Moss Moon and the Lunar Spring, Part 24

>You are Moss Moon, a brave bat pony.
>And you are running for your life.
>You had saved the orphans of the Stronghold.  Driven the townsbats away from certain death.
>When you had seen the flash of bright purple light, you knew that Anon had something to do with it.  Knew that you had to help him.
>But when you arrived, you could see no one there - and instead saw only the burning crown of a stack of powder barrels.
>Immediately you had turned on your hoof to flee, when the first explosion sent you flying
>You'd landed face first against stone, scraping fur and flesh from your scarred cheek.
>When the second explosion sounded, you were already back on your hooves, racing as fast as your legs would carry you.
>You have done all you could here.
>Now the only thing you can do is save yourself.
>You run.
>The streets are empty.  No one remains in the Stronghold but you.
>Your heart hammers in your chest.  The sounds of your hoof-falls are drowned out by the successive roars of explosions at your back.
>Heat and flames lick at your coat, singing your tail, roasting you even as you gallop away.
>Another explosion rocks the earth, too close.  You are sent flying again, this time into the wall of a building.  You feel something crack.  A groan of pain escapes your lips.
>You stagger forward.  Your vision blurs.  You vomit.
>No.  Not here.
>Not now.
>Another explosion.  The heat is so intense that you feel the skin on your flank sizzling.
>The pain launches you forward.  You bolt, heading instinctually for the exit.
>You can barely see anything.  There's so much smoke.  The ground is shaking.
>Rocks fall all around you.  They pelt your battered hide, breaking bones, pulverizing muscle.
>The agony is unlike anything you've ever felt.
>You know if you stop, you will die.
>Not here -
>You won't die here.
>Not in the Stronghold.
>This place is not your home.
>You run, your legs unfeeling, your body numbing itself to pain.
>You are immune to pain.
>Your whole life has prepared you for this, prepared you to break every obstacle you could ever face.
>The only thing that will ever stop you is death.
>And today, you're going to outrun it.
>The dim outline of the exit appears ahead of you.
>You need only run down the main road.
>A road upon which before you'd always had to creep and hide, hoping to avoid the gaze of some bored guard.
>There is no one to watch you now.
>No one to stop you.
>Just you, the exit, and the fire at your back.
>Blood hammers in your ears.  Your heart and lungs push to their limit, propelling you forward, forcing your sturdy body to keep moving.
>Another explosion.  Another blast that sends you flying into the air.  Your hooves leave the ground.
>You sail out into the cold night.
>Flying, briefly, under the moon.
>When you land, you are barely conscious of the ground coming up brutally to meet you.
>Branches snapping, rocks and debris shooting around you, hard earth mercilessly cradling your spinning body.
>You roll down, down the slope, far from the mouth of the cave
>When at last you stop, you wonder briefly if you'll ever be able to walk again
>You lie there, listening to the pounding of your heart, the ragged breaths you force yourself to take
>For a long while, you can think of a nothing at all, reveling only in the mere fact that you survived, that you are still alive
>And then your thoughts turn to him
>Anon…
>You choke, swallowing the cry of anguish
>Did he escape?
>You didn't see him
>You have no idea where he went, where he could be now
>For all you know, he went up in flames like the rest of the Stronghold
>Lying there in the underbrush on the side of the mountain, under the night sky, you finally allow yourself to succumb to emotion
>Tears stream freely down your face, mixing with the dirt
>You pound your hoof into the ground, again and again, ignoring the throbbing, stabbing pain in your sides, in your legs, all over
>Why, why, why?
>Why did you leave him alone?
>You know why.  You know that if you had not left when you did, the orphans may not ever have made it out of the Stronghold.
>But even so, you curse yourself, you wish, insanely, that you could have split yourself in two, and done everything that you needed to do.
>You are only mortal.  Just a single pony.   You did what you could.
>Goddess, what could you have done?
>You ask her this, lying there all alone
>Begging for her counsel, hoping for some kind of comfort
>You curl into yourself and sob, feeling all the pain and misery come crashing down upon you
>Voices, suddenly
>You swallow repeatedly, quieting your cries
>Turning on your belly, you peek through the grasses in which you are partially hidden
>In the distance you see a group of bat ponies solemnly marching, heading down the mountain path
>An entire squad of them, led by a familiar white figure
>Anja
>On her back she bears the broken body of another pony, one you quickly recognize as Hunter Killer
>With her sharp eyes, it is not long before Anja notices your hiding place
>She halts, and the stallions trailing behind her halt in turn, following her gaze
>At first you fear they will attack you, but you realize that they are in no condition to fight
>Their eyes are listless, their wings and tails drooping in resignation
>Anja calls out to you.  "Do you live?"
For a moment, you are silent.  "Still moving," you finally say.
>"Good," she replies.  "You friend is where?"
You choke over the words.  "I don't know."
>Though the hard line of her mouth does not change, her blue eyes soften, only slightly
>"Death come.  Death take," she says.  "But you live.  Keep live.  For him."
>She looks over her shoulder, forlornly, at the body of Hunter Killer, lying lifelessly across her back
>You feel a twinge, seeing the body of someone you once hated, carried by those who loved him
>"Goodbye, good witch," Anja says.  "Leave now.  Night creatures come soon.  Will eat what they find."
>Like a rusted machine, the procession takes a few faltering steps forward, and then it is marching again, heading down the mountain
>Watching them go, something moves, deep in your heart
>You look into your bag, and see the faint white glow of the final vial
>The vial that you had retrieved from the Spring so many weeks ago and carried all this distance, the vial that had survived almost being lost, being stolen, being thrown bodily from the Stronghold
>Miraculously, through all your trials, it had remained unbroken.
"Wait," you say.
>The procession stops again.  Anja looks back at you.  Her eyes widen when she sees the vial.
>Wordlessly she steps to the side, bearing her back to you.  The other bats chitter in curiosity, and in fear, but none move to stop you
>Hunter Killer lies insensate on Anja's back, his body drained nearly of all its blood.
>His wounds are great and terrible.  But the power of the water is even more so.
>Gingerly you open his mouth and pour the water onto the back of his tongue, letting it drip down his throat
>The glowing liquid disappears down his gullet
>Immediately the water's magic begins to take effect.  The air is filled with the quiet, wet sounds of flesh stitching itself, of blood pouring into Hunter Killer's veins.
>You don't even stay to watch it happen
>You're so tired now.
>So tired.
>You let the empty vial slip from your hoof.  It breaks upon the ground.
>You walk away, vaguely aware of voices, the cries of elation as the bats watch their leader return to life
>So tired, but you have to keep moving.
>Hex and Nightstone, all the orphans, they're waiting for you, they need you
>You have to take another step.
>Another step.
>Another.
>You sink slowly to the ground, your vision darkening, your heart fluttering in your chest.
>You told them where to go, didn't you?
>They are smart.  They are strong.  They'll find their way.
>Briefly you see Anon's smiling face.  You smile back.  Then it all fades away.
>Rest now, Moss Moon.
>Your journey is almost done.