Book 1, Chapter 1View OnlineFallout Equestria: Medicine & MailBook 1, Chapter 1Chapter One “The desert’s been changin’. Sure as th’ sun rises, the desert’s been changin’.” Caravan life is pretty routine. At most you had to look out for the oddball raider or two maybe a few hungry desert predators. And that was on an exciting day. We’d trade goods back and forth at various destinations along our routes, offer repair or medical services to places that didn’t have proper staff to help keep them from collapsing until the next caravan came by. Occasionally somepony would need a package transported between the various towns and junctions, often times they were to places we had just come from or further. Caps are caps though and off one of the more adventurous traders would go to play at being courier. The caravan route had taken us to Junction 144 for the night. Decent enough pony folk, even if some of them are a touch peculiar. It’s the kind of place that gives off the impression of having sprung up from the ground overnight with its trailers and makeshift buildings. Sitting right on the merger of Equestrian Highways 71 and 73, the town sees an abundance of traffic despite its rough appearance. I woke to the sound of some traders arguing just beyond the door to our quarters. As if it wasn’t already damned difficult enough to sleep during this time of year. Between the sweltering heat, even in the early morning, and the constant racket outside, the odds of going back under were slim to none. I groaned and flipped over in my bunk, hoping that one of the nearby shanties might collapse on them. Placing a somewhat dirty pillow over my head, I tried to block out the noise, praying to Luna that perhaps I might get skipped over today. “Bit Flip.” And there it was, the last voice in this blasted wasteland that I wanted to hear right now. So much for those odds on sleep. “Bit Flip,” she called out as I cringed inwardly, “We got packages here y’need to deliver.” I think I managed to mumble out something halfway coherent as a response. “BIT FLIP.” Okay, maybe not. In my half-stupor, I tumbled out of the bunk, wings barely catching me mid-fall. Real smooth, Bit. At least now I was awake. “Yeah, yeah. I’m comin’,” I said, fumbling to get my barding and harness strapped into place. “Keep yer hooves on.” I frowned at my appearance in a nearby mirror shard, made all the worse by the scratches and dirt across its surface. I slipped my wings away beneath the leather sleeves. “Way to start the day off by making one of the courier masters yell,” I groused under my breath as I poked my head out of the room. “Listen here, missy. You might be from a trade family and—” Great, it was the twin with the prosthetic hoof, “—I don’t care what you layabouts do while trading, but when you’re working the courier line—” I sighed, “I get it, Parcel Post. I do. I should be up earlier to take my packages. I’m sorry.” Taking my deliveries from her I stalked off towards the bar grumbling, “It’s not like there’s ever any sort of rush out here in this desert.” “If’n it ain’t muh best customer,” the barkeep intoned flatly at my arrival, “Anythin’ special or just th’ usual?” “Just the usual beer and sas’,” I said, sitting on a stool at the counter. Looking over my packages, it seems I’m in for a bit of backtracking today. Old Fort Celestia over in the ’Side and a stop in Cancy. Ugh, that rot-hole of a settlement. One of the regulars in the corner was futzing with the radio. Static. Static. Stati—Music. Really thin and still laced with static, but it was better than nothing. Two bottles clinked down on the bar as I slid six caps out of my pouch, “Oh, and I’m gonna need a Rum ’n’ Sparkle, to go. Preferably with the cap still on.” “Gunna be ten more caps then, an’don’chu try none o’yer fancy trader shit here.” “Oh, c’mon! Yer killin’ me here, Tab,” I groused. “It’s not like y’didn’t just make two from those bottles!” The small unicorn hopped off his stool with a laugh, “Fuck off, courier. Ah know y’make more’an that in one run.” “Pay’s been shortin’ us lately and there ain’t exactly a whole lot of packages being shuffled around the desert right now.” I smiled down at him, “C’mon, help a filly out. I know you’ve still got a crate or two sealed up in the back.” “Ain’t got shit but radroaches and food back there!” he snapped back at me, the frustration rising in his voice. A familiar sensation played lightly along my spine. Smiling to myself, I had him. Just one more nudge. Leaning over the counter I whispered, “Besides, you still owe me for that thing with yer missus and that mule from the Pens.” Tab sputtered and stared at me as if to say something then stomped off towards the back fuming; I don’t think I’ve ever seen a black stallion turn that shade of red before. Nursing my beer, lukewarm though it might be, I leaned back on my stool waiting for Tab to fetch my order, trying to think of some way to get out of running to opposite ends of the desert today. The music faded and the voice of a lively stallion punctuated the static. “Got a question for……Mares or bucks ever seen a ghost? ‘Now, DJ Pon3!’ I hear ya say. ‘There’s no such thing as gho…’ If I, DJ Pon3, your voice in the wasteland, were to tell you that I have seen…” Sweet Luna in the night sky, where was this broadcasting from? The static is horrible. “…Years ago, and I had just…Manticores, so I was ridin’ Dash and Stampede…But there she was, Celestia’s honest truth. Never seen…or found the exact spot…crazy things in this wild wasteland…” “Bah! The fool sounds like he was just ridin’ those chems a bit too hard,” one of the drunkards interrupted from the back of the bar, “That trash sounds like some story told to foals to scare ’em into behavin’.” Heh, junction folk. Haven’t left the safety or their homes in forever, once settled, and suddenly they’ve got all the answers. Tab slammed a large bottle down on the counter and scowled at me a long several seconds before walking off again. Wow, if looks could kill. Taking the hint, I swallowed the last of my beer and bagged my prize. Guess I shouldn’t push my luck; I’d hate to swing and miss. Prancing happily out of the bar with the bottle of Rum ’n’ Sparkle, I made my way back to the caravan cook for today’s trail ration. “Hey, Applesauce!” Nothing. That old horned bastard is ignoring me again. “APPLESAU—” A box flew at me, and I just ducked to avoid a braining. “Ye don’t gotta yell, child. I ain’t deaf yet, but if ye keep hollerin’ like that I may as well be. Here, take your food and off you go.” I pulled the bottle of Rum ’n’ Sparkle out and tossed it his way. He grinned, resting the bottle on his lap. “And these,” he said cheerfully. A couple Fancy Buck Cakes and box of Sugar Apple Bombs floated out from a nearby storage barrel, bathed in a faint magical glow. “Yer wife’s gonna bury you if she catches y’with that,” I teased while packing away the extra food. The old stallion looked at me as if I were wrong in the head and laughed. “Uh huh, and I’mma take ye down with me for gettin’ extra rations. Go on now, shoo.” Munching on my ill-gotten gains, I took a slight detour and stopped outside the Junction gates to visit the local Curiosity. Mentally taking stock of my resources, I figured I could spare the caps and cake to get a quick forecast for today. Besides, I felt for the poor colt. It’s a small miracle he’s only just out of his gourd and not stark raving mad. As I hear it, he watched Hell Hounds tear his mother to pieces. “A coin spins in the air, but you already know which side will land. You’ve always played the hoof you’re dealt, but it might not be enough this time. Best learn to stack the deck. Today’s lucky numbers: 6, 18, 9, 5, 14, 4.” Huh, he usually just gives me the weather. Shrugging, I placed the cake and caps near him before trotting south along the E-73 towards Cancy. Purified water is a precious resource in the Wasteland, but when the raging heat of the Marejave is bearing down on you, you’ll find even dirty water will do. “Just my luck,” I whined, rummaging through my pack, “Of all the trips I have to make, it had to be this one that I forget my canteen on.” I looked at the dust storm slowly building on the horizon and exhaled sharply while securing my mask and goggles into place. “Ah, ponyfeathers. This delivery is gonna be seven shades of suck.” The storm whipped about my head threatening to pull me under, to choke the life out of me. I kicked myself inwardly, knowing I really should have sought out shelter instead of trying to push on towards my destination, but too late for regrets now. I’ve been in this damn storm for a couple hours now. By my last estimate, I was about an hours’ worth of walking from Cancy. With any luck I haven’t been blown off course and towards the MiSAE solar grid. I wiped a fore hoof across my goggles in a vain attempt at clarity. Not even the mask and goggles were enough to stop all of the dirt and ash from finding its way in. Hell, I could barely see my own hoof in front of my eyes, let alone the road. Not wanting to risk inhaling any more than was necessary, I made an effort to maintain a measured breathing pace while walking against the storm. Without thinking, I took a breath normally to whisper a prayer of safe passage to the long dead goddesses and immediately regretted nothing more in the world. Reflexes took hold and I gagged a bit at the grime, only managing to make it worse by sticking my tongue out. Between the dirt, ash, and bits of irradiated materials I don’t think this taste could get any fouler! Right about now I want to buck myself for misplacing my canteen, if only to try and wash this taste out. Honestly, getting this taste off my tongue should have been the last of my worries. I just need keep on pushing through. This storm’ll either break up or I’ll make it through before long. An earsplitting snap echoed off in the distance as I was showered with small pieces of debris. I couldn’t place any sounds in this whirlwind with the desert storm howling around me. I looked up from my hooves and my heart skipped a beat. I could see a shadow in the distance getting larger with every passing moment, then I realized – it was barreling down the path towards me. I have to move out of the way. I can’t talk my way out of this. I need to mo— I slowly opened my eyes, quickly squinting at the unexpected light. Groaning at the sudden flare of pain knifing through my eyes, I forced myself to sit up to get my bearings. “Still with us, I see,” a worried sounding voice said from in front of me. “Wasn’t sure you’d make it. You took a pretty nasty hit there. Do you remember what happened?” I knitted my brow in frustration as I felt the almost alien touch of a magic field wrap around me, pushing me back to the floor. “Ah, you’ll want to stay lying down for a bit. For both your own safety and mine. So what are you? Combat harness, couple shotguns, packs full of goods…A mercenary,” there was a slight tremble and hesitation in the voice. After a moment, half a whisper, “A raider?” I grimaced at the last suggestion and said nothing. “Well, if you’re not going to be at least civil, then you can just sit there until whatever lived in these caves comes home.” I heard the voice shuffle around and make to stand up. “Trader. Courier when the need comes around.” “That explains the shotguns and combat harness,” the voice mused. “I saw a shadow stumbling about outside in the storm before it collapsed. It would appear that you tumbled down the hill after you tried to stop something pretty heavy with your face.” She chuckled. “Here, drink this. It should help some with the pain and swelling.” I heard a bottle scrape the soft dirt next to my head, “I’d love to, but, ah…I’m kind of stuck here.” The field dissipated some allowing me to just sit up and look at my savior-captor, “Well, thank you all the same, Miss…” The white unicorn shifted uncomfortably as I sat up, her amethyst eyes glowing in the firelight, “Vitia, no miss. And you are?” “Bit Flip.” I eagerly downed the watery healing potion, the pain in my face slowly receding, “Y’know, I appreciate you savin’ me an’ all, but could y’ease up on the hold. I mean, I get it. Couple-a shotguns, yer worried. But if I wanted to turn you into a fine red paste on the wall, I’d have done it earlier,” I bluffed, tipping the busted swivel mechanism of my harness with my elbow and mouthing the firing bit. “Shoula ’isahmed me, dea.” Vitia squeaked in surprise and released the rest of the field. I regarded her carefully before letting go of the bit. “Look, I’m not gonna hurt you, was just teasin’ a bit.” I added coolly before tipping the shotgun back to its original position, trying to break the awkward tension. “I seem t’ have gotten in a fair bit of trouble with that dust storm.” I sighed at my run of luck. “Definitely should have sought out shelter earlier, was stupid to roll the dice on that one.” Vitia hesitantly nodded, her silver-blue mane bobbing about, “More like it was incredibly stupid with no water. What were you thinking?” I flushed a bit, trying to hide my embarrassment, “Yea, well, I forgot my canteen. Was hopin’ that storm would have cleared up earlier, but I gambled and lost. Speakin’ of which, how long was I out?” “Roughly a day, give or take an hour.” I felt the little pony in my head panic a bit. Shit I’d lost an entire day of travel time. “So, Doc—” “Please don’t call me that,” Vitia looked a bit cross at the assumption, ears dropped slightly. “Okay, so, Vitia.” I motioned at my pack. “Nopony does anything free out here in the Wasteland, and I’d like to square us up before I start owin’ favors. What do I owe you? Will 100 caps and some lunch cover it?” I reached back to pull out my cap pouch and caravan box lunch. “W-what?” she half-sputtered on her drink, “Goodness, no. Just…Just keep it in mind later.” I frowned for a moment. Oh, wait, no…Idea! “You sure?” I flashed her one of my grins, “I’ve got a nice salad or some Sugar Apple Bombs.” By Luna’s lacy lingerie, I could almost see her salivating! Vitia looked lost in thought for a moment before snapping back to reality and squeaking out, “The sugar apples will be fine.” She had tried to regain some composure but her face was flushed. “But I’m not taking the caps, you still owe me!” A reduced favor was better than a full favor any day. “Sure.” I nodded, passing over the pack of sugary snacks. My stomach made the kind of noise one could mistake for a wild animal at the mention of food. I rooted around my pack, pulling out a wrapped pack of radhog bacon from the lunch box and a warm bottle of Sunrise Sarsaparilla. This’ll have to do for now. I can rest and finish it in Cancy when I get there. I glanced up and caught the look on my neighbor’s face. “What is that?” Vitia asked, looking a little queasy. “Bacon! Wonderful, wonderful radhog bacon. Salty, delic—” “That’s disgusting.” “What? Ish good,” I said, stuffing bits of savory chunks into my mouth, following up with a pull from my sarsaparilla. Vitia abruptly changed the subject away from (glorious) bacon and asked, “Hey, Bit Flip?” Concern was thick in her voice, “Not to sound alarmist—more curious than anything—but have you always had heterochromia?” “Heterawhat now?” I stopped and turned around to face her. “Your eyes. Have they always been two different colors? One golden, the other pale yellow-gray.” That little pony in my head reared up in panic again. “What? No. My eyes have always been gold.” I could feel my heartbeat begin to accelerate. “It’s…There’s…” I stumbled over my words before regaining my composure, mentally smacking the little pony in my head with a hose before stuffing her in a closet. Hopefully she didn’t do anything to me while I was out. I’ll check with the caravan doc when I get back. Nothing I can do about it right now. “It’s fine, or should be. I was able to stop your head swelling, and I didn’t see,” she said, tapping her horn, “Anything that would indicate lasting damage. So if you have no vision problems now, there aren’t likely to be any that are going to develop. Sudden head trauma can do that sometimes. Just keep an eye on it.” Ha, ha. An “eye” on it. “Alright. Thanks again, Do—” I stopped myself, “Vitia.” Easing myself off the ground, I made toward the mouth of the cave and sighed. Just my luck. The glare of the early morning sun weighed heavily on me. I could hear the mechanical grinding of the solar panels repositioning themselves as I galloped my way past the MiSAE solar grid. My stomach grumbled as I used far more energy than I should have been, but I was a day behind schedule. I could see the ugly rusted colors of a scrapyard on the horizon. Cancy was just a short gallop away. Urgh. My stomach made more grumbly noises. Still pretty hungry. I’m already going to be shorted on pay for this package. No sense delaying any further. Food could wait. Coming around the large sand dune, the first marker informing me that I had entered Cancy’s settlement made me jerk my head back in disgust. The stench. This region always reeked of brahmin dung from the surrounding areas, but once the Dash-heads moved in and started manufacturing the chem, the fumes and stench combined became nearly intolerable. My eyes watered as I walked through the settlement gates to the converted front desk of an old motel that served as a checkpoint. A few strung out looking ponies sat along the side of the room near desks with some official looking ponies in armored barding, others milled about in various tattered pre-war clothing. I stopped just short of a scrawny green earth pony in a dingy pre-war suit and nodded at him. “Needles.” “Bit.” “Doin’ well for yerself, I see.” I reached back to pull the parcel out of a pouch, the sound of weapons being drawn and racked slides freezing me in place. “And you’re late. This was supposed to be here yesterday,” he said with a wave at the alerted guards, a dangerous edge to his voice. “I got lost, alright?” I said with a sheepish grin, slowly pulling the package out and setting it on a nearby table. “Shit happened. Got in a fight and had to duck raiders. Just dock my fees and let me be on my way, yeah?” Needles picked up the package with care, looking it over and frowning at a torn edge. “This been opened?” I heard a racking noise next to my head. “Please, you know yer not gonna have me shot. You been sampling your wares again? Call off yer goons.” I looked at him and motioned to my harness, “Look at this, it’s all busted up. You know caravan policy just as well as I do, Needles. The package probably got scuffed during the fight.” Needles looked off into space for a moment before waving off the guards. “Yea, I do. It’s fine, just a bit on edge.” “Pay’s been worried ’bout you ever since y’left and got tangled up with those mucks from the coast.” “You know why I left. To be honest, I’m surprised you’re still doing the courier thing. Out o’ us all, we had you pegged for wanderlust.” “Yea, well—” I stopped, unsure of what to say. “Anyway, parcel delivered. Route comes to—” “Four-hundred caps. I know.” He nodded, taking out a pouch. “Minus the day late fee, so half that.” I pocketed the caps, snorting at being shorted pay for such a dumb mistake. “Hammer around? I still need to get my harness repaired.” “That old bag o’ bones? You an’ I both know that mush-bag’ll be ’round long after both o’ us are dust. He should still be o’er in that shop you hate so much.” I sputtered a bit. “There are better looking buildings down in Fleshgrove! The thing is hideous, paint it already.” The caricature of a green and purple dragon loomed overhead. For something so comical looking it felt out of place, and the faded posters of an elderly pink mare with an almost candy cane striped mane made things even more bizarre. I’ll never understand what they were thinking when they built a gift shop that looked like this before the bombs dropped, stranger yet that it houses a fully functioning lab and workshop below. “Watchin’ you forever, indeed.” I looked at the posters and shivered a bit despite the hot desert air. “These posters creep me out every time I came here.” It really did feel like as if she was watching my every move. A voice rasped, speaking softly from behind me, “Pinkie had that effect on ponies. It was just something she did.” Surprised, I whipped around at the voice and stared at the gentlecoltly unicorn ghoul. “Hammer, I wish you wouldn’t sneak up on me like that. Hell, I don’t even know how you manage to do it all the time.” It took a fairly large effort to not gag a bit at the smell of his exposed and decaying flesh as he passed. “Science, dear. Also, a hell of a lot of chems and maybe just a touch of magic.” Hammer motioned towards a set of stairs behind the checkout counter. “I see you broke your harness again. I swear, at the rate of you caravanners go through parts I could retire out to one of those swank high roller places on the far end of the valley.” The hatch closed behind us with a loud click, locking to prevent intrusion. I’m glad he wears an overcoat most of the time. I don’t think I’d be able to stand staring at the contents of his rotting chest cavity every time I came here. Hammer tinkered away on the busted swivel mechanism with his magic. “So, you gonna tell me or are we just going to stand around being awkward?” I shuffled about the workshop reading some of the catalogued memory orb labels. “Excuse me?” “Your eye and this fine piece of machinery, you daft little filly.” clink “I overheard you talking to Needles earlier.” clink “Doesn’t look any damage a raider would inflict.” clink “You were always a bit more—” he paused a moment, looking at the harness, “—User-error prone than what could be considered healthy.” “Oh.” I felt my cheeks ignite. “I s’pose it doesn’t, does it?” I moved over to a spare workbench and rummaged through it for pristine parts. “I gambled and lost. It almost ended pretty badly.” Hammer frowned and floated a busted gear into the bin I was rummaging through, neatly rebounding it off my head. “Hey!” I wrinkled my nose at him. “Urgh. Fine. I tried to weather the storm earlier and got into trouble. I think something broke off nearby and smacked me in the head, but all I remember is waking up to some mare treating me near MiSAE.” I said, placing a hoof over my eye. “I guess my eye got damaged because of it. Heterasomethin’-or-other.” “See, was that so hard?” Hammer asked, still tinkering away at the harness. “Now, go on. Occupy yourself for a few hours. I need to concentrate. And do try to keep your nose out of my stuff for once.” I pulled a new stock, some bolts, and a couple new trigger assemblies from the bin I was rummaging through, and started for the stairs. Ugh. A few hours is going to set me real close to another late delivery. No helping it though, since I’d rather not have to come back here. No better time than the present to finish eating too, I s’pose. “Hey, Hammer?” I stopped at the stairs and looked back. “Hm?” “Why do—Ah, no. Never mind. It’s not important.” I crested the stairs and closed the hatch behind me, stepping into the gift shop lobby. A sea of identical pink faces stared at me from their spots on the wall. “Yea…Still creepy. Think I’ll just go work up on the next floor.” It always came to me as strange why the dragon’s head was hollow. Maybe it was all a huge joke, which would explain why it was so comical looking. I stood at the top of the dragon’s head, looking out from the bubble shaped window of an eye at the shanty filled town below me. Dash-heads and various other addicts milled about below. Some huddled under shade clearly showing signs of withdrawal, others had their muzzles in bags that I could only assume to be filled with Brahmin dung, or worse still, others with their faces inches away from fresh piles, snorting away desperately chasing their high. A sad looking lemon colored mare was walking out from one of the sturdier buildings and stared out at the spectacle a few of the residents were making of themselves. I saw Needles with his small entourage shaking down a couple ponies off in the distance. No doubt for a missed payment for his protection. I could only hope his new lifestyle didn’t catch up to him in the worst way possible. His words floated up to the surface. I’m surprised you’re still doing the courier thing. I’d say I didn’t know why Hammer stays here, but really it’s mostly the same reason I stayed with the caravan and only played at explorer by taking courier jobs. It’s steady, it’s routine, it’s familiar, but most of all—I sighed at my own cowardice to move forward. “Because it’s safe.” Wandering down to the mid-levels of the gift shop, I took a turn into the storage rooms. Most of the desks and safes here had been opened. “Heh, this brings back memories.” I chuckled, spying a safe in the back that hadn’t been opened yet despite the numerous broken bobby pins littering the floor. “Nobody has opened this one yet? Well, he did say to occupy myself for a while and I’ve certainly got a bit of time to spare ’fore my harness is finished.” I dug around in one of my side pockets, pulling out a pouch of bobby pins and sat down in front of the safe. Snap. Snap. Snap. “Hammer, you damn mule. You made this lock way too strong!” I laughed. How long had it been since I last enjoyed myself? Snap. Snap. Sna—Oh, tension! Almos—Snap. “Fuck.” Twenty-three pins and a copious amount of colorful swearing later the lock finally yielded with an incredibly satisfying click. I’d be lying if I said the feeling wasn’t better than a Dashgasm. “Alright…Let’s see what you’ve got hidden back here.” I rooted through the safe. “Caps. A couple replacement pins. Some…lizard meat?” Who the hell keeps lizard meat in a safe? “Oh, here we go!” I pulled out a sampler pack of Fruit Mint-als and a large white bottle labeled Buck. Giving the sampler pack and bottle a rattle, the thin sound of pills ringed off the packaging. “Eh, a few of each is better than none, I guess.” Hammer’s voice crackled over the storewide intercom, “Bit? Your harness is done, come pick it up. And I told you to keep out of my stuff!” Ahaa…He saw me. I skipped a bit down the stairs, in a much better mood than I had left. Indulging in my habits always had a way of bringing a smile. “You banged this one up pretty badly, Bit. Had to use some newer parts. Good news? The swivels have a wider range of motion now. Bad news? It’s going to be four hundred caps.” He paused for a moment. “That’s including the charge for the Mint-als and Buck that I’m sure you’ll be wanting to keep.” Great, I wasn’t going to make anything today. So much for that smile. I looked over at the nearest terminal for the time. Three in the afternoon. “Haa…Another late delivery.” A scowl replaced my smile. “Ha! There’s the frowny faced trader we all know and love!” Hammer cracked a smile wide as the Coltorado Canyon. “It’s fine, I’ve been working on a new chem that Needles has been having me test. There’s a problem with it still though, but I figure you can have these test batches since he can’t sell them.” I stared at him for a moment. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the problem? They stop yer heart faster ’an usual or somethin’?” “Actually—” he floated out a couple sealed jars of brown liquid from a safe and placed them in my pack, “—They’re not addictive enough. Not real sure where I went wrong, but there you have it.” “Yer kiddin’ me.” I sighed. “What’s in ’em? They don’t look like any chem I’ve seen before.” Hammer scratched his head thoughtfully. “Oh, just distilled Dash and some Sparkle Cola. You drink it.” I looked back at the jars in my pack. “You know I don’t do Dash anymore. I don’t condemn anypony for taking or making it, but that stuff’s a death surer than a bullet to the brain—” Hammer interrupted me with a hoof wave, “Oh it’s not Dash anymore. Once you remove all of the impurities the chemical reaction causes it to bond with whatever is in Sparkle Cola. All the benefits of that ‘go, go, go’ feeling but doesn’t leave you huffin’ shit a week later. Not my finest work, I’ll admit. Think I might take to calling it ‘Scoot.’” “Huh, I’ll think about it. Given a bit of work though, I’m sure you’ll find some way to make a right fortune on it even if it isn’t addictive. Needles never was the most business savvy in the caravan. He was always too concerned with taking the easy road.” I chuckled a bit, fishing out my cap pouch again. “Well, thanks all the same for the patch job and supplies, Hammer.” “Yep. Business as usual. Oh, take a damn canteen with you on the way out.” Hammer wandered off to the back of the workshop mumbling, “Stupid mare, thinks she’s invincible or something. Can’t make caps off you if you’re dead!” Old Fort Celestia was directly north of Cancy. Unfortunately, it would take most of the day if I went by roads. Unless I wanted to avoid another half pay, I’d have to take the direct route through the desert. Not something I looked forward to. “Desperate measures, I guess,” I groused, sliding a jar of thin brown liquid out of my pack and taking a sip. Hammer, you fuck. May your rotten, jerkied up balls freeze like the ice on Luna’s moon! Scoot, my left hoof. More like Sparkling Brahmin Piss. Aside from the absolutely rotten aftertaste, things didn’t feel all that different from any other day in the desert. I was running at a flat gallop across the desert sands towards Old Fort Celestia. Look at me, big bad courier pony acting like a lizard. Lizardpony! Lony? Pizard? I laughed at my own joke. Hey! Ponies! And…Oh, they must be MiSAE ponies! Why are they chasing me? Are we playing caravan tag? I haven’t played caravan tag in ages—I didn’t even know the stiffs up at the solar grid knew the rules! I shouted back at the group, “Last pony to the Old Fort is a radroach!” Plus they’d have to buy everyone rounds at the bar. That sounds nice about now, a bar. Drinks. A few sand pockets were kicked up ahead of me as bullets struck the ground. “Haha, can’t catch me! I’m an awesome lizard pony!” I yelled with abandoned glee. I woke up draped over a bench, dry heaving. My muscles ached and my heart raced, but I couldn’t tell if it was from the drug or from dehydration and heat. Likely one caused from the other. Hammer, yer a damn ghoul. Of course there would be no side effects. I looked up at the late afternoon sky and groaned, taking pulls on the canteen between spasms. I sat up, trying to calm my raging pulse and replenish fluids. I’d actually enjoy that deep seated itch between my legs right now were I not feeling like I had been run over by a wagon. “This is why I don’t do Dash anymore, Hammer,” I croaked through parched lips. I closed my eyes. At least I was in Old Fort Celestia. I woke with a lurching start as I slowly fell to my side on the bench, the sun dipped low behind the mountains. “Ugh. I smell awful. Never again. I think I lost more time doing that than if I had just taken the roa—” I looked at the large bullet tear in the one of my side barding pockets, “—Luna ram me with moon rocks.” Who the fuck shot at me? More importantly, my caps! I exhaled sharply at losing what little money I had on me. Rolling off the bench, I drained the rest of my canteen and headed out of the courtyard to the lobby of the old medical building. A pair of unicorn door guards in white combat barding ordered me to stop, weapons trained down at me. That white barding sure does make a difference in look. I smiled at the pair, feeling some of the lingering effects of Scoot. Oh, right. Armed courier pony. I shook my head and fished out my Carmine Convoy token from a front pocket and showed them. “Got a package to deliver to one o’ yer Docs. Know where I can find Canopy?” “Offhoof? No idea, check with the receptionist at the front desk, she’d know,” the guard spoke evenly as he waved me through. “Don’t forget to sign in.” I shuffled up to the front desk, a cute chocolate mare with flame colored hair in a white nurse’s overcoat, pointed at the sign-in chart. I stared a bit, feeling that slight heat between my legs return. “Ah…Miss?” The nurse coughed. Sweet Luna in the night sky! I’m gonna get the hose again if you don’t settle down, I threatened the little pony in my head. Smiling, I felt my cheeks burn up. “Sorry. Right, sign-in.” I tumbled the pen in my mouth, I should probably use the caravan courier name. “Route…Walker?” The orange glow of her magic enveloped the pen and board as she floated it away. “Alright, who are you here for and do you know the way?” I shook my head, “Looking for somepony named Canopy. Got a package for ’em.” “Ah. She should still be in her office if you hurry. Straight down the hall, first door on right, then down the hall with the pink stripe. Follow that to the steel doors with the pink butterfly on it. Canopy’s office is the first door on your left.” She pointed towards the nearest hallway. Those white guard uniforms might be nice, but cute nurses are so much better. I smiled while trotting down the hall to the first door on the right. The halls were fairly quiet. I trotted down, watching the night shift settle into their roles, most of the armed personnel were gone for the day. There were a couple sets of lines on the wall as they split off into other hallways, a white stripe with purple line and a yellow stripe with pink line. I tried to remember what the nurse said about a stripe. Purple, perhaps? I didn’t know. She had a pretty nice flank though, I sighed. “Never testing out new chems for Hammer again,” I said as I walked down the left hallway with the purple stripe until I came to a set of double steel doors. I nudged my way through the doors looking around at what appeared to be an office of sorts, possibly a storage area. Old tables and desks, mostly rotted away and splintering, were stacked over to the side. Pre-war books, charts, and cans were strewn about in little piles. “It would seem that either I’m in the wrong area or Canopy does some weird research.” I moved deeper into the room past some stacked crates and called out, “Hello? I’m looking for a Doctor Canopy.” Rounding a large stack of tables, I saw large metal cages with what appeared to be dead or dying ponies in them. Don’t pry. I need to leave. Don’t pry. Don’t stick your nose in where it doe— “Hey! You! Ah…Shit, what was your name again…? Bit Flip?” A dingy white unicorn with a silver-blue mane asked uncertainly. Just my luck. Don’t pry. Just keep walking. It doesn’t concern you. I immediately turned to leave and walk past the set of crates before stopping. “Hey! C’mon, you gotta help me. Don’t just…Don’t just leave me here! They put this weird thing on my horn and I can’t use my magic and I have no idea what’s going on in here.” She broke down into heavy sobs. “I just—I just want to find Silver.” She shot up, trying to compose herself, and stammered, “You—You owe me.” I can’t do this. I’m not that kind of pony. I can’t just leave her there. This dump looks like one step up from a raider hold. I squeezed my eyes shut. And she was right. I owed her one hell of a debt. I turned around and headed back to the cage, grinning at her, trying to calm her down. “Sheesh, you’re a mess. Look, you got snot runnin’ all down yer face. Wipe yerself with this while I work on the lock, snot nose.” I pushed some bits of cloth from a nearby crate at her. She seemed to perk up at being called “snot nose” for some reason. I moved off to the side of the cage and pulled out my pin pouch. Six left. Great. Shouldn’t have gone through them all at Hammer’s. Snap. Five. Snap. Four. Snap. Three. C’mon, concentrate! Oh! I still have those. I rooted through my pack again, pulling out the tin of orange flavored Mint-als and popped one into my mouth. “Heh, should have used these sooner.” Everything about the world came into absolute focus. Colors were brighter, crisper. Smells you wouldn’t believe. My senses were on fire. Everything I heard, saw, or felt was in such crystalline clarity. Was she always that cute? Including the lingering effects of Scoot. I felt good. Really good. Snap. Damn it, Hammer. You and your stupid new chem. “Urgh. Fuck it!” I looked at the lock. Little details once hidden away from me jumped out in absolute clarity. Rusted mechanisms, pocked slides, and misaligned levers. “No wonder I can’t pick this. Hey, stand back and cover your eyes—” I placed the barrel of my shotgun right up to the lock mechanism. “Don’t do th—” she yelled as I applied pressure on the harness firing bit. An earsplitting sound echoed through the enclosed area as metal ripped through metal, tearing through the interior of the lock. “You’re free now, and that was a terrible idea.” I laughed as an alarm rang out from the surrounding rooms. “We should, ah…We should leave now.” “You think so?” she hiccupped and deadpanned back at me. “I can’t do anything about that suppressor on your horn, but if we can get to my caravan I’m sure we can figure something out.” “We need to help those other ponies there. Some of them are still alive!” I could hear the sound of hooves and armor shuffling about opposite the door I came in at. “In case you didn’t notice, I couldn’t bust that lock without waking up the entire hospital. And I certainly can’t carry all of you.” I motioned to the door near the cages. “We need to leave. Now.” Guards poured out of hallways and into choke points, closing off escape routes. They were herding us somewhere. Our only option was to go up. We stopped at the roof access door. I could hear guards clattering up the stairs behind us as we pushed through it and out on to the roof. I walked over to the blasted corner of the building and looked off the edge, the moonlit wasteland below me. We’re about six, seven floors off the ground? That’s a long drop. I felt my mind rapidly losing its ultra-perceptive edge from the citrus-flavored mint-als. Vitia was turning circles where she stood. “Hey, come over here. They’re about to come through that door.” I motioned to her as she ran over in a panic. “We’re stuck! They led us up here, with no way out.” “It’s fine. We’re fine. Everything is just fine. Calm down, snotty.” “How can you be calm in a time like this? We’re trapped!” She nearly screamed at me, “And I’m not a snot nosed filly!” Her panic washed away with brief anger. I smiled and rummaged through my pack for a white bottle. “Of course not.” I bit down on the little yellow-orange tablet and swallowed as ten guards came pouring out of the door followed by a tired looking lime mare in a lab coat. She stepped to the front of the herd. “You must be the courier that signed in earlier. I heard you had a package for me.” She said, “And I see you freed the filthy desert rat we caught snooping around, too.” “You must be Canopy then? I did, yes. Did. That was until your guards there started taking pot shots at my friend and I here. I’d like to think of it as leverage now.” I motioned to Vitia and said in a low voice, “Get close and hang on to me.” Vitia’s eyes widened in fright as she looked at me. “You can’t be serious! We’ll die from this height. I don’t care how many chems you take!” “It’s fine, right? I told you it was fine and I’m paying back that favor now in full.” Canopy stepped forward a bit as the guards raised their weapons. “You’re kidding. You’re kidding, right? Where are you going to run to? It’s not as if you’re going to jump. Look, just give me the package and leave the dirty little spy. You can walk out of here with significantly fewer bullet holes.” I could feel my heartbeat accelerate and a strength flow through my muscles as the little tablet of Buck worked its magic. I didn’t just feel good. I felt fucking amazing, like I could bowl through all of those guards and still have room for more! I bit down on Vitia’s mane and overcoat, hoisting her on to my back. One of the guards fired off a shot. It dug into my barding and harness layer causing me to teeter off balance and step to the side. I knew I should have felt pain, felt the bruising of sudden impact, felt the extra weight of a mare on me even if she was half-starved and tiny. But it didn’t register fully. I could ignore it. Somepony else’s problem, my mind told me and I listened. “Hold on!” I yelled at her as she steadied herself and clamped down on my neck. I turned around and dove at the edge of the building as the contingent of guards opened fire, falling. I could vaguely hear Vitia screaming, squeezing on my shoulders and neck with all her might. I slid my wings out from beneath the sleeves in my barding and beat furiously against the warm night air, increasing the speed of our descent. The ground was rapidly approaching. Every muscle and bone in my body protested in agony with the extra weight and flailing of a panicked unicorn on my back. Somepony else’s problem. I extended my wings and body as far as possible and pulled up against the air current, catching it under me as we slowly lifted into the air, gliding away from Old Fort Celestia. I rose up into the air more, flapping my wings rhythmically and headed south west towards my Caravan’s next scheduled stop. Vitia slumped over against my back, passed out. “Debt paid in full.” —— Party Status: Bit Flip: Generally healthy. Minor contusions and lacerations. Elevated toxins from recent chem intake, at risk for addiction if chem usage persists. Level Up (10) Perk: Light Touch Wearing light or no armor grants you additional mobility during combat, enemies suffer a -20% critical hit chance. Quest Perk: Leaf on the Wind Your enemies receive a decrease in accuracy when you take to soaring through the skies during combat. Vitia: Moderately healthy. Dehydrated, hungry. Elevated stress levels. Magic suppressed. Unconscious. Symptoms of Dash addiction. Level Up (10) Perk: Intuitive Your keen insight has taught you how to trust that gut feeling instead of overanalyzing. Reduce all AP costs by 20%. Notable Possessions: 0 Caps Unconscious Unicorn
Book 1, Chapter 2View OnlineFallout Equestria: Medicine & MailBook 1, Chapter 2Chapter Two “Actions have consequences, my little pony. For everything you ever do, something else will always occur and You won’t always be able to control it.” Compared to my view from the caravan, the Marejave Desert was far wider than I could have ever dared to imagine. As a courier I could play at explorer, could relive those stories I was told as a foal. Even if only in some small way, and it felt like enough. But as it turns out, we only know what we’ve been given until we’re forced outside of our comfort zones. I do not regret the choices I’ve made. After all, that night in Old Fort Celestia is what ultimately put me on this path. I looked down at the moonlit desert, lights flickering off misshapen, unnatural formations below the cloudless horizon. It’s been a while since I’ve used my wings for anything besides basic upkeep. I’d almost forgotten how nice it was to fly at night. The little tablet of Buck had long since worn off and my body was starting to flag. Even with a pegasi’s ability to fly loaded with extra baggage, including twitchy unconscious unicorns, I could only endure keeping things airborne for so long before my body gave out. Getting shot wasn’t exactly doing me any favors either.Even if I lucked out and it only tore up my barding and harness with minor puncturing. Glad I won’t have to revisit Hammer for repairs again. Damn ghoul won’t need chems at this rate—if I keep getting banged around like this he’s going to make a right fortune off me. I felt Vitia stirring on my back. “Mornin’, sunshine. I’d offer you some in-flight food, but there’s none t’ be had.” “In…flight food?” Vitia asked groggily. Wait for it. “What do you me—” Vitia squealed, and I dipped in the air a few inches at the jarring noise, my ears pinned back trying to shut out the offending sound. She wobbled about and clamped down around my neck, breathing heavily. “Oh-fuck-me-I’m—You’re—” she stammered. There it was. “Flying?” I asked flatly. “Yes! That!” “Pegasi do have wings, y’know. Though t’ be honest, it’s more like fallin’ with style at this point, so don’t get yerself too comfortable back there.” I chuckled and veered downward towards the road. Even gliding was beginning to be a struggle with Vitia now awake and fidgeting about. “Ah, hey, Vitia? Listen. I hate to be th’ bearer of bad news and such, but this might not be the most comfortable of landings,” I said as we neared the road. My hooves touched down and I yelped as pain coursed through my side. I stumbled forward a few steps, instinctively lifting my injured leg to avoid putting weight on it. Vitia bounced off my back from the uneven landing, tumbling across the cracked road. She took a deep breath to steady herself as she got to her hooves and dusted her dingy coat off. “That was a shock—I thought you were just some earth pony.” I took a step and winced. “That was the idea,” I said, slipping my wings back under their sleeves. “Are you going to be okay? It probably looks worse than it is, but you should still let me check those wounds.” “With what magic? It’s not like you can pull out the few pellets that hit me.” I gingerly prodded the shredded barding, the trickling blood pooling on my hoof and smearing around. A nagging pain wormed its way down my flank and side. “Anyway, it’s fine. Uncomfortable, painful even, but fine.” “But you should at least—” “Stop yer fussin’. It’s fine, alright?” I snapped at her, “I’ll have Doc look at ’em. Though, from where they were shooting they’re lucky the pellets even broke skin.” I looked at my hoof and sighed. “I’m just glad they weren’t using slugs or we’d have been kissin’ the ground instead.” “Sorry. So, ah…Thanks for—” Vitia coughed and looked at the road. “Thanks for helping me back there.” “Yeah, well, I owed you. In any case, let’s get to the caravan. It should be an easy forty minute walk to the Crags from here.” I limped ahead on three legs, picking my way across the broken concrete. “It’s a nice cloudless night with plenty of moonlight out, and the ’taur patrols keep things pretty clean around these parts.” “Crags?” Vitia looked about. “You sure you know where you’re going, Bit Flip? It may be dark out, but this area doesn’t look very rocky.” Old train cars, busted sky wagons, trailers, bits of old siding, and salvaged construction materials. All of it piled high and lashed together to form a gloriously rusted, craggy mountain built over top a derelict Stable. “Welcome to the Rusted Crags,” I said, motioning to the gates with an exaggerated hoofwave. “Or as everyone else that isn’t a minotaur calls it, ’that scrap heap run by pompous cows.’” A pair of minotaurs carrying deadly looking repurposed construction tools peered through the gate at us before inquiring about our business. “Just returning to my caravan. They should have arrived a while ago. Open up, yeah?” I tapped on the rusted gate. “Or go have one o’ yer guards go find Copper Shard to vouch for his courier.” Vitia asked in a hushed tone, “You’ve got wings, why don’t we just, y’know…fly over?” I stared at her a moment, wondering if she were serious or not. “Because I’m just a borin’ ol’ dirt pony,” I intoned gruffly. Hopefully she takes the hint. “And I’m kinda hurtin’ here.” Irritated, I looked back up at the guard and snapped, “Look, could ya hurry it up a bit? Bleedin’ all over myself here and I’d love t’ see Doc.” After what seemed an eternity, a couple voices from behind the gate rang out above the construction noises, “Oi, Steel Arm, open up. She’s one of ours.” Great, it’s Altar Words and Felt. Of all the goddess damned ponies, Copper had to send that sadistic fuck and his idiot lout of a brother. The rusted gate creaked as it was slowly raised, the lone guard hefting it from its slot. He stood there with the gate held above his head and motioned us in. Well, that explains the name. Looks like implants certainly do a body good after all. Two stallions, a teal unicorn and chartreuse earth pony, greeted us in a sing-song manner with a cockeyed look, “Well, well, well. Look at who finally showed up!” I scowled at the two as they stepped in to block our path. “Not in the mood for yer shit, Altar. You neither, Felt.” “‘Not in the mood,’ she says!” Altar leered at us from under his filthy mop of a mane. “Look at what she brought in, Felt. A pretty mare for her bedroll perhaps?” I shoved my way past them and they followed behind us. “Ah, hell, Altar, y’know Bit only gets wet fer caps. She’s happier ’an a dash-head snortin’ shit if she’s sleepin’ with a sack o’ caps ’tween her legs. She prolly ain’t never had a proper lay neither, th’ frigid bitch.” “Check out the pretty little filly in a conduit bondage ring though, I mean if that doesn’t scream kink I don’t know what does.” “Are you still sore about that night?” I tried to pass off a grin. “We could talk forever ’bout how I won that rigged bet, but it’ll have to wait.” A sneer crossed Altar’s face. “One of these days, Bit Flip. You’re going to fall and nopony will be around to help you back up. It’s going to cost you everything you have and more just to get back to your hooves.” I stopped and snapped around to face Altar, nearly crying out as the pain caught up to me. “Empty threats from a sore loser. You think—” “Excuse me, but you’re injured. You need to be quiet, and you two,” Vitia waved at the two dismissively as she nudged me back around, “You’ll have to come back later if you want to try to bully her around. But for now, go away.” We continued walking towards Doc’s trailer, the noise of nightly bustle and near-constant grinding of metal mixing together with lewd comments from the two fading in the distance. “Doc!” I yelled as we entered the converted sky coach, now medical trailer, hobbling over to the table in the center of the room. “Got a couple things I need you t’ look at.” A bleary eyed russet earth pony stepped out from the back room. “Welcome back, Bit. It’s late, but do come in. Make yourself at home. Oh wait. You already have.” He sighed and looked over at Vitia. “Not seen you around the caravan before. Damn sure I’d remember a pretty face like that. The name’s Lance, though everypony just calls me ’Doc.’” “Yeah, sorry about the late call but my ass hurts somethin’ fierce.” Pleasantries can wait. “I thought you didn’t mix business with pleasure?” He grinned at me in the brightly lit room. “What?” Oh, for the love of Luna. Does nopony besides me think of something other than sex in this blasted desert? I could hear Vitia trying to suppress a giggle off to the side. “Shoulda left you back in that building.” “But you didn’t.” She smiled. “Yeah, well…” I flushed, fumbling around with words before giving up. “A-anyway, Doc. As y’can see, I got hit in the rear—” “Oh, I can plainly see, dear. So who’s the lucky stallion?” Lance said, barely unable to contain his laughter. I could hear Vitia laughing behind me, Lance soon joining in. “Oh, come on! Injured patient here.” I waved a hoof at my flank. “This shit better not get around the caravan or I’ll never hear the end of it.” “Sorry. Sorry.” Lance said, wiping away tears with a hoof and looking at the wound. “Yes, I can see you’re injured. Looks like you were on the receiving end of a shotgun. From some distance away, too, given the lack of heavy penetration. You’ll be fine.” Lance poured a single shot glass from a dingy bottle and set it near me. “Take off your barding, drink this, and lay down on the table,” he said with a devious smirk. I shifted uncomfortably and stared at the ochre liquid. “The hell’s in this, Doc? This looks more like liquefied clay than it does Med-X.” "No, no Med-X. That all went to an actual paying client earlier. Turns out minotaurs are pretty resistant to the stuff,” Lance explained as he pulled out a pair of precision scare-the-crap-out-of-Bit hoof-tools. They looked more like something used for torture than for medical treatment. “The rest goes for emergencies, and extracting buckshot from your flank doesn't count as such. You’ll have to settle for the Lance Special instead.” Lance Special? I tugged on one of the straps of my barding, but a spike of pain ran up from my flank and I drew back. I sighed. “Hey Vitia,” I called out to the unicorn, “Can you stop ogling Doc's tools, and lend a hoof?” “Hm? Oh, yes. Sorry.” As Vitia began working, loosening ties and pulling free the straps, I looked back over at Lance. “So, what’s in the Lance Special?” He snorted. “Good stuff. You start with some high quality Moonshine, then add some other stuff. Bit of a healin’ potion for good measure. Now stop bein’ a scaredypony and drink it. You’re going to want it.” I sniffed at the drink and was nearly knocked to my haunches. The smell of it was overpowering and the vapors made my eyes water. “Oh for the love of—” I took a deep breath and gulped it down as quickly as I could without breathing, or tasting. Or trying to taste, at least. The glass clattered to the floor, spilling out a few droplets, and I let out a wet, hacking cough. My chest and insides were on fire, it felt like I had swallowed the sun. “You could degrease a—” “Oh, there are also a few other extracts from various desert unmentionables in there,” Lance laughed. He opened a clear bottle and began pouring it into a basin. The last of my barding fell to the floor as Vitia pulled the remaining strap loose revealing the thinly padded cloth beneath. “It’ll be fascinating to watch an earth pony perform surgery. I’ve only ever assisted Brightmane—um, another unicorn—when we had to do it.” The cool air of the clinic was a pleasant contrast to the intense heat pervading my body. The Moonshine dreg worked fast—already I could feel my mind calming, slowing down, and the pain dulling slightly. I couldn’t put weight on my leg yet but it was tolerable. Lance snorted, running his tools through the sterilizing wash. “Heh, don’t need any fancy magic to cut up ponies, dear. Surgery is surgery, be it interrogation or medicine.” He looked Vitia over. “Assumin’ you didn’t take that coat off a pony’s corpse, I’d wager you were a medic of some kind?” “Yes, that’s correct. I assisted in Brightmane’s clinic. Um, that’s over in Desert’s Edge.” She shifted a little. “Well, I’d ask you to assist then, but I don’t want you fumbling around with my tools and puttin’ more holes in Bit here. And you’ve got that magic suppressor on.” “Do you know a lot about these things?” She tapped the emerald-embedded steel ring anchored to her horn. “Well, dear, I do know some. However, the only way I know how to get them off isn’t exactly pleasant. Usually involves extreme pain and permanent damage: breakin’ off the horn. We never bothered looking into how to get them off correctly.” Vitia blanched at the thought. “That’s anything but pleasant!” Vitia helped pull the thin layer over my head and set it to the side. My head was getting foggy as I walked to the table, and their words were becoming increasingly difficult to hear. They sounded like they were at the far end of the trailer, even though I knew better. “Um, but Hydra would regrow the horn at least, yes?” “Oh it would, sure. Can’t guarantee the magic conduit, but the bone itself would grow right back. Not that I would ever recommend taking it. That chem’s full of Taint. One shot’s likely to warp you before long. Surer death than a bullet to the brai—” Lance stopped and looked at the ceiling in thought. “Well no, that’s not true. It would probably even regrow your brain, but you’re not likely to ever be the same.” Lance turned from the basin, his freakish tools equipped, and walked up to me on the table. “Now everypony needs to quit gabbin’ so I can get to work.” He looked straight into my eyes. “This is going to hurt. A lot.” It sounded like he was talking from outside. I gingerly rolled on to my side and a strap of leather was placed into my mouth. I heard a distance voice asking me to bite down. What? Why? He’s just removing some pell— And then it hit me, the searing pain of a scalpel piercing into exposed flesh and nerves cutting through the fog of inebriation. My mind was blank but for that sensation. Waves of pain arced through my body as damaged flesh was cut away and pellets were extracted. I screamed into the bit until my voice died and I blacked out. I felt the damp coolness of a wet cloth on my head and the cold steel of a table on my cheek. A muddled voice called out at me from the darkness. “Bit.” Urgh. Deliveries again? “Bit Flip. You need to get up.” Maybe if I ignore them I can get today off. I yelped and shot up as spark of pain flared through my side as a hoof pressed into my flank. I swung a leg wildly in front of me. Lance stepped back and the pain subsided. “Whoa, whoa…Easy there, Bit. You’re fine—easy does it. Everything’s fine.” He said in a soothing voice before placing two healing potions near me. “We finished stitching everything up and bandaging the area.” “We?” I slurred a bit, my mouth feeling like it was full of cotton. “Mhm.” He nodded over to Vitia slumped over in a chair sleeping. “For a dash-head, your girl there is a pretty quick study. You sure you two aren’t together? ’Cause a pretty thing like her would make for a wonderful new assistant.” I looked over at the sleeping unicorn. “Dash-head? She seemed fine to me, well, not that I’ve known her long.” “Yep,” Lance said, fishing around in his pockets and pulling out a cigarette. “Can smell it on her. Well, that and she’s pretty twitchy. Got that constant fidget. Probably nothing more than the early stages of addiction, but she’ll want to kick the habit pretty quick.” “Huh, figured only unicorns could tell addiction like that usin’ their freaky magic.” I picked up one of the potions and swigged it down, sticking my tongue out at the taste. Desert pear. I hate pear. I could feel the magic working its way into my damaged tissue, accelerating the healing process, but my flank itched something terrible under the stitches still. “Just ’cause you don’t have a horn doesn’t mean you can’t use your senses, dear.” He lit the cigarette and took a long drag. “Take you for instance; you’ve been on mint-als recently. Can see it in your eyes. You’ve got a sort of look about you. Almost like you’ve lost something but don’t quite know what or where it is.” “Yeah, had to use ’em t’ get out of a pretty rough spot. Some Buck too. Yesterday wasn’t th’ most pleasant of days.” Lance nodded leaning back on a counter and taking another drag. “Mhm, sure looks like it. Speaking of eyes though, I’m guessing that second thing you wanted me to look at was your eye, yes?” “Yep. Took a really stupid risk after I left from 144.” I felt my cheeks burn. “Tried to rush through that storm down near MiSAE and ended up catching something heavy in the face. That’s actually how I ended up meeting Vitia there. She didn’t have the ring on then and fixed up my face while I was unconscious.” “Alright, then. C’mere and let me have a look at it here, real quick.” He fished around a drawer for a spark-light and walked me through various tests. “Well, how bad is it?” He let out a short whistle. “Wow, a quick study and talented. She’s a keeper. Either you lucked out again or she did bang up job with it, or hell, probably both knowing you. No lasting damage, pupil dilates well enough, and I’m guessing there are no vision problems or you’d have said something. Aside from the slight color change from the trauma, it looks to be fine.” I sighed in relief. “Good t’ know. I was afraid she might have done something while I was out.” “Bit, one of these days you’re going to have to learn to trust in something other than caps,” Lance grinned as he put out his cigarette. “Just think of it as a reminder for the future. Oh, speaking of futures, drink that other potion in about twelve hours. You’ll be right as rain by then with one, but two can’t hurt.” Vitia stirred in the chair, rubbed at her eyes and yawned. “Sorry, Doc. I just sat down for a moment.” Lance smiled warmly at her. “Not a problem, dear. You looked exhausted anyway, and besides, Bit and I were just talking.” He yawned and walked towards a back room. “That aside, I don’t know about you two but I’m dead tired. You two go on and scram so I can sleep. Go do, I don’t know, whatever it is two pretty little fillies do in the middle of the night.” “Drink!” Vitia and I almost shouted in unison. I looked at her and chuckled. “I know a pretty great place around these parts. Just the thing to wash away the stupid of yesterday. No better place in the desert to meet the coming day; with a drink in hoof and a fire in yer belly.” “Sounds like a plan then. Anything to get past these last few days,” Vitia nodded. “Hey, Doc!” I secured my cloth underbarding in place and yelled at the back room. “You don’t mind if I leave my gear here for the night, do you? I’ll come and get it in the mornin’ for repairs.” Lance poked his head out from behind the curtain and yelled, “Take your shit with you; I’m not your damn maid!” “Thanks, Doc!” I slipped my wings beneath the sleeves and walked out of the trailer with a wave. “Um. Bit Flip?” Vitia looked up at the rainbow painted mosaic of a minotaur on his knee with a chalice held to the sky on the building front. “I don’t mean to sound unappreciative or to second guess you, but this place looks like a church.” “It is. See, ponies have a couple dead goddesses. Used t’ be living deities and that whole thing, I guess.” I looked at the moon hanging in the sky. “Fat lot o’ good that did ’em. The ’taurs though, they’re a weird bunch. They’ve got a religion with, hell, I don’t know how many gods and goddesses. It’s all taken very seriously. I think they make ’em up as they go, honestly.” “Okay, but that doesn’t explain why we’re walking into a church. I thought we were getting drinks.” I looked at the wall and laughed. “I see Willow has been busy.” My ears perked up as I caught the sounds of rhythmic bass so deep it shook the dust off nearby rafters and a higher pitched inorganic sound that carried the melody. “Oh! I think we’re just in time for the midnight service.” “What do you mean, ‘service?’” Vitia shouted over the sudden blast of sound, her large ears pinned back. I walked towards the door and looked over my shoulder at her, grinning. “Well? Are you ready for some disorganized fun?” “Bit Flip, you made it!” A coral pink unicorn with a willowy green mane shouted excitedly at me from behind a bar. “Willo—” I yelped as a pair of arms wrapped around my midsection from behind and hoisted me into the air while booming to the few minotaurs below. “Ha ha, Bit Flip is here! Everyone hide your caps if you want to keep ’em!” “Oh-holy-aspect-of-all-that-is-alcohol, let me go!” I squirmed in the air, nearly crying. “Ghost Ant! You let her go this instant, she’s injured,” Willow yelled over a bass line permeating the building. I flailed about as a dark turquoise field of magic wrapped around my body and set me upright near the bar. Willow frowned slightly, covering with a cough before leaning over the counter, nearly shouting to compete with the din. “Hey there, cutie, I see you brought a friend tonight. Heard you were comin’ into town but I didn’t see yo—ooh, sweetie, what happened to your eye?” I smiled at the barmare and yelled back. “Hey yerself, Willow. I was out runnin’ courier jobs and got caught up in something.” I covered my eye with a hoof. “Had a pretty horrible couple days. Service hasn’t started yet, has it?” She shook her head. “I see. And not yet, no. We’ve got a bit over an hour before it starts and we open the halls. This,” she waved a hoof around, “Is just to let patrons know service will be starting soon.” Vitia hoof-tapped my shoulder. “How can you stand this noise?” “Noise? It’s better than what your DJ plays on the radio at all hours.” The mottled gray minotaur sounded offended as he reached behind the bar and rolled a knob quieting the music to a dull roar. “It’s as much music as the construction sounds around town are. This, little one, is the music of life and energy.” “Oh lay off her, Ghost Ant. She didn’t mean anythin’ by it; she’s new.” I leaned into his side and looked up at him, smiling, “Nice t’ see you too, by the way.” Ghost Ant nodded. “You honor me, Maiden,” he added sarcastically. “Hey now, don’t give me none of that Maiden shit, y’hear me? It’s ‘Honorary Priestess’ and don’t you forget it!” I laughed. “I might’ve had some of Doc’s Special, but that doesn’t mean I can’t drink you under the table again.” Ghost Ant poked at my side and laughed. “Uh huh. I’d like t’ see you try again, ya scrawny thing.” “Winning’s winning, Ghost.” I smiled, shrugging. Vitia looked at me, dumbfounded. “Wait, wait. Maiden? I get it that we’re in a church of some kind, but what’s that about drinking pon—people under the table?” I nodded. “Yeah, kind of a thing around here apparently. If you can out-drink a Priest of the church you earn the title of Maiden of the Cup.” Vitia stared at me and sighed. “Huh. Okay, so why Honorary Priestess?” Willow chimed in, giggling, “Because she drank ol’ Ghost Ant under the table twice in the same night!” “She cheated.” Ghost Ant crossed his arms and snorted. “The only reason she won last time is ’cause I was already an evening’s worth of whiskey ahead of her.” “Honestly, I don’t rightly get all of the finer points of it. You’d have t’ ask Willow here for the details, as she’s officially inducted into their church.” I grinned at Vitia. “What I do know is that it gets me free alcohol whenever I want here.” Vitia laughed and looked at Willow. “So let me see if I have this right. You all worship some minotaur booze god and because Bit out-drank one of your Priests she now gets free booze for life?” “Technically, Laitis is the minotaur spirit of fermentation, fortune, and fertility. But, yup, that’s the gist of it.” Willow beamed. “We should get you two washed up before service starts. One of the mechanics finally got the spark battery generators working with the water system.” Clean water and hot showers. You’d think that a hot shower would be something to avoid in the evening heat, but it’s just so damn relaxing at times, and nopony will ever convince me that minotaurs are stupid brutes—not when they’ve got these little miracles in the desert wasteland. Even after the bombs dropped, here they are thriving in the desert. All we ponies have managed to do is enslave, murder, and make a further mess of the world. I sighed, rubbing my nose with a wingtip and letting the water run over me, taking my worries with it into the drain. “Bit?” Willow snapped me with her tail from the stall opening. “Hey!” I flinched away at the sudden sting, pressing into the side of the shower. I flicked water at her from my wings and grinned. “Sorry, was kinda lost in my thoughts there, what was that?” “We’ve still a while yet before the halls open so I’ve made us something to eat.” She shook the water from her mane. “Come on out when you’re ready.” I heard her walk out of the showers as I stepped on the ‘off’ pedal for the water. I shook most of the water off my mane and coat and walked over to the nearby table. Damn it, Willow. I’m not putting on the church outfit. I frowned and moved the lacy cloth aside, looking for my underbarding, unable to find it. She must have taken it with her. I stepped into the common room and looked at the two mares. Willow was sitting with her back to the door and Vitia looked at me from off to the side. A playful grin stretched across my face as I snuck as quietly as possible behind Willow. I stretched my wings out to run a tip along her spine. “Bit!” Willow jumped from her cushion and spun around. “Oo—h-damn it.” She pouted and sighed as she slid a few caps over to Vitia. “Lace would have looked so good on her too.” “Payback for earlier.” I stretched my wings and smiled. “Speaking of not-wearing-lace, where’d you put my underbarding?” Willow pointed to a nearby chair then looked between Vitia and myself. “So, the two of you, are you a thing?” I sat down and exhaled sharply at the question. “Why does everyone keep assumin’ that? You know my rules; I don’t mix business with pleasure.” “Oh. Well, I mean, I knew your barn door swung both ways, so I just kinda figured.” She smiled sweetly at Vitia and asked me, “You sure?” I blushed, throwing my hooves in the air, nearly shouting, “We’re not!” “Oh! That reminds me,” Vitia chimed in, and I was glad for the sudden topic change. “What was up with those two that greeted us at the gate? One of them really gave off the impression that you snubbed him badly.” Or not. I felt a frown creep along my face at the reminder as I picked at the cooked cactus pads on my plate. “Ugh. Those two.” Willow scowled. “Altar Words and Felt, I’m guessing? I’m not sure which one creeps me out the most.” “Yup, those two.” I shivered. “Altar’s got it out for me pretty bad. He’s a nasty bastard; I’d say I don’t know why Copper hired him on but he has a knack for sniffing deals out of people. The earth pony, Felt, is his brother. Dumb as a rock but does the most amazing repair work.” I chewed thoughtfully. “Unfortunately he thinks it’s his goddess given right to fuck anything with a hole and tries to do so. Often. But they came as a pair and Altar usually keeps him in check.” Vitia nodded, chewing on a pad. “So I take it he didn’t exactly react kindly to you rebuffing him.” “Actually it was Ghost Ant who came to my rescue. He may be the shortest minotaur in the church but damn if he can’t throw a pony out of a building!” I laughed. “That’s actually the night I earned my priesthood.” “Bit of advice, don’t offer t’ buy a member of the church a drink.” I groaned, remembering that night. “They consider it a challenge. Worst. Hangover. Ever.” Willow giggled and chimed in, “Altar actually has it out for Bit because of me. He was pretty new to the caravan at the time and didn’t know about Bit’s freaky luck.” “It’s not freaky! It gets me in trouble more often than not,” I coughed. She continued, “I guess he wanted to impress me with something, and there was patron in here with some strange music he picked up wandering.” She floated up a nearby glass and took a sip. “Bit had come in looking for a drink shortly after and by the time I had finished telling Altar about it, she had already bartered for the records.” “Anyway, I was usin’ some silly half-busted laser rifles at the time and I guess he saw something I couldn’t ’cause he wanted ’em real fierce. The only interesting thing he had were those records.” “Then she traded them for drinks. Can you believe it? Drinks.” Willow laughed, floating the plates to a nearby bin. “Turns out the music was popular enough to eventually start attracting more patrons, at least.” Vitia tilted her head to the side. “Wait, so this place, is it a church or a bar?” “Yes. It’s also a brothel and gambling hall this time of night. We try to serve the three ‘Fs’ of the wasteland here. It’s about all there is to relax out there,” she continued, adopting a sultry tone, “So maybe I’ll show you some time.” Willow got up from the table and looked at a nearby terminal. “Alright, I should probably go get ready for prayer. You two don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” I finished my drink and looked at Vitia, catching her staring at Willow as the coral unicorn sashayed out of the room, her hips swaying with each step, showing generous flank along the lace of the church's outfit. Willow glanced back briefly as she rounded the corner and swished her tail to the side, then disappeared from the room with a devious grin. Vitia saw me watching her stare and squeaked, turning a deep crimson. “Sorry! She’s-your-friend-I-shouldn’t!” she sputtered out all at once. “No, it’s fine. We aren’t together.” I laughed lightly. “We tried once, but between the caravan an’ me constantly getting myself into, ah, well you already know. Anyway, we’re just good friends.” Vitia quickly tossed back the rest of her drink, trying to regain composure. “So that ‘freaky luck’ of yours,” she looked down at my flank, “I’m guessing it has something to do with your cutie mark?” “Mhm.” I ran a hoof down my tarnished silver and gold cutie mark. “I don’t have half the skill the other traders in the caravan possess. Things just have a way of working out for me.” A sad smile edged out the corner of my mouth. “For better or worse.” “I’m not quite sure I understand.” she looked at her own cutie mark. “I mean, mine is a blue droplet. My talent is filtering impurities from small amounts of water. Blood, parasites, dirt, even most radiation if given time. What does your cutie mark have to do with skill or luck?” “Most traders are able to trade around junk for caps.” I downed my drink before continuing. “They’ll find a pile of worth in any wanderer’s pack and just as often sell them something they don’t need.” “Sure, that’s the basics of trading. Even I’ve dealt with caravanners before.” “I don’t have a head for value that the others have so I see worth in the things that nopony else will. I once traded for a malfunctioning Protectapony with a silly drawl from a passing traveler we met.” I nibbled on a feather tip and smiled sadly. “Heard a few days later on the radio that one of the gangs local to the area trashed a nearby town after accusin’ them of stealin’ their bot.” Vitia stared at me. “You can’t possibly hold yourself responsible for that. You couldn’t have known.” “Well, no. Not so much, but it still weighs on me that I played a small part in it, even indirectly,” I sighed. “The thing with Altar, though. He was pretty upset after that night and set up a game with loaded dice in his favor.” A rhythmic bass line from the halls interrupted my explanation, the melody drifting through the room as the air vibrated. “Well,” I said, walking over to my underbarding, frowning at the dirty cloth. “It’s easiest t’ just take my cutie mark an’ think of it literally. Heads, I win. Tails, I lose. Often both, ’cause there is no middle ground.” I laughed, securing the cloth in place. “Even I don’t fully understand it, and I’m the one that has it. But hey, depressing topics aside, it sounds like service is starting.” “I…see. Well, if you say so, I guess. Sounds pretty complicated,” Vitia said as she walked back toward the showers. “Hey, where you goin’? The alcohol is this way.” I slid my wings back under their sleeves. Well, the wing-stretch was nice while it lasted. “Oh. Yeah, be right there,” she called from the back. I stood at the hallway door as Vitia trotted happily from the showers. “Yer seriously not going to go out like that?” “It’s…cute. Don’t you think? And you saw the way she looked in it.” She fidgeted in the lace outfit. “Um, sorry. I mean, it’s better than wearing the same dirty clothes I have been for a while.” “You’re not even a member of the church!” “I don’t think anypony’ll mind.” We stepped out into the now crowded upper floor. Ponies, minotaurs, and a handful of griffins hovered around the bar ordering drinks, some straying downstairs to the gambling den. The loud music used by the church to signal opening to the masses was replaced by the chaotic sounds of shouts and various chatter from the patrons. I tried to squeeze between a couple earth ponies with wrench shaped cutie marks at the bar. “Hey, mind scootin’ over so I can ord—” “Scram, we were here first. Ye shouldn’t have been late!” He pushed me back out from between them and I landed on my rump. Ghost Ant leaned over me from behind and frowned. “It would seem your friend has taken a liking to the uniform, Bit Flip. You should try one.” I looked up at the minotaur. “You know I don’t like wearing those sorts of things, Ghost. It, um—” I paused, searching for the right words. “Brings the wrong kind of attention?” “Depends on your definition of wrong, little one.” He glared down at me and pointed off to the side of the bar. “Is that not the idea?” I looked over to where Ghost pointed as two minotaurs shuffled off to the side to let Vitia in between them. Willow leaned on the counter talking to her. “Oh, now that’s just not fair.” “You know the rules: if you’re not in uniform nobody has to listen to you.” Ghost Ant smiled and let out a slow chuckle. “But, Willow seems happier than usual tonight, so I’ll make an exception just this once.” Ghost Ant stalked over to the bar and forcibly shuffled a half row of ponies to the left. Everyone at the bar stared at the tiny minotaur as he freed a seat for me next to the offending earth pony. “Priestess.” Ghost Ant motioned to the stool with a smirk. I sat down and winked at the barstallion, a grin spreading across my face. “O’, Laitis,” I held up my hooves in mock-prayer, “If only a kind patron of yer fine church would buy a poor Priestess a drink. It’s hard work getting thrown around and I’m mighty thirsty.” The azure coated engineer pony paled as he realized his previous faux pas. “I-Oh, I didn’t—I’m so sorry.” He sputtered into his shot glass, half spilling it and panicked at committing another blunder. The imposing creamy-tan barstallion in black church garb leaned across the counter and shouted over the rhythmic bass, “I believe this fine young stallion just issued a drinking challenge!” He clinked sets of shot glasses in a row on the bar counter. The bar patrons erupted in various cheers. “What?” The engineer screeched, almost tumbling out of his seat, “I did no su—” The barstallion banged another set of shot glasses on the table while glaring at the pony menacingly. “Yes, you did.” “Now, now. No need to be that way, Bush Whacker.” I smiled and looked at the terrified pony. “So, what’s yer name?” “T-Torque Spanner.” He eyed the crowd nervously. “I work with the mechanics, Priestess.” “Oh, do lighten up! These titles can be so stiff sometimes, the name’s Bit Flip. Besides, I’m more of an honorary priestess than anythin’.” I looked at the pile of gambling chips near him. “I do apologize for the way the church is actin’ about this.” I leaned closer to him, lightly brushing the tip of my tail along the inside of his flank and cooed, “Say, what d’ya think we make this a little more interesting?” Torque let out a shrill yelp, blushing at the touch and fidgeted in his seat. “I’m—I’m not sure I follow.” “Well,” I began, moving five shot glasses in front of me, “I’ll give you a five shot handicap in exchange for that pile of chips yer hoardin’ there. I’ll even pay for the drinks and let you choose the alcohol!” I grinned at him. “Not a bad deal, right?” He looked at the pile and closed his eyes in thought. The music played in the background punctuated by the cheers of a drunken crowd. “Alright then,” he said after a moment, sounding calmer, “It’s a deal. Judging by your size you probably can’t hold many more than that.” “We’ll see,” I giggled. “Well, pick yer poison.” Torque looked at the glasses, “Black Pony Whiskey sounds appropriate.” “My favorite drink! How did you know?” I swooned in my seat as the Bush Whacker began pouring. A rosy-faced pony at the end of the bar jeered, “Ev’ry drink ish yer favorite drink!” The bar crowd erupted in rowdy laughter once more. “Well, that is certainly true!” I laughed along with the crowd, pulling the first shot to me and tossing it back savoring the rich, spicy flavor before finishing the other four in rapid succession. Torque slid his pile of chips in front of me as he stared in disbelief. I leaned in close again and whispered, “We both come out on top this way.” Winking at him, I made an exaggerated sweeping hoofwave to the crowd and shouted in a sing-song manner, “Drink until y’can’t drink no more!” One set of shots came shortly after the next. The roar of cheers from the throng behind me increased as I downed the second set. Torque tried his best to keep up but sloshed over in the middle of the third round and heaved up something nasty. I looked down at the unconscious pony splayed across bar counter after making a mess of himself and leaned back in my seat, wobbling as the alcohol robbed me of my balance. Bush Whacker gave me a look of dissatisfaction before walking off to fetch a mop. In hindsight, perhaps drinking a fourth of a bottle of Black Pony by myself wasn’t the best idea. My eyes wandered over to the large pile of chips in front of me. No, it was the greatest idea. I hummed along to the familiar tune playing overhead and smiled, wobbling my way carefully down the steps to the gambling pit. Time to indulge in my habits a little. Ow. Sweet Luna, just how much did I drink last night? I lay there with my eyes closed, trying to shut out the piercing light, my head dangling in the early afternoon air. “Hey! Princess Whiskey!” A familiar voice called out to me. I worked open my eyes, and it dawned on me that I was hanging upside down. I jolted up, a metal bar pinging off something on my forehead. “What are you doing? Get that bottle off your head and come down here. Copper Shard wants to talk to you. Now.” The splotchy caramel and tan unicorn was nearly shouting at me from the balcony. I tilted my head to look at Pay Day. “Oh, hey there, Pay. Be right—” I struggled with my underbarding and tried to roll over. The metal chandelier caught on the cloth; it had somehow gotten twisted during the night. “—Gah!” I hung there suspended in mid-air from my barding and grinned sheepishly, my legs curled up under me. “Little help here?” “Yer so helpless sometimes, Bit.” Pay Day sighed, wrapping her yellow magic field around my body and set me down near her, but not before roughly twisting the bottle off my head. “Ow! Hey!” I yelped, rubbing my forehead with a hoof, the world wobbled slightly and I felt my stomach do a little flip. “Urgh…Definitely shouldn’t have done so many shots last night.” I straightened out my underbarding and slid my wings back under it. “Okay, ready to go.” We picked our way out across the scrap lined streets heading towards the outskirts near the gates. The caravan guards greeted us as we neared the first trailer. I smiled and waved a hoof at Applesauce. The old stallion was preparing the day’s rations. A sad sort of smile crossed his lips as he waved back. We passed by the bunks on our way towards the lead trailer. I may not be the most perceptive pony in the Wasteland, but even I could tell something was off. Far fewer traders than normal were scurrying about securing deals; the ones that made eye contact as I walked by quickly broke off and disappeared. Near the front of Copper’s trailer, I saw two heavily armed Carmine Convoy guards waiting outside the door in official CCC barding, their polished armor and quality armaments clearly signaling an important Company representative was at the caravan. “Pay, what’s going on here?” I nudged her side. “Why is there a rep from the main company here?” She looked at me and shook her head, motioning me into the trailer. I stepped inside, and another guard inside closed the door behind me. Copper Shard and Lance were standing off to the side, uncomfortably stoic. A stiff looking unicorn stallion I did not recognize in glasses and a tattered business suit was sitting in Copper’s chair. He got to his hooves as I entered. “Bit Flip, ah—” He stopped and floated papers in front of his eyes, “—Rather, Route Walker, I presume?” I recalled signing into Old Fort Celestia’s visitor log using the caravan’s courier name. Oh hell, this is about that night. My body tensed up and I felt my breath catch as my heart skipped a beat. I wanted to run away, to hide. Anything. Even diving head first into the nearest sand dune would suffice. No. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before exhaling, steeling myself as I pushed those thoughts aside. This is not how you were taught. I nodded. The unicorn looked me over and began, “Oh good, it’s always nice working with a professional. I’ll cut straight to the chase then and not bother with the runaround.” He flipped a page and looked at it. “We’ve received reports about two pieces of stolen property from the Wing Haven Medical Corps, specifically from the branch based out of Old Fort Celestia.” I nodded again as he flipped a page and continued, “The items in question are an undelivered parcel and—” he looked at the page again, “—A unicorn they…acquired. Luckily, they only want the parcel back.” Copper Shard spoke up, “I brought Lance into this meeting because you left yer barding and packs with him, Bit Flip. However, we were unable to find the package you left with.” He lowered his voice and looked straight at me, “He has no recollection of any items of worth on you when you received medical treatment, which leaves me to ask: Where is the package?” I stole a quick look at Lance. He stared back, his posture relaxed and a small grin graced his lips for the briefest of moments. “My barding was damaged when the guards opened fire during our escape, if you look on the right side one of the packs is torn. The parcel dropped somewhere over Devil’s Canyon, I figure.” “I see,” the representative began. “Well, Company law requires that we give you your options so here’s how this is going to play out.” He sighed. “Option one: you somehow procure the package before midnight. The package shall be handed over to the nearest WHMC facility and we shall do our best to shield you from them should they decide to seek retribution.” “An’ the second option?” I asked, staring at the unicorn. “We cut you loose after midnight. You are afforded no immunities from them, and no protections against any bounties placed against you in our centers.” He pushed his glasses back up on his muzzle with a hoof, “Essentially, you become fair game should they choose to exercise that right.” “I…see. Well in that case, I’ll need a bit of time to think things over.” “Atta-girl.” The suited pony made for the door. “Oh, one more thing before I take my leave. Regardless of whichever option you decide to pursue, your contract with your caravan, and by extension, the Company is now void. However, out of respect for your hard work and everything you’ve done with Copper Shard’s caravan we will not revoke your Token until midnight.” Revoked!? I wanted to buck his head clean off his thin little neck. It took every ounce of willpower I could muster to not scream in frustration at the unicorn. To somehow explain the situation. To get him to change his mind. Rules are rules, and business is business. It’s nothing personal, the little pony in my head reminded me. I wanted to drop a building on her. “Well, I appreciate the gesture all th’ same.” “Mhm. In any case, you understand though that after that our hooves are tied. You have effectively become parvum equum non grata as the old Equestrian legal saying used to go.” The business unicorn left with the guards trailing closely behind. My knees gave out and Copper Shard bucked the side of a drawer, scattering its contents across the floor. “Well, it looks like I’m done here.” Lance walked to the door and sighed. “I’ll be in the medical coach. Come get your gear when you’re ready, Bit.” “Damn it, Bit!” Copper yelled in frustration. “What have you gone and gotten yourself into?” “I—I couldn’t just leave her there.” I looked at the ceiling, “I owed her a favor and they were treating her so poorly. I ended up using the package as leverage so they wouldn’t shoot us,” I explained, recounting the past couple days to Copper. Copper sighed, saying his little prayer, “It’s fine. We’re fine. Everything is just fine.” He walked over and set the drawer upright. “I’ll fix this somehow.” I pushed myself to my hooves. “No, for now I need you to make yourself scarce, okay, Bit? We’ll figure something out, but I need to talk to Pay Day. Let her know I need to see her.” I walked out of Copper’s trailer, where Pay was waiting at the steps. “Hey, Pay.” She walked over and threw her arms around me, “I’m sorry, Bit.” “Yeah, me too, Pay.” I hugged her back. “Copper wants to see you. I’m headed to the church; he wants me to lay low for a while.” I turned off the path and walked towards Lance’s medical coach. I should go apologize to him. Lance was outside his sky-wagon-turned-medical-coach sitting on a chair with my barding and guns. More importantly, he also had the package set next to him. I waved as I approached. “Hey, Doc. Look, I’m sorr—” “Don’t. I’m just repaying a favor from a long time ago.” He stood up and slid the package into the repaired pack. “I’d tell you the story of how your pop saved my skin and let me in the caravan, but we don’t really have a whole lot of time for that. Shame, too, ’cause it’s pretty damn funny.” “Well, thank you Lance. I appreciate it.” I smiled at the frowning doctor. “The day ain’t over yet, dear.” He helped me strap into my barding. “I had Felt repair your gear.” “And he agreed? Just like that?” I looked at him skeptically. “Well, let’s just say he was none too pleased about it and leave it at that.” “I guess I should go then. Thanks again, Doc. For everything.” I turned to walk off with a wave. “Yup.” I slowly picked my way away from the outskirts of the Crags towards Laitis’ Church. Various traders looked out at me from the side lanes, with scornful glares that would once have been beaming smiles. I know what I did, alright? It was the right thing to do. Doesn’t make it any less wrong, the little pony in my head said back. I slumped down in a bar stool, the late afternoon sun streaming in through the windows. In the background, I could hear Willow trotting about the work area prepping for the evening’s upcoming work. I felt a pair of arms wrap around me from behind. Willow placed her head against mine. “What’s the matter, sweetie? You look like ya lost something. Best friend? No, that can’t be it, I’m right here.” She gave me a little squeeze. “Fillyfriend then, perhaps? Maybe a colt-toy?” “I…am, now. Lost, that is.” I frowned and kicked the bar in frustration. “They’re voiding my contracts tonight and I’m losing my Token. I’ll probably even have t’ end up leaving the caravan. All because I tried t’ help somepony.” “I’m guessing this has to do with Vitia? Sometimes the wrong thing to do is very much the right thing, Bit. I know you better than most, hell, probably even better than Ol’ Copper.” Willow took a seat next to me, and touched her hoof gently to mine. “You care. Less than some, but definitely more than most. You care and that’s what matters.” “I know, Willow. Thanks.” I smiled at the pink unicorn. “Speaking of Vitia, where is she? I figured she’d be hanging around here. She seems t’ have taken a liking t’ you, y’know.” Willow grinned and giggled, “Oh, I know, Bit. She still owes me two—” she paused a moment and looked off in space, “—No, wait, three again. I haven’t seen her either though.” Her tone became slightly dour, “She went off to explore and gotten herself disappeared somewhere, and she’s late.” “Owes you? Wait, already?” I grinned, nudging her. “That’s a new record, I think.” Willow smirked back at me, “I think so. Well, certainly faster than you and I at least.” A few early patrons walked in from the hall. They were chattering loudly, having a lively conversation about some guards trotting a unicorn in chains and collar off. A sinking feeling in my gut hit me as I heard them. I jumped off my stool and trotted over to the group. “Hey, what was that about a unicorn in chains?” “Oh, yeah. Couple-a fancy lookin’ guards and some unicorn in an ugly suit were leading a pretty little thing in chains towards the outskirts.” I felt my skin crawl. “The one in chains, did she have a ring-looking thing on her horn?” “And big ears,” he laughed. "How’d you know?” Ah, ponyfeathers. I shouted back at Willow, “I gotta run! Need to take care of something!” Willow shot me a funny look as I galloped from the church. I dashed down the scrap littered streets, kicking up bits of rock and dirt. I hope I’m not too late! I rounded the corner to the outskirts moments later and galloped past the guard. Pleasantries could wait. There she was. Vitia looked at me with a tear-stained face as I rounded the trailer. She was chained and had an explosive collar fitted around her neck. The hoof-chains looked like they were entirely too small and bit into her legs. Shit. This is my fault. I turned around and heard her sob. I’m sorry, Vitia. I don’t have time to explain. I galloped away,bee lining for Copper’s trailer. I shoved opened the door to Copper’s trailer and clambered in. Pay and Copper looked at me in shock. “Copper! What’s going on? Why is Vitia back here and in those?” Copper shook his head, “Well, it seems the Company is wanting to sell her off to recoup lost fees. And probably to pay off the WHMC to smooth things over to keep their business.” I nearly screamed, “What!? And you’re letting them?” “I don’t really have a say in the matter, Bit.” I could feel my face burning up. “Fine! What’s the going rate for a pony’s life by Company standard?” “Actually, we were just talking about that.” Pay sighed, “Currently, the going rate on personal, non-labor slaves is about fifteen thousand caps per head for a healthy, working adult.” Shit. I only had three thousand caps in liquid assets from gambling. Not even remotely enough. Fuck, fuck…Think, Bit. Pay looked at me and guessed, “You’ve also got your caravan seat fee. You’re still technically a member of the Company for today and can sell it back to Copper for half the going rate.” She looked at the ceiling for a moment in thought. “Which would be about four thousand caps.” Copper looked at me. “It’s still not enough, and hardly worth you losing your caravan seat fee over some filly you just met. Not to mention they plan on selling her for twice that just to recoup costs.” I glared at him. “They won’t have a need to if I give them the package back.” “You’d lose any leverage you had for getting your contract back. Is that what you truly want?” He stared back at me, a hard edge to his eyes and clenched jaw. “I’ll be damned if I let her, or Willow, suffer from my stupid choice. This is my all fault and I have to fix it.” I sighed. “I’ll owe you a favor of your choice if you make up the difference, Copper.” He snorted. “Hardly worth its weight in ca—” “You’re right,” I snapped. Then, with a calmer tone, "It’s worth its weight in clean water and you know it.” Copper smiled at me, and his glare softened. “You’ve always brokered the strange deals, Bit. I could see it in your eyes when you were just a wee filly gettin’ her cutie mark and I can see it them now.” He walked to the door and opened it. “Fine, I will pay off the difference in caps and in return you will keep to your promise when I come calling.” “Stay alive out there until then, Bit,” he called out from behind as Pay and I walked towards the Company rep’s wagon. “Because I will come calling for it.” Pay trotted ahead and turned to me, staring at me with those amber eyes. “You don’t have to do this, you know that, right, Bit? We can find another way around this.” I looked back into her eyes. “For once, I’m not going to just stand here and watch as the consequences take over.” Willow would never forgive me either and I couldn’t do that to her. “It’s a bad deal no matter how you cut it,” she sighed. “But if this is what you want.” “I know, Pay.” I nudged her as we walked. “I’m sorry.” We finished walking to the wagon in silence. I looked at Vitia sitting there, a right mess. Tears had mixed in with the dust and grime of the city, soaking into and matting her fur. She looked up at me, “I—I thought you had left.” She said between sniffles. “I couldn’t call you back, not like last time.” “I couldn’t leave you like this. Nopony deserves this, Vitia. I’m sorry.” I laughed nervously, “Besides, Willow would kill me. Apparently, you still owe her several somethings.” Vitia squeaked and stammered out something unintelligible. She raised her head after a moment, her flushed and tear-wet face beaming with a wide grin. The rest of the deal was brokered by Pay, acting as a neutral representative. The entire proceeding was kept very matter-of-fact, and the dullness of it kept me on edge. But by the end, as far as the Company was concerned, Vitia was now my property. The guards unshackled Vitia and removed her collar as I slid the missing parcel and caps across the table to the Company unicorn. I thanked Pay for her help and said my goodbye with a gentle hug. Vitia and I walked off towards the church, my Token sitting atop the rep’s table. Willow greeted Vitia with a long, intimate embrace, then nearly galloped over to me, damn near bowling me over, smothering me in hugs and squeezes for bringing the grimy unicorn back safely. “I just want to get some sleep tonight,” I said up to her from the ground. I pulled myself up, gave them a weak smile, and began walking off. “It’s been a pretty horrible day.” Willow usually gave me a place to rest in her room when we were in town, but it hardly felt appropriate now. I continued on down the hallway towards one of the other spare rooms. I undid the straps on my barding and set it aside, only now noticing the extra weight. I guess I was too busy with all the rush going on. I pulled out various farewell items from caravanners. Lance had left a few extra healing potions and a small jar of his special brew. Pay Day had given me a small sack of caps. That girl never parts with money. Applesauce had packed his special lunch again. Even Parcel Post left something. It was a pin she traded for a few years back. I pulled out the final item. It was a note wrapped around a two-headed pre-war bit. On each side was stamped a stylized alicorn, one silhouetted against the sun, and another a crescent moon. — The caravan will probably be gone by the time you read through this. We’re setting off a bit earlier than usual this schedule. But I wanted to let you know in case we don’t properly get to say our goodbyes. I’m sorry to have to see you off like this, but I’ve never been the most fatherly since your mother passed. She would have wanted you to keep this. It’s not pleasant going separate ways. Especially when it’s family in both blood and bond. Stay safe, my little Bit Flip. Copper Shard — I looked at myself in the mirror. My steel-blue mane and evergreen coat were a mess, slick with sweat from the evening heat. The gravity of my situation finally settled in on me. It felt as if I were being crushed under the weight of the Crags itself. I lost my home and my family. For the first time since I lost my mother, I cried. I crumbled to the rough floor and broke down. —— Party Status: Bit Flip: Generally healthy. Moderate blood alcohol level. Very minor contusions. Stress levels elevated. Emotionally unstable. Level Up (12) Perk: Long Haul You have learned to pack mountains of gear for the long haul. Being over-encumbered no longer prevents you from traveling at an optimal pace. Vitia: Generally healthy. Hormone levels highly elevated. Blood alcohol level low. Magic suppressed. Minor symptoms of Dash addiction. Level Up (11) Quest Perk: Kitchen-sink Surgery You’ve learned how to use do medicine the earth pony way. You receive a medicine bonus of +5 when equipped with precision hoof-tools. Notable Possessions: 750 Caps Pre-war Keepsake Coin Vitia
Book 1, Chapter 2.5: Matron WillowView OnlineFallout Equestria: Medicine & MailBook 1, Chapter 2.5: Matron WillowAuthor's Notes: This is a companion chapter to Chapter Two in Medicine & Mail. If you have not read at least through chapter two in the main storyline, then this perspective will not make any sense. This is the edited version of this chapter. Content has been revised to remove the sexual content to remain within the Teen rating of the main story. Some characterization and details will be missing from this version, so it is recommended to read the unedited version in Tales of the Marejave unless you are bothered by sexual content. Chapter Two-point-Five Matron Willow “‘Prudes!’ Can you believe it? Those minotaurs, they think Just because they have these spirits of debauchery and carnality, That we’re repressed! Us, regular, pure ponyfolk!” With all the activity of the dozens of patrons, dancing, joking, laughing and playing games of dice and cards with exaggerated gusto, the air here was thick and hot. Minotaurs and ponies shuffled back and forth from the bar, ordering drinks and returning below to their games or tables. The two minotaurs that moved aside to let me sit across from Willow shared stories and laughter over my head like I wasn’t even there. “Alright, so you’re not with Bit,” Willow called out, her voice loud, necessary to cover the excessive bass levels of the speakers all around, but flat toned. “What exactly are you?” The pink unicorn was slowly turning a glass around in her telekinetic field, the turquoise glow of it creating a cascade of hues across her features. She had painted herself up in a dark purple tribal pattern, and was wearing a lacy black and white outfit. She was decidedly gorgeous. And I’m staring. I shook my head and tried to turn my attention away from the mesmerizing mare. “I—” I didn’t actually know how to respond to her question. I fumbled with some words, and tossed some ideas around in my head but nothing seemed to fit. What was I, now? With the Hydra that coursed through my body, I couldn’t even be sure I was still fully unicorn. But then, with the suppressor anchored to my horn, I didn’t even have that going for me. Right now, I was just a small pony days further away than I’d ever been from my home, unsure of where I was going to go, and whose company I was in, or even what I would do after this night. I knew that, in the back of my mind, I wanted to find Silver. But the need of it seemed to have lessened of late. And each time I looked at the priestess, it seemed less important even still. I shook my head and sighed. “You don’t have to say,” Willow added with a gentle voice, a smile touching on her lips. “I just wanted to know who was keeping the company of my favorite little gambler.” I looked up at Willow, the warming tone of the last words catching my curiosity. She was looking across the bar, and I followed her gaze to Ghost Ant, hovering over Bit, who was flat on the ground on her haunches. The grey minotaur—short by minotaur standards, but still several times my size—stepped up to the bar, and swept his enormous arms aside, shuffling most of the row between us toward me. Bit walked to the bar, and disappeared behind the mass of muscle and fur in front of me that was leaning back to watch the event. Willow giggled, and stared down at the glass she was floating with her magic, her cleaning temporarily halted. It seemed like she was lost in a memory, and her downcast smile added a wisp of melancholy to the view. “It was just an accident,” I rushed to say, causing her to perk up. “I helped her, and then she helped me. We’re…even, now.” I wasn’t sure how to explain it. I didn’t know how Bit Flip actually felt about the arrangement. She helped me out back at Old Fort Celestia, but only after invoking a debt, and she did refer to me earlier as business. Maybe I was just luggage. “That’s it?” She sounded disappointed. “That’s so…well, that’s very her, isn’t it?” She laughed a little, her voice trailing off. The bar aside me erupted in cheers, and a cream-colored stallion in black bartender robes called out that a drinking challenge had been issued. I leaned back and tried to peer through the thickening crowd to glimpse at who was involved—Bit was over there, so I was curious—but the throng of gatherers and watchers for the challenge obscured my sight completely. I sat back straight and sighed. The minotaurs beside me had risen and joined in with the rest of the growing crowd to the side, so I was left curiously alone, save for Willow, who was looking at me with a soft smile. I remembered the sorrowful expression she held a few moments before. Bit had mentioned that she and Willow shared an intimate past, but it certainly felt like one side held on to the memories of it more dearly, and it reminded me of Silver Sheen. My relationship with her took years to develop, and then, just as it did— A great slap hit my back and nearly sent me tumbling over the bar. A gruff, booming voice yelled from my side, “’Ey Willow! Didn’t know ya had yerself another ’nitiate!” The rust-coated minotaur reached an arm around my side and hoisted me up effortlessly over his shoulder, and began walking from the bar. I struggled in vain, and reached out with my arms and eyes to Willow, who just shrugged and giggled. The crowd at the edge of the bar erupted again. And I was right, it was Bit Flip in the center of the group, sitting aside an azure stallion, with several lines of shot glasses and a familiar dark alcohol (ooh, Black Whiskey!) prepped for the contest. “—Ish yer favorite!” I heard from within. The minotaur dropped me down atop a table where two stallions and one massive griffin sat. Their faces were flushed from the heat of the building, laughter, and judging from the number of bottles and cans that were knocked off when I was unceremoniously flopped onto the table, they were all extremely drunk. The crowd near Bit broke into a sing-song tune, sloshing together a mixed rhythm and swaying to off-key cries of “Drink until y’can’t drink no more!” As I gained my footing atop the table, I started, “I’m not—” The scarred griffin let out an ear-piercing squawk, which turned into a laugh and a haggard coughing fit. The others at the table joined in the laughter, but it felt distinctly like they were not joining with the griffin, and more laughing at him. “Aye, we know!” The minotaur joked, slapping my back. “No paint! But you’ve got the lace on! Ye’d be a Maiden or Honorary Priestess with that but ain’t none o’us knows you, so that can’t be!” One of the stallions, with a splotchy grey-purple coat and numerous pocks over his face, leaned up onto the table and yelled out at me, “We jus’ wanna know—” “You an’ Bit a thing?” Even over the booming bass and noise of the church-bar, I was sure everyone in here heard it. The extreme volume made me wince and lay my ears flat reflexively, and the overwhelming stench of alcohol and other far-less inviting smells from the stallion’s breath had me scrambling back. I fell onto the floor, hitting flat on my back, and my eyes watered. A massive arm of the rusty minotaur hoisted me back to my hooves, where I stood, looking at each of the four drunkards in turn, feeling the flush of my embarrassment warm into a smile, and I laughed along with them. Near Bit Flip, the crowd of challenge-watchers hollered and hooped, and a shaggy minotaur with excessively long dreads looked at me before calling back into the throng, “’Ey! Bit’s got’er a fillyfriend!” I knew someone heard that! I blushed, “Everybody really does assume that! We’re not!” I laughed along with most of the upper floor. I looked up and caught a few glances of the evergreen mare as she downed glass after glass of whiskey. She is cute, in her way, but I don’t feel anything toward her like that. The bar was full of rowdy, but good-mannered types, it seemed. I looked over the faces of everyone at the table before me and in each I saw enjoyment and relaxation. The griffin was the largest I had ever seen, standing nearly as tall and broad as most of the minotaurs, but still smaller than the stoic minotaurs standing at all corners draped in a single massive black cloth. The stallions were much older than I, covered in grime and dirt, and one was wearing a tattered engineer’s cap. The crowd around the challenge had begun to disperse, and leading them was Bit Flip, flushed in face and carrying a healthy pile of chips, making her way down the ramp at the end of the balcony to the gaming floor below. “Now now,” the gentle voice of Willow came from beside me, “It’s not fair to take my catch from me like that.” She had stepped up beside me and was looking at each, glancing back to me. She ran her tail slowly, gently up along my cutie mark. I whimpered, and my entire body flushed. My ears pinned back, and I shivered as she ran her tail down the inside of my flank. My knees felt weak suddenly, and I wanted to collapse and whimper from the sudden intimacy. As the table erupted in shouts and hoots, Willow nudged me over to the edge of the upper floor and leaned against the railing. She spoke softly into my ear, “That’ll give them something to talk about.” I kept my eyes down at the tables below, trying desperately not to think of the feel of her tail along the sensitive inside of my leg, the look on her face and—okay, I really need to stop thinking of that! By Celestia’s grace I think she’ll make me come just looking at me. “You play?” Willow nodded down to a table below. I was glad for the topic change, but I shook my head. “I mean, I’ve played before, but only with travelers and a few other ponies around town. Never in a real environment. I don’t know if I’m any good.” Bit Flip was leaning over a table with more spectators than apparent players, and pulled to her a small pile of colored chips, laughing. Willow looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “Never know until you try,” she giggled. “I’d like to,” I mused. Watching the jubilation of everyone below, cheering as Bit pulled another win, and erupting as she bet it all and lost it immediately after, it felt like there was so much that could happen in just one game. Looking over at another table, a group of griffins and minotaurs were holding cards and trying to hold themselves as steady and flat-faced as possible. Each player glanced at another and after what appeared to be careful consideration, dropped some chips into a bulging pile. They all dropped their cards face up, and one griffin jumped up, hollering, while the rest of the players squirmed and rubbed their heads. How interesting. “So why don’t you? The services are still on for a while yet. Go mingle.” “I’d, um,” I shifted. “I don’t know. I think I’ll just stay up here for now.” “Nervous, huh? Well, looks like there’s something else I’ll have to show you how to overcome later.” She turned from the railing and grazed me lightly with her mane as she walked by, then brushed her tail across my face and walked to the bar. A sweet scent lingered after her. Her small, lithe frame moved slowly, deliberately, and swished her tail about. The dark cloth wrapped around her body tightly and the thin stockings and lace left little to the imagination. The dark purple paint accented her features and kept bringing my view to her flank. I followed slowly behind her toward the bar, and watched her make her way around it, never for a moment taking my view from the sight of her. My body was warm, my face flushed, and I was tingly in all the right places. She was simply gorgeous—maybe even more-so than Silver… “Darling,” she spoke to me, breaking me from my trance, “Eyes up here.” Luna freeze my nethers, she saw me. Again!I slumped down and covered my head with my hooves, hoping the burning in my cheeks, ears, and under my thighs would settle. She laughed, and pressed a hoof to my ear gently. As I looked up, she whispered, “I hope you didn’t make a mess in my panties.” I squealed and tried to stammer out something, but words were not forming. “Willow! Ah need another round! No, make it two! Me an’ mah buddies, we need another toast for Laitis!” “Certainly!” She beamed. With the shimmering lights of the church playing about, and the glow from her magic, her sapphire eyes sparkled. The purple paint that she painted around them only made them stand out more. As she trotted about, talking excitedly to the mottled stallion requesting drink after drink, her mane bounced and flowed, billowing out and framing her face. She worked her magic over multiple bottles, lifting and flipping each in turn, seeming to delight in the activity. It was amazing to watch—she turned bottles and spun them around, dropping her magic hold on them momentarily, picking them up again at the precise moment the last drips needed to fill the glasses below the bottle hit, and managed the menagerie of bottles and glasses without ever missing a beat in her sing-song sway and dance. She smiled as she set the tray of multi-colored drinks down by a nearby lace-clad minotaur. It seemed like the entire church lit up with her. I tried to edge myself closer to that sight, wanting simply to be a part of the aura that she seemed to emanate. My body tingled, and burned with powerful sensations. I have the heat of Celestia’s sun in me, I groaned. I have to stop thinking of that. I needed to calm down, take a breath, and steady myself. I can’t, I still have Silver. When I find her. As I exhaled slowly, a glass was slid up to me, bathed in a dark greenish-blue light. The mix itself was a creamy white, with a thick foam on top and thin slices of something light-green rimming the glass. “I call it a Doozy,” Willow explained, walking up to me with that bright, beaming smile of hers. “It’ll calm you down.” I lapped the foam, and was hit with a sensation of flavor I had never experienced before. It was delicious. It had a light flavor of the cactus pods we had eaten previously, but there were other flavors I didn’t even know mixed in, and a familiar, distinct flavor of a fine whiskey. The foam gone, I greedily took a large gulp of the thick, creamy drink. It was oaky, but fruity, and the taste seemed to change as it worked across my tongue. “Good. Maybe that’ll keep your mind off somepony, and I won’t have to clean up a puddle under your seat.” I coughed and hacked, gasping at air, trying to breathe through the burning of forgetting how to for a moment. Her tone was in jest, but I felt like she waited until that exactly moment to say that, just for the sake of seeing me teary-eyed and embarrassed. As I started to regain my ability to breathe properly, I giggled, then laughed. In between breaths, I took more deep gulps of the Doozy, until the glass was empty. Another was set just next to it. I pulled the second drink to me, and giggled. “You must think I’m a pervert pony.” “Not at all, dear. It’s not the first time I’ve elicited a reaction.” She leaned on to the counter and had slid close enough that I could see the sparkling of background lights in her sapphire eyes, framed by that dark paint. My cheeks burned and I took to washing away my embarrassment with another long drink. “Just never so honestly,” she finished. She kept her bright eyes on mine for what seemed like an eternity, and for that time, nothing else seemed to exist. Finally, she adopted a sultry expression. “Your eyes are amazing. I’ve never seen such a deep amethyst. And the way they shine in the light with the reds and purples…it’s very unique, and more than a little sexy.” I wanted to flinch away, to turn, but I could not. Finally, I melted, and slumped down slightly. She’s intense. I needed to change the topic. I would wither away under the veritable onslaught of emotions and desire, and I felt like she knew she could get me to squirm with just the slightest motion or just a few words. And she seemed to enjoy it. “Um, so—” I wanted to say something, anything, but words weren’t forming. Topics and questions and ideas all floated around, but I couldn’t grasp onto any, until…“You and Bit Flip.” “Hm?” She leaned back and straightened up slightly. “What about her and I, dear?” “You’ve known each other for a while. I don’t know anything about her.” Willow settled back onto the bar. “And you want to know more about her?” She turned her head slightly, drooped her ears, and said in a hushed, sad voice, “Dear, that hurts.” I had intended on ignoring whatever tease she responded with, but the sudden change in demeanor caught me off guard. Without realizing it, I apologized. “I thought you wanted to know about me,” she continued. “I-I do!” I stammered, without realizing. Then I did, and tried to cover my embarrassment, “I-I mean, I do, but, uh—” But nothing. I really did want to know. I wanted to know how soft her coat was, to know why she was here and what choices in life she made, wanted to know if I could just nestle up in her mane and sleep, wanted to know her taste—Aaaaugh!I downed the rest of the cup quickly. She giggled and looked up at me. Her expression was soft and she was trying not to laugh, but her cheeks tugged and a smile broke out, then she laughed. It was a heart-warming sound, and then I realized she had been playing me. I was sure she could read every thought I had from the way my body moved at that moment. Before her I felt completely naked—not that her lingerie I was wearing was exactly covering—and she could see everything about me. It was embarrassing, but also comforting. “It’s fine, I understand,” she told me. “But, really, it’s awfully loud in here, and I think this would be a conversation better suited to something more private.” After saying something to the cream-colored stallion quietly, she stepped from the side of the bar and motioned me toward an exit. As the door opened to the outside, a gust of cool air washed over us, taking the immediate heat from me, and breathing a comfortable coolness over my sweaty coat. The night was quiet but for the rumble of the church’s music, and the moonlight had coated everything in a light blue hue. The buildings shimmered, and the lights of the town flickered all around. Willow was walking ahead a few steps, moving up a wide wooden set of stairs that circled around the church, keeping her pace slow. The moonlight glimmered off her mane and coat, and silhouetted her in a faint glow. I trotted up to her side and fell in with her pace. The night air was calming, and all the burning of my desires and the Doozies were washing away, bit by bit. I felt genuinely comfortable here. I hadn’t felt like this since Desert’s Edge. Since before Silver left. We reached a balcony overlooking the Crags, and Willow nestled down. Looking out from the top of the building across the Rusted Crags, it felt like a completely different world than from just inside the church. Here, it was calm and quiet, with nobody around but us. It’s just us. I stepped closer to Willow and leaned up against her slightly, nuzzling at the edge of her ears. She had a sweet scent about her, much like the sugary drink she had served me earlier, but with a touch of something else—just the slightest hint of something erotic, and passionate. She cooed and booped my cheek with her nose. “I thought you had questions?” Sudden realization hit me and I shrank back. “Sorry!” She arched her eyebrows and frowned, then patted the spot I had just sat in. She had changed her expression to a half-smile. Her features were inviting, and I sat back down, leaning against her slightly. I could feel the heat of her body against my own. “What did you want to know?” “If I could just stay here like this forever.” “Forever?” What? Oh, Luna fuck me with the crags of the moon, I didn’t think that, I said it! I covered my head with my hooves and sank onto the wooden balcony. “I’m sorry, I, um…” “You needn’t apologize, dear. You seem to hide from your feelings a lot, but your body is so honest,” she teased. I turned away. She was absolutely correct, and I would fool nopony otherwise right now. “S-So, she—Bit Flip, I mean—said you two were more than friends once?” Willow turned from me and looked out across the cloudless horizon. She stayed silent a moment. “We’ve been friends a long time. Her caravan comes through here quite a bit, and she seems naturally inclined to games of luck and chance, which means we’ve had several dealings in the past.” “Luck?” “Mmhmm,” Willow nodded. “She’s just as likely to have the best luck in the Wasteland as she is the worst. She has a bad habit—and don’t tell her I said this—of getting too into it.” “How do you mean?” Just keep talking. “You’re familiar with dice, right? A pony with average luck like you or I, when we roll one, we will get random results, from one to six. She, on the other hoof, will only ever get one or six.” Willow giggled, then continued in her silken voice, “It’s a little more complicated than that, but that’s the gist of it. It’s freaky luck, no matter how she says otherwise.” I thought back to meeting with Bit in the cave during the storm. She told me she gambled, and lost, and it started to make more sense now. If she was lucky, the storm would have passed quickly or turned another direction. If she wasn’t, she…She certainly wasn’t lucky about that. Willow took a breath and glanced down at me, squeezing me slightly. “Ah, sorry, that didn’t answer your question.” “It’s alright,” I whispered. I didn’t want to step on her hoof here and hit a touchy subject. I just wanted her to keep talking. Her voice made my ears burn with excitement, and leaning against her felt like resting on clouds. “Well, you asked, so I feel like I should answer.” “You don’t have to,” I rushed. “I don’t want to make you say something you’re not comfortable with. I just wanted you to talk, and, well, anything works.” Whatever I can to keep you talking, and keep my thoughts modest. “Um, alright, here’s something I don’t understand. Why does she hide her wings?” Willow giggled. “I take it she got defensive once or twice?” “Mmhmm,” I hummed. “Earlier, flying would have been better for her than walking, but she snapped at me.” Willow considered the question for a moment, and stayed silent, but kept her gaze on me. Finally, she spoke up, “She plays her cards close to her vest. Likes to have that last bit of leverage in a conversation or deal. I see that sort of thing in the cards and games downstairs a lot, actually, but she puts it into practice.” “It was certainly a shock.” “That’s sort of the idea, isn’t it? If everypony thinks they’re dealing with an earth pony, they’ll react that way. Then it all gets thrown out when she flies away. Don’t show your hand until you know it’ll win you the match; that kind of thing.” I nodded. Her words made the events at the Fort and the gate here seem more sensible, but my thoughts were only half on that. I just wanted to listen to that delectable voice of hers. “Well! That’s all about the past,” she started, grinning. “I’d rather know about the present! Tell me about yourself, and how you came to know Bit, and why you’re here.” “It’s not very interesting.” It’s not that I didn’t want to tell her, I just wanted to know more about her than I wanted to say anything about me. But she did ask. I sighed. “I was leaving Fleshgrove and kind of fell into a cave during a dust storm. A while later, I saw something out in the storm, and a huge sheet or debris or something hit it. Not really sure, just some big shadow. I went out to help, and it was Bit. She tried stopping that something with her face,” I chuckled. “And later on, I got in a bit of trouble in OFC. That’s…where I got this ring. Anyway, she was there and helped me.” But none of the others, I remembered sourly. “What in Upniri’s name saw you in Fleshgrove?” I slumped away from the warmth of her, and thought. I didn’t know what to say, or how to say it even if I did. Painful feelings were emerging as I remembered the past few weeks, but part of me knew I needed to say it. “I left…Desert’s Edge, where I’m from,” I was mumbling. The words were difficult to say, but I tried to push forward. “I…left for Silver.” My voice cracked. “I wanted to find her, and…“ Willow reached out and gently pulled me tight against her. Something about that embrace, simple as it was, tugged on me, and I felt the emotions welling up. I wanted to stop them—I don’t want to feel that way! —but they kept rushing to the surface. My eyes watered, then tears began falling, and would not stop. I cried, and wailed, and my body heaved and shuddered, pressing tightly against Willow. My tears ran over her paint, causing it to run, and my face and body smeared it over the two of us as I pulled and tugged her against me. Willow stayed silent as my emotions flooded out, cradling me and nuzzling me. She just held me, while I sobbed and blabbered, retelling the last two weeks of my life between fits of tears and wails. I told her about Silver Sheen, and how much she meant to me then, but how now it didn’t seem to drive me the same. I felt like I was losing her. I explained how my trust in ponies had been struck and broken from the events toward Fleshgrove and in Old Fort Celestia. I really did want to help but there were so many times I ran away, had to flee, and couldn’t. I wanted to help, but I didn’t, or I couldn’t. So I ran, and left everypony behind. I wanted to be better, to do good, to help, but…“I’m just selfish.” As I neared the end of my story, my body had settled but for the occasional shudder. My face was stained with my tears, and our bodies both were covered in smears of the dark purple paint she had covered herself in for the church’s services. I breathed deeply, taking in her sugary sweet scent, and wrapped my arms around the mare’s body, pulling us as close as I could, to which she responded in kind. I could feel her heartbeat thumping against my chest, rapid and excited, and her breathing was shallow and quick. Her body felt so much warmer now, and in the cooling night air, I cherished it. As I loosened my grip, she rolled with me onto my back. Her face was flushed and she was taking shallow breaths through her slightly open mouth. Her sapphire eyes glimmered with a hint of tears. “I thought,” I whispered, my throat catching and haggard, “I thought I loved Silver. I don’t know. Maybe I did. Maybe…I just want to be a good pony.” She looked lost, but sensual, with her eyes closed partly and—she kissed me. I didn’t know why, but my eyes watered, and tears rolled down my face, settling on my mane. She shifted her body slightly, pressing her curves into mine, and for a while, it felt like I was losing a part of myself, becoming something of her, with her. The night air was cool, but Willow’s body was warm, and between gasps and moans, I held her as close as I could under the moonlight. I leaned over and kissed her, tasting the sweet flavor of the night on our tongues. “I’ll make us even.” “Oh I should hope not! The night is still so very young, and once just won’t do!” She slowly moved to her hooves and stretched out, silhouetted against the bright moon of the late night. She took a step toward the stairs leading back down from the balcony, then glanced back at me. “If you really mean that, you’re going to want to come down here, don’t you think?” I chuckled. “I’m not sure I can stand just yet.” My legs were weak, and felt numb. I felt drained in so many ways. A moment later, I felt the tug of a magic field around me as Willow’s magic enveloped me and lifted me slightly. She floated me to her and set me down slowly. I leaned against her, trying to keep myself steady, then nodded, and followed after her as she walked down the steps. The church was as loud as it had been before, and nothing seemed to have changed. Patrons still screamed and yelled in joy and laughter, the minotaur monk-bouncers still pulled much smaller ponies apart in heated arguments, and the occasional eruption of cheering down below signified a spectacular win or loss in the various gambling games. Willow stepped through the door without a pause, and as the multi-colored lights hit her, I saw just how much of a mess I had made of her. Her coat was more purple from the tribal paint than her own pink—in my fit of crying and moment of passion, I had smeared it in every direction. Whatever designs she had carefully painted on before were gone, replaced by a mess of raw emotion. She took a few steps forward, then looked back. “We have to go through here,” she smiled, seeming to catch my uneasiness. She motioned me in, and after a deep breath, I took my first step back in to the church. “Looks like she got the paint after all!” The familiar voice of the rust-colored minotaur boomed out across the balcony. He raised his mug, itself as large as some ponies, and hollered out, “By Laitis! Initiate the little one, Willow!” “I think that my paint really looks good on you,” Willow whispered in my ear as I walked to her side. “Really brings out those eyes.” She skipped up to the edge of the bar. “Can you do something for me?” A light mocha colored stallion in black church garb walked up to her, a knowing smile playing across his face and his glimmering eyes. “Keep minding the bar? You’re busy? Don’t think you’ll make it back tonight?” Willow giggled, “Yes, exactly. Thank you!” She trotted back to me and bumped her flank against mine playfully, then kept moving ahead. Her mane was a mess, still billowy but disorganized, and her priestess outfit was skewed and coming loose in all the right spots. I flushed, but followed her down the long ramp toward the bottom floor, taking careful mind to stay a few steps back—anypony with half a mind for mares, and hell, probably even those who wouldn’t normally fancy such, couldn’t blame me for the sight of her sway and seductive movements. When she stepped down from the ramp and turned in to the crowd, Ghost Ant grabbed her and hoisted her up, letting out a guffaw and squeezing her. “Matron, you’re all a’mess! And that—yep, that’s the smell of another mare on you!” He laughed, looking straight at me, “And not hard to guess which!” Several of the others at the table and over the room turned at the minotaur’s booming jest, and I caught many glances shifting between Willow and I, and just as much snickering. Of course—I must look like quite the sight, covered in her paint. And to those that could tell over the myriad of scents in the bar, she was soaked in mine. My cheeks turned crimson and my face burned. Everybody knows. “Now now, Ghost,” Willow squeezed out. When she was set down, she motioned me forward, to which I hesitantly complied. “We have something private to attend to, so if you don’t mind…” “Oh nobody minds!” a beige stallion hollered out behind the relatively short grey minotaur. Laughter and applause rang out around us. Willow simply smiled at me and laughed, pushing her way through the crowd. I followed as close as I could, afraid to get caught and lost in the crowd as they began to chant to cries of “Laitis! Laitis!” Willow stopped halfway across the room and turned to face Bit Flip, who was leaning with her back against a dice table behind her. Bit rested her chin on one hoof, and a coy, playful smile stretched across her features. She had a large pile of chips and caps immediately behind her, but curiously, her underbarding’s cloth cover was gone. She was sitting at the table, wings public, naked but for a pony’s modesty. “So!” she called out, hopping off the chair and trotting up to the two of us. She flicked a glance between us several times, then broke out into a wide whiskey-grin, “Looks like somepony’s initiated now!” I could smell the alcohol lingering around her. Oh dear Luna, just how much has she had tonight? “I—what?” I remember Bit Flip explaining she was a Maiden—rather, an Honorary Priestess—after drinking Ghost Ant under twice, but I hadn’t had anything to drink beyond a few Doozies recently. And I certainly did not challenge any member to a drinking contest. “Only halfway,” Willow chimed. “Now she has to pay her part in.” Bit Flip laughed, and patted my head with one of her wings. “Have fun, then! Or, should I say, be careful!” She laughed, and trotted back to her game. The chanting around us had died out, but I still felt most of the bar’s eyes on me. The door across the room felt a mile away. “Come on,” she laughed. “Perhaps we really should move somewhere private before you catch on fire!” She pulled at the door with her magic and stepped into the hall beyond, motioning me to follow. I scrambled to my hooves and nearly dashed in beside her—just to get out of the immediate attention of everyone behind me. The door shut, and the sounds of the activity beyond them seemed to fade into the distance. “You’re very cruel,” I choked out. Willow just laughed, and kept pushing forward with that delectable sway of hers. “You’re beyond adorable, so I can’t help it!” She stopped at a door with a placard above it, inscribed in gold against the black stone slab were the words Matron Willow. She pushed the door open and skipped in. We had taken to her bed, and I rolled up to her, nestling in her mane and wrapping my legs around her as she hummed a happy tune. “Why here?” She hummed the melody again for a few seconds, then wrapped her legs around me in return and spoke quietly, “Part of it was how new it was to me. I had been with a caravan for almost a year, and seen so much. But this was suddenly so new, and exciting. So I stayed—only meant to stay until the caravan came back through—but as I became more involved in the church, I suddenly realized I didn’t want to go back out. I knew this was the place for me.” “So confident,” I whispered. “I don’t know what I want. Not anymore.” “Confidence is just something you have to learn. Nopony is always sure of themselves in every situation. But you tell yourself that you are, that you’re sure, and you can become that way.” She stroked my mess of a mane for a while before continuing. “You can become anypony you want, if you believe you are who you’re trying to tell everyone you are.” “Mmhmm,” I hummed back. The desire for sleep was becoming almost overwhelming. “Tell me more,” I tried. She continued to stroke my mane, and gently rubbed my ears occasionally. Her rich, smooth voice was becoming distant as sleep overtook me. The light of a late morning sun shone through the cracks in worn curtains over the multiple windows of Willow’s room. This will be a good day. I stepped up onto my hooves and skipped after the sashaying mare ahead of me. A wonderful day. “I need to check something from last night before we get busy,” she explained, turning down the hall toward the gambling den and bar. Skipping through it, we made our way past all the groggy-eyed minotaurs and ponies. I kept close to Willow, trying to hide from the many snickers and knowing eyes. We stepped through the door at the end back into the gambling den. Several minotaurs in the black robes of the church were moving about, separating the litter and cleaning up various spills and other messes. She had stopped in the room, talking to one of the other church members. I trotted up to her, and looked around. Some of the patrons had taken to sleep on the lounges—and in one case, on a dice game table. Willow pranced her way up the ramp to the bar, and I followed. The area here was much the same, with the same kinds of spills and unconscious patrons. I looked around over the church-bar, and that’s when I saw her. Hanging from a chandelier was Bit Flip, mostly upside down. Her wings were out but her cloth underbarding—so she got it back, I see—was tangled up in it. Affixed to her drooped head was a bottle of Black Pony Whiskey. I laughed, and directed Willow to the sight, and she laughed heartily. “Should we get her down?” Willow wiped a tear from her eye and shook her head. “No, no,” she giggled, “She’s fine. Let the Whiskeycorn sleep a bit longer.” I knew I’d have to bring that up again later.
Book 1, Chapter 2.8: Worlds EndView OnlineFallout Equestria: Medicine & MailBook 1, Chapter 2.8: Worlds EndAuthor’s Notes: This is a companion chapter to Chapter Two-point-Five in Medicine & Mail. If you have not read at least through chapter two-point-five in the main storyline, then this perspective will not make any sense. Chapter Two-point-Eight Worlds End “There is darkness, little one, It exists in all our hearts, pony and minotaur alike. Everyone falters and we may give in to it at times, But never forget that Kindness will always bring the light.” “Hello, Bit,” the pegasus spoke in a honeyed voice. “It’s certainly been a while.” She softly hummed a few bars of a familiar song, her bluish mane bobbing to a beat only she could hear. I looked on in confusion. A roiling fury broke the surface as it dawned on me who she was. I raged at the dark green mare and reared up, striking her face. Her head struck the rough concrete wall leaving a bloody smear. She crumpled to the floor in a heap, a crooked grin spread across her features. She lay there cackling before something unintelligible spilled from her lips. Blood flowed freely from her head staining the ground a deep crimson. The mare looked up at me, her gold and silver eyes glinting treacherously in the dim light. Her mouth twisted to speak and I screamed, bringing my hooves down on her once more. I rolled off the bunk, my hooves missing the ground. I tumbled down to the floor unceremoniously with a grunt. Empty bottles of beer clattered across the room as my legs splayed out on the rough floor. The previous day’s events played through my mind with crystal clarity. The knot in my stomach twisted suddenly at the thought of losing everything. My body had purged itself of the night’s binging, leaving a hollow existence where emotions rushed to fill the gap. I laid there listening to the sound of the early morning church procession filter in. Light streamed in through a nearby hole-turned-window. I looked up from the floor and squinted at the sky, the corners of my eyes wet with tears, threatening to spill. The world really does keep on moving regardless, doesn’t it? Altar’s words came back to me suddenly. You’re going to fall and nopony will be around to help you back up. I grunted, heaving myself up to my hooves and looked in the mirror. I peered back at a version of me strained by the last night, disheveled and mangy. A light hunger pang crept at the edge of awareness. I made for the door, and bottles spun out of the way as my hooves met them. I looked down at the empty bottles, void of liquid that once promised to take me away from all of this misery. Food could wait. Cold. For being in the desert, why was it so fucking cold? I shivered, curled up in the corner of my room, surrounded by a small mountain of bottles. The miasma of stale liquor caught my nose through the odor of sweat and unwashed pegasus. I crawled up to my hooves, holding on to the side of a nearby table as leverage. I lurched forward and tried to blink away the haze. The world spun slightly and my balanced faltered. I immediately tilted back, falling on to my haunches. Yesterday’s meager portion of dinner came up with the night’s alcohol. I knew I should have felt something, anything. Instead I simply shivered and flopped to my side. My coat was embraced by new warmth, and stuck to me with a sour stench. I closed my eyes. Not enough. Kicking aside a small pile of bottles, my temper spiked. I knew I had something left in here. I had to. Empty. Empty! Emp—I picked up one and gave it a swirl. Sweet merciful rum. I turned the bottle up and drank deeply. A knock sounded from door as it creaked open. I looked up and saw Vitia standing there, her nose wrinkled. Ugh, I forgot to relock the damn door. “What d’you want?” I slurred at her. Vitia looked to be on the verge of crying, “Bit—” she sniffled. “Bit Flip. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault, I didn’t mean for an—” I flung the bottle. It shattered against the door, spraying the unicorn with flecks of glass and soaking her frame. “By Luna’s moon fucked—” My stomach lurched at the sudden outburst and threatened to relieve itself of the contents. What are you doing, Bit? The little pony echoed in my mind. “Just my luck,” I yelled at her while approaching, “It’s always my goddess damned luck!” She backed away towards the door. “B-Bit, I—” tears rolled down her face. “If I hadn’t left Desert’s Edge, none of this would have ever happened. I’m so sorry.” She took a step toward me, lifting one hoof out. “Damn right this is yer fault!” I reared back and my hooves struck her face. “Worst goddess damned roll of my life,” I spat. “I’d still have my home! Family! My entire life if I hadn’t met you!” Vitia fell to her haunches and slowly backed out of the room before dashing off in a sobbing fit. I hissed and took once more to the pile of bottles. I sought the liquid bliss that only hard liquor could bring. Stalking from my quarters, I wobbled up the steps towards the bar, my vision slowly swaying in front of me. Bush Whacker stood behind it rearranging bottles and jars. I reached behind the bar to slide to me the bottle of Black Pony but came up empty. Bush Whacker pushed it further down the shelf. “The hell, Bush. Gimme that.” I reached for the bottle again. “Not happenin’, Bit. Willow has specifically told us to deny you any liquor.” The barstallion pushed back against my hoof. “You’ve had entirely too much. Go cool off in your room for a while. Perhaps take a shower.” “Feh.” I spat and stomped off angrily. How dare they? Is it so much to ask to be able to drown away the last few days in peace? I flung open the door to my room. “There’s gotta be something around here still.” Empty. Empty. Empty! I thrust my hooves into the pile. Glass cracked and bottles flew from it. One bounced off a table and pelted my side. As if fuel had been dumped over an open flame, anger burned inside of me and I lashed out, bucking wildly at anything I could. My barding clattered to the floor as a table sailed into the wall. My possessions spilled across the floor. Doc’s bottle of special brew and Hammer’s remaining jar of Scoot rolled to my hooves. I looked at the rest of my spilled inventory and smirked. “Fine, if they won’t let me in the bar I’ll just make my own drinks.” The crowd in the bar had grown to a considerable size. Alcohol lingered heavy in the air. Shouts and jeers from the throng overtook the music. One of the younger initiate bouncer-monks lay doubled over on the ground groaning, clutching his stomach. The minotaur was beginning to bruise heavily from where I had bucked him. That ought to teach the overgrown cow to get grabby with me. I saw two more initiates rush me. One dove from the side. I stepped back and kicked off the ground beating my wings against the air. I spun to avoid the younger minotaur that had tried to flank me. He tumbled over the first initiate and sprawled out across the floor. I dove at his head and landed on a horn with all my strength. The lounge echoed a crunching-snap and a screech of agony, overtaken by my sharp howl of defiance. “BIT FLIP!” The roar came from behind. I spun around in time to see a mottled gray fist. I could see where it would connect: every nerve in my body was on fire screaming at my fatigued muscles to move. I didn’t move in time. My world flipped, and I sailed backward, reeling. I crashed to the ground, legs splayed in all directions. Ghost Ant hoisted me over his shoulder and clamped down tightly. “Let m’go, Shorty!” I flapped my wings and thrashed. “Ah’m just tryin’ t’ have me a good time ’ere, y’stub-legged mini-taur!” Ghost Ant struggled to keep my legs under control as I flailed about and bucked in the powerful minotaur’s grasp, trying to connect with something—anything fleshy. My free leg thrust out and finally met with something squishy that made a satisfyingly loud crunch. “Ha! Booped you, fucker!” “We have a bit of a problem here, Matron.” The gray minotaur intoned flatly. “I see that.” Willow said in a soft voice as she stepped out from the crowd. I glared at her as she approached. “Oh, Bit,” she whinnied at me, a touch of sadness to her voice. “Oh Bit-nothing,” I yelled. “Tell your height-impaired mass of brutish muscle to unhoof me!” Willow sighed and nodded. I heard a brief whisper of apology from Ghost and barely registered the impact as the world went black. I woke with a start and felt a dull ache along the edge of awareness. I shook my head to clear the mental fog and saw a mare standing next to me. “Hello, Bit,” the pegasus said in a honeyed voice, “It’s certainly been a while.” Crimson pooled around my hooves. I looked at the crumpled pegasus on the floor and took a few stumbling steps backwards. “I would say ‘that was a surprise,’ but, well—” The voice behind me trailed off into ringing laughter as I landed on my haunches. I tilted my head back to look at the voice and scrambled to my feet. “Yer dead, you shouldn’t be here.” I shook my head, trying to hold on to clarity. “Yer not real.” “Me? Oh, I’m very much real, Bit. As real as anythin’ else,” she giggled and swept her hoof towards the cell door. I followed her motion and saw a frenzied Willow calling out to me. “It’s just that only you can see me,” the other me grinned as she cocked her head to the side. My head pounded lightly. A dull, nagging pain crept up along my hooves where I had smashed the other pegasus’ head in. All of it persistent but far away. As if it wasn’t really me experiencing it. This is tolerable. I’ve had worse. I can ignore this. “Somepony else’s problem, right, Bit?” She sung the words. I charged her. Our bodies collided against the wall and I felt another large stab of pain, then just as before, it subsided. My legs tangled with hers. I rushed to stand and slipped in a large smear of blood on the floor. Is this mine— “Or hers,” the voice intoned flatly across the cell. “You really should stop, Bit. I mean that. All of it. All you had to do was wait, but no. You chose to gamble.” Pain crept along the edge of my mind, slowly growing, threatening to take over my senses. “Still somepony else’s problem, isn’t it? It’s always somepony else’s problem,” the evergreen mare said quietly. “Shut up!” I flung myself at her. We crashed against the wall once more and she slid to the floor giggling madly. Fog crawled along the exterior of my mind, slowly rolling its way in. I couldn’t think straight anymore, and making out details and connections was rapidly becoming more difficult. “Bit, sweetie?” A crystalline voice pierced through my impaired senses. In a panicked frenzy, I swung around with a leg out. I intended to strike whatever apparition my mind conjured up this time but was slammed back against the wall instead. I hit the floor with a wet squelch. The dull pain spiked into a roaring inferno along my body. My breath came out in haggard sputters. The rough stone felt cool along my face. I…I need to get up. Have to keep moving. I looked up at Willow as she cradled my head. Her mouth was moving but I could hear nothing coming from it. She looked on the verge of tears. Why? The little pony in my head stood over me. “Somepony else’s problem,”she said. I tried to get to my hooves but my body didn’t listen. “Nngh.” I made a gurgling sort of sound as I opened my eyes. The morning light filtered in through the hole-turned-window. How’d I get here? I searched my mind and vaguely remembered drinking, and then nothing. How long have I been out? My entire body ached. A sharp pain flared from my head. Every muscle, every nerve ending screamed at me that something terrible had transpired but I could not remember what. My mouth tasted faintly of iron. I tilted my head to the side and let out a wet, hacking cough. Flecks of blood spattered on the off-white sheet. I squinted at the hazy, dust filled sky and tried to roll out of bed. Something snapped taut against the bed as I pulled, restraining me. The straps bit into my hooves as I pulled harder. Panic rose up inside me as I thrashed about. I vaguely heard a shout. Willow and Ghost Ant rushed into the room with another pony. “Willow! What’s going on here, why am I—” I cried, tugging wildly against the restraints. She said nothing. A look of sadness took her as I felt a sharp jab in my leg. Within moments, I felt incredibly tired. I tried to keep my eyes open but my body wouldn’t listen. It’s your problem now. I thought I heard the little pony in my head say. I shivered and opened my eyes, the night sky greeted me. A desert breeze passed through the window, cool against my fevered skin. What day is it? I had no idea. I had been floating in and out of consciousness so many times; it could have been a day, a week, or just a few hours. At my bedside slept Vitia. She looked a right mess, her usually straight mane displaced and grimy around the edges. Vague memories of her frightened looks and my screams came to me. I glanced down and saw the restraints on my hooves had been removed. It felt as if I had been running for weeks. My muscles ached as I tried to move my legs. But I couldn’t. My body refused to listen to me and I was so tired. I closed my eyes again. The sounds of daily bustle of the Crags filtered in through my window. I heard the shuffling of hooves and a light snore coming from my bedside. “Nngh,” I groaned, shifting my weight as I sat up and stretched my wings. The bandages on my head itched something terrible and I raised a hoof to scratch at them. Willow placed her head against mine, “Oh Bit,” she whispered. I could feel the wetness of her cheeks against my face. “Willow,” I whispered, my voice cracked. I found it difficult to speak, as if my body was having trouble moving the way it was supposed to. “What happened—why am I here?” Tears began to well up at the corner of my eyes as she recounted the past week. “I’m so sorry,” I whimpered out between choked sobs.
Book 1, Chapter 2.9: One Pony's ActionsView OnlineFallout Equestria: Medicine & MailBook 1, Chapter 2.9: One Pony's ActionsAuthor’s Notes: This is a companion chapter to Chapter Two-point-Eight in Medicine & Mail. If you have not read at least through chapter two-point-eight in the main storyline, then this perspective will not make any sense. Chapter Two-point-Nine One Pony’s Actions Let us say our prayers to Laitis, his sister, And to the Matron Mother, so that we may Enjoy ourselves in the safety of our bliss. Musical notes echoed off the plaster walls, holding a deep, somber tone waiting for the melody to commence. The movements of the entire lounge held as each group waited for the distinctive tone to signal the start of the evening services. Then, with a sudden, instantaneous grinding beat, the melody shook to life. The segment rose in volume, in tempo, and in intensity until it hit an apex and shook the church. The floor rattled with the deep tone, and the walls reverberated. Dust from the rafters above rained down, bobbing about in the thick air. For several moments the rhythm held, and the late night passer-bys would have felt it stir in their bones and rattle the ground beneath their hooves. The whole town shook. Church service began, and the crowd within the walls of lounge and game room burst into life. Where the music quieted, the roar of the patrons made up for it in jubilation and excitement. Stepping down from the small stage at the front of the church’s lower floor, I made my way slowly through the crowd, nodding and exchanging pleasantries with the new and old faces alike. I continued from the gaming tables across to the downstairs lounge area, taking time to whisper prayers of enjoyment and protection for Ghost Ant, many of his Monks, Prickly Pine and his Sons, and then once more to each of my Daughters. At the edge of the bar on the crescent-shaped balcony overlooking the gaming area below, after a whisper of a prayer to Bush Whacker and the other bar workers, I sat at my favorite seat, and floated a glass of a delicious, rose-tinted chilled brandy toward me. One sip of the drink brought a tart sensation to my tongue, but was replaced by a warmth that slowly spread from my lips out. This night, with the brothel services in full swing, I had a duty to my Daughters. But I was finding it difficult to keep my thoughts on those responsibilities. I kept thinking back to Bit Flip. She had taken to an empty room in the private quarters downstairs the night before, and emerged only to pilfer more alcohol and return as quietly and sulkily as she could. Second-hoof accounts spoke of the declining appearance of my favorite evergreen pegasus, but I had not witnessed it myself. In a way, I was glad that was the case, since the mental image I had conjured of her in that terrible alcohol-driven state already hurt enough. With another sip of the drink, I drowned out the ruckus of the church and recalled memories of the day before. A Company representative arrived at the Rusted Crags and in his wake took everything from Bit Flip. My daze broke as I finished reliving the memory of Vitia sobbing the story out to me. My glass was empty, and in the sour mood I now found myself, I was in dire need of some liquid company. I lifted the lacquered bottle to my table and filled the glass, then again as I emptied it. The time passed, music changed, conversations drifted in every direction all around. Games were won and cheers and shouts erupted. Admirers approached and regaled me of their exaggeratingly heroic and excessive deeds, then left in disappointment when I told them I wasn’t available. My friend hurt, and for her, so did I. “Your little one is asleep, in the hall. I gave her a blanket. Bit’s door is locked, and she isn’t answering.” “Thank you, Sugar Cane,” I smiled. The older mare was tasked with giving me hourly updates, but from the last three, nothing had changed. It pained me to see Bit this way, and I truly wanted nothing more than to rush down, break all the conventions of my position, and comfort her, but it wasn’t fair to my Daughters to see their Mother indulge in personal emotions over that of their protection. I sighed into the empty glass and filled it once more. “Pardon,” a smooth masculine voice spoke from beside me. In a slow haze, I smiled at the young stallion standing at the edge of my booth. “Yes, dear?” Ghost crossed his arms, standing over the scrawling earth pony at his hooves. “And you won’t be coming back here, you understand?” I watched the stallion scramble to his hooves, spit curses, then stumble off. He was the first of the night to be tossed, and I hoped the last. Everyone here wanted to enjoy the evening’s activity, find solace in another, or games and drink, but even one that lashed out and made a scene left a lasting, uncomfortable impression on all under Laitis’ care. “Thanks, Ghost Ant,” I patted the minotaur’s steel-tight leg. “I didn’t do anything. You already trounced him.” The drunkard had been lewd and very hooves-on from the moment he stalked up to Spice, which itself is fine, but it turned abusive quickly. I would not tolerate anyone who made any of my Daughters uncomfortable, let alone assaulted. So after a few quick strikes, one choice buck, and a twist with a hoof that saw him collapsed and compliant, I left it up to Ghost Ant to do the heavy throwing. Inside, the bustle of activity continued all around, but for a lone white unicorn at the far edge of the balcony, fidgeting with a glass of some amber drink. Her posture was horrible. I stepped up to Vitia and gasped—her face, behind the tears and mess of her mane, was bloodied. She sniffled, unaware of my presence, and sunk further into the glass. “Oh, sweetie,” I wrapped around her, “What happened?” “I think…She hates me,” she whimpered. “No, dear. That’s not it.” I tried to comfort her, stroking her mane and pressing her face against my chest. “Surely that’s not true.” “She blames me…” Her voice was cracking, and she was shaking. “Shh, quiet now,” I rocked her. “Just take a deep breath and drink up.” I floated a bottle of a fine whiskey and a glass to the table. I sat on the bench, pressing myself up to her gently. Pouring myself a full glass, I leaned my head against Vitia’s shoulder. “Why don’t you tell me what happened, dear?” She was silent, and just twirled her glass in her hooves. As I took a sip of my smooth drink, she broke our table’s silence, “Said if she never met me, she’d still have her life.” The words hit like the church around us collapsed on me. Bit’s life was the caravan, and in the span of just a few hours for the sake of Vitia, a unicorn she barely knew, she traded away everything. Just to keep Vitia from being a personal slave. It was her choice, and if I knew her, she did it out of a sense of responsibility, but at the end of the deal she was still left with nothing. “She doesn’t mean that,” I broke the silence. “She cursed her luck, cursed me for being the worst roll of her life, and—” She was cracking again. “You’re nothing of the sort,” I comforted her, nuzzling her cheek lightly. “She’s just had a bad couple of days, and she’s lashing out. That’s just the alcohol talking. It’s not really her.” I felt like I was grasping at straws. Even if I knew the words sounded right, they felt hollow. “But—” I kissed her, stopping her words. Her eyes teared up and drops rolled down her cheeks when I pulled away. “None of that, now. You’ve had a long day, too. Why don’t you finish your drink and go lay down in my room? Clean your face, and rest for a while.” She nodded, and gulped the rest of the glass. She gave a weak smile, and made to stand. “Will you—” but she stopped, and shook her head. I wanted to comfort her, nearly as much as she did for me, but I had my duties as Matron, and so with a pain in my chest, I smiled. “Just rest for now. I’ll be there as soon as I can, dear.” Moving to the bar, I pulled Bush Whacker aside, and whispered, “Bit Flip is cut off. Have someone up here at all times until she’s cooled off.” I floated my glass to me and downed it. Off to console Spice. “You seem unusually depressed, Matron.” “Mmm.” The half-empty glass swirled about in my magic, swishing the amber liquid around carelessly. My thoughts were on Bit Flip. She had only left her room or opened it a few times in the last several days, and each time she seemed worse than before. She reeked of booze, piss, and worse. Her appearance looked equal the part, and in a fit, crushed Vitia’s spirit and struck her. She had only ever been this hurt when her mother passed. And even then, in her younger years, it took days of work to console her out of it and bring her back to a functional state. “You won’t get it to wash your worries away simply by staring at it.” I chuckled. “Thanks, Bush Whacker. You always have new things to teach me.” I sipped at the glass. “Sorry, I’ve got…a lot of my mind.” “Must be a hell of a lot. You turned away two stallions and one delightful little mare tonight. Oh, and Gravel Horn.” The momentary distraction brought a light smile to my lips. “He asks for me every week.” “I think maybe the poor ’taur thinks you’ll bed him out of pity now.” I sipped at the glass again. The colors of the drink reflected out from the dark turquoise of my magic field and cascaded across the smooth bar in golds and oranges. The last two days came back to me, pressing into my mind and forcing me down in my seat. Since Bit’s outburst against Vitia yesterday, the unicorn had been avoiding me. She fled into the town for most of the day, and barely spoke a few words to me. And as for Bit, she…I shook my head, and pushed the depressing thoughts aside. The lounge below had become particularly rowdy in the last few moments, so I downed the rest of my glass as I made my way down to the ruckus. That kind of noise usually came about from someone making a scene, and regardless of my emotional state, I was responsible for making sure none of my Daughters were hurt. A crowd had gathered amidst a scuffle of movement and hollers. I tried peering beyond into the commotion, but the throng was increasing rapidly and my sight was obscured. One of Ghost’s Monks, the notably quiet Waking Horn, stepped in front of me and began shuffling smaller minotaurs and much smaller ponies out of the way, nearly tossing some in his rush toward the center. Several other Monks had stepped in and pretty soon most of the crowd had been tossed aside and broken up. At the center of the attention was Bit Flip, kicking and squirming in Ghost Ant’s decisive grip. Several of the younger Monks around the two were making to their hooves, one holding his swollen ribs and another standing dazily, staring in astonishment and shock at the broken horn in his hand. “Let m’go, Shorty!” she cried out, flailing her wings and arms around. Ghost’s brows were furrowed and a rage glinted from his eyes. He stood, lifting the comparatively miniscule evergreen pegasi effortlessly. She twisted in his grasp, flicking her wings and kicking her free backleg. “Ah’m just tryin’ t’ have me a drink ’ere, y’stub-legged mini-taur!” Her leg connected with another nearby initiate’s face, resulting in a sickening crunch and a spray of blood as the minotaur sprawled back and cried out. Ghost’s expression saddened when he looked up and met my astonished gaze. “We have a bit of a problem here, Matron.” “I see that.” I walked through the dissipating crowd up to Bit, who glared at me. She was a mess, tears staining her face and matting her coat, and she absolutely reeked of alcohol and days of horrific mess. “Oh Bit,” I whinnied. The image of her state I had in my mind paled in comparison to her appearance now, and I pushed and shoved the rushing sadness as far away as I could. “Oh Bit-nothing!” she yelled back. “Tell your height-impaired mass of brutish muscle to unhoof me!” The anger in her voice, the sharpness in her eyes, and the sense of undiluted emotion that emanated from her made my stomach twist, and my throat clench. My eyes burned and it felt like I was watching the world through another’s eyes. Sighing, I nodded to Ghost. He whispered an apology before striking her in the side with a strained force. She gasped and her eyes rolled back. Ghost Ant cradled her in his arms and turned to the hall, disappearing into the private quarters. Spotting Spice, I called out to her, “Fetch me Sugar Cane, please, dear.” As my tan-and-olive Daughter walked up to me, I sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, Sugar Cane. I have something to attend.” “It’s no problem, Matron. If that was the most exciting thing to happen tonight, I think your Daughters are fine.” She smiled. “We’re almost at closing time, besides.” “Thank you,” I whispered, pressing my cheek to hers. “Be a good Elder Sister to everyone tonight.” In the hall, Ghost stood at my doorway, cradling the unconscious Bit. “What now, Matron?” Had it been nearly any other pegasus, the minotaur wouldn’t have asked, and simply tossed the scene-maker out with a few warnings and promises of threats. I shook my head. “Drop her in the tank for now.” I rubbed my brow and continued, “I’ll be there in just a second. Just let me…Give me a moment, please.” Ghost Ant made his way down the hall, and I fell to my haunches against the door. All the emotions I had pushed away in the last minutes fought their way back and my eyes watered. Ghost stood at the barred door and we looked in at Bit as she came back to. “Wh—What did you—” “I’m sorry we had to do this. Bit, sweetie, what’s gotten into you?” She glared at me. Her gold eye glimmered against the dim lighting in the small room, but her newly-gray eye looked dead. She sent shivers down my spine and I felt genuinely uncomfortable. This wasn’t Bit Flip. This wasn’t my friend. This was a raging beast, a creature of pure emotion that saw all the world around it as the enemy. We sat in long silence. Bit twisted her vision, looking at me, beyond me, as if she didn’t see me. Her stare went blank, then confused, then contorted into anger once more. I cringed, watching her. She shot to her hooves, screamed something unintelligible, and reared up. Her face was twisted with rage, and she smashed her head against a steel wall of the cell. In the echoing clang of the impact came a second sound, a crunch and a crack. A smatter of blood dripped from the spot she just lunged against. “Bit!” I screamed. I rushed myself against the bars, reaching out for her, calling to her. But she ignored me, just as she seemed to ignore the pain. She opened her mouth and from her came the most horrific sound a pony could make. It roiled and twisted over my cries, echoing down the hall in an agonizing howl. She screamed, a wounded animal, living only because of adrenaline and blood fervor. She rose on her hind legs and struck the floor. Crack. Then red poured from her shattered hooves, quickly splashing against the ground as she stepped around in a daze. My face ran wet and my throat burned. I screamed to Bit, to my friend, who stumbled back from the smear of her blood across the cell floor. Ghost Ant thrashed against the bars of the cage, calling out to Bit himself, but our cries and her mind were in different worlds. He fumbled for the ring of keys. “Yer not real,” Bit growled. I reached for her, calling out, trying to tell her, I’m right here! I’m real! Bit, look at me!, but she wasn’t looking at me. She hissed at open air. The door flung open into her cell and I lunged through it, just as Bit opened her wings and dashed herself against the wall. She took to her hooves and slid in the pooling blood she fell into. I moved in closer, calling out to her, reaching for her, but she dashed against the wall with another fervid scream. I yelled out for Ghost Ant—“Get a doctor, now!”—but there was only the murmurs of the crazed pegasus as a response. “Bit Flip! Please, Bit, sweetie?” I stepped into a streak of her blood and reached out for her. Her ear twitched. She spun, blood and rage. Her hoof rushed at me. She lunged, and I twisted. I crushed my friend against the wall. Her head craned and her limbs fell lax to her side. She slumped to the ground, teetering in disorientation. Her blood streaked over my coat and into the white fabric of my dress as I cradled her head on my lap. “Bit, please, Bit, hang on.” I pressed my hoof against the seeping gash across her head, and held her shattered hooves to my chest. “Just hang on!” Ghost Ant rounded the corner, Stitch rushing behind him, a medical kit hanging from his mouth and wraps trailing behind. Everything was muddled. I saw Stitch kneeling next to me, ripping cloth strips from a roll. I heard the rumble of Ghost Ant’s voice somewhere in the distance. I saw a white unicorn forcing a flask into Bit’s mouth and sobbing. Bit’s eyes rolled listlessly around, and her lips moved to speak, but she was silent. “What do I do?” “The best thing for you right now is to relax.” “But, Bit—how can I relax?” “Vitia, dear,” I pressed my hoof against hers, “Bit will be fine. You and Stitch did a fine job.” “I didn’t—” I cut her off with a squeeze, pressing her tear-stained face against my chest. “You did fine. She’s fine. Everything will be fine.” She didn’t. She meant well, and she wanted to help. She tried to, but her emotions were a mess, and Ghost Ant had to pull her away while Stitch finished patching Bit’s external wounds. Vitia cried out and struggled, but Ghost held her tight, silent. She blamed herself for everything over the last three days, and seeing Bit in such a frenzied state with those wounds, her mind collapsed. She panicked, and ended up making it worse. But I couldn’t tell her that, now. “If I might, Sisters,” Ghost Ant said, standing at the open doorway to my room, amidst the throng of my Daughters. “I need to speak to the Matron privately.” The door closed, and he stepped toward the bed, holding a saddlebag. He looked at Vitia in my arms. “It’s alright,” I told him, “She’ll stay.” He pulled the bag open and dumped its contents across my floor. Bottles of glass and plastic crashed against each other and rolled around, followed by a tin with a familiar label. “And this was all in her room?” “Not counting everything covered in…Yes.” The minotaur’s voice was flat, but low. His face was strained and a bulging vein pulsed across his taught brow. I floated some of the containers up before tossing them aside. Buck, something with Needles’ logo stamped on it, a Mint-al sampler pack, and one small bottle with no logo, just some thick brown slime coating the inside. “Inform Stitch. If she took all of this over three days, she’ll have some issues.” “She bruised up three Monks,” Ghost Ant growled, “And you saw what she did to herself in the tank.” Vitia broke into sobs and hid herself away in my chest, pulling at me with the strength of a foal. Pressing her, I addressed the Head Monk, “If she took even half of that…” Ghost Ant snorted, and left the room. Vitia sobbed, mumbling curses and regrets at herself. If I never left Desert’s Edge. If I never Dashed-out. If I wasn’t so useless, so selfish. I cradled the unicorn and rocked her gently. The glow of morning light crested the horizon, and a few rays sifted in through the scratched windows into my room. “Are you sure?” I asked her again. Vitia nodded, her eyes set in determination. I nodded to Stitch, and he sighed. “What yer little pegasus got ’erself into, ah’m rightly amazed she’s still breathin’.” Stitch dropped his magic hold on the clipboard and it clattered to the desk’s surface. “She was so amped up on Buck, she wouldn’t have felt much o’ anythin’ even if y’had crushed ’er ’ead in.” He looked us over closely, then continued, “Which also explains some o’ th’ rage y’said she was havin’. More’n that, though, she was tweaked on probably most o’ th’ pack o’ Mint-als you found.” “At once?” Vitia’s voice was shaky. Stitch nodded. “Th’ brown sludge, tha’ was somethin’ heavy, almost pure alcohol, but it did have some healin’ potion in it, from what ah can see, which may well be th’ only thin’ that kept ’er together ’fore ah got there. Coupl’o’ minutes more…” Vitia whispered, “Lance’s Special.” She lowered her head. “Start with moonshine, then add some other stuff,” she told the floor. I thought over the list of containers Ghost Ant dumped in my room. There was one that Stitch hadn’t accounted for: Needles’. Ghost Ant seemed to share the same thoughts as me, and spoke out. “There was one more.” “The one with that dealer’s stamp? Yeah, we’re runnin’ some tests on it. Never seen it ’fore. Can tell y’ right now it smells much like Dash tastes: brahmin shit. But with some carrot. Ah’m guessin’ that’s prob’ly what it’s derived from.” Stitch took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “She is right fucked.” Vitia whimpered and Ghost Ant snorted. Most of what the doctor said Ghost Ant and I had discerned from the wreckage of the room Bit locked herself into. Between the piles of empty booze bottles, the thrashed state of the furnishings, and the rancid stains, we figured she went on a three-day binge, culminating in some disastrous cocktail of chems and whatever else she got her hooves on. “Doc!” came a yell from down the hall. The voice was Steel Braid’s, and it was from Bit’s room. In her new room, the pegasus was strapped to a bed, leather bindings restraining her legs, head, and wings. After she lashed out while unconscious, battering one of the assistants here, Stitch took to more severe measures to keep her down. “Willow!” She cried out, tugging against the restraints wildly. “What’s going on here, why am I—” I’m so sorry, Bit Flip. Stitch plunged a thick syringe into her leg. After a few moments Bit Flip stopped struggling and fell back into unconsciousness. “Right now she’s on ’eavy doses of Med-X and a ridiculously ’xpensive amount o’ ’ealing potion. That mix o’ ’ers, if we didn’t, it’d shut ’er organs down ’mmediately, and that’d be th’ end o’ that.” Vitia stepped up to Stitch, quavering, “How much?” “Don’t worry about it,” I tried telling her, but for that moment, it seemed those large ears of hers were useful only for decoration. “Piecing her hooves together, patching her skull…Couple ten-thousand caps at least, prob’ly. We still gotta cleanse ’er body o’ all tha’ shit, too.” Vitia stammered, “Wh-what do you mean? Can’t you—” Stitch waved her off. “This ain’t no fancy, high-flyin’, hoity-toity kind o’ place, ah’m sorry t’say. She’s gonna have to get clean th’ hard way. No magic shortcuts. She’ll sweat. She’ll hurt. She’ll suffer. But she’ll live.” Vitia sank. Stitch shook his head. “Maybe after this she’ll realize ’ow stupid she was.” He walked out the door, his assistant in tow. It was pitiful watching her. My heart ached, but the tears had stopped days ago. The afternoon light glinted off the sweat on Bit’s brow. Vitia pressed a damp cloth to it, gently wiping away some of the sweat that the pegasus had built up in her unconscious struggles. But she was calm now compared to the last three days. The first day was the worst. When she was conscious, she raged and screamed, cursing her luck, cursing everyone she saw. Blamed us, hated us. Ghost Ant. Lance. Copper Shard. Vitia. Me. She pulled and strained against the restraints. She cried out. She spoke unintelligible gibberish to no one in particular. Her few waking moments were punctuated by confusion and lasted only seconds. Most involved heaving and haggard coughing, then an unceremonious crash back into unconsciousness. Luckily those painful waking moments were rare. She spent most of the time in a Med-X induced stupor. In that, she struggled against her restraints, twisting and squirming in some delusional mental drive, aching for the overdose of chems she just assaulted her body with. She shivered, she shook, and she heaved. She was kept hydrated and supplied nutrients through IVs, with continual doses of Med-X and healing potion for the first two days. And with the abundance of healing liquid coursing through her and experienced medical care, her hooves had healed, showing minimal signs of their shattered state three days before. Physically, she had been fixed, but her struggle now was just as much in her mind. I opened my eyes slowly, returning from a light nap. Vitia had taken her usual spot at the side of Bit’s bed, and snoozed softly. I moved around the room and looked through the small window out across the metal mess that made up the Crags, watching the minotaurs and ponies make their way through their constant daily activities in the waning light of the evening. Some carried bushels of fresh greens and bags of oats from the outlying gardens and small farms, and some were just coming back from their daily construction, maintenance… I heard a moan from my side, and turned to see Bit shifting. Her restraints were removed the day before, and although restless, she had not lashed out in her unconscious state since. She lifted a hoof over her face, scratching the bandages wrapped it against the strip around her head. She stretched her wings slowly, and groaned. I looked over her. It was the first time in three days she was awake and not screaming or in pain. My eyes burned and my cheeks became wet. “Oh Bit,” I whispered, resting my head against hers. “Willow,” she croaked. Her voice cracked, and she struggled with the words. “What happened—why am I here?” I told her of the last week, since the day she lost her life in the caravan. Told her of the worries of everyone around her, told her of the pain she caused everyone, and told her what she did to Vitia, and to me. Told her of the last four days since her chem-cocktail. I was sad, and I was angry. I wanted to slap her, and I wanted to hug her. Mostly I just sobbed, and kept talking. Her face contorted in pain, and tears welled up in her eyes. Finally she spoke, “I’m so sorry…”
Book 1, Chapter 3View OnlineFallout Equestria: Medicine & MailBook 1, Chapter 3Chapter 3 “Makin’ it work. That’s what we do ’round here. If it don’t fit, work it ’til it does.” Near death experiences have a way of putting your life into perspective. My life has been one of loosely connected strings of consequences, things I could never have foreseen. Eventually somepony is going to use something you sold them to hurt somepony else. A trade here, a trade there, and a town left in shambles. None of which I should have felt any shame over. It’s the kind of thought a trader learns to get over rather quickly or leaves the business. I think I had the pony pox that day when the lesson was taught. For once, though, I had within reach a thread that I could unravel. I could prevent the senseless punishment that was about to take place. Vitia didn’t deserve it and I couldn’t take something like that from Willow again. I knew all the angles and all the odds. I may have stood to lose everything, but I’d still control when I cashed out. It was my hoof to throw and I went all in. It had only been a few days since I left the Crags and found myself in the unfortunate employ of some local gun runners down south calling themselves the Quills. As the newest associate I was paired with another fresh guard and a couple seasoned griffin runners. The route we were given was a scrub path down near the badlands. It was a fair amount of danger and not a whole lot of profit returned, but work is work and I had to survive somehow. I should have known something was off. Nopony comes this far south unless they’re in haunch deep with the raiders. I snapped out of my short reverie and jumped at the staccato of suppressive fire against the wall I had crouched behind. Puffs of stucco were sent into the air and slowly drifted down in stifling clouds. A brief laughter sounded from beyond the veil followed by a punctuated whistle and more gunfire. “Keep your head down and move, kiddo,” the grungy citron guard warned. He floated his carbine over the wall and fired as he darted past. Clouds of dust kicked up behind us as we galloped along ruined building exteriors, crushing long forgotten bones under hoof as we trampled them to get to safety. I looked behind me and saw the frenzied raiders with their makeshift pony hide armor and freakish bone masks. “We’ve got bigger problems,” I yelled back at the guard, “The griffins are gone but now we’ve got Corpse Eaters.” I caught up to him when he spun around and motioned to the nearby building, “We should get indoors. Bottleneck some of these freaks,” he spat, and leveled a massive pistol at the crowd. “We could just keep running,” I suggested. Two deafening shots fired off from the pistol, and my ears pinned back at the offending noise. “Or not.” The door of the building opened with surprising ease despite its age and state of disrepair. Broken terminals and overturned chairs lined the wall. The lobby was empty save for the piles of bones, refuse, and half eaten corpses spilling from their cages. Two more shots rang out from behind the entrance followed by screams and a gurgle. I galloped to the center of the room and looked about the open area. Most of the floor and doors had been covered in rubble from the collapsed roof. The metallic stench of blood laced with the odor of sweat and sex assaulted my senses as I moved to the rear of the open floor. I slowly nudged open the door and ran to the end of the hallway. The door to the enclosure had been left ajar. Some poor mare was held aloft from the rafters by chained hooks cruelly shoved through the chunks of her back’s flesh. From the small light filtering through the broken roof, her hooves appeared mangled, likely shot off and cauterized. I watched as her head drooped and swayed, her listless eyes staring at nothing. A bone masked raider continued to press into her body and ride her from behind. It felt like my stomach twisted and knotted. I wanted to look away but I couldn’t bring myself to. The sheer feeling of disgust in the pit of my stomach turned into a cold fury that reached all the way up and around to my firing bit. The raider slowly turned to look at me as my features twisted into a grim mask. I screamed into the bit and pulled the trigger. His head liquefied as the wonderglue slug ripped through it, shattering on impact and releasing the buckshot load at close range. I saw a second raider rise to his hooves and pivoted to aim my other barrel at him. The shot went wide of its intended mark and exploded against his front leg instead. Fine red mist sprayed against the floor and he teetered a moment before collapsing. His bone mask had fallen off while he was thrashing on the ground screaming unintelligible curses. The front stubs that were once his legs splatted blood everywhere as he swung them around wildly. Good. I walked over to the hanging mare and cradled her head against my shoulder, barely registering the continued fighting outside as I whispered apologies to her while the stallion expired on the ground. She was gone already, but it didn’t matter. I apologized and asked for her forgiveness anyway. I’m so sorry I couldn’t do anything for you. That you ended up this way. If the runners had never given guns to these raiders, maybe you’d have had a chance. Maybe you’d still be alive. How many settlements had they raided, how many ponies had they murdered, how many could have been prevented had they not been well armed? I looked at the stallion bleeding out on the floor. I couldn’t see a pony anymore. They were monsters, plain and simple, and we were just as bad for enabling it. “—ddo,” a gunshot rang through the small enclosure and the stallion ceased his flailing. “You okay there? Hey, look at me. Focus. There you go. What’s your name?” I looked up at him and just stared. His lemony green coat and long pewter beard were a stark contrast against the dark red that had soaked his barding and legs. “Bit Flip,” I stammered out as I turned and stared at the first stallion’s body. It had stopped twitching and blood rolled from the gaping neck wound that once held his head pooled around his legs. It mixed in with the mud and bits of flesh, seeping into the jagged cracks of the tiles. Blood and semen ran down the legs of the dead mare and spread through the crimson pools, mirroring the ejaculate and blood running the flaccid, splotchy member of the dead stallion. The liquids created a mixture of pink that, with the sanguine picture of violence on the wall above them, saw my stomach wanting to empty itself violently. “Hey. Hey, now, come on. Look at me. It’ll be alright.” He smiled. It wasn’t a very pleasant gesture. Kind, but it felt pained. “The name’s Luminous Beacon, or Lumi if y’like. First time ya ever killed somepony?” I nodded. “First time’s always the worst. It doesn’t get any easier as time goes on either.” He grimaced at the hanging mare and wrapped his magic around her. “C’mon, let’s get her off these hooks. This ain’t a proper way for a pony to go out.” We didn’t have time to dig a grave for her outside, nor would it have been held to any amount of sanctity by passing raiders populating the southern badlands. Fire would have to do. I pulled her body with me off to the side and gently lifted her on to the pile of flammable material Luminous had bundled. My ears drooped as he struck flint together against black powder. The pyre ignited and I whispered my apologies again into the blazing mass. “The Wasteland takes back twice what it gives, kiddo,” he said sourly. “We couldn’t have stopped this. There’s nothing to be sorry for.” “It’s…not that.” “Well, what is there to be sorry for then?” “I’ve always held to the belief that trade is supposed to save the Wasteland, to make it better. Not enable monsters like this to do worse.” I sighed and shook the dust from my mane. “Are we really any better than raiders for supplying them?” “Perhaps,” Luminous smiled widely, “You should meet some friends of mine. It sounds like you could use a stiff drink and some company.” I nodded once more. “It’s not like we can go back to the Quills. They probably meant for us to die out here anyway.” We traveled east between the sand dunes during the late afternoon sun. The roads out of the badlands weren’t safe even during daylight. Raiders, bandits, and other miscreants littered the highway looking for easy prey. The worst we had come across hiding in the dunes was a feral ghoul that managed to survive the harsh desert climate and natural predators only to fall to a burst of Luminous Beacon's carbine. A small respite from the desert heat greeted us as we neared the tiny building and overhang. Luminous took my canteen and walked to the pipes and well. A couple travelers across the way scooted deeper under the uneven shade of a desert pine and an aroma of mint leaf permeated the air. I leaned against the building’s overhang and found my thoughts drifting to the days before I left the Crags. After the incident I had quietly excused myself from the church and sought refuge in the mechanic’s guild. I had a few friends in there that were always willing to lend me a work bench. I needed to get away from everyone to process the last week. Besides, I couldn’t face Willow yet. Not like that, not after what I did. Vitia was a whole different matter entirely. I was mortified to learn that I had tried to push everything on to her, even going so far as to strike the poor mare in a fit of drunken rage. I couldn’t figure out what to say to her because there really was nothing I could say to excuse myself for the things I had done. The only time we spoke at any length was before I left and I pushed her away. I told her that I didn’t trade everything away for her, I did it for me, but that was only part of the reason. The merest mention of chems set my stomach in a spin and even the thought of my old friend alcohol managed to do nothing more than conjure up headaches. The best thing I could do to keep my mind off it was tinker with ammunition and maintain my shotguns. Empty twenty gauge shell, wonderglue buckshot, replace, crimp, repeat. I had overheard a few lingering merchants in the early morning bazaar talking of a new runner group starting to the south, just outside the badlands. The Quills they called themselves. Apparently they were manufacturing guns and distributing them. The walls of my tiny world had come crumbling down and I had been ejected into the Wasteland proper. I had no home, no family save Willow and I almost lost that. There was no caravan anymore. I formed a haphazard plan; I needed to find that little piece of me in the Wasteland before it was too late and I lost myself entirely. Empty twenty gauge shell, wonderglue buckshot, replace, crimp, repeat. Most of my supply had been converted from scatter shot to makeshift slugs. I’d need something far more accurate at range if I planned on traveling south. Raiders were easy to scare off or hide from. It was the wildlife I worried about. Empty twenty gauge shell, wonderglue buckshot, replace, crimp, repeat. I sighed, going over the details once more. Willow and I had a desperate need for a heart-to-heart before I could allow myself to set down the path. If only to let her know what I had intended. She deserved so much more than that, but it was all I had to give her then. I had figured Vitia would probably be a hoof and a half to manage, but she was pretty smitten with Willow, and I had hoped to push her in that direction. There was no reason for her to come with me anyway. She never stood to gain anything. A cold splash shocked me to reality. Rivulets collected in muddy sand pools at my hooves. I shook the remaining water off my mane and put on a face of supreme annoyance, glaring up at Luminous. It only made his grin wider. “C’mon, kiddo. We need to get moving before the dark hits and the bloater you’re sittin’ near gets active.” I jumped to my hooves and looked around, squinting against the sunlight as I placed a hoof to my brow. Luminous pointed off to the side at the two travelers huddled together in the shade near the trees and stone outcropping. A snakelike tendril inched along the ground as the cast shadow slowly lengthened in the late afternoon sun. I followed the vine back to its source. The two travelers were hardly ponies at this point. Decayed and rotting, their missing chunks were filled in with a mossy brown mess that mimicked the dirt and grime one normally accumulates while traveling the desert. I inhaled deeply and caught the cloying smell of mint hanging in the air followed by a hint of sickly sweet decay. How could you miss something so trivial, Bit? I berated myself and breached my shotguns to check the round type. Luminous shook his head and placed a hoof on my shoulder when I took aim at the mossy brown mess. A blue glow of magic wrapped itself around the bloater. Multiple tendrils shot out from under the plant and fell short as a loud pop echoed through the area. The bloater was yanked from its safely shaded haven and had expelled its gas sack in a last ditch effort to feed. Vines writhed, slowly retracted, and the pony disguise rapidly fell apart in the arid heat, shriveling away. Luminous flipped the predator over in the sunlight and laughed. “It’s kind of depressing that mutated plant life is far more cunning and intelligent than the average raider.” “I s’pose it would be, but where’d that put us?” I said, securing my canteen and equipment to my barding. “Dunno, best not to think of those things. We should move though, still ’bout an hour’s worth of walking ahead of us through the flats.” We stepped through the gates of Paint, the desert sun dipping behind the ridge as night crept across the sky. I turned around to look across the flats in the fading light and saw the first hints of nocturnal life crawling out of their burrows and scurry across the sands. “I had heard about towns out in the flats but my carav—” I stopped and corrected myself, “My old caravan never brought us this far out into the desert. With the raiders during the day and balefire creatures at night there simply weren’t any safe routes to it.” “If you were to believe the local legends, this place used to be a right oasis in the desert before the war. The bombs saw to that, it would seem.” Townies went about their nightly business, some locking up shops and heading home, but most filtered into the bar at the edge of town. Luminous lead the way through, and we walked through a nearby alley and exited out behind the bar itself. He brought his hoof to a rusted doorframe and tapped out an uneven beat. The door clicked open and he pushed through it. I looked around apprehensively and followed. It snapped shut behind me and a maneless barstallion poked his head from around the corner and nodded off towards a set of stairs before disappearing. What have you gotten yourself into, Bit? Clandestine meetings of the secretly alcoholic? “Looks like she’s already waitin’ here for me,” Luminous said, walking to the stairs. “Want something to drink before we head down?” “Beer and a—” I stopped myself. My stomach knotted and I felt nauseous. “No, just some Sunrise Sarsaparilla will be fine.” “Not a drinker, I take it?” “I—” my ears drooped and I looked at the floor. “Not anymore, no.” “Well that’s okay. We’ve all got our reasons.” He shouted out to the barstallion, “Hey, Glasses. Need some Sky Bourbon, Red Velvet, and ’Sas downstairs.” We quickly moved down the stairs. A couple spark generators hummed nearby on the wall and I felt slightly woozy, as if a mild headache had come on. Ugh, spark battery energy bleed off. They should probably move these generators outside. A few tables sat in the middle of the room with some chairs lined up against the wall near a flickering terminal and an array of knobs. The metal floor was fairly rust free and only had slight wear. A report by an enthusiastic, high pitched mare played loudly over the radio. — Hey all you desert dwellers out there, It’s your favorite pirate broadcast, The Signal! Bringin’ ya the latest dirt in the Marejave whether ya want it or not. I got me a glass of Sky Bourbon and I’d suggest you do the same because a doozy of a rumor just came through my door! Those of you out near the badlands may want to barricade your doors a bit tighter now; the Corpse Eaters have been gettin’ pretty rowdy lately. Reports even describe them packing heavier heat than usual. Sources report that several towns out south have blipped off the radar in the past weeks and there’s a new group of runners goin’ by the Quills that started peddlin’ guns in the area. Just a coincidence? Perhaps, but I’d wager caps that most of the Quills’ supply is going south so they get a blind eye turned their way! Can you believe it? The nerve, supplying raiders with guns. As if we don’t have enough to worry about here in the desert. No news is good news, so be good out there ponies because you never know who’s watching. — The broadcast turned off as I pulled a nearby chair over to a table and sat down. “Wow, bound to be trouble there now that The Signal is broadcasting what they’re up to. I’d feel bad for them if I didn’t know what they were doing.” “Yeah, me too,” said the radio. I jumped and spun to look at the radio only to find a terminal. Oh-goddess-I’m-going-crazy-again. There’s no radio here! My eyes glanced over at Luminous, who gave me the strangest stare and a smirk. “With any luck, somepony will do something about it,” the radio said once more. My chest heaved as my pulse quickened and I scanned the room wildly searching for the source. Luminous frowned at me, no, he frowned in my direction. “Oh goodness, stop playing around. Look at her, you’re gonna give the poor filly a heart attack.” A pressure in my head I wasn’t aware of faded, and my eyes snapped to the one place I suddenly realized I hadn’t been looking: in front of me. A mare with a shock of dark rose in her charcoal mane was standing there with her nose pressed to mine. She didn’t suddenly appear there—she was there the entire time, I realized. I just didn’t—or couldn’t—notice her until then. “Boop,” said the smiling light amber unicorn. Her mane bounced lightly about her face and neck as she swayed on her hooves. “Hi there, I’m Errant Signal.” She turned and ran to Luminous, nearly tackling him. “Welcome back, spoil sport.” Glasses tromped down the stairs with three bottles and some glasses, each step moaning in protest at the gargantuan pony. “Did she do the whole ‘boop’ thing again?” The room shook with his rough laughter. “Sorry ’bout that, Missy. Errant’s got something of a mean streak, but sh’ means well.” The beige earth pony towered over me as he pulled the bottles out of a pouch and set them gently on the table. I took a deep breath to collect myself. “Well it certainly surprised me. I’m Bit Flip. Luminous kind of saved my hide from raiders earlier.” “We know,” Errant pointed to her Pipbuck and floated a radio out of Luminous’ saddle bag. “Encrypted arcano-tech comm radios. He told us before you got to town.” “Well I couldn’t just leave her there. Besides, she sounded like she could use the company after the griffs turned on us.” “Y’big softy!” Errant leaned over and squeezed Luminous. “So did you two pop any raiders on the way here?” I felt the breath catch in my throat and briefly tasted bile. My eyes burned as I blinked away the tears. The memory of the bone masked raider replayed with crystal clarity. “Errant, show a little tact. Not everypony likes to get up close and personal with their inner demons.” “I don—Okay, yeah, I do.” She snorted a giggle and pulled up a seat at the table. “Sometimes you can hear them regret their choices and it’s so worth it.” Glasses coughed and sat on a loudly creaking chair. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to forgive our little Errant. Sh’…Well, sh’ has a thing against raiders.” Luminous got to his hooves and joined the two. “So, kiddo, how’d you get tangled up in the gun runner mess anyway? We’ve had our eyes on that operation for some time before I went in to check it out.” “I got mixed up in some strange business over at the Old Fort. It was supposed to be a simple package delivery. Some doc there was doin’ weird research on ponies and had a bunch of ’em all caged up like raider bait.” Errant’s eyes lit up at hearing that last bit and poked at her Pipbuck briefly. “Always wanted to run the rumor mill on Wing Haven. Nopony’s that nice in the Wasteland.” “Yeah, it wasn’t pretty. Some of ’em looked dead. Push came to shove and I owed one of the caged ponies a pretty heavy debt and helped her break out.” I sighed into my glass. “Ended up getting kicked out of my caravan for it. Heard about the Quills on my way out and, well, you know the rest.” “Wow, you’ve been through the wringer then.” Luminous glanced at the nearby terminal. “Well, I’m glad we got out of there before things got nasty.” Errant fiddled with her Pipbuck and floated a tool from her bag, “Now that the Marejave has a general idea of what the Quills are up to, somepony really should do something about them.” She smiled and hooftapped a quick series of buttons. “I should broadcast about the possible activities of Wing Haven too. The sources will be anonymous, of course.” Glasses nodded, his stern features taking on a kinder tone. “And by ‘somepony’ you mean us, of course.” The behemoth earth pony stood up. “I’ll go let Stems know that I might be gone a while again. The poor stallion always frets when I’m out on a job.” “You’re more than welcome to tag along, y’know.” Luminous smiled at me, his eyes carrying a much harsher feel to them than before. “Puttin’ an end to the Quills’ distribution of weapons to raiders certainly seems like the sort of thing you might be interested in.” I couldn’t disagree entirely with him and nodded. I had no idea what they planned on doing, but something had to be done. Anything was better than sitting around. “Luna run me through with jagged bits of moon,” I whistled. “That is one sexy battle saddle you’ve got there, Glasses.” I circled the large earth pony and stared at exposed gear boxes manipulating multiple ammunition types. A spark battery mounted behind two bulky grenade launchers hummed quietly. “Our little engineer there rigged it together for me.” He motioned to Errant then nodded to each weapon in tune. “Ursa Major, forty millimeters of room clearing fun and Ursa Minor, twenty five millimeters of anti-personnel protection.” I chuckled nervously. “Yeah, well, it makes me feel a little underdressed for the occasion with my piddly shotguns and stripped down battle harness.” “It’s not the size that matters, it’s how y’use it, dearie,” Errant said in a singsong voice. “Ain’t that what Stems tells you, Glasses?” “Shush you!” Glasses kicked a clump of dirt at Errant. “At least we don’t have any freaky fetishes like some ponies.” “Hey now, a fetish would be using the whole bird.” Luminous nodded. “We just use the feathers.” The four of us departed from Paint before the dawn had broken. Travel through the flats was uneventful save for the brief periods when Errant would excuse herself. Quiet moments later I’d hear a scream in the distance before she reappeared, mumbling something about reds and scum suckers. The evening sun had started its slow descent as we reached a rocky outcropping overlooking the Quills’ supply depot. The four of us agreed that it would be best if we watched their movements until nightfall and make our move then. A tiny clear triangle cut gem floated out of Luminous’ bag and hovered above between the trio. His horn flared up momentarily as he touched it to the diamond. A focused flood of light cast on the ground spilled minimal excess on our darkened surroundings. I sat in stunned silence as the three worked out a plan and listened to the precision details. These three could make the caravans shipments run on time. “Alright, from where they let me wander, the guard quarters are over here,” Luminous scratched a floor plan in the dirt. “Once Errant cleared the door guards, Glasses, you’ll head in and do a little redecorating.” “Sure thing.” Glasses applied pressure to a secondary set of saddle bits and I heard a spark battery hum to life as gears turned. The meaty thunk of grenades sliding into place echoed against the night sky. “What’s the newbie doin’, Lumi?” “Well, I wasn’t allowed into the traders den but she was. She’ll be leading us to where they keep their ledgers. We’ll be following in behind Glasses. She’s a fair shot and can keep her head down, so it’s not like we’ll be escorting her.” So that’s why he brought me along. My heart sank a little. Should be used to it by now, Bit. It’s just business. It’s always just business. “Plus I figure she’ll want a bit of payback for what the Quills are doing.” Luminous sketched out more of the map. “So, Bit Flip, it’s your show once we clear the check point. Mind leading us through the floor plan?” “I’ll try.” I pointed to the scrawled map and scratched out a rough path and added more rooms. “The main offices are here. Their ledgers for stocks and shipments were past the checkpoint. I had to sign for the shipment and it’s likely they just keep it in there under lock.” Luminous nodded. “Alright, you heard her. We’ve got a tentative plan, but expect changes. With any luck, we’ll meet little resistance. It’s primarily griffins in there, so adjust accordingly.” “Yeah, yeah. I got a bad case of the heebies right now, so let’s get this over with.” Errant tapped at her Pipbuck again. “Two reds at the gate that we can see, four or more just beyond that slightly to the left. Probably the guards you mentioned.” I nudged the reload bit on my harness that opened the loading chambers of my shotguns and cringed. Each contained a wonderglue breaching round. I had hoped not to use these again, at least not on ponies. Not after last time. Luminous looked over at Errant, and a sad sort of smile crossed his face. “You ready to go dancing in the dark?” “Always.” Errant nearly grunted out as her horn flared. I shielded my eyes as a layer of shimmering white encased it followed by a brilliant second layer of glow. It receded to a dim light just as quickly as it had appeared. She walked towards the pony and griffin guards at the gate and I felt myself panicking. “What is she doing? She can’t just walk in there!” I whispered frantically at Luminous. “Oh, she’ll be fine. This sort of thing is her specialty, an extension of her talent you could say.” Luminous floated his pistol out of the holster and checked it. “Just like at the bar with you, they can’t see her. Or, more accurately, she’s the one signal their brain can’t figure out right now so it just filters her presence out.” The lithe pony trotted silently across the sands. She floated her silenced pistol and long knife from their holsters as she circled behind the two guards. The barrel was placed just under the griffin’s beak angled up towards her brain and the knife point positioned against the pony’s throat. I watched the spectacle with a morbid curiosity. Errant stood there for a moment longer, her head held high as she looked out into the night sky. A wild grin spread across her face as she telekinetically pulled the trigger. The griffin’s lower beak shattered as the bullet pierced through it from point blank range, ripping a hole through her head and leaving a gaping wound. The earth pony had barely registered the griffin falling before the knife was plunged into his neck and roughly yanked out the side. Blood sprayed out of the wound for the briefest of moments as he clutched at it before falling to the ground. Errant stood over the bodies as we approached. Her eyes were closed and she shivered slightly in the warm desert air. Droplets of crimson had been sprayed across her amber coat and a look of bliss crossed her face. A mare’s scent briefly wafted through the air. Luminous stepped over the nearest corpse and placed a hoof on her shoulder. “Hey, come on back to us, now,” he said gently. “You got it out of your system?” Errant moaned softly and fidgeted, her tail swaying slightly in the breeze. “Nngh…Yeah, I think I’m good for now.” She opened her eyes and frowned. Her cheeks mimicked the rosy streaks of color in her mane and her breathing was heavy. Luna hide me in her crags, did she just get off on that? She must have caught my brief expression that bordered between disgust and terror. Her blush intensified and she tried to hide her face. “I’m…sorry if I scared ya there for a moment, Bit Flip. These urges just happen and I had hoped to satisfy them long before we got here so ya didn’t have to see that.” “Ah, no, it’s…fine. We’re fine, everything’s fine,” I repeated Copper’s mantra, hoping to regain my calm, and inwardly chiding myself for that brief moment before I caught myself when I felt disturbed by her. “We’ve all got our ghosts, right?” That explains the infrequent screams along the way. I could only hope that her victims had been deserving of it, but I had to push the thoughts away. There was a job to do, and I didn’t know enough about her to judge. Errant laughed nervously and smiled. “Alright then, let’s get this show on the road.” She floated up a pair of keys from the nearest corpse and unlocked the gate. “After you, big guy.” Glasses pushed through the gate and squared his stance as he took aim at the front doors. He bit down on one trigger and a muted fwoomp came from his gun followed by a concussive blast that nearly bowled me over. I followed closely behind Luminous as the three ponies worked in unison to suppress the guards on duty. Glasses rushed in through the now shattered doors firing rounds from Ursa Minor into the guard’s quarters. The brave griffin that would come out from behind barricades would immediately get a two round tap to the breast from Luminous’ carbine or pistol. Errant had slipped behind the barricade further down the hall, the explosions making it impossible to hear her silenced pistol, but the flash still lit up the hallway as each body crumpled to the floor. Most of the hallway leading from the guard’s barracks had collapsed in on itself trapping the few griffins and ponies left inside. We reached the checkpoint door in minimal time and ahead, Errant was having trouble with the lock. A litany of curses streamed from the mare. I pushed my way to the front. “Hey, mind if I take a shot at it?” “By all means, but don’t expect much. This lock’s a bitch.” She spat at the door and bucked it as she turned to make room. “It’s not th’ cleanest method but it works when troublesome locks turn up.” I placed the barrel of my shotgun along the doorjamb and bit down on the firing piece. The blast echoed through the tiny hallway as the breaching round ripped through jamb, metal, and bolt. “Shotgun surgeons are such cheaters,” Errant grumbled as she pushed past the door. “I have a horn! And magic! But no, she has to come and shoot the damn lock. Spoil sport.” “Don’t feel too bad, the ledger room door is probably locked worse than this one,” I said as we rounded the corner. “Or not.” Errant glared at me and motioned at the wooden door. “Well maybe it’s a strong lock?” I shrugged. Had to open your mouth, didn’t you? The little pony in my head chided. Glasses reared up and brought his hooves down on the dry rotted door. It slammed against the adjoining wall with a crunch and splinters showered from the frame as the hinges ripped off. “So much for the lock,” he said with a smirk as the doorknob rattled and bounced down the hallway. I trotted into the room behind Luminous. Errant was off to the side beating her hooves against a cabinet and swearing. The pinging sound of a lock against metal echoed across the room. Sheesh, it’s not that bad. So the room didn’t have a lock, no reason to blow up over it. “Well, shit.” Luminous walked to the back of the room and sighed. “All this way and we can’t even get to it.” I picked my way across the mess on the floor. “What do you mean? This is the ledger room, it’s gotta be in here somewhere.” “He means we can’t fucking get to it.” Errant kicked the cabinet again and pointed a hoof to a tiny patch of cloud on the desk. “Those bastard griffins are using stolen cloud tech.” Cloud tech? I knew griffins could walk on clouds as a pegasus could, but I couldn’t fathom what they’d have brought a thin square of it down here for. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s cloud tech?” “Over here, kiddo.” Luminous motioned to a recessed wall safe in the corner of the room with a mass of white fluffy clouds embedded into the front of it. “Enchanted cloud lock. Somehow they got their claws on an Enclave strong box to use for storage. Earth ponies and unicorns can’t even touch it without some magic that probably hasn’t existed in a long time.” Huh, using enchanted cloud locks. I laughed at the idea. Will wonders never cease. How would one even pick that lock anyway? “What’s so funny?” Glasses cocked his head and looked at me from the corner of the room. “Oh, nothin’, I’ve just…It sounds so absurd. I’ve never seen anythin’ like that before. Enchantin’ bits of cloud cover to prevent theft, huh.” “Yeah, well, it works.” Errant walked to the box and pressed her hoof through the damp mass of air. “All this way for nothing and we don’t have time to convince one of those griffs to open it.” She looked at her Pipbuck and grumbled. “You could always blow open the hinges or just blow it out of the wall and take it with us,” I suggested. Glasses nudged his firing bits and the gears clicked over. “Luminous could, but we’d probably lose the ledger in the process.” What are you doing, Bit Flip? I hesitated. I didn’t want to open it, didn’t want to see for myself what these traders were up to even if I had seen it first hoof. I wanted to return to my caravan, back to the days before. But those days are gone and we don’t have time for this nonsense. Ponies that don’t deserve it are being hurt out there because of this. I took a deep breath and sighed. “It’s…fine. I can open it.” “What? No offense, kiddo, but y’ain’t got wings.” Luminous laughed and made for the door. “Next you’re gonna tell us you’ve grown a horn.” I walked over to the cloud key and picked it up with my teeth. It tasted faintly of cotton candy and hot spices. Silence. I could hear the overhead light buzzing slightly. The trio stood there and stared at me with a piece of cloud hanging from my mouth. “Wuf? Ain’ ev’r seen a peg’sus before?” “Well I’ll be.” Luminous grinned. “Looks like we’re back in business after all.” “Ooh, quick, let’s get the ledger and get out of here!” Errant squealed a little and hopped on her hooves. “I’ve got news to make!” Glasses grinned and walked out of the room, I could hear his battle saddle changing ammunition loadouts. The trip out of the complex was uneventful. By the time we had reached the front gates, the guards were only then clearing away the first few layers of rubble blocking their passage. I heard rather than felt the concussive report of what I assumed was a timed charge placed earlier in out venture. “Was that really necessary?” I asked, cresting the first set of dunes away from the compound. Glasses and Luminous looked at each other and shrugged. “Probably not, but I reckon they deserved it,” the unicorn replied. The moon hung high in the cloudless sky as we neared Paint’s main gates. Glasses had taken his leave and continued on through to the sleepy town as we hung about the entrance. Errant scooted up next to me. “Hey, how come you don’t have any wings?” She poked me with a hoof. Wow, this mare. She has zero tact. I kept walking along the midnight sands. “Hey,” Errant poked at me again. I tensed with each poke. Just ignore it. She’s messing with you. “Heeeeeey,”she reached out to poke at me once more. “What!” I fluffed out my wings and slapped her hoof. “Wings!” She shouted and darted away, giggling wildly as she galloped through the gates into Paint. I huffed and rubbed my nose with a wing tip before sliding them back under their sleeves. “Damn it. How old does she think she is? She’s not a filly anymore.” “Oh don’t pay her any mind. She’s just trying to apologize for earlier and be friendly in her own little way.” Luminous beamed at me. “Still, wings. Don’t get too many pegasi down this way. Y’ain’t branded are you?” “‘Branded?’” “Guess you’re not a Dashite then, and you don’t look Cloudborn—too bulky for that. Earthborn then. Is that why you hide your wings?” I glared at him. “That sounded dangerously close to a fat joke.” “No, not at all.” He laughed. “I just meant one of your parents probably wasn’t a pegasus.” I nodded. “My father’s an earth pony, he runs the caravan I used to be part of.” “And your ma?” I glanced at the ground and pawed at it. “She—” “Oh,” he interrupted. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to. We all know what it feels like to lose someone close. Come on, let’s get inside before more balefire critters come crawlin’ out of their holes.” “No, it’s, well, it’s nice to talk about it sometimes.” I followed Luminous through the alley ways of Paint. “She went off scouting along one of our routes when I was younger and ran into a huge raider herd trying to make a push for territory. They were unusually well armed and we—” I paused and took a deep breath, trying to push away the memory. “—She didn’t last the night.” “I see,” he said sadly. “Raiders can be a right nasty bunch sometimes. One or two is fine but get them in herds and things can get really terrible.” We made our way to a quiet, unassuming shack just past the bar. Dim light filtered through the holes in the papered windows. I heard a loud squeal of joy coming from inside and a mare rapidly talking. Luminous walked through the door and poked his head out, motioning for me to come in. Errant was sitting on the floor with a couple helmets, piles of spare electronics and a broken robot surrounding her. She had a long wire sticking out from her PipBuck plugged into a similar looking device in her lap. “What’s got you so excited?” Luminous looked over at her from a cabinet. “This,” she shouted gleefully, floating the cuff-like device into the air. “I got it to turn on! I only had to replace the original arcane matrix with one I salvaged from this heap of junk—” She nudged the busted Protectapony, “—And splice it with a bit of my own PipBuck matrix and the arcane matrix from this ugly Ranger helmet.” I looked at the device: it was missing bits and pieces; The leather padding of the cuff and steel clasp at the bottom had been replaced; Some of the casing had been cut away to fit what looked like mismatched replacement electronics. “So…What is it? It doesn’t look like a PipBuck I’ve ever seen anypony wearin’.” I asked flatly. “I haven’t a clue, but it used to look mostly normal before I started fixin’ it,” she admitted with a sheepish grin. “Found it a few years back and I’ve been trying to repair it this whole time. Lumi, help me test this out for me. You’re gonna love S.A.T.S.!” Luminous paled a few shades. “Nuh-uh. Y’ain’t puttin’ that thing on me.” He quickly backed into the nearby bed. “I love ya dearly, Errant, but your projects scare me somethin’ fierce. It took you six tries to get Glasses’ saddle right.” The device sparked as she poked it with a tool. “Yeah, but that’s because I’m not good with mechanical things. But this, this is something I can work with. Come on,” Errant pleaded as she floated the device out to me. The long cable dangled in the air between us. “Bit Flip, you’ll try it out right?” I’m so going to regret this. I sighed. “Alright, fine. I feel bad enough for snapping at you a while ago.” “Don’t do it, Bit!” Luminous yelled, but it was too late. Errant had already snapped the cuff around my left leg. “Oh, I hope you know what you’re doing. Her last experiment caused Glasses to lose his mane.” What? I panicked. But I like my mane! I don't want to lose it! I reared back roughly, and the cord between the two devices went taut, then snapped. I yelped at a sudden electrical shock and fell to my haunches. The screen faded. “See, now look what you did, Lumi, you’re scarin’ her.” Errant said crossly and reconnected the devices. “Well that’s strange color for a PipBuck. Oh well.” My senses were a mess. I wanted to protest. Or perhaps scream. I wanted to do any number of things right then, most of which were unpleasantly related to bodily functions. The repaired PipBuck booted up and floated countless lavender sigils across my view. Half-scrambled text scrolled around my sight before suddenly it corrected. A Stable-Tec logo flashed and then faded away, replaced by with a heads up display. “This is crazy.” I slapped at the floating symbols in front of me. My hoof passed through or behind the text. “Is this what you—What is all this stuff?” At the corner of my vision was a tiny scrolling compass pointing east. That can’t be right; I’m facing north right now. “Hey, Errant. I hate to burst your bubble, but I think this thing is still busted. The compass is the wrong way.” She nodded, and poked a few more buttons on her PipBuck. After a Calibrating message faded, the compass faced north, and a tiny marker blipped under the E. “Huh,” she said, “There's no record of that in here at all. No idea what it is. Maybe an artifact from slapping together three different firmwares. ” “Okay,” she said, looking at me, “I’m going to take control of it for a moment, Bit. The sub-matrices still need work. Sorry to tie you down like this, but I need help with it and somepony is a scaredypony.” She glared at Luminous, sleeping in the corner. The PipBuck crashed and rebooted numerous times. I still felt nauseous every time it happened, but it was becoming easier to handle. With each successful reboot more information flooded the screen. I marveled at the compass once more and inquired about the tiny lavender markers moving across it. “Oh, that’s the E.F.S., ah, Eyes Forward Sparkle. It’s, hmm, well it basically lets you know if somepony or something is friendly or not. In this case, lavender bar means you’re good, but if it’s red, it probably wants to eat your face off.” I looked around and as the compass spun in turn, I noticed a dozen overlapping red bars that I assumed were wildlife outside town. Stable ponies had it too easy. “Okay, next up is S.A.T.S. Trigger that and we’ll get on with tweaking it.” I gave her my best I’m-not-a-Stable-pony look. “Right, sorry. Stable-Tec Arcane Targeting Spell. It’s built in to the device. Most ponies think it stops time around them but that’s not correct. It actually just speeds up and heightens your perception to such a level that it feels like it for a little while.” Errant tried to explain how to trigger it but I was completely baffled. Magic was simply something I couldn’t grasp. I looked up from the device and tensed as I noticed an oversized helmet was flying at me. Suddenly the world slowed to a crawl. Her explanation made more sense now as I realized that triggering it was just a matter of wanting it to happen. My view panned around the room as the targeting spell focused in on various furniture objects, empty cases, and a sizable rock in the corner. Each item had a percentage floating above it. Without warning a searing pain ripped through my head and my vision skewed. Time had suddenly sped back up; the PipBuck crashed and I realized I was on the floor staring at the ceiling. I groaned and barely registered Errant apologizing profusely. I sat up and wobbled a bit. I felt my mane flop around loosely against my neck. Well at least I still have that. “I’m so sorry, Bit,” Errant tapped wildly at her device. “It looks like the targeting matrix was corrupted from the spell matrix mergers. I don’t think it’s possible to salvage so I’ll just disable it on the PipBuck.” “That’s okay. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t designed to target furniture and rocks.” “Wait, what?” She gaped at me and laughed. “No wonder it crashed. It normally targets living things.” She gave me a warm smile. “You’ll find this next part really useful as a trader: Inventory. Pretty straight forward, all managed from this screen. It shows you the condition of your items, sorts your bags and pouches for you, and manages ammunition types. It even identifies items based on value.” Oh, you’re kidding me. “No wonder I could never get a good deal out of you Stable ponies. That’s cheating on a whole different level,” I whined. Suddenly I realized the change of tone in her voice. “Wait…Your?” “Mmhm. Think of it as an apology for earlier. Plus I fitted a broadcaster into it. I was going to give you a comm radio similar to Lumi and Glasses in case you come across any interesting information for The Signal out there, but this works so much better.” I was floored. Not only had I been the one that wronged her and prejudged based only on what I saw, but I had snapped at her too. “No, I don’t deserve all this, Errant. I should be the one apologizing for acting the way I did.” I sighed. “We all have our problems, I know this, but I still…I’m sorry.” “It’s fine. Really. My lust is just something I’ve had to deal with forever and I’m glad Lumi is as understanding as he is.” Errant smiled at the dozing unicorn on the cot. “Like you said, we all have our ghosts. I’m sure you have good reason to hide your wings and we won’t tell anyone.” “I, well, thank you.” I smiled back at the strange mare. “Promise I won’t tell anyone about The Signal. Or your urges.” The hours rolled by as she went over the numerous other functions of the device. We shared Wasteland stories with each other late into the night before I crawled into a spare cot and fell asleep. Luminous woke me in the early morning hours. The sun was just rising over the valley and filtered through the paper lined windows. The smell of radhog bacon and cooked cactus pads hit me like a hammer forged from deliciousness. Errant was sitting at their table poking absentmindedly at her food. “Hey, chow’s ready if you want,” Luminous offered. I looked at the two of them and felt nostalgic. It reminded me of my home with the caravan at night when everypony would return and we’d all have a meal. I wanted to cry, to ask them to take me into their group, to be part of something. But I couldn’t. I respected what they did but ultimately I didn’t agree with it. Sometimes ponies and people must die for the greater good, this I realized, but the things I witnessed at the Quills’ runner facility felt wrong to me. The few glances through the ledger told me enough of their operations to realize that most of the griffins and ponies there had very little idea what was going on. They were simply guilty by association. “I’d love some,” I said while rolling out of the cot. I tried to ignore the various hunger warnings the PipBuck flashed at me. This is going to take some getting used to. The three of us sat around the table eating our meal. After the last couple weeks, this felt nice, right even, but I knew deep down that I had to move on. “I want to thank you two for taking me in like you did—” “—But you can’t stay,” Luminous finished for me. “Right?” I looked down at the plate. “Yeah. You two have given me a fair bit to mull over, but I’ve got to find my own path in this world.” Errant looked up and smiled. “That’s okay, we’ll still always be in touch. Where ever you go, there ain’t a place in the Marejave The Signal can’t reach.” We finished our breakfast in silence. I felt awful for ruining the mood. Errant floated away the dishes into a nearby container. “So, where are ya headed then?” She inquired. “I’ve got some ponies in Cancy that I need to check in with, then I planned on heading up to 144. Maybe see if I can find some information on possible trade routes.” “I’ll come with ya then for a short while. The flats can be dangerous this time of year,” Luminous said knowingly. “The Hell Hounds migrate a fair bit north depending on the conditions sometimes.” “You don’t—” I started. “None of that now,” Luminous interrupted. “I’d be glad to tag along for a while and see you to your destination.” Both he and Errant smiled. Errant walked us to the gates of Paint, our saddle bags full of provisions. Passing townies stared in our direction before scurrying off. She pulled us both into an embrace and asked us to stay safe out there. No news is good news I heard her whisper before breaking off and walking back in the direction of their home. A thick cloud of black smoke off to the southwest rolled into the mid-morning sky. “Just another beautiful day in the Marejave,” Luminous remarked offhandedly. We walked past the gates and made towards Cancy. There were only a couple red markers on the compass. “I may not be the most perceptive pony in the Wasteland, but most ponies aren’t this kind,” I asked. “How come you’re tagging along, when you don’t stand to gain anything?” “Not everything has to be gains and losses, Bit Flip. Errant took a liking to you and that’s a rare thing.” Luminous smiled. “Rarer still that you didn’t shun her after learning about her little problem. I’m sure you saw the way those ponies in town stared. They weren’t looking at us; they were watching her.” I wanted to kick myself. Luminous had reminded me of Doc’s lecture. I placed a hoof to my grey eye in thought. There are still good ponies out there after all. The smell from Cancy was always worst during the peak of afternoon. We passed through the checkpoint with only minor incident. A drunken, dashed-out pony had tried to get grabby with me as I passed, but a nearby well-armed guardpony wrapped him in a telekinetic field and apologized for the interruption. Something was off. I looked around, and there were considerably less addicts strewn about. The town still reeked of brahmin shit, of course, but the number of dash-heads was significantly fewer now. I shrugged off the thought and continued towards the comical gift shop. “You know, I don’t often come this far east of Paint, but every time I pass by this thing it still amazes me,” Luminous remarked, looking up at the green and purple dragon. “It’s just so ugly. You’d think they would have painted it or something by now.” I laughed. “I’m glad I’m not the only pony who thinks so.” I pushed past the door to the shop and immediately froze. A sea of identical pink faces and the sounds of racking weapon slides halted me. Luminous swore. His weapons sliding into their holsters echoed loudly in the awkward silence. I looked at the corner of my vision and saw six red bars with a single lavender bar. “Oh! Hey, it’s Bit,” a chipper voice rang out as the familiar pony descended the stairs. “It’s alright, she’s fine.” Every red bar in my field of vision instantly turned lavender as weapons were holstered. That’s definitely going to take some getting used to. “So what brings you to this neck of the sands, Bit?” Needles asked as he sat in a nearby chair. “Just stopping by to visit Hammer,” I replied. “I like what you’ve done with the place. Cancy looks less like a cess pool even if it still smells like one.” “My backers sent more resources this way,” he laughed. It sounded dry, hollow. “They’re looking to make a push out from the coast. Bring their chems out here. Turn Cancy into a central distribution point for the Marejave.” He’s changed. This is not the Needles I knew. “Uh huh,” I replied flatly. My skin crawled at Needles’ off behavior. “So I take it Hammer is here then?” I made my way towards the stairs behind the counter and a large earth pony moved to block my path. “You need to move. Right now.” The stallion glanced over at Needles. “It’s fine, let ’em on through.” Luminous and I rounded the counter and made our way down the stairs. “You know these scumfucks?” Luminous’ voice was barely above a whisper. I could hear the angry tone in it. “I…Yeah. Needles used to be in my old caravan before he left and got in bad with some group from the coast,” I admitted. “He was never this bad though. Something has changed recently.” I looked out across the workshop as we reached the bottom. One of the workbenches was overturned, parts scattered across the floor. The shelf of carefully organized memory orbs had been destroyed, many of them rested on the floor shattered beyond repair. “Hammer,” I called out. “What happened here?” The old ghoul limped out from around the corner. Bone was jutting out from his rear left hock, fresh bruises oozed along his side, and cuts adorned his normally leathery hide. He trailed a few small glowing drips of water behind him. “Hello, Bit Flip,” he wheezed out. “Needles’ boys upstairs may have gotten a little too enthusiastic.” “Oh Hammer,” I whispered, rushing to his side. “Look at what they did to you. Why, what happened?” I helped him to his quarters. “I thought you and Needles had an agreement.” “It’s that group he’s got backing him now. He’s been dipping into some new samples they brought, Rage and something I’ve never seen before,” he rasped out. “Usually he would just hit the Dash a few times, but this stuff is changing him. He’s become increasingly paranoid and aggressive. Excessively violent in some cases.” “Going to go up there and give that jerkass a piece of my mind.” I wanted to throw Needles from the top floor of the dragon. “He should know better.” “No. No, it’s fine, child. It wouldn’t change his mind. Not now anyway,” Hammer grimaced and motioned around the room with a hoof. “He wanted me to duplicate the new drug they found in some Stable for distribution. I’ve already refused him twice.” “I should stay. Talk some sense into him.” I was livid. “He wouldn’t dare lay a hoof on me.” Talk nothing, I’m going to right beat some sense into that idiot. “Stop, you stubborn filly. It’s fine. I will heal and persist as I always have.” Hammer grinned at me. “It’ll take more than his lunks to beat me down. Besides, I haven’t lasted these last ninety odd years by mistake.” “But—” “Go on now, before Needles takes to dipping into his stash tonight.” It wasn’t a suggestion. Hammer wrapped the two of us in his magic field and scooted us from his room. I felt a scowl creep along my face as I walked up the stairs and made for the entrance. “Hey, where you goin’, Bit,” Needles called out from behind me. “We ain’t done yet.” I felt a hoof land on my flank and bucked as hard as possible. I wheeled around as the lavender bars in the room changed to red once more. “Don’t you touch me, Needles! You best change your ways, and soon, before your shit catches up to you.” I spat at him. “Hah! Piss off then, cunt.” He looked up at me and laughed. His eyes had a maddened look to them. “I’m about to be one o’ the richest stallions in the Marejave and there ain’t shit nopony can do about it. Not some caravan trash messenger filly, not nopony.” We were escorted out of Cancy and politely informed by the foreign guards that we would be shot on sight if we returned. The late afternoon sun had begun its slow descent over the valley as we walked in silence along the route to 144. Needles’ words bit deep. I was forced to sit on the sidelines once more and watch as the Wasteland took its toll on a friend. Ooh, Bit, you’re so damned slow sometimes! “Hey, Luminous. Can I ask a favor of you?” “What’s that?” They were the first words he spoke in the hours during our silent travel since Cancy. “Would it be—” I paused, unsure if I should continue. “Would it be possible to hire you three to get Hammer out of there and give him shelter in Paint? I know he’s a ghoul, but he’s the best mechanic this side of the divide. Made my harness, actually. I’m sure Glasses would appreciate that.” I was rambling, trying to convince Luminous of Hammer’s worth. “I don’t mind. And he wouldn’t be the only one in town. Hell, Errant would probably offer to do it for free. She gave you a broadcaster after all. But are you sure you want to go down this route?” He stopped and turned to face me. “You’ve seen the kind of work we do, and I know you didn’t stay because you don’t agree with it entirely.” I sighed. “No, I’m not sure, but Needles was right. I’m just some caravan trash messenger filly and I don’t even really have that anymore. I don’t want Needles to die. He’s a good pony underneath it all, and I’ve seen it. But sometimes you have to let the desert take back what’s hers.” “There’s no shame in asking for help, kiddo,” Luminous smiled. It felt like a genuine and happy offer. “And you’re not trash. You care and that’s far more than what most ponies in the Wasteland can say about themselves.” He floated his radio out of a saddlebag and flipped it on. “Errant? We’ve got a rumor you might be interested in.” We reached 144 as the sun dipped low behind the valley. The vermillion hues of the sky painted the surrounding sands and ramshackle buildings an ominous shade. The gate guards waved us in between the caravan wagons and trailers filtering it for the night. “We should probably get some lodging for the night,” I mentioned, Luminous lockstep beside me. “That sounds swell. Not particularly fond of sleepin’ out under the stars.” Luminous nodded. “Least of all not in towns outside of Paint.” As I lead the way through the makeshift buildings of 144 I spotted the local Curiosity huddled against an overturned train car and waved. I’m not sure if he saw me, or if he was waving at nopony in particular. Gotta remember to drop off another snack for the colt ’fore I leave again. I stepped through the frame of the caravan barracks and nodded to the pony behind a badly worn desk. “Oh, hey Bit. Back again with your caravan?” “Ah, no. They’re still up in the west end. My friend and I are just passin’ through for the night on business.” I smiled at the stallion. “Say, you wouldn’t happen to have any rooms open still, would you?” “You know the rules Bit,” The stallion shifted nervously and stared at the desk surface. “I gotta see your Token first.” “Oh, come on Keys,” I insisted. “I was just here not too long ago. Besides, I left most of my belongings with the caravan. That damn slave driver Parcel woke me up out of shift to rush deliver this package to Fleshgrove.” Keys perked up at the mention of the prosthetic-hoofed mailmare. “P-Parcel sent you this way?” “Yep. Can you believe it? Of all the damn places. Fleshgrove.” I faked a shudder. “I’m sure she’d hate to hear about the package getting lost because a certain somepony had to sleep under the stars tonight.” The dusty gray stallion blanched. “Let me…Let me see what I can round up. Come back in an hour, yeah?” “Sure thing, Keys.” I grinned. “Hey, tell ya what. Want me to put in a good word with her for you? She could definitely use the company.” Keys blushed deeply before running off, metal jingling against his barding. Luminous whistled. “You’re a real piece of work.” “What?” I pouted and gave him a look. “I certainly didn’t want to sleep out in the Gutters tonight, did you?” “Oh no, I know that kind of look.” He held up a hoof in mock defense and laughed. “Y’ain’t ’bout to go cryin’ on me. Errant tries to pull that on me all the time and she’s not even good at it.” “Fine,” I smiled at him. “Let’s go get a drink then while Keys is rustlin’ us up a room.” We picked out way across the broken ground towards Tab’s bar. Raucous laughter and the pungent smell of alcohol filled the night air the closer we got. A fair number of caravanners were filtering into the bar from their trading areas. “If’n it ain’t muh best cust—” Tab began, looking my direction as the doorbell jingled. “You.” “Me.” I grinned. “Nice to see you too, Tab.” I had to almost shout over the din of drunken patrons. He grumbled and sighed. “Let me guess, beer and a ’sas.” “Just the ’sas actually, and a bottle of Red Velvet for my friend here,” I motioned to Luminous. “And I know you’ve got some.” Luminous and I pulled up a seat at the bar as Tab walked off towards the backroom fussing up a storm. “Y’know, It’s a real shame you won’t consider joinin’ us. We could really use a pony like you around Paint, even if for the few traders that are crazy enough to make the journey.” “I’ve…thought about it a lot since we left, honestly. It’s not that I don’t want to,” I frowned at Luminous. “Paint’s a wonderful place. For the short time I was there it felt like home, but the more I think about it, the more I feel I’ll regret it if I don’t take this chance to find my path in the world.” Tab interrupted us and clinked down a couple bottles on the counter. “Twenty caps this time, courier. Red Velvet ain’t easy to come by. An’ don’chu try none o’yer fancy trader shit here again, I already told muh wife about the Pens.” “The stallion over in the Stands?” He frowned deeply. “Yep.” “Cow in the Crags?” I watched as his brow furrowed and he slowly nodded his head. “You gonna pay up or am I gonna have to toss you out on your rump?” Tab’s frown slowly changed to a scowl. “Yeah, yeah. Oh! How ’bout the filly in Fleshgrove?” Tab yelled in frustration as he threw his hooves up. “Fine, y’goddess damned rat! Take yer shitty drinks for free. Put me out o’ business why don’t ye!” He stomped off to the other side of the bar. Luminous uncorked his bottle and grinned. “Yup, you’re a piece of work, alright. You’d fit in just fine.” “Bit Flip!” A familiar voice called out from the side of the room. “You’re he—what the hell is that on your leg? Did you get hurt? Is that some sort of hobo prosthetic?” My stomach clenched. I felt an inferno rise from within and my face flushed with anger. I turned to Vitia. “You…” I whispered. “You were supposed to stay with Willow. Why are you here? Why now?” My voice had pitched higher and cut through the bar room chatter as the drinkers became curious onlookers. The small unicorn barstallion hopped on the bar counter, “None o’ that now, Bit. You take yer lover’s spat outside now, y’hear?” “Fuck you, Tab. Stay out of this.” “No, fuck you, courier. Ain’t gonna come into my bar and start shoutin’ nonsense at my patrons.” I saw his tiny horn glow for a short moment as he floated a sawed off shotgun from behind the bar. It never made it to the counter. A familiar pistol and carbine had been levitated to his head and halted the weapon’s ascent. “I wouldn’t do that,” Luminous countered. “Now why don’t everypony just calm down and you two take it outside?” The three of us walked outside in uncomfortable silence. The full moon cast an eerie shadow across the landscape. “Wh—” Vitia held up a hoof. “No.” “What do you mean ‘no?’ You were happy! Willow was happy! What could have ever given you cause to leave?” “I have my reasons.” I sputtered and choked on a reply. “Yes, Bit, I was happy. More happy than I’ve ever been, and likely far more happy than I deserve.” “…Then why? You could have given Willow everything I selfishly denied her as a filly.” “I love Willow dearly, but I have things I must see to first. And one of them is you, Bit. I’m sorry. Because of me—” she paused and looked up at the sky for a moment. “Because of me, you lost everything.” “But—” Frustration lined her face as she stamped her hooves. “No, Bit. And before you say something silly like you ‘didn’t do it for me,’ let me finish.” I felt my rear legs give out and fell to my haunches. This is too much. “You take on everything yourself, and won’t let anyone else help. You pushed everyone away—do you know how much that hurt Willow?” Vitia’s tone softened, “I won’t let you suffer the Wastelands alone. I owe you that much, probably significantly more than that, but this is all I can do. I’m going to help you.” A wetness formed at the corner of my eyes. I tried to blink away the tears but it wasn’t working. I felt elated that Vitia would chase me down like this but also extremely disappointed that she would throw away her life with Willow to do so. I don’t deserve any of this. “But you don’t stand to gain anything by doing this!” I shouted. “Hell, you could lose it all.” “Life’s not always about gains and losses, Bit.” Vitia kneeled down and embraced me. “Do I really need a reason to help out a friend who has lost her way?” “She’s got y’there, kiddo.” Luminous happily chimed in from the side. “I’ll leave you two alone for now and go look for Keys. It looks like we’ll be needing another bunk.” —— Party Status: Bit Flip: Overall healthy with minor cuts. Stress levels slightly elevated. Stable mental state. Level Up (14) Perk: Shotgun Surgeon When using shotguns, regardless of ammunition used, you ignore an additional 10 points of target’s damage threshold. Vitia: Excellent overall physical condition. Moderate stress levels. Moderate hormone levels. Level Up (12) Perk: Black Widow In combat, you do 20% damage against male opponents. Out of combat, you’ll sometimes have access to unique dialogue options when dealing with the opposite sex. Luminous Beacon: Great overall health. Stress levels low. Blood alcohol level slightly elevated. Level Up (15) Notable Possessions: Errant’s “Repaired” PipBuck
Book 1, Chapter 3.5: PurposeView OnlineFallout Equestria: Medicine & MailBook 1, Chapter 3.5: PurposeAuthor’s Notes: This is a companion chapter to Chapter Three in Medicine & Mail. If you have not read at least through chapter three in the main storyline, then this perspective will not make any sense. This is the edited version of this chapter. Content has been revised to remove the sexual content to remain within the Teen rating of the main story. It is recommended to read the unedited version in Tales of the Marejave unless you are bothered by sexual content. Chapter Three-point-Five Purpose “Nothing harder than seeing those you care about hurt, But there’s often more reason to let them suffer than To stick your nose into it. That’s just the Wasteland.” I’m so sorry. Willow held Bit Flip, and the pegasus just clenched against her. Tears rolled from Bit’s eyes and down her dark green cheeks, dripping onto the off-white sheets wrapped over her. Little darkened spots of her sadness dotted the bed, and the room itself was quiet but for a few sniffles and the far off echoes of activity in the town outside the clinic. I was at once relieved to see that Bit Flip was conscious, and not thrashing or raging out against Willow or myself, but just as much, my chest was tense and my throat was dry from anxiety and guilt. As the two held each other in near silence, memories of Bit in the church’s makeshift cell assaulted me, flashing pictures of her bloodied body cradled on Willow’s lap, of the distant stare in her eyes that rolled around the room, and of the time in the last days, where Bit screamed at me and raged against the restraints. I saw myself, as though from the eyes of a sandbug on the wall of the cell, crying and fumbling with wraps and medicine with my clumsy hooves. The shaking white unicorn that was me in the middle of the small crowd, crouched down to Bit next to Willow and Ghost Ant, dropped a bottle and it rolled across the floor. I watched her reach for it and from her other hoof fell a roll of gauze. She struggled to pull away from the minotaur reaching down for her, and the shatter of the healing potion she dropped from her mouth crashed against my senses, like the simultaneous blinding flash of lightning and the ear-splitting roar of thunder from just beyond my nose. The memories shattered, breaking into pieces and falling away. I blinked and a blurry scene of Bit and Willow came into view in front of me, the two in a worried but comforting embrace. Willow pulled herself from Bit and smiled, wiping against her tear-stained cheek. Bit glanced around the room before her eyes met with mine. The moment our gazes met, I spoke up. “Bit Flip,” I started, forcing the words through, “It’s all my fault, I’m so—” “Hush, sweetie,” Willow interrupted. Bit kept her gaze on mine for a moment longer, then dropped it and drooped her ears along with her gaze to her lap. Silence fell over the room once more. “Aye, she’s in ’ere, but she specifically told me not to let anyone interrupt.” The minotaur’s voice was gentle, though the volume of it might give a separate impression. He stood against the door with the yellow painted mark that signified the Tinkerer's Wing, leading further in to the mechanic-guild’s lower levels. He tapped an oversized wrench against his tattooed shoulder as I tried to form an excuse to get in. I gave up. “Alright.” I turned from the grime-covered minotaur and made my way back along the rickety catwalk, beyond and over the corridors of gears, through tunnels surrounded by steel tubes and pipes and fastenings attached to strange minotaur machinery. The Guild ran under and through most of the town, feeding in precious chilled or heated water to most stores and the church along with electricity provided by massive underground generators that rumbled throughout the tunnels. Were it not for the bright spearheads painted along the overhangs at each intersection that pointed to landmarks in the town above, I’d have been hopelessly lost, like I had been the day before. The steel door creaked open and swung out into the blinding desert light, and I stepped out, one eye closed and the other squinting as I adjusted to the sudden brightness. The air here was a different kind of heat than in the guild itself, where the air was thick and seemed to settle on me like I was laden with iron gears and sacks of bolts, but a line of sweat ran across my brow. It was still hot. I wandered purposefully toward a spot of shade under the awning of some shop or building—my surroundings mattered little to me, my thoughts being swept up in a myriad of confusing emotion and rattled responsibility. For the last two days, Bit Flip kept herself holed away in the mechanic’s guild, tinkering and working on projects unknown to any but some of the members there that swore to her privacy. But unlike the days before that, when she had retreated into the room at the far end of the church and drank herself nearly to ruin, the mechanics told me that no alcohol was present, nor any chems. Willow made sure that, wherever Bit found herself, everyone knew to keep anything of influence away. Just in case. I plopped onto the wooden planks against the edge of the building. Everyone needs time, Willow had told me. But I hadn’t even managed to get an opportunity to talk to Bit. We spoke maybe ten words since the morning she was released from the clinic, and it was always in passing. Each of my attempts to make a time for a conversation were denied, and she would wander off, back to the guild or around to a shop somewhere in town. But she kept herself busy, and that was a positive step forward. At least, that’s what Willow said. Willow. My thoughts drifted to her, as they tended to since I first met her a week and a half ago. I was just as confused when I thought of her as with Bit Flip. I didn’t know what to make of the coral pony, of her comforting smile or her gentle touch. I wanted to run to her, and I wanted to just be in her presence, to talk to her, and listen to all the calming wisdoms she could impart to set my mind at ease. But I couldn’t. After all, she was Bit’s friend. I barely knew the pegasus and managed to make a mess of her entire life. What right did I have to try to become a part of Willow’s when all I had done so far was mess up her friend’s? I found myself sighing again, with my head pressed to the wood at my hooves. A gust of wind brought dust to my eyes and more stuck to my sweaty face. As I rubbed at my eyes, I heard a voice, gently making its way through the murmuring of the townsfolk all about. “With so many benches around, you settle for the ground?” Willow teased. I made to my hooves and nearly fell back to my haunches with a sneeze. The flurry of movement and build-up of heat over the last few hours left me light-headed, and I felt myself tipping. My body leaned against hers. It was warm, soft, and smelled faintly of a sweet cinnamon, calming and comforting as always. As the fuzz in my head cleared, I shrank back from her. “Sorry,” I said. I remembered the sour thoughts I had just prior, and I felt genuine shame at allowing myself that momentary comfort. “For what?” “Well,” I started. I wanted to blurt out, because I messed up Bit’s life. Because you’re friends and I hurt her. I shook my head, deciding to avoid the painful conversation, “Nothing.” But Willow was too much like Brightmane back in Desert’s Edge: She had a sense of knowing what you were hiding even if you tried not to show it. “Don’t worry,” she said, stepping in front of me, “Both Steel Braid and Rivet are keeping a close eye on her.” She took a step forward again, and rolled her tail across my chest. “It’s not your fault, sweetie.” Before I could voice my disagreement, she turned to me and lifted my chin with her hoof. She stared me quiet with those big sapphire eyes of hers and a warm smile. I melted in her gaze. All of the worries and all the emotional moping that had kept my mind busy and spiraling downward in the last hours of the morning faded away. Suddenly the idea of forcing myself away from her seemed silly, irrational, and her presence filled me with a sad longing. She stood by my side, and I wished to stay there as long as possible. “Can we do something?” I asked, hoping to avoid having to see her leave. “Just the two of us?” Willow dropped her hoof and her eyes lit up. “Oh? Tired of being so sour?” She shifted her weight, lifting her front hooves slightly with each little movement, moving rhythmically to a melody in her mind. “Certainly,” she beamed, “Let’s do that!” “I can’t pay for this,” I objected. Willow responded by pressing her hoof to my lips and shaking her head slightly. “It’s not often I get to spoil others,” she explained. I nodded, and pulled the cloth from the table Willow had set it on to look at it once more. I shifted my gaze to her then the cloth, and a light flush fell across my features. She seemed to sense it. “Oh, dear,” Willow sighed, breaking up the lingering silence, then continued in a sing-song voice, “I’ve already seen all of you. No sense in hiding now.” Her words forced a heavy blush from me. Somehow, this situation still felt different than our emotional times prior, and the act of taking off my grimy yellow overcoat and have nothing but my own modesty in plain sight of her made my stomach twist uncomfortably. Willow sighed, voiced her understanding, and walked out from the corner of the store, around the divider that provided me a moderate privacy. I turned from where she disappeared from and took to sliding my overcoat from my shoulders. It was long sleeved, and even a little oversized for me, but that had actually served me well that morning, keeping my white coat free from the grime and dirt of the Crags and under, in the Guild. My mane was a mess, though, and speckles of dirt dotted my face. I slipped the last of the pieces of the pricy outfit on, and pulled a lace strap tight. I pulled on another near the front, trying to form a bow, when I felt a sudden bite on the inside of my flank. I squeaked, and spun around, coming face to face with a beaming Willow. She looked me over frantically, and used her magic to finish pulling the laces tight and straps together. “Oh very yes,” she glowed. I spun around in place in front of the dingy mirror, running my eyes along the white fabric. Pink lines curved along the side of the tight corset and framed my skinny body down to the lace around my thin waist. From there it rolled out into a pink skirt with white trim that was barely long enough to cover the thin, frilly panties beneath. Willow floated a billed pink hat to my head that was large and puffy enough to match the height of the tips of my ears. “There,” she squealed. She stepped up to me and stood by my side, looking into the mirror at the two of us. The pink on the outfit matched her coat, which blended in as she leaned against me. “Do you like it?” Of course I did. I would have been elated with any of the outfits she picked out throughout the day, but she insisted on finding the perfect one, and took me with her to every shop in town. Even as cute as this one was, it was her reaction—that glint in her eyes when she knew she found the one—which made this feel special. “Yes,” was all I could manage. She frowned slightly. “That doesn’t sound very enthusiastic.” “No, no, it’s great,” I rushed. I ran my hoof along the frills and traced its intricate design down. “It’s really cute.” It absolutely was. Willow grinned. “Only because who’s wearing it,” she teased. My ears warmed with a light flush, but even though I was pleased with them, her words left me feeling somewhat distressed. She was kind to everyone that I saw, even me—especially me, I thought, considering how little it was deserved. I had figured it was just the way she is, so somehow the words rang sadly empty. I liked her. I really did, which frightened me. I knew her position as Matron didn’t allow for extended side romances, or even anything serious, and besides, I wasn’t certain she felt anything beyond a slight affection for me. I was afraid to tell the gorgeous mare my feelings, sure she’d have just the right words to soothe me and let me down gently. I chose to remain in the bliss of ignorance, hoping never to hear the words of my rejection. And there was another feeling that pulled on me, beyond the guilt of Bit’s situation, that kept me from truly giving in to my feelings for her. Silver Sheen. The reason I left Desert’s Edge and ventured out into the Marejave. The reason I gave up a comfortable, normal life free of slavery, free of all the pain and hate I had experienced since leaving. The metal suppressor on my horn ached, and the pins that pierced from it into my bone pulsed with a light pain. But Silver was just a distant nudge now. Not since the first night Willow and I shared together had I thought about Silver for more than brief moments. But the tug pulled at me from the back of my mind, reminding me that there were questions I had not answered yet. I had to face that and see it through before I would allow myself to open up to the mare I was quickly falling for. Even if those affections weren’t returned. “Not even a reaction?” Willow sighed. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her in close. I might not have been willing to admit my feelings to her, but it was almost futile of me to try and hold myself back when she was holding me. I turned and gently kissed her. Then the wall holding back my emotions broke, and I pressed against her deeply. She never broke from our kiss, but twisted and pinned me against the table. Her black dress’ folds mixed in with the white of mine as she maneuvered. She ran her tongue across mine in eager, greedy movements, and kept her body tight in constant contact with me as we slid up onto the table. Dresses and clothes scattered across its surface and fell to the floor of the public shop. I gave in to the surge of emotions, allowing them to completely smother every doubt and hint of guilt. I was filled with an overwhelming need for her. I tugged at the knots and ribbons that held Willow’s dress to her, and she began undoing the lace on mine with her magic. The pink and white outfit slipped from me and she shoved it away, as if upset by the brief moment she pulled her lips from mine. As she raised back, she wrapped her field of magic around the last strip of thin cloth that kept her decent, and flung the pieces aside. She brought her face down against my belly, nipping at me along her hasty journey down, moving quickly to the side ties that held the damp white panties to my thighs, and with her teeth pulling the last string away—a bump against the divider and a squeak beside us signaled the presence of someone else. Willow spun around immediately, taking the panties from me in her teeth in the same move, and looked at the yellow mare staring at the scene of the two naked, aroused mares before her. Willow laughed, floating the cloth back to me, and hopped off the table, skipping up to the wide-eyed mare. Not missing a beat, she beamed. “We’ll take these,” she told the mare, floating the hurriedly-stripped dress and hat to the associate. The little yellow store-mare kept making quick glances between us, eyeing us two naked mares caught in a heated moment in the barely-private space of the store, and the blush she had spread to her ears and covered her entire face. I thought she would begin to steam if she blushed any harder, but she backed away, uttering rapid apologies, and galloped her way back through the store. Willow turned to me. “Well that was unfortunate timing.” I slunk off the table and sheepishly tried to pull myself into the yellow and pink overcoat I had brought in with me. “Guess we better find somewhere more suitable before we continue,” Willow teased. “But here I was,” Willow teased, “Starting to think you didn’t fancy me anymore.” A desire, almost overwhelming in its simple strength, yelled at me to let loose my emotions and tell her how wrong that was, and how much it pained me to have had to force myself away from her company from the day of my purchase to this morning. I wanted to tell her how hard it was to stay from her touch and presence that I longed for. I restrained myself at the last moment, and spoke only part of the truth. “That’s not true at all.” I squeezed my arms, pulling her closer against me in a tight embrace. A cool breeze sifted through the window and brushed over our coats, slick with sweat. Our hot breath melted away with the wind as it floated over our entangled bodies, sprawled out over Willow’s bedding. Willow hummed a note. She probably knew, with that perception of hers that saw through me, that bared me open more naked than as I lay there that moment. After a moment, she ran her hoof down my mane and stroked gently. “You’ve been avoiding me for so long. Since the caravan left, and that was a week and a half ago.” “It’s not like that,” I argued. I rolled my face against her chest. “I just wasn’t sure.” “About?” The night had settled, and all the activity of Rusted Crags, even distant, had died out. The only sound I heard was the quiet breathing of Willow. “I thought you would be angry at me.” She stopped stroking my mane, and brushed some strands from my brow. Looking down at me, her face was contorted in a sad concern. “I’ve told you, what happened was her choice. Bit decided on her actions, not you.” Part of me knew she was right, but most of me wanted to fight back. But if she never met me, I’d begin. Bit Flip’s words that night came back to me, and I heard them ring and echo through my mind. I’d still have my life! “Bit and I,” she began, snapping me from my downward spiral, “We’re friends, so yes, it was incredibly painful to see her like that, to see what she did to herself.” Images of Bit’s cracked face and shattered hooves flashed through my vision. Willow continued, “But you didn’t force her to drink herself unconscious for days and shut herself off from all of us that care for her. She made that choice. I was mad at her for it, and I still am, but it’s not your fault.” Her warm tones and gentle words soothed my racing heart. I needed to hear more. When she spoke, I could just breathe in the spicy scent of her and listen to that soft voice, and I’d have no need of anything else. All my concerns could be pushed aside, and I needed that just then. “Talk to me,” I begged her. “What about?” It didn’t really matter to me. She could have talked about how brown the dirt was or how hot the desert was, and I’d still be entranced. But one thing did come to mind. “Tell me about Bit Flip. And you.” She giggled, “Haven’t you already asked me that before?” I leaned up and pulled my face to hers. I looked into those shimmering eyes, then kissed her. I couldn’t help that. “I want to know.” “That’s a very delicate question.” “You won’t tell me?” I could feel Willow tense slightly under my body, but her voice was even and comforting as always. “I can say a few things. Not much, but a little. It’s not my place to say much about her past, and I think you should hear it from her instead.” I nodded. I’d soak up anything she said, and even one word was more of her than I knew before. “Well, where to start,” she said, shifting around and sitting up. “Let’s see, I was about the age she is now, so it’s been a long while,” she giggled. “Her caravan stopped through occasionally, and with her penchant for gambling and drinking, naturally we came to know each other.” She stood up from the bedding and made her way to the window, tipping it shut. “One stop saw things turn romantic, and for a short time, things were exciting, wonderful.” She glanced back at me, as if looking to see what my reaction was, but this wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard already by Bit in passing, and expected, in a way. “Well, she left with her caravan, as you can imagine, and didn’t return for a few months. Of course, I was in the church then.” She paused in her story and stood uncomfortably, looking at me for a long while. Her words held a weight that I barely recognized, but I couldn’t piece together the meaning she was struggling to tell me. Finally, she spoke up. “A Daughter will always continue her work.” Part of her story became clear to me and an unfortunate understanding came to mind. “You were with a client?” She nodded slowly. “She saw me. She was hurt, astonished. It was young love, or something close to it, and I guess she thought I betrayed her. She did mean something to me, and it hurt me seeing her reaction, but,” she paused, sitting on a pillow at the corner of the bedding, staying unusually distant, “My duty has always been to the church where I belong. I couldn’t stop being a Daughter then, and—I can’t stop being Matron because of my personal fancies now.” Oh. Suddenly I understood the unusual hesitation in her voice and the distance she put between us as she spoke. She couldn’t have a normal relationship. She would take clients, and had to. A wave of nausea came over me along with the realization that she had probably taken clients in the time between our caresses. The answer to that question I wanted to ask, the uncertainty that I felt compelled to learn, to know what her feelings for me were, was between the lines of the words she struggled to say, and I nearly cried. “Most can’t handle it very well,” she said absently, “But she and I, we’re still friends. She means just as much to me now, if not more, than she did those years ago. Just in a different way.” Friends? We’d only ever be friends? We shared a few intimate moments and toyed at and made love but ultimately, it seemed I wouldn’t ever be for her what I felt she was quickly becoming for me. Then, what was I? To Bit Flip, I was just baggage, just business, just the damnable pony that ruined her life. To Willow, I was—what? A distraction? A maretoy? My cheeks were warm with the tears that started to flow down them, but I sniffled, and forced myself to choke back the swelling sadness. I asked her—I tried to force myself into her life, and now that the obvious truth comes out, I’m acting like a foal! I scrubbed my cheeks and forced a grin, telling every muscle in my body to believe it. Willow was obviously hesitant to tell me, probably expecting me to react poorly, like I had, but I wouldn’t hurt her more than I already had. Be confident. “Well, thanks,” I forced out, “For telling me, even though you didn’t have to.” She shuffled from the cushion to me and wrapped me in a light hug. “I’m sor—” “No, no,” I interrupted, shaking my head against her chest. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” But my mind wouldn’t stop thinking over it, and the waves of negative emotions crashed loudly. When Silver fled into the night back at Desert’s Edge, I was just confused, and a little angry. I didn’t know why she was acting the way she did then, and it had made me start to question the rest of our relationship. But other than what became an incessant need to know why, I couldn’t recall then if I had ever felt genuinely sad. But here, in Willow’s embrace, I sobbed loudly in almost unbearable pain. I rolled with her onto the bed and tried to stifle the sobs. Things are only as bad as I let them be, I reminded myself, the phrase that Brightmane had hammered into me for years fading pointlessly in the tsunami of emotions. “It hurts,” I whimpered. “The simplest rule to remember,” the red-haired little mare explained in her excited and overly-sugary tones, “Is that you just need to be whatever they think you are, which basically means, whatever they want you to be. They want someone timid? You be that mare. They want someone to tickle at their gaming habits? That’s when you put your knowledge to good use, and give them a good game—push them, but don’t beat them, unless you really need to.” Sugar Cane, the Eldest Sister in the group, had chimed in with a fair share of her own experiences and nodded to much of what Spice told me throughout the day. Sugar Cane showed signs of being a good decade-plus Willow’s senior, and her words spoke to the many years of the service and knowledge she’d accrued as the warm, responsible Eldest. “There’s something even simpler than that, Spice.” “Huh? No way. What?” “‘Be whoever you need to be.’ I don’t mean simply watch your target and gauge his or her reactions to the subtle nuances in your behavior, before you decide which role he or she desires—sure, that’s very useful and the core of what we do, but even more than that, you need to believe you are what you want to show.” Her words reminded me of Willow’s in that first night we met. “Convince yourself, then you can convince others.” “Yep, that’s exactly it. But back it up with knowledge and practice. Still, the simplest rule is just that.” I had sought Sugar Cane early that morning because I wanted to know about the church, and about what it meant for Willow to be a Matron. It was such a big part of her life, I felt compelled to understand at least some of it. Sugar Cane reasoned the best way was to be given an introduction and all the training like a new Sister. I'd probably learn a lot of useful things, she had told me. I agreed to that, but that was it. I wasn’t going to become a Sister. Somehow that felt like it’d make the relationship I sought with Willow even more complicated. Sugar Cane had then pointed me to Spice, and the rest of the day became a rush of adventure as the excited little filly-mare ushered me through the church. The excitement of her young age, riding close to the line into adulthood but still exuding a bright and energetic youth, was prominent through all of her bouncy actions and frank words. She introduced me to all of the church’s heads, starting with Prickly Pine, Willow’s male equivalent in the church, and the Father to all the Sons. She reintroduced me to Ghost Ant, the leader of the Monks, and to Steel Braid, Ghost’s right-hand minotaur. She brought me to the last leader, Bush Whacker, the head of the bar and lounge staff, then acquainted me with many of her Sisters: Plum, Honey Dew, Candy Apple, Glaze, and many others whose names I would be lucky to recall later from to the rush of the red-maned Sister’s excitement. Most of the rest of the morning was spent dressing me in all of the different outfits of the church, and heaving upon me reason after reason to go with this color over that, and general tips, such as how to fake interest or even when to stand a certain way when in the company of a certain type of client. She’d catch herself every now and then when she referred to me as ‘Sister,’ but pushed on after a quick correction. After having me try on numerous showier dresses, and settling on one with numerous layers of white, a light olive, and a bright yellow, Spice asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to be a Sister? You’d do great here. Everyone’s well taken care of, and as you know, Willow’s really kind to everyone.” I thanked her, but had to decline once again. She nodded but kept her head low in disappointment. The three of us walked through the living quarters’ hall in the late evening, and Sugar Cane stopped us at Willow’s door. “She told me to bring you by before we got ready for tonight’s service, so we’ll let you go here.” While Sugar Cane walked off to her own room, Spice gave me a light squeeze, and said, in her sugary voice, “As soon as the service starts, come meet me. I want to show you what everything I said looks like in action. It’ll be fun!” Then she trotted off, a little skip in her step. I knocked gently on the door, and it was tugged open with a light magic from inside. Willow stood in the room, swaying slightly to some unknown tune. She was standing just beside a large mirror that reached nearly to the ceiling of the room, and wide enough that we both could stand in its reflection with room to spare. So that’s what was under the sheet. “Perfect timing, sweetie,” she said. “Come over here, I’d like a little help.” A stool was set beside her, and on it was a tray filled with thin brushes and tubes of a thick paint. She used this paint every week to cover herself in tribal designs, in intricate patterns that held some meaning I didn’t understand to the great minotaur spirit Laitis. Once each week, she’d become a half-purple, half-pink pony that would dance and drink with little of her usual reserve. She tightened up the last of the lace on her black corset, and floated up a pair of brushes, thick with the pungent purple paint. “It’s so hard to see back there,” she motioned toward her delicate side, flitting her tail about, “So if you could.” She had a devious grin. I hesitated for a moment, but before I could reach for the brush, she turned and placed them on the tray. Ever the sensitive, perceptive mare, she seemed to guess at the cause of the pause, and cut straight through the mask I tried to hide my emotions behind. “Are you still upset with me?” I shook my head. Of course I wasn’t upset with her. Never was. I was upset with myself. I still hurt from the understanding that came from our caress days before. I had latched onto her when I knew nothing about her, just because she was gentle, had listened to me and said the right words. But I didn’t understand her, and had forced myself into her life, desiring a relationship I wasn’t sure I could have. Or that I deserved, for that matter. “It’s not that. I…” I let my voice trail off, stopping myself from blurting out words that I knew would come back and hurt me, just as the realization that my affections toward her could never be returned the way I wanted had, two days prior when I sobbed in her arms. “Vitia,” she said, stepping toward me. “I’m sorry—” “No, don’t apologize,” I interrupted. She shook her head. “I have to say this. Please.” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Vitia, sweetie. If you want a relationship with me, then that means it’s all of me. And a big part of me is the church. It’s the place I belong.” I wanted to clasp my ears shut and pretend I wasn’t hearing what she was saying, but I forced myself to nod and listen. I didn’t know what soft words she would use, but I knew this was the conversation I had dreaded hearing. “You’re a special filly to me. You mean well, and want to do good. You have a good heart. I believe in you, for what you want to do, and how much you try to help.” She paused for a moment, and took another deep breath, which filled me with dread. “I don’t want you to go through what Bit did and suffer because of me. Even if that means I have to put to words the thoughts you’ve been trying to avoid for days. Even if it hurts you now, it’ll be less painful than if you harbored a belief for something that can never exist.” “Never exist?” Her last words stung sharply. I was certain I heard her wrong. I had to have. Because if not, then what were we? What was I even doing in the room? The steel pins piercing my horn ached. “I sound selfish, I know. I’m sorry. But the church is also part of who I am. I’m the Matron, and I have my Daughters to look after, and the church’s services to run. I’ll have to start taking clients again. Soon. “I’ve been putting it off,” she continued, her voice becoming strained, “Since I didn’t want to hurt you, but I can’t do that forever. So please, know that I do care for you. I hope that you can see that, and understand that I don’t mean to hurt you.” I stood there in dumb silence as she cautiously walked up to me, genuine sadness in her wet eyes, and hugged me. I fought back a sniffle and tears, but hugged her in return. It was just as I had thought: I didn’t truly understand Willow. Her sentiment, I did, but her, I did not. That had been the primary reason I asked Sugar Cane to help me, to see what the church was, why it meant so much to Willow, and to, in a way, be a part of something that meant everything to her. I pressed her tightly, and nodded. “I do understand.” “And,” I said, fighting myself to not blurt the three words out, managing to cover them with a separate thought, “I’ll have to learn how to handle it. I can’t, not now. It hurts too much. You mean so much to me, Willow, but I’m selfish. I’m just a scared, snot nosed filly.” I was breaking down and the struggle to maintain composure was pushing the limits of my willpower. “I don’t want to see or think of you with anyone else.” I pinned my ears back and forced a long, deep breath, trying to steady my thoughts before continuing. “But I understand.” She pulled away from the embrace after a few long minutes of silence, and smiled her warming, gentle smile. “You don’t have to force yourself.” I shook my head. I had decided in that silence, that although I knew I wasn’t emotionally prepared to admit the depths of my feelings for her, and that the mere thought of her with another pony filled me with a crushing pain, I was going to learn to overcome those. I would work to understand her, which meant those things which held a special place for her: Bit Flip, the church, and her Daughters. And so long as I didn’t let it bother me, and didn’t think of her with anypony else, I could enjoy the moment, and find my bliss in her presence. I kissed her cheek, then wiped my tears and reached for the brush. “Guess we better get busy.” She nodded, with a wide grin. “I tried to pencil in a rough guideline for you. So don’t worry, just paint away.” She shifted her flank toward me after a brief hesitation, but I stood, staring at the intricate shape of her cutie mark. It was a vine that circled around itself, branching out into three smaller circles at the top, left, and right. Much like the paint she was applying to her face, it was abstract and dark. I shifted the brush in my lips and pressed my hoof to it gently. “How’d you get your cutie mark?” She never stopped painting, but flicked her tail playfully across my neck. I placed the brush against the light grey of the pencil outline she’d roughly drawn on, and she spoke up, “I got it when I was really young. “My brother had a crush on some filly. You know, young love,” she giggled, “But he was too clumsy with words to tell her how he felt. For a long time he was bothered by that, but he wouldn’t let me, his little filly-sister, do anything. Well, I talked to her anyway, and set up a meeting for them.” I ran the brush along another line, drawing the shape that curved around to the inside of her flank and spiraled down to her hoof, and she continued, “Somehow it worked out. She kissed him, and I got my cutie mark. They married later on.” “So what’s it mean?” I dipped the brush in the splotch of oily paint, and moved to her other side, applying paint to the tender flesh I wanted to nip so badly. “I’d say the closest word to it is ‘connection.’ I have a way of bringing out the best in ponies, and people, whether it’s bringing them together, nudging them along a path, or nurturing their growth.” The marks were complete, and Willow had once again adopted the tribal patterns that she wore that first night I met her, two weeks prior. The dark purple around her eyes made the strong blue shade of her large eyes stand out. Lines painted across her face and down her neck, leading to the frills along the black and white dress she wore. “Well,” she huffed, “Just in time.” Willow said her prayers, asking Laitis and the Matron Mother for protection. To each of her Daughters as they exited from the hall into the lounge, she prayed for their safety in the bliss of the evening. Spice was last to leave, and winked to me as she received her prayer and stepped through the door. “Let’s just enjoy ourselves tonight. Go mingle this time. Take it easy.” Willow pressed her nose against mine briefly, then turned to the door. “I’ll be at the bar tonight if you need anything.” When I stepped through, Spice skipped up to me and eagerly took my leg in hers. “Lots to learn tonight, Little Sister! Err, sorry. You know what I mean.” The next hour was spent dancing from one conversation to the next throughout the lounge, repeating pleasantries and introducing ourselves to the stallions and mares from around town. Thank you for coming by for such an important night. Thank you for your continued support. Spice repeated the words and nudged me to follow suit with our curtsies to each group in turn. “Now that that’s taken care of,” she huffed. “Let’s loosen up a little.” She trotted up from the curved bench we had taken to, and returned a few minutes later, carefully holding two martini glasses with a bright green drink in them. “Proper Ladies, they’re called.” It was very fruity, and there was no hint of alcohol in the taste at all, which I found disappointing. Why drink if you can’t enjoy its flavor? Spice adjusted her corset and frills, slipping it forward, adjusting her panties slightly. She smiled at me, “No touching. Yet.” Spice waltzed into the crowd at one point, and returned moments later, hoof-in-hoof with a distinguished stallion in a clean suit. She introduced him as Midas, a traveler all the way from Tenpony, come to the far west in search of the delicacies of the most special fruits. She sat him between us and leaned in close to him, allowing the slightest of brushes against her bare shoulders. She deftly handled the conversation, using a few subtle words between his sentences, driving the stallion to increasing excitement as he regaled us of his travels and of the home he had waiting for him that he insisted we must visit some day. I forced myself to ignore the discomfort of the occasional leer, and told myself not to shrink away from him when he wrapped us around him in his arms. I had to be confident. If I ran away, I’d be running from what I sought from Spice in the first place, and in a way, I’d be running from Willow. Spice herself had become tipsy as the hours passed, but the glasses of the mixed drink she ordered on his tab for us were more fruit and cactus pod than alcohol, which let the two of us remain mostly coherent compared to the stallion that teetered on complete inebriation. Spice’s skillful play of the conversation became more crude as the hours passed, and the overt sexuality of the situation had long become her driving action. She had wrapped one arm around me and slid the other under my skirt. She flirted with him using words and sensual movements of her cheeks and hoof, and ran her tail along my side, quietly motioning for me to follow suit, to which I complied, reluctantly at first. I playfully flirted with her delicate flesh and used my tail and muzzle to nudge the stallion equally, guided by the smooth movements of Spice. Crudely, but Midas was too drunk to notice my hesitations, or perhaps too aroused to care. She whispered something in his ear, and he shot up, nodding, rushing to the bar. She pulled her cheek from mine and she grinned widely. “See, Little Sister,” she beamed, not bothering to correct herself this time, “That’s basically all there is. Say a few things, make him want to talk about himself, and let him get himself excited. Move the right way, and it’s just a few words at the end,” she trailed off, gulping down the last of her fruity drink. “I think you might have a gift for it, too.” I nodded, fanning myself with the small red fan I had slipped from the straps of Spice's outfit earlier, trying to push away the heat that had built from hours of pressing against Spice or Midas. “But you know,” she cooed, sliding her lips along my cheek up to my ear, causing me to blush. Her face was flushed and a light sweat from staying in the heat of the crowded lounge for the last several hours developed around her brow and cheeks. The shining lights framed her light-cream coat, and she looked particularly tempting in our shared arousal. “I bet I have even more to teach you on what goes on after this,” she teased, playing her breath lightly across my face, “And you’re more than welcome to come along.” She brushed her way past me and had moved off of the bench before I could even attempt to explain that this was already farther than I intended to go. I simply got caught up in everything, I wanted to explain. But she was swaying her way into the private quarters, hoof-in-hoof once again with Midas. She glanced back at me as they exited, and winked. I downed the small martini glass of the rest of my drink and quickly made my way to the bar itself, grateful that the last of her words were only a tease. I had been far too tempted. Behind the bar, Willow was floating bottles from high shelves and pouring mixes in midair in rapid, showy movements without ever a drop spilled. She smiled and bounced along the space behind the bar as she delivered the drinks. I found an empty stool and leaned onto the waxed surface. Lights bounced from overhead, creating shimmers against the drops of alcohol spilled by the patrons in the reverie of the late night. A tall glass of a dark red drink slid up to me. “Did you enjoy yourself with my overeager Daughter?” Willow was nearly panting from the constant activity she enjoyed, and sweat glistened on her. The dark purple designs she and I painted on her earlier that evening shone in the light, and her pink coat was tinted in the cacophony of colors that played throughout the church. Every light in the lounge seemed to point at her, and she glowed. I shied away a little in embarrassment at getting so caught up in Spice’s rhythm and finding myself brazenly aroused by Willow. “She gave me a lot to think about.” I reached for the double-shot of Red Rivulet, but a dark turquoise aura wrapped around it, and Willow floated it to my lips. Now this is a real drink, I thought to myself, savoring the thick pine flavor, allowing it to take me from the noise and bustle of the lounge briefly. Willow smiled as the glass was tugged from my lips. She leaned over the bar and puckered her lips, and we met for a long kiss in the midst of the screaming, cheering crowd. She pulled back, nodding happily, humming to the bassy tune that blasted through the heavy speakers around the room. “It takes time to get used to it all,” she said. “But I believe in you. You’ll get it.” All of the heat and excitement rushed to my head. I excused myself for a breather, eager to cool myself down before being overcome by my desire for the tribal-painted Matron once again. Outside, the night had settled hours prior. The moon was bright along the horizon, over little tufts of clouds, and the thinner, cooler air of the wide space felt refreshing. Convince yourself, then you can convince others, I repeated in my mind. Be confident in yourself and others will believe anything you say. Watch them, see their reactions. Experiment carefully. Be who they want. Be confident. I thought the mantra to myself over and over. Willow believed in me, and she cared for me. The relationship that would come with being together with her was something I couldn’t handle, emotionally, I knew, but I repeated the mantra again. One day. The midday sun was strong as always, with no clouds to break up the almost overbearing intensity. No wind blew that day, and the Rusted Crags’ normally-thin smell of oiled machinery and heated metal was thick in the air. Still, people moved about, carrying goods and parts from one guild to another, needing the extra space of the wide roads over the cramped tunnels that criss-crossed through the town beneath the surface. I was taking a break from Spice’s energetic, very hooves-on teaching, having told her I needed to step out for some lunch and a few errands for Willow. Though not necessarily untrue—I was dreadfully hungry—it was more an excuse to get some time to think over all she told me and take it in. The sheer amount of information she presented me with was almost overwhelming. It seemed like she was so enamored with the idea of not being the Littlest Sister, even though I had to constantly remind her that I was not joining Willow’s brothel services, had filled her with unending energy, and she was trying to cover years of knowledge and teachings in the short span of a few days. Willow and I had eaten lunch the previous day at Crisp Cut’s, so I had found myself making my way through the town toward it. I nodded to ponies and minotaurs I recognized, and realized that in the last two weeks and a few days that I’d been in the town, it was becoming more comfortable to me, and I no longer needed to traverse the entire layout to find any shop or building I was looking for. I turned the corner that led toward the quiet tavern, and nearly bumped into Bit Flip. I had tried, in the first days after she was released from the clinic, to talk to her, but each opportunity was stifled with my own inability to put into words the myriad of emotions I had, and she in turn simply mumbled a few words and skittered off before I could manage a proper sentence. But now, nearly a week since our last encounter, I felt more sure, and intended to voice my emotions. “Bit Flip.” She glanced at me then turned her head slightly. “I need to talk to you,” I told her. I wanted to stop her before she tried to make her way from me, but had to remind myself, be confident. “What’s there to talk about?” She nearly spit the words. “We both know what happened—” “That’s what we need to talk about. Yes, things happened. Horrible things.” I hoped not to come off as angry or bitter, but I felt the need to be assertive. I’d have her listen. “But I don’t blame you. It’s not your fault, Bit. It’s mine.” She glanced up at me with a confused look, then furrowed her brows and walked past me. I turned and matched her brisk pace. “Bit, please, wait.” She never stopped and never looked at me, but spoke, “It’s fine, Vitia. I don’t want you thinkin’ yer my property, or like y’have to owe me somethin’.” At that, she stopped, but her voice remained stern. “Things are a little uncertain right now, but,” she paused, rubbing her nose with her hoof, “Well, don’t worry about it. I didn’t do it for you.” She looked at me with a steely gaze that forced me a step back, “I did it for me,” she said flatly, then walked off. I didn’t follow. The next day, the room under the Guild that Bit Flip had practically taken residence in was open, and empty. Some shotgun shell casings littered the floor, along with empty bottles of wonderglue and tools, but Bit was nowhere to be found. I made my way through the underground maze, coming to the residential section. The heavy vault door to the lobby was open, suspended from the inside of the room by a massive hydraulic arm. Several ponies and minotaurs, all draped in grimy blue overalls and wearing heavy utility belts filled with tools, gears, bolts, and sprockets, stood around chatting. I pushed through to the next room, moving along the dusky but geometrically clean lines of the steel and concrete interior, and along the grey back wall leaned Rivet. He had unstrapped his blue overall’s top portion, and let the denim material flop about his waist. His toned chest glistened with sweat and streaks of soot and oil ran over the ridges of his muscles. He scratched at the gear-shaped tattoo on his shoulder with a hand as big as my head as I approached. “Where’s Bit Flip today?” I inquired. He looked at me for a long moment, then snorted and shrugged. “’Aven’t seen ’er ’round in a while. Maybe sh’ finally got picked up by the Monks fer smashin’ a few o’ ’em in a while back.” I thanked the minotaur and made my way back through the guildworks, stepping up a metal catwalk that led to the surface. I walked through the dense morning heat toward the church. I entered into the bar area on the upstairs portion of the lounge, and looked at each of the Monks in the room. They nudged drunken, sleeping people from whatever uncomfortable spot they had collapsed on the night before, and ran mops and rags over the spills of the previous night’s services. I didn’t recognize any of them, except Strong Horn. I decided against asking him for Bit’s whereabouts, remembering the last encounter he had with the pegasus was the night of her chem-cocktail, when she was so amped up and unruly that she cracked off one of the horns he was so proud of. Making my way back upstairs, I saw Bush Whacker enter into the lounge through the door that led to the non-brothel quarters. It was the first time I saw him not in the stiff black attire he seemed to wear all the time. I stepped up to him and nodded, which he returned. “Have you seen Bit Flip today?” He shook his head. “Actually, haven’t seen her since the night she got tossed in the drunktank.” “Alright, thanks,” I said, turning to make my way toward the Monk’s quarters, before a question of curiosity came to mind. I stopped and asked him as delicately as I could, “Mind if I ask you a personal question?” He raised one eyebrow, then laughed. “Sure, go ahead.” “Why’s your—I mean, ‘Bush Whacker’ is very unique. What’s it mean?” He laughed loudly, then nodded and patted my head lightly. “What you really mean is, ‘Why do you and your brother Weed Killer have such weird names,’ right?” I blushed a little. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.” “No, no, it’s fine,” he laughed again. “Well, short of it is, our mother was a drunk. She named me after her favorite drink, is what Pappy told me. And my brother, well, apparently his birth was a right bitch, so she named him after what she said was ‘the worst drink in the Wasteland. Only good for killing weeds. May as well drink motor oil and bleach!’ So there you have it.” I stifled a laugh. Or at least most of one, and I snorted a little. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh at that. That’s sad.” “But it is damn funny, ain’t it? Don’t worry about it, filly.” I nodded and apologized again as I walked into the hallway, and after a healthy laugh, wiped my eyes and made my way to the end, to the Monks’ quarters. Ghost Ant stood in the center of the room, running his black Monk robe through steaming water. He nodded as I entered. “Hello, honored little one.” “‘Honored?’” I had never heard anyone call me that before. He nodded again. “It’s nothing official, but it’s for what you mean to Willow. She’s a very important pony here. Not just because she’s the Matron, but because of how much she does for the community, and how much everyone in town loves and respects her. And, whether she’s said this to you, or if you noticed it or not, she’s been brighter since Bit brought you here. To me, that’s something.” “Oh,” I blushed. It caught me completely off guard, and it took me several long moments to recover. I stood there dumbly, watching the squat, but heavily-muscled minotaur press a heated iron to the cloth, causing a hissing steam to rise from the robe. “Uh, sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt.” “Not a problem, little one. What did you need?” “Was wondering if you’ve seen Bit Flip. She’s not at the Guild where she was for a while and I can’t find her anywhere else. Someone said maybe you or maybe Steel Braid or someone else may have taken her in for, um, recompense for the night she…made a scene.” He shook his head. “My Monks and I are upset with her, because of her actions that spit in the face of her normally-esteemed character, but we would not retaliate for what she did. We trust in her to come forward when she feels able, and under the mercy of Laitis and his Sister, we shall all atone for it evenly. But, to answer your question, no, I have not seen her. If she did plan to do anything, I would certainly believe she would consult with Willow first. Perhaps you should check with her.” “Right, thanks. And, for what it’s worth, which might not be anything considering I’m nothing here,” I shook my head and continued quickly, “I think she feels bad for what she did. Um, well, if she remembers any of it.” “I believe so as well,” he replied. I turned back down the hall and began to look for Willow. I had wanted to not pester her while she was with her Daughters and tried to keep some distance to not smother her with my presence, but I was becoming worried with Bit’s sudden disappearance. Even if it had been a week since she was released, she was still under loose surveillance by her concerned friends, and I found it difficult to believe that she was suddenly no longer anywhere to be found. The room leading to the brothel’s showers was filled with Willow and her Daughters. All had gathered that morning to recount the last few days and as a time for counseling or simply to chat. Willow sat in the center of the group and listened carefully to each of her Daughters in turn, and the overall mood was warm, and content. I had stepped in, then decided it was not my place and turned to leave, but stopped as Spice called out my name excitedly. She pulled me in to the crowd and all the mares and heifers that fell under Willow’s care looked to me. Willow asked for a quiet moment with me in private, and the two of us walked down the hall a short distance before she turned to me. “What is it, dear?” “I’m actually kind of worried about Bit.” She was surprised. “Why? What happened now?” “That’s just it: I don’t know. I can’t find her.” Willow glanced off to the side then nodded. “I’m sure she’s around. She has a lot to work out, and she’s always been the kind of pony to figure it out eventually. Give her time and space, and just watch; she’ll come back, happy as you’ve ever seen her.” I sighed, knowing Willow was likely spot-on. In the brief time I knew Bit Flip, I got the distinct impression that she kept a lot of her thoughts and feelings bottled up. She’d deal with them in her own way. Eventually, like Willow said. I hugged her. “You’re probably right. Sorry to disturb you.” “Oh not at all, dear.” I strapped the saddle filled with supplies onto my newly-cleaned medical overcoat, and rested my pink and white hat on my head. I walked from the showers down the hall of the private quarters. I stopped in front of Willow’s door. Be confident, I told myself, then knocked against the thick wooden frame. She opened it, and stepped back, surprised. “What’s wrong, Vitia?” “Nothing’s wrong,” I assured her, wearing a genuine smile. She ushered me inside and looked at me with concern. “Then why all the gear?” I reminded myself that I had just practiced this speech in the shower and over and over again to the white unicorn in the mirror after, just in case the last few days of its repetition didn’t stick. Be confident, I reminded myself. You can do this, Vitia. “I…” and with just the first syllable, my confidence was nearly shattered. My stomach twisted, and nervousness had my body shaking. I took a deep breath and forced myself to push on. “Willow, I love you.” I let the words hang in the air for a moment, and stared at the floor at my hooves, trying to collect myself. My heart pounded and for some reason, I felt tears well up in my eyes. “But how I am right now, I can’t be the mare I need to be, for you.” I looked up at her, afraid to see what expression she might have. I had, in the dozens or hundreds of rehearsals over the last few days, tried to imagine every reaction I could from her. I had seen her in my mind’s eye with a gaze of sadness, with words that told me it could never happen; I imagined a disappointed Willow, shaking her head, telling me I was foalish; I pictured her with anger in those bright eyes, and a scream to leave. But instead, her eyes were wet, and she was still. Words caught in my throat, but I forced myself on. “In these last several days, since Bit left, I’ve been thinking. Where am I? What am I doing here? What do I mean to everyone around me? To you? I couldn’t admit to myself my feelings for you because I didn’t know the answer to those questions. I still don’t. “And I was afraid. You’ve been hurt like this before, so I didn’t want to have that happen again. But I can’t, not now, love you for everything you are. I don’t understand you the way I need to. The way I want to.” “But,” and the crack in my voice returned, “You remember, that first night, when you held me on the balcony, and I cried, and cried, and told you about Silver Sheen? I left my entire life to chase after her. I thought I loved her.” I shook my head. “I didn’t. Now that I’ve felt it with you, I know I didn’t. But it still nags at me. Why did she leave? What wasn’t she telling me? She left the safety of Desert’s Edge and me for…what? I need to know. “And,” I continued, rubbing drying tears from my cheeks, “I need to apologize to Bit Flip. She told me not to be concerned, but I am, because I can’t imagine the pain she’s suffering alone. I have to tell her I’m sorry, and I have to make it up to her. I owe her. She’s saved my life. Twice. And she brought me to you.” Willow crossed to me quickly, and stopped me in the middle of my speech with a hug. She just held me, like she did the first night we met. And like then, I cried. My legs collapsed, and we fell to the floor. Willow kept me in her embrace, and sat in silence as I released the emotions I had bottled up. They overflowed and dripped from my cheeks, soaking into her coat, and spilled in sobs and choked syllables. All of the times I practiced the speech, and the bravado I had tried to fill myself with shattered and broke away, leaving me a sobbing, shaking mess. I just kept repeating the words, “I love you,” into her warm chest. I took another step forward in Junction 144, moving through the square of the intersection that the town had built itself around, surrounded by hundreds of ponies, some minotaurs, and griffins, that I did not know. They mulled about their daily business, paying no mind to the white unicorn in the medical overcoat with the magic suppressor affixed to her horn. My first stop would be Buffalo Ridge. It was only a short distance from 144, and from the memory banks of the terminal in Old Fort Celestia during my brief, almost-accidental foray into the military hospital nearly a month prior, I knew the general location of the residence that her family had called home many decades before. After going there, and making my peace with Silver, the little mare that I had once considered to be the most important thing to me, I would return to 144 and continue south, to Cancy. Willow had, after the long embrace, finally broke the silence after my confession with just a simple admission: “Bit picked up a job with the Quills. She might be near the badlands, or Paint. Please be careful, dear.” Thanks to a kind few words from the Matron, Steel Arm and a pair of earth ponies, all part of the Gate-Guardians Guild, escorted me from Rusted Crags to Junction 144. The sheer size of the brutish minotaur, coupled with the massive bulk of the steel machinery that covered one side of his scar-torn body, and the heavy weaponry of the trio afforded us a wide birth as other travelers pulled off the torn highway completely. A few run-ins with starved and fevered wildlife, all of which were dispatched quickly, were the most exciting events throughout the short trip. “This is as far as we go, little one,” Steel Arm had said, wishing me a safe journey before turning back toward the Crags and fading from my view out of the Junction. I would have to find my own protection from this point on, but he did tell me how I get to the places closest to the Quills. Talk to Silver, I reminded myself, Then to Cancy, and west to Paint, and west still if she’s not there. I had my plan, and set one hoof in front of the other, forcing myself to push on.
Book 1, Chapter 4View OnlineFallout Equestria: Medicine & MailBook 1, Chapter 4Chapter 4 “It’s a long road we all have to travel. I cannot guarantee it will be pleasant. Best to find good company and fast.” For every blessing the Wasteland bestows upon someone she takes twice that as payment. I may have lived my life traveling the desert routes, but it was a sheltered existence within Copper Shard’s caravan. After coming to terms with losing the only world I knew, I thought that perhaps I had grown some with the knowledge that the Wasteland truly wasn’t a good place, and that because I could put on a brave face and stare her down that she would let me pass freely as I pleased. It was arrogant of me to think that I could brave the Wasteland alone. The only things that matter in this blasted world are the friends who will stand beside you and catch you when you’ve stumbled. A trader tipped me off to a new route run by a coalition of freelance caravanners in the old Commonwealth lands east of here and Vitia was headed in roughly the same direction. At the time, I couldn’t begin to fathom why Vitia would choose to come searching for me, or follow me for that matter, but it was her choice and she was very adamant about it. Uneven snoring from the two occupied bunks echoed through the room and I stared at my empty bunk, its dirty sheet messily hanging off to the side. Vitia had retired to her bunk earlier that night while Luminous told me more of how the freelancers within Paint co-existed until he, too, turned in for the night. I was reassured the situation in Cancy would be taken care of. That Hammer would be okay. I closed my eyes and leaned against the wall, but try as I might, sleep would not come so easily. Still no closer to figuring out what to do in this new Wasteland that I was thrown into, I waited, hoping that the answer would somehow come to me. The minutes passed and quickly became hours, when a smell that surely had to be the cross between a rotting carcass and burning tires drifted into the cramped two-now-three bunk room. My nose scrunched at the offensive smell and I stood, squinting against the brightness behind the ratty curtain-door. The early morning sun filled a corner of the room as I carefully pushed aside the curtain-door and paused to steal a brief glance at the two sleeping figures in the back. Leaving 144 without them quickly crossed my mind, but Vitia would likely come searching for me again and Luminous would have little problem tracking me down if asked. Not to mention there’s safety in numbers. Had Luminous not been there when I ran into those raiders—I shuddered and quickly left towards the source of the smell. An unfamiliar caravan had rolled in unannounced during the night. Two unicorns sat near a large half-rusted vat placed over a roaring fire, the light from their horns glowed dully off the lackluster metal as they took turns stirring and dumping bags of what looked to be foodstuffs into it. I walked up to the pair, watching them as they went about their duties. “Can I help ye?” The stirring one asked in between rounds. “Kin’a busy mixin’ up th’ day rations.” “I didn’t recognize which company y’belonged to. Figured I’d come over and ask.” “Pah, companies. Ain’t nothin’ good about ’em ’cept to bleed a pony dry.” The bag-floating unicorn snorted. “We’re free ponies, ain’t tied to no useless company. Belong to the Coalition of Free Traders we do.” Isn’t that basically the same thing? I cocked my head to the side, not wanting to pick a fight. “Coalition of Free Traders, huh. Can’t say it rings any bells.” I took a quick glance into the pot and immediately regretted it; the contents appeared to be some sort of thick grey sludge-like matter that vaguely resembled rotting oats. It was a struggle to keep from gagging. Maybe they just haven’t hired a respectable cook yet. The stirring pony laughed, nearly splashing grey ooze out of the vat. “Can’t rightly expect some company trader to know—” “No, not a company pony or with any caravan,” I said, quick to interrupt the unicorn. “Just didn’t recognize your caravan from around here is all.” “Oh. Y’sure yer not a company pony? Y’look it wit’ that fancy harness.” The unicorn scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Well, don’t matter none. We come in from out east, jus’ past the divide. There’s a string o’ settlements out along that ol’ stretch-a road to Flankshaft.” “Flankshaft.” A grin played across my face, “Don’t tell me—” “A’yup, tail an’ chems. Far as th’ eye can see.” He flashed me a toothy smile. “Well, there’s more t’ th’ place.” The bag unicorn wobbled on his stool as leaned towards us. “Oh ’ere he goes again ’bout them ass bucks. Ain’t nothin’ worth th’ scrap it’s on.” “Ah, shush you. It’s a right proper town, they even got this here fancy money they call a Flankbuck.” He floated a few bills from his pack over to me. “Here, have a few in case y’head out that way. Y’look like y’could use it, missy.” How…charming. The bills floating in front of me were square cut from scrap cloth and denoted their value by the number of stylized flanks stamped on the front. “I see, well thanks for the information.” The floating bills were stuffed into an open pouch on my barding as I smiled nervously and made to walk back to my room. “And the, ah, money. I’ll be sure to keep it in mind if I head that way.” “Sure y’don’t want any of this mornin’ grub? Been good company an’ all.” The unicorn asked as he dropped the spoon in a nearby pile of filth, shook the refuse off, and resumed stirring. The two old cooks cackled as I hastily retreated towards the west side of 144. I wound through the twisting ramshackle housing of the Junction at brisk canter. Newly placed ramps jutted up towards the sky, loosely connected to whatever small home could be stacked on top of previous tenants, some three or four high. It feels like forever ago that I was last here. Things change around these parts so fast. I rounded the corner and up a nearby ramp to find the aging sunset-orange pegasus I was looking for. He was tending a small raised garden on the roof, his coat lightly grayed from age and heavy stress. “Oh!” He smiled warmly and continued to tend a small crop of cacti. “If it ain’t Lil’ Bit. Caravan’s a bit early this cycle, innit?” “Hey there, ’Beam.” I waved, trying to cover my grimace with a smile. “How’s the junction life been treatin’ you?” Sunbeam chuckled lightly. “Y’got a conundrum goin’ on up in that noggin o’ yers. Can tell,” he nodded. “Y’ain’t ever been one for small talk unless y’got somethin’ goin’ on.” “That obvious, huh?” “Ain’t like I haven’t known y’since Hazy popped ya out or nothin’.” He lifted his nose towards the sky for a brief moment and smiled wide. “Smells like it’s gonna rain soon. Let’s finish this inside.” I nodded and we headed towards the door nearest the ramp. “Y’know,” Sunbeam grinned at me as we left the garden, “There ain’t a whole lot tyin’ me to this place, but y’just can’t get that smell of desert rain up in a patch-a cloud.” I glanced around his home; he had done little to decorate it. Tools, rifles, and ammunition were neatly sorted into appropriately labeled boxes, and windows were left unadorned. Always was on the practical side. No mess, no fuss, no waste. Sunbeam pushed a plate of suspicious looking mystery crisps across to me as we sat down. I stared at the plate for a moment. “Last time I remember you trying to cook, you managed to melt Applesauce’s pot.” “Yeah, well, when you live the junction life, y’got just a lil’ bit o’ free time.” He nudged the plate once more. “Made ’em from barrel cactus seed out in the garden. Go on now, try one and tell me ’bout this problem o’ yours.” I cautiously bit into one of the crisps, fully expecting something vile. It had a surprisingly pleasant taste. “Huh, this is pretty good. A little bitter, but good. Vitia would really hate these; she’s got a huge sweet tooth.” “Oho, Lil’ Bit’s got ’ereslf some filly problem—” “No,” I interrupted him. “It’s not like that, we’re just traveling together. Willow has actually taken her under wing, so to speak.” “I take it the Matron of Cow-Whores is doing well for herself these days then,” Sunbeam said flatly. “She ain’t a ’taur, is she?” I frowned at the usual disapproval of Willow. “Nah. She’s a unicorn.” “So, we gonna talk about the zebra in the room here?” I laughed nervously. “Short version? I tried to stop somethin’ large with my face. Vitia patched me up.” “And the long version?” Sunbeam rested his chin on his hooves and leaned forward as I briefly recounted most of what happened the last couple weeks. “Huh. Sounds like you’ve had a hell of a time, Bit. Well, ain’t like it’s the end of the world or anything.” “It…sort of is.” I sighed. “Unlike you and Hazy, the routes were all I had. The Caravan is the only life I’ve ever known.” “Well, ya could always take this chance t’ explore some.” He nodded. “Spread those wings y’got, Bit. Ain’t proper for a pegasus to stay grounded for as long as you do.” “You know I can’t do that, Sunbeam.” “What, spreadin’ them wings or givin’ the life you’ve always envied a go? Not much a difference there, I s’pose.” “I—” I couldn’t answer and sat there staring silently at the plate of crisps. “Oh, don’t act so shocked. It was never much a secret ’round the caravan. What nopony could figure out is why you never actually left.” “Fear,” I mumbled softly at the plate. “Lil’ Bit, you volunteered to work the courier lines. Y’spent more time on the road by yerself than with a caravan, how could a little travel possibly scare ya?” “It shouldn’t, but it does. Because my little existence was safe and I was too much of a damn scaredypony to buck up and go.” The plate jumped slightly as I banged the table with a hoof in frustration. “I—I lost everything, ’Beam. And it terrifies me to know that the only solid thing I have to grasp at is some unreliable rumor from a couple third rate caravanners.” “Yer mother, Luna bless her, she was a firm believer in things just having to play out as they came sometimes. Good, bad, or otherwise, I doubt that mare ever regretted her fortune.” Sunbeam looked up at the ceiling and frowned slightly. “But, even her luck ran out eventually. She wouldn’t want to see you like this, Lil’ Bit. Wastin’ away on envy and silly fear.” “I know, Sunbeam. As ashamed as it makes me to admit it, I know, and I wish I had done something about it long before I lost my way.” “That’s alright, Lil’ Bit. I’m sure she’d be proud of ya all the same,” Sunbeam nodded. “But enough of that, did Hazy ever tell you that before we joined up with ol’ Copper an’ his caravan we first touched down out east of here, past the divide?” I shook my head. “Aside from the clouds, she never mentioned much of what she did before, well, Copper, and I never really thought to pry.” “Mhm. Them caravan rules they pounded into that noggin’ o’ yers.” He chuckled softly. “Well, they’re not bad rules, but they don’t rightly apply much out adventurin’.” I laughed. “Uh-huh, well, we’ll see.” Drops of rain pattered unevenly against the tin room and I glanced out at the sky. The light grey cloud cover had mostly broken allowing the late morning sun to shine through. “I should get back to my friends, Sunbeam. I don’t want them thinking that I wandered off without them. Again.” Which is exactly what you did. Again, the little pony in my head chided. “Alright then, Lil’ Bit. Come ’round sooner next time, I enjoy these infrequent chats we have when yer here. They remind me of the times I used to have travelin’ with her before she, well—” He coughed and rummaged through a nearby cupboard. “Oh! Here. Take some o’ this for yer filly friend, preserved sweet barrel cactus fruit.” “She’s not my—” I sighed crossly and smiled while placing the jar in my pack. “Thanks, ’Beam. I’m sure she’ll love it.” “Bit Flip,” Sunbeam called out in a sober tone as I headed for the door, “We ain’t good on the ground or cooped up. Consider spreadin’ those wings while y’still can.” I turned around to look at the aging pegasus. One of his wings was raised in a salute; I could see where radiation and energy weapon damage had clearly taken its toll. “I’ll…keep it in mind.” The curtain-door to our room had already been pinned to the side. I saw Vitia packing her bag, her medical coat was pulled taut against her tiny frame with pockets bulging; she had picked up provisions for the road while I had stepped out. Luminous was sitting against the wall cleaning his rifle and whistling a merry little ditty. “Nice to see you two up slightly before noon.” I coughed and put on a sheepish grin. “Bit Flip!” Vitia nearly yelled out, “Where have you been? You were gone when we got up and I couldn’t find you anywhere.” “Told ya she didn’t go anywhere.” Luminous said, not having looked up from his work. “She left her guns here, after all.” “Relax, I promise I won’t run off again, Vitia.” I sighed. “You two weren’t up when I went to go visit somepony I knew, so I just slipped out instead.” “She might not have been awake, but yer no Errant. ’Bout as noisy as a ’taur bangin’ pots together tryin’ to call down the rain,” Luminous joked. “Okay, well one of you wasn’t awake. That aside though, I brought y’somethin’,” I conceded, rummaging around my pack for the jar of preserved fruit. “Not sure if you like sweet things, Luminous, but I was given this for you two.” Luminous shook his head slightly. “More of a bitters stallion, m’self. Glasses though, he’d probably wrestle y’for it.” I cringed at the thought of getting bowled over by the massive earth pony for a sweet. Vitia rushed up to the table as I placed the jar on it, her eyes lit up at the mention of food and sweet. “So, what is this?” She said excitedly, trying to twist off the jar’s lid unsuccessfully. “Stupid hooves. Oh, damn it. How the hell do you do this without telekinesis?” “Magic.” I shrugged and sandwiched the bottle between two hooves before giving a firm twist. “You’d think they’d have, I don’t know, made easier to open jars back before the end, but I guess not.” Luminous coughed from the back of the room. “I hate t’ be the one to break up this riveting discussion on jar openin’ techniques but we should take off sooner ’an later. We’re not exactly stayin’ here on good faith.” Vitia looked up from the jar; she had already managed to make a mess of her face. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I had completely forgotten about the exchange with Keys from last night. “I may have, ah, colored a bit of persuasion when getting a caravan room with bunks last night.” “So you conned your way into a room?” “Sort of?” Vitia shook her head and sighed. “What?” I asked defensively. “It’s not like the caravans pay for lodging here and I’m not about to sleep outside in 144.” “I guess we should get a move on then.” She agreed. “Speakin’ of movin’, what were you doin’ out this far east again anyway?” “Same as when we first met.” Vitia looked at her hooves as she spoke. “I’m…searching for someone from my home. Well, Desert’s Edge, my old home. She left for Buffalo Ridge so abruptly that things ended on a weird note.” “Closure, then?” I cocked my head to the side and stared at the mare, “Willow know ’bout this?” Vitia nodded. “She does. We had a chat about it before I left.” “Oh.” I shrugged, “So, when do we leave?” “Wait, just like that?” “Willow ain’t a filly, she knows what’s best for her. Besides, I’m headed past the divide to get a look at the Commonwealth for trade anyway.” Better late than never and now’s a good a time as any. “I see. Well then, Luminous Beacon, was it?” Vitia looked over at the stallion. “It would seem that we’re off to Buffalo Ridge.” “The Ridge, eh? Fair warnin’, lass, it’s not a pretty sight these days. There ain’t a whole lot out that way except rubble and ruin anymore.” He secured his rifle to his barding. “Sure you want to take this route out east, Bit?” “Yeah, it should be fine. I’d rather not have to swim across the divide anyway. Or deal with the raider bands down south near the ferries.” I stared into room’s mirror, its large cracks and dirty surface making for poor use as I strapped my guns into place. Just take it as it comes, huh? Even if yer not around anymore. I smiled at the distorted reflection and nodded. “Thanks for the advice, Hazy,” I said in a small voice before making for the door. I rattled my canteen around near my ears and frowned. There was barely enough water inside to make a swishing noise. The three of us had left shortly after my return. The sun had already neared its peak and I regretted not leaving later in the day, but Keys was beginning to ask some uncomfortable questions around camp and caravan news tends to spread like wildfire out in the desert. Our little party had followed the roads east out of 144 before cutting out into the desert further and avoiding the northern roads. Luminous seemed to think it was the safer route. My dwindling ammunition and water supply argued otherwise. I asked him why and the stallion’s mood soured immensely. He and Glasses had been hired to clear out a camp north of the highway nestled in the side of the crags some fifteen years ago. The residents had gone bad, turned to violence the reports had said, and were running their town as a gladiator camp of sorts. Blood sports, torture, and tyranny were the order of the day. They were making slaver runs on the surrounding settlements and forcing them to fight each other for their amusement. Might makes right was an idiom the settlement took to heart. During that job they had found a young Errant hiding off in the stores. It was clear she had been there for some time and daily survival had affected her terribly. Something she will have to live with the rest of her life, likely. “Glasses and I weren’t part of Paint’s infrastructure back then and things were a lot different. We had to abandon the assignment and retreat after takin’ Errant.” He shook his head. “Rotten place, that. Who knows if they’re still around, but better safe than sorry, I say.” “Huh. Every time I think I’ve heard or felt the worst of it, the Wasteland just keeps getting worse.” Vitia remarked. “If the occasional story y’hear from the DJ on the radio is true, it sounds much worse wherever they’re broadcastin’ from.” I shrugged. “Do y’regret leavin’ Desert’s Edge?” “No. Maybe? I’m not sure.” Vitia frowned. The rest of our detour through the desert passed by uneventfully, save the occasional critter that attacked us. If Luminous’ story was anything to go by, I was certainly happier to put down the rare critter or two instead of shooting at ponies. We reached the outskirts of Buffalo Ridge early into the evening; the low hanging sun cast an ugly hue on an already decaying landscape. Despite the relatively short distance from 144, our detour away from the main road cut deeply into our travel time, but Luminous insisted that safety was paramount out here in the eastern basin. The dregs of a once thriving town wandered between broken buildings, and a curious few stopped momentarily to stare at us before moving on “Ah, Vitia, y’sure this mare yer looking for said Buffalo Ridge and not, y’know, some other Ridge?” I asked hesitantly. “’Cause this place doesn’t look like somewhere a pony comes to thrive.” “Bit’s right. Buffalo Ridge isn’t so much a town now as it is a smoking, chem-infested hole in the ground full of whatever lost souls unfortunate enough to stay when the chemists moved in years ago.” “It doesn’t look like I expected,” she said, fidgeting. “But they have to be here. I just don’t know where.” “We could check the buildings. Might uncover something useful.” I frowned at the nearby structures. Stucco had fallen away in chunks and rebar jutted out at odd angles on many of them. “Maybe.” Luminous and I followed closely behind Vitia, with loose cement crunching underhoof as the three of us picked our way across the uneven streets to the nearest building. We nosed about several hovels along the street, each yielding even less than the last. What small amount of daylight we had left was long spent and Vitia’s demeanor had become none too pleasant. “Great. Locked. Who the hell locks anything out here?” Vitia complained as she banged on the door. “I can pick the lock?” I cringed at the sound of hooves banging against metal. “Besides, locked doors always have something important behind them.” “You say that, but—” Ancient stucco gave way as Luminous floated a piece of rebar from the ground and twisted it between lock and wall, “Ain’t nopony got time for that.” “Errant’ll be happy to know that karma is alive an’ well,” I groused as Vitia impatiently shoved me aside and yanked wide the door. “Probably nothin’ here though, just like the last four.” Rusted countertops and dilapidated shelves lined the room, and whatever contents they held had long since escaped their containers. Busted terminals sat piled high in a corner and cables running in every direction littered the floor. “Looks like another dead end.” I sighed and rubbed a hoof against my ear. “This place looks like an abandoned workshop, ain’t much here but scrap and wires.” Vitia threw her hooves into the air as she spun around, “You’re the one that wanted to waste time in here, Bit!” “Hey! None of us here pissed in yer rations, so don’t you go snappin’ at me about wasted time.” I pressed a hoof against my ear again. “And what the hell is that noise?” “It’s the sixty cycle hum of an electrical...transformer?” Vitia cocked her head to the side and listened intently. “Oh, Bit, you wonderful featherbrain, that’s it!” “I—Wait, what?” I looked to Luminous. “Don’t look at me, this is Errant’s kind of thing.” He shrugged, “I just shoot stuff.” I watched with mild annoyance, hoping that Vitia would explain herself as she scurried about the room shoving aside boxes and tables near the walls. Bits of grime and a small colony of dust bunnies clung to her mane when she finally surfaced for air. “So, can anypony tell me why there’s live cable running from the wall in this dump?” Vitia held up a thick black cable and looked as if she could barely contain herself. My ears perked at the familiar snap of a holster and the scraping of metal against leather to my side. “Well, whatever the explanation is y’better get on it ’cause it’s lookin’ like the locals are gettin’ right nosy.” I glanced out at the streets from behind shuttered windows. “Guessin’ we just boxed ourselves in, didn’t we?” Several small packs of emaciated ponies had gathered nearby, no doubt brought around by our arrival. They milled about near buildings we had come from; some looked around vacantly for instruction while others argued amongst themselves. Few looked armed and even then with only the most base of weapons, crudely fashioned shivs at best, but it was the size of the group that had me concerned. While not the most elegant of weapons, I had a feeling sharpened rebar would have little trouble passing through my harness and Vitia’s medical coat wasn’t even a question. “Hey you two, I found something—” “So what’s the plan, Luminous?” I ignored Vitia for the moment, since dealing with our new found friends would have to come first. “Seein’ as the door ain’t locked anymore, I figured we could move some of the shelves and make a bottleneck. Shoot ’em as they come in.” “If you two would just listen—” “I was hoping for a plan a little less violent.” I recalled the hanging mare and frowned. “Something that doesn’t involve liquefying pony heads, perhaps?” “Yer still upset about splattering those two raiders?” Luminous asked. “Can’t say I blame ya, but with the way we’re boxed in, fightin’ is probably the only way out.” Vitia whistled loudly from behind us. “Hey! Listen to me when I’m talking.” “Now’s not really a great time, Vitia. We’re stuck here in here and—” “Seeing as I found an exit while you two were arguing, I think now’s a pretty great time.” Vitia pointed to a trap door. Wires had been bundled off to the side to expose it and a terminal screen flickered at the base of the heap. “Struck me as odd to have cabling like that in here, and it turns out I was right.” “Well, there’s your non-violent alternative, Bit. Don’t know where it leads, but I hope she can open it ’cause they’re headin’ this way.” Luminous and I began piling shelves and scrap in front of the door to fashion a crude bottleneck and some cover. Vitia was behind us frantically tapping away at the terminal, every few moments she would swear loudly about hooves, magic, and bad design. The distant murmurs of the crowds had turned into a dull roar; they couldn’t have been more than a couple doors down by now. I found myself staring at the entrance with no small amount of trepidation and hoped that by some grace of the goddesses they would not realize this room had been opened and move on. “Bit,” Luminous reached out and placed a hoof on my shoulder. “Stop, they’re going to hear you if you keep doing that.” “Doing…what?” “Y’were doin’ it at the gun runner camp too.” He nudged my leg. “Gotta stop fidgetin’ this here leg when yer nervous.” “Sorry, it’s one of those things.” I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “It’s hard to not remember what happened and this ain’t helpin’.” “Well, ain’t no love lost for a dead raider, that’s what I always say.” Luminous leveled his pistol at the door and looked at me. “Besides, they long had it comin’ and I think you know that. Even if you don’t like how it went down.” “I know. I just wish there were another way.” “Yep, you’d fit into Paint just fine. Some of the groups there try to rehabilitate the ones they can. But, y’know, Bit,” Luminous smiled and looked back towards the door. “Ain’t no rehabilitatin’ some o’ these scumfucks.” A deafening roar filled my ears as Luminous fired his pistol. The massive round punched a clean hole through the thin metal and straight into the pony’s midsection on the other side. I felt a tug on my tail, and turned to see Vitia motioning towards the open trap door. I shouted for Luminous to come but I don’t think he heard me over the repeated gunfire and din of the crowds outside. “We need to leave, Bit,” Vitia nearly screamed at me. “The security door’s on an internal timer and will only be open a few moments longer!” I felt my hooves scoot roughly across the floor as she repeatedly yanked on my tail. I yelled once more for Luminous before heading towards the trap door and hoped he was right behind me as the thick metal door creaked shut and sealed us underground. A few gunshots rang out from behind the door before a voice broke through. “Don’t know if you can hear me kiddo, but go on and stay safe under there. I’ll see you on the other side.” I shouted at the door but the staccato report of carbine burst fire was the only reply until it too died down, leaving only silence in its wake. “We need—” I pushed against the trap door. “Open this door, Vitia. We need to go get Luminous.” “There’s no terminal on this side, Bit. I can’t open it. The only way out is to keep moving forward.” “Maybe if I can just get a hold of Errant.” I mashed at buttons on the makeshift Pipbuck in an effort to switch the broadcaster on. Static broke the horrible silence and I felt my heart sink. “Perk up, Bit. I’m sure he’ll be fine. He seemed to know how to handle himself in tight situations. It’ll be fine. The room was little more than a barren metal four wall basement with a vented door at one end and the trap door above. A vile smell lingered about the grates along the wall. “Yeah, it’s fine. We’re fine, everything is just fine.” I closed my eyes and held a deep breath for a moment and then another before finally exhaling away the anxiety. “I s’pose I should get this door open then.” I inspected the lock, which didn’t appear to have anything special about it, but I was in no mood to indulge and placed the barrel of a shotgun to the doorjamb. “We’d appreciate it if you didn’t do that.” A polite voice sounded from the other side as the lock clicked open. “Welcome to Buffalo’s Ridge.” The door slid into a recess and it wasn’t the ratty unicorn in colorful rags on the other side that caught my attention first, nor was it the curious group of onlookers to the side. No, it was the three shotgun barrels pointed at eye level. “Startin’ to think I liked our old friends more, Vitia.” Vitia and I were led through labyrinthine corridors of rock and steel before being deposited into a small, sparsely decorated room. By all appearances, and what little information we could coax out of our escorts, we had broken in to the maintenance entrance of the Buffalo Ridge sewer system. Though, for the life of me, I could not figure out why they kept referring it to as Buffalo’s Ridge and figured it may have been a touch rude to ask given our current predicament. “Bit Flip and…Vitia was it?” The stallion looked at both of us in turn. “I apologize for the rather impolite welcoming, but we have our community’s safety to look after. Though, having said that I am going to need you to disarm yourself and submit to inspection before we allow you to freely roam the halls.” I stared at the two guards that followed us into the room. They kept their weapons trained on us at all times. It wouldn’t take much to outgun us down here and despite their outward appearance the guards looked as if they’d fit in just as well guarding a caravan. “And if we decline?” “No harm will come to you, but your possessions will be forfeit and we will escort you topside.” “This feels more like robbery than an inspection, but go ahead.” I sighed. “S’pose we don’t have much choice.” Vitia helped me fumble out of my harness and barding. Despite letting me keep my under cloth, I still felt rather naked and more than a little claustrophobic down here, but at least our new found friends were nothing if not polite. After a deluge of questions the stallion finally introduced himself as True North and explained that it was his job to ferret out any smugglers, raiders, or others of ill intent among the new arrivals. One of the guards motioned to him and held up my pouch of bobby pins. “What were you intending to do with these?” He asked me flatly. “Nothin’. Scavenged those on the way into the Ridge. Figured I could sell ’em.” “Strike one.” He pointed to his cutie mark and explained that much like his name implies, his talent lies in the detection of deceit through magic. “Fine, can’t blame a girl for having a hobby,” I groused. “And be careful with those, I don’t want any broken.” True North pulled my shotguns from the pile. “Why are you so heavily armed?” “Heavily armed? You should have seen the pony we came in with. Had a gun that could put a hole the size o’ yer head through a goddesses-damned metal door.” I laughed at the suggestion. “Look, I’m just a wandering trader and she’s a medic.” “Fair enough, last question before we decide what to do.” The guards returned all of our belongings to their pouches. “What is it you plan on selling?” “As you can see, we travel light so not a whole lot.” I could almost see the gears in his head spinning and smiled wide. “Buyin’ things for a cap, sellin’ ’em for two mostly, or offering what medical aid we can.” “Every fiber of my being tells me to not trust that, but the horn says you aren’t lying so I’m going to let it slide.” He squinted at me before making a dismissive snort. “For now, we would have you wait here while we consult with Buffalo.” Vitia inched up beside me as the three ponies left and whispered, “What the hell was that load of brahmin-shit back there?” “I don’t get what you unicorns do with that horn o’ yers, but lyin’ ain’t so straight forward that it’s black and white.” I shrugged. “I doubt he trusts us but at least we pass the sniff test. ’Sides, they didn’t strike me as the type to just let two outsiders roam about.” With most of our gear returned we were lead off to the buffalo’s chamber for an assessment while True North briefly explained the ground rules for the duration of our stay. Transients such as ourselves were usually allowed to come and go so long as we adhered to a few rules, but seeing how we broke in we would be counted as new arrivals and be made to work for our keep until the maintenance area was fixed. “So who is this mysterious community leader anyway?” Vitia inquired from behind. True North’s demeanor immediately brightened. “Not to sound like some kind of worshiper, but the great Buffalo is largely responsible for setting a good majority of this up. He was around well before the Ridge’s fall and keeps these sewer lines hospitable.” I couldn’t fathom how a buffalo would ever fit down here. “Must be a real saint, this buffalo. So, does he have a name or do we refer to him as Buffalo all the time?” I said absentmindedly. The flooring of the sewer lines had transitioned to grated steel catwalks underhoof, and our walking echoed and mingled with the faint sounds down the hallway. I glanced into an archway as we passed by. A few mares and a stallion were tending to foals scribbling along rough stone walls. “Kind of an odd place to have a nursery,” I noted. “Yes, well, I’d rather they be kept further down in the residential areas, but Buffalo likes to pop in every once in a while. Says it helps him stay focused.” True North tapped out a short rhythm on thick pipes as we were shuffled down the corridor. I heard the scraping of steel against steel as we were ushered around the corner and down steps into a large atelier. Pipes of varying size traveled along the walls and ceiling with hoses and nozzles at set intervals pointed into long bins. Three ponies shuffled about between the rows of bins at the direction of a fourth in similar colorful rags. Both Vitia and I stopped and gaped at the rows of bins. Each contained things you wouldn’t normally find topside in the blistering heat of the desert, nor most settlements unless they were very well connected. Vegetables, fruits, and medicinal plants, abundant enough support a small community if they had three or four more rooms like this. Unlike the rest of the tunnels we’d walked through, the room had a clean, almost fresh smell to it, like that of a desert rainstorm. “Sure is something, isn’t it?” The pony in colorful rags rasped out. “Lily, Lilac, Laelia. If you would leave us for a moment, please.” They skirted around us on the wide stairs almost as if we would bite them. True North nodded to the pony in rags before following the three assistants. “So, you must be the stray medic and trader that crashed through one of the sealed entrances.” Feeling a bit sheepish and more than a little awestruck, I simply nodded to the question. “Well, that’s okay. Doesn’t take too long to fix those, though as I’m sure North has explained already, you’ll be working it off in the interim.” “If you don’t mind me asking, we were supposed to be meeting with somepony down here.” Vitia stared at the stallion. “A leader of sorts?” “Yes, that would be me. Buff Aloe.” He let out a wheezing chuckle. “You wouldn’t believe how many times newcomers think they’re meeting some kind of buffalo down here.” My cheeks felt as if it would catch fire at any moment. “That’s a very unfortunate name you’ve got there.” Vitia nudged me in the ribs. “Bit—” “No, it’s quite alright. My parents, they always did have a strange sense of humor. Well, of what I can remember anyway.” He explained. “It’s always hardest to remember things from before balefire set a good portion of Equestria ablaze.” “Wait, you mean to tell us you remember how things used to be?” Vitia pulled away from the nearest plant and stared at the earth pony ghoul. “Like the taste of a fresh apple or the snap of a carrot?” He shook his head. “No, these are pale imitations of vague memories at best. Mostly, I remember my engineering skills from a rebellious youth and a knowledge of plants.” The three of us spoke at length about their community, general news from topside, and ourselves as well. Short of the accidental visitor or two the settlement of Buff Aloe’s Ridge kept to themselves, rarely venturing out and only dealing with the few traders they trusted. Long before the chemists had moved into Buffalo Ridge, when it was still a thriving settlement, Buff Aloe had worked to maintain the sewers and help provide for the town. The chemists had moved on, but the town and remaining ponies were in no shape to ever recover so they persisted under it and sealed themselves off as best they could. He explained the long work all these years kept him grounded, gave him a focus, something to keep him from going feral as ghouls are wont to do when they lose their purpose. Buff Aloe examined a bed of stones. “Have you ever heard of a living stone?” “Can’t rightly say that I have; rocks aren’t exactly my thing.” Vitia and I exchanged glances. “Oh, these aren’t stones at all. They’re plants. Excellent medicinal value, but hard to cultivate.” He sprinkled a bit of water on one causing the stone to unfold. We looked closer at the stone, and its mottled gray flesh parted to reveal a budding white flower inside. “It disguises itself as a stone in the hopes of tricking predators.” Buff Aloe turned to look at me. “You know, one thing I can’t figure out is how you pulled a fast one on True North.” “I’m not sure I follow.” I tensed up, and my wings itched something fierce. “You see, Vitia here, she’s of the medical profession through and through. Or at least has a thorough understanding of it.” He nodded. “However, in all the time we’ve gotten to know each other not a single peep about profits, trade, or the like from you. So which is it, are you a stone or a plant?” “I lived with a caravan for some time. Learned to trade with them and worked their courier line.” I sighed and answered plainly. “Was only really ever good at delivering packages.” “Ah, so a half-truth then. I always tell him to trust his instincts more than that horn.” He rasped out another wheezing chuckle. “Nevertheless, we all earn our keep down here and unfortunately there’s just no need for a mailmare. Though, by the looks of that harness, can you do a fair bit of repair?” “I can learn,” I nodded. “That settles it then. Bit Flip, you’ll be working the maintenance shift and Vitia will be assisting the good doctor down in medical.” He said through a toothy grin before turning to Vitia. “Ah, but where have my manners gone. I’ll need to make sure the good doctor is informed of your horn suppressor. I’m sure he’ll enjoy getting that troublesome ring off. ” Vitia and I were shown to our quarters down in the transients’ hall for the night, a sparse but not uncomfortable two cot living area with running water and plumbing that would make even the engineer’s guild in the Crags jealous. Vitia was ecstatic, buzzing with an energy that would make even the most hyperactive foal seem lethargic. Losing a part of yourself like that, something integral to what makes up who you are, I could only imagine how much it must have hurt. A knock sounded from the hallway as we settled into the room. “You two must be famished.” The pale violet mare poked her head through the archway. “Buff asked me to look after you tonight, so I brought along some food from the garden.” I looked at the basket she was carrying, lush green leafy vegetables folded over the edge with a few apples off to the side. Mostly I used it as an excuse to stare at her. She was cute with her silver mane tied back in a braid like that, but what stood out most is she looked healthy and unscarred by the Wasteland as if she had never stepped a hoof out of here in her life. “We couldn’t possibly accept this, not after all you’ve already done for us…” Vitia paused for a beat and tilted her head. “Lilac. Lily and Laelia are still in the hydroculture centers working. Besides, it’s fine. One or two more mouths to feed isn’t such a strain that it will break us.” She smiled at us and began laying out the basket on the counter. “I hope a quick salad with apples and peppers will be fine.” The three of us shared a spirited meal together. Lilac was eager to hear about the happenings up top while the two of us asked about where we’d be working for the duration of our stay. Vitia would be down in the residential areas making house calls and working in the lab with Doc Scope while I’d be placed down near the hydroculture centers working with Bolts to shore up some of the piping they use to pull in and purify ground water for the gardens. Despite the overly hospitable nature of our hosts and the comfortable surroundings, I did not sleep well. Luminous still weighed heavily on my mind and I could only hope he made it out alright. A loud thunk sounded and startled me from the light sleep. I opened my eyes to near blindness as bright fluorescent lighting flooded my view. The light murmur rose to a raucous chatter from outside the hallway door. I glanced at the empty cot across the room, the spread neatly folded off to the side. Vitia must have left early. I pulled on the straps of my barding and snugged it tightly into place while repeating Lilac’s directions on how to get to the pump house where I’d be meeting Bolts. I fished around my pouch for some leftover bit of rations and opened the front door. A veritable stream of ponies coursed by in front of me, they all had the look of workers wearing thick canvas overalls and tool bags. I barely had time to close the door to our accommodations before the stream swept me down the hall. I stepped out of the crowed and cantered my way down the marked maintenance tunnel, largely unsure if I had followed Lilac’s directions correctly. The rough stone flooring had once more given way to grated steel catwalks. The low rumble of rushing water carried up on the mists and mingled with creaking steel. I glanced down at the myriad pipes crossing along the abyss. “Best not to look down if yer uncomfortable with heights, lad.” The voice sounded from above. “Ye must be one o’ th’ new colts everypony’s been fussin’ about. Go on down the hall there, first door on th’ left. Meet ye in my office.” I glanced up at the earth pony in the hoist. Flecks of something flew off him as I passed by and he looked covered head to haunch in slime. “Yep, be there—” He grunted and pulled on a slick looking strap with his teeth, causing the steel cable hoist to creak as he was slowly lowered. “In a moment.” I stepped into Bolts’ office and sat down on the nearest bench. Wrenches lined the walls along with nuts and lugs of every size in clear labeled chests. A small recessed basin and overhead shower sat unoccupied in the furthest corner of the workshop. Bolts pushed opened the door and tromped into the room slinging muck about as he marched towards the basin, stripping off his clothing as he went. Water gushed from the head above as he stepped into it. “Well, least ye ain’t a prude. We’re both stallions ’ere, I reckon,” he yelled back at me. “An’ sorry t’ say, lad, but I got me somepony already.” I shook my head at the sheer audacity of the stallion and waited impatiently for him to finish, tapping a hoof lightly on the bench. This old coot blind? I might not be Willow or Errant, or any of the Daughters, but damn it, I do not look like a stallion. A steel colored pony stepped out from the shower and shook out his short cropped blonde mane. “Right, introductions. I’m Bolts, chief engineer ’round these parts. Second only to ol’ Buff himself.” “Bit Flip. What is it we’ll—” “Yer gonna want t’ toss that slipshod harness y’got on into one o’ those lockers and grab a pair of coveralls ’fore we set out for the rounds today.” He pointed near the basin to a row of low set storage lockers. “Hope yer as useful as Buff says ’cause the last pony that got sent down here was none too careful and fell into that drain y’were starin’ into back there.” “You work this shift by yerself—” “Wasn’t pretty, that. Fell out of the harness. Broke them hindlegs in a few places, Scope says he may never walk again.” He glanced back at me. “What’re you waitin’ for? Go on now, get yer work clothes on.” I half-stumbled over myself to the lockers and stripped out of my harness before pulling out the closest fitting uniform I could find. “Great, no room for wings,” I groused. “What is that yer grumblin’ about over there? No matter, c’mon, we’re behind schedule.” I followed Bolts out of his office and down a twist of corridors. “So you’d probably know, ’bout how long is it gonna take to fix that sealed entrance?” “What, ye mean the one you and yer friend broke into? Eh, shouldn’t take more ’an a day or so barring any weirdness.” He stopped and looked at the ceiling for a moment before continuing across the catwalk. “Careful, now, this one’s a touch rickety. Haven’t gotten to fixin’ it jus’ yet.” The suspended bridge swayed and creaked loudly with each step he took. I tested the bridge with a hoof after he got off. It seemed solid enough if it could support his weight and I was glad pegasi were the lightest of the three races. “Hmph, lighter ’an y’look.” He eyed me before walking off. Moisture levels had risen significantly, something I was largely unaccustomed to out in the desert. Despite the generally cool air down here, the lack of airflow made for an uncomfortably stagnant experience. The further down in the tunnels we traveled the more algae took to growing on the walls. Every few hundred yards Bolts would have me scrape a fungus or two into sample bags to tie up and be sent off to the labs. Pipes lined the walls of the tunnel we walked, most of which leaked slightly around the seams furthering the moisture in the air. I peeked into an archway as we passed by. Pipes lined the walls and ceiling, ponies in coats flitted back and forth between familiar bins. A fair share of my first day was spent following Bolts around and hefting spare pipe for him to wrench into place or doing other menial labor. One of the waste water return vats in the gardens below residential had been stopped up with algae. I don’t think I’ve ever gained a finer appreciation for the desert in my life. I could only hope Vitia was having a better time in medical than I was in engineering. “C’mon, lad, y’done fine for yer first day. Made a right mess o’ yerself in that algae tank, but otherwise fine.” Bolts called out from behind. “Finish wrenchin’ that pipe up, ye don’t want to be down in these halls when the night lights come on.” He was right. Bolts had kept me so busy that I had little time for anything else and didn’t notice the rapidly thinning crowds. I stopped for the first time all day to look myself over. Stringy bits of congealed matter were tangled in my mane and tail leaving them more green than blue. Bolts’ engineering coveralls may have been treated with water sealant but that didn’t mean they were water tight, and I could feel bits of muck and damp squishing around my hooves. The stench of rotting algae and sewage rolled over me, and I fought to keep from emptying what little I had put into my stomach. “A right mess, indeed. Can always tell how good a worker y’got by how much a mess they are.” Bolts cackled as he walked by. “Let’s get you cleaned up ’fore we turn in.” We returned to the workshop after a few short stops into gardens on the way. Bolts explained that unlike most of the departments and the general workforce of Buff Aloe’s Ridge, engineering played by a bit of a different rule set. Largely on account of it being Bolts and a small hoofful of other ponies working around the clock with minimal breaks to keep things running down here, most ponies tended to look the other way when they would occasionally pull a meal directly from one. Back in the locker room, I carefully peeled the muck covered outfit away from my slicked coat and dumped it into a nearby container, trying not to further spread the filth that had seeped through. My harness still sat in the same locker I left it. It looked so much smaller without my shotguns. I made a mental note to ask Buff Aloe or True North about their return. Bolts pointed out the nearest set of rinsing basins just outside of his workshop. Before I could ask any further questions he nudged me out of the room and locked the door. A few ponies milled about the area and unwilling to shed my under cloth for the sake of privacy, I sighed and rinsed off as best I could before walking through the corridors back to our room. Crowds of equally weary ponies trudged back to their rooms in much a similar fashion to me. I didn’t even think my day was all that bad, just long and kind of gross. I could only imagine what would cause them such fatigue. The fluorescents still flickered brightly overhead, their deep thrum a constant background noise amidst the low chatter of workers. The door to our room was left slightly ajar and I nudged it open. Vitia was standing in the corner of the room with a distant look as she stared into the room’s single polished steel plate on the wall. It wasn’t the best of jobs and the reflection was marred and blurry, but it would suffice in a pinch. She was wearing an unfamiliar frilly white and pink outfit; I could only assume Willow had picked it up for her back in the Crags, it certainly fit her choice in clothing. “Well, at least she found someone who can appreciate her taste in clothing,” I smiled. “She tried that whole thing with me, and, well, don’t gotta look pretty to deliver a package.” "Oh Bit, you're back. Great, come on,” Vitia turned to look at me. “Let's go—oh, oh my. Let's, get you into the shower, yeah." Vitia took my harness and placed it on a chair before nudging me into the adjoined washing basin. It was a wide rectangular room with a similar door opposite ours. Likely the tenants next door, if there were any, shared this area as well. Several shower heads affixed to long rubber hoses dangled loosely from the ceiling. Vitia appeared after a short moment without her lace outfit. “Let’s get that off you, Bit. We’ll wash it later, but first we need to get this junk untangled from your mane and tail.” Vitia helped me pull the damp cloth barding over my head, and it hit the ground with a wet slap as I stepped under one of the shower heads. The water wasn’t hot—it wasn’t even very warm—but I welcomed it all the same, and relaxed my wings beneath it. I held my tail as the water fell across my back and ran my hoof through it. Bits of congealed algae fell from it and rolled into a nearby drain, long streaks of light green dyed through the hair. “Guess that’s why Bolts has a short mane. Well, at least this color change isn’t permanent.” I frowned at my tail. “Mane’s probably gonna to do the same.” I ran my hooves roughly through it and watched more bits of muck drain away. Vitia procured a couple bits of soap from a nearby box and gave me one. It didn’t lather well, but it would have to do. I stuck my head under the stream and ran it through my mane while Vitia worked on my tail. My thoughts drifted to yesterday’s events and hoped once more that Luminous was okay. I needed to find a way to get close enough to the surface to get a signal out to Errant. I closed my eyes and let my mind wander with my wings spread under the water, letting it run down and rinse the day from me. An almost ticklish sensation ran along the inside of my wing and I leaned into it slightly with a light whimper when a jolt of pleasure raced through my body and shocked me back to reality. I yelped at the surprise and jumped into the air, grasping at the showerhead. For the second time that day I was glad pegasi were the lightest of the three races. Vitia apologized profusely between fits of laughter, and continued to as we went back to our room. With the same thunk from before, the overheads cut taking with them the constant thrum of electricity leaving only the night lights in their stead. Vitia had packed her outfit back up and was rummaging around her bag in the dim light searching for something, then turned, having found a brush. I ran a hoof through my mane and tail once more. “It’ll fix itself eventually. No need to bother, Vitia.” “Oh, Bit.” She cantered back carrying a comb. “Don’t you ’Oh, Bit,’ me.” I eyed her suspiciously. “Ain’t gotta pretty myself up to go gallivantin’ ’round the Marejave now.” “Don’t give me that. Go on now, sit. Your tail and mane aren’t going to untangle themselves.” Vitia put the comb in place at the base of my tail and tugged. “Yer startin’ to sound like Willow.” I leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “Takes me back, though. Willow and I used to fuss an’ tumble about it back then. She’d always want to comb out my mane before the caravan left.” “Don’t you miss it? I mean, not just Willow, but comfort like that?” Vitia tugged at the comb once more. “I don’t know you Bit, not very well at least, but I’ve never seen you take to anypony else. You’ve always been business first.” “Ain’t no lover like a fat sack of caps, or at least that’s what the caravan would teach us.” I laughed. “Truthfully though, I wouldn’t even begin to know how. After Willow and I fell out, it’s just…I don’t know.” Vitia stopped combing and sat there silently for a moment before wrapping her arms around my neck. I shrugged and tried to break the tension by changing the subject. “So I see you got yer horn all fixed up. Bet that’ll make it easier on Willow when she does that horn thing.” Vitia sputtered loudly at my teasing and stammered a few unintelligible words. “Good. Payback for earlier.” I curled my tail under me before she could reach for it again. “So how’d you end up in Wing Haven back then, Vitia?” Vitia sat up and tried to pull at the base of my tail. “Ah, well, much like now, I was searching for Silver Sheen. Had a pretty rough time of it all, honestly.” “Y’don’t have to talk about it if yer not wantin’ to.” I squirmed away from Vitia’s pawing hooves. “I never thought to ask about it, even though we keep bumpin’ into each other. I was just curious is all.” “No, it’s fine. It’s just a bit unpleasant is all, but it’s okay.” Vitia explained what she did in Desert’s Edge before she left, going into detail about the people she left behind. She briefly recounted the month leading up to her first near disastrous steps out into the Wasteland proper and her encounter with a traveling caravan that sold her off to a brothel in Fleshgrove. She looked up at the ceiling and frowned. “The short of it is that I got caught in a restricted area looking for information on Buffalo Ridge.” “All of this for a mare, huh? She must be mighty important to you.” Vitia was silent for a moment before mumbling something. “Hm?” Vitia shook her head. “Nothing. Enough about my past, though. There’s something I want to know about you, Bit.” “What is it?” “How did you and Willow get together?” “It’s not really—” I paused and stared at the mare for a moment before shaking my head. “No, it’s not really something I’m fond of talking about.” Vitia scooted closer and made another pass for my tail. “I tried to ask her, but she wouldn’t say a whole lot on the matter just that it was something like young love.” I stared at her. “You’re not going to let it drop are you?” “If it bothers you that much, I won’t push you.” I exhaled sharply and stared at my hooves. It’s…fine, Bit. She’s just curious and she seems to care and Willow trusts her. I swished my tail out from under me hoping to get her to on combing it instead. “Young love, that’s not really accurate.” I felt my ears flush with heat. “It wasn’t very long after Hazy, ah, my mother—” I choked on the words and pushed away the memories again after some pauses. “Copper, he was always hooves-off after that. Hell, prickly ol’ Doc was more of a father than he was.” Vitia continued to silently stroke my tail with the brush. Despite my reluctance, I had missed these sorts of things. I had forgotten how comforting they could be, it reminded me of how Willow and I would talk back then. “I figured that maybe Copper thought me useless or baggage, so I aimed at getting’ my own seat proper. No handouts, no easy rides. Deliverin’, gamblin’, or tradin’ junk—I let business take me from everything.” I took a deep breath and tried to organize my thoughts. I felt Vitia scoot up and take the brush to my mane. “Drunken tells are the easiest to read, and I started to amass a small fortune at the Church.” I smiled briefly at the memory. “Anyway, met Willow soon after. Wasn’t more than a little filly then, and she was about my age now. We hit it off, but, largely for the wrong reasons.” “I’m not sure I follow.” “She and I didn’t meet by chance, I know that now. And maybe even part of me knew did back then too. Her duty has always been to the Church as long as I’ve known her, but,” I fidgeted uncomfortably. “It didn’t matter at the time. “It was an affection thing. Hers was the first real kind of affection I had ever gotten besides Hazy and I mistook that.” I sighed and felt a sense of shame well up inside. “Eventually things turned romantic. A friend—” “A companion—” Vitia added. I could see her trying to piece things together. I shook my head and stared at the floor, my ears drooped slightly. “A mother.” Vitia pulled the brush carefully along my mane but remained quiet. “She was caring and affectionate and loving and everything in the caravan that went missing after Hazy died,” I didn’t want to poorly color her perception of Willow and paused for a moment, unsure of how to phrase the next part. “I didn’t understand what it meant for her to be a Daughter at the time and felt betrayed when I saw it. Saw her.” Vitia quietly leaned against me. Her head rested on my shoulder and neither of us said anything for a short while, the quiet buzz of the night lights the only sound in the room. “I avoided her for a very long time after that. I was just too young to realize why.” I leaned forward on my hooves and shook my head. “It’s something I came to terms with a long time ago but still deeply regret just as much as if it were yesterday.” “But,” I said with a smile as I stood and walked to the steel plate. “We’ve made up and she’s probably one of the very few ponies in the Wasteland I trust.” Vitia walked up beside me as I stared into the blurry mirror. “Yep, a different mare entirely. All brushed out and the colors are even right again.” She giggled. “Even straightened out most of the curls.” I looked at her and frowned despite being pleased with it. “They’re just going to go back to being messy tomorrow.” “I’ve got a fix for that.” Vitia sauntered off towards my barding and dug through the pockets a moment before producing my pouch of pins. “Not like you use these anyway, right?” I fussed and grumped at her about personal property and privacy as she affixed bobby pins to my now straightened mane. “There. That should hold for a while.” Despite my objections I reluctantly welcomed the activity. Anything to get my mind off of the worries floating about unvoiced in the back of my mind. The heavy thrumming of the overheads and the noise of the crowds woke me once more and again Vitia was nowhere to be seen, her blankets folded neatly off to the side of her cot. Either I sleep too much or she sleeps too little. Despite my worries, I couldn’t recall last when I slept so soundly. I gave one last look at my straightened mane and tail in the fuzzy reflection and sighed before making the twisting journey down into the bowels of the Ridge to meet with Bolts again. “Oi! Who’s this gussied up filly they sendin’ me now?” The workshop shook with laughter as I closed the door. “Where’d that last colt they sent me go? Looked like he ain’t cut ’is mane in months, but he worked ’ard.” I felt the slow creep of embarrassment slide its way up my backside and to my face as muscles tensed. I broke out in a cold sweat. I wanted to die. Or find the nearest pile of muck to go dive into and hide. He caught me completely off guard and I could only sputter a half-reply. “S’alrigh’, lad. Everypony likes to feel pretty now an’ then. ’Specially after yesterday.” He led me to the back of the workshop. “I got things t’do so yer gonna be paired up with one o’ them shit scrubbers still laughin’ out front today. Sendin’ you out to wrench on a pipe that idiot you replaced never finished.” “Yer gon’ want t’ watch yer dangly bits when ye strap into the harness, lad.” Bolts offered as he gave me a quick rundown on how the harness operated. “Sometimes it catches an’ when y’strap up, well, it ain’t pretty.” He paired me up with an earth pony in charge of the south section of the Ridge. Daisy they said his name was. I didn’t know if they were serious or if the poor stallion had been strapped with an unfortunate nickname on account of his coat and mane color. Whatever the case, he didn’t bother to correct them. Daisy led me through a series of turns until we reach yet another similar catwalk. I had no idea how these ponies got around down here without landmarks of some kind. Without a word he pulled a long braided steel cable from his saddlebag. One end was hooked and a pulley with a loop through it ran along the length of the cable. He slid the pulley to the hooked end and threw it up past a pipe. With a loud click from somewhere above, the hooked end of the cable slowly returned without the pulley. A few deft movements later that would make any unicorn jealous he lashed together harness and cable then motioned for me to come closer. I gave a little squeak as he cinched the harness tight and pulled on one end. My wings ached as the straps bit into them through the undercloth and work uniform. He yanked hard on his end once more and I felt myself lift into the air. My wings pressed against my body and struggled to open while my legs flailed about. A leg clipped against the railing and sent me into a spin. “No, no-no-no-no.” This felt seven shades of wrong and my body knew it. I squeezed my eyes tight and tried to push away the memory of the mare hanging from chains. Before I knew it I was sprawled out on the grated catwalk, legs splayed in every direction. My chest heaved and I had broken out into a cold sweat. I struggled against the harness and bit at the strap ends succeeding only in tightening them. “Hey. Hey, now.” I heard a voice rumble above me. “Y’alright. Jus’ take ’er easy, let me get that strap undone, yer pullin’ th’ wrong way.” Daisy planted a hoof on my back and yanked on the quick-release strap. The entire harness slackened and fell to my hooves as I stood up. I nearly tripped stepping out of the harness in such a hurry. My face contorted as I kicked at it with a heavy grunt. “Now how we gon’ fix that pipe?” Daisy drawled as the harness pinged off pipes below us. A further sense of dread intensified with each pinging sound below. “Aw, ponyfeathers.” I didn’t want to travel back to the workshop to get another harness. I didn’t care if Daisy had another harness on him. If the alternative meant showing my wings, so be it. I wasn’t putting it on again, not after that. “It’s fine. Just give me the damn wrench.” I said while stripping out of the work uniform. “I got this.” Daisy hefted the wrench from his pack and leaned it up against the railing as I kicked away the coveralls and stood there in my undercloth with my wings outstretched. “Ah, hell, yer like Scope. Why’d y’let me put that harness on you anyway?” “Long story, and not one I’m inclined t’ share.” I wrapped the wrench strap around a hoof and kicked off, beating my wings and taking to the air. The cool, moist underground air soon gave way to dry, warmer air as I reached the tall ceiling, I could barely see the catwalk in the murky darkness below. The pipe Bolts was talking about sat off to the side with the cover hanging loosely off a lug. A short blast of desert air hit me as I neared the opening. “Told you it would just get messy again.” I pawed at my mane lightly before touching down inside the grungy pipe. I heard the distant skitter of something down the pipe and EFS only showed a couple markers ahead of me. Desert air regularly blasted at me as I traveled through the dark expanse. I tapped a button on the Pipbuck in the hopes of finding myself within broadcast range but I was rewarded with static. I continued down the pipe until I could travel no further. The opening was only a few hundred yards out but a thick welded grate blocked my path. I stuck the Pipbuck through a hole in the grate and tried repeatedly but it seemed the device was still too weak down here to pick anything up. Daisy called up to me as I floated down and asked if I had buttoned up the pipe when I finally touched down. I mumbled a reply about missing nuts for a lug and shoved the wrench at him before heading back down the way we came. I wasn’t fully listening and didn’t much care, I had more important things to worry about. “Hey! If it isn’t Daisy and th’ new colt.” Bolts greeted as we walked into his workshop. “Take it that pipe’s all fixed ’en?” Daisy nodded silently and stalked off towards the back room. “Bolt,” I began. “Know I asked you yesterday, but has there been any progress on that tunnel? I’d like to be gettin’ on my way here soon.” “Ah, ’bout that. Ol’ Buff wanted me to tell ye there’s been some trouble top side. Buncha raiders and the folk up there been goin’ at it.” He coughed and covered his mouth as he looked away. “Work’s been done but we might not be able to get to it for a while yet.” I wondered if knew he covered his mouth like that when he was nervous. “I see. Well, keep me updated if y’will.” I was busy repacking my harness with supplies I nicked from the gardens on the way back to our room. We’d have to eat these soon enough—fresh doesn’t last long out in the desert. Vitia returned shortly after the overheads switched to night mode. “Hey, Vitia.” I turned to her. “Change of plans.” “I think we need to pay Buff Aloe a visit in the morning.” “Oh. Yeah, that.” I tried not to sound disappointed at having my thunder stolen. “Bolts fed me a line this afternoon about something topside and not being able to work on the tunnel, that we’d be here a while yet.” “You don’t believe it?” “Doesn’t take a whole lot to see when you’re gettin’ dredged through brahmin-shit.” I shook my head. “Anyway, what do you need to see Buff Aloe for? “I spoke with Silver again today.” Vitia said wearily. “She’s in a bad way and I want to offer her a way out. To come with us.” “I’m not sure if that’s such—” I stopped myself. “I’ll think about it, Vitia.” Rest came and went, and felt entirely too short down here without an accurate gauge of time. I blinked away the sleep from my eyes and stared up at the ceiling. The chilly touch of stone crept along my body as I lay there sprawled out on the floor. Vitia looked down at me and shook her head. I guess I sleep too much, but did you really have to roll me out of bed? First Light had yet to come but neither of us knew exactly how much time we had and departed towards Buff Aloe’s atelier. The flower sisters milled about the entrance to his workshop as we crested the stairs to the catwalk. Lilac and Lily called out to us. We explained to them that we had some questions about the Ridge we’d like to talk to Buff about. Vitia mentioned she was interested in studying the plants more from a medicinal point of view as well. Laelia looked between her two sisters in conversation and shrugged before leading us through the door. “Ah. Laelia, Lily, Lilac. Good morning.” Buff Aloe called out. “Oh, and I see Bit Flip and Vitia have come as well. Good, good, I had wanted to talk to them anyway.” I glanced at Vitia, but she didn’t seem put off in the slightest by Buff Aloe’s demeanor. “Gonna cut to the chase here, Buff.” I stared at the ghoul for a moment, hoping to glean any sort of change. “When can we leave?” “I’m afraid that’s just not possible at the moment. There’s a whole town of squatters up top that are fighting amongst themselves.” He shook his head. “It was in the community’s best interest that I had them put off repairs for the time being. We get to survive by following these rules and staying off the map.” I could certainly empathize with that sentiment having lived under the Caravan rules all my life, but things change and my worries were a far more pressing issue than not causing waves. “Best time frame then?” I tried to bait him into changing his position, even a little. “We’ve done a fair share of work, and I’d even be willing to throw caps in to cover what we haven’t.” “No, no, we don’t need your money, and you two have been doing excellent work. Bolts and Scope have said nothing but good things.” He looked up at the high ceilings for a moment. “We can probably restart construction on the tunnel in a few days at earliest. Sometimes these little territory fights they have just drag on. We’ll send someone to let you know when it’s safe.” I frowned at his answer and Vitia stepped in. “There’s another matter I’d like to discuss, actually.” “Yes?” His reply sounded short, as if we’d overstayed out welcome. “What is it?” “There’s a resident here, Silver Sheen, and I’d like to see that she be released into our care instead of being sent to your detainment area for simply not fitting in.” Silence. “Surely it can’t be that much of a request, we’ll simply take her with us when we’re able to leave,” Vitia pushed. “Oh, now I remember,” Buff Aloe began. “That upstart. We shuffled her around to so many different places and all she did was bicker, argue, and cause unrest within the harmony of our community.” “Yes, I am painfully aware. This is why I—” “We’ve already sent her away from us before she could cause any more harm.” He looked back at his plants, clearly disinterested in our plight. “She’s been topside for some time now, sent with food and water to last her to a good while.” I nudged Vitia as she opened her mouth to protest and shook my head slightly before whispering. “We should go.” Vitia followed me closely out of the atelier and back to into the main tunnels. We struggled to reach our room as we moved against the crowd of workers heading out at First Light. A few of the ponies in the crowd gave us a strange look as we ducked inside. “Wasn’t a damn bit a truth comin’ off that jerkied tongue of his except that he did send your friend away. This whole thing smelled rotten from the start.” I kicked at a nearby chair. “He probably sent her off without supplies, too.” Vitia paced the room, visibly worried. We kicked ideas back and forth, but with no weapons, no contacts, and outside help barred, each seemed destined to fail. Silence lingered while we scraped for a solution. “Need to get out. Shouldn’t be too hard to walk out the front door, I’d imagine, but they won’t just let us leave.” I thought out loud. “We need a face, someone local to open that door for us.” Vitia stopped to look at me. “I—” She caught herself and took a breath. “There is one that might work. There’s this crude colt that showed me around before.” “Honestly, Vitia, that doesn’t sound very workable.” “He said he goes up on scavenging runs every so often. And, well, I think I can entice him into helping us. We just need a face, right?” I cocked my head to the side. “Entice?” Vitia fidgeted uncomfortably and played with her hooves. “Yeah, caught him staring at my backside a few times. Should be easy, right?” “Vitia, don’t be offended, but yer ’bout as smooth as a Hell Hound’s ass. You sure about this?” “No, I’m not sure. I don’t know if I could do it, if I could even go through with it.” She sighed. “I’m not Willow or one of her Daughters. I only know what Spice showed me, and even then…But we don’t have time. What other choice do you see?” “None,” I shook my head at the mare. “Spice really knows her stuff, so at least you had a good instructor.” Vitia carefully pulled on her white and pink frilly lace outfit. I wish I had a better solution for her. It was clear that dress meant a lot to her just on how carefully she treated it. Time rolled by. The seconds turned to minutes, and each moment felt like it dragged on longer than the last. Eventually, Vitia wobbled through the doorway. Tear streaks stained her face and she hiccupped lightly with each breath. “Oh, Vitia.” I rushed to her side and leaned her against me. “I’m sorry. I’m—” “Garden two. Quarter hour.” She pushed off me and continued wobbling into the showers. ——
Book 1, Chapter 4.5: ClosureView OnlineFallout Equestria: Medicine & MailBook 1, Chapter 4.5: ClosureAuthor’s Notes: This is a companion chapter to Chapter Four in Medicine & Mail. If you have not read at least through chapter four in the main storyline, then this perspective will not make any sense. Chapter Four-point-Five Closure “Don’t go blamin’ others for your own problems. We’ve all got things of our own to worry about.” I awoke abruptly, the thoughts of the suppressor’s imminent removal fresh on my mind. The room around was silent, with Bit Flip sleeping soundlessly on her cot, with only the mild hum of a ventilation system filling the air. The dim night light above the doorway lit the room just enough to make my way around without crashing into anything, and I slipped into my medical overcoat and out the door, careful not to disturb Bit, hoping for once to let her sleep in peace, something I couldn’t recall having ever seen. I tipped the door shut behind me and peered out into the distance of the hall. Dry grey stone lined the walls, with sporadic grey pipes running its length, illuminated only by a few flickering yellow lights. I turned left down the hall and continued retracing the steps shown to us the night before, and soon found myself out of the cramped circular hallways and into an open living space. Unlike the hallways that patterned out the Ridge below, these wide areas were high enough to allow even larger earth ponies to stand upright properly, and where the halls were round, this space was flat and rectangular. Tents and makeshift stone barriers had transformed the open area into a maze of its own, a small commune within the larger one where groups of ponies could eat, drink, and sleep away their weariness in the comforts of a larger crowd. And it seemed I was not the only one to have found myself awake so early, as light murmurs echoed throughout the basin, and shuffling sounds came to me from all directions. The smell of boiled greens filled the air and coated the sticky, sweaty stench with one that had my stomach growling. I walked through the half-awake crowd, noting the fillies and colts getting dolled up and rushing away with a small sidebag hoisted over their sides, all dashing off in the same direction. Buff Aloe had explained to Bit and me the previous day that education was one of the more important facets of life in the sealed away area here. Most were taught only what met the needs of the community as a whole, which meant engineering, medicine, horticulture, and repairs primarily. With a loud thunk, the dim lighting gave way to bright fluorescent, and almost immediately, the small community all around me sprang to life. Light murmurs gave way to deafening chatter, curtains were flung aside and ponies of all sorts flooded into the small walking space that had previously been almost all mine own. The rush of the crowd pulled me along with it, bumping me from side to side as I nearly had to trot to keep up the pace and not be swept away. At the first split, I hopped away from the surging crowd and gasped for breath at the entrance to another circular hallway. “Y’ new here, lass?” The voice came from just beyond the hallway entrance, and the creaking voice matched the aged face that went with it perfectly. The stallion’s mane had thinned and greyed, and he wore a motted patch over one eye. I nodded, then added, “I’m just surprised at how sudden it was.” But just as suddenly as it had started, the rushing crowd was gone, the dozens of eager ponies making their way further down the hall, with only a few stragglers trotting behind. “First light means work orders are up,” the stallion said flatly. The look on my face must have been easy to recognize, as he continued with a sigh, “Jus’ means if y’ want t’ eat another meal t’day, y’ best be in the front or yer on cleanin’ duty, an’ nopony want that.” I nodded. “Is that work for all fields, including medical?” The stallion looked at me quizzically, then huffed. “Naw, they got their own system.” I asked him for directions and thanked him before heading on my way, through one hall, around two bends, and to the door at the end of the next bay. It was large and heavy, primarily iron with steel bands across its circular design. A small window sat square in the center, and a well-worn com system rested in the corner. I pressed the switch on the com system and waited a moment before a crackling static broke the still silence of the hall and a loud, exuberant voice echoed throughout. “Yer that new foal come here by that old coot?” Assuming by old coot the boisterous voice meant Buff Aloe, I pressed again and responded that I was. The door opened by rolling to one side, and in its absence stood a light grey pony with a quizzical look across his features. His coat was white but frayed and worn, and two slits were cut out along the sides where two small wings protruded. “So!” He announced, bringing my attention square to the jaunted face. He took a step close and peered with exaggerated motions all around my horn, uncomfortably long into my eyes, and then snorted and turned back in. “Yep,” he said, walking off and coming to a stop at a slab of concrete that was acting as a table, “That shouldn’t be much of a problem.” As I stepped in, the pegasus, with his two frayed wings in constant twitch and flutter, continued talking, “And that damn coot made it sound like it was going to be a challenge!” He let out a short cackle, then turned back to me with a wide grin. “Or it might be. I’m Scope. Doctor ’round these halls.” “Uh, Vitia.” “Anyway, tell me, little filly, how long have you had that on?” “I’m not a filly,” I started, but quickly changed under the pressure of those gleaming olive eyes, “Not more than a couple weeks.” “Aha!” He exclaimed, flipping his ears. “Right then, let’s get that off, shall we? Now, it’s gonna hurt.” He motioned me to another makeshift table, but the stone was much smoother, much colder, had a gleam of polish on it, and I could catch a faint whiff of ethanol and chlorine in the air around it. “The ring itself, that’s no problem, you see, as I’ve got something that’ll take that right off.” The excitement was building in me again, like it had the night before after first hearing that I might be free of this suppressor. Free to return to using my magic. I felt as though I would be whole again, and was so elated in my own thoughts that I only caught the last of his next words. “…They always put these pins in, though, you see, and that can be a problem. If you wait too long to get it removed, you heal around them, and then they can’t be removed. The bone fuses to the shunts and that’s that.” My heart sank. One memory crawled up and its ugly visage stared straight at me. Hydra. I used an entire vial of it fleeing from Fleshgrove, and it was not barely a day later that the steel ring was forced onto me. I had no doubt that some of the drug would still have been coursing through my body, but never had, until that moment, realized that it may have come with a dreadful cost. “You alright?” The light press of a hoof on my shoulder woke me from my own fright, but my body still shook and I could feel a cold sweat form along my brow. “No reason to be that upset, is there?” I shook my head, “No, it’s not that. It’s fine.” I took a deep breath and tried clearing my mind of everything. “Sorry,” I said, slowly regaining my composure, “What were you saying?” The pegasus snorted a half-laugh, then repeated himself, “We’ll get the ring off, then do some preliminary work on some of those shunts, see what we’re looking at.” He fitted a clamp around the ring and it held tight, pressing against the steel which bit further into the thin, sensitive flesh around the edges of the ring along my horn. It hurt, but I held back a whimper. “One of the scavenger ponies brought this back from topside, back from that run-down fort up in the old Ridge, the proper Ridge. He thought it was funny, you see, because it made a weird sound.” An off-pitch hum came from a small device held tightly between the two hooves of the pegasus. As the metal rod came closer to the ring, the noise began to change and twist in my head, causing me to become immediately dizzy. “Only thing I know that can reliably get these off.” The noise stopped suddenly and my senses straightened out. The pegasus held up a small red gem in his hoof and had a wide smile across his face. “Phase one, complete!” As I squinted at the small gem, Scope returned from the other table with a small saw. “At this point, your magic is no longer being suppressed—but! You won’t be able to do anything with it. The shunts are designed to channel the magic flow from your horn around to that gem, which stops it dead.” I tried to nod but with my horn fastened in, my head would not budge, and with my eyes glued to the saw and my mind flooded with horrible memories of Doc Lance’s solution to the suppressor problem, I could only squeak a response. “So we’ll need to get rid of the ring, you see,” he continued, placing the saw at the corner of the table. He continued talking as he walked to a shelf some distance away, “Because that will still route your magic away from your horn, so you’re still not able to use any of it.” He stopped talking for a moment, and returned with a syringe clenched between his teeth. His eyes narrowed in concentration as he carefully pressed the tip of the needle into the tip of my horn, then slid it down along the inside of my skin against the bone all the way to the base, where he released the contents. The burning of the needle’s entrance soon gave way to a numbing sensation, which lasted only moments before it became nothing. “Alright then,” he smiled, picking up the saw once more and fastening it to his hoof, “This shouldn’t hurt a bit.” The saw came to life and a horrid shrieking buzz filled the room, pounding against my ears and all my senses. I struggled against myself to stay calm when every fiber of me was screaming to run away. I felt my legs twitch and start to motion for running, but the clamp held fast. The pitch of the saw increased drastically and sparks flew wildly in front of my eyes as the pegasus pressed the saw into the ring. Calm down, Vitia, it’s fine! It’s fine, don’t panic, don’t panic, I repeated to myself. I was pressing my eyes shut so tightly that my brow and cheeks ached, and clenched my whole body. As the saw continued through the ring, rather than pain as I expected, all I could feel was warmth. A wet warmth that ran down my forehead and my cheek. The words of Doc Lance came back. Just cut it off, he had said, and immediately my body reacted. My hind legs kicked up and all of me tried to jump away and rush off. The clamp held fast. The shrieking buzz of the saw stopped and the only sound throughout the bay was that of my hooves scraping against the stone surface, trying in vain to get away. “Hey, hey! Enough, it’s over, calm down!” My mind registered the words but my body refused to listen, and kicked and scraped. I tried to turn my head but the clamp held fast, and the only result was an uncomfortable burning feeling that flowed through me from my neck. The clamp was released, and finally my legs’ efforts were not in vain. I scraped along the surface of the table before pushing myself back and off completely. I fell hard on my back and my head slammed against the cold steel surface of the room. Pain shot through my body, but with a distinct feeling of emptiness where my horn should have been. I squirmed about, trying to get my hooves under me once more and fumbled for my horn, ignoring the strain in my neck and dizziness from hitting my head. My foreleg pressed against its hard length, but I could feel nothing from the horn itself. As I regained my footing, I began to realize that it was still intact, and fell unceremoniously to the floor, panting and sniffling. “That’s new,” Scope scoffed. “Tell me how you’re not a filly now, struggling about so badly.” I just held my mouth shut, legs wrapped around my horn, and whimpered quietly. “Tell me you’re not afraid of blood or a little pain or anything like that. I was told, you see, that you’re of the medical sort, and as you’ve got the coat for it, one would figure you’d be used to that.” I shook my head, “It’s not that,” I started. “I’m sorry, I had some,” but I struggled for the words before finally just giving up, “Issues.” “The way you were thrashing about, you’d think I was going to cut your horn off. Complex if ever I saw one.” He laughed, but I was silent. “Right then,” he continued, “Now I just need to drill a few of those shunts’ caps off and we can get that ring off for good.” He waited a moment, “If you’re wanting to. Or even if you’re not. You’re no good to me if you can’t get your magic going, I should imagine.” I slowly rose to my hooves and climbed back onto the table before slumping down. Scope pried away a portion of the ring and used a small drill to slowly cut through the rest of the ring itself. I kept my eyes shut and forced my mind away from the whirring and buzzing sounds and back towards more pleasant thoughts, most of which involved Willow. I pictured her in my mind, radiant and cheerful as always, surrounded by her Daughters that all spoke with her so openly about their gravest concerns. The warmth of her brothel and the beaming face of Spice, the collected stature of the short minotaur Ghost Ant, of all the faces and all the comforts of the place I had quickly began to consider my new home. The feelings turned from those of comfort to those of a homesickness I had not felt since leaving Desert’s Edge. I wanted very much to say my thanks right then, and find my way back to the Crags. Even if it meant never being able to use my magic again. But that would mean leaving Bit… “Alright then, filly,” Scope interrupted my thoughts. “Let us get this off, shall we?” Before I could say anything, the ring was being pried from my horn. The numbing agent Scope gave me had started to wear, and the ring was pressed into my skin so hard that its removal peeled away strips and cut fresh new lines into the thin skin. I had to bite into my lip to keep silent, and clenched my body to not jerk away. But soon it was over, and a fresh feeling of air against my horn met me for the first time in weeks. It burned, and my eyes watered, but I was joyful. It wasn’t over yet, but I could feel again, and that which I had taken for granted was now returned to me, and I had never missed anything more. “Phase two complete, yeah?” He dropped the drill in a bin with the saw and other tools he had used so far, before reaching for a wedge-shaped blade and a pair of pliers. “And I don’t mean to put you down, but this part,” he paused, “Is gonna hurt.” He slid a bit toward me and looked at me for several long moments. I took a deep breath and lifted the clog to my mouth. “You’ve got five we’ll have to remove. Unfortunately, we’re going to have to do this the hard way, as we’ve no sedative here.” I nodded. To remove the shunts, he’d have to break them away from the bone that was trying to grow around or fuse to the metal rods, and yank them out. And more than that, I knew, was that they were forced through the bone itself into the nerves and magic channels beneath, and their removal would tear up the repaired flesh there. He adjusted his overhanging clamp and clenched it to the sides of my head and neck, then nodded. “You ready?” The bit in my mouth and head unable to move, I just grunted my affirmation. He nodded once more, then brought the scalpel to the first rod. The blade effortlessly cut through the flesh, leaving a warm, wet burning sensation that caused my eyes to water and blood to slowly run down my forehead. He pressed the pliers against the rod and took a deep breath. The next thing I felt was immense pain unlike anything I’d ever experienced. It felt as though all of my organs were being wrenched from me. Pressure built behind my eyes and I forced them closed for fear of them being ripped from my skull. From the tips of my ears down my mane and through my guts, the pain radiated. I was biting down on the bit so hard I was certain my teeth would be crushed, when suddenly it stopped. “Damn,” Scope spat. “The bone is completely fused to that one.” He switched to the wedge tool and slid its sharp thin edge against the rod, then tapped it with his hoof. A spike was driven into my nerves and for a moment my vision went red and my stomach desired to empty itself. Scope slid the tool along the rod and tapped again, causing my lower body to buckle, and eyes to stream new wetness down my face. “Nope,” is all he said as he pulled the tool out. The second rod was much the same. The pliers were unable to force the rod out, and a few excruciating taps with the wedge tool resulted in nothing. The second failure had Scope angry, and he slammed the tools on the table. “Only a few weeks, you said?” I couldn’t respond with the bit, and he motioned for me to spit it out. My mouth empty, I explained in short phrases, eyes burning and voice choked up, “It really has been. Maybe three. And half.” “Well I can’t be getting so old as to not be able to pull these out, but your bone is melded right to them.” I stayed silent, unwilling to admit the Hydra’s effects, but my mood was swathed in gloom, and the few moments of joy had now turned to a devastating weight on my heart to match the immense pressure that radiated through me. Scope snorted, lifting the soggy bit back to my mouth. “We’ll keep going, but I’m not going to be as gentle. I don’t think I can afford to, you see.” The pliers pressed to the third rod, and a mighty pull from Scope had my body retaliating against itself. The pain was so immense that for a moment I seemed to fade completely. When my awareness returned, my vision blurred and twisted, and the warped shape of the grey pegasus holding in the pliers a thin silver rod slowly came to focus. “Well, that’s one,” he grinned, “But not without a cost, it seems.” Feeling began returning from my extremities, and an acrid stench of ammonia came to me to match the wet warmth down my backside. As Scope cleaned up my mess, I stared down at the rod clamped between the pliers. It was thin and short, but bits of a light pink coated the tip, and every beat of my heart felt like the rod was being shoved back through bone and nerves where it had once been. Scope returned, lifted the bit back to my mouth, and prepared for the fourth attempt. He pulled and I cried out. The rod gave some but the pliers came back with no purchase. He placed the wedge to it and hit it with much more vigor than the first attempts. Each left me dizzy and sick, but a few moments later and a brief blackout once more, the next rod was free. The fifth was removed quickly, but no less painfully. As he pulled against it, I could feel a crack within my horn, and when the rod came free, it came with a few slivers of a calcium residue as well. “Three of five, is the best I can do.” The immediate pain had receded but his words came to me in a fuzz. “I’d have to break your horn in several places to get those other ones off, or simply cut whole chunks of your horn out for them, but either way I’m sure that’ll result in greater permanent damage.” My jaw gave way and fell slack, dropping the sopping bit onto the stone tabletop with a plop. My body relaxed as well, the pain itself having given way to a constant, dull burning. Scope poured some water and alcohol over my horn carefully, which was not the most painful, just most uncomfortable, experience of the day. He took a swab and skillfully ran along the edges of the holes and over the cuts. He tweezed out a few fragments of bone and residue, then wrapped it with gauze. He began to undo the clamp, and his words were spoken with a quiet relief, “You’re not going to be able to use magic for a while yet. Don’t try, either, it’ll just hurt tremendously. Give yourself at least a few days. Ideally, several weeks.” The clamp came free and with the support it provided gone, I fell into a pile of sweaty, bloody, urine-covered unicorn. A small cup was set down at the edge of the table. “It’s no sedative, but it should dull the pain just enough to let you be useful.” The ochre liquid burned immensely as I gulped it down. Rum, I noted. And cheap, but powerful. I dropped the cup from my lips and coughed as I felt the hard liquor make its way down my scratched throat. “Alright then,” Scope smiled, patting me on the back. “There’s no work just now, but when there is, you’re going to need to know your way around if you’re to be any use at all. So, you see, I think a tour’s in order.” Scope turned to the wall and spoke into a small speaker, “Frolic, you there, you damn colt?” A few moments later a deep voice responded, “I’m here, Doc. Whatcha need?” “Got me a filly here that needs to see the Ridge, and as you’ve never anything to do, I figure that’s something that’ll at least make you partway useful.” “Why don’t you do it?” Scope let out a rough “Pah!”, then hit the speaker once more, “Some of us actually have things to do, you halfwit! And I got a lab to clean, besides!” The mention of the mess reminded me of my accident, and I blushed, and skulked off the table, holding my wet tail down. It took concerted effort to stand and move about properly, but each step felt more sure and it wouldn’t be long before I stopped leaning on tables for support. Without any answer, Scope turned back and went to a door to the side. “No sense in you going around the Ridge all dirtied up. There’s a shower back here,” he motioned through the door. “And a basin for your coat.” Frolic was an unremarkable earth pony, riding that line at being just too young to be a stallion, but fully grown and brimming with confidence. His coat was brown, and he wore a cropped tan mane. He arrived at Scope’s bay before I had finished cleaning, and Scope was quick to rush me out. My partially-washed overcoat lay on a rack beside the basin I rinsed it in, and I wasn’t given the time to get it. Frolic mumbled back at the closing door, then hummed a note to himself. I glanced back to see he had cocked his head slightly and was enjoying himself a full view of my backside. I was at once flushed and angry, and instinctively tucked my tail and tapped my back hoof loudly. After being caught stealing a glance, Frolic started to offer up details about where different tunnels led, and I came to learn that most of the Ridge below that we were in was maintenance tunnels and routes that went in fact nowhere, to places on the surface that were sealed off, or used for ventilation systems and life support necessities. Many of the smaller circular tunnels fed into several of the longer, larger areas, some of which had been converted into ateliers like that of Buff Aloe’s, hydroponic gardens, and residential areas. The hours of the morning continued on, and Frolic never stopped talking. A good portion of it was information regarding the Ridge, but just as much was about himself. “I get to go up to the surface,” he offered up. “Is that unusual?” He laughed, “Of course. You don’t know what might be up there, and it’s very dangerous. But I’m not scared,” he added, adopting a cocky tone and standing as tall as he could. “Sure, it’s scary for some ponies but it’s not that bad when you’ve gone as much as I have.” I rolled my eyes and caught sight of a worn series of green hashes painted sloppily on the next turnoff. Frolic had been eager to show me the Gardens prior, and I had noticed that they were denoted with these marks, so had since been keeping an eye out for them. I hopped up the slight step into the circular hallway, eager to make my way through the room beyond. I was certain the light sway in my step was being looked over by the young stallion with that crude lust of youth, but I told myself to ignore it. There could be something far more important beyond the door. “Not really certain Scope means for you to go to every one of the grower labs,” Frolic added a few moments later. I ignored him and moved toward the entrance. The door, like the three others we had visited already, was primarily iron and steel on this side, and opened by the simple press of a switch against the wall. With a hiss the door rolled aside and the now-familiar glow of the pale yellow lighting systems and mild green lights lining the vats came into view through the thick mist of the room. The room was methodically structured like all the others, with long rows of stone tables reaching deep into the mist, with space wide enough for two ponies to stand abreast, tight though that may have been. Atop each table was row upon row of lush, green plant life suspended in clear containers of water, lit from below by a thin glass strip of green liquid. Mist sprayed in timely intervals from the system above, and the vats circulated water about slowly. Like the greens from the night before prepared by Lilac, most of the vegetables here were fresh, and would be worth an amazing amount of trade on the surface above. “This is Garden Four,” Frolic added emptily. “Nothing different from the others. All eight are like this, y’know. Same lights, same plants, same pointless visit.” He sighed, and mumbled something about wasting time. I ignored the youth, and made my way in awe down the aisles. Perhaps Frolic had lived down here too long, I thought, and didn’t understand just how amazing these gardens of theirs were. Even in Desert’s Edge, it was a struggle to keep what little vegetation we could sustained and of quantities vast enough for our small population, and from everywhere I’ve seen since, the junction town would be considered extremely lucky. But more than admiration, I walked along the aisles with an eye peeled, my heart beating awkwardly and unevenly in my chest, and nerves on the edge. At my request and to the displeasure of the impatient Frolic, Scope had provided me a listing of the recent additions to Buff Aloe’s Ridge, and one signed “S.S.” caught my attention. The word assigned to the name was marked out several times but “Garden” was still intact, so I came to understand that to mean she’d be assigned to one of these gardens, though I knew not which. But it didn’t take but moments more before I knew. Through the mist, a flash of silver mane and a cerulean coat beneath came into view. I couldn’t help but smile, and trotted to her. I stopped just a few steps behind her, and saw the familiar rosebud cutie mark. She hadn’t noticed me yet, and kept her attention on the plant in front of her. She was turning over each leaf and rotating it slowly in its container. “Silver,” I called out. She jumped and turned to me quickly, “Don’t scare me like that,” she started, then just stared at me for a few seconds. “Vitia?” she finally asked. My cheeks tugged as I kept smiling, nodding. “Hi, Silver.” Her eyes flitted from me to Frolic behind me then back. Her look turned from astonishment to confusion, and she shook her head. “What are you doing here?” Since my time leaving Desert’s Edge, I had several weeks to consider what I would say should I ever have found her again, but at that moment, nothing came to me, and I stayed silent, only shrugging. Silver Sheen’s confusion gave way to some distorted look of concern or anger, I couldn’t be certain, and she kept silent for some long moments. Frolic interrupted the silence, “Awkward.” “Be quiet,” Silver glared at him. “This has nothing to do with you, so get lost,” she thrust her hoof in the air away from us several times. I was surprised, having never seen such an attitude from the mare I had remembered as being so demure and passive. Frolic responded poorly, snorting loudly and tapping his hoof on the stone groundwork harshly. “Piss off,” he spat. “Come on, Vitia, we better get you back to Scope or he’ll yell at us both.” “I’m so glad to see you’re okay, Silver,” I said, ignoring the irritated snorts of the youth behind us. Silver averted her gaze and stared at one of the plants absently. “I suppose.” “Oh for fuck’s sake, come on!” Frolic shouted. “She’s just some fuck-up, you know,” he said to me. “Been shuffled around so many times I can’t believe she’s not being held in detainment or chained up and tossed top-side.” I turned on the stallion angrily, and slammed my hoof against the stone beneath my hooves. “Nopony asked for your opinion!” “It’s not an opinion,” he replied before nodding toward Silver, “Everypony here knows the new screwup.” “Shut up,” I cried. “You better go,” Silver sighed. “He’s right, you know. I’m on my last chance here, so I can’t let you two distract me. I’ve got work to do,” she said, returning her attention to the plants. “Oh, just ignore this foal. Doesn’t seem like he’s worth anything around here,” I glared at Frolic. Silver ignored me and absently tended to the plant. A long moment later, I sank, “I guess I better, then.” Silver just nodded. “Can I…Can we maybe get a bite later and catch up? So much has happened, Silver.” “No,” she replied sternly, never averting her gaze from the plant. “No, Vitia, I don’t think we should.” Frolic laughed. “Shot down, and after you dragged me across half the damn Ridge just trying to find this fuckup.” “Shut up, Frolic.” I was confused and angry, and was all-too eager to turn the mixed emotions on the insensitive foal of a fool. “Just go,” Silver said softly. “Just go, just like that? Do you know, do you have any idea—” I started, then scrunched my face and shook my head. I didn’t want to go down that road, to make it out like I blamed her for me leaving Desert’s Edge, for everything I’d gone through since. Knowing there’d be no recovery from that line, I just stamped my hooves in frustration and turned away. I walked back through the halls, ready to return to Scope’s lab, eager to keep the hum of ventilation and life support as the only noise, but Frolic kept making comments around nearly every bend. “Lover’s quarrel,” he chided. “Just watching that mess made my whole morning. I couldn’t have asked for better entertainment, so I guess I owe Doc Scope one.” I ignored the foalish comments until we stepped through the door to Scope’s bay once more. Inside, the grey pegasus was nowhere around, but the bay that had been empty just a few hours ago was now busy with many earth ponies and unicorns in tattered white lab coats, each looking over paperwork or packing small medical tins. Frolic ignored them, and motioned me to follow. We walked through a door and down a small hallway, coming into another open area that had been converted into a lab. Benches lined the walls, and various chemical toolsets adorned those. Beakers and vials, petri dishes in sealed refrigeration or incubatory containers, and stacks of books and cuttings. “Hey Doc,” Frolic called out, rousing the pegasus from his study. “Brought your lovestruck little project back.” “Hm? Ah, Vitia, great. And you’re in one piece. Good, Frolic didn’t make a complete mess of it at least.” “Close enough,” I mumbled. I turned back and kicked my back leg at the tile surface with enough force to make a loud clack. Frolic’s gaze broke from my hindquarters and he clicked his teeth as he made his way out of the lab. “Well,” Scope chuckled, “I guess we won’t be asking him to guide you around again, hm?” I sighed and turned back to the pegasus. “So what do I do today?” He looked at me with his amber eyes for a long moment, then shrugged. “Nothing’s happened today. Been real quiet. So, you see, I figure I’ll have you on with Patch for the first while. There’s still some time left today, so let’s get you up an’ acquainted-like.” He stepped through the door into the hallway and I followed. In the main medical bay, he walked up to a mare with a coat so short and light pink that I couldn’t tell what was hair and what was her skin beneath. Splotches of a coal grey decorated what little bits of her body she left uncovered by white cloth and her white overcoat. “Patch,” Scope called out. “This is Vitia, the new filly I mentioned.” Patch’s face was bright, with pale blue eyes and a well-maintained grey mane that bobbed along the sides of her face. She smiled wide and nodded excitedly, “Great! Hi! I’m Patch, as you’ve gathered. I’ve got to make a run over to Security Center Two, so you’ll come with me and I’ll show you what we do mostly.” “Just a moment, before you leave,” Scope said. He slipped a small petri dish from his front coat pocket and held it up for me. Inside was a little red gem. “Something of a memento.” “Oh that’s quite pretty,” Patch beamed. “It’s the same kind of red that flickers in your eyes. Memento for what?” I thanked Scope and took to sliding my damp yellow overcoat on. In the weeks since the suppressor was fitted, I’d learned to dress myself without telekinetic aid, but it was a slow and clumsy process, and the silence after Patch’s question only made the scene more embarrassing. With the coat strapped in, I slid the gem into a pocket, and nodded to Scope. “Sorry, Patch. I’m good to go now.” Patch explained to me that she’s often tasked with this particular errand to this particular security station. “This stallion must be incredibly clumsy,” she told me. “He seems to get hurt at least once a week. It’s never anything major, just a scrape here or bruise there.” “How is that unusual? Does nopony get hurt in security?” “Some do, sometimes. But I swear, if it’s him again, it’s like he gets hurt on purpose.” “What if he does?” I had an idea of what was going on, but could only nudge a little, unwilling to go all in and assume it was a romantic interest. “Why would anypony get hurt on purpose?” I grinned, but before I could nudge her on some more, she turned and looked at me with her brows twisted and face scrunched. “I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not like that.” “Well, why not?” Patch fell silent, and the rest of the walk was uncomfortable, but it was thankfully not far from there. When we turned the last bend, the grey stone pathway gave way to steel grating, and the door to the room was notably thicker and sturdier than any other I’d seen here. It was slick with moisture, and looked to be solid steel. As Patch has suspected, it was in fact that pony, who I came to learn was named Deuce. He’d apparently had “a bit of a spat” and came away with a mild scrape on his shoulder. I applied a light scrub with a thin alcohol solution from Patch’s medic’s kit and wrapped the minor wound with a thin layer of gauze and tape. All the while Deuce ignored me, and made small talk with Patch. He seemed overly interested in anything she said, and asked for more details and made a concerted effort to appear to care. When the wound was dressed and Patch and I had left, I could contain myself not more than two steps after the steel door had shut, and nearly fell to my haunches laughing. “What’s so funny?” “I’m sorry, Patch,” I giggled, “But you can’t have not noticed.” Patch blushed, her pale pink cheeks burning bright under the strong light. “You’re imagining things. There’s no way,” she grumbled. “Oh come on, Patch, that wound of his was barely a scratch. It didn’t even break enough skin to bleed more than maybe a few drops. I’ve seen little colts and fillies get worse playing with each other. So why not?” “Stop it, Vitia,” she said. There was a slight whimper behind her voice but she tried to mask it. Perhaps if I was still the same unicorn I was back in Desert’s Edge, I wouldn’t have noticed it, but my time with Bit Flip and my brief instruction by Spice helped me catch a hint that there was some deeper reason she was forcing herself to not see the obvious. “Come on, Patch,” I said, eager to change topics and move on. “I haven’t eaten at all today. Surely this place has something like lunch, right? What say we find something?” Patch nodded quietly, then smiled and perked up again. “Alright, yeah. It’s closer to dinner, though.” Patch and I were each handed a shallow bowl filled with a thin soup on a tray covered in fresh greens and diced carrots. We made our way to an empty table, which creaked in turn as each of us sat on its worn iron seats. It was still early in the dinner cycle, so most of the seating area was empty beside us. “I’m still amazed,” I said, taking a carrot slice and crunching into it, savoring the cold flavor on my tongue. “At how much greenery you all have here.” Patch cocked her head. “Isn’t it like that everywhere?” I nearly choked on spinach leaves. After swallowing and a long gulp of water later, I told her of parts of the world above as I had seen them. “Most of the produce of the Marejave is brought in on trade from quite far away, or found only in small farming settlements that have managed to avoid bandits and raiders, but those don’t last long.” “So what did you eat?” In between bites, I continued, “I grew up in a Junction. That’s kind of like this place, just above ground. But I was lucky. Most junctions exist only as trade or as a matter of necessity by a group that couldn’t continue any further in the desert, but Desert’s Edge had been there since before junctions were a thing. Before the war, some of the townsfolk said. “But we were so far off of the main roads that there were very few raider camps around so we survived fairly well. That and because we were on the edge of an ample aquifer, we were able to grow our own food like this. But everywhere else I’ve been, it’s not been as fresh, and sometimes rotting oats are the best you can expect to have for days, or cactus served in any way they can to mask the bitter taste.” Patch stared down at her empty tray. “That’s horrible. I can’t imagine ever wanting to live like that.” I nodded, taking the last drops of water from my glass. “I don’t know. It’s all new to me, but it’s special, in its own way. You get to meet some amazing ponies.” “So why did you come here?” I was reminded of the awkward meeting with Silver earlier that day, and furrowed my brows. I still have to talk to her. We’re not staying here for long. It might be my only chance. I shook my head. “Nevermind that. So is that all we need to do for work?” Patch shrugged. “We make a lot of house calls. Most of the time it’s just courtesy, but we need to be on top of things, since we don’t have a steady supply of medicine. Doctor Scope is an incredible stallion, but we simply go through too much too fast. Our great leader has given him his own lab and dedicated a secondary garden for his research into effective medicines, but it’s just not enough, and we’ve already exhausted the supplies from above.” She and I slid our trays onto a shelf on the opposite end of the cafeteria, then proceeded back toward the lab. She continued, “We can’t reliably grow the materials necessary to manufacture proper healing potions down here, and sedatives have always been low or outright empty, so we can only really make do with penicillin and alcohol right now. But that’s why Scope has so many nurses, and why we have to be extra vigilant. A new contagion could easily cripple us permanently.” At a bisection, she stopped and turned to me, “But Scope did say that this would be all for the day. We’ll start our rounds tomorrow at First Light. Goodnight, Vitia.” I watched for a moment as Patch made her way down the hall before turning the opposite direction and following the blue stripe along the rail that would lead to the small room for Bit and me. Our room was as I had left it that morning, only the other cot was empty. I hoped that Bit’s day was as relatively uneventful as mine, but I knew she had other concerns on her mind. As the minutes dragged on in the empty room, I considered venturing out and seeking Silver, but as I played our previous encounter over in my head, I realized I had nothing to say that would change the outcome, and it’d just be another failed attempt. So instead I began to rummage through the small bag I carried with me. I had tried to keep it empty, to travel light, under the suggestion of everypony that I said my goodbyes to, so only a few empty canteens, a few gifts from the Daughters, and one important item remained: the outfit that Willow bought for me. I pulled it out gingerly, and rolled it over in my arms, running my hoof along the lace and frills at the edge of the skirt. It smelled faintly of cinnamon, and all at once I found myself kicking out of my overcoat and slipping into the pink and white dress. The laced panties slid on first, then carefully the one-piece followed. I struggled for some time to do up the lace without magic to the memories of Willow tying the bows for me, then more vigorously and frantically untying them… I shook my head, trying to keep myself modest. Bit could be back any moment, I reminded myself. Bows finally secured and outfit strapped on tight, I pulled the last piece from my bag and slowly propped it on my head over my horn. There was no mirror to be found in the room, but there was a single steel plate affixed to a corner of the room. It was marred and covered in a thin film of grime, but a few wipes with my overcoat and I could make out a fuzzy caricature looking back. For some moments I just stood there, staring at the little white unicorn in the expensive dress with the big hat to match her big ears. I remembered that day when Willow bought it, when I was unsure of how to talk to her, and of the fuss I made later. Minutes or hours, I couldn’t be sure how long I stood there, until a voice broke through from behind. “Well, at least she found someone who can appreciate her taste in clothing.” I smiled, and my whole body tingled for a moment. I wanted to do something, just go somewhere. For once, Bit and I were here, not being shot at or worried about running out of water, or being blown about in the tumult of the caravan issues, so I wanted to do something. “Oh Bit, you’re back,” I started. “Great, come on,” I turned around, and caught myself mid-sentence. “Oh, oh my. Let’s, get you into the shower, yeah.” Her mane was a ragged mess, with the normally steely-blue shades muddled and mired in uneven green with strips and bits of something dangling from it and the same with her tail. I carefully pulled her unstrapped harness from her and carried it to one of the chairs, then shooed Bit off to the basin. Seeing the drops of greyish-green muck left behind where she just walked from, I chose to undo the straps of my outfit quickly and strip from it entirely, and tossed the entire set onto my cot before following her in. “Let’s get that off you, Bit,” I said, motioning to her underbarding. It was damp and stuck to her coat and feathers as we pulled it off. It hit the ground with a thick plop. I returned to the shower a moment later, having grabbed some bars of soap and a brush from some bins in the tiled entryway. Bit took one and ran it over her coat and through her mane slowly, while I held her tail and ran the comb and soap through it. Bits of algae and muck fell away in strips, and the blue beneath began to return. The splashing of the shower was the only sound in the small room. I moved from Bit’s tail to her double-bit cutie mark, and alternated brushing over her coat with a pass of the soap. She peeled her wings away from her side and stretched them out. For a few moments she just stood like that, staring off while the lukewarm water ran over her mane and face. An idea crossed my mind—something I’d been curious about since Willow mentioned it to me off-hoofedly. I flushed lightly at the idea, but the urge to satisfy the curiosity was overwhelming. I stepped forward along Bit’s side, into the falling water of the showerhead above, and gazed up along the ridge inside her wing. Small puffy feathers dripped with water, and I leaned in, then ran my tongue across their surface. Bit cooed quietly and leaned against me lightly as I ran my tongue back over her silky down feathers. Taken in the moment, I nipped at the sensitive skin beneath. Bit’s reaction was instant, and before I snapped back to awareness, she was hanging from the hosing above, clutching at the swaying rubber with every muscle in her small frame. Her face was contorted in embarrassment, and her flushed features shone under her wet coat. Her reaction was so sudden, that I was laughing before I realized what had just transpired. I stepped forward, letting myself be drenched by the water as it sprayed about in different directions, and laughed. I tried to apologize, to explain that I didn’t expect quite that reaction, but she only glared at me. I turned the shower off, and we returned to our room in silence but for the occasional giggle I couldn’t stifle. Moments after returning to our room, the day lights gave way with their loud thunk to the night lights. With my outfit stowed away, I pulled out a lovely waxed brush with etched vines like Willow’s cutie mark inlaid into the deep red wood, a gift from Spice, and turned to Bit Flip. “It’ll fix itself eventually,” she argued, running a hoof clumsily over her mane, as though it would sort itself with the touch of a hoof-combing. “No need to bother, Vitia.” “Oh, Bit.” I walked up to her, but she leaned back slightly. “Don’t you ‘Oh, Bit’ me.” “Go on now, sit. Your tail and mane aren’t going to untangle themselves.” In all the while I’ve known Bit, her mane was always a mess. Water, soap, and letting it dry however seemed to be the extent of the care given to it. Not necessary for the desert to be all prettied up, she would argue. Even when wet, the tips of her mane curled in slightly, and she swished her tail about as I tried to run the comb along it. “Yer startin’ to sound like Willow,” she said, leaning back and looking up to the ceiling. “Takes me back, though. Willow and I used to fuss an’ tumble about it back then. She’d always want to comb out my mane before the caravan left.” I ran the brush through and tugged out a small knot. “Don’t you miss it?” Part of me meant to ask if she missed Willow. “I mean, comfort like that?” I pulled the comb through again absently, trying to think of any time she was genuinely comfortable around anypony else, but I came up empty. I simply didn’t know her. “I’ve never seen you take to anypony else. You’ve always been business first.” Her tone was light and upbeat when she replied, “Ain’t no lover like a fat sack of caps. Or at least, that’s what the caravan would teach us.” She chuckled, then shook her head. “Truthfully though, I wouldn’t even begin to know how.” I stopped combing and leaned over. She had lowered her head and her expression was almost empty. “After Willow and I fell out,” she continued, “It’s just…I don’t know.” It looked to me like she knew this was a question she didn’t have an answer for, but had already shoved it aside once, and didn’t know how to approach it anymore. Silence hung in the air for a moment before I did the only thing I thought would help: I leaned over her and wrapped my arms around her. Beneath her damp coat, I could feel her warmth, and I hoped she could feel mine the same. After a moment, Bit shrugged and leaned away slightly, then spoke up with a grin, “I see you got yer horn all fixed up,” and without missing a beat, “Bet that’ll make it easier on Willow when she does that horn thing.” My body flushed all over as I recalled the erotic sensation Willow had teased me with. I broke from the hug and tried to make some witty retort but failed to. Bit just grinned widely, her eyes shimmering as she knew she won. “Good, payback for earlier.” She shifted and curled her tail under her, then relaxed. “So how’d you end up in Wing Haven back then?” I exhaled slowly, hoping to quiet the pounding in my chest. In all the time Bit and I were around each other we never came to know the circumstances behind our meetings. “Ah, well,” I started, not sure how to form a coherent thought. I scooted up closer to Bit and tried to pull her tail out from under her, but she squirmed away. “Much like now, I was searching for Silver Sheen. Had a pretty rough time of it all, honestly.” I realized that wasn’t much of an answer, and Bit read into it. “Y’don’t have to talk about it if yer not wantin’ to.” That’s not it, I thought. I just didn’t have the right words. “No, it’s fine. It’s just a bit unpleasant is all, but it’s okay.” I started my explanation back in Desert’s Edge, where Silver and I were raised, and talked to Bit about Greenhooves and Brightmane. As I furthered my story out past my time in Fleshgrove and Cancy, I glossed over some of the details and never mentioned the Hydra. “It wasn’t long after that when we met. You pointed your gun at me, if you’ll recall.” I briefed over my relatively uneventful time in Junction 144. “I found out that Old Fort Celestia kept a lot of information, so I thought I could get something from there. I was completely lost when I made it in, but I was able to get what I was looking for, and found out that Silver’s family used to own some land just outside of the Ridge up top.” “The next time I saw you, your horn had been sealed and you were caged up there.” I rolled my head back and stared at the ceiling. “The records I looked at were restricted, and I broke in to get them.” “And y’got caught. All of that for this one mare, huh? She must be mighty important to you.” Even I wasn’t sure what all as going on with Silver, so explaining it now seemed hopeless. “She’s been a dear friend most of my life. I’m hoping to speak with her again tomorrow.” I thought for a moment about the conversation with Silver, and everything about it just seemed wrong. I didn’t understand how somepony could be so different, or how she could have pushed away somepony that meant something to her. I glanced at my bag and thought to the outfit stowed within. It didn’t matter if Silver didn’t care for me now or even before. She left and shoved away my offer to help, and shrugged off the town that had helped care for her and her ailing parents for decades like it was nothing. “I’ll find out tomorrow,” I mumbled to myself. Bit perked her ears, “Hm?” I shook my head, “Nothing. Enough about my past, though. There’s something I want to know about you, Bit.” “What is it?” I considered dropping it and moving on to something else, but I’d already started, so I nodded inwardly and asked, “How did you and Willow get together?” Her response was slow and halted, “It’s not really something I’m fond of talking about.” I nodded, scooting forward slightly. I motioned for her to relinquish her tail to my brush-covered hoof, hoping that the distraction would help soothe her nerves. “I did ask her about it. She didn’t say much, just that it was something like young love.” She turned toward me, with one faded eye and one bright golden staring at me, considering. “You’re not going to drop it, are you?” I shook my head slowly. “If it bothers you that much, I won’t push you.” I absently ran the brush over my hoof, hoping to find some way to make her feel more at ease. I wanted to help her in any way that I could. I owed her more than I could possibly repay, and I cared for her more than that. She tries to hide her emotions from everypony, even herself. Bit exhaled sharply, and released her tail. I smiled to myself and pulled it closer, slowly and methodically running the brush through it. “Young love, that’s not really accurate.” She fidgeted slightly but continued, “It wasn’t long after Hazy, ah, my mother—” Her voice cut abruptly, her trail drooped and she choked out a few syllables. I continued brushing silently, and a few seconds and a couple sniffles later, she resumed, “Copper was always hooves-off after that.” She paused for a moment, then added almost as if she didn’t mean to say it aloud, “Hell, prickly ol’ Doc was more of a father than he was.” She paused after that, and let the words hang in the air. I ran the brush through her tail one last time, then scooted up and sat against her side. She looked at me briefly, but I brought the brush through her mane in small tugs. After this, she tried to find her way, she explained. “I figured that maybe Copper thought me useless or baggage, so I aimed at getting’ my own seat proper. No handouts, no easy rides.” Riding that uncertain line between being a filly and a mare, her world must have been confusing. “I let business take me from everything.” She stayed silent a moment but swished her tail about slowly, absently. “Drunken tells are the easiest to read, so I found it much easier than expected to start amassing a small fortune at the Church.” She smiled slightly and paused for a moment, then continued, “Anyway, met Willow quite soon after. I was little more than a filly then, and she was about my age now. We hit it off, but, largely for the wrong reasons.” “I’m not sure I follow.” “She and I didn’t meet by happenstance. I know that now, and maybe I knew then but refused to see it. Her introduction to me was designed. Her duty has always been to the Church long as I’ve known her, but,” she paused with a quiet sigh, “It didn’t matter at the time.” Bit lowered her head before continuing, “It was an affection thing. Hers was the first kind I’d ever gotten besides Hazy,” she held her breath a moment, “And I mistook that.” She let the breath out slowly, and shifted, “Eventually things turned romantic. A friend—” The words were becoming harder for her, so I tried to fill in where it made sense. “A companion,” I offered, leaning forward. She shook her head. “A mother.” She dropped her gaze. I pulled the brush along the length of her mane slowly. Her words seemed so close yet I could not have put a hoof on them. Brightmane was the closest to a mother I’d ever had, but her affection—I laughed inwardly at using the term for the abrasive mare—was so different from Willow’s, but somehow I could understand. Willow’s affections were so warmly given that you’d be amiss to believe you were not the only pony she’d ever cared for. “She was caring and affectionate and loving and everything in the caravan that went missing after Hazy,” Bit choked up. “I didn’t understand what it meant for her to be a Daughter at the time.” She spoke like she was reliving the memories still there, like a little filly that just saw her dreams as the reality they were and the world she’d built up collapsed. “I felt betrayed when I saw it. Saw her.” That was probably the last moment, I thought, that she still held onto the kinds of hopes and dreams a filly has, when already they were slipping from her grasp. Bits of my teary-eyed moments with Willow when I realized the same would happen came back to me from a week prior, and I leaned against Bit, and we shared the moment quietly but for the quiet buzz of the overhead night lighting. “I avoided her for a very long time after that,” she said, tone shifting from upset to determined. “I came to terms with it a long time ago, and we’re still friends. But I’m ashamed of it. I regret it. It feels like it happened just yesterday sometimes,” she said, her voice sounding distant. “She’s probably one of the very few ponies in all the Wasteland I trust.” She took a long breath, then turned and smiled. “Well then,” I said abruptly, plopping down in front of Bit a little ways and eyed her down. “Yep, you’re like a different mare from when you came back. All the right colors at least,” I giggled. She looked up and knocked a single strand aside, then shrugged. “It’s just going to get messy tomorrow.” An idea came to mind quickly, and I crossed over to her harness. I dug through a few pockets before coming across the small pouch of bobby pins. When I turned, I saw a twist of annoyance on Bit’s face, but I played it off. “Not like you use these anyway, right?” It took a few moments to clasp her mane with them, and she fussed the entire time. Privacy, she grumped. The last pin in place, I stepped back and nodded my own approval. “That should hold for at least a while.” Bit Flip looked up, her eyebrows scrunched, and shrugged. First Light came the next morning with the same rushed fervor as it had the day before, and the small group of ponies were gathered around the tables, packing their medical kits and dressing in the white coats around Scope’s bay. Patch saw me as I entered, and waved me over. “You sleep well?” “I could certainly go for a few more hours,” I yawned, “But it’s fine.” “Good,” she said. “You’ll be with me today, like yesterday, at least for our first rounds. Scope said you shouldn’t push yourself too hard just yet, so unless something major comes along, we’ll take it easy today.” “That’s good,” I admitted. “I haven’t seen much useful practice since my horn got sealed up, so it’s been a while.” We made our way leisurely around the first stops, which seemed routine to Patch. The ponies we met with all smiled and made small talk with Patch, who introduced me in turn. Unit after unit, the citizens of the Ridge seemed to have suffered no remarkable damage or unusual symptoms overnight, so soon Patch and I began to wander to further, less visited locations. We took a break for an early lunch, and between munches of crisp spinach leaves and the petals of some yellow plant which tasted strangely sweet, I inquired about the detainment Frolic had mentioned the day before. Patch took a deep breath then sighed. “This community—we survive only because everypony works. We have teachers here, many that work cleaning or tending, engineering, and there are a few that do maintenance or security. As always, Buff Aloe has worked out a solution for most of our problems, but sometimes,” she paused, “Some ponies can’t fit in.” “The gardens look to be sufficient for supplying hundreds, but I’ve not seen so many around. Surely some ponies just don’t fit in because their talents lie somewhere that there isn’t a job for? At least, not yet.” Patch cocked an eyebrow and tilted her head, “Not more than a day and you’ve already started on the politics of our home?” Patch’s tone was edgy, and I realized it seemed as though I criticized her way of life, so I quickly moved on. “So what for those, then?” Patch pushed her empty tray forward, and rested her hooves on the concrete table. “They go to detainment, and Buff Aloe decides what to do with them after much deliberation and consideration. It’s none of our business after that.” Something didn’t sit right with her explanation, but I chose not to pursue it, given the foul tone she had adopted. “Well, I just heard about it, so I was curious, that’s all.” I tried shifting the conversation but Patch seemed to have lost her mood for talking, and we walked to the next stops in uncomfortable silence, where at each she spoke openly to the different ponies, then fell to silence after. A short while later, we came across a young colt who was in a small, mostly empty housing area, fussing with a mare some years younger than myself over his swollen ankle. He had been roughhousing as the youths are wont to do, and caught his hoof in the steel grating. The flesh around his ankle had swollen and became discolored, but the pain he felt was only mild. Patch was an earth pony, and I was a unicorn that couldn’t use her magic, so the only diagnosis I could make on-scene was with considerable uncertainty. My brows furrowed at the notion of an incomplete assessment, and I took a deep breath, ready to try something I hadn’t been able to for weeks. I closed my eyes, clenched my teeth, and willed a spell into being. Magic swelled at the base of my horn, which sent shivers of pain through my head and into my eyes. As I willed the magic onward, the pain intensified in great strides, and as the conduit flared to life and the light pink of my magic aura began to come to life, I lost control completely and fell to the ground. My vision was hazy, and I forced my eyes closed to shield myself from the flaming coals of the light. My senses burned, and breathing was difficult. I made to my hooves once more and trembled as the pain receded. “Vitia,” Patch glowered quietly. Eyes still closed, I nodded. “I’m sorry, I wanted to try. My initial diagnosis is that it’s just a sprain, but we’ll need some way to check for broken bones.” Patch agreed. “Just a moment, and I’ll radio in for a transport. Keen or Doctor Scope will probably take over from there. In the meantime,” she added, unhooking a kit from her saddle and setting it near me, “Splint it up.” My sight slowly came back to me, and after a few clumsy minutes, I was able to fasten the stiff harness onto the youth’s hoof, and secured several thin steel rods into that. Patch assured the young mother that it probably wasn’t anything to be worried about, then turned to me. “This was the last stop today. I’ll stay here for transport, but I don’t see any reason for us both to be here. Go take a rest. First Light tomorrow.” “Are you sure? It’s no problem,” I started. “You and I both know we don’t both need to be here. It’s okay,” she smiled, “Go get some grub and get some of that sleep you missed out on last night.” I nodded and quietly made my way out. My horn throbbed and the two remaining pins ached, and I silently chided myself over the different things I’d bungled that day. I knew not to try to use magic, and the situation wasn’t so severe that it warranted it, but I was impatient, and I wanted to know if I still could. And I still learned nothing that could help me with Silver. Without noticing, I found myself turning into a hall with a light green stripe along its rail, and four vertical slashes of green paint on both sides of the wall near the entrance. I hesitated, then pushed on. Even if nothing had changed since the day before, I couldn’t just stand by when she was so close. Time is limited, I reminded myself. The door slid away and I stepped into the misty room beyond. Nothing had changed since the day before, but after half an hour of wandering the aisles, I realized that I was alone in the room. I checked in the small inlet rooms at the mid-point and end-point of the garden, but both of those were empty as well. I walked around once more, then decided to wait, so I stepped into the hall and sat down against the moist brick wall. The seconds turned to minutes, and the minutes piled on. I awoke from a nudge, and rubbed my sore eyes, trying to focus on the lavender mare in front of me. “Lilac?” “Lily. So you must be Vitia. What are you doing all the way on this side of the Ridge? I thought you were a medic.” I made to my hooves and stood half a head shorter than the other mare. Her mane, like her sister’s, was silver but woven together in a circular braid along one side and fitted into thin braids the rest of the way down, as was her tail. “I was looking for somepony,” I explained. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep in the way.” “That’s not a problem. So who was it, then, that you were looking for? I know most everypony here, and certainly everypony in the gardens.” “Yesterday, Silver Sheen was here, but it’s empty now.” Lily’s bright expression faded. Her smile became forced but her eyes betrayed her emotions. “Ah, yes,” she said, averting her gaze and staring absently at the door behind me. “Well, I haven’t seen her today. She’s probably in detainment now, waiting for word from Buff Aloe.” She turned her gaze back to me, “But what do you need with her?” “I’d like to talk to her,” I explained. “I actually knew her from before she came here, but I haven’t had much chance. Can I talk to her in detainment?” “Oh goodness, no. But I don’t know if she has been sent there or not. She could still be in her room.” Lily gave me directions and a number, so I thanked her and quickly made my way there. My stomach was unsettled and agitation had me moving at a brisk canter. I turned the corners and galloped through the skinny halls before finally coming to the designated room. I tapped hurriedly on the edge of the metal frame aside the curtain-door. Silence. I tapped again. “Silver, it’s me, Vitia. Are you there?” “What do you want?” A great relief washed over me. I didn’t know exactly what detainment was supposed to be, but the awkward tones and hushed nature of the ponies that have mentioned it had me on edge. Silver was right there, and I wasn’t about to see her disappear from my sight again. “I just want to talk. To catch up. So much has happened, Silver, and I want to know.” The curtain was flung aside, and Silver’s scowling face met mine, but the sheer force of her expression caused me to pin my ears back and shrink away. “To catch up? Like what, nothing happened?” She stepped into the hall, her presence enormous despite her small frame, then after a deep breath she turned back to her room. “Fine,” she spat. “You want to talk, I’ll let you waste your breath.” I rubbed my horn gently. What happened to Silver? She was never angry, never shouted, and was always the kindest and gentlest pony I’d known. That anyone in Desert’s Edge knew. I meekly entered her sparse room. Nothing but a cot and a worn table missing a leg decorated the place. It was so unlike her home at Desert’s Edge, which was filled with knickknacks, small desert plants in pots she traded eagerly for, and pictures and drawings of her friends and family hanging from every open space. But here, nothing. “So?” she hissed impatiently. “You come rushing here like I was about to die, and now you’re silent?” “I thought you might have been taken to detainment.” She clicked her teeth and crossed her legs. “So that’s what you wanted? To come badger me like everyone else?” “That’s not it at all! I was worried.” She kept her gaze averted and her expression slate. “Is that it?” “Come on, Silver,” I pleaded. “Why are you being like this? What happened? You’ve done nothing but yell at me and everypony else.” She glared at me with that steely expression I’d never have envisioned her able to have. More worryingly, it seemed comfortable on her face. “Everything happened. You know, my parents didn’t make the trip.” I held my head low. “I’m sorry.” “But I continued here,” she said. “Because that’s what they were going to do, so I aimed to see their last desire through. It wasn’t easy, you know. We only had enough money to be escorted to Junction 144, and it’s not like I had anything else.” “144’s not a bad place to be,” I added. She glared at me. “I shouldn’t imagine it’d be bad for you. You probably just went to the bar, flirted with some mare and fucked her to get an easy ride anywhere you needed to go, huh?” I was genuinely shocked. Was that what Silver thought of me? “I wasn’t so lucky, you see. Too trusting, I guess. I thought I found someponies that’d help me out, but all they wanted was my tail and even then it wasn’t enough!” She slammed a hoof on the table. “No, I had to do whatever it took to get passage. And there’s no place for someone like me outside of Desert’s Edge, it seems!” She continued, pacing the room. “I made it here, though, tail-sore and humiliated, but those would fade. I expected, I don’t know, something, but whatever it was, it wasn’t this.” She hissed and bucked the stone wall. “I’ve been moved all around, you know. The nursery, the school, the cafeteria, but I made a mess out of everything, so my last chance was the gardens.” “But your cutie mark—” “Doesn’t mean anything useful!” She slapped the bright red rose mark harshly. “But my job was easy enough. Just check for infections or malnutrition, rot, that sort of thing. Then you came along, and I messed even that up!” “Me? I just wanted to see you—” “And you did. Congratulations. Now I’m in here waiting for the great Buff Aloe,” she hissed, “To come and deliver his divine judgment upon me. To be sold for slavers or have my tongue cut out and released topside, or who knows what! Maybe he’ll keep me on if I become his personal fucktoy!” “Silver!” I shot up. “Get a hold of yourself! You think you’re the only one that has problems?” I wasn’t angry, or even particularly upset, but I knew if things kept on as they were this second chance would be a disaster. And there may not be a third. She glared with her deep amber eyes, but I would not back down to that expression now. “The Marejave isn’t an easy place to be for anypony. I almost died of dehydration in my first days out. I was nearly sold into a ghoul sex ring and beaten to death by a crazed bitch of a mare. I was dosed with so much radiation I’m probably not even entirely a pony anymore! I had my magic taken from me!” “Good for you, then!” she shot back. “You went through worse things than I did. Congratulations.” “It’s not a contest, Silver. I’m just an example. What happened to you must have been terrible. What happened to me was. I’ve seen terrible things happen to good ponies like you who never deserved any of it.” She had averted her gaze while I continued, “But it’s not all bad, Silver. I found you again, and I’ve met so many other wonderful people on my way here.” I tried to close the distance between us, but she pushed me away and screamed, “This is all your fault! I begged and pleaded my parents to stay at Desert’s Edge, because I didn’t know how to leave you,” she admitted. “I screwed up and slept with you so I didn’t know what to do. So when they finally had to leave, they were too weak to make the trip. Because of you,” she turned to me, “They didn’t make it. If they had, it’d all be different!” “Silver, listen to yourself.” “I’m not wrong!” she insisted. Her anger gave way to frustration, and she softly butted her head against the cold stone wall before slumping down and weeping. “I’m not wrong.” Silence hung in the air for several minutes, broken only by an occasional sniffle from the silver and blue heap of pony in the corner. “You can blame me if it makes you feel better,” I offered, “But it isn’t the way it is.” “I know,” she whimpered. “I just thought, if I did have somepony I could blame, it’d make it all easier to cope with.” “It’s never easy. But, you could have told me,” I said. “Told you what?” “That me didn’t care for me like I did for you. I know that now, but I still don’t understand why you slept with me considering. What you did is unfair. I’m not angry, though, even if it didn’t mean anything to you.” The room was again silent but for the murmuring of crowds in the distance and the shaking of ventilation above us. “I felt bad,” she admitted. “About what?” “For you. Everypony knew, even I knew, that you wanted me, but you were just a friend. Finally, I gave in. ‘How bad can it be?’ I thought. Everypony in town already thought we were sleeping together, and you acted like we were, so it seemed pointless. May as well, right?” I shook my head slowly, absently. One question was answered, but I still had one more pressing. “Why didn’t you let me come with you?” “You may think that we were really something, like two inseparable lovers, but it wasn’t the same for me. To me, you were…Just somepony to pass the time with, when all I wanted was a friend. You weren’t that, not the right way, so I didn’t want you to come. I wanted to get away from you.” Somehow I knew that was what the result of this all would be. I didn’t desire to return to what we had before, but the nagging voice at the corner of my mind finally shut up when she said those words. But that was over now, and it didn’t matter. It wasn’t something I needed to be bothered by, so I just pushed the emotions aside, and found it easy to do. Thanks to Willow, I had already put all of the feelings I once harbored for her into a box, and just needed the key to seal it up. I moved over to the shuddering pony and wrapped my arm around her. “You don’t have to stay here.” “I don’t have anywhere I can go. I don’t belong anywhere.” I patted her mane, and offered her a way out. “You can come with us. Just until you find your own way.” She rubbed a cheek and turned to me. “Why? I don’t understand. I hated you, blamed you for everything, and wanted you to hate me back. That’d have made this so much easier,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes. “Everything changes. I can’t hate you, because I still have too many fond memories of us together. Remember that time when we tied Greenhooves’ braids to that mare—what was her name, that orange one?” “Summer.” “Ah, that’s right! They had a drinking contest and both lost and passed out, so we tied his braids around her.” “Poor Summer,” she chuckled. “When Greenhooves woke up, he was still so drunk he didn’t realize he was dragging her around until he was stopped in town.” Silver Sheen nodded and laughed. “Or that time you changed the security codes on the east gate, and we snuck out to go play on the shore.” “I got in a lot of trouble for that one,” I admitted. “Really thought I did a good job hiding my tracks but a bright white and blue unicorn stands out, apparently.” We offered stories of our past together, recounting the many great moments we shared. Our forays through the back canyons; our times pulling pranks on travelers; the little games two fillies come up with to pass time; the failed cooking experiments. We were interrupted when the overhead lights changed to night lights. We had talked for hours without realizing. “I suppose I better get back,” I said. I hugged Silver gently, then stepped to the door. “Being here, this isn’t your only option. I’ll give you another.” I slipped out and closed the curtain gently. My steps were light on the concrete walkways, and I stood tall for what felt like the first time in a month. Silver got her feelings out, and I said my piece. Not everything was perfect, since this would be yet another night not in Willow’s embrace, and I couldn’t use my magic, but I felt more relieved than in recent memory. I would sleep well that night. Bit Flip and I had a plan. We needed to get out of the Ridge quickly, and there seemed to be only one path we could take. After dressing myself up in the outfit Willow bought for me, and a good luck nod from Bit Flip, I made my way down the halls, following the directions of some of the stragglers soon after First Light. We had a plan, and it all hinged on if I could pull this off. I fretted nervously as I approached the door. I stood in front of it for several minutes, breathing in and out slowly, reciting Spice’s words, and recalling the slick and deft movements of Willow. Eyes closed, I adjusted the lacy panties down slightly, and swayed my tail slightly higher than normal. I ran a hoof along the bows along my chest and straightened my hat, then I knocked on the frame. Be confident. The brown youth opened the door moments later, and his eyes grew wide in sudden surprise. “Just the stallion I was looking for,” I cooed, inviting myself in with a spring and sway. “I do hope you’re not busy with anything.” Start strong, never let up. Never give him a chance to take control. Frolic glanced from me to the hall and back, confused. “Uh, no, I guess I’m not.” “Oh good,” I sighed. “Listen, I’m going to cut right to it. I need a favor.” Frolic stopped some feet from me and sat slowly. “What kind of favor?” “To be honest, I’m not one for being cooped up like this. I need some fresh air, and some sunlight. Now I know it’s dangerous, but that’s why I came to you. You’ve been up there in that crazy town a bunch, right?” The mock flattery seemed to have an effect, as he opened his posture slightly and smiled. “Oh yeah. More times than I can count.” I pranced forward lightly, stopping inches from him, and looked up into his eyes. “Well then, you wouldn’t mind showing me around for a bit, would you?” I turned away from him, letting my tail run its length across his neck and chest. “It could be fun.” Stay confident. Spice showed you, you can do this, I repeated to myself. I swayed my tail slowly, baring the slightest hints of me for a brief moment as if unintentionally, then turned back around and faced the young stallion. “Well,” he coughed, “Normally I wouldn’t see a problem with a quick look around one of the safehouses, but it’s not really a good time.” I scrunched my eyebrows and pursed my lips in an exaggerated pout. “How come?” “Uh, I can’t—I’m not supposed to say. Just that it’s not a good idea.” He cleared his throat and continued with his usual bravado, “There are plenty of places here that would just as good for, well.” He closed the sentence with a sly grin. I don’t want that, damn it. I shooed away those thoughts, and quickly tried to think of something I could use. I hesitated, as nothing came to mind. Time was ticking away and the longer I waited, the worse proceeding would become, so I faked a smile and chose the only plan I had left, the one I didn’t want. Do what you have to, if that’s what it takes. “Oh come now,” I teased, rolling my eyes, “Are you just playing daft to tease me?” Frolic sputtered a bit, but before he could form something coherent, I had slid up to him and ran my hoof over his collar, across his shoulder, and slowly along his side. I made a quick pass over his cutie mark, a grey montage of shapes and items atop a large but dull gear, and slowly moved my hoof down his thigh and followed the curve inside. I lifted my tail slowly and wrapped it gently across his chest as my hoof moved ever inward slowly. I could feel him relax and ease into the motion, leaning against me, eager to let my hoof find its way to the intended hardness beneath, but I pulled back and bumped his side with mine, and let out a quiet giggle. Just tease, but don’t go all in. Don’t let it go too far. Turning back to him, “I know you were getting an eyeful yesterday, you dirty colt,” I teased. And I nodded with a sly grin at his current arousal, “And you can’t say I’m not wrong about at least that.” “Come on,” I continued, trying to keep the pace of the play high and him off-balance, “What say you get my friend and me a few moments up top, hm?” I stood shoulder to shoulder with him, leaning my face close in with his, and swaying my tail across his side, legs, and purposefully against his erection. “And I tell you what, I’ll make it worth your while.” Frolic’s arousal had tinted his brown-cheeks with a light shade of red. I hoped it would be enough to muddle his mind, but I also feared in his current state he might insist on payment first. I didn’t know if I could go through with it, if he did. I didn’t have much time to consider, as he quickly turned and pressed his face against mine. Don’t fight, Vitia, I repeated to myself, returning the clumsy plays of his tongue with mine. You knew this could happen. After a few excited moments he broke from the kiss, and I took the chance to shift away, but he pulled at me and we tumbled onto his bed. I landed atop him, and he held me down gently. Little whispers in my head of no, no, no started to get louder. It’s not too late, it’s not too far. You can still do this. Go with it, but get back in control. “Now, now,” I teased, keeping my face a hair’s breadth from his. As I leaned up slightly, he pressed against me, and I felt my forced smile falter as panic briefly took over. I nuzzled against him to cover my shaking lips, and began to speak hurriedly. “I don’t mind a little horseplay,” I said, pecking at his lips and nipping along his neck, “But you can’t have the dessert before the main course.” I shifted my weight atop him slightly, moving from my hips as I sat straight, trying to coax him into relinquishing his grasp on me. The shuffling motions brought a grin to his face, and some more movement from his hips against mine, but he let me slide free and move off the bed. He sat up slightly, brazenly aroused, with a coy grin. I yelled inwardly at myself to keep it together, but I could feel myself losing grasp on my emotions and the situation. I feared I had taken it too far, underestimated his eagerness, and had pushed myself into a corner with no way out. “You’ll do it?” I asked, trying to close as quickly as I could. He let out an exaggerated breath, then just as slowly spoke, “I don’t know.” He ran one hoof along the side of his shaft and looked at me, “It’s a mighty big favor, and you weren’t very nice to me before.” I could see the exits in the conversation fading, and my chest hurt from my pounding heart. I swallowed with some effort, and looked to the doorway. It was just a few steps away. I could be out of there and away to safety, free to think of another way. There is no other way, I reminded myself. My lips trembled. “You know what I’m getting at?” Frolic’s voice was sure, and confident. Not boisterous and overly energetic, but certain. He had the upperhoof now. “And I’m a practical kind of stallion. I’d rather have something for sure now than the promise of something later.” The door was right there. Silver could die, and the last thing you’ll have ever said is that you’d save her. Save her? How can you save anypony if you are standing here, shaking? I felt a stinging in my eyes. I bit my lip, considered the door…and turned to the youth. My last chance was gone, but I had to. “Oh I’m sure I can think of a few things that might be just what you’re getting at.” The little pony in my head cried. She cried, since I couldn’t let myself. I fought back the tears, and held back my queasiness. The line had been crossed, and I found myself with no choice but to go all in. I moved my lips from the youth’s down his neck, chest, and ever downward. Whatever it takes now. With one last fake smile and a parting wink, the door shut behind me. My legs shook and my heart was beating furiously, but I bit my lip and trotted down the hall, around the first bend, through the next hall, and was forced to a stop as my legs gave out. Tears ran down my cheeks and my chest heaved in heavy sobs. Everything about me felt wrong, felt dirty, and I felt for that time as if I had betrayed Willow. My stomach twisted and lurched, expelling bile and the youth’s sperm. I stood, leaning against the railing, and slowly made my way back to Bit Flip. Each forced, uneven step brought with it soreness deep in my marehood, and a reminder of the wet, uncomfortable seed that now seeped from it. Tck, tck…tck…tck, tck, my hoofsteps sounded through the empty halls. I could only hope it was worth it. ——
Book 1, Chapter 4.8: FlightView OnlineFallout Equestria: Medicine & MailBook 1, Chapter 4.8: FlightAuthor’s Notes: This is a companion chapter to Chapter Four-point-Five in Medicine & Mail. If you have not read at least through chapter four-point-five in the main storyline, then this perspective will not make any sense. Chapter Four-point-Eight Flight “Plans an’ schemes can only take you so far, kiddo. Puttin’ actions t’ words, that’s where the real magic happens.” I stood at the entrance to the basin and looked in. Vitia was huddled in the furthest corner with a slow stream of water pouring over her from above. She clutched at her now ruined hat, that precious gift, and sat in an uncomfortable silence. It was plainly obvious what happened. Her body language told me more than a thousand words ever could. Vitia had brokered for our escape, but the price was steep. The little pony in my head chided me for not going with her, or not thinking of something else. Shame tugged at me. “Vitia,” I stepped into the basin. “I shouldn’t have encouraged you like that. I’m sorry, I should have found—” “Don’t!” She tore at the hat as she yelled. “Just…Just don’t, alright? It’s done.” It was more than guilt—I wanted to burst into tears for the mare. More than anything I wanted to drag her back to the Crags and deliver her into Willow’s welcoming embrace. I knew she would never allow it and she’d never forgive me if I tried. My ears drooped and I whispered another weak apology before leaving. I had packed everything of ours, and paced the room impatiently, glancing into the basin every few passes. The petite mare still sat curled up and with her face buried in the corner. Time was dragging at a snail’s pace, and my anxiety increased with each empty moment. First Light had come quite some time ago, and I knew we were both expected at our workstations. Our absence would not go unchecked for long. “Vitia,” I poked my head through the doorway once more. Silence. “Vitia,” I tried again, firmer in my tone. “We need to get movin’.” She shrunk back further into the corner. I clicked my tongue in frustration. We didn’t have time for this. “Look,” I marched up to the mare, splashing in lukewarm water. “We’re on borrowed time here. If we don’t get going, this will have all been for nothing. Y’can cry later, but right now we need to move, so get yer shit together and let’s go.” “I know that!” She threw the soaked hat across the room. “I know, Bit. Just let me have a moment.” “We don’t—” I stopped short and slinked out of the room. My heart cried out for her and I wanted to bury myself under the nearest mountain for being so insensitive, but I also couldn’t shake the itch in my wings and knew we needed to get a move on. Vitia returned to the common room just a few seconds after I did. She looked a soggy mess, with her mane soaked down and slick around her neck. Willow’s gift was nowhere in sight. “I’m…I’m good now.” She said, taking her medical overcoat from the chair. “You’re right, Bit. We don’t have the time.” A few ponies galloped past us as we made our way towards the upper tunnels to garden two. Workers milled about the area trying to fit salvaged materials together in a makeshift patch job for a burst pipe. “Oh, Bit Flip!” a voice called out from behind. Every muscle in my body tensed. We were caught before we even got to the gate. I turned around slowly and adopted a friendly expression. It was one of the workers from Bolts’ crew. “Oh, hey—” I froze, trying to recall his name. “One o’ Bolts’ workers. Shit, I’m so sorry, I forgot yer name.” “Wing Nut,” he replied. “Bolts got you out this way doin’ something?” I explained to him that Buff Aloe had transferred us to a different work section. We were to meet with one of the topside scavenger members for a brief training and rundown on the materials the Ridge needed most. Wing Nut cocked his head and looked at me suspiciously for a moment before Vitia offered up the name Frolic. Wing Nut hesitated for a moment and replied with a half-hearted Buff knows best. Did that damn ghoul have everypony in this place indoctrinated? A sudden comparison crossed my mind. Is this how others saw the caravan rules? We trotted off slowly hoping to not raise his suspicions any further. The air became drier as we neared the surface and I saw a colt in a ratty strap and pouch laden jacket leaning against the grey stone wall. He clicked his tongue as we approached and stood tall. I watched as he uncomfortably shifted his weight, still trying to adjust to his maturing body. “Was hoping you’d come alone.” He nodded his head towards me. “Your friend here as much a slut as you are?” “Now, now,” Vitia said, quickly stepping between me and the colt. She looked at me with a set expression and shook her head once, then put on a smile as she sauntered up to closer to him. I suppressed the urge to knock the brat senseless and listened with a tight chest and clenched jaw to Vitia play along with the colt’s berating and arrogant chatter. Frolic led us through a series of tunnels before reaching a vented door similar to the one we arrived through. The flooring transitioned from rough stone to metal as we entered. Scrapes and pocks lined the wall opposite our entry and an unremarkable tan pony stood guard. “What’re you doing up here?” The stallion stepped in front of Frolic as he made for the stairs. “I can’t let you go topside, Frolic. You trainees have to be accompanied by a master scavenger at all times, you know that.” “We’re not scavenging anything, Deuce,” the colt said, amping up his arrogant tone even more than usual as he stepped up to the guardpony. “Slut back here,” he motioned to Vitia, “Can’t get enough of me. Says she gets hot for it up there. So come on, let a stallion dip his stick.” “Ha! You?” Deuce eyed the two of us for a moment. Vitia stepped forward leaned herself against Frolic, and gave him a peck on the cheek. She spoke with a soft, sultry voice, “It’s awfully crowded down here, and my friend and I need a place we can be sure nopony will hear, you know?” Deuce’s obvious disbelief gave way to surprise. He glanced at Frolic and then back to Vitia, watching as she rolled her tail over Frolic’s side and his underbelly. I couldn’t help but stare. It was almost like watching a younger, clumsier Willow at work. A blush crept along my ears and my wings involuntarily hugged my side. Deuce shifted slightly, trying to regain his composure. “That’s not really my problem,” he said, becoming more assured. “Sorry, but I just let you topside for any reason.” “Aww, Deuce,” Vitia teased. She slid up closer to him and cocked her head. “You’re really going to make two fillies like us hold it in like that? Oh, I know!” She pranced from hoof to hoof, a movement that mimicked one of Willow’s habits almost perfectly. I felt a tug in me that ran to the tips of my wings, and forced myself to shake it off. Vitia had swept around, standing with her side pressed lightly against Deuce’s. Her tone was lively and words rolled from her tongue like silk, “I know you’ve got a thing for Patch, so I’ll tell you what—you let us fillies have a quick nip and I’ll see what I can do about that pesky shyness of hers.” She was looking intently at the guardpony, a wide smile on her bright face and her tongue just barely visible, curled up against her lip. She sashayed back toward Frolic after a moment and draped her tail slightly across Deuce’s neck for emphasis. Her lips met with Frolic’s for a long moment, and then she turned back to Deuce. “You’d like that, hmm?” Deuce’s attitude immediately changed at Vitia’s mention of the other pony. “I—” Recognition slowly cross his features. “You’re that new assistant to Scope, right?” He continued in a low voice, “You’d do that for me?” I crested the stairs last, and the trap door closed behind me effortlessly. Frolic had shoved his way to the front and gone topside first with Vitia in tow. Typical foalish behavior, always so eager in everything they do. The connected office was in severe disrepair, no doubt to try and disguise the entrance. Rubble from the collapsed roof sat in piles around the room, thick layers of dust and grime coated long unused counters, and a few bones from a long dead creature lay forgotten in the corner. The late afternoon sun spilled through holes in the roof highlighting just how different things were up here. “Vitia, let’s go take a lay of the land, yeah?” I called to her as Frolic reached out to touch her. “See what we can get up to.” She looked at me and nodded as I sidled up between them. “Yeah, Silver couldn’t have gotten too far,” she said. “Silver?” Frolic tried to block our path, his voice cracking slightly. “You dragged me out here for that stupid fuckup of a mare?” “C’mon, let’s just go.” I pushed past him hoping he would take a hint. My patience with the colt’s badgering was wearing thin. “Piss off. I bet you’ve got a cunt dry as the sand up here,” Frolic spat at me before rounding on Vitia. “Come on, let’s ditch her so we can go fool around again like you promised. That fuckup’ll get on, or die. Nothing you can do about it.” Vitia rebuked every advance he made as we walked along the path through town, but the colt persisted and eventually turned to shouting empty threats at us. “Shouldn’t you head back to the Ridge, Frolic?” I asked. “Gettin’ a bit far out, aren’t you?” “Shut it, you stupid bitch. I can take care of myself.” “If y’keep on like that I’m gonna hang you from a building, y’little shit.” I made a shooing motion with a hoof. “Take off already, yeah? Yer unwanted.” “Heh, trying to sound tough.” He motioned to a handle sticking from his jacket. “You don’t scare me. You’re not even armed—” Frolic jerked back in surprise as I reared my legs. My hooves found purchase and the colt crumpled into a heap. All of the pent-up anger and guilt came bursting out at once. I slammed a hoof into his ribs repeatedly and felt flesh give way beneath. He howled in pain for a moment before giving in to whimpering. Vitia’s short pleas fell on deaf ears as I slid my wings out and bit into his tail. Small dust clouds swirled underneath as I beat my wings beat furiously against the air. A standing piece of rebar caught my eye as we lifted higher. I hefted the lanky pony and slid the bar through one of the straps on his jacket. “Welcome to the Wasteland, kid,” I hissed into his ear. “Yer first lesson’s free, don’t threaten unless y’mean to do it.” I touched down next to Vitia, and we started on, ignoring the bleating from Frolic behind us, dangling from the crumbling building. He begged us to not leave him there between whimpers. Vitia shook her head as the sounds turned to sobs. “Bit,” Vitia sighed wearily. “We’re no murderers. We can’t just leave him there, even if it is…him.” “I know,” I sighed and slid my wings back out. “I know that, it’s just…” I let myself trail off. I felt pained, but not for me. For Vitia. Just seeing her treatment and what she put herself through when the worst of it was already done…But I can’t just leave him to die, I considered as I kicked off the ground. Frolic glared at me as I hovered in front of him. I tugged on his knife handle with my hooves. “Look, ain’t about to make this a life lesson or anything, ‘cause I’m sure I could learn to live with leavin’ you here, so just get lost before I change my mind.” The strap finally gave way to my sawing and Frolic flailed through the air for a moment before landing with a dull whump against the hard stone below. He shrieked in pain and cradled his leg before standing and limping away. I called out to Vitia from atop the skeletal structure I was perched upon. The sun had begun its slow descent behind mountains. We had been searching the Ridge for a few hours now and as the daylight was waning, I had taken to flying about to scout the area. She’s not going to like this. “Did you find something, Bit?” Vitia sounded worried. “Please tell me you found something.” “Yes?” I answered. I didn’t know how to put it easily. She cocked her head and stared at me for a moment. “Well, what does that mean? Did you or didn’t you?” “There’s a slaver train up ahead on the tracks and they’re loading up cargo right now.” I said in a rush, “It looks like your Silver is in that cargo.” Please don’t freak out. “Oh, so we just have to get her off then.” She smiled. Dust kicked up lightly as I fluttered to the ground and slid my wings back under the barding. “Ah, Vitia, that would imply that we could even get to her in the first place.” Her gaze was fixed on some unseen horizon. “We can just smuggle ourselves onboard,” then to me, “Right?” Did I just hear her right? I stared at the mare for a moment, completely dumbfounded. I didn’t know if she heard her own plan or not but I certainly wasn’t too keen on willingly letting a slaver slap irons on me. “Alright, I’ll bite. Getting ourselves onboard is easy. We just walk up and get caught.” I nudged the mare, “But how did you plan on getting out cleanly? Given our track record, that part hasn’t exactly been very stellar.” Vitia made a small dismissive noise and began walking. “I don’t think we can afford to wait. They could be leaving right now for all we know.” “Y’got that horn screwed on too tight,” I deadpanned, motioning in the opposite direction toward the tracks. “Yer bad idea’s this-a-way.” We edged our way around a building just out of sight from the main road. I could clearly see the slavers loading the remaining cargo on to the carriages. From the looks of it, they had been moved into repurposed coal bins, still barely held together with half-rotting wood and long strips of sheet metal. Between the gaps I could make out the shapes of ponies milling about in groups. Several large clusters of ponies had been lashed together at the head of the train, it pained me to see anypony like that but knew we only had one chance to get to Silver and it couldn’t be wasted. “Hang on a moment, Vitia.” I stopped her just short of the clearing. “Gotta take care of somethin’ first.” I took off my full barding and rummaged through its furthest pocket for some tools. With a few practiced tweaks, Hammer’s custom harness and my trader jacket separated. I slipped back into the barding but it felt wrong. It has been some time since I wore just barding and the missing weight left me feeling naked. I pulled out a few scraps of the red and white string used by my old caravan to tie parcels. I sighed before placing the disassembled harness into a nearby salvageable box. Well, it’s not like I have my shotguns anymore and I’d rather a slaver not get their hooves on it. Vitia fidgeted as she stood near me, her anxiety clear. “What’re you doing?” “Oh, right, y’probably never seen one of these.” I motioned to the box and string. “I’m puttin’ together a courier drop. I’d rather not lose everything before we even get started.” Vitia kneeled down and inspected the package. “Seems kind of…half-flanked.” I laughed. “Yeah, well, most drops are more sophisticated than this, but we’d use them to ensure a package was returned to the origin caravan to be resent if we had to abandon it for any reason.” “How’s another courier supposed to know where it goes way out here?” “The Company issues tokens of some kind to caravans in their employ.” I pulled the pre-war coin from my front pouch. “Every caravan gets their own set of tokens, ours was this coin.” “But I saw you give up your token.” “The last thing Copper ever gave me was Hazy’s token.” I looped string around the coin and smiled. “He never reissued it after she died.” I ducked inside a nearby building and spotted a mostly intact front desk. A quick search yielded a broken pencil, jagged chunks jutted out where an eraser once was. I hastily scribbled a note to Willow on the inside of the box and attached a pouch with my remaining caps to the box as payment. “Anything you want to send back to Willow?” I asked, taking off the Pipbuck and placing it in the box. Vitia fished around in her coat pocket before producing a multifaceted tourmaline gem sealed in a dish and set it gently on top. She helped me dig a small hole between a nearby rock and tree that was visible from the main road. I covered the parcel and knotted the string around the base of the makeshift courier drop. “Alright,” I nodded. “Let’s go get caught.” ——
Book 1, Chapter 4.9: DivideView OnlineFallout Equestria: Medicine & MailBook 1, Chapter 4.9: DivideAuthor’s Notes: This is a companion chapter to Chapter Four-point-Eight in Medicine & Mail. If you have not read at least through chapter four-point-eight in the main storyline, then this perspective will not make any sense. Chapter Four-point-Nine Divide “Sometimes it just takes one spark to start a fire.” “What? Just like that, you can’t be serious!” I scrambled forward over the dirty stonework, scraping my tied hooves against the dirty stonework. “How am I supposed to survive out here like this?” True North looked down to me and shrugged. “We’ve an arrangement. We try to be accommodating where we can, but you, Silver Sheen, you were a disruption.” “I tried to do everything you all asked of me!” I pleaded. “It’s not my concern now. The word’s been given.” I cried out after him, screamed for him to stop, and wailed at the unfairness of it all. My voice returned from the walls in mocking tones. I cursed him and everypony in that fucking sewer. What did I do to deserve this? I knew I was having troubles fitting in, but to tie me up and leave me in this filthy city? I’d starve or die of heat stroke! A scraping sound snapped me from my self-pity. A scraggly pony in tattered grey strips of cloth around his neck sauntered toward me, dragging one mangled hoof behind. His eyes were empty, devoid of sense. He cackled quietly to himself as he approached. Or raped or sold or both! I panicked, kicking frantically at the stonework. I bit into the frayed ropes that ripped through my coat and into my skin. I pulled and chewed, glancing quickly between the knots and the emaciated pony through hot tears. He took another step, and his shadow inched over my side. He was on top of me and my hooves were still tied. I screamed and swung my arms wide. The clubbing blow staggered the haggard stallion. He swayed a moment, then lunged forward, a scowl across his face. I shoved and pushed frantically, kicking and screaming, trying to free myself from his grasp. A thick, putrid stench emanated from his mouth as he smiled and laughed. Black gums covered in boils and oozing filled the spaces where his teeth should have been. His tongue was swollen and covered in a white fuzz. My stomach threatened to empty itself but my body was too busy thrashing to afford the time. Another shadow crossed over me, and a split second later the rotting stallion was knocked some feet from me. Blood spilled over his face and ran from a gaping wound on his head. The shadow grew and engulfed me. I turned to it, body already reacting and flinging my hoofs out at the shape, but a heavy stomp to my stomach caused me to convulse and coil up uncontrollably. Rancid liquid seeped from my lips as I was dragged by my mane into the street. “Right on time.” “They’re ne’er late. Told yuh that.” “Just this one,” the stallion asked, nudging me with a hoof, “Or collar the other one too? Bloodsport or hunting maybe?” I shrieked as a deafening roar split the hot air. I twisted up to see a smoking pistol held by a midnight blue stallion in slipshod leathers. “Naw,” he said, holstering the weapon. The frenzied stallion with his torn rags lay lifeless just a few feet from me. Blood pooled around the portion of his skull that was splattered across the rest of the walkway. My will escaped me like the blood from the corpse of the drugged stallion, and I could offer little resistance as the two as they clasped a heavy metal collar around my neck. Tight metal clasps bit into my skin and weighed my hooves down. Another chain extended from the clasp on my throat to a dingy stallion in front of me, and I couldn’t bring myself to peek around and see who was attached behind. Our line was herded onward over cracked stonework and through dirt fields at the edge of the town. The midday sun blazed unimpeded by clouds, and the soft sand beneath my hooves seared with each step into it. Chains flashed and glinted in the light, and radiated the blazing afternoon heat, leaving burned hair and blistered flesh wherever they pressed. My steps slowed, and the chain around my neck went taught, lurching me forward. The pony behind me had slowed to a crawl, and I was having to push myself to drag along the extra weight. “Sooner y’ get there, th’ sooner y’ can take a break, ahh?” called out one of the slavers. He walked along the line and glared at each of the captives in turn. His eyes were yellow with small blue dots for pupils. His mane was ragged and patchy. He stopped half a step behind me, and brought his hoof down into flesh. I cringed as the mare behind me cried out. She must have tried to run or panicked and pulled away, because the chain at my neck went taut and nearly pulled me over. My hooves dug into the sandy soil as I held my ground. More screams and the jingle of chain and thump of hoof on flesh came from behind. “Now, y’see,” the slaver called out, “One of y’ thought she did’na have t’ carry yer own, and now th’ whole lot o’ y’ gotta carry it for her! Now c’mon,” he yelled, “Move!” Awful, awful, awful! The smell that lingered in the carriage had a vile scent to it. It must have been composed of every bodily fluid in a pony and used to paint the walls, as overwhelming as it was. The windows of the carriage were sealed with wood and rebar, and uneven nails and sharp edged tin strips held the rest of the compartment together. What little wood remained of the floor creaked and gave with any pressure on it, so I tried to keep my balance on the metal sheets where I could. Unfortunately, evermore slaves were being loaded in and space was becoming tight. A large earth pony teetered and fell against me, pinning me painfully against a pile of rotting wooden scraps. He pushed back gruffly and with a heavy thud, he fell to the flooring. The only silver lining was that our collars had been removed, and we were free to breathe without the pressure of the choker. The reprieve was short lived, though, as I gagged when a wisp of air flooded my senses. A short while later, the shouting outside had quieted, and several carts ahead, the sound of heavy beams being released from the train passed over the carriage. The train lurched roughly and we started moving. The other slaves all settled into their corners or small groups, silent but for those that sobbed and shuddered. I curled up in my little space, uncomfortably caught between the enormous sleeping pony and a pile of rubble. I tried to ignore the rattling of the chains, whimpers and sobs, and the screech of overladen carriages on worn metal tracks, but they wormed in and the harder I tried to shut them out, the louder they became. My head pounded and screamed, and I pressed my hooves harder into my ears until the pain overtook the voices. Somepony tapped on my shoulder, but I shrugged, in no mood for the pointless chatter of other slaves that nopony in this wretched hell could do anything about it. The taps came again, and again. I spun, clattering the chains. I hissed and made to scream, but the sounds caught in my throat. I was face to face with a familiar white unicorn. Her purple eyes flickered in the dusty light. Her chains rattled, and she lunged at me, wrapping me as best she could. She leaned her whole body against me, and I was holding her without realizing. “Silver,” Vitia whispered, “I knew we’d get to you.” Behind Vitia was a mare with a dark green coat and steel-blue mane. She stepped forward, cautiously avoiding the orange mound of burly earth pony flesh between us. “Now for the hard part,” she whispered. I looked to Vitia, “What are you doing here?” “Rescuing you,” she smiled. She smiled, as if she and I weren’t on a train packed with heavily-armed slavers filled with slaves-to-be, and weighed down by heavy chain. It was the same smile I could remember as if she just said good morning. Just the two of us in all this mess. I shook away the memory, and whispered, “I don’t see how your current situation is any better than mine.” “Yer girl’s got a point,” whispered the other mare. She looked to me briefly, and I noticed her eyes were different shades. One was a bright golden, and the other was faded, like a brightly painted cap that had been left in the sun for too long and lost its vibrancy. The train bounced and creaked as it passed over uneven tracks. Wooden shutters adorning the windows clattered and chains clanked. “Any ideas?” Vitia asked the other mare. “Still wingin’ it,” the odd-eyed one replied. “Just gotta get out of these chains first.” I couldn’t understand—their expressions weren’t that of despair like the other slaves. Our lives were forfeit at this point, destined to be tracked halfway across the Wasteland to be sold, and there was nothing we or anypony could do about it. “How’d you get here? Why’d you come here?” I asked. “This thing’s being pulled by slaves,” Vitia said absently. “Think we can get them to stop?” she asked the other mare. “There’s a whole carriage of slavers ‘tween us an’ them. No harness, no guns, no magic, remember?” Vitia shook her head. “We’ve got to save everypony.” The other mare leaned in, brows furrowed, and whispered harshly, “Ain’t no way, Vitia.” “We can’t just leave them here!” Her voice rose above the clatter of the train, and she ducked down for a moment before continuing, quieter, “We can’t just leave them here, Bit. I’m not going to run away like at the fort.” “We can’t,” the other mare replied sternly. “No guns, no support, an’ we’re chained up besides. Ain’t gonna do nopony any good dead and that’s one surer than a bullet to the brain, right there.” Vitia clicked her teeth and turned away, glaring into the throng of slaves. I sat, watching the two, dumbstruck. For a brief moment, I was in awe. This wasn’t the Vitia that I said my goodbyes to weeks ago. Not the playful, snot-nose brat of a mare I once knew. She wanted to help, and I understood that. Silence hung over the three of us as we sat on the hard flooring. The train lurched as it continued forward, and our chains slid across the floor. “I agree with Vitia,” I said, finally. “If we can do anything, we have to do it for everypony here. Nopony deserves what’s going to happen to them in here.” With each word I was emboldened. “How could I live with myself—could you live with yourself?—knowing that we could’ve done something but didn’t? We have to try.” Bit shook her head, “Look, I know everypony wants t’ play the hero, but it just ain’t happenin’. Maybe y’forgot, but we can’t even help ourselves just yet.” A moment later, she added, “These shackles look simple enough though, so if I can just find a long bit of metal, we can see to gettin’ off. Maybe catch the sunrise uncuffed, yeah?” Vitia turned to her, and stifled a quiet giggle. “Oh Bit Flip, you wonderful featherbrain.” She adopted a teasing tone, “Your mane’s still nice and combed, wouldn’t you say?” The green mare lit up and a grin crossed her face. She reached up and pulled a bobby pin from her bangs, slipped one end into her mouth, and plunged the other end into the slot on the shackle. “What are you doing?” I whispered. Vitia leaned in quickly and pressed her hoof to her lips, “Just watch.” A moment later, a quiet click sounded from within Bit Flip’s shackles, and with a quick twist, she slipped it off. That’s it, I thought. This is really going to work. My spirits lifted, and I watched with barely-contained excitement as the gruff mare went to work on her other hoof. She moved more quickly with the pin, and let out a brief “Ha!” a moment later. The pin bent as she turned her hoof, and snapped. She spit out the broken pin and cursed. “Damn it, just one left,” she moaned, pulling another pin from her hair. She slid the pin in and took a deep breath before twisting on it. The shackle clicked and gave way. She smiled, and made quick work of the last two. Unchained, she peered into the carriage behind us, moving her eyes over each of the downtrodden slaves, then motioned for Vitia’s manacles. The first chain slid from her leg almost immediately, and Bit Flip started on the second without hesitation. The last two came off, and she started on the binding on my leg. After the second shackle came free, I rubbed my legs. They were sore, and there were visible marks where the edges bit into the skin, but nothing lasting. Each rub made me feel better, more alive. More like none of the horrible things that day had happened. When the last click came and the shackle was twisted free, I started to my hooves. I felt like jumping for joy. An arm wrapped around my neck and roughly dragged me back to the floor where I locked eyes with Bit Flip. Her golden eye shimmered brightly through the expression of fear written across her features. “Y’damned daft foal, get down,” she cursed. “What? We’re free—” Vitia hushed me quickly, her face contorted with the same fear as her companion’s. She leaned up to me, “Calm down, Silver. If anypony finds out, what do you think’s gonna happen? We’ve got to stay hidden back here.” I looked around quickly. The chest of the earth pony beside us lifted as he slept. Just beyond him, two tattered mares lay huddled together, their faces drawn and tear streaks matting their cheeks. Those expressions repeated in face after face across the dozens behind them. As the train shook and rattled, small rays of light flickered through the cracks in the walls and sealed windows, and illuminated clouds of dust. I couldn’t understand why Vitia and Bit Flip were so terrified. Every wearied face I looked at in the cabin told me of their resignation, and as they teetered or fell from the shaking of the carriage, I could only see the sorrow of ponies ripped from their homes. Beside me, Bit Flip shook the massive mass of pony. The orange stallion mumbled something and turned to her. His face was thick and heavy, with beady eyes. Despite the burns, scars, and pocks, though, his expression was gentle and calm. Bit Flip moved to the titan’s hooves and started undoing it with her pin. The shackle clicked free, and she wrestled it from the stallion’s leg. Deep creases and slices across his hooves marked where the shackles, much too small for the massive pony, had dug into his flesh. “What is she doing?” I asked Vitia. The unicorn seemed as lost as I was, and we just stared in silence, watching her make short work of the other manacles, before turning and starting on another pony’s. The carriage began to come to life slowly. Nearby ponies looked to the source of the rattling chains, and I watched the realization spread over their faces. Eyes went wide, mouths opened slowly, and excitement seemed to flow from Bit Flip’s rescued in waves. “Bit,” Vitia spoke, her voice strangely concerned and loud over the chatter of the shuffling ponies. “Don’t do this,” she begged. The other mare ignored her and twisted another pony’s leg free. Beyond her, a thick wall of ponies had developed. Dozens of eyes looked on her. The massive earth pony gently situated himself between Bit Flip and the growing crowd, using his muscled bulk to help keep some space free for the mare as she snapped chain after chain from ponies. Bit Flip looked to Vitia and held her gaze for several seconds. The anxious crowd shuffled, and ebbed, oblivious to the dead expression on the mare’s face. She made an exaggerated motion, twisting the pin slightly, and it snapped. A single shudder ran through the carriage, and in its wake was a deafening roar of shouts. The slaves burst from all directions inward, climbing over the massive earth pony and crashing against the wall. Bit disappeared under the waves of frenzied ponies. The crowd had come to life. Excitement and jubilation gave way to terror and panic. Like a swarm with a single thought, the frenzied mass moved instinctively. They lunged, scraped, and tore their way across the carriage, crushing the hapless underhoof. A deafening roar split through the air, and several more followed. Rushing through the carriage door, several slavers held pistols tightly, firing into the ceiling above and into the frenzied mass. Like a wounded beast, the crowd shifted and swarmed toward the slavers. I was pushed aside and nearly swallowed by the roiling mass, frantically bucking my way from it. Hooves bit into my flesh and I winced at the pain that came from my side and leg. My chest crashed against the rubble and sharp edges pressed deep into my skin. A weight fell upon me and slid back, crushing me against the wall. Gunfire roared from just in front of me. Splinters flew in all directions from crates being hit. Shrapnel rained down as bullets shredded the rotted wood on the flooring and walls. Ponies screamed and blood spattered as they were hit. A swath cleared in front of me, and I scrambled to my hooves, dashing after the brief flash of white that disappeared into the crowd. I had to shove and kick my way through, stomping my way over fallen ponies and tripping over chains. I felt a sudden burning in my mane, but I was pulled away from the grasps and violence too suddenly to react. I could hear Vitia’s voice, screaming, but over the roar of insanity all around us, I couldn’t understand her words. The carriage shook, and light flooded part of the carriage behind Vitia. I peered beyond her to see part of the door that had been barred and sealed hanging loosely from a damaged frame. Several ponies fought each other for the cramped space, frantic to be out of the opening and through to freedom. Ridges of metal and nails marred the entry, and dug deep into the flesh of the frenzied group. Flesh sliced wide and screams of pain overtook the roar of the crowd and screeching wheels. A colt dashed through the doorway in front of me. His legs caught on jutting metal and ripped through as he stumbled out the doorway. His chains snapped taut and he bounced along the tracks and gravel below, tearing skin and the flesh beneath as he skipped unevenly over the surface. His chains had wrapped around another pony’s legs, who was pulled tight to the doorframe, rusted metal piercing through his side. His screech deafened the rest of the crowd’s. The chains bounced once and came free. The colt fell to the track and a moment later, an explosion of flesh, bone and blood filled the space he just occupied, then disappeared as the train surged onward. Several ponies flew through the air away from the crowded opening, bowled aside by the massive orange earth pony. His coat was spattered in red but his eyes were calm like before. Bit Flip dashed through his legs and nearly straight into Vitia. “We have to go!” she yelled. I was shoved forward and crashed onto my face. My hooves struggled on the slick surface, and I clumsily made to my hooves. I stood in streaks of blood and tattered flesh at the doorway. The stallion that had been tangled with the colt had slumped to his side, and blood seeped from the chunks of missing and torn flesh. Through the opening, beneath an uneven plating of pocked metal, I saw a structure of latticed steel and heavy supports rather than the ground as I expected. The bridge rose high above a wide canyon that shimmered along the bottom. “Jump, Silver!” Vitia who was twisting and bucking, trying to break free from the grasp of the mare who was biting into her tail. My legs shook and I froze. I couldn’t move. Madness had enveloped the carriage, and the thick stench of blood and gunpowder had overtaken the putrid smells prior. Wheels screeched on the rickety metal track below. Ponies screamed and shouted all around. Guns fired and chains swung wildly. The orange stallion spun and bucked. His massive legs connected flat with the pony that held on to Vitia, and the frenzied mare was flung back, crashing into several others behind her. The stallion ducked down and slammed against another with his shoulder, freeing Bit Flip. Vitia rushed to the doorway, and grabbed my face, holding it painfully between her hooves. Her face was matted with sweat, specked with grime, and her lips cracked and seeped blood. “We have to,” she yelled. But I was scared. Terrified. My hooves scraped against the floor, and I leaned away. I didn’t see the opening as salvation. I knew it was, but I could only see the colt that dashed through and was torn to shreds. The decision wasn’t mine to make. A pair of evergreen legs wrapped around my neck, and yanked me toward the opening. My hooves pushed and scraped against the flooring in protest, but I struggled in vain. Burning pains flared through me as we crashed against and scraped through the tattered opening. Metal scraps dug into skin, tacks and nails pierced, and then we plunged into the open desert air. A gust of its thick heat hit me before I was unexpectedly lurched upwards. We tumbled and flipped, and caught the edge of the track before plummeting down. I spun, and through Bit Flip’s wings, I saw the bridge falling quickly away in the distance. —— Party Status: Bit Flip: Overall healthy. Lacerations and minor physical trauma. Stress levels highly elevated. Level Up (15) Vitia: Overall good physical condition. Lacerations and other minor wounds. Highly elevated stress levels. Mental condition moderately stable. Level Up (13) Quest Perk: Magic Enfeeblement III Your magical conduit is damaged and you cannot manifest any magic. Trying to will result in debilitating pain and an automatically failed spell. Silver Sheen: Moderate physical condition, with slight blood loss and moderate physical trauma. Extreme stress levels. Level Up (3) Notable Possessions: None.
Book 1, Chapter 5View OnlineFallout Equestria: Medicine & MailBook 1, Chapter 5Chapter 5 “Can’t always leave it up to your freaky luck when going all-in, You need learn when to fold ’em sometimes, sweetie.” Everything in the Wasteland comes with a price, but not all value can be measured in caps. I chose to trade the life of many for that of one, and if I were to look back at it objectively it would be the better deal. Silver certainly had more inherent value to me than a train load of slaves, but there’s the rub. Slaves they may have been, and likely none of them deserving of it, but all the same they were still ponies. We saved Silver Sheen, but at what cost? I justified it back then with pretty words and an incredibly naïve sentiment, but looking back on it, even after all this time, I’m at a loss. Was I right in doing so? I’m not so sure these days. Vitia nodded to me as the wall of ponies behind us swelled in number, each of the slaves frantic for release. The herd mentality had taken over and everypony was trying to flee. It didn’t seem to matter where or even at what odds. Vitia held Silver Sheen’s face sandwiched between her hooves and was yelling something at the poor mare. With all the commotion, I couldn’t make about it out, but it hardly mattered. Between the growing mob and the slavers firing indiscriminately into it, we didn’t have long before either was upon us. I had to trust that Vitia would make it out safely behind me. “Swear on all the stars in the sky, y’ damn foal.” I wrapped my arms around the frightened Silver’s neck, “Gonna drag you outta here if I have to.” Vitia’s short protests were quickly lost in the chaos as I pushed off a nearby crate with Silver in tow. Her hooves scraped along, catching periodically on the gapped flooring as she struggled against every beat of my wings. Each contested step towards the mouth of the carriage was one more towards our ticket out of that nightmare and I paid little mind to her objections as we hop-marched towards that goal. Silver quaked in front of the opening, inches away from her salvation. She had the look of a wild animal, her eyes wide, terrified of some unseen horror as she grudgingly backpedaled away. I’ll pull her out with me if I have to. Wings outstretched, I backed up against the makeshift wall and made ready to jump through the side opening into the ravine. The floor buckled beneath my hooves just as I ran forward, pitching me sidelong into the spooked mare. I heard a brief cry as we crashed against the opening of the car and tumbled out into the open desert air. Our bodies had entwined during the fall, and searing pain tore its way through me. I felt like the train itself had crushed me as I cushioned her during our fall onto the track platform below the cart. The wind whipped at us as we fell towards the river and I tried to extend my wings, but twisted barding and leather flaps worked against me as I tugged at them, pinning my wings at an awkward angle. I could finally appreciate the old saying Hazy would repeat as she tossed me from the cloud banks. The first flying lesson I ever received as a filly was about the drop. That it wasn’t the fall that kills you, just the abrupt stop. The single moment of impact stretched into an eternity as the river took us, and I focused on the panicking mare in my grasp, struggling to keep hold of her. Lungs robbed of air and chest wreathed in burning pain, I struggled in vain against the cold embrace of the river that pulled us deeper into it. Survival instincts asserted themselves. My body yearned for precious oxygen and I fought my way to the surface. Brief thoughts of saving myself and abandoning Silver crossed my mind. I pushed them away as the memory of Vitia’s sacrifice spurred me onward into the depths I so recently escaped. Silver had to be down there somewhere and I wouldn’t let it all go to waste. A glint of argent light caught my eye beneath the waves and I dove down, frantic in my efforts, to save the drowning mare. Adrenaline worked its magic better than any chem in the Wasteland as I slipped an arm around her and kicked our way back to the surface. Silver flailed when we crested the surface. A brisk rush of air passed over my wet coat and rattled through my feathers before we plunged back down into the cascade. My world flashed white. Silver was flung against me, and amidst her kicks to stay above water, her lips moved as if to speak. The roar of the raging canyon rapids smothered my senses and her words were washed away, unheard. A trickle of warmth mixed in with the biting cold as we crested the waves. I jerked my hoof away and stared in bewilderment. Red streaked across it momentarily before being washed away into the river. We were at the mercy of the rapids as rocky outcroppings flew past. My grip on Silver broke long enough for her to slip under the whitewater. I panned around in a panic once more for the silver-maned mare but she was nowhere to be seen. I cried out in pain, slammed into the rough, uneven surface of a rock. A throbbing ache formed at my side and I looked down. Silver coughed and sputtered against me as the river pushed us over the cascade. Exhaustion wore heavily at me, leaving my eyelids ready to drop at any moment. A small wheezing cough caught my attention and I glanced off to my side. Silver was similarly sprawled out, floating along the newly-calm waters with her eyes closed. Good, she made it. Little bit worse for wear, but she’ll be fine. I wiped my brow and winced. Translucent drops of pink ran in small rivulets off the tip of my hoof as I held it up, my evergreen coat muddied with shades of red. A muffled sound echoed through the fog. It sounded as if my name was in there somewhere but everything felt distorted and half-muted. The continued lure of sleep wrapped about me and pulled me back into the fog. A lingering consideration to the echo lazed its way across my mind but was snuffed out by waves of cold. I begrudgingly opened my eyes, ever so slowly lifting that weighty veil, and tried to focus on the blurry shapes before me. Her mouth moved and she seemed to have a sense of urgency about her, but everything she said sounded so far away. Waves lapped at my side and face as I lay there, rocking me back and forth, threatening to dislodge me from the shoreline I had lucked upon. The muddy beach made wet squelching noises as my hooves dug into it and I struggled to find solid purchase with my submerged hind legs. I wanted for nothing more than to just lie down again, face in the mud and close my eyes, but orange and white legs hooked their way around mine as I began to slip. Warmth trickled and wormed its way down my head as my gaze followed the legs up. I could just make out the pained expression across her face. “Hey Vish—” I started. When’d you get here, I meant to finish, but the words felt thick in my mouth and tasted faintly of copper as they slurred from my lips. She leaned in close to steady my wobbly frame as I stood there in a daze trying to speak. I heard the quiet snick of a blade passing through leather and a short tugging sensation from my back. Sharp burning sensations arced along frayed nerves and a panic rose from within my breast. I turned to look at my fallen wing. It twisted and fell slack against my side in the passing breeze. “I’m so sorry, Bit,” she said, reaching out to hold the wing steady against my body. “But we need to set and splint this before we continue.” With a flash of orange, the former slave pinned me into the mud, unable to jerk away from Vitia’s probing touches. Waves of nauseous pain nearly caused me to collapse. My mind went blank but for the sensation of bone scraping against bone as she peeled the wing from my coat. I panicked as a folded piece of leather was placed between my teeth, struggling under the colossal pony’s strength. I was instructed to bite down. Hard as I could, the distant voice said. The leather tasted of the desert and had a familiar musty smell. It soothed my shaken nerves and I tried to steel myself, but a wetness formed at the corner of my eyes in anticipation of what was to come. A strangled cry escaped my throat and the thick stench of ammonia permeated the air as every muscle tensed when she slid and bound the first thin bone back into place. I tried to blink away the haze of sleep and, with a hiss, screwed my eyes tight against the harsh overhead glare. Vague memories of a nightmare lingered at the edge of consciousness, flickering around in the fog, dancing, daring to come back when an unfamiliar sound pushed them away. “Welcome back to the waking world, daughter of the skies,” a melodic voice began. “I pray that your trip through the stars was uneventful?” I shuffled to my side and glanced at the strange speaker. She sat on a rusted chair opposite me rolling a mortar and pestle between her hooves as she spoke. Stripes of black and white peeked through wisp-thin cloth wrapped around her. The fragrant smell of mint leaf permeated the air and I scrambled out of bed in a panic. Need to move, leave this place, anything! One wing unfurled while the other caught on strap and metal. I landed on my hooves, unbound wing flapping on instinct. I ain’t about to get eaten by a bloater! My view teetered as I hop-skipped forward trying to regain my faltering balance. A niggling pain radiated from my side when I finally came to a stop in front of the zebra. I glanced about me: shadows played along the wall, and the only lights were from lamps above cots. “Sweet mother of murder, cloudfarer, be at ease. No harm shall come to you here.” Her voice was warm but carried the full weight of warning along with an authority and experience that I couldn’t easily place. “What you smell is ground Lamia’s Leaf, the byproduct of a withered desert mimic.” She tilted the small bowl forward; dried snakelike tendrils, brown and lifeless, curled amongst the powdered remains. I dipped my head low to peer closer at the mixture and the aroma of mint wafted to me. An immense calm settled over me like a heavy blanket, snuffing out any remaining flickers of worry within me. I heard a familiar voice call out from behind, pulling from me the cloak of herb-induced tranquility. A pair of velveteen arms wrapped around my neck in a comforting embrace. “Bit! You had me worried there for a while when you wouldn’t wake up. I thought that, perhaps, Xanti had given you too much…Oh, shoot, what was it called? Thystic?” The zebra nodded briefly before returning to her grinding as Vitia continued, “You were so restless in bed that we thought further damage to your wing was being done while the bone brew was knitting them back together.” “Glad to see you made it out alright, too.” I briefly nuzzled one of Vitia’s arms and leaned back into her embrace. “Did Silver make it out okay?” “She did. A little shaken up, but she’ll be okay.” Vitia rested her head on my shoulder, breath playing gently along my neck as she sighed. I could almost feel the tension easing from her as she spoke. “I…Thanks, Bit. For taking care of her.” Wanting to change the subject, I pulled away from her as I glanced at my bound wing and, much to Vitia’s voiced displeasure, tried to move it, only to be rewarded with a sore radiating ache. Between the brace and swelling, it wouldn’t budge. “How long was I out?” Vitia recounted the missing day and hoof or two of hours before being brought to this small town hidden between the divide’s rocky coves. Thieves’ Bend they called it, in remembrance of some long sordid history between miners and bandits. Silver had taken to helping out in the town’s bar to earn some quick caps. The orange stallion managed to make the trek with only minor injury, and many others from upriver were carried in and helped by Vitia and Xanti. Wait, Realization slowly dawned, Healing potions alone take days, weeks even sometimes to knit bone like that. The little pieces of chaos slowly strung themselves together as I listened to her. I stared at the swollen wing and winced again as I prodded it gently with a hoof, all of the bones felt whole and right if a touch flexible. “Earlier, you said…brew, not potion?” I grumped and flopped back down. “Ah, hell. I got freaky zebra magic runnin’ through me now.” “Worry not, walker of clouds, zebra are wholly unmagical.” Xanti noted with a grin, her sapphire eyes shining with a catlike gleam in the dim overhead light. “Though, this does not preclude us from warping the very nature of things around us through wholly natural means. Unlike sons and daughters of the arcane, such as Vitia there, we do so through the usage of mixtures of earthen materials.” “Basically, Bit, you’re not going to be using that wing for some time.” Vitia moved to my side and inspected the strap. “You shouldn’t even be ambulatory with how out of it you were,” she sighed. “If anything’s freaky, it’s the ridiculous fortitude you’ve got. Suffered a nasty head wound and somehow managed to snap or outright shatter nearly every major bone in that wing. You were even conscious for a good while as I set and splint those bones.” “I s’pose you never actually got to meet Copper, did you?” I shrugged. “Earth halfie. All that silly endurance with none of the strength, but hey at least I can fly, right?” I gave a light chuckle, “Too bad I’m clumsy as hell.” Vitia gave me a death glare as I reached to relieve the terrible itch that had formed under my bound wing. “Okay, fine. I’ll stop fiddlin’ with it. When’s this damn thing come off anyway?” Xanti gave me the shorthoof explanation on how bone knitters brew worked, that my bones were essentially rubber. It made me queasy. It would take another day before the bones hardened and set, allowing me to remove the brace, but a full month before they’d harden enough to allow for flight. She offered the bowl of powdered herbs as I stood and stretched, but I waved a hoof and politely declined. “Well, thank you for taking me into your care, and I’m sorry to say this,” I hesitated for a brief moment, dreading the next words, “But I don’t have a cap to my name.” Again. I wanted to smack the little pony in my head with a hose. Could almost hear her cackling at our impoverished state. “Oh, no, Vitia has more than taken care of it.” Her airy laughter echoed through the empty room as she lead us to the door. “Aside from an interest in what most unicorns pass off as charlatanry, she has helped relieve me of a few troublesome patients and been a pleasure to talk to.” Xanti stood and walked us to the door, “I wish only that she would lengthen her stay, but I realize you and yours are travelers.” The orange mammoth of a stallion blocked most of the overhang shade outside and we had to sidestep around his resting form. He blinked once before fixing his beady eyes on Vitia and stood, his meaty hooves thundered along the dusty trail as he followed behind us. Maybe it’s just the herbs. I shivered despite the heat. “What was up with that zebra? Made my mane itch every time she’d stare at me. Like she was tryin’ to size me up or somethin’.” Damn freaky zebra magic. “Don’t be silly, Bit,” Vitia giggled and nudged me. “She meant well enough, besides if it weren’t for her brew you’d have probably lost that wing, you know.” She cantered a short ways ahead of our little group before turning to face us, with a bounce in her step and a grin on her face. “Well, everything worked out in the end, right?” She gave short nod and without missing a beat, “Right. Now then, let’s go take a break for once, we’ve earned it.” The commotion was infectious and I found myself falling into the rhythm and flow of the bar with each step despite my injured wing. Music drifted from an open window to the bar, and a piano tune filled air with highs and lows. Ponies in dusters and decked out in side arms sat out front by the doors in dark glasses that hid their view from me. I was sure they saw every little move we made and a small shiver played along my spine as the breeze slipped between my feathers. Going to have to get a new jacket soon as this damn brace is off. We picked our way through the gathering crowd and pushed on through the doors. A cheerful voice greeted us, asking us to come in and make ourselves at home. I stared at the transformed mare, a little dumbstruck. No longer did she look the part of a pitiful slave, washed up, dolled in makeups and a sleek dark uniform. A bitter touch pulled at the corner of my mind and my wing ached at seeing Silver whole and well, but at the same time a conflicted happiness welled up as Vitia trotted over and greeted her old friend with a smile. No sense feeling upset at where fate places the chips, Bit. I shook my head and took in the view of the bar. Staggered steps, two by two, separated by a winding hand rail lead down into the gambling pit below. Patrons milled about the tables, where a myriad of colors decorated each for the different games. The sounds of cards and dice shook through the air above the music and countless other ponies spectated off to the side cheering as people tried their luck. I took a step towards the wonderland before me, instinctively trying to reach into my barding for my cap pouch and pawed at the air. With a sigh, I slinked my way back to the bar proper and sat near Vitia. She sat there with a full glass of a whiskey and new bottle of Red Rivulet, her face flush and content. I batted at the sealing tape and cork, briefly wondering where she had gotten the caps to afford it when a glass clinked against the marred counter. Nostalgic dark amber spirits swirled around within. “Go on, some black pony will do you good right about now.” Vitia nudged the glass with her hoof. She smiled as I lifted the glass to my face. My stomach knotted itself and I felt a wave of nausea roll over me when the smell of liquor hit my nose. “Thanks, Vitia,” I said. It took all that I had to not drop the glass. “But after last time, I don’t think I’ll be drinking for a long while.” I wanted to drink it, to return to old times, to wind down with Vitia and try to put that whole mess behind me, but my body wouldn’t allow it. I pushed the glass away with a sigh and forced a smile, determined not to ruin the mood. The sounds of gamblers tempting the fates down on the floor below carried to my ears over the music and I felt the lure of chance again. “Think I’ll go watch some of the games for a little while.” The air was electric. Whoops and hollers shouted from every table followed by sharp jeers as patrons pushed their luck too far. The sound of dice rattling between cupped hooves drew my attention and I craned my neck over, leaning against the railing. A few patrons milled about a lonely table tucked away in the corner. I watched as each pony would walk up and place a few caps down, and sometimes the dealer would talk for a moment before they rolled and walked off with a shrug. “They have some interesting games here, don’t they?” I couldn’t immediately place the mare’s voice behind me. I turned from the railing to take a look: her silver mane stood out against the dark waitress uniform they had her serving in. “Some of these games I’ve never seen before, but the dice ones look simple and entertaining enough.” Another cheer from the crowds caught my attention and I turned to watch the games again. “Bit Flip, I wanted to thank you.” She said, putting a hoof on my shoulder. “Not just for getting me out that train, but what happened on the river and Vitia too.” Silver gave me a short squeeze before placing a small pouch on the railing and heading back to the bar. I studied the pouch for a moment; it sagged in a way that only caps could cause. Much as I appreciate the gesture, I sighed, opening the pouch to count the many caps she parted with, I’m going to have to return this. She earned these. The shrill calls of dealers drifted along with the music once more, new betting rounds had begun. …Maybe after I play a few rounds. Just have to make sure I return all of them, right? Dealers called out to me as I drifted by each table, watching the rounds play out. As with most gambling dens, even the Church, there were always those looking to bilk the other side. Didn’t matter if they were the dealer or not. The trick, if you were so inclined, was to spot them and cash out before they ran their game. Pegasi and griffins hid cards in the folds of their wings, unicorns used magical sleight of hoof, earth ponies had strange contraptions that would discretely slide cards out, often failing spectacularly. Every table I observed seemed to have at least one or more cheats at it. Sometimes even the dealers themselves were cardsharps. I sighed and wandered off towards the other tables. That explains why this side isn’t so popular. Harder to cheat when all you have are dice. I briefly considered playing a game of Hustle, but the few tables I passed by were quiet as an abbey and I didn’t know the crowd well enough to call someone’s bluff on their set. I glanced at the dealer standing behind a small rectangular table. He was an unimpressive pale yellow unicorn sporting a dirty brown mop of a mane, with a crooked smile and a mismatched black and white dice cutie mark to go with it. The empty seat called to me as he shouted off dice rolls to the few patrons playing. “Hi, boys. Mind if I sit in?” I smiled at the other patrons as they briefly turned to look. Welcome to the finest game in all the Marejave, the dealer boasted as I sat down. Odds ’n’ Ends is where it’s at, best returns in the house, he would say at practiced intervals during his routine. I watched one participant receive their dice. He dropped a few caps on the table and rolled. The dice skittered down the green felt-lined table and bounced off the backboard. A four and two. The dealer said some empty words of encouragement while sliding the dice back. This continued on for a few more rolls until the stallion dropped a three and four and the dealer reached over to pick his newly won caps. “Care to try yer luck, missy?” He extended the dice to me with a toothy grin and spoke in a singsong manner, “Easy as pie, odds ’n’ ends, land on an even and ya get t’ go again, hits sixes an’ ones t’ come out a win!” I nodded once and fished around the pouch for a few caps. The dealer’s eyes lit up as I lined my bet against the back board. Twenty five in all, worn caps shining in the flickering overhead light. “Can’t win big without something to win big on, right?” “Oho, we got ourselves a little gambler here, folks. Well said, well said!” He cheered, placing the dice in my hooves. “Just hoof ’em on back off the board ’ere and we can start.” I smiled to myself and settled into the stool, feeling every edge and face of the dice as I rolled them between my hooves. Vitia was right, a little fun never hurt. They didn’t seem loaded with their straight cut edges and pips that fell flush against each face. Can’t see inside, but they don’t feel uneven. Only way to find out is to shoot. I settled on a sliding toss and thrust my hooves forward with a practiced throw. The dice carried through the air in a lazy arc before landing on a smooth spot in the matting. One spun as it bounced lightly from the board, the other wobbled on a flat axis in staggered, uneven hops before tapping against the backboard and coming to a rest. Double sixes. I hummed a note of approval at the results and looked at the dealer. “Startin’ the day off right it seems,” The dealer leveled a cockeyed stare at me and slid the dice back in an exaggerated manner. “But, y’gotta bounce ’em both off the backer board, sweetheart.” Forcing the dice to roll by bouncing them off the wall. Clever. I clicked my tongue in frustration and scooped up the dice once more. Well, sometimes chance is more fun than skill anyway. They flew across the board, straight as a bullet, and bounced cleanly off the back before coming to a rest in front of me again. Double sixes. The small gallery of bettors was beginning to grow as more crowded along the sides, their shouts overtaking the bar room piano as they collected their winnings. “Well, I’ll be.” The dealer said with a whistle, pulling the dice back and raising a hoof. “Don’t see that too often ’round these parts.” A colt came trotting over, and stood up against the table. Despite being a unicorn, he rolled a fresh set of dice from the pouch to his hooves and placed them flush against the table. He flashed empty hooves to each player to signify an open switch had been made before picking up the old set and leaving. I held my hooves up in mock prayer and, with a grin, recited a litany from the Church, “Blessed are those who shape their fate from risk itself.” “Is…that so?” The dealer shook his head and scooted the dice towards me again, “Bets up then, yer holiness.” I laughed and dropped seventy five caps on the table. The gallery erupted in hollers as bettors scrambled to get in on the action, and bookies drifted between the crowds taking markers as they went. The dice made a racket between my hooves as I shook them. Caught up in the flow of things, I launched them across the board. They skipped across the green mat, low and steady, before bouncing off the backer board. My heart sank as the end of the line came. Six and a one. The wall of bettors roared at me. Harsh jeers flung from the side as players lost their money to chance alongside a few cheers from the opposite side. My ears burned with embarrassment. I wanted to crawl under the table and hide. What were you thinking? Tryin’ to show off like that. “So much for that shapin’ yer fate business, aye? Oh, don’t give me that face, y’sad lookin’ sop. That’s just how luck is.” He taunted from across the way, chuckling as he raked in Silver’s caps. “Tell y’what, missy. I’ll match and double whatever yer next bet is on one condition. You bet the bag.” I stared at the pouch, its weight considerably lighter. I shouldn’t, but I can’t cut my losses and run now. All or nothing. It would be insulting to return it to her half empty. “Alright, yer on,” I said, emptying the pouch onto the table. The remaining hundred caps clattered about on the soft mat. I found myself reaching for a new litany as I cupped my hooves around the dice and shook, their knocking about drowned out everything as I focused on that single moment. Blessed are those who give unto chance, for their salvation is at hand. They tumbled from my hooves across the brushed felt. Patrons placed their side bets and craned their necks to watch as the dice clattered against the backer board. They bounced once, twice, and the world all but crawled as I watched them roll their way back towards me in an uneven manner. A familiar tension coiled up inside, the excitement within building slowly until it was ready to burst. Everything save those dice stood still and not a sound was heard except the soft pattering of chance across the emerald felt. One of them skewed off at an odd angle. It slowed early and came to a stop, a one. I could barely manage to contain myself as I leaned back in the stool. My pulse raced along in rhythm with the remaining die as it danced softly across the board. It thumped against the final rest. I couldn’t watch. The crowd erupted in equal parts cheers and jeers once more and I forced myself to look back down into the field. Snake eyes. I exhaled sharply and felt the tense hold on my body ease. That troublesome itch—the dire need for excitement—it was all gone in a rush. A sense of release and contentment washed over me and I relaxed into my seat. The dealer glared at me and reluctantly pushed forward two hundred caps. “Deal’s a deal then, missy. ’Ere’s yer winnings.” He shouted for new bets before speaking in a low voice, “You may want to take off ’ere, miss. You’ve upset the regulars and they’re a right superstitious folk.” I looked around the table. Players shifted uncomfortably in their seats and the dealer slid the dice to the next in line. Never did understand gamblers and their superstitions.I pushed all of the caps into the drawstring pouch and cinched it closed before slipping it around my neck. “Know when I’m not wanted at a table anymore. Good luck with the rolls, fellas.” I crested the stairs and glanced around the bar. A dark blur bowled into me as I rounded the corner. He yelped and fell to his haunches, the wooden box he carried clattering to the floor, spilling out decks around us. “Ah, so sorry, miss!” The colt panicked as he scrambled to pick up the decks, levitating them into place. “Stubs always wants decks rotated out.” A couple ponies knelt down with me to help clean up the mess. “No, no, it’s fine. I should have been looking where I was going.” I reached out with the few decks I managed to scoop up. “Here.” With the decks returned and the colt gone into the crowd downstairs, I headed off towards the main bar room. The massive orange stallion sat alone on the floor near a stool bent at odd angles and Vitia was off at a corner table having a conversation with Silver. Don’t want to interrupt those two. I’ll have to return these later. The large earth pony glanced up at me with his beady eyes and I nudged my head towards the door. “Feel like comin’ with? Goin’ to find a roof to sleep under tonight and I could use the company.” Even in a resting position his bulky frame sat as tall as I stood. He grunted out a response and nodded his head. The floor beneath his hooves creaked as he stood. He nudged ahead of me and the crowd parted like a river around stone as we headed towards the door. The early evening sun cast long shadows across the bar’s threshold and a cool breeze from the river riffled through my feathers. I raised a hoof to my eyes and stepped out into the desert heat. “Hey!” A nasal voice from behind me called out, “Miss, with the wings, hold up.” I turned to look at the source of the voice. An overly thin stone grey stallion with a dark tan mane slick and matted against his coat stood there levitating a sagging pouch by the draw string. I patted my chest where the pouch should have been hanging. His gaunt features stretched as he spoke, “You dropped this in the crowd back there, Miss…” “Bit Flip, and thanks. Didn’t realize it had gone missing.” I took the bag knotted the cut string back together, then glanced through it before draping it around my neck. Everything looked to still be there and the bag felt heavy enough. “Judging by that fancy fashion accessory you got goin’ on there, I’d wager you’re that pretty little filly brought in from the Wastes all banged up and broken, yeah?” He stepped forward with a grin. “The name’s Betty, I run the general store around these parts.” He lifted a hoof and pointed down the street, “Betty’s Bits, just on over there.” “Is that so?” I took a step backwards out of habit. “So…Betty, maybe you’d know, where’s a decent place to stay around here? We don’t aim to stay long, just overnight and be about our way.” The aged unicorn turned towards the east side of town and pointed at a building out by the river that, by all rights, looked older than he. Unassuming in its height, ancient layered stucco and dull paint forming the exterior. Vague shapes moved about near the door to the building. “Safest place Thieves’ Bend’s got right there. Some old pre-war facility we converted a good hoofful of years back. Odd bunch inside, but they warm up quickly.” “I see. Well, thanks for the tip. Maybe we’ll see about stoppin’ by to see yer bits before we leave.” “Going to hold you to that.” He turned to leave before stopping and turning back, “Oh, miss, when you do head that way, would you be so inclined as to do Ol’ Betty a kindness?” He dug around in a pouch and pressed a small object into my hoof. “Give this to that old hoot by the counter for me, would you?” I stared at the flattened cap in my hoof as Betty walked off before giving me a chance to respond. It had an illegible half-worn slogan across the top and an equally faded purple three star pattern beneath it. “Well, I guess that means we’re going down there, big guy.” I cocked my head and looked at him as he grunted another response. “Yer not much for talkin’, are ya?” He shook his head and sounded another throaty noise as he opened wide. Jagged scars ran down the interior of his mouth, half his teeth were missing, and pocked burn marks splayed across the inside of his cheek. The split nub at the back of his mouth, flayed open and scarred over, twitched. He closed his maw again and slowly shook his head. I cringed at the sight, I knew slavers could be cruel, but that’s just too far. “I, well, hm.” I didn’t know what to say. We walked along the path in silence as dust kicked up around us with the river wind rolling in. “So,” I tried to break the awkward silence, “What do we call you? Bruiser?” A deep note of dissatisfaction came back. “Crusher?” He cocked his head and stared at me before grunting. “Yeah, well, I’m not terribly creative with names. Oh! Bubbles.” He snorted in reply. I nearly fell over as he nudged into me. “Fine, okay, not that. Well, what’s yer cutie mark?” I shuffled around him and stared at his flank momentarily before looking at his cutie mark. “Okay, a pile of rubble. Great, no help there. How ’bout we just call you Big O’?” He shrugged and opened his mouth again. “Aah.” Guess that’s as close to a yes as I’m going to get. I laughed and continued walking. “Big O’ it is then.” The building didn’t look so rundown from afar, but I immediately regretted my decision this close to it. Chunks of walls were missing revealing the steel supports beneath, and ponies milled about inside near bunk beds visible through the holes. The laughter and cheering we heard briefly as we neared the building ceased, replaced by harsh whispers. Two griffins twins, one armed with a heavy assault rifle and the other lugging an unmarked gatling laser, stood at the door. I glanced up at the sun arcing across the horizon. Should tell Vitia where we’re stayin’ tonight. One of the twins propped open the door and stepped aside. Furtive glances were cast my way as I stepped up to the counter. Bunks lined the halls leading from the commons room, a squawk caught me by surprise and I turned sharply to meet it. “Lovely, ’nother mooch outta the Wastes. Whadd’ya want?” An aged griffin asked, his arms thrown into the air. Claws clicked along the smooth metal floors and loose snowy plumage molted as he stalked over to me. “Lookin’ for a place to stay the night. Four of us, preferably behind doors. With locks.” I tried to put on a straight face, but each little tik-tak of his razor talons across the floor made me inch back until my hind pressed against the counter. “That right? Think we’re some kinda Wasteland charity?” His beak snapped inches from my face as he spoke. “Ain’t gotta lot of room as is.” “A-Also,” I stammered out. “Betty said to bring this to you when I came down.” I fell to my haunches after pulling out the flattened cap and took a sidelong glance at the front door. “Please don’t eat me.” He took the cap from my outstretched hoof and let loose a crowing guffaw before extending an upturned claw toward me. The palpable hostility in the room vanished and ponies went back about their business as I took the offer and stood. Crookshank showed us to the rooms we’d be using that night. Two double bunk rooms, no locks. He assured me that locks only served to keep honest people honest and nobody would be bothering us. Having seen the twins guarding the place, I didn’t mind taking his word for it. “Welcome to the Safe House.” Heat shimmered off rooftops in the distance as the late evening sun cast a queer red hue across Thieves’ Bend. A comfortable breeze from the river mixed with the desert air. It wasn’t cold, but it was better than baking in this heat. I had sent Big O’with a note to Vitia just after inspecting our rooms. I trudged along the winding trail towards town following the drifting notes of commotion from the main roads of town. Vendors had taken to hawking their wares from mats and more yet called out from behind carts turning the main street into an impromptu night bazaar. Shadows danced across the buildings as lamps and fires illuminated the path. Clusters of ponies and griffins traveled between traders, and I stood there marveling at the crowds as they flowed around me. I trotted to the nearest vendor that didn’t have a drift of griffins ogling myriad selections of heavy weaponry. She was a gangly minotaur, all sinewy muscle corded around bone with little of the signature heft they usually sport. Her rug held a considerable amount of Wasteland miscellanea from scrap metal to rutted suits of armor. “See anything you like, sugar?” “Maybe. Tryin’ to get to Betty’s Bits.” I flipped a med kit between my hooves while looking at a worn multi-pocket utility jacket. “Betty’s bits, eh? I hear it helps if you buy something from him first. He’s pretty easy after that.” She wiped her eyes as roaring laughter turned into short giggle fits between gasps of breath. “Sorry, it’s just that damn name. He tried to change it once before, but people stopped going. Anyway, the general store is a little west of here; just follow the road a ways.” “Huh, guess I wasn’t too far off. Thanks.” My hooves marked each spot along the inside of the barding as I inspected it. Interior pockets and a bullet hole. Brahmin lined with a scaly hide, probably a gecko or three. “How much for the jacket and med kit?” She glanced at the items I held in my hooves before looking skyward with her hands clasped together. “Mm…Let’s call it seventy-five caps. That sound about right?” “Yer kiddin’ me? These ain’t even worth a fourth of that.” “How do you figure? That’s a genuine Ministry med kit right there and the jacket’s worked brahmin with enough pockets to store a whole Stable.” “How do I figure?” I laughed and ran my hoof along it again. “Look at you tryin’ t’ bilk an honest pony. Is this a blood stain right here, what, did you pull this off some poor pony’s corpse?” Heads from nearby stalls turned to look as I raised my voice. “The ends are frayin’, the stitchin’s subpar. Hell, I’m going to have to repair these bullet holes to even make it worthwhile.” The kit lid flopped open as I fiddled with the broken clasp. “And don’t even get me started on this busted thing.” “Hey, c-calm down.” She said wish a hushed voice, her palms raised outward. “Look, forty caps, low as I can go for the two.” I shrugged the price and placed the kit inside the large attached saddle bags. “Tell y’what, help y’cut losses and I’ll take ’em off yer hands for twenty five caps and that bit of scrap there so I can fix the kit.” “You’re crazy. There’s no way I’m going to let you rob me like that.” “Probably got a long time comin’ before y’move it. Most pony-folk want for armor, not pockets.” I looked over her wares and set the barding back down. “But, suit yerself, guess I’ll go see if Betty can source me somethin’ that ain’t broke.” “You’re bleeding me dry here, pony. Thirty caps or you can walk.” She tossed a piece of scrap metal on to the pile. “And yes, you can have the damn scrap metal.” “Good doin’ business with you.” Caps fell neatly into her large palm as I shook them from the bag. The barding was unfit for wearing—I hadn’t lied about that. Far too many holes and it needed some slight alterations. I glanced at the front of it again before draping it across my back. Wing slits at the very least and the blood stains have to go. A single spark battery lamp lit the exterior of Betty’s shop, casting its wide glow across the sun bleached cinderblock storefront. Above it, a foal-like painting of a mare’s smiling face and some caps hung swaying softly in the evening breeze. I pushed against the door fully expecting it to be locked at this late hour but it swung wide against my hoof. Lockers, safes, and chests of varying sizes and types lined the shop walls. Wooden shelves sat behind a counter filled with canned goods, pack supplies, and salvage trade. I stared at the old-fashioned bit register that took up most of the weathered countertop, its copper trim and polished metal finish sparkled in the bright overhead lights. “Beautiful, isn’t she?” The nasal voice said. “Just your basic pre-war model, but they clean up nicely. I trust everything went fine at the Safe House? That old bird likes to hassle the newbies sometimes.” Betty leaned against a shelf in the back of the store and waved. He shuffled toward the front of the office in an uneven gait, silent and sure in his movements, despite the gnarled hind leg. “Glad you could make it, Bit Flip. Never seen anypony throw a hoof like that and give Mismatch a run for his caps at the dice. It’s rather impressive feat given the circumstances.” He punched a few buttons in succession on the register and his horn lit up. The room was bathed in a plum tinged magical aura, then hidden mechanisms clicked into place and wall panels slid into recessed cubbies revealing a plethora of merchandise secured behind wire cages. “Slick, right? So, what can I do ya for?” The broken med kit clattered down on the weathered countertop. “Enough basic medical supplies to fill this kit. Bandages, pre-made salves if y’got ’em, things like that.” I wandered across the room and gaped at the varied volumes of stock Betty kept hidden behind his walls. “A week’s worth of rations for four and some canteens. Just the basic supplies.” “You traveling types tend to get around quite a bit. So, where are you headed with all this stuff?” “Lookin’ to head out east past the divide, but the route up north is pretty botched right now on account of slavers. Best alternative is the ferries down south, but I haven’t a clue where I landed.” “Closest ferry I know of that still makes the trip is down in Desert’s Edge, ’bout a half-day walk from here.” I picked up a tightly knitted mesh bag and rattled it. “Oh, and these. Definitely need these.” Betty perked up when I jingled the bag and added it to his tally sheet. “You seem awfully straight to be interested in bobby pins? Not just going to keep that unruly mane of yours held back with ’em, are ya?” “Girl’s gotta have her hobbies, yeah?” I glanced around the cages once more and spotted a tea colored corset with straps hidden amongst frilly trim and matching stockings. “Is this what I think it is? It has riot armor inserts woven into the fabric.” “Huh, you didn’t strike me as the fanciful type.” He said from beside me. It was unnerving how silently he got around with that leg. “I guess this sort of thing was popular back before everything went to hell. Civilian grade body armor that was both functional and fashionable.” “Oh, no. It’s for Vitia, ah, the unicorn that brought me into town.” I nodded to the pocketed barding bundled and draped lengthwise across my back. “This sort of thing is much more my style. Enough pockets and hidden areas to store an entire Stable.” Betty slid the checkout sheet towards me, “Alright, I threw in some leather scrap I had in the back so you can get that jacket repaired and then there’s the ‘I like you’ discount. So you’re looking at around a hundred and seventy five caps total for all this.” I sighed and placed the corset back on the rack. “Vitia’ll have to do without this, I guess. How much without it?” “Mm…Looking at sixty five caps for medical supplies, rations, canteens, pins are on the house.” He cast a purple tinted illumination over the paper as he scribbled across it. “Tell ya what though. You seem to be the gambling sort, so let’s make a little wager. You get one bobby pin. No prep time, no extra tools. If you can pop any of those standing lockboxes with just that single pin, I’ll cut the price for the corset in half.” “What’s in it for you?” I walked over a small safe recessed into the wall and peered at him. “Nothing, really.” He shrugged and joined me at the safe. “But, humor an old stallion, would you?” “Whatever y’say, It’s yer store.” I rooted around the mesh pouch and slipped a bobby pin from it. It snapped neatly in two as I split it against the face of the safe. Biting the end of one piece, I slid it a short way into the bottom of the lock and bent to the side creating a square corner tension wrench. It hung from the lock as I inserted the remaining half into the top and pulled sharply to the side making a hook angle. The tension bar bounced against the plug as I tapped gently against it, my lips working the hook against the lower half of the pins. I strained my ears, listening to the pins shift around in their slots. A click, barely a whisper, sounded from inside the lock and the plug moved ever so slightly to the right. First pin set. The nostalgic smell of oily steel calmed my nerves. I inhaled deeply as I set about the task of setting the next pin. The hook moved deeper into the lock, each ridge bumping against my tongue as I pressed firmly against the shaft of the pick. Another light push, another gentle press of my hoof and the second pin set. The third and fourth yielded just as easily. The plug spun a hair’s width to the left as I relaxed my touch on the wrench allowing the fifth and final pin to unbind itself from the sheer line and rest against its partner. I bit down ever so slightly and pressed my tongue against the underside of the pick, feeling out the fifth’s weight and resistance. With one last caress, the plug inched forward and gave way as the fifth pin slid past the sheer line. Snap. The tension wrench tumbled from the lock in two pieces and bounced against the floor. I jerked away as the spring loaded lock spun itself back into place. The jagged edge of the makeshift hook pick sliced roughly across my lower lip as it was yanked from the plug. Each pin inside the safe’s lock made an audible clink as it reset against their resting partner. “That was close. Impressively close, even,” Betty whistled, levitating the broken pins to eye level. “Splitting the bobby pin like that was clever of you.” “Clever or not, I still didn’t open the safe.” My brow furrowed in frustration, and I licked at the thin bead of crimson that formed on my lip. “I had that though, that last pin. Never mind the crazy spring loaded plug, that last pin was set and it still snapped.” “Very true, but no harm no foul. I appreciate you humoring me, at least. Now then, where were we? Oh, yes, payment.” I counted out the caps as they fell from bag to counter top. “Sixty five in all. Shame about that corset though. Maybe I’ll have enough next time I’m ’round these parts for it.” “Been up there some time now. Was one of Betty’s, ah, the old Betty’s pieces that she wore on the job.” He grabbed the caps in a magic field and dropped them into a drawer. “If you want, leave that jacket and kit here and I’ll have one of the town porters get it repaired before delivering all this stuff.” “I’d appreciate that.” I carefully slid the jacket off my back, minding my wing, and placed it with the kit on the counter. “So I guess it’s safe to say yer name’s not actually Betty then?” “Oh goodness, no.” He shook his head, “Betty’s just the name I inherited from the old proprietor. She was a real looker back when I was younger, ’bout your age, I’d say. Apparently people coming into town would mistake the general store for a brothel on account of the name.” “The store does have an unfortunately innocent sort of name, doesn’t it?” Betty pointed his horn towards the wall, and purple light washed across the room once more. Mechanisms clicked behind hidden compartments as the walls closed back up. “I tried changing the name once, but couldn’t get people to stop by anymore.” He laughed and shook his head again. “I’d imagine sex sold just as well back before the end as it does now.” “Wouldn’t surprise me if that were the case.” I nodded and smiled at the stallion. “Thanks, by the way, for pointin’ me in the direction of proper lodging. It was a little surprising, but the place seems nice.” He simply nodded and thanked me for the business while holding the door open. The sun had long fallen behind the mountain backdrop of the valley and Luna’s old charge hung in the night sky, casting a glow across the landscape. Most of the street vendors from the night bazaar had packed up, their stalls empty save for the odd mat or bit of rubbish left behind. The old road had a lonely feel to it as I walked towards the Safe House with only the few lamps and pits of glowing embers for company. Vitia was waiting in the lobby of the hostel when I returned. With a smile and wave, she greeted me from the griffin-sized chair she had situated herself into. Light snoring could be heard from the hall to our side as itinerants, much like ourselves, took shelter from the Wasteland. I crawled into the chair Vitia had chosen, its seat spacious enough to accommodate the both of us, and leaned my weight against her. The night chirping of desert grasshoppers carried on the wind as we sat there in silence. “Hey.” Vitia hummed a quizzical note in response as she snuggled deeper into the cushion and leaned her weight back onto me. I felt her arms wrap around me and a short nuzzle on my collar. “So what are going to do about Silver?” I leaned into the embrace, taking in her warmth to ward against the cool night air. “I don’t mind if she travels with us, much the same with Big O, but I doubt either of them are looking for the wanderer’s life after what they’ve been through.” “Big O? That’s what you’re calling him?” She giggled, looking at me with half-lidded eyes. I could smell the light fragrance of whiskey coming from her as she spoke. “For someone with a way with words, you’re terrible at nicknames.” “Hey now, none of that or I’m going to start calling you Vishy.” “Mhmm.” She curled back in, and spoke slowly against my collar, her hot breath playing over my neck, “You do that an’ you better get used to being called Bitty.” “Oi!” A gruff sound came from the hall. “You two lovebirds take that shite outside, some o’ us tryin’ t’ sleep here!” I slid away from Vitia’s clumsy grasp, ignoring her hum of disappointment, and hopped from the oversized chair, propping the entry door open. Two unfamiliar, black beaked griffins clad in thick body armor stood watch at the door. They cocked their head sideways to stare at the two of us before turning back to the moonlit road. “Been a long day, but I’m not really tired.” I shivered, my wings puffing out from the brisk riverside wind. “C’mon, let’s go for a stroll. It’s pretty nice out tonight and I think the cold might do us both some good.” We followed along the path, the surrounding area awash in the moon’s lambent glow, when I heard the splashing of flowing water and steered our direction towards it. Small lights danced across the river in the distance and just as quickly snuffed out as we neared the shore. Small ripples formed at the surface as fish rose to catch night bugs. “Silver wants to go back to Desert’s Edge.” Her voice had a hint of disappointment to it. “She’s under the impression that that’s what’s best for her. Maybe it is, I…don’t know anymore.” “Doesn’t really surprise me.” I kicked a pebble into the river. “After what she’s been through, it doesn’t surprise me at all.” “No less than us, really. Just in a different way.” I shrugged at Vitia and sighed, small wisps of vapor rising on the air. “Maybe we’re broken?” “Maybe we’re just used to it now. I’m not sure which is worse.” She turned to face me. “How’re you holding up, Bit?” I looked at her, my head cocked to the side. “The train and slaves. That can’t have sat well with you. I saw the look you had when it happened. So many innocent ponies were injured or died because of that riot you caused back there.” She sighed, her voice weary. “I don’t like it. Surely there had to be a better way?” “You had a hoof in that as well, whether you see it or not.” I sat down and looked up at the stars dotting the horizon. “There’s no such thing as innocence in the world anymore, Vitia. It wasn’t my finest moment, but getting us off that train meant getting Silver off that train by any means.” “I…I know why you did it, and I’m happy that Silver made it out in one piece, but there had to be a better way…” She trailed off and stared off into the distance. “It was the only option I could think of that let us leave that train alive.” I pawed at the ground and sighed. “I’ve made some pretty horrible choices lately, haven’t I?” She leaned over and gave me a squeeze. “You’re not the only one. But they say time heals all, so let’s just keep moving. Any ideas on how you want to head east yet?” “Only option left is the ferry down in Desert’s Edge it seems. We’re about a half day’s walk away and we can drop Silver off there.” “I’m…” Hesitation crept back into her voice, “Really not looking forward to going back to my old home.” The brisk air had taken a turn for the cold and a wind swept down through the cove. I shivered as it passed over. “C’mon, weather’s turnin’ bad. We should probably head back and get some sleep if we want to head out in the mornin’.” The sounds of the early morning bustle outside mixed in with the shuffle of workers in the hostel. I groaned at the forceful intrusion of noise and sat up, rubbing away the sleep from my eyes. Vitia stood there tapping at the bunk. I could see the cross look on her face even through the haze of bleary eyed half-consciousness. I glanced at her momentarily, and then at the wrapped bundle she held between her hooves before lying back down and pulling the blanket over my head. “No.” “No? What. Bit, you need to get up.” She nudged me. “Well, no, you don’t need to, but I can’t remove the wing brace with you sleeping like that.” “Don’t you ever sleep?” My heart skipped a beat when the floor I expected slipped under my hooves. I half-fell off the bed and flailed my arms, nose crunching against the cool metal flooring. My unbound wing flapped uselessly in its endeavors to defy gravity. I could hear her trying to stifle a snorting giggle as I lay there. “Right. I’m awake now. Let’s do this,” I said from the floor. She instructed me to sit in a nearby chair, placing damp rags on the table before setting about unbuckling the metal and leather straps. “Alright, lift your wing for me.” “Just like that?” I feigned a shocked tone. “We’re not even gonna have a bit of fun first?” Vitia sputtered out a half-response, her face flushing as she hurriedly reached behind her for a rag. A small shiver ran down my spine when she reached out to me. It had been so long since anypony else had handled my wings. I gasped and tried to jerk away as she ran a damp cloth under it along the hard ridges of the spine, lightly raking it across the small down feathers, eliciting a tingling sensation. “H-Hey,” I tried to pull my wing in closer, “A little warnin’ would have been nice.” “Y’know, folk usually do their bondage sessions behind closed doors.” A flush of heat ran through my body as I looked up at the door, where a chestnut and white plumed griffin laden with bags hanging from her chest leaned heavily against a crate. “You’ve got mail, newbie.” She looked at me expectantly, her claw outstretched. A few caps shook from the pouch around my neck into her waiting grasp and she stalked off, the cumbersome looking bags she wore jostling about precariously. “I thought couriers delivered mail, not received it.” Vitia laughed and moved around to my other side. She bit down on the final strap and with a yank the harness came off in one smooth motion. A sore, throbbing ache radiated from my side as I spread my wings to their full span. “Stopped by the general store last night and picked up some supplies.” I hopped off the chair with a wobble and lifted the lid. “Let’s see what we got here.” Four saddle bags lined the top of the crate. Each contained two full canteens, selections of dried and preserved desert trail food, as well as a couple scavenged pre-war MREs still in sealed condition. I hefted them from the crate and set them near the bottom bunk. “No flying. I mean it, Bit. Your wing may look healed, but the bones aren’t completely hardened yet and can’t handle the stress.” “Yes, mom.” I rolled my eyes and stuck my head back in the box. “Just a few things though, huh?” Vitia gaped at the box and shook her head. “I’ve never seen a pony stretch caps so far.” I looked up from the box and aimed a shot in the dark, “So it was yer idea, huh?” Vitia stepped back and brought a hoof to her lips, a light blush crossed her features. “Silver wanted to do something, and, well, there was gambling…” She trailed off and laughed nervously. “I appreciate it an’ all, but I can’t take her earnings. The profits made from using it, on the other hoof.” I laughed and pulled the folded barding to inspect it. The worked leather had been cleaned of blood stains and bullet wounds. The inner scale and cloth lining shone with a new finish and two slits for wings stitched and reinforced along the side. It felt like I had been made whole again when I slipped into the jacket. I let out a content sigh. Form and function. I glanced at myself in the small standing mirror on the table and gave a small twirl. Never shall the two meet, they say. Bah. The woven cloth underbarding shifted into place comfortably, densely layered scales sandwiched between the fabric and leather hugging my body. The heft of it on my back felt comforting despite the added weight. Supple leather gave way under wing as I slid them between the newly stitched slits. I smiled and watched from the mirror as Vitia pulled out two bundles wrapped in parcel paper. “Bit, there were some other things in the crate still. One of them is addressed to you.” “Ah, I had some caps left over after buyin’ supplies, so I got you something as a way of sayin’ thanks.” I placed the package on the table and tore at the side. A small cord bound leather roll fell out along with a written note. The sounds of crumpled and shredded paper echoed loudly behind me as I unfolded the note. —— Bit Flip, If rumors are to be believed, you put up one hell of a fight with that cheat of a cow out in the Bazaar. That alone is commendable, but it is not the reason for this letter. You showed an impressive level of ingenuity with that single bobby pin, and while you may not have been successful, I would still like to take a gamble on you. The contents of the leather roll are yours to keep. Come back when you’ve figured out how to use them. Also, think of this as a sign-on bonus, not a bribe. — Passepar Tout —— Vitia let out a jubilant squeal. “Oh, Bit. It’s wonderful, maybe a little practical and very you, but wonderful.” “The med kit has your basic supplies in it. Bandages, salves, and the like.” I turned to look at the mare; bodice-armor hung loosely from her. She had already slipped into the paired stockings and was tugging at the strap-cinches around her waist. She pawed at it and giggled as she ran her hooves across the silken, thinly padded fabrics that covered the light armor inserts. The stockings were formfitting and accentuated her petite frame. The tightly cinched bodice led the eyes across the delicate curves of her body. “Really, this is fantastic, Bit, and not that I’m not appreciative, but why all of a sudden?” I stared at her, unable to speak. Her soft voice slipped me from my short reverie. “I don’t have Willow’s sensibilities,” I began, taking a deep breath. “And I know how much that dress she bought meant to you.” Vitia wrapped her arms around my neck, cutting off anything further I might say, her lips brushed lightly against my brow as she held me in a tight embrace. “Thank you, Bit.” She sniffled softly and I felt a warmth trickle down on to my face. “It’s lovely.” ——
Book 1, Chapter 5.3: CostView OnlineFallout Equestria: Medicine & MailBook 1, Chapter 5.3: CostChapter Five-point-Three Cost “Never let yourself be convinced that you’re useless. No matter what, no matter where, and no matter when, There is always somepony you can help.” Splinters of cold rushed through my coat and dug into my skin beneath. The whirring of the wind that had surrounded me during my descent a moment prior vanished, consumed by a muffled roar that enveloped me. My eyes stung and limbs flailed out, thrashing in the water. My flank smacked against a hard, cold surface. My hooves scrambled beneath me, kicking at the rocks at the bottom of the river, urging me through the roiling water. Brisk wind whipped at my bangs and blew into my eyes. Sunlight glinted off the crests of the river, and the crashing current rolled white caps and spray over me. I gasped for air, my lungs inflamed from water that rushed in. The blue skies far above the grey cliffs vanished, my sight filled with murky brown water. I kicked again and my head broke the surface. Coughing and sputtering, my hooves caught solid ground, and I shoved forward. Rocks slipped under my hooves, but the weight of the water lessened as I struggled to the sandy shore. Gunshots echoed from the high canyon walls. Startled, I jumped, looking to the source of the sounds far above. Up at the bridge, the slavers’ carts had all stopped. One was overturn, in shambles. Shapes of all colors and sizes dashed from the wreckage. Shouts and screams mixed in with the distant gunfire. A sparkle caught my eye at the edge of the steelwork above. Just as I recognized the source, the crashing of the river quieted. The slave, still in chains, screamed as he fell. My mouth gaped open and I fixated on the inevitable. The low thud of his death never reached my ears, muted and covered by the struggle far above and the rushing of the waters beside me. My body began to move on its own. Cool water lapped at my legs and splashed as I stepped forward. Ponies littered the ground all around me. Some struggled, broken and mangled limbs protruding in gross angles. Most lay still. I began to trot. I gulped, pushing away the nausea that was welling in my throat, and trotted over the hurt and the dead, glancing at one and moving to the next. Brown coat. Chained. Shattered horn. Bit was nowhere to be seen. I kept moving. His head is gashed wide, and he’s bleeding profusely. I wanted to stop. To help. The bleeding would have to be stopped immediately if he were to have any chance of survival. But he’s not Bit Flip. I dashed around him. A crash to my side caught my attention. A slave had hit the water and struggled to stay above water in the heavy currents at the far edge against the cliff. He kicked and flailed, then disappeared as the river dragged him around the bend and out of my sight. Then it hit me—that must have been what happened to Bit Flip. She had been thrown from the cart before I had, so she probably hit the deeper water and was pushed downstream. A breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding was released, and my shoulders relaxed. She could still be okay. The rapid pounding in my chest and echoing in my ears settled. A rough grasp squeezed my leg, and I jumped instinctively, but the hold was firm. An unsightly copper-coated stallion held his scraped arms around my leg with every ounce of strength he could muster. Thorns dug into his face and muddy splotches dotted one side of his neck. His hind legs protruded in several unnatural joints, and splinters of blood-slick white pierced out from both. He wheezed, coughing and spitting blood. His blue eyes were fevered, and blood vessels pulsed from the corners through the dirt-encrusted surface. Tears ran freely down his face, mixing in with the dirt and dripping from his trembling lips. Don’t just stand there! I chided myself. He needs help! I kneeled down. His legs were in terrible shape, and based on his ragged wheezing and bloody spittle, I assumed there was more I couldn’t see. Old habits kicked in, and I felt the tingle of magic forming at the base of my horn. Memories of the strain and knifing pain from my last attempt snapped me from my attempt, and the spell faltered. I’m a unicorn, I cursed. I had my horn again and he needed me. I had to try. Gritting my teeth, I strained for the magic once more, and recited the formula of the spell in my mind. If he was suffering from internal injuries, I’d need to see which so I knew what to do. The spell took shape. I urged the magic forward and felt it course along my horn. It forced to a halt, and a torrent of agony ripped through me. My face twisted with brows knitted, and I cried out, reeling back. My spell fractured, sending sparks of pale pink wisping away. The hold on my leg went slack, and from the spot on the ground I had fallen to, I watched the stallion’s eyes roll listlessly and his head slump. Blood ran from his mouth steadily. “No!” I screamed. I shook the stallion. Wake up, wake up! I begged. His body rolled and slacked with my pushing, his chest still. I slammed my hooves against the soft rocks that formed the surface of the ground, shouting and cursing myself. A unicorn that can’t use her magic, and a medic that can’t help anypony—what good am I? A new burn came to the corners of my eyes, and everything around me shifted into blurry splotches. The muted green and greyish-brown brush soon became a blob of mud in my vision. The cream and dandelion and olive ponies all around me were nothing more than moaning and dying shapes as the tears swelled and ran from my eyes. I’d never felt so hopeless. When Silver fled Desert’s Edge, I knew I just needed a plan, a certain readiness and I’d be able to help. When the maniacal Post loomed above me in Fleshgrove I saw a way out. Even when the suppressor was fitted to my horn and I was locked away in the cage at Old Fort Celestia, I felt like there was still something, a glimmer of possibility and a future. But for those long moments as I sobbed on the riverbed, lamenting my own inability, I felt utterly useless. In the end, I could do nothing. I had no medicine, no tools. I couldn’t use any magic. Useless. No help to anypony. Warmth trickled down my chin. I shook my head, and unclenched my jaw, letting my bleeding lip slip from my teeth. I couldn’t help these ponies, but there was still someone that I might be able to. I scraped the tears from my cheeks, ignored the sting of the frantic motion, and made to my hooves. I whispered an apology to all of the ponies that were going to die because of me, but kept my head down and eyes shut. I couldn’t bear to see them. To see all the hurt, the helpless, the lost and the dead, as they would peer at me with those eyes seeking the aid I couldn’t supply. Head down, I turned and dashed away. Smooth river rocks and wet clay zipped by beneath my hooves. Waterlogged branches and dried brush tendrils and thorns cracked as I dashed over them. Slimy weeds and long straws of yellow rose above the lapping riverside and were brushed aside in my escape. I came to an abrupt stop, the side of my face and soon after the rest of my body meeting the unmovable, muscular body of something massive and orange. My hooves flailed in the air for a moment before my flank hit the ground and I toppled over. When I turned back to the shape, I saw the enormous orange stallion from the carts making to his hooves slowly, with water and algae dripping and sloughing from his monumental mass. A bellowing, scratching roar burst from him as his chest seized and lungs expelled droplets of water. He teetered a bit, then turned to me, his beady, brown eyes a gentle contrast to the scarred and pocked features of the rest of his enormous face. “Are you okay?” I asked. He nodded and sounded a deep “Ah.” “Are you hurt anywhere?” The question came before I realized what I had asked, and chided myself, knowing there’d be nothing I could do whatever the answer. To my relief, he shook his head. A cicada in the distance buzzed and his song hung in the air for a moment, when a smile crested my lips. If he made it okay through this river, then Bit Flip, and Silver, they might be as well! The air of the late afternoon day warmed, and my hooves started to tremble and move on their own. I hopped up on the steep slope beside the two of us, and stepped around a thorn bush before jumping back down on the other side of the massive pony. My hooves dug in to the heavy sand, and I made to leap, when I stopped myself and turned back. “I’m sorry,” I told the stallion, “But I have to go—I have to find someone. You should get away from here, too.” My hoofsteps were light on the rocks and sand and I dashed onward. I hopped on rocks that jutted into the raging river, and as the heat piled on, the spray of the rapids just below me kept my coat cool. Specks of water hung on the tips of the coat on my cheeks, and my tail flicked water about behind me. The constant sound of the crashing water grew louder as I progressed further on, and I was finding myself having to climb higher, over sharper rocks as the canyon narrowed and the river quickened. The spray shot high into the air, and soon every sound around me was drowned in the river’s crushing torrent. Small coal-grey surfaces stood out in the violent white of the river; the current had become treacherous. Parts of the narrow channel dropped off several feet, and water splayed itself against the outcroppings and sheer canyon wall opposite me. The droplets that had not but a few hours prior been refreshing were now alarming, as they rained down on me despite my being several pony-heights above the river below. I stood at the top of an outcropping around a bend. Light filtered through brush and rimmed rocks on the cliff opposite, far above, but the canyon itself was cloaked in shadow. I scraped my belly against the cool surface of the overhang, inching forward cautiously, squinting through the mist and spray. There had been no shore to speak of for the last half-hour as the river cut a thin rapid through the grey and red layered rock, but I peered out, hopeful to catch sight of a tuft of a dark evergreen coat or a silver or blue streak. But nothing, once again. A flash of orange caught my attention from upriver. A moment later, the massive orange pony inched over the narrow ledge, scraping his burly, muscled shoulders against the wall, kicking free dust and scratching into it. He pulled himself to the outcropping and lay flat on his stomach. “Ugh,” he sounded. “You still okay?” I asked, moving to the center alongside him, retreating from the precarious edge. He nodded his head, and sat upright. He towered over me, a head taller than I was, despite sitting and me standing fully upright. “Good,” I said. “It’s getting close to being dark—we should go.” Whether it was intentional or not, the stallion had followed after me, and his expression showed no hint of malice or ill-intent, so I found myself comforted by his presence. He nodded once more, and stood, following some steps behind me as we made our way down each hoofhold off the cliff edge. The bend beyond widened intoa lazy shore and calm waters. Tall evergreen trees overshadowed thick bushes, and weeds and flowers grew in abundance throughout the clearing. Sharp rocks gave way to smooth river pebbles and muddy clay, and long strings of algae were being nipped at by fish near the surface in the shallows of the river. I splashed into the water to avoid a thorn bush, and saw Silver Sheen just ahead. She lay on her stomach in thick mud half on the shore, legs submerged and tail floating in the water. She strained and pulled with her arms but didn’t budge. “Silver!” I cried out, rushing to her. The big orange pony thundered by me, and quickly wrapped one arm around Silver. His massive limb was nearly as large as she was entirely, and after a short flex and a loud squelch, Silver was yanked free from the river mud and settled on the sandy shore. “Silver,” I started again, looking over her. She moaned, and turned her head toward me, then winced. Her eyes were responsive, but her face was scrunched in pain and she was obviously exhausted. Part of her coat near her shoulder was missing, and a tear had gouged much of her bare skin. Slivers of wood and shards of metal protruded from the bleeding flesh. Instinct kicked in and I reached back for my saddle and the med kit that I used to keep strapped there, only to come back empty. “Damn it,” I cursed aloud. “Silver, can you hear me?” She let out a haggard moan and nodded her head once. I stared at my clumsy hooves. With no magic, and without a set of tools like Doc Lance and Scope had, those were the only option. Too dangerous, I thought, shaking my head. They’d simply shove the debris around, and possibly induce more damage. “You’re a bit hurt,” I explained, “And I have to remove some slivers. I’m sorry, I don’t have anything to help with the pain. Just hold on. Please.” I took a deep breath and leaned over. My teeth gently scraped along the tin surface of the largest scrap embedded in Silver. Pressing the tip of my hoof to the cut just below it, I pulled back. Flesh tore, Silver cried out, and the metal came free. Warmth seeped from the open cut and trickled over my hoof. My muzzle touched once more to her bare skin, and a pungent metallic scent rose to my nostrils. My lips scraped against a rough texture, and Silver’s blood rolled along my tongue as I gently worked the shard out. The sun had dipped below the cliff, and only a portion of daylight remained. The shadows of the evening were setting in on us, and I was unable to distinguish between the scraps lodged in her flesh and her. “I’m sorry,” I said, pressing my face against the wound. My tongue explored her frayed and uneven flesh. The warm tinge of copper rolled in thick waves into my mouth, dripping from my lips. I closed my eyes, focusing on the sensations on the tip of my tongue. Her open flesh was slick, soft and warm, and my tongue slid across it smoothly, until I came to a sharp, cold texture. I bit into it, and separated the slip of tin from her muscle. Silver cried out but tensed and hushed herself. I spat the slip of metal out, and sat upright. “Silver,” I said, “We can’t stay here. We have to find Bit.” I made to my hooves, wiping her blood from my chin and lips. “Please, I need you to get up.” She moaned, but shifted her weight, and pulled her legs under her. Shaking, she rose, stumbling into the massive orange pony. Fresh blood glistened in the waning light along her shoulder, and I knew her wounds would only get worse, so I bit into the straps on my overcoat, and slipped it from me. “Hey, uh, big guy,” I said to the orange pony, stepping up to him. I didn’t want to speak the next words, but I knew the sentiment wasn’t worth putting her in further danger. I held my overcoat out. “Help me get one of these sleeves off.” He nodded, took the coat in his teeth, and with one single motion, tore the stitching from the material and ripped free the sleeve. A part of me ripped along with it, as memories came to me of Brightmane handing it to me. My first and only gift from the only mother I’d known, unceremoniously scrapped. The orange stallion nudged me with the torn sleeve, and I shook away the short reverie. The fit around Silver was tight, but it would suffice for the while. “Come on,” I urged, draping the rest of the coat around my neck, pushing further downstream. “She can’t be far.” The cliffs along both sides of the river tapered off and the area opened up into a low basin. The sun which had dipped below the cliffs before hung brazenly above the empty horizon. Trees were rare but brush and weeds left the normally muted-brown desert textured with dark greens. The rapids of the river had all but faded entirely, and the water lapped gently against smooth rocks and brushed gingerly along waterlogged branches and logs. “Bit,” I called out. The open horizon to the west had given me some welcomed time to search for the mare, but every step without finding her was one less chance. I called out for her again, hopping up onto a rock at the river’s edge. Below me, a dark, muted green coat stirred, and the pegasus’ steel-blue mane sloshed around her neck. “Bit!” I jumped off, and rushed to squeeze her, but halted. She was lying awkwardly on her belly, with her harness and jacket shifted around uncomfortably. She rolled her head toward me, eyes half-open, and slurred her words. “Oh…Hey Vish,” she started, trailing off. Streaks of red had dyed the side of her face, and a fresh trickle seeped from a wide gash over her brow. The orange stallion leaned down, pulling Bit from the thick mud and onto the soft shore. He sat back down some steps away, letting Silver lean against him. I yanked the torn overcoat from around my neck and thrust it at him, “Give me another sleeve!” He nodded and effortlessly separated the material, gently holding out the dingy yellow strip. I snatched the sleeve from him and kneeled down to Bit. I cradled her head gently and wound the dingy yellow cloth around her face, pulling it tight. She shifted unevenly, and stumbled to her hooves, falling against me on her wobbling legs, grunting and wincing with each forced motion. I could see her jacket had been skewed, but the underbarding beneath was twisted unnaturally. “I need something sharp,” I said, thinking aloud. “Uh, big guy, do you see something sharp around here? A good rock or something?” He grunted, then with a grace unbefitting his massive form, stepped up without disturbing Silver, and made to a rising slab of a sandy stone. He took a long breath, tensed his muscles, and turned with raised hind legs. Heavy shadows fell where his muscles bulged, and thick veins rippled beneath his coat. He bucked once. Dust flew from the rock, and the basin was swallowed in an explosion of sound. He tossed several shattered shards of the once-standing slab to my feet, then snorted and nodded with a big grin. “Th-thank you,” I stammered in awe. I don’t think even Steel Arm or Greenhooves could have done that, I gaped inwardly. The rock’s edge made its way through the thin and worn leather with some effort. I tugged on the cut straps, and pulled the sliced coat to the ground. What greeted me beneath sent a shiver down my spine. The barding was twisted and skewed. Feathers rose against each other in forced angles. The spine twisted and wrapped in on itself. The rest hung limp at her side. The staggering pegasus looked to the wing, and gasped, slumping to her knees just at the hooves of the behemoth pony. I wanted to cry for her, and felt bile bubbling its way up my throat. I pleaded to the goddesses unseen that her state of shock kept her sense of pain dulled. I held the wing to Bit’s side, and whispered an apology, shaking my empathy away. “We have to set, and splint this.” I looked to the orange stallion, and he snorted. He kneeled down and pressed onto Bit, forcing her into the ground. I peeled away the wing and ran the inside of my leg along its spine, feeling snapped and splintered bone beneath. Each prod brought a wince and a grunt or a cry from Bit. Each whimper and cry made me cringe, but I had to continue searching for breaks. Without magic, I could only do so much. Tears formed at the corners of my eyes, but I tried to push down the emotion. I pulled a strap of her torn coat, and folded it, forcing it into her mouth. “This is—I’m sorry. Bite down on that…As hard as you can.” I pressed a hoof deep into the sinewy flesh at the base of her wing, and with my teeth biting hard into her silky soft feathers above, I strained and yanked. Bit Flip screamed a muffled cry into the leather bit. The bone jerked into place with a sickening wet squelch. Ammonia saturated the air, and her body’s response to the excruciating procedure rushed from her. I pulled again, and the wing straightened with a sucking pop. Bit fell silent and her body went limp. The thin bones slid into alignment with a tug or a yank and some harsh presses of my hoof, but with Bit unconscious, the work went quickly. There was just time enough to splint the wing to her side, and hoist her up onto the orange pony’s back before the sun fell below the horizon. But we couldn’t stop. Their condition would worsen before too long, so we trudged on. We followed the river closely, keeping one hoof in the cool silt and the other on the drier surface. Low cliffs rose as we continued downstream, and vegetation dwindled, but the river remained calm. The horizon bloomed in deep vermillion as the sun set, then cooled into a calming indigo as the stars sparkled and the full moon rose above. The glowing sphere lit our path with a soft haze. The walking was slow, as I picked a safe path removed of thorn bushes and drops for the silent orange stallion to carry Bit over. Silver shuffled along, a half-step in front of the orange stallion, but her movements had become sluggish and she was given rest alongside Bit atop the bulky stallion. He seemed eager to assist, though he remained silent. “I’m sorry,” I had told him, “This would be so much easier if I could even manage a cantrip lighting spell.” But my magic was still gone, and I feared the drain it would have on my exhausted body trying once more. He hummed a response. Had I been looking back, I figured it had been accompanied by a shrug. Wisps of clouds peeked above the cliffs and over the canyon around us, and a brisk breeze was the only sound other than the slow river in the long hours of the night. A faint yellow glow in the distance brought with it some hope, and sounds of activity met our ears before we rounded the last corner and saw the town. A rickety bridge floating on wooden barrels guided us to the far shore, and into a community hidden within the cove. Some voices sounded around the stucco and brick buildings, and corners were well-lit, but the town seemed to be winding down for the night. Wooden signs with lamplights above them indicated the buildings around. Steam rose from vents just outside a grey brick building, and lights and chatter came from within. Tired Trot’s Tavern, the sign above read. Across the street, a non-descript stucco building stood fast, surrounded by taller, brick buildings, with a sign covered in faded lettering that read Betty’s Bits. A simple foal-like picture of a smiling mare and some caps hung unevenly next to it. Hope welled in me. I picked up my pace, moving over the uneven brick and rock surface, seeking anything that would indicate a clinic. Eyes squinting to read the signs in the tenuous lighting, I walked face first into the leather vest of a broad-shouldered griffin. A shine glinted along her beak as she leaned her head toward me, and it shimmered at the tip. “Can I help you?” She asked in an expecting, almost-accusative tone. I scooted back and peered up at her, finding myself half the height of the avian. “I need—my friends need a clinic,” I motioned back to the orange stallion and the two that were draped atop him. Two other griffins stepped into the lamplight and sauntered past me, circling the ponies. I gulped, watching their sharp eyes look over my injured friends. As they circled, the distinct impression of a scavenger pack came over me, and my ears drooped and body felt heavy. They turned back and nodded, and I sighed in relief. “Well then,” the female griffin said, “Follow me.” Streetlamps stopped a block from the main road, but at the end of the unpaved street we had turned onto was a large building with a lit board painted in sharp yellow and pink stripes. A warm orange light glowed from within, and silhouettes of plants along the sills inside and out became visible as we approached. A noticeable heat emanated from the building, and the soft aroma of bark and fresh dirt drifted through the air. Inside, a simple wood floored room with a marred oak counter greeted us. Plants hung from the ceiling in vases of earthen tans and decorated with swirls of grey. Different colors peaked from the green foliage in each of the numerous pots and the scent of mint and sharp spices tinted every breath with an exotic touch. The clicking of hooves on the wooden surface announced the humming zebra before she rounded the corner. “Who is it that comes to my humble clinic at these late hours?” she asked with an upbeat tone as she stepped to the counter. A creak from behind me turned my attention from the zebra to the door. Two of the griffins stood outside, and the female leader nodded to me. “Nevermind that she’s a zebra,” she said. “Xanti will fix your friends up, if you can afford it,” she laughed. The door clicked shut behind her. I looked back to the zebra mare, but words hung in my throat and uncertainty held my hooves to the marred floor. Brightmane had long ago hammered it into my head that zebra medicine was superstitious nonsense. Deals with spirits and favors from unseen creatures, using unscientific methods and relying heavily on approximates—nothing like the kind of medicine a pony needs. Xanti had worked her way around and was leading the orange stallion and the two pony load he carried to a room to the side. “You may follow, arcane one,” the zebra hummed back at me. She walked with a confidence in her step and with a patience and certainty that left little doubt to her experience. But I still felt uncomfortable. Brightmane's warnings repeated in my mind, and my limbs shook in uncertainty. With careful movements she slid Silver from the orange stallion onto an earthen-dyed cot. He kneeled down next to another, and Bit shifted precariously. Whether or not Brightmane was correct, and regardless of what might happen, the consequences of refusing the zebra’s aid would certainly be worse. I jumped forward and steadied Bit Flip, helping to ease her onto the cot, mindful of her wing. “This is your coat, then?” The zebra asked. She nudged the sleeve from Bit’s wound and peered beneath for a brief moment. Averting my gaze, I nodded. “Then why is it you seek my aid, when you are trained?” I felt a pang of embarrassment and foalishness from her remark. From the corners of my eyes I watched Bit's chest rise and fall in steady but labored breaths, and swallowed down the knot in my throat. “Because I can't,” I admitted. Anger edged my words when I continued, “Because I can't use my magic, and there is nothing I can do right now. I can’t help them,” I whinnied. My voice cracked and the bravado I sought to muster never came when I continued, “I don’t care what you mix up, or at what cost—just, please, do anything you can.” “Then I have a deal that I shall offer you, in exchange for the recovery of your companions.” I stood in dumb silence for some long moments. The zebra's words weighed on me ominously, but I couldn't see any other choice. I had no money, nothing to barter with, and we were in a town I had never been to. I looked up at her sharp eyes and nodded weakly. “As I had thought. You have hesitation, in seeing me, in knowing of my kind of medicine, and trepidation shakes your hooves even now.” She walked around me, speaking with a rhythm in her voice that matched her hoofsteps. “But your eyes are sharp, and you are genuine in your desire to help. It is for that which I offer you this deal,” she said. Stopping in front of me, she bent down and locked eyes with me. I stared deep through the shimmer of candles that flickered in her wet eyes, and nodded. “You shall remedy that which ails your companions this night.” Her eyes narrowed and her lips curved up in a sly smile. “Learn from me well, and I shall do my part, but triumph or fail, it’s all on your heart.” She turned and walked to the far door without hesitation. Looking over the room, I saw Silver sleep soundly, Bit feverishly, and even the orange stallion had found a corner to lay in. The zebra glanced back from the arch, then disappeared into the unlit room beyond. Parasprites danced in my stomach, and I shivered despite the warmth of the building. I shuffled to my hooves and trotted after her. Through a short hallway, the zebra led me to a room of wonder. Twinkling stars and the soft glow of the distant moon shone through the glass panels high above, illuminating the world of life around me in a soft blue haze. Short, trimmed trees were grown in wide vases decorated in stripes and swirls, with fruits and seeds in all colors hanging from their branches. Great wooden tables stretched the length of the room, with rows of flowers, herbs, spices, and many variety of common desert weed filling every bit of open space. The zebra continued walking, heedless to the dazzling array of color and life all around. We passed cabinets filled with intricate bottles labeled with various spices, foreign words for plants and herbs scribbled on placards beneath. Drying, hanging grasses dangled from the rafters above, and the fresh scent of dirt and herbs hung in the air. “This is astonishing,” I said. “You grow everything yourself?” “This, and more.” She never turned as she continued walking. “The cost of my learning is in keeping all of this.” We made a single turn and the thick vegetation suddenly gave way to tables covered in books, urns, and bowls. Tattered sheets of paper sifted through the air as the zebra walked past. She turned to me, and raised her hoof slowly. Moonlight filtered in through the glass and shone on her coat, making the white stripes glow in the dim midnight. “The first thing one must know,” she started, the words flowing like a song. She motioned her hoof toward a single thick book on a table to the side, and continued, “Is that all things done come with a cost.” She smiled, crossing her legs and leaning against the wooden table, “I mean for you to learn ways to be of help to those you care about, and to assist me.” “But there isn’t time for me to learn that!” “Then how shall you match the price of my services? Have you any money? You say yourself you have no skills, no magic. That you are of no use.” She lowered and shook her head, “Is your determination so pitiful as this, to see your companions’ lives forfeit?” My brows furrowed, and I scratched at the rock flooring. Her words filled me with shame, and I tapped at floor in silence. “The night will be long, that is certain, but before the next day is lit you shall have mended your friends. If,” she said, dropping her tone and leaning toward me, “We can begin.” I took a deep breath, and raised my head to hers. I nodded. “Very good,” she grinned. “Zebra medicine is balance,” she said, running her hoof along the edge of the large book. “One cannot grow new flesh without flesh and nutrients to work from. What herb might reduce fever may also induce nausea. What mends bone may sap one’s strength and will. “No doubt you were instructed that zebra medicine is primitive, dangerous, and mired in myth and fantasy. I can only say that this is the view of those who refuse to understand that which is unseen and that which is felt.” She closed the book and placed her hoof on the jagged spiral embellishment in its center. She nipped a dried tendril of a leaf from a hanging plant, and laid it atop the book. “This is what you ponies refer to as Anne Belle. It is known to reduce fever when the stem is chewed, but is also sure to upset one’s appetite. This leaf, should you consume it now, would leave you delirious and convulsing in a puddle of your own sick.” She looked at me, squinting her large, blue eyes. “Do you see the possibilities?” she asked. The implication in her words was clear. “It can be made into a treatment or a toxin.” She nodded, and brushed the papery leaf into a small clay mortar, and ground it around. The pestle scraped clay against clay and the scratching permeated the room. “Such is the nature of these brews, should you harm or help.” She pulled bottles of spices from shelves, dried roots from wooden containers, and snipped grasses from pots. For each esoteric ingredient she pulled, an equally enigmatic description of its myriad of potential uses accompanied it. We carried the ingredients, bowls, and trays to a smooth stone workbench. Glass bottles containing blue and purple bioluminescent plants lit the crowded workspace in subtle lights. The cool shades glinted off glass containers, and dyed the iron pots. A small chemical fire burned within a ceramic container, and the dull green flame kicked about tufts of smoke that singed the air with a sagebrush scent. Xanti turned to me, “Before we can begin,” she said, lighting candles and placing them gently in large, circular paper bags, “It is a custom in my tribe to introduce ourselves before sharing in our work.” She pulled a string, and the paper lanterns rose high above the table, filling the area with a warm orange light. “I am Xanti, third of my name, succeeding Xerone as brew master, and sage within my tribe. How shall I call you, arcane one?” “I’m Vitia.” The morning light shone through the glass above, and Xanti snuffed out the candles. A light haze and wispy clouds slowed the approaching heat long enough for Xanti to leave the windows around the workbenches open. The cool morning breeze was refreshing after the long night of brewing. Xanti filled a small pouch with the various poultices, ointments, and brews that we cooked up throughout the night, and slipped it around my neck. “It is time that we aid your companions,” she said. The orange stallion was no longer asleep in the corner, but Silver and Bit Flip both lay under the sheets as we had left them earlier, and the faint smell of the minty salve I had applied to their open wounds still hung in the air. Silver was breathing normally, and the gauze pad Xanti had placed over her wound earlier still held firm. I peeled it away gingerly, trying to not wake the sleeping mare. While the first pad Xanti applied in the earliest hours of the night was quick to soak in blood and gooey salve, this was clean and clear. The wound had long stopped bleeding, the zebra ointment applied congealing cleanly in place. I pulled one of the patches Xanti had instructed me in making out of the small bag and pressed it against the wound. Silver stirred, but remained asleep. Bit Flip had been given a stronger version of the same salve, owing to the location and severity of the wound over her brow. No bone had been chipped but she was definitely bruised, and had swollen quickly throughout the night. But I breathed a short sigh of relief when I saw her resting face, free of swelling. With a new patch applied, she was given a light dose of an anesthetic that Xanti had prepared. We pulled the covers from the cot, and carefully slid her onto a cart, which we used to shuttle her to one of Xanti’s steel tables. The makeshift splint was peeled from her wing, and her swollen wing slunk to the table. I ran the side of my hoof along the spine, and whispered thanks for the lack of any apparent malformations. With a proper splint and holster, Bit’s wing was secured to her side, and she was given the last of the medicines Xanti taught me to prepare. “Bone-knit brew is not a beginner’s brew,” she had told me, when I botched the last step for the third time. “You are too focused on exacts, when you need to discard those thoughts, and trust in the brew,” she had said, repeating the statement for what had to have been at least the fifth time. We wheeled Bit Flip on Xanti’s gurney back to the cot, and slid her into place, pulling the beige cloth curtains closed around her space. “Vitia?” I heard from behind me. I turned to Silver, who squinted at me through tired eyes. She rubbed them gently, and yawned. She raised a hoof as if to cover her face, but winced and quickly dropped it. I was glad to see her awake and moving, and gave her a gentle hug. “What happened?” she asked. Her voice was raspy and her words slow. “Where are we?” I stepped back from the embrace and shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure,” I said. “You and Bit both took a nasty fall, and you’ve been out of it for a little more than half a day.” “It is good for you that your companion is still well,” Xanti said, stepping up to Silver from across the cot. “You are in a little town known as Thieves’ Bend.” Silver looked at me, an unspoken question in her puffy, tired eyes. I shrugged. “Okay,” she whispered, trailing off. She rested against the pillow on her cot and drifted to sleep. “She shall be fine,” Xanti said. “Thanks to you.” I shook my head. “All I did was what you said to do.” I sighed, “And even then I still ruined a lot of your ingredients.” “No, no,” she interrupted me. “For seeing someone so eager to help those she cares about, that trade is of no consequence. You learned well,” she said, opening some frilled curtains on small windows above sills of plants. “We were up all night,” I argued. “All things have a cost,” she reminded me, another of the phrases she repeated throughout the night. “You have done that which I have asked of you.” She continued in her rhythmic words, her eyes heavy and voice deep, “It is late. We are both in need of rest. You may stay here today, with your friends.” I tried to stifle the yawn that came over me, but to no avail. “Thank you, Xanti,” I called out to her as she stepped through the doorway. I slumped into the nearest cot, and closed my eyes. Shouting and screeching woke me from my sleep. I slipped off the cot, and stepped up to Silver. She rested soundly, oblivious to the yelling in the room one door away. Slipping the curtains aside, I looked over the sleeping pegasus for a moment, then turned, satisfied with her stable condition. Several cots were full now that had been empty the night before. Ponies in scraps slept, or perhaps had been induced into slumber, but Xanti was nowhere to be seen. “Not havin’ no zebra curses!” a stallion’s voice screamed through the door as I opened it. Two earth ponies in rough leathers and worn breeches held one mud-encrusted stallion by his front legs and shoulders. One of the stallion’s back legs kicked out and flailed around, flinging the thick chain clasped around his ankles against the floor. His other leg hung from him, mangled and lifeless. Xanti sighed from behind the oak counter. “If ever you wish to use your leg again, I am your only choice. I cannot say this any more clear for you.” “You threatenin’ me?” the frightened stallion yelled. Xanti slipped a cotton ball on an elastic band around her tail and nodded to me once as she walked around the counter. The stallion pulled his head back as the zebra approached. She spun, flicking her tail and connecting with the wad flat against the stallion’s nostrils. A puff of blue rose from the contact and dissipated in the air as the stallion’s eyes rolled back and he slumped. “Any empty cot in the room beyond,” she instructed the two. I stepped out of the way, letting the two carry the unconscious stallion through the open doorway. Turning to Xanti, I asked, “What’s all the activity about?” “It seems a number of ponies were found upstream,” she said. She slipped the cotton boll back into its powder-filled glass bowl and carefully set a wooden lid on top of it. She looked at me with one eyebrow raised, “Though I suppose you would not know the why of this?” Before I could catch myself, I turned away and pinned my ears back, but the zebra seemed to not need a response and had stepped into the room beyond. A rush of stale, hot air came over me as the door to Xanti’s clinic was flung open. The orange slave squeezed through the doorway, and grunted once, tilting his head back. Three ponies lay slumped on his back, one still with the slavers’ chains clasped around his legs. I looked through the door behind me, but Xanti was walking through the far door into her garden. “Uh, just—Bring them in here,” I said to the stallion, “And let me help you.” With the three ponies settled into the cots, the orange stallion smiled at me, nodded once, and trotted off back out of the clinic. “Your overly large companion has been quite a help to everyone this morning,” Xanti said. She ran the tip of her tail, covered in a blue-ish powder, across the pony’s nostrils, and after a few moments, the slave’s whimpering and shaking settled, then stopped altogether as he fell into a light sleep. “He’s not—” I started to say, then stopped myself, and shrugged. Xanti moved away from the cot, and to another. The beige stallion with the shattered leg lay in it, quiet. Xanti felt along the breaks in his leg. “Are they always like that?” I asked. “Like him, I mean. So afraid.” “It is not the first time,” she answered coolly. I watched Xanti finish her preliminary check and felt increasingly useless as she moved to the next pony. I stepped to the foot of the cot, “What can I do to help?” “Your companions are healed,” she said, keeping her attention on the scrapes and gashes she was applying an ointment to, “So what reason have you to help now?” Because this is partly my fault, I wanted to tell her, but the words hung in my throat, and silence was my only answer. “But I shall accept your offer,” the zebra finally said. I nodded, and a tickle of warmth spread through me. She and I checked the remainder of the ponies, and the two others that came in some minutes later. Most were minor injuries that had been made worse by a day and night of neglect in the harsh desert conditions. Fevers had begun to develop in those with open wounds, and a combination of dehydration and pain left most delirious when they were conscious, or simply comatose. Xanti brought a saddlebag of components from her storeroom, and I worked on grinding down leaves and peeling stems from the long blades of river grasses. I mixed up ointments to reduce fevers and made a mush of cacti pod and desert fruit to alleviate dehydration and hunger, all under the instruction of the zebra mare. She watched over me at first, then turned to her own concerns as I became more confident in the low-grade mixtures. The hours piled on, and it was not long before the sun was directly overhead. The heat of midday beat down on the roof, and radiated into the building. Windows were opened and the light breeze was barely able to keep away my sweat. With the last of the ointments applied and gauze pads affixed, I slumped onto a low stool against the nearest cot, and let out a long sigh. I sipped on the cup of cool tea Xanti had given me, and savored the faint mint flavor, which helped give it a chilling taste. “Hey Vitia,” I heard from the cot across the way. Silver Sheen was sitting up, her eyes no longer swollen and had regained their normal luster. “Good morning, Silver,” I said, smiling. “Are you feeling okay?” She nodded once, and fell silent, gazing into her sheet covered lap. I offered a cup of Xanti’s tea and handed her a jerked strip of cactus from the small bundle Xanti had given me. “It’s not the best,” I told her, “But it’ll be easy on you. You haven’t eaten in, what, two days?” She nibbled a small portion off the end of the cactus jerky, and scrunched her nose slightly. We sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping tea and finishing the chewy jerky. “You sure you’re okay?” I asked again. “I don’t mean just physically.” She looked at me with upraised eyebrows and a frown. Her eyes were languid, and she turned away and sighed. “I don’t know. I’m fine, I guess. Tired.” I leaned on the cot slightly, and rested a hoof on hers. “That’s to be expected. You’ve been through a lot.” “So have you,” she argued, “And you’re still here, doing something.” I shook my head. “I have my own reasons, but it doesn’t mean I’m not tired, too.” I forced a light smile, but her frown deepened. “I’m such a foal,” she spat. “Ever since I left Desert’s Edge, I’ve done everything wrong.” I pressed my hoof harder against hers, and wanted to offer words of encouragement, but she continued, “I’ve made a mess out of everything, and I wanted to just give up.” She sighed and hung her head. “I didn’t even put up a fight,” she moaned. “I thought, since I had no family, since I had pushed everypony away, and since I couldn’t do anything right, that maybe if they’d just take me away, it’d be better.” “You know that’s not true,” I said. She sniffed and rubbed her wet eyes. “I know. I know that.” She lifted her head and took a deep breath with closed eyes. She shuffled slowly off the side of the cot, and smiled when she stood stable on her hooves. She walked around the cot slowly, then rested her head against my shoulder. “Thank you.” I wrapped both of my arms around her neck, pulling her tight against me, and squeezed gently. “Of course, dear.” She pulled back from the hug, and smiled. “I’ve decided,” she said boldly. “You are so much different than you used to be. I don’t know if it’s because of Bit, or just because of everything you’ve done now, but you’ve changed. And you’re able to keep going despite everything.” “Silver,” I started. She raised a hoof and shook her head. “Sometimes, things suck. But you just have to trudge through it, not sink into it. I’m not going to let these things overwhelm me. I’m going to pay you two back.” I made to my hooves, “You don’t have to pay us back.” “I have to do something,” she said, turning to the zebra who was stepping up to us. “I don’t know anything about medicine—is there anything I can do in town?” she asked her. Xanti cocked an eyebrow, then looked at me quizzically. When I shrugged, she turned back to the earth pony. “Perhaps, after a bath, you could try your hoof at Gold Star, perhaps delivering beverages, chip dealer, or a greeter? Fresh faces are always in demand.” Silver smiled and ticked her hooftips on the floor in excitement. Xanti chuckled. “Then let Vitia assist you. Come, both of you, follow me,” she said, turning and walking back toward her garden. “Your favorite,” she said, setting down an unopened bottle of Red Rivulet. I looked away from the bustle of the crowd to Silver. She cleaned up nicely, and looked wonderful in the dark uniform she was given to work in. It was tight to her body, and I couldn’t help but follow her delicate curves from her slender collar down. My wandering eyes fell to the lace-fringed mini-skirt that frilled up along her flank, just barely concealing her modesty beneath slim black panties. Her silken hair flowed down one side over her shoulder, and her velvety coat shone in the strong overhead lights. Memories of my desire had begun to dance around in my head, but I found myself unusually calm. She was still certainly attractive, possibly the prettiest mare in all the Marejave, with only Willow and the Littlest Daughter Spice coming to mind as exceptions, but there were no urges or desires welling up within me. I was just happy to see her active and safe. I smiled, and pulled the new bottle and whiskey glass to me. I wasted no time in pouring the delightful russet to the absolute tip top of the glass, and let it fill my mouth and work its way down my throat. Warmth spread everywhere it went, and my body shuddered. I let out a long breath, letting my mouth fill with the strong vapor, and whispered to the bottle, “Been too long, old friend.” I settled onto the stool and let my shoulders and muscles relax as the drink worked its magic. The noise of the bar quieted for the moment as I entered my own little world. All of the stress and headaches and hunger washed away as the whiskey worked its way through me. I leaned back onto the bar, and looked around. Bit Flip had been a step behind me but vanished into a jeering crowd and I’d not seen her since. “Hey Vitia,” Silver said to me as I turned back and started to pour another glass. “I don’t know anything about Bit—how can I, or…What can I do to pay her back?” A few drops of the red liquid fell from the lip of the bottle and fell into the newly-filled glass. “Are there any games going on back there?” I asked, motioning to all the cheering on the far side of the bar. “Uh, yes, there’s Dealer’s Die, Bloody Gambit, something, um, roulette something,” she trailed off. “I’m sorry, I forgot all of the names. But yes, there are some. Why?” Ah, I nodded to myself, that’s probably where she went. “We don’t really need anything, Silver. I wanted to help you for my own selfish reasons, and Bit’s just…She’s a good pony.” “But you put yourselves in danger and she almost got herself killed for me. Let me do something.” I sipped on the drink, starting to feel the first sway of the alcohol on my empty stomach, and looked over Silver again. A small velvet pouch with a simple drawstring hung from her side. “Alright, I understand. She probably wants to stay busy, until we get our hooves under us again. A little distraction,” I intoned, nodding to the far side of the bar as it erupted in a round of cheers, “Will probably be great.” “Oh,” Silver said, glancing at the pouch. “It’s not much.” “The best thing you can do is what you’re doing right now. Don’t get stuck, and just keep going. If you want to thank her, then don’t let all of this be for nothing.” She nodded. “Oh, and a glass of Black Pony might help, too,” I smiled. My stomach grumbled, and an ache made my brows furrow. I downed the rest of the glass, and reached for the bottle again when Bit Flip took a seat next to me. She sighed lightly, then glanced at my half-empty bottle of whiskey and cocked an eyebrow. Silver set the glass of black pony in front of me and scurried off. I slid it toward Bit, and nudged her lightly. “Come on, a glass of black pony will do you good.” She glanced at me briefly then took the glass in her hooves, and lifted it to her lips. But her face scrunched, a light shudder ran over her, and she set it back down. “Thanks, Vitia,” she said, “But after last time, I don’t think I’ll be drinking for a long while.” She flashed a quick smile at me as she hopped off the stool and made her way back into the crowd. I shrugged and spun back around on the stool. A dark uniform with silver accents stepped up to the space in front of me. “She didn’t want it?” Silver asked. “No,” I said, pulling it to me. “That was stupid of me.” I raised the glass to my lips and tossed my head back, gulping down its contents in a single breath. I should have thought a little more about that, I chided myself. I set the glass back down and slid it toward Silver. “Now would be a good time,” I told her. “Oh,” she said, rubbing one hoof nervously. “Okay.” She took a deep breath and walked around the bar, and stepped through the crowd and out of my sight. I took the glass and bottle and carefully hopped down from the bar and made my way to an empty table. A young mare with a bright pink coat and a deep red mane stepped up to the corner of the table. She pulled a pad of paper from the front pocket of her black uniform, and looked to me. “What can I get you?” My stomach grumbled, but I shook my head. “Nothing, thanks.” I had nothing to pay her, and didn’t want to indulge myself on Silver’s earnings. The red whiskey would suffice. As the minutes passed, I sat in the chair, watching Silver rush to and from tables and the bar, carefully balancing glasses of liquors and trays of food. I giggled to myself when I caught some younger stallions and one mare cock their head and watch Silver trot off to the next order. Cheers erupted, and crowds jeered beyond the railing separating the sides of the bar. Thick throngs gathered around tables and shuffled about as ponies won or lost. The flow of the bar was constantly changing. A thin wooden bowl clacked down in front of me. Silver slipped into the booth across from me. “You need to eat something. You can’t just drink.” I smiled, and swayed a bit as I straightened. The whiskey had been quick to take hold and I’d been eager to keep the feeling going, which left the bottle nearly empty. I pulled a strip of lettuce and bit down into some crisp spinach greens. Carrots and radishes were diced and mixed about, with a sweet, fruity glaze poured over everything. Silver sat in silence as I emptied out the bowl, and had a half frown on her lips. “Are you sure you can just sit here?” I asked. “On break,” she chuckled. “Besides, I need to talk to you.” “Oh?” “I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to. I think I’m going to go back to Desert’s Edge.” The bar shook at what must have been the entire gaming side all roaring in jubilation at once. Laughter lasted long after the cheers calmed down, and when the deafening sound quieted, I turned back to Silver. “I think that’s best for me. It’s the only place that’s really home,” she said. “That’s a great idea,” I said. “It’s not going to be the same, but it’s a good place. You will do fine there.” “Why don’t you come back with me?” I sat the half-empty glass of Red Rivulet down and looked at her. Her ears drooped slightly, and she averted her eyes slightly, a light flush forming across her features. “I’m sorry,” I told her. “I don’t think I can. It’s not what I can call home anymore.” She sat, with her gaze affixed to the empty salad bowl, then spoke softly, her voice barely above the chatter of the bar, “Because of Bit?” I swirled the last sip of whiskey in its glass, then pushed it aside and corked the bottle closed. “Yes, sort of.” All the booths and ponies around us in the bar began to tip and swirl in my vision, and my head felt light. Thoughts jumbled together loosely, most falling apart half-formed and never reaching my lips. “What does she have that I don’t—or that you can’t find in Desert’s Edge?” I half-leaned onto the table and looked at the fuzzy outline of the silvery mare. “You don’t feel for me the same way I used to want you,” I said, squinting. “Why are you saying this?” She gazed away, watching the other workers shuffle about, or perhaps just staring blankly. Turning back, eyes on the last swill of whiskey in my glass, she spoke, “I’m going to be lonely if you’re not there. Even if we can’t go back to how we were, you were my friend. My best friend.” “Sorry,” I said, leaning back against the booth, “But things are different now. I saw so much and met so many wonderful people. It’s like all those tales of the travelers we would listen to,” I said, smiling. She had a frown on her face when I continued, “I left because I was afraid.” Then the words just kept tumbling from my lips, faster than I could think to stop them. “You left, you abandoned me and you broke my heart, but stupid me still loved you, and still wanted to do anything for you. So I left, you know, giving up everything I had.” I spoke faster and faster, slurring words together and snipping with anger, “I don’t even really know what happened.” My eyebrows creased and I regretted ever opening my mouth. I bit my sore lip and forced myself silent. I stood from the table, shaking my legs out one at a time, taking a few deep breaths and stretching, before turning back to her. She was slumped down in the booth and stared blankly. “I didn’t mean that,” I said. I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed hard. The sharp but sweet scent of Xanti’s soap was still fresh on her coat, and mixed in with the smell of liquor vapors and light sweat. I breathed in deep, letting the pleasant mixture settle in me, and found myself fondly remembering the moments long before when I held her like that. A strong flush came over me and I withdrew from the long embrace. A smile trembled on my lips, and I swished my tail around, trying to dissipate the alcohol-induced excitement that had bloomed within me. She turned to me, with a sad smile, and slid off of the booth. “I guess I should get back to work.” “Wait, before you do,” I interrupted her. “I want you to know, I still care for you. But I owe Bit Flip more than I can ever repay. I will do whatever I can to help you, but I cannot stay with you at Desert’s Edge. I’m going to go with Bit.” She nodded absently, and took a step away. “Thank you, for everything, Silver.” She walked past the next few booths and around the tables, the entire bar filled with diners and drunks, and disappeared from my sight. I sighed, and kicked myself for blathering so many unnecessary things. I looked around, and just realized how busy the place had become in the last while. Every table, booth, and bar stool was filled, and the throngs of ponies herding between tables had settled as the crowd thickened to the point where many games all had the same cheering and jeering. A heat had fallen over me but I just then became of aware of it. I wiped my sweatless brow, decided to step out for some fresh air, and slipped my way between the patrons and out into the evening. The moon far above shone brightly in the dark lavender shades of the beginnings of nightfall. The air was still hot, but a gentle breeze that brushed across the town hidden in the cove carried away the heat, leaving the tips of my coat cool. The nightlamps were flickering to life above the street, and ponies were packing up their stalls and wares, probably eager to return to their homes for the night or a hot meal. I stepped down the street, watching small groups in heavy leather slops and shaggy woolen vests saunter by. I turned to my left and walked through the last few open streets and wide areas toward the river. Makeshift stalls I hadn’t noticed the night before rimmed the circular area, and dozens of mats and blankets were being packed into crates or overstuffed saddlebags. Ponies secured their wares for the night, or took them back with them. Some counted out the caps they’d made in the day or chewed on stale cactus pods, but none seemed to pay me any mind as I made my way through. The worn walk had given way from stone and became soft and sandy as I approached the riverside. The river here was wide, but moved slowly. A few fireflies flickered to light and flew in uneven rings between the reeds on the shore some twenty yards from me. Upriver, crossing into town on the rickety wooden planks, another group of ponies were chattering loudly, laughing and taunting one-another. When they stepped into the light underneath one of the path’s lamps, I recognized the brutishly-oversized orange stallion. He stood several heads above the other stallions, and was twice-over as wide as any of them, but he seemed to be more of a colt just then, with the way he laughed with the others and the wide smile that adorned his scarred face. He looked up from the crowd and locked eyes with me for just a moment. He turned back, nodded to each, and grunted, motioning to me. The other stallions looked at me, then sneered and nudged the orange slave with teasing expressions. He shook his head, laughing, and clambered up to me. “You didn’t have to,” I started. He shook his head, and sounded an uh-uh, then tilted his head, motioning into town, and started walking off. He led me through the quickly-emptying streets and up to a scraggy building. Two griffins stood tall with heavy rifles strapped across their broad chests. They nodded to the stallion as he stepped to the doorway, and he grunted at me with another flick of his head. While the orange stallion stood the same height as the avians, as I walked by, I was eye-level with the large rifles. Both were spotless, and the distant streetlights glinted off the pungent oil they were cleaned with. The interior was as decrepit as the exterior, with stucco falling from the walls and holes everywhere. Distant lights were visible through the foggy windows and the various breaches, but tables, chairs, books and liquors were scattered all throughout. Ponies and griffins looked to us and nodded as the orange stallion led me through a hallway barely wide enough for him, and into a single unassuming room. The single light flicked on, a lamp on a marred dresser, and cast the room in a yellow light. On each wall were bolted two beds. A single table and three chairs sat in the middle, and there was a lone window, too murky to see through, secured with rebar. “Not the warmest place,” I muttered. Turning to the orange stallion that stood near the doorway, I asked, “What is all this?” He scrunched his eyebrows up and skewed his lips in an exaggerated pensive fashion. He pointed to each bunk, then to me, to himself, and motioned twice to his back. I chuckled at his motions. “You don’t talk much, do you?” He shook his head, and frowned. “So we’re staying here, I take it?” He nodded and smiled. I stepped into the room cautiously, expecting the floorboards to squeak even under my small frame. I was further surprised when I peeled back the covers of one of the bunks. The sheets were thin and obviously worn, but it all seemed fairly clean. A light film of dust covered the sparse furnishings, and the air was stale, but it had a touch of homeliness to it. I turned back to the stallion. “Thanks for getting us a place,” I said. He shook his head, then raised up slightly on his hind legs, bending his front legs at his sides and flicking the hooves out to his sides and up. I tried to catch myself but my inebriated mind was too slow and I chuckled. I tried to stifle it, but it only made it worse, and I snorted, then fell back onto the hard mattress and laughed. When the fit subsided, I rolled off the bunk, and looked up at the stallion, who simply shook his head. “Sorry, sorry,” I said, rubbing at my wet eyes. “I take it Bit Flip got us the room, then?” He cocked his head and arched an eyebrow. “The pegasus.” “Ah,” he sounded, nodding. He raised a hoof to his brow and pushed it out, mocking a griffin salute, then turned and heaved his weight through the hallway. I bit down on the chain to the lamp, and clicked the light off, then closed the door and made my way to the common room. The night was young and though I didn't care to spend time with strangers, an uncomfortable longing for a personal touch had settled in me, and so I took to waiting for my pegasus friend, to keep my mind off it. ——
Book 1, Chapter 5.5: RecoveryView OnlineFallout Equestria: Medicine & MailBook 1, Chapter 5.5: RecoveryChapter Five-point-Five Recovery “Sometimes ya just have to go with the flow, Lil’ Bit. Now do what yer mother says and jump off that cloud.” We met up at the gates to town after tending to our morning errands. Vitia and Silver arrived shortly after I did, having taken a quick detour on account of the borrowed wing brace. Their moods were quite the opposite of each other. Silver seemed almost excited at the prospect of going home, and I couldn’t fault her for it but the concept of home felt foreign to me now. Vitia was pleasant but had the sense of being on edge all morning and it had only gotten worse as the day progressed. I couldn’t put my hoof on it, but something was eating at her. A shaggy griffin in what looked to be thick canvas overalls arrived alongside Big O’ wearing a similar outfit. He explained that Big O’ had wanted to stay at Thieves’ Bend and signed on with the dock workers late yesterday evening. I nodded a few times, half paying attention, as he went about his explanation. It wasn’t a surprising move, as he had no real ties to us and any obligations he may have felt from the train had been paid and then some. We said our short goodbyes to the gargantuan pony. A hoof bump and a nod later, he disappeared into the late morning crowd of itinerants. The sun rose high in the early afternoon sky as we departed from Thieves’ Bend. Xanti had been kind enough to recommend a reliable and inexpensive guide that knew the safe passages through the cove to get us back near the main roads of the Marejave. I marveled at the twists and turns we were lead through along the way, between smaller valleys and through tunnels bored into the mountainous region itself. The squat earth pony guide would stop periodically between bouts of small skirmishes with the local wildlife and make idle conversation before shuffling us off to the next destination. They kept most passages untamed and trapped to discourage regular travel unless a Wasteland guide was hired. He spoke of quicker routes to and from Thieves’ Bend, but would only shake his head and offer vague details when pressed. I figured it might have been on account of raiders, but couldn’t persuade him to go into further detail about that either. If we’d want to return, he explained and pointed to his rock and map shaped cutie mark, we need only find his siblings. Thieves’ Bend appeared to be a fairly well fortified area, difficult to get to from the front and the only reliable way was via highly visible ferry routes. It was no wonder I had heard of Desert’s Edge before in passing, but not the busy little town hidden away in the river coves. They weren’t interested in being found. The three of us reached the main road shortly before moonrise, as our guide had left us a few turns back with brief directions to reach our destination. The sky and clouds were painted in the many hues of the sun as it slowly fell beneath the valley’s rim. My heart ached as I gazed upon the horizon with its alluring multitude of shades. I didn’t make a habit of regularly flying about as most pegasi did, but sometimes even I desired a sit on a cloud to soak in the scenery. I took my wings for granted and now that I had lost them, even for this short period, it pained me beyond belief. I glanced to my side; Vitia picked her way carefully across the loose gravel and dirt. Her horn was freshly bandaged. To lose something so intrinsic to oneself. “Hm?” Vitia met my glance. “Something wrong?” I shook my head, not wanting to broach the sensitive subject. “You alright? You’ve been kind of on edge since this morning.” “I’m not looking forward to seeing my old home. Rather, I’m not looking forward to meeting the people I left behind.” She sighed, her ears slumped. “I may have glossed over a few of the particulars on how I left things.” “Well, if you need me for anything, I’ll be there.” I nudged the mare, hoping to cheer her up. “No, thank you though, Bit.” She trotted forward a ways and turned. “It’s something I should properly see through myself.” “Oh, it can’t be that bad.” Silver chimed in. “Nose and Greenhooves are good people, Vitia. I’m sure things will work out just fine.” “Nose?” I asked. “Oh, sorry, right. It’s the nickname everyone knows Brightmane by.” Silver giggled as she explained, “She’s got this way about her, just knows what’s going on with you like she can smell it out. There isn’t any hiding things from her.” I shuddered. “Reminds me of Doc from my old caravan. One look and he could tell you yer whole life story.” Light flooded the fragmented road as we rounded the bend, washing the world in a magicked white glow. I squinted and looked up with a hoof to my brow, where vague shapes silhouetted against the spotlight stalked across a large wall in the distance. As we neared the gates a rough voice called out for us to halt and identify ourselves or we would be fired upon. Vitia seemed lost at the sudden hostility. Her mouth moved as if to speak but words weren’t forming. “Three ponies. Trader, medic,” I paused to consider Silver Sheen and realized I had no idea what she did. “And somepony that’s been away a while.” Plumes of dust kicked up around us as a small band of griffins descended from the night sky and formed a broad semi-circle around with military precision. Three had their weapons trained on us at all times as the rest probed the darkness for threats. In, one of them instructed. “Ready up, we got three unknowns comin’ in,” the group’s apparent leader shouted at the wall. Mechanisms from within the steel bastion whirred to life. I listened intently as gears shifted and locks released, the partition lifted just enough to allow passage. A host of griffins on the opposite side greeted us as only a mercenary troop could, with guns drawn. “Friendly place y’got here, Vitia,” I whispered. Well, no worse than the Crags used to be. “I guess the raiders got bad enough for the council to finally hire the whole guard,” she whispered. A foal-faced pony with a blue coat and shaggy mop of a mane barely hidden beneath a flat, stiff brimmed canvas cap came bounding down the nearby set of stairs and raced out on to the catwalk overlooking the small holding courtyard we had been escorted into. Recognition crossed Vitia’s face as she looked up at the catwalk, “Hey, flower-colt!” She yelled out past the guard in front of her. “Wha—Hey! Vitia,” He leaned over the railing and squinted down at us, stumbling over his words momentarily. “That really you?” Vitia lead our little party through the streets of Desert’s Edge. A smallish town, but it had a welcoming sort of feel once you got past the gates. Broad lamps strung throughout the town on wired poles illuminated the roads and corners, and where they couldn’t, magicked lamps stood in their place. I squinted and looked up into the silvery hanging bowls as we passed only to find the lambent glow of moonlight reflected off the surface and into the street. Ponies wandered about the town openly, laughing, talking, and occasionally waving to us as we passed. Fillies and colts played together freely in the streets as if the heavily armed griffin presence was invisible. With a practiced step she led us down small side streets and wormed through alleyways around several older looking shops and homes. Lights came further apart down here and we would pass the occasional traveler. Cloaked in darkness and with a hurried step they would shuffle on past our group without stopping. Haggard ponies gathered in small groups and eyed us suspiciously from their doorways as we passed. Reminiscent of Cancy’s back alleys, I watched as ponies tried to act inconspicuous as they passed over wrapped bundles to each other. A single lamp hanging against the wall opposite us flickered dimly as we walked up the worn path, where the peeling and chipped paint of nearby buildings revealed the history of ugly colors beneath in the half-light. We turned off the trail and stopped in front of a wooden door, worn and warped with age. I stared at the deep claw marks set in the incarnadine surface as Vitia reached out to twist the door handle and motioned us inside. We picked our way around old knickknacks, electronic scrap, and what looked to be old unfinished projects lying about as she guided us across the hall towards a set of rickety stairs and made an offhoof comment about it probably being a disaster upstairs. I couldn’t fathom would could be worse than the mess downstairs until she slowly pushed wide the door and reached for the light switch. Heavy blackout curtains hung from the tall window preventing what little natural light they could from entering. Articles of clothing were strewn about in a haphazard mess. Empty bottles of alcohol piled everywhere I looked. Paper, torn and crumpled, towered in heaps in the corners of the room, and her mattress stood on end, resting against a door near a toppled nightstand, its contents spilt. Her room didn’t seem too bad as I followed behind her, skittering empty bottles and stray kitchenware about as my hooves collided with them. Messy and clearly left behind in disarray but otherwise okay. It wasn’t until we were fully inside that my senses were assaulted. Mired in with the thick acidic stench of dried urine was a vile sour smell, and the pungent skunky perfume of stale booze. I reeled back, my nose wrinkled at the odor. “Disaster doesn’t seem a strong enough word.” “Sorry,” she offered and hung her head. Her ears drooped slightly as she inspected a small inhaler she had picked up before tossing it behind her. I picked up the discarded item and took a deep whiff. Old as it may have been the chemical odor of brahmin dung and detergent was still strong. “Dash?” I asked despite knowing the answer, and threw the bottle into the corner, knocking over a pile of pages covered in illegible scrawling. Guess that’s what she meant about glossing over a few details. Poor girl had a Dash-out. Vitia looked to me for answers when Silver asked how long she’d be staying, but I could only shrug in reply. I didn’t want to stay long and could travel on, but Vitia would probably want me to take it easy while my wing healed. She opened the door to usher us out and tried to cover the embarrassment of her mess with a joke, but it felt wrong, offbeat, as if she hadn’t quite gotten over what had happened. Nothing further needed to be said about it. I knew how scary and wholly embarrassing Dash-outs could be and simply nodded before walking downstairs. A bulky mass of muscle silhouetted against the flickering light made its way up the gravel path as I stepped out into the moonlit night. I was nearly bowled over as the minotaur shape broke into a sprint and snatched up Vitia from behind me with a twirl and a roaring laughter then picked up Silver in the same manner shortly after. They had a brief exchange before he turned to look at me and shook with laughter once more. “I don’t know this little’un.” Oh no you don’t, I don’t even know you! He reached his arms out towards me and I panicked trying to twist my body away from the brute. Oh goddesses, another Ghost Ant, what is it with minotaur and picking ponies up? My wings beat against his body as he snatched me up in a tight squeeze and spun around. I wheezed off to the side as they spoke of Vitia’s home and the people she left behind. Silver wanted some time alone to sort herself out and offered to clean Vitia’s place for her instead of renting out a room at the Boroughs. The minotaur stalked off after a short discussion with Vitia, shoulders slumped and his hands stuffed in coverall pockets. Silver had long gone back upstairs leaving the two of us alone under the flickering lamp. “Hey, c’mon,” I nudged the sullen mare, “No sense hangin’ ’round here. Let’s go somewhere quiet and maybe a bit nicer.” Vitia put on a bitter smile and nodded. I knew the circumstances pained her, but felt that a chance of scenery would help put her at ease. She took the lead once more and we walked up the gravel path a short distance before turning off to the main road. Filtered moonlight from the hanging silver bowls flooded the street as we stepped into it. Laughter reached us from the group of ponies playing along the streets corners. She clicked her tongue in frustration before steering us under the shadowy wooden walkways that lined a path beneath the houses. I looked up at the structures as gaps in the wood would allow, to see that windows were lit and noises of families settling in for the night came from within. Heated air from exposed seams played lightly across my coat and slipped beneath my feathers as we passed by. I couldn’t understand why Silver would give this up and travel halfway across the desert to the Ridge or why Vitia would chase after her so desperately, but I hardly knew their story. We turned off the street as it neared the cliffs and followed the worn path a ways to the south. Heavy corrugated steel panel walls lined the trail opposite us as we followed it to a small checkpoint gate. The guard was lighter here and the two griffins on duty nodded to us when we passed by. I could barely make the outline of a pier in the distance, lit only by the waning moonlight and lucent glow reflected from the water’s surface. A short wind blew through the canyon and shifted the tall grasses aside, revealing night bugs that flitted about the cold river breeze casting their warm glow along our path. Splashing water and murmurs echoed in the distance and I gazed off into the night as we walked along a broken concrete path. Short glimmers of oranges and yellows moved across the horizon on the distant shore to the north. We quit the small path that guided us to the piers and stepped off to the shoreline. Wet sand and clay shifted beneath my hooves as the water rose to meet us before ebbing back into the river. Small splashes in the water appeared as the glowing dots of insects along the surface disappeared beneath ripples. I stared out into the divide and took in the scenery. The glowing moon reflected along the river casting its cold light across the landscape all around us. “Y’wanna talk about it?” A brief overwhelming silence held the moment, broken only by the chirruping of crickets and night birds on the hunt. I glanced over at her; the struggle of putting thoughts to words was clear on her face. “Not much to say.” “We wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t.” “Silver and I, we were more than friends once.” She sighed, her ears slumped. “Or, at least that’s what I had hoped, but only sort of got.” She turned upriver and slowly picked her way over the loose, wet stones. “It was complicated. She left to follow her parents and I simply couldn’t. Had responsibilities to fulfill here. To Brightmane, mostly, but raiders were acting up and we were busy.” We sat together on the flat portion of a rock that jutted from the river, not quite large enough for the two of us. We settled in and leaned into each other. Small glows of orange flickered briefly around us as the lake beetles danced along the air. I felt her lean further into my side and relax against me. I extended a wing and wrapped it around her, hoping to put her further at ease and ward off a bit of the river chill. “It was a pretty rough time,” she continued, barely above a whisper. “Things were messy and I didn’t know what to do.” “No worse than yer home, I hope.” I flashed a brief grin as I nudged against her. She smiled and pushed back as she stared into the water at our hooves. “Brightmane, she took me in when I was a foal. Cared for me in her own little way. When Silver left, I turned to drink and then, well, you saw. Things just spiraled from there and I spent most of it in a fog. Can barely remember any of it.” I hummed a small note as she continued to explain her Dash-out, about how she woke up disoriented and with no supplies. “Nobody knew I left and raiders had been active in the area. Ponies were hurt and it was my job to help heal them and,” she choked up for a moment and bit her lip. It was clear how hard this was for her and I pulled her closer with my wing. “I disappeared. Just like that. She probably thought I was dead or worse and I’m scared, Bit. I don’t know what to do or say when I see her again.” “Things have happened, sure, but yer here now. Won’t she be relieved to know yer safe, if nothin’ else?” She stared off into the distance as she rested her chin against the rock. “I don’t know. Maybe.” “I’ve…been there, used to abuse the stuff runnin’ the courier routes when I was younger. I’m sure you remember how it felt the first time, those moments of excitement and then the rush of energy.” I shifted my weight and leaned more into Vitia, her warmth under my wing a comfort against the brisk river wind. “Zippin’ across the Marejave like that, it was easy money. Further the package was to deliver the more there was to be made.” Vitia shifted under my wing and settled into a more comfortable position, she let out a content hum and rested her head against crossed forelegs. “There was this one job that nobody wanted. On south past the badlands near Big Bend and Memorial Caves all the way back up to the Pens in Wing Haven territory.” I sighed and nudged a small pebble into the slow flowing waters below us. Ripples spread outward distorting the moonlit reflection of two mares enjoying each other’s company. “Rush delivery, triple the usual payment if it was same day drop off. Havin’ wings made it easy. Navigatin’ the heavy winds and sand storms while dodging griffin fire on the other hoof. “That’s how I met Hammer, actually. Friendliest ghoul you’ll ever meet and the best damn mechanic this side of the divide. Probably one of the better chemists too.” My voice trailed off and I stared off into the starry horizon. I hung a leg over the edge and splashed at the water, feeling its cool touch soak through my coat. A small nudge from Vitia brought me back to reality and I continued, “Got a hold of some really pure stuff and had the mother of all Dash-outs. At some point along my travel I crashed in the Crags.” I chuckled at the vague memory and grinned. “I think the hole might still be there. It’s why I trust Ghost Ant and Willow as much as I do, though. They kept me safe and helped work it out of my system. I don’t remember all the details, but it was similar to what happened recently and why I know it hurt them so much.” Thin trails of light passed around us as the nocturnal beetles floated along the winds before riding it into the endless skies. “You know, Bit,” she smiled up at me. “You’ve come to mean so much to me lately and I’m glad we met, so thank you.” The smell of herbal soap tickled at my nose as I nuzzled along her neckline. Vitia had become a wonderful friend to me. Not just for traveling, but a proper friend, one that I valued immensely. “No. Thank you.” I whispered softly as she continued. “I didn’t think I could go back to ever wanting to be this close to anypony else after what happened in the Ridge, but this is nice. Comfortable, even, with you here.” She sighed and blew softly against my wing tip. “I hope I never have to do something like that again, but I won’t let it scare me away from intimate contact.” “Yer not gonna lick my wing again, are you?” I teased, trying to pull myself out of her pace. She grinned. “Maybe. I could, if you wanted.” The tip of her tongue pressed lightly against her lips as she stared at me through half-lidded eyes. “You seemed to have rather liked it last time.” A pulse of excitement played across my body at her offer and a light flush of heat crept to the tips of my ears and across my face. I folded my wing back and hugged it close to my body. “Yer enjoying this, aren’t you?” “I can’t help it! It was adorable.” Vitia giggled, her infectious laughter mixing with the lapping of waves against stones unseen, echoing across the low canyon walls and I soon joined in, unable to help myself. I stood and tried to hide my blushing face from her with a turn. I had been around Willow long enough to know that look and wanted to change the subject. “So, that book you were fiddlin’ with all day on the trail, what’s it about?” She sighed. A frown crossed her face for the briefest of moments before standing and pulling a large book from the satchel. “Oh, it’s just something Xanti gave to me for helping out. Has bits of information on desert plants, uses, and the like.” “What, like a travel guide?” “Medicine, I think. Zebra medicine.” She must have caught the uncertain look I gave her through the gloom and added, “It’s actually really useful. Even I was surprised.” I shrugged and stretched my wings out for a moment before facing her. “At least we know it can fix bones, but if it’s just about what plants you can eat and which critters’ll kill ya this way or that, I coulda told you that.” Vitia shivered and hopped off the rock with a small splash. “Got a really long day ahead of me tomorrow.” She turned to me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. “Thank you,” she whispered. A half-lit room greeted me as I opened my eyes. Dust motes played through slivers of light that peeked around the edges of the heavy black drapes. Papers had been cleaned up, bottled removed, and desk straightened. The pungent odor from before still bit at my senses, but Silver had done a fantastic job cleaning the place up. I glanced around from the chair I had fallen asleep in, looking for my host and her friend. It seemed they had stepped out some time ago and a small bowl of mixed greens had been left out on the table in their stead. The wild greens left for me were bitter with not a whole lot else going for them, but they were filling. I couldn’t see any use staying cooped up here, waiting for them to get back, and decided to look around town. I hefted my barding from the chair and slipped into it like a second skin, my hoof passing over the worked leather, smoothing it out against my body. The small leather roll I had secreted away to an inside pouch pressed firmly against my side and I smiled to myself. “Think I’ll work on that today instead,” I said to myself, patting the pocket it rested in. The downstairs room looked a sight cleaner and what I had passed off as junk storage the night before had been transformed into a maintenance room full of Vitia’s old projects and parts. Tools were organized and lined the back wall along a workbench and a disconnected and gutted terminal sat on another. A slight detour into the parts bin she kept saw me tinkering and toying with some leather, metal scrap, and a hose clamp until a suitable hoof-brace for holding precise objects had been made. I slid a notched pencil into the clamp and tested the fit before packing it away. Bundled stacks of loose leaf paper rattled as a cool breeze drifted through the alleyway. I slipped a few blank pages from the pile into my pack and turned towards the main road, determined to find my way out of the parts of town I felt I’d likely get mugged in. Flat capped ponies milled about the pipe works and wooden structures of the town square, with wrenches slung in packs across their backs as they cranked on bolts and rattled away at a nearby console on the wall. A familiar blue coated stallion shuffled by with other workers, his shaggy mop barely concealed beneath the cap. I flagged him down and sauntered up to where he stood. “Hey, I know you,” he waved to me. “Yer that trader that was with Vitia at the gates. Didn’t get to introduce myself before, might have been a touch excited what with her return and all. Name’s Blue Lilac.” He laughed and held out his hoof. “Bit Flip.” I returned the hoofshake and nodded. “Hey, maybe you’d know. Where’s a filly gotta go to get some decent food, maybe a drink and some conversation ’round these parts?” “There’s Coal on down at the Bin; he mixes one hell of a drink and the food’s not too bad either.” He waved a hoof to the north end of town. “If ya take this road on out, it’s close to the general store. If you start see thick pipes, you’ve gone too far.” He smiled when thanked and leaned in far closer than I’d have liked. “You wouldn’t happen to know,” he stopped to paw at the dirt before trying to slick back his mane under the cap. “Y’know, their plans…If those two are staying or not, would you?” “Silver Sheen planned on stayin’, I believe. Vitia, though, I don’t know what her plans are. I’m afraid you’d have to ask her yourself.” I knew she wanted to follow me out past the divide, but that may have changed with her coming home. He looked crestfallen as I shook my head and thanked him again for directions. A half-truth, but it would have to do. The road widened to the north as I walked along the side. Ponies and minotaurs in jumpers talked amongst themselves as they piled into a building, and the aroma of alcohol and radhog bacon filled the air. Patrons filled the balcony bar and tables, their trays laden with wasteland delicacies and drink. The occasional laughter drifted down to me as I stood there staring at the half-lit sign above them. It flickered slowly in the waning sunlight, revealing a simple scribble of a bottle and plate. Crackles of static and the sound of that familiar DJ from wherever they were played over conversations as I pushed aside the door and sat at an open table away from the bar. Low whispers of a war way out east was on the lips of every patron as they craned their necks to listen to him go on about some dead Wasteland hero on the radio. The Wasteland isn’t so black and white to have heroes and villains. Memories of using the slaves as a shield to escape bubbled up. I shook my head and pulled out the oiled leather roll to distract myself. Just those doing the best they can with what they’re given. A small reinforced padlock tumbled from the sleeve and I turned it in my hooves before setting it aside. My hoof ran along the inside of the case, feeling the slips of thin metal underneath each individual sewn slot. I pulled out the first, which I recognized from a book I had read as a filly. It was formed of a broad handle that tapered into a needle, its tip curved into a short hook. A larger, more pronounced hook sat in the next slot followed by a flat-bottomed half diamond. Tapered needles with wavy patterns sat next to each other in slots near two that ended in a ball and double-ball. Two angled tension wrenches fit against each other held beneath tight-fitting strapped grooves rounded out the slip. I listened to the broadcast play over the crowd as I held the short hook pick between my teeth and fiddled with the lock. “…Children, I…confession to make.…Broadcast?…Not exactly live.” “And…Two. Nine.…have a message…Twenty.…black-armored soldiers…Six. Twelve.…just burst into…Nine.…Shattered Hoof Ridge Tower…Sixteen.” “Ah, hell, that creepy broadcast is interrupting again,” someone from the small crowd huddled together near the radio shouted. Short bursts of static crackled through the speakers as he turned the knob until it landed back where it was. “Feh, it’ll be over soon enough.” The exuberant voice of The Signal cut through the static, clear as the sky: “Thanks for returning that Beacon, Bitty-bit. We got all the shopping you wanted done: Some sarsaparilla, a bit of wonderglue, leather straps, dice, and some lacy underwear.” Relief washed over me, taking the embarrassment with it, knowing that Luminous made it out of the Ridge all right. “Also picked up that Hammer you wanted. Message repeats in one day.” Oh. I sat back in my chair, and the pick fell from my lips with a clatter. A wide smile crossed my face and I breathed a long sigh of relief. They did it, they actually did it. “Leather straps and lacy underwear, huh?” A whisper came from behind, low and teasing. “Didn’t know you were into bondage. I think I can work with that though, Bitty-bit.” The embarrassment came rushing back and heat flared from my hooves to my ears as I spun to face Vitia. I tried to reply but only succeeded in biting my tongue. A look of triumph crossed her face as she sat down beside me. “So, what’s all this?” She asked, motioning to the leather roll and lock picks. “It was in the crate of stuff I ordered. Told me to come back after I figured out how to use ’em,” I said, rolling up the leather kit and returning it to my barding pocket. “They’re real lock picks—proper tools—none of this half-flanked bobby pin junk.” “Here you two go. A glass of the usual for Vitia,” a smooth voice rumbled beside me. A coal-black stallion set a tray with two glasses on the table, “And a glass of the house special for her friend.” I pulled the tall glass close and stared at the bubbling, ruby liquid. The sweet fragrance of blood oranges shadowed by earthy tones of rosemary conjured memories of my filly years with Willow as we strolled through the small Church garden under the moonlit night. “I asked Coal to not use any alcohol. It’s just tonic water in there.” She smiled at me. “So drink up, Bit. My treat. Today’s been a good day.” Sunlight streamed through the windows, the black curtains having been removed at Vitia’s request. She stared at me from the bed as I buckled the leather strap to my hoof, the notched pencil still held securely in the clamp. “Again with the hobo prosthetics?” “What? No. Hobo prosthetics, where do you even,” I shook my head and set out the small stack of blank pages on the table. “Going to get a courier to deliver some letters before we take off from here. Willow, Errant and Lumi, even thinking about writing one to Copper and the caravan. Let ’em know I’m still all right out here.” Silence held the room for a moment before I heard the sound of her steps behind me. She wrapped her arms around me, I could hear the longing in her voice as she spoke. “Hey, would you mind if I write something to Willow, too?” “Yeah, I’m sure she’d like that.” ——
Book 1, Chapter 5.8: DuesView OnlineFallout Equestria: Medicine & MailBook 1, Chapter 5.8: DuesChapter 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. ——
InterludeView OnlineFallout Equestria: Medicine & MailInterludeInterlude “Second chances rarely happen, y’daft filly, So don’t go makin’ the same mistake twice.” The time we spent in Desert’s Edge was quiet, boring in a way. Sleepy little town tucked away, as the name would suggest, along the border of the lesser Commonwealth, right at the desert’s edge. I sat around at the Bin, tinkering and toying away on Betty’s little gift, which let me keep up on Wasteland rumors and the war that was so quickly escalating out east. The slow paced life of Desert’s Edge had given me plenty of time to go over my thoughts in peace and put pencil to paper, and a few thoughts in particular needed addressing. — Copper, How’s the caravan doing? Well, I hope. Pay’s not shorting caps again on some crazy investment, is she? Well, not that you mind, I suppose. She’s got a good sense for that. We’ve never really seen eye to eye on how to run the caravan, less so when it came to matters of a more personal nature, but I want you to know that you did fine. Everything’s working out fine, and, well, I’m still out here. Hazy would be proud. No regrets. - Bit Flip Oh, also, you’ll probably get this well after you receive my other package, but if not, would you mind dropping it off at the Church? And tell Doc to ease up on the smokes. That’s profit going down the drain. (And it’s bad for him.) — I hung out around the Bin for so long that I ended up working there for our short stay in town. Put my wings to a bit of work holding trays up while delivering food and drink. Vitia argued, of course, that I shouldn’t have used them until the month was up, but it turned out okay. They take a fair bit of force to break, even when somewhat brittle after using bone brew. Besides, sitting around doing nothing was driving me mad, and the constant supply of free house specials on my breaks never hurt. — Errant, I got your message loud and clear. Thanks again for taking care of Hammer for me. I hope Needles and his goons weren’t too much of a hassle. Hammer might grump and fuss a lot, but he’s nice enough and means well. Put him to work repairing or building things and he’ll be right as rain. Hell, he’ll probably have renovated half the town by the time you get this. Also, tell Lumi that I said thanks for traveling with us. We made it out of there okay, but ran into a little issue with slavers on the northern rails and ended up having to detour down the river to catch a ferry from Desert’s Edge. - Bit — Silver adjusted, with a bit of help from Vitia, back in to her old life in town. Vitia pulled a few strings and had Greenhooves get Silver a position down at the docks cataloguing their warehouses and what few shipments they received. Vitia also gave her the deed to her old apartment, though Silver was adamant about only looking after it if she ever decided to return. It wasn’t until the day we left for Thieves’ Bend before I finally figured out what I wanted to say to Willow. — Hey Willow, I know things were rough after what happened, and I didn’t explain myself very well before disappearing into the Wastes, but after losing the caravan I lost myself and the only way of life I knew. Still haven’t found her or it, really, but I’m looking. I’ve met some amazing ponies over the last while, seen some strange and wonderful places, and even become privy to a live broadcasting of The Signal. Everypony I’ve met has their purpose, their way of life, and the conviction to see it through. All of them, from Buff Aloe in the Ridge to the anti-raider guerillas in Paint are trying to make the best of the day they’re given. Each of these things made me look back at my time in the caravan. I enjoyed it and had a lot of good things come from it, like meeting you, but I’ve come realize that I was never truly happy there. I let fear take hold and stop me from seeing the Wasteland as I wanted, not how the Company wanted. I’m not sure where this journey east through the Commonwealth will take me, but my hope is that it will lead me to myself and a purpose I can call my own. — Vitia had her own thoughts she wanted to put down as well, as I’d imagine she would, and before I had even set the pencil down, she was trying to pull it from my hoof-brace. Her magic had slowly begun to return over those two weeks since having the ring removed, but it was painful to watch her struggle keeping hold on that pencil with her feeble magic. She managed to hold it somewhat stable and put her words down, but it was very obvious that the effort to maintain the flicker of magic for even the most basic telekinesis cantrip drained her. Still, in large and uneven foal-like letters, many scratched out and rewritten, she slowly wrote to her lover mare. — Bit’s fine. I’m fi fine. Found Silver; she’s hom home now. We’re OK. Bit wants to go east; I’m following. It’s going to be hard; I miss you so so much. Every day, every mome moment. Sorry my writing is so bad. Ring was removed, bu but some pins ststil still in. Can’t use ma magic very well. — She tried to continue on, but the increasing struggle to maintain that tenuous grasp on the pencil ate at me through every letter and every word. Her magic eventually faltered and her chest heaved with each long inhale through clenched teeth as she repeatedly attempted to pick up the fallen pencil. I wanted to let her finish, but I knew Willow wouldn’t want her injuring herself further over a letter, no matter how touching it might have been. And without so much as a whimper of protest, she slumped down, rested her cheek on the table, and accepted my offer of finishing the letter. At first she continued on as she had, going into detail about Xanti, and the whole other unknown side to the world of healing and medicine that the zebra had shown her. She wanted to know how Spice, how Ghost Ant, and how everyone else at the Church was doing, and to send them her best wishes. And time and time again she said she missed Willow. But soon, she began to doze, slowly drifting away into that half-conscious dream world where one’s desires exist most vividly. Her sentences began to meander and run together and she was slurring her words as she spoke of Willow. She must have forgotten there was anypony else there, so caught up in her fantasies that she began describing all of the lustful pleasures she’d been dreaming of. I tried writing as much as I could, though the flaring heat of embarrassment her remarkably vivid descriptions had stirred in me made concentrating on the task something of a problem. It wasn’t long before she slipped into unconsciousness completely and I could take a moment to step out into the evening air to cool and settle down before adding in my last words to Willow. — Vitia found me, as you can tell from her letter. Rather, I should say that we found each other in 144. We’re staying over in her old home town for a short while before we take off east; it’s so boring here that she may have had to bail me out of trouble with the locals a few times. (Can’t help it, I got real lock picks!) While I dearly wish I could return her to you, only because I know it would do the both you a world of good, I doubt she would ever entertain the idea. She’s pretty set on making this journey with me. Though, if I’m to be honest, I’m glad we’re traveling together. Her presence has become something of a comfort to me these last couple weeks. It’s nice to have someone you can trust at your side while traveling. Promise I’ll make every effort to return her safely to you. I’m going to miss you and Ghost Ant dearly. Tell the Daughters and everyone else at the Church I said “hello.” I’ll see you when I see you, Bit — I’d love to say the two of us were clever enough to have found our way back to Thieves’ Bend immediately, but our previous guide wasn’t joking when he said they made an effort to keep folks out of the front door. Vitia, even having lived in Desert’s Edge all her life, could not recall anypony that routinely made the travel upriver ever residing in the small town. The danger of ambush from raiders or bandits on either side of the divide was too great and not many ferries felt the risk was ever worth it. It was only after a fair bit of searching around the docks that we found our unicorn. Lanky, with an unassuming look about her, like she could blend in well with any surrounding she landed in, but most importantly, she had a river and map cutie mark. She took us through the coves and caves where the water level was high enough for travel, well away from the open lanes of the river. Much like the first night we happened upon the secret little town, we stepped off on to the dock late into the evening. The whole ordeal had been very trying and we were both exhausted from it. The walk to the Safe House wasn’t but ten minutes from the docks and Crookshanks greeted us with a wave his razor tipped paw when we arrived and showed us to an open room. Said he’d let Betty know of my arrival in the morning and left us to ourselves. Before we settled in for the night Vitia had brought up an odd point about our new acquaintances. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but that was the third or fourth time I had been addressed as newbie. Vitia set off to visit Xanti the following morning while I headed off to meet with Betty to return his note and find out what he meant. I waited patiently in his shop while he took care of existing customers, and inspected the safes along the wall with a renewed interest. It wasn’t until the last customer left and he locked the door to the store that he broached the topic of his note and I realized I had been conned almost from the word go. Of course, I thought that back then, but these days I’m a bit more ambivalent about it and I understand why he was so obtuse in his methods. By delivering Betty’s cap to Crookshanks that day, I marked myself as being under his employ. He asked me to show him what I had learned since that day. Traditionally, he explained, lock picking is usually something of a unicorn trait. Others can muddle their way through it, but magic is exceptionally well suited to manipulating objects, after all. I showed him the writing hoof-brace I had modified to hold a lock pick securely and demonstrated just how much I could muddle my way through. The safe I failed in opening before was opened with time to spare. Betty congratulated me in bypassing the most basic of lock security. He explained that while spooler pins aren’t uncommon, they aren’t so common that your everyday box will use them. They existed only to frustrate the hasty thief. He revealed the nature of Thieves’ Bend and asked that I stay on to learn how to better put those skills to a useful purpose. I couldn’t resist. Every day was some new exercise. A stack of different lock types to work on here, a disassembled mess he expected me to reassemble and re-pin there, or an impromptu lesson on valuing items and marks. His or, well, our line of work often requires a certain degree of speed, silence, and awareness. We would often take long excursions into forgotten building and tunnels of dead pre-war towns and nearby cities to work using my natural lightness as a pegasus and develop a sense of quiet about my movements. A slow thief or a noisy thief is a dead thief, as he was fond of saying. Vitia and I saw little of each other during our stay in Thieves’ Bend, as she had chosen to learn the art of zebra alchemy from Xanti. Sometimes it would be stretches at a time before our paths crossed again. What short time we had together was mostly confined to the evening or early morning hours at the Safe House. Vitia would tell me what she could of her new-found excitement. Xanti, in much a similar fashion to Betty, had her working constantly around the medical greenhouse and lab. They would take the occasional trip out into the desert flats near Paint and sometimes be gone for a full week before returning. She would fill our short time together with tales of the wondrous things that alchemy could do and the many things she learned out in the fields or the various properties of plants and animals. Betty had given me the full disclosure of the roles many people played in Thieves’ Bend. Tank owned the casino-bar and served as the first stop in any major information brokering in town. The gambling was just something to do on the side and his way of keeping an eye on the grifters and cheats that passed through. Crookshanks handled the fencing of stolen goods sold through the bazaar. He also provided a haven for those that fell within the hierarchy of town. Thieves’ Bend housed a lot of things, and I worried about Vitia during those days. She was spending nearly every waking moment with Xanti, a zebra who not only specializes in medicine and alchemy but also murder. Isolated in our little world, we saw and worked at only the things they asked of us. The days passed by as we became engrossed in our training and before I knew it not only had my wings finished healing but three months had passed us by. I once more began to feel the pressing urge to move on with my journey further into the Commonwealth than our short excursions would take us. “Make no mistake, Bit Flip, we’re thieves. There’s nothing wholesome or right about what we do, but there’s no point in making the Wasteland a worse place than it already is. Take from those who have taken, nothing more.” Betty’s parting words ring true, even today, and it is a rule I learned to live by as Vitia and I traveled further east across the Commonwealth. We passed through Flankshaft and stayed a short while to take on a job we had been eyeing for some time. Eventually, we turned north after hearing of the city Elysium and its many golden rumors. It was there that we butted heads with Wicker, our explosive new friend. Of course, I hadn’t realized then just how much I’d come to rely on Betty’s teaching. And on the trust in my companion, and the friends we’d meet as our journey continued. —— Party Status: Bit Flip: Overall good physical condition. Level Up (18) Perk: Intense Training (Agility) Your tireless dedication to self-improvement has finally paid off! Your Agility score is increased by 1. Perk: Intense Training (Perception) Your tireless dedication to self-improvement has finally paid off! Your Perception score is increased by 1. Quest Perk: Stack the Odds Unicorns may look down on you with their freaky magic, but you can muddle along with the best of them now. You receive a lock picking bonus of +5 when equipped with a hoof-brace and proper lock picks. Vitia: Overall good physical condition. Level Up (16) Perk: Intense Training (Perception) Your tireless dedication to self-improvement has finally paid off! Your Perception score is increased by 1. Perk: Tribal Wisdom Your studies in Zebra alchemy have given you new perspective on the joys of radhog bacon and various other delicacies of the desert. You take 20% less damage from poisons and eating strange food confers a minor bonus to health. Quest Perk: Magic Enfeeblement II Your magical conduit is damaged, but healing. Magic is painful. -25 Magic Energy and automatic failure of high level spells. Notable Possessions: Hoof-Brace Lock Pick Set Big Book of Alchemy
PrologueView OnlineFallout Equestria: Medicine & MailProloguePrologue “Your word is all you have. Don’t pry, it’s bad for business. And perhaps most importantly, always play close to the vest. The caravan survives because of these laws.” There is a growing sentiment along the trade routes—the kind of thing a traveling pony can take to heart and find some measure of comfort in. Supposedly it started to the east, all the way out in Hoofington, this idea of trade being able to save the Wasteland. Of course, there are many out there who disagree. An ideal doesn’t put caps in the bag and food in the belly, after all. Some caravans are perfectly willing to sell you your mother’s family heirloom, right after scavenging it off her corpse. Hell, they’d probably even sell you into slavery if they could get away with it. My name’s Bit Flip, by the way. I’d say pleased to make your acquaintance, but I’m kind of staring down the barrel of a botched negotiation. And besides, a proper story’s supposed to start at the beginning. Names and cutie marks have a strange tendency to be prophetic in some ways, but just as often they turn out to be completely against what is expected. Those are the kind of connections that a pony never really figures out until they happen upon their talent. Luckily as young fillies and colts we were, in a way, guided towards our cutie mark. While I can’t always say the caravan had the most altruistic of reasons, we were all trained to effectively barter and bargain in the Wasteland regardless of what part of the caravan we were from or where we wanted to end up. They always taught us that trading in the Wasteland was two parts skill and one part luck, so you can imagine their surprise when my first deal was two parts luck and one part skill. I swear you could almost hear the collective groan across the Marejave when I got the twin coin cutie mark to match. I’m just glad they didn’t try to rename me something like Coin Toss. Our small caravan mostly worked the trade and courier routes, either contracted out through the Carmine Convoy Company or working freelance, running deliveries. To that end we were led to believe that scavenging and Stable looting was beneath us. Well, most of us anyway. My mother, having not been born into the caravan, had a different opinion on the matter. My father tried to do right by me by impressing upon the dangers that existed outside the routes whenever her stories of beyond the clouds came up, but he was just an earth pony that didn’t know anything beyond the caravan, not that I could ever hold it against him. Honestly, I couldn’t blame her if she missed it. It sounded right cozy up there without all the dust storms and desert heat, but I wasn’t so naïve in my age that I couldn’t hazard a guess at her reason to come down here, and I never pressed the issue. The reality is that the trade and courier business was just the safest path out here in the desert, but when you grow up in the caravan life hearing tales of places beyond our meager existence, it tends to leave a lasting impression. It’s because of those stories that I took to the courier side of the business in the first place.
![[size=14]Bit Flip's Character Sheet[/size]](https://www.dropbox.com/s/8nr86u920g8d8xc/BitFlip.png){kind=link}
![[size=14]Vitia's Character Sheet[/size]](https://www.dropbox.com/s/rwuuctfncbg0rfc/Vitia.png){kind=link}