Dirt had to be cautious on his journey; despite the fact that he could hit hardest with his hooves, being caught without a gun in between settlements was a death sentence. That's why he stuck to the buildings as he traveled so he could take cover at a moment's notice.

The stallion was still mad at himself for trusting Daisy Petal. He would never have been robbed if he hadn't started talking to her. The fact that he had been hoping to get lucky only taught himself that he should never be caught with his metaphorical pants down. No more screwing around, in either sense of the word, until he got his money and his gun back.

The gun in question was a huge six-shooter that had belonged to his father, a big fellow named Mud. That gun had been passed down from generation to generation ever since the megaspells dropped, his father had told him. Dirt would someday give it to his own son when he settled down. If he failed to get the gun back, he'd be failing his father and all of his ancestors before him. Not exactly the kind of thing he wanted on his shoulders.

His mind flickered back to the task at hoof. He had no map, but he knew that he was a few miles from New Appleloosa. The mare had a head start of a few hours, he figured, but he could catch up if he quickened his pace. He hurried on.

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Along the way, Dirt discovered an old Sparkle-Cola machine leaning against the base of a burnt-out commercial building. He smiled. Usually, these things held a couple drinks and some bottle caps. He trotted over to it, but halted just a few feet from it. Directly in front of the machine was a bear trap, its open maws stained with the blood of many unaware victims. He crouched down and examined it for a moment. It was a simple enough trap that he could probably set it off with a stick or something. Looking around, he found the next best thing: an empty bottle.

He picked up the bottle in his teeth and used one end of it to push on the trap's pressure pad. The jaws snapped close on the bottle, breaking it in half. Satisfied, Dirt spat out the broken end and turned his attention to the vending machine. He kicked it open with a back leg and its payload spilled forth. Three bottles of Sparkle-Cola. That would fetch some caps in New Appleloosa. He scooped them into his saddlebag.

At that moment, Dirt heard a scuffle of hooves on the ground less than ten feet away from him. He tensed, his nostrils flaring. Raiders. He quietly crouched down behind a large boulder, hoping to catch them by surprise.

To his shock, though, it wasn't a raider. Trotting along the path was a young unicorn mare, clad in the blue and yellow barding that marked Stable dwellers. This particular one was from Stable 6, as evident by the uniform. The mare had her head down, a lost expression about her. She seemed innocent enough, so he probably didn't have anything to fear from her.

He was about to turn away and continue on his journey, but he stopped. Following right behind her we three tumorous, insect-like flying creatures: a murderous band of bloatsprites, all poised to attack. He galloped toward the mare, trying to alert her. "Hey! Behind you!" he called in a desperate attempt to get her attention.

The mare turned around, a look of surprise on her face. That look quickly turned to fear as she spotted what he was talking about. She screamed, a sound that could practically shatter glass. This only seemed to egg the sprites on. One of them began firing sharp spines at the girl. Dirt rushed forward with a surge of adrenaline and pushed her behind a dumpster, knocking her out of the bloatsprites' line of fire.

"Stay there!" he said to her before galloping back to fight the sprites. He lifted a rock in his forelegs, then spun around and released it. Two sprites fell to the ground, their bodies crushed. The last one charged at him, but he was ready. He turned sharply and caught the insect with a kick that sent it flying. It fell dead as well.

Dirt sighed. He was lucky that nopony had gotten hurt. He looked back to the mare. "Y'alright, miss?" he asked.

"Y-yeah. I'm fine," she said, avoiding eye contact. "Thank you for saving me."

"Well, what was I gonna do? Watch a filly get killed? I may not be the nicest fella, but I'm no raider." He gave her a friendly smile, but she was too sullen to return one. Awkwardly, he scratched his dull mane with a hoof.

"By the way, my name's Dirt. What's your name?" he asked.

"Fizzy Pop."

"Do you know where you're headed, Fizzy?" Most Stable dwellers had no idea where to start once they had left their homes.

"Not really. I'm just looking for some place to stay."

"Well, you do know that there's a town just a bit southwest of here?" he suggested. "I could take you there."

The unicorn looked up at him. "You would do that?"

"Sure. It's safer to travel together, anyway."

Her sadness seemed to wash away. "Great! I'd like that. I just have one question for you, Mister Dirt."

"Yeah?"

"Got any soda?"

Author's Note

Well, this was a really fun chapter to write. I'm hoping to work on the next chapter either later today or tomorrow, but I decided to submit the story now just to get some feedback. Advice is ALWAYS appreciated.

Revised 6/8/14.