This is my last pigeon


                                            Transferred from https://pastebin.com/Vi4znrQy

                                            Originally published SEP 10TH, 2020


                                            My dearest sister, I may not survive this battle.

                                            >The unnatural wind is picking up again. Not much time to say goodbye.

                                            >At least your letter would probably make it home. Your family deserves closure, to know what happened to their alpha.

                                            The skyrats have been bombarding our position for weeks, softening us up. They stormed us thrice already. Thrice we repelled them.

                                            We won't be so lucky this time. Not many of us left.

                                            >Half of the platoon is down, you've witnessed it. During a lull in the bombardment you tried clearing the rubble.

                                            We are prepared to do what is necessary.

                                            >The raiders hid in the clouds, and were on you in seconds. Nopony expected them to hide within range.

                                            I rigged explosives in the dugout. When it swarms with pteros, I'll paint the walls with their blood.

                                            >Another bomb lands in an empty trench, sending clods of earth flying everywhere.

                                            Tell my herd I love them. Tell aunt Maggie that I fought to the end. This is my last homing pigeon.

                                            >You seal the letter and let the bird go.

                                            >It was time to prepare for the inevitable.

                                            >You check and double-check all your blades.

                                            >The saber is as fine as always.

                                            >You wouldn't need your knife anymore, it is useless in combat.

                                            >The spade is better.

                                            >As you are about to put on your mask, one of your slingers comes back.

                                            "Back from recon? What's the situation, soldier?"

                                            >"I think it's time for us to go."

                                            "Have the shells knocked your head loose, Sparky? Where is your weapon?"

                                            >"But, like, Molly, we don't have much time, it's almost 4 pm!"

                                            "Shut your mouth and take my saber, Sparky. There is no escape from here. If we run - they will pick us off one by one."

                                            >But a new, closer thud stops your argument.

                                            >The ground shakes and the roof of your dugout is tearing open.

                                            >Force like this, they must have dragged in a hurricane.

                                            >You are doomed.

                                            >Nothing can prepare a mare for this.

                                            >But you are no mere mares, no, you are all Royal Guardsmares, and you never surr--


                                            "--eeendeeer!"

                                            >"Ah, Molly here you are! I've been looking for you all across town."

                                            >It wasn't a combat hurricane, or a monster. It was Anon, your guardian.

                                            >"Mister Anon! You scared us!"

                                            "But not me!"

                                            >Anon laughs. He is obviously laughing at you, but makes it sound like he is laughing with you, and it's h*cking infuriating.

                                            >"Of course, of course. So presumptuous of me to sneak up on you, probably heard me coming all the way. So, ready for dinner?"

                                            >You want to buy more time, but your growling stomach thinks otherwise.

                                            >"I'll take that as a yes. Come on, let's go. By the way, I expected Molly to stick around, but why aren't you home, Sparky?"

                                            >She straightens up. "It's dangerous, Mr. Anon! We are pinned!" That's more like it, hold yourself like a soldier!

                                            "Yes, the enemy are patrolling the skies! We wouldn't make it to town!"

                                            >"I'm sure they'd let you pass if you called out your objective. Dinnertime is sacred tradition, always was, none would dare break it!"

                                            >SPLAT!

                                            >Someone dared. There was an adult with you, for b*ck's sake, and her water balloon landed just shy of you three!

                                            "Hey, Eve, cut it off! Off-game, off-game!"

                                            >Another balloon overshoots several yards.

                                            >Then another balloon hits Anon in the back, soaking him completely.

                                            >Oh, that is it!

                                            "What the h*ck, Eve? You think you can fly away from this? Come back you little sh*t!"

                                            >The violator, understanding what she had done, decided to flee.

                                            >Anon shook off. "Relax, Molly, it's just some water. I'm fine."

                                            "You will pay for this! I saw your mark, you little yellow-bellied filly, you mangy sky rat, you WARM KIDNEY STONE!"


                                            >Silence reigns.

                                            >You process what you just said. Uh-oh.

                                            >Your friend looks at you with pity. If her fathers found out that she said what you just said, her rump would be in for a whoopin'.

                                            >But Anon would never do that!

                                            >Of course not!

                                            >Probably...

                                            >Though, after what you just said you wouldn't completely rule it out.


                                            >You look at him, and he's doing it again!

                                            >He is obviously laughing at you, but makes it look like he is angry, but trying not to be, and it's infuriating!

                                            >"Wow! Young lady, you are going home before you say anything else you might regret."

                                            >Having said that, he picks you up.

                                            >Normally that would be emaresculating. You'd rather die than get caught being carried like a filly!

                                            >But today, Sparky stands at attention, paying you respects.

                                            >"You can continue in the evening after you all cool down."

                                            >"No, Mr. Anon, we can't, we have extra homework for tomorrow because we all failed the test last week!"

                                            >No-no-no, why did you mention it! Betrayal after betrayal!

                                            >"Extra homework? Okay, make sure you do it! Bye!"

                                            >He walked off.


                                            >Neither of you said anything for a while.

                                            "Do you have extra homework too, young lady?"

                                            "S..fine"

                                            >"I don't think I quite heard you."

                                            "I said it's fine, it's just a stupid geography quiz..."

                                            >"Why didn't you pass it the first time, what, no epic battles happened in the region?"

                                            "Prance is stupid and nopony wants it, alright?"

                                            >"How about this: we will practice together..."

                                            "Fine..."

                                            >"...and if you do well, then maybe I should tell you the stories of Hannibal later."

                                            "Why should I care about this Hannibal?"

                                            >"Oh, I don't know, he was famous for many victories, they didn't call him 'the Father of Strategy' for nothing..."

                                            "Really?!"

                                            >"Yes, really. So we go home, eat your dinner, study, but right now make a sad face because you're being punished."

                                            "P-punished? How?!"

                                            >"For your potty mouth... you get double hot sauce with your stew!"

                                            >You scrunch up the saddest face known to ponykind, but can barely contain your grin.

                                            >Today is going to be awesome!

                                            >One day you will marry Anon!

                                            >...

                                            >What the h*ck?

                                            >No, he is way too grown up!

                                            >One day you will find the place where they make Anons.

                                            >You will break in, all red and armed, and steal an Anon for yourself.

                                            >And all your days will be as awesome as this.