Deafening Silence

by The Lunar Samurai

Rating: teen
Tags: Tragedy, Sad, Gore, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark
Length: 7036

A stallion fighting for the life of his family soon realizes that no one will fight for him.

As Aspen tries to forage for food for his diseased family, he is met with a devastating realisation and a crippling handicap. Life is never fair, you have to learn to deal with it.

Artwork by: Somethingwronghere

P.S. This is the back story of the strange three legged stallion shiloh points out in the cafeteria in the fic: The Messenger. Everypony has a story, this is just one.

Published 2013-08-30 04:40:03 UTC
Last updated 2013-09-06 16:33:23 UTC

Rain

Aspen’s hooves plowed through the puddles that had gathered on the road. The city of fillydelphia was masked in a watery haze of rain. Aspen could barely see through his squinting eyes and driving rain. He hugged the sides of buildings to try and avoid the rain, but it proved a futile effort. every so often, a lightning bolt would light up the city, only to have it once again shrouded in darkness. The volume of the violent storm was a constant roar, cloaking even its own thunder beneath the driving rain. The mere sounds of the hoofsteps against the cobblestone could not even be heard by their creator, a lone stallion who was darting to and from the eves of the buildings. Despite the cold atmosphere, his mane was completely drenched in sweat. He came to the corner of the old brick bakery and pressed his body against the wall. He peeked his head around the corner and peered through the sheets of water. The scene was desolate and a wall of water blocked his view of the shops on the other side of the road. He bolted around the edge and galloped to the doorway. The torrential rain pounded at the ground, masking any noise he made as he entered the building.

He took a deep breath, glanced once more around him, and quickly darted into the shelter of the building. As the glass paneled door rested against its frame it muted the rain that roared outside to a harsh whisper of wind. . The only noise was the muffled rain against the glass windows of the bakery. The store was closed and the counter barren of activity. A lone light stood on the wall, an old disfigured candle that seemed to burn continually through the night. The glass windows of the countertops stood between the stallion and rows and rows of pastries and bread. His mouth began to water. “Take what’s necessary.” He whispered to himself as he withdrew a sizeable rock from his pocket. He took one last look behind him before plunging the rock into the side of the glass.

A loud thud echoed through the silent room, but the glass did not break. Come on, break. He thought as he repeated the process, this time with more force. The extra weight sent the rock through the glass, sending the shards through the air. The sharp sound of shattering glass was a deafening reminder to his actions. Chills went down his spine as he began to envision being discovered. The stallion ducked behind the counter until his beating heart began to calm. He waited for several minutes, praying the baker would not enter. After he was certain no pony had noticed, he climbed over the countertop and carefully withdrew two loaves of bread from the display. They were stale and mold was growing them, but it was food nonetheless.

“I’m coming Rain Dancer.” Aspen whispered as he exited the building into the storm, urging himself through the weather to reach his dying filly. “Daddy’s coming.”

The storm raged for hours as he slowly made his way back to his family. A flash of lightning briefly illuminated the road before him. The buildings had disappeared and fields of grass had taken their place. An imposing chain link fence cut through the field and disappeared in the distance. A steel gate stood where the cobblestone path meandered through the barrier. Two guards were conversing among themselves as Aspen strode up to the checkpoint.
One of the guards noticed him approaching. “Present your identification.” he said in a perfunctory tone. Aspen took the lanyard off of his neck and gave it to the guard who began to scrutinize the tag. “Sir,” the guard said as he looked at the shivering stallion. “This tag is out of date. I cannot let you pass.”

Aspen’s eyes grew wide. The statement made his heart freeze. “B- But sir, please. I need to get to my village.”

The guard gave the tag back. “Look, I am legally bound to keep you from leaving the city. There is nothing I can do about your choice not to renew your ID.”

A long silence followed as Aspen’s hopes began to fade. “Look at him.” Said the other guard. “He can’t possibly do any harm. Let him pass.”

“Our orders wer-”

“Forget the orders!” The guard shouted. “This stallion isn’t a threat, he’s a citizen. Leave him be.”

Again the guard was silent as he mulled it over. “Alright” he said, letting the little shred of compassion he had left win over. “You can go. But don’t expect this kind of special treatment on a regular basis.”

“Thank you.” Aspen said, eager to get back to his family. Quickly he gathered his name tag, adjusted his overcoat, and stepped out into the torrent once more. The pebbled road of the city had changed to dirt, which had turned into mud with the heavy rainfall. With each step the ground sucked his hooves into itself as if the very road was trying to keep him from his home. As Aspen trotted into the dense forest the rain began to dwindle, held back by the great canopies of the trees. Although the blinding rain was gone, the darkness of the forest hindered his eyesight from extending any further.

The forest was alive with activity, mostly that of small animals and birds. On occasion, a distant roar of a wind predator could be heard echoing through the dense woods. And each time it sent chills down Aspen's back. The winding road seemed to move underneath him as he struggled to stay in its center. Roots looped out of the ground and tripped him several times as he struggled down the path.

For hours Aspen continued down the path of the forest. I have to keep walking. He thought, urging his body forward though his legs cried out in pain. The typically short walk was the epitome of agony for him. His daughter was dying, and the mud on the road seemed to grab at his hooves in an attempt to keep him from his only love. As he rounded the bend to his village he could make out a faint glimmer of light from the hill where his house sat. It was a small ramshackle old cottage with a thatch roof, but to him, it was home. Beginning to gallop Aspen raced toward his house, and his family.

As the cottage came into view he froze. The The flickering light was not coming from the candles, but from the walls. His house served as the flaming barrier for his family’s untimely death. His mind could not comprehend what he was perceiving. His emotions did not know how to respond, all he could do was sit himself on the ground and watch his house burn to the ground. The noise of the raging fire was the only thing that could be heard above the torrential rain. But to Aspen the world was deafeningly silent. As the fire slowed from a rage to a smolder, Aspen could hear two voices above the lessening rain.

“Was burning the village really necessary?” asked a masculine voice.

“The decree was ambiguous. It said to use all available means to eradicate the virus.” a deep voice responded. “Burning the village was the easiest method.”

The words broke Aspen free of his trance.

“All of them were terminal. Besides,” The stallion continued, “Do you have any idea how much this antidote sells for.”

“What?” Aspen whispered, his words muffled by the rainfall. “You murdered my family because it was convenient?” His voice slowly growing louder. “So you could make a profit?”

“What was that?” the first stallion asked.
Aspen darted to the base of his smoldering home. The smoke smelled of burned wood and melted glass. He watched as the two stallions stopped beside the house. Their ghostly figures barely visible through the rain. As he looked at them he began to sweat. The adrenaline had begun to wear off, and his body began to realize its less basic needs, like hunger. He felt his stomach begin to churn and try as he might, he could not silence the utterance.

As the noise pierced the silence, time slowed to a crawl.

The ear of the silhouette twitched. Instinctively the guard reached for his weapon. The barrel pointed at Aspen. The rain lit up as the guard pulled the trigger. Pain coursed through Aspen’s leg as he fell to the ground. As he lay on the ground the stallion spoke up.

“That looks like the last one.” He said as he walked over to the house and looked at the body of the stallion lying on the ground at his hooves. He nudged the body, Aspen let out a groan of pain.

“He’s still alive.” the other guard said as he drew his weapon. “Just put him out of his misery.”

“No.” The guard said as he grabbed the stallions hoof, preventing him from drawing his revolver. He leaned down and peered into Aspen’s eye. Aspen looked back with a mixture of hatred and apathy. “We’ve done enough, leave him.”
As the two trotted off into the rain Aspen looked up toward the sky. The world began to fade as the streaks of rain soared out of the grey sky. It’s over. He thought as he closed his eyes. It’s all over.

Blood

“Lilac!” A voice shouted. Aspen tried to open his eyes, but the pain in his leg kept them closed. “We have an emergency.”

“What is it this ti-” A feminine voice said in the distance. “What happened?”

“It looks like a gunshot wound.” The first voice said. Aspen felt a wet hoof on his neck. “He still has a weak pulse.”

Aspen could feel his broken leg being gingerly lifted from the table. A searing pain shot through his body, causing his mind to slip from consciousness.

When he came to he could hear lilac shout.“Get me a bucket of water and several towels.” The voice changed to a whisper as she leaned next to aspen’s ear, “You are safe now.”

“It’s worse than I expected. The bone’s becoming infected.”

“How can you tell?”

“You can see the discoloration of the bone behind the wound. Also, the wound is infected as well. If the body is rejecting that much tissue and the bone, amputation is almost completely necessary.”

“Does that mean?” the stallion’s voice trailed off.

“Yes.” Lilac said. “Get me the saw.”

Is there any other way? Aspen thought as he realized what was about to take place.

“If we try to work around it there is a very slim chance of survival. Kale, clean his leg, right above the elbow.”

Aspen could feel a warm towel carefully scrub his upper leg. “Alright.” Kale said as a shower of cold water rained down and washed the warmth away. “I think its ready. Are you sure there is no other way?”

“Nothing else can be done.” Lilac said. Aspen could feel the line of sawteeth rest on his skin. “Hold him down. This should only take a minute, but if he wakes up I can’t have him thrashing around.”

Kale pinned Aspen to the table. One hoof on his head, the other on his leg. “Ok, we’re ready.”

The prongs began to slide back and forth. Each pass drawing a new exquisite pain from their biting grip. Each wave of pain crashed onto his mind, he wanted to scream, but his body would not cooperate. As the blade reached the bone Aspen’s mind collapsed.

What seemed like seconds later his eyes slowly cracked themselves open. He let out an agonizing moan as he began to come to his senses.

“Easy now.” Lilac said as she trotted to his side. The white mare held a cloth to her face as she addressed him. “You need to rest.”

Aspen moaned again as he began to feel the pain in his leg. His gaze slowly drifted across the cottage.

“You are in fillydelphia.” The stallion said as he placed his hoof on Aspen’s shoulder. “You are safe.” The stallion looked into Aspen’s eye. “Are you infected?”
Aspen tried to speak, but the only thing he could manage was a low moan. Feebly he shook his head, wincing as it rolled over the rough surface.

The stallion shifted his gaze to Lilac, his eyebrow cocked. “He might still be delirious.”

Slowly, Lilac removed the cloth from her face and placed it on the table. “I think he’s fine” She said, but the words still held a twinge of worry.

“Where,” Aspen struggled to whisper. “Where is my family?”

Lilac looked at the stallion lying on the table, then to Kale. He was fighting back the emotions that were building up inside of him. They both knew what happened to Aspen’s family.

“Your silence speaks for you.” Aspen said. His breathy words cut the silence like a knife. He let his head roll to the side and let out a deep sigh. Slowly a pool of tears began to grow around his head as he wept.

“I’m sorry.” Lilac said, but the words did nothing to comfort Aspen’s soul.

“It’s not your fault.” he whispered as he slowly began to slip into a coma.

“Stay awake!” Lilac half shouted as she slapped Aspen’s face. He let out loud cry as pain shot through body.

“Lilac! What are you doing?” The other stallion shouted.

“Keeping him awake.” Lilac said as she grabbed a bowl from the counter and quickly filled it with the thick soup from the kettle over the fire. “We cannot let him go under again. Eat this.” she said, thrusting the bowl next to Aspen’s face.

He shook his head and took a deep breath. “What happened?” He asked, his voice slowly beginning to return, half fueled by the shock.

Lilac’s gaze drifted to the severed leg on the floor beside her. Aspen leaned over the edge of the table to attempt to get a glance at what had grabbed her attention. He tried several times to prop himself up, but each time couldn’t feel the table with his hoof.

“I’m sorry.” Lilac said as she noticed Aspen struggling. “There wasn’t anything else we could do.”

“What do you mean?” Aspen asked groggily as he again tried to sit himself up.

Lilac took a deep breath to brace her emotions. She gestured to Aspen’s shoulder, his gaze drifted down the matted fur of his foreleg to its bloodied end.

“Why is my leg gone?” Aspen asked. Lilac was surprised at the level headedness of his question. Most ponies were either overly furious or emotionally devastated when she had performed amputations at the local hospital.

“Your bone was infected, and the supplies to treat it were not available.” Lilac said as professionally as she could.
The stallion on the other side of the table spoke up. “Why were you lying next to a burnt building in the middle of the forest.”

“A burnt building? What burnt building?”

“I found you nearly dead, shot in the leg, next to the smoldering remains of a building. Please enlighten us why.”

“I-” Aspen paused, “I don’t remember.”

“Maybe this will jog your memory.” The stallion said as he lifted the saddle bag from the ground and placed it on the table. “It was on your back when I found you.”

A long silence followed as Aspen looked at the soaked saddlebag. It was completely foreign to him, but once he opened the pouch everything changed. He reached in and pulled out two half soaked, half moldy pieces of bread. Lilac and the stallion looked at one another with confused expressions.

“No,” Aspen whispered, his body beginning to tremble. “Rain Dancer.”

“Who is Rain Dancer?” Lilac asked to Aspen.

Tears began to pour themselves down Aspen’s face as the memory of the fire returned.

“Please,” He asked as he looked at the stallion. “What did you see when you found me.”

The stallion bit his lip and took in a deep breath. “Every building in the clearing was a pile of ash.”

“No!” Aspen shouted. His body began to convulse as he wept. Lilac and the stallion exchanged glances. Suddenly, Aspen forced himself off of the table and onto the floor. “They had a cure!” He shouted as he tried to stand.

He began to hobble to the door, but was thrown to the ground as the stallion slammed into his shoulder. “Don’t squirm, your wound could open up again.” He said as he pinned him to floor.

Aspen struggled feverishly beneath the hooves of the stallion, but his body was still weak. He fought until he was red in the face, but he could not throw the stallion off. He threw his head back to the floor and let out a moan. His adrenaline was fading, and his energy was being replaced with fatigue and pain.

Lilac walked over to Aspen and motioned the stallion off. “He isn’t going anywhere.” She said as she knelt down beside him. She held out a bowl of steaming soup to Aspen’s face, but he turned away. “I don’t think we have properly met, I’m Lilac.”

“I’m... Aspen” He stammered as he tried to quell the phantom pain is his stub. “Where am I?”

“You are in the city of Phillydelphia, in an old farmhouse.” Lilac said, gesturing to the dilapidated building around them. “This place is where Kale and I have taken up residence. There isn’t anything decent in the city, and this is isolated, just the way we wanted.”

Aspen’s eyes followed the twitching stub with a grotesque fascination. He could still feel his foreleg in his mind, but his eyes told him otherwise. He thought for a minute as his mind slowly reconstructed the memories of the gunshot. “Did you see who shot me?”

“No,” Kale said, an apologetic tone in his voice. “The only thing I found was you, nearly dead, next to the smoldering foundation of a cottage.”

Aspen was silent for several minutes. The only thing in his mind were the last words the guard said, Let him suffer. Aspen looked to Kale. "Why did this happen?"

"From what it seems, your village was overrun by the plague." Lilac said. "How were you not infected?"

"I apparently was immune." Aspen said. "But now I wish I wasn't"

Kale and Lilac looked at eachother, pity was on Lilac's face, and worry was on Kale's.

"Don't talk like that." Kale said. "There is much more to life than a house." He felt the words pass his lips, and immediately regretted them.

"You think this is just over a house?" Aspen wheezed, his anger slowly building. "This is about loosing my life."

"I didn't mean-"

"Those guards killed my daughter because they wanted to make a bit on the black market!" He shouted

"Aspen..." Lilac said, trying to keep him from his anger.

"I swear, if I have a breath left in me, those soldiers will pay!"

"No matter what you do, they are still in charge. If you kill them, nothing will be better."

"They'll be dead." Aspen hissed through clenched teeth.

"All of the guards are like that, and many more are even worse." Lilac said, "I would know, they killed my father, because he couldn't pay his rent."

"All the more reason to-"

"To what? Try and exact revenge on a force that is a thousand times greater than yourself? To try and repay a wrong that can't be repaid? To act vengeance on the empire is to summon death." Lilac said, her voice holding minute traces of bitterness.

"I have to do something!"

"I too felt the same way, but we are powerless against them." A long silence followed as the implications sank in.

“What happened to justice?” Aspen asked, his voice getting weaker with every syllable. “Can’t something be done?”

“Nothing.” Lilac said gravely.

“This world, it has no morals anymore.” Aspen said as he began to drift to sleep

“We’re losing him.” Kale said as he grabbed Aspen’s hoof and began to massage it, as if the minute stimulation would keep him awake.

“Let him rest.” Lilac said as she rose to her hooves. “He should be fine.”

Kale paused and looked at Lilac. “Whatever you say.” He said uneasily as he watched Aspen slowly slip away from them.

“We need to get him to a bed, I vote yours.” Lilac said as she lifted Aspen’s head and motioned for Kale to grab his legs.

“You are always volunteering other pony’s stuff.” Kale said.

Those words were the last he had heard before he slipped into the shadows of a coma.

Sorrow

Aspen opened his eyes, the bleak wall stared back at him. The cold fingers of the wind had awoken him as they slipped through the cracks in the walls. He turned his head to gaze the rest of the room. The floor was nothing more than packed dirt and sand. The furniture was rough and rotting, its paint was peeling in flakes to the floor. Piles of fine sand were pressed up against the corners of the walls. Mold was growing in speckles of black, white, and green on nearly every surface. He pulled himself out of bed and carefully balanced on his three legs. As he struggled to the door, he tried to reach out with his missing foreleg to push open the door, but hesitated as he realized the futility of the action. The grim red scar on its end served a constant reminder of what had happened. At first, he had sworn vengeance, but now nothing could help. Using his mouth, Aspen turned the handle to the door and pushed his way through.

The room was not much warmer. The wooden table he had woken up on the day before had been cleaned off, but a red hue still remained on its surface. A wisp of smoke curled from the small overused candle that lit the room. As Aspen looked at his stub, he felt his mind begin to wander. Where is my other leg anyway? His mind thought as he gazed at the eerie table. Where is Lilac?

“Hello?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper, “Is anypony here?” A door slowly creaked open behind him. Thank goodness. He thought as he looked behind him. But the door was only swinging in the drafts that blew through the house, nopony was on the other side. “Oh.” He whispered as he let out a sigh. What am I even doing here? He thought as he sat himself onto the floor. My home, my family, my leg, my caretakers... my life... all gone. Why even bother. He thought as he turned back to the door and trotted back to his bed. He walked back to the makeshift bed and curled himself on the warm spot he had left from the restless night before. Aspen looked out of the small cracks in the walls. The little light that spilled through them was too bright for Aspen to perceive the outside world.

Not that he wanted to of course. The shack was surrounded by dead grass on all sides, and Aspen felt no desire to look at it. In fact, the only thing that invoked any emotion in his heart was the thought of his family, but every time he thought of them, he could only picture their fiery coffin, nothing else. The small amount of joy was quickly replaced by a mixture of despair, sadness, and a worsening sense of hopelessness. As Aspen continued in the cycle of memories of his family’s life, and of their death, a small dark thought began to grow in the back of his mind.

Why don’t i just end it all. There’s no point to living without hope anyway. He shook his head as the words drifted through his thoughts. I can’t let myself think that. Shoo. He thought, trying to banish the idea. But when it left, only the image of his burning house remained before him. The memory of his home’s destruction left a grim reminder that his wife, his daughter, his home, his live, were all gone. And for what cause? The guards simply did not care enough to try and help the ponies in the cottage.

Aspen pulled himself back to reality. He realized he was standing. He took a deep breath and trotted over to the weathered mirror that stood above the dresser. The face that looked back at him was devoid of any emotion, just a former shell of once was. He reached his hoof up to the hardened face and stared in disbelief of what he had become. He looked down, ashamed at what he had become from the events that had taken place over the past day. He scratched the wood of the cabinet, anything to keep him from looking at the mirror. His hoof snaked its way over the rough wood, fascinated with the bumpy texture in a trance like gaze.

His hoof trailed off of the surface, causing his ankle to rub gently against the edge of the cabinet. The new feeling pulled him back to reality and enticed him to investigate the drawers of the cabinet. He carefully slid the top drawer out. What he saw inside sent a faint spike of fear down his back. A matte black revolver lay dead center in the drawer. The little voice in the back of Aspen’s head came whispering back. Just do it, there’s no point anyway. What can you possibly accomplish now. Aspen slowly reached into the drawer and pulled out the weapon.

He looked at its slightly marred surface intently, gazing over every inch of the gun. Its over, you will be doing yourself a favor. Aspen turned the weapon around and looked down its barrel. There it is. He thought as he looked at the bullet in the chamber. This is where it all ends. The barrel drifted from his sight as he lifted it to his temple. As he drew the hammer, it locked into place, sending a piercing click that echoed through his mind. He glanced at the mirror. The pitiful face stared back at him, a gun held to his head like a pony being held hostage. Tears began to well up in his eyes as he stared at the stallion. He knew he was already dead on the inside, but the image of suicide stirred the little emotion he had left in him.

Again he looked down as the tears rolled off his nose. They fell into the drawer and struck a small piece of paper, slightly marring the hoofwriting on its surface. Aspen blinked away the tears and looked at the letter. It was addressed to him. He placed the weapon back into the drawer and pulled out the note.

Dear Aspen

We had to leave. The empire doesn’t take too kindly to ponies being as shrouded as we were. The only thing I have left to do is tell you this: There is a resistance that is trying to change this nation. They have a ship docked in Fillydelphia for a few more days. Please go to them, they are the only ponies who will help you, the guards will not.

Signed Lilac

P.S. Burn this letter, if the Empire finds it, there could be serious problems.

Aspen read through the letter several more times. The words gave Aspen the glimmer of hope in the darkness of pain. A realization suddenly came over him. There is a lot more than meets the eye here. I might as well try and find this ship, it’s better than killing myself I suppose. Aspen thought, not realizing how close he had come to ending it all. He looked to the grimy window. Several small streams of water had formed as a drizzle began to fall from the dark clouds overhead. Aspen walked to the window and placed his hoof on the cold glass. Several cracks ran its length and he could swear he felt them give at the touch.

The door creaked open as a draft blew through the house. Aspen looked through the frame to the worn overcoat next to the opening. Several patches dotted the fabric, a tale tell sign of the use it had endured. He walked over to the coat and struggled to drape it over his back with his mouth. As he trotted toward the door he took one more look at the shed. The old, worn out, deserted building that had changed his life. He shook his head and closed his eyes. Just leave, there’s nothing more here for you. Aspen thought as he turned to open the door.

The rain was just a drizzle, and it caressed the ground with its water, but the land did not receive it. The grassy fields that had used to roll over the landscape were now dominated by muddy desolate land, created by the farmers in their attempts to grow only the most profitable crop, wheat. The land had been completely deprived from its overuse. Nothing grew anymore, and the city was suffering because of it.

As Aspen trotted into the town he realized how bad off it really was. Ponies everywhere were emaciated and sickly. Their coats had long since lost their shine from the lack of nutrition. The typical bustle of the streets had been replaced with an overburdening sense of nothingness. Aspen tried to find something, anything, to pique his interest, but everything was lifeless. A small group of younger fillies and colts galloped past him and paused. They tried to look away, but their naïve minds could not bear to avert their eyes from the strange looking three-legged pony before them. One of the young colts stifled a snicker.

Aspen looked to the ground, half in shame, half in sadness. If I saw a pony with one foreleg when I was young, I would have laughed too. He thought as he tried to curb the emotional pain, but it did little to help..Their less than covert whispers reached Aspen’s ears, making him begin to awkwardly trot from them. His strange gait made it painfully obvious how different he really was, and only intensified his shame.

Hoofsteps in the distance immediately silenced the whispers. Aspen looked back to see a middle aged mare shooing the children back to their house. He felt some relief that the mockery had stopped, but now he had an entirely new issue at hand. If that’s how the children treat me, what will the locals think. No sooner had Aspen thought the words than a stallion rounded the corner before him. The stallion briefly hesitated, but noticeably so, as he looked at the three legged stallion walking toward him.

“Hello there.” The stranger said, putting on an air of friendship to mask his childish fascination with the dismembered pony before him.

Aspen flinched, he had never enjoyed interaction that much, but now, it seemed even worse. “H- Hello.” he stammered, trying to avoid the conversation. The stallion did not reply. Aspen was relieved when he passed the stranger. He let out his breath, unaware he had been holding it since the exchange was begun. Nonchalantly, Aspen looked behind him at the stranger. The stallion was standing in the middle of the road, staring at him. Aspen’s throat constricted and beads of sweat began to roll down his forehead. Why can’t they just mind their own lives and leave me alone. He thought as he began to pick up his pace toward the end of the block.

The rain still lightly pattered against the ground, creating muddy puddles along the pitted roads. The city had not fared as well as Aspen’s village had over the past several decades. The village was isolated from the Empire, deemed too inconsequential to benefit, so guards were never deployed, but Phillydelphia was a different story. When the guards were first deployed into the cities, Phillydlephia was one of the first to go. It started small, with pictures of Celestia painted onto some of the old dilapidated buildings. Then the real changes came. The Changeling Rebellion’s startling uprising prompted several sweeping reforms through the nation.

“Watch where you’re going ya disfigured creep!” A half intoxicated shouted as he stumbled into Aspen, sending him crashing into a puddle. Several ponies in the road immediately began to back away from the incident, trying not to get involved with the drunken stallion.

“I’m sorry.” Aspen said as he tried to pick himself up.

“You better be!” The stallion shouted as he knocked Aspen back to the ground. “Why don’t you just go back under the rock you crawled out from?” Aspen was silent. The memory of crawling underneath his burning house burned itself on his mind’s eye.

“Leave him alone!” Shouted another stallion as he galloped toward the drunk.

“And what are you gonna d-” The drunks words were cut short as the stallion threw his body into him, sending him crashing into the ground. An audible pop emanated from the drunkard’s body followed by an agonizing scream. “That ought to teach you a lesson or two about throwing somepony to the ground.” He said, standing over the screaming pony.

“What’s all the commotion!” shouted a guard as he too sprinted toward the ever-growing group. He trotted up to the screaming drunkard on the ground and ran his hoof along the stallion’s shoulder. “Who did this?” he shouted over the commotion of the crowd. He looked to Aspen and kneelt down beside him. “What happened to your leg?” he asked.

“I, um, had an incident a while back.” Aspen said, afraid the stallion might be one of the guards that had found him in his village.
The guard leaned in close to Aspen and whispered in his ear. “My mother used to tell me that when life gets you down,” The stallion paused as his expression changed from caring to stern. “Suck it up”.

“Yes sir.” Aspen said meekly.

“Now the rest of you, scram!” The guard shouted as he trotted from the scene. Aspen waited for the crowd to dissipate before he struggled to his hooves. His cloak and coat were soaked in the disgusting filth of the road. His body was bruised from the fall. He did his best to clean himself off, but only managed in smearing the grime over a larger area. Realizing he was doing more harm than good, Aspen abandoned his attempt began to walk down the road. He was now attracting more attention as half of his body was caked with refuse. He quickly rounded the corner, more to remove the thought of the towns folk staring at him than to try and get to the harbor. On the other side laid a long line of emaciated ponies. Mares, colts, stallions, and fillies alike stood in the winding queue that wrapped around the building to the door of a bakery.

A short stallion with a white bakers hat stepped out of the door, followed by a young filly clutching a small crushed loaf of bread. “I'm sorry, but the bakery is closed.” He shouted over the mumble of the crowd. As soon as the words reached their ears, the murmur changed to a myriad of moans, cries, and a feeling of dejection as they feebly made their way back to their families to deliver nothing in return. The line quickly disappeared into the night, but the baker remained.

“These rations are killing everyone.” The Aspen heard the baker mutter to himself as he sat down on the curb of the road. He tossed a pebble into the drain. “This place just isn’t what it used to be.” he let out a sigh, his breath turning to a cloud of mist before him in the cool night air. He paused for a moment as he watched the puff slowly dissipate. He pulled a small loaf of bread from his pocket. The tiny ball of baked flour was the only thing his ration had allowed. He took a nibble and cringed. The flavor of the moldy bread was horribly bitter, and it took all his ability to swallow the bite.

“This isn't food.” he said as he stood up and trotted back to the store. As he turned his head, he noticed the stallion standing against the wall. “I’m sorry, i didn’t see-” his voice trailed off as he saw the gruesome scar on the abrupt end of Aspen’s leg. His mouth hung slightly ajar at the sight of the stallion as he tried to think of what to say. “W-we don’t have any more bread.” He managed to stammer as he slowly backed toward the door. He pressed himself against the glass, frantically trying to find the handle. “Now just be on your way.”

Aspen stared in disbelief at the baker. Am I that terrifying? He thought as he watched the stallion quickly rush into the store and hastily place the closed sign on the window. The baker stood on the other side of the glass staring at the three legged stallion through the translucent barrier. His expression was one of sick curiosity as he stared at where the stallion’s leg should have resided. Aspen couldn’t bear to look at the stallion, and instead fascinated himself with the buildings to his left. His fear kept him from walking from the window, but his embarrassment kept telling him to move.

He stood for several seconds, not letting himself look through the glass at the baker. Nonchalantly he turned his head the other direction, giving him a fleeting chance to catch a glimpse of the baker. When their eyes met the confused expression of the baker turned to shock. He stepped backward and pretended to busy himself with the baked goods on the counter, but aspen saw his reaction. Aspen noticed how the baker averted his eyes, like he was at a carnival attraction, looking through the glass at a display of some grotesque being. Aspen pretended to find something that piqued his interest, attempting to rationalize his departure from the painful stare of the baker.

As he rounded the corner, Aspen noticed a large mural painted on a building in such disrepair that it had been roped off from the street. It held a massive cyan and pink silhouette of Celestia standing in front of a brilliant rising sun. Large scrolling letters spelled out ‘With every sunrise, there is opportunity!’ at celestia’s feet. Accompanying the words was a skyline of a city that stretched across the entire mural. The painting itself was old and faded, and the paint had smeared over its years of exposure to the elements of nature. It seemed to taunt the citizens of fillydelphia, telling them that hope still lingered, just out of their reach. Like a fly that skirts toward freedom, only to be caught in the long invisible strands of a spider web on the windowsill. As he looked on he noticed a phrase spray painted in red script atop the dark skyline at the bottom of the mural. They looked as if somepony had tried to chisel them off, but did not fully succeed.

‘The NLR is coming; there is hope.’ The words shocked Aspen. Hope? Here? The only hope the ponies have here is the hope to die.

“Psst!” A voice whispered from around the corner. “You with the missing leg. Get over here.”
Aspen tentatively walked toward the corner, craning his neck in an attempt to discover the source of the voice. In the darkness of the alleyway two eyes peered back at him.

“Get in here, quick!” The pony said again. Aspen hobbled into the darkness as fast as his legs would let him. As he got closer the pony spoke up again. “You must be Aspen.” Aspen did not respond. “I’ll take that as a yes.” The stallion said as peered out of the shadows and checked to see if the street was still empty.“But that’s enough of that. Follow me, we need to get to the ship.” Aspen looked around the corner of the alley to the mural again. “Yes,” the pony said as he rolled a used bottle of spray paint from the shadows. “I wrote that, now come on!” The pony galloped into the alleyway, but slowed his pace when he noticed Aspen struggling to match his strides. They rounded several corners before they made it to the harbor.

There, slowly bobbing up and down in the waves, was a massive cruise ship. “Welcome to the NightStalker.” The stallion said as he flung his leg out toward the boat. “This is your new home.”

Aspen looked at the pony, and then to the ocean liner. He knew the boat was supposed to be a safe haven, but all he could see was a water bound prison. With nowhere else to go, Aspen walked onto the gangplank. As he trotted on board he found himself in a massive cafeteria filled with ponies. The din of the voices was on par with the torrential rain that had pummeled the city the night when his house burned.

Aspen Sat himself down at the far corner of the noisy mess hall. Despite their previous attempts to interact with him, the rebels around him seemed distant. They talked amongst themselves about the latest news, mostly about the pony they had pulled from the sea a couple weeks ago. The name Shiloh kept coming up every now and then, presumably the pony’s name, but that did not matter to Aspen. Nothing mattered anymore. The only thing he could do was to eat and sleep. He ate his food, not because he enjoyed it, but because it kept him alive. His entire existence was devoid of hope. His only action was to live, day by day, he lived, and that was all. The noises around him were deafening at times, but to Aspen, there was only silence.