Weapons slash through brown, matted bat fur as claws and teeth find unprotected areas on pony skin, and in some cases tearing straight through armor. Blood is flying everywhere. Ponies are going down, and though Stargazer looks worse for wear she seems unconcerned and unfazed by it.
Having little more sense than to grab his backpack, Emerald turns and runs. He hears a quick plea to stop, and then a swear for Biscuit, and turning his head he sees the earth pony join the fray.
Emerald runs and runs. The light from Cirrus’ orb and the din of combat gradually fade away into darkness and the sounds of frogs and crickets and the occasional owl.
Emerald doesn’t even know where he is going, but anywhere away from the bat is better. It has to be. Still sticking in his head is one particular slash of the claws that made one of the soldiers almost explode in a red cloud of blood. Emerald can’t even imagine, he doesn’t WANT to imagine. He doesn’t want to know what that feels like, and the fear drives him. Emerald runs until he can’t anymore and starts walking, which fades into a trudge, and then he collapses in exhaustion.