Lyssea
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Around him everything was chaos. Red and Green swirled as if trapped in a storm, while a constant crackling from Las-weapons filled the air between the bangs of heavier weapons.
It was even hard to hear the screams of pain and rage above the battle itself, not to mention the orders given out by the command located behind the lines. Had it not been for the vox-channel and the com-beads the orders might as well not been spoken.
Not that they did much as it was, with the full might of

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Lyssea awoke. It was not the slow, gradual awakening of last time, but more as if somepony had flipped a switch, making her go from deep sleep to wide awake in an instant.
It took her, however, a few seconds to remember where she was. As she did she felt very disappointed, as if she’d really been expecting something else to greet her.
That was not to say that she lay still, for a part of her was operating on autopilot. She pushed herself up to sitting and pressed her hooves to her

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Summary of the story so far
Lyssea, an Earth-pony, wakes up with lost memory, for a short time not even remembering her own name. She is now trying to regain what she lost. To ( hopefully ) aid her is a book which asks her questions, though she does not understand how or why.
After having woken up and, briefly, re-learned how to walk she have now traveled from the place where she found herself to an applefarm in the area, where she is allowed to stay, provided that she is willing to

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“Oh, yes! I’m Apple Branch!” The old stallion suddenly exclaimed, looking back at his guest as he said so, before he looked back in front of him, clearly not expecting an answer - she did have a book in her mouth after all, being happy enough with a nod from her.
A few more steps before he turned around and pointed at a door with his hoof, giving her a smile “This is Wild’s room, you can borrow it for a few days… and I suspect you won’t be staying for longer then that, will you?”
She

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Whatever would happen in the future from the answer she had just written, there was nothing she could do about it now. Quietly she placed the pen back into the spine, though her thoughts was at a different place, evaluating her situation.
The first instinct was, of course, to run. The urge to do so was understandable, but she quickly dismissed it, not even needing to think hard about it. If she ran she would soon be without shelter and vulnerable, without food, water, or a clue to where she

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