Crawl Before You Walk

Attitude really is ninety percent of getting things done, you’d better believe it. That being said, if your legs are sawn off and you’re bleeding out, a positive attitude won’t do shit.

???
Day 1, Early Afternoon

Part of finding one’s way down any road is knowing which paths to take and which trails to go on. If I’d never been to a place before, even if it was just a few miles down the road, and no one gave me directions, I’d always make sure to look it up. Sure, that was probably breaking the man-code, but it always saved a lot of time. I’d show up quickly wherever I went, and eventually I’d accumulate a large stash of index cards with directions hastily scrawled in shorthand for all the places I’d only ever been to once in the car’s console.

Especially on the really long trips, I’d want turns, street names, and distances. A thousand miles away from home, it didn’t pay to take a wrong turn, because sometimes even the maps could make a mistake. What always surprised me was when my ability to know when I had erred. You wouldn’t think it was possible to know when you’d gone off your course in the middle of a far-away city and the road to the highway was really two streets over, but it happened. And right now, I really felt like life had taken a wrong turn somewhere.

I’d often been described as the ‘honest kid’. My mother had always told me she’d imagined me becoming a judge, at least until I joined the military. When I asked why, she told me about a contest I’d once had with my brother when I was six years old. It was a simple boys’ game. My four year old brother and I tried to see how far we could jump. When I landed, I’d measure from the back of my heel. When my brother jumped, he sprawled on his stomach and measured from as far out as he could reach. My mother always watched me and laughed when I couldn’t understand why I was losing.

I suppose that attitude was what always made people think I was a lot more innocent than I actually was. Time and time again in my life, I’d found there was a disparity between the expectations of myself as opposed to those of the world. What I found to be evil in my own eyes, the world so often saw as innocent and even benign. At my darkest hours, some of my friends would laugh and tell me to shake it off, and that my qualms didn’t seem like a big deal on a grand scale of human evils. I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t have done the same for murder.

I’m also pretty sure murder has happened millions of times, regardless of how you define it. And while that pony most certainly wasn’t human, it was a living, breathing, thinking creature. For that matter, being a pony only caused it to hit a little bit closer to home. Sawyer looked more or less like him, and it most certainly would have been murder if I killed my own brother, regardless of what shape his body was. There was no kidding myself on the necessity of my actions; we would have been hurt, raped, infected, and killed had I not done what I did.

However, all the rationalizations in the world were not going to make the unsettling feelings or the memories go away. Falling forward through the air, feeling the raider’s body shake underneath mine, and hearing the roar of his chainsaw clearly reminded me that they were all there to stay. When the saw’s vibrations shook me through him, I knew he was gone. I took a moment to look at his remains before we left the old farm.

I shouldn’t have.

So simple a thought, so short a memory, and I felt dirtier than I ever had before in my life. The feeling permeated through me like the stickiness of the hottest humid day under a winter coat. It was undeniably present and clinging. But it was more than that; it was a profound and inescapable sinking feeling of unease on my soul. Unfortunately, there was also plenty of filth dripping down my coat too. Sweat, mud, and blood were all drying and caking onto me and creating one reeking mess -- inside and out. I doubted the others minded much though, as they were all covered in the same soul-staining gore. This was true for all except Seth, who was very much unconscious and motionless. Any worries over bodily filth and moral reek would wait until later.

In basic training, I’d had the mandatory self-aid buddy-care training that everybody got, which, at its pinnacle, told you how to recognize that somebody was hurt (limb loss and massive bleeding were good indicators), and how to do basic care, like bind the wound and apply pressure, until someone with actual medical training showed up to save the day. Even so, I could barely take care of someone who was human, much less a pony. Sawyer had been EMT trained, but from what I gathered, that was simply the next level higher up from ‘keep them alive until you can get them to a real doctor.’ Despite this, Sawyer would not be much use anyway; he was still cursing, spitting, and snorting, which was followed by yet more cursing and spitting when he realized he was making animal noises. For all of Sawyer’s angst, Seth was certainly in a worse way.

He wasn’t bleeding, but that was like saying that an empty glass wasn’t leaking water anymore. Slight changes in the rise and fall of his chest let me know that he was still alive, but if his body could replace all that blood, I wasn’t certain. All the supplies we had were a few rat skewers that the raiders left behind, and Seth wasn’t even able to consume them. The sheets we wrapped his wounds in were dirty and aging. I was certainly no doctor, but I had the nagging feeling that Infection was bound to set in and spread to his blood. He was existing on borrowed time, and we could only hope for reaching aid soon.

Hope came like a godsend from the smoke we saw in the distance. It did not matter whether its source was a town, a raider camp, or raiders burning down a town. There was still the hope that the fabled destination had someone who could save Seth. Hope that we could find a way to pay for treatment that would have cost tens of thousands of dollars at a hospital. I had the sinking feeling that the few dozen caps the raiders had wouldn’t be covering surgery and blood transfusions. All this I could only ponder as we trudged ahead.

“Hey, Dom, you need a break?” Marcus’s voice came from somewhere behind me, but I couldn’t exactly turn around to look. He wasn’t looking so hot either, now that I had a chance to think. Whatever he’d done back there had taken a huge toll on his health. I was weighed down by one end of a long branch we’d used to build a stretcher, which only added to the difficulty of barely being able to walk straight. Trying to get four of us to stand evenly under the ends of the stretcher and walk evenly at the same pace had been frustrating, and we’d wound up dropping it entirely twice just trying to raise the platform.

Despite his best intentions, I wasn’t going to let Marcus anywhere near Seth. After he woke up, his steps were staggered and tenuous at best, and he looked as though he might ask which of the two Seths to pick up. I was not going to risk dropping Seth more than he already had been if I didn’t have to.

“No, I’m alright,” I quickly replied, “I don’t want you carrying anything heavy after knocking yourself out like that, but make sure to be keeping an eye out, alright?”

“Yeah, sure thing.” He strode into my field of view, the cut-off shotgun slung around his neck and a bulging pair of saddlebags around his midsection. Given that he was playing scout for this little hike, it was quickly agreed he needed the weapon, and had to carry everything else that wasn’t Seth.

Getting Sawyer to help carry was a matter of screaming at him to get over himself until nobody was in danger of dying. Once that had been settled, though, we’d just kept going. Initially, I’d been worried about getting worn out; Amelia would likely get tired and we’d have to swap. There is a reason humanity had used four legged animals as beasts of burden for millenia, and I quickly realized that this was no coincidence.

“Everyone else doing fine?” I asked.

A chorus of grunted and muttered acknowledgements hit my ears, and we continued across the plain. The smoke had looked to be no more than a few hours away, but that would have been a fast walk for somebody who knew how to use their body and was not carrying an injured pony. We’d be traveling for well over an hour, and Marcus had guessed we were not even a third of the way there at the top of the last ridge. The constant hills, ridges, ravines, and gullies had slowed us even further. After so many years running on tracks and trails, picking my way around bushes, boulders, and sharp dips in the landscape made for for a great deal of frustration. Still, each slip up and near-failure led to another iota of understanding on how to walk in this new form.

As the hours rolled by and the habit of walking slowly lurched towards subconscious, my mind began to wander. The sky above was covered in clouds all the way to the horizon, casting the land in tones of gray. The colors below us had changed slowly from yellows to browns to greens and back to brown, but by and large most of the grass we stomped over was dead. Here and there bushes and thistles grew, shivering in the wind that seemed to be constantly blowing. It was almost cold on me, but not quite.

Being completely covered in hair was a wonderful way to stay warm, so long as I kept my wings folded to my sides. Not that I was trying with those again; this was no time to fall over and drop the branches braced over my back. There wasn’t any snow on the ground, but it felt just about cold enough for it to start. The occasional green spots had me convinced that it wasn’t yet winter, whatever season it was now.

Shaking my head, I tried to refocus. Even if I couldn’t be checking for danger in more places than I could see to the front-left of the stretcher, I should have been paying attention. The whole reason I was carrying a stretcher was because of surprise danger that we’d failed to anticipate. Moreover, I had until we got to a place where we could stop to think, to figure out something to explain all of this to everyone else.

Pfft.

That would be easier if I had some idea of what the hell was going on. ‘Hey guys, the military invented a pony-ray!’ Yeah, they’d totally go for that. But in all seriousness, I still had a mission to do. I needed to get back somehow and carry on with it. Duty didn’t go away just because an experimental reactor went off and weird stuff followed, but at this point I very well could be incapable of doing anything.

Replaying the few seconds before I blacked out in my mind was chaotic and painful. Laced with adrenaline, I couldn’t remember anything actually hurting, but trying to drag up so much at once over and over again looking for some kind of detail I missed was a grim reminder of where I was at the moment. Going over the observations in my mind, I laid out what I knew. The entire ground had been shaking back and forth, not just any random direction. Those chunks of the mountainside were flying out radially without any location of indent. It hadn’t been nuked; something had blown up inside. And I had a pretty good idea of exactly what that was. Between the technical details, the number of compartmentalization caveats, and sheer improbability, what exactly could I tell everyone?

They were going to demand of me to know what went down at some point or another, and my ability to lie would only hold up as long as Sawyer was still too angry to care. I needed something, anything, to take up our time until I could figure out what exactly to say. We weren’t at a loss for a cause, because assuming we got Seth patched up, we still needed a place to live and food to eat. For that matter, we needed a way to interact with the locals.

Idea!

“Hey guys, I just thought of something. We might have a bit of trouble when we go into town.”

Terrance was the first to speak up. “Gee, you think? Like the notion that we’re going to pay for medical attention with the bottlecap equivalent of a twenty? Or perhaps the fact that we can barely walk and look like a bunch of bumbling idiots? What about the fact that we can’t even say where we are from?! ‘Hello, I am Terrance, that’s Dom, we’re humans from another dimension, that’s why we’re blank-flanks, can you spend your rather precious medical supplies on our dying friend? Oh yeah, we have about no real money, or marketable skills in this dying hellhole.’”

“Damn…” I muttered, deflated. That certainly was the realistic way of looking at it. I wanted to scream at him to cooperate, but that would probably just make him blow up. So I kept prodding instead. “Yeah, that’s about right. But I think it would be easier if we had some names. What should we call ourselves?”

“...This is going to be fun.” Terrance’s sarcasm was thick enough to cut with a knife.

“And one more thing,” I continued, “from what little the raiders said, it would also seem that they don’t speak quite the same dialect we do. If we want to have better chances of getting received well, we should both pick names for ourselves, and adopt their style of speaking.”

“Like what?” Page stopped to turn and face the group. “You mean you all could understand what those raiders were slurring?”

“Well, yeah?” Terr replied, shrugging. “I mean, it won’t be anything big, but it’s not going to be overly hard for some of us. Picking up the changes in small words, like ‘everyone’ to ‘everypony’ could be a trick at first.”

“Sure, I figure that will come in time. I know they still use the word ‘everyone’ now and again, so we can’t be burned too bad there, I hope. But if nothing else, you can’t call me Dom when we get into town. Terrance doesn’t sound like a pony name either. If we’re going to be the bumbling idiots who try to pay for major surgery with spare change and can barely walk straight, I’d at least like to have names that sound real, and a half-assed story of where we came from. I know the latter is gonna have to wait until we find out where we are, but did you honestly never give any thought to the former? I mean, I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t call myself ‘Sky Sage’ over ‘Dominic Everson.’”

“Wow, seriously?” Terrance smirked, “Wise lord of the sky who can’t even fly.”

Holding back a chuckle wasn’t really hard when I also wanted to growl. “And you’re gonna do so much better because you are gonna be…?”

“Dizzy,” replied Terrance curtly. “It’s what you’ve called me for the last three years, and it even sounds like a pony name. I don’t see any reason for you to stop calling me that now.”

That was probably true. From the first day I met Terrance, or more accurately, got in a fight with him in a conference call, he’d gone by the moniker of ‘Dizzy.’ It never really made much sense to me, as he was one of the most levelheaded folks I’d ever met. Apparently it was some old nickname from his childhood days that really stuck. Almost made me feel bad for him, but hey, if he liked it, that was his choice to keep it. He used it so much that I started using it half the time to refer to him. Best of all, it did really sound like a pony name, even if it was about as flattering as calling someone ‘Derpy.’ Here’s to hoping the rest of the crew will go along this easily.

“Amelia, sweetie? Did you have something in mind? I know you--”

“Yeah,” she deadpanned from over on my right. “Just call me Ash.”

“Ash?”

“Yep. For Ashen Shield.”

I would have rather called her ‘cuddle-fluffle-cutesy-snuggly’, but suggesting that probably would have earned me a vicious bout of tickling if we weren’t carrying Seth on our backs, or stuck in a desolate wasteland. I couldn’t help but vividly remember trying to help her up while waking her up. She had been so soft. Not that she was now, every bit as covered in sweat and grime as myself, but it was still a memory I knew that I was going to hold onto fondly for a long time. If nothing else, it was one more name down without bickering and arguing, and a step toward getting everyone to cooperate.

“And what about you, Marcus?” I asked. Five seconds ticked by, then fifteen. This was really starting to try my patience. “Marcus, you there, dude?”

A rock whistled by my head to strike a stump. “Ow!” Page exclaimed through gritted teeth, “I have an unbelievable headache right now. Also, yes! I got it!”

“Your magic?”

“Mhmm!” He replied, nodding proudly. Seeing him like this made me think that he was either in extreme denial, or had literally no idea about what was going on around him. Before I could think further, he continued. “I was all burnt out when I woke up, but it’s back now. Isn’t it great? It seems like I can still cast, but it just hurts like hell.” Man, that magic stuff must fry your brain or something. I just don’t get it, but I’m really glad I have wings and not a horn so far.

I let out a sigh. Had I tried a little harder, it might have sounded cheerful, but I guess it just came out as tired. I didn’t like the idea of our lookout running around throwing rocks as a space cadet when we’d already nearly lost someone to a nasty surprise.

“So, any thoughts on your name?” I asked, “As in your pony name.”

“Oh yeah, sorry about that. Call me Page.” He paused to gesture at himself with a hoof. “I’ll think of a last name later if I need it. But what are we calling Seth?”

I was ready for that one. “Well, actually we talked about that yesterday while you all were taking your sweet time getting the skis loaded into the truck. I paused to think -- the reality of the situation sinking in heavier by the second. Just yesterday, we were all going hurriedly trying to get down the road and to the lift lines, blissfully unaware about what was to befall us. But how could you even plan for something like this? I shook myself slightly, breaking out of the daze. We’re calling him ‘Wingnut,’ though I’m not sure how well it fits.”

“It doesn’t,” muttered Terr. “He’s a theoretical physicist, not a mechanic.”

“Well, if you can fix him enough to wake up him up safely to ask him about it, you can try to convince him to change it. Otherwise, it stays, because we don’t have another nickname for him.” Terr grunted something unintelligible, but I was going to take that as agreement. “But now we get to the hard part,” I was almost looking forward to this, ”Sawyer?”

“What?!” he spat.

“You need a name too.”

“You just said it. Discussion closed.” He began walking faster, as if to somehow distance himself from the group. The litter made sure that he couldn’t.

“Oh no it’s not.” I said edgily as I trudged along, intentionally breaking whatever invisible barrier he was trying to construct. “I know you heard everything we just talked about. And we’re getting this done one way or another. We’ll help you if you’re willing to work with us, but if you can’t at least try, I’m going to call you ‘Dopey’ the whole time.”

“Or we could just call you ‘Fluffy.’” Terrance, no, Dizzy gave a bitter retort. I hoped it was enough to get Sawyer to focus. This is really going to have to become thought habit before it becomes speaking habit.

“Well,” Sawyer said crossly, “how do I just pick a new name?”

“Hmm.” I thought about that for a moment. For all the names I had made and bestowed, I had yet to think about the actual rationale and guidelines behind it. “Well, unless you have a name-name in mind, like Dizzy did, it’s gotta be a…sort of statement. Something that you are, something that you do, something that you want to be. Like there was a pony named Soarin’ who was a fast flier, or--”

“Yes, there was Fluttershy.” Sawyer interjected, suddenly raising my optimism for a meaningful discussion. “Or Fuckershy for that stupid pink and yellow pansy one right?” My expectations dropped like a rock. “So what I want to be, eh?” Sawyer looked over and grinned at me, “Well, I’m going to be God-King-Emperor.”

“Flufflepuff it is then!” Dizzy exclaimed oddly cheerfully.

I let out a slow sigh. “It’s a start, but that’s like constantly introducing yourself by all your titles in real life. If you constantly told everyone you were ‘Cadet Everson,’ no one would ever take you seriously. How about something you’re good at? I know you play chess. Perhaps there is a chess opening out there that might make a good name.”

“Ok? Call me ‘Najdorf Dragon’ then,” Sawyer replied, sounding settled.

I coughed, sputtered, caught my balance, and then asked, “Nie-dorf what?”

“Well, that’s two chess openings. One is the Najdorf, and the other is the Sicilian Dragon.”

“The smallest of all of us wants to be called ‘Dragon.’ I’ll just let that sink in a bit.” Dizzy said from somewhere in the back.

“Uh, yeah?” Sawyer replied, sounding contentious. “You asked me to pick a name, and I did. And I’m proud that it isn’t nearly as stupid as yours. It actually sounds kind of cool.”

“Well, it is cool,” I chose my next words carefully, “but you’ve got to pick something appropriate. You’re not a famous chessmaster yet, and you don’t look very dragonlike.” It was difficult trying to impress upon the importance of not being finicky and choosing something reasonable. “I’m sure you saw this isn’t happy-pony-land. If you go around toting a name like that, you’re bound to get beat up or worse, and if you can’t pick something reasonable, I won’t help you. Why not go through other chess concepts?”

“Can I punch Fluffy?” Dizzy pleaded.

I sighed and glanced over at Dizzy, who was grinning at the thought. “Not yet.”

The next few hours of travel afforded us some time to think and bounce every word we knew about chess back and forth with Sawyer. He or someone (somepony?) would suggest anything to do with chess and see if it stuck. Quite popular was any ‘name’ self-referencing or ridiculously grandiose that seemed likely to cause too much unnecessary attention. I could only imagine how this world would greet ‘Emperor God King Najdorf Dragon’ if he ever reached a town.

As we walked, I had time to notice that the landscape seemed to clear of the large bushes and boulders that marked our path from the house. With the added openness, the group seemed to visibly relax; I hoped that our momentary peace would remain.

It wasn’t every day you wound up carrying a dying friend on your back and the stress and horror of the situation on your mind. Topping that off with something so petty as convincing an unwilling horse to change his nickname was inane to say the least. If they’re ‘enjoying’ Sawyer’s petulance as much as I am, they must be ready to smack him. At least it’s a momentary distraction.

“No, no, no -- no. ‘Checkmate’ suggests that you always have a plan and are looking ahead,” Terrance interjected as Sawyer suggested another self-flattering monicker. Sawyer was nothing if not consistent. I let out an involuntary groan at it all.

“But what if I am and do?” Sawyer gestured to himself proudly.

“You already proved you don’t and can’t,” Dizzy growled. ”Wingnut here is case and point.”

“I think Dizzy’s right on that one,” I reasoned. “Gah! This is getting nowhere! Perhaps...you could go by something really frustrating like…Stalemate?”

Sawyer paused to think for a while, and the only noise that collected in the air was the whisper of slow plodding through the grass.

“I guess.” He looked over and frowned. “If there is nothing else that will do. But I’d still rather you to call me Naj. And you’re still getting me out of here as fast as you can, deal?”

“Done deal, Stalemate.” You and me both.

For everything that had changed with a new body, some things remained horribly constant. Despite the ever-present cloud cover overhead and the relatively low ambient temperatures, as well as having the weight of the litter spread among four of us, I was still thirsty. It had been at least two, if not three hours since we’d set out, and I was not the only one. I wasn’t sure if they were trying to be strong and avoid complaining, or had just been shocked into silence, but they were surely just as parched. And that was why we had all turned the second we heard that familiar gurgling noise.

At half a foot deep and two feet wide, the creek was probably running down from the mountains in the distance. Green life flowered alongside the edge of the water, but didn’t extend far. The gentle trickling noises tortured my ears and throat as we stood there.

“Think it’s radioactive?” Dizzy raised the most practical and yet infuriating question right away. I wanted water, and there was a cold mountain stream sitting right in front of me. I’m not sure how much of what I said was convincing him and how much was convincing myself.

“Maybe?” I gulped, gradually realizing that I was trying to convince myself as much as the others. “I’m not seeing anything hideous growing alongside it, and it’s not glowing. So, if there is any radiation, it’s not much. And I haven’t seen any giant craters since we’ve been walking. It looks like we ended up in a pretty remote and empty location. My guess is that whoever wrecked this world didn’t waste any balefire bombs on it here, meaning that this should be clean to drink.”

“‘Should’ is a reeeeealy big assumption,” Page made a wide sweeping motion with his hoof for emphasis. “Well, I’m thirsty and my bottle of water is probably in another dimension. Bottoms up! Er...heads down? Whatever,” he mumbled as he wandered to the streambed to stick his face into the flow.

“Well, die by thirst today, or potentially by radiation in a few weeks, months, or years?” I shrugged. What choice do I have? “The latter gives us time to address it, but if we don’t get some water, we’re not gonna get Wingnut to safety.”

“Well, it looks like we don’t exactly have much choice...” Ash conceded flatly, settling the issue.

No one else seemed ready to complain about the prospect of water, and we stepped up to the creek. Getting Wingnut down was a matter of pure cooperation. The four carriers knelt down at the same time and more or less rolled out from under the branches we’d used to build the frame. Guided by what little telekinesis Page had regained in the last few hours, we got the assembly down on the ground in once piece...ish. It wasn’t exactly tied together well to begin with. Getting it back on would be harder, but no worse than picking him up in the first place had been.

I found myself standing over the creek edge, and for the first time in my life, short on hands to cup it and bring it to my face. It seemed so animalistic, so brutal, so -- awww fuckit. The long neck on a pony’s body allowed me to lean right down and stick my face in the water, and then recoil from its icy embrace. After a second or two, my thirst overpowered any other objections, and I drank.

Each swallow was a spray of ice down my throat, but it was the sweetest water I could remember ever having. By the fourth gulp, the frozen feeling in my skull became too great to bear, and I stood up, clenching my teeth. On my left, Page was already back to pacing around and digging through the grass, and Dizzy was patiently waiting to take another drink. On my other side, Stalemate still had his face in the water, and Ash was making the same face I was. Then it was back down to drink again. Then wait again, then drink again, over and over until I felt bloated and freezing.

When that dryness finally left my throat, hunger reached up from my belly to claw at my thoughts and focus. There were exactly two ways of which I could think of to fix this: rats on a stick, questionably days old; or the grass at my hooves, dry and unappealing. Fortunately, hunger isn’t picky.

“Guys, I think it’s time we ate, too.” It seemed plain wrong to be using their new names, but if I didn’t practice them now, I wouldn’t use them later. “Page, I want you to make sure you have one of those skewers before you start trying the grass.” He at least looked up when I spoke his name. “You’ve gotta get yourself all back together from knocking yourself out.” He absently saluted while I continued. That hundred-yard stare was really starting to worry me.

Page immediately took off his saddlebags and began rummaging while Dizzy stuck his face in the grass and started chewing. Ash didn’t respond, instead staring at Wingnut’s motionless form. Slightly refocused, I redirected my attention towards the others. “Ash and Stalemate, that goes for you too. We might need your magic at any moment.” She continued to stare, so I tried one more time to appeal to her. “Ash? Sweetie, you need to eat something.”

“We need to go…” Her eyes never deviated from Wingnut as she spoke, and her movements seemed restrained, as if any twitch now would disturb his immobile sleep.

“Yes, but you need to get some food in you before we keep going. It’s gonna be a long road ahead.” She stood a moment, eyes glazed, still fixed upon Wingnut, and shifted her weight.

“We’re not going anywhere until I eat, are we?” She glanced at me then back to Wingnut cautiously.

“You and me both,” I added flatly.

Page and Sawyer were already each tearing into their rats. Getting a closer look, they didn’t exactly look appetizing. Bits of fur were still clumped on, and their tails stuck out, clutched in rigor mortis. Thankfully, the raiders had at least cut off the heads first. Page was levitating the last skewer in the air alongside Ash’s head. She hesitated, and glanced once more at Wingnut. She closed her eyes, opened them, and bit into the rat. I looked on until she finished the bite, swallowed, and softly told me I should take care of myself.

“Stop staring...go eat.”

I really didn’t need telling twice. So long as she was eating, that was good enough for me. I was too hungry to argue. That left me with the grass. I couldn’t really imagine it was tasty, if the few hazy memories of trying to eat random plants as a kid were anything to go by. Nor could I remember hearing of any characters, story or show, eating grass. But if I had a pony body, it should work. After all, that’s what ‘real’ ponies ate, and normally nothing more unless their owners were nice enough to buy them grain or oats. Again, thanks to the obscenely long neck, I didn’t have to sit down to stick my face into the grass.

Once there, I really didn’t have any idea how to eat it. Lacking any better idea, I opened my mouth and shifted around til I had a mouthful of grass, bit, and pulled. The grass resisted at first, until I ground sideways with the far-too-many molars I had. The taste wasn’t overpowering and was honestly rather boring, as if I were eating plain millet. It certainly wasn’t as pungent as I remembered. Perhaps it’s because of the different set of taste buds. Or maybe I’m just that hungry. Probably both. Either way, I went for a second bite, then a third, and then more still until that hollowness in my stomach was gone. After just a little more water, I felt somewhat alive again. The headache, hunger, and thirst were gone, and I felt much more alert than before.

Dizzy too had eaten his fill, and Ash was still chewing, staring at Wingnut with a small frown on her face. Seeing everyone getting food and feeling a full stomach made everything seem momentarily right, until I saw her gaze and remembered why we were pressing on into the unknown. While we were full and whole, Wingnut was still lying comatose on the mattress, edging closer and closer towards the other side of the void. As ironic as it was, our best choice was to carry the chainsaw next to him on the makeshift gurney. Selling it might bring in a few more caps for his recovery.

This time, aided by magic from all three unicorns, getting the litter back up on our backs was just a little bit more workable. Each step was a little easier than it had been before, and precious seconds faster. Wingnut needed us, and I felt as if his life was setting with the sun, invisible behind the wall of clouds above.

There were no long shadows, the heralds of the approaching night, in this land covered by clouds. In their absence, the gray of the sky just slowly grew darker and darker. I didn’t want to be caught out in the open when night fell. If raiders were out during the day, what roamed these lonely lands when darkness held sway? It wasn’t a question I really wanted answered, not until I had a big gun to stand behind. For now I’d settle with getting to town, or at least knowing how far away it was.

“Page, we getting close?” I asked, trying my best to avoid allowing a tinge of desperation seep into my voice.

Silhouetted against the fading sky, Page stood atop the next ridge. In that dying light it was clear that he was bulkier than the average unicorn pony. Looking back down, he called out to us. “Yeah! It’s not more than a quarter mile. And it’s a town for sure. I see lights and a bridge, and a bunch of houses.”

Spurred on by his yell, everyone pushed a little harder to get up the slope. At the top and breathing hard, I could see he was right. The town was laid out in a half circle up against the bank of a river, bordered by a high wall of wood outfitted with logs sharped into large spikes arrayed outward. Lights were strung up in front of several larger buildings that I could only guess were stores or something similar. It looked to be large enough for at least a hundred residents, and one of them had to know how to help Wingnut. There was no way I’d be letting myself think otherwise. Nearest to us was the bridge Page had mentioned, leading across the rushing mess of river into the town. Upriver a little ways was a large waterwheel attached to what I figured was some kind of mill.

As we got closer, I could see that there were guards occupying one of two small watchtowers on the far side. Their rifles waited ominously in the cloudy, fading light, and I silently prayed that we looked friendly. Up close, I could see that the bridge was only wide enough for one of us to cross at a time, so the gurney would have to go. The wood deck was old and faded, and I had to wonder just how sturdy it would be. If it was worth posting two guards at, I was convinced it had to be strong enough to hold up two ponies at once.

“Guys, get him on my back. I’ll carry him the rest of the way.” As much as I didn’t want to carry anything any further, there was no way I was just about to tell anyone else there to shoulder the burden. It wasn’t as if we had very far to go anyways.

Page slowed as the group rearranged and began to draw small circles in the dirt with his front hoof. Something was obviously bothering him, but the last thing we needed right now was another problem. Breaking my chain of thought, he confessed. “Not to add to the problem here, but I definitely look different than you all. I don’t even know if ‘my kind’ are really trusted or anything here, let alone what ‘my kind’ even is.”

I stared blankly for a few seconds until Dizzy decided to think for me.

“Hello, earth to Sage? He’s a half-breed, hated by everyone. You know that’s just a target, for everyone, ponies and zebra alike.”

Page nodded, “I mean, if I had a cloak or something, then I’m sure that we could get close enough to talk. As it stands, I just really don’t want to get shot, and we really don’t need two invalids.”

“Well, you’re already wearing one pair of saddlebags, so go ahead and take the other,” I suggested. “Wear both, and walk across last.” It sounded like a good thought, but it brought up a point that I’d been silently dodging in my mind the whole day. I’ll figure it out later. Think about it when everyone is safe. “Just try to stay near the back of the group, and hopefully between the dark and some tired guards we won’t get immediately shot.”

Page nodded, and waited for me to be free of the litter to get at my saddlebags. Ever so gently, we sat the litter back down, and I lay flat on my stomach to let everypony else push Wingnut until he was lying on top of me. From there, his stomach was on my back and his legs dangled over each of mine. He was heavier than I’d thought he’d be, making it rather difficult to stand back up. Testing one foreleg and then the other, the bridge creaked and groaned but didn’t shift or give. One step after another, I plodded my way slowly across it, making sure to keep my balance firm. About halfway across, a shout rang out from one of the towers over the noise of the river.

“Stop! Who are you and what is your business here?” I couldn’t look up easily and tell which guard was yelling with Wingnut on my back.

I stopped and shifted my vision up just enough to see two rifles pointed down at me. That was definitely not what I wanted, but their town, their rules. “I’m Sky Sage, and we’re here to seek medical attention for my friend, and a place to stay for the night!”

“Why the hell would a pegasus want refuge with us? Go back to your Enclave buddies, you asshole.” Now that I had become a target, it was worth the risk to move my neck enough look up. One small jerk would send Wingnut tumbling off the bridge into the murky water below. Slow and smooth. You can do this! Cautiously, I managed to crane my neck enough to peer at the defender. He was a red earth pony with a short cropped yellow mane, staring down the sights lined up right on my chest.

Oh shit. Think fast… “Look, we’re not with the Enclave! I’ve been a surfacer all my life, and so has my friend Wingnut here. We got attacked by raiders earlier today, and they cut off his wings. Have you got some kind of doctor in town? He needs help, badly!”

The second guard, a green unicorn, nudged her companion. Her voice was barely audible over the rushing of the water. “Oh shit...just look him, Rusty. They’ve got one shotgun between the six of them and they’re all banged up. Neither of their fliers have Enclave gear, and since when did those winged bastards work with any surface ponies? That idiot’s telling the truth.”

“But the Rainfall said--”

“I know what he said, but do those guys really look like raiders to you? Raiders don’t care for their wounded, they eat them.” She looked back down at us, but between the dusk and the distance I couldn’t quite make out her expression.

“Oh ok, fine.” The first guard started yelling again. “Ok, you all can come in. Don’t start anything, or we’ll throw you in the river.”

“You got it.” I strode as evenly as I could down the rest of the bridge. As I got close to the tower, I chanced one more question. “Could you tell me where I could find a doctor or a hospital?”

The mare put down her rifle. “You’ll want Radiant Heart. Her clinic is the third large building on the right after you get into town -- has one of those old barber poles on the outside. Used be one of those places, but she never bothered taking it off.”

“Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

“Hurry up and get him in here before I change my mind,” she finished, turning back towards her watchpost.

Judging by the decaying sign on the other side of the bridge, ‘Alpine’ had been the town’s name since before the war. It didn’t exactly look like much, but then again, to have a town actually illuminated out here in the middle of nowhere was something. For lack of any other guesses, I figured the watermill was providing the power.

The lamps were cracked and dust-caked, and flickering in and out atop wooden posts as the moments crawled by. Their variance was unsettling -- there was nothing stable about the power flowing into them. I was tempted to stop and take a closer look until the weight on my back dragged me back to reality. Everyone else had finished crossing, and I started off toward the building with the the barber pole. That pole was out of place: a spot of blue and red color through the dirty, faded glass, up against the dull brown wood of the clinic. While not quite looking hundreds of years old, the building certainly wasn’t new. And why the hell did a town this small need a barber, anyways?

The door was shut but not locked, and this time I didn’t slip up while opening it. Creaking announced our entry into a waiting room lit by an oil lamp on a long counter. Two rickety benches sat along the front wall facing an open doorway, which led to the back of the shop beneath a staircase leading to the second floor. I was just about to call out for help when the help called to me.

“I’ll be right there!” yelled a feminine voice from up the stairs. Rapid thunking of hooves on wood sounded as a light pink unicorn mare bounded down the stairs. Each step sent her purple mane half-tied back into a ponytail bouncing from one side to the next. The frayed and loose ends suggested we’d caught her in the middle of working on it. She skidded to a stop right in front of me, looking over Wingnut for just a moment before pointing her left foreleg at the back room. That gave me a wonderful view of the hardware covering the front third of her leg. I could only guess that was a pip-buck. “Well don’t just stand there, get him in here!”

Far larger than the waiting area up front, the back room was stuffed full of cabinets and tables. Several counters lined the walls, swabbed and bare. A large operating table dominated the center of the room, but the doctor, whom the guards had called Radiant Heart was standing next to a wide open metal capsule in the corner. The canopy and base were all made out of the same silvery gray metal, but the insides glowed with a dim azure light.

“Get him over here now!” She barked.

As fast as my tired legs would carry me, I stumbled across the patchwork concrete and wooden floor over to the pod. Before I could bend down and get everypony else to help me safely remove Wingnut from my back, the hum of telekinesis filled my ears and he floated off my back to rest gently in the pod. Moving with surprising swiftness for such a large piece of metal, the canopy sealed over his form with a quiet snick. Instantly the lights grew brighter, the hum louder, and I heard the doctor breath a sigh of relief. She turned toward us, and in a much more calm and collected tone, greeted us.

“Looks like he’s still alive. The pod wouldn’t run like that if he were dead. That’s a stasis pod; it’ll hold him steady until we figure out what to do with him. I’m Radiant Heart, but just call me Radheart. You’re new in town. When did you get here?”

“Sky Sage.” I felt like I should offer a handshake, until I remembered that I didn’t have hands, and trying for a hoofshake when I had no idea how they worked would probably be a bad idea. Mental note to practice that later with Dizzy. “And yes, we are. Our friend Wingnut got hurt, and we saw Alpine from a ways off and headed over here.”

“What happened to him?” Radiant Heart looked up and down our number with varying degrees of suspicion, stopping as her teal eyes came to rest on Dizzy. Her gaze softened. “I don’t often see pegasi in here, much less with their wings shorn clean off.”

“Raiders. They took a chainsaw to him before we could do anything.”

“So, anything else I need to know?” She wrinkled her nose, and I couldn’t blame her. After all that had transpired that day, we were filthy, and she was sparkling clean. I thought back and tried to recall anything that had somehow slipped my mind, but I wasn’t coming up with much that would have been of any use. Other than that we’d somehow gotten Page past the guards, and Radheart either hadn’t noticed him in the glow of the lantern, or didn’t care.

“Just that he’s lost a lot of blood too. We had to bind him up in some dirty sheets, and we didn’t have any disinfectant. It’s been about half a day.” Oh, and I’m really hoping you know your shit.

“Looks like you really had no choice. Good work though, most wastelanders would have been dead after wounds like this. So why are you different? Especially your friend over there, wearing sunglasses, inside, at night? Sounds like the lyrics to a bad pre-war Nickelbuck song.”

“Uhhh...Dizzy?” I looked over to see him standing uneasily still, with all legs firmly locked, as she drew nearer to him.

“...Yeah?” He was turning visibly red, and I was not sure how that was even possible all the way through his coat.

“So what exactly are you hiding behind those shades, hmm?” The nurse used her magic to lift off Dizzy’s sunglasses and he winced a bit before adjusting to the somewhat dimmer light. “Oh...I’ve never seen anypony like you before.”

“I can...um...imagine I am sort of a rare breed?” He was leaning back, hindlegs locked firm, almost ready to tip backwards.

“That’s one way to say it. You know, you look rather hurt, the raiders no doubt. I would love a chance to...examine you later.” She winked at him quickly.

Ok, we’re putting the brakes on this right now. I’d seen what happened when women hit on Dizzy before. He never saw it coming until I pointed it out to him afterwards. The fact that he very clearly understood what was going on right now was somewhat alarming, and Radheart needed to cut it out.

“Excuse me,” I interrupted. “I think everyone might need some medical attention, but Wingnut here is the priority. About how much would it cost to get him fixed up?”

“About five hundred caps.” Her gaze never left Dizzy, and she even started to trot around him, eyes scanning up and down. Dizzy on the other hand could have been mistaken for a very red statue.

“Well, we have thirty-six caps, two spark batteries, a neat rock, and this chainsaw. Still fueled up too. Wingnut over there is proof that it works just fine.”

Page hefted the saw, the blade still covered in dried blood. Radheart looked over at it, and shook her head. “No, no. While those aren’t exactly common, the actual chemical fuel is hard to come by. I’m sure you can trade it to Copper over at the general store tomorrow for...a hundred caps? Maybe a hundred and fifty? Five hundred is a lot, because I need to cover the surgery to cut away diseased and dead tissue, bind his wounds, give blood transfusions, and provide power to run the stasis pod. Hmmm…” She paused and rubbed her chin for a moment, and her voice brightened. “Why don’t you all go down and make yourselves at home in the basement, while this…wonderful stallion and I talk about finding a way to pay for the work?”

I could literally feel the hair on my back starting to bristle as she spoke. That she would dare to...no, I really didn’t want to think of that. There had to be some other way, something else we could sell and come up with that kind of money. Clearing my throat, I stepped between them.

“I’m sure we can come to some other arrangement,” I hoped I didn’t sound too desperate. “We can assist you, or help clean up the hospital or whatever else you need at this time,” mentally grasping at straws. “You could use those spark batteries to power the stasis pod, I figure.”

“I doubt it. And I can’t keep that stasis pod on forever; it runs on the local grid. The watermill is barely functioning as it is and they charge a premium to keep things like that running.”

“Sage, let me talk to her.” The voice came from behind me, and I turned to see Dizzy, still blushing, but now frowning. “We have no choice, we can’t let him die.”

“This is wrong. Are you sure you’re going to be ok?” The venom in my words surprised me. There wasn’t any room left for tact after everything else today.

“Of course not, but like I said, we have no choice.” He nodded slowly, sorrow filling his eyes like dye in water.

Radheart piped up, still sounding all too cheerful. “There are some spare cots downstairs, and I’ll even let you all use the tub there. The town isn’t exactly hurting for water, and I can splurge on the caps to let you heat it. It will be easier to examine the rest of you once you’re clean. The outhouse is out back.”

“Fine.” Splurge on the caps? Bull. I turned to everyone: Page, Stalemate, and Ash, who were staring at me with a mix of shock, concern, and exhaustion. “Let’s go.” The group gave a collective nod towards Dizzy and Radheart, then proceeded downstairs.

The basement floor of the barbershop hospital was walled and floored in concrete, which was chipping in the corners and along several cracks in the floor. True to Radheart’s word, there were a half-dozen small cots on steel frames in a row along one wall. Turning over the hole-ridden and dirty blanket on top of the nearest one revealed sheets in similar condition. It wasn’t great, but it sure beat the hell out of paying for a room and having half of our sorry little gang sleeping on the floor. Behind a thin wooden door along the other wall was a large metal bathtub.

“Well…” I started, then stopped. There should have been something inspiring or kind to say to everyone, but I was just as tired as they were and couldn’t quite figure it out. “Who wants to bathe first?”

Page threw his saddlebags at the ground beside the last cot on the row, and slowly set the chainsaw down beside them.

“Sage, I’ll just wash in the morning. I’m not very dirty; I’m just tired.” He climbed under the sheets and rolled over. Without a word, Stalemate did the same in the next cot over, and although it took him a few tries, he nudged the sheets back with a foreleg until he could climb in. That just left Amel--No, it’s Ash now--staring at the floor.

“Sweetie, do you want the first bath?”

She looked up, and I saw the hollow pain in her eyes. I knew she was thinking of the conversation taking place upstairs. “No...you can go ahead.”

I wanted to say something, but right now she just needed a little time, and after Wingnut, I had more dried mud and blood on my coat than anyone else. Almost all of my underbelly and the insides of my legs were matted with it. Nodding, I pulled her into a hug, which she nuzzled into quietly. After a few moments of sitting there, I let her go and returned to the tub, turning on the light and pushing the door shut behind me. Each of the taps were too small to work with hooves, so I bit down on the nearest one and turned it on, trying to ignore the pieces of metal shoving into my gums and palate.

Brown water gushed from the spout, slowly turning from a rusty brown to clear. I stuck one hoof under it and shivered as the icy liquid gushed over my fetlock. As the moments passed it gradually warmed, and when it became hot I chased the plug around the bottom until I managed to get one hoof on top and push it into the drain.

As the tub filled, I paused to think. It seemed that it was the first time I wasn’t doing something, and now had no excuse to avoid thinking any longer. Everything had gone just as well as I had hoped. We’d found a town, a place to stay, and a doctor who apparently had all the tools of the trade. Wingnut wasn’t dead, and would probably be all taken care of by tomorrow, even if he never would have his wings back. He’d be ok, and that was the important part. If he lived, we could get him back home. And we’re still no closer to getting there, or finding out how we’re getting there. Being alive is a good first step, I suppose, but what then?

The water neared two-thirds the way up, and I shut it off. No reason to make it overflow when I got in. That provoked the question as to how I was to get in. Standing on the edge would probably tip it over, and trying to fly in might end badly. Between the two options, trying to flap my way up and over the edge seemed better than spilling it all.

Just like out on the ridge earlier, I stretched out the strange muscles on my back and beat my wings slowly at first. With each flex, I made sure to rotate them before taking the upstroke, and I was in the air! Just as quickly, I kicked off the wall, and dropped into the tub with a loud splash. Hot water soaked up into my coat on every surface, and I was instantly soggy and heavy. The sudden landing caused my wings to slip into the water as well, and the feathers clumped together in one waterlogged mass. Still, it was warm water, and that was a luxury after a long trek, let alone in the wasteland. I wanted to just lay there and enjoy it, but Ash was still cold and dirty, and might worry less if she had a warm bath, so I started scrubbing.

Mud and blood came off in chunks and flakes, quickly staining the water a dirty brown. Scrubbing down my legs, then my underside, I kept going until the persistent grime was removed. Nodding to myself I turned to where the plug was, and realized with a start that there was no way I’d be pulling its chain with my hooves. Yuck. Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, I stuck my face down into the murk, and nosed around until I felt the chain. Biting down on it, I jerked it loose, and quickly pulled my head back out of the water. I spat out the drain plug, and more than enough of the spent bathwater with it. It tasted exactly as nice as I thought it would, but a quick rinse would fix that. I still needed to wash off anyways.

The running water was nice, and I hoped it would clean off my back too. There really wasn’t any way for me to reach it. Once I was satisfied that I was about as clean as I was going to get, I shut the water off, and tried to flap out of the tub. That was a rather pointless gesture with my wings in a soaking mess, and I caught just enough air to trip on the lip of the tub and crash into the ground. That hurt, but nothing broke other than a few more fracture in the pride bone.

There wasn’t any kind of towel in the room, so I wound up using the sheets off of one of the cots. It wasn’t as if there was anyone else using them, and I didn’t want to try to go to bed still dripping. Ash helped me with my back, and soon I was only damp, though I wouldn’t be getting all the way dry without some time to air-dry. There was also the whole taboo issue of walking out of a bath with no clothes on, but everyone was too tired to point out the obvious.

“Your turn, sweetie. Don’t worry, it’s nice and warm.” There was honest effort in those words to sound caring and not just tired, but the exhaustion was like lead weighing down my legs, eyes, and mind.

“You were being mopey. Now go clean up. I’ll be back down after I figure out what the hell is going on upstairs.”

She nodded and headed over to the tub, and I made my way back up to the middle floor. Dizzy was sitting in the middle of the floor, with Radheart laying one foreleg over his back and hanging onto him, whispering into his ear. His head was bowed, and the blush on his face had only grown stronger. Important as it might have been, I really didn’t want to see her playing my friend like this.

“Ok, break it up. What did you two decide?” The authority voice was enough to get anyone’s attention. Stern, short, quick, and mildly annoyed. Checks for all.

Radheart didn’t let go and spoke up just a little, still talking to Dizzy. “You can head on upstairs dear, the bathroom is on the right. Go run yourself a nice warm bath and I’ll be up there soon.”

Dizzy nodded and plodded up the stairs like a man walking to the gallows. We watched him go, and as soon as I heard the water running I looked over at Radheart and tried to bite back my anger into something polite. I hoped it was intimidating; I was taller than her and looking down into her bright eyes. In them, I saw neither fear nor flexibility.

“And what exactly are you going to do with him? Give it to me straight.”

“Well, I’m going to follow him upstairs, bathe him, and then rut him until he can’t walk. Straight enough for you to understand?”

“Quite. Now, I want you to understand me. Dizzy makes his choices for himself, but you will still respect him. If you break him, I’ll break you.”

She gave me a grin. It would have been cute, but all I saw was malice. “Oh, I think he’ll enjoy it a lot. Sleep well now. I know I will.”

As her form disappeared along the steps to the next floor, I bit down on my anger. He had made the choice of his own will, and did so to save Wingnut from the grave. I could remember the day he told me that he’d treat sex as the most sacred part of himself he could give, and at that memory, all the lingering scraps of anger were drowned by sorrow. My friend was giving up so much of himself for another, and all I could do was stand by and watch. I wouldn’t want to take his place, and nor could I, but that didn’t stop me from wishing that there was a better way. Radheart, I hope you burn for this.

Back downstairs, I hung the wet sheets I’d used to dry off over the bed frame lengthwise. While I waited for Ash, I unmade the next cot so she could have something to dry off with. The exhaustion of the day’s events was weighing on me, but the least I could do before I passed out was help Ash dry off and make sure she was alright. Stalemate and Page were both asleep, and Stalemate was snoring quietly. Even if life had gone to hell for Wingnut and Dizzy, my brother was still ok, and I planned on keeping it that way. When Ash walked out of the bathroom, I couldn’t help but stare. Wet mane thing and all that. Still, I helped her dry herself off and hung up those sheets next to mine.

“He agreed, didn’t he?” she asked cautiously.

I sighed. “He did. And you know he wouldn’t have if there was any other way.”

“...yes...but that still doesn’t make it right or good, and it doesn’t mean I should be happy about it.”

“Me neither, and you can bet if Radbitch doesn’t do a good job on fixing up Wingnut, I’ll be the one to throw her in the river.”

“Can I help?”

“Sure. And we can even let Stalemate rip her a new one while we do.”

She smiled just a little at that, and I gave her another hug. It was damp and squishy, but it made me feel better too. Time passed, and she still didn’t want to let go, but I knew we’d both need sleep to deal with whatever tomorrow would bring. One more nuzzle, then I stood up to lead her over to one of the two unoccupied cots.

I’d always enjoyed tucking her in, and now I hoped it would lend her just a little more peace of mind. Mine would come from the void of thought that was sleep. I flicked the light off, which was just one dim and unshrouded bulb, and climbed into the cot next to hers. She reached out one foreleg, and the beds were close enough that I could return the gesture.

“Sage?”

“Mmm?”

“We’re going to make it through this, right?”

"Yeah. We’re gonna make it through this. Get some sleep now. It will be better tomorrow.”

Sky Sage: Level Two (50% to next level)
Well...at least we’re all alive, but I can’t believe I’m letting Dizzy do this.

Dizzy: Level Two (50% to next level)
I can’t believe I’m doing this…

Ashen Shield: Level Two (50% to next level)
Better him than me, but that is just wrong.

Stalemate: Level Two (50% to next level)
Lord above, get me the fuck out of here! And why couldn’t Radheart have picked me?

Page: Level Two (50% to next level)
All of this is far too much to comprehend at once. But all aside, we’re still alive, and at least I have magic now... I just hope I get the chance to learn how to use it…

Wingnut: Level Two
...

Author's Note

Almost was late on this one. Visiting my family comes with the repercussion of being forced to stop and take care of yourself if you get sick. Anyways, have a merry whatever the fuck doesn't offend you!

Re-edited 5/25/15