Becoming Them

by PaulAsaran

Rating: mature
Tags: Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Horror, Scootaloo, Alternate Universe, Iron Will, Sad
Length: 10314

In an Equestria that has fallen to infection, Scootaloo and Iron Will journey together for a rumored safe zone in Vanhoover. Yet one of them is beginning to think that this journey is for nothing...

In a world ravaged by death, Scootaloo finds herself traveling with Iron Will. Together they hope to find a rumored safe zone in the far western city of Vanhoover. Yet while Scootaloo continues to look to the future with hope, Iron Will has begun to wonder if the journey is even worth it.

Cover art commissioned from viwrastupr.

The Them Series
Chronologically from Top to Bottom:
Origin of Them
Feed Them
Entertain Them
Hunt Them
Becoming Them
Guide Them

Published 2015-05-30 23:10:02 UTC
Last updated 2015-05-30 23:10:02 UTC

I Am Scootaloo

Scootaloo kept her back pressed against the tree trunk, the hockey stick gripped tight in her trembling hooves. Her breath steamed in the cold air as though she were a living engine. The trees all around her loomed like ghosts in the dense fog. Her ears flicked to the sound of leaves rustling somewhere beyond her vision. She clenched her teeth in a desperate bid to keep from whimpering and her chest heaved with every breath.

A moan pierced the silence, then another. She could just make out something shifting in the fog. She dared not close her eyes.

A resounding whack erupted through the forest, making her jump with a yelp. She covered her lips, but it was too late. Whether they were responding to her or the distant sound, it didn’t matter; the forms lurched in her direction.

Cursing under her breath, Scootaloo hurried to circle around the tree and pressed against the trunk. She saw nothing on this side, but felt no relief. Adjusting her hold on the hockey stick, she shivered in the cold and listened intently to the shuffling leaves. The sound gradually grew louder, accompanied by the occasional groan or grunt. As slowly as she could, she lowered so her rump was on the ground and kept her tail tucked between her legs.

They were just on the other side of the tree now. Scootaloo fought valiantly to hold back the tears and struggled to keep her teeth from chattering. She kept her eyes focused on the ghostly columns half-hidden in the fog, hugging the hockey stick that she used to think would save her.

Another whack shook the trees. The sound was closer this time. Only her petrification kept Scootaloo from jumping again.

She waited, lips tightly closed and eyes wide. It seemed like an eternity before the first one passed the tree. It was – had been – a unicorn. Whatever color it had been, Scootaloo could only see a dull grey. Most of its mane and tail had fallen out, and its body was an icky ruin of rotting flesh and hanging skin. She could see the exposed bone of its ribs as it moved past her, intent on reaching the source of the sound.

Soon another passed on Scootaloo’s left. That one had lost most of a foreleg and so moved in a lunging manner, every second step making it wobble wildly. Somehow it managed to keep its balance as it moved into the fog, entrails dragging in its wake. Scootaloo averted her eyes and fought desperately against her need to retch.

A third, a fourth, a fifth one. All moaning, all dragging along in various states of decay. A third whack in the distance held their attention, but even so Scootaloo shivered as they moved on. Only when she could no longer see them in the fog did she dare to relax, if one counted going from “paralytic” to “trembling like a leaf” relaxing.

At last Scootaloo began to stand, her legs wobbling but her breathing normalizing. This time when the whack came she barely noticed, but when it came again she turned her head in the direction of the sound. She sat and held her hockey stick over her shoulder, heart thumping against her ribs. Another whack, this time much closer. It was followed by two more—

She heard the moan at her side and jerked about. There was no scream; she merely jumped back and swung her hockey stick, smacking the creature on the side of the head. It was a donkey, and it shuffled towards her with only hind legs. She couldn’t imagine how she’d not heard it pushing through the leaves. Its head snapped sideways from the blow, but it kept coming.

Scootaloo stepped back, her eyes wide as she stared at the freakish thing. Half its face had been chewed off, leaving only a single glazed eye to watch her with. The exposed bone of the other eye socket didn’t hide the mass of flesh within. The creature shuffled forward, lipless teeth clicking in a disgusting leer.

Scootaloo could only gape at the thing, her heart pounding and her mind blank. Her legs wobbled and her grip on the hockey stick loosened. As it pushed itself a little closer, Scootaloo found herself preoccupied with the desperate urge to not shriek.

Her motor functions returned just as the donkey made a final lunge. By luck or skill, she somehow managed to jerk the hockey stick forward and into its mouth. She pushed back as the donkey’s stained jaws bit down on the stick over and over again amidst growling and snarling. Its lone eye locked on her face, emotionless, lightless and empty.

Even with only two legs, the donkey was more than capable of pushing her back with its superior mass. Scootaloo fought back with all she had, wings flapping for whatever extra push she could garner. Panic surged within her, but she refused to scream. Screaming was death.

“C-come on, think.” She could barely hear her own whispered words over the monster’s snarls. It pushed her back a little more. Tears formed in her eyes as her legs grew sore. “Th-think, Scoots. Don’t b-be afraid.”

She couldn’t stop staring at the creature’s eye. The sight of it made her blood run cold. Her legs wobbled…

Whack, the donkey disappeared in a blur. The sudden loss of an opponent sent Scootaloo sprawling forward. She fell on her barrel in the cool grass, the hockey stick sliding out of her reach. She looked over to find the donkey lying on its side and squirming, a massive warhammer lying not far from it.

“You didn’t scream this time.”

Scootaloo climbed to her hooves, legs shaking as she backed away from the fallen creature. Heavy hoof-falls sounded and a minotaur walked past her. “W-what took you so long?”

The blue-grey giant bent down to lift the warhammer as the donkey finally managed to right itself. “Got held up.”

A single downward strike to the head ceased the donkey’s movements. Scootaloo turned her face away, but her stomach didn’t roil quite so much this time. She went to her hockey stick, only to hesitate from picking it up.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” She took hold of the hockey stick and once again set it over her shoulder. Forcing her head high and her face to a neutral position, she turned back to the minotaur. “I’m fine. Thanks, Willy.”

Iron Will studied her with his trademark frown, the one he carried with him ever since they’d left Cloudsdale. “You sure?”

“If I wasn’t, could you do anything about it?”

His lip twitched in that way it did when he held his anger in check. “No, I suppose not.” He bent low to rub the head of his hammer in the grass, getting as much of the black muck off of it as he could. “I got turned around. Can you get us back to the tracks?”

Though she was loath to do so, Scootaloo forced her eyes closed and tried to focus on their direction. Anxiety filled her as she took in the darkness and let her pegasus instincts take over, just like Rainbow Dash had taught her. She spread her wings as she did. Seconds passed…

North. South. They were easy to detect. She turned so that north was ahead and to her right. “This way.” She opened her eyes to see Iron Will already trudging through the forest and hurried to catch up.

They walked in silence, each of them scanning the fog. The soft ground was moist underhoof, leaves and blades of grass clinging like ghosts to their fetlocks. Every now and then Iron Will would grasp at his chest for something that wasn’t there.

Had she not known better, Scootaloo might have thought nothing was wrong with the world. The sound of birds in the trees eased her mind; they wouldn’t be making any sounds at all if there were threats nearby. Even so, she couldn’t shake the image of shambling forms in the fog.

After what seemed like an eternity of listening to the birds and their hooves squishing in the soft grass, they came upon some railroad tracks traveling north. They paused and looked both ways, Scootaloo chewing her lip and Iron Will looking grim.

Scootaloo glanced at her companion. “I’m, uh… not sure exactly where we left our packs.”

“Hmm…” Iron will’s gaze turned to the north, then to the south.

“The area doesn’t look all that familiar,” Scootaloo said. “Maybe we should head south a little?”

Iron Will hefted his warhammer over his shoulder. “Hmm. I’ll head that way. Wait here.”

“What?” Scootaloo shook her head frantically. “No way I’m staying on my own! That’s the fastest way to get killed.”

He looked down at her with a bored expression. “So you want to head back to where we ran into them?”

Scootaloo cringed and sat, paying no mind to the moisture on her hindquarters. “No… but we agreed not to go it alone, remember?” She couldn’t meet his gaze.

He heaved a deep sigh, his frown not fading as he reached for that nonexistent something around his neck. Scootaloo merely stared at the tracks and waited for him to make a decision. It took him a long time. That had become an ever-worsening issue with him.

Abruptly, she was lifted off the ground by the scruff of her neck. “Hey! What are you doing?”

Iron Will walked to a nearby tree and deposited her on a high limb. “You’ll be safe up here.” He turned to walk south alongside the tracks.

“You can’t leave me here!” Scootaloo abruptly slapped her hooves over her muzzle, eyes darting about to take in the fog. In a quieter voice, she called, “Willy, what are you doing? This is crazy. We promised not to split up. Iron Will?”

He ignored her and was soon lost in the fog. She stared after him with wide eyes, a sinking feeling in her stomach. “Y-you can’t just… just leave me here.”

Silence. Scootaloo pressed her rump to the tree’s trunk and hugged her hockey stick close, lip trembling. Her ears swiveled about, taking in the sounds of the birds. As long as she could still hear birds, she knew she was safe. “How could you j-just leave me here?”

She pondered climbing down and chasing after him, but thought better of it. Iron Will surely just wanted some time alone, and he was right that no pony could get to her this high up. Of course, he might not come back…

Shivering in the cool air, Scootaloo settled on her barrel, letting her hind legs dangle in the air. Observing herself, she couldn’t help but smile. How many times had she seen Rainbow Dash napping in trees like this? Scootaloo used to question exactly how her hero managed to do that without falling, but she’d been in enough trees now to understand that it was, as Iron Will liked to call it, a ‘bird horse’ thing.

Scootaloo scowled and tried to shake off thoughts of Rainbow Dash, but it was too late; she could still see the mare blazing across the skies like a multihued rocket. There had been so much to admire in that pony. Scootaloo still remembered the last time she’d seen Rainbow.

That was the day she’d understood what the sickness really was. Rainbow’s body had been perfectly intact, save for a single, solitary bite on a rear fetlock.

One bite.

Such a small thing.

Scootaloo shivered and shook her head in a struggle to get rid of the memories. She didn’t want to hear her former mentor’s voice… or her moans.

“Ponyfeathers,” she whispered through her teeth, “why did I have to recall that?”

Time passed. Scootaloo spent it doing everything she could to not think of home, or Rainbow Dash, or how she was all alone again. Her eyes kept drifting to where the train tracks disappeared in the fog. Were she brave enough, she might have attempted to use her wings to blow the fog away, but she didn’t dare climb down.

Iron Will had a warhammer. Why didn’t she have something awesome like that? She glanced at the hockey stick which she kept tucked under her wing and sighed. It seemed like such a flimsy thing. She always felt so useless.

Her head jerked up to the sound of hoof-falls, and a few seconds later Iron Will came trudging along the track. He now had a large backpack.

“Everything go alright?” she asked as he approached her tree.

“Fine,” he replied with a grunt, setting his hammer aside so he could grab her with both hands and deposit her on the ground. He headed north without another word.

Scootaloo sighed and trudged along just behind him. She eyed the minotaur, wishing he would say something more than a few words now and then. When they’d first met, it had been impossible to shut him up. She eyed his hammer and wondered at its blunt, dented form. He never had revealed where he’d found the thing. The stained metal had dulled over the months.

Iron Will’s body seemed a good match for his weapon, and not just because of his size. He had a number of scars on his massive form. A few bruises darkened his skin and a chunk was missing from one of his ears. Only a few of those wounds were new relative to their first meeting. How he’d managed to receive all of that and somehow not become one of… ‘them’ was beyond Scootaloo’s understanding.

She had no scars, at least no physical ones. Somehow, she’d always managed to be in just the right place to escape harm. Aside from hunger and thirst, the only serious pain she’d known since the Fall came when her wings began to grow in the last year. That thought brought a scowl to her lips and she glared at the moist grass under her hooves; all that soreness for wings that still wouldn’t get her off the ground. If Rainbow Dash were capable of rational thought she’d have been so disappointed.

She took a moment to raise her hockey stick. It seemed so flimsy in comparison to that hammer. Oh, it could really hurt if used properly, but the foe they faced had no sense of pain that she could identify. Had she enough strength, she might be capable of breaking bone with it, but thus far the weapon had been outright useless. Like her.

With yet another sigh, she tucked the hockey stick under her wing once more. “Willy?” She waited for his response, but he offered none. She glanced up, but his dull gaze was set straight ahead.

She stared at her hooves once more. “I’m sorry I’m so useless.”

He glanced down at her, but his expression was unreadable. After a few seconds he scratched his chin and looked ahead once more. “Hmm.”

She paused, watching him move on with jaw agape. Her mind reeled and she quickly went from huddling in the center of the tracks to standing tall and glaring. She grabbed her hockey stick, took a few steps… then stopped herself. With a grimace, she tucked it back under her wing and walked after him.

They spent much of the rest of the afternoon walking in silence, Scootaloo keeping her distance from her massive, unpleasant companion. Her thoughts bounced back and forth between shame and venom, and she would occasionally expel some energy by whacking away some taller weeds with her hockey stick. Iron Will never said anything to this. From his manner, she figured she could break the stick over his head and wouldn’t receive so much as a passing glance.

At last the sun began to set through the eternal fog and they settled down in a secluded spot near the tracks. As usual, Iron Will set Scootaloo high in a tree before settling down by the tree’s trunk, hammer lying in his lap. While chewing on some stale bread, she took their lone map from him and examined it in the last rays of twilight, trying her best to determine their location.

Her wings popped open as she finished her mental calculations and set the tip of her hoof on the map. “Willy, I might be off by a day, but I think we’ll make Vanhoover tomorrow.”

“Hmm.”

She observed him from her branch, but he didn’t look up. Chewing her lip, Scootaloo folded the map. She fidgeted for a moment, racked by indecision. Her eyes drifted to the sky above, which remained a brilliant orange. What would Rainbow Dash have done in this situation?

“Iron Will?”

“Hmm?”

She shifted and kept her face turned away from him. “What’s wrong?”

The silence went on for so long that Scootaloo wondered if he was going to answer at all, but at last he did. “There’s nothing wrong.”

Another sigh. “You’re lying.”

He kept quiet this time.

“Come on, Willy.” She looked down at the top of his horned head. “What happened to your optimism? You used to be so… excited. Going to Vanhoover was your idea, and now you act like it’s just another disappointment when we haven’t even made it there yet.”

Iron Will shifted, his hand rubbing along the hilt of his hammer. Yet again, he remained quiet for a long time, so long that Scootaloo gave up and settled her chin on her canons in defeat.

Then, suddenly, he spoke.

“You’re not useless.”

She blinked and looked down once more. He was still rubbing his hammer.

“I’m sorry. I know I made you mad when I didn’t say anything about that.”

Her cheeks burned a little. “It’s alright.”

“Hmm.” He sat back against the tree. “You remember that town outside Cloudsdale? What it was called?”

She considered the question, recalling the small village the two of them had stumbled upon shortly after they’d left the land beneath the cloud city. It couldn’t have had more than a few hundred citizens in its prime. Of course, when they’d passed through it had already been overrun.

“I remember the town,” she replied at last. “Not the name. I just remember a lot of running.”

“Willow Orchard. It’s name was Willow Orchard.”

Scootaloo wished he would look up. Then perhaps she could gauge his expression. “Okay.”

“We stayed in that small house. It seemed perfect, didn’t it? None of those things could get in, we had food and shelter and warmth.”

“Yeah, I remember.” Scootaloo rested her head on her canons once more. “After what you found in the basement, though, we obviously couldn’t stay.”

Silence.

“Willy?”

She looked down to see Iron Will hunched over his hammer, holding it tight with both hands. “You don’t have a clue what I found down there.”

Scootaloo recalled his story from before. “You said one of them was trapped below, right? That you couldn’t get to it, so it was unsafe.”

Yet again, he kept quiet. Scootaloo glared at the top of his head; would it kill the guy to just talk normally for a change?

“She wasn’t alone.”

She cocked her head. “You mean the pony you found under the house?”

“Forget it,” he grumbled. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Hey, don’t stop now.” Scootaloo jumped to her hooves. “C’mon, Willy, don’t you think it’s better to get these things off your chest?”

“I said I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Scootaloo’s wings opened wide and she stomped. “I don’t care whether you want to talk about it or not! I’m sick of you being all distant and rude. Whatever’s going on, it’s not good for you, Willy.”

“You’re right about that.”

“So you’ll tell me?”

“Nope.”

Teeth grinding, Scootaloo eyed the ground. “I’m coming down. Catch me.”

“Wha—hey!”

She jumped and spread her wings. A few flaps failed to keep her aloft and the ground promptly flew up at her. This didn’t faze her, and a moment later Iron Will appeared in a dive. He caught her a second from impact and rolled mid-air to hit the wet ground on his back. It all came in a vivid blur.

Iron Will strained to keep from shouting. There was no small bite in his tone. “What is the matter with you, kid?”

From where he’d pressed her to his chest, Scootaloo stood and glared right back at him. “What’s the matter with you? You’re the one that’s supposed to be the adult between us, and instead you’re acting like an immature brat! You’ve been getting worse ever since that stupid little town and I’m tired of seeing the only friend I have left in this bucked up world becoming one of them!”

He blinked, the anger in his eyes rapidly replaced with uncertainty. “One of them?”

“What else would you be?” She stomped on his chest, albeit lightly. “You never talk, the most I get out of you is a stupid grunt. You shuffle around like you’ve got nothing to look forward to. You used to be such a positive, strong guy! It’s like you’ve lost your will, and for a guy named Iron Will that’s gotta be bad news.”

She moved closer to press her hooves to his cheeks and look him right in those small, wide, dopey eyes. “Please, Willy, tell me what’s wrong. I can’t do this without you.”

He stared at her for some time, his confusion gradually fading to a dull frown. He let his head fall back to the ground and stared at the sky, his slow breaths making Scootaloo rise and fall. When at last he spoke, he sounded… drained.

“I know. That’s the only reason I’m still around.”

Scootaloo felt as though a vice had been clamped over her chest. “What?”

“It was a foal.” Iron Will’s eyes glazed over, his voice a slow monotone. “It was still in diapers. She’d locked her foal up so it would be safe.”

She gazed at him in silence, taking this information in. Abruptly sorry to have asked, she sat down on his sturdy chest and listened, knowing that he wouldn’t stop now.

“I found her with her head stuck between the bars of the crib.” Iron Will covered his face with a trembling hand. His words came out shaky. “I couldn’t k-kill her without smashing the c-crib. So I… I smashed her knees first and set her free, then crushed her. You know what it feels like? It’s like crushing watermelons. Especially when they’re fresh; all the red flying everywhere.”

Scootaloo fought down a sick feeling in her gut and tried not to think about that mental image.

Iron Will raised both hands over his face, staring at them. “I picked the foal up. It was missing hoof. It had already…” He covered his eyes and released a slow breath. “A baby. The way it cried sounded so… so normal, but the eyes, the way it tried to bite…”

Scootaloo leaned over him, lips trembling as she thought on his words. “Willy, I…”

“That wasn’t the worst of it,” he whispered, still covering his face. “The blood was fresh.”

Another vice clamped over Scootaloo’s chest, stealing her breath.

“How long ago had it been since it had been bitten? An hour? Ten minutes? Had we arrived just a little earlier, would I have saved it?”

Iron Will reached down and grabbed Scootaloo, who yelped as he squeezed her to his chest. “I couldn’t do it. You get me, Scootaloo? It w-was just a foal. I should have put it on the floor and smashed it, but… but I couldn’t. It’s probably still in there, screaming and clawing and hoping for some fresh meat. I couldn’t stay in that house another minute.”

“H-hey, it’s okay.” Scootaloo squirmed beneath his muscular arms. “Willy… I under… underst… breathe…”

“Hmm?” He blinked and looked down before relaxing his hold. As she sucked down a gasp he let his head fall back to the grass. “Sorry.”

As soon as Scootaloo regained her breath, she crawled forward and hugged Iron Will’s neck. “W-why didn’t you tell me this before, Willy?”

“You’re just a kid,” he whispered, a lone hand rising to pet the small of her back. “You… didn’t need to know.”

“That’s bull,” she whispered in his ear. “You can’t handle things like that on your own.”

“You’re right… I couldn’t.”

They remained quiet for some time. The sun had all but set and darkness covered the world. Still they lay there, Scootaloo wishing she could do something more for her friend. Why did she always have to feel so helpless? Helpless to save Rainbow Dash, helpless in protecting her friends, helpless in every conceivable way.

“I’m tired, Scootaloo.”

She nodded against his neck.

“There’s so much I saw, even before we met.” He reached to touch at his chest, as he had so many times in the past. “Every time I smash a skull with my hammer, I find myself wondering: who was that pony? Did they come to one of my seminars?” He huffed a mirthless laugh. “ ‘When you want to moan, assume the proper tone.’ Nah, not all that catchy.”

Scootaloo sniffed and slowly stood. She looked him in the eye, but he wouldn’t look back. “Willy… you’re going to be okay, right?”

He stared into the sky for a while. Finally, he grabbed her with both hands and lifted her high over his head. She said nothing to this, only watched as he finally met her gaze.

“I want you to learn how to fly. When you do, fly far away. From me, from Equestria, from everywhere and everything. Fly someplace safe, someplace unknown. Once you’re gone, I’m throwing my hammer away.”

Scootaloo’s blood might have turned to ice. “W-what?”

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” he whispered, tears threatening to escape his eyes. “No more, Scootaloo. I’d rather just… be one of them.”

“You don’t mean that.” When he didn’t answer, she squirmed in his hold. “Let me go. Iron Will, you take it back. You don’t mean it!”

He held her up with one hand and wrapped the other around her muzzle, effectively silencing her. “Don’t shout.”

She beat against his hand, both in anger and from a need to breathe. She glared at him as he released her muzzle, but kept her volume in check. “Take it back.”

He stared at her, his expression back to that dull form he’d adopted lately. After a time he stood up, still holding her in both hands, and deposited her back in the tree. “Stay up there this time.”

“Willy.”

He grabbed his hammer and sat beside the trunk once more, eyes on the ever-present fog.

“Willy, talk to me.”

“Get some sleep.”

She stomped and considered jumping down again, but thought better of it. “You can’t die, Iron Will. You’re stronger than that.”

He just kept staring at the fog. After several minutes of glaring, Scootaloo settled down and tried to follow his advice. It didn’t seem possible; how could she sleep when he had just told her such things?

Things were bad. She knew that was true, but it couldn’t be a total failure. The sun and the moon still rose and fell, that meant the princesses were still out there. As long as the days and nights kept coming, there was still hope.

She just had to remind him of it.

Whack.

Whack.

Whack.

Scootaloo stifled a yawn and blinked against the dim sunlight, her ears swiveling in search of the source of the noise. It sounded familiar…

Her eyes popped open and her blood went cold as a moan rose through the air. She jumped to her hooves, cursing as her hockey stick dropped from beneath her wing. She looked down in time to see Iron Will’s warhammer smash into the head of what once was a pegasus, blood and bone flying with the impact. There were at least a dozen ponies, but most of them were already smashed. By now only two remained, shambling forward on rotting legs. Their groans raised the fur on Scootaloo’s back, but Iron Will approached them with a quiet, calm focus.

The fear died quickly as Scootaloo realized that the fight had been decided some time ago. She sat and pressed a hoof to her chest, sucking down long gasps, then turned her face away.

Whack.

She flinched at the sound. Cringing, she waited for the next hit to come.

And waited.

And waited some more. Blinking, Scootaloo turned her attention back to her companion.

Iron Will stood still before his final opponent – a large earth pony who would have been intimidating were he not stumbling along on three legs. The minotaur held his hammer high in preparation, but as the pony came within range the weapon remained still. Scootaloo’s mouth fell open as the creature dragged itself ever closer, moaning through exposed teeth and staring with wide, glazed eyes.

Iron Will relaxed. He lowered the hammer and bowed his head. The pony was so close…

Scootaloo’s heart practically stopped. “Willy!”

As if her words were a cue, Iron Will took a step back and spun in place, his hammer forming a grey circle around his body. It collided with the earth pony’s head with such intense force that it ripped right off the body and flew into the woods. The pony slumped to the ground, twitching in a series of wild spasms, while Iron Will held his pose, hammer outstretched to his side and gaze on the forest where the head had disappeared.

His breathing was heavy.

Scootaloo’s was gone.

She struggled for several seconds before finally managing to pull air into her lungs. Gasping and trembling, she worked to get the words out. “W-what… what were you… trying to d… d-do?”

The minotaur came out of his pose and turned away from her, his shoulders slumped. He was quiet for some time. After a while he bent down and rubbed the hammer’s head in the ground to rid it of grit and gore. It came up coated in grass and blood. He inspected it before letting out a small sigh.

“Willy?”

He walked to her, head bowed and hammer over his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here,” he grumbled, reaching up for her.

Scootaloo jumped off the branch, falling against his shoulder and wrapping his neck in a tight hug. “Don’t scare me like that,” she half-whispered, half-pleaded into his muscular shoulder. “Don’t ever, ever scare me like that again.”

He held her with one hand and said nothing.

The fog continued to roll over the landscape, which gradually shifted to rolling hills. The trees never lost their ghostly form, the air remained moist and a breeze chilled them both. Yet Scootaloo did everything she could to maintain some sense of cheer, for in Iron Will none could be found. He kept trudged ever onward, but his gaze remained dull and he kept quiet.

Scootaloo tried to talk. She didn’t care what they talked about as long as some talking was done, but she did try to keep things positive. It proved a frustrating endeavor, for when Iron Will did speak on a subject it always served to shoot down her intentions. She tried talking about Ponyville; he just wondered if Fluttershy was gone. She regaled him with tales of her crusades; he reminded her that her friends were dead, or something not unlike it. She recalled days spent with Rainbow Dash; “Harmony is no more.”

By late early afternoon she’d exhausted most of her potential topics and gained nothing but depression and an urge to smash her hockey stick over his head. “Do you have to be so negative about everything?”

He didn’t even bother to shrug.

She grumbled and eyed the ground, feeling at her hockey stick and imagining the crack sound it might make against his thick skull. Yet even as his determined misery weighed down on her, she closed her eyes and tried to remember the positives. Rainbow Dash would never forgive her if she gave up.

“I know it’s bad, Willy,” she said at last. “I know you think this world’s gone to Tartarus, but there must be something positive you can think of. Come on, gimme something.”

Iron Will kept quiet for a while, but a brief look revealed that he’d lost his dull gaze. He thought, rubbing his chin and grabbing at that constant nothingness around his neck. Scootaloo tried not to watch, but her ears were perked his direction and she kept chewing her lip.

At last, he answered. “Do you remember the day we met?”

Scootaloo sulked. “Yeah… I remember.”

“Those old pegasi from Cloudsdale decided I wasn’t welcome. Wouldn’t cast that cloudwalking spell on me.”

She nodded, working to keep her anger in check.

“I was disappointed, but got over it. The unicorns didn’t think they could make the spell work for something my size anyway.”

Scootaloo shot him a grimace. “This isn’t what I had in mind, y’know.”

“I know.” He looked down at her. Scootaloo thought she detected a hint of a smile. “And then there was you. You got pretty pissed.”

“Well of course I did!” She swung her hockey stick at some nearby flowers, sending the petals flying. “It’s not right that they made you leave because you’re different.”

He nodded. “Do you think they’d have let you in if you hadn’t stood up for me? Even with your wings?”

“No.” She snarled and whacked a few more flowers. “ ‘We can only afford useful ponies.’ A pegasus who can’t fly? I’m trash to them.”

“Not all of them.” He turned his eyes forward once more, but by now they’d regained their focus. “That Wonderbolt, the yellow one. I saw how much she hated the decision. There was rebellion in her eyes. I bet if we went back there then we’d find her in control of the place now.”

Scootaloo gave him a curious look. “You really think so?”

He nodded. “Only reason I didn’t stay to see it happen was because I knew the area beneath Cloudsdale could become a hellhole.”

She thought on this for a few minutes, gazing out into the fog. “So… you’re saying that the idea of Spitfire starting a revolution against the musty old coots who run Cloudsdale is your idea of a positive?”

“Yep.”

“Huh. I guess it is, when you really think about it. If Vanhoover doesn’t pan out – and really, why wouldn’t it? – maybe we could go back.”

“Vanhoover won’t ‘pan out.’ ”

She scowled at him. “There you go, being negative again.”

“I’m not lost yet,” he replied with another of his frail smiles. He reached down to pat her on the head; she was tempted to swat his hand away. “As long as I’m keeping you safe and you’re staying positive. That’s good enough for me.”

Scootaloo came to a full stop, staring as he walked on. It took some time to process that, but once finished she realized there was something she had to ask. She opened her mouth to do so…

“Company.”

She saw them just when Iron Will spoke: shambling forms in the fog. They were already dragging their way to him, their moans loud and – if such a thing were possible – eager.

“Oh, come on,” Scootaloo grumbled. “Why is it there’s so many of them? We’re almost to Vanhoover.”

“That’s probably why.”

She scowled and decided not to respond. No need to indulge his negativity, after all.

“Let me put you—”

“No.” she stepped away from him as he reached for her. “Not this time, Willy. I’m tired of being useless.”

He eyed her, then the ponies that were approaching. He grunted and reached for Scootaloo again, but before she could dodge his eyes widened and he hefted his hammer. “Get close!”

Another moan arose, this time from an entirely new direction. Scootaloo felt her heart skip a beat and spun around to find three of the things coming up from behind them. “W-what? Where did they come from?”

“Dunno. Stay close.” Iron Will turned in place, his eye narrowing as he observed their attackers. There had to have been a dozen of them.

Scootaloo felt her legs shake, but she resisted and grabbed her hockey stick. “W-we’ve dealt with more than this before.”

“True, and in much more cramped locations. Distraction?”

Though her legs buckled, Scootaloo nodded. “Distraction.” She took a few seconds to calm her nerves as Iron Will turned to face the more numerous group. She pawed the moist grass and, now confident she could move, ran towards the nearest pony.

Every time she did this, Scootaloo felt a hideous twisting in her stomach. The dull gaze of the pony lowered, drawn by her sudden movement, and when it did she got the full force of its hideous appearance.

It had to have been dead for a long time: the jaw seemed barely attached, the coat was mostly missing and there were boils and lesions all over the pathetic thing’s body. Even from a distance its vile stench invaded Scootaloo’s nostrils and threatened to make her vomit. She steeled her insides and gripped her hockey stick with one leg. She wanted so much to just run right back to Iron Will, but she would show no weakness.

She had to be useful.

The pony lunged, and Scootaloo dodged with the skill of the terrified. The hockey stick struck the thing’s foreleg, doing no damage but at least ensuring the thing would keep focused on her. She ran right past it, pausing only when sure she was a safe distance.

Whack.

She turned to find two of the fiends turning to chase her, but the third had heard the sound of Iron Will’s hammer and turned back for him. Scootaloo pounded the hockey stick against a nearby tree in time with her pounding heart. “Come on you ugly thing, I’ll be a lot tastier.”

Every time she said something like that, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d not gone insane. It did what it was meant to, though; the third one turned back to shamble after her. Scootaloo turned to flee, but came to an abrupt stop; there were two more approaching, just visible within the fog. With a whimper, she glanced towards Iron Will; he too could barely be seen, his huge body blurry within the white as he raised his hammer high.

Despite her momentary pause, Scootaloo managed to force her legs into motion once more. She called out, loud enough to be heard but hopefully not enough to draw unwanted attention. “There’s more of them, Willy. Watch your back!” She weaved between two of them with heavy leg injuries, easily evading their pathetic lunges. “I’m heading in the direction of the city!”

Now that he would have a general direction to look for her, she did her best to push Iron Will from her mind. He was a tough guy, he’d be able to handle himself. He made no attempt to respond. She hadn’t expected him to; it would have ruined the whole point of her being the distraction.

All of Scootaloo’s instincts screamed at her to run like crazy, but she held back. Every few seconds she would pause and turn to the creatures following her, giving them time to catch up. Their moans filled the air, their bodies shifted and tumbled on broken bones and missing parts. Her breathing heavy, she kept her distance but worked hard to stay within sight in the ever-present fog.

Yet even as she worked to keep the things herded, she noticed something off; there were more of them. The original five were now eight. Scootaloo began paying closer attention to her surroundings and realized that there were more shapes in the woods than just trees. How many of them were out here? Another two stumbled into view on her right.

Trembling, Scootaloo realized the position she’d put herself in. She turned a circle and saw that she hadn’t been surrounded just yet, but if there were a lot more out there…

Was it safe to lose them now? If she did, would they all start lurching back towards Iron Will? She perked her ears, listen for the familiar sound of his hammer. It didn’t come.

Taking that as a sign she was far enough away, Scootaloo spun around and fled at a trot. Survival instincts forged from months of travelling through infested land was the only thing keeping her from charging at full gallop through the fog. She needed only move faster than they could, not run blindly into another pack.

That proved a wise decision, for more and more forms appeared in the fog the farther she trotted. She maneuvered as carefully as she could, her head swiveling constantly to keep track of them in the low visibility. The hair on her back rose with every fresh moan and fear threatened to break her fragile concentration.

How many were out here? She had to have passed dozens. This was far more than Iron Will could handle. Should she double back to warn him? But then she might lure them right to him.

Still thinking on this daunting conundrum, Scootaloo turned to avoid another trio of the things and made her way up a hill. She kept low and a close eye on the ponies. None followed, but she repressed her sigh of relief. Iron Will needed to be warned about this – there was a veritable army of the things out here – but did she dare to go back?

Climbing the hill at last took her out of the fog. At the top she finally succumbed to the fear that had been building up and collapsed to the ground, covering her face in her hooves and fighting down the emotion. She’d done this so many times now it had become downright routine. Perhaps that should worry her, but she was too busy struggling to keep her crying quiet to think on it all that much.

She got better at it every time. Only a few minutes were needed to recover. Sucking down a few sharp breaths, Scootaloo climbed to her now-steady hooves and took in her surroundings. Her eyes went wide.

Vanhoover. It stretched beneath her, tall concrete buildings and sprawling suburbs, all blanketed in fog. The skyscrapers gleaming in the sunlight; she felt lightheaded just looking at them. A grin formed on her lips at the sight of a wall stretching all around the city. Vanhoover… here, she would be safe. She and Iron Will could survive.

She looked down to find that the hill she was on had been cut into with heavy machinery. A suburban area was right there beneath her, although more than two thirds of the homes were still under construction. The site just below her was nothing more than concrete foundations and half-finished scaffolding. It all looked old and neglected, but Scootaloo could understand that; they’d probably abandoned the expansion during the Fall.

Just as she began looking for a way down, a moan pierced her eardrums. Groaning, she turned around and reached for her hockey stick… but her hooves froze.

It was a filly. She couldn’t have been a year Scootaloo’s senior, judging by her size.

She looked a lot like Scootaloo. Though a unicorn, the coat and mane colors, the facial shape, the stature…

“Y-you have got to be kidding me.”

It approached, walking easily on a body newly deceased. It had to be newly deceased, it looked too… Scootaloo winced as the word ‘fresh’ came to mind. It had only one wound, a small bite on its left foreleg.

One bite.

Such a small thing.

Scootaloo’s mind told her to run, to trot away like she had a million times, yet despite her every instinct gained from months of dealing with these abominations her legs refused to move. She could only stare in a stupor as the filly approached with teeth gnashing and eyes glazed. It would have been so easy to get away, so why couldn’t she move?

She trembled and let out a weak moan. The creature moaned right back.

No more, Scootaloo. I’d rather just… be one of them.

Scootaloo closed her eyes and envisioned herself wandering the hillside, stumbling along with glazed eyes and featherless wings. The thing moaned, accompanying the vision with horrible precision. Her entire body shook at the sight. Was Iron Will right? Was this all that their struggles would amount to?

She sank to her haunches and forced back a sob. Equestria was in ruins. What was the point of hiding in a place like Vanhoover?

Knew you wouldn’t be scared. You’re like me: fearless.

The image blurred. Scootaloo’s wings opened just slightly as a cool breeze tickled her back.

The unicorn moaned. It sounded very close.

You're all kinds of awesome anyway.

Something welled within Scootaloo. It filled her to bursting. She puffed out her chest and grinned with pride.

Who's the toughest little pony in town?

Scootaloo’s movement was like lightning: she caught her hockey stick in both hooves and swung, opening her eyes in time to see the stick land within the filly’s opened maw. Teeth clamped down less than an inch from her muzzle, held back as she pushed against the wood. The creature growled and pushed, but Scootaloo looked it right in the eyes.

“I am.”

They pushed against one another for several seconds, Scootaloo straining against the creature’s determined, animalistic strength. It shoved her back towards the cliff, but she gritted her teeth and focused on the task at hoof. Iron Will might be losing hope, but Scootaloo wasn’t going to give up.

She stepped sideways, jerking the hockey stick away. The creature fell forward, slamming face-first into the wet ground. It started to climb to its hooves, but Scootaloo delivered a hard swing against the side of its head that made it fall sideways once more.

“You are not an indication of my future, ya hear me?”

It didn’t. It started to rise again, snarling like a beast. Scootaloo glared at its purple mane and orange coat and felt something rising in her throat. This time when she swung she aimed for the knee and was rewarded with a resounding crack. The thing stumbled and fell forward, forcing Scootaloo to leap backwards to avoid a collision.

Scootaloo struck again.

“I am Scootaloo!”

And again.

“I am not useless!”

And again.

“My future—”

Whack.

“—is—”

Crack.

“—bright!”

Her last strike snapped the hockey stick in two over the pony’s head. Scootaloo fell back, huffing as she stared at the sharp, splintered wood.

Despite all the damage, her opponent began to rise. Scootaloo stared at the unrelenting inevitability. It’s head rose to stare into her with those lifeless eyes, eyes that wanted only to snuff her out. Eyes that, on most occasions, would have left her trembling with terror.

Not today. Scootaloo let out a snarl and lunged forward at the same time as the pony, her hockey stick turned forward. It stabbed right into the creature’s blank eye, black gunk squirting onto Scootaloo’s cheek as it growled and snapped at her. Scootaloo pushed back with all her strength, lips tightly closed and eyes locked with her opponent’s.

The filly shook and twitched, its jaw opening and closing as if to make one last attempt for her face. Its rotten breath threatened to overwhelm Scootaloo’s senses, but then the thing collapsed like a doll.

Scootaloo stepped back, staring down at the corpse and huffing out the last of her adrenaline. She gazed upon herself lying there, defeated and lost. Then she looked upon herself, standing, alive and victorious.

She liked that look so much more.

Moaning caught her ears, and she looked up to find that her fight hadn’t gone unnoticed. “Oh, buck me.”

Dozens of them. They walked and stumbled and crawled their way up the hillside, tearing at the moist grass, pale eyes set upon her warm form. Scootaloo took a step back, her pulse sounding in her ears. She glanced down at the broken hockey stick but made no move to retrieve it. What good would it be against so many?

“W-Willy…” She bit her lip and shoved down the urge to scream. She couldn’t call on Iron Will, he’d never survive going against this many! She turned to look down the cliff and whimpered at the sight of another pack vainly attempting to climb the steep drop. They’d never get up it, but their presence meant that jumping was out of the question. Even if they weren’t there, it was a pretty long fall…

She turned back to watch the hoard approach. “Th-think, Scoots, think.” Her eyes roamed but found nothing even remotely reassuring. “There’s gotta be s-something…”

Her window was fast closing. She turned back to gaze out at the suburbs, her eyes on the distant city and its skyscrapers and walls. It all looked so beautiful and so horribly, tantalizingly close! She glanced back at her wings and chewed her lip, doubt filling her. Of all the things she knew she could do, this was not one of them.

The groaning and growls grew louder. A fretful glance showed the hideous things were halfway up the hill. She should jump. She knew she should jump, but…

Another look down the cliff at those hungry, dead eyes.

She fell to her knees and fought back tears.

“Scootaloo!”

She jumped back to her hooves and spun about. Iron Will was just behind the pack, his hammer swinging wildly to send bodies flying in every direction. “Willy, no!”

“Come and get me, you bastards!”

A large number of the ponies began to turn towards the distraction. Most, but not all. Scootaloo took a step forward but didn’t dare move any closer. “Willy, you can’t take this many on!”

Another swing toppled several of the infected at once. Iron will recovered from the swing and looked over the bodies that were by now nearly all shuffling his way. “You think I don’t know that? Fly, you crazy filly!” He began walking backwards, hammer prepped for another swing.

The creatures followed him, but there were still too many focused on Scootaloo for her to slip past. Iron Will shouted and called and swung his hammer wildly, but it was no use; this small pack remained intently focused upon Scootaloo. She stepped to the edge of the cliff and flexed her trembling wings.

“Scootaloo, you’ve got to fly!”

“I… I can’t…”

A pair of ponies flew through the air with another mighty swing.

“You either fly or you die!”

Cringing and cursing, she turned back to the cliff and looked down. Perhaps it wasn’t that big a fall, but still it loomed before her as if she were over a ravine rather than a suburb full of groaning, growling animals.

She sucked in a deep breath and released it with care. “I c-can do this.”

The moans were right behind her.

“Fly, Scootaloo! Show me what you can do!”

She closed her eyes and tried not to think.

You’re like me.

Her wings spread wide.

“I’m awesome.”

She jumped.

Scootaloo didn’t flap her wings, not at first. She took a moment to feel the wind in her newly formed feathers, the pinions she wasn’t used to having. There was something about it, something that felt comforting to her mind. Even knowing what she was falling towards, the brush of air soothed her and allowed her to focus.

She flapped. Once, twice, again. No panicked flapping like before, no frantic buzzing, no intent focus. She just flapped.

Then, to her alarm, she didn’t hit the ground. No teeth found her body. The moans were drowned out by a fresh wind against her face.

Realization dawned, and she opened her eyes to find herself soaring over the skeletons of houses. A second passed before her heart hit her throat and tears burst from her eyes. “I… I’m flying.”

She glanced back to find her wings flapping leisurely. The motions were calm, graceful… natural. “I’m flying. I’m actually flying!”

She pumped her wings with more force and felt herself rise higher. She never imagined it would feel so good. “Rainbow, I finally did it. I w-wish you could see me. I’ve got to show—”

Her moment of excitement came crashing down, and she nearly toppled from the sky with it. Though it took some effort, Scootaloo managed to right herself and get back to a proper flight path. As soon as she felt comfortable, she tried banking. It proved easy, and soon she was on a route back to the hill. “I’m coming, Willy!”

The fog dominated the scenery, but Scootaloo recognized the hill she’d been on easily enough. The thick foliage of the woods made spotting her companion difficult. She considered trying to land on a branch to get a view beneath the canopy, but rejected the idea; having never landed before, she’d likely do more harm to herself than anything else. So she flew in a wide circle, peering through the branches and leaves and praying she’d get some clue.

She found one in short order: the infected were all moving in one direction. Surely they had to be following Iron Will.

It took Scootaloo several passes, but at last she spotted Iron Will’s familiar blue-grey colors. She came to a stop over him, surprised at how easy it was to hover. “Willy!”

“Scootaloo?” He turned a circle, just visible amongst the leaves. “Get outta here.”

“I’m flying, Willy.” She descended, managing to make her way amongst the branches. She beamed at him once she was low enough to be visible. “Look, I finally did it!”

Iron Will didn’t smile. His head was swiveling about and he clutched his hammer in a constant battle stance. “That’s great, kid. Now fly away.”

“What?” Her momentary euphoria lost, she cocked her head at him. “Didn’t you hear me? Can’t you see me?”

A moan caught her attention and she turned to see another one of them approaching from within the fog.

“They’re everywhere.” Iron Will adjusted his hold on his hammer and snorted steam with a firm frown. “There’s no way I’m getting to Vanhoover.”

“Oh, come on!” Scootaloo turned to point to his left, then his right, then behind him. “I don’t see any more of them. Come on, Willy, you can do… this…”

Her throat dried up at the sight of more figures. The moaning intensified as they stumbled and crawled through the fog, between the trees and over the hills. There had to have been hundreds. “Oh Goddess…”

Iron Will looked up at her, his face emotionless. “Just fly, Scootaloo.”

“B-but I…” She turned a circle in a vain search for escape. “I’m not going to leave you here, Willy.”

He huffed, and hefted his hammer. “Don’t see that you’ve got much choice. Go on, it’s okay.”

“No, it is not okay. There’s nothing about this that is okay!” Scootaloo flew at him and grabbed his shoulder. She flapped her wings as hard as she could, straining and gritting her teeth. “Come on!”

Iron Will stared at her. “Scootaloo, there’s no way.”

“There has to be!” She reaffirmed her hold and tried again, pulled on him with everything she had. “Stupid wings. Stupid, stupid wings! You finally start working and you can’t even lift one bucking minotaur?” The groaning only made her flap harder.

With a deep sigh, Iron Will dropped his hammer in the grass. He grabbed Scootaloo and, despite her struggles, held her at arms’ length. “Scootaloo, listen to me.”

She ignored him at first, squirming and shouting and flapping. Slowly, she began to relax, going limp in his big hands. She felt so horribly drained. With a sniff, she reached up and brushed the tears from her eyes. “Don’t m-make me do this.”

Then, Iron Will did something that pierced her heart: he smiled. It was a genuine smile, the likes of which she’d not seen in ages.

“Remember what I told ya, kid? I’m okay with this.”

The moans and growls grew louder. Scootaloo paid them no mind. “I’m not, Willy.”

“I am.” He hugged her to his massive chest. “You can fly. That means you’re free. You can go wherever you want and be safe. My job—”

“Don’t say it’s over!” Scootaloo hugged his neck tightly. “P-please, Willy. We can still find a way. I can… I can distract them.”

“I don’t want you to.” He petted her mane and scratched under her ears. “We’re both free. You can fly off, I can… become one of them.”

“But why do you want to?”

“Because it’s better than walking around with false hope.” He held her at length again, revealing tears running down his cheeks. “I’m so tired, Scoots. Iron Will doesn’t have the will to live up to his name anymore.”

Scootaloo looked one way, then another. They were getting closer. Too close. “Willy, please. How am I supposed to do this without you?”

“You’ll find a way.” He change his hold so he had her by her barrel. “Now you better fly before you end up like me.”

“Wait!”

“Fly, Scootaloo!” Muscles bulging, he threw her high. “Fly or die!”

She flew. Eyes burning, sobs bursting from her chest, she flew. Scootaloo flew and didn’t dare look back. “I’m sorry, Willy. I’m so sorry!”

His voice followed after her, just managing to reach her ears: “Never apologize when you can criticize!”

Vanhoover was quiet. Scootaloo, face still soaked and sniffs still rising rebelliously from her throat, hovered over the city. She stared down at the fog, shoulders slumped. This was supposed to be a happy moment for her…

Nopony came to greet her. Not a soul peered from the buildings. No sounds rose from the white blanket that hid the streets. The whole city seemed… dead. Scootaloo didn’t have to wonder why.

“You were right, Willy,” she whispered. “All this fog, all the things we ran into… I should have recognized the signs like you did. We could have turned back.”

Not knowing why she bothered, Scootaloo began to descend. She eyed her wings as they moved with a naturalness that had been missing from her life for so long. Another happy moment gone. Was there anything positive left in this world?

She came to a hover just over the white. Unsure if it was the right thing to do, she concentrated on the clouds beneath her and beat her wings a little harder. The fog swirled and shifted from the wind. Scootaloo sighed and tried again, willing the roiling substance to move.

And move it did; with the power of her wings the fog fell away, leaving a large open area in the street.

Three ponies and a griffon all looked up at the same time, their eyes locking on Scootaloo.

Well, the griffon would have looked at her, had it eyes to see. Its moan was pitched, sounding more like the cry of a sick eagle.

Another sob hit Scootaloo. She stared at the small group, legs hanging limply as fresh tears formed. “We came all this way…”

She considered it. Strongly. If Iron Will could do it, she could too. Yet the more she thought on the idea, the angrier she became. After a few seconds her crying had faded and she was glaring at the monsters below. The fog promptly rolled back in, covering them and muffling their groans and growls.

Never apologize when you can criticize!

She flew high, coming to land atop one of the gleaming towers. She glanced around to ensure she was alone before turning to the east. It was dark out that way, dark as the sun was setting. All of Equestria lay behind her, shrouded in darkness and death and madness. To think, she’d walked clear across the country…

“Is that what you were doing, Willy?” she whispered into the chill air. “Giving me a gift? You want me to be critical so I won’t give up?”

She closed her eyes and thought on everything they’d been through. His stupid catchphrases, his boisterous manner, his easy laugh. It all decayed, and she got a front row seat.

“Fine.” She turned to look at the setting sun. “I’ll be critical. You wanna join them and be a corpse, you be my guest. I’m not going to let Equestria get me down. The Sun and Moon still move, and so long as they do I swear I will not get dragged down!”

She rose into the air, eyes set on the horizon.

“I am Scootaloo, and I am going to live. You hear me, Celestia? I am going to live!”

She huffed and glared, but there came no answer. Soon the sun had disappeared behind the ocean and the world was enshrouded in darkness. Scootaloo huffed and turned back to Equestria, the world through which she had endured.

“Cloudsdale,” she whispered. “I’ll try Cloudsdale again.”

She flew off, over the eternal fog and skyscrapers and suburbs. She passed back over a familiar hill.

She didn’t bother to look down.

Author's Note

As far as I'm concerned, this is definitely not one of my better works. Quite the opposite, really. Regardless, here it is. I spent nearly four weeks trying to write this and I'll be damned if I let it go unseen, flaws and all. I firmly believed that working endlessly on the same story in a relentless search for perfection isn't helpful at all, and thus I shall move on to other, better things.