>You are Moss Moon, and you are alone
>You watch as Anja spirals upward, her snowy body wreathed in smoke
>Her wings are strangely beautiful as they catch the firelight 
>Your heart is still in your throat by the time she vanishes
>“Your friend in danger,” she’d said, in her thick Northern accent.  “Go back!”
>Every fiber of your being pushes you toward that impulse
>You want to find him, help him, protect him
>But you know that your responsibility lies here
>You have to get these foals out of the Stronghold, take them to Hollow Shades if you must
>Anon can take care of himself
>That is what you tell yourself, when you turn away from the road and walk back into the orphanage
>You feel sick to your stomach, but the pain is alleviated somewhat when you see that Hex, Nightstone, and the others are safe and sound
>In your mind, though, you can still see the face of the man you killed
>The single yelp he’d made when you’d struck him
>The simple, almost perfunctory way he’d fallen to the ground
>His death had come so effortlessly, so quickly
>You had never realized how easy it was to take a life
>Just standing there, holding that stone over his corpse, had been enough to paralyze you for who knows how long
>You had lost all conception of time, until Anja had appeared and asked you about the explosion
>It was true, what you’d told her; you did not understand why the concoction of sunroot resin and lunar spring water was so volatile
>Certainly it must be some property of the goddess, some investment of her power that made the substance so explosive
>But you had never come upon any reference to such a substance, not in any of Grandmother’s old texts
>It is a mystery that you probably will never solve
>“Moss Moon, what’re we gonna do?”
>You look down into the wide eyes of Hex, her brother Nightstone right beside her
>You can feel the foals trembling as they cling to you
>They’ve gotten bigger in your absence, but they are still only children
“Okay everypony,” you say, in the brightest voice you can muster.  “We’re all going on a little trip.  There are going to be some rules, so listen carefully, okay?”
>There is silence as you go on
>Some of the orphans have crowded around you, while others remain apart; detached, or sullen
>This is not the first time they have had to run
“The first rule is that everypony needs to be very quiet.  If you can be quieter than I am, you’ll get a prize once we get where we’re going.”
>“What kind of prize –” Nightstone asks, before Hex shushes him
“The second rule is that you have to stay close to me.  No wandering off on your own.  If you wander off, you could get lost, and then I’d have to come find you.”
>They nod along, wide-eyed
“The third rule is that everypony needs to have a buddy.   Stick close to your buddy, make sure your buddy follows me and stays quiet, and most importantly – if you don’t know where your buddy is, tell me right away!” 
>You quickly help them pair off, and then scour the orphanage for supplies
>Some food is available - with some pride you recognize some dried melon from one of the hidden orchards around the Stronghold
>Blankets make for makeshift satchels, which the bigger foals carry in their mouths
>You direct them all to the back window, and one by one they fly through
>It will be safer to hug the outskirts of the Stronghold, rather than going through the streets
>Once all the orphans have gotten out, you climb through after them, your hooves alighting softly on the rocky ground
>You take a moment to get your bearings, mapping out the best route in your head
>There’s a small orchard just a short distance from here, with a hole to the outside
>You can’t reach it, but the foals could fly up and get out that way
>It will be easier to get them out through there, instead of trying to sneak them out one of the main exits
>Once they’re through, you can find a way out on your own
“All right, let’s get going,” you say.  “Remember everypony, be very quiet!”
>Obediently the foals keep their mouths shut, following suit as you steal through the shadows
>Their eyes dart fearfully toward the rising smoke and the distant glow of the great fire, but they say nothing
>You keep low, hugging the many rock formations that jut out of the ground
>Praying that no human – or pony – will see you
>Even though you’d forged some kind of battlefield kinship with Anja, you still do not trust Hunter Killer and his band
>You’d rather these foals get some small chance to live in Hollow Shades than have them suffer whatever aftermath the Stronghold is about to face
>Soon enough you reach the orchard, a small grove hidden in a cleft of rock by the far wall
>The fruit trees have been mostly picked clean, though a few small melons remain on the upper branches amid pink and white blossoms
>Dark purple light glows softly through the opening in the ceiling, high above
>Nervously you stand at attention, ushering the orphans into the small space
“Okay everypony,” you say.  “I need you all to fly up one by one and go outside.  Once we’re all out, I want you to wait for me out there, okay?”

>Hex shuffles her hooves.  “But... how will you get out?”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” you say.  “I have my own way of getting out.  This is the safest way for you all to go.  I’ll come around and meet up with you again very soon.”
>Nightstone and some of the other foals begin to cry.  “Moss Moon, I’m scared...”
>“That’s okay,” you say, doing your best to embrace them all.  “It’s going to be okay.  I know it’s scary, and you’re all being very brave.  I just need you to be brave for a little while longer.”
>They sniffle as you hug them, and you wish that you were a better comfort, a stronger mare, someone who could give them strength when they needed it
>The truth is that you are afraid, too
>Slowly they begin to ascend, flying up to the exit
>Some are more reluctant than others, with Hex finally having to pry Nightstone away 
>Her eyes are wet as she says goodbye
> “Wait for me, okay?” you call, as they fly away.  “I’ll be up there before you know it.”
>The last to leave is one of the older fillies
>She hasn’t cried, hasn’t hugged you
>Has only bit her lip so hard that it bled
>“You’re not going to come back,” she says flatly, once the others are out of earshot.  “Those humans are going to kill you.”
>You look down at her, and for a moment feel utterly lost
>Then you realize that there is no need to bandy words
“If humans come, take the foals and fly away,” you say.  “Only approach other ponies.  But don’t trust them.”
>“And what do we do if all the ponies die?”
“There’s a village a few days away, to the southwest.  Hollow Shades, it’s called.  Very old and very traditional, but they will accept you.  Follow the blue moss – that is the secret way.”
>Without a word, the filly gives a slow, resigned nod, before picking up the last satchel and flying up
>“Wait for me,” you say.  “I’m not going to abandon you.  I promise.”
>When at last they have all gotten out, you let out a deep breath
>They’re safe, for now
>Now all you need to do is sneak out alone, and you can get them far away from this place
>You’d snuck out before; surely you can do it again, even amid the chaos
>You wonder how Anon is doing
>Will he be able to find you, if you leave?
>He doesn’t know about the moss, but he did follow you to Hollow Shades
>You will just have to hope that he can find the way again
>As you step out of the orchard, you realize too late that you are not alone
>You are not a warrior, and your mind isn’t clear
>How easy it is for the two humans hiding in the shadows to jump at you from both sides
“Shit!”
>One pins you beneath his weight, digging his hands into your neck to push your head into the ground
>The other kicks you in the stomach, making you gasp
>"These things are always so weak," he says.  "It's pathetic."
>“What’re you doing back here, love?” the other asks.  “Hiding something?”
>The one pinning you shifts his weight, granting access to your saddlebag.  “Open this up.”
>You grimace as the man rummages through your supplies
>You curse yourself, screaming inside your mind, wishing that you were smarter, stronger, faster
>Wishing that you were anypony but yourself
>“Ah, what’s this?” The man draws something from your bag.  “What in blazes...”
>Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the soft white glow of the object in his hand
>The last vial of lunar spring water
>He kneels down to wiggle it in front of your face
>“What’s this, then?  Care to share?”
“Asperi piss,” you spit.  “I know you love the taste.”
>The man holding you shakes you by the scruff, while the other just laughs
>“You’re funny.  I like that.”  He stands.  “You can have your fun with her, Rolf.  Don’t kill her yet.  I’ll just have me a quick look in here.”
>The man pockets the vial and walks off, into the orchard, leaving you alone with Rolf
>Disgusting Rolf, who draws a knife and slides it against the side of your face
>“I’m gonna cut your eyeballs out,” he says, stupidly
>It feels so unreal, as if you aren’t here right now, as if it isn’t happening
>But you know that it is
>You know that you are helpless, trapped, too weak to save yourself
>Again
>Always
>“Moss Moon?  Are you okay?”
>Nightstone is calling faintly
>You feel Rolf jerk the knife way, turning his body toward the noise
>Not enough to free you, though
>“Stay up there!” you scream. “Don’t come down!”
>You hear the unnamed man laughing
>“Oh, this is touching,” he says.  “Here I thought you were hiding some gold.  Bring her in here, Rolf.”
>Fingers close in your mane, wrenching you up
>You swing wildly with a hoof, but connect with nothing, before you are thrown bodily into the orchard
>You crash into one of the trees, a blow that might’ve snapped a smaller pony’s spine
>But yours is a body well-used to punishment, and it does not break
>Disoriented, you stagger up, but a boot connects with your ribcage
>You feel like throwing up
>The two men seize you and once again shove you to the ground
>You can hear them laughing
>The foals are screaming
>In your mind, you call out to her – Goddess, help me!
>If your prayers are heard, they go unanswered.
>Rolf is holding a knife up again, arcing it toward your scarred face
>His friend is guffawing like a madman
>Their faces blur, so much like a dream
>You remember the hands of the torturer, holding you down, cutting, sawing -
> - telling you that you deserved it -
>You throw your cheek into the blade, letting the steel carve your flesh
>Rolf’s wrist is unarmored, exposed, soft
>He screeches when you bite it, recoiling out of reflex
>It's enough
>You kick as hard as you can with your hind legs, legs that have borne you through this life of suffering, and scramble out from underneath
>Vaguely you are aware of the flash of his knife, the numb sensation in your shoulder
>It's nothing
>Pain can't stop you
>His high-pitched scream turns into a gurgle as your fangs rip into his throat
>Delicious blood floods your mouth
>Human blood always was the sweetest
>You cling to him, rending the cords of his neck
>Something slams into your back, throwing you to the dirt
>The wind is knocked from your lungs
>Doesn’t matter
>You roll away from another blow, the clang of metal ringing in your ears
>You have no oxygen, no breath, blood drips from your mouth
>Berserk, you twist to face the second man
>Though he towers over you, the instincts of your ancestors see in him a wretched, fearful boy, clinging to a paltry sword
>You lunge, a suicidal maneuver, leaping toward his open stance
>Fate could kill you here, as it has killed thousands of your brethren
>End your life like all the others
>Just another skewered casualty in some backwater hellhole
>Instead, his sword shaves off some piece of you, and your hoof slams into his groin
>He staggers, and crumples to the ground when you kick his ankles
>Immediately you stomp on his head, over and over and over again
>Until his redness has soaked into the earth, to nourish the roots of the melon tree
>You gasp for air, and vomit, and gasp for air again
>Panting in the faint moonlight
>The two bodies lie still on the ground
>For an instant you hate them, all of them; all of humanity
>All those that tortured you and ripped your life apart
>And for what?  Why?
>You'd lived in fear of them since foalhood, but this was different - this was blind, burning hatred
>Hatred for all mankind
>Even Anon
>You hate him for his kindness, hate yourself for being drawn to him, hate yourself for being an ugly monster
>All of them - you want all of them to die
>Your entire body trembles with rage, your heart pounding in your chest
>And then you feel the tears streaming down your cheeks, stinging the fresh wound
>The bloodlust fades as you stare down at your stained hooves
>Anon...
>...please come back to me.
>You look up, struggling to contain your emotions
>The foals are watching through the opening
>Their worried faces look down at you, their bodies framed by the moon
>“I’m okay,” you say, gently,
>“Everything will be okay.”