R I C O C H E T - - raise your GUN and it's over

A face appeared in the lines that his touch cast into the water's edge. Unperturbed, but cautious, Ricochet's pale head lifted from the ripples. Water droplets ran in cascades off bent whiskers for a moment as teal eyes stared dimly at the child across from him. The stream exploded with the drizzle off his face. The girl drew into herself, terrorized by some manner of demon that she found.

She fled.

Like a fawn darting through the trees the filly bounded back through the meadow. Ricochet felt hollowed. Curiously he bent his nose back towards the water, but this time he glanced at his haggard reflection. A grimace of sorts parted his lips as he thought he might run away from himself, if only he could.

For a time the dunskin stood, dark muzzle still dripping on occasion. Weakly the stallion dropped his head and pressed shut his eyes. The world was a dark place, but it seemed all too bright today.

As he began to retreat back into that internal world of his, a flicker of orange caught his attention. Such a rarity was the shape, much less the hue, that the wandering stud gave himself pause. Could it be? His voice asked the cracks of his mind.
Silence.

Another beat of wings and rustle of trees. The shape passed again, brilliant and glittering. Dragon.
He knew that type of animal anywhere. His pulse quickened, fear gripping his nose with claws so hot his nostrils flared in their sudden struggle to breathe. The white scars began to pulse against his tattered muzzle. His head flung high, eyes wild with pale rims and bright gleams. It comes again! Ricochet screamed.

Knees shot to his chest as the muscled body rose defiant against the sky. Like a writhing snake he tossed his head from side to side, lips frothing and teeth clicking. In the distance a dog's cry rallied the clouds. It shot through the din of the boy's mind like the starting bell of a race. He hung a moment longer as hooves gripped soil and shoved him into thunderous motion. A copper bullet, Ricochet shot across the land, heels snapping at shadows and hooves striking at light.

Through the streaming banner of black that carried proudly behind him, a monochrome blur arrived. So low and long, Guns hugged the ground like a living shade, nose wrinkled against the wind of their speed. He knew not what drove the dunskin but he had not seen such vitality since the day of the fight and he relished the energy and excitement. Resisting the urge to bark only barely, the pare of them shot through the brush, heading the way the filly had come through only moments before.

The foliage cleared. The orange dragon loomed. Hooves and paws landed in a field of glittering dust. Teeth flashed and tails waved.

Guns lunged at the kneeling mare and coiled foal. No more than a feint, more bark than bite, the pup reeled back the moment he realized his target. Ricochet paused even sooner, forelegs stiffening into poles that jammed him into a hard stop. His head flung tall, legs buckling and spine arching as he stumbled backwards. The gunpowder around him drifted like dust motes, slowly falling to the dirt around them, tumbling past leaves like a slow, silver rain.

"You" he cried, his tone choking. Disbelief wrote itself plainly on his face, but what his eyes could scarcely believe his nose confirmed. His chest hammered like a caged rabbit and his lungs all but lost their air. With only a whisper on his lips Ricochet breathed her name.

"Evangeline-"