Fallout Equestria: Justice - Volume II. Wagon Train

by Marlow

Rating: mature
Tags: Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Comedy, Sex, Tragedy, Adventure, Crossover
Length: 31117

The story of Wild Skies, Pegasus mare, continues as she hires on as a caravan guard and searches the wasteland for her children.

"Our caravan has departed New Appleloosa, leaving territories and places known to me behind. Pendulum plans to take us across the old Equestrian heartland, stopping at trading posts before making our way to Tenpony Tower in Manehattan then swinging back around and following the coast down to Baltimare. But, trouble brews in Fillydelphia and danger of many kinds waits in the wasteland for wary and unwary alike. After Baltimare, my employer plans on booking passage over the sea, braving the boiling waters for zebra lands to the east. I do not know if I will accompany him that far... only that my two foals are out there somewhere, as is my would be murderer. All three must be found and I will search to the end of my strength to locate them. Hopefully, there will be some booze... and bucks (or mares) along the way. I'm looking for answers, to my past, my future... only I don't know where to find them. And, in some cases, I'm not even sure of the questions. I am no longer the mare with no name. I am Wild Skies... and far from being over, my journey has only just begun."

Published 2014-05-17 17:40:02 UTC
Last updated 2014-07-16 05:15:40 UTC

1. Equestrian Trails

A large gibbous moon hung low in the sky. It was a brilliant silver white, platinum almost… missing only a horseshoe of darkness from what otherwise would have been a full moon. It was, if I recalled correctly (and who knows just how reliable I was on this sort of thing) about eleven days after the bleak blackened void of a new moon. It had risen early that day… sun and moon in the sky together, an omen of great portent if ever there was one, and now we watched it set, sinking below the horizon at five minutes to midnight. But, in truth, it wasn’t the moon that the two of us had come out to see, nor was it the stars, glorious and bright, distant and cold. Their light was old, an ancient thing; a symbol of impermanent near eternity… if that made any sense. Which, knowing me, it didn’t. Oh well. As I said, we weren’t sitting out on this warm breezy night of summer, the anniversary of the old summer sun celebration, for stellar sights and star gazing. We were watching something else, bright vivid flashes, perfect spheres of light, there of an instant then gone. Different colors… a rainbow of them, far, far above us… beautiful. I glanced at my companion, seeing the explosions reflected in his eyes like a fireworks display of old Equestria, before the war, before the destruction. Our heavenly entertainment continued and after a short time I broke the silence of our vigil.

“So, what happens now?” I asked.

“What must happen.” My companion answered. “I cannot let go, as well you know.” He left unsaid the fact that I couldn’t let go either, kind of him to make the omission, but then, he had always been kind.

“I know.” I said sadly, not expecting any other answer. “Could we… do you think… wait until after the show finishes?” I had no illusions about how this would end, and it had been so long, so driving and consuming that (and such an important part of me that if I survived) I had no idea what I would do with myself afterward.

“Of course.” He replied. “I’m sure you would favor following this to its inevitable conclusion at high noon but that is a long time… this” he waved a hoof to the display, “should be over around the time the sun rises, what say we begin then?”

“Dawn should be perfectly fine.” I smiled. “Very dramatic, makes for an excellent story.”

“If there is anypony left to tell it.” He said quietly. He remained silent for some time. “I love you… you know.” He added and put a wing over my withers.

“I know… and… I hate you.” I replied, leaning against him and nuzzling his cheek. After all that he had done, hate was a bare minimum, an understatement of epic proportions, and yet, still I loved him. Funny the way the heart works.

“I know.” He answered calmly, accepting. “And when dawn breaks…”

“And when dawn breaks… it ends… at last.” I interrupted and finished for him. He nodded and we craned our heads a little bit more, enjoying the view and a few hours of blissful peace before one last dance. It had begun here… all of it… and here it would end. We had come full circle. I sighed and he placed his head more against mine, protectively, endearingly, affectionately. We would sit here… together… and watch the sky, blossoming with flowers of light until the rays of the morning sun scattered the darkness. And then it would all end.

Chapter 1. Equestrian Trails

“Chance governs all. Unto this wilde abyss,
The Womb of nature and perhaps her Grave,
Of neither Sea, nor Shore, nor Air, nor Fire,
But all these in thir pregnant causes mixt
Confus’dly, and thus which must ever fight,
Unless th’ Almighty Maker them ordain
His dark materials to create more Worlds,
Into this wild Abyss the warie fiend
Stood on the brink of Hell, and look’d a while,
Pondering his voyage: for no narrow frith
He had to cross.”

28th of Leaffall, 193 ALD

The ghoul bounded around the gray slate wall that rose up from either side of the narrow path, skidding across gravel but keeping to its hooves and leaping over a bare patch of scrub oak. It galloped forward, a scream of unintelligent fury escaping its cracked and broken lips. Faster and faster it went, muscles visible in patches and swathes where rotting skin ended, a half gone mane, stringy and colorless, streaming out behind it. The beast’s teeth were jagged and yellow, eyes glazed, sunken and listless but for long ago burst blood vessels and the clear glint of furious hunger. It was… almost… sad.

A roar of fire and smoke and the creature’s front legs collapsed beneath its body, sending it toppling forward, ass over head through the scree, setting loose gravel and pebbles, coming to a stop a few feet in front of my hooves. Damn but the shotgun bucked like a son of a bitch. I walked forward, holstering my caravan shotgun and replacing it with my baseball bat. The ghoul tried to right itself but it was a tangle of limbs and foul smelling mane and tail. I resisted the urge to put a hoof over my muzzle. The zombie managed to perk its head up, glaring at me, hissing through its foul teeth. My wings clenched the bat tighter. I lifted it above my head and brought it down, once, twice, three times… just for good measure. The bastard’s legs twitched and shook in response to its bashed in skull.

“So, Limerick, looks like you owe me ten caps.” I called out, setting the bat aside so that I could pull out and open the shotgun. I placed a wingtip against the ready shell, letting the empty one eject before replacing it with a fresh one. Damn, I needed more ammunition. I had already used twenty six shells from my supply of buckshot, though I had quickly learned not to waste ammo on small things and to, if possible, use one shell per ghoul then finish them off with the bat. “You hear me, you dickless oaf?” I called up the slope, to the harder to navigate path set into the canyon wall about five yards above me.

“Course I hear you, you brainless bitch.” The large orange coated earther buck glared down at me from an outcropping that held just enough dirt for a few holly bushes to grow, bright red berries vivid amidst their dark waxy green leaves. Limerick’s massive scrap metal sword was leaned against his body, set between left shoulder and crest so that he could use his mouth and speak. Not that him speaking was a good thing, or an effective use of time… certainly a waste of mine to listen. He squinted and looked at my kill. “And that doesn’t count. The dumb fuck rolled to where he was. It has to be on its hooves to count.” He spit over the ledge and watched the wind carry the gob away.

“Bullshit,” I replied, “that’s not part of the bet.” I lit a cigarette and started pushing the ghoul’s body to the side of the path so that Bessy, our pack Brahmin, could get by.

“She is, technically, correct Lim.” Pendulum, our unicorn employer spoke from down the trail, leading his heavily laden Brahmin. A single ten millimeter pistol was held in his magic, swiveling back and forth, and ready for a new threat to emerge. The wind picked up and waved the ribbon on my sun hat. Oh… pretty dark blue ribbon fluttering in the breeze. Uh… ahem… forget I said that.

“No way! No how! That cavernous cunt didn’t meet the speximicatins… speficima” I rolled my eyes, giving the dead ghoul a final push as I listened to Limerick try and fail to speak with any hint of intelligence… and no comments about my difficulties therein, thank you very much.

“Specifications.” Pendulum clarified as he reached me and eased the two headed cow to a stop. “And unless you alter the parameters of your agreement that will continue to count.” The pale purple unicorn grimaced and looked over my latest kill, using his magic to place strands of his long, rose colored mane back under his wide brimmed hat. He was a good lucking buck, despite being a tad on the runty side. If he wasn’t my employer I might be tempted to… I coughed and tried to hide a blush. IGNORE ME! Or, my thoughts at least, yes, ignore those. They are invariably bad and more fitting for a letter to a filthy magazine like Wingboner… which I definitely didn’t have a copy of in my saddlebags. Moving on...

“Fine!” Limerick growled down at us, scratching a scar that rose up his muzzle to his short green mane. “But we’re changing the rules when we get to camp tonight!” He had to raise his voice to be heard over the wind. Dumbass. We could change the rules but I had a way to counter that as well, use the mouth trigger the way it was intended and flap my wings like a hurricane (hopefully they were strong enough now to take that) to slow up any ghouls as they reached me. Hehe… that big dumb buck would owe me a lot of caps by the time we reached the trader’s meet at the Henbrick junction of the Norfoal line, twenty or so miles north… if Pendulum’s map was to be trusted.

The earther, Limerick, had more kills than I did (twenty one to seventeen), since we had only run into a few wild animals (mutated goose bump giving creepy crawlies to be sure) and ghouls… a lot of ghouls. And, of course, the ghouls counted for the bets, as did radscorpions, though we hadn’t (thank the dead alicorns) run into any of those on these narrow passes and trails. That would be bad. Was what I was thinking making sense? Who cares? The frequency of ghouls was, to be honest, worrying to me. Though, Pendulum assured me that it was just a seasonal thing. The ghouls moved southward in large numbers during the wild winters, they went where it was warmer or holed up together in ruins and buildings. The near mindless beasts also followed the rad-winds, clouds of entropic magic and radiation, remnants of the effects of certain balefire bombs. Speaking of all things ‘rad’ related, we were lucky in that the background radiation where we were was fairly low. A ‘none and one a day’ as Limerick called it, not enough of a problem to take RadSafe to buff your resistance to the radiation but just enough that it was wise to slurp down a RadAway each evening (the packaging claimed it was orange flavor but the stuff tasted like ass to me). Thankfully, Pendulum was a cautious and well prepared stallion. He had a war era radiation detector, miraculously in decent condition, hooked to his jacket, keeping us informed of the low but steady ticks of deadly doom that weren’t too big of a problem… for the moment.

What was more worrisome than the low level radiation was the thought that the zombies were either fleeing the advance of slaver forces to the east or that The Howl was nearby. We had heard several rumors about slavers organizing like never before out Fillydelphia way but it was still a better alternative to The Howl. Just about everything, even dumbass zombies, ran from that. The Howl was an unexpected interaction between an Equestrian megaspell and a zebra balefire bomb that had collided in midair (over the sea) between targets… (which totally meant that my long ago musing was right) or so Pendulum claimed. The result was a small cyclone of terrible power that brought tornados with it, spun detritus and debris about like razors and had the strength to flay the skin and flesh from anything not wearing Steel Ranger armor. Thankfully it was clearly visible from a long way off (a thick cloud like darkness that was rent by lightning) and despite its tremendous speed , it was rather small in size, generally no more than a few miles across. It also allegedly circled the globe so it might disappear from the faded dead lands that were once Equestria for months at a time.

“Do me a favor please, Wild, scout forward and see what lies on the path ahead.” Pendulum ordered… suggested. And it took me a second to realize that he was talking to me. I’m Wild Skies by the way. Hello, nice to meet you. Have you seen my foals? Spare a drink? The name was new, chosen a few days before… and it was the only real name I had. Since, whatever or whoever I had been before getting shot in the head a month ago was a complete mystery to me. My hopes were that I was some kind of super awesome steam powered time traveling bad ass pony but no one in whom I confided that belief took it at all seriously. Also, in case you hadn’t noticed, my mind (what’s left of it) tends to wander.

“Sure thing.” I answered; hoofing over my cigarette butt and making sure all of my various pouches were secured. The unicorn accepted the cigarette with his magic and took a very prim and proper puff. “Also,” I shouted up to Limerick, dashing forward toward a jutting spit of what looked like Arkose sandstone (Pendulum liked pointing out various types of rocks and plants to me… I kind of listened… some of the time) and galloped up it, wings extended. I threw myself from the tip, pushing off with all my might and vaulted forward into the air to glide between the canyon walls. I made sure that my right wing gave Limerick a smack on the back of the head as I passed. “For your information, my cunt isn’t cavernous!” I yelled. The dumb earther was prone to the most fallacious inaccuracies. “It’s…” trying to think of a word… “cozy. Not that you’ll ever find that out personally.”

“You’re still a brainless bitch!” The buck shouted back, shaking his head as though he’d just been drenched in water, or angered by a buzzing insect.

“Sorry,” I replied, rising higher on the wind and pressing forward, west and north, “can’t figure out what you’re saying, sounds like you’ve got a humdinger of a cock stuffed in your mouth!” Limerick’s curses followed me on the breeze and were lost, nothing more than echoes of suggestions of what I could do with his sword by the time I rounded the next bend. I flapped my wings a few times to gain altitude and continued my glide.

Pendulum had been suspicious at first when I hadn’t immediately demonstrated any flying ability and Limerick of course had been down right insulting. But, I was able to convince them that gliding was quieter, less likely to be heard, and that since I wasn’t constantly flapping it would make me less likely to be seen by those below. I would just be a white coated shadow (with armor) with a black mane and dazzling blue eyes (what?) against the ever present clouds. It… seemed to mollify my boss, which was good since gliding was about all that I could do. My wings were definitely not yet up to snuff, and wearing that armor, carrying gear, and being stuck with a clunking metal collar full of explosives around my neck were not making me any lighter… not that I was heavy mind you. Don’t know why you would think that but you better stop right now, thinking those thoughts is a quick and easy way to hurt a mare’s feelings, you know.

The collar? Yeah… not my best moment. I’d spent all of the little money I had on drinking and run up one hell of a bar tab a week or so back. The proprietor (yush, I can remember awesome words) had put the collar on me and given an ultomato… uh… what’s the word I’m looking for there? Anyway, I either came up with the money or she sold me to slavers. I came up with the money, after perilous and exciting adventure… which lasted all of one day… and had the collar deactivated. Only, it had taken damage and couldn’t be removed. Coincidentally, Apple Brandy, the unicorn bitch who’d put the collar on me… yeah… she’d disappeared. And, before you ask, I had no idea what happened to her. So… back on topic?

Gliding may not have been flying but it was still glorious, wondrous, like sex… only I was having it. It felt like ages since that unicorn buck in New Appleloosa, and memories of that night were returning in bits and pieces through the booze and drug fueled haze of the stupor I’d put myself into. Sorry… distracted. Yes, now where were we? I was gliding forward. There wasn’t much to see. The Crags rose up around me, stunted trees and shrubs breaking up the monote… moton… monoty… monotony (not a word to Limerick) of the gray and red rocks. The Crags were a series of low mountains and cliffs that crept off the north eastern side of Shattered Hoof Ridge for dozens of miles. Pendulum had this pegged as the best possible route toward Manehattan. Too far to the east and we’d run up against those slaver scum and the largest herds of the ghoul migration. Too far to the west and we’d hit even more zombies, the ‘surviving’ prisoners of an old Ministry of Morale work camp and the growing group of raiders and bandits that was forming to force the ghouls out of the area so that they could take over the facility for themselves. So, we traveled almost due north, through The Crags.

The three of us… and Bessy, our mindlessly blank and utterly vacant but rather stalwart pack animal, had left the town of New Appleloosa five days ago, on the 23rd of Leaffall as Pendulum later told me. Knowing helped with my journal writing. The first day we’d followed the north road, weaving in between the remains of long abandoned sky chariots and doing our best not to step on the bones of the thousands of ponies, scattered like old white birch branches amidst the dust, that littered the lanes and wayside. That night we’d stopped a little ways off the road on a spur of the western border of what Limerick called ‘Hell-seethe Swamp’ and near (though not close enough to see) the ruins of the towns of Coltington and Mareboro. I snorted when I heard them. Apparently, even before the war, ponies couldn’t name anything for shit. Also, my quick detour early in the afternoon to search for my missing pack of cigarettes on the hillside where I’d woken up proved fruitless… and Pendulum thought I was a little mad. Limerick just said I was wasting time… and that I was a bitch.

The second day we’d gotten back onto the road and reached the Hoof Springs Bridge, or, what was left of it leastways. It had originally, according to Pendulum, been a small wooden bridge before Equestria industrialized, but had been rebuilt into an impressive structure during the interim between the beginning of rising tensions with the Caesar and the outbreak of the war proper. Now it was gargantuan slabs of stone and metal, twisted and burned, collapsed onto the river (which was mostly dry this time of year) except for what was left of an arch on the south side of the water. We spent the night under that arch, wary of any aquatic creatures venturing toward our camp. Apparently bloatsprites, radhogs and radigators could be found in or near the muddy river. Though, I was highly doubtful of anything reptilian or insect like being around at this time of year, with winter and all coming on. At least the morning view was quite nice, the distant forms of the cliffs and mountains that comprised Shattered Hoof lay in the northern distance, waiting, beckoning.

We’d continued our general northward journey for the next two days, reaching the end of The Scrub as both my companions called it and entering The Crags early on the fourth day. At first we had been making good time, fifty nine miles in those first four days (most of that before reaching The Crags) but things had slowed as we ascended and worked our way onto the path we were currently traveling along. Today we would be lucky to advance more than four miles. Travel was slow, the ground was treacherous and the feral ghouls were far too numerous for my liking. At least I was earning my keep… I guess… and taking some of Limerick’s money… asshole.

I banked right, following the trail from above, keeping it in view. I was spending far too much time in my own mind (definitely not a good thing, bad mind! Bad!), but the route ahead wasn’t too terrible. There was a steep drop to the left about a half mile from where Pendulum was now, two or three ghouls wandering the path aimlessly. They shouldn’t be too hard to deal with, especially after I was assured (repeatedly and vehemently) that being bitten by a zombie pony would not turn me into one. It had required quite a lot of convincing from Pendulum on that front, quite a lot indeed. Limerick had just snorted and called me a bitch again. I was beginning to sense a pattern developing there.

I rose higher, letting the wind carry me upward. If it weren’t for the strong and steady breeze this would have been a much more difficult scouting excursion. You gotta cherish the small things, I guess. The visibility wasn’t too bad today either, even if it was colder than a changeling’s tit. The Crags leveled out a mile or so ahead of where the rest of my group was, and then they began to descend down toward level ground. That would be nice, walking down hill. After what looked like another ten miles or so the descent stopped, opening up onto The Flats as they were called on Pendulum’s map. Gee, these guys needed better imaginations for naming things but I would wait to get out a pencil… or crayon (more fitting for my mental acuity) and use it to cross out the uninspired names on the map and write new and better ones.

There was a river on The Flats, large, more impressive than the one we traversed on the third day. We would have to cross it, but beyond that… an old rail line if I was any judge. Excellent, another couple of days and we’d reach the junction for the meet. Feathers crossed there would be whiskey… and ammo… and bucks… in that order. I was running low on rounds for my hunting rifle and pistol in addition to the shotgun.

Some headwinds buffeted me and I fought to stabilize myself. Trying to measure the distances ahead using landmarks and what I knew of Pendulum’s map took a few moments and it seemed the paper was fairly accurate distance wise. With a good picture in my head I let the new wind turn me back southward and I began the return glide toward my companions, on the lookout for dangers and, just as importantly, a safe place to spend the night.

My mind wandered on the return journey, as it was wont to do. I thought of two foals somewhere out in the world… without their mother. My foals, a hoof clutched at my chest where my only picture of them lay within my armor. I couldn’t remember them, but I would find them, my good deed amongst some far less reputable no doubt. I thought about the Mysterious Stallion’s message (cryptic, weird and annoying… just like him). Neither of my companions knew the answer to his question. Though, to be frank, I really didn’t expect Limerick to know. That buck could barely tell his ass from his face on most days and as of yet I myself found very little difference between the two in his case.

“What happens when a librarian and student of magic, a party planning pastry chef, a burgeoning fashionista desirous of high society, a competitive but lazy athlete, an introverted animal caregiver and a farm running family pony become friends?” I asked the wind. My first inclination was to imagine a filly foolin’ orgy… and I didn’t often get far beyond that. What? It was a rather distracting (and enjoyable) thought. Thankfully nopony could see me at the moment. I was sure I had a stupid grin plastered on my face. Filly fooling of course made me reminisce about Candi, my nubile nurse in New Appleloosa… which made me think of Mistletoe the ornery old unicorn doctor who had treated me. Well there was a cold bucket of water and a pleasure destroying kick to the loins that dissolved all fun thoughts. Oh, and, the wind didn’t answer by the way. Just incase you were wondering. I know I wasn’t and had totally forgotten about it. Cough.

Was any of this really important? No, probably not. At least, I would have doubted so at the time. It does give some context though as to why I almost glided right into a massive spire of stone. I rolled left at the very last second, wings perpendicular to the ground, my hooves skidding along the sheer side of the rock face before shoving off. The kick gave me a little distance and speed. It also reminded me to pay attention to my surroundings. Give it five minutes and I would unlearn that lessen, bet you five caps. Lastly, it was what let me smell smoke. Hooray for attention paying!

I cut back, circling, spiraling round this abburrrr… rance… errand… aberrance, letting myself lose some altitude. It was only now, with the changing of the wind, that I could see, and (as previously indicated) smell, the aftermath of a fire… and carnage. Below me, near what looked to be the perfect place to set up camp for the night… were bodies. Ponies. I was still too high up to make out any specific details but this looked not good… bad. I took note of what I could and, using an updraft rising from the canyon of the path beneath me, flipped, turning as I did so. Deciding that speed would be good right about now, I angled downward, hoping that I’d still have enough height to continue my glide most of the way back to my littlest of caravans.

I made it most of the way back (I blamed the heavy, hopefully dead explosive collar around my neck for dragging me down), making landfall about two or three hundred yards ahead of where Limerick sat, chewing on slightly irradiated tobacco. I could have tried to get back in the air but my wings would have none of it. Even the little work they had done was too much. I would be sore and stiff for quite a while after this excursion. My legs however, were fine. With protesting wings folded up against my armor I made a fast canter back to my companions, narrowly dodging the large brown glob of spit that Limerick (with dangerous and uncanny accuracy) sent my way.

“Bitch is in a hurry.” The earther spoke from his perch to both me and Pendulum, watching the environment around us as he did so.

“No, you’re sitting still.” I replied as I passed him by. The unicorn, who’d long since finished the rest of my cigarette, was holding a feedbag of withered grass to one of Bessy’s heads. My pet turtle… thing… was sitting on the other head, looking around with what appeared to be boredom or general disinterest. Was there really that much of a difference?

I had found the little beast in the wastes. I’d been out, returning to the hillside where, a few weeks beforehand, I had awoken with no memory and some pretty serious injuries. It was the same night I’d signed on with this outfit, come to think. The tortoise… like… animal… was a motley display of desert colors, possessed two heads, a large appetite and absolutely no intelligence to speak of. Hehe… just like me… wait… I mean Limerick. Uh… Forget I just internally made an idiot of myself. I was glad the creature liked riding on the Brahmin as much as it liked riding on me. It had several times, despite previous dire warnings from myself, pooped on me. I really was not into that sort of thing and trying to clean myself (as Pendulum refused to use his cleaning spell on me for what he considered my own fault… much to Limerick’s amusement) was an arduous task. I was considering naming the reptile Slow Poke, though ‘little shelled shit machine’ was rather apt as well. He… it… was prone to pooping on Bessy as well. The only thing different between her and me though was that the big cow didn’t seem to notice when it happened. Which, after some contemplation, I believed was probably a good thing. Uh… also, please note, do not consider this an invitation to compare me to a brainless two headed cow.

“Pleasant trip, I trust?” Pendulum asked, looking up from his task and using his magic to put a water bag in front of the beast’s face in place of the food bag. The tortoise turned its heads toward me and squeaked expectantly. The little bugger thought I was going to feed it no doubt. The cow, meanwhile, looked at the bag, sniffed it, nudged it with her nose then farted and started licking her other head. And ponies thought I was weird. The unicorn studied me for a moment, seeing the worry that must have been plain upon my features. “Problems?”

“Trouble.” I answered, lighting a cigarette. “On the road ahead.” He nodded, drawing both of his pistols, then magically pulled back the slides to make sure each had a round chambered.

I stalked the upper trail, nothing more than a goat path, barely wide enough for me to traverse. I wondered if any goats still living had two heads, like Bessy or my turtle. My hooves fell slowly, quietly, and my body was tensed, ready to move with sudden action to commit violence, nail and wire studded baseball bat clutched tight in my wings, at the ready. Below me, on the broader path, Limerick led the way. He’d hooked his mini-gun (sexy as hell, in case you’d forgotten… I know I hadn’t) up to his battle saddle but the activation bit was down, making it easier for him to carry his giant ass sword in his mouth. I considered making jokes about him swallowing swords and how he must have had practice but the whole ‘we must be very, very quiet’ thing prevented me. Oh, how I wanted to though, and it was hard as heck to ignore my instincts to insult the buck… especially when some slobber leaked from the corners of his mouth. It sure made me glad that I had wings with which to grasp my weapons. Also, I really needed a fucking battle saddle. The idea of fire superiority from close air support made a girl all giddy.

Pendulum followed Limerick, not too closely though, Bessy was held in the glow of his magic, made lighter so that she was a more stealthy Brahmin, her mouths belted shut. The magic also held all the gear she was carrying, preventing it from moving around and making noise that would give us away. Pendulum’s matching pistols swiveled back and forth, covering the path behind us in case somepony… or something with violent intentions, had found a way to double back from the place of the attack and rejoin the path on our sixes. Wait… sixes? Hmm… my mind surprised me with its interesting word choice. Also, Limerick may have been a six but my backside was definitely more like a nine… nine and a half on a good day. Sorry, distracted. If I could find a way to separate my brain from my body and kick its ass… that really wouldn’t work… or make sense. Damn it.

The path was filled with gravel covered and mostly hidden stones that looked unpleasantly sharp. Little shrubs and weeds, tangled and withered, sprouted up from the few patches of clay like soil. Seeing them made me hungry but I wasn’t stupid enough... or desperate enough to try and eat them. I would get my lunch after we figured out what had happened on the path ahead. I breathed through my nose, silently, nostrils flaring… regretting the cigarettes I’d just smoked.

Crash! I wasn’t paying attention and tripped, falling muzzle first onto the gravel. OW! OUCH! Mother fuck… mother fuck. Ow, ow, ow. I wanted to cry, eyes tearing up. My companions stopped and were looking up at me, trying to figure out what was going on. I… bit my tongue. Oh boy did that hurt. Not going to say anything (embarrassment) and not going to cry (give away our position). I got back up, grumbling, and put a wing to my mouth, rocking back and forth just a little, trying not to think of the pain.

“Sowy.” I whispered down to my companions. I realized too late that my word was all fucked up from the damage to my tongue. I stopped, rigid, color rising in my cheeks. Then I decided I would just ignore their reactions and continue moving. Fuck… this stealth shit was hard… and my lack of coordination was hella’ shameful.

The massacre had occurred at a sharp right turn where the path widened slightly. There was an overhang above that gave some shelter against the elements, explaining why ponies would camp there. Just beforehand there’d been a dog leg in the path. And no, before you ask, that I could remember, I’d only seen a single dog… thing… a three legged beast of questionable odor that slunk around New Appleloosa. I moved forward like a stalking beast, hunting prey… so, slightly less bad ass than a middle aged house mare going after a young buck… or some such nonsense.

I pulled the shotgun from its scabbard with the barest scraping hiss. Okay, ready? Ready. I slid down the least steep patch of rock and earth that I could find, making very little noise except for a single brief whistle. I landed and threw myself to the side as Limerick leapt out from behind the corner, bit in his mouth, mini-gun whirring, ready to fire. I rolled and came back up, scanning the immediate area with my shotgun. Checking… checking… checking… I advanced, skirting the bodies, carefully looking behind anything that an attacker might use as cover. I checked off likely ambush points and switched the shotgun between wings to make sure my weapon was the first thing an enemy would see… not me. There was nothing.

A risen hoof on my part signaled Limerick to stop. He nodded and trained his heavy firepower upward, covering the heights above us. I trotted forward, hugging the side of the path, moving from cover to cover… nothing. I moved forward about a hundred yards. There was evidence of a fight but little else. I kicked a rock down the path ahead, swinging the shotgun back and forth. There was no reply. No shots, no yells, no action. There was only the wind, bearing the stench of smoke and death.

“Clear!” I yelled back, holstering the shotgun and drawing my bat. My voice echoed down the path.

“Clear!” Limerick’s scratchy baritone rang out.

“Clear!” Pendulum’s higher softer voice answered.

I scanned the ground for tracks and by the time I reached the bend where Limerick was waiting, Pendulum had caught up with Bessy. He released the Brahmin from his magic, sweating, stooped over, and breathing heavily. It was, according to him, hard work to significantly lighten the beast for any length of time. I was inclined to believe him. Bessy was a fat cow… literally.

I counted four bodies… and two piles of ash that might have once been bodies, near the smoldering remains of a campfire. Three ponies (two bucks and a mare) and one… wait a minute. I moved forward. Griffin… hot as hell… on his side, shell casings for a machine pistol… heavy double bladed axe. What the fuck?

“Pendulum.” I called out quietly. The unicorn tied Bessy to a small rock outcropping and made his way over to me.

“What is it?” He asked, his voice low. I pointed with a wing and my employer took in a breath with a hiss of recognition. I had seen the griffin before… and the other ponies as well. We’d found one of the other two caravans that had been in the bar with us the night before we left… and it made no sense whatsoever. “Lim.” Pendulum called to the earther. “What are you seeing?”

“Three more dead.” The other buck answered. “Set of twins and a mean looking bitch with a sawed off.” Limerick approached. “It’s Clam’s group.” He said solemnly, sparing a glance for the griffin.

“So I surmised.” Pendulum replied softly. The three of us continued our search of the area. The two ash piles indeed seemed to be the remains. And that was interesting to me because there had only been five in the caravan. Who was the sixth death? Pendulum assured me that their two Brahmin would have made larger dust piles and from the tracks that Limerick and I found, it appeared the creatures had been led off. Only, those hoof prints disappeared after about twenty yards. Fucking creepy if you ask me. Spent shells and casings littered the area along with scorch marks from energy weapons and possibly explosives. I freaked Pendulum and Limerick out a little when I deduced the vantage points from which the ambush must have taken place. Not sure how I knew, I just did. It seemed obvious to me. They found it really weird though and Limerick kept giving me wary glances afterward. Sadly, there was no evidence left of who might have committed the atrocity but for a few hoof prints, a single spent carbine round mostly hidden under a slice of shale and a few cigarette butts with a gold band at the filter.

The weirdest thing was that Clam’s caravan wasn’t supposed to leave New Appleloosa, by Pendulum’s reckoning, until three days after our departure. How did they get ahead of us? When did they leave? Why were they attacked? We had no fucking clue. The only thing that Pendulum or Limerick could guess at was that the caravan had left around the same time we did and had taken the straight trail through Shattered Hoof, avoiding or bribing any raiders along the way and using the griffin to deal with any ghouls in their path and then taken one of the smaller routes from there into The Crags. But all we had were guesses.

Our inspection took some time, the faint light of the cloud hidden sun dying as it swept down toward the west. We would spend the night here, according to Pendulum. Heavy storms were closing in from the north and this was the best shelter for a mile in any direction. Also, he didn’t like the idea of heading back or of moving forward in the darkness.

There was a combination of small caliber entry wounds on the two buttery creamy colored twins (or maybe buckshot impacts) and a hole from a large caliber weapon through the trading mare’s (who’d gone by the name of Clamshell, according to Limerick) head. Not pleasant… but professional, very well done. This was not the work of amateurs.

So, with night approaching, we began setting aside what useable material we could find. It was only when I rolled the poor incredibly attractive griffin away from the shelter of the overhang that I figured out he wasn’t dead. There was a retching cough and the creature spat blood… all over my face.

“Cocksucker’s alive… and a spitter.” Limerick remarked, coming closer.

“Ewww… somebody get me a towel.” I whined, eyes closed, trying not to get any blood in my mouth. Pendulum gave me one from one of the bags on Bessy (and I knew that it would come out of my pay without him having to say anything).

The griffin was wounded, badly. He had several gunshot wounds that had pierced his armor, including a massively damaging shot that he’d taken to the chest and numerous grazing wounds on his limbs. There was blast damage and cauterized burns… energy weapons for sure. To say he was in bad shape was about the same kind of understatement as me saying I often tended to drift on the current of random ass thoughts that flowed through my head.

Limerick was all for leaving the feathered beast to his fate. Pendulum was worried about using resources, the cost of helping him. I didn’t care. He was alive and I would treat him. For the second time in little more than an hour my two companions were weirded out by my decent skills at patching up the bird. Well, when you qualify as a combat life saver you… what? A sharp pain didn’t so much drill into my skull as bore right through it. What the fuck was that? I had no idea.

It took all of my medical supplies and I had to buy some off of the unicorn before I was satisfied that the griffin wouldn’t immediately, suddenly or randomly die. Pendulum watched me across the smallest of fires, listening to the rain and thunder that carried through the storm above us.

“You cannot carry him.” He said, faintly audible above the storm. Limerick was ignoring us, back turned, blanket over his shoulders, at the edge of the fire’s light. He’d lost a bit flip to me and taken first watch. Sucker.

“No.” I answered, looking my employer in the eyes. “Which is why I’m taking part of Bessy’s load. She’ll carry him.” Pendulum continued to study me.

“Any negative impact to our caravan will be deducted from your pay.” He told me flatly. I figured as much. But, for some reason… I just couldn’t leave someone to die like that. Ponies… griffins… two headed turtles… deserved better. And, what did it say about me if I was unwilling to help. It wasn’t right… wasn’t… just? I didn’t know. All I did know was that I was doing the right thing, and that mattered to me.

“Do you think I care about losing pay if it’ll save his life?” I asked the buck. He stared at me, firelight reflected in his eyes.

“You are a very unusual mare.” He answered and settled down to sleep, pulling a blanket over his body. “Good night, Lim, Wild.” The earther grunted and I nodded to Pendulum.

“Stupid bitch is more like it.” Limerick commented after a minute, just loud enough for me to hear. I gritted my teeth. I shook my head and made sure my blanket was covering most of my patient. He was sweating, mumbling, shaking. But, there didn’t seem to be much else that I could do. I settled down next to the griffin, trying to share body heat but shivering all the same.

“Wake me if his condition changes.” I told Limerick with a yawn, kicking a rock away from my barrel.

“Why the fuck should I?” He asked. Good question.

“Because if you don’t I’ll geld you during my watch.” I told him in all seriousness.

“Fine.” He replied… stubborn, unpleasant, clearly not a fan of this new development. I smiled and tried to think of baking cookies with foals and sitting around a fireplace telling stories for a perfect Hearth’s Warming Eve.

My dreams were more nightmares… a line of dead ponies with holes in the backs of their heads. Foals screamed at me for having abandoned them. I tossed and turned, breathing heavily. I couldn’t escape. Haunted. Bombs… explosions… bring your foal to work day… a storm on the plains… a mare resigning herself to her fate… execution… too late… a darkness gaping before me, a maw of night swallowing me whole… and ponies wondered why I drank. Alcohol made the night still, made my dreams my own or destroyed them all together. A field of graves surrounded me… continuing in all directions to the horizon. Blood everywhere. What had I done? A gun to my head. “There’s only one way to make sure.” A familiar voice. BANG!

I awoke in a cold sweat with Limerick over me, looking decidedly unconcerned.

“What is it?” I croaked. My mouth and throat were dry. “Is something wrong?” Oh, no. It was the griffin. He was dead. We were surrounded, about to be ambushed.

“Your watch.” He said gruffly and walked over me to where he’d be sleeping. I shook the sleep from my eyes and sat up. A cursory hoof ensured that the griffin was still breathing, thank the dead goddesses. My breathing slowed and I lit a cigarette off of the low burning fire. Pendulum had insisted during the day that we gather any dry wood along the trail. It turned out he was one smart little cookie with this whole storm and rain bullshit.

“Anything?” I asked, yawning and stretching as I stood.

“Just this.” My companion replied. He lifted one hind leg and gave an impressive fart. It sounded like somepony was playing a violin with sandpaper. I sighed… then the stench of eggs and the chili that Limerick enjoyed eating wafted over me and I gagged. Whew, boy, that was one hell of a stench.

“Night.” I said, finding a half full cup of cold coffee where I’d left it near the flames.

“Night.” Limerick replied perfunctorily and farted again. I moved further away, to the edge of the protection offered by the overhang above us. Occasional lightning tore the sky and cast an eerie but evanescent glow across the features of the world around us. The thunder sounded dully and a mist of rain swept over me. At least it wasn’t falling on me though.

I sat there and smoked, imagining terrors in the dark, but nothing tangible arose from my imagination to cause us harm. Limerick’s snores rolled like lesser versions of the thunder. I smacked my neck with my wings and held myself with my forehooves, shivering. It was a cold fucking night. I sat there, every once and a while shifting my position, taking a sip of coffee, lighting a cigarette, patrolling a few feet in either direction. It was the usual stuff you’d expect to do when on night watch in a miserable place when what you really wanted was sleep. Of course, sleep was no comfort to me.

There was a mumble from behind me, so faint I almost missed it. I looked over my shoulder and waited. There it was again. I turned around and tilted my head. The noise was coming from the griffin. I moved closer, putting my ear above his beak, feeling his faint shallow breaths against my neck.

“Dragon’s Teeth.” The griffin spoke in his sleep. Dragon’s teeth? What the hell did that have to do with anything? He was about to say something else when a mighty snore from Limerick drowned him out. Goddesses damn it. I waited but the griffin made no more noises. Well, that was really inconvenient. I may have kicked Limerick to get him to stop snoring but even if I did he didn’t wake up so it was all good.

I moved back to my spot where the mist hit me and sat down. I picked up my cup and was about to drink when I noticed that I was out of coffee. Shit. It was about that time that the earth pony buck started snoring again, like a saw working on lumber. I put my head in my hooves. I just couldn’t catch a break could I?

The storm began to abate as I lit another cigarette, the heaviest black clouds, burdened with the weight of water, moved southward, toward the direction from which we’d come. It had been a long night but there was a very dim light from the east. The sun, I hoped. A long night… and a really long day ahead. I sat back, smoking, thinking of the riddles that plagued me and the new one that had just been added to it; dragon’s teeth. I may have dozed a little but never fully fell asleep. I just sat there… thinking… and waiting for the dawn.

Coming Soon… Chapter 2: Tracks

Author's Note

Whew, darn being busy all the time and what not. Special thanks to my new editor, Janekfan. Hope everybody enjoys the new chapter. The quote is pretty easy to guess. ALD stands for After Last Day.

2. Tracks

2. Tracks

Chapter 2. Tracks

“The road has its own reasons and no two travelers will have the same understanding of those reasons. If indeed they come to an understanding of them at all.”

30th of Leaffall, 193 ALD

Sunrise… you could barely tell that it had taken place today. And this was despite the fact that I’d watched it happen, with my own two eyes, and we all know how reliable of a source I am for… things. Of course, I was so fucking tired by now that I could have just hallucinated the whole dawn... sun up… what have you. Which, upon consideration, wasn’t nearly as cool as it sounded at first. I was tired, really damn tired. Sleep did not come easy to me and I was only ever afforded half a night. Also, taking care of the wounded griffin, watching out for dangers… especially the bastards that had massacred the previous caravan, it wasn’t easy. And I had to carry a portion of Bessy’s load so that we could tie the bird (who still hadn’t awoken, by the way, though he had mumbled every once and awhile) to her back… what was I saying? I yawned. Meh, it probably wasn’t very important, knowing me. Fuck, but I was tired. Hehe… the first two words of that sentence. Add one more ‘t’ and there’d be a party.

Regardless of the fact that we now had extra weight to carry, our tiny group made good time through the final leg of The Crags. It may have been because we were traveling down hill, or because Pendulum wanted us to reach the meet in time for Winter’s Day. Apparently it was a somewhat celebrated holiday of the old world, earth ponies in particular (not that Limerick seemed to care overly much). It began the season, marking the end of autumn, the height of storing foodstuffs for the winter, and was a lead up to Hearth’s Warming Eve. Not sure what ponies did for it, but, by now I’m fairly positive you could guess where my hopes lied. Also, a rest day was a good day, not that I was lazy or anything. Ahem… personally, I figured we made good time because all three of us wanted to get the hay out of there before something bad happened. And so, that had been our yesterday.

Today we rose to clouds near the color of midnight, a darkness so complete and perfect that there was no hint of the newly risen sun behind them and it might as well have remained the depths of blackest night for all the light there was to be had. With the clouds came wind, whipping gusts and gales, so bitterly cold I worried my extremities would freeze… I thought of Pendulum and Limerick. Well, there was another good reason to be a mare. As if the wind wasn’t enough, the air itself was of a temperature that your lungs hurt just from breathing. Ice crystals and frost formed on our muzzles, Bessy was being recalcitrant and did not want to move. It took ten minutes for Pendulum to coax the big cow into putting one hoof in front of the other. The turtle, by the way, was wrapped in about ten layers of blankets and rags. It refused to even poke a single head out… but at least it wasn’t squeaking at the moment, or shitting on me. The griffin, who I took to calling His Superhotness; Beaky McBeakerton the Third… just… uh… I never happened to say it out loud, thankfully, was doing poorly. This cold was not good for his injuries or the possibility of recovery. This cold was also not good for me… great skies above it was unpleasant.

We set out without even bothering to attempt breakfast. All of us just wanted to get to the meet and collapse somewhere warm… with someone warm… and a nice big bottle of… ouch, I stubbed my hoof. My legs were dragging, but, on the bright side, my tongue didn’t hurt anymore from that incident that shall go unnamed. Coffee, what little of it I could get, was losing its ability to properly caffeinate me. I suspected cyber zebra evil witchcraft of causing this but Bessy was the only one who seemed to listen to my occasional rants on the subject. And, that was probably because she was just too damn stupid to ignore me.

Limerick took the lead, his long steady strides struggling to gain purchase against the strength of the wind that almost seemed to consciously want to push us backward. Pendulum followed. He had tied himself to Bessy to make sure the beast maintained the proper trail… and as insurance against her getting spooked by the storm and trying to run off. Which, was much funnier than it sounded at first because I was pretty darn sure Bessy would drag the poor buck off, his rump hitting every rock… if she had a mind to make a break for it. Luckily, she was mindless. The griffin was still securely rigged to the Brahmin, though I worried all the same that something would happen to him anyway. Meanwhile, I had the rear… You bet I did… and still do. And I was doing my best not to lose ground and fall too far back from my companions, but it was hard. I could barely stay awake and each step took a tremendous amount of effort on my part. The only thing that kept me going (besides being stubborn as a mule) was the one in a million hope that for whatever unknowable reason, my foals would be at the Norfoal line junction in Fairy’s Harp. That was the primary thought anyway. There was also the thought of delicious alcohol and sweet oblivion next to a warm fire.

I think that today, whatever day it was, marked the first day of a new week, or, at least, the second week of our journey. Hooray… freezing my teats off, carrying a massive amount of stuff (just like when I went to find the hillside where I’d woken up), so tired I could fall asleep at the drop of an empty bottle, and trying to keep alive a dumb bird doing his darnedest to just roll over and die. Stupid griffin. And now, just to make matters worse, it was snowing. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. If I wasn’t weighed down by armor, clothing and equipment I’d probably just vanish. Not sure if that was a positive or a negative to having a coat as white as… damn it.

In the swirl of falling snow I’d lost sight of Limerick, Pendulum and Bessy. Not good. I quickened my pace despite the protest of wearied limbs, now in a state of burning numbness from the cold. I squinted through the whipping gusts that were blinding me with the snow they carried. Thunder rumbled above and I shook my head in confusion. Thunder and snow? What was going on with the weather, stupid Pegasi were supposed to… oh wait. Never mind, let me stop right there before I make an idiot of myself and start that weird head hurting thing that always seems to accompany those kinds of thoughts.

I struggled against the tides of force the morning weather threw at me and tried to ignore the cold that was seeping into my bones. Not good at all. Fire, now that was good. And whiskey, very good, most alcohols really, even gin, if it came down to it, no matter what Red Rock might say. I started running, keeping to a straight path that I really hoped the others hadn’t deviated from. Soil covered in withered grass and newly fallen snow transitioned to sandy gravel beneath my hooves. I was barely paying attention to the unusual rushing noise ahead of me. You know what else was good? Food. A nice comfy bed. Cigarettes (regardless of what my lungs might tell you). Another pony to keep me-oomph. I collided with something very large, very solid, and very not… elastic… movable… uh… end story, I fell flat on my poor (but perfect) ass. Ouch. And the ground was cold! I jumped up immediately and thanked my rather dismal luck that I’d run right into Bessy. My companions must have stopped. Also, upon reflection, when mare runs into cow ass, mare does not win.

“What exactly are you doing back there?” Pendulum shouted over the storm, facing something ahead that I would have to move around Bessy in order to see.

“Being a dumb idiot.” Limerick replied from where he stood next to our boss, even though he hadn’t been asked. Was it me or had that buck needed better training in manners from his mother? Having so soon come into the realization that I was a mother myself, I felt the sudden urge to whack the misbehaving miscreant over his empty head with a wooden spoon. And, I am not sure of the correlation there. It just fell into place in my head. Don’t judge me! But, please, recommend a good psychologist… or psychiatrist. Which is the one that diagnoses mental disorders and which is the one that treats them? Oh hell, nopony cares, least of all me.

“Dumb and idiot mean the same thing, they’re just different types of words… sins… synoms… nomnoms… nymphs…” I answered scathingly at first, trailing off as my stupidity surfaced.

“Synonyms.” Pendulum offered as I reached the two of them.

“See?” I shot back at Limerick, sticking my tongue out… and immediately regretting it. Cold, cold, cold.

“Fine, being a dumb bitch, then. Happy?” He asked. Errrghh!

“You were planning that weren’t you?” I questioned, trying to keep my footing in the gravel and trying to look ahead but seeing nothing other than blizzard beneath the dark sky. The big buck smiled.

“And you galloped right into it.” Pendulum responded. “However, even though the two of you are highly entertaining, the more pressing matter at hoof lies ahead of us.” The little buck shivered and pulled the brim of his hat further down. To me it didn’t look like much of anything was ahead of us, just snow.

“What exactly am I supposed to” I began and Pendulum used his unicorn magic to separate the snow in front of us, forming walls to either side of a very clear path, “looking at?” I finished softly. Before us lay a river. It didn’t seem too deep but it was easily two hundred feet and more wide. But, that wasn’t the worrying part. The water was a torrent, foaming rapids, ice flows, and I bet bits to bottle caps the water was only just enough above freezing (and moving fast enough) to not be completely frozen over itself. I could just barely see the other side, it looked a lot like this side. Scattered leafless trees, thorny brush, and rock seemed to be the norm.

“The Ponymac.” Pendulum informed me matter-of-factly through a haze of snow and sleet.

“Uh, did we take a wrong turn?” I inquired, kinda sorta hoping we had.

“No.” Pendulum replied, trying to light a cigarette in the wind but failing even more spectacularly than I usually did. “We need to cross.” What now? We need to… oh crap. He had to be kidding? He was kidding right? I looked at my employer. He wasn’t kidding.

“Isn’t there someway to go around, a bridge… or a tunnel, or something, anything?” I asked, hoofs wanting to clasp together in prayer.

“Not for at least twelve miles in either direction, and we need to reach shelter, which is four miles ahead… across this river.” Pendulum answered steadily, though he looked just as unnerved as I probably did about the idea of fording a river. “And you cannot carry us.” He added. No, no I couldn’t.

“We can’t wait long.” Limerick interjected. “The storm’s getting worse.” Great, just what we needed.

“Well… fuck, then.” I sighed.

Limerick was right. The storm showed no sign of abating, only of getting stronger, and after about half an hour of waiting the three of us (because Bessy didn’t get a vote) decided that we would need to cross now or never. The longer we delayed the more it looked like never. The storm rose in intensity, pummeling us with snow and occasional hail mixed with slush and little jagged bits of sharpened ice. Damn weather. Staying still was also a bad idea. The snow deepened around us and the cold found its way into every part of our bodies, or at least every part of mine.

We pulled out every tarp and poncho that came close to being waterproof, or that looked water resistant, and wrapped them around ourselves and the Brahmin. The three of us had also made sure all of our equipment was secure after dividing it up (and giving the manticore’s share to Limerick) and that the goods and stores were packed tighter than a… hmm… insert some kind of joke here. My mind may be dirty but it was also barely functioning from the cold and lack of sleep.

We looked like giant stuffed animals, crude scarecrow caricatures of ponies made by some overenthusiastic farmer with a crow problem and only a rudimentary knowledge of anatomy. Everything that didn’t fit, or didn’t fit right and held the risk of getting us snagged or caught in the current was left in a pile. Pendulum would levitate the stuff, which included our weapons and ammunition. Initially, I had asked why he didn’t levitate us and he’d gotten annoyed. Apparently such a feat was beyond him and he didn’t like the fact that I’d brought it up. He deliberately ignored me afterward and checked the hitch that held Bessy to her little wagon. I even felt a little chagrined afterward… for what I said. I guess.

The three of us… and Bessy… stood at the edge of the raging waters as the storm built its fury around us. Limerick would lead the way, tied by a length of rope to Pendulum, who’d be floating the remainder of our gear. Tied to him would be me, leading (and, wouldn’t you just know it, also tied to) Bessy. This was not going to be fun. Though, by the graces of all that was just and right in this crapsack world, Pendulum let us each take a bracing draft of bourbon from his stores.

Limerick stared ahead, squaring his shoulders, shifting, concentrating intensely on our task. Pendulum was breathing quickly, sweat on his brow (rapidly turning to ice) as he lifted the equipment in his magic, keeping it a dozen feet above us. Bessy farted and dropped a cow pie… that… oh my… smelled like she’d shat out something that had crawled up her ass six weeks ago and died soon after. Ugh! Thank the wind that her wind’s smell didn’t last. Limerick put a single hoof into the water and drew it out immediately.

“Nice and balmy?” Pendulum asked.

“Fucking cold.” The earther buck answered. He snorted and placed his hoof firmly in the water and started walking forward. Okay, here we go. Limerick plunged forward, growling and grunting. Pendulum, leaving some slack in the rope that bound the two, followed after him. He hissed as the waters quickly rose to his chest, buffeting the little buck. I hesitated for a second, being the smart and sane one in the group and decidedly not being interested in hurling myself into frigid, dangerous, fast moving rivers and what have you. But, then, I shook my head, gritted my teeth and started pulling Bessy. I was a big girl. I could take this, deal with it, not be…

“Oh sweet mother of fuck, unholy hydra cocked son of a bitch!” I yelled. I had believed the air and ground to be cold. Let me just state that it was nothing compared to the water around my pasterns that splashed up my fetlocks. I froze for the briefest of moments, the shock was so powerful and unpleasant. “SHIT!” I managed to convince myself to move forward and the river’s water rose, to my cannon then my knee. Each step was worse than the last, harder. I started shivering and came to an abrupt halt just as the water reached my chestnuts. I tried walking but couldn’t get anywhere. I was snagged. Was I snagged? Oh shit, I’d gotten caught, or something had caught me! Wait, nope. Looking back in fury I saw Bessy, clearly indignant at the thought of going into the water, shaking her heads. Damned beast. Pulling on her line didn’t do any good. She just stubbornly stood on the bank, wagon behind her, griffin tied to her back, turtle poking a head out of its blankets where her necks met, squeaking pitifully then hiding its head ugly head once more. The other end of the line went taught as Pendulum and then Limerick halted.

“What is the hold up?” Pendulum shouted back to me, head just above the water. I’d never seen a pony look as cold as he did right then… that I could recall, I had no real memories after all.

“Damn beast won’t move!” I yelled back, pulling with my wings and digging my hooves into the stony bed of the river. Nothing. The Brahmin wouldn’t budge.

“Punch her in the face you moron!” Limerick admonished from about thirty feet out.

“Entice her!” Pendulum shouted again, trying to drown out Limerick’s idea. Hmm… drown… not a good word choice there, I must admit, not with what we were doing, or trying to do at the moment.

“I don’t know what that means!” I retorted. Entice had something to do with spice or rice or mice or I didn’t know. And, hell, I’d probably used the word sometime since waking up, didn’t mean that I remembered it though.

“Get her to follow you, try sweet talking!” Pendulum clarified. Sweet talking, got it, that was so not going to work on the brainless lump of beef standing insolently on dry land... begging to be made into steak right about now, wasn’t she?

“Okay you sad sack of fat and lard, come on. Come on.” I tried. The cow looked at me as though I was some strange alien being… talking to… a cow. “Cigarettes, you want to smoke?” I mimicked puffing with a slightly sodden wing.

“Get her moving!” Limerick roared.

“Wild!” Pendulum added. Shit, oh shit. How do I do this? Thinking, thinking.

“Whiskey Bessy, whiskey and dick.” I called to her. She mooed disconsolately and remained where she was. Damn, those words would have worked on me, fast as lightning. “Carrots!” She perked up a single head. “Apples and oats, tasty treats!” The Brahmin took a step into the river. “Delicious foo-ood!” She took another step. “Hay, Bessy, loads of hay, scrumptious, real good!” The beast started walking toward me, very slowly. “Good girl, good stupid girl.” I said in a singsong voice. The Brahmin drew even with me and nuzzled my chest, clearly… enticed… by the idea of feed. Too bad. I got in between her and the wagon that she pulled. I rounded on the cow and gave her a heavy hoofed smack on the backside. “Git on, yah!” I yelled in my best Appleloosian accent. Bessy bellowed her displeasure but trotted forward in step with me into the swirling gray waters, knocking aside a chunk of ice the size of a foal.

“Moving!” Pendulum shouted, looking even worse than before.

“Moving!” Limerick echoed. The big buck may have been stupid, unpleasant, and generally poor company but he seemed to be taking the river like a champ. I wish I could say the same. My teeth began to chatter such that I thought they might break in my mouth, the water that carried across my body, rising up to between shoulder and withers was so cold it didn’t just burn, it felt like I was on fire… and freezing to death at the same time. More chunks of ice swept past us as we advanced, or smashed against the little wagon, but I was thinking only about the shore… the land that waited for us on the other side.

Half way out the river deepened so that Limerick was up to his throat latch, huffing and puffing but staying above the water. Pendulum had to swim, he was too short to stand anymore and the exertion was taking its toll on him. Our equipment drifted lower and my boss was struggling. The line between him and Limerick was drawn tight, the lead pony pulling the unicorn as much as Pendulum was swimming. I was in better luck than the second buck, though not so good as the first. Limerick had about half a hoof on me in height so I was somewhere between walking and swimming, the edges of my horseshoes always catching bottom but it was even odds as to whether or not the rest of my hooves made contact. With each swim step I was worried that the current would drag me too hard. The Brahmin merely continued along, a few unusually large bubbles rising from her hindquarters (that just popped or were swept away in the current) the only way to tell that she was not in favor of the situation. The magically held gear dipped lower, licking the tops of the rapids. ‘Hold on,’ I thought to Pendulum, ‘hold on.’ The wagon only hit a single rut in our trip but Bessy and I quickly heaved forward and upward enough to get the contraption free. So tired and cold, just keeping pace with her, watching the fart bubbles lost to the foaming waves.

“You can… fart all you want big girl, long as you keep moving.” I told her. My voice was failing, shivers so bad that my words were a stutter. Visibility was now so low that-

“BITCH!” Limerick yelled as we reached about four fifths of the way through the Ponymac’s hellish waters.

“Ass licker!” I yelled back to the sound of the buck’s laughter.

“You answered to bitch!” He almost squealed with glee. What? I? Son of a bitch. I did, didn’t I?

“What do you want!?” I shouted back, not in the mood for games, closer in fact to wanting to give him a solid hoof across the muzzle, or a kick in the cock.

“Pick up the slack! Pen’s not going to be able to make it!” He responded. I looked up from the line that connected Bessy

I had focused on what was ahead, the thought of warmth and salvation, getting out of the water. Now, taking my eyes from their unfocused gaze on the Brahmin I saw that Limerick was right. Pendulum was floundering, his magical field was flickering and the gear would, every few seconds, drop just a couple inches into the water. Damn it.

“Ah fuck!” I smacked Bessy again and charged forward. “Pick up the pace or I’ll pass you, dick face!” I yelled, motivating myself as much as my companion.

“Fat chance fat ass!” He insulted me back and galloped through the ice that had formed on this side of the river. Oh hell no. He did not. He most definitely did not just say that. Bessy and I were catching up with him, both sides of the line dragging a limp Pendulum through the Ponymac. The waters were getting shallower and shallower. We were almost there, crashing through the ice, water splashing, steam rising off our flanks as the two of us threw ourselves toward the bank with all of our strength.

Limerick and I hit land at the same time, our hooves sucking into the cold gravel and sand, pushing forward, falling and rising, not willing to stop. We dragged our final companion forward, into the icy shallows and the two of us collapsed, panting, breathless, aching. From what I could see, Pendulum was barely conscious. Limerick cut his line with the flash of a knife held firmly in his jaw and thundered back to the other buck. Goddesses but that dolt was strong. The earther lifted the unicorn onto his already heavily laden back as though Pendulum were as light as a thin summer blanket and ran forward toward the snow covered grass ahead as I got Bessy up, over the bank and stopped.

No sooner had Pendulum been laid out in the snow than his levitation field collapsed. All of the gear he’d been holding fell onto the gravel, clattering. I checked the wagon as Limerick tended to our boss. It seemed fine though it would take a good heave to get its wheels up and onto the level ground that Bessy and the other two were now enjoying. As soon as I was assured that the wagon was still in working order I turned back to the cow and pulled off the tarp that covered the griffin. The bird was still alive but his breathing was shallow. The tortoise was sitting on top of him and squeaked happily at me, stealing the bird’s body heat no doubt.

“Don’t get too happy and congratulate me just yet.” I told the reptile. “We still have four miles to go before we can stop." I put the tarp back over them, hoping it would continue to provide some protection from the snow which sat almost half a foot deep around us. I started pulling my own coverings off, tossing them on the wagon. This was the most bitter cold that I figured a pony could ever feel. And, as a Pegasus shouldn’t I be used to the cold of high altitudes? Whatever. I grabbed all of our fallen supplies and threw them into the back of the wagon then stumbled toward the other two ponies.

Pendulum’s eyes fluttered and his head lolled but he seemed alive, if not fully awake. Limerick had pulled blankets from his gear after ripping the water resistant attire off the unicorn and tenderly (for him) wrapped them around the other buck.

“We need to get going.” I told the earther, sinking into the snow at his side, still trying to catch my breath.

“I know.” He replied. Limerick looked to me. “Our gear?”

“All safe and accounted for.” I gave him a mock salute and dropped the rest of the way into the snow, muzzle first. “But, the wagon will need help getting up onto higher ground.” I added around a muzzle full of snow. He nodded.

“Come on.” Limerick ordered, looking reluctantly at Pendulum before we headed back to the wagon. I gave Bessy a gentle kick as we passed and she started pulling, lifting the wagon but not getting it all the way up and out of the gravel. Limerick and I put our shoulders against the back of the wagon and on a three count threw all of our weight against it, slowly but surely lifting the thing up and level with Bessy who pulled it for a few paces then stopped and stamped her hooves in the snow.

The two of us walked forward and returned to Pendulum, dropping down into the snow on either side of him. He appeared to be even worse than before. Goddesses I needed a cigarette and a drink (or ten) and a rest and… other things that I’m sure you could guess.

“I need you to carry Pen.” Limerick told me, wheezing, muzzle against my ear to be heard over the blizzard. “I’m going to harness myself to Bessy and make that dumb cow haul ass.”

“Which way?” I asked, rising slowly and offering Limerick a hoof. He took it and rose as well.

“North west, the junction’s north west, near Fairy’s Harp.” He told me and swayed as he walked back toward the Brahmin. “We’ll need to follow the train tracks and gallop the whole way!” Limerick yelled as he attached himself to the Brahmin and the wagon. “Here, take these!” He held out a hoof with a little tin resting on it, shaking in the wind. “You have whiskey?”

“What kind of a mare do you take me for?” I asked, insulted. I lifted Pendulum up onto my back and somehow managed to keep my knees from buckling. “Of course I do!” I shouted back, closing in.

“Good, wash everything in this tin down with it and head that way!” He pointed with his now free hoof as I took the tin off of him. I opened it and noticed that it was full of drugs. Oh yes… I mean no. Drugs are… bad. Yes. I took them all as Limerick did the same with another tin’s worth. I had no idea what I was taking but I’m pretty sure Dash, Stampede and a few other things were in the mix or mélange of substances I knocked back with the very last of the whiskey that I possessed (and had bought from Pendulum a few days before hand… what? A girl’s gotta wet her whistle).

“Now, run cunt!” Limerick roared and leaned forward, biting Bessy to get her to comply. The wagon rolled forward, increasing in pace until he was running. “This is a fucking race!” He yelled back at me.

“Don’t call me cunt!” I screamed back, seeing red, and kicked, sending snow and dead grass behind me as I galloped forward. “I’ll feed you your own balls!” Whatever I had taken it was working like a fucking charm.

“Fifty caps says I make it there before you!” Limerick shouted as I closed the distance on him.

“Oh, you are fucking on!” I drew alongside him and answered, my heart threatening to burst from my chest. He put on an extra burst of speed and I matched it as our hooves hit train tracks and we carved our way through the blinding snow.

The snow was falling so fast and so hard that it was filling in our hoofprints almost as quickly as we made them, making the trail we left behind us utterly lost to the gray and white gloom beneath the blackened sky. The only way that we were certain of our bearings was that we hit the old pre-war train tracks a short distance after the Ponymac and the reassuring if not damn comforting sound of horseshoes on wood and metal kept us in the direction we needed to go. Stay on the tracks, just stay on the tracks. The wind was so fierce and frozen that the breath was ripped from our throats and words died on our tongues. Snot turned to ice in our nostrils and frost adhered to our flanks. But, we had not faltered.

The race was over. Even with the drugs neither Limerick nor I had the strength or stamina to continue at the pace we’d managed for the first three miles, a hell bent gallop through a blizzard’s veil. Now, we leaned against each other for support, continuing onward though salvation seemed no nearer. Neither of us could speak. I could barely breathe. Bessy was making sounds of horrific distress but she stayed alongside. My wings were up to shield Limerick’s and my eyes from the storm but I couldn’t last much longer. They felt frozen, heavy, covered in ice and there was snow all in my feathers, dragging me down. A few ragged breaths and choking coughs let us know that Pendulum was still with us.

‘One mile left’ I told myself. Three quarters of a mile. I was a fair judge of distances and the thought of how little remained before us was giving me the barest hint of strength needed to not collapse into the snow, now a foot deep, and just let it end. Half a mile left and the tracks were curving. Please let it be a good sign. Please let us not have taken a fork somehow and gone the wrong way. I was flagging. My ears were so cold that the howl of the wind was little more than a painful, dead and hollow silence. I had taken the harness a few times for short distances, trading off with Limerick that he could carry the lighter load that was Pendulum but I couldn’t do it anymore. The small unicorn buck was on my back, held there by the length of rope that Limerick had cut earlier. How long had we been running? What time of day was it? Where were we? I couldn’t tell… or didn’t know. All that mattered was that we reach shelter.

Limerick stumbled, going down on one knee and stopped for a moment, wincing, before picking himself back up. I let him lean on me and almost fell right over. I wondered, briefly, if it would be so bad, to just lie down here, and sleep. But it was a moment of weakness and then it was gone the second I thought of my foals. I had children and they needed a mother, and just as much maybe, I needed them. A quarter mile left. We were close, so close now. I tried cursing at the oaf beside me but I couldn’t tell if he heard. My voice was muffled, a painful croak that might not have been too much above a whisper and was definitely quickly killed by the sounds of the storm. I… imagined… that I saw a light up ahead. Great, maybe I was dying, just what I needed. Time to face Celestia’s holy alicorn ghost and repent for all my sins. Though, this light looked more like the warm glow of a fire, seen through the blizzard’s haze. It was strange and an illusion and…

“Fire…” Limerick managed breathlessly. What? Were we both hallucinating now? Was it the drugs or… no it was a real fire. It was real. I started screaming, using the last bit of energy that remained to me that my voice would carry and overpower the storm.

“HELP! HELP US! PLEASE! OUT HERE!” With my luck it would be raiders, or ghouls, or an Enclave hit squad (ouch, head hurts), or maybe even those damned cyber zebra ninja time travelers, getting me at last. Shapes resolved themselves, growing closer, bridging the distance, incoherent yelling.

“Who goes there?” A mare’s voice called out, suspicious. Desire to answer sarcastically overcome by fatigue.

“Pendulum’s caravan, out of Appleoosa!” Limerick yelled back. “Now get us the fuck inside!” He dropped, sinking out of the harness, lying on his side, head unable to rise. I fell too, Pendulum landing in the deep cushioning snow beside me and I had the sudden, strange and irrepressible urge to make a snow butterfly with my limbs, of course they weren’t exactly working, so it would be a poor attempt. I rolled just a bit and looked upward. The snow was falling thickly but the wind was calming down. Little white flakes drifting towards me. I tried to stick out my tongue to catch one but it didn’t work, though snow was landing in my eyelashes, odd sensation. Tired. Shouting from what seemed far away. Needed sleep.

Strong warm limbs grasped me as my vision began to fade and pulled me through the snow. Where were we going? To bed? Sounds of exertion, audible only by the faintest of measures. A dramatic change from the snow I was now used to. Something under me felt hard and cold, packed earth over concrete perhaps. Then… warmth, sweet, glorious, wonderful warmth. I was next to a fire and felt myself in the grip of some kind of magic. The snow and ice was being pulled from me, melted, running in rivulets down my sides.

There was a roof overhead and something burning hot was forced down my throat. And it felt amazing. Coffee… with liquor in it ... and other things, no idea what but I could just start to feel my extremities again. That was when the yelling and muttering and arguing started.

“She’s a fucking turkey!”

“Take ‘er back outside and let the storm ‘ave ‘er!”

“Give that flying rat a taste of hard medicine first.”

“Pegasi!” Someone spit on me… which I didn’t particularly mind in some circumstances but… oh, I needed to get up and figure out what was going on. Were they talking about me? I think they were talking about me.

Slowly, I rose, my legs wobbling and shaking beneath me. There were about a dozen ponies around my companions and me… and most of them did not look happy. A one eyed earther mare, dark gray with a bright (possibly dyed) red mane stepped forward from the lot, glaring death at me.

“Let’s see if the big bitch squeals.” The mare said, her mouth curling up into a lopsided smile that stretched the curious scars running down her cheeks.

“I do.” I admitted. “But, usually only when somepony’s going down on m…” She advanced, bringing her muzzle to a knife sheathed at her shoulder. But the mare stopped dead before I could do or say anything more. A ten millimeter pistol, held in a pearlescent magical field rested in the air between the two of us, pointed right between her eyes.

“Take one more step or lift that goddesses’ damned knife and I will fucking end you, bitch.” The words were little more than those of a ghost, but said with a firmness that would cut steel. I turned and saw Pendulum, lying near me, one eye open. I don’t think I had ever heard him swear before. It might have actually accomplished one of my minor life goals. Happy days. “The Pegasus stays and she does so unharmed.” Limerick rose from his spot, on weary limbs, the biggest buck in the place (and I still wasn’t sure what this place was, the junction, probably, but it was indoors). He sneered at the other ponies staring them down. “She has been hired on, contracted.” Pendulum said then stopped to hack up what sounded like a lung or possibly a spleen. “Harm her, break the caravaneer’s code, and I swear you will never work a trade outside of some scum backwater shit-hole ever again for the rest of your miserable lives.” The pistol closed in on the mare until it was muzzle to muzzle with her. “We… are going… to sleep. If she is dead… or gone… or in anyway not the way she is now… or better… Limerick…”

“I’ll break your legs off and shove them up your own assholes.” The big buck threatened.

“Understand?” Pendulum asked, shuddering in pain. The mare looked between us and nodded resentfully, reluctantly, before backing off to rejoin the others. “Good.” The gun withdrew and came to a rest at Pendulum’s hooves as Limerick, with aching slowness, laid back down.

“Well,” I said, airily, trying to resolve any tension that remained, “Happy fucking Winter’s Day, everypony.” The words escaped me as I fell back to the bedding I had been put on. I think I may have been asleep before I hit ground.

Author's Note

Sorry, had to split this chapter from my original intentions into two separate chapters because it was closing in on 18,000 words and the end was still a couple thousand words off. That means that the next chapter (which was once part of this one) is now most of the way done. Cheers. Happy Fourth of July!

3. Winter's Day

3. Winter's Day

Chapter 3. Winter’s Day

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year

Winter’s Day (by the old Earth Pony Calendar), 193 ALD

A deep dreamless and untroubled sleep awaited me. It felt wonderful. Waking up… not so much. My eyes didn’t want to open (as usual). But, eventually they did. I was inside a massive building, half eaten by time and weather and apocalypse. The ceiling (what was left of it) must have been six stories above me and the walls were hundreds of feet away. Rubble lay strewn in many places across the floor and a few dilapidated train engines and cars sat rusting and abandoned in lines. But where I was there was some glass, wood, other materials, the debris based construction I felt I could expect from much of the Equestrian wastes. It was almost like … being in a building inside of that larger building I would guess. It was a sort of over large shack that provided more cover than the structure that surrounded it.

I knocked a hoof against my neck and felt the cold metal of the slave collar. Damn it. Still there. Really wished it wasn’t, but at least the thing hadn’t exploded… yet. I turned over and lifted my head slowly, quietly. Just about every other pony there was asleep. My wounded griffin was nearby though, still breathing. I sighed in relief. It looked like only two others beside myself were awake, bucks on guard duty, battle saddles with early war assault rifles on them aimed toward the greater expanse of the large building our little building was hidden in. It was time to write in my journal. I yawned and stretched, kicking the blankets on me off of my flanks. I stopped. No, it wasn’t time to write in my journal. It was time to go the little mare’s room. Ho, boy was it time for that. I stood, letting the blankets fall, and walked toward one of the guards and no I was not doing any sort of ‘I really have to pee’ dance… not at that moment anyway.

“Where’s the head?” I asked the nearest guard, who jumped straight into the air, spun around and almost shot me. I hesitated, throwing my wings out in a gesture of appeasement, then realized that bringing attention to me being a Pegasus was not a good idea.

“Shit on a stick, you scared me.” The guard hissed. He was a buck, as I think I may have mentioned, a young one, not too far past a colt. He was the color of what I could only describe as raspberries. Raspberry could be a color… right? He’d shorn his silver mane down so that it was just a little bit more than stubble and looked at me with eyes so dark I thought they were black. You know, he wasn’t half ba-

“The what?” He asked me, confused, but still managing to ooze dislike.

“The head.” I replied, cocking an eyebrow. “Where you go to the bathroom.” The clarification seemed necessary.

“Oh, uh, it’s,” he pointed with a hoof toward what looked like a tiny outhouse in a far corner of the building past many of the various rubbish heaps, “over there.” Huh, he’d forgotten to put any malice into his words this time.

“Thanks.” I answered and gave him a wink that made the poor buck all flustered, looking away from me. If dark purplish red raspberries could blush…

The walk seemed longer than it really was, possibly because as soon as I left the little shelter things grew very cold. Darn no heat icy snow place. Stepping carefully, trying not to get glass in my hooves or dislodge the massed piles of crap, I made it to the little… huh, it really was an outhouse… inside of a building. I almost wondered what had happened to the original bathrooms that must have been in here. This, what would this place be called? A train dock? Train garage? Train station? Train bay? I think that was it, train station.

The smell of the outhouse brought me back to reality. Gross. I mean, I know that I probably didn’t smell too great, though I had taken the world’s coldest bath a short time before, but this thing reeked. I held my breath and tried to think distant happy thoughts as I relieved myself. Happy thoughts, like finding my foals, and alcohol. Yes, happy thoughts.

On the way back, despite being very cold, I meandered a bit. Some of the refuse was debris from the building, pieces of trains, and random detritus that just built up over two centuries. But, buried within were other things. I saw luggage, clothing, smashed crates… bones. This place might have been for passenger lines but it looked like it also handled a lot of freight, shipping goods, what have you. Things that ponies had bought and sold almost two hundred years ago were now little more than crap, almost literally.

Hundreds of copies of a book, mildewed, damaged and torn were in one of the piles. ‘The Art of Fun.’ I picked up a copy that sloughed in half when I touched it. What a weird title, even for me. Let's see, a relatively intact magazine called ‘Horns’ which seemed to be gay unicorn porn. It definitely did not get folded up under one of my wings to be thoroughly perused later. I dug a little deeper and found what appeared to be a story book for foals. Wedged into it was a magazine. More porn? I pulled it out of the book. Nope. 'Equestrian Army Today.' On the cover were blurbs about volunteering for service, actions taken against the zebra menace, how ponies who couldn’t enlist could still find ways of helping, a little bit on small unit tactics… and battle saddles. Interesting, no, wait, neat. There we go. I flipped through it a bit and decided it was worth keeping. I did not fold it over the other magazine tucked under my wing, which I did not have in my possession, let me remind you.

In the midst of turning away, I stopped and looked back at the book that the magazine had been in. It was bound in brown leather with a strange symbol on the front, an eight pointed star entwined with a circle or wheel and on it were six gems. It felt… familiar but I couldn’t place it. Beneath the symbol was a rather simple and vague title; 'Friendship is Magic.' Friendship is Magic. Why did it feel like I had heard that before? I opened the cover and ignored the faded and scribbled note written there to see that this was apparently the first volume in a series. This specific book was 'Mare in the Moon.' Hmm… sounded like porn but carefully flipping the pages yielded only an illustrated story book for colts and fillies, which, on consideration, I decided to take as well. When I found my children I would have something to read to them… other than filthy, filthy and way inappropriate smut... and my journal which I liked to think of as the ravings of a mad mare. Thinking of which, it was really cold and I wanted to get back to the fire and write in said journal. I left the pile behind and sauntered back toward warmth and alleged safety, trying not to show that I was shivering.

I sat on my blankets, feeding little morsels of two hundred year old food to the turtle’s heads (watching them squabble with each other) and occasionally checking Sir Hotness the Still Not Awake, Griffin… Esquire. I wondered if there was any griffin porn still around, or steamy hot Pegasus on griffin action type porn that… yeah, going to stop right there.

There were sixteen ponies here and I was the only pegasi. Situated at one end of the oversized shack were the pack animals, eleven Brahmin in total. The room’s center had been dug out into a fire pit with a stack of wood against the nearest wall to keep the thing going. Other than that, it was sparse. There were a few moldy old seats that probably came from trains or the station and bedding rolls where the others slept. I resisted the urge to find the mare that had threatened me and give her a good solid cunt punt while she slept. Why, because it would probably cause trouble for me and mine. And, after what Pendulum said, I was willing to follow his lead, for the time being. That tiny little buck had stood up for me… while lying down… you know what I mean. It felt… good. Also, made him more attractive in my personal estimation.

“Loyal to the contract.” The griffin muttered in his sleep, and not for the first time. He was a weird bird, but, a live one.

“Of course, of course. Contract, dragon’s teeth, you keep on living featherhead… rock that unconsciousness.” I said, only paying a little bit of attention. The young guard buck looked back at me from his post, probably wondering what I was saying or who I was talking to. A casual smile set him to coughing and trying not to…blush, flush, whatever. I still got it. Also, not sure if a pony his shade could blush effectively. Ah, good times.

I took out my journal, mercifully dry, stuck a pencil in my mouth, then switched it to my right wing so that I could light a cigarette (which was damp) and pondered on what to write. Horns slipped from under my wing and I hurriedly stashed it beneath my blankets, trying not to whistle nonchalantly as I did so. Later hooves and wings, later.

“Hey.” I whispered to the guard. He didn’t turn around. “Hey.” I tried a little louder, using what for some reason I wanted to call a stage whisper. A few grunts and snores and farts replied from the sleeping ponies around me, but the guard did turn.

“What time is it?” I asked, trying to mimic a clock and looking like an idiot. He gave me the oddest look.

“Just after midnight… turkey.” He added the last bit at the end no doubt just to try and not fall for my charms. His loss. So, after midnight, huh? I lit the cigarette and put pencil to paper.

Winter’s Day, 193 ALD

Took a bath today... yesterday. Very unpleasant. Stupid rivers and their riveriness. Is that a word? Stop asking questions of the journal. Stop writing things that don’t need to be written… damn it.
Trying again. No dreams last night, only silence. No new memories but felt strange about a symbol on a book and the words; Friendship is Magic. Forded the Ponymac river, made eight miles in the journey yesterday. Rest day today. Pendulum is a good buck. Limerick… maybe not as bad as I thought, still an asshole though. Holed up in the ruins of the Fairy’s Harp train station at the Norfoal line junction. Thirteen other ponies here, not including my companions. They do not like me. I guess it’s because I’m a Pegasus. I intend to not like them either, because they’re assholes.

I took a puff off of my cigarette and kept writing.

Handsome young buck. I feel… tired and a little horny. Shouldn’t be coming into season, shouldn’t be, with it being winter and all. Have yet to ask these new ponies if they have seen my foals, will do so.

I put my hoof to my gear, where I knew the photograph and the picture to be. Doing so gave me some small comfort and could steel my resolve if I needed it.

We’ve now traveled eighty nine miles, give or take. Pendulum estimated about three hundred total to Manehattan, so we’re about a third of the way there. Blizzard yesterday, a great… grandmother of a storm. Cold, ice everywhere. Snow fell fast. Came close to dying, again. Did not find it overly enjoyable. Nasty mare here, part of the group that doesn’t like me. Needs a good hard kick in her stupid mule face. Not too bad looking though. Weather today…

I looked up and moved my head, peering outward from the refuge. It was still snowing but the blizzard had died, thank the sun and moon.

Snowing still. Dark outside. Dark in here too, but for the fire. Warmth is a good thing. Cold not so much. Very bad actually. Deadly. Heat good. Starting to get hungry. Still looking for foals. No more clues. And, I don’t know anymore about who I am either. Unfortunate. Sad. Enough for now. Time to read some of the stuff I found in the ruins.

Wild Skies, Caravan Guard Pony

Equestrian Army Today was an interesting if odd magazine. It seemed equal parts useful and practical tips mixed in with pro-war, anti-zebra propaganda. I wasn’t sure how many ponies that read it actually bought into it… or didn’t buy into it. It isn’t like it mattered anymore. Equestria and her rulers were dead (and one of these days I would have to figure out what made me certain of that last part). The Zebra Empire and its rulers were dead. How did I know on that one… cause Equestria, fuck yeah! Pretty sure that a large amount of megaspells, totaling somewhere in the high megaton range, collided with the stripes and took them out just as bad if not even worse than what they did to us.

The magazine’s cover listed a date of YotM 7, Volume 11, Issue # 3. I wasn’t sure what YotM meant, but it made me think of yogurt for some reason. And if I were to guess, I’d say it was the eleventh year the magazine was in print and, if it was based on calendar years (also it appeared to be a monthly publication) then that would make it released in the third month, so First Rain. It didn’t mean much of anything to me but I liked mysteries I guess… except my own, and figuring things out about the distant past was pretty neat. And, it made me want to get a battle saddle. Death from above and all that goodness.

I flexed my wings. The river can’t have done them any good but there didn’t seem to be any lasting damage to them either. Though, I still regretted not gliding over the Ponymac. But, of course, that would have left me with a couple dozen trips to try and bring our goods across, or having to leave Bessy, the wagon, the griffin, the turtle and the majority of the equipment with the two earthbound ponies trying to cross. I sighed. Why couldn’t all ponies have wings? It would solve a lot of problems, that.

Now, the children’s book was even more… I don’t want to say interesting, because I feel like I’ve been saying that a lot lately and I don’t want my lex… icon… lexicon to grow stale. So, instead, I would say that there was a little bit of an epiphany in reading it and it wasn’t a bad read either. I kind of liked the pictures. They were… they reminded me… they made me think of fairy tales, times long ago where the world was a better, brighter, happier place. Even with the dangers presented in the story, there was happiness and hope. Two things the wasteland did not have in any abundance.

The story was about a unicorn mare. She seemed kind of sexy in a bookish librarian sort of way and it told of her realization that the mare in the moon, Nightmare Moon, was returning from a thousand year banishment to try and bring about eternal night. Twilight Sparkle, Mare of the Ministry of Arcane Science… who helped destroy the world. I didn’t remember much of anything about her from the Great War but it seemed very odd that an introverted book keeper would lend a hoof to Armageddon. Predictions and Prophecies… the stars would aid in her escape… The Elements of Harmony. I looked back and forth between the page in the book and the cover. Six gems on a circled eight pointed star. So that’s what the cover was a representation of.

Elements of Harmony? Big use they ended up being. World blows up and where were these super awesome power things that had the strength to banish a living goddess. I shook my head and read on. There were other characters as well, a little dragonling who might have been a slave or servant, a radical flyer with a rainbow mane, a farm mare that needed a good roll in the hay, a strange pink earth pony… yellow critter liking Pegasus… fashion obsessed unicorn…

Twilight Sparkle. Pinkie Pie. Applejack. Rainbow Dash. Rarity. Fluttershy. I knew this story. Bearers of the Elements of Harmony, Ministry Mares, paragons of the virtues of friendship in Equestria, harbingers of doom, bringers of the apocalypse. Any further thoughts fell under a cloud of pain and emptiness that let me know additional memories I may have had of them were gone, along with my identity. The first volume of the book only seemed to reach a cliff hanger where Nightmare Moon showed up and made a villain spiel about night lasting forever. I guess I would have to find the second volume somewhere… if there were any surviving copies.

What happens when a librarian and student of magic, a party planning pastry chef, a burgeoning fashionista desirous of high society, a competitive but lazy athlete, an introverted animal caregiver and a farm running family pony become friends?

These were the ponies in the Mysterious Stallion’s riddle. So, what happened when they became friends? Nightmare Moon was defeated. They became element bearers. Magic? That was the title after all, but it didn’t seem like it would be the answer the dumb buck wanted.

Dawn was approaching as I thought on the answer. The eastern sky lit dimly in orange and yellow behind the gray of clouds. It looked like it would keep snowing, which couldn’t be a good thing for our ability to travel. Though, it would make for excellent snowball fights. I scanned the sleeping ponies around me. Yeah, don’t think they’d be likely to join in any kind of fight with a Pegasus that didn’t involve copious amounts of bullets. What to do now then? Hehe… I know.

Surreptitiously (now there’s a word), I pulled out the copy of Horns, using my peripheral vision to make sure nopony was watching me. I flipped through the first couple of pages. It was exactly what I thought it was. Jackpot. The magazine rested on the book so that I could close it and hide it if need be. Oh yes, this was quite a magazine indeed.

A groggy, phlegm riddled yawn sounded behind me and I slammed the book shut as though my life depended on it.

“What’s that?” Limerick’s voice. The buck appeared over my shoulder. “Friendship is Magic. Isn’t that a foal’s book?” He asked pointedly.

“So?” I asked back, shifting my position so that he wasn’t creepily behind me.

“Just glad to see you found something at your reading level.” He replied scathingly. “Pretty pictures, nice and simple, short words, easy to spell.”

“Hey Limerick, how do you spell douchebag?” I retorted.

“W…i…l…-”

“Yeah, yeah. Stop there. You’re a funny bastard.”

“How are you doing, bitch?” He asked, taking a seat next to me, rubbing his forehooves together and holding them up before the fire.

“Better than you, from the look of things.” I answered, picking up a can of peas (now with 'perfect preservation' according to the label) from my pack and passing it to him. Limerick used a knife to open the top of the can and guzzled down some of the vegetables. He wiped his muzzle and offered the can back. I took it and finished it off. “How’s Pendulum?”

“Seems to be doing better.” The buck answered, glancing back to our employer, who was lightly snoring with a gentle whistling sound a few feet back from us. “Bird?” I shrugged and set the can down, figuring I would keep the thing because I could use it for something else later. Limerick pulled the turtle back toward us before it could blithely walk into the fire.

“No real improvement.” I gave a slightly more verbal answer. “But no decline either. I guess we’ll have to wait and see… or find a wasteland doctor on our trip.” We watched the turtle leave its blanket by my side and investigate the empty can, giving it a few cursory attacks with its beaks. “So, what do we do today?” I didn’t really know what this trade was about.

“Agree on price ranges, transfer goods, tell stories, make trades, plan routes, celebrate the holiday, exchange information, get drunk.” The earther replied, absently kicking the turtle away from the chewing tobacco he retrieved and then put in his lip. “Might join up with another caravan or two.” He added through the tobacco. Limerick stood up, spit into the fire and headed toward the exit to the greater building. “Taking a shit, back in a while. Watch my stuff.”

“When do we start the meet?” I asked, stretching my wings and swishing my tail.

“Soon as everypony wakes up, idiot.” He replied as he reached the door, smacking the guard on the back of the head and walking toward the outhouse. The guard glared after him.

“Want me to kiss it and make it better?” I asked with a grin. The raspberry buck looked back at me, conflicted, then shook his head and went back to his duties. “Your loss.” I said with mild disappointment. Cracking my neck with my wings I settled down and went back to thinking about the riddle… and looking at Horns, while I waited for the others to stir and awaken.

The little camp in the building… inside of another building, was, I don’t think hectic came anywhere close to describing it. Ponies starting waking up soon after Limerick returned. I posited the theory that they woke up because the smell of his shit reached them all the way from the outhouse (though it hadn’t). He’d laughed… and farted next to me… then I had to move far away to find any respite from the stench. But, regardless, and back on topic, the place was a whirlwind. Ponies feeding Brahmin, ponies feeding themselves, yelling, name calling, jokes. Questions and answers flew back and forth across the width and length of the shack. Blankets were rolled up, ledgers and books and papers were taken out. Merchants conferred with each other, discussing anything and everything. Guards played games or made bets. Limerick reluctantly paid up for the caps he lost to me on the road, vowing to get them back from my grubby 'bitch whore' hooves. Chaos, that’s what it was, and it was wonderful. Alive, moving, flowing, changing. Even though most of the ponies here tried to avoid me, or give me nasty looks, make mean comments, et cetera... but, fuck ‘em.

Pendulum awoke during the initial hustle and bustle. And, while he still couldn’t walk he did have Limerick and I signed up for guard duty rotations before using his magic to great effect in getting himself ready for the goings on. Speaking of which, the guard duty part, that was how I ended up in full armor, weapons at the ready, covered in falling snow and walking perimeter with a unicorn mare old enough to be my mother… no, wait, grandmother. That makes me feel better, younger. Shut up! I’m still a young mare in her prime.

“Yup, raped by raiders on the road twixt here and Appleloosa, course that was nigh on four decades ago.” Corn Husk said as though it were an everyday occurrence. The fact that she had lived four decades afterward, with how boring and complacent she seemed, was a source of frustrating astonishment to me. “Course, that weren’t the first time neither. Two brothers took a shot at me back on the homestead, got all the neighborhood colts together and started charging for me.” The old biddy paused to breathe and spit into the snow. We rounded the southwest corner of the building for, what was, if my count hadn’t been screwed up, the twenty-ninth time.

“That’s what caused me to run in the first place. Didn’t sit with me, what they did. Told my ma but she took no action. Couldn’t tell my pa, he’d died on the farm during a famine year. Bad times that.” She continued with her horrible story, and I mean horrible on like, so many damn levels. Corn Husk was old, really old. I wasn’t sure why she was a caravan guard and she didn’t seem to remember, not that it mattered. The mare was faded in her coat, what had once been a lime green was now somewhere between pastel vomit and pale snot. Her hair was tied in a gray burn with no indication of what color it had once been and she had more wrinkles than Limerick had fleas. “You ever been through a famine year child?”

“Not that I can recall.” I answered dully, lighting up a cigarette and wishing that I still had some kind of drug or alcohol on me. I gazed around us. Most of the landscape was covered in snow, uninteresting. A few scattered ruins stuck up from the white around us but they didn’t appear to be worth our time to look at. No doubt they’d been properly scavenged decades beforehand.

“Not that you can recall?” Corn Husk repeated my words incredulously. “Listen honey, you’d recall if you’d been through a famine year.”

“No, I don’t think I would.” I replied evenly. The elderly mare gave me a weird look with crimson eyes that were clouding over, starting to look milky. I didn’t need to ask why she was solely armed for close quarters combat. Anything more than twenty feet past her nose was probably a mystery to her. “I lost my memories.” I explained. “Shot in the head.” Our breath misted in front of us as we continued, walking in our hoofprints from the last twenty eight times we’d been this way. “Hope I can forget this too.” I muttered.

“What’s that?” She asked, tilting her head toward me.

“How many famine years did you have, Corn?” I decided that old and annoying as she may be, Corn Husk was harmless and it wouldn’t be nice to insult her… openly.

“Oh no, we didn’t have corn in the famine years.” She replied with the wave of a hoof. “Reduced to eating dirt and sickly leaves.” Did she seriously think I had asked my question the way she interpreted it?

“No, how many famine years did you have, your name, Corn Husk, your name?” I tried again, sighing and rolling my eyes.

“No child, they didn’t name the famine years, bad luck to do that.” Fuck me. Senile much, old one? “Now, as I was saying, left the farm and headed toward Appleloosa, course in those days it weren’t known as such. Trainyard, they called it. Mostly wiped out a few years later, slavers, why I left. Resettled sometime after that by a bunch of plague survivors. Nasty plague it was too. Now where did it start?” Please kill me, please.

We began our thirtieth trip around the station and I wanted to bury my head in the snow… or bury Corn Husk. Maybe she would think we were playing a game until it was too late. No, sorry folks, no idea what happened to her. She must have wandered off or gotten eaten by a wild animal. I shook my head and abandoned my happy delusions of elderly pony killing.

“Took on with a traveling act,” Corn Husk started again. “They was hucksters, sharletons, didn’t rape me though. One mare was real nice, sweet on me.” Ugh… imagining that old bag of bones getting laid made me want to scream and drown myself in 80 proof, or something stronger. “Lost at sea they was, near the wrecker shoals off Baltimare, terrible place that. I survived, washed up on a beach somewhere’s near the outskirts of the city. Took up residence and started making things, tinkering mostly, scavenging for a living and by trade. Not bad times. Got pregnant off a buck, had twins. Good kids. Both dead now. Sad to lose ‘em but they died as we all must do sometime.”

“How did they die?” I asked, being nothing if not a glutton for punishment.

“What’s that?” Corn asked, smacking at her ear. “Peepers don’t work so well anymore.” For the love of… what did eyes have to do with hearing?

“How did they die?” I asked her more loudly.

“How did who die?” She asked right back, clearly absent of any wits she might have still otherwise retained.

“Never mind, you just keep on trotting, old girl.” I told her, throwing my cigarette butt away and watching with mild satisfaction when it hissed upon impacting the snow, sinking into the white depths.

“Bourbon, bourbon, whiskey snow.” I sang softly to myself. “Where we’re going, Corn don’t know.” I adjusted the way my armor sat with a rolling shrug of my shoulders. “She may not fight but she can walk.” I yawned before picking up again. “Sure damn wish she couldn’t talk.”

“Were you saying something, dear?” Corn Husk asked. She swung her pump action shotgun around in her mauve colored magic. “What is it girl, windigos? Bandits? Thieves? Them cockatrices again? Damn them, always getting to the Brahmin, causing havoc on the farm.” I closed my eyes to try and force the lunacy out of my brain only it didn’t work.

“No, nothing Corn, it’s jus-” I started to say before being interrupted.

“Husk, Skies!” The second word was growled as though it sullied the tongue of the speaker. It was the earther mare from the day before, the one that wanted to see if I was a squealer. “Four hours is up, inside for chow.” Oh thank you sweet, sweet mercy. Never again. I dashed into the opening in the building from which the dark gray mare had spoken to us. She and another guard, an azure colored unicorn buck with a long braided green mane who looked ugly as sin but built like a solid wall of muscle exited the building after I entered and started their patrol of the outside. Corn Husk came in behind me.

“Good to be inside youngin, these old bones don’t like the cold, not no more, spent enough time up near the ruins of that old crystal place. Cold much of the year there. Didn’t care for it after a while. Nearly lost a hoof to frostbite.” Corn started blathering again.

“Sorry, Corn, I’ll be back.” I told her in a conciliatory manner that went less than coat deep. “I’ve gotta ask a question of somepony.” The old mare nodded and started trudging toward the outhouse, complaining about her bladder. From what I could see, the traders (and the guards not on duty) were all still holed up in the central building, the whole business thing was still ongoing.

“How did I get stuck with her?” I asked Pendulum upon my return, gesturing toward the elderly mare who was just reaching the distant outhouse. He looked up from his papers and moved a little under his blankets.

“I told Limerick to work out the schedule for the two of you.” He told me, his voice a creaking croak of what it usually was.

“Seriously?” I questioned. My boss smiled.

“And nopony likes standing with her. But all the guards have to share with her one time or another. Lim almost killed her with his sword two summers back.” Pendulum let his pencil fall from his magic as he took a hoof to push a pair of very small spectacles further up the bridge of his nose. Anger bubbled up in me. Stupid Limerick. I headed toward the exit.

“Where are you going?” Pendulum asked after me as he motioned for another trader to bring their ledger over to be compared. “Lunch is almost ready.”

“Outside. I’m going to make a snowball,” and fill it with ice and rocks, “and throw it in Limerick’s face.” I told the unicorn. “Then, while he’s blinded, I’m going to punch him in the dick.”

“Have a nice time.” Pendulum offered as he began to quibble back and forth with the other trader over the cost of canteens.

It turned out that Limerick was too crafty for my attempt, curse his low cunning that still managed to exist despite his general stupidity. I did manage to peg him right in the anus with the snow/ice/rock ball, though, which, upon consideration, felt almost as good as my original plan.

It was lunch time now and the off-duty guards were sitting down to eat with the traders who were taking a break from their numbers and accounting and arguments and deals. Two of the guards had been cooking up grub for everybody, which, to my great delight, did not contain any actual grubs. It was a succotash of corn, peas, beans, broccoli and carrots… all preserved for almost two hundred years. One of these days I had to pay more attention to labels or ask Pendulum how that worked. There was no way that I could see that such food would still be edible, and yet it was, despite not always tasting very good. Besides the succotash we had freshly baked bread (a real delicacy), radhog bacon (totally awesome), radigator steaks, a whole bunch of war era dessert products, including an entire fucking cake, which I planned to conduct extensive clandestine eating operations against, and drinks which consisted of about two dozen beers and sparkle-colas, a bottle of champagne, three bottles of whiskey and two bottles of peppermint schnapps. There may have been water, too, I think, but I wasn’t paying attention.

The food, as it turned out, was really quite good… especially the bacon, it was like a gift from the goddesses. The steaks weren’t bad either, though a little tough. Apparently summer was a much better season for slaughtering and preserving radigator meat. The succotash tasted very well preserved and artificial. I may have had a helping… or two (five). But, it was the alcohol that made the meal. Two of the merchants and three of the guards played what looked like homemade (or heavily home repaired) though well maintained instruments; a violin, drums, a guitar, flute and harmonica. Good times. They played, occasionally stopping to eat and drink while the bottles got passed around. Ponies reconnected more, personally, than they had during the morning with everything going on.

I made sure that I got my fair share of the booze, though Pendulum cautioned me not to get into drinking contests with any of the other guards (spoil sport). Mostly it was, he said, because they wouldn’t want to lose something to a Pegasus. It would make them… unpleasant. And that was why I stayed a little away from the other ponies, watching the fun, still getting food, drinking (despite some reluctance to pass the bottles to me) and laughing along, clopping my hooves to the music.

There was a feeling to this meal, something that I couldn’t quite describe or remember. It felt cozy, warm, even with the occasional glare it still seemed inviting. It was… almost… like having friends, a home. Not quite, I didn’t think, but near. The songs were rowdy and bawdy, just the way I liked them. The alcohol was cold, the food was hot and the fire was roaring. Outside the wind picked up again and the snow fell harder, deeper, a blizzard like the day before as the temperature dropped precipitously. But you know, in here, inside, with what was going on… it didn’t really seem to matter. I checked my griffin patient, delicately feeding him a little water and beer, which he sputtered on but mostly kept down. The turtle came out of its shell and didn’t protest with its horrid squawking when one of the guard ponies took it up and used it as an additional accompanying drum. Everypony laughed and I smiled, the tortoise squeaking happily. All in all, so far, it wasn’t that bad of a day.

The music died down after a pace and with cries rising from all around, one of the merchants, a unicorn, was pushed forward by her peers, admonishing her to tell everypony a story. She tried resisting but with a lot of yelling and a little encouragement, she began a yarn. I sat down with a beer after passing the remainder of a delicious bottle of Peppermint Schnapps off to a thoroughly drunken guard, wrapping myself in one of my blankets and listening with rapt attention.

Her voice was smoky, worn, hard from years of travel on the road but still kind of hot. She wore a white furred vest over a deep brown coat and a charcoal colored mane came down around her shoulders and cascaded over them, bangs jutting out from beneath a knitted cap with a tassel on top and little flap things on the side to help keep her ears warm. She had a cutie mark of bottle caps and a knife. The other ponies, apparently knowing her by name, I hoped, were calling her ‘Swept Up.’

“The tale… of the Forgotten Lace.” She said, amplifying her voice just a little with her magic so that it would carry and be more easily heard over the occasional ruckus. Voices roared in approval, stomping, stamping and clopping hooves together. Cups and mugs were jinked together or banged against the floor riotously with whatever silverware ponies had.

“Evening Bloom was a lusty lass,”

Swept Up began, clearing her throat,

“still a young filly, green as spring grass,
when she had her first buck, just on a lark,
not but a week before getting her Cutie Mark,
and wasn’t it her luck…
a second fuck she had as the day grew dark.”

Cheers rose up from some of the bucks.

“It even was said that she got her Cutie Mark while performing the deed,
moaning in pleasure, at the joy of some hot young buck’s seed.”

Some of the ponies whistled or laughed at the rhyme. I smiled appreciatively. I really liked this story so far.

“Bent over a bench, what a lusty young wench,
doing some wailing while getting a railing!”

Swept Up started thrusting her pelvis, pretending to be a buck that had a filly from behind, hoof in her mane, biting her lip, making a sound effect or two.

“When what should appear, on Evening’s perfect sweet rear,
but a mark most apropos, a field being plowed and tilled by hoe!”

The bottle came back around (champagne this time, nice and bubbly) and I took two swigs, tossing it to Pendulum, who’d been moved closer to the fire and festivities. He caught it in his magic and took a proper sip before sending it on to the next pony.

“Well, Evening by her best and only grace,
took it as the most fine, illustrious race,
to see if she could bed, bang and fluster,
every village stallion, to see who cut muster.”

Swept Up made a gesture with her hoof sticking her tongue to the side of her mouth to uproarious applause.

“One hundred and three, that insatiable filly, did do by the end of the week,
she lost out on sleep, for being fucked deep, and soon her pelvis did creak.”

The mare gyrated and mimicked having a pain in her flank. I lit up a cigarette and started tapping my horseshoes to the beat that the other ponies were using to help Swept Up keep time for her lines. I was really enjoying this story, by the way. Bet you didn’t see that coming… not.

“To the doctor she hobbled, but on his dick her head bobbled, in order to be seen and examined,”

she gave a blowjob to an imaginary stallion,

“but out of the blue, the ol’ doc wanted something new, and to the table she was pinned.”

The mare stopped for breath then rushed back in.

“Lift up your tail, we’ll cure your ail,
we’ll bump and grind, in your behind,
and then you’ll feel hale!”

The unicorn swept her flank back and forth to thunderous cheers.

“Better she felt, then when she had knelt, but by now the story was far too well known.
All the mares in the town, had great cause to frown about the bucks Evening had blown.
So they gathered in sight, one starlight night, to show the gal what was right,
but Evening, she had already flown.”

The trader wrapped the champagne in her magic and polished off the bottle, letting it fly behind her and smash on the far wall.

“So off to the isles, to use her wiles, but Evening was run out once more.”

Swept Up rolled onto her back and briefly spread her hind legs to cat calls.

“Word had spread, of Bloom’s open bed, and everypony knew her a whore!”

She jumped back up with incredible agility.

“But one place remained, in stasis sustained, that wasn’t in any way aware of our mare.
Where could it be? It starts with a ‘c’ all prim and stuffy, Canterlot would lay our lady bare.”

I continued to smoke, and, may have, occasionally, added to the cheering that the other ponies gave, offering a few suggestions… ahem. What can I say? It was a funny story. Now I also felt much less concerned about being seen with that copy of Horns.

“Pageants and fairs, princes and heirs, Evening Bloom wanted them all.
So she whored for a bit, then took a sit and made her way to a hall.
She ordered nice things, like golden cock rings,
big anal beads, and studded leather leads,
all kinds of toy pleasures, and vibrating treasures.”

The story teller jumped in the air and pretended to be overcome with glee.

“And at last, when night was near past, she found what she truly wanted the most,
frills and lace, for the thrill of the chase, now she just needed a party with a host.
The very next day, while on her way, Bloom found a buck that was quite dashing.
His blood was blue, he was a prince too, and his party she would soon be crashing.”

Wow, I needed to come up with something ribald like this, but my mind was not meant for such things, I felt. Wait, what was I saying? It was… I just… had no skill for rhymes. There we go. Swept Up danced around, a perfect princess with an invisible prince.

“Soon they went away, for a roll in the hay, one that would last for a day.
And they bucked and they fucked and they humped and they bumped
and they diddled and they fiddled, oh how the two engaged in play.
Then he pulled out his junk, and shot all his gunk, right into her hair,”

Swept Up made a jerking off and splooging gesture,

‘my mane, my mane, I must complain,’ and that’s when Bloom decided to try a mare!”

The cheers were so loud I thought the building might collapse… or we’d attract every enemy within a hundred miles.

“Now fair Evening Bloom, lost in sticky spunk gloom, knew she wanted a different kind of lay.
To a spa she did go, and wouldn’t you know, she found a mare who was throwing a soiree!
Sunny’s my name, and if you’re game, we’ll go together tonight.”

The unicorn pretended to get all fluttery, fanning herself and fawning over an imaginary mare.

“And this unicorn mare looked soft and white,
so Bloom said ‘alright, it would be my delight.’
And that’s how they ended up there,
our lusty little Bloom and the tall unicorn fair.”

“All bedecked to the nines and dressed like divines, they partied and made quite the pair.
Then away they did fly, beneath Luna’s sky, for this Sunny was quite the randy mare!”

Swept Up flapped imaginary wings, and a few of the other ponies looked back at me, but I couldn’t tell if they disliked me or just wanted me to join the unicorn up on the stage. I was totally down for… or up for… what would be right way to put it? Anyway I would definitely go for the latter.

“Bloom had too much to drink, a whole kitchen sink, but in her lace she looked damn fine.
So after a wink, they went past the brink, and Sunny in rapture said ‘you are mine!’
All the things that they did in Sunny’s abode,
with toys galore and each other they rode,
bare backed and besaddled,
‘til their minds were addled,
what glorious ecstasy!
Bloom had never had a fuck like this one,
nor was it just a quick one and then done,
they fucked recklessly, breathlessly until it was past time for the morning sun!”

“Knock! Knock! Look at the clock!
Majesty why are you not awake!
With horror in her eyes,
Bloom ran at the surprise,
fore Sunny could open her eyes.”

The mare took on a look of mock horror, mouth agape, eyes open wide, forehooves against her cheeks.

“And Bloom disappeared, nopony knows where she sailed,
for she had suddenly seen Sunny’s glamour as it failed,
and t’was only then she realized who she had railed!”

“Evening Bloom had left, leaving her lover bereft,
gone she was without even a trace.
Her lover blushed furious red, when sister and guards entered out of concern,
for they saw on Sweet Celestia’s bed, before she ordered them ‘round to turn,
not just the toys and the mess, but upon their princess…”

a look of surprise and embarrassment on Swept Up,

“Evening Bloom’s quickly forgotten lace!”

The entire building seemed to shake (including the larger building around us but I may have just been drunk), such was the applause, no small amount of it mine.

“Alright, alright!” One of the guards shouted over the commotion. “New guard postings, gotta let those who haven’t as of yet, have the chance to eat and make merry.” He was a middle sized buck, scarred, missing his right eye and a good chunk of his nose. But, it was hard to tell. He had the blackest coat of any pony I’d ever seen and no mane to speak of. The buck started rattling off names, but I wasn’t paying a lot of attention. “Skies and Salt!” My name came up, not sure who Salt was. I thought it was just a condiment, or a block to be licked. “Roof!” Great, we had to take overwatch… waiting for the roof to collapse under the weight of the snow, just what I always wanted.

“Can I pull guard with Swept Up?” I asked plaintively... suggestively. Everypony stopped.

“Morning Blossom, that you?” Corn Husk asked from a corner, looking up in confusion, turning her head this way and that as though she’d just been half asleep.

“Evening Bloom, not Morning Blossom.” Swept Up answered the old coot, giving me an appraising look.

“What!? T’aint morning, its afternoon young missy and I don’t know what you mean by even booms, that talk just aint ladylike.” Corn replied, speaking in almost exactly the wrong direction to the other mare.

“Hey Corn, you’re old enough, you ever fuck Celestia?” Limerick called out.

“Did I what!?” She answered to general laughter.

“That’s enough!” The sable guard buck yelled. “No fillyfooling, you’ve got guard duty.” He said to me, pointing a hoof at my chest and then toward the door. “Now get to it!” Damn it. I slung my rifle over my back, grabbed my gear and headed toward the door. Nothing ever went my way.

Sea Salt was a broad earth pony buck though he wasn’t very tall. His coat was the palest blue and his mane an off-white that was just out of place when compared to the snow. He had a lighthouse Cutie Mark on his flank and didn’t say but the two words that comprised his name as we took the rickety and somewhat dangerous looking scaffolding up to the train station’s roof. Seriously, there was very little in the way of rails or any type of safety consideration. I mean, I would no doubt have been fine, that’s the benefit… well, one of the benefits, of having wings. Despite my hopefully immunity to the dangers of the situation I was still considering writing a sternly worded letter… and sending it back in time so that it would actually be useful to ponies who could do something about it. Hmmm, guess there was no point in complaining about safety two hundred years and an apocalypse after the fact. But still, it was fun to think about, indignation, righteous outrage, won’t somepony think of the children… children.

“Salt,” I asked as we climbed the highest steps leading up to roof, “you ever seen these foals?” He stopped, bracing his legs against three different steps to hold steady against the rising wind and looked at the picture I’d taken out. He squinted at it for a few seconds, shook his head and, without saying a word, continued walking. Cheery, chatty fellow wasn’t he? Despite his faults he had one hell of a beautiful rifle, made my hunting model look like a piece of crap. The thing appeared to be a battle variant, internal magazine, semiautomatic, chambered in… 308 I would guess, probably gas operated. The thing was sexy as fuck. Nine notches on the stock. I contemplated asking my companion about them but figured it might be rude to do so.

The two of us took to the roof and cautiously, through snow that had been swept into drifts, made our way toward the lightly fortified observation post. And, by lightly fortified, I mean there were old pieces of wood, barbed wire, sheet metal and… well… no, that was about it. Yup. I didn’t know why but the little square of cover against the wind and snow reminded me, reminded me of… I strained to think.

Heat. Waves of heat off of ruins in long summer grasses, a sky with less clouds, thunder in the distance. High above, a wind that made those grasses shake and slither, watching and waiting. The sound of insects and birds amongst the yellow and green, distant trees with dark thorny bark and canopies of pale grayish green leaves. Time, soon it would be time, the key to a just world…

Pain, all through my skull. I stopped, grimacing, eyes clenched shut, smacking my head with a hoof. It was cold, snowing, winter. There were no long swaying grasses, no insects or birds, no thorns on the barren dead trees that comprised the forest surrounding the old train station. The pain diminished until it was just a dull ache and I followed Sea Salt into the tiny shack that would be our observation post for the next four hours.

One of us would stand, scanning along the sides, looking in the cardinal directions for any approaching enemies, any signs of something out of the ordinary in the great white that was the building blizzard. Light was fading, fast and there wasn’t shit to be seen, even with binoculars, from here. But, even so, we took it in turns. One looking, one huddled up under all the blankets we possessed. The time as a lookout felt too long, the time under the blankets too short.

Sea Salt never spoke, just perfunctorily performed the assignment and curled up under layers. My attempts at conversation were short lived. Shivering and cracked lips didn’t well contribute to chatter. Thoughts of the funny rhyming story and of Swept Up, or Candi, or that raspberry buck, or a thankful and recovered griffin, just couldn’t keep me warm, sadly. I wanted to light a fire to generate some heat but knew better than to do so. We may not have been able to see anything out, but with a fire, others could sure as hay see in.

For a few brief minutes the sun was visible as it lowered past the clouds, and, it was only due to that fortunate circumstance (which yet foretold even lower temperatures) that Sea Salt and I could tell that the snow had gone from white to gray. I thought it might have been ash, but it didn’t exactly look, feel, or taste like it. What? Also, what was it? It just seemed like… gray snow with a… I turned my head back and forth, greenish tint… rainbow patina… to it.

“Radiation.” Sea Salt said in a soft voice, just audible over the storm. Radiation? As in, radiation radiation?

“How?” I asked. He looked up past the edges of the roof above us.

“Radwinds, something in the clouds, fallout from fires of the world long ago?” The buck shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, we need to get down and let the others know.” He hefted his weapon and packed up his gear as I shouldered my rifle. We made our way quickly but carefully across the darkening roof, getting to the edge and looking down. It would be a dangerous descent, and slow… unless. I unclipped my armor at the shoulder blades, letting the loose pieces hang down and opening up my wings. Okay, not the best of ideas, but worth a shot, and I was probably strong enough. Please let me be strong enough.

“Hop on!” I yelled to my companion through the heat stealing wind. He just looked at me, thinking I was crazy from the reaction on his face. “Now, damn it! The stairs look too treacherous and we need to get down safely and fast!” Yeah, safely, we’d see about that. I flexed my wings but Sea Salt was still giving me the most apprehensive of looks. “Listen, you’ve got three choices; stay up here in the radiation and the cold, risk the steps which are dangerous and covered in ice, or let me help you!” Salt looked over the edge, putting a hoof to his brow and no doubt seeing that I was right about the ice. The buck repositioned his gear and hesitantly began to climb (or was it clamber) onto my back. I couldn’t truly fly, yet, as far I knew, but I could glide with the best of them… or so I would claim.

“ALRIGHT! HOLD ON!” Here goes nothing. I backed up from the edge, ever so thankful that Salt was light for a buck and didn’t wear heavy gear. I charged forward and leapt, less gracefully than I would have liked, into the air. The snow and wind hit me like a blast from some type of ridiculous sonic weaponry and I was blinded, but I remembered the layout from my hours of walking with Corn Husk and from the climb up. Banking left I opened my eyes enough to see that we were following the building, though not too close. I didn’t want to get buffeted into the sides. We were losing altitude fast, very fast and the ground seemed to be rushing up to meet us much quicker than I would have liked. The wind was making it hard for me to steer and maintain balance… that and the buck on my back. I tried to angle for what looked like a snow bank and wished really super hard that it was just a large pile of snow, not a thin layer covering some debris. “BRACE!” I shouted and turned into the snow pile. I was a Pegasus, I could take some falling and or impact damage… right?

There was a poof of blinding white as we went right into the soft cushiony snow and then a hard smack as we collided with the ground underneath. We rose like two ghosts, though, technically I was white already, but you know what I mean. We were covered in snow and followed the side of the building until we reached a collapsed section of wall and entered inside. The two of us galloped to the interior building, losing our coating of snow as we ran.

“Why aren’t you at your post!?” Night Light, the black buck with no mane shouted the question, looking scandalized. Salt and I stopped, freezing, trying to catch our breath as Pendulum, seeing the look on my face, rose, very weakly from where he was seated, legs shaking. “I asked you a question!” Night Light roared at us, clearly angry. The others sitting around the fire were trying to figure out what was going on.

“Wild, what is it, what is wrong?” Pendulum asked, taking a tentative step towards us and keeping his balance through great effort.

“Radiation,” I wheezed in reply, “radiation.”

Ponies scrambled madly to find protective gear and measuring apparatuses. Night Light had two guards get those who were still outside on duty. Swept Up was doing a head count. It seemed like there were more traders here now as well, almost double what there had been earlier in the day… or had it been yesterday? Regardless, it definitely looked like there were almost three times as many Brahmin as there had been previously. Big wigs these new folk must have been, at least, big in the trading profession for the area.

“Hold on.” Pendulum said in little more than a whisper but it carried across the area we were in, his voice competing only with the crackling of the fire and the movement of other ponies. The diminutive unicorn buck had pulled his radiation thingamajiggy from off of Bessy. “Accumulation testing.” He said, almost to himself, despite the fact that everypony around him heard. “Give me a count, timed to one minute.” Limerick of all ponies pulled out an old pocket watch as did Corn, though hers might not have been working. “Now.” Pendulum said, forcefully.

The big earther was staring intently at his watch, our employer doing the same with his gadget. Swept Up finished her head count as the remaining guards returned, curious and confused, only to be shushed by the old black buck. Pendulum was staring so hard at his device that I thought he might start sweating. Limerick was mouthing the seconds as they passed, silent but for the workings of his jaw.

“Time.” The earther said, swiftly.

“.2 rads.” Pendulum said. He scratched his horn. “Times sixty is… twelve an hour.”

“That… doesn’t sound so bad.” I said, breaking the breathless hush of the shack. I got several
hateful glares for my comment. What? I wanted to inquire further but held my tongue and felt where I’d bit it a few days ago.

“Your body can only process out six rads a day.” Pendulum said quietly. “Four Hundred Fifty is a lethal dose in ninety percent of cases unless treated immediately and extensively.” It was? “At the current rate we would hit a fatal dose in less than two days. Underground?” He asked, but toward the other traders, not to me, little miss doesn’t know anything about radiation stuff.

“Underground.” Several of the other traders… and Night Light, agreed in deadly serious murmurs. Flashlights, headlamps, lanterns and magical illumination sprung to life amongst the group as orders flew back and forth. The fire was smothered and a splash of green paint was thrown across the outside of the shack, in case any more traders showed up. It would indicate radiation to them, but nopony else, especially raiders, would understand. I was grabbing gear, checking Bessy, throwing the turtle into a bag, slinging the griffin onto the Brahmin’s back with Limerick’s begrudging but quiet help.

Six guards lifted the entire fire pit up and off the ground (with unicorn magic and good old fashioned earth pony gumption), two traders directing their efforts. It was a massive slab of concrete that had fit almost seamlessly into the floor. In fact, had I not just seen it lifted up and moved, I wouldn’t have ever guessed it could be pulled out. Hehe… pul… never mind. Four guards descended the lightless ramp that had lain under the fire pit, two shotguns, a submachine gun and a… was that a flamethrower? Hot damn. Killing, cooking, warmth and elimination of the advantages granted by cover all in one nifty package. Now only twenty bits with a mail in rebate of- what is wrong with me?

“Clear!” One of the guards shouted up from down below. “Start ‘em movin’ now!”

The first group of ponies, herding a line of Brahmin, followed the ramp down into the darkness. Limerick and I brought Bessy along with our wagon into the second group forming up and waiting for the signal.

“Next!” A voice echoed up. Pendulum limped over to us, wreathing his horn in magical light and took the lead, slowly and unsteadily going down the ramp. His hoofsteps sounded hollow and overly loud. Limerick and I followed him with several more ponies and Brahmin behind us. We descended the ramp, cautiously, carefully, keeping pace with Pendulum’s light for what felt like a minute or two. The light from above faded, growing smaller as we gained more distance. I kept my eyes on the unicorn’s light, growing fainter and farther away, until it suddenly winked out and we were thrown into darkness.

We were in the dark, literally, not just in the way that I usually was. The few scattered lights we had were no proof against the shrouding darkness. The third group bumped into us and a dim light, that seemed much brighter than it should have, flickered to life. I raised a hoof to shield my eyes and blinked rapidly, waiting for them to adjust as additional lights came on. My surroundings slowly came into focus. It was a tunnel of some kind, concrete and steel, wires and pipes running along the walls and ceiling, the occasional grate on the floor. A short distance ahead of us was a bend in the hall and Pendulum popped his head out from behind it.

“Lim, Wild, lead the Brahmin to the corral, make sure the other guards follow.” Our boss told us before his head disappeared again. Corral? Underground? Here?

“Now that I can see shit again, follow me.” Limerick told the other ponies around and behind us. He led the way down the hall, taking the left bend and then an immediate right down a half lit corridor.

“Are we in a Stable?” I asked, studying the design of the place.

“Dumber than you look.” Limerick snorted. “You see a big cog door or a whole bunch of crazy ass experimenting going on?”

“Um, no?” I answered back, following him down wooden ramps that had seen better days. It felt like they were covering stairs, which made sense. Ponies might walk down them but I got the feeling that Brahmin certainly wouldn’t.

“Like I said, dumber than you look.” He glanced back at me and grinned. I hoped he’d turn around and smack his head on an archway but was, as usual, disappointed.

“Well, I guess that’s about the same as being dumber looking than you are and better than looking cleverer than you are, since, ponies would expect more from you than you’d be able to deliver, and then they’d be constantly disappointed by you.” I replied idly.

“What?” Limerick asked back to me, turning his head again.

“Exactly.” I responded with a faint smile. He scowled at me and used a hoof to smack a button that set the next set of lights on ahead of us. “So, not a Stable, where are we then?”

“Old fallout shelter, made early in the war, not as good as a Stable but for our purposes it’ll do.” Limerick answered, his voice bouncing off the walls. “Don’t know much more about it. You’d have to ask Pen. He likes to read and stuff, know history, all that shit.”

“Huh.” I answered more as an affirmative grunt than anything else. The glow of the lights above us and on the walls was sterile, uninviting, not cozy and comforting like that of the fire we’d had above. I really missed it… the cold and radiation not so much. Though it wasn’t warm down here by any means, I could see my breath even if I didn’t immediately feel like dying, as I did every time I’d spent more than five minutes outside, like I had earlier in the day. The walls were bare, gray, cold to the touch, cracked every so often but surprisingly intact for their age of… wow, two hundred years give or take. It was an impressive amount of time. Wonder how much time those zebra ninja assassins had lived through with their razzle dazzle time traveling ways.

“So, what happened down here?” I asked, intrigued, pulling on Bessy’s lead. “Did ponies make it to safety? Did they die here? What’s the story of the place?” There were no remains, no visible stores of supplies, nor any evidence of previous long term habitation. Limerick growled.

“What makes a stupid mare think I know when I’ve already told her that I don’t?” He retorted through clenched teeth as he pulled open what had once been an automatic door but was now just two heavy hunks of metal in need of greasing. He wedged himself in between the two door halves and pushed against them, straining to the metal’s squealing.

“Sorry, most of the time I actively try not to pay attention to anything you say because it’s often not worth my time to listen to.” I offered, taking one side of the door and heaving with all my might to get it to open all the way. “Usually when you speak I just hear ‘waa waa waam’ and that’s about it.” I returned to my charge and knocked her on the head so she’d stop licking a frosted pipe that ran along the wall and whose purpose was unknown to me.

“I don’t like you.” Limerick said as he continued forward and hit the next set of switches.

“Mutual.” I muttered as I… cajoled (that darn word) the Brahmin to move again.

Thirty more seconds of walking and we reached our destination. It had once been some sort of large room for storing stuff or having meetings or something of the sort. The ceiling reached high overhead, more than twenty feet, and there was a wrap around balcony (with actual railings) about half that distance above us. The walls here were, if it was possible, even more drab and bland. Gray, gray, gray, everywhere you looked. But, it was a large room, easily forty feet across and there was space for plenty of Brahmin.

“How come the first group down didn’t come here right away?” I asked, taking Bessy to a corner so that Limerick could unhitch her from the hastily reattached wagon.

“Lim knows the way better than most and nopony in the first group was strong enough to open the door you had to come through.” I started at the words. Pendulum was up on the balcony above us, leaning over the railing and looking down. He looked better but still… peaky? Was that the right word? He was pale and a bit haggard, tired, worn, frayed, I’m galloping out of words right now. “They are following behind, in case you were actually wondering, Wild.” He told me, lighting up a cigarette as Limerick and I unloaded the cow. “Head up as soon as you are done. The radiation cannot penetrate this far so the festivities will continue.” The little unicorn buck took a drag, keeping the cigarette in his magic and turned away, disappearing.

“Why do I kind of feel like an ass right now?” I asked to myself as I set the sleeping tortoise creature to one side. Also, Pendulum said… cough… I’m sure you got it.

“Because you ar-” Limerick began as he set the griffin down on the cold floor.

“Shut up, you.” I interrupted. He rolled his eyes but smirked anyway. I really had asked for that one, hadn’t I? We gave Bessy a quick rub down with rags then draped a thick but scratchy (to me at least) blanket over her. You know, I suspected it wasn’t even a blanket at all but a piece of carpet or rug from some decrepit building, a memento from the time before the apocalypse. Neither of my two companions were willing to confirm that belief, though. Limerick set down a large bowl of water and one of some kind of dried vegetable feed that smelled strongly of hay but was completely devoid of flavor (what, I was curious last week) in front of the Brahmin. The two bucks refused to trust her with bags over her head if nopony was watching. There was a fear of suffocation from bovine stupidity. I never argued on the matter.

“Course, you realize, we’ve taken your feather brained friend down here instead of leaving him on the top floor.” Limerick said with a one sided smile as he slid blocks under the wagon’s wheels. I… we… what? Damn it. The other guards, bringing their own Brahmin (and wagons) in and taking care of them, ignored us for the most part, except for occasionally giving me shooty looks that I really didn’t trust or want to test.

“Can we have somepony magic him up?” I asked as I slung my bagged tortoise over one armored shoulder with a satisfying clunking sound. Limerick shook his head.

“Takes too much energy, that and there are very few here that would help you over hurting you.” The buck answered truthfully. Some of the other guards had begun to file out with whatever they needed.

“We can sling a rope over the rail and hoist him up.” I said, pleased with myself over recognizing a solution.

“If you want the balcony to collapse on us.” Limerick replied. Was it me or was he really enjoying this? “Probably won’t support his weight, especially not just the rails, which would be the only part we could sling a rope over.”

“Pendulum was leaning on a rail.” I responded, making sure that Bessy was tethered to a heavy hook that was set in the wall (a more recent addition no doubt as I couldn’t see any reason for it to have been there as part of the original design).

“And he doesn’t weigh more than a half grown colt fed on specks of dust.” Limerick retorted. “That griffin’s near twice his weight.” I scratched my chin.

“We… can… carry him?” I suggested, throwing up my wings in exasperation.

“We can.” Limerick affirmed, putting tobacco in his lip. Whew. I wiped imaginary sweat from my brow and smiled. “Ten caps.” The earther spit on the floor and held out a hoof, waiting. I… err… we… damn it.

We sat together in a moderately sized room and the place was packed. There were a total of thirty one ponies here, guards and traders both. It seemed that the harsh weather had delayed a goodly number of the group as they’d arrived during Winter’s Day instead of beforehoof, as planned.

It was a square room, maybe slightly rectangular, certainly not one of those fancier rhomboids... and not at all relevant… with a door out to the main hallway, another to a short hall that held storage, bathrooms and beds and a final door that led out onto the balcony overseeing where the Brahmin were held. Thanks to a generous amount of trader provided spark batteries and a few crystal power cell generators on their last legs there were lights (flickering and headache inducing), running water (only slightly irradiated) and beds, real beds (two hundred years old and musty as hell but they were still beds).

Pendulum refused to go into the details of the place’s history, saying only that he knew a little and it wasn’t a happy tale, definitely one for another time. The thirty one of us sat in the room around lanterns and camp stoves with thick and heavy rugs on the floor and food cooking for a late dinner. Why we hadn’t come down here in the first place was a matter of some contention between the leaders of the group (of which I thankfully was not one). Many, Pendulum included, viewed this place as more of a last resort. It was still cold, took time and effort to set up everything, cost a massive amount of caps to run the power through the spark batteries, you couldn’t see what was going on outside, there was less room, and you really couldn’t have a fire (the ventilation systems couldn’t handle it, apparently).

I also got the distinct feeling that some of the ponies were incredibly uncomfortable being underground in closed in spaces, drab and dreary and gray and close. I was… strangely okay with it. You’d think that with me being a Pegasus I’d be claustrophobic, hyperventilating, climbing up the walls trying to get out, but I wasn’t. The place wasn’t great, that was for sure, but there was something oddly familiar about it, almost reassuring. I couldn’t tell what it was though it felt like I’d been somewhere similar to this shelter before. That was one of the big drawbacks of not being able to remember your life. A sight, a scent, a sound… they could remind you of memories, stirring the depths of your mind but you could never fully find and grasp them, regain what had undoubtedly been lost. It was… infuriating, being so close to something, anything of my past life but never quite being able to understand. I was like a pony sitting outside a bar, listening to the music inside but not quite able to comprehend the lyrics of the song, only able to catch a few of the notes. I knew it was there, somewhere, but the words wouldn’t come, leaving me in the dark.

“You seem deep in thought, child.” A brassy, honeyed voice like the purr of a tiger said from near my side. First, a tiger, really? Second… well, hello! Who was this? I turned to my left to see a beige mare, even smaller than Pendulum (and that was really saying something). I hadn’t noticed her before, meaning this sexy little number was a late comer to the meet, probably arriving while Sea Salt and I were up on the roof.

She was covered from shoulder to rump and down her legs in layered armor and cloth, a cautious mare, this one, or maybe she just got cold really easily (seeing as she was so small). Startling big violet eyes looked at me from under a vivid black mane, interspersed with green dyed sections and cropped into a short Mohawk type style, turned to the side so that it cast half her face in shadow. A few charms and pieces of jewelry were tied into her mane and her ears were heavily pierced with earrings. I opened my mouth to answer but couldn’t think of one.

“What are you thinking of?” She asked, taking a sip of what I guessed was tea from a steaming mug with a couple chips in it.

“So many answers to that question.” Was all I was able to get out, accompanied by a lopsided smile.

“I can guess.” The mare answered back with a smile of her own that made me feel like she knew something I didn’t… which happened to me a lot more than I was comfortable with.

“Why are you wastin’ your time with that turkey bitch?” A familiar voice asked from one of the dimmer corners of the room. I turned my head in unison with the little mare and saw the dark gray that wanted to knife me… yesterday, now, was it?

“Because it is a better use of my time than spending any of it with you, Smoke.” The newcomer replied evenly. Smoke, huh? That was the red maned (I was totally going with it being a dye job by the way) jerk’s name. I stuck my tongue out at her before the new mare and I turned away from the bitch. She had the most hilariously angry look on her face as we did so. Small victories.

“They tell me you are Wild?” The mare spoke in what was halfway between a question and a statement.

“Well, I like to think so, but as it turns out, my partying ways have gotten me into some troub…” I stopped talking and scratched the scar over my left eye. “You mean my name is Wild, don’t you?” She tried to hide a brilliant smile behind a hoof but it was clear she found me amusing. “And your name is?” Other than sexy, I mean.

“I don’t know if I should tell you.” The mare replied and I wasn’t sure if she was serious or jesting. “There is a great power in names, Wild.” She sipped her tea, swirling the mug a little to stir it.

“You know my name.” I countered and began to dig through my bags to find a can of baked beans that had survived the apocalypse only to wait for its inevitable demise at my hooves. You are mine little legumes, there can be no esca… uh… IGNORE ME!

“I know a name, yes. But, is it your real name?” She asked. Hmm, good question, probably not.

“I guess it… isn’t.” I shrugged and went back to searching for the can, very glad that I didn’t accidentally let her see the copy of Horns I’d hastily stuffed in my bag when we’d evacuated the train station.

“Most call me Question.” She said, setting down her mug. “Few can pronounce my name, an ill omened thing. My comeuppance for being born during a quadrature, I must guess.”

“An alignment of celestial bodies, wherein they have an angular separation of ninety degrees as seen from the earth’s surface.” I said by rote, eyes scrunched shut. Whoa, where the hay did that come from?

“Yes, indeed.” Question answered. “You are… were… a Sky Taker?” Sky Taker? What the hell did that mean?

“Uh, what the hell does that mean?” I asked back, somewhat befuddled. Also, surprised, what did I just say? I knew it was correct but I didn’t know how I knew it or where from. Weird.

“Sky Taker, you were of the Enclave?” Question clarified. Oh, that’s what she meant.

“No. Yes. Maybe. I… really don’t know.” I told her in all honesty. “I get these… strange dreams that feel like they might be memories or visions… or a really bad drug trip that make me think that maybe I was but I can’t make manes or tails of them.” Story of my life. Ah, there the beans were, stuffed into one of my blankets that I’d been using in the station. I pulled the blanket half out and what should come free, along with the beans? The copy of Wingboner I’d been perusing since before leaving New Appleloosa. My face turned red, I could feel it, knew that it was happening. No mirror was necessary.

“I see.” The earther mare said with the hint of a smirk as I tried to stuff the stupid magazine back into my bag. Embarrassment, lots of embarrassment, especially because of the pages it opened to, five mare orgy, lots of toys, large in size, no holes barred… going to stop there, details not required.

“So, uh, what do you do?” I inquired of… Question, odd name, just trying to change the subject.

“I trade and tinker, Wild.” She answered, watching with some trepidation as I deftly (not really) opened the can and dug into the baked beans. She what? Oh, tinkered, not tink… yeah, forget that little bit. I slurped down some more beans. What? I was hungry, and not acting very ladylike I suppose. “Was a guard, sometime ago, with my sisters… half sisters. But, I was very good at fixing things, tinkering with them, which made me more money than the guarding did.” I slowed down and chewed my food reflexively, thoughtfully. Really wish I had a napkin about now to wipe my chin. “So I scrounged and saved, and now I tinker and trade. It means I get to see this… lovely country of yours.” Yours?

“You’re not from Equestria?” I asked through a mouthful of food, thankful that spit and beans didn’t go flying everywhere.

“I was born across the sea, some years before you, I would think.” Question replied. “I came here sometime ago but I think that now I might go back. Your Pendulum speaks of hiring a vessel to cross the treacherous seas. I may take passage as well, ply my wares and fix things there.”

“Sounds nice.” I said. “Say, you wouldn’t happen to know how to fix a music box, would you?” I still carried the thing around in my bags but had never been able to get it to work. And I’d tried, mostly by smacking it on things and shaking it in my hooves. Neither of which worked, which was enormously frustrating as they were the only things I knew how to do in those circumstances.

“I might.” She answered. I looked through my possessions until I found the old Fabletec barding and unraveled it, dropping the box in front of her. The mare picked it up gingerly but with some excitement, as though it were some rare treasure. The turtle, meanwhile, emerged from my gear.

“This is… odd.” Question whispered. I watched Limerick pantomiming some very lewd actions toward Corn Husk, whose back was turned, wrinkled rump in the air while she dug through one of her bags. Swept Up and several others quietly cheered him, inadequately covering their laughter with hooves while an infuriated Night Light tried to restore some restraint and professionalism to the room. I smiled.

“Odd?” I asked her, seeing Pendulum put a hoof to his face and shake his head with eyes closed as Corn Husk, noticing at last, chased Limerick out of the room, swatting at him with a magically held rolling pin. Good times.

“Locks and keys… many songs… but which one… opens… hmm, you were saying something?” Question was so absorbed in studying the music box that she seemed lost in it.

“There’s nothing odd about my box… I… oh… uh… what’s wrong with the music box?” Trying this again, also, cough, you didn’t hear any of that first part. The little mare raised an eyebrow so far it threatened to disappear in her mane.

“This is very old.” She held it out. “Made sometime before the war, perhaps.” The mare set it down and started pulling worn but well cared for tools from her saddle bags. “Most music boxes play one tune and are mechanical in nature. But this, this one is arcano-tech. Magical and technological fusion, early, first generation after the initial innovation boom that precluded harsher hostilities, perhaps.” Great, another historian. She put a screw driver between her teeth and began attacking the device, taking it apart. “It should play many songs… several.” Question spoke around the screw driver. “One must just find the key to…” the tinker pulled the bottom out and gently pressed a hoof to certain pieces of the box, so small that I could barely see them (despite my rather excellent eyesight)… “unlocking them.” There was a distinct click and the mare started piecing the music box back together.

“You didn’t break it, did you?” I inquired, worried. I liked that box… let me rephrase that… yeah… nope, you know what? I’m just going to stick with what I thought and you have a dirty mind, a dirty, dirty mind.

“I have made it so that this contraption will sing again.” Question replied, putting away her gear. She gingerly turned the little mechanism on the bottom and a soft sleepy melody arose from the music box. On the top, a little pink earth pony spun around and around on a cake as a gray pegasus that looked a little like a very young Ditzy followed a wire path that led to it crashing into the fake ground of the music box’s top. Patterns. Dancing, crashing, over and over again. At least I sort of flew better than the tiny little metal Pegasus that crashed in tune to the music... sort of.

“Thank you.” I said honestly, taking the box back with both hooves. I had cleaned it several times since first finding the thing out on the hillside where I’d woken up. Hadn’t even realized at first that there was a little earth pony on the top (that was how dirty it was). Now that it was working and cleaned I just needed to find somepony who could reapply the silver styling on it and repaint the floral designs. Good luck, I thought to myself. Finding a tinker was a miracle, finding a pony that was artistic and shit for this kind of thing was probably impossible. “How much do I owe you?” Hopefully she wasn’t as mercenary about prices as Pendulum and Limerick were, but, then again…

“On the house.” Question replied with a smile.

“On what house?” I asked, lighting up a cigarette and not sure if she was propositioning me or something. The other mare shook her head, took the cigarette from me with a deft hoof, and puffed on it. “Hey, I was smoking that.” The mare ignored my protests for a few moments, tilting her head and watching the two headed tortoise try to lick the remnants from my bean can.

“And now I am smoking it. On the house means it’s free.” She explained. Oh? It did? Okay, then I guess she could keep the cigarette. I lit up another for myself and passed her my whiskey canteen. I’d bought a little bit more (of the cheap kind) during my off time earlier in the day. What? No reason why I hadn’t mentioned it earlier, just didn’t think it was important. Question took a swig, showing no signs of discomfort at imbibing the liquor (my kind of girl)… again, what? Don’t judge me.

“You are beholden to Pendulum?” My new drinking buddy asked. I was what? Oh, she meant...

“You know I don’t think I would mind. He’s small for a buck but easy on the eyes and…” that wasn’t what she meant. She was giving me the weirdest look, I couldn’t even hope to describe it. Damn it! Again! Why must I make a fool of myself for first impressions? “Uh… what do you mean?”

“He owns you.” Question replied. He what? Nopony owned me.

“No, I work for him and… oh, you mean this?” I smacked my collar to a look of absolute horror on the earther’s face. She nodded, drained of color, aghast. “Don’t worry, thing doesn’t work. Long story, not a slave, not really anyway, there was drinking involved, debts, caravans under attack, flares, snipers, a hellhound…” my words trailed off as Question’s face changed from terrified to incredulous.

“Are you drunk?” She inquired. Why did everypony always ask me that?

“Not entirely.” Was the best answer I could give. She shrugged and offered the canteen to me. I accepted the whiskey from the other mare and leaned back to listen to one of the guard ponies begin a story as the music from my box slowly and finally faded… and that still doesn’t sound right, does it? Regardless, there was no radiation down here, my music box was working and it hadn’t been that bad of a day in the end. “But I’m doing my best.” Came as an afterthought. Question chuckled. I laughed and clapped my hooves for the story teller as the earther made herself another cup of tea. No, not a day day as things went in the wasteland. Though, the night was not yet over. I offered Question the canteen after taking a few nips for myself.

“Alright, turn in.” Night Light ordered. It was late, very late, and he may have interrupted a ten pony blanket and pillow fight that I might have been involved in… suggested… instigated… not important. Several hours had passed since Question fixed my music box and things had continued rather pleasantly. There were stories, songs, rhymes, some decent food and a few more bottles of alcohol. Yippee! Mostly for the last part. Question’s eyes had this adorable ‘cross eyed thing’ going on from drinking too much.

With nothing to do other than occasionally check on Bessy from the balcony, keep the tortoise from eating Question’s armor (though I did let it shit near Smoke’s area of the room), make sure the griffin was alive, and just downright enjoy myself, the evening had passed rather quickly. Occasional forays to the entrance proved that the irradiated snow was still falling heavily overhead, not that it mattered down here. At least, it wouldn’t matter until we tried to leave the next day, or so I thought. According to Pendulum, there were extensions to the tunnels that could, if need be, take us miles away from here, hopefully to where the snow wasn’t so grayish green and death causing.

“You heard me, early start tomorrow.” The old black buck added. Boy, he needed to get laid… not that I was offering, mind you. He looked like the wastes had chewed him up and spit him out… more than once. Call me superficial, I wasn’t a huge fan of bucks that looked like they’d been hit by a train. If anypony was getting hit by a train it was… oh, never mind. I was going to have to start acting like an adult one of these days, especially once I’d found my foals. Speaking of them, none of the ponies had seen them, or so they claimed. Nor had any of the Brahmin and believe you me it was a shock to see (hear?) one of them talk. It made me very suspicious of Bessy but a blank stare and a mindless moo from her kept my worries at bay. Still, really weird to see Brahmin with intelligence, it was kind of like finding out that Limerick was actually a professional baker who liked to knit and sing opera in his spare time. That would be a laugh... or very frightening, not sure which.

Many of the ponies, Pendulum and Swept Up (unfortunately) included, had already turned in for the night. The beds primarily went to the traders while some of the guards drew lots or gambled for the few remaining spots. I didn’t waste my time. Smoke and several of the other guards who’d been assholes when I arrived won early spots and the last thing I wanted was to be near them for the night, unless I had a very sharp knife. It was incredibly amusing though when Smoke had asked if Question was going to be sleeping in one of the beds. The response she got was ‘not if it means being anywhere near you, child.’ Ah, I wished I had a camera to capture that dumb earther’s face in response. I kind of also wanted to hug the tiny little mare, despite being afraid that she was so fragile I might break her by doing so. And no, before you ask, nothing happened between us. I might have been an exhibitionist, and mind that use of ‘might’ in the sentence there, but it just wasn’t in the cards, yet.

The unmistakable scent and sound of one of Limerick’s horrendous farts (possibly more than one, though multiples might have killed us all) drifted through the darkening room as the little lanterns, lamps and lights were turned off. A few complaints laced with creative cursing responded to his emanation. I made one final check on the griffin, holding my nose as I did so. The smell of Limerick’s farts had the tendency to linger. Mr. Beaky Feather Whatever the Fuck was muttering about teeth and dragons again, weird feathered fiend he was. But, he seemed no nearer to death, mayhap a little further from it in fact, and that was… well, that was something. The tortoise was snoozing happily on my makeshift pillow when I returned. Figures. I pulled the sack of spare clothing and rags from under the reptile, hearing a satisfying ‘donk’ sound as he hit the floor. The pillow went on top of the little bugger and he gave a single indignant squeak.

“Shut up you.” I told my… pet. “Just be glad I didn’t make you into soup earlier.” One last sound, this time a harmonious squawk from both heads, and the creature was asleep. It snored with a gentle and not entirely unpleasant whistle every few breaths. I got comfortable on the floor, threw a blanket over myself and hugged my chest with my wings. Ponies were exchanging good nights and harmless taunts back and forth across the room. I joined in briefly and stared at the ceiling, awash in the dim red glow of the low level emergency lighting that the shelter had been set to for the night. I guess red wasn’t too bad as colors went, it wouldn’t interfere with anypony’s night vision and had we been outdoors the wavelength was rather unenergetic, meaning it wasn’t visible over long distances, like blue, white and yellow lights were. Weird that I knew that, no idea how, aliens? Maybe I’d read it in a book. Hooray for night lights… boo for Night Light.

I turned over, resting on my side and saw Question doing the same not too far from me. She’d taken off her armor but kept the layered full body clothing. The mare had a mischievous smile on her face (probably from all the drinking and she could put it away really well for a mare of her size) and wiggled her shoulder underneath the clothing she wore until… what the fuck? The tip of a feather… more...a wing loosened from beneath the voluminous layers. Question wasn’t an earth pony, she was a Pegasus? She was a Pegasus! The mare brought her wing to her lips and made a ‘sshh’ sound, then winked. I shook my head like somepony’d just given it a good knocking and her wing was hidden again by the time I stopped. I knew I wasn’t so drunk as to imagine it. Hmm…

“Good night, Wild.” The other Pegasus said, eyes closed. “Dream of flying on warm sunny days.” Revelation complete, mind blown. What was going on here? How many Pegasi were there out in the wastes, like her, hiding in plain sight, just trying to make a living? Maybe there was only the one but I hoped there were more. So many questions raced through my head but they would no doubt have to wait until I could get her alone… which was tempting regardless of circumstances.

A minute went by as I thought of things I wanted to ask, to say. Attempts to quantify the new feeling growing inside me failed like Limerick on a math test. The temptation to write in my journal was almost overpowering but with incredible self control, the book stayed in my pack. I could understand why she would keep her wings hidden, especially after the reception I’d gotten from the other ponies upon arriving. It was an interesting and unexpected development to give the understatement of the damn year. And it was one that begged to be explored, now more than before I wanted to know her story, who she was, why she was here, everything. I just had to hold onto the notion that Question would be willing to answer.

“I will.” I replied, still kind of shocked that there was another flyer amongst the traders. It… explained a few things, in retrospect. “Happy Winter’s Day.” She made an ‘mmm’ sound as acknowledgement and I turned again so that I was lying on my back, staring at the faint glow that the red lights cast across the ceiling. Huh, a weird day, but, not a bad one, not at all. And, the best part, now there were two pegasi (that I knew of) in the group. That’s what the feeling was… another pony like me...I wasn’t alone.

Coming Soon: Chapter 4. Mountains, Miles, Mares…

Author's Note

And that would be the reason why the chapter had to be split into two parts. It was really damn long. I probably could have easily split this chapter in half again, point of fact. Anyway, whatever I usually say here, imagine I'm saying it again, rather tired right now. Any opinions on which of the ponies introduced here that should accompany the trio on the next leg of the journey? Pleasant evening and all that. Also, hooray! The story as a whole has passed the 100,000 word mark! Cheers and whatnot.