to them with a shake of my head.

There was nothing we could do.

I am not a doctor, so I do not know what the problem was. All I know is that if we had been more organized... if someone had been there to help her, maybe things would have been alright. If Springfield had been present to deliver that child, he could have done something. If someone had been there, Hyacinth and Glory would not have walked right into the fray. There was nothing I could do by the time I found out, aside from finding Dirtnap and Willow and ask them both to be prepared to help us make preparations.

At this time, I have informed Riverscar that she is dismissed from duty here in Songring. She has been instructed to go back to her nearest family and try to recover from what has happened. I have sent Inutile with her to make sure she stays alright. This tears me apart, however, for one reason: little Hyacinth. I fear for what will happen to her now that I have instructed her family to leave. Riverscar is in no emotional state to be the support that Hyacinth will need to recover from what she has seen, and Inutile is nothing but a useless bastard and won't be of any help to her. I wanted her to stay here... I wanted to take care of her and be the one to help her through this, knowing that nobody else would take the time to be there for her, but Songring is not safe anymore. The only thing worse than her not receiving help would be for her to be caught in another debacle like this one. I don't know if I would survive. I don't know if I could survive having to look Willow in the eyes and ask him to make another tiny coffin.

I honestly don't know if I can continue here at Songring after this season.

Why aren't the numbers making this any easier? Why won't the numbers ease the pain?

I just want to go home…

Author's Notes:

A huge attack and only two casualties. Boy, did I get dour when I realized who the deaths were. I honestly could not find most of what happened in the combat log, including that I had absolutely no idea what brought about the second death. I did not even know Riverscar had another child before I saw a name I didn't recognize in the deceased list. That left me with a hell of a time trying to imagine an explanation. I beg the reader grants me some suspension of disbelief regarding the quickness of Riverscar's second pregnancy. I honestly did all I could in trying to remain loyal to my personal challenge of weaving the chaotic events of such a brutal game into a coherent and flowing narrative.

One last update, looks like I left in something incorrect. She calls him "Mr. Ben", not "Mr. Overseer." That's Teardrop's call, my apologies. It has been fixed.