Sanctuary

[Dio]

"Of all the days the local weather crews could have picked, it had to be this one..."

Virtue gritted his teeth, clamped his wings shut, and forced his way through the howling tempest, with each step silently thanking the last shop owner he had visited for the storm-proof gear. The driving rain stung his flanks and streamed through his mane and blaze, blurring his vision and clouding the breath in his nostrils with fine mist.

In the periphery of his vision, Virtue spotted something in the gloom. A short distance away, an old barn rose out of the mists. Though it was in disrepair, it appeared intact enough to weather the storm. Virtue grunted as he slogged through the muck that, in dry weather, would have passed for a trail. The decrepit barn loomed in front of him, its shutters flapping in the baying wind and front door clearly falling off its hinges. Still, it was better than being out in the open and a sight more respectable than the cover of an old oak in Everfree.

"Abandoned, but serviceable. This will have to do."

The Pegasus breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped into the barn, immediately enjoying the feeling of no longer being bombarded by stinging droplets falling from the sky like a million arrows. Virtue shook himself off, starting with his cropped-short mane and working his way down his body, flapping his wings and flicking his tail to work the worst of the rain out. Though his coat was still damp, it was far more comfortable than being soaked.

KA-THUNK. Virtue's saddlebags and scabbard clattered unceremoniously to the concrete floor of the barn. He was far too exhausted from fighting the storm to care about proper procedure at this point. Nudging his gear into a dry corner, Virtue curled up on the floor and was soon fast asleep.

[CherryRie]

Thunder rumbled across the foothills, rolling over the ramshackle barn like the snores of some slumbering elder dragon. Outside, wind and rain thrashed fruitlessly against the creaking timbers, seeking out openings or cracks through which it could slink. Long neglected doors clinging to rusted hinges and the kraal high above missing its trapdoor altogether, exposing the whole northern end of the barn to the ravaging elements. Thankfully for the occupant, the stalls closer to the back remained dry, especially near the raised hayloft beneath which the stallion now slept comfortably.

Beyond the sheltering walls the storm raged on, a distant flash of lightning briefly chasing away the darkness. Amidst the geometrical shadows of sturdy timbers, a faint silhouette became distinct in the gloom of the hayloft, a sinuous anomaly among the regular lines of the old building. Another bout of lighting flickered through the room, the inconsistency now balancing among the high rafters, staring down at the intruder with Sanguine eyes.

Calm settled as the tempest drew breath, the hiss of rain joined by a quiet flutter of wings and heavy breathing. Another flicker of far off lightning revealed only timber where once the figure had stood, the thunder bringing with it the scrape of metal on stone.

The weary traveler stirred in his slumber as something cold brushed against his damp shoulder. Moments passed as he slipped below the tide of fatigue, interrupted once again by the sensation’s insistent return. Absentmindedly the stallion batted a hoof across his withers, meeting something unexpected. Something hard. Something Iron.

Senses crystallized. Among the howling wind was the sound of rasping breath, the smell of panic and the shaking tools in uncertain hoofs. With the brilliance of the storm joining the roar of thunder, excruciating light burst upon the scene.

Above him, poised on shaking hind legs, stood the wreck of a filly. What may have once been a mulberry coat was streaked with mud, the deep red mane ragged and violently torn as though cut by teeth. Sanguine eyes filled with pain glared in an unconvincing show of resolve, framed by a face contorted with both fear and desperation. Breathing heavily, her shaking hooves clung to the long hoe that hovered a few inches from Virtue's side, as though it were her only lifeline against the tempest. Outside the torrential squall began to slacken its onslaught, gradually plunging the open space into a near silence. For a moment the filly seemed frozen, suddenly aware of her own thoughts over the lessening patter of rain, now too scared to run and too terrified to stay.

"Don't, move." A feminine voice trembled at last, the owner struggling to retain both nerve and unnatural posture "Try anything, an' I'll...I'll..."

[Dio]

Metal. Virtue snapped to alertness at the touch, the feeling of cold iron triggering every combat instinct drilled into him by years of training and field work. Every muscle tensed, every non-eyesight sense came online with lightning speed. Even in the pitch darkness, Virtue knew the interior of the barn, including the location of his attacker.

With one swift, fluid motion, Virtue leaped up, knocking the garden hoe away with a massive fetlock and alighting on all four hooves just inches in front of his would-be assailant. His wings were half-opened already, prepared to propel him forward with more force than could be mustered by his legs alone in a barreling lunge that could knock the toughest creature off its feet and send it face first into the ground.

A cry of surprise issued from the mare’s lips as her improvised weapon clattered to the concrete, just out of reach. As Virtue’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, the flier in front of him was illuminated by a flash of lightning, revealing not an assassin or a thief, but a small, frightened filly. Virtue’s would-be assailant was young, barely a mare and definitely no hardened killer. The burly Pegasus relaxed slightly, looking over to where her weapon had clattered to the ground. What could have been the edge of a dagger or sword was in fact the dull blade of a common garden hoe.

The filly quailed in his presence, visibly trembling and stumbling backwards as he advanced. Virtue mentally kicked himself in the flank. The barn hadn’t been abandoned after all. In fact, it probably belonged to one of the nearby farms, the owners of which had every right to evict him for trespassing.

Another flash of lightning illuminated the interior of the barn, casting sharp shadows against the cold concrete and further deepening the darkness around the walls and corners of the decrepit barn. Slivers of inky blackness accented by fleeting beads of quicksilver skittered across the two pegasi as they stood face to face on the concrete. There was something oddly familiar about the little Pegasus. Though her mane was mussed and her coat covered in wood chips and partly dried mud, her eyes shone through the darkness. Sanguine eyes. Tired eyes. Hurt eyes.

The memory finally clicked. Virtue stepped forward, his wings folded once again at his side and his head lowered to the filly’s eye level. As the lightning flashed once again, it revealed the softer expression that he had adopted.

“Cherry?”

[CherryRie]

Shock froze the filly in her hooves, a single word preventing the scrambled flight that may have expediated herself away from danger. Head tiltied in confusion, her acclimated vision drew in details of the shadowy intruder’s outline. Strong features, a body that looked like hune rock yet moved as though it were silk. For some reason the word ‘Rustic’ came to mind.

“You?!?” She nickered in fevered surprise, recognition flaring across in her panicked thoughts and reducing her voice to a whisper lost among the hiss of rain "Oh Celestia, not you too."

Stood before her, stoic as the statue of the Destrider’s founder, was the same knight errant that had saved her from would be foalnappers in Filidelphia. Here, more than a hundred miles from the city from which she had fled, by chance sheltering in the same ramshackle barn from the same storm. An astronomical coincidence?

Heart beat racing, the hysterical filly franticly searched the unyielding darkness for an exit. Unable to remember the layout of her hastily chosen sanctuary, only the doors at the opposite end of the barn presented themselves in the gloom. There was no way she could out run the stallion, no chance she could take flight either, her wings screaming in agony even now.

Yet any sane mare would have bolted the instant the shadowy figure had retaliated, no matter the odds of escape. Some things were hardwired into the equine hind brain and the urge to flee when surprised was usually irresistible. But something was pushing instinct aside, demanding that she speak with her next betrayer.

Rich Tea, once her rock in an ocean of despair had been washed away like so much flotsam. Why would this supposed ‘warrior of justice’ be any different?

‘If it’s one thing you will learn, my dear, it is that every pony has their price. It’s not always something of material value, but there is always a way in, an angle, a weakness.’

No pony was incorruptible. She couldn’t trust this stranger. But she didn’t want to run either.

Feeling trapped by her own subconscious, the submissive crouch shifted by inches till her hind legs were braced, stretching her sore trembling wings aggressively. Pawing of fore hoof against the dirt broadcasted an unsure intent as she began to carefully circle the trespasser until her back was facing the awaiting doors.

“How did you find me.” Quavered the poised equine, voice shuddering with both fear and fatigue.