UNTITLED (Cloudchaser), by Unknown


                                            [Copied from https://pastebin.com/UQqcaF2Q]


                                            >Cloudkicker grumbled under breath and turned for the unmpteenth time in a futile effort to find the soft spot in an empty cage.

                                            >Rain drummed of the tarpaulin thrown over it, spilling off and soaking the inside of the cage anyway as it splashed off the concrete paving.

                                            >In the distance could be heard the faint bustle of the nearest motorway and further yet, the groans of the dockyard industry.

                                            >She tried to ignore the soft whimpers and whispered death-threats of the others and instead focused on the ever present itch in her wings.

                                            >They were in dire need of preening, something Jacob had pointed out to her during their last stop some hundred miles east.

                                            >She refused to give him the satisfaction and instead fought to be the master of her senses, just like she was taught way back when.

                                            >The off beat sound of bipedal footsteps on the wet road to her alerted her and she hunched down to peek out under the tarpaulin.

                                            >She could see the road, the warehouse behind and the wheels of truck that had been her mobile prison for almost a month now, parked up on the curb.

                                            >They had been offloaded almost an hour ago now but something had happened, bad enough that Jacob had almost shouted at one of his workers, only just managing to keep his voice low enough that Cloudkicker couldn’t quite hear.

                                            >A pair of sneaker clad feet stomped into view, the hems of Jacob’s jeans dripping in the downpour.

                                            >She heard the truck cab open and the familiar grimy shoes of Jacob’s son dropped onto the road with a small splash.

                                            >She closed her eyes and strained her ears to listen, shutting out the rain as best she could.

                                            >”Sorry about that son, Mickey twatted up the timetables. Should be ready to start moving about now.”

                                            >Coarse, middle aged, one step removed from yelling. Jacob for certain.

                                            >”Do we have to do this now? In the rain?”

                                            >Whining about the rain despite having spent the past hour in a heated truck with 5G coverage.

                                            >Definitely Brian.

                                            >”Last stop before the coast. Ain’t got no choice if we wanna load more.”

                                            >More. As if they didn’t make enough already. Cloudchaser had done the ring, coast to coast, since she’d been sold off to these creeps in bulk from Australia.

                                            >She shivered.

                                            >She didn’t want to remember the boat.

                                            >”How do we know anyone’ll turn up. It’s pissing it down out here.”

                                            >There was light smack and a muttered curse.

                                            >”Language boy. Until you turn 18, I still own your ass.”

                                            >Cloudkicker bit back the growl in her throat.

                                            >She knew what the expression meant but how rooted must a species be in enslaving until something like that became common slang?

                                            >Barbarians and hypocrites, every one of them.

                                            >If only Flitter could-

                                            >Cloudkicker snorted and shook her head, the ratty tangles of her mane slapping against her face.

                                            >Thoughts like that helped nopony.

                                            >Her jaw clenched tight enough to fuse diamonds, she returned her attention to the pair.

                                            >”...and they’ll probably press for a discount anyway but since we gotta drop ‘em if they don’t sell, it don’t matter none.”

                                            >For all her stubborn stoicism, the euphemism sent an involuntary jolt down her spine.

                                            >Domestic was bad but if you slipped off the end, it got a thousand times worse.

                                            >Cloudkicker waited to hear more, to see if she could recover from her lapse in focus.

                                            >To her frustration, the conversation turned quiet, even for pony ears.

                                            >She held out regardless, wasn’t like there was much else to do except listen to Merribelle fantasise about pulling Jacob’s head off.

                                            >Cathartic at first but quickly grew boring after the hundredth time.

                                            >Her ear flicked when Jacob clapped his hands together.

                                            >”Right then, let's get these boxes a movin’. Brian you can take this-”

                                            >Jacob shuffled in his parka and handed something over

                                            >”-an’ start chugging through the spreadsheets. Fix ‘em if you can, Mickey keeps doing them like it’s a fucking shopping list an’ wonders why things go tits up.”

                                            >”Language dad,” Brian snarked, taking what Cloudkicker assumed was one of the ‘tablets’ that seemed to be everywhere now.

                                            >Jacob chuckled and opened the truck cab for Brian, muttering something mirthful about teenagers and shutting the door.

                                            >Jacob turned and marched round the back of the truck and into the warehouse through a side door.

                                            >Before the door had fully shut, Cloudkicker heard Jacob call out, loud and hoarse.

                                            >”Last show’s a go. Don’t fuck it up this ti-”

                                            >The door snapped shut and Cloudkicker’s ear quivered at the strange silence that ensued.

                                            >It lingered, like a portent of sorts.

                                            >Then Merribelle resumed her chanting under her breath and one by one, the sounds of stifled suffering rose anew to the backdrop of an uncaring world.

                                            >Cloudkicker settled herself back into the centre of the cage, not caring as her damp tail plastered itself to her flank.

                                            >She let her eyelids droop and a vicious smirk bloomed on her lips.

                                            >She wouldn’t be sold off.

                                            >She made sure of that, time and time again.

                                            >This time they would try, they would drop the price to the barest fraction because once the hit the coast, she would have to be sold for a pittance to those who would take in the dregs because where they were going, they didn't need servitude, only warm bodies.

                                            >A vicious smile creased Cloudkickers lips as she began humming the ditty they used to all sing at bootcamp.

                                            >This was the last stop.

                                            >She would make it one to remember.

                                            >Time, she had noticed, tended to slip away from her.

                                            >The days had become fluid in a sense.

                                            >Sometimes they flew by behind a window, other times they dragged on, slowed to trudge under the pouring rain.

                                            >She would look around and feel each second scraping by, only to close her eyes and awaken to the stars when she swore it had only just been first light.

                                            >This time, she heard every drop patter against the tarp and counted them, reveling in the bitter chill of the wind and matching her breaths to her heart.

                                            >The minutes ticked by and for once, she appreciated the steady progression of events.

                                            >First the tarp had been pulled back, exposing them all to the icy grip of the weather.

                                            >A chorus of hisses and yelps had washed over them until the deluge had quashed them with unrelenting indifference.

                                            >Cloudkicker simply craned her head to the sky, wearing a small smirk.

                                            >It used to rain in Equestria and she savoured the thought like fine wine.

                                            >On a more pragmatic note, the frigid shower served to cleanse her of the grit and grime that had accumulated on her fur over the past week or so

                                            >Wet enough to percolate over her, dry enough to stick.

                                            >Beads of soiled water coruscated down her in fat rivulets and spidery streams, flattening her mane and tickling the sensitive spot under her wings.

                                            >It didn’t last for ever and once again, time left no rest for the weary.

                                            >A burly human plodded over to the conglomeration of cages with a cart in tow.

                                            >Cloudkicker found the plastic bag he had stretched over his cap to be remarkably funny for a reason she couldn’t quite place.

                                            >She contained her humour and joined the dozen pairs of eyes watching the biped.

                                            >For the most part he didn’t seem to notice, content to battle with the cage holding...Fair Sky, was it?

                                            >Either way, she was one of the broken birds, hardly even twitching when the man fumbled and dropped the cage.

                                            >In light of the new wave of standards set by the Equine Registry Office, she would be classified as ‘unfit for distribution’.

                                            >Turns out, you can sue because your slave is traumatised and won’t respond to anything but the most direct and simplistic of commands.

                                            >She would sold tonight, no doubt.

                                            >Cloudkicker could only curl her smirk into one that didn’t quite meet her eyes.

                                            >After another bout of painfully comedic scrabbling, the man was finally able to shunt the cage onto the cart and *snirk* cart the lot off to the warehouse.

                                            >The man returned and took another cage, Royal Grace this time...maybe.

                                            >Last she checked he was green.

                                            >Or white.

                                            >It was honestly hard to tell under the snot smeared down his blubbering face and the filth smeared up his arse.

                                            >Cloudkicker grinned at the disgusted jerk from the man, managing only to drop the cage onto the cart by some miracle of luck.

                                            >She could almost imagine the look on the poor bastard in charge of making him look presentable.

                                            >He was cat food fodder for sure.The process repeated itself until at least a dozen of the cages had been shuttled off to the warehouse by an ever more grim faced chauffeur.

                                            >She had stopped trying to remember their names about the same time time she’d stopped counting.

                                            >Instead she had occupied herself by ticking off which ones were sellers and which ones were dumpers.

                                            >The arrival of the first of the willing punters in their cars, driving by, had caught her attention however and before long, she had forgotten about the others entirely.

                                            >Except for Merribelle.

                                            >She was at it again.

                                            >Cloudkicker didn’t need to ignore her anymore, like everything else she blurred into the background.

                                            >She flicked her gaze to the warehouse door, not realising she had drifted off until she registered Jacob’s voice addressing the punters probably assembled in the courtyard outside the warehouse front.

                                            >Parking lot, that was it.

                                            >The man returned when some more of the elusive time had passed, half a cigarette hanging out his mouth and a gloomy look of one who knew it wasn’t going to get much better.

                                            >Cloudkicker almost laughed.

                                            >Three cars had passed after the man had finished sweeping up the next batch with his new and improved, super cart.

                                            >Twice the size for twice the noise.

                                            >This time he took all but a few of the broken birds, throwing in a few of the basket cases for flavour.

                                            >Guess the last batch didn’t sell too well and the dynamic duo were looking to keep the punters interested with some high quality footrests.

                                            >Two more cars had passed by in the interval between pick ups and Cloudkicker spent it finalising the details of her plan.

                                            >She could see Merribelle now, no longer obstructed by a mish mash of cages.

                                            >She was pretty, in a rugged sort of way.

                                            >Even with the quiver in eye while she mumbled gibberish that would probably mean something if the rain hadn’t numbed her lips.

                                            >Come to think of it Cloudkicker felt pretty cold too.

                                            >One car, nine returns.

                                            >The auction was drawing to a close and not a moment too soon.

                                            >Cloudkicker couldn’t actually feel her legs except for a dull prickle slowly working up from her hooves.

                                            >Merribelle was one of the last to be loaded and Cloudkicker could see the trepidation on the man’s face all too well.

                                            >They had tried to put a muzzle on her once.

                                            >Deciding on fingers as the better part of valour they hadn’t tried again.

                                            >The lime unicorn bored holes into him in utter silence and when he was done with her, was almost relieved to pick up Cloudkicker next.

                                            >Almost, they’d tried to muzzle her once too.

                                            “Need some help?” Cloudkicker asked sweetly.

                                            >The man almost dropped her there and then when she spoke halfway through, picking her cage up.

                                            >If it wasn’t for the fact that a soggy, malnutritioned pegasus weighed about as much as an anorexic flatworm, he would’ve probably dropped her there and then.

                                            >”Wha-”

                                            >Intelligent, she could see how he landed this job.

                                            >Cloudkicker continued to beam at him, brushing aside the sopping bangs stuck to her face.

                                            “I said did you need anything?”

                                            >The man glanced from side to side, still holding the cage in front of him at arm's length.

                                            >He didn’t look that old really.

                                            >They might’ve been friends in another timeline.

                                            >”Whaddya mean?”

                                            >Maybe not.

                                            “Well I’m a slave and you’re a human. So that means I have to do what you say.”

                                            >She darted forward to press her nose against the cage.

                                            >The man flinched and held her wide eyed glare with one of his own.

                                            “So ‘whaddya say’? Fancy having your own little pet to boss around for a bit before your employer shoves me off for a hundred?”

                                            >She shot him a wink that stung her eye.

                                            >The man looked deeply uncomfortable.

                                            >”I-uh-I’m jus’ here to move the carg-you lot.”

                                            >Cloudkicker tittered and rose a hoof to poorly hide it.

                                            >Flitter used to do that a lot.

                                            >Cloudkicker crushed the thought in an instant, though her false smile grew a slight bit more strained.

                                            “Must be hard work. I mean I’m not heavy but damn, that's a lot of ponies to move.”

                                            >She pointedly trailed her gaze up the man’s arms and hid her satisfaction when they bent to escape her leering.

                                            “Must be very strong.”

                                            >The man gulped. Cloudkicker had seen jellyfish with more spine than this lug.

                                            “Let’s be real, I’m not going anywhere tonight. >So ‘whaddya say’?”

                                            >Reveling in the clear confliction on the apes mug, Cloudkicker dropped her voice low and sidled up to the side of the cage as best she could, flicking her tail against the cage wall..

                                            “Fancy a close up of what you’re gonna miss out on?”

                                            >Her cage bounced off the cart bottom and Cloudkicker whooped as she was sped to the warehouse and practically thrown inside a small room off of the main storeroom.

                                            >What’s life without a little fun

                                            >She wasn’t going to see tomorrow if things went well tonight

                                            >She hated them, but she wasn’t so stupid as to think she could just ‘win’

                                            >They’d lost that war a long time ago.

                                            >She let loose an empty laugh and jumped to her hooves, wobbling a bit when her knees juddered under the stress.

                                            >She took in the room with a dumb grin.

                                            >It was bare, save for a hose that ran up the wall and vanished through the sole window at the top of the wall.

                                            >She knew this set up...

                                            >A rough grip shoved her into the far wall and in her pained daze, she failed to brace herself in time for the jet of water that bombarded her.

                                            >Her mirth vanished quickly under the crushing pressure that pinned her to the wall and hammered at her ribs and wings.

                                            >No matter how many times she went through this, each time was worse than the last.

                                            >The jet slashed at her knees and she crumpled.

                                            >Her flank was next and for all her joking, she curled up regardless.

                                            >The angle shifted and her tail did nothing to protect her.

                                            >She cried out, just in time to catch a torrent to the face.

                                            >She couldn’t see.

                                            >Couldn’t breath.

                                            >Couldn’t think.

                                            >She cried out again and the water invaded her mouth.

                                            >Her chest heaved.

                                            >Her gurgling plea drowned out by the tide.

                                            >It hurt.

                                            >It hurt so much.

                                            >She collapsed and the jet cut out.

                                            >The concrete felt soft against her tenderized skin.

                                            >Through her bleary vision, she saw the bored looking hoser disappear off into the warehouse proper.

                                            >A pony, splendid and kind, rose out of the dreary grey and stepped toward Cloudkicker.

                                            >She lay down next to her, never once disturbing the glassy puddle beneath her.

                                            >She wore a sad smile and at last, Cloudkicker relented.

                                            >All she could muster was a choked sob.

                                            >Flitter leant forwards and pressed her forehead to Cloudkicker’s, just like they used to.

                                            >For the briefest of moments, she believed her own lie.

                                            >Time slipped away from her.

                                            >Cloudchaser grimaced and spat out her mane as it fluttered about in the wind.

                                            >After her impromptu showering, she had been yanked to her hooves and into the remains of the worker's breakroom, gutted of furniture and repurposed as a prep room for the merchandise.

                                            >She had received a vigorous and highly invasive towelling down and brushing at the hands of a weary looking creep who liked to pretend to act all chummy with you while he fondled your flank.

                                            >The brushing was the worst part, it made her feel like a pet and only the meathead in the corner with his smartphone and a baseball bat stopped her from mauling the groomer there and then.

                                            >Now she and the last of the batch had been shepherded outside and around the bend from where Jacob pitched his wares while the crowd stood in a subdued huddle within the pools of light cast by the headlamps of their cars.

                                            >The rain had let off but the night still chilled her to the bone, the residual dampness of her fur making matters worse.

                                            >Should hear the chattering teeth of the half dozen or so leftovers around her.

                                            >She scowled at them all, fur fluffed to hide their starved physiques, manes done up in bows and ribbons that churned her stomach whenever she caught sight of them.

                                            Cloudchaser’s own mane had almost suffered under a similar treatment until she reminded the groomer what happened last time he tried to put a bow in her mane.

                                            >Bites hurt and he sure remembered it.

                                            >Unfortunately neither her mane nor fur had seen a good clipper since she’d been shaved as part of a humiliation exercise some six months ago.

                                            >One of Jacob's cronies had said it was to deal with the fleas that had infested Cloudchaser since forever but she knew better.

                                            >Couldn’t deny the effectiveness of the powder they used though.

                                            >Burned like acid but the fleas visibly shrivelled to dust wherever they landed on her fur.

                                            >Tame compared to some of the stuff they’d used during the war.

                                            >Cloudchaser quickly purged her mind of the memories conjured forth from that harrowing time and focused on the now.

                                            >Merribelle was scowling at the floor, her mane and fur as wild as always.

                                            >The muzzle clamped firmly over her mouth made her look feral.

                                            >Fucking animals.

                                            “Psst.”

                                            >Merribelle didn’t look up from her hooves.

                                            >Cloudchaser didn’t have time for this.

                                            >Hacking Merribelle in the shin, Cloudchaser weathered her murderous stare with dispassion.

                                            “You in there?” she whispered.

                                            >The growl Cloudchaser received wasn’t exactly conclusive but there wasn’t much to lose at this point.

                                            “I got a plan. You in?”

                                            >Merribelle narrowed her eyes. It was as good an answer as she was going to get.

                                            >Before Cloudchaser could begin, the Jacob materialised from behind the corner, haggard and drenched.

                                            >He eyed each of them in turn.

                                            >”Showtime. Put on yer best hats cos after this, god only knows where you’ll end up.”

                                            >He left and within moments his voice cut across the din of the wind and the distant rumbles of thunder.

                                            >The meathead from before appeared to lead the first pony, a mare, around the corner..

                                            >She followed without a single iota of emotion and Cloudchaser could only wonder what kind of pony she had been.

                                            >The blurry mess of her cutie mark offered no indication.

                                            >Jacob's voice soon rang out, his blunt and honest style of speech quickly pointing out the value of the offer.

                                            >He was suprising deft at his art and was able to twist what was effectively a clearance sale of damaging goods into a once in a premium deal at discount price without appearing obvious nor coming off as a greasy conman.

                                            >The bidding started at fifty and finished at two hundred, sealing the deal in less than two minutes.

                                            >Say what you will about human beings, they had cold efficiency down to an artform.

                                            >Cloudchaser could practically feel Merribelle bristling behind her.

                                            >The meathead appeared again and this time took the last remaining stallion.

                                            >He had been a fighter through and through but the meathead had clocked him one in the leg and now he walked with a limp.

                                            >Catfood and he knew it.

                                            >Just as he was about to round the corner, he glanced back with a look of weary solidarity, the first and only time Cloudchaser had ever seen him break his unassailable frown.

                                            >He was met with a scattered handful of vacant stares and cold glares.

                                            >His gaze briefly met Cloudchaser.

                                            >She fought to bring some warmth to her eyes from the tatters of her ailing mind.

                                            >By the time she had scraped together something, the stallion had left.

                                            >Aware of Merribelle boring holes into her back, Cloudchaser let herself drift, the crushing sense of sorrow passing through her like fog.

                                            >One by one the others were taken.

                                            >It was a testament to jacobs infernal talent that only the stallion was considered a loss, never making it past a single bid

                                            >Alone with Merribelle, she looked over to the silently raging mare and mustered every ounce of boiling hate she had for the apes.

                                            >She flexed her wing, letting the pair of clippers she had swiped from under the groomers nose fall to the floor with a clink.

                                            “Showtime.”

                                            >Cloudchaser had reputation that, while not quite as visceral as Merribelle’s, was still to be respected.

                                            >When the meathead came for Cloudchaser next, she clustered to Merribelle’s side and bared her teeth.

                                            >Merribelle hardly registered the sudden contact, her mind evidently on the clippers she had frantically used and cast into the darkness as well as darker thoughts of things to come.

                                            >Meathead, tired and bored, huffed and let them come as a pair, unwilling to go through the obvious hassle of separating them.

                                            >With a quick smack from Cloudchaser to remind Merribelle they were going for the bigger picture and not simply savaging meathead’s back while it was turned, the duo followed him out from the alley and into the parking lot.

                                            >In many ways, the thirty or so humans stood in the light of their cars bore many physical similarities to their purchases stood beside them in collars and cowls.

                                            >The stallion from before was among them, his equally massive owner looming at the back of the crowd with a small herd of his own, most of whom Cloudchaser only vaguely recognised.

                                            >Haggard, wet and either sent here in another's stead or simply hoping to scavenge the scraps of a rapidly shrinking market.

                                            >Surprise flashed across Jacob’s face followed by a flash of anger directed at meathead, who shrugged and ushered the pair forward.

                                            >Jacob had recovered by the time the pair had entered the harsh glare of the headlights, sheltered under the gazebo with Jacob bellowing behind them.

                                            >Out the corner of her eye Cloudchaser spotted Merribelle’s final fading glance toward her, for once afraid.

                                            >Cloudchaser paid her no heed, she would know what to do.

                                            >”Well boys and girls, it’s been a long wait but here’s the wrap up lot for this year. Now we’ve got a real treat for tonight's final showing.”

                                            >” Not only do we have a mare, qute frankly built like a tank with the disposition to match but also…”

                                            >He flourished toward Cloudchaser.

                                            >”...an ex guard herself.”

                                            >A few phones went to ears at that. four of the dwindling crowd left entirely.

                                            >Jacob waited for the roar of their engines to die away before continuing, seemingly unfazed.

                                            >”Now,” he began with a chuckle, “I wouldn’t exactly keep ‘em around kids but I’m telling you, these two are right good and proper breeding stock for those rings we all know need suppling.

                                            >Cloudchaser curled a lip in disgust, shutting out the rest of his pitch.

                                            >Fighting rings were outlawed soon after the sudden explosion in popularity they had during the Atlantic crisis and as with all legislation set during those turbulent times, was promptly ignored by anyone and everyone.

                                            >The rain had started up again, a light drizzle that threatened to downpour.

                                            >Sensing the diminishing resolve of the crowd to stay, Jacob accelerated his pitch.

                                            >”So for Merribelle-” he gestured with a hand, “-we’ll start the bidding at fifty.”

                                            >A quiver, most unlike Merribelle, ran down the rugged mare’s spine.

                                            >Her eyes darted side to side beneath her muzzle as the pricing rose from fifty to a hundred.

                                            >Cloudchaser grit her teeth, hoping Merribelle would hold it together long enough to enact the plan Cloudchaser had relayed to her in hurried, hushed tones.

                                            >”Sold for one-twenty. Since this one comes with a muzzle there’s no faf there.” Jacob bellowed, his jubilation at managing to sell the untamable mare evident.

                                            >”Mikey get the mare,” he said to the now fearful human in the back.

                                            >Merribelle froze and Cloudchaser offered her a small nod of reassurance.

                                            >The mare nodded back and breathed deep until a calloused hand gripped her muzzling by the strap.

                                            >To Cloudchaser horror, Merribelle’s eyes widened and her pupils dilated in absolute terror.

                                            >She wrenched her head away from the hand, the strap frayed by Merribelle’s frantic use of the clippers earlier, tearing away.

                                            >Merribelle whipped her head back, free of the muzzle now hanging in mickey’s grasp, and bit. Hard.

                                            >The crunch of bone was drowned out by Mickey’s howling screech and pandemonium reigned.

                                            >Cursing at Merribelle’s lapse in control, Cloudchaser leapt from the shelter of the gazebo, shoulder checking a punter as she went and diving into the mess.

                                            >Instinct is hard thing to suppress and Mickey’s piercing wail gnawed at Cloudchaser’s need to panic and flee.

                                            >She roared in pain and bounded onto one of the cars, setting off the alarm and adding to the racket.

                                            >Ponies battled both their former and newer masters in blind panic whilst the more brain dead ones milled about and occasionally bit things that got too close.

                                            >Jacob’s shouted orders ran undercurrent to the clamour and soon enough, those under his paycheck had waded into the fray with nooses and collars, Jacob's threats ringing in thier ears.

                                            >When the first of the gunshots rang out many of the humans simply chose that moment to leave abandoning their purchases to run amok while they secured their cars in a disordered heave.

                                            >Too bad the stallion from before had already begun preying upon those two slow to escape to the confines of their car.

                                            >Cloudchaser ignored him and the small cohort he had managed to rally, bounding onto one of the cars.

                                            >Law enforcement would be here soon and against ‘ferals’ they wouldn’t be taking any chances.

                                            >A mare’s wail sliced through the din until it was cut off by a sharp crack.

                                            >Cloudchaser chanced a glance and saw meathead throwing himself against the stallion, his bat stained and dripping.

                                            >Cloudchaser spotted Brian, hopelessly lost on the wrong side of the brawl.

                                            >Their eyes impossibly met and Cloudchaser took savage delight in his sheer terror, easily visible to her through the returning rainfall.

                                            >Thunder crashed from on high and Cloudchaser leapt from the bonnet, skidding on the slickened floor and bolting after the now fleeing teenager.

                                            >For all the many pains shooting through her as atrophied muscles cramped and damaged nerves misfired, raw adrenaline powered her through.

                                            >Shepherding him through the tangled maze of containers and ships was trivial, leaving behind the mess Merribelle had so excellently instigated.

                                            >Cloudchaser shook off the peculiar thoughts invading her focus and pushed herself harder than she had in months, her mind cycling and revising routes and exits with each passing millisecond.

                                            >Everything she had been taught at the Wonderbolts academy and honed to a razors edge during the war let her track the teenager’s flight through the densely packed storage units with ease, splashing through puddles and relishing the feel of the rain one last time.

                                            >Cloudchaser’s wings burned with a phantom need to take flight

                                            >Not an option any more.

                                            >Cloudchaser snarled and vaulted an errant forklift, skating on the asphalt and heading off the teenagers latest break off attempt.

                                            >Yelping he scrambled to change direction, toward the canal. Good.

                                            >Cloudchaser had understood the perils of service when she had joined the reserves and reconciled with the harsh prospect of a violent end upon watching so many other meet theirs.

                                            >At first she had spent sleepless nights sheltering from her own dark musings on the nature of her own end.

                                            >She had wanted it to be in service of her nation, in defence of those she loved at the sides of those she admired.

                                            >Alas.

                                            >Cloudchaser rounded the final corner as if it were a simple jaunt to the shops for milk.

                                            >Brian’s utter desperation she found him at the dead end of the dock was palpable.

                                            >His jacket was torn and his shoes sloshed with each backpedaling step.

                                            >Like a dying gasp an old sensation of remembrance drifted across her mind’s eye.

                                            >How she would sit on the pier with another whose name rested on the very tip of her tongue, looking out over the infinite waters and sharing foolish stories of what they wanted to be a decade away,naively assured in their own self perception.

                                            >When colts were icky, stars were stories and the sea was the domain of pirates and long lost treasure.

                                            >A choked sob brought Cloudchaser back to reality, where her wings hurt, her hooves ached and her mind could barely string two coherent thoughts together without them clashing.

                                            >She had heard Jacob’s enraged howls punctuating the thunderstorm

                                            >Even if it were nought but open field between him and her, he would still be too far, never mind through a sunken labyrinth of his species own devising.

                                            >Tears were running down the insufferable ape’s face and his bumbled, snot filled pleas fell upon deaf ears, drowned amidst the rain beating off Cloudchaser’s ears.

                                            “You take away my world.”

                                            >She crouched low and that same lump of grey matter that had whipped the ponies into a frenzy seized Brian in a tight grip and silenced his pathetic bleating.

                                            >Cloudchaser’s smile bared teeth.

                                            “I take away yours.”

                                            >She pounced.

                                            >Something large and solid crashed into her side, flinging her featherweight body to the concrete with a crunch.

                                            >With the last vestiges of conciousness she saw a bipedal figure she could not say she recognised..