Chapters A blue-green unicorn colt stared down at the market below him. It was bustling and full of ponies. There were also minotaurs, griffons, and all manner of strange creatures that he did not know. He saw tents, stalls, crates, and cages of all sizes, holding all manner of creatures. Including ponies. He was sitting upon a tall stack of crates, all piled up at the edge of the harbour. It was the perfect place to hunt for an easy mark.
He surveyed the crowd with his one violet eye, the only eye he had. His dark purple mane whipped in the wind coming off of the sea. He smiled broadly, seeing plenty of opportunities below. Upon his backside was a broken padlock, something Springer took great pride in.
His companion, a three legged earth pony named Dimple stood just behind him. Dimple was large. So very large. Dimple was frequently mistaken for being an adult, even though he was still just a colt. He was just a very large colt. He was grey, with a dark blue mane. He had dark blue eyes and a wedge of cheese as his mark. Dimple had once stepped in a bear trap… Something he hadn’t repeated after the first time. He was now short one front leg. Springer suspected that Dimple had chewed his own leg off…
“Springer?” Dimple said, his thick brow furrowed.
“Yeah Dimple.” Springer replied.
“I think I see a zebra. Never seen one of those before.” Dimple said, his voice a low rumble that a dragon might envy.
“Where?” Springer asked.
Dimple pointed, using his muzzle. “There.”
Springer craned his head, looking down into the crowd. Sure enough, there was a zebra in a small cage. He scowled, reaching up to scratch his head with his hoof. “Not sure if that’s the best target to go after. Sure, zebras are valuable to the right buyer, but it is in the middle of the market. Making off with our prize is bound to be troublesome. Plus, zebra. Those are rare. And word of a stolen zebra is bound to spread.”
Dimple shrugged. “I didn’t say to steal it, I was just pointing it out.”
“But I kinda want to steal it.” Springer said, his voice silky. “If I am going to ever live up to my destiny as a master thief,” he paused to pat his mark, “then I must be bold.”
Dimple shrugged again. “I’m in. Either way. I really want some cheese.”
“You always want cheese large friend.” Springer said. “Must be so very pleasant having a simple destiny. Find cheese. Steal cheese. Eat cheese.”
Dimple nodded. He’d heard this all before. His simple mark drove Springer crazy, as Springer felt that he had too much to live up to. Dimple was a simple creature with a simple mark. Eat cheese, smash anything that threatened his friend. Springer made life too complicated with his schemes.
The two sauntered into the marketplace. Well, Springer sauntered: Dimple had an odd three legged gait, missing one of his front legs. They strode forward casually, confident, with purpose. No doubt, Springer was using his magic to wink small items and valuables into his saddlebags.
They pushed their way through the crowd, Dimple leading the way, as something about him caused ponies to move. It didn’t take them long to push their way into the center of the slave market. All around them were cages filled with poor souls who were now slaves to be bought and sold. Ponies, griffons, there was a gagged dragon, a few minotaur calves, and one zebra.
Which they focused on. They were going to need a distraction of some sort. Then, Springer would pop the lock with his special magic, release the zebra, and skedaddle. If everything went according to plan. Which it usually did. If it didn’t… Well, they’d have to make a fancy new plan while running. But that could be thought about later.
Dimple nudged Springer and pointed his muzzle at the dragon. “Escaped dragon.” He muttered.
Springer nodded. An escaped dragon would provide a wonderful distraction. Pop the lock, pop the gag, and run, hoping the dragon would be grateful. If not, more running might be required. Risks had to be taken, Springer concluded mentally. Dimple’s plan were always so simple, straight forward, and direct. Dimple was a valuable asset. Which is why Dimple got forty percent.
Springer casually went forward, whistling a merry tune, while Dimple moved toward the zebra. Still whistling, Springer touched his horn to the dragon’s cage, and there were two distinct click sounds, followed by roar.
Springer quickly moved on, he had pressing business elsewhere.
As the crowd shrieked and panicked, he went over to the zebra cage, still whistling. Dimple was waiting for him, standing there, scowling in a way that only Dimple could. Dimple’s dimples peppered his scowl with what a highly imaginative creature might call an adorable smirk.
The zebra looked at them, blinking, her face in shock. She looked at the rampaging dragon, and then back at the two ponies outside her small cage. There was a click as the lock was sprung. She suddenly found herself hauled out of her cage by the hobbles around her legs, and slung over the larger pony’s back. She grunted and murmured against her gag, unable to say anything.
“Oh look, the market is on fire.” Springer announced, his voice cheerful and sunny. “What a perfect distraction. I say we split dear friend.” He ran, now whistling a jaunty sea shanty that he had heard earlier.
Dimple nodded and took off, running in his odd three legged gait, the zebra bouncing on his back. The market burned behind him, pegasi rushing in with storm clouds to put the fire out. Screams, shouts, and angry bellows filled the air, as did the sound of stampeding hooves and feet of all kinds. There was a loud crash as a massive stack of crates fell over.
“Oh cheese!’ Dimple swore as the chaos swirled all around him. Springer laughed, an almost maniacal sound.
Eventually, the trio made it to a nice quiet filthy alley. It was completely abandoned. Dingy. And full of rotten fish heads. Which may be why it was empty. Springer thought it was perfect.
He removed gag from the zebra, and she looked at him with her yellow eyes.
Springer smiled. “Alright then. I am Springer and this is my associate Dimple.”
The zebra nodded. “I am Xanthippe.” She said, her voice strong with a thick strange accent. “Thank you for freeing me.”
“Oh, you’re not free. We stole you fair and square. You’re ours.” Springer said.
The zebra frowned. “I don’t want to be yours.” She protested.
“Well, for now, you are. Don’t worry, we’re nice.” Springer said, his tone friendly and warm.
“Can you remove the hobbles?” Xanthippe asked.
“Not a wise move.” Springer said, still smiling.
Xanthippe squirmed, trying to get comfortable on Dimple’s back. “So what is to be done with me?” She asked.
“Oh, we sell you to the highest bidder. Or trade you. Something will be figured out.” Springer said, still smiling.
“Or you hand her over to us.” A voice said. “Found them. They should all be worth a fair bit of coin. Especially the unicorn. He seems sly.”
“Oh cheese.” Dimple swore as the zebra was yanked from his back. He whirled, and saw several minotaurs, a few griffons, and a unicorn. Something large crashed into the back of his skull.
He stood there, blinking, feeling his rage boil up inside of him. Many eyes were staring at him, blinking in shock and surprise. “Did something just hit me on the back of the head?” He asked, his voice a low rumble.
A flurry of blows crashed into his head as a response, and Dimple sank into blackness.
Dimple had awoke some time later, bound, and stuffed into a tiny cage. He was currently in a cargo hold on a ship, with Springer in a cage nearby. Springer had been drugged. His magic was useless, and he could only murmur and drool. Xanthippe was also nearby. Several days had passed, spent in the dim confines of the cargo hold.
And there was something else in the cargo hold. Something made of nightmares.
Chained in the corner, with multiple hobbles around each leg and a massive iron collar around its neck was a terrifying creature out of Tartarus. A bat winged pegasus filly named Calliope. She stood, chained and bound in a dark corner, and the minotaur crew had threatened to feed Springer to Calliope if Dimple tried anything funny.
She stood in her corner, snarling and drooling, fangs flashing, making an odd series of clicks, pops, and whistles. She seemed incapable of speech.
Dimple felt rather miserable. He had hit some low points before during his time as a foal. But this was the worst. He didn’t see a way out.
“You alright?” He said to Xanthippe.
“Yes.” She said, slightly annoyed. “Just like all the other times you have asked. I am locked in a cage once again, on a ship, with what appears to be an overly concerned three legged pony.”
“You seem smart. Like Springer.” Dimple said.
“I have been educated. Before I was stolen.” Xanthippe said. She raised an eyebrow.
“I know all about cheese.” Dimple said, pride in his voice. “But I have never been formally schooled.”
“You don’t say.” Xanthippe said, a look of faux shock settling over her face. “I would never have guessed that if you hadn’t of told me.”
“No.” Dimple said. “I’ve never been to school. Springer has taught me how to read a little bit. And I can write my name.”
Xanthippe snorted, realising that her companion had no idea that he was being insulted. She froze, hearing a faint click as the door opened.
A figure approached. Tall. Horned. Minotaur.
He came into the dim light, smiling. “The crew is getting restless after all of these days at sea.” His smile grew broader. “Time for a little sport.” He began to unlock Xanthippe’s cage. She squirmed, trying to push herself as far inside of her cage as possible.
“No…” she pleaded, her eyes wide, “please no. I’ve never…”
“Like we care.” The minotaur said, interrupting, and dragging her out by her hobbles. He slung her around into a post, causing her to go limp and mostly silent, whimpering.
Dimple struggled against his own hobbles, kicking against his cage.
The minotaur laughed. “We’re going to lose a little coin selling you ‘broken in’ but it’ll be worth it. I’ll take it out of the crew’s wages.”
“wassssgooinooon?” Springer said, his voice slurring.
The minotaur turned and departed, dragging Xanthippe by her hobbles. “No!” She cried, still trying to struggle.
Dimple heard the door in the distance shut with an ominous click. He had to do something… He kicked and struggled as hard as he could. “Springer, I could really use some help here.”
“Hai knowsh.” Springer said, shaking his head feebly.
Calliope made a sound like a steam whistle as Dimple struggled.
Dimple heard a loud scream from up above decks. Enough was enough. He kicked out with everything he had. Several bars tore free from the wood that formed the top and bottom of his cage. He kicked again, and again, his rage boiling over. He forced his way out, angry bellows escaping his lips with each kick. He stood on the wooden floor, and then kicked his three legs out crazily, each in different directions, snapping his chains, the metal clamps biting cruelly into his flesh, blood poured from ripped skin.
Springer saw his friend go charging off, his vision doubled and fuzzed over. He had never seen Dimple so angry. He struggled to regain his own mind, whatever they had drugged him with was strong. He struggled to concentrate. He needed to free himself. Dimple needed him. He heard an angry roar. He didn’t know if it was bovine or equine. It was followed by a crash and the splintering of wood. More shouting. More crashing. Something that was most certainly a scream of pain, followed by a rather feminine voice shouting words of encouragement.
Springer struggled to make his magic work. Dimple needed him, his drug addled mind screamed. He heard a pop sound, followed by another. He struggled to his hooves. Dimple was too much of an investment. Too much time and effort had gone into making Dimple a worthwhile associate. Springer wobbled, drugged, the rocking of the ship not helping at all, and he stumbled off to try and help his friend.
Springer emerged onto the deck, blinking, trying to take in everything he saw. The bright sunlight burned his eyes, pain piercing the fog in his head. A low moan escaped his throat.
On the deck were several dead minotaurs, bodies twisted and broken in odd angles, legs and arms pointing in unnatural directions. One of them had his head pointing backwards, looking down at his own britches covered backside. Some hung on the deck rails, strewn about, thrown, scattered, tossed aside.
Dimple was a bloody mess, standing in the middle of the deck, his sides heaving, the zebra not to far away.
“Whash tha Tarfurush?” Springer said, shaking his head, not believing what we has seeing.
“You are my zebra.” Dimple growled, his sides still heaving. Blood trickled from his brow and into his eye, causing his eye to twitch. “I stole you fair and square. I keep what is mine.”
“I have never been happier to be somepony’s zebra.” Xanthippe said, still in shock.
“I donsh watnsh my ushual shixtshy pershent, you cansh have allsh theesh sheebra.” Springer said, surveying the carnage. His gaze froze, seeing a minotaur with part of a broken yardarm rail crammed up its backside. He cringed. Dimple was never one to fight fair… Ew, that looked like it had hurt.
“So…” Xanthippe said. “Who knows how to sail?”
The three exchanged a glance.
“I have no idea how to sail.” Dimple said after a moment.
Springer shook his head no and wobbled from the effort.
“Then we have a problem.” Xanthippe said, pointing with her hoof.
“Oh cheese!” Dimple said, seeing the wall of blackness off in the distance, creeping forward. “That is one big storm.”
Springer let out a strained wheeze and tried to speak. “Sshaliiiooopeesh.”
“Springer?” Dimple asked.
“Ssshaaaaallllliiiiiooooopeeesh.” Springer slurred, now annoyed, drooling onto the deck. He turned around slowly, pointing toward the cargo hold door.
“Oh… that.” Dimple said, his voice filled with worry. “Think it is wise to let her go?”
Springer nodded.
“Are you sure Springer? What if she tries to eat us?” Dimple said, somewhat concerned.
“What if the boat sinks and she is chained up in the hold?” Xanthippe said.
Dimple paused. He didn’t like that idea. Nothing deserved that. And he didn’t like the idea of the boat sinking either. As he stood there, thinking, a strong gust of wind hit the sails and made the ship tilt a bit.
Springer began to stagger off towards the door, lurching about wildly as the ship rocked in the breeze. “Sshpoopifth noovil gesthers” He muttered as he shimmied about. He made it to the door, paused, took a deep breath, and opened the door.
Dimple took off after his friend, a worried look upon his face. Xanthippe followed as well, slowly, still hobbled.
In the hold, the trio slowly approached the chained lunar pegasi, Springer having a rather rough go at walking with the now lurching ship. Calliope whistled and clicked wildly when she saw them.
“Easy filly.” Dimple soothed, as he approached. “We’re going to let you go.” He cleared his throat. “She’s still a pony. Wouldn’t be right to leave her chained up down here, incase something happens.”
“Wouldn’t be right to leave me chained up either.” Xanthippe said in caustic tones. “I can’t go anywhere. And I must admit, I rather like being Dimple’s property.”
Springer nodded drunkenly. His face contorted in concentration and his horn flashed a dull blue glow. There were several loud clicks. “My yeeeaarsh huf druuunken deeblaaucherfy havsherveth me well.” He slurred.
Calliope kicked at her now loosed chains, letting out a loud series of clicks and pops. She looked directly at Springer, mouth open, fangs bared.
She charged.
There was suddenly a puddle of some sort of liquid on the floorboards, directly under Springer.
Calliope crashed into Springer, her forelegs around his body, smashing him down into the floor, squeezing him violently. She whistled several times, and then popped, a very loud sound below the decks.
“I think she likes you.” Dimple said, breathing a sigh of relief, as Xanthippe kicked off her own chains.
What do we do about the storm?” Xanthippe asked. “There is no one left to sail this ship.”
Calliope whistled alarmingly and turned her head towards the zebra, still squeezing Springer. Springer, still in a highly drugged state, thought being squeezed by a filly, no matter how strange she might look, was a wonderful thing. He carelessly gave her a drunken goose in a delicate area with a forehoof.
Calliope let out a high pitched whistle and turned back toward Springer, giving him a sultry eyes half opened stare. She waggled her eyebrows at him saucily, and then let go of him, leaving him in a heap on the floor. She shook her head and let out a series of very pleased sounding clicks.
Springer lay there, a dopey grin on his face. “Ooh thatsh shniiish.” He murmured. “Comsh backsh shere shweet sthang.”
Calliope gave him a glance and clicked several times, teeth bared.
Xanthippe realised that Calliope was smiling. She did not share her revelation however. She stood there, feeling a private feeling of smug satisfaction watching the two colts squirm.
“We should find food.” Xanthippe said, taking charge, because somepony had to. “Food and something to drink would be good. Well, nothing hard to drink for Springer.”
“Whyshish shthatsh?” Springer demanded, still on the floor, looking at Calliope.
Xanthippe rolled her eyes and did not reply. “Oh.” She said, looking at Dimple. “Thank you.” She said, her voice warm and genuine. “If you would have came up on that deck just one minute later, it would have been a little too late.” Xanthippe said, her eyes suddenly downcast.
“Nopony takes what I stole first.” Dimple said. “Finders keepers. And Springer gave up his claim. I’ve never owned a zebra before. That’s kinda special.”
“What do you intend to do with me?” Xanthippe said.
Dimple shrugged.
Xanthippe rolled her eyes again.
“If my back gets scratchy, can you scratch it?” Dimple asked.
Xanthippe stood there in total shock, her mouth falling open. “Is that all you want from me?” She asked, her tone one of disbelief.
“I am a very practical pony.” Dimple said. “It was the most pressing concern I could think of. I’m kinda big and all my muscles get in the way. I can’t reach back there. Scratchy places drive me crazy.”
Xanthippe sighed, but inwardly felt thankful.
“Oh, and one more thing.” Dimple said.
Xanthippe raised an eyebrow, fearing the worst.
“You can talk to me about cheese. Springer gets testy when I talk about cheese.” Dimple said, nodding his head.
Xanthippe heaved a sigh of exasperation and left to go find food.
The galley, as it turned out, was a horrible and smelly place. Dimple had entered first, breaking down the locked door, not patient enough to wait for Springer. Every square inch of the room was filthy. A terrible smell assaulted the nostrils in much the same way the minotaurs had wanted to assault Xanthippe not too long ago. Dimple made his way forward, cautiously. He peered around in the dim light, turning his head to and fro, looking for food. Maybe there would be cheese…
He picked up a long wooden spoon in his teeth and poked it into a large iron pot sitting on a coal burning stove. A pony skull floated in the broth. There were also a few eyeballs, bloated and white, covered in puffy veins. A waterlogged pony ear clung to the spoon.
Dimple dropped the spoon into the pot and began to back out of the kitchen, bumping into Xanthippe, shoving her backward with his backside. She backed outside and waited for an explanation.
“What's in the pot?” Xanthippe asked.
Dimple said nothing, looking green and queasy.
“Do I want to know?” Xanthippe asked.
Dimple shook his head no.
“I see.” Xanthippe said. “Gruesome gruel found in pot. Noted.”
Calliope stood on the deck, glad to be in the sun, but concerned by the storm rolling in the distance. She spread her wings, flapping them a bit, too weak to actually fly. Her ribs were visible.
Springer wobbled towards her, and, when the ship lurched, he crashed into her. He grinned, enjoying another moment of being close. Calliope let out a shrill squeak when Springer pressed his nose into her neck and inhaled deeply. When the ship lurched in the other direction, he tumbled away, rolling over on to his back, looking somehow even more drunk and dopey.
Dimple went to work throwing minotaur carcasses overboard, grabbing them by their clothing with his teeth and then dragging them to the rail. He stood solidly on three legs, even with the ship pitching. Xanthippe was pleased to see them go. She shuddered, thinking about what had almost happened.
The breeze began to pick up, turning into a full fledged wind with strong gusts now. The sky was darkening. Waves began to crash against the side of the ship. The sails rippled and the masts made creaking sounds. Xanthippe began to feel a sense of alarm, the first prickle of fear began to tickle her spine.
Dimple grunted when the last minotaur was overboard. He shook himself off, having been soaked by a wave, and walked towards the center of the deck. “I’ll take that back scratching now.” He said, smiling broadly, missing a few teeth.
Xanthippe sighed. It was the least she could do. Thankfully, he wasn’t asking for anything else. She reared up on her hind legs, balanced by leaning against Dimple, and began to scratch along his spine with her hoof.
“Oh yeah.” Dimple growled, kicking at the deck with one hind hoof. “Right there. Aw… Harder!” He grunted.
Xanthippe found herself smiling faintly. Dimple was big. Stupid. And kinda sweet. He was also wet and incredibly smelly, but she tried to ignore that.
Meanwhile, Calliope had kicked open the door to the captain’s quarters and was poking around inside. She emerged a moment later, looking rather disappointed. She trotted over the deck and sat down near Dimple and Xanthippe, watching the incoming storm. Springer crawled over the lurching deck to Calliope, and then collapsed, content to be near her side. She bared her teeth down at him, causing him to smile hopefully up at her. She patted him lightly with a hoof and then turned her attention back to the storm rolling in.
“Oh, that feels so good. So nice having your own zebra.” Dimple murmured, wiggling out from under Xanthippe. “Scratchies gone. Job finished.” He said, smiling.
“So glad I could be of service.” Xanthippe said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“I’m going to want more of that later.” Dimple said, beaming in a way that only Dimple could, which was really rather horrible. Dimple had a face that could make milk curdle.
“Weesh havsh a boat.” Springer said, sobering up slightly, smiling broadly. “Boat.” He repeated. “Boat boat boat.”
Raindrops began to fall, a light shower at first, quickly turning into a deluge.
“We should go below.” Dimple said, always the practical pony. As he spoke, the first few hailstones began to pummel the deck. The masts began to crackle, ropes waved in the breeze, and sails began to whip about, some tearing free from their ties. The sky became as black as night. “Going now.” Dimple shouted over the wind, heading for the door of the captain’s quarters.
The four of them got situated in the sparse quarters, what little light there was from the sun now gone. It was dark. The ship pitched and rolled, and there was the creak of wood. As Xanthippe sat in the darkness, she heard a giggle, followed by a faint whistle and a popping crackle. She heard rustling sounds.
“We’re probably going to die.” Dimple said. “I’ve had a good run. I had one good friend. I think I’m alright with this.” He sighed in the darkness. “I’ve had my face and my mark on a wanted poster. I have a small amount of infamy. I’ve rose up out of the gutters and I eat almost every day, which is better than most ponies.”
“I’m not alright with this at all.” Xanthippe said. “I don’t want to die.”
“I doubt we have a choice.” Dimple said. “That storm is going to rip this ship apart. We have no means to stop it.”
There was another giggle in the dark, followed by a wet smacking sound. Several wet smacking sounds. Xanthippe felt her cheeks growing warm as she began to realise what was going on in the dark, with two ponies in the captain’s hammock. She heard the rustle of rope. They weren’t wasting any time. They had found something to do in their final moments.
Xanthippe huddled in the dark, tucked into a corner, trying not to roll around with the pitching of the ship, and also trying not to listen to sounds of two ponies trying to enjoy whatever was left of their lives. As she sat there in the darkness, trying to shut everything out, she felt a leg wrap around her.
She squealed and squirmed away, or tried to do so. Dimple was strong and squirming away wasn’t possible. She felt herself being pulled close against her will. She whimpered pleadingly, hoping he would let go.
“What are you doing?” She asked, her voice a terrified whisper. “I don’t want to do, well, whatever it is they are doing. Please don’t hurt me, I just want my last moments in peace.”
There was no answer, just a squeeze. She felt herself pressed against a still slightly damp and somewhat smelly colt who was holding her silently in the darkness. His breathing was heavy and she could feel his hot breath upon her. He trembled. She hoped it wasn’t from desire.
After several moments of regaining her composure, she leaned in close to what she hoped was his ear and struggled to find her courage. “Do… do you want to do what they are doing?” She asked, her voice barely audible. “Maybe they have the right idea. You have been very kind to me. I suppose it wouldn’t be so bad.”
There was no reply. There were plenty of enthusiastic grunts coming from the hammock though. Heat blazed through Xanthippe’s body. The cabin was filled with grunts, clicks, pops, creaks from the ship, and the sounds of the storm. The boat was being peppered with hailstones.
“I’m scared of the dark.” Dimple whispered, his voice quivering. “Springer always makes a little light.” He resumed his silence for a few minutes. “And my back itches from the salt water.”
Xanthippe threw her forelegs around Dimple and squeezed back. There was the sounds of crackling wood from outside.
“I don’t mind dying. I just don’t want to die in the dark.” Dimple said, his whisper barely audible.
There was another loud crack of wood and the ship nearly turned on to its side, causing Dimple and Xanthippe to bounce around. Water was beginning to pour into the captain’s quarters. The enthusiastic and sloppy wet sounds from the hammock continued.
Xanthippe pressed her nose into Dimple, feeling around, trying to find something before it was too late. After several moments of fumbling in the dark, she found what she was looking for.
Two lips.
She kissed them, not knowing what she was doing, seeking comfort and hoping to offer some in return, her gratitude pouring forth, and maybe a hint of something else as well.
The captain’s quarters suddenly flooded as there was a deafening crack and the sound of splintering wood. The enthusiastic sounds of foalmaking ceased and became panicked cries and a whistle of alarm.
Above them, the sky whirled in a terrible maelstrom, lightning flashed and thunder crackled. The roof to the cabin was gone. Most of the ship was gone.
Xanthippe clung tightly to Dimple, feeling him squeeze back. Dimple was well and truly panicked now, his breath coming as short panicked whimpers.
There was another terrible crackling sound as more of the ship was torn away. A wave tore over the deck, sweeping all four of them into the water.
They sank.
Down deeper and deeper they went, pulled under by the current, pieces of the ship drifting downward all around them. A faint green light illuminated the water when lightning flashed.
Down deeper they went…
As Xanthippe began to ponder her final moments, she saw strange figures in the flash of green light illuminating the water. Figures that looked like strange fish-ponies.
She pondered her final hallucination as her mouth opened against her will and she tried to draw air, flooding her lungs with water instead.
They drifted into the depths…
Calliope awoke. She was lying in sand. She heard the distant wash of waves. She lifted her head. Nearby was Springer, sprawled in the sand, not moving, but breathing. She felt a rush of relief and a rush of heat down in her loins, thinking about those final moments onboard the ship. She looked around some more and spotted Dimple and Xanthippe nearby. Her sensitive ears had definitely picked up some lip smacking from those two.
She struggled to her hooves and flapped her leathery bat-like wings. She shook herself, dislodging sand and seaweed. She gave a loud piercing whistle and waited.
It didn’t take long. She saw ears stirring, fidgeting, and she heard Dimple grunting. Sure enough, Dimple was the next on his hooves. All three of them. She looked around. They were on a beach. The beach was covered in sand and pebbles, and seashells were strewn about.
Calliope was thirsty. She began to sniff the air carefully, hoping to catch the scent of fresh water. It was not an easy task. Mostly what she smelled right now was wet pony. Seaweed. Salty tang of the ocean. She snorted, blowing sediment from her nostrils.
Xanthippe was wobbling around next, Dimple at her side, trying to keep her from falling over. Calliope had never seen a zebra before. Xanthippe seemed nice enough.
And finally, Springer groaned but made no effort to rise. Calliope wondered if she could get other parts of him to rise. She clicked a few times to herself, popped loudly, and smiled.
“Oh bugger me. My head hurts.” Springer groaned. “And I swear, I saw fish ponies.”
“I saw them too.” Xanthippe said.
“I had my eyes closed.” Dimple added.
Calliope clicked a few times and nodded her head.
Springer continued to lay supine in the sand, not moving, clutching his head. Calliope took a few steps to get closer to him, placed her head down low and then gently kissed him on the cheek, below his empty eye socket. Springer smiled weakly.
“As soon as I get to feeling better, you and I are going to pick up where we left off.” Springer mumbled, spitting sand from his lips. Calliope trilled an excited series of whistles, causing Springer to flinch. “I need a drink.” Springer said. “Of water.” He added. “Hair of the diamond dog later.” He finished, still clutching his head.
Calliope raised her head high and began to sniff again, trying to find some faint trace. Her senses were finely attuned. She could hear four hearts beating, including her own. She heard wind. Waves. She sniffed, drawing air into her nose, pulling it in deep, savouring the air. She smelled pines, somewhere, even if she could not see them. To many scents. She could not find what she was looking for. However, her ears detected something useful. A distant roar. There was a ridge in the distance, shrouded in fog and mist. She turned and whistled, trying to let her companions know to follow her, following it up with what Calliope hoped were friendly sounding pops.
She took off quickly, still fluttering her wings, still trying to shake sand from her coat.
“Let’s go.” Xanthippe said, following. “I think our friend is trying to tell us something.”
“I hope she knows where food is. I am so hungry I could eat my other leg.” Dimple said, causing Xanthippe to shudder violently as she walked.
Springer struggled to his hooves, cursing and muttering under his breath. “Sodding bloody Tartarus.” He muttered. “My head.” He shook himself, sending sand flying everywhere. “Hey Calliope!” He shouted. “Wait for me.” He trotted forward, wobbling somewhat unsteadily. “What a filly.” He said. “I hate to see her leave, but I love to watch her go.” He said, watching her tail flick.
Calliope turned and shot him a smoulderingly sultry glare.
Springer doubled his pace.
“That’s cheesy.” Dimple said. “Trust me, I know cheesy.” He grinned as his stomach rumbled.
The four of them walked for quite some ways, making their way towards a high reaching ridge. It wasn’t long before they heard the rush of a waterfall, causing them to pick up their pace. There was grass on the ground. It wasn’t much of a meal, but it was food. Springer was certainly desperate enough, and he seldom ate anything that wasn’t up to his standards.
Dimple, being a practical pony, snatched up mouthfuls of grass as he triple-trotted along.
The four soon came upon a large pool of water, a thin waterfall tumbling down the ridge, with pines up top of the ridge. Calliope dived into the pool and disappeared for several moments. She emerged with a wiggling fish, which she swallowed. She dove again.
“Water.” Springer said. “Water. Where the fish fornicate freely and crap where they live. This is why I drink fermented beverages.” He plunged his head into the icy water and drank deeply.
Xanthippe paused at the water, considering Springer’s statement. Yuck. She took a drink, hesitating slightly as she did.
Dimple threw himself in to the pool, ready to wash away the salt water. He swam for a few moments, drinking as he went, and eventually laid down in the shallow water. He sighed.
Calliope emerged with another fish, which she swallowed. And then she was gone again.
Xanthippe finally worked up enough nerve to throw herself into the cold water and rinse the salt from her coat. And it was cold. She wasn’t used to the cold, not like these shaggy ponies were. She shivered.
Springer took a running dive into the pool and allowed himself to sink in. He emerged a few moments later, spitting, and swam over to the shallows where Dimple was sprawled.
“I wonder where we are.” Springer said. “Which part of the world we are in.”
“I don’t know.” Dimple replied. “But I like it here. I think I’m sick of the city.”
“How can you say that?’ Springer demanded. “The city. Civilisation. Fine food. Fine drink. Valuables lying around, waiting to be collected. There is nothing, and I mean nothing here.”
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Dimple said, smiling, enjoying Springer’s discomfort. “Nice and quiet. Nothing clobbering me over my head. There’s two nice fillies. I haven’t had to murder anybody so far. I think I’m getting sick of killing things. It has gotten to the point where I no longer lose sleep over it.” Dimple’s voice had an uncharacteristic melancholy tone.
Springer nodded, it was as far as he could go towards admitting his friend had a point. Xanthippe came into the shallows near them, stood near for a moment, and then apparently changed her mind when she left the water and stood on a rock on the shore. Calliope caught another fish, gobbled, and dived. She looked exceedingly happy.
And Springer realised, he was actually rather happy himself. Which was odd, given his surroundings. Perhaps it was the company, he thought to himself, and then quickly dismissed his own thoughts.
Dimple rose up out of the water and shook himself off. He sniffed, looking around, wondering if there was anything worth eating other than grass. He took off in his odd triple-trot and began to prowl the area, looking for anything remotely edible.
Xanthippe sat on her rock, sunning herself, watching Calliope catch fish and eat them.
When Dimple was out of earshot, Springer cleared his throat. “Xanthippe?” He said, his voice soft.
“Yes?” Said Xanthippe from up on top of her rock.
“I must ask. Please do not break my associate’s heart. Under that stony exteriour lies the heart of a romantic ninny. He’s saving himself for just the right filly. Or mare. It’ll probably be later than sooner. So mare. He looks rough, but he is really very fragile in the middle.” Springer watched the clouds roll by as he spoke. “The only itch he’ll ask you to scratch is his back.” Springer chuckled softly as he continued; “You’re the first filly he’s ever kissed.”
Xanthippe began to blush furiously, the chill of the water now gone. She felt certain that her white stripes were now pink. Heat flooded her body, and she felt her ears burning, as though on fire.
After several moments of silence, she finally worked up a little courage. “I have no intention of hurting him after what he has done for me.” She said, her words strained in her throat.
“”Good. Cause I don’t get mad. I get even.” Springer said, smiling, still looking at the clouds.
“Springer?” Xanthippe asked, hoping to change the subject.
“Yes?” Springer replied, scratching his belly.
“How did Dimple lose his leg?” Xanthippe asked, her face full of concern.
“Dimple stepped into a bear trap when he escaped.” Springer said, his face becoming a scowl. “I strongly suspect he chewed his own leg off at the shoulder.”
“Escaped?” Xanthippe asked.
“Dimple was a slave. A cheesemaker minotaur owned him. Dimple was going to spend the rest of his life pulling wagons loaded down with cheese.” Springer explained. “He escaped and ran into the woods. He stepped into a trap. Like I said, I think he chewed his leg off. And then he ran into the city and nearly died. I found him. Nursed him back to health. All for very selfish reasons mind you. At least at the time. Always good to have a stooge indebted to you. At some point, he stopped being my stooge and became my associate. He gets forty percent. As you have seen, Dimple is very, very useful for somepony in my trade.”
Xanthippe sat on her rock, feeling a mix of shock and horror. “Wait.” Xanthippe said. “If Dimple was a slave, and knows how it feels, why would he keep me as his possession?”
Springer shrugged, lying in the water. “No idea. Dimple has a very simple mind. And probably a very simple reason. He’s a practical pony. You should ask him.”
“I… I… I… I… I do not understand either one of you. You seem honourable and kind enough for a thief. Dimple, well, I don’t know what to make of Dimple. Both of you are very strange. I wouldn’t expect thieves to be like either one of you at all.” Xanthippe stammered. “You both are the most immoral moral ponies I have ever met.”
Springer laughed riotously in the water, kicking his hind legs and splashing while he guffawed.
“Dimple can be so gentle… The way he held me when the ship was sinking… And earlier that day I watched him twist a minotaur’s head around, snapping his neck, and showing him his own backside before he died. I saw him take another minotaur into a headlock with his front leg and then fold him backwards until his spine snapped, bracing one hind leg into the middle of the minotaur’s spine as he pulled. I don’t understand how he can be both.” Xanthippe said, her voice flooded with emotion. “Stop laughing!” She cried.
Springer tried to calm himself. Calliope seemed to be done fishing, and was now going ashore. She scrambled up on top of Xanthippe’s rock and sat down, her slitted eyes squinting in the sun. Her belly was now fat with fish and she had some trouble moving.
“You’ve over complicated things for Dimple.” Springer said, his laugher now gone. His face looked thoughtful.
“Explain then” Xanthippe said.
“Dimple isn’t stupid exactly. But he is a very simple pony. He isn’t the usual earth pony numbskull. He has his moments where he shines. Otherwise, I wouldn’t waste my time with him. But he is a very simple pony at the center of it all. He throws all of himself that he has into whatever the situation demands. When he’s fighting, he is fighting. All of him. He holds nothing back. He loses himself in the moment. Sort of like a unicorn does sometimes with magic. The earth ponies of old called it ‘berserker rage’ and I guess a few pegasi had it as well. Most earth ponies are harmless farmer types, simple, good, just, kind ponies. But a few, well, they have bad tempers. Make them angry, they’ll go berserk. Something had to protect the earth ponies from their enemies. And a few were born a little different.” Springer paused and cleared his throat, and then continued; “It doesn’t just extend to his temper, or his fighting, but everything he does. He is the best friend you could ask for, because he throws all of himself into being your friend. When he is kind, he throws all of himself into kindness. When he rages, look out, there is a lot of pony there, and he has a lot to throw around. When he finally reaches full size, he’s gonna be huge. Do you understand me?” Springer said.
Xanthippe sat in silence for a long time, nothing saying anything. Finally, she spoke: “I think I understand. I am glad to have met both of you. And you as well Calliope.”
Calliope clicked and chirped in reply, smiling, her fangs visible.
Dimple came crashing through the underbrush. “Hey, found food. There is a grove of wild plum trees not far from here. There is also a raspberry thicket.”
Springer rose from the water, shaking himself dry. “I prefer my plums in the form of wine.” He replied.
“Let’s go.” Dimple said impatiently. “I’m starving. I didn’t touch anything. Didn’t feel right because you hadn’t had anything.”
“See what I mean?” Springer said, smiling at Xanthippe.
It had been three days since making landfall. Three days, and the companions were becoming familiar with one another. Springer and Calliope were sometimes familiar several times a day.
Xanthippe actually felt a small pang of envy, wishing that, perhaps, Dimple would become a bit more familiar with her. The idea both titillated and frightened her. All Dimple seemed to want from her is a back scratching and the night before he had used her as a pillow before taking his turn to stand watch. She had been terrified when she felt him lay down beside her, his broad body brushing up against hers, his weight pressing down on her briefly as he slide down her side, and then feeling his broad jaw resting on her back.
They were traveling now through a forest full of pines and juniper, pine needles all over the forest floor, and little shafts of sunlight poking down from the trees. They hadn’t encountered sentient life yet. Springer was keeping track of all the new animals and birds that he had never seen before.
Their bellies growled, there was precious little grass on the forest floor. They were traveling slightly uphill, ahead of them above the treeline some mountains and hills were visible. They moved at a brisk pace, looking for a place to set up camp for the evening, hopefully a place with water and food.
Calliope took off at a brisk trot, the others hurrying to keep up. They were learning to trust Calliope’s senses. She ran, her wings flapping steadily, her tongue hanging out in a pant. They followed her up a steep ridge, over a jagged crest of rocks, through a thicket, down into a ravine, and then up the other side.
And Calliope showed no signs of slowing.
Eventually, they came to another broad stone cliff face, with a crack down the middle of the rock, the crack leading into a secluded hidden place, the scent of water strong in their noses. The cave was small, but it would shelter them and it had water in the back, a natural spring forming a small pool.
There wasn’t much in the way of food present though.
“Buggery,” Springer cursed.
Calliope perked up, her face hopeful.
“You hear all about these stories with adventurers and mercenaries out having adventures but you never hear about them starving,” Dimple muttered.
“You could try eating the zebra,” Springer suggested, causing Xanthippe to blush fiercely, turning pink all over her body in between her black stripes. Xanthippe worked very hard to stifle her giggles, she didn’t want the perverted unicorn knowing that he had said something that had broken her composure.
Dimple stood and shrugged.
“Trust me DImple, there are parts on a filly they don’t mind having nibbled,” said Springer slyly, raising an eyebrow in a well practiced gesture.
Calliope nodded enthusiastically, her tail swishing in a jerky fashion. She let out a loud shrill whistle followed by a series of clicks, pops, and a warble.
Dimple, if he felt anything at all by this shameless display, didn’t show it. He stood there, resolute. “I am better than the common minotaur,” he announced.
Springer looked at his friend strangely, trying to figure out a new complexity to be found within Dimple. Dimple was full of surprises. A murderous streak a mile wide, the heart of a romantic, and now, the newfound ability to spout cryptic moral platitudes while he stood starving.
“I am going to go off and collect firewood. We’ll camp here for the night. Settle in,” suggested Springer as he set off into the surrounding woods to find wood to burn.
“So, tell me your story.”
Xanthippe nearly jumped out of her skin, Dimple’s sudden words startling her quite badly. She had been keeping watch, standing near the fire, occasionally pacing around to keep herself awake and alert.
“Story?” asked Xanthippe.
“Well, you ended up a slave somehow, right?” inquired Dimple, studying the Zebra in the firelight, his features stony yet thoughtful.
“The story is simple and would probably be rather boring to you,” Xanthippe answered, sitting down upon her haunches and studying Dimple as he looked at her.
“Well, do go on, if I didn’t want to know, I wouldn’t have asked, so tell me a story,” said Dimple, reaching up behind his ear with a hindhoof and giving a scratch.
“This is all going to sound terribly cliche,” protested Xanthippe.
“Do I ask you for very much or treat you poorly?” asked Dimple.
“Well, no, you don’t, you’ve been surprisingly kind to me,” answered Xanthippe.
“And yet you balk at a simple story,” Dimple accused. “Of all the things I could be asking for, or simply just taking from you, the story is the one thing you deny,” added Dimple.
Xanthippe felt a searing hot blush of heat go coursing through her body. She couldn’t tell if it was anger, frustration, or perhaps lust. There had been a little bit of that lately. She felt deeply conflicted about being Dimple’s property. On one hoof, he had saved her and had asked for very little in return, on the other hoof, she was still property and he occasionally reminded her of that. It was infuriating. And humbling. And within the deepest parts of her mind, a bit of a turn on. Not that she would ever admit to that though.
Xanthippe’s golden yellow eyes glittered in the firelight as her skin burned, and it wasn’t from being to close to the fire. She stared at the grey shaggy pony who had just reminded her that he owned her, and all of the implications that went with that.
And there was no way to run either. She was in a strange land, full of who knows what kind of zebra eating monsters. Running would be foolish. Keeping Dimple happy was simple. Dimple kept her safe and really did ask for very little in return. Xanthippe sighed and prepared to tell a story.
“My father is the chief of a large tribe of zebras who live on the edges of the Sea of Grass, we live among the bottlewood trees and the gourd trees. Several days walk from our tribal lands in the direction of the west is the endless waters. To the north lies griffons, to the south lies more zebras, and to the east lies dragons. I was educated and spent my entire life being prepared to marry a chief of a tribe of zebras far to the south. When the day came to leave home, I was placed on a boat along with a contingent of my father’s most trusted guards, and we departed, heading south, traveling along the coastline,” explained Xanthippe, telling her tale.
Dimple’s stomach rumbled loudly, which he ignored, as there was nothing to eat to make it be quiet. His blue eyes reflected the firelight, leaving behind orange flashes on his irises.
“The boat was seized, many of my father’s guard were taken captive or simply killed, and I was taken. We sailed around the coastline, into strange lands I knew nothing about, I was kept caged and under constant guard by my new captors, left unmolested, which I am most grateful for, and eventually we ended up in the marketplace where you found me. I was supposed to be part of an exotic slave action or something like that,” finished Xanthippe.
“So you are educated? You can read and write and all of that?” asked Dimple.
“Yes,” said Xanthippe, her answer simple and direct.
“Would you like to go home?” inquired Dimple, his voice soft in the warm glow of the fire.
“Of course I would!” Xanthippe snapped. “I miss my family terribly. My father would probably send me away to the zebra I was supposed to marry again though,” cried Xanthippe, fresh tears now visible in the firelight.
“Look after my very simple needs and I will try to get you home, situation permitting,” promised Dimple. “Might take some convincing for Springer to see reason, but Springer does listen to me when I have something important to say,” Dimple added.
“You would do that for me? Why? I mean, you own me now, correct?” ask Xanthippe, confused and bewildered, her tears still dribbling from her muzzle.
“Seems you were never mine to own. There are others still connected to you,” said Dimple, staring down at his single front forehoof.
“I don’t understand,” replied Xanthippe.
“It would be much easier owning an orphan,” answered Dimple.
“What a horrible thing to say!” exclaimed Xanthippe, now feeling very angry and glaring at Dimple, who seemed unconcerned about about her anger.
“Not really, no,” retorted Dimple. “Orphans have no ties to anything. Nothing is invested in them. Nothing is connected to them. They simply are. As I was. Nothing shed tears for me as life seized me and carried me away to my fate. Nopony cried for me as I was bought and sold, traded, brokered, and passed around as property. Not one tear was shed as my front leg was branded with a white hot poker, right up in the front, right were everything and everybody could see it as they looked upon my face, letting them know that I was a slave. I am glad I lost that leg. Small price to pay. Somepony, well, zebra, still cries for you, so it is best I return you home,” explained Dimple.
“You, you, you… you don’t make any sense at all!” Xanthippe said in a loud confused whisper, her anger melting away, replaced by a sense of befuddlement. She rose up on her hooves, stomped over to Dimple, and kissed him on his head between his ears.
“What was that for?” asked Dimple.
“I didn’t know what else to do,” confessed Xanthippe, sitting back down near Dimple.
“And you say I don’t make any sense,” grumbled Dimple, now staring into the firelight and trying to ignore the over emotional zebra.
Several more days into the wilderness, they found a wild orchard full of apple trees and walnut trees, which the starving ponies were most grateful for. They had set up camp in the orchard, which sat on the edge of a shallow brook full of grey and purple rocks.
Calliope had been finding food during their long walk, rabbits, small animals, the occasional fish from rivers and streams. She was gaining weight rapidly and her wing flapping was no getting her off the ground. She was also becoming far more aggressive. Protective. Not only of Springer, but of Dimple and Xanthippe as well.
After eating, a thorough exploration of the orchard revealed a crumbled dwelling made of sod, now fallen in on itself and empty. Whomever had lived here had moved on.
Springer was getting worried, they hadn’t seen anything or anybody, hadn’t seen pegasi flying overhead, there was no signs of sentient life anywhere.
Dimple seemed completely unconcerned.
The decision was made to stay in the orchard for a few days, eating as much food as possible, and searching the surrounding area. Springer reasoned that if there had been farmers living here, there had to be someplace for them to sell their goods somewhere nearby.
It was a line of reasoning that Xanthippe had agreed seemed sound.
Nope, no heartbeat.