" As I dart over to the next slave whose face needs a few more bruises, the wing feels heavier. It's more than a replacement limb. These days, it's a symbol, a flag for ponies who can't believe in politics, only in other ponies. I'm some kind of war hero, a walking, talking legend. Not a pegasus, but a phoenix. The scar that should have claimed my eye gave me the magic power to see weakness, the ear that got torn can hear pins drop in a dubstep concert, and my fake wing is so fast I can barely keep up.

Sometimes, I feel more like a fairy tale than a soldier. Still, can't deny it gets results. "