Chapter One: Silver Stars
Nopony would have believed that within a century of the coronation of Princess Twilight Sparkle, that the known world of Equestria would be changed forever. Ponies would no longer rule the land, and cities would be abandoned. The complex hierarchy and social system of Equestria would all but vanish overnight, leaving disorganized, distraught ponies running amok across the land.
And nopony could have stopped the unholy force from bathing the land in a tide of blood. They moved like locusts in midsummer, devouring everything in their path. Their black shapes were the last thing many ponies saw before their untimely demise. It seemed that nothing could stop them.
Then, during the peak of their invasion, a plan was devised by Princess Twilight Sparkle and a council of the Elements of Harmony. A series of sanctuaries were to be built, secure from the newly unleashed horrors of the world. A massive undertaking, the likes of which Equestria had never seen before. Three colossal airships, The Assurance, The Hearth, and The Credence would take flight, each carrying a full capacity of ponies. In the skies, they took refuge, hiding from the gurgling maw of death that awaited them below.
However, as time moved on, and generations passed, the airships divulged into legend. They were never seen, and rarely spoken of. The descendants of the Elements of Harmony, who were tasked with captaining the three ships, were said to have been lost to storms, or to more organic threats. Nevertheless, ponies tried mightily to live on without the airships, abandoning their once prized symbols of hope.
Cities were erected, mostly in deserted, out of the way areas. Within the walls of their cities, ponies tried as best they could to live normal lives. But it was difficult. Resources became incredibly scarce, and it was far too dangerous to collect more. Trade was almost non-existent, and communication between cities was nearly impossible. It would have been the end for them, if not for a sole group of specially dedicated ponies.
They were called Wanderers in the southern deserts, Hunters in the central forests, or Nomads in the frozen north. Whatever their names were, they were all the same. Ponies, usually only one or two in a group, who would leave the safety of the cities and towns, and go forth into the wilderness to procure food, supplies, or the eradication of threats. Every town had half a dozen or so of these special ponies. They became symbols of survival, and the endurance of spirit. But being a Wanderer wasn’t easy.
Threats loomed around every corner in the new world. Once peaceful animals became savage and hostile, attacking anything that moved. Groups of feral ponies had emerged, forming simple tribes focused around pagan gods of blood and battle. But the highest threat of all were the Stalkers; the source of the problems in the New World.
One silent night, when the sky was as clear as could be, they came. They arrived from beyond the stars, choosing the pony’s world for its massive amount of life on which to feed. Once they landed, the fight was over; they had already won. They moved silently in the night, using their black shapes to blend into the darkness. They were quadrupeds, just like ponies, but possessed the ability to stand, and occasionally walk, on their hind legs, which were gangly and knotted at the joints. They had no eyes, at least not that could be seen. Ponies presumed they used the scent of fear to guide their paths in the dark.
But, with all their destructive power and endless hunger, they weren’t without weakness. The greatest weapon the ponies possessed was the sun. The Stalkers, as they had been called, were very sensitive to the UV radiation of the sun. They became lethargic, slow, and generally of no threat. It was because of this, that ponies were still able to survive.
One pony in particular had developed the keen skill of survival almost to perfection. Silver Stars, of New Appleloosa, was her name. And, though young, she was the most valuable asset to New Appleloosa, being one of the most successful Wanderers. But everything changes with time.
*****
“We know you’re in there! Come on out!”
The stillness of the canyons was broken by the voice of the mare. She stood alone among a field of red rocks, facing a broken down shack. Inside, half a dozen stallions, armed to the teeth with guns, knives and gold, awaited her arrival with a fierce bloodlust.
“Give up now, and you’ll live. Nopony’s going to the gallows; we just want the gold, and your leader. The rest of you are still free.” Silver shouted, glaring through her ocean-blue eyes. She flipped her long, unkempt brown mane from her face, and checked the sun’s location.
Not long before sunset. These fellas better hurry up...
Before long, she got her answer; A sharp crack, followed by a nigh-silent whistle. The warning shot went wide to her left about two feet, and smashed into the canyon wall behind her. Silver gritted her teeth with a mixture of fright and annoyance.
“I’m giving you fellas to the count of three to come out! Otherwise, me and my gang are running in there, guns blazing!” she replied, motioning to the rocks behind her, hoping they wouldn’t call her bluff.
“One!”
Silence.
“Two!”
With her trained ears, she could hear shuffling from inside the cabin. She waited precious seconds for a response, and when none came, she called it.
“Three!”
“Why don’t you go fu-”
The stallion’s words were ripped from his mouth as a single, booming report echoed across the cliff walls. The shack’s left wall all but exploded from the impact, leaving two stallions flying through the air like ragdolls. Behind her, Silver’s cannon finished spewing its remaining smoke, helping Silver develop some cover from the imminent gunfire about to rain down upon her.
Her cover came not a moment too soon, as hot lead quickly descended on her. Bullets struck the ground in every direction, seeming to hit everything but the mare.
“Honestly...” Silver muttered, moving forward, using rocks as cover, “It’s a wonder they managed to rob anything at all with that accuracy.”
She was less than ten yards from the shack now. The gaping hole in the side showed the remaining ponies, still determined their target was hiding among the smoke. Their sharp eyes darted around the rocks, waiting for even the slightest visual of their aggressor. The barrels of their guns glinted with the light of the setting sun as they scanned the horizon.
In turn, Silver withdrew her own weapon. Instead of a gun, Silver was equipped with a knife, nearly a foot long. Tying the knife to her left hoof, she began to slink along the ground closer to the shack. She held her breath, hoping that it would somehow decrease her chance of being seen.
She didn’t need it, however, as two of the remaining four stallions turned tail and ran into the desert, abandoning their guns. A hefty grey unicorn turned on them, snarling. His dreadlock mane and beard swung haphazardly as he shouted obscenities at the deserters. Silver payed close attention to the large pony, assuming he was the leader. His body was covered in sinewy muscles that showed beneath his shaggy coat and leather armor. Belts, bandoliers and holsters adorned his midsection, and carried two massive pistols that swung with considerable weight. Levitating next to him, bathed in a dark blue aura, was a long range rifle, equipped with a two-foot long scope, and decorated with markings of some wasteland gang.
Luckily for Silver, he hadn’t noticed her, and kept his attention solely on swearing towards his once-comrades. This gave her the opportunity to move into the shack and take a position behind a ramshackle counter, where she would go missed. From behind her new hiding spot she assessed the situation. Two ponies, each wielding guns. One unicorn and a pegasus. The unicorn had a massive advantage, as his magic could wield a gun with such precision that no other pony could muster. The pegasus, though, was vulnerable. With sweat beginning to bead on her brow, Silver lay in wait.
The boss had turned his attention to Silver’s former spot among the rocks, and continued to fling bullets in its direction. The pegasus, being weak of will, followed suit solely for conformity. Silver had to admire their combination of persistence; shooting at the same spot after three minutes shows significant dedication.
Finally, they ceased. Silver could hear a tiny ring in her ears as she peeked over the counter. The two ponies grimaced at the rocks, not saying a word. The boss merely pointed his horn in the direction of their target range, sending the pegasus flying out with some hesitation. Silver liked her odds, and made her move.
As quietly as she could, Silver exited her hiding spot behind the counter, and moved towards the boss, making sure to stay behind him. The unicorn was much larger up close. His stance put him nearly two heads higher than Silver, who was of average size. She had to stand on the tips of her hooves, and strain her head up just to see over his muscular back.
But, no matter how large he was, he was a wanted pony by New Appleloosa, and Silver wouldn’t let her town down. She vaulted into the air with a grunt, jumping over the stallion’s back. As she flew her short flight, she brought her knife down on his back, cutting his belt. Seconds later, a heavy thud bombarded her eardrums as the two mammoth revolvers hit the ground, falling from the stallion’s severed holsters.
The boss’s initial surprise had diminished, and he turned on Silver with unbridled fury. Strings of saliva escaped his maw as he let out a bellowing war cry, shaking the foundations of the shack. Hooves the size of boulders began flying at Silver, who was barely nimble enough to get out of the way. There was no opening in his defense; he was like a mountain. Silver knew she had to act fast as the stallion’s horn began to emit its magical aura.
Silver’s mind slowed down. Everything appeared in slow motion, and the mare could feel her heart beating slower. A warm feeling washed over her, extending down to the very tips of her hooves.
The guns, her mind told her.
She eyed the pistols, which were beginning to lift off the ground. During this time, the stallion was in mid-punch, and had thrown his weight forward in an attempt to move Silver backwards into the wall.
He’s put too much weight into it.
Silver noticed. He stood on his two back hooves, leaning heavily. There was no way he would recover smoothly, and he knew it. The guns were a foot off the ground, and rotating towards Silver. His hoof was moving nearer and nearer to Silver’s face, and was mere inches away before she made her move.
She ducked underneath the gigantic hoof, feeling it graze against her mane. With all her weight, she slammed into his back hooves, toppling him over with a thunderous thud. Her speed had diminished, but she still had enough left to get to the guns. Throwing herself on top of them, she pinned the firearms under her body. The pulsing magic still surrounded them, and she could feel them squirming underneath her, but her weight managed to keep them down.
The stallion lay in a heap on the ground, grasping at his hind leg. Stifled moans of pain escaped him, and his magical aura slowly dissipated with each groan. Finally, the pistols underneath Silver stopped moving, and she slowly lifted herself off of them. Turning to the stallion, she investigated his injuries.
His back-right leg was split halfway down, and twisted in an uncomfortably awkward position. Silver could see the lump of a broken bone through the coarse hair, and winced at the thought of the pain. Still, she had a job to do, and commenced with his arrest.
“My name is Silver Stars.” she started with a voice mixed with intimidation and sincerity, “I represent New Appleloosa as one of her six Wanderers. You’re wanted by Constable Shackles for the crimes of robbery, murder, ex-”
“Extortion, racketeering, trafficking, yeah, I know...” he finished through gritted teeth.
“Okay then...” Silver replied, slightly annoyed by how cooperative he was, “You stole a shipment of gold from a recent caravan. If you tell me where it is, I can get you to New Appleloosa safely, and with as little pain as possible.”
The stallion tried to stand, but Silver placed a hoof on his broken leg. Though she weighed a fourth of his weight, it was enough to keep the unicorn pacified. With a shriek of pain uncharacteristic of the bulky pony, he continued,
“Bollocks! That hurts!”
“That’s the point.” Silver replied as coldly as she could, though a sprinkle of sympathy escaped her voice, “What’s your name?”
“What, that oaf of a constable didn’t tell you?” he asked with a grim chuckle.
Silver shook her head warily. She was worried; no other bandit leader had given up so easily. She had seen ponies who had had their limbs severed, or were impaled through the chest and still kept fighting. It was odd to see somepony give up after a broken leg.
“I’m Boss Dune. Leader of the Desert Raiders from here to Dodge.” he spoke with excessive amounts of pride.
“Dune? I’d assume that’s not your birth name.”
She waited for an answer, but none came. He just stared at her with his malicious grin. Silver opened her mouth to speak, and immediately shut it as she heard the lever of a rifle click into place.
Bullets whizzed over her head just as she threw herself to the ground. The dull ‘thump’ of bullets colliding with wood surrounded her, coming from every direction. She put her hooves above her head and pushed herself along with her back legs, taking refuge behind the counter. Mentally punching herself for forgetting the pegasus, she readied herself for another fight.
First, she would-
Sharp pain exploded from her hip. Red hot trails of searing energy surged inside her, sending tingling waves of pain to every corner of her body. Already, she could feel the warm trickle of blood seeping from her flank, and felt the bullet squirming around inside of her, finding a place to rest. Her eyes clamped shut, and she bit her lip to keep from screaming.
On the other side of the counter, she could hear Dune get up and hobble outside. In another minute he would be down the canyon’s slope, and on his way far away from Silver. But there was nothing she could do about it. She was pinned down by semi-automatic rifle fire, and trying to move out of cover would be suicide.
What felt like hours passed as Silver hid behind the counter, pressing her hoof against her sticky, blood coated flank. The pegasus would have to run out of ammunition eventually, so all Silver had to do was wait for the right moment. She wouldn’t have much time, but she only needed a second, maybe two.
But the waiting was too much, and the pain was unbearable. Something had to happen now. Balancing on a single leg, she rose from behind the counter, knife in hoof. The pegasus hovered outside, using the hole in the shack as a shooting window. Upon seeing Silver, he raised his rifle, and took careful aim. In return, Silver brought her knife back behind her head, and steadied herself. Nothing but silence followed.
The first shot from the rifle made Silver jump, but not enough to hinder her aiming. The second shot went wide, striking a glass bottle behind her and sending tiny shards of glass flying everywhere. Silver extended her hoof, throwing the knife forward just as the third shot fired, missing her ear by millimeters. Not caring to see if it hit or not, Silver dropped down to the safety of the counter, and waited for a sign of success.
The firing had stopped, and for a moment, the normally regular sound of beating wings became erratic and sloppy, before finally stopping completely, punctuated by a dull ‘thud’ and the settling of dirt. Silver exhaled loudly, her breathing becoming ragged and harsh.
The pain in her flank had intensified with the recent actions. The bullet had struck her just inches below her light bulb cutie mark, and dug itself deep inside her, until it rest against the bone. She would need tools to get it out, and that would mean she’d need her pack. Her gaze lifted to the field of red rocks outside.
Gulping once, Silver began crawling along the ground, keeping a wary eye out for Dune. It was all out of habit though. She knew he was gone, as only a fool would stay in the wilderness with an injury; which was precisely what she was doing. But at least with her pack she could fix up her wound a little bit.
She reached outside, where the splintered, uneven planks of wood ended and the coarse, sharp rocks began. The sun was low behind her, casting long shadows across the rocky ground. Silver’s heart began to race.
It’ll be dark soon... her mind nagged constantly.
“I know.” Silver whispered to herself through clenched teeth as she dragged herself through the last feet of her journey, ending up next to her saddlebags. With shaking hooves, she threw its contents across the ground, completely emptying the canvas bag. Bandages, dried fruits, and spare bullets rolled over the dirt, colliding with rocks and each other. After frantically searching through increasingly blurred vision, Silver finally found what she was looking for.
A tiny syringe, filled with a pale yellow liquid. It was almost as viscous as syrup, and moved around slowly in the cramped tube. Silver grimaced at the concoction, but didn’t hesitate. She jammed it harshly several inches above the bullet wound, and squeezed the trigger with her other hoof. In an instant, the pain in her leg exploded tenfold, followed by an ice-cold flow of relief. The medication spread through her muscles, relaxing and numbing them. Soon, Silver could feel nothing in her right flank.
“Alright... I can do this.” Silver said to herself, balancing on three hooves, leaving the fourth resting in the air. Her hobbled gait concerned her. Appleloosa was, at most, two hours away at a walk. Running could get her there in a third the time; barely making it before dark. There was no way she was able to do either. A long groan of exasperation escaped her.
Her eyes quickly scanned the area. It was mostly desert rock, reddened with age. Coarse gravel and sand coated the ground, making every action more difficult. Canyon walls shot up on either side of her, leaving a restricting passageway for her to navigate. There was only one shelter; the cabin, and that was meager at best. Silver bit her lip as her thoughts collided. Run and die, or stay and possibly live, though her odds were slim.
She chose the latter, taking her saddlebag in her mouth. Hobbling towards the cabin, Silver gauged her resources. She only had enough food for a day and a half; she had expected her trek to be much faster. As for weapons, she would have to make do with the bandit’s discarded guns, though she had a keen loathing for them. They were cumbersome, and had a tendency to malfunction. Silver preferred knives, or other melee weapons, as they relied solely on her own dexterity and strength.
Tactically, the cabin was useless. Its framework was ready to give way at any moment, and its southern wall had no windows or doors, making it impossible to see if anything was coming from that direction. It had three entrances, not counting the massive hole made by Silver’s cannon, which now lay rendered useless due to its weight. Had all four of her legs been working, she could have dragged it to the cabin to fortify her defense, but she was unwilling and unable to do such a feat.
Silver groaned again, her anxiety rising as the light diminished. As quickly as she could, she got to work, tearing floorboards out and using them to patch windows and doors. The barricades were more of a formality; if the Stalkers knew she was in the cabin, nothing would stop them from tearing it from its foundation. They were ruthless and relentless when it came to meals.
The second the sun went down, Silver began to hear them in the distance. Their sick howls carried on the wind, finally reaching Silver’s experienced ears. Immediately, her heart raced to breakneck speeds. Her mouth went completely dry, and a heavy lump stuck in her throat. Promptly abandoning the renovations of the shack, Silver prepared for a long night ahead. She lay in the corner of the shack, where she was unseen to the outside world, except for one small gap between two planks. Around her, four guns were piled, all loaded and ready for defense.
Silver took the largest gun in her hooves and aimed it at the doorway. Should anything come in, be it friend or foe, it would be blown in two by the high velocity shells. Silver trusted that fact, knowing that the gun was a special ‘Fob & Wrought’ shotgun. They were made before the Stalker’s arrived, but only barely, by two ponies in a town called ‘Ponyville’. She had heard stories of the gun’s shells doing marvelous damage, as they were packed with a magical mixture of powder and explosives.
Holding the powerful weapon on her hooves comforted the mare. It felt like a security blanket to her, except the usual tenderness and warmth of a security blanket was replaced by cold mithril, expertly crafted into a murderous tool. She lay in wait, feeling more confident of the night. Finally, though every fiber of her body protested it, Silver’s eyes began to flutter shut. The adrenaline from the fight had subsided, and Silver could feel the crash coming in hard. Despite her best efforts, she eventually dozed into fitful sleep.
*****
Silver’s eyes shot open slightly after midnight. She had dozed off, attempting to catch some sleep in the night, only to let her defenses falter. She could hear noises outside; sniffing and snorting, followed by gravel under hooves. Wait, were they hooves? Slowly, moving with painstaking care, Silver cupped a hoof to her ear.
No, they weren’t hooves. they were more rough. Scaly, even. Silver gripped the gun tighter, bringing it closer to her chest. Few things with scaled feet came to mind. The most prominent of which, of course, were the Stalkers. But Silver didn’t jump to conclusions, as it could have been a multitude of things. Dragons, for instance, had become more common since the invasion, even if they had lost any and all previous capacity for reason. Hell, it could even be a pony outside, wearing dragonhide shoes! Silver let out a silent sigh of relief, having successfully convinced herself.
Immediately, she took back her notions, swearing silently. Silver caught a glimpse of something between the planks. It was just a motion; a black on black shape moving through the shadows. Tears began to form in Silver’s eyes as the sounds became clearer, turning guttural and alien. She clenched her teeth shut tight enough to hurt. Her shaking hooves pointed her weapon straight at the doorway.
“Please...” she whispered, looking down the sights, “No...”
Silver focused all her attention on the doorway, forgetting all else in the world. New Appleloosa, the bandits, her bullet wound; nothing mattered. She cleared out her entire mind, leaving only the doorway and the action of pulling the trigger.
And she waited. It was inevitable now. Surely they knew she was there; fear enveloped her in its anxious embrace, sending out a beacon to every Stalker as to where she was. A single tear of desperation rolled down her trembling cheek.
“No...” Silver muttered audibly, breaking the deafening silence. Silver could hear nothing, save for the thumping of her heart, and the occasional sound of blood surging in her ears. Nothing moved; it was almost like staring at a portrait.
Finally, Silver’s nightmares were embodied. It quickly peered into the room, moving its gaunt, black head around in search for a meal. Silver froze, all previous notions of blowing it to pieces lost in a seize of terror. Before her stood the enemy. The cause of millions of deaths across the world. The cause of generations of fear among the slaves of the New World.
It took a step gingerly into the room, not having noticed Silver. She stared in disbelief as the monster investigated her shack. Its teeth were bared, showing rows upon rows of long, sharpened knives, forming a wall of eviscerating death. As per usual with the Stalkers, its face was void of eyes, and had elongated nostrils, stretching halfway across its face. A short, thin body rest atop four long, gangly limbs. The legs were less reminiscent of ponies, and more akin to a dragon’s leg, but skinnier. They ended in fierce talons, usually stained with blood.
Silver slowly moved the barrels to face her target, but hesitated firing. For all she knew, a dozen Stalkers could be outside; they rarely traveled alone.
If you don’t kill it now, it’ll kill you. At least put up a-
Silver’s body was rocked by the contained explosion. The tremendous roar of the magical weapon caused dust to fall from the rafters. Silver watched out of squinted eyes as the Stalker took the bulk of the shot in its midsection, effectively tearing in half by the force. Black blood flowed over the floorboards in a grotesque sloshing sound. Through her ringing hers, Silver heard the shrilling cries of additional Stalkers.
The weapon was spent; she would have to reload, and that would take too long. Instead, she threw the weapon aside, and picked up a second gun, Dune’s rifle. The barrel made short-range aiming cumbersome, but it would have to make do as a second Stalker burst into the room. This one didn’t hesitate to charge at Silver with insane speed. She only managed to get a single shot off, but that’s all she needed.
The bullet tore through the Stalker, entering its maw and exiting through the back of its head. The momentum of the charging monster brought it down upon her, covering her in blood and the scaly embodiment of nightmares. Her shrieks filled the air as she attempted to rid the body from atop her own. It was barely cleared by the time the third and fourth came into view simultaneously, attempting to squeeze past each other to get through the door, and only succeeding in getting each other stuck. Their saw-like teeth gnashed at the air in anticipation.
Silver took her chance to lay down a flurry of shots, none of which were aimed properly. She could hear the bullets impact and penetrate the Stalker’s scaly hides, but neither fell. After a measly five shots, the gun ran out of ammunition, and Silver threw it to the ground with a tremendous thud. The Stalkers, though coated in their own blood now, were beginning to squeeze through the door, and had managed to get their front legs inside.
Silver wasn’t herself. She had become a machine; autonomous and cool. Her actions were fluid, and never missed a beat as she picked up one of the mammoth pistols from the ground. In one motion, she brought the gun up and fired twice. The recoil was enough to send the second shot far wide, but it was irrelevant. When the first shot impacted, a gout of phosphorous flame exploded from within the body of a Stalker, covering both of the monsters in fire. The white hot flame licked at the monster’s appendages, and their shrieks barely drowned out the crackling of the incendiary rounds.
Silver’s stomach turned over as she watched the two Stalkers. It wasn’t the fact that the two were being burned alive; Silver didn’t care about that. What worried her were the flames, which were now beginning to eat away at the building’s inner structure, threatening to bring the already compromised roof down atop her head.
She turned to the southern wall, of which had no doors or windows. Building up as much speed as she could, she threw herself against the wooden wall. Splintering could be heard, and it budged slightly, but it didn’t break away as she had hoped. She attempted it again, smashing into the wall with as much force as she could muster. Again, the boards creaked and groaned, but it wasn’t enough.
The flames had spread, killing the two Stalkers and beginning its work on the cabin itself. Silver hadn’t noticed, but it had become swelteringly hot; much more than she had been used to. Sweat had begun to drench her mane, plastering it to her forehead. Time wasn’t on her side.
Silver figured she only had time for one more attempt. Slinging the magical shotgun across her back, Silver took her stance. Without thinking it through, she charged headlong into the wall, colliding with one of the support beams. Had she tried this tactic earlier, she would have only caused injury to herself, but as the fire spread, the beams of the cabin had become weakened. With a mighty crack, and a loud groan, the support beam cracked, sending Silver flying out into the night. Moments later, the cabin collapsed to the dusty ground in a plume of flame.
Withdrawing the shotgun, Silver immediately spun around in a circle, investigating the shadows for Stalkers. Unfortunately, her nightvision had been destroyed by the bright wall of fire, making it impossible to see clearly into the shadows. Though her eyes didn’t work, her ears did, and managed to pick up a slight hissing sound behind her.
“Shit!” she swore, running away as fast as she could on three legs. Hot breath cascaded down the back of her neck as she attempted to move through the canyon. She could feel the weight of the creature behind her, looming over her, almost toying with her as she ran. Occasionally, Silver would feel a thin trail of saliva land on her hindquarters as the Stalker gained ground, ripping at the gravel with its massive talons. Silver couldn't outrun it.
The shotgun on her back had yet to be reloaded, and her knife was in her saddlebag, which was impossible to get to while running. Her only hope would be to use the surrounding environment as a weapon, and somehow get a natural-
Pain exploded throughout her body as a massive weight slammed directly onto her bullet wound. Her vision immediately blurred, and was turned sideways as she was thrown to the rocky ground, sliding several feet. The sharp rocks lacerated her side, drawing thin trails of blood as she lay in a defeated heap on the ground. Fresh blood gushed from her flank, showing just what the Stalker’s thick talons were capable of.
The monster moved to her head, grunting as it did so. It seemed to be taunting her. Maybe even mocking her. Its snarling sounded completely animal, but seemed to have diverse personality behind it. Standing on its hind legs only added to its already considerable size, dwarfing the huddled mare by comparison. It raised a taloned foot above Silver’s head, ready to crush her under its scaly weight.
Silver closed her eyes tight, expecting it to be over soon. Her heart raced, despite her fate having been sealed. Her mind raced through her life; foalhood in New Appleloosa. Her escape from the town, and living in the wilderness for a week. Her sister’s death. The raids. Everything came back to her in a waterfall of emotion and memory. Silver’s brow furrowed with rage.
Despite her significant wounds, Silver threw her front hooves up, meeting a wall of pain which she quickly tore through. Just as the Stalker’s foot was coming down, she caught it, twisting it with all her might. She heard a popping sound, coupled with the oh-so-sweet feel of a broken bone. The second the Stalker’s ankle had snapped, its high pitched shrieking filled the air. Silver ignored its cries of pain, and attempted to roll out from underneath the lumbering beast.
Instead, however, she was grabbed by the roots of her mane and pulled viciously upward. There she hung in midair, confronting the Stalker face to face. Silver was a few feet above the ground, as the Stalker’s height reached a little over six feet tall. The Stalker opened its mouth, presumably to tear Silver’s throat out. Its acrid breath wafted out, filling Silver’s nose with the most distasteful of smells. Its unusually white teeth dripped with viscous saliva as its maw gurgled with anticipation.
No thoughts ran through Silver’s mind. No reminiscence, no memories. Nothing. She was tired, and she was hurt; that’s all she could think about. And, truthfully, she just wanted it over. She prepared herself for the end, quietly accepting her-
The Stalker’s head exploded inches in front of her, covering the area in brain matter and blood. Silver fell to the ground with a thud, landing on her bad leg.
How many times are we going to be interrupted... her mind wondered, speaking freely.
Silver begrudgingly welcomed the incoming tidal wave of pain as she twisted on the gravel. She threw her head in every direction, looking for the source of the shot. Nothing could be seen in the darkness, save for a few blob-like shapes. Most of which were rocks, which sat there as content as could be. One, however, appeared to be moving in the distance, at a commendable speed.
As it approached, Silver’s vision blurred. Her limbs began to go numb, and her hearing became fuzzy and unfocused. Using one last surge of concentration, she looked straight at the shape.
It was a pony, that much she knew. A stallion, judging by its girth. Numerous packs were piled on his back, creating a tower that reached above his head. Around his forehead, positioned just above his forest-green eyes, was a white headband, with some kind of insignia on it. Belts containing pouches and pockets lined his waist, though no holsters could be found. A lone rifle lay across his back, presumably with one bullet missing.
He slid to a stop next to her, immediately kneeling down next to the beaten mare.
“Sweet Celestia, are you alright?” he quickly asked, his Trottingham accent wavering nervously as he spoke.
Silver replied by promptly falling unconscious.
Silver drifted through unconsciousness with ease. Her mind floated along on a peaceful current of warm, enveloping contentedness. She was indescribably secure in her own world, where she was detached from the horrors of the world. But the nagging sensation of the cold nipped at her hooves. With reluctance, Silver allowed the feeling to overtake her, slowly bringing her out of her euphoric comatose state.
The first thing she wanted to do in the conscious world was vomit. Her stomach felt empty, yet at the same time, felt as if she had been hit by a bag of bricks. She withstood her urge to be sick, for the moment, and slowly opened her eyes. Immediately she regretted her decision.
Harsh rays of bright sunlight bombarded her eyes, practically splitting her head. The heat, though welcomed, suddenly became unbearable. Silver thrashed around, trying to escape the knife of pain that was the sun’s once-cherished rays.
Her hoof struck something. A small, but heavy container, from the feel of it. Slowly, she traced the object with the tip of her hoof, running along its smooth surface. It was cold; both a relief and a disappointment to Silver, as even the thought of the extreme temperature hurt Silver’s head.
After several moments, Silver opened her eyes without pain. Her eyes were still blurred though, but they had gotten better. It was more like a big light blur, opposed to the dark blur she had encountered earlier. She harshly blinked her eyes, expelling her impairment, and looked at the previously mysterious item.
It was a tin can, filled with water as clear as could be. Silver lunged at it greedily, bringing it to her lips. Though the ice cold water numbed her senses, and burned a freezing hole in her head, she downed the entire can in seconds. It was a relief, having something in her. The cold liquid dripped from her chin as she sat up, examining the world.
Like a dam breaking, memories of the night before rushed at her. The bandits were dead and gone, and the cabin destroyed. In total, five Stalkers lay dead. Silver winced as she remembered getting shot, and dared not look down at her flank; an entire night out in the open surely would have infected it.
But instead, much to Silver’s comfort and confusion, her leg was fine. It had been tightly wound in a clean bandage, and rest comfortably on a roll of soft cloth. At first, Silver was puzzled, and her brow furrowed with concern. The wilderness wasn’t a place where hospitality was found; even between friends. She reeled back her mind, hoping to remember just what had happened. But it was all a blur; nothing came back to her.
She saw the Stalker’s body on the ground, several yards away. It lay in a crumpled heap, with most of its head missing.
They look so different in the light... her mind pondered, looking over the Stalker’s details in the clear daylight. It seemed smaller, like the sun had shrunk its hideous bulk.
“They scare me.”
Silver bounded up from her seated position, met with a prying pain inside her stomach. She spun and lost her lunch on the dusty ground.
“Oh, Celestia, wow... Uh, sorry. I thought you knew I was here.” the nervous voice said, coming from behind Silver. She kept her eyes closed, feeling heat rise in her face. How could she have been so stupid as to have forgotten about the stallion?
“Are you alright?” he asked, worry lining his words.
Silver nodded silently.
“Okay.” the stallion remarked dejectedly, “I have something for you.”
Silver turned her head slightly, peeking out of the corner of her eye. The stallion had his back turned now, and was rummaging through a group of packs resting against the red rocks. A gun lay next to him, neatly polished and clean. Silver grimaced.
As slowly and quietly as possible, Silver turned around and moved to the gun. The stallion hadn’t noticed her until the weapon rest in her hooves. She shakily pointed the rifle at the pony’s chest.
“What do you want?” Silver asked, her dry voice quavering, “I don’t have anything worth taking.”
The stallion looked up and reeled backwards, tripping over his saddlebags and landing on the ground in a cloud of dust. Though fear was the primary emotion on the unicorn’s face, a slight mask of disappointment lingered beneath the surface. For the first time, Silver was able to study his face.
A white strip of cloth was tied across his forehead, just below his blue-grey mane. A bold red cross rest in the middle of the cloth, indicating a medical profession. His large green eyes stared up at her, not pleading or begging. Simply staring.
“I don’t want anything.” he said, keeping completely still. “I just want to give you something.”
Slowly, his hoof inched to the opening of the saddlebag. Silver tightened her grip on the rifle, and practically shoved it in the stallion’s face. Instead of backing away in fear as expected, he kept moving forward, slower than before. A dark green aura of magic surrounded his horn, and Silver noticed the saddlebags shuffling. In an instant, a small object exited the leather pouch.
It was a tiny plastic container, usually used to hold pills. Instead of medicine, however, a multitude of black shapes lined the bottom. Silver took a closer look, but was still unable to comprehend what she was looking at.
“What is it?” Silver finally asked.
“That,” the stallion started, standing up, “is what I found buried in your leg. I think I got everything out, but it’s hard to tell; I had to do the operation at night.”
Silver stared at the shrapnel, dumbfounded. Dozens of questions swarmed through her mind at once, creating a cacophony of noise in her head. She strained to pick the most logical question out of them all, but her surprise kept her from finding the right one. Eventually, the stallion interjected by waving his hoof in front of Silver’s face,
“You okay? I didn't give you too much painkillers, did I?” he asked, smirking, despite the rifle still being pointed in his direction.
Silver shook her head violently, expelling any fuzziness that lurked in her head.
“What? No! I just-” Silver stammered, “Why’d you save me?”
The stallion laughed, much to Silver’s surprise. He was odd to her.
“What do you mean? I saved you because it was the right thing to do.” he explained.
Silver raised a skeptical eyebrow, “Really now? Because, last I checked, no one saved anyone in the wilderness without a good reason.”
The doctor shrugged and sighed, “Sure, it’s a queer thing, to have to be cared for out here. But surely you understand compassion and loyalty!”
Of course, Silver knew. Old mares in villages would occasionally weave tales of old times, when traits of kindness were abound. But the days of what was, were lost, and none now lived who remembered them.
“Sure, I understand,” Silver said, holding out a golden hoof, “My name’s Silver.”
The doctor smiled widely, shaking the mare’s hoof, “I recognize that name... Have we met before?”
“Doubt it. You don’t seem like somepony who could be forgotten easily.” Silver said, followed quickly by, “But I work as one of the six Wanderers of New Appleloosa. You might’ve heard of me there.”
“What a coincidence!” the doctor exclaimed, “I’m heading to New Appleloosa! They need a doctor there, and that’s me; Bolt. Doctor Bolt. Hey!” he shouted, hopping slightly with enthusiasm, “We could go together! It’s safer that way, after all.”
A grin grew on Silver’s face, accompanied immediately by the feeling of her stomach dropping. She had failed to apprehend the bandit leader, Dune, and would have to face the Constable with her news.
“I... don’t know.” Silver said, staring off into the desert. Her mind raced with the consequences of failing the Constable. She might be thrown in the gallows, or the rack! They could have her drawn and quartered! Wait...
Before her mind became too rustled, Bolt interrupted,
“It’s the only settlement for a long way in any direction. And your leg needs a good place to heal.” Bolt explained, settling his enormous saddlebags onto his back.
“Well...”
You aren't going to catch him. Silver’s mind interjected, Not today.
Silver sighed, giving in to her own mind’s pressure. “Okay, I’ll go with you.” she finished.
“Perfect!” Bolt said, slinging his rifle over his shoulders. “If we leave soon, we’ll make it there before supper.”
“Great...” Silver said unsettlingly, faking a smile.
Compared to Bolt, her saddlebags were small and deflated as she threw them over her back. As the mid-morning sun loomed above them, the two ponies began their trek to New Appleloosa.
*****
During their walk, the two ponies took time to learn about one another. Silver explained how she had gotten into her situation with the Stalkers, and talked about her travels through Equestria. In return, Bolt talked about his affinity for medicine, and his career as a travelling surgeon. From his expertly woven stories he described in detail the far corners of the world; places Silver had only dreamed of. From frozen rainbow waterfalls to the old dragon volcanos; Doctor Bolt seemed to have been everywhere.
“So...” Silver said, after hearing a tale from the depths of the Everfree Forest, “Where do you come from originally? Like, before you moved around everywhere.”
Bolt slowed his pace slightly, but picked up before Silver could notice him falter. “Oh, you know, just... around.” he answered, keeping his eyes on the ground.
“I’m not familiar with ‘around’.” Silver replied jokingly. But Bolt didn’t respond. In an attempt to alleviate the awkward silence, Silver followed up with a second question, “What are you doing out here?”
“I’ve been doing research on the Stalkers. Tracking them, following their patterns, and stuff like that. I just finished surveying a nest of them when I ran into you.”
Silver nodded, “But isn’t it dangerous? You know, staying out all night. How do you manage?”
Bolt shrugged, “I guess the longer you stay out, the easier it gets. Of course, some skill is required, but nothing too fancy.”
Silver listened with a smidge of jealousy. From the stories he’d told, Bolt had been in the wilderness for nearly four months straight. Silver’s record was only two weeks. She envied his ability to survive in the hellish world without any noticeable side effects.
“What’s that up there?” Bolt asked, squinting his eyes towards the horizon.
Silver looked around. Salt flats stretched on in every direction, marked only by the occasional dead bush or cactus. This was the land associated with New Appleloosa; inhospitable and unlivable. Silver had traveled the flats many times before, and recognized the seemingly empty landscape.
“We’re getting close,” she explained, “it might be the town.” she joined Bolt in squinting her eyes and peering off into the distance.
Sure enough, there was something. Small dark splotches on the horizon, partially obscured by rising heat waves. The corners of Silver’s mouth turned up in a smile before slowly dropping with anxiety. Her punishment waited before her.
“Is that it?” Bolt asked, quickening his pace.
“Seems like it.” Silver responded. Still, something in her gut seemed wrong. She didn’t know what it was; it was just a strange feeling.
“How have things been there? It’s been so long since I’ve visited. Years, even!” Bolt explained, increasing to a light trot.
“Uh, not bad.” Silver’s ear twitched, “Food’s been getting tough though.”
“That’s too bad.” Bolt said softly.
As they neared the shapes, a faint smell engaged them. It was light, but acrid. It stung their nostrils slightly, and filled the air with its strange scent.
“Smell that?” Bolt asked, sniffing the air, “What is it?”
Silver’s mouth went dry. “Not good.” Silver exploded in a fast gallop, straight towards the town. Her hooves kicked up the salty ground into a cloud behind her as she barreled through the flats. Bolt was far behind her, but she didn’t care. She was focused on what was in front of her.
Thick columns of black smoke rose from the town’s silhouette. Silver could make out where individual buildings once stood, now burned to the ground. Their blackened framework stood as ghastly skeletons in the abandoned town. As she neared the midst of New Appleloosa, the smell was so thick that it made Silver want to retch; both out of the scent and the sickly images.
The walls were thrown across town. They weren’t knocked down, or torn open; they were thrown. Posts lay over fifty yards from the original locations, resting inside of buildings, or across roads. Long gashes in the dusty ground traced their paths, creating deep trenches that Silver practically had to leap over.
All around her, familiar images of safety and security were demolished. The homes she frequented day after day now lay in smoldering heaps of rubble. She had brought up some of the buildings with her own hooves, and watched with a magnificent sadness as their smoldering ruins covered the scene. As far as she could see, nothing remained upright. Her eyes scanned the area, welling up with tears. That was when she saw the first of the bodies.
It lay face down, halfway outside of a collapsed doorway. Its hooves were still, but appeared to have been scraping at the ground in desperate anguish, leaving thin trails in the dirt. One of the pegasus’ wings was clipped by a massive support beam, pinning it to the dusty ground. The once pink coat of the mare had been blackened and charred, leaving a hollow shell of a pony. Silver’s knees immediately went weak at the sight of the burnt corpse, and she fell to the ground.
By noticing the first body, Silver had opened her mind to the realization of the others. They were everywhere. Some were burnt beyond recognition. Others were familiar to Silver, which only caused pain to the mare. A young stallion, barely of age, lay crushed under debris, twisted into a sickening position. A mare, eviscerated at the waist, rest against a post, seeming to stand in blank confusion.
Silver wanted to scream, but was too gripped with the horror of the situation to make a noise. She wasn’t in New Appleloosa anymore; she was in a graveyard. Her friends rest all around her, met by their final, horrific fate. Hot tears rolled down her face, scorching her cheeks and falling onto the ground, dampening the dirt and dust. Behind her, soft hoof-falls approached slowly, almost apprehensively.
“Celestia... this...” Bolt’s voice was wavering as he stood behind Silver. His sentence trailed off, joining the scores of those who were lost.
Silver didn’t acknowledge him. She didn’t want to. This stranger who stood before her had no clue of the pain she felt. A feeling akin to anger rose in her, directed towards the doctor. She felt like lashing out, but couldn’t bring herself to move.
She lowered her head to the ground, resting her forehead on the dust. “What happened?” she asked, her voice already getting hoarse.
Bolt opened his mouth to speak, but shut it soon after. After all, he wouldn’t know what to say. There were no words for comfort for something of this magnitude. Saying anything at all would only make it worse.
Bolt turned, giving Silver a bit of privacy. He attempted to block out her sobs as best he could as he surveyed the wreckage for himself. Despite not knowing anypony in the settlement, he still felt a heavy knot in his stomach as he looked over the burnt houses, knowing that ponies used to live there. His throat went dry at the realization that their own houses would become their tombs.
The doctor set his eyes on the largest pile of rubble. At its side, the collapsed remains of a clock tower could still be seen, though a bit mangled. He set his pace, and arrived at the foot of the ashen ruins in minutes. Almost immediately, he regretted it.
A pile of bodies rest in a small opening. From anywhere else it would have been obscured, surrounded by a wall of debris and wreckage. Bolt took a small relief in that fact, knowing that Silver wouldn’t have to see the carnage. For these ponies hadn’t fallen to flame or fire; they had been murdered.
Blood stained the ground under the mountain of corpses, and small trickles of the red fluid were still flowing down ponies’ faces. With his extensive medical career, Bolt went to investigate. He chose a young mare near the bottom of the pile, and drew in close to examine her.
“Concussion?” he asked to himself, prodding the base of her skull tentatively with a hoof. It was true, her skull had been fractured, and rather extensively, but Bolt didn’t believe it was the cause of her death. Taking a deep breath, Bolt took her front hooves in his and pulled mightily, drawing her out from under the bodies.
The amount of force necessary to remove her was much less than anticipated, and the doctor flew backwards onto his rump. As he looked up, his heart nearly skipped a beat. The mare’s back leg was gone; sheared off just below the hip. The bone barely protruded, and ended cleanly, instead of in slivers and splinters. Bolt removed a pair of spectacles from his saddlebags and moved closer.
By the marks on her legs, it had been bitten off. Sweat beaded on his brow as he began to form a realization. Whipping his head around, he looked for the culprit, and found it hiding among the bodies; a black taloned appendage.
“No...” the doctor whispered, more out of surprise than any actual denial, “It can’t be.”
But it was. The Stalker’s leg protruded from the mass of bodies. Its talons clutched the air in a final act of desperation. Its bloodlust and insatiable hunger became the best of it, and it now lay defeated and broken.
“Now, how’d you get here?”
*****
Silver had recovered herself, partially, and now walked aimlessly. Her thoughts were vacant and clear, giving a sense of emptiness to her gait. She seemed to float, more than anything; like her hooves were never touching the ground that so many ponies had been murdered upon.
As she walked, her head cast down in sadness and shame, something caught her eye. A small pocketbook, no larger than a deck of cards. She recognized it as the pocket journal of a local stallion. Though his name escaped her, she knew he worked at the gates, dealing with travelers and caravans. Reluctantly, Silver bent down and turn the cover over. She read the first entry, which was written in long, careful letters.
43rd day of Spring, 189 years,
A caravan moved into town today. There wasn’t much. Mostly wood and a few bundles of cloth. What we need is some food. We’ve had almost a dozen births since Spring started, and we’re likely to get more. Just not enough food to feed so many mouths. And to make it worse, our Wanderers aren’t even working hard for it. That Silver mare went and got herself-
She stopped reading, though it didn’t help. She knew what it was going to say, and she quickly turned the pages. Finding a seemingly random entry, she read again,
13th day of Summer, 189 years,
Some trouble at the bar today. A couple-
Again, she cast down the book. She needed no reminder of her drunken brawls, especially given the recent circumstances. As she sat there in the dust, reading accounts from an old book, she began to think more and more on her letdowns to the community. It seemed that every other entry mentioned her or the other Wanderers in negative ways. It turned her stomach to think of herself letting everypony down on such a large level.
Her hometown, destroyed, seemed to laugh and mock her. She had failed her city, in her absence.
“Silver, you around here?”
Silver looked up, slowly, and saw the doctor stumbling over a felled building. She gave a halfhearted wave of her hoof, beckoning Bolt to her.
“There you are.” he said, catching his breath, “I think we should leave. We’ve spent enough time here.”
Silver nodded solemnly, “Sure.”
The doctor stopped and stared at the mare, “Are you going to be alright?”
Again, Silver nodded, a bit more lively this time, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just got a weird feeling is all.”
It permeated the air; the feeling of sudden dread. It clung to them, seeming to gnaw away at their senses. There was no way either of them could ignore it, as it sat almost tangible in the air. Nor could either pony ignore the feeling of being watched from the shadows.
It hardly moved, sitting in complete silence like a fierce jungle cat ready to pounce. It followed their voices with its keen hearing and traced their scent with uncanny ability. Slowly, it lifted one black talon forward, careful to stay in the shadows, and set it down lightly among the wreckage. Following this pattern, the hunter crossed the debris, concealed in darkness.
It grinned wickedly, hiding rows of serrated teeth behind its thin lips. It could hear them clearly now.
“I’m sorry, Silver. I truly am.”
The voice rang out in its head, seeming to echo through its brain. It was recognizable, it seemed. Almost like it had been heard before. The feeling of familiarity was confusing, but prompting nonetheless. It took another step forward, sending one black leg forward into the sun.
Unfortunately for them, the duo of ponies had their backs turned, and were unable to hear the approaching threat as it crept silently through the dust. It snarled quietly, dripping sticky saliva onto the ground. It was mere feet away before its hot breath caught the attention of the ponies.
The mare turned, and instantly screamed at the sight of the creature. It was familiar, of course, but the setting in which it was seen was entirely different. The Stalker sat in the midday sun, completely unscathed and unhindered by the ultraviolet rays. Its hide, which would normally simmer and smoke in the sun until it became a pale grey color, remained as black as the night. It leaped towards Silver, talons outstretched, and maw gurgling.
It would have impacted her, if not for the quick reflexes of Doctor Bolt, who delivered a wild haymaker straight to the Stalker’s snarling head. The blow made an audible ‘whumph’ sound as the Stalker was thrown to the ground, billowing clouds of dust following in its wake.
Silver, who had momentarily regained control over her actions, delivered a swift kick to the back of the Stalker’s neck. Though bones snapped, it didn’t impair the Stalker, and it stood up almost immediately. Its rotten breath wafted over Silver, forcing her back several steps. The Stalker advanced, without any indication of injury, until it was nearly on top of her.
At this time, a sharp report rang out through the previously-silent town. Silver saw the Stalker lurch above her, and fall onto its side. Its taloned feet writhed in agony, and its toothy maw snapped open and shut, filling the air with clicking noises. Black blood was gurgling out from a hole in the side of its chest, and was already soaking the sandy ground. Silver turned to the doctor to see him levitating his hunting rifle. Tiny wisps of smoke exited the barrel, and an empty shell rest on the ground.
Bolt breathed heavily as he surveyed his kill. It was smaller than most Stalkers he had seen, but aside from the size, it was nearly identical. And then there was the most chilling fact.
“What was it doing in the light?” Silver asked, rising to her hooves.
Bolt shook his head in response.
“Come on, you’re the expert on these things. You gotta have an idea!” Silver prodded, looking away from the deceased monster.
“I... I might have an idea. But now isn’t the time; we need to leave.”
Silver was about to protest, but decided against it. After all, the town wasn’t the safest place, nor was it the most comforting.
“Okay... Where do we go? Dodge is the closest settlement, but it’s nearly a week away.”
“Then that’s where we’ll go. I need to report this, anyway. Hopefully my contact in Dodge is still alive.” Bolt said, beginning to head towards New Appleloosa’s gates.
“Doubtful...” Silver scoffed, “No one lives in Dodge for long. If the gangs don’t kill you, the starvation will.” she explained, a shudder running up her spine.
She was reminded of Dodge’s Hunters; the equivalent of Wanderers. They were ruthless, and acted more as brigands or outlaws than any peacekeeping or community serving individuals. They always had a rivalry with New Appleloosa’s Wanderers, almost to the point of open conflict. There had been more than one firefight between the two groups.
“Well, we’ve gotta try it.” Bolt said, picking up his pace as he began his trek through the desert. “Don’t get me wrong; I’m not forcing you into anything. Feel free to do whatever pleases you. But I’m going to Dodge.”
Silver looked back at New Appleloosa, now a smoldering wreck. She gave one last sigh of depression at her hometown before turning back towards the doctor. She would have to move on, and put such things behind her. Loss would be something she would have to get used to.
Because Silver was a survivor; the last Wanderer of Appleloosa.
