Paratroopers never die...

A lone chestnut figure could be seen at the waters edge from a mile away. The sun glinted off her surprisingly chestnut-red flanks, like the sun glinted off the blade of a sword. If one had been watching for a while, one would know why she was here. As the fae stood calmly at the river banks, she studied the flow - her dare was to cross it. Though, it wasn't really a dare as such. Everything in life was a dare, for at any moment something bad could happen. At any moment, you could lose it all. The sun was high in the blue bowl that covered the earth, clouds arranged in a pleasant anatomy. A soft, ocean breeze from the east blew freshly, keeping the atmosphere at it's best. Trees drifted with it, allowing their branches to stroke at the air currents. A few leaves found themselves lost in the wind, away from their brothers and their mother tree. A few landed beneathe her beige hooves, and crunched and crumpled in protest as she stepped on them. Snorting, the mare, known as Guinevere, looked at the flow of the river. The wind was changing the way in washed, but the river was clear, and rocks could be seen at the river-bed. They were smooth though, due to many years of erosion. They would be very slippery though, so Guinevere would have to discard the idea of using them for footing. It would be difficult to swim across, because of the quick flow, but Guinevere was a strong mare - surely it couldn't be too hard for her.

Guinevere edged her forehooves into the water, feeling the cold aqua lace around them. She whickered softly in a childish delight, the liquid pleasing her sense of feel. She dropped her dream-box low to the surface, her whiskers dripping with the saturation. The mare snorted in surprise as a fish darted underneathe her reflection. She sure was taking her time. Luckily, she realised her fault, and moved further into the water, until she was soaked up to knee high. Then, feeling the urge to tackle it head on, Guinevere leapt forward and crashed into the water, thrashing her legs urgently to carry her large bodice to the other side. She snorted as she swallowed some water, coughing heavily as she choked. Before long, she felt her feet touch ground again, and pulled herself up over to other side. Guinevere coughed, but satisfaction overwhelmed her. Her chestnut rim had soaken up lots of the aqua, and had turned a darker shade of brown. The mare stood for a moment, before shaking her body free as much as she could, free of any excess water. So, she had made it. Very good, since she hadn't been able to do that before. Strong pillars carried her over to the large oak she had been aiming for, and as she reached its pleasant shade, she plopped down underneathe is branches, her head stretched out in front of her as she dozed. The breeze was still current, and the sound of rustling leaves filled her ears. Such a peaceful day, one the Guinevere would not take for granted. No way, not at all. Days like these were far too rare to pass up. The sun was warm, but the breeze was cool - the perfect mixture.

As she dozed contentedly under the shade of the oak tree, she had no fear of sleeping. She could arise quickly and defend herself - she had living, well, WAS living proof of that.

...they go to hell and regroup.