Fallout Equestria: Medicine & Mail

Chapter Five-point-Eight

Dues

“Leaving somepony behind, and moving on…

It’s the hardest thing to do.”

Bit’s wing brace was easy to remove, though it had taken a little prodding to get her to wake at first. I was outwardly more excited to have it removed than she appeared to be, but I figured I was simply letting my curiosity at seeing the effects of the zebra medicine take over.

We split that morning, as Silver wanted to return the uniform and purse she had been loaned the night before and mistakenly taken with her, and we had hoped to contact Big O’ before setting out. If he even wants to go with us, I thought. Bit said she’d try to find travel arrangements in the meantime, so I was left to my own.

I absently strolled through the morning activity, stepping aside the rushing groups and workers, making my way slowly toward the only place I wanted to visit before departing. My mane kicked about in the dry wind and my tail whipped behind me. The scent of mint and herbs rode the dusty breeze across the path and settled on me with a dozing comfort.

The reception area was empty, but the door leading to the small clinic behind was open. When I peered around the oak counter, I could see the zebra tending to one of the slaves from the day before. I walked through the room, taking a moment to look over each of the injured that still remain. Many had been allowed to leave to settle in to a few rooms Xanti had procured from the inn, as their injuries did not require continued observation, but many others still lie sleeping in the many earthen cots lining the walls of the cozy room.

“What brings you this morning, Vitia?” The zebra never looked up from her charge, and spoke with quiet, tempered tones.

“How is everypony?”

She snipped the clean wrap around the pony’s head and began to fold it tight. “All are well. Your help may have saved many lives.”

But I’m also part of the reason, I thought, but shook away the notion and watched her finish cinching the wrap and pulling the sheet up, tucking the mare in snug.

“You have a penchant for alchemy.”

“Alchemy?” I had never heard her mention anything about alchemy.

She smiled at me, turning her head. Her sapphire eyes gleamed brightly in the strong light peeking through the windows, and as she turned, a single earring, circular and as large as my hoof, fastened from delicate metals and painted with only accents of earthen shades of brown and grey, spun from the tip of her ear and clinked charmingly behind her as she walked off.

I followed her but stopped at the archway separating the lush garden of hers from the slim hall. She paused a moment later, and turned to me. “Follow, Vitia.”

She led me through the rows of vegetation and exuberance of wild growth, beyond the tables we spent all night working at days before, and into another dark room beyond.

Linings of bioluminescent mushrooms and cavern flowers cast a light and eerie blue glow over the panes of glass that rose to the ceiling. The air in here flowed about with a chill touch to it, and droplets of water ran down the steel barriers between the unlit spaces beyond the glass panes.

The walk was short, and Xanti turned to me, crescent slivers of her bright eyes my only viewing of the zebra. She closed her eyes and all was silent.

I could hear no breathing other than mine, and only the light spray of the misters above filled the hall with sound. In the blackness I could see the rows of blue life starting to recede from me, feeling a mile away. My heart was beating faster, and I shifted on my hooves. Words caught in my throat, and I swallowed a dry, empty mouth. I was alone. The zebra that stood not two steps from me was nowhere.

A click sounded above me, and the room slowly lit in shades of green. Xanti appeared beside me, smiling.

“You have seen,” she said, in the same lyrical way she always did, “The cost of my medicines. Here you can see the other side of the craft.”

I turned around and walked up to one of the panes. A vague shape, grotesque and bulbous, wriggled about in the space beyond. The dim lighting of the room barely illuminated anything in the glass cage, but I could see an outline of something. It rose from the floor into a single spherical mass, and tendrils spread from there to the corners of the enclosure, and writhed near the base of the glass.

I jumped back, but swallowed heavy and looked into another. “What are these?” I asked, looking over another of the misshapen things.

“You may know them as bloaters. Mimics in the desert.”

“You…Grow those?”

“Cultivate is more accurate. They are immensely useful, if one knows how to use them. Poisons, treatments, and more.”

I stepped back from the third glass cage, and turned to her. “Poisons?” Part of me knew it wasn’t my place to say, but indignation was clear on my words, “How does that help anyone?”

The room fell into complete darkness suddenly. Xanti’s hooves clicked over the steel flooring, and slivers of her blue eyes appeared beside me, sparkling with glimmers of the feeble floor lights. She walked out from the room back to her workbench, and I followed from a distance, eyeing the zebra with a new caution.

She patted the thick book with the uneven spiral pattern on its cover, and ran her hoof down its spine. “It is good to want to help, to want to do good for you and yours. But,” she said, turning those large sapphire eyes of hers on me. They seemed to shine with an intensity that matched the weight of her sing-song voice, “There may be times where the best help you can provide is being proactive.”

A chime rang through the rafters above. Xanti turned to me, with the gentle smile I’d come to trust, “I shall be just a moment. Could you see to the door?”

I nodded, and made my way back to the entrance. A single pony stood near the counter. She had a velvety blue coat and a long, sleek mane that fell over one shoulder.

“Hi Silver,” I said.

“Bit says she has a guide, but we’ll need to leave now if we want to get to Desert’s Edge before sundown.”

“Oh.” I was a bit surprised at how sudden it was. “Alright then,” I said, stepping around the corner. “Oh, let me tell Xanti.”

“Tell me what?”

I nearly jumped out of my coat. My hooves clacked back down on the wood floor and I spun on the zebra. She had a single strap and a sling weighted down with something slung around her neck.

Trying to recover, I spoke up, “Looks like we’re leaving. I wanted to say thanks again, for all your help.” I stepped up to her, but she only glanced at me from the corner of her large gem-like eyes, and slipped the strap off.

She held it out to me. “For you. A gift.”

“For me? Why? I didn’t do anything. I should be the one getting you something.”

She shook her head and then the tote again. “I trust that you can learn much, and aid your companions even better, with what you may find in here.”

I slipped the bag around my neck like Xanti had worn it, and patted it gently. “Thank you, again.”

She shook her head and turned, walking back into the clinic room.

Silver nudged me gently, and I followed her out to the edge of town, where a squat earth pony stood impatiently, tapping his hoof against the rock he stood on.

Bit Flip nodded to me when Silver and I arrived, but I looked around, finding our company short. “Where’s Big O’?” I asked.

“He’s stayin’ here,” Bit said. “Found some work, looks like.”

“Good for him,” I smiled. He had tagged along on the trek into Thieves’ Bend, but I really knew nothing of the stallion. The pocks and scars that adorned his face and inability to speak painted a clear picture of the sort of past he’d suffered, so I was glad to see somepony, especially one as gentle as him, able to pick themselves up after such an ordeal, and continue on.

As we made way to the western edge of town following our guide, I glanced back through the bustling street to the unseen river running along the cliffs beyond, and wished him well.

We spent the afternoon making route to Desert’s Edge. I was greatly uncomfortable with the entire concept, but I knew it wasn’t for me, and Silver was exuberant, often pouncing ahead of the guide Bit had procured for us, even as the sun began to set and picking the trail was more difficult. Bit inquired with the squat guide occasionally about specific paths or traps along the uneven trail, but most answers were off-hoofish.

The bag held the single book from Xanti’s workbench. Inside the first page, written in fine print, read The Big Book of Alchemy.

I poured over the pages, finding myself enamored with the contents within. It read with increasing fluidity with a surprising insight to cultural aspects of both pony and zebra. It referenced old pony medicine and questioned the change from alchemy to chemistry, and devoted passages to contrasting the results of both forms.

An index at the back listed hundreds of plants, grasses, animals, and other ingredients, each accompanied by a finely detailed drawing. I flipped through the sections to desert life, and found myself often lagging behind the group as I’d catch a glimpse of something along the road I’d seen in the book and look over the details and common uses.

The guide notified us of the end of his contract, and turned back to the north, disappearing into the evening. After a few more small hills and squat canyons, we came into a wide dusty clearing. Some distance away stood a thick steel wall, which I identified as the western gate to the junction town. Small shapes scurried beneath the flickering lights that led from the concrete walk to the gate itself.

My hoof clacked onto the concrete, last of the three of us, and I quivered. Silver Sheen could barely contain herself and bounced up the path, speaking joyfully to the stoic griffin guards I did not recognize, and bounded off across the dusty path that led to the familiar steel gate of the junction.

Bit looked back to me and gave a half smile. “Come on,” she said. “Even though I know you aren’t looking forward to it.”

I shook my head and stepped up beside her, gave a smile of my own, and walked on, following the path of the excited mare under the lights.

Silver had stopped just some steps from the gate itself and stood motionless as I walked up to her. Her face was frozen over, eyes blank, and a light gust whipped her bangs around but she seemed oblivious.

“Getting nervous?” I asked her.

She gulped and nodded slowly.

“Me, too,” I whispered, more for myself than her.

Spotlights clacked to life high above us, and several griffins marched toward us, guns trained. My jaw was slack, and I was in terrified awe at the blinding and forceful character of the guards. Although measures similar to this had been in discussion back before I left, during a period of increased raider activity, it had never escalated to this extent.

Bit Flip stepped up beside me and spoke when I could not, identifying us by profession, and a hesitant mention of Silver’s residence within.

The griffins circled around us, inspecting us with eagle-eyed tenacity. They turned, ruffled their feathers, and peered out into the distance. Finally, the tense silence broke as one griffin called out for passage. The gate clanked and whirred to life, and we were ushered in to a small fenced holding area. Armed griffins stood along an outer ring, stoic but for the ruffling of feathers. Each looked ever us slowly, cautiously, and kept their weapons holstered but pensive.

“Friendly place you got here,” Bit whispered to me, but I was still trying to wrap my head around what had just happened and couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic.

Back before, during the last days here I could recall, murmurs around town implied that the council had been considering hiring out the entire griffin squad and letting them make base here, to fend off the raiders. “I guess the council finally went through with hiring them all,” I said absently.

A pair of ponies in the maintenance crew’s slogs and tan cap walked down the ramp beside us, leading from a catwalk above, and one peeked his head around just long enough for me to catch a familiar blue coat and shaggy mop.

“Hey, flower-colt!” I called out.

Blue Lilac leaned back and squinted as he peered over at us. “Wha—hey! Vitia,” he stammered. “That really you?” He didn’t wait for an answer, and scurried around the others and bounded over to us. “Oh it really is you,” he laughed. Just as I recalled it, his voice matched his features, defying his age by a good dozen years. “And bless, Silver Sheen.” He smiled to us, looking over us, barely restrained.

“Oh give it up,” he said, turning to the guards. He looked to one in a black vest rimmed with a red collar, “These ponies live here. They’ve jus’ been out a while. Settle yer feathers.”

The vested griffin squinted then restrained his weapon, an act that was immediately replicated by the rest of the mercenary group. He nodded once and the guards dispersed.

“Come on,” Lilac said, ignoring the settling mercenaries, leading us away from the holding area and nearer the town proper.

Nothing looked to have changed inside of the gate. The main street still stay filled with ponies, with talk of trade and carts with bushels of vegetables that strolled through. Old wooden buildings rose above the crowded walks beneath, and evening mares looked down from their balconies and teased their inevitable clients. The entire street was lit and rife with the night’s activities.

Everything seemed the same, but as I looked over my old home, it all began to feel oddly distant. There were certainly more armed griffins about, standing watch at every street corner, and the jubilance I expected seemed dull. I could draw many comparisons to Junction 144, and the thought that my home wasn’t unique here left me a little hollow inside.

Lilac turned to us, and his wide grin gave way to a great smile. Before I could stop him he was squeezing me in a tight hug. I stumbled back slightly, and wiped away a line of grease from the chest of my corset while he wrapped his skinny arms around Silver in the same hug. Any semblance of control he had vanished, and he dashed around us, asking a question between every frantic breath about where we’d been, why we didn’t say anything, what we’ve seen.

“Lilac!” came the rough shout of the head maintenance tech, second only to Greenhooves. He swung a wrench about by the strap wrapped to his hoof. “Quit yer yabberin’ and get yer ass-smooth foal-face back here. This line ain’t gonna fix itself.”

The years of time spent on my off hours or bouts of boredom saw my old friend in many situations of being yelled at by the head tech, and I knew his reaction—same as it was in every case. I mimicked his actions from beside him, out of his view. “Aw come on,” he said and I mouthed. We both slunk our heads and scratched the dirt with the tips of our hooves, we rustled our mane, and I mimicked him pulling his cap off and setting back with a suave motion.

Silver chuckled as I pranced around mimicking my old friend. “Guess I better go,” he whinnied and turned just as I stopped. “But hey, are you back? You gonna stay here? Can—yeah, we should meet up later. How about over some drinks?

I smiled at the foal-faced stallion, and shrugged. “We will have to wait and see, flower-colt. Not sure what our plans are.”

“Oh,” he sighed. “Well, I’m just glad to see you’re safe.” He hugged us both, nodded to Bit Flip, and trotted off back to the crew.

“So the first pony in town I meet is your ex?” Bit asked, stepping ahead of us into the street. “What would Willow think of that colt?”

Silver chuckled, “Lilac’s never going to grow up, is he?”

“He’s always been like that, and no, we never were, Bit,” I said, stepping past her into the bustle of the street.

“Not that he didn’t try,” I heard Silver say, but I held my tongue and simply shrugged.

Desert’s Edge was a small enough town that it wouldn’t have taken very long to run into several more ponies who would recognize us, and I personally did not find that prospect very enticing, so I was quick to lead our little group into an alleyway that fed around several older shops and combination houses, where lights were further apart and traffic was much lighter. The worn path loosened up and after rounding a few other streets, came to the small two-floor shack that I had once called my own.

The paint was worn as ever, visible even under the dull lighting of the lamp across the street, but at least in that respect it fit in with most of the town outside the main street. The bottom floor was a single room for maintenance and filled with many projects that had lay there for years, half-finished. The door creaked open to the stairs that led to my private quarters above. The slim hall had several small windows high enough that only the minotaurs that I had bought this from could likely see through them, and did nothing for light as we stepped up the moaning wooden steps.

I took a deep breath, and hesitated at the door. “It’s…Probably a disaster.”

“Always was,” Silver said flatly.

I pushed the door open slowly, and snapped the switch on. The sight before me made me sink and hang my head. Clothes were strewn all throughout, bottles devoid of their alcoholic contents littered the floor, and papers were torn and crumpled forming makeshift piles in the corners. My mattress stood on its side, resting against the balcony door, similar to the toppled nightstand, and the heavy black curtains I could only vaguely recall putting up were torn and hung in pieces from their rods.

I trudged into the mess, kicking aside bottles and pushing away kitchenware.

“Disaster doesn’t seem a strong enough word,” Bit said.

My hoof clicked against a small object, and I pulled the empty Dash inhaler from the refuse. Tossing it absently behind me, I sighed, “Sorry.”

“Dash?” Bit asked.

“Oh Vitia,” Silver sighed. “Don’t tell me you got back into that.”

Uncomfortable memories were forcing their way up, and my emotions were starting to swirl. Anger, at first. “You left. I didn’t know what to do!” But the building rage subsided quickly, and guilt took its place. “Somehow I thought it was my fault.” The words echoed in the small two-room, and I stared at my hooves in awkward anticipation.

“No,” I said, more to myself than the silent others. I sniffed and took a deep breath. “This was a long time ago, now. I haven’t used since then.” I raised my head, looking to the two I had inadvertently led to this horrific scene. Silver looked at her hooves and brushed one ankle against the other. Bit had her eyebrows arched and peered about the room.

“Sorry,” I said again. “I’ll get this place cleaned up so we at least have a place tonight.”

“How long are you staying?” Silver asked.

“Uh,” I looked to Bit Flip, who shrugged. “Not long. I’ll get you back to your place, and we’ll see from there.” I motioned for the door and stepped over the scraps as we walked out. “Really sorry about that. Honestly, I couldn’t remember when I left.” I wanted to shift the tone, and spoke a bit more upbeat, but the words that came after were wrong. “I just woke up in the desert,” I said, forcing a half-hearted chuckle, trying to cover my embarrassment.

Bit looked at me with a steely expression, then nodded and walked downstairs.

Just beyond the door, a tall and bulky shape was making its way up the gravel path. I squinted in the dim light but couldn’t make out the bipedal figure.

“That little pip wasn’t squawkin’ nonsense,” Greenhooves laughed. The minotaur nearly broke into a sprint toward me, and lifted me, squeezing and spinning me in a breath-taking embrace that only minotaurs could manage. He dropped me onto my hooves and lifted Silver in the same motion, “And the velvet mare of snot nose’s, too.”

He spun with her, dropped her down, and reached for Bit Flip, but paused, his arms outstretched. Bit had her ears pinned back and twisted her body away from him, but the minotaur simply laughed. “I don’t know this little’un,” he roared in laughter, pulling her from the ground and squeezing her tight. She flapped her wings and coughed, but Greenhooves patted her heartily, “But any pony with the whiskey queen is a good pony,” he laughed, setting the wheezing pegasus back down.

“Hi, Greenhooves,” I said weakly. “News sure travels fast.”

“Haven’t seen Blue Lilac that excited in quite some time,” he said. “It is so great to see you—both of you—well. We’ll have to let everyone know.”

I shook my head. “We’re really tired, ‘Hooves. Can it wait?”

Everything around us was silent for a moment before he spoke again, the joy gone from his voice, “You really scared us.”

“I know,” I said to him, averting my gaze.

“Even Brightmane was at a loss when you disappeared.”

Silver turned to me, concern thick in her tone, “You didn’t tell anyone you left?”

“Look,” I spit, stamping my hoof, “I don’t want to get into this now.”

“Vitia,” Silver whispered.

“I know everyone’s probably upset. They are right to be. I’m sorry, Greenhooves, it wasn’t supposed to happen like that, but can it wait? Let me just take Silver home, then you can all—whatever, lecture me if you want.” I kicked at the ground. “Tell me how irresponsible I am or how stupid to Dash away a week or drown myself in booze. After,” I hissed.

“Nobody wants to say anything like that,” the minotaur said gently. He leaned down onto one knee and rested his massive hand on my small shoulder. “We were just scared. You could have been dead. And I’m sorry, Silver Sheen,” he said, squeezing me softly, “But your place was sold by your parents before you all left. There is another family there. The Tenders, you know, with those two foals.”

“Oh,” she said.

I patted Silver lightly, “I’d offer my place, but I don’t think that’s much fun for anypony to stay at.” I forced a chuckle, but it felt flat. “Come on, we’ll just get a room or two over at Borough’s tonight.”

Silver shook her head. “I’ll stay here, if that’s okay.”

I turned to the demure mare. “I need to clean it first.”

“That’s okay,” she said. The soft smile across her face matched the gentle glimmer of her eyes that played in many of my fondest memories. “I think a little time doing something mindless will be good for me.”

I raised my hoof to argue, but Bit stepped to my side, looked at me and shook her head slightly.

It dawned on me then that I had been pushing all of us through town because of my own issues, and hadn’t taken even a moment to consider the impact on them, especially Silver Sheen. Reuniting with the town and a lifetime of other friends and acquaintances was something I had dreaded, but for Silver, I could only imagine it being so much worse. Without her family there were few others in town that would even know her. Her return would be heavy with the recent loss of the last of her family, and she was still dragging her own mental chains from Buff Aloe’s Ridge.

Her face was still, and all the emotions I knew she had to be fighting to keep down were well hidden. But they wouldn’t be for long, and I realized she had to have been pushing herself harder than I the entire time.

“Alright,” I said to her. She nodded, and quickly disappeared back into the small building.

I turned back to the minotaur and gave a hearty squeeze around his steel-hard leg. “Give me this one night to rest,” I told him. “I’ll be sure to talk to Brightmane tomorrow, and I’m not going anywhere for a while. Silver’s been through a lot and I want to do what I can to make sure she’s okay.”

“Sure, I understand.” He patted me on the head and scruffed my mane about before stepping back. “It is good to see you.” He turned and walked off, waving as he faded into the unlit corner.

“Sure y’ don’t wanna go talk to him, Snot Nose?” Bit asked, nudging my side with a sly grin.

I rolled my eyes and pushed against her gently. “It’s fine. I don’t think I’m ready to own up to this right now.” I looked up at the sky and glossed over the thin strips of clouds that blocked the specks of distant stars. “I should go help Silver,” I said, turning back to the building.

“Not so sure that’s a good idea,” Bit said. “I think she wants some time alone.”

I shook my head. “I know. I just feel bad.”

“Well come on, let’s go somewhere else, then.”

We walked out from the small alleyway to a larger street and kept to the dark wooden walkway beneath the houses that lined the path. Windows were lit and heat poured from the cracks and seams. The scent of cooking greens and cider saturated the walkway as we continued aimlessly onward in silence.

The street turned as it neared the eastern cliffs, and we followed the new path south following along the heavy steel and iron wall to the eastern gate.

Unlike the western gate on the main road, the eastern side had always been less defended, since it only served as a checkpoint for the river ferries. Desert’s Edge was named for the distinct separation between the western desert and sparse plateau to the east and the last town in the area, so even with the new griffin guards, the gate was open. The two that stood astride the entryway only nodded to us as we passed through.

The concrete path continued downhill as it neared the shore. The sound of the river lapping against the wooden piers and concrete ferry dock rose up over the low canyon walls, and bathed the nighttime scene in an intimate fashion.

Fireflies rose from the long grass and fluttered about, circling each other and darting between several small bushes with heavy desert fruit. Grains of light on the far shore flickered with a constantly moving dash of orange and yellow.

The moon had begun to wane, but still rose above the cliffs and shone over the thin clouds, its hazy glow the only light on the dock outside the junction.

We stood at the shore, letting the water rise up to our hoofs and ebb back away, simply watching the uneven reflection of the moon, bright white against the midnight waters, broken up by the unseen rocks and grasses. Ripples along the surface warped the image, but it settled.

“Y’ wanna talk about it?” Bit asked.

I let the silence of the river dock hold in the air a moment longer while I tried to put my thoughts together. I had no idea what I would say to Brightmane the next day, and dreaded the things she could say, mostly knowing whatever anger was turned at me would be warranted. perhaps talking about it will help.

“Not much to say,” I said, still reluctant.

“We wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t.”

I sighed. “Silver and I were more than friends. Or, that’s what I wanted and only sort of got.” I turned upriver and began to slowly move over the wet, rocky surface. “She left. I couldn’t. I had responsibilities here, to Brightmane, and raiders were acting up, so we were busy.” I brushed a small river rock off another and listened to it tumble down, clacking over other rocks and with a single blip it dipped into the black water and disappeared.

I sat on a large dry rock that jutted over the river, and Bit nestled in beside me. The space wasn’t quite large enough for the two of us, so we leaned into each other. Her leathery jacket had a dusty smell with a faint musk of cleaning oils. Flickers of reflected moonlight bounced off the water inches below us and lit her features in a constantly changing array of silver and flickers of orange from the small beetles that flew about, oblivious to our presence. I leaned in close, feeling her warmth and relaxing into the comfort of another.

A soft touch slid over my shoulders and settled against me. Bit’s wing pressed lightly and pulled me close to her. I hummed in surprise, but found myself leaning into her. The slight touch was a comfort I realized I had missed.

“It was a rough time,” I continued in low tones, whispering for just the two of us. “And things were messy.”

“No worse than yer home, I hope.” She pushed into me with a grin on her face.

I nudged back, and smiled into the fuzzy silhouette of my reflection in the water. “Brightmane took me in when I was a foal, and cared for me—in her own way. When Silver left, I was quick to turn to drink and Dash and it just spiraled from there. It’s not an exaggeration to say I spent most of that time in a haze. I can barely remember it.”

Bit hummed a low note, and I was eager to move on past the embarrassing subject. “I had a Dashout, and woke up in the desert. No food, no water. Nobody knew I had left. Raiders had been active around the area, ponies were hurt, and I just disappeared.” I sighed. There wasn’t much else for me to say after that. As far as Brightmane knew, I could have been caught, or killed. “She probably thought I was dead.”

“But yer not. Won’t she be relieved, if nothin’ else?”

I slumped down on the rock and rested my chin on its scratchy surface. “I don’t know. Maybe.” A single firefly buzzed by, inches from my face, and a thin trail of light followed as it dipped down to the water and then up and out of sight. “I’m just being selfish. Silver is much worse off than me. I at least had a home to return to.”

Bit spoke up, “I’ve been there. Running the courier routes, it’s easy money to be had, but long. I got into some real pure stuff, and I flew across the desert.”

I shifted under her wing, and listened in close. We had shared some moments before, but she was always so reluctant to offer anything about herself that I really know nothing about her.

She continued, “Had the mother of all Dashouts. Think the hole I made when crashing is still at the Crags,” she chuckled. She leaned over the rock and dipped her hoof into the water, swirling it about. The moonlight broke the reflection, and specks of light cascaded across her features. “That’s another reason I trust Ghost Ant,” she said, “And Willow.”

My breathing was slow and calm, and my shoulders rested softly against Bit’s. As I listened to the pegasus talk, I became increasingly relaxed. It was as if I had forgotten the concerns of the whole Wasteland around us. I peered over the edge of the rock and a shaggy unicorn looked back at me. Her eyes were half-open, glazed in contentment, and her blue bangs flopped around in the breeze. Her horn was bandaged, and a sadness shone in her purple eyes, but if only for that moment, she was fine.

“You know, Bit,” I said, “You’ve come to mean so much to me, and I’m really comfortable with you.” I didn’t mean anything beyond the words themselves, but I felt like they didn’t say what I wanted. “After the Ridge, at first, I thought maybe I couldn’t. I always felt like intimacy was something special, then…” I let the words trail off.

Bit pressed my side with her wing, and I ran my muzzle along the soft tips of her feathers and continued, “But at least I know I’m not going to be scared away from another’s touch.” A slender feather played along my lips, and I barely parted them, pressing them gently against the feather.

“Yer not gonna lick my wing again, right?”

My lips trembled and widened into a grin. She looked at me with widened eyes, and I rolled my lips as I considered my next words. “Maybe. I could, if you wanted.” I pressed the tip of my tongue just barely against my lip, and looked to her eyes from the half-closed corners of mine. I wanted to tease her, to see her flustered. “You seemed to have rather liked it last time.”

Her face contorted for a brief moment and she stood quickly, turning her face away to mask the flush that blossomed openly. “So, uh,” she started, then shook her legs out and stepped off from the rock, “What’s that book y’ were all nose-first into today?”

I sighed openly, disappointed in the turn of events. My now bare sides felt uncomfortably cool in the late night breeze, and the personal space on the rock felt suddenly lonely. But I knew it was just a tease. I didn’t look at Bit Flip and feel that way. She was a friend unlike any I’d had, and someone whose brief moments of intimacy betrayed a warm side to the normally cool mare.

Standing up, I shrugged. “Just a book that Xanti gave me—or loaned, I don’t know. It has all sorts of interesting stuff about everything out here.” I patted the shoulder tote.

“Like a travel guide?”

“It’s more for medicine, I think. Zebra medicine.” Even in the minimal light this far from the gate with only the small bugs around as a source, I could see the look of uncertainty across her face. “It’s actually really useful, even I was surprised.”

She shrugged and stretched her wings. “At least we know it can fix broken bones.” Turning back to me, “But if it’s just about what plants you can eat and which critters will kill ya this way or that, I coulda told you that.”

“Xanti said it was for alchemy. I haven’t looked into it both yet, but if it means I can be useful if something like your wing happens again, and we’re not so lucky to be close to a town, then I think it’s worth looking into.”

She shuddered, though I didn’t know if it was in response to my consideration of what she would call freaky zebra magic, or the brisk wind. I found myself bristling my coat as well, and stepped toward the gate. “Got a really long day ahead of me tomorrow,” I sighed, turned to the mare, and wrapped my lithe arms around her shoulders. “Thank you,” I whispered.

I woke early after a night of half-sleep. When I did manage to slip away, I was met with uncomfortable fits of anxiety, and would find myself awake, staring at the darkened ceiling. After another pass at rest, I rolled onto my side, and gazed through the lone scratched window of my old stay, and just stared out at the first rays of the morning light.

A bold orange crested the horizon and painted the far horizon in its hue. It melted away into greens and then blues as I rolled my eyes upward and quietly made to my hooves.

The other two were silent and still, and as I tip-hoofed my way around the room, I hoped they had a better night.

Downstairs, I sat on the hard concrete surface of my old working area. Silver had worked too hard in cleaning everything. There wasn’t any particular reason she needed to concern herself with the unorganized mess downstairs, but she had separated tools and piled parts into bins that I had once labeled. A disassembled terminal station still sprawled across one workbench to the side.

I slipped through the door and ignored the bite of the crisp morning. I had to talk to Brightmane, and I needed to be there and standing tall before this courage faded.

When I turned onto the main street and faced the clinic, the sun had tipped above the gate and flooded the town in gold. Faded stucco hung with a tenuous resistance to the elements along the walls, and the wooden beams beneath and latticed along the first floor ceiling were bare. Little squares built into the design dotted the exterior. The clinic had an air of culture that had been tossed away two hundred years before when the entire land of Equestria had to huddle together—when survival became the only chosen style anypony could afford.

As expected, Doctor Nose had the lights on and door open by way of a single brick at its base. Courage had faltered there, and I hesitated to open the door. Instead, I peeked through the crack. She rustled some papers on her desk, and turned to the counter behind her, like she did every typical morning. More out of habit than need, she’d go over her nurses’ notes and the scrawls she’d put on paper before filing them away, ready to begin the new day with her mind set.

“You need to go inside,” a low whisper came from behind me.

I jerked away from the door, and scraped my back against the rough stucco. Silver was sitting just a few feet from me, with a half-smile bending her lips, and eyebrows arched.

“I know,” I said. My breath billowed into the morning air and was whisked away in an instant. I told myself I had to move, or I knew I’d falter and my courage would end the same as my breath.

The door creaked open, and the doctor mare peeked her head up from a journal. She had streaks in her earthen-brown mane now, silvery grey, and thin lines around her eyes and creases on her brow. Her thickly-rimmed glasses hung low on her muzzle, and she peered at me with golden eyes.

She stood from the desk, and without ever breaking her eyes from mine, walked slowly across the room, stopping inches from me.

She moved fast, faster than I’d have given the aging mare credit to do. In an instant her hoof had raced across my face, and all that was left was a burning on my cheek.

She wrapped around me, and embraced me tightly. My eyes burned, and tears flowed freely. I sniffled, grasping at my mother-mare like a foal, whispering I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.

“Y’idiot,” she said.

——