Fallout Equestria: Sweet Child of Mine

by Salted Pingas

Rating: mature
Tags: Gore, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Other, Sex, Fallout, Profanity, Adventure, Violence, Crossover, Death, Alternate Universe
Length: 113711

When a pegasus in the Enclave becomes pregnant without a birth card, the only place she can have the child is below the clouds.

What would you do for the life of your unborn child?

Would you violate the law?

Run from the only life you've ever known to a land sewn with chaos and suffering?

A land where every other inhabitant wants you dead or enslaved for a couple caps?

Would you be willing to kill?

When Healthy Skies—a medical student and nurse in the Enclave—gets pregnant without a birth card, she finds that the answer to these questions is simple...

Yet, as she comes to find out, many things are easier said than done...

Currently Edited by:

Previously Edited by: PersonalGamer, G-man64, and Cenkic

Cover art by me.

Published 2015-07-17 19:40:02 UTC
Last updated 2023-07-15 20:29:37 UTC

01 - Putting on a Smiley Face

CHAPTER ONE:

Putting on a Smiley Face

“Babies take a lot of work, and some ponies are just not cut out to handle the responsibility.”

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

Groaning out my best imitation of a zombie mating cry, I responded to my sudden and very much unhappy awakening by rolling over and pulling my cloud-pillow down over my head. It was a vain attempt to drown out the robotic beeping of my alarm clock, but the effort it would take to drag myself to the side of the bed, reach over to my end table, and bop my alarm clock to make it stop was beyond my power.

First and foremost, I am not a morning pony. If I can, I enjoy avoiding mornings like the plague. Wake me up when I’m good and ready after the time has passed from a triple digit to a quadruple digit number. Fail to do so and—

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! the alarm clock doubled its volume, as if knowing I was trying to ignore it.

I let out another loud groan, hoping against hope that this morning would be different, that the alarm clock would just malfunction, shut-up, and let me rest in peace. Just stop its endless—

BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEE—

The alarm clock won. As always. Snarling with frustration, I lunged sideways and brought my hoof down violently on the cloud-clock’s alarm killswitch, silencing the damnable thing. Quietly, I wished striking something made of solidified clouds made a more significant noise than a quiet puff. It was no fun hitting anything when it felt like you were just pounding soft fluff.

No longer laying in a proper sleeping position, I was forced to roll out of bed, stretching neck, legs, wings, and back with a few quiet grunts and a loud yawn. That taken care of I shambled tiredly to my little cloud-vanity. Sitting before the mirror, I met the bleary-eyed gaze of a pegasus mare. Golden mane was strewn crazily across her caramel-orange face, obscuring one wine-red eye behind its luscious color.

Yep, that was me.

Opening the drawer of my vanity, I dug out a brush and got to work tidying my mane into a more appropriate form. Sweeping it all into more or less one direction out of my eyes, I appeared much more presentable as I rubbed at my still-sleepy face, stifling another yawn.

Wanting no more than to climb back into the warm embrace of my bedsheets and dream the rest of the day away, I was forced to shove those thoughts away (a selfless sacrifice if ever there was one) in favor of getting my day started. Whether I liked it or not, I did have work today. Gaining momentum, I stepped into the hallway and into the bathroom, finding it thankfully unoccupied.

Locking the door behind me, I trotted to the shower and pulled back the curtain to find that I was happily its first customer of the day.

‘Great gusts!’ I thought, reaching to the faucet, ‘Maybe I can finally get some nice warm water for a change instead of having that little, fat-feathered—’

Except I didn’t get warm water as the faucet slid open. I got cold water right in my face as somepony had angled the shower head off to the side, aimed right at whosoever might be unlucky enough to turn on the water.

Sputtering against a jolt of shock at being struck in the face by an icy blast of liquid, I fumbled with a spew of curses as I wrenched the faucet back closed. The water cut off quickly, leaving my head drenched and dripping with chilly water.

A rancorous burst of giggles came from the other side of the door. I knew only one little lard-bellied monster that could make such a noise.

“Reuben!” I snarled, turning and tearing the door open to the sight of a little orange and brown block of lard zip down the hall with a sound of beating wings.

Snapping mine open, I rushed after the little insect, zooming down a hallway, around a bend and into the kitchen. My mother hovered by the stove, cooking a bland-smelling blend of cloud-grown vegetables in a pan. Flipping through today’s newspaper, my father sat at his spot at the table. Both parents looked up as the little flying lardball and I zipped into the room.

“Mo-o-om! Healthy Skies is chasing me!” Reuben called as he buzzed on his stubby wings to my mother, seeking safety as he hugged her belly like a nursing foal.

“Don’t chase your brother, sweetie,” mom chastised half-heartedly, her tone almost tired of the routine.

“He messed up the shower so it hit me in the face!” I snarled back, crossing my forehooves as I hovered, not daring to pursue the little lardass further now that he’d found his safe zone. That was fine with me, I could just pound him later when mom wasn’t around to be his little haven.

“Sweetie, how old are you?” mom asked, sighing as she and dad turned back to cooking and reading respectively. My brother, still using my mom as a living shield stuck his tongue out at me. I gave him a low growl that only bolstered his serpent’s grin.

“Seventeen,” I snapped back, already knowing where this train was going, “but that—”

“No buts,” she cut in, “You’re five years a grown mare now,” she continued her rote, stirring the chopped sky-veggies in the frying pan, “if your brother does something you don’t like—”

“‘Come tell you,’” I finished, only half trying to keep the mocking tone from my voice as I turned and headed back to the shower, “Ugh!”

“Yeah!” my brother sneered, “and if you don’t like it you can move out!”

I gave him a sharp huff over my shoulder, the kitchen disappearing around a corner. Yeah, I’m a grown mare still living with her parents, big deal. Working part time at the hospital doesn’t pay a whole lot. Especially when the cost of medical school drains my wages dry.

Groaning as I did my best to shake the cold water from my mane, I began my trek back to the shower.

It’s not the best life, living with the old folks. Dad’s fine for the most part, but mom can be a real bitch sometimes. Case in point? Reuben, and her rules in place for dealing with his annoying harassments. Childish they may be, but after having the little shit annoy, bother, and prank me on a constant basis, it gets old very fast. No knocking or beating or bullying the little fatass around myself, I’ve got to deal with the ‘middle mare’ if he does something annoying. Double ugh!

Locking the door to the bathroom, once more I fixed the shower head (making a mental note to check it from now on before I turned it on), and got the water running once more. Waiting till it was nice and warm, I stepped in and got to cleaning.

Why not move out? As I said before: money. I’m no big shot pony; a part time nurse at a local hospital doesn’t earn all that much. And, also as I said before, medical school ain’t cheap. Even pulling double shifts on school holidays barely keeps me in the black.

What does a part time nurse even do on a regular basis? I change linens on the beds, happily greet and smile at all the patients (even the cranky and crying ones that make my life a living hell), do height and weight before guiding patients to open examination rooms, clean up shit (literally, more times than I’ll ever admit), and swap the occasional bit of gossip with the other nurses about this or that when the chance arises. Not a dreamy life, but so long as I’ve got a job and stay in school I can live with my parents, slowly saving up for my own little apartment somewhere.

And, of course, when I do get to deal with the occasional diagnosis or injury when we get understaffed, I get to put my cutie mark to good use.

Scrubbing my left flank down, I got a good look at the X of bandages wrapped around a little red heart. I gave an annoyed sigh.

Key phrase there: “when we get understaffed.” There’s nothing explicitly wrong about only being a nurse, it’s just not what I want to do with my special talent! I wanted the real deal, a doctor of any sort. Anything that would let me put that bandaged heart on my butt to good use, not mopping spilled waste and washing stained laundry! Triple ugh.

But, of course, to be a doctor you need a good eight or so years of school. And to get through those eight years, you need to have money and a place to stay. And to have money and a roof, well guess what?

You needed a job. And, for now, I was a nurse. So be it.

But at least I do get to put my mark to good use on those hectic days when we don’t have enough ponies to stitch wounds and set broken limbs. Chaotic as they are, I always come home with a big smile when I do get to play doctor (though that smile is often lost to my brother’s annoying antics shortly after walking through the door).

At least I wasn’t selling processed veggie-patties at Windy’s.

Finally finished, I turned off the water from the shower and stepped into the now steamy bathroom. Blinking water from my eyes and quickly drying off, I trotted back to my room...after first checking the hallway for signs of my brother’s common antics and pranks.

Sitting back down in front of my vanity once more, I got to styling my mane. Tying all the loose hairs behind my head back into a tight bun. I preferred not having it all wave around behind me, falling to get in the way during work. My tail I simply brushed into a single, flowing mass of golden hair.

Mane and tail properly styled, I dug around for my preening kit, frowning when it wasn’t where I’d left it. Pulling out and rifling through all the other drawers, I gave an annoyed snort, my frown deepened. Where was that stupid—

“Looking for something?” a male voice asked from behind me.

I jumped with a yelp of fright, wheeling about in the air. I only made out dark mane and a wide, white grin before the pony tackled me in the air. Opening my mouth to scream, I was silenced as his own mouth met mine, taking my breath and scream away with a passionate kiss.

Holding me gently, my assailant whirled us about, over to the bed before depositing me there. Gasping as he retreated from the kiss, my scream was silenced this time as I recognized my assailant as he sat before me.

“Hey, lovely,” Cloud Poker greeted with a shit-eating grin.

“Pokerface?” I exclaimed, laying where he’d left me. A scowl crossed my features, “Pokerface!” I growed, sitting up and bopping him on the nose with a forehoof. That was one thing that didn’t go puff when you hit it!

“Ow!” he said, the grin turning to a gentler smile as he held up his forehooves defensively, “Okay, I deserved that, I’m sorry,” he chuckled, offering me my stolen preening kit.

I gave a low growl as I snatched my preening kit from his hoof, hopping back off the bed and trotting back to my vanity, “Ugh, I get enough of that ‘jumping out and scaring’ crap from my brother,” I groaned, opening the rectangular box to get to preening my feathers.

“Well, how about I make it up to you...” Poker replied, hopping off my bed and approaching with another grin, “...with a little something you don’t get from your little bro?”

I yelped in surprise as he spun me towards him, prepared to give him another good knocking. But like before, he stunned me with a kiss, stealing away my words as he gently caressed my breast with a hoof. Fuck me, he kissed good! Quickly, my anger faded under the strength of his lips.

His stroking hoof began to drop lower and lower, down my barrel. I let his hoof pass over the two small teats nestled between my thighs before I broke away, holding him at bay with my forehooves.

“Oh, but doctor!” I exclaimed, putting on a worried facade as his hoof was left pawing at the air, “isn’t this in violation of fraternization policy?”

“Mm, what do you mean?” he asked, playing along as he leaned in to give my neck a quick peck, “This is just a quick check-up,” he stood from me, trotting back as he brought his grinning face down towards my nethers, “Ooh, what have we here?” he asked.

“I don’t think so,” I replied with a giggle, whipping my tucking tail up under his chin as I covered myself, gripping it modestly against my barrel in my forehooves, “You’re no gynecologist.”

“Correction! I’m your gynecologist,” he grinned back at me.

Returning his smile, I leaned forwards, trading nuzzles and a final quick kiss, “But seriously: no, not now. I need to preen and then we need to get to work.”

Poker gave me a pout, sticking out his lower lip like a cute little puppy.

“No,” I asserted, pushing his face away, “I already showered this morning, I don’t wanna have to take another one before work. Mom gets bitchy enough about my supposedly long showers.”

“Oh, well maybe next time we can share a nice, long one...lather each other up and all...” he suggested with another grin before raising his forehooves in a sign of surrender and backing up off me, “But okay, I relent.”

With Cloud Poker taken care of, I started going over my feathers, straightening what needed straightening and cleaning what my shower hadn’t gotten. Poker retreated back towards the door to wait for me before pausing and turning.

“Oh. Speaking of check-ups, though…” he trailed off, producing a boxed pregnancy tester with a wing.

Turning from a few loose feathers, I rolled my eyes, “I was far enough off my cycle,” I replied, taking the tester anyways and tossing it into my vanity.

“I know, I know, I’m just being careful,” he replied, looking serious now, “Neither my or your parents have any birth cards to spare…”

“So unless we get married...” I finished with a sigh, “I know, I know. Swear I’ll do it later, okay?”

He nodded, “Drop by my place if you want me to wait on standby, just in case.”

“Sure, maybe I can be the one to scare you this time,” I giggled.

“Let’s hope not,” Poker replied with a slight grin.

* * * * *

Once I’d finished preening we headed back out, down through the kitchen where breakfast was being served. My parents and fat sibling were all situated around the table, dad still reading his newspaper.

“Morning, everypony!” Cloud Poker grinned, passing by with a wave of his wing.

“Good morning, Cloud Poker,” mom greeted with a smile from the table.

“I take it you two were civil up there?” dad asked with a less cheery tone, his eyes only landing on Cloud Poker.

“Don’t worry, sir,” Poker said with a quick bow, “I was nothing short of a gentlecolt.”

Grunting, my father turned back to his paper, satisfied after I rolled my eyes and nodded. I turned my eyes to my brother as I approached, I was hungry and he deserved a little something after that prank this morning.

Trotting quietly past him, I tapped my brother’s shoulder with a wing as I passed. As he looked the wrong way, I nabbed both of his toasts with margarine spread. They weren’t particularly tasty, mind you (they were as bland as everything else there was to eat), but they would serve their purpose.

“Thanks, tubby!” I called, munching happily towards the door.

“Hey!” he called after me, turning, “Mo-o-om!”

“Don’t make fun of your brother sweetie!” mom called after me, not turning from her cooking.

“Well if he wasn’t fat I couldn’t call him fat!” I shot back, grinning back at him past a part of my pilfered food.

“You’re fat!” he growled back.

“Good one!” I retorted with a roll of my eyes, following Poker out the door and stepping out into the sunlight.

“Have a good day at work!” my father called after me.

“Mmff!” I mumbled past my food, closing the door with a hoof.

* * * * *

It was a short flight to the hospital. After clocking in and changing into our uniforms, we parted ways with a final kiss, moving to our respective daily schedules. Trotting down the hall, I plastered a pleasant smile over my bored expression.

As I rounded a corner I spotted a darkly coated mare with pale violet mane, a pink streak running through it. The fake smile blossomed into a small grin as I waved at her with a wing, she returned the gesture.

“Hey, Lilac,” I greeted once we got closer.

“Skies,” she replied, rubbing her bleary pink eyes, “Nothing to pass down from last night, coulda slept through it if I wanted.”

I gave a mock gasp, “Did you? Ooh, I might just have to report that!”

She gave a snort of laughter, rolling her eyes, “Have a good shift, Skies.”

“Have a good sleep, Lilac,” I replied, the two of us parting ways.

From thereon out, the day turned into its typical blur of robotic activity. Some poor drunk who’d forgotten it required two wings to fly and cracked his skull open was discharged, so I was tasked with readying his room for the next patient. New sheets for the bed, take the old ones to be washed, make everything nice and tidy, done.

One of the pediatrics regulars called in sick (again, I might add) so I was assigned to prep a group of fillies and colts for check-ups. Heights, weights, temperatures, “The doctor will be with you shortly,” rinse and repeat until one of them puked in the waiting room. Thank the winds none of the janitors had called in sick, poor bastards.

Another patient was discharged, this time in a sheet-covered stretcher, a sad sight but one that wasn’t wholly unusual in this line of work. Old age, luckily they were one of the incontinent ones who wore a diaper and didn’t leave me with a huge shit-stained set of sheets to change. It’s the little things in life that count.

After tidying up a couple more rooms I was charged with checking on a few residing patients. Ensure saline drips were still hooked up, check bandages and report any that needed changing (why can’t I do it myself!? Ugh!). “How is everything? Feeling better today? Here’s your lunch! Hit the buzzer in case you need anything or are going into cardiac arrest!” The works.

“Hey, Skies, I hear that military buck you know’s back in town for a bit?” one of the male nurses, Windscatter, asked, sitting opposite Cloud Poker and I in the lunch room.

It was small and out of the way, all stark white like the rest of a hospital. A snack machine hummed quietly to itself in a corner next to a fridge with a small salad bar set against the wall. Cloud Poker had brought himself a sandwich from home while I dined on a plate from the salad bar.

“Yeah. Gonna meet him at a bar after work,” I replied, happily munching my salad (not because it tasted good, but I’ve already been over that), “But he’s taken if that’s your question, already got another buck.”

“Drat,” Windscatter muttered into his meal, “all the good bucks are taken.”

“Try mares!” Feather Fluff, another female nurse, replied from a table over. As if to emphasize, she hooked one of her wings around another mare seated next to her, “Mares are great, I would know.”

“Yeah, you’ve tasted them all, haven’t you!” Windscatter sniped back with a cheeky grin.

“Almost all of them,” she replied, grinning back at me with a wink.

“Taken,” I said simply, pulling Cloud Poker closer to me and nuzzling him. Screw the no PDA policy, “and hetero.”

“Ah, hetero, shmetero!” she countered with a dismissive wave, grin creasing into a coy smile under a pair of orange bedroom eyes, “A heterosexual’s just a pony who’s never tried the same sex.”

I gave a snort of laughter, “Tried it first year of medical school. Her name was Jasmine Tea, made better drinks than she did sex,” taking down another bite of papery sky-lettuce, I paused to chew for a moment, “just didn’t do it for me. I needed something more than a little ‘I lick your itch, you lick mine’...if you know what I mean,” I continued, bumping flanks with Cloud Poker.

“Can we please not talk about homosexual activities?” Cloud Poker spoke up past his lunch.

“How about bi-?!” the mare next to Feather Fluff called over, “Both ways is best way!”

“You ever had a buck, Poker?” Windscatter inquired.

Cloud Poker gave him a flat glare, pointing a wing down towards his hind end, “See my butt?”

“Every day, eight hours a day,” Windscatter replied, getting a giggle out of me.

“Imagine a sign on it reading: exit only, no entry,” he paused a moment, “and just to be safe: violators will be disemboweled on the spot with a scalpel.”

“No trespassing,” I added, grinning with a snicker, “beware of manticore.”

“Pff, no fun,” Windscatter replied with a wave of his hoof.

“Ah, go stick it in an icepack if you’re so horny,” Cloud Poker dismissed, taking a bite of his sandwich.

After lunch it was back to the shit, literally as a few of the less responsive residents needed diaper changing. I was so, so very happy that this just had to take place right after lunch! Like I said: “more times than I’ll ever admit.”

At least afterwards it was scheduling work. More boring than watching paint dry, though not very difficult once you got the hang of it. I had a newbie dropped in (without being told prior, like always) for training in that department. At least his cutie mark had to do with paperwork, he seemed to get ahold of it fast enough.

No emergencies throughout the day, no cardiac arrests, no botched suicide attempts, no “hold my beer and watch this” moments gone horribly wrong. Nothing serious that I could’ve actually done some good with. So call me a sadist for wanting some patient to come in with internal injuries or a sucking chest wound, at least it was so I could help fix them up!

Clock out, drop off my uniform to be cleaned, pass down to my relief pony (who was late as usual), and then a quick fly home, parting ways with Cloud Poker after a final bout of nuzzles.

Phew!

* * * * *

“Ugh, hurry up in there, will you!? I gotta pee!” my brother growled from the other side of the door.

“Use mom and dad’s bathroom, then!” I retorted, making sure the door was locked. For this more than anything else I needed my privacy.

“But dad’s already in there!” he cried back, the strain in his voice evident, “C’mon! I gotta go-o-o!”

“Then go piss on a lightning bolt!” I snarled back, retrieving the pregnancy tester from under my wing. Biting on the tab, I opened the cardboard box and shook out the sealed tester.

“Mom, Healthy Skies, told me to go piss on a lightning bolt!” he tattled.

“Did not!” I called back, focusing on the tester. Another bite and a tear later and I took the tester in a wing, discarding the plastic and bringing the box up to read. ‘Step one: remove the tester from packaging,’ Really? “No shit,” I muttered, reading further. Sure, I’d gone over the procedure with patients before, but the specifics varied from company to company.

“Healthy Skies, sweetie, don’t be rude to your brother!” my mother’s muffled voice called back, “And hurry up, your brother needs to use the bathroom.”

“Mm-hm!” I mumbled back, moving to the toilet and activating the tester as per instructions. Mid-stream sample, count to one...two...three...and, done! I voided the rest of my bladder into the toilet.

More pounding on the door, “I swear you’re just doing this to annoy me!” Reuben called from the other side, “What are you even doing in there!?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” I shot back, suddenly grinning, “And are you sure you don’t mean I’m doing it to piss you off?” I giggled at my own joke, bringing the tester back around in a hoof once I’d finished. The indicator was unchanged, not a big surprise, these things took time for the reading to come through. Not that it would tell me anything but negative, of course.

Tucking the tester in a wing and washing my hooves, I unlocked the door and stepped out, “All yours, tubby,” I said, moving aside.

“Finally!” Reuben growled, zipping past me with a flutter of his little wings.

“Everything come out all right in there?” mom asked from the kitchen.

“Ew, mom,” I said with a disgusted look, heading back to my room, “and yes, as a matter of fact it did, thank you oh so very much for asking!”

I stepped into my room and closed the door behind me. Retrieving the tester from my wing, I checked it again. Still nothing. Grumbling, I put it in a drawer and gathered my things. The confirmation that I wasn’t pregnant could wait, I was already soon to be late to Red Mist’s return party.

Securing the bag around me, I headed out on dancing hooves. I was going to see one of the few friends I’d retained past grade school again! And now he was an enlisted pony, a soldier in our Enclave.

I smirked as I flew to the local bar we were meeting at, trying to imagine that large, pudgy red pony in power armor. It had been far too long since I’d seen him, the only pictures I had being the ones in my last yearbook with his signature doodled over them. It would be nice to see him again before they shipped him out to wherever he was going.

The bar he’d chosen was only a short flight away, a little family-owned place called the Broodmare Brewhouse. It was a reasonably nice place.

Touching down to the sounds of wordless, upbeat music, I pushed past the door and stepped inside. The inside was lively, plenty of ponies taking the load off after work, cheering on or cursing as they huddled about multiple radios as different play-by-plays of games were reported, or sharing laughs and drinks across booths and the main bar.

The bland smells of cheap food and alcohol filled the air as I looked around. I doubted I’d arrived early, Mist had said he’d be here around—

“Skies! Hey, Skies! Over here!” the voice barely registered over the music and general hubbub of laughter and conversation. I turned, zeroing in on the voice before spotting a booth with a group of three, two wearing military dress uniforms. One of them, a large stallion with a crimson coat and a hot pink mane, was waving.

The stallion smiled as we locked eyes, waving again.

I approached quickly, squinting at the figure, ‘Is that...’ I wondered.

It was. Large for a pegasus, he was a good head taller and thicker with muscle than the average pony. He wore a dressy uniform top and his mane and tail were closely cropped. A far cry from the long, curly mane that always bounced with his stomach as he walked. Another military pony sat to his left, a civilian buck to his right.

“Mist?!” I exclaimed, eyeing his musculature up and down, “Wind’s end! Wow, you look good!” I exclaimed with a quick laugh, “Where’s that big old pegasus with the love handles I remember?”

“Hey!” he grinned, “a pony can change, can’t he?”

“Oh, I’m teasing,” I replied with a grin, stopping at the table, “It’s great to see you again!”

“It’s great to be seen again,” Mist replied, gesturing for me to take a seat, “Feels great to be out of that shithole!”

“Feels so fuckin’ weird!” the military pony beside him commented with a twangy accent, “feels like any second Sarge’s gonna jump in an’ drop me for somethin’ dumb! The PTSD’s real, I tell ya!” I frowned at the word: PTSD, but his tone led me to believe it was some inside joke. It wasn’t like they were forcing ponies to fight griffons naked...right?

“Ah, loosen up!” Mist replied as I took a seat next to the other buck. He cleared his throat, passing me a mug brimming with hard cider, “Healthy Skies, meet White Cheddar and Greasy Bearing.”

“Pleasure to meet ya,” Greasy Bearing said, giving a polite nod.

“You’re the one he’s told us so much about,” White Cheddar smiled, shaking my hoof.

After exchanging our pleasantries, I turned back to Mist, “But really, you do look great, Mist,” I commented, “boot camp really changed you.”

“Sure did,” Bearing piped up, “Heh, we used to call this big fella Private Pile, on account he was nothin’ but a good-fer-nothin’ pile o’ fat!” he quipped, bumping Mist with a wing.

“So I ponied up and became Private Piledriver! Rrgh!” he strained up one hoof, ripe with rippling muscles. Oh my!

“Yeah, an’ ‘cause of his preference as a flyin’ fudge-packer, ugh,” Bearing said, gesturing to me with a hoof, “Honestly? How can ya look at that and not think ‘ah wanna rut that sexy little thing till the wind dies out!’?”

“Because one: I’m taken, and two: I’d taze you where the sun don’t shine!” I replied on Mist’s behalf, patting a particular spot in my saddlebags. You could never be too careful.

“Ouch,” Cheddar winced, turning to Bearing, “Feel the burn of denial.”

“Almost tempted, li’l mare, almost tempted,” Bearing replied with a smirk, giving a quick bow of his head, “But, seein’ as ah am a gentlecolt, ah’ll take yer word on that.”

“Also, if you tried that, I’d piledrive you hard enough to break the cloud cover,” Mist smirked back, giving his head a friendly smack with a hoof.

Bearing waved Mist away with a hoof and a wing, “Ah don’t know which version of piledrivin’ ya mean, and ah don’t know which’d be worse.”

“I think I know which one I’d prefer,” Cheddar replied as he circled a hoof around Mist’s chest, leaning up for a kiss. The large red pony complied, joining lips with his lover.

“Oh, c’mon with that shit! Ah wanna puke after ah get pissed-fuckin’ drunk! Not before!” Bearing gagged, turning away to sip at his drink.

“Hm, I think he’s jealous,” Cheddar replied, pulling back to throw a look across the table.

“Good call,” Red Mist agreed, turning to Bearing as well, “if that bottle you’ve got gets too lonely for you, I’m always open for a three-way.”

“Screw you! By night’s end, ah’ll have me a mare! The ladies love the uniform,” he said, tugging at his dress whites with a hoof, “An’ they love a buck with an accent, ups the exotic factor.”

“Very well,” Mist dismissed him, turning suddenly to me, “So who’s the lucky stallion that finally pulled your heartstrings?” Mist considered a moment, “It is a stallion, no?”

I nodded, “Did you ever meet Cloud Poker?” I asked. Mist looked thoughtful for a moment, before shaking his head, “Oh, well he was in a few of my classes. We met in medical school and he works at the hospital too now. He can be an ass sometimes, but I think you’d like him.”

“Mist does seem to like ass,” Bearing snorted with a cocky smile, snickering into his drink.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Cheddar replied, though Mist himself shared a grin with his military buddy, waving him off and turning back to his drink.

I rolled my eyes, “See any good flank?” I asked with a sip of my drink, “Plenty of steamy shower scenes, I imagine. Plenty of good looking bucks, huh?”

“The likes of which you would never imagine,” Mist chuckled.

“Oh, do tell!” Cheddar giggled, running a hoof through the fur of Mist’s powerful chest.

“Oh, gag!” Bearing grumbled as he pushed himself from the table, “I’m gettin' another drink!”

“Oh, where do I even start?” Mist began, looking thoughtful.

“P-days!” Bearing called as he disappeared into the crowd, “Fuckin’ P-days!”

“Ah, yes,” Mist began, looking nostalgic, “P-days! Running to and fro with little-to-no sleep, getting ten different shots in my legs and ass, eating the crap chow they served at the Pearl!” he shook his head, “Processing days. That first week was miserable. We were stuck in our itchy ‘smurfs’ which leave lint everywhere, a real bitch to clean up.”

“Smurfs?” I asked, looking confused.

“PT gear,” he chuckled with a nostalgic gleam in his eye, “there’s a story about why they’re called that, actually…” he began, talking the evening away.

* * * * *

It was starting to get late by the time I left, feeling only a little tipsy from the drink. I waved goodbye as Mist and I parted ways, feeling better than I had coming home from work.

Red Mist would be here another week or so before they shipped him off to whatever command he was going to. I considered my schedule for the week, finding a few times when I could drop by and say hello before he was shipped back out again.

The flight home was uneventful, home quiet as I opened the door and headed up to my room. My parents were out for the evening, some party. With any luck they took Reuben with them, leaving the house to me, myself, and...Reuben...in my room…digging through my drawers!

“Reuben!” I snapped, immediately annoyed.

He jumped, letting out a yelp as he turned about, “Uh,” he said, stupidly.

“What are you doing in my room?” I grumbled, spotting something clutched in his jaw, “What the hell is that?”

“I...I ‘unno, foun’ it in the drawer?” he pointed to where he’d been searching, voice partially garbled by what I realized was my pregnancy tester, held lengthwise in his mouth, “Why does it smell like pee?”

I wasn’t sure whether to laugh at the fact that he was holding a used pregnancy tester in his mouth, or angry at the little shit for entering and digging through my room for the million-and-first time.

‘Probably looking for that gynecology book again,’ I mentally grumbled, unhappily remembering the first time I’d walked in on him “studying” it.

Tearing away myself from that oh, so pleasant memory, I opened my mouth to yell at him when he spat it out and held it up in a hoof. Whatever I was about to say was blasted straight out of my head as he spoke, my blood turning to ice.

“And why’s it got this little smiley face on it?”

* * * * *

Footnote: Perk attained: Pregnancy I – for better or for worse, you’ve got a foal on the way. Better start thinking up names! You may feel moodier at times and have an increased appetite, as well as occasional abdominal cramps.

Author's Note

Don’t expect often updates on this story from me, “A” School’s a pain and we’ve only got decent amounts of liberty on the weekends so the time I get to devote to ponies is rather limited. Sorry.

Also, I go off a pony ageing system not parallel to humans so don’t worry about the potential for underage sex/drinking. In human years, Skies is around 20-22.

02 - The Only way out is Down

CHAPTER TWO:

The Only way out is Down

“Sometimes all your options are crappy and the only thing you can do is grab a plunger.”

The tester read positive.

I stood stock still, like a deer in the headlights as Reuben held up the tester for me to see. The gears of my head ground against the newfound realization, as unexpected as a slap in the darkness and ten times as powerful. It was as if someone had paused my mental process, leaving me stuck on that one, singular thought.

I was pregnant.

Deep down in my belly, a twinge of muscle startled me, jumpstarting my brain with a painful poke to my abdomen.

“It’s, um…” I began, thinking up a good lie. There was no way the little gnat was going to be the first one to hear I was pregnant, “It’s just something to...to make sure I’m healthy,” I finally said, jerking my hoof up to the tester, thankful I wasn’t shaking like a leaf. The smiley face on it grinned back at me, like some chippy harbinger of doom, “See the smiley face?” I smiled for emphasis, hoping it didn’t look too forced, “That means I’m healthy.”

Reuben frowned, turning his eyes to the tester. I silently hoped that he hadn’t gone through sex education yet; or, if he had, that he’d been paying more attention to ‘vagina’ and ‘clitoris’ than ‘pregnancy tester.’ He looked up suddenly.

“Oh,” he said, swallowing the lie and letting me breath a little easier.

‘He bought it! He bought it. Phew!’ I wiped my mental brow…and suddenly realized something, letting an angry scowl hide my stricken heart, “Now what in the big blue sky are you doing in my room!?” I demanded.

“U-u-uh,” he said stupidly, then darted out the door in a flutter of wings, dropping the tester as he went.

I had just enough willpower to slam my door shut and turn back to the tester before my legs gave out and my butt hit the floor, leaving me staring at the tester. The smiley face met my gaze, its maniacal laughter echoing through the halls of my mind.

I blinked first.

“I’m pregnant…” I tasted the words, then again, “I’m pregnant.” They fell like sour fruit from my lips, twisting my mouth into a worried frown and sending a cold, fluttery feeling through my stomach.

There was another twisting feeling down in my gut, making me wince and press a hoof to the spot, rubbing away the cramp. I’d heard about this, I now realized. Occasional muscle cramps down in the abdomen as a mare’s body began preparing for what was to come.

“But…” I bit my lip, ‘I was at the end of my cycle! I should’ve been well past fertility!’ I put my hoof down, giving a huff as I glared over at the tester, ‘No! The tester could be wrong,’ I told myself. I stood and went about pacing as I let my agitated wings wring themselves to either side of me, ‘it has to be wrong! It must be!’

I paused a moment to give the thing a weary glance, my guts cold and churning like a slushie machine in a Cloud Nine convenience store.

‘The tester could be wrong,’ I continued to think, ‘they’re not perfect, it must be defective!’ I forced a smile that became a grimace as a muscle twitched with a touch of pain inside me, I was just hungry, I told myself.

‘Yeah! Just a faulty tester, no biggie!’ I took a few calming breaths, they didn’t help, ‘No...no big...’ I suddenly felt sick to my stomach, the contents rebelling up my throat. I halted and brought a forehoof to my mouth, gagging and choking the anxious bile back down.

An unknown amount of time passed before my stomach settled, fortunately not on the floor. Sitting back down, I took in a few more calming breaths before looking down at the tester.

‘Maybe it’s wrong, maybe it’s right…hopefully it’s wrong,’ I chewed at my lip again, ‘I could try another one...but a blood test will confirm it for sure. First things first!’

Standing, I trotted to the tester and stuffed it to the deepest, darkest reaches of my vanity. Down were it wasn’t likely to be found.

“Next shift, I’ll get the bloodwork done,” I said to myself, “I’ll confirm it and if I’m pregnant…” the words lodged in my throat as there was another light cramp in my belly, my hoof pressing to it. I stared down for a moment, there would be no visible effects for a long while and yet...somehow there was a change. I steeled myself with a breath, “If I’m pregnant, I’ll...I’ll…”

What was so hard about this!? I knew what the consequences were! I’d promised Cloud Poker! If I didn’t give this one up it was a felony charge and possible sterilization!

“I’ll get an abortion,” the words dropped dead from my lips.

* * * * *

I left early the next day, not wanting to speak with Cloud Poker until I knew for sure the results of that fateful midnight foray into my mare’s gate.

Check in, dress up, relieve a thankful Lilac, get started on my day with a churning gut. Running on autopilot let me think as I marched a set of dirty sheets down to be washed. One of the wheels squeaked steadily in my ear.

‘They’ll take the sample and look for an excess of gonadotropins,’ I ran through the process, ‘from there they would let me know the results and, if positive, report it to the government,’ I stopped at an elevator, waiting for it to arrive on my floor before pushing the cart in and hitting the laundry room’s level. Soothing elevator music ground in my ears.

Ding! I resumed my steady pace to the laundry room.

‘I’ll have three weeks to produce a birth card or appeal for an extension of that time, but after that...’ I bit my lip as I mentally trailed off. Harboring an unauthorized, unborn foal was a guarenteed felony charge; the Enclave was serious about population management. You always came across a few articles after every breeding season of one or two mares who didn’t abort, their miserable-looking mugshots on the front page.

Everything went to hell for them after that, it was a societal taboo to get caught harboring an unborn foal. Relationships were shattered, jobs were lost, those with scholarships saw them revoked, many couldn’t handle the hardship.

Many found themselves again featured in the news...in the obituaries.

Then there was always the second possibility: sterilization. It depended on the judge and the circumstances of the case, but was always a distinct possibility.

Neither of those sounded at all ideal...and yet that only left me one option: to abort the child.

My gut gave a twinge, startling me from my reverie. The door to the laundry room was just ahead, the only sound the muffled rumbling of the washing machines and driers nearby. Letting loose a sigh, I pushed the cart through the door and got to dumping the sheets in their respective washers.

Then a third thought crossed my mind, one that made my gut churn with something other than the possible pregnancy.

‘What if the hospital didn’t know it was my blood they were testing?’

The washing machines rumbled ever on.

* * * * *

It went against so many rules, but if I was committed to not taking the abortion route it hardly mattered considering the consequences I was already facing. Besides, I was still certain the tester was faulty, that all this was my body acting up.

Bloodwork was a relatively simple process. Something they even let us nurses do on a regular basis. My chance came soon enough when one of the patients with my blood type needed a blood test for bloodborne pathogens. It was simple enough getting the job.

“Hey, Skies, what’s up?” the aptly named Dr. Bloodwork, head of our hematology department, smiled over his glasses, “Nothing for me to collect,” he observed, “need a needle?”

I nodded, “Doing a draw on a patient,” I replied, passing the work order across the counter, “Just need a needle and stuff.”

“Gotcha,” he replied, glancing over the paper and turning to grab the supplies. I watched him as he moved to a shelf, pausing to glance at the paper again. He frowned suddenly, turning to me, “Skies?”

“Y-yes?” I asked, taken off guard. My heart rate rose slightly, worry cutting into my gut.

“This is for Mrs. Shade,” he said, “didn’t Tincture drop off the supplies for her already?”

‘Yes,’ I mentally replied, preparing myself for the lie, “No, I didn’t notice them anywhere,” pointing to the paper, I added, “I thought I was supposed to grab them.”

Bloodwork glanced down at the paperwork, frowning. I tried to keep still, maintaining the facade of honesty. I’d never been a great liar, I was sure that at any second Bloodwork would look up and…

“Darnit, I’ll have to ask Tincture where those went,” Bloodwork grumbled, turning back to his supplies and letting me breathe easier. He returned quickly with a sealed butterfly needle and vacutainer set, “unlike her to misplace something like this,” he commented as I took them, storing them in my scrubs.

I merely shrugged, taking back the paperwork and turning to go.

Now for the old switcheroo. Once I’d made it a decent distance away, I ducked into a single stall bathroom, locking the door and producing the blood drawing kit. From another pocket I produced a rubber tourniquet, wrapping it around my upper foreleg.

I flexed my hoof, tensing the muscles to get the vein to stick out. Even after doing this a million and one times, I still hated needles. But my aim was true and my mouth steady as the needle went in, the vacutainer filling with a dark red color as it filled up.

Once finished, I pulled it out and put a small bandage over the needle hole, hoping no one would ask about it. I resealed the butterfly needle and tossed it into the trash, pocketing the vacutainer.

It was all downhill from there.

* * * * *

Sticking by the door as the doctor stepped in for the debrief on Mrs. Shade’s results, I imagined I felt just as nervous as the mare was. A cramp went through my gut, I wasn’t sure if it was fear or something else...

“Well, Mrs. Shade,” my ears perked up, straining to hear past the thick door, “your results came back negative on any BBPs. However, we found a bit of a surprise so I do believe congratulations are in order,” I heard the doctor say through the door.

My stomach dropped through the floor, breath catching in the back of my throat.

“What? Why?” a mare’s voice asked back.

‘Seven winds, please don’t say it!’ I mentally cried out, heart already falling.

“We found increased levels of gonadotropins in your system; in other words: you’re pregnant!” the doctor said.

I stumbled back from the door, struck hard across the face by the words.

“In other words: you’re pregnant!” the words echoed in my ears.

I was deaf to anything else that might have been said, my legs carrying my numb body down the hall. My tummy twinged forlornly, as if giving condolences to the light of the situation.

“You’re pregnant!” somewhere deep down I knew the tester had been right, that this had been a futile exercise. Yet the sting of it was still hard to take in.

‘No,’ I thought, the world nothing more than a blurry mess of harsh whites and clean smells, ‘No! I can’t be! I can’t! I can’t! I—’

“Skies!” suddenly Cloud Poker was in front of me, worried as he shook me, “Hey, you okay? Look a little spaced out there.”

I flinched at seeing him, being one of the last ponies I wanted to see after hearing what I’d just heard. How would he take it? What would he say? What would he do?

“Oh, uh, yeah, sure!” I said, hiding behind a smile, “Just, like, zoned out there a bit.”

“Hey, I meant to catch you at your place this morning, but your folks said you’d already gone. Wanted to see if you want me to stop by today for the test?” he asked, “Or you come by my place for it?”

‘Do I tell him?’ I wondered, but he had a right to. It was his seed that had blossomed in my belly, “I already took it...” I said, my next words dying in my throat.

“Oh,” he said, looking suddenly weary, “And…”

My voice stayed dead for a moment as I chose my next words carefully, considering the situation. He had a right to know, he was the father. Yet if I told him he would make me abort, I played devil’s advocate with myself.

‘You promised to abort!’ a part of my mind raged, ‘you don’t have a choice in the matter!’

Neither of us had a birth card. My parents didn’t have one. His parents didn’t have one. And they didn’t grow on trees. We would have to get married or he would have to join the military. We’d both entertained the thought of an engagement contract...and we’d both agreed that if at all it would take place after medical school. Neither of us was earning nearly enough to support a child, not as nurses and not with the cost of medical school.

And yet if the only other option was an abortion...a slight cramp bit into my gut.

“Negative,” I lied, the words almost unbidden to my lips.

Poker eyed me carefully for a moment, looking doubtful. I’d never been a very good liar, if he wanted me to take a blood test…yet after a moment he seemed to swallow it, visibly relaxing.

“Well I’m glad you were right about...well,” he glanced about before changing the awkward subject, “anyways, I was thinking about going out to a restaurant or something tonight? Wanna come?”

“Oh, um, maybe?” I gave him a smile, “I’m, uh…” I trailed off.

“Well...if you’ve got something else—” he began.

“Yeah, sorry, Pokerface,” I took the opening, “Rain check?”

“Sure, Skies,” he said with a nod, before heading back out, “I’ll see you later.”

The second he was out of sight I collapsed against the wall, my smile crashing into a look of worry as I pressed a hoof to my belly.

* * * * *

I made sure to avoid Cloud Poker the rest of the day, heading out early with a lie about a headache. My mind flittered about me on my leisurely trek, body running on autopilot and leaving me to my thoughts.

There was no doubt in my mind that they’d find out someone had tampered with Mrs. Shade’s blood samples, all it would take would be a new draw and a real examination. I’d probably have three days tops before they started doing draws of staff members with her blood type and once they got to me…

Halting suddenly, I looked up at the building I’d come to, reading the large sign out front.

ABORTION CORPORATION CLINIC #3999

I stared for a moment, biting my lip. There was a chance I could get the gonadotropins out of my system. They’d never know it was me who swapped the blood around. They might suspect it, but there’d be no proof if I was clean.

My eyes dropped to the doors, reading the ‘OPEN’ sign. A few posters stuck to the door reading Abortion Corporation slogans like: “Safe Sex is Same Sex” and “Keep it Same, Keep it Simple” with a pair of same sex couples nuzzling.

‘You promised—’ a twinge ran through my gut, drawing my hoof down to massage the sore spot.

‘I did promise,’ I admitted, sighing as I reached forth... ‘and I’m sorry...’ and continued down the sidewalk at a trot, ‘I’m sorry, Cloud Poker, but this is one promise I can’t keep.’

I continued on a ways, the sun lowering over the white expanse of cloudscape that made up the horizon until finally I reached my destination. Retrieving the napkin I’d gotten, I eyed the address and zeroed in on the hotel, finding the specific room with relative ease.

Yet I hesitated before it, hoof raised to knock. What if he was a changed pony? What if he turned me in? I started to reconsider when the blinds shifted suddenly and the door swung open.

“Healthy Skies! Hey!” Red Mist greeted me with a large smile, “What’s up? How you doing?”

“I’m good…” I lied with a weak smile. Mist’s own smile faltered at the sight, a twinge of worry coming across his face as I stood there.

“Um…” he began after an awkward moment of silence, “You wanna come in?” he gestured with a hoof, “It’s not much, but it beats the barracks, heh,” he gave a laugh, “place is practically falling apart.”

“Yes, thanks,” I gave him another smile, the fluttery feeling in my gut growing as I stepped into the room. He shut the door behind me.

“Make yourself at home,” he said pleasantly, trotting to the mini fridge, “want something to drink?” he pulled it open, “I’ve got...well, water,” he looked up apologetically.

“I’m good,” I said, glancing about. The room was spic and span, Mist’s belongings placed with excess care and precision. My hoof went back to my gut as a cramp trembled through it.

“Skies?” Mist asked, closing the fridge, “Are you okay?” he approached with caution, “You can talk to me if you want,” he suggested with a kindly smile.

‘Here goes nothing,’ I let out a sigh, turning to him, “Mist, I need to tell you something, but I need you to keep it a secret,” I bore my red eyes into him, “can you do that for me? Please?”

“Yes, of course. Anything for you, Skies,” he said. He gave me another comforting smile, as if to reassure me, “what’s wrong? How can I help?” He gestured with a wing to a couch, taking a seat next to me on it.

I bit down on my lip, closing my eyes as I took in a breath. It was now or never, I psyched myself up and spoke: “I’m pregnant.”

Instantly, Mist froze up, worry splashing across his face, “I...um...you-you...I mean, you-you think that I...I’m the…” he stuttered as he looked down at me.

“What!? No, Mist! Poker’s the father,” I said, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow, ‘how the hell did he jump to that conclusion?’ I wondered.

“Oh, phew!” he let out a large sigh, chuckling, “heh, f-for a second there I thought you might be implying, heh, well, nevermind that!” he grinned suddenly, “congratulations!”

Despite his cheer, I remained sick to my stomach, drawing my eyes away as I bit my lip. Silence filled the room like a noxious gas, falling sunlight spilling in through the window onto the floor before us.

Slowly, bit by bit, Mist’s cheer drained away as he saw my unease, “You...you don’t have a birth card,” he said as it clicked in his mind.

My silence told him everything.

“Well...um…” he began, scratching at the back of his head as if trying to find a proper response in his pink mane.

“I told Poker I’d get a...get an...get it taken care of,” I said, afraid of that one word, “but I never thought...I didn’t imagine it would...it would feel like this!” I continued, feeling my eyes water up. A slight twinge passed through my belly, “I know it’s against the law...but I...I just can’t!”

Mist said nothing, taking it all in as he rested a wing across my back.

“I mean, I told him I would! I thought it was nothing, no big deal,” I looked up at him, “But this feeling...inside me.” One of my hooves found my stomach.

“I, um, hope this doesn’t come out wrong, but...are you sure you’re pregnant? Those testers—” Mist tried to sound reassuring.

“I had bloodwork done today,” I looked back away.

“Oh,” Mist said, “well, I mean, if they’ve done the test and put in the paperwork—”

“They...” I cut in, “they don’t know it was me...I-I switched around some vials, they don’t know it was me,” I said, staring at the ground, “Not even Cloud Poker knows...not my parents...no one,” I paused for a second, amending, “no one but you.”

“That...um...wow, I…” Mist trailed off, looking away this time.

“Mist,” I said, looking up at him. He returned my gaze, uncertainty in his big green eyes, “I can’t give it up...I won’t give it up.”

“Skies, I don’t see how I…” he trailed off as if he suddenly gauged what I’d come for, “...you need a birth card.”

“I know it sounds horrible of me to ask, Mist, but...I won’t think any less of you if you say no,” I looked up at him pleadingly. It drove a spike through my heart to try to use him like this, but it was one of my few dwindling options, I had to try everything.

“Skies I...I can’t,” I looked away, feeling the tears start to consume my eyes. Mist let out a sigh and continued, “not because I want it for myself, I don’t have one,” that got my attention, bringing my gaze back to his.

“How—” I began.

“You know I’m gay,” Red Mist said the obvious, “I mean, you met Cheddar and all that, and you knew back in high school,” he zoned out for a moment, “I’ve always entertained the idea of having a foal one day...but I waived my right to the EBC bill—Enlisted Birth Certification—it got me other benefits, I never thought…” he focused back on me, “I’m sorry, Skies.”

I nodded my understanding, turning away as I felt that avenue drop out from under me. That left only one option...

“So...what do you plan on doing, then?” Mist finally asked the dreaded question.

“I don’t know,” I whimpered, feeling the first few tears falling, “I might just-just run away!” I looked up at him, “I-I could have the foal...they wouldn’t kill it once I’ve had it.”

“Well...no, I don’t think they would,” Mist spoke as if navigating a minefield at night, “but they could still hit you with a felony charge when you returned, possibly sterilize you, maybe take…” he trailed off, suddenly fretful that one of his hooves was tapping at a tripwire.

“The foal,” I finished for him. A cramp nipped at my belly again, I pressed a hoof down onto it, “but they wouldn’t hurt my foal…”

“Skies. There’s got to be another way,” Mist started up again now that the threat had been defused, “they’ll give you a birth card if you get married to Cloud Poker, right? You told me you liked him, right? Isn’t that an option?”

“You don’t think I’ve considered that?” I asked, wiping my eyes with a hoof.

“Uh…” he replied, not knowing how to proceed.

I let out a sigh, “I’ve considered it, but he won’t. Not now, anyways,” I turned to look up at Mist, “I’m living with my parents, I haven’t got the money to support a foal and neither does he. Not now,” I explained, turning away with my burning tears, “I promised him, Mist...but I can’t, I just...can’t!” I sat up, pressing a hoof to my stomach, “I feel it inside me, I can feel the life of what’s growing and it’s just so...so…” I was lost for words, hanging my head and letting my tears run down my muzzle.

We sat there for a time, side by side on the lonely couch, one of his large wings like a blanket over my back. Nothing was said, nothing could be said, nothing needed to be said.

Nothing but, “Thank you.” The sun had shifted, as the shadows on the floor told me, “For listening, for all this, I just...I…” I ran out of words to say.

“You’re one of the few friends I’ve got, Skies,” Mist replied, taking time to taste the next words that would come out of his mouth, “Do...you have any sorta plan for what you’re going to do? Something a little more than ‘run away’?”

I weighed my reply for a time, eyes drier than before. I didn’t meet his gaze as I spoke, “I’ve got to run away.”

“But where will you go?” he asked.

“Somewhere. Away. I don’t know,” I mumbled as I pressed a hoof to my belly, “I’ll just...go...anywhere but here.”

“They’ll come looking for you, Skies. If they find you before...” he sighed, “how will you survive? You’d need to be out in the wilderness, what are you going to eat? You can’t survive on clouds and someone’s going to notice if they spot you…” his eyes glanced down to my belly, “later on.”

I was silent.

“Look, Skies, maybe your best option...your only option is to stick with your promise to Cloud Poker. I know...or maybe I don’t...but I think I know how you feel...I think I can imagine how you feel,” he kept correcting himself, “but how much worse might you feel if they catch you and they force you? It’s a felony charge. They might...might, well, you know,” he lifted a hoof, but hesitated for a moment before gently lifting my head to meet my eyes, “how much worse would you feel if all that happened?”

I stared at him for a time, taking in what he was saying, considering it. But my stomach gave a twinge and it was decided for me.

“I don’t think I’d be able to live with myself,” I said, turning away again, “Maybe I could get therapy...but I lied to Cloud Poker...right to his face. I switched those vials at the hospital, they’re sure to investigate that. I’ve committed to this, Mist. There’s no going back.”

“Skies,” Mist tried again, “There’s nowhere—” he paused, something shutting him up on the spot. I turned my eyes to him again, only for his to dart away, “no-nowhere you can—”

“Mist.”

He was silent.

I studied him for a moment before speaking again, “Mist, if you know a place where I can go?”

“Skies, I—”

“Where!?” I hopped to my hooves, turning on him. Did he know some place I didn’t? Some military secret that I didn’t? “Cloudsdale? Is it not as radiated as they say!?”

“Skies, I can’t...just—”

“Mist, this is my foal we’re talking about!” I pushed, trying to chase down this new avenue before it too collapsed away, “If you know something, somewhere I can be safe—”

“Fucking hell!” Mist snapped, making me hop back, startled at the outburst. He hopped off the couch, looking agitated and angry as he stormed to a window across the room. His wings tensed and untensed against his sides, the muscles of his jaw standing out in tight relief as he glared out towards the dropping sun, the shades playing shadowed stripes against his crimson coat.

I watched him for a few minutes, waiting for whatever internal struggle he was fighting to surface.

“Mist?” I asked.

He sighed, dropping his head to let it rest against the wall with a dull thump, “Damn it all, Skies.”

“Mist, what is it?” I pressed on, hopping off the couch as a twinge went through my gut. I approached him with caution.

“I signed a three-twelve form, Skies,” Mist replied, not moving from the wall, “Damn it all, why!?”

“A three-twelve?” I asked. Why did that sound so familiar?

“Non-disclosure agreement form,” he gave a low growl, thumping his head against the wall again, “Skies, I want to help you, but I put my signature on that form. I made a binding contract not to disclose this information to anyone, anyone. I can’t just break it like that! If somepony found out I’d spilled the beans…” he trailed off.

“Mist,” I spoke from the couch. He didn’t move, “Mist,” I said again, hopping off. He let out a soft huff as I approached, looking back over his withers at me. Conflict swam across his face, a turmoil to put every war ever fought to shame, “If...if there’s a place where I can have my foal, where I can survive, where they can’t find me…” I ran those through my head, drawing a blank on anywhere I knew of, “please,” I finished, feeling a fresh wave of tears escape me.

Mist sighed, turning and sitting back down. He offered me a large, comforting wing, hugging me gently against him. For a minute I felt nothing but his steady breathing and powerful heartbeat, the warmth of his coat comforting. His sides expanded as he took in a breath and let it out.

He hung his head, eyes clenched shut, “Skies. No one can know that I told you this. You can’t tell anyone, not anyone. And if...if you ever were to say anything...” he trailed off.

“I won’t tell anyone, I promise,” I said, pressing a hoof to my belly, “I swear on my life, on the life of my...my foal, I won’t tell anyone. If you know a place I’d be able to carry this foal to term...”

It grew quiet for a time. I began to wonder if he had changed his mind at the very last second, but then he spoke two simple words just loud enough for me to hear:

“The wasteland...”

‘The wasteland?’ I wondered, “But, the radiation—”

“Is not as bad as the government lets on,” he said, voice barely above a whisper, “You can tell no one.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“There is radiation still down there, don’t get me wrong. Small pockets here and there, but for the most part the land below is survivable, there’s plenty of ponies living down there right now,” Red Mist continued in a somber voice, “it won’t be easy, but it’s probably a better chance than anywhere up here.”

I hugged him tighter, the sour tears turning to those of hope, “Thank you, Mist.”

He gave me a gentle pat with his wing, “You’re going to need supplies. Food, water, medical stuff,” he hesitated, “maybe something for defense. There’s ponies down there, but...” he trailed off, “it’s not as nice as it is up here.”

A sudden question struck me, something that could throw this new plan out of whack, “How am I supposed to get down there? The cloud cover’s so thick and they’re running all those sensors through it—”

“Don’t worry about that part…” Mist hesitated, considering a decision of his own, “I...I can smuggle you down, get you settled, I’m actually on leave for the rest of the week...but after that I’ll need to return…” he disengaged from the embrace, looking me in the eye, “Skies, you’re absolutely certain? Not even the slightest hint of doubt?”

I met his gaze head on, wiping away the rest of my tears, “I’m certain.”

Mist nodded, “I’ll get what I need. You’re still at your parent’s place?” I nodded, “I’ll meet you there around twenty three hundred,” at the confused expression on my face, he clarified in civilian time: “eleven PM. Collect what you need, be ready.”

* * * * *

I felt horrible going to the hospital I worked at for supplies, but it wasn’t as if the bandages and sterile gauze we had stocked at home would do if I was going to spend eleven months down in the wasteland. I needed something more, proper dressings, medicines, the works.

It was easy enough once I got in my uniform and headed to one of our supply rooms. So long as I looked like I belonged no one would suspect a thing.

Once I’d ensured the coast was clear I ducked into the room. I kept the lights off, hoping not to attract any attention as I scanned over the shelves. A sick feeling wormed into my gut, eating me from the inside out as I started tossing supplies into an old lunch bag I’d grabbed from home. My saddlebags would’ve been too conspicuous and my scrubs didn’t have nearly enough pockets.

Sterile dressings and bandages? Check. Antibiotic creams and pills? Check. I sorted through a series of different mild pain and fever medications, picking and choosing. They rattled rather obviously in my lunch bag, making me wince and glance towards the door, but nopony was coming.

I hesitated before the epinephrine pens. I didn’t have any allergies and didn’t think I’d be dealing with any chemical warfare, but a few might be useful. I squinted at their expiration dates in the dark, trying to look for the newest—the door opened and the lights flicked on. I jumped as Lilac yawned, turning to spot her frozen as she spotted me.

‘No!’ I mentally exclaimed, caught red-winged, ‘No! No! No! No!’

“Skies!?” Lilac exclaimed, looking bewildered. She blinked rapidly, rubbing her eyes with a wing as if unable to believe what she’d caught me doing, “What...what the actual fuck? What are you—” her eyes darted to the supplies I was stuffing into the lunch bag, “A-are you, are you a-actually…”

A worrisome cramp ran through my stomach and I pressed a hoof to my gut, wincing as tears of failure stung my eyes. I’d been caught. It was over. Lilac would report me. They’d investigate. They’d find out about the pregnancy. They’d force me to abort it. All I’d done now was give them more reasons to incarcerate me!

“Skies?” she eyed my hoof, my tears, my face, the supplies. Something seemed to strike her as she reeled back, “it was you…”

‘What?’ confused, I looked up, blinking back tears. There was nothing I could say, wings drooping to the ground. Lilac’s eyes were wide, her mouth unhinged as she stared at me. Her eyes darted to my stomach, then met mine, “By the wind! It was you, wasn’t it?”

“What?” I barely managed to spit out, ‘I was so close...’

“You switched the blood around with that mare,” Lilac said, stunned. She paused for a moment, “you’re the one...you-you’re pregnant.”

I hung my head, letting my tears strike the ground with impunity, “Yeah,” I admitted, waiting for her to run and get security. She hesitated a moment, glancing about before rushing back to the door...and shutting it quietly. What was she doing? Was she...

She approached me tentatively, peeking into the lunch bag, “You’re going to try to run,” she observed.

“Yeah,” I said again, glancing at the door, “you’re not going to get security?”

She shook her head, “I know what it’s like, Skies,” she said, pressing a hoof to her own gut, a forlorn expression on her face, “I wish I didn’t...but if you’re going to go this route...” she glanced back to the door, “Skies, I don’t know what you’re going to do, where you’re going to go, I don’t want to know. But I know how it feels, both to have and to have lost a foal,” she gulped, “Skies, never give it up.”

‘She’s actually helping me...’ but of course she was, we were friends, “I won’t, Lilac. Never.”

Lilac nodded, glancing at the epi-pen I’d grabbed. She looked back up at me and threw a few more into the lunch bag, “I’m supposed to do inventory,” she brought up a clipboard with her wing, smiling innocently, “best make sure none of it gets reported missing just yet…”

* * * * *

It was late by the time I finally got back home. Everypony was sound asleep as I made my way up to my room. I closed my door soundlessly behind me, stuffing my lunch bag in my saddlebags as I trotted to my vanity.

First things first.

Opening the drawer I’d hidden the pregnancy tester in, I dug down and grabbed...where was it!? Muttering curses, I kept on digging about as I fished for the troublesome piece of evidence. I knew I put it in this drawer, none of the other ones were big enough—

“Skies.”

I froze...I knew that voice...

Silence fell across my room. My heart raced, my body glued in place at the knowledge of what him being here meant. What my missing tester meant…

Pokerface had found out.

My bed gave a soft noise as Cloud Poker shifted about on it. The noise made me snap towards him, a deep, sick feeling roiling about in my guts. He sat stock still atop my bedsheets, looking down at something in front of him.

He picked up my pregnancy tester in a hoof, showing it to me. His face was pained as he showed me the smiley face. He said nothing, sitting stock still with the tester held up.

Neither of us said anything, neither of us moved, we hardly even breathed as we stared at each other, as if frozen into a picture.

“Skies,” he finally said again, breaking the spell with his quaking voice. The tester dropped with a puff against my bed.

Turning to him, I searched for words that couldn’t possibly exist. Lilac had been forgiving...would Poker? But Lilac hadn’t been the one I’d lied to, she wasn’t the sire of my child.

“Please…please tell me you lied to me and then went to the clinic to get it taken care of,” he said, his morose tone telling me he already knew the answer.

I gulped, taking a careful step forwards, “I can’t give it up—”

Poker hopped to his hooves, cutting me off with an angry whisper, “You promised me, Skies! You made me a promise and then you...you lied to my face! I...you...Skies, you-you promised—”

“That was before!” I snapped, throwing a quick glance to my bedroom door as I dropped my voice down a few decibels, “I know I promised, and I’m sorry I lied to you!” Pokerface stared back, conflicting emotions playing across his face, “But I never thought it would feel this way! This feeling of life within me! I don’t want to let it go! I can’t let it go!” I sobbed, still keeping my voice down so as not to wake anyone in the house.

Cloud Poker sighed, “Skies, you know this can’t work out!” all the same, he kept his voice on my level, “We don’t have a birth card!”

“That’s why I’m leaving,” I retorted, “I don’t need a birth card in the…” I remembered my promise to Mist, correcting myself before I spilled the beans, “...to where I’m going.”

Poker had no reply to that, surprise splashing across his face.

“Come with me!” I tried, approaching him, “it’ll be easier with two of us, we can have the child and come back, they won’t kill it once it’s out of the womb!”

Yet it wasn’t to be so, “Skies, do you have any idea how insane that sounds!?”

“I don’t have any other options!” I snapped back.

“Of course you do!” he tried to reason back to me, pausing and licking his lips before hopping off my bed, “Look, I...maybe we can work something out!” Poker tried to reason as he approached, stopping before me, “Skies, there has to be another way! You don’t have to run away,” he took one of my hooves in his own, “we...we can get you a birth card, somehow, we’ll… we’ll try! Try something, try anything! There’s got to be a way—”

I pulled away from him, turning away, “How!?” I snapped back over my withers, “There is no way! I’ve already considered all my options, there is no other way!”

“Skies, I…” he trailed off, staring into my eyes as if searching for something that would make me stay.

There was a sudden scrabbling at my opened window and Red Mist stuck his head in, helmet removed, “Skies, I’m here. Are you ready to—” he froze the instant he spotted both my and Poker’s eyes on him.

“Who the fuck...” Poker wondered aloud, but then his eyes shot open and he wheeled on me, “What the fuck!?” anger seemed to compete with the storm of emotion raging across his face as he took a few paces back, looking from Red Mist to me. After a moment’s hesitation, Red Mist pulled himself through the window, looking stricken. He glanced from Poker to me, no doubt making the connection.

“Pokerface—” but he cut me off.

“What…who the hell is he!?” Poker snapped, voice raising as he jabbed an accusing hoof towards Mist, “That’s Red Mist, isn’t it?”

“Pokerface—” I began again, taking a step towards him.

“Isn’t it!” he snapped, turning back to me.

“Hey, easy, pal,” Red Mist put in, keeping his voice down.

“No, you...” he glared from me to Mist to me again, “Does he know!? Did you tell him!?”

“Pokerface, keep it down!” I hissed, throwing a glance to my door, “if anyone hears us—”

“Did. You. Tell. Him!?” Pokerface hardly seemed to hear me, his eyes glaring with tears of rage and pain, “Did you!?”

“Hey, keep it down, buddy!” Mist snapped, looking uncertain as he glanced to the door.

“Hey, you shut the fuck up!” Poker snapped back. This was getting out of hoof! He was sure to wake my parents, and if they came in and discovered us...my stomach gave a small cramp. I reached into my saddlebag with my maw, coming back out as Poker turned his glare back to me, “answer me, Skies! Did you—” he froze as he spotted what was in my mouth, anger fading, “Skies?”

“I’m sorry, Pokerface,” I mumbled through my taser, tonguing the trigger.

Twin electrodes zipped out, catching Cloud Poker in the breast. His eyes shot wide as a rapid fire clicking stuttered through the air, every muscle in his body tensing up as the electricity coursed through him. I let up on the trigger after a few seconds and Cloud Poker hit the floor with a puff, the scents of singed fur and urine coming off him.

“Shit!” Mist exclaimed, rushing forwards. I let the taser hit the floor, letting Mist pull the electrodes from Poker’s hide. Mist threw on his helmet, staring down at Poker for a few short seconds, “he’s still alive,” he stated.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered again. I’d just shot my best friend, my buckfriend, the father of my child! I swayed for a moment before catching myself and shaking my head to clear it.

“We need to move. Now!” Mist said, pulling Cloud Poker from the ammonia-smelling stain he’d left and tossing him on my bed. Poker moaned as Mist tore my bedsheet out from under him, tearing it into strips and tying Poker down to the bed, stuffing the excess in his mouth as a gag. By the time he’d come back, there was nothing Poker could do but struggle and give out muffled cries.

Mist stepped over to my taser, quickly reeling in the retractable electrodes and stuffing it in my saddlebags.

“Is this everything?” he whispered, holding up my bags.

I stared at Cloud Poker, gut clenching with worry.

“Skies!” Mist snapped in my ear, an edge in his voice, “is this everything!?”

Bending down, I picked up the used pregnancy tester. I stared down into the mocking smiley face for a moment before stuffing it in my saddlebags.

“It’s everything,” I whispered.

“Good, now let’s get out of here!” he growled, trotting to the window, “He saw me! He fucking saw me!” he hissed, so quiet I almost missed it.

Following, I froze up for a moment and trotted up to my bedside, getting a pained glare from Poker as he lay spread eagled across my bedsheets. His face was contorted, anger and sorrow playing across them, as easy to read as a book.

“I’m sorry,” I said one last time, giving him a quick peck on the nose. He recoiled back, glaring back at me with eyes that screamed ‘Why!?’ right into the depths of my soul.

I offered no reply as I turned to the window and flew out.

* * * * *

Mist was quiet as he flew ahead of me, wearing his full set of enclave armor. It bore no weapons of its own besides a gleaming blade at the end of its segmented tail.

We flew for some time before Mist alighted on a soft patch of cloud, reaching down towards it. I hardly paid attention as conflicting thoughts bounced about through my skull, I’d shot my lover. Even if it was only with a taser, it struck me as obscene, wrong on the most disgusting of levels. My gut gave a slight twinge, as if consoling me, I hardly noticed.

“Skies!” Mist snapped, shaking me by the shoulders. I focused on him, noting a dark spot among the clouds, just big enough for us to fit through. Everything below was pitch black, “it’s not going to last for very long, let’s go.”

Taking a steadying breath, I nodded, following his lead.

I gave only a single glance back across the cloudscape before dropping into the darkness below. Above me, the cloud cover shut tight.

* * * * *

Footnote: Level progress 25%

Author's Note

Red Mist’s S.P.E.C.I.A.L:

Strength= 4(6)
Perception= 7
Endurance= 4(6)
Charisma= 6
Intelligence= 7
Agility= 6(7)
Luck= 6

PERK: Intensive Enclave Military Training: +2 Strength, +2 Endurance, +1 Agility, ability to use Enclave Power Armor

03 - Everything Starts Somewhere

CHAPTER THREE:

Everything Starts Somewhere

“Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria...”

The darkness below the cloud layer was absolute, an infinite sea of pitch all around me. Looking up, I couldn't even make out the clouds that we'd come from, the sense of nothingness pressing in around me.

A sharp wind whistled in my ears and I shivered as it bit through my fur with icy teeth, holding myself as my stomach gave a twitch of growing life. I suddenly wished I'd brought something warm to wear.

“Skies!” a short cry escaped me at Mist’s sudden outcry, startling me and causing my wings to lock up, resulting in a terrifying plummet.

“I’m here!” I called out, the wind ripping at me, “I-I can't see anything!” I continued as I struggled to get more air beneath my wings. I hovered in a circle, trying to spot him in the dark, “Wh-where are you!?”

The howling of the wind was my only reply, my beating wings struggling to keep me in place. It ripped at my coat like a thousand icy hooves all trying to brush my fur in a million directions at once.

“Mist!?” I cried out, heart rate rising. We couldn't have gotten that lost in so short a time...could we? It felt like I was keeping in place, but blind as I was in the darkness it was hard to tell for sure. What if we had gotten lost already? How would he find me? What would I do!?

A series of dull running lights flickering on across his armor, illuminating him in the dark. He was only a few yards away and I swooped over to him, thankful for the spot of light, “take my tail, I'll take us down,” he said, sounding…elsewhere, “watch out for the blade.”

He turned about, letting me take his tail, gripping one of the segments between two forehooves and keeping the spine of the blade towards me. As soon as he confirmed I’d gotten a good grip, he dropped down at a quick rate. Midnight air swooshed past my face, chilling as it tugged at my mane and tail.

Even with Mist’s armor’s running lights in my face, my eyes began to adjust to the dark, sharper pegasus vision helping to cut through the night. Looking out across the hundreds of miles of earth that spanned out below us, I was able to spot a few distant spots of light here or there. Campfires or villages, I couldn't be certain, but the majority of the landscape was a dark, inky black beneath us.

The flight to the ground was quick and soon I was able to fold my wings and land. Mist killed his running lights, becoming a pony-shaped shadow in the darkness.

My hooves ground into the earth beneath me, hard and crumbly like a pack of stale crackers. After so long trotting about the soft clouds, the feeling of the—what was the word for it? Dirt?—the dirt was uncomfortable against my hooves.

I hopped off the ground to hover, shaking my hooves clean of the crumbly earth as I turned to Mist. Yet when I opened my mouth, words escaped me as sudden realization split through my mind like an axe.

‘We're in the wasteland!’ my ears flattened against my skull, tail tucking as I peered about through the darkness. Everything I'd heard across the years of the blasted land beneath the clouds came rushing back at me. The tales of leathery, winged monsters that flew up to snatch fillies from their beds; the stories of foolish ponies who dared fly below the clouds layer, never to return; the reports of magic radiation that would liquify your innards so they spilled out every orifice like ooze the second you touched down…

And here I was, stuck in the middle of it all.

The dawn of it all turned my guts to churning ice, my breath coming out in short gasps. What was I doing here in this land of veritable hell? Whatever had convinced me to throw everything I had and...and…

I pressed a hoof to my belly, a small cramp tingling through me. Calming myself with a quick breath, I turned to Mist.

“What...what do we do now?” I asked. I hadn't planned this far and now I had no idea what to do. His insectoid-goggled helmet turned to me for a brief moment. He didn't reply immediately, turning in a circle as he eyed the night-darkened landscape.

“We're spending the night here,” he stated gruffly as he came full circle, “No magical radiation and E.F.S. isn't picking up any hostiles—or anything else but you for that matter—nearby. We're safe...for the time being.”

“Oh,” I stated, then asked, “Um...what’s E.F.S.?”

“Eyes Forward Sparkle,” Mist replied, dumping both our sets of saddlebags in the dirt, “it can detect other entities and their intentions, I'll explain it more in the morning,” he started to dig through his own saddlebags. After a few short moments he pulled out a sleeping bag, dropping it before him and zipping his bag back up.

“No fire tonight,” he said, not looking at me as he unrolled the sleeping bag and gestured to it, “Here,” was all he said, hefting his own bags and trotting off a few paces, “Get some rest.”

I hovered over to the sleeping bag, settling on it and finding it much more pleasant under my hooves than the dirt, “Thanks,” I said, trying to inject some cheer into my voice, yet finding none.

“Hmph,” he grumbled roughly. My ears flattened against my head at his tone.

‘Are you okay?’ I wanted to ask, but quickly shot that idea down, ‘No, of course he’s not okay. I’m hardly okay! I...he...we just need a good night’s rest is all. Still, though...’ I noticed he wasn't procuring a sleeping bag of his own, “Don’t you need a place to sleep?” I asked, feeling somewhat guilty that I was taking the only sleeping bag.

“Armor’s comfortable enough,” he started, tapping at his helmet, “I'll set my E.F.S. to an audible alert mode, it'll wake me if it spots anything,” he hit the dirt and rolled onto his side.

“Oh...okay...good night!” I called, settling down, ‘If he says so...’

Mist only grumbled something back.

I tried to get comfortable, but the ground was hardly accommodating. Compared to the soft, yielding clouds my body was used to, the stiff geometry of the landscape was utterly alien. No matter which way I shifted and turned, there was no way to get comfortable.

Eventually I gave up, lying back with a sigh. A million conflicting thoughts bounced through my skull, but I was warm and sometime during the night my body called it quits and let me fall asleep. Darkness was my only dream.

* * * * *

Dim light spilled across my face, warming my nose and spilling past my closed eyelids. I let out a moan, rolling over in my cloud bed to check the time. Hopefully it was still before my usual wake-up time and I wouldn't have to deal with the unholy noise of my alarm. Reaching out for my clock, I squinted against the light...and the wasteland greeted me in all its glory.

A startled flinch escaped me as all the events of yesterday came crashing back down on my head: the pregnancy tester...the bloodwork...Mist...Cloud Poker...our escape.

I bit my lip, the sudden trip down short-term memory lane leaving me feel sick to my stomach. Why did this have to happen? Why didn’t I use contraceptives that night? Why did I have to lie and break the very laws I swore to uphold as a nurse? Why couldn't I have just followed through with my promise to Poker...all those happy memories...we could have started a family...all those wonderful, possible futures...all shattered before me, closed to me like the hole Mist had made to let us through the cloud layer. Why, why, why, why, why!?

My stomach nipped at me, and I loosed a whimper. Shifting onto my side as I pressed a hoof to the spot, I closed my eyes to the sudden sting of tears.

Maybe...just maybe...by some extreme miracle, by some stroke of fate...If I opened my eyes...

Dull, dead, landscape flew out in every direction, lifeless soil and dessicated shrubbery stretching across the hilly landscape until it met the grey sky. My eyes traced up the impenetrable layer of clouds, only a modicum of sunlight spilling down through it. The utter lack of blue, the menacing grey of the cloud layer felt oppressive. A ceiling where there shouldn’t have been one, a harsh reminder of where I had chosen to go, what I had chosen to do.

An odd quiet punctuated the landscape, my ears straining to latch onto some familiar sound of civilization. Yet swiveling back and forth, they caught nothing but the faint whisper of a quiet wind brushing over the harsh terrain.

I lay there for a time, uncertainty keeping me still. I’d escaped the Enclave, stopped the threat of them taking my child...but what now? Survive—obviously—but what did that entail? What was I to do?

A sharp clatter of dry wood made me yelp, zipping up into the air as I wheeled about.

My heart fluttered as I spotted Red Mist sorting through a pile of black tree limbs clustered at his hooves. The insectoid eyes of his helmet met my own for a brief moment before they dropped back down to the ground.

“Oh, thank the wind it’s just you,” I gasped, dropping back down to the dirt, making a face at its feel. I fluttered back to the sleeping bag, much better! “So...what's the plan?”

“Breakfast,” Mist replied simply, retrieving a military-style trowel from a compartment in his armor. Silently, he brought his armored tail around, removed the bladed end, and attached the trowel.

Storing the blade in the now-empty compartment, I watched as the multiple segments of the tail elongated, the armored tail lengthening enough that he could dig into the ground in front of him with ease.

“Um, wow,” I said, ‘didn’t he just say breakfast?’ I wondered, giving him a quizzical look, ‘how the heck does this have anything to do with breakfast?’ He kept digging, the set of his jaw sullen as he gazed at the ground, “I didn’t know you could do that with power armor.”

“Not all of them can,” Mist threw me another glance past his helmet, “It’s a mark two, mod four model; designated as the ‘Fencer.’” He kept on digging, grumbling: “The design worked better for me.”

“Mist?” I asked after another momentary pause, hoping he might explain what he was doing. When he didn’t I prompted him, “how is this—”

“I’m digging a buffalo fire hole,” he cut in bluntly. He’d made a small hole by now and pulled out his tail before starting on another one, “more effective for cooking and harder to spot.”

“Oh,” I said, expecting him to elaborate, prompting him when he didn’t, “How—”

“The fire remains below ground, here,” he cut in, gesturing to the first hole, “the other one allows air circulation so the fire doesn’t starve. It has a lower profile and uses the heat better, just something I read in the emergency survival manuals.”

‘He still seems a bit…’ I thought, biting my lip as worry crept into my head, ‘off...it’s just all this,’ I cast my gaze about the wasteland, ‘we’ll adapt...with some time.’

I watched as he created a channel between the two holes, then deposited some of the kindling he’d collected in the larger one. He lit it with a miniature spark talisman from his own bag, removing his helmet to blow on it, working it up into a larger flame. His gaze seemed distant, eyes ringed with sleepless circles.

The sight worried me, making me glance again at the sleeping bag beneath my hooves, ‘Did he get any sleep last night?’ I wondered, voicing my concern: “So how’d you sleep last night?”

His eyes barely darted to mine, “Fine,” he answered between blows, “You?” he countered.

“Yeah,” I admitted, ‘If he says so…’ I thought doubtfully. Settling my wings against my side, I became acutely aware of a few out-of-place feathers. Dragging my saddlebags over, I flipped them open to grab my preening kit.

My taser stared back at me, bright yellow and impossible to ignore, the pregnancy tester next to it. Visions of last night flashed across my gaze, a sour feeling creeping through my guts like a skittering mob of beetles.

“I’m sorry,” I breathed, sorrow constricting my heart as I brushed them aside, finding my preening kit.

Getting my feathers in order was calming, letting me take my mind off the situation for a moment. Mist procured a pair of bean cans from his saddlebags, popping off the tops and cooking them over the fire. He’d donned both helmet and tail blade by the time their bland smell reached me.

“Here,” he said, sticking a spoon in one as he moved it out of the heat. Taking the other for himself, he ate in silence.

“Thanks,” I replied, hovering over. Taking the can with the toes of my hooves to avoid burning myself, I returned to the sleeping bag. Yet my appetite left me after the first few bites and I let the spoon slide from my wing back into the can, staring down into it.

“Eat,” Mist stated from where he lay, drawing my eyes to him, “you probably won’t feel hungry, but you need to eat,” he took in another spoonful, chewed, and swallowed, continuing in that almost indifferent voice, “same thing happened to us in boot camp, the stress screws you up for a week or two. Eat.”

“I’m not…” I began, glancing down for a moment, “what are we supposed to do?” Mist looked back up at me, the set of his jaw confused beneath his otherwise emotionless helmet. I stumbled over my words, “I mean, like, how...what are we going to do? What’s your game plan?”

Mist didn’t reply immediately, thinking a moment, “I did a bit of reconnaissance while you were still asleep. We’re more or less in the middle of nowhere, nothing major around for miles. I did spot some old ruins a ways north,” he gestured with a hoof, “looked to be an old building of some sort.

“One of the major things we need to survive is adequate shelter,” he continued, “with any luck, we’ll find it there.”

* * * * *

After forcing myself to polish off my can of beans, Mist filled the fire pit back up with dirt, and we were off. On Mist’s suggestion, we kept a good distance above the ground to avoid being spotted...or targeted.

As Mist had said, there was practically nothing out to the horizon. Sickly shrubs and trees here and there, a few stretches of old, shattered tarmac where a highway had once stood. A few wrecked carriages, messes of rotten wood and rust-red metal, spotted the highway. None looked remotely salvageable.

Perhaps an hour had passed before the lonesome old building came into view. It was rectangular in appearance with a half-shattered mural window at the back. One end had a large bell tower, devoid of a bell. At the peak of the tower was a rusted metal spike, the likeness of two alicorns circling each other upon it.

We touched down in a small courtyard at the front of the building, its walls nearly crumbled and forgotten. I spied a group of old tombstones around the back, defaced by hundreds of years of neglect.

“Still nothing on E.F.S.,” Mist said, looking around, “All the same, let me head in first.”

Holding his bladed tail aloft, he approached the double doors. One side of them was entirely missing, the other hanging at an awkward angle, barely clinging to the frame. He peeked around the corner, scanning for a moment before disappearing inside.

After a moment, I followed him in. The inside was dark and musty, forcing me to squint as my eyes adjusted.

Sparse light flooded in through the half-ruined glass mural at the far end, two sets of long benches—or pews, I remembered them being called—making their way towards it. A podium and the wrecked remains of an organ sat at the far end, pipes crumbling with rust.

“A chapel,” Mist commented, sounding elsewhere as he made his way further in.

I said nothing, examining the main room. Everything was in a clear state of disrepair, but the place appeared to have had some renovations since its abandonment. Wooden boards were nailed in place over portions of the wall that had collapsed and different parts of the roof had been shored up.

A carpet ran down the middle aisle, filthy and ragged, it muffled my hoofsteps as I made my way down, taking everything in. ‘This could actually work, I think,’ I thought, feeling a modicum of confidence return to me.

There was a stairwell located behind the right row of pews, confession stands behind the left ones. Curious, I headed towards the stairs, turning around the last set of pews and freezing. A small circle of skeletons made me gasp, fear creeping into my heart.

“Mist!” I called, taking a careful step back, wincing at a sharp poke at my belly.

“What? What is it it?” he asked, swooping over at my call. He stared as I pointed, giving a small shiver, “just skeletons,” he commented, approaching at a careful trot, “I doubt these will be the last ones we’ll see down here.”

He picked something up as he neared the pile of bones: a piece of an old revolver. The gun was in two pieces, the barrel lying on the floor in front of him, both were encrusted with rust that crumbled even as he touched it.

“Group suicide,” he commented morbidly, letting the useless weapon clatter to the floor. Looking closer from where I stood, I noted that each skeleton had a single hole in its skull, “Nothing to do for them...let’s move on.”

With some hesitation I tore my gaze from the bones and followed after Red Mist.

* * * * *

The chapel yielded nothing in the form of loot, it had clearly been cleared out over the past two centuries. Still, it had most of its four walls and a roof that only looked a quarter leaky. It could serve its purpose as shelter for the time being.

“We can stay here another few days,” Mist reported, sounding detached as he swept the canned goods he’d brought back into his saddlebags, “but we’ll eventually need to seek out someplace more permanent to stay, a town or village, someplace with ponies.”

We’d set up on the second floor of the chapel, saddlebags and sleeping bag set up in a dark corner. Somepony had lived here once, as evidenced by the rotten remains of an old bed and a lavatory with a toilet that surprisingly worked...even if it was with water that appeared just as foul as any pony-made waste.

“I can fly reconnaissance, find the fastest route to the nearest piece of civilization and take us there if it looks promising—”

A sudden, alarming set of beeps made me jump, Mist letting out a quiet curse as it cut him off. What did that mean? Was there radiation here? I threw a panicked look about the room, falling back a few steps.

“Mist!?” I fretted, ready to bolt. What if it was some radiation storm? What would it do to my child!? “What...what’s that mean?!”

“I don’t know, it’s fucking…” he growled, halting for a moment. He tapped at his helmet and the beeping stopped, “forgot to turn my E.F.S. audible alert mode back off.”

‘Audible what?’ I wondered, then remembered Mist having mentioned it last night, “So...so what does that—” but he cut me off as he swung his head around.

“I’ve got three contacts on my E.F.S.,” he said, pausing for a moment as if startled. Mist looked to me, jaw tight, “they’re all red...hostiles.”

* * * * *

Red Mist scanned through a long crack in the wall. His tail swung back and forth behind him, agitated.

I lay down in a corner, saddlebags packed in case we needed to make a quick escape.

“Just because they’re hostile doesn’t mean we can’t drive them off,” he mumbled quietly to himself, “we need this building, need the shel—” he grew silent midword, tail halting its ceaseless movement.

“What!? What is it!?” I spoke up, my gut gave a painful twinge, making me flinch. I rubbed my belly absentmindedly, ‘But what if it’s some wild monster?’ I wanted to cry out, ‘what if they won’t listen to reason!?’ But I held my tongue, not wanting to escalate anything further.

“Three ponies,” he paused, “no guns that I can see. Might be able to scare them off,” my eyes were drawn to the curved blade at the end of his tail and I silently hoped he was right, “Whatever the case, stay behind me. If things get out of hoof, escape out the bell tower, it’s your best bet.”

Gulping down my fear, I nodded, “You’ll be right behind me, r-right?” I asked.

“They’ll be inside any second now,” was his only reply. It only made my guts churn faster.

I flinched as a door slammed downstairs, the sound of inaudible conversation flowing up from below. Mist stepped into the middle of the room, planting himself between me and the stairway leading up. His tail came up, blade held above his head like a snake ready to strike.

Another cramp nipped at my belly and I pressed my hoof into the spot, massaging it away. My heart rate rose higher and higher, pumping loudly in my ears. ‘Please be right about talking them down, Mist! Please be right!’

Hoogsteps creaked up the stairs, the sounds of conversation wafting up.

“...is the place, ya fuckin’ shitface!” one harsh voice snapped, “Metal said—” the pony, a unicorn mare, stepped into the room, pausing as she spotted Mist. Two others, a unicorn and an earth pony froze up behind her.

All three looked and smelled filthy to a point where they wouldn't be clean even if they were shaved and scrubbed down with medical soap twice. Each was bedraggled, their fur and manes in filthy disarray, as if they each had a perpetual case of bedhead. Tattered rags clothed them immodestly, hanging off their bodies like loose scraps of skin held together by ropes and belts.

“There’s nothing for you here!” Mist growled, wings snapping up to give him more height, “Move on, this doesn't have to get bloody!”

“Holy fuck! A pegasus!” the mare exclaimed, the first to regain her senses. Her bloodshot eyes darted between us, “Two pegasuses!” her grin—at least where she had teeth—was spotted and yellow. Her magic flared as she drew a rusty machete from her crude garments, “Wait till Metal sees what we bagged today, boys!” she snarled with a cackle.

The other two drew weapons of their own, a nasty looking knife and a hammer wrapped with bloody razorwire. The one with the knife began moving to left of the mare, grinning as he twirled the weapon above him with his magic. The one with the hammer slobbered something foul past his weapon before grinning nastily at me. His tracing eyes made me tuck my tail protectively against my backside.

“Leave us now!” Mist snarled, wings held aloft like a pair of shields, “We don't want any trouble!” The three filthy ponies barely seemed to listen, grinning madly as they fanned out around us, “This is your final warning! Back off!”

“Back off! Back off! Back off!” the knife-wielding pony taunted, drawing Mist’s attention for a moment.

What did these ponies want!? I glanced between them, their hostile glares and readied weapons making my heart race as it never had before. As if in an attempt to slow it, I pressed a hoof to my breast, feeling it flutter within me.

“More like hack off!” the mare jeered, stomping her hooves down hard on the old floor.

The one with the hammer slobbered out something unintelligible again, letting loose a growl.

“Back o—” Mist began again, head snapping to the mare. But the knife pony struck, leaping forth and stabbing with his blade. Darting around, Mist’s tail knocked the weapon away, the bladed end slashing at the pony’s face.

The blade cut through the air as the the unicorn darted back, and the fight was on.

The mare charged with a wild shout, swinging her magically-held machete at Mist’s outstretched wings. He twisted the appendage, snapping it forwards and smacking the weapon away. The mare caught the spinning weapon midair again, only to be sent crashing back by a powerful side-buck. Blood gushed from her mangled snout as she lay in a stunned heap a few paces away.

Mist grunted as his other wing darted around, taking a hammer blow meant for his head. I let out a cry as the knife pony tackled Mist to the ground, jabbing fruitlessly at his armor as he tried to find a weak point.

“Bop him! Fucking smash his shit face in already!” the knife pony yelled at his ally, bringing his knife up towards Mist’s unarmored snout. Mist batted the knife away again, tail snapping around one of the unicorn’s hind legs and yanking him back before dealing him a reeling blow to the head.

The mare moaned from where Mist had knocked her, wiping her bloodied nose with a hoof. Her eyes quickly met mine, a grin splitting across her face as her machete came up.

“I'll gut your filthy little cunt to make me a purse!” she yelled, charging as she flung the machete at my head.

Screaming, I ducked and heard a thunk as the weapon bit into the wall behind me. My wing trembled with fear as I dipped it into my saddlebags, extricating my taser and bringing it around to my mouth.

“C’mere girly, girly, girly! I just want those beautiful wings!” the mare cackled at me, charging as she pulled the machete from the wall behind me.

Crying out past the bit, I tongued the trigger. The electrodes shot out, catching the pony in the neck. She writhed as electricity rolled through her, collapsing into a spasming heap as she emptied her bladder, bowels, and belly in quick tandem.

Meanwhile, the knife pony had gotten back up and was charging again, down a bloody lip and a few teeth. Swiping at the hammer pony’s face with a wing, Mist sent his extending tail out to wrap around the other’s neck, lifting him off his forehooves as it tightened around his throat. The knife pony choked, eyes bulging wide as he jabbed frantically at the tail of Mist’s power armor.

With a grunt of exertion, Mist slammed the knife pony’s head against the wall and he went limp, knife clattering to the floor. Releasing him, Mist burst forth with a powerful beat of his wings, bowling over and pinning the hammer pony to the ground.

His tail came forth quickly, dipping below him and plunging deep into the pony’s guts. Letting out a harsh cry, the pony swung his hammer across Mist’s face. One of his eyepieces spiderwebbed under the blow, head jerking to one side before smashing down in a headbutt. The pony’s head rolled back, stunned and Mist withdrew his tail, sending it forwards and ramming it up into the pony’s exposed throat.

A surprised gurgle ruptured forth from the hammer pony’s lips, the hammer falling loose as blood poured from them. Mist gave another flap, pulling his bladed tail free with a wet, sucking sound as he retreated from the dying pony.

“You...fucking—” the knife pony snarled, struggling to his hooves. Mist turned quickly and bucked the pony in the face, both hooves connecting solidly. His head snapped back wildly, a spray of blood and teeth erupting from his lips as he fell back, head twisted at an awkward angle.

Silence erupted, punctured only by the gurgling pony’s dying breaths. I belatedly realized I was still holding down the trigger of my now-drained taser, releasing it and turning warily to the mare. Yet she didn't move...at all...

Vomit and blood coated her still lips, the stench of burnt flesh coming off a large, charred patch on her neck. Lifeless eyes strained upwards in their sockets. My stomach dropped through the floor as a sudden realization blasted through my head.

I...I'd just killed a pony!

I gagged only once before puking violently, the contents of my stomach roiling up out of my throat. The taste of bile was hot as it poured out of my mouth.

My body shook as I heaved up my breakfast, half digested beans splattering out across the floor in front of me. Tears had been leached from my eyes by the time I finished emptying my stomach, the stench of bile mingling with the death in the air.

‘I...I…’ I tried to think, my brain resisting my attempts to form coherent thoughts. I gagged again, dry heaving now that there was nothing more to bring up, ‘Outside! Fresh air! Now!’

My wings refused to operate, so I forced myself to trot with quivering hooves down the stairs, nearly tripping several times. The ajar door came off with a loud bang as I pushed through it, not caring about the gritty feel of the ground as I halted in the chapel’s courtyard, taking in stuttering breaths of fresh air, hyperventilating.

My wings remained clamped at my sides, while my legs shook as if I'd flown through a blizzard. I had a sudden urge to relieve myself, my mouth feeling gritty as if I'd swallowed a mouthful of sand. My heart pounded in my ears, deafening me to my surroundings.

‘Control! Control yourself!’ I urged, feeling stinging, warm tears run down my snout.

I stared down at one of my trembling forelegs, trying to force it to stop. But it was as if the limb was alien to me, shuddering of its own accord. Slowing down my breathing, I tried to reign in control of my heart rate, relaxing, letting it return to a normal level...

Something hard touched my flank.

I loosed a scream, bucking out with my hind legs and connecting, my assailant stumbling away. Galloping a few paces, I swung around to face...Red Mist.

“Ow, fuck!” he swore, probably more from surprise than pain, as I turned, holding the side of his face, “Skies, it’s me, damnit!”

“I…” I choked out, my dry throat resisting my urge to form words, “S-sorry, you just...st-startled...m-m-m...”

“Skies, you need to calm down,” Red Mist said, trying to sound soothing, “relax, they're dead,” he threw a glance around, then removed his helmet. There was a spot of blood above one of his tired eyes, but he appeared otherwise unscathed, “there’s nothing else here but us, we're alone, we're safe! We're safe!” he repeated. He hesitated a moment, eyeing my rapidly breathing self with some worry, “Here, look, breath with me a second: in...” he took a deep breath, then blew it out, “out...in...out...”

Taking control again, I tried to emulate him, matching his breathing, “In,” I said with him, inhaling, “o-out…” exhaling.

We breathed together for a time. I forced myself to focus on the two words: in and out, in and out in time with my breathing. Beat by beat, I felt my heart rate return to normal, letting me wet my mouth and regain control my shaking hooves. Soon it was just me reciting ‘in’ and ‘out’ to myself while Red Mist stood by.

“I...I killed…” I gulped. The mare grinned at me, charging as the twin electrodes took her in the neck, then dead. The sight of if flashing across my vision sent me reeling, the world dropping out from under me. Armored hooves caught me before I smashed my face against the ground, Mist swearing loudly as I fainted.

* * * * *

I sat up with a sharp gasp, sweating bullets atop my sleeping bag. My first few breaths came in shuddering gasps before I managed to regain control of myself, taking in my surroundings.

Our supplies were now on the ground floor of the chapel, nestled in the far left corner. The two rows of pews, in variable stages of disarray, ran back towards the front door.

Mist sat nearby, helmet still removed. He’d bandaged the spot above his eye and was scrubbing at the blade of his tail, removing the blood. The sight of it clinging to his tail reminded me of what I had done.

“I killed her,” I mumbled, the words coming out slowly, shocking me as I heard them.

Mist paused for a moment, face grim as he looked at me, “You did,” was all he offered before going back to cleaning his tail blade, “but you had to.”

It was hardly what I wanted to hear, more tears falling from my eyes.

‘I didn't want to! I just wanted to stun her!’ I mentally cried out before speaking, “But...no! I didn't think it would kill her! How!?” I turned my bloodshot eyes to Mist, “How!? It wasn't supposed to kill her!”

“It’s calibrated to stun pegasi,” Mist stated, not looking at me with that grim look, “but we've got an inherent resistance to electricity, to lightning. What would stun your average pegasus could very well be enough to kill an earthbound pony. Whatever the case may be, they were trying to kill us,” he asserted, “I tried to warn them off, you saw me!” a harsh edge dipped into his voice, he removed it with a calming breath, “this is what we signed up for when we came below the clouds,” he continued in a more measured, if still detached, tone, “we're still safe...that’s all that matters.”

My stomach gave a painful twinge, agreeing with the statement. I collapsed back onto the sleeping bag. Mist was right. I’d decided to take the hard road, if this was what it took to see my child born...rolling over, I pressed a hoof to my belly.

“Your taser’s dead, by the way,” he stated, glancing to me, “need to find new batteries.”

“They're rechargeable,” I murmured.

“Oh,” was all Mist said to that.

He stood suddenly, drawing my eyes to him. I noticed his trowel tool was attached to his tail again.

“Need to get rid of the bodies. They’ll become a health hazard if we leave them up there and burning them might attract unwanted attention,” he stated simply at my inquiring stare, “drink some water, grab a bite to eat. Today’s been real shitty, you'll feel better with food in your belly.”

“Thanks,” I said, though I remained where I lay.

Mist grunted, heading over to the stairwell by the far corner of the room.

It took him three trips, I drew my eyes away from each one. Silence closed in around me after the third, soft winds the only sound as they whispered through the chapel. My wings itched so I brought out my preening kit, cleaning my feathers as Mist labored silently somewhere out back.

The soothing process let me calm myself further, letting me think more clearly as I examined the situation.

‘She was trying to kill me,’ I reasoned, wincing as the sight of her body flashed across my vision, ‘But what about her? Her family? Her parents? Her foal—’ my stomach pinched at me, drawing me away from my inner debate, ‘What about me? I've got a family, parents, a foal. I've got an equal right to live.’

I hesitated a moment, pausing in my preening.

‘They were trying to kill us, so we killed them, they gave us no choice. It was justified...it was what’s fair,’ I decided with a sigh. Finished, I set my preening kit away and drank some water, clearing the taste of bile from my mouth, ‘they were trying to kill us...’

Thoughts of my parents made me wonder for a moment. What was going on up there? Surely they'd come in to find Cloud Poker tied up as he was. What would they think when he told them what had happened? How would they take it? Dad, mom, even Reuben…

“Doesn't matter,” I whispered to myself, ‘I'm here and I'm staying here until I can give birth to this foal,’ I rubbed at my belly with a hoof, ‘However they feel, they can tell me when I return...’

A sound of rumbling made itself apparent to my ears, growing louder every second. Worry tightened its grip against my heart as I got to my hooves, swooping over to the door and peering out the opening.

There was a large group of ponies headed this way, a series of wagons kicking up a great cloud of dust behind them.

‘Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap!’ I worried, rushing back inside before any of them spotted me. Galloping back down the middle aisle, I took cover between a set of pews on the right side. I silently wished that I had my own E.F.S. to tell me if they were hostile or not, without it I was clueless to their intentions, ‘please just pass by, please just pass by!’ I mentally called out at them.

I peeked out from behind one of the pews, through the open doorframe. Rising dust obscured much of what I could see, the sound of rumbling wheels and shouts all I could hear...grinding to a halt.

They weren't just passing by.

A sudden chill pressed into my guts. What if they were friends of the three we'd killed!? Whatever the case, I needed to escape. Getting to my hooves, I pushed towards the wall, into the right aisle that led back to the stairwell. With the ponies at the door, my only way out would be through the bell tower.

Two ponies came in through the front door, forcing me to duck below the pews, hiding from their sight. I muffled my quick breathing, hoping against hope that they hadn't spotted me.

“Well, let’s get to it, then,” a stallion’s voice spoke up. I let out a sigh, they hadn't spotted me!

Their hooves were muffled by the carpet as they trotted down the main aisle. I pressed my back up against the nearest pew’s sideboard, waiting for them to pass.

“Oughta fix that freaking mosaic,” a second voice, also male, put in.

“You gonna volunteer to learn how to blow glass?” the first inquired, a pause, “didn't think so. Besides,” there was a knocking on one of the walls at the back of the chapel, “all we need is four walls...this board seem loose to you?”

I began creeping back towards the stairwell, hooves light against the floor as I closed the distance inch by careful inch.

“A little,” the second replied. Another pause, “go check over there, that stuff looked rotten the last time.”

“Sure.”

I froze, fearing that ‘over there’ would be near me. But the sound of hooves clopping off towards the left side of the building allowed me to breath a little easier.

“The hell?” the first voice wondered aloud, making me freeze. Had they heard me? Spotted me!?

“What?” the other asked. I remained frozen, ears straining, yet they didn’t sound to be anywhere near me.

“Pair of saddlebags, someone’s been here...and recently...huh—”

‘Oh no! No! No! No!’ my stomach churned, they had our saddlebags!

“Hey!” there was a smack of flesh on flesh.

“Ow! What the hell, Brass?” the first voice again.

“Don’t freaking open it, numbnuts,” Brass chastised, “what if it’s a booby trap? Some fucking raider put it here?”

“What? You serious?” the other one sounded doubtful. I took this time to move forwards again, moving quietly towards the stairwell to the second floor, “raiders aren't half that smart. Besides, everypony knows this place is looted, why would they bother coming here?”

‘I can't just leave all our stuff behind!’ I mentally worried, biting at my lip. My stomach gave a twitch, as if agreeing, ‘but...what if they're hostile? My life is more important than my stuff,’ I tried to reason, though the thought of losing all our supplies left a sour taste in my mouth.

“No, probably just somepony looking for shelter,” the voice continued.

“Still, though,” Brass asserted. I was halfway there, between another set of pews, “don't touch that stuff. Go get my father, he'll know what to do.”

“Ugh, fine, sure, Brass,” I held my breath, freezing still as the owner of the first voice headed down the middle of the pews. My heart hammered with a sound akin to thunder as he passed by, my eyes following him, hoping against hope that he wouldn't turn his head and...he passed by, and earth pony with a gun mounted on his back, without spotting me.

I whispered out a sigh as his hoofsteps faded away...then slammed my hooves over my mouth to stifle a yelp as Brass spoke up.

“If there’s somepony in here, come out!” he called.

I remained frozen, fear snaking its way through my body.

“There’s nowhere to go!” he tried again, the slow sound of hoofsteps echoing through the chapel, “you could try for the exit, but with all my buddies out there…” he let the implications hang in the air, “So come out, show yourself!”

‘Go! Fucking go!’ I snapped at myself, creeping forwards again, moving closer to my escape. He was right about the front door, but if I could just get to the bell tower I'd be able to fly away.

My ears stood erect, my beating heart making it hard to hear where Brass was. At the moment, his hoofsteps sounded as if they were coming from the far back corner, the side opposite my own.

“We're not raiders! We're not slavers!” he tried again, “Provided you aren't, I'm sure we'll be able to let you go on your merry way!”

Three quarters of the way there. I grimaced at the sight of the skeletons ahead of me, creeping along the floor and trying not to breathe too loudly. Brass was coming up the opposite aisle, no doubt looking across each row as he went.

“Better not be talking to myself like a freaking idiot, here,” I heard him growl.

He was getting closer, in a matter of moments he'd be perpendicular to me, able to spot me across the room through the pews. Breathing as shallowly as possible with my heart racing in my throat, I put my back up against the sideboards of my row of pews, pulling in my wings and curling up as best I could. He'd be able to look across, but he wouldn't see me if I could make myself small enough.

Hoofsteps clopped up the other side of the room...and passed.

I let out the breath I'd held, waiting and listening.

He paused at the last of the pews, grumbling something to himself before I heard his hooves clop forwards again. He was coming around to my aisle!

Letting loose with a mental curse, I slid into my row of pews before he could come around and spot me. I crawled back towards the middle aisle. I'd have to use that sideboard to hide and let him pass again.

I glanced around down the inside aisle, seeing a bright red tail attached to a brass rump disappear around the far pew. Crawling into the middle aisle, I pressed my back up against the sideboard again, silently hoping nopony would come through the front door. How long until the other pony came back with Brass’ father?

Nopony came through the front door.

Brass passed me by again.

I moved.

Travelling down the main aisle, letting the half-rotten carpet muffle my quicker steps, I made my way towards my escape. But I ducked back between two pews when I saw a group of armed ponies travel past the front door. They didn’t enter.

Trying to stifle my frantic breaths, I made my way back to my aisle. I didn’t want to risk being seen through the front door. If I could wait for Brass to clear my aisle again, I’d have a straight shot to my escape.

I stopped to listen, ears straining and hearing nothing. Peeking around the corner, I spotted Brass...and he spotted me from where he stood a few pews down. He flinched back, grey eyes startled at the sight of me.

For a second, my heart stopped.

Brass’ startled look hardened.

“Freeze! Don’t you fucking move!” he yelled, charging forth before I could move. He brought his pump action shotgun to bear, held aloft in his magic. My heart exploded out of my chest as I stared straight down its dark barrel, tail tucking tight against me.

“No! Please!” I cried out, terror making me wet myself. I screwed my eyes shut, throwing my hooves up over my head in a sign of surrender, “Please! I give up! Don’t shoot! Please, please, don’t shoot me!”

“Who the hell are you?” Brass demanded. I felt myself dragged out from between the pews by his magic, “What are you doing h—” he froze. I cracked an eye open, finding his surprised eyes on my wings, he blinked rapidly, “a-a pegasus?” he seemed to partially regain himself, “What...what are you doing—”

There was a swoosh of wind and four powerful, armored hooves slammed down around me.

“Back off!” Red Mist snarled, tail held aloft in a scorpion-like stance, “Skies, fly!”

“Holy hell!” Brass cried out, leaping back, shotgun suddenly shaking with fright, “What...what the fuck!?”

“You, I said back off! Skies!” Mist snapped down at me, “Go! Go now!” I slid out from under him, getting my quaking hooves under me.

“N-n-no!” Brass took a menacing step forwards as he found his voice, making me freeze again, “nopony’s going anywhere!”

Mist retorted with lightning-fast swipe with his tail, sending Brass’ shotgun clattering away. He flinched, glare melting to surprise as he found himself disarmed.

“Last warning, punk!” Mist snapped, tail hovering above him, poised to strike. He shot me a look over his withers, “Skies, g—” his jaw tensed as he stared past me, wheeling about and planting himself between me and the door, wings held up like shields.

“You just call my son a punk, punk!?” an older looking pony growled past a pair of old revolvers. Two other ponies flanked him, both armed with saddle-mounted rifles, “Now, how about you answer his fucking question?”

* * * * *

Footnote: Level up!

Skills increased:

+Energy weapons

+Sneak

Perk attained: Quick reflexes – You can be quick on your hooves...when you need to be! You now have a small chance to dodge an enemy’s first unarmed or thrown attack in combat! Does not include sneak attacks.

Author's Note

The buffalo fire hole is a ponified version of the Dakota fire hole, for any curious. Check out how to make one here!

04 - Take it or Leave it

CHAPTER FOUR:

Take it or Leave it

“I don’t rightly see how you have a choice in the matter...”

“Answer the fucking question before I stop being civil about it,” Brass’ father gave a stomp, floating pistols pointed right at Mist’s face. His glaring eyes took turns driving into each of us, though remained mostly on Mist. For good reason too: he wasn’t the one trembling with fear. “What’re you two doing here? Some part of a fucking scouting party!? What’s the Enclave want with this place?”

“Nothing. We’re just two ponies trying to survive,” Mist growled back, standing tense, wings outstretched to cover me. I did my best to keep them between me and the floating weapons, trying not to think about how thin the armor on them actually looked, “we’re here on our own, not part of any Enclave business.”

Brass’ father glanced between us, the ponies flanking him looking tense, ready to open fire at the slightest provocation. They were far better dressed than the ponies that had attacked us earlier, the smell of them not nearly as bad...though they still looked like they could each use at least a bath and a half.

A quick glance behind me showed that Brass had backed off a few steps. His eyes darted to mine, jaw set and horn ignited in a threatening manner. I gave a gulp and moved a step closer to Mist, ‘Please don’t let them kill us, please don’t let them kill us, please don’t let them kill us...’ I chanted in my head.

“Hm? Is that so?” Brass’ father spoke up again, doubt lacing his voice, “Well, we’ve got ways of figuring that kinda stuff out,” he threw a glance to one of the ponies flanking him, “Dynamite, go grab their bags, bring ‘em here.”

“Sure thing, Gauge,” Dynamite replied, trotting off towards the corner. Mist gave a low growl, tail twitching behind him.

“High Brass,” Gauge called, tilting his head to look past us, “pick up that old Hoofberg and get over here,” he chastised, adding, “And try not to lose it so easily again.”

“Didn’t try to in the first place, dad,” Brass mumbled, properly scolded as he did as told. He began looking through the pews, searching for his lost firearm.

“And just so we’ve got things straight,” Gauge glanced between Mist and me, grey eyes glaring, “now’s the time to let us know about any booby traps you’ve got on those bags. If something goes off,” he flicked his eyes to one of his pistols, “one of these goes off, too.”

“None of our stuff is trapped!” Mist snapped back. I winced at his tone, hoping they wouldn't shoot us for him being rude, “We’re just a couple ponies trying to survive out here. Just like you. If you let us go we’ll be on our way, no harm done. I promise you.”

“If only I could take your word for it,” Gauge growled in reply, eyes full of mistrust. A quick glance to the others told me the other ponies shared his sentiment. A low whimper escaped me, heart hammering in my chest.

Why were these ponies so hostile!? We hadn’t even done anything and they were treating us worse than common criminals! Sure, they were better than the first three we’d run into—a vision of the wild mare charged me through a flashback, hurling her weapon at my face—I shuddered, biting my lip and trying to focus on the current situation.

Dynamite returned quickly with our saddlebags, held high and away from him in his red magic. He set them down off to the side and began probing them with hoof and horn; first Mist’s, then mine. After a moment, he straightened up, glancing our way before setting his gaze on Gauge.

“Not detecting any explosives,” he reported, “nor any tripwires or other triggers. Stuff seems clean.”

“Open ‘em. We’ll see what our two friends here are really up to,” Gauge returned Mist’s glare with a knowing, hostile smile, “you can always tell a pony by the contents of their saddlebags.”

A flicker in my peripherals drew my eyes to the door. A small gathering of ponies were silhouetted in the doorframe, peeking in at the odd sight. Hushed whispers and murmurs brushed at my ears, unintelligible from where I stood. With shotgun once again held aloft in his magic, Brass stepped up next to his father and trained his weapon on Mist.

Zipping our bags open carefully, Dynamite unceremoniously dumped them out on the floor. Canned goods and tools clattered out in a mismatched pile on the dusty boards, making an echoing racket within the chapel.

“H-hey, be careful!” I cried, getting a silencing glare from Gauge, finding myself suddenly staring down the barrel of one of his pistols. My limbs shook quietly beneath me, giving away my fear. Growling, Mist took a step to the side, between the weapon and me.

Dynamite sifted through our supplies, pale yellow eyes darting back and forth as he noted off items. Food, water, rope, a multi-tool, a few hygiene products, firestarting and navigational tools, and various other things in Mist’s bag. More food and water in my own, my preening kit, taser, his eyes widened as he opened my lunchbag, a low whistle escaping his lips.

“What?” Gauge asked, sparing the pony a quick glance. My breath caught, were they going to steal our medical supplies!?

“Medical supplies, and a whole lot of ‘em,” Dynamite poked through with a grey hoof, “all top-of-the-line shit, too! Like, this epi pen isn’t even expired!” he continued, holding up one of the yellow pens in his magic.

Gauge enveloped the item in his own green magic, examining it briefly. His scowl deepened as he glared over the epi pen at Mist again, “How’d you come by all this fancy medical stuff?”

Mist threw a quick glance back at me, looking uncertain as he replied, “Doesn’t matter, it belongs to us!”

Gauge’s eyes narrowed. “Sounds like something a thief might say,” he replied with venom in his voice. His magic seemed to tighten around the floating pistols, the weapons pulling closer to him, “know what we do to thieves around these parts?”

The air in the room thickened, the tenseness palpable. Mist bristled as the four ponies glared at us, the two with saddle mounted weapons chewing at their bits. The silhouettes at the door pulled back, fearing what would come if everything went to hell.

‘Oh, no! No, no, no! This is bad!’ I mentally panicked, struggling to find my voice, before crying out: “N-no, please! Wait! We-we’re not thieves!” Gauge’s glare shifted to me, demanding I elaborate before he perforated me. I withered under the look, but continued, “I-I’m a...a doctor,” I stuttered out the half-lie, turning and pointing to my cutie mark as an afterthought, “I...they belong to me, I took...I brought them with me when we came down here…” my eyes darted to the bag and I added: “p-please don’t take them!”

Gauge tossed the epi pen back in my lunchbag, “What do you take me for, a thief?!” he grumbled, looking from my flank to my face. A cutie mark couldn’t lie—as far as I knew—and there weren’t that many things a bandaged heart could mean. He seemed to swallow it, “So why are you down here?” he demanded, glancing at Mist and, when he got no reply, turned back to me, “What’s a couple of high-and-mighty Enclave pegasi doing down here with the rest of us ‘earthbound scum’?”

I held my tongue. What would they do if I told them I was pregnant? Would they even believe me? And, if they did, what would they do? My womb cramped lightly beneath me.

“I...we...” I fumbled with my words, ‘What do I say?!’ A glance to Mist gave me no help as he bared his teeth at them, “We’re just—”

“Gauge,” Dynamite spoke up, looking surprised as he tore me from my thoughts. He glanced at me as I looked to him, spotting something held aloft in his magic. My eyes widened at the sight of it, wings giving an agitated twitch. I wanted to dart forwards and grab it, but their wall of firepower kept me in check.

Gauge’s brown-orange brow furrowed as he looked over my pregnancy tester, then to me, then to Mist. A variety of looks crossed his features, settling like a spinning casino machine on surprised, confused, and angry, “The hell you doing, bringing a pregnant mare down here to this hellhole?” he snarled, pistols lowering a tad.

“She convinced me to,” Mist growled back through gritted teeth, “so she can stay pregnant.”

“The fuck kinda answer…” Gauge turned to me again, gaze assessing, “the hell you come down here for? This is yours, right?” he held the tester up with his magic, the small smiley face grinning cheekily at me. It looked like I was about to find out what they were going to do after all, “you’re pregnant,” it was more of a statement than a question.

There was no point in lying with the evidence laid bare. I nodded, “They’d have...they would’ve forced me to abort the foal if I didn’t...if I stayed up there,” I explained, womb twinging at me, I pressed a hoof to it, “this is the only place I could come to have it. P-please don’t kill us, we’re not lying! We’re just trying to survive!”

Gauge chewed my words over for a moment, looking between the two of us. The others with him shot him occasional glances, uncertainty cracking their hardened faces. Gauge’s judging look remained on me for a time, silence reigning in the old building.

“Dad?” Brass asked suddenly, awaiting an answer as he turned to Gauge. The younger pony’s glare had faded, his look uncertain now, though his shotgun remained pointed firmly in Mist’s direction.

“They got anything else in those bags, Dynamite?” Gauge grumbled, turning to the other unicorn, “Anything incriminating?”

Dynamite shook his head, holding both of our empty bags aloft in his magic. Gauge turned his look back on us, judging us for a moment before speaking again.

“Why would they have taken the foal from you?” he asked, posture relaxing only a little bit, “You do something? Break some sorta law? Got some weird disease?”

‘Ew, no!’ I mentally shuddered despite myself, “I didn’t have a birth card,” I admitted with a quiet sigh, giving a simple explanation: “if you don’t have a birth card, you can’t have a child. I...I...” I stumbled over my words, an acute cramp in my gut making me press a hoof to the spot, “I just c-couldn’t let them take it from me!”

“So, what?” Gauge asked, pausing as he chose his words. His voice had a condescending edge as he spoke them, “You’re some kinda fugitive, then?”

The application of the word made me wither a little on the inside...but as stinging as it was, the word fit. I’d broken the law and fled from the consequences, it was a fair choice of words.

“Yes,” I admitted, gaze dropping to the floorboards.

“Well, at the very least you’re an honest fugitive,” Gauge said, stance relaxing, “so far as I can tell.” His weapons, however, remained trained on Mist, “but what’s that make you? A deserter?”

Mist let loose a quiet growl, armored hooves grinding into the floor beneath him. I gave my friend a worried glance, biting at my lip, but he refrained from retaliating.

Gauge gave a quiet snort, eyeing the display with a knowing sneer, “Hardly matters to me, Enclave can choke on its own shit up there for all I care,” he cast his eyes briefly to the ceiling, “well, if you two’re who you say you are then I suppose I can’t rightly kill or keep you for the authorities.” He jerked his head towards our saddlebags, “Pack up and get out of my chapel. Brass, Dynamite, keep an eye on them and make sure they leave.”

And with that, he holstered his pistols and turned to go, the other armed pony with him following. I gave a relieved breath. He wasn’t going to kill us! He wasn’t going to kill us! Though my relief flickered as his last words repeated in my head.

“Hey, wait!” I called after him, “you-you can’t just kick us out!” I sputtered as he halted and turned back to me.

“Um…” he said, tapping the mouthgrip of one of his holstered pistols with a hoof, “yes I can.”

“But...but why?!” I exclaimed, gesturing with a wing, “th-there’s more than enough space here! W-we need the shelter just as much as you do!”

An annoyed look crossed the unicorn’s face, “One: you’re pegasi. Nothing personal, but hardly a pony here likes you feathered fuckers; it’s for your own safety more than anything else. Two, and this one is personal: I don’t trust you. You’re pegasi, and criminals at that. You broke some abortion law or whatever,” he gestured from me to Mist, “and you deserted helping her escape.”

“Screw you,” Mist spat back.

Gauge gave a derisive snort, “You know, all things considered, I’m being very generous here. I could name quite a few associates of mine who’d gladly spend a couple bullets to get their hooves on your stuff here, petty as it is,” he gestured to our bags, “lucky for you, I’m a more decent pony. Now if you’ll excuse—”

“Dual Gauge! Dual Gauge!” a vanilla mare armed with a double barreled shotgun rushed in. She halted as she spotted us, a glare taking her eyes, “the fuck is this?”

“Don’t bother with them, they’ll be out of here soon enough,” Gauge grumbled, turning to go and gesturing for her to follow, “C’mon, Break Action, what is it? Somepony bust something?”

“N-no: bodies,” she replied, tearing her glare from us as she trotted after him, “three, out back, fresh. Somepony was in the middle of burying them. I came across them—”

Gauge halted midstep, turning slowly with a glare to us. Break Action halted as well, looking confused as she paused with a hoof raised. Oh no.

“Gauge?” she asked.

Gauge’s eyes narrowed as they moved between us, “Either of you happen to know anything about three bodies out back?” Gauge inquired, voice deadly again. His magic wrapped around his pistols, though they remained holstered for the time being.

“Raiders, they came in and attacked us,” Mist replied gruffly.

“Raiders? Out here?” his eyes narrowed as he trotted slowly back in, “Bullshit.” With a gesture, every gun was trained on us again, my heart seemed to explode out of my chest as I cringed back. Not again! “Why would raiders come here? We’re in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere, been looted out ages ago,” he pulled one of his pistols out with his magic, taking a menacing step forwards, “You’re lying to me, colt,” the hammer came back with an audible click, cylinder rotating into position.

“No! No he’s not, th-they attacked us! I-I swear!” I pleaded, wincing as the image of the raider mare charging and dying before me flashed across my vision. I gave my head a quick shake to clear it, choking back the taste of bile to speak, “w-we tried to talk them down but they-they wouldn’t listen!”

Gauge glared between us, eyes narrowed as he decided our fate. I looked about to the other ponies, hoping for some sign of belief. The one thus far unnamed stallion armed with a saddle-mounted gun glared back, ready to shoot on command. Dynamite, too, glared cooly between us. He let out a snort when my eyes met his. The new mare, Break Action, glared down her sights with one eye closed, tongue tasting the trigger of her weapon.

My eyes landed on High Brass, finding him the only pony of the lot who didn’t look ready to shoot us. Even if his weapon remained trained on Mist, his skewed features flickered with uncertainty.

Finally Gauge spoke. A sigh of relief escaped me as his first words weren’t ‘shoot them.’

“Brass, Dynamite, stay here and watch her. You,” he gestured to Mist with a hoof, “we’ll go see these ‘raiders’. You try anything funny and you’re a dead buzzard, now move,” he jerked his head back towards the door. Mist exchanged a careful glance with me, then followed.

In the silence that followed Mist and Gauge’s exit I shut my eyes to the world, trying to hide the tears growing from them. My heart was still pounding up into my throat despite the defusing of the situation, breath coming in short, rapid breaths. Quivering, my wings stuck to my sides; I doubted I could have pried them away even with a crowbar.

‘C-calm down,’ I told myself, taking in the reins of my breathing to slow my racing heart, ‘everything’s going to be fine. Those ponies we-we—’ the machete flew through the air as I ducked, ‘—dealt with were...they must’ve been criminals or-or something,’ I opened my eyes and focused on an old stain on the floor, pressing a hoof to my jaw, checking my lowering pulse, ‘what did Mist call them? Raiders? We only acted in self defense, we—’

“What’s he gonna find out there?” Dynamite growled at me, drawing my eyes to him and ending my train of thought. I felt naked with only the air between his rifle and me, staring down the weapon’s barrel, “because if it turns out you and your friend are lying—”

“I’m telling you, we’re not lying!” I repeated, ears flattening even as I butted in. “They just came in here an-and attacked us! Mist...he tried to warn them off, but they didn’t listen! We had...had to to k-kill them...”

“Huh,” Dynamite replied, sounding unconvinced, “We’ll see soon enough.” He jerked his head towards our bags, “Any case, start packing. Gauge’s right about you two not being welcome here.”

“Please!” my stomach twisted as I turned to him, trying to ignore the weapon pointed at my face, “There’s more than enough room in here! We’ll stay out of your way! We’ve got our own supp—”

“I don’t give a good goddamn!” Dynamite butted in with a stomp that made me skitter back a pace. “Gauge said you go. That means you go! I don’t make the rules, I just follow them.”

“Shit, you weren’t freaking kidding!” Brass commented, earning both our attentions as he peeked into my medically-filled lunchbag. My stomach tied itself in knots as he pawed through our supplies, hoping he wasn’t planning on taking anything.

“Please…” I mumbled, trailing off.

Brass looked up to me, his previous scowl replaced with an uncertain frown, “I’m not gonna take anything. Dad already said: we’re not thieves.” He said, looking down into the bag of supplies he closed it after a moment, “Just…sorry,” he finished, tossing it into my saddlebag, following it with the scattered contents from my preening kit.

“The hell you doing, Brass?” Dynamite grumbled, eyeing him oddly. His rifle remained trained in my general direction.

“Helping her pack,” he replied, staring curiously at a pegasus guzzling beans on the front of one can, “get her outta here faster.” He gave me a look and I moved over to help him.

Dynamite harrumphed and remained where he was, watching me with a sour look.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, scooping up some of Mist’s scattered items and putting them into his own bag.

“No problem,” Brass replied.

Without his shotgun pointed in my face, I got a better look at the brass-coated pony. He was scrawny and young, barely a stallion, maybe thirteen or fourteen years old at most. Dread filled me as I finished packing, a cold bowling ball of ice that squirmed through my innards. We’d only just got here and these ponies were kicking us out! It wasn’t right! We had every right to be here, just as they did. We even had our own supplies, it wasn’t fair!

“Please,” I turned to Brass, getting a surprised look, “We’re not bad ponies...and I don’t think you are either. We can help each other!”

“Oh, shut-up already,” Dynamite grumbled past his grim features. Brass, however, seemed to give my words some thought, chewing them over.

There was a shout from outside, and I tensed up at a growing bustle of activity that sounded from out the door. What was going on!? Dynamite and Brass tensed as more shouts came from outside, ponies running to and fro as they repacked previously removed items from the wagons.

My view out the doorless frame was obstructed as Gauge, with Mist thankfully in tow, stepped inside.

“Dynamite, Brass!” Gauge stopped at the frame as a now helmetless Mist continued inside with a semi-sour look, “We’re leaving, c’mon.”

“What!?” both ponies exclaimed in unison.

“Clean the shit outta your ears, we’re leaving! Get out here and help us pack up,” and with that he headed back into the growing activity outside.

The two ground-bound ponies exchanged confused looks before cantering past Mist. He trotted up to me, looking calmer than before, if still a little stressed.

“Mist, what did you do?” I whispered, throwing the doorframe a glance as more ponies rushed past it. More shouts to hurry up and load up echoed in through the chapel.

“Nothing,” he grumbled, glaring briefly out the door, “I just showed him the bodies. When he asked, I showed him this,” he gestured to the bandage around his head, “and the stuff I looted off them after you fainted,” he frowned, “one of them had a flaregun, that seemed to really freak him out.”

“A flaregun?” I wondered, almost to myself, ‘Why would that...unless—’ that sudden icy feeling slipped back into my guts, ‘what if they were just scouts...’ “We should go with them,” I stated suddenly.

“What?” Mist asked, surprised. He scowled, “No. Fuck them.”

“Mist, think for a second! What if those ponies…raiders,” I corrected myself, “were sent here to signal some attack!? Why else would he be so spooked?” I exclaimed. Mist looked startled for a moment, turning and throwing a glance back outside, “Mist, these ponies could protect us! Take us somewhere safe, even!”

“I...suppose,” he admitted slowly, turning back to me, amending, “but I still don’t like them. They almost fucking shot you, held us up like we were some sort of griffon scum...” he trailed off with a growl.

“Be that as it may, they might be able to help us,” I retorted, cantering outside, “You said finding other ponies was our best course of survival. Well, here’s other ponies,” I hopped into the air, scanning for Gauge.

Loose soil twisted on the soft winds, kicked up by so many hurried hooves. Passing ponies gave us looks ranging from hostile to curious, but none stopped as they ran about their business. Hovering above it all, I spotted Gauge and, after one too many hostile looks, dropped back to the ground, hoping it’d make me less conspicuous.

“Hurry it up, Axle Grease!” Gauge was ordering a mare covered in black splotches as she worked beneath one of the many wagons.

“The more you yak, the longer it’s gonna take!” the mare spat back before biting down on a wrench and getting back to work, “Fing won’ fiff isself!” she muttered through the tool.

“Mr. Gauge!” I called, approaching, gritting my teeth at the feel of the earth beneath my hooves. He sent a glare back over his withers at me, tail giving an annoyed flick, “w-we were wondering if we might join you?” I gave him a hopeful smile. He shot it down almost immediately.

“No,” Gauge replied, covering his surprise with a sour look, “you fucking stupid? If I didn’t want you in my chapel, I certainly don’t want you in my caravan,” he sent a glare at Mist, “you folks are on your own. Go back to the chapel for all I care, it’s yours.”

‘No, he’s got to take us!’ I didn’t give up as he began to trot away, “We’ve got our own supplies!” he kept trotting. I tried again, “I’m a doctor, I can help you! Mist...Mist’s a soldier, I’m sure he could help too, please! All we’re asking is for you to take us till you reach the nearest town! That’s all!”

“No,” Gauge repeated, turning and trotting off. He let out a quiet curse as he noticed me follow him, not giving up, “I said no!” he growled again, turning, “You’re new here, so here’s the basics of it: nobody likes your fucking kind!” he sent a glare to my wings, “Me, personally? I’m not so judgemental, I’ll just spit in your direction. But most ponies would shoot you buzzards in a heartbeat.”

“But...but why!?” I demanded, my own anger surprising me.

“Why do you think!?” he snorted, throwing a hoof to the skies. With a huff he drew a hoof across the red streak in his brown mane, then turned back around and continued at a trot. For once I didn’t follow, his words stinging as I stared up at the patchless grey above. A flicker of something shot through my heart, making it speed up a few notches.

“Skies,” Mist grumbled, placing an armored hoof on my withers, “Fuck them, let’s go.”

But I wasn’t quite done yet as I shrugged off his gesture, stomping after Gauge, “We’re going to die if you don’t help us!” I found myself yelling, “You’ve got the means! You’ve got the know-how! You can help us!”

“Oh, for the love of!” Gauge grumbled, face sour as he turned from a wagon. I barely noticed Brass standing nearby, using his magic to stuff some tarps and poles away, “You want help? Fine. Here’s a tip: go back to the fucking Enclave and abort that fucking foal!”

A painful nip from my womb made me freeze, his words sharper than a scalpel as they cut me. My anger choked back in my throat, Gauge’s angry face blurring as his words brought tears to my eyes. He huffed out another sharp snort and turned, trotting over to Brass. The younger pony, glancing at me with a look lost to me in my tears, began to speak with his father.

“Let’s go,” Mist said again, turning me away, “We’ll find a way. See which way they’re going. They’ve got to be headed somewhere inhabitable.”

“Yeah,” I whimpered, wings brushing at the crumbly earth, defeat pulling them down. The chapel was worthless if Gauge was leaving it behind. Sure, we could follow them, but if the next town gave us the same treatment we were getting from Gauge then what point was there? My eyes found the sky, my wings itching with a sudden desire for flight...maybe...maybe he was right...

“Hey, pegasus!”

I wiped away my tears, halting as I looked back over my withers. Mist mirrored me as I spotted Gauge, glaring at us. He opened his mouth, then closed it, opened it again and glanced back at Brass, who looked a tad worried. What did he...

“Your medical supplies,” he finally forced himself to growl.

“What!?” I exclaimed. A startled look took me, Mist tensing at my side. Had he decided to rob us after all!?

“You give us a portion—let’s say a quarter—of your medical supplies and you can come with us...that’s your ticket,” his eyes darted briefly to Brass, again, “but if you can’t keep up, you’re getting left behind, don’t think I’ll be easy on either of you.”

My brain farted a moment as I processed his words. Was he really offering us a chance to tag along? Imitating a fish as I tried to come up with a coherent response, I turned to Mist. His lips were pinched as he stared back at Gauge, eyes meeting mine for a brief moment. It was my decision to make. But did I dare make it? Could I afford not to?

Yet still...a quarter of what I’d brought just to take us to the next town. A part of me felt kinda cheated.

“Take it or leave it,” Gauge said, looking as if he’d bitten into something foul.

I turned back to Gauge, “How about a sixth?” I tried to barter, “It’s still a lot—”

“I’m not here to barter with you. You want my help, you’ve got my price: a quarter,” Gauge cut in. The look on his face told me that that was the end of it. As he’d said: ‘take it or leave it.’

Biting my lip and glancing down at my saddlebags briefly, I let out a sigh.

“Deal,” I said, trotting up to him as I fished into a saddlebag with a wing. Frowning, he waved me off.

“We’ll sort it out later,” he grumbled, still looking annoyed. He let out a sigh, turning back to the wagon and gesturing for us to follow. Most of the chaos of repacking had settled by now, the wagons getting rolled into a loose formation that stretched a decent length across the ground, “Stick by me for now. Hopefully you’ll live longer,” he growled.

“Thank you,” I said, trotting after him.

“Don’t thank me,” he grumbled, still a sourpuss as he trotted up the length of the caravan. Different ponies called that they were either ready or would be shortly, most of them giving Mist and I wary looks as we passed, “Still don’t like doing it.”

Numerous ponies, most of whom were armed in one way or another, waited or patrolled about the waiting caravan as we headed back down towards the rear. This time, everypony gave the ready and as we came to the last one, Gauge turned and gave a shrill whistle, waving a forehoof.

The order was passed up the chain, the different wagons rumbling and rolling forwards, pulled by the larger ponies in the group. They remained in a semi-loose formation, a staggered column with ponies scattered about the sides like a living and mostly armed buffer.

“If you want to stick with my caravan, there’s a few things you should know,” Gauge began to speak as we trotted forwards. He gave me an odd look as I lifted off to a ground-skimming hover, glad to shake the dust from my hooves, “Firstly: this is my caravan, my group, my team, and my word is the law,” he let that sink in for a second, giving us each a stern look, “you do what I tell you, when I tell you, how I tell you and that’s final. I say jump, you jump. I say fight, you fight. I stick you with midwatch I don’t care how much you bitch and complain, you’re still gonna do it.

“Second: we’re not a pack of raiders. I don’t tolerate thieves, rapists, murderers, or any other kind of ne’er-do-well in my caravan. And that counts for shit outside the caravan as well. If I or anypony else catches you stealing from some town or harassing the locals, I’m hoofing you over to them and their law,” he took a moment to look around, picking up the pace to start moving towards the front of the procession.

“Third: the caravan stops for nopony. Only three times this caravan stops outside trading is in case of an emergency, an attack, or for rest or repairs. You gotta take a shit then you’d best learn to take it on the move or play catch up.

“Fourth: if you can’t carry it, you can’t keep it; the carriages are for goods and ponies with special needs only,” he glared over at me, grey eyes boring into mine, “that meaning: the sick, the infirm,” his eyes darted to my belly, “and those in the later stages of pregnancy,” he stressed the key words, eyes returning to my face, as if daring me to challenge him.

‘Fair enough,’ I thought, ‘less weight for the wagons means faster traveling.’

When it was apparent I wasn’t going to challenge him or ask for clarification his eyes turned to Mist, who’d donned his helmet again, looking impassive as he trotted beside the unicorn.

“Doesn’t really matter for right now since we’re in the middle of nowhere, but I can’t have you running about in that armor all the time,” Mist’s previously emotionless scowl tightened at the words, “It’d raise too many questions if I run into a fellow trader with a fucking Enclave pony tagging along. I’ll let you store it in our armory wagon,” he gestured up the train to a wagon with metal plates riveted to the sides. The ponies sitting at the reins were both heavily armed and armored, “Same thing goes for wings, I’ll lend,” he stressed the word, “you a couple cloaks if anypony comes near. No doubt word’ll leak out when we reach town and my folks start getting drunk, but you’ll be outta my mane then.

“Speaking of which, don’t think that just because I’m so accepting of you that others will be,” Gauge said, “I’ll make sure the word’s spread around that you’re with us and you’re paying for it,” he gestured to my saddlebags, “but be aware that hated for your kind runs deep in most ponies, including some of mine.”

“If you’re telling me that some of your own aren’t going to stick to rule number two…” Mist trailed off, a challenge in his voice.

“I’m telling you what you signed up for.” Gauge shot back, “None of my own will harm either of you, but don’t expect a warm welcome or nice words. Don’t expect to find an easy spot to sleep once we set up for the night,” a gurgle from my stomach reminded me that I’d puked up everything I’d eaten, getting a glance from Gauge as well, “or decent portion sizes when dinner comes along.”

“We have our own supplies,” Mist commented.

“Always an option,” Gauge shrugged, “but you’ll be eating them cold,” he considered something for a moment, “If you’re smart, you could trade them for a couple extra portions. No doubt Cookie’d be interested in some unexpired canned goods for once.”

For once? Was he trying to tell me they ate expired canned goods? I felt a little sick to my stomach at that, “Expired? Isn’t that a little...unsafe?” I asked.

Gauge gave me an angry look, “Oh, I’m sorry, why don’t I just try to grow some decent fucking vegetables without proper sunlight,” he gave my wings a deliberate glare, “be happy we’ve got anything to eat at all. There’s been times where we’ve run out and had to go days without a proper meal. You don’t want a portion, that’s more for the rest of us.”

“Hardly our fault,” Mist growled back, “maybe if you lot of ground pounders were a little more civilized the Enclave would have a reason to integrate back in.” He punctuated his statement with an annoyed snort.

Gauge sent him a glare, but changed the subject instead of arguing back, “So you’re a doctor?” He directed the question to me, continuing after my nod, “What kind? What’d you specialize in up there?”

The question caught me off guard. Did I tell him I was only a nurse, a medical student and hope he’d be forgiving of my earlier half-lie? I decided to go with another half-truth, “I hadn’t gotten a chance to specialize in any field yet,” I said, adding, “I mean, I can diagnose common illnesses, treat most wounds, maybe do minor surgery if I had the right tools—”

“Good enough. You’ll be you on medical duty,” he said, catching my confused look, “Well you’re gonna pull your fair share of the work while you’re under my authority.” He grumbled, “Unless you think you’d make a better cook.”

“No, that’s fine,” I said.

He turned to Mist, “You’re a soldier. Same thing: what’d you specialize in?”

At first I thought Mist wasn’t going to reply, a light glare crossing his features as he looked to Gauge. Yet after a moment he broke the glare and spoke.

“I’m an FC, fire controlpony. I help maintain missile and counter-missile systems. T-LAMs, harpoons, our BaWS CIWS systems—”

“Do you know how to fight?” Gauge butted in, no doubt as ignorant as I was to the things he was listing, “Or is that thing just for show?” he waved a hoof at his bladed tail.

The end of his tail gave a twitch at the statement, “I told you how I killed those raiders.”

“Killing a couple of under-armed raider scouts like you did’s hardly a fair fight,” Gauge eyed Mist’s armor over briefly, “not with that high-tech piece you got there. You know how to shoot a gun? You gonna shit yourself and run the first time you run into a real raider attack?”

“I know how to shoot a gun,” Mist growled back, “and no, I’m not gonna run just because I see a few fucking raiders.”

“We’ll see about that.” Gauge said, “You’ll be with the defender’s shift. Defend the caravan and go out on scouting missions ahead of us. I don’t trust you with a gun...yet, but I’m sure you can stand a proper watch with that high tech gear of yours.

“Anyways, enough chit-chatting. You missed lunch, but dinner’ll be in a few hours. We’ll stop at sunset and set up camp for the night.”

* * * * *

I kept close to Mist as the day passed on. The pace set by the caravan was hardly rough, but my wings were growing steadily more fatigued as I kept just above the ground.

Very little changed scenery-wise. Here a shrub, there a shrub, everywhere a desolate landscape. Mountains rose in the distance, far larger than the rolling hills that drifted across the barren planes. Twisted trees with gnarled, black limbs jutted from the earth here and there at odd angles, occasional patches of sickly yellow-green grasses standing at a stiff attention as they ignored the breeze.

A scene of tenseness sprung up when a herd of ‘radelopes’ (as Gauge called them) was spotted in the distance. The armed ponies who I assumed were part of Gauge’s ‘defender shift’ became more animated before the viciously-horned, double-jawed creatures turned and fled.

Different streams of conversation drifted on the soft winds, coinciding with the rumble of the wagon train. The ponies about us threw occasional looks towards the duo of pegasi that had joined their troupe, and I had a sneaking suspicion what many of their more hushed conversations were about.

Speaking of conversation…

I turned my gaze to Mist as he marched onwards with jaw set and face hidden beneath his helmet. The few times I’d tried to engage him with some conversation were met with brevity and that same detached tone he’d become so fond of. It didn’t take a shrink to tell me something was wrong, though considering that that wrong thing was our current situation the cure was undoubtedly not in my medical lunchbag.

It was only three quarters as heavy as it had been earlier today now that Gauge had collected his toll, introducing me to his own medical staff. I almost felt as if I should’ve given them more, seeing how under-stocked with medical supplies they were as it was...almost.

I’d probably have felt more generous if their head doctor, a mare by the name of Leather Strap, had been a little nicer. Sure, letting her know that she was getting medical supplies in addition to the ‘fucking buzzard cunt’ had made her put away the bone saw, but she still threw me nasty looks as I trotted away.

A sigh escaped me, eyes drifting towards the cloud layer above. It wasn’t as if the cloud cover was my fault personally! I was merely a citizen with little to no say about what was done on a political level outside the ballot boxes. I was sure the government had good reasons for keeping us separated, they were the government! It was their job!

Being a scapegoat for my race, I concluded, sucked.

I sniffed at the air suddenly, an aroma rising above the scent of unwashed bodies and loose dust. It floated about, pungent and aromatic, almost indescribable in its unique complexity. It was powerfully tantalizing, tugging me forwards on its invisible, chemical strings.

“What...what is that?” I wondered aloud. It smelled so...so…good.

“Dunno,” Mist replied, roused from his silence as he too smelled it.

A small trail of smoke was wafting up from the wagon Gauge had pointed out as being the cook’s. This—in conjunction with the numerous ponies drifting towards said wagon—led me to believe that it was just about dinner time as Gauge had mentioned earlier.

But what in all the sky could smell so good!? I swooped in to find out.

Just as Gauge had said, the caravan stopped for nothing outside of a few listed circumstances. Eating, as it turned out, wasn’t one of them. The cook’s wagon rolled on as a loose line formed behind it.

I dropped down into a sea of glares and stares, trotting up to the back of the line. An oily earth pony buck bumped past me, followed by the shotgun-toting mare...Break Action, as I recalled. Both ignored me as they cut ahead. An annoyed grumble escaped me, but I said nothing.

Then a unicorn mare cut ahead of me, followed by another earth pony buck, then a unicorn buck. This was getting a little ridiculous!

“Hey, I’m in line here!” I grumbled.

“Back of the line, buzzard!” he growled back, the venom in his tone making me shy away.

Then Mist landed next to me with a solid crunch of gravel-under-boot, “Excuse me, goat?” he growled, tail slowly extending forwards with blade held menacingly above him.

The unicorn covered his startlement with a glare and a wad of spit, before turning back towards the wagon. He was the last one to cut in front of me.

“Thanks,” I whispered to Mist. He grunted once in reply.

A brown-coated stallion with white spots and a greasy-looking chocolate mane frowned at the sight of Mist and me as it became our turn for a portion. I was practically salivating at the delightful aroma wafting from a large pot set near the back of the wagon. Hadn’t Gauge mentioned expired food? How could this possibly be expired with a smell like that?

“Howdy,” he said neutrally. Despite the slight edge of frost it was still one of the warmest greetings I’d received since touching down in the wasteland.

“Hi,” I replied, eyes darting to the pot, “What is that? It smells amazing!”

“Just stew,” the pony, Cookie, I assumed, said simply, ladling a scoop of the stew into a bowl and levitating it over to me, “...but thanks.”

I took the bowl in my mouth, the smell of the stew filling my nostrils with its magical aroma.

“S’hot,” he added, ladling Mist a bowl as I trotted from the line, “let ‘er cool a bit.”

Turning my head, I took the bowl in my wings, holding it carefully between them to free up my mouth, “Thanks,” I replied.

Fanning at the bowl with the tips of my wings, I trotted off to the side, away from most of the other eaters. Mist joined me, though kept his own bowl in his mouth.

“S’not wadiated,” he mumbled though the bowl.

“I don’t know that I’d care if it was!” I exclaimed, inhaling deeply as the smell of it wafted from my back, “How does this smell so good!?”

Mist gave a shrug with his wings, balancing the bowl with a hoof as he shifted to a three-legged trot, “Let’s find out,” he said, tipping it back for a sip. He gagged immediately, head jerking back as if he’d been struck. My cheer dropped a few notches as he halted, stunned for a few moments.

“Mist?” I inquired, giving my bowl a fearful glance.

“Fuck me, that’s...it’s...!” he exclaimed, tipping back the bowl and chugging it down in one long series of gulps, “wow!”

Clutching the bowl in a wing, I brought my own helping forth as well. Sipping at it.

Mist wasn’t kidding.

Flavor, glorious flavor exploded across my tastebuds. A gasp escaped me, the taste of spices I doubt I’d ever comprehended of ringing through my mouth. It was so refreshing, so alive compared to all the tasteless cuisine I’d grown accustomed to above the clouds.

I didn’t question it, gulping it down and savoring the different tastes and textures that it consisted of.

When I was done, I gasped at the orgasm that ran down my throat. I met Mist’s bug-eyed helmet, exchanging looks.

“More?” he asked.

“More,” I agreed.

The line was less hostile with Mist at my side, but we did have to wait longer now that more ponies had come to get a helping. Cookie had run through another few pots by the time we got back up to the front again.

“Howdy,” he greeted again, eyeing my wide grin oddly.

“Hi! I don’t know how you did it, but that was really, really good! Probably the best thing I’d ever tasted!” I exclaimed with gusto, “Could we maybe get another helping?”

“You...y’all’re pullin’ mah horn,” he said, looking confused between us, “best thing ya ever tasted?” he looked between us, as if expecting some sort of trick. But whatever he saw in my face, probably drool, he seemed to take the compliment, giving a small smile in return, “Well...Gauge said y’all had some nice-lookin canned goodies what weren't even expired. Give ya a servin’ fer a can,” he offered.

“Deal!” I exclaimed, digging into my saddlebags.

* * * * *

“I should’ve seen this coming,” I mumbled, holding my forehooves to my aching belly, “Rapid change in diet is not good for your digestive system.”

“Mmm,” Mist grumbled from beside me.

Two cans of beans for Cookie and two more bowls for me had made me too full to swallow another gulp. It made sense, really. Expired or no, earth-bound ponies would work with earth-grown food. Soil was far more fertile than any cloud was and more nutrients would definitely lead to more tasty foods. No wonder cloud-grown cuisine was so tasteless!

Maybe eating three bowls had taken it a little too far...at least the bismuth subsalicylate was helping take the edge off.

“Sunset’s not far off,” Mist grunted, jaw tight with the pain of his own gutache, “won’t have to trot much further.”

Luckily, Mist was right and we didn’t have to wait for much longer before a shrill whistle sounded and the wagon train began to grind to a halt. My wings were more than a little sore as I was finally able to swoop down, thankful of the stop.

Gauge appeared, shouting orders that were passed on. Sleep light, no major unpacking, only one major fire tonight. The wagons shifted about, forming a loose circle around a spot of earth as other ponies started preparing a fire.

Spots were quickly taken up by a motley collection of sleeping bags and cobbled quilts and blankets as ponies claimed ground for sleeping. Noting the glares of those closest, I decided it’d be wisest to keep away from the larger throngs of ponies.

Mist and I had tossed down our saddlebags and I’d dug out my sleeping bag when Gauge passed by. He zeroed in on Mist immediately.

“You, Mist, follow me,” he said, “defenders are mustering up for the night shift and I guarantee that you’re on it.”

“Roger that,” Mist grumbled, trotting after the unicorn without complaint.

“I’ll be here!” I called after him, nibbling at my lip as a hint of worry crawled across my belly.

By now most other ponies had taken up spots around the bonfire being built up in the center of the encampment. No doubt for warmth. Turning, I sighed at the lonely sight of my isolated sleeping bag, flanked on one side by our saddlebags.

Could I really find a way to live down here for the next eleven months? I’d only made it a day and already I’d had a run-in with death and...and—her body jerked and spasmed, the fur around the twin electrodes charring.

I whimpered, collapsing limply atop my sleeping bag as my stomach ached with protest. A trembling cramp drove into my gut, forcing me to roll over as I massaged the spot away.

‘It’ll be okay,’ I told myself, zipping myself into the sleeping bag and forcing my teary eyes shut, ‘I’ll find a way...I’ve got to!’

‘I’ve got to.’

* * * * *

Footnote: Level progress 15%

05 - The Start of a Journey

CHAPTER FIVE:

The Start of a Journey

“Yes, yes. This is definitely the right direction...”

“I'll gut your filthy little cunt to make me a purse!” the mare cackled, machete swinging at my face.

A squeal of fright escaped me as I jerked awake, trembling in a sweaty stain. Darkness engulfed me, the only light coming from the half-dead bonfire that smoldered away in the center of the camp.

“A dream...a bad dream,” I whispered, holding a hoof to my throttling chest, eyes cast to the shrouded heavens above.

I had no idea how much time had passed since I’d fallen asleep, the lack of a moon and stars not helping in my assessment. A more detailed scan of my surroundings told me that Mist had yet to return from his watch. How long would it be? Two hours? Four? Gauge didn’t like him—or me—but I doubted he was cruel enough to force Mist to stay up the whole night.

With my night vision already ruined by the fire, I looked about the inner areas camp for him, eventually giving up with a sigh when his black armor eluded me.

A sudden urge to answer the call of nature drew me from my sleeping bag and away from the encampment. I made sure to stay downwind, swooping down to a secluded spot a good ways away from the sleeping caravan.

My stool was hard and pellet like, implying constipation. It was no surprise with all the stress I was going through; at least I wasn’t crapping up blood.

I skimmed back to the camp on sore wings, the constant flight throughout the day showing. It wasn’t as if I was out of shape or anything. I ate healthy and got in a good flight every now and again, just never anything as long as—

A black shape pounced from the darkness, slamming me into the ground and blasting the breath from my lungs. I drew in air quickly, trying to scramble away from my assailant and cry for help. But he—and I could definitely feel it was a he—pinned me down on my belly, pressing his weight down atop me and wrapping a burly hoof around my throat.

I’d just got enough air in my lungs for a shout when the hoof constricted, choking my words from me. I thrashed, kicking and flapping my wings, gasping in what little air I could past his hoof. What was he doing!? Were more raiders attacking!? Was he going to...going to—my tail tucked protectively against my backside, a whinny of fright escaping me.

“Quit it, buzzard nag!” a female voice hissed in my face, a feeling of cold metal pressing into my cheek making me grow very still. I was suddenly glad I’d already relieved myself tonight, “try anything and I’ll blow your goddess-damned jaw off, y’hear!?” she snarled. The barrel of the weapon dropped to my chin, lifting my head towards her. The remains of the bonfire, visible between two wagons, made the mare nothing but a black silhouette as my gaze was forced upon her.

“P-please,” I whimpered as the buck let up on his chokehold, letting me cough and gasp for air, “wh-what do you want!?”

“Nothing much, buzzard,” the mare spat the word with venom, “just need to send you and your fucking husband a message.”

Under most circumstances, I would’ve corrected her on Mist’s relation to me, but the gun in my face kept my tongue in check. No point arguing specifics when one wrong word might cost me my life.

“Y’see, we don’t really like your kind around here, in case you didn’t notice. You and your fucking cloud curtain screwing it up for everypony else,” she growled, the sneer in her voice audible, “despicable.

“But you need to understand. Maybe you fooled old Dual Gauge with all that medical shit, but you didn’t fool everypony,” she continued her tirade. I kept quiet, taking it all, hoping she wouldn’t pull the trigger as warm tears rode down my face, “we know you’ve got some other reason for being down here, whether you’re spying or trying to...to…” she paused, “I dunno, poison us or something! We know!

“So just know this: we’ll be watching you. And you don’t know our voices, you don’t know our faces, you don’t even know our names, buzzard,” she hissed leaning close, “But know that we know you—”

An orange glow grabbed her weapon, twisting it as she let out a startled curse. There was a click and two shells flew out the back, hitting her in her featureless face. She loosed a surprised whinny, twisting away and breaking the levitation magic as she fumbled with her weapon blindly in the dark.

“The shit!? Who—” the buck pinning me down exclaimed.

The same orange glow lit up a familiar pump-action shotgun as well as its owner’s horn as he approached. The mare stopped what she was doing, standing stiffly as she faced the newcomer.

“Break Action!” High Brass exclaimed, making the mare curse again and throw me a featureless look. The voice suddenly clicked: she was the vanilla mare that’d told Gauge about the raider bodies behind the chapel, “Aren’t you supposed to be on roving watch?”

“Shut the hell up, Brass! What are you doing!?” the buck hissed.

I saw the unicorn’s eyes shift in his magic’s glow as he turned them to my other assailant, “Rusty Ratchet…” he paused, eyes glancing down to me for a moment, “are you cheating on Breaky here or something? Or are you trying to violate our ‘no rape’ rule with that skimpy little thing you call a dick?”

“Screw you, Brass!” Rusty growled back.

“Yeah, how about you freaking get off her?” Bass replied, levelling his shotgun at Rusty.

I felt as my final assailant backed off with an angered snort, springing to my hooves and bolting for safety behind my young savior. With the fire now at my back, I could make out my assailant’s eyes as they glared hatred at me.

“You know she and that buck are full of shit, Brass!” Break Action snarled, stomping an angry hoof, “The Enclave means trouble wherever they go! They’re the enemy!”

“Get back on watch, Breaky,” Brass replied with tone dismissive and weapon levelled, “get back to sleep, Rusty.”

“Don’t forget what we said, buzzard!” Rusty growled as he and Break Action trotted off back towards camp. Venom reflected in their eyes with the dying light of the distant bonfire.

I kept Brass between me and them until they were gone, letting loose a breath I hadn’t known I was holding. He relaxed, shotgun lowering as the two ponies disappeared.

“Oh thank the winds you came when you did!” I cried, “I thought th-they were about to...to shoot me...or worse!” I didn’t realize my legs were shaking until I reached forwards to throw my hooves around his neck, tears spilling down my face.

After a moment’s hesitation he patted at my forehooves with one of his own, “I...uh...you’re welcome.” His forehoof rested atop on of my own for a moment as he turned to face me in full, “Though I doubt they’d have shot you. More than likely they just wanted to spook you.”

I set my shaking hooves back on the ground, heart racing too fast for me to care about the gritty feel. My stomach wanted to rebel against me, but I fought it back, trying to compose myself as I found more words.

“Wh-why, though!?” In hindsight it was a stupid question. The answer was the same one I’d been getting since I touched down: I was a pegasus. But still, not everything Break Action had said made sense, “They said they thought I was here to...to do something to them! Spy on them or-or poison them or something! Wh-what the hay is their problem!?”

“Breaky and Rusty…” he trailed off, searching for words, “well, they’re a troubled couple. Been with the caravan damn near since dad started it back when I was still just a colt. Struck out as traders and hired guns one too many times before they joined us. Things got better for them then,” he let out a breath, “Then Breaky wanted a foal, even got pregnant twice,” his eyes found my belly as he spoke, “but the first one slipped...second was a stillborn.”

A pain from my readying womb made me wince, dark thoughts settling in my mind. What would happen if all the stress of my new environment made me slip and lose the foal? As uncommon as it was, it was known to happen. I grimaced as I put a hoof to the spot, emotion rising in my chest.

“Them down on their luck and you being a pegasus,” he looked the way they’d gone, something like pity in his eyes, “well...you probably make an easy scapegoat.”

I blinked a few times, staring at him with a hint of bewilderment. Was he…

“Are...are you defending them?” I gave voice to my thoughts, outrage seeping into my tone.

“Them harassing you like that is wrong...them thinking of you as a scapegoat is wrong,” he replied, “I...I just,” he paused, choosing his words for a moment, “look, I’ll talk to my dad about them. They’re good ponies, they really are...just troubled is all.”

‘Troubled!?’ I thought, “Troubled!?” I exclaimed, seeing Brass flinch back at my voice, “They...she put a loaded gun...to my head!”

“I doubt she would’ve shot you,” he replied defensively, asserting: “and I said that I’ll talk to my dad about it. He’ll have a chat with them, probably give them a couple extra shifts as punishment. They won’t do it again.”

“And what if they do!?” I snapped back, glaring the way they’d gone. My wings wrung themselves at my sides, breaths coming out in noisy huffs. They wouldn’t have done that if Mist was around! He would’ve...would’ve…

My trail of thought sputtered to a halt as I realized just who I was yelling at. The only pony in the chapel who’d seemed halfway decent. The pony who’d helped pick up the things his fellows had tossed on the ground. The pony who’d just run off a couple of colleagues for the sake of a pegasus who he barely even knew...

“L-look,” I backtracked, uncertain for a moment how to proceed, “I’m sorry I yelled at you. It’s...I just...ugh!” I groaned, shutting up and trying to blot out the anger in my system, ‘calm down...relax.’

“It’s okay,” Brass replied, accepting the apology with a forgiving smile. He chuckled, “I’ve had worse things sent my way than harsh words,” he gave a quick snort, looking back towards the camp for a moment, “and plenty of that from my father...anyways I’ll walk you back if it makes you feel any better,” he offered, gesturing for me to follow.

“Thanks,” I said, giving a flap and hovering up over the dirt as I followed him. He gave me an odd look at the sight of me hovering just over the earth, but made no comment.

The walk back was short and uneventful. My eyes darted back and forth across the darkened ground about me, but I spotted no sign of Break Action or Rusty Ratchet. Mist still hadn’t returned when I finally set down on my sleeping bag, the sweat stains cold and wet beneath my hooves.

“What’s it like up there?” High Brass asked out of the blue, settling down a respectful distance from me.

“What do you mean?” I replied, caught off guard by the question, “I mean, it’s probably safer up there. Fewer ponies hating you or trying to—” the machete thunked into the wooden wall behind me...the mare cackled...I reached for my taser...I gave my head a shake, wincing as the vision flashed across my gaze.

“You okay?” Brass gave me another odd look.

“Yes. No. I don’t…” I fumbled over my words, searching the dark ground with my eyes in an effort to find them, “I...I...killed one of those raiders you guys found...out...out behind the chapel...”

“Oh...” his voice was uncertain.

“It’s just...I-I keep seeing it!” I exclaimed, “Over and over! Every time I so much as think—” her body thrashed as she lost control of her bodily functions, “Grr!” I growled, banishing the thought from my head, “I killed a pony! Why’d they have to attack us!?”

For a moment Brass had nothing to say, staring into my eyes for a few short seconds. “They didn’t,” was his final reply, “but they’re raiders. Ponies who’ve devolved into savages who rape, pillage, murder, and burn whatever they so please. Trust me, she’s better off dead. They all are, all three. A few less psychos in this world.”

In spite of his words it still stung me to think about it, “How...how do you cope with it?” I asked, then shook my head, backtracking: “I mean, you...have you…” I looked up at him, “ever…”

“Killed a raider?” he asked, bluntly, “Sure, plenty of times.” He looked back towards his hindquarters, lighting up his horn to reveal a shotgun shell depicted on his flank, “Got my cutie mark for it.”

His words were hardly reassuring, my gut churning and a hint of nauseous bile on my tongue. First Mist uncaring and now a pony even younger than I was? Was there something wrong with me? They killed a pony and didn’t even care, then I went and did it and woke in a fright!

“You gonna hit the hay?” he asked, bringing me back from my train of thought.

“I...wh-what about hay?” I asked, pulled away from my internal debate.

“You gonna go back to sleep?” he asked again.

“Maybe,” I sighed, “I’m not all that tired, really.” ‘Probably something to do with that vanilla nag and her stupid gun!’ I resisted the urge to add.

“Well, if you want, I could keep you company till your husband gets back,” he offered.

‘My husband? What…’ I was confused for a moment, before it clicked: Red Mist. “Why’s everypony think…” I trailed off, grumbling, “Mist is a friend, not my husband. If he had been my husband I would’ve had a birth card and I wouldn’t be down here!” I considered a moment, “and, well...I guess if you don’t have anything better to do I could use somepony to talk to.”

“No problem, I got a few minutes before I need to be on watch,” Brass replied, refolding his legs under him, settling into a more comfortable position, “So...who is the father?” he asked, hastily adding: “If you don’t mind my asking, that is.”

Did I really mind? I had to consider that for a moment, before deciding a little conversation might take my mind off...other things I didn’t want to think about.

“I...he worked at the hospital with me,” I said, rolling over slightly to give my stomach a quick rub as I got another cramp, “This...it was an accident, really, that I got pregnant at all.”

His eyes followed my hoof for a moment before he spoke again, sounding hesitant as he asked: “And you really are pregnant, right?” his tone harboring just the slightest hint of doubt.

“You think I came down here just for fun?” I countered, tone just a bit salty. I sighed, mentally rinsing the salt away and restarting, “Sorry, yes. I’m only in the early stages, it’s been a couple weeks since Cloud Poker and I…” I trailed off suddenly, feeling heat rush to my face when I realized where I’d been going. That was a little too personal for pleasant conversation.

“Oh,” Brass replied.

I changed the subject before it could get any more awkward, “Why are you so nice to me?” I asked, “Everypony else I’ve met down here has either hated my guts or—” the electrode darts took her in the neck, “—worse…”

Brass frowned for a moment, the question catching him off guard, “Uh, well, why should I hate you? I mean, you’re nice, you’re a doctor. You saw our medical supplies; what you gave us really helped, it could save ponies’ lives, I reckon. Besides you’re...well,” he scratched at his mane, “pregnant...I dunno, it just feels wrong to be mean to a pregnant mare.”

“Yet everypony else hates pegasi,” I countered, “Not that I’m saying I don’t appreciate it, it’s just...well...” I trailed off, uncertain how to continue.

“Well I didn’t say I don’t hate pegasi,” he replied, elaborating when he caught my confused look, “Or...what I mean is: I hate the Pegasus Enclave just as much as the next pony. You pegasi could really help us down here, and that cloud cover’s nothing but trouble for us.

“But are those things you’re responsible for?” he finished.

“No,” I answered.

“Well, then, why should I be the one to blame you for them?” he inquired.

I opened my mouth, then closed it. The thought process struck me as surprisingly mature for a pony of Brass’ age. He was, by far, the youngest ground-bound pony I’d met. I’d have expected him to share the ideals of his hateful elders, yet here he was, defying my expectations. I opened my mouth again, but somepony else beat me to a reply.

“What’re you doing!?” Mist snarled, landing with a crunch between us and making Brass flinch.

The younger pony darted to his hooves, hopping back with a startled whinny, “I-I was just talking, j-just talking,” he stuttered, collecting himself. Mist’s tight jawline, just barely visible in the near darkness, told me he was unconvinced.

“Mist, we were just talking,” I put in, his bug-eyed goggles turning to me, “A couple of the others tried to...” I paused a moment to consider my choice of words, “...scare me,” I decided, gesturing to Brass with a hoof, “he ran them off, he was just being pleasant company.” ‘Kinda unlike you as of late…’ I thought, but tactfully chose to exclude.

“What!? Who!?” Mist latched onto the middle of my statement, visibly vexed, “What do you mean ‘tried to scare you’?”

“Couple of the others jumped her, tried to intimidate her, is all,” Brass explained, speaking before I could and earning Mist’s glare, “I scared ‘em off, and I’ll have a chat with my father in the morning. They won’t be doing it again, I assure you.”

“What? And I’m supposed to take that at face value?” he snorted, tail giving an agitated snap, blade gleaming darkly in the distant fire’s light, “I thought your father assured us safe passage!? Now I hear Skies here is being harassed? What makes your word any better than your fucking father’s? The hell should I trust you!?”

“Well, maybe because I didn’t blow your freaking ass off in the chapel!” Brass growled back, giving an irritated snort, a forehoof stomping the ground, “I coulda...but I decided to give you the benefit of the doubt!”

A mirthless chuckle escaped Mist’s lips, “Yeah, well look where that got you,” his tail swished behind him, showing off the curve of blade attached to the end.

Brass eyed the display with a huff, his own magic playing lightly against the weapon slung across his withers. Yet he turned to me when he spoke: “I will talk to my father about them,” he asserted, giving Mist a quick glance and trotting off, “good night.”

Mist watched him go, teeth bared in a half-snarl until he disappeared into the black of the night. Scowling, I turned on him with just a taste of venom in my voice.

“What the hay was that, Mist!?” I neighed indignantly, standing up to better glare into Mist’s emotionless goggles.

His snarl faded as he turned to me, regarding me a moment before replying coolly, “What’d it look like?”

“You being an ass!” I growled back, “High Brass is practically the only nice pony we’ve come across down here! He’s the only one who’s ever shown me any form of kindness! Hay! He stood up to the two who ambushed me, in spite of the fact that they’re apparently ‘good ponies’!” I air quoted the words with my wings, “He’s a good pony, Mist, why do you have to be such an ass towards him?!”

“Because I don’t like him!” Mist snapped back, “Him, his father, or anypony else in this fucking caravan,” an armored wing jerked out towards the center of the camp, “in spite of all the circumstances, I still think joining them’s going to take a turn for the worst! The second it does, we need to be in the air, and out of here.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to go around being a dick to everypony!” I retorted, “Sure, a lot of them are shitty to us, but maybe we can change their perceptions of us! Brass was ready to kill me with the rest of them when we first met in the chapel, but...but just look at him now!”

Mist remained unconvinced, snorting out a quick breath before dropping down to the earth, “Yeah, sure. Keep believing that. If two of them wanted to try and spook you for whatever fucking reason, imagine what the rest might wanna do,” he adjusted himself, finding a more comfortable position, “I’m telling you: we’re not safe here. One in five of the ponies here is red on my E.F.S. sooner or later there’s gonna be an incident.”

There was no convincing him, it seemed. “What’s gotten into you lately!?” I snapped, “This is the most you’ve said since we left and it’s all a bunch of...of...stinking, rotten, horseapples!”

“What, you’re actually asking that!?” another dark chuckle escaped him, cold and deprived of all mirth, maybe even a little mocking, “Look around you Skies, do you really not know!?”

“Hey, well I’m not stopping you from returning if that’s what you really want!” I let out a ‘Hmph’ and lay down, turning my back to him.

Mist gave a single grunt as way of reply, back to his new, bone-headed self!

The quiet was my only companion, heart rate elevated with the rage flowing through my system. I slammed my eyes shut, trying my best to ignore the occasional scratch of dirt on armor as Mist shifted where he lay. Yet my sleeping bag had grown cold and the fire was far away, and as much as I wanted to hold in the rage, I felt it slowly seeping away. Soon, a cold sadness was all that remained.

I peeked back over my withers, spying Mist still lying where he’d dropped. His sides rose and fell rhythmically, though at a pace that told me he’d yet to fall asleep. My eyes fell back to the dirt in front of me, a sharp pinch making me rub my belly. My mouth opened a closed a few times as I chose what to say, tasting the words before I spit them out.

“Mist?” I finally asked, voice quiet, almost meek. Would he even hear me?

Dirt scratched on armor as he shifted slightly behind me.

“Mist?” I tried again, a little louder.

“What!?” he snapped, anger hot on his breath.

Again I took a moment to formulate my reply, “I’m sorry things haven’t worked out lately. I’m sorry I decided to drag you into this, I’ve got no right to be yelling at you,” I paused, hoping for something, but Mist gave no reply. I continued, “but, please. Could you try to be a little nicer to High Brass? He’s the only pony down here who’s shown me any kindness...any at all. I think he’s a good colt, just...give him a chance...please?”

For a time Mist made no reply, silence and the soft whispers of a faint breeze the only thing that filled the night. Yet a soft sigh heralded his reply, “I...I was a little...it’s all just…” his tone was softer, if still rough around the edges, “I-I’ll try...Good night, Skies.”

“Good night,” I replied, yawning. My forgotten fatigue had returned to me, and, soon enough, I could no longer keep my eyelids open. My sleeping bag wasn’t quite so cold anymore, and I soon drifted off to sleep.

A mare with a machete chased me through my dreams...

* * * * *

My dreams fled from me, falling away like a feather on the wind, as the sounds of ponies packing roused me from my sleep. I blinked blearily, confused for a moment as my brain processed the sights, sounds, and scents about me. Grumbling, I settled my head back down as it clicked: the wasteland.

“C’mon! Up and at em, you lot!” I heard Gauge’s grouchy voice somewhere inside the camp, “Let’s get a move on!”

The deathly landscape was lit by the dim light of the dawn, shining through the thick, grey cloud cover above. Ponies rushed to and fro, the pullers hooking up to carts and the defenders slipping into armor and checking their weapons; a thin line of smoke was dribbling up and out of the food wagon.

“Skies,” Mist said as he donned his saddlebags, ever grim and hard to read in his armor, “time to get up.”

‘I figured,’ I didn’t grump back at him, stretching my wings briefly and hopping to a hover as I gathered and rolled up my sleeping bag, “Sleep well?” I asked.

“I slept,” was Mist’s only reply.

By the time I had my sleeping bag tucked away Gauge had the caravan nearly in position. With another whistle, he had it off again and so we continued onwards as light began to flood back into the wastes.

* * * * *

As good as the food was, Mist and I stuck to only a single bowl this time, opting to split a can of cold beans as well. Ideally, the combination of foods would be nicer on our stomachs. The muscles of my wings remained sore as I swooped in small arcs, trying to conserve my energy. A few of my feathers felt out of place, annoying me as I flapped my wings. I didn’t dare stop to preen, though. The ground would feel worse under my hooves and I couldn’t preen as I flew, so I grit my teeth and dealt with it.

“I’ve gotta muster with the other defenders,” Mist said once he’d finished his food.

“Oh,” I said, hovering a moment, letting him catch up after a lengthy swoop, “I...what does that entail?”

“Defenders just meet with that prick Dynamite and he hooves out the watchbill,” Red Mist snorted, he veered off towards the armory wagon without another word.

Watching him go, I considered following. Too many of the caravaners nearby were giving me harsh looks, and after what happened last night, I didn’t exactly feel comfortable alone. Before I could make up my mind, the decision was made for me as a mare called out from behind me.

“Hey, you! Pegasus! Whatever the hell your name is!” I turned towards the sound of the voice, spotting the caravan’s doctor—Leather Strap, as I recalled—glowering her way towards me. A dirty, white lab coat covered her purple frame, a set of goggles that would’ve been at home in a hardware store bouncing around her neck.

“It’s Healthy Skies,” I replied with a slight scowl, tone leaning towards harsh.

“Sure, whatever,” she grumbled, dismissive, she jerked her head back the way she’d come, pale pink eyes leaving mine, “c’mere and follow me.” With that, she turned back around as if we hadn’t ever spoken. Giving a snort, I followed.

“Where are we going?” I asked, flapping in behind her.

“Medical wagon,” she threw a glare back over her withers at me, “you say you’re a doctor? Well I plan on putting you to the test.”

I faltered only a second in my flapping, worried a moment. She was going to test me? What if she found out I was only a nurse? Anxiety began to gnaw at my belly, womb giving a fluttering cramp. I tried to cast away my unease with a soft snort; I was being silly, I reasoned, I’d been training to be a doctor for a good few years now! I had hooves-on experience from my work at the hospital! Yet still a tingle of anxiety remained.

The medical wagon was a little larger than average, at least by a good few hooves, with much taller sidewalls. Like some of the others it had a patchworked mess of tarp hiding its contents and was pulled by a pair of large stallions. Two more ponies sat at the reins, the current pullers’ relief when they needed it; both spared me a lingering glance as I approached with Strap.

“Two coming aboard,” she called up as we reached the flap at the back. The wagon stopped for a moment, long enough for Strap to hop in. Hesitantly, I followed and the wagon continued.

“I thought the wagons were only for ponies who couldn’t walk,” I commented as I settled on the hardwood floorboards, looking around. The canvas above darkened the interior a bit, and the place smelled slightly of blood and pony waste. A large chest and set of cabinets had been fastened to the far side, Strap was digging through them.

Strap, shutting the chest, turned about with a surgical mask—one of the one’s I’d brought, I noticed—set around her snout. I quickly took one from my own supplies and followed suit.

“They are,” she replied with a glare, “we’re just here for a quick check-up on my current patients, so don’t get too comfy.”

Looking to either side I noticed a set of wooden planks, supported by hinges and cordage, emplaced upon either sidewall. Three of the impromptu beds were occupied, the others folded up against the walls.

“Or, rather, I should say that you’ll be doing a check up on them. I’ll want your diagnosis on each, as a start,” her harsh tone remained, “You may begin.”

Scowling from Strap to the first of the three ponies, I gave her a quick examination. Putting on a pair of disposable medical shoes and pinion covers, I checked her temperature with the side of my hoof. She was warmer than normal to the touch, and when I checked her pulse it felt faint.

“Do you have something to check her blood pressure with?” I asked. The mare, previously asleep, stirred and her eyes fluttered open. They lacked focus as they landed on me, “Um...hi,” I said awkwardly before turning to Strap.

“Where would you get it from?” Strap grumbled back from where she sat, watching me.

“The...middle coccygeal artery,” I answered curtly, giving my tail a quick flick, “at the base of the tail.”

“Hm,” Strap’s scowl didn’t budge but she answered all the same, “it’s a little low.”

I turned back to my patient, thinking as I looked her over. Slightly low blood pressure and what felt like a mild fever. The mare looked out of it as she stared at me through bleary eyes, eventually closing them again. That made fatigue or weakness, maybe even disorientation or confusion possible. None of this gave me a solid answer yet, so I lifted her blanket with a covered pinion for further examination. Her ribs were a little too prominent through her coat for my liking; sure, many of the ponies I’d seen looked a little underfed, but this was more severe. I let the blanket fall back down as I turned to Strap again.

“How is she handling food?”

“Not well,” Strap replied simply.

‘No kidding, you nag,’ I held back, “Okay, is she unable to keep it down or is she having bad diarrhea?”

“Both,” Strap answered.

“Okay, is it bloody?” I asked.

“Yes,” she replied.

I turned back to my patient. The symptoms pointed strongly towards something like food poisoning...rather extreme if she was bringing up blood. An inability to get nutrition due to vomiting and diarrhea would lead to fatigue, fever, and a lowered blood pressure. It would additionally explain her somewhat starved look.

Yet before I turned to give my diagnosis, one final feature caught my eye. At first I’d thought it was scarring or something, overlooking it: spots of missing coat and mane. They were few and far between, but if I was right, they could be a side effect of a far nastier form of poisoning. I took a careful step back.

“Radiation sickness,” I said, turning and spotting a surprised blink from Strap. That put a brief smirk on my face...even if it was short lived, “Is...is that sorta thing contagious? There...there isn’t much information on this sorta thing above the clouds,” I commented. I’d never seen cases of radiation sickness before, and I’d only ever read about them in the library’s older tomes.

“No,” Strap replied, pausing briefly before adding a grudging: “and she’s actually clean, now...thanks to your supplies.” I turned to her, surprised, “We ran out of RadAway,” she explained, continuing with a mocking lack of inflection, “Anyways, good job, whoop-de-doo! Next patient.”

The bed above the mare was occupied by a stallion; his problem was much easier to detect. My nose wrinkled at the smell of blood. He didn’t seem feverish, and wasn’t as withered as the mare, but around a forehoof was a set of bandages with a startlingly large spot of crimson staining them. The color told me the bleeding was fresh, the amount of it making me nibble at my lip.

“A large wound on his left foreleg,” I commented as I let the sheet fall back across him and turned to Strap, “Probably need to change the bandages soon.”

“What? Why soon?” She grumbled, hooves clopping over wood as she approached me, “I just changed his…” she trailed off as she lifted his sheet and spotted the bloody bandages, “aw, damnit,” she snapped, horn glowing as she waved it over him in quick sweeps.

“What!?” I asked, startled by Strap’s tone. She turned and cantered the few steps to the cabinets again, rifling through them, “What’s wrong?”

“Dumb loaf’s got a bullet in that leg,” Strap replied, not turning as she gathered her things, “I just got the bleeding down yesterday, was looking good when I changed it,” the cabinets slammed shut and she turned, a roll of surgical tools held in her magic, “Now it looks like I’m gonna have to remove the thing here and fucking now. Hold still.”

“What...er, okay,” I said, watching as her horn lit up as she glared at me, wondering what—I flinched back as a bubble of magical energy flashed up around me, condensing quickly and fading away. Confused, I stared down at myself, body feeling tingly all over, “What did you—”

“Sanitization spell,” Strap replied curtly, while repeating the process on herself, our patient, and her tools, “you’re helping me.”

“Wha...helping?” I asked, surprised as she wrapped the stallion gently in her magic, moving him to another shelf nearer the floor.

“What are you, deaf as well as dumb?” Strap snapped back, draping the roll of surgical tools across my back and gesturing for me to stand to her right, “Hold these, stand here. You ever performed a surgery before?”

Miffed at her tone, I trotted forwards and replied nonetheless, “Nothing as small as a bullet. Unless that’s just a puncture wound?”

“Nope. Bullet fragments in the lower left foreleg,” she set her goggles over her eyes. A scratched-up syringe with an elongated needle came up, followed by twin bowls of sharp-smelling liquid and what looked like water. She filled the syringe with the water and squirted out the air.

“Strap?” the stallion asked, coming around and wincing, “What’s—”

“Quiet, Autoloader,” Strap cut in. She lit her horn and pressed it to his skull. A look of surprise crossed his features before he slumped back, asleep. She spoke to me: “figures, it’s probably all love and tolerance up in that cloudy utopia in the sky. Whatever, you’ll assist me, then.”

She flung the blanket back, eyeballing the stallion beneath. Her horn ignited, purple magic wrapping around his neck and tail base as I assumed she got his heart rate and blood pressure. I shifted my footing as the wagon bumped, trundling along.

“Heart rate normal, blood pressure slightly lower than normal,” her magic faded as she turned to his bandaged foreleg, unraveling it and tossing the rags into a bin. A good amount of blood surrounded the darker spot where the actual wound was, which was surprisingly small.

With the syringe and gauze she cleaned away the crimson, using the gauze to wipe as the syringe washed out the actual wound with water; probably saline, I realized. She switched bowls and the strong smell of iodine filled my nostrils as she sanitized the area around the wound with a more mundane method, coating a goodly area around the bullet hole.

“You want a tourniquet?” I asked as she elevated the limb.

“Give me pressure points along the limb,” she replied, horn lighting up as she selected different tools with her magic: forceps, tweezers, scissors, and a scalpel. Somepony, probably her, had already shaved away most of the coat around Autoloader’s wound, “Don’t know how long this’ll take.”

“Tourniquet might make him lose the limb,” I commented, nodding. Reaching up with my right wing, I felt up Autoloader’s limb as I recalled where the major pressure points in the limb would be. Using my pinions, I pressed down in the spots I remembered, holding and wondering if this had anything to do with Strap testing me.

“No shit,” Strap grumbled, glancing briefly at the use of my wing, but making no further comments.

She began.

The forceps went in first as she eyeballed the wound. Even after seeing numerous operations, the sight of it made my skin squirm. I suppressed a shudder as she probed deeper into the wound.

Strap scowled over her bloody work, manipulating the wound, poking and prodding as she searched for the elusive fragments. The scalpel and scissors went in a few times, cutting deeper, making Autoloader’s face shift in his unconscious bliss.

“Any damage to the bones?” I asked. The hole looked a little off-center from the middle of his foreleg, and there didn’t appear to be an exit wound. Even I knew a bullet that passed clean through was better than one that stuck around.

“Barely missed,” Strap muttered, “I imagine it was something like a forty-five, slower, heavier, shooter probably nicked the tip to make it fragment—” her eyes lit up suddenly and she leaned in closer, forceps wiggling about in a slow circle. She’d found one.

After a bit of manipulation and cutting, the tweezers came free and Strap let out a breath, “Got one,” she mumbled, a sliver of bloodied-black metal clinking down into a waste tray. Blood had pooled up from the wound and Strap had to clean it away before the tools went back in.

“How many more?” I asked, worried. My wing was getting sore from pressing down so hard, but I didn’t dare remove it.

“Quiet,” Strap grumbled back, not looking away and missing the scowl I gave her.

A soft click of hooves on hardwood drew my gaze back towards the opening of the wagon. My surgical mask crinkled softly as I frowned at the sight of a filly. She was a small, scrawny little thing with a bright red coat and a fiery yellow mane. After Brass, she was the youngest pony I’d seen this side of the clouds.

She stared back at me with wide, pink eyes as I looked her over, not spotting any wounds on her tiny frame. What was she doing here, then? Was she here to visit one of the sick ponies?

After a moment she scrambled beneath one of the empty bunks, peeking out from beneath it like a spooked, little bird. I considered asking her her business or notifying Strap, but figured the surgery was more important. I turned back in time to spot Strap remove another sliver of metal.

“That’s two. Get his heart rate real quick,” she said, not looking up.

It took me a second to find his pulse with my forehoof, calculating it was another matter. Glancing about, I didn’t find a clock so I scowled and tried to estimate as best I could. It felt a little fast, which made sense.

“Heart rate elevated,” I reported, pausing, “Definitely below a hundred, though...I think.”

“You think?” Strap didn’t look away.

“I don’t have a watch,” I retorted, “or a magical horn poking out of my head.”

“Sucks to be you, then.”

Letting out a quiet snort, I otherwise held my tongue. I didn’t imagine it demonstrated good work ethics to argue during surgery. When I checked, the Filly was still keeping her distance and was curled up in a cute little pile below one of the bunks.

Strap pulled out another sliver of metal, cleaning out more blood with gauze and syringe.

“Do you have saline...for a drip?” I asked. While I doubted he’d be bleeding out any time soon, I felt it was always better to err on the side of caution...especially when a pony's life was at risk.

“Not enough,” Strap replied grumpily, “Now be quiet, will you?”

I let out a quiet huff, but said nothing.

As much as I wanted to speak up and actually help with the procedure, I didn’t have any hooves-on experience removing bullets. I’d seen larger objects surgically removed more than a few times—I even helped with one procedure—but something like this wasn’t something I was comfortable doing.

My wing was cramping up by the time a seventh fragment of metal was removed. At that point the tools came out for the last time and Strap bandaged it with a sigh.

Thankfully, I took my wing off Autoloader’s hoof, flexing it and rubbing away the cramps.

“Give him a shot of med-X, we’re done. If he’s got any more, they’ll have to be removed later,” Strap said, setting Autoloader's blanket back atop him. She looked part surprised and part annoyed when she noticed the filly, “Hey!” she snapped, “Kiddo! C’mon, get out of here!” quick and quiet, the filly scampered out, slipping through the tarp at the back, “Darned, little…” she trailed off, turning back to her tools and addressing me: “She here the whole time?”

“About,” I admitted, glancing towards the back of the wagon, “that was a little harsh, don’t you think?”

“She’s mine, I can say whatever the hell I want to her,” Strap replied, catching my surprised look and continuing, “Yeah, she’s my whelp. But not by choice,” Strap grumbled. The medical wagon rumbled and bumped along for a few short seconds in silence, “...a raider,” she added as if that explained everything. The haunted look I saw, however brief, was all the explanation I needed. I remembered how the raider with the hammer had eyeballed me back at the chapel, causing me to wince as I saw the mare’s machete fly at me in my mind’s eye.

“I’m…” I began, uncertain what to say, ‘sorry?’ was I? A slight cramp ran through my undercarriage, making me wince and derailing my train of thought.

“Stupid is what you are,” she answered for me, back to being a bitch, “you traded your nice little life up there in the clouds to hoof it with the lot of us down here,” she gave a snort, eyeing my belly, “and for what? What were they gonna do? Sterilize you? That how it works up there?”

“Maybe...they would’ve made me abort the foal. I couldn’t let them do that,” I bit back.

“Why not?” she asked, “You’re not too far along and I imagine they’ve got more than a rusty coat hanger to do it.”

A derisive huff escaped me as I wrinkled my nose in disgust, “I...I just couldn’t!” I retorted.

“See: stupid. Shoulda had the little bastard taken care of, not like you couldn’t have another one later on. But, no, you up and decide to join us down here,” she paused a moment before continuing, “And hey, I’m not complaining. Stolen or not, those medical supplies are a boon,” she poked me in the chest with a hoof, “You, though? You’re just an idiot.”

“I passed your stupid test!” I slapped her hoof away with my own, “or do you want me to diagnose your last patient?”

“Any two-bit nurse could tell me he’s got food poisoning. You passed my stupid test,” she replied, “and whaddaya know? Results are back: you’re stupid.”

“You know what I meant!” I snapped through gritted teeth, “so we’re done here?”

“For now,” Strap replied, turning to finish cleaning.

“Hmph!” I turned and hopped out the back of the wagon, taking to the air and scanning about for Mist. I didn’t want to deal with any more of these damned ground pounders, no more than I had to. Even if he was being difficult as of late he made better company than most everypony else down here!

“Shoulda had the little bastard taken care of…” her words rang back in my head.

“Lousy old nag,” I grumbled under my breath. What did she know!? What right did she have to judge me!?

I cast my eyes about, trying to find that familiar black carapace armor among the ground pounders below. Try as I might, my focus fluttered as more of what she had said found its way back into my head. My attempts to clear my head of her poisonous voice failed to keep her out.

“I imagine they’ve got more than a rusty coat hanger to do it.” A pinching cramp took me in the belly, drawing me closer to the ground as I stalled briefly.

I rubbed away the pain as the world started to blur about me, a heavy moistness filling my eyes. It was just...just dusty out! I scrubbed at my face with a hoof, to no avail as more tears welled up and my throat tightened as I choked back a sob.

“Stolen or not, those medical supplies are a boon. You, though? You’re just an idiot...” she’d said.

The world was a mess of blurry shapes as I felt warm tears spilling down my face. I couldn’t see anything, forcing me to come in to land, lest I run the risk of hitting something.

“...just an idiot...”

The gritty ground drank my falling tears readily, body quivering as I tried to hold them back. I continued at a trot, head hung as I bit my lip to stifle my crying. It wasn’t fair, none of this was fair! I did nothing to these ponies! Nothing! And aside from a choice few...a choice individual all I got was harsh words and cold shoulders. All I wanted—

“Whoa! Hey, there,” a familiar, grouchy voice spoke up as I stumbled face-first into a field of green magic, bringing me to a halt. Stepping back, I scrubbed at my eyes with my wings, revealing the unhappy face of Dual Gauge standing in my path.

“What!?” I snapped at him, “Wh-what do you want!?”

His already unfriendly scowl deepened at my tone, “A few words might suffice,” he eyed me up and down, “What’s gotten into you? Been crying...”

“Nothing. Nothing,” I tore my gaze from him, wiping away a few more tears, “I-I’m fine. I’m fine, just...” I trailed off.

“Hm. Sure,” he sounded doubtful, but changed the subject nonetheless, “High Brass told me you had some trouble with a couple of my ponies last night. I wanted to get your side of the story.”

At the mention of High Brass and the ‘trouble’ two of Gauge’s ponies caused, a new emotion began to fight for dominance in my head. Blinking away the last of my tears, I looked to Dual Gauge.

“You wanna tell me what happened?”

That I most certainly did! “I woke up in the middle of the night,” I started, sorrow ebbing as anger rose, “Flew out to use the toilet or...whatever euphemism you ponies use.”

“We’ve got toilets down here too, you know,” Gauge grumbled.

‘Whatever.’ “Well, I was coming back and the buck, Rusty Ratchet...I dunno, he was hiding in the shadows or something, I wasn’t paying attention. He jumped out and pinned me down, started...started choking me so I couldn’t scream!” I felt my tail give a lash behind me, wings tense, “Then his stupid wife or...or marefriend or whatever they are put her gun to my head and started talking nonsense!”

“What sorta nonsense?” Gauge asked.

“Nonsense like...like she said she thought I was here to spy on you guys or poison you or something,” I growled, unhappily reliving the memory with a curled lip, “She was still threatening me when Brass grabbed her gun or...whatever he did that unloaded it, and scared them off.”

“Okay. And how’d he scare them off?” Gauge asked another question, though his features remained unreadable. I didn’t know if I was being interrogated as the victim or the assailant, “What specifically did he do?”

“Well, he had his gun out,” I replied, thinking for a second, “he identified them by name, told Rusty Ratchet to get off me...I don’t remember his exact words. He didn’t exactly threaten them with bodily harm if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Hm,” Gauge grumbled, eyeballing me like he had when we first met as if to get a feel for me, “Okay, so you didn’t notice anything when you first headed out? Your first inkling that anything was wrong was when Rusty jumped you?”

“I was tired, yes,” I replied.

“And they didn’t hurt you in any way?” at my indignant look, he quickly added: “I mean anything that would leave a mark? Bruising, cuts, scratches? They didn’t physically harm you?”

“Nothing, well…” I gave myself a quick once-over, not spotting any marks before glaring back up at Gauge, “I think tackling a pregnant mare to the ground counts as physical harm even if it doesn’t leave a mark...he choked me, too!”

“But no lasting injuries, physical injuries?” he stressed the wording, “Like I said: anything that’d leave a mark?”

“No,” I admitted, grudgingly, “I still think they should be punished!”

“I didn’t say they wouldn’t be,” was Gauge’s grumbled reply, “I believe my son and, for what it’s worth, I even believe you. All I’m trying to do now is gauge the level of punishment,” he tried to calm me, tone taking on a placating touch, “They were threatening you, that’s for sure, but they didn’t cause any real physical harm,” he grumbled, sounding as if he was talking more to himself at the end than to me.

We continued on in silence for a while, and I scrubbed my hooves clean of dirt after hopping to a low flight.

“I’ll dock them some pay, give it to you. I can have Dynamite chalk Break Action up for the shittier watches for the rest of our journey to Burnout. The fixers don’t exactly stand watches, and I don’t want an angry pony working extra on my caravan anyways, but I’ll see if I can get Cookie to have Rusty help with food as extra duty,” he eventually said, turning his eyes to me, “Will that suffice?”

I mulled that over for a bit. My rage against the two ponies had faded somewhat and as much as I wanted to see them physically punished, I couldn’t come up with anything specific. Maybe jail time, but there weren’t exactly any jails around. Searching over the ground beneath me as I thought, I eventually came to the conclusion that Gauge’s ruling was fair enough for the circumstances...even if I felt they could be a little harsher.

A sigh escaped me as I turned my head to Gauge, “It will suffice.” Gauge gave me a little nod and began to trot off, but I stopped him with a call of: “Hey!” he turned back to me, “Thank you,” I said.

He hesitated a moment before giving me another nod, “You’re welcome,” was his reply, and he headed off again. I gained altitude enough that I was above the height of the wagons, Gauge’s intervention resetting my previous emotional drama.

Strap’s cruel words still crushed in around my heart, but I didn’t let them overwhelm me again. I made to go back to searching for Mist, but an alternative to flying around made me look for a different color pattern. It didn’t take me long to spot Dual Gauge again.

“Do you know where Mist is?” I asked when I swooped down to the older unicorn.

“Mist?” Gauge frowned, “Dynamite’s the one who makes the watchbill, but I suggested he be put on scouting duty. Goddesses know those wings of his could prove useful for something like that. So if he’s not around, he probably went off with the scouts,” he frowned for a few seconds, thinking, “He’ll be back for lunch, provided all’s well.”

“And...is it? ‘All well’?” I asked, those two words putting me on edge, “Or, do you think it should be?”

Gauge’s grey eyes turned to me, one brow lifted inquisitively as he frowned.

“Well...Mist said that when he showed you that flaregun, y’know...when he went back to show you the bodies of those—” my wing shoved my taser into my mouth, shaking as the mare charged me, “—raiders...he said you seemed spooked.”

“So what?” Gauge replied, defensive all of a sudden, “What’s your point, what’re you trying to say?”

“I’m not an idiot, no matter what that nag of a doctor says, Dual Gauge,” I asserted, “Those raiders were there to...to signal you being there or...or something!” I glanced back the way we’d come, but nothing but a dusty cloud and dead landscape greeted my eyes.

“They’ll be fine,” Gauge finally replied, “They’re scouting out ahead of the caravan. As to the raiders, I don’t know what they were doing. Maybe they were there to signal us coming, maybe they just happened across a flaregun. But they’re dead now so we’ll never know.

“And, hay!” he continued, “Even if they were there to signal some attack, they were thwarted. Whoever they may have been there to signal is none the wiser to our passing; don’t lose sleep over it. There haven’t been any reports on large raider bands anywhere near this part of the wasteland anyways. Burnout’s just a day or so away, you won’t need to worry about any of this then.”

His words helped to stem the outbreak of my fears, though the last bit put another question in my mind and I didn’t hesitate to voice it.

“Burnout?” I asked.

* * * * *

Footnote: Level progress 75%

Skills increased:

+Medicine

Author's Note

A special thanks to Interloper and Nastyhooves for help with the surgery scene.

06 - The Bodies in Burnout

CHAPTER SIX:

The Bodies in Burnout

“Hey. You ever see a dead body before? Ever seen one after the dog’s been at it...”

“Burnout,” Gauge nodded, leaving it at that until he realized just who he was talking to, “Oh, right. Well, there’s worse places in the wasteland than Burnout, there’s better.”

‘Gee, with a name like that, who would’ve known it wasn’t a five star resort!?’ I mentally huffed. I kept quiet, however, as I let him continue.

“It’s run well enough and the ponies there are good folks, but you being a pegasus, well…” he trotted a ways in silence as I hovered by his side, “They won’t chain you up and make you a slave, they won’t cut you up and wear your skin, and they probably won’t kill you just for your caps...but I wouldn’t expect much in the way of a warm welcome.”

“Okay, well why ‘Burnout’?” I asked, trying to get a better feel for what we’d be walking into, “What kinda name is that for a town anyways?”

“The kinda town that some smartass names,” Gauge replied, letting out a sigh at my confused look, “It’s built up amid the ruins of a small, pre-war town, nopony remembers the pre-war name. As the story goes, back in the aftermath of the final days ponies crowded in from all over. See, Burnout—or whatever it was called back then—was in one of those lonely spots of Equestria that didn’t take any direct hits from the balefire.

“So, survivors and refugees crowd in. Of course, the ponies in charge welcome them with open hooves, back then folks were stupid like that,” he gave a distasteful snort, “Goes to figure, place runs outta supplies and power fast and with no dedicated way to get more…” Gauge shrugged as he walked, wagons raising a wavering cloud of dust as they rolled on around us, “Shit went downhill real fast. Anarchy took over and eventually some looter started a fire. No supplies means no water, no civil services means no firefighters, no firefighters or water means the fire consumes the whole place and eventually some smartass comes along, rebuilds as ponies are wont to do, and renames it ‘Burnout,’” he looked back at me, “Simple as that.”

“Wonderful,” I replied with an annoyed huff, “You’re taking me to a town that burnt down almost two centuries ago.”

“Hey, you agreed to tag along to our next stop without question, that’s on you,” he grumped back at me with a look, “And, yeah: Burnout’s no paradise, but the closest thing to a paradise down here comes at the cost of eating a bullet. You chose the hard life, deal with it or go home.”

With that, he sped up his trot, leaving me flapping along at the pace of the caravan. My womb gave a twinge at his final comment; we both knew that I had only one option. He was right, after all.

I’d chosen the hard life.

* * * * *

The day dragged on in what was a rather boring fashion. The now familiar landscape of rolling hills coated in the occasional straggle of deathly vegetation or rusted hulk dragged on to the horizon. There it met the sky and the impenetrable layers of menacing, grey clouds that stretched as far as the eye could see.

Staring up as I swooped about on sore wings, I felt somehow isolated from it all. I hadn’t seen the bright, blue sky or the sun for two days now, I felt cut off, forgotten. Looking about, I couldn’t help but feel a pang for the ponies around me. They’d never seen the sun, the stars, the moon, the sky. In all reality, I doubted they ever would.

I shook away my thoughts. The government had their reasons, I reasoned. They were the government, it was their job to keep us fed, sheltered, and safe, after all! And if even a fraction of the chaos I’d seen down here was any indication, isolation from the world below was tantamount to survival. We had some crime and an occasional food shortage, but if that was a trade-off for no radiation or raiders, then so be it.

The ponies in the government knew what they were doing.

Leather Strap came by and had me check on her patients again. Autoloader was doing better; the wound was still paining him, but it had stopped bleeding. He was a little brusque with me—eyeing my wings with mistrust—and seemed more interested in getting Strap’s help, but at least he wasn’t threatening to blow my jaw off.

Flower (the mare with radiation sickness) was also faring better. Unlike Autoloader and, I felt, much to Strap’s distaste she was surprisingly happy to see the pegasus that’d supplied her medicine. She was still recovering from the havoc it had wrecked on her body, but I felt as if I’d made a friend in her.

The third pony, who I didn’t learn the name of, had been released later yesterday. He’d recovered enough from the food poisoning to function, and was back to whatever he did in the caravan.

Easy day.

* * * * *

I frowned as I downed the last of my water, shaking the canteen above my mouth to get the last few drops. Flapping my sore wings above the rising dust of the wagons, I stuffed the empty canteen back in my saddlebags. Two other water bottles, both empty, sat amid the few supplies I was carrying.

It wasn’t that big a deal. Along with most of our other supplies, Mist was carrying the better part of what we had. I was certain he had more water with him. With my saddlebags already opened in front of me and with nothing better to do, I ran through what I had as I swooped along. Of course I had my three water containers; the canteen had been supplied by Mist, but I’d grabbed the water bottles and a few canned goods from home.

Home...

I sighed, slumping a little as I cast my eyes skyward again. What were they all doing up there? My parents, Reuben, Pokerface...would they ever think to look below the clouds? Would they give up all hope, thinking I’d fled to my death if they did?

What would that do to them? What repercussions would come? How would mom and dad deal with the supposed loss of their daughter? How was Cloud Poker taking getting lied to and zapped by his lover? So many questions and worries were flooding my mind like a runaway fog machine filling a room.

Would they even accept me back into their lives? My parents...probably, they were family after all. But what about Cloud Poker? It was our child I was carrying, and if I managed to keep it to term down here and somehow return I had planned on having him in our lives, but…

In my mind’s eye I saw myself pull my taser on him, felt myself pull the trigger, saw that look he gave me as I fluttered out the window…

It was almost too much, I needed to distract myself so I shook my head and turned back to my saddlebags. What I knew is that I wasn’t dead and I was down here, away from them. That was all that mattered...for now.

The sleeping bag Mist had given me by far took up the most space; fortunately it wasn’t very heavy. Pressing into it with a hoof, I guessed it made use of interwoven cloud fibers along with a more solid material to cut back on weight. That made my life easier.

When I spotted my toothbrush I ran a tongue over my teeth, realizing I hadn’t brushed them since I’d touched down. In all the hubbub it had slipped my mind; I made a mental note to remember to start brushing again. While perhaps low on my current threat list, cavities were still something I wanted to avoid.

Spotting the tube of shampoo and two towels I’d grabbed reminded me of another bit of hygiene I’d been neglecting since I touched down. It made sense that my mane was a little itchy and my coat felt grimy, but a quick look and a sniff around reminded me of my chances in finding a shower around here.

In addition to the canned food were a few snack bars, also pilfered from my pantry, along with some matches I felt would be useful. I stuffed both them and the cans into my medical lunchbag, opening up some space in my saddlebags.

As I zipped up the lunchbag, another item caught my eye and a cramp ran through my underbelly. I paused when I spotted the cheeky, little grin of my pregnancy tester. My hoof hovered over it briefly. It was a disposable item, there was no real reason for me to hold on to it...yet I left it where it was.

There, too was my preening kit, the raider’s flare gun, and my taser. I frowned at the flare gun, Mist must’ve put it in there or something. Taking my taser with a hoof, I checked the charge and peeked at the batteries when it told me they were dead. I’d brought the charger for them as well, but it required an electrical outlet and that was something in rather short supply down here. I wondered if I could find or purchase more down here, if I ever ran into—I cringed as the raider mare charged into my head and died in a convulsing mess—I shoved my taser back into my saddlebags, sending the memory in with it, and zipping my bags closed.

Wanting a distraction from my newfound demons, I lifted my eyes and scanned the bleak horizon. There was still no sign of Mist or the scouting team. If only I’d thought to bring my clock, I’d know about how much longer they’d be gone.

‘Maybe…’ I thought, casting my eyes briefly upwards.

My sore wings complained as I pumped them harder, rising upwards to expand my field of view. The wasteland spilled out around me in every direction and I squinted off in the direction we were headed, but the scouts were either still out of range, or too far away for me to make out.

I released a sigh and began to descend, but a flicker of movement caught my eye. Catching myself with another hover, I stared off to the left of the caravan, squinting across the distance. There was a dark shape, two actually, that looked like wagons. Numerous smaller dots weaved around them, ponies. Were they more traders...or something more sinister?

There was only one way to find out.

I folded my wings as I fluttered back down.

* * * * *

Gauge frowned—unsurprisingly—when I reported what I’d seen, and sent a couple of defenders out in the direction I’d indicated. I had offered to fly back up with some binoculars, but Gauge didn’t want to risk me being spotted, as unlikely as it was.

It didn’t take long for his ponies to cross over a set of hills, waving as they guided a pair of wagons over.

“Traders, then,” Gauge grumbled, more to himself as his magic faded away from his pistols. Turning to me, he continued, “They might mingle for a while, trade news and the like. Go grab a cloak, hopefully my ponies will know to keep their traps shut about a pegasus.”

“Hopefully?” I asked.

“If they don’t wanna be kicked out in Burnout, yeah,” he growled back, jerking his head towards a wagon and trotting forth to go meet the inbound traders, “Now go, will ya.”

* * * * *

Even the cleanest cloak I could find smelt a little too unwashed for my own taste, but it did the job of making me a skinny earth pony all the same.

Compared to Gauge’s caravan, the newcomers were fewer and farther between. They only had two rickety carriages and the six ponies who owned them were in far worse shape than Gauge’s own. Spotting the scarred mare that I assumed owned the caravan (by the fact that it was her Gauge met with), I had a sneaking suspicion that she was one of the associates who’d have, as Gauge put it, “spent a couple bullets to get their hooves on our stuff.”

But, by far, the difference that kept drawing my gaze back again and again were the beasts pulling the other trader’s wagons.

The creatures were a few times larger than a pony, with horns and wider snouts. But that wasn’t the key feature, not by a long shot. No, the thing that kept drawing my eyes to the pack animals were the two heads sprouting from their bodies.

One of the heads of the nearest beast kept dropping low as it grazed on withered patches of crabgrass, the thin leaves crunching like twigs. The second kept looking around tiredly, ears twitching randomly as if to swat away invisible flies. Unlike the dull, animalistic orbs set in the first head’s skull, this pair brightened as it met my intense gaze.

“What?” the head asked, nearly making me jump, “Got something in my teeth?”

“Uhhh…” I said stupidly, ‘Blue above! Did that thing just talk!? Did I just hear that thing talking!? It looks like some dumb animal, how can it talk!?’

“You high or something, girl?” The head frowned at me.

“Uh, n-no, I...um, I just…” I stuttered, searching for a response, “...gotta go!” I finally exclaimed, turning and cantering off.

“Huh, drug addicts…” I heard the head mutter as I fled, “I tell ya, Steve! These ponies and their darned addictions...”

I kept away from the traders and their bizarre, mutant animals for the rough half hour that they stayed before heading off again. It would’ve been a perfect time to preen, if not for the fact that I couldn’t show my wings, so instead I took a brush to my mane.

My bedraggled features and sleepless eyes startled me after I pulled out the small hoof-mirror in my preening kit. I looked like an absolute mess! I cleaned myself up as best I could, untangling my knotty mane and styling it the way I liked: swept manageably forwards with the excess tied off behind my head.

I smiled at myself in the mirror, feeling a twinge of life in my womb. But the smile was swept away when I looked up to the cruel hellscape I had put myself in. A sigh escaped me as I repacked my preening kit and got comfy atop my sleeping bag.

Just in time for Gauge to call for us to get set up and continue onwards again.

A groan escaped me.

* * * * *

Me being able to discard the cloak and fly again didn’t come soon enough. The feel of the alien ground on my hooves was unsettling and scraping the sand out of them was the first thing I did after taking flight.

The second thing was to seek out my favorite ground pounder around.

High Brass wasn’t all that hard to find, being one of the defenders he was part of the living buffer between the caravan and the wasteland. He offered a quick wave and a smile as I dove in, even if the other defenders nearby gave me less than cheery looks.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asked.

“I had a question about water,” I began, hovering at his side, “How exactly does it work around here? I mean, you guys do have excess water to drink, right?”

“Sure, yeah,” Brass replied with an odd look, “Cookie’s in charge of water distribution. Unless we’re really low, it’s on an as-needed basis. We usually allow for a single canteen, few gallons a day,” he paused a moment in thought, “Might be you could get more on account of the foal, just ask Cookie.”

“Thanks,” I said with a nod, flapping off towards the food cart.

“Don’t mention it!” I heard Brass call after me.

In the short time I’d been a part of the caravan, I’d only just started memorizing the twenty some wagons in Gauge’s group. The armory was easy enough to spot with its extra guards and beefier design. The medical wagon I knew from the numerous visits I’d taken to it. And, of course, Cookie’s food cart was stuck in my memory after a taste of the ground-pounder’s food...even if it didn’t sit well with my digestive tract. In fact, all I had to do was follow my nose; lunch was being cooked!

“Hey!” I called to the flap covering the food cart, “Cookie?”

There was a rattling of metal, as if someone had bumped a rack of serving spoons, and Cookie poked his head out. My lips parted to make my request for water, but a scowl crossed the unicorn’s face, “You gimme a can of rotten beans?!” Cookie snapped.

“What?” I blinked, caught off guard. What was he talking—

“Them canned beans you went an’ traded fer extra helpin’s yesterday!” He growled, horn igniting as he ducked back behind the flap briefly. When he returned, a can of opened beans was held in his magic, a happy pegasus on the label.

Now it was my turn to frown, “No. Why?” I replied, glancing to the can held up in his magic, “They should be perfectly fine, check the expiration date.”

“Well they don’t taste ‘perfectly fine’ to me!” he retorted, “Ain’t hardly got no taste!”

“They probably just taste funny because they’re cloud grown,” I reasoned, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. It was hardly my fault he didn’t like the beans! Still, I tried to err on the side of diplomacy, “Look, I’m sorry if you don’t like our cuisine, but I came here because I ran out of water. High Brass told me you were the pony to talk to to get more.”

“Yeah, I’m the pony fer water,” Cookie allowed, tone still upset.

“Okay, so can I get some?” I asked.

“Dunno,” Cookie replied, glancing to the can of beans, “Ah feel kinda cheated; these things ain’t hardly edible! Ain’t got no flavor, no taste! How the hay am I s’posed to use food like that!?”

I opened my mouth to reply, but cut myself short as I recalled Gauge’s earlier words. My sudden, cheeky smile seemed to catch him off guard as I said: “You agreed to trade me a bowl of your food for a can of mine without question,” I reigned in my smile at the clever use of Gauge’s own words, “if you don’t like it, that’s on you.”

Cookie had no immediate reply to that, glaring back at me with a little scowl. Yet when I made it clear I was sticking around until I got my water, he muttered something and begrudgingly disappeared for a few seconds. When he came back, it was with a little wood chip held in his magic.

“Here, take this to Doughy in the water cart. It’ll be the one ahead of us,” Cookie grumbled as I took the chip in my mouth.

“Fanks,” I replied past the chip, flying up and over the food cart, transferring the chip to a hoof.

The water cart looked like any of the other wagons at a first glance: wooden, tarp covered, two axles, and a pair of pullers hitched to the front. But at a second glance, it was a tad wider and was somewhat beefier, as if designed to carry a heavier-than-average load...like water.

“Doughy?” I inquired to the flaps covering the back of the cart.

“Who’s callin’?” A feminine voice called from up front.

Pumping my wings, I lifted up over the tarp and met eyes with a young unicorn mare seated up front. She was maybe a few years younger than me and looked a lot like Cookie, aside from the white color her coat took around the fetlocks.

‘Gauge and Brass, Strap and Kiddo, now Cookie and Doughy. Who else in this caravan is related?’ I silently mused, “I was told you were the mare to talk to for water.”

“Sure, got a chit?” She asked, looking me up and down. While her tone wasn’t exactly the friendliest thing around, I took it as a win that she wasn’t nearly as icy as Leather Strap...or Break Action.

I nodded, offering up the wood chip to Doughy’s magic. She tucked it into a pouch next to a shortened lever action rifle at her side and hopped onto the wagon’s tarp cover. I backed off as she moved with caution to the back and gracefully slipped down into the wagon’s covered back. A moment later her head poked out, eyes watching me expectantly.

“Well?” She asked, confusing me, “Got a canteen?”

“Oh, yeah,” I replied, ‘duh’ I mentally berated myself as I dug through my saddlebags, producing and offering Mist’s canteen, “Here.”

Doughy accepted my offering and quickly turned to fill it within the tarp-filled confines of the wagon. I flapped my wings just outside the opening until she returned and magicked me back my water. I was about to tuck it away in my saddlebags, when a sudden worry nagged its way into my head.

“Not to sound like a nag or anything, but you guys do treat your water for contaminants and stuff, right?” I asked, glancing down at my canteen, “Like...magical radiation?”

“What? You kiddin’ me?” Doughy began with a snort, eyeing me up and down like I’d sprouted tentacles, “We ponies down here drink nothin’ but the dirtiest shit and scum we can scrounge up. Hay, if it don’t set a Pipbuck screechin’ we blast it with RADS till it does!”

It didn’t take a snicker from one of the burly pullers seated up front to tell she was being sarcastic. All the same, I crossed my forehooves as I held Doughy’s gaze, “So you do treat it for magical radiation?”

“‘Course we do, missus high-and-mighty pegasus,” Doughy sassed back, pulling herself atop the wagon and making her way forwards, “So you better savor every last drop you get here, ‘cause clean water’s a luxury in this here wasteland,” she jerked her head skywards, “‘less you wanna head back up there and sip of yer fancy old cloud water!”

I let out an annoyed huff as I swooped away from the wagon, ‘Well at least she wasn’t threatening to blow my head off!’

A dark, fast-moving shape caught my eye as I tucked away the canteen, and I felt a little better as I spotted Red Mist dart up over the caravan. He scanned over the ponies below as I made to fly over to him, but he tucked his wings and dove down towards a spot near the front of the caravan. Curious, I followed and spied him come to a landing just before Dual Gauge.

“...back early,” I caught Gauge’s voice as I swooped in. He looked surprised, even tense as he eyed Mist, “What do you have to report?”

“That town...Burnout,” Mist began, his loose jaw not working for a moment, “they’re...they’re all dead! It...it was like a massacre, everypony butchered and...and shot dead!”

Had someone dropped a pin in that single moment, it would have rung like hell’s bells. Almost everypony within earshot came to a halt, heads turning and ears shooting erect. Ponies quickly began to mutter and worry, Gauge batted at one of his ears briefly.

“What?” Gauge asked. Even I wasn’t sure I’d heard Mist right. The entire town...the town we were going to had been...massacred? I’d seen insanity down here before—the mare cackled and threw her machete—but what Mist had just said required a double-take.

Mist took a breath and said it again: “They’re all dead! They were—were shot, butchered like, like griffons and their meat!” he jerked a wing back the way he’d come, “We...we got to the town, headed in, the others wanted a...a drink, wanted me to head back…” Mist trailed off, licking his lips. He looked so agitated, perturbed; his tail was snapping to and fro behind him with a mind of its own, his wings twitching, folding and unfolding at his sides, “But, my E.F.S. wasn’t getting any readings, anything from inside the town! I...” he trailed off.

Here was the pony who’d killed two raiders and didn’t flinch while I ran off and fainted. It sent tingles of ice down my spine that he was losing his cool, leaving me unable to keep my hooves still. If whatever he’d seen had spooked him this bad, what would it do to me?

Queries and cries had started to break out as ponies recovered from the initial shock. The caravan ground to a halt and more and more of the ponies within were gathering about to find out what was going on.

“So we went in,” Mist had started again, meeting Gauge’s worried eyes with his own stoic goggles, “And they were dead...all dead…”

‘All...dead?’ I stood frozen in place as what he was saying sunk in. An entire town butchered, massacred like meat? How could that—a shrill whistle cut through the rising chaos of noise around me, drawing my attention to an angry-looking Dual Gauge.

“All right, quiet! All of you!” He called out in the ensuing silence, getting almost everypony’s attention. A few directed their worried comments to him, but he waved them off and continued, “We don’t know anything for certain yet—”

“What the hell, I just told you—” Mist butted in, only for Gauge to wheel on him.

“Shut your fucking trap, birdbrain!” Gauge snarled back before addressing the caravan, “We’re not gonna sit here squabbling like a herd of inbred retards. Get back on track and let’s move, Burnout coulda been attacked and we need to get there pronto! If there’s been an attack, they’ll need our help and sitting around worrying like this isn’t gonna get us anywhere!” he let that sink in a moment, giving the ponies around him a glare, “So saddle up and get back on track, the lot of you!”

While a miasma of unease still choked the air, Gauge’s voice had shone through like a spotlight, giving everypony a direction to head in. Ponies retreated to their previous positions and soon enough the caravan was moving again, kicking up an ominous cloud of dust as the wagon wheels bumped over the coarse terrain.

“Mist!” I called out, flapping over to him. Yet Gauge put himself in Mist’s face before I could voice any of my worries.

“Next time you come here bringing info like that, you come to me, and me alone, you hear?” Gauge growled to Mist, “Unless you wanna cause a fucking scene like that again, you don’t go screaming bloody murder the second you touch down!”

“I wouldn’t call it screaming bloody mur—” Mist began.

“Whatever the hell you wanna call it, colt, be it a lack of discipline or a lack of tact, I don’t care,” Gauge cut him off, “So long as you’re in my caravan I don’t want you pulling shit like that again, got it?”

“Sure,” Mist spat back, “But you’re endangering your caravan by heading there, we need to change course! If some group of raiders or something is capable of wiping out a town—”

“I don’t wanna hear it, fall in line or fly away,” Gauge cut him off as he turned to fall in with the rest of the caravan.

* * * * *

Chewing my lip, I cast a wary look towards where Mist and Gauge were walking a few yards ahead of me. The caravan was moving at a faster pace now. Gauge wanted us to get to Burnout as soon as possible...but every time I cast my eyes to the bleary horizon I felt an icy weight in my guts dragging me down. We were going towards the supposed massacre? How did that make sense, the scouts could just come back...couldn’t they!?

Yet Gauge was adamant on the whole caravan continuing with all due haste; he didn’t want to split up the caravan and risk weakening us in case of an attack.

“They’re all dead!” Mist had practically ranted, tingles of fear running up my spine.

It took us a few more hours until Burnout appeared on the horizon. A couple more and Gauge had us set up a short trot from the town, atop a hill that gave a good view of the surrounding area. Gauge met with Mist and the other scouts, speaking with them in a hushed and inaudible tone. It didn’t take my ears, however, to spy the looks of terror and shock on the scouts’ faces.

I gave a jump as Strap passed by me with a snapped: “C’mon,” her previously growly tone built now on a foundation of unease. She wore a set of medical saddlebags and was flanked by the other ponies of the medical division, “We’re searching for survivors, get your flank in gear!”

‘We need to search for survivors,’ I repeated in my head, taking a breath to steady myself before following on my wings.

Strap’s team fell in behind a group of heavily armed defenders, all fully armored with weapons at the ready. Dynamite was at the front and after a nod from Strap, he and his defenders began to move towards the town.

A fog of dread smothered the party as we approached Burnout, the defenders taking the lead with weapons raised and ears erect. Despite the assessment that the town was devoid of life, Gauge looked to be taking no chances.

The silence only amplified my hammering heart as we approached the outskirts: burnt out shells and cracked concrete foundations of the buildings never rebuilt. Burnout proper appeared to be further into the burnt graveyard of times long past, a destroyed gate marking the entrance down a street.

As I scanned back and forth a wall of sorts appeared around the actual town. It was mostly mismatched slabs of wood and metal, enclosing a group of buildings further into the burnt-out graveyard. A few streams of smoke came off chimneys of some of the houses within the wall, but other than that there were no signs of life. It was quiet...too quiet.

But that wasn’t what made me stop and tuck my tail as we neared the entrance…

It was the heads…

The heads of four ponies had been mounted on tall spikes coated with the draining blood of the flesh they bore. Their eyes stared listlessly in their slack-jawed heads, watching the horizons dutifully for foes. Their faces glistened oddly and my gut lurched as I realized why: somepony had skinned their faces, leaving dark red muscle and stark white bone visible beneath. They grinned with manic pleasure with their lips removed.

My stomach rose up and my guts clenched as I gagged, somehow managing to keep from puking. I tore my gaze from the grisly sight, limbs starting to quake; forcing my eyes shut, I took controlled breaths, calming myself as best I could.

I’d—I’d seen muscle and bone before...peeled back during dissections in medical school. Every now and again a pony would donate their body to science...seeing heads with skin cut off was nothing new…

Except that I had a feeling the head’s owners hadn’t exactly been willing donors...and certainly not to science.

Before my heart could pound any louder, I cast my gaze ahead to the gate itself—or what was left of it. Three craters marred the ground where the gate had been. Those, combined with the shattered remains of a carriage and wall seemed to tell me that the attackers had blown their way in.

Strap called a halt once we got close enough and the defenders moved in first, weapons ready. After a moment, they called the all clear and the rest of us moved in.

A gasp escaped me at the sight of four headless bodies on the other side of the destroyed wall, shredded and torn as if some wild animals had been at them. Yet when I tore my gaze to the dirt, the only tracks around them were hoofprints. But how could ponies do something like that…did they really do stuff like that down here!? I shifted my gaze away, biting down hard on my lip to keep my thoughts in check. I focused on the dirt beneath me, concentrating on my breathing, casting all thought aside as I hovered onwards.

More bodies hung lifelessly from twisted lamp posts, their bellies opened and their entrails spilling out like gruesome skirts. It took effort to tear my eyes away, my brain having difficulty processing the images it was receiving. How could ponies do things like this!? It wasn’t possible! My worst nightmares were mere specks of fright compared to the demented display I was seeing down here!

My hooves shook as my wings folded uselessly to my sides, making me stumble to the ground. Closing my eyes and trying to breathe through my mouth, I gagged and retched, trying to keep down my lunch. A sob escaped me as I failed, quaking as my stomach emptied itself at my hooves.

‘I don’t want to be here! I don’t want to be here! I don’t want to be here!’ I cried out in the safe confines of my skull.

“Spread out! Search for survivors!” Gauge growled out orders, drawing my teary-eyed attention as he entered the town with a second group. Even he looked shocked at the carnage about, stepping lightly with his revolvers pointed at the dirt before him, “And for Celestia’s sake, somepony cut those bodies down!”

“You’re wasting your time, there’s nopony left alive here!” Mist growled, on Gauge’s heels as the older pony moved forwards, “I went over this place twice with my E.F.S., my Eyes Forward—”

“I know what your goddess-damned E.F.S. is, colt,” Gauge snapped back, “and I don’t care! There’s gotta be survivors! There always are!”

“And I’m telling you we need to bug the fuck out before whoever did this comes back!” Mist snarled back. Their path took them around a corner and their voices faded as I stayed behind. The stench of blood and bowels, underlain with the hint of rotting bodies clogged my nostrils, making me choke for fresh air.

“Hey, you heard him!” Strap yelled at me as she headed out, “quit standing around, find survivors!” she, too disappeared as the medical ponies hoofed it in different directions.

“Search—” I choked on my words, dry heaving and spitting into the settled contents of my stomach, ‘Search for survivors,’ I repeated in my head, not confident enough to speak.

Forcing my wings from my sides, I hopped to a hover and flapped forwards, shivering as I went. There were so many bodies scattered about the ruins of the town. Some close together, others alone. There were no cries for help, no pleas for mercy, no inequine screams of pain, nothing to tell me where to start.

Just silence. A horrible, horrible silence.

As Mist had said, they were all probably dead. Could his E.F.S. be wrong? Could ponies hide from it somehow? I didn’t know, but there weren’t any signs of life as I flapped timidly through Burnout. Throughout the town I saw signs of struggle and battle. Buildings were riddled with bullet holes, windows and doors were smashed in, empty casings were strewn about, and here and there I could make out a blood trail in the dirt.

Most of them led to bodies...like that of a buck, but I could barely tell with his genitals in the mutilated mess that they were. A gaping hole had been rent in his throat, looking like a bite from some rabid beast, and his intestines had been ripped out and wrapped around him like some sick form of rope. More bites covered his body, some mere teeth marks, others with chunks of missing flesh. It was enough to make me gag and retch, but I’d already emptied my stomach so I only brought up bitter bile.

“Raiders,” I heard one pony mutter as he prodded at a corpse, “Raiders did this.”

“No, no,” a mare beside him pointed out, “Look: ghouls, dead ghouls. More than Burnout had. If there were raiders, then where are their bodies? All I see are townsfolk and ghouls! None of these are raiders! I know raiders, Raider’s got a look, got a smell! And there’s none here!”

‘Ghouls?’ I followed where her hoof had pointed. There were a few bodies, one of them heavily rotten. What did she mean by ghoul? Was it some ground-pony slang? It hardly mattered, I was looking for survivors and there were none here.

“I don’t know! I don’t fucking know!” the buck seemed on edge, chewing at the bit of his battle saddle, “But ghouls...ghouls don’t do this kinda shit! They don’t! They just eat…” the rest of their conversation faded as they moved out of my hearing.

The next pony was a mare. Unlike the first, she had what appeared to be a bullet wound in her forehead. Morbidly, I wondered if that had been a mercy. Somepony, or something had opened up her back in several large gashes, leaving gaping stripes of muscle and bone visible in her hide. Eyeing her corpse with a sick sense of morbid curiosity I noted that her tail had been removed at the base...and suddenly I knew where a part of the first buck’s sexual organs had gone.

Empty stomach or not, I still managed to puke as I tore my vision away, shivering at the grisly sight. Wanting to get away, I leapt up and swooped over to a building, shoving my way inside. A sigh escaped me when I didn’t spot any bodies. It was quiet until I settled down and the floorboards creaked under me, putting me on edge.

I stood still, listening for a moment, taking the chance to settle my nerves. Mist had said everyone was dead, and I didn’t think I was smarter than his E.F.S., but the eeriness made me hesitate. Trotting forwards after a while, I glanced about as my eyes adjusted. This place seemed to be somepony’s home, with an overturned table and smashed furniture a testament to attack. I stepped into another room, spotting a bed and—I froze as my hoof landed in something wet, copper filling my nostrils.

I froze up, feeling my heart rate rise at the smell of blood. My ears twitched involuntarily, searching, trying to find a source of danger as my eyes slowly dropped to the floor.

It was a small puddle, half coagulated and black. My eyes traced slowly towards the source, shifting left across the floor to a foal’s crib and—oh, no! No, no, no! I stumbled backwards, my butt hitting a chair as my eyes locked onto the grisly remains between the bars of the crib. Hitting the ground with a cry, I felt my breath coming in uncontrollable gasps, hooves quaking as I scooted back until I hit the wall and couldn’t retreat any further.

The bloody mess of flesh and bone was too small to be anything else...

I bolted out the door, sobbing, shaking, gagging, tail tucked and ears flat. Tripping with a startled cry, I ate dirt as I stumbled down the steps, throwing my legs under me as I spat dirt and gulped down air. Turning one way there were bodies hanging with innards splayed out beneath them, the next and it was a necrophiliac’s wet dream come true, another and there were the skinned heads of ponies staring slack-jawed into my soul. All I knew was horror, all I could do was scream as everywhere I looked I saw a living nightmare of corpses.

I cried out when one of them grabbed me, limbs black and bruised-looking, eyes wide and buggy. My hooves dug into the dirt as I tried to pull away, scrambling uselessly as the corpse held me in place, tears running rivers down my face as my throat grew scratchy from my cries.

“Skies!” the corpse yelled in my face, and suddenly it was no longer a corpse. The bruised body was armor, the eyes goggles, the corpulent red lips a familiar snout, “Skies!” Red Mist yelled in my face, holding me forcibly down to keep me from bolting or bucking him, “It’s me! It’s me!”

Not even he could hold me back as I threw my forehooves around him, body giving out as I sobbed into his armored neck.

“P-please, g-g-get me o-o-out of h-here!” I barely managed to wail into him, leaking eyes squeezed shut as I banished the world to darkness. Anything else I may have tried to say turned into a hiccupping mess of sobs and cries as I held onto him for dear life.

“Fuck me,” he muttered, the words barely registering in my head, “Here, hold on,” he grumbled as I felt him shift me onto his back. My hind legs quivered as I felt myself laid across him, hooves locked tight against his armored neck. His wings came up on either side of me, balancing me where I was.

I kept my eyes closed through it all, crying and snotting all over his armor as I felt him canter off. Other voices rang through my ears, but I didn’t understand them, I didn’t want to understand anything but my darkness and my tears as Mist carried me off to places unknown.

* * * * *

I jerked awake with a start, heart throttling in my chest. Gulping down air, I felt my sleeping bag around me, coated in a fine film of sweat again, but there was something else.

Something small and soft lay across my sleeping bag, nestled between my hind legs. When I lifted my eyes I met the curious pink pair of a familiar filly, spotting Kiddo staring back at me with that wild look of hers. She lay curled up in a red-coated ball, forehooves thrown over my right hind leg and head held high and erect as she watched me.

I just stared at her for a time, heart rate settling as my breathing returned to normal. Eventually she settled her head back atop her forehooves, still staring at me.

“Um...hi?” it came out more a question than an actual greeting. One of the fiery filly’s ears flicked back, but she remained otherwise still. After a few more moments her eyes closed and she went back to dozing. Calmer now, I took a moment to look at my surroundings.

I was back in the camp, amid the ring of wagons. Various pullers and defenders were scattered about, mostly outside the ring. Ice filled my innards and bile touched my tongue when I spied Burnout between two of the wagons. Visions of the bodies began to fill my head, but I let out a low moan and slammed my eyes closed. I grit my teeth as I tried to think of other things and keep my living nightmares at bay.

“Mommy doesn’t like you,” the juvenile voice helped drag me away from my spiraling thoughts. Opening my eyes and lifting my head, I spied Kiddo staring at me again, “I like you,” she patted my leg through the fabrics of my sleeping bag, “you have a nice blanket.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that, mouth hanging ajar in what was probably an idiotic look before I managed a scratchy, “Thanks,” as way of reply. The word nearly made me choke and I suddenly realized how thirsty I was.

My saddlebags were off to my left. Kiddo remained where she lay as I extricated myself from my sleeping bag and trotted the few steps to them. I didn’t really mind the gritty feel of the earth, it helped distract me as I dug my canteen free and chugged away my thirst. A little bit spilled down my chin as my hooves quivered beneath me.

My preening kit drew my eye as I tucked the canteen away, my wings itching at my sides. Pulling it out, I settled at the head of the sleeping bag as I started to preen. Kiddo watched in silence, eyes wide, ears erect, and mouth flat as she took in everything around her like a sponge.

Preening helped me relax as I picked and cleaned at my feathers, “So…” I began, clearing my throat as I tried to start up a conversation, “what...what do you do for fun around here?” I asked.

Kiddo stared back at me in wide-eyed silence.

“Do…” I trailed off, searching my mind for something to converse about, “you know what you want as a cutie mark?” I tried again.

Kiddo stared back at me in wide-eyed silence.

I frowned, “You don’t talk much, do you?” I observed.

One of her ears flicked back and Kiddo stared back at me in wide-eyed silence.

“Huh,” I said.

I had mostly finished preening when I heard a faint sound on the wind. I stopped working on my wings, ears swiveling about as I listened. Kiddo perked up, head darting back and forth as her little legs grew tense. It sounded almost like a voice...coming from Burnout.

Frowning, I trained my ears in the direction of the town. The breeze carried hushed whispers of dialogue to my ears, too faint to understand. The tone was solemn, and it was distinctly a single voice, a gruff sounding one that reminded me of a particular unicorn stallion.

Something drew me to the voice, some sort of calling that got me to my hooves and pulled me towards Burnout. I chewed at my lip with worry as I passed through the wagons, fearing the terrors I might encounter all over again. A few of the ponies gave me weary glances as I left the camp, letting the gritty feel of the earth distract me.

Here and there bloodstains and bits of gore and waste dotted the ground, but the bodies in burnout were gone. The voice, very distinctly Gauge’s now, drew me towards the center of town: an intersection of gravel that had once, long ago, been asphalt.

I hesitated with a brief gasp; here were the bodies. They’d been piled in a great pyre of broken furniture and kindling, and most of the caravaners surrounded it in a loose semi-circle.

“...and many of us have called this place home, or sanctuary before,” Gauge was saying, standing by the pyre. Dynamite stood beside him, looking grim with tight lips and a faraway stare, “The ponies who lived here were good, some of them family to us…”

Spotting Mist, stood at the back and off to one side with his helmet tucked under one wing, I made my way quietly over to him. He spared me a careful glance when I stood beside him, but said nothing as Gauge continued with his eulogy.

“They were taken from this world, taken from us far too soon,” Gauge kept on, eyes gracing the crowded caravaners before him, pausing a moment or two here and there as if adding reinforcement, “They were left defiled and shamed by creatures, animals who do not deserve to be called ponies. But let us not remember them like this, let us remember them as they were in life. Let us take the remains of our abused families and friends and grant them the respect and the love that they deserve, cleanse the brutality that they were shown so that they may rest in peace in the beautiful afterlife that awaits them.”

He turned and gave a final nod to Dynamite, who turned to the pyre, dropped his horn, and lit it with a brief burst of magical flame. Both he and Gauge stepped back with the rest of us, watching as the bodies of burnout began to burn.

My tears reflected in the firelight.

* * * * *

Footnote: Level up!

Skills increased:

+Speech

Perk attained: Intense Training – The hardships you’ve endured in the wasteland have toughened you up! You gain a +1 to your Endurance attribute (5)!

Author's Note

Things begin to speed up as we near the end of the Caravan arc...

07 - This is the Wasteland

CHAPTER SEVEN:

This is the Wasteland

“And what's that crunchin' sound beneath yer hooves? Maybe it's the bones of ponies that didn't make it out alive!”

“He shouldn’t have done that,” Mist growled, half to himself I was sure as he cast his gaze off behind us.

I glanced back as well as I flapped just above him. The great plume of smoke coming off the Burnout Pyre snaked its way ever up towards the daunting grey of the sky. A cramp ran through my belly and bile touched my tongue at the memory of what I’d witnessed. Turning back around, I massaged my belly with a hoof.

“It...it was respectful,” I said, soothing the cramp away, “to the dead...and we couldn’t bury them, there-there were—” heads mounted on spikes, devoid of skin...bodies strewn about, mutilated and tortured, “there were just too many,” I said, clenching my eyes shut to keep my mind off the dark path it was taking. I just needed to not think about it, keep my mind on other things. Everything was going to be okay!

“Respectful and sanitary as it may be, that plume of smoke is going to be a signal to everyone within fifty miles,” Mist didn’t sound convinced as he turned away from the smoke, “It’ll be a warning to anypony else, sure. What I’m worried about is it being a warning to whoever the fuck did...that...”

There was a break in his voice—ever subtle—at the end there. When I glanced over at him he remained unreadable in his armor, jaw set in a scowl.

“Because if they see that and decide to investigate…” Mist glanced back again, “We’re leaving some perfect tracks for them to follow,” his goggles turned up to me, “You still have that taser?”

“Yeah,” I replied, “but the batteries are dead, I-I brought the charger with me, but—”

“They’re rechargeable?” Mist cut in, tail coming up and tapping a spot on the back of his power armor, “This armor’s got an auxiliary charging port, here…” he held out a wing, and after some digging I hoofed over the two batteries, “I’ll have to trickle charge them to keep the draw on my armor down, but I should probably have them ready in a few hours.

“In the meantime, keep your eyes peeled and your wings ready.”

“A-are you sure it’s a good idea to leave the caravan, though?” I asked, keeping my voice down. We were at the tail end of the caravan and out of earshot of anyone who might be listening, but I still felt it wouldn’t be good for our already paltry relationship to be heard talking about desertion, “They’ve got guns, armor, supplies! They can protect us!”

“From a group that destroyed an entire fucking town!?” Mist retorted with a little more venom than he needed, “No, we’ll be better off high and away, in smaller numbers where we’ll be unnoticed and harder to shoot down.”

“But where will we go!? What will we do!?” I countered, gesturing forwards to the caravan with a hoof, “They’ve got food, water! They know where they’re going, for sky’s sakes! Without them we’ll be lost down here!”

“I don’t know!” Mist snapped back, tail giving a sudden snap that made me shy away with lip biting worry. Mist’s new grouchy self was coming back in full again, “But at least we won’t be meat for the fucking grinder when the time comes.”

“Pegasus!” a voice called from ahead, a unicorn defender getting both our immediate attentions, “Buck,” he specified under both our gazes.

“Red Mist,” Mist growled, “What?”

“Dynamite wants you, scouting mission.”

“‘Course he fucking does,” Mist grumbled, gesturing for the unicorn to lead on and leaving me all on my own again.

* * * * *

My hooves were under me, trotting on dirt that poofed under my hooves like clouds might. The ground was even soft like a cloud, a good bit nicer than the usual dry and crumbly soil. Maybe I was just getting used to walking on it.

“Skies!” a familiar voice called from behind me.

Confusion struck me as I paused mid-step turning and not quite believing my eyes.

“Cloud Poker!?” I exclaimed as he landed in front of me, “Wh-what are you doing down here?”

“I’ve come for our child, Skies,” he said simply, standing there, staring at me.

“What?” I asked, not sure what he meant. He’d wanted me to abort our child, had he suddenly had a change of heart? No, that...something was wrong! “B-but it’s not even coming...not for at least another ten months.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, pointing with a hoof.

A sudden chill made its way down my hind legs, a pain coming from just beneath my tail. That wasn’t right, something was wrong, something was terribly, terribly wrong! Copper saturated my nostrils as I turned about frantically, spying a small pool of blood where I’d been standing.

Black and half-coagulated.

“No! No, no, no!” I gasped, a vice crushing my heart, making it harder to breath. Yet the blood flow didn’t end, the pain in my vulva making me cringe and wince.

“Help!” I gasped out, voice choked and weak, hardly above a wheeze, “Somepony help me!”

Just then I felt something slip out from inside me, my womb cramping up and bringing me to my knees as I gave birth to something...to a great many, small things. Whimpering, I forced myself to look back, to see what was happening.

Cloud Poker cradled the butchered chunks of a foal, blood dripping down from where he held it to his breast, pooling around his hooves. He smiled as he looked up to me, our eyes meeting and his lips parting.

“Our child is here...

A cry escaped me as I thrashed awake, darkness all around and a salty wetness coating the inside of my sleeping bag. It took a heart-thundering moment for me to realize where I was, and a quick feel of my belly reminded me when I was.

It had just been a dream...a very bad dream.

But that didn’t stop it from bringing tears to my eyes and choking my throat with sorrow.

The town, the bodies, the blood, the crib...I curled up and shivered as the images trickled like acid into my brain. How could anypony do things like that!? Things were shitty down here, that was for sure, but I didn’t see how that could possibly justify the massacre of Burnout. How could anypony butcher their fellow equine like that!?

I wiped my eyes as a soft sob escaped me, then sat up in my sleeping bag and looked about. All was dark, Gauge had forbidden a fire tonight, but I could still just make out a few nearby wagons in the darkness.

But no Red Mist.

Slipping from my sleeping bag, I squinted into the darkness for a familiar buck. I didn’t want to be alone with my newfound demons right now. I needed company, someone to talk to.

‘He might not even be awake right now,’ I thought, biting my lip as another twinge rolled through my womb. Even so, I still took to the air, it would help keep my mind away from...certain areas of thought I didn’t wish to visit right now.

Moving towards the outer ring of the wagons, I flew slow and low, squinting into the darkness. Soon enough, the shadowed form of an equine came into view.

“High Brass?” I asked, swooping in.

The shadow shifted and I put a face to it as the mare spoke, “Fuck off, buzzard nag.”

Break Action.

I felt my lip curl, my body tensing at the sound of the mare’s voice. Her poisoned words from the other night still rang in my ears. How she’d gotten the idea of me, me being some sort of villain out to hurt them really got under my skin. I’d been nothing but good to the caravan and what’d I get from this bitch? A shotgun to the face.

Flapping, I made to move on, but a twinge in my belly reminded me what Brass had said about the naggy mare. She was a ‘good pony’ according to him, and had wanted and lost a foal twice. It didn’t change the fact that I didn’t like the mare, but her plight did have some personal sting to it...and as much as I didn’t want to, I still turned about and addressed the vanilla mare.

“I’m sorry you lost your foals the way you did,” I said, trying my best to inject some sincerity into my words.

“What?” she snapped back.

“High...I heard about how you...lost your foals,” I said, deciding to keep High Brass’ name out of it, “A slip and a miscarriage…” whether it was from rage or something else, her silence prompted me to go on, “I...just...I’m sorry for your loss...I’d be devastated if that ever happened to me,” I finished, trailing off as I ran out of things to say.

“What, is this the part where we’re supposed to hug and have a good cry over a couple of fancy colt snack cakes!?” she growled after a few moments, a forehoof waved me away in the darkness, “Go bother somepony else!”

“I was just trying to be nice,” I grumbled.

“Then go be nice to somepony else!”

With a sigh I was on my way again. At least I’d tried.

* * * * *

It took me a few more shadows, but eventually I did manage to find Brass leaning back against one of the wagons. He jumped when I called out his name.

“Oh, hey, Skies,” he greeted with a heavy yawn, “What brings you around?”

“I...well I couldn’t sleep,” I explained, “...after what happened.”

“Burnout…” I winced at the name, hearing worry in his own voice as well.

“Y-yeah,” My voice only shook a little before I cleared my throat, “R-Red Mist is still out scouting...I think,” I continued, “I just didn’t want to be alone, wanted somepony to talk to.”

“Well sure, I could use the company,” he replied, patting the dirt beside him, “A bit of chit-chat always makes shift go by faster.”

In spite of my distaste of dirt, I still settled down next to him...it wasn’t so bad, “I guess I’m lucky I caught you on watch again.”

“More like I’m unlucky I caught the watch,” Brass grumbled, though his annoyance wasn’t directed towards me. After a moment he elaborated, “Dynamite has most of us doing doubles by order of dad himself,” he gave a soft huff, “But as much as I love to complain, it’s probably for the best, no telling what’s out there after the attack on Burnout.”

The resurgence of the town in our conversation immediately removed all the cheer I’d rallied upon finding my only unicorn friend. I cringed as the things I’d seen began to resurface: flayed heads, mutilated corpses, a butchered—

“You, uh, okay?” Brass asked with audible caution, drawing me thankfully from my thoughts, “I heard about what happened in the house—”

“Please, let’s talk about something else!” I interjected, biting down on my lip to keep my attention elsewhere, “I...I mean, how-how could anypony do something l-like that?” I stared at my hooves in the darkness; dawn was coming and I could see them shaking before me in the growing light.

“Because they just ain’t right in the head,” Brass replied like it was a simple reality. Just another fact of life...but that couldn’t be!

“B-but that doesn’t m-make any sense!” I snapped back, “Wh-what could possibly drive a-a pony to b-butcher a...a...” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the sentence.

“Foal?” he finished for me.

“Yes!?” I cried.

“Because this is the wasteland,” High Brass answered, “Look, I don’t know what to tell you! Ponies...we...some of us can be very messed up individuals. I don’t know what it is, how it happens, but some ponies just snap, go insane!” he continued, “And it’s our job as the sane ones to bring the insane to justice...oftentimes with bullets.”

I still couldn’t quite wrap my head around it. Was it just that stupidly simple? Could ponies just be that capable of evil? My lips parted to ask, but was interrupted by a soft pop as a brilliant white light exploded overhead.

“What the—” Brass murmured as we shielded our eyes against the brightening heavens.

A flare drifted down towards the camp.

In the new light I could see other ponies reacting similarly throughout the camp, confusion spreading like wildfire. Who had lit off the flare? For what reason? An accident? On purpose? What did it mean?

“Brass?” I asked, turning to him.

“I have no idea,” Brass replied, frowning as he turned his gaze to the immediate area, “What friggin’ idiot lit that thing off!?” he called, “Gauge said no light tonight!”

“What?” an earth pony puller muttered as he rubbed his eyes.

“Not me!” a unicorn defender on patrol called back.

“No clue!” another defender sounded off.

“Does somepony want to tell me what the hell’s going on here!?” Gauge growled from somewhere else in the camp, grouchy voice rising above the growing hubbub of confusion.

A sudden nagging sensation grew in the back of my skull as I squinted up at the falling flare. It was like a lost name on the tip of my tongue, there but just out of reach. What dots was my brain trying to tell me to connect? What was it about somepony shooting off a flaregun…

Click.

“Th-those raiders…” I murmured.

“What?” Brass turned to me.

“Those raiders at the church...they had a flaregun on them,” I repeated, my stomach twisting itself into a worried knot, “Wh-what if they were there to signal an attack!? Wh-what if th-those three...” I gulped, “...weren’t the only ones?”

I saw it click for High Brass too, in the same moment that a sudden rumbling made my ears twitch. It was a sound like growing thunder, one that I’d never quite been able to hear up in the soft clouds but one that I recognised all the same: the pounding of a great many hooves across the ground.

“We’re under attack!” Brass yelled out, readying his shotgun with his magic.

Then darkness fell as the flare died, casting us all under a blanket of blindness. I blinked against the pitch black, wings bringing me to a short hover as I tried to get my eyes to adjust.

“Who called that? Who said we’re under attack!?” a startled voice in the darkness.

“Someone get the light back!” a mare cried out.

“What’s attacking!? What’re we under attack from!?”

“What’s that rumbling!? What’s that noise!?”

“It’s a stampede! A stampede!” somepony cried out in fear.

Another flare shot up into the sky, showering the area around us with light. At first I brought up a hoof to shield my eyes again, turning midair towards where the sound of rumbling hooves was coming from. But my hoof fell away with my jaw as I stared at just what was rushing at us. I didn’t believe what I was seeing, I couldn’t. There was simply no way; they were things of fiction, of nightmares, of B movies and half-baked radio shows.

Zombies.

Equine things with rotting flesh and gnashing teeth, rushing at us, a horde of the living dead! It came as no surprise that I peed a little bit.

Gauge’s voice called above the rising chaos, “Lights on, everypony! Lanterns up! Get the spotlights on them and open fire!”

I could better see the rushing zombies as lights flashed on around the camp, both magic and spark-battery powered. The vicious things snapped and snarled as they galloped full tilt towards us, a veritable horde of them!

“Open up!”

“Shoot! Shoot!”

“Fire!”

I could hardly hear my own cries of terror as gunfire erupted around me, forcing me to cram my hooves into my ears. The zombies began to fall as the barrage of gunfire tore into their ranks, but the creatures began to spread out, not faltering unless a round found its way into one of their rotten bodies.

“Hide!” Brass yelled at me, shotgun at the ready, “Find someplace to hide!”

‘Hide?’ my brain was overheating as it tried to process too many new things at once, ‘Hide!’ I leapt up, scrambling atop one of the wagons and peeking out over the top. The zombies were closing in, snarling and snapping their desiccated jaws as they rushed us. Brass opened up with his own deafening reports once they were more within his weapon’s range.

But as effective as the barrage of gunfire was, the horde’s rush couldn’t be halted.

And then they were on us.

Screams of terror and pain began to erupt all around me, intermixing like some sick form of music with the snarls of the undead and the piercing reports of weapons. I could do nothing but squeeze my eyes and ears shut, whispering prayers to the winds for it to end. First Burnout sacked and slaughtered, now an attack by these...these things! Too much was happening too fast...and not for the first time my wings itched to fly higher and higher until I’d breached the clouds.

Another cry escaped me as something slammed into the carriage, nearly sending me flying to the dirt. My eyes shot open as I threw out my hooves and wings for stability, quaking as I peeked over the side. My heart stopped for a flicker of time as I saw a small group of the rancid monsters converging around Brass.

He ducked, juked, and dodged back and forth, agility barely keeping him from their teeth as he fired off his weapon as fast as he could get targets. Each rocketing blast of High Brass’ shotgun was deafening, forcing me to cram my ears as flat against my skull as I could. I never imagined guns could be that loud!

My ears whined at me to turn down the volume as zombie after zombie dropped to his weapon…until one managed to get through.

The snarling, snapping creature lunged, falling on him in a slobbering, rotting mess of gnashing teeth and wild eyes. He cried out as it latched onto his throat, angling the shotgun up and magically pulling the trigger.

A blast of gore erupted from the zombie’s back, shattered fragments of white bone and thick, blackish goop contrasting sharply in the morning light. The creature jerked back as everything below the exit wound went limp, its spine severed. Howling with pain and rage, the creature bit down again as Brass racked his shotgun, levering it up and pressing it underneath the zombie’s head.

Click, whimpered the weapon.

Brass’ eyes went wide as the zombie bit at his throat, snarling as it wrenched its head from side to side, finally tearing out a good sized chunk of his neck. He cried out, blood gushing from the wound as he smashed the empty weapon against the zombie’s skull, sending both weapon and monster tumbling away.

He thrashed, pressing a hoof to his neck as he tried to crawl back.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was up and running up to him with a cry of: “Hold on!” I bit down on his mane, dragging him back away and leaving a trail of blood. He tried to gurgle something at me, whimpering as his eyes rolled wildly in their sockets.

‘Gushing blood, not good...’ I flinched at an exceptionally close blast of gunfire, ‘It’s not spurting, didn’t nick an artery! I can stop it! I can save him!’

Getting to the wagon I’d been hiding on, I set him up against it, sitting him up to keep the wound above heart level. He gurgled pleadingly at me, blood coming up past his lips as I threw my saddlebags on the ground, tearing through them for a healing potion.

“Drink!” I ordered, holding a vial of the purple liquid to his lips. His magic weakly gripped the vial, chugging it back. He let loose a cough, a splatter of blood and potion splashing my breast. I winced at the warm liquid clinging to my fur, wishful for some personal protection equipment.

The cough and the traces of purple potion dribbling out with the rest of the blood flow weren’t good. If the zombie had damaged his esophagus enough that blood was getting into it, he could drown in his own blood!

“Hold still!” I said, retrieving and pressing a stack of dressings against his neck. They quickly turned red so I plastered more on, “I need you to help me apply pressure to the wound, can you do that?” He whimpered something at me, wincing as trying to speak pulled at the wound, “Here! Hold here!” I grabbed one of his hooves, pressing it to the bandages. But the second I released, he jabbed it out behind me, trying to say something.

“What!? What are you—” I looked back over my withers as the half-paralyzed zombie bit down on my tail, yanking hard. A cry escaped me as I collapsed backwards, the monster throwing itself on top of me, teeth gnashing at my face.

Screaming and gagging at the monster’s rancid breath, I shoved and kicked it off me, scooting back as fast as I could. But the zombie recovered quickly and was soon dragging itself inevitably towards me again.

I jumped as something bumped off my rump, but my eyes lit up as I saw what it was: Brass’ shotgun. Fumbling, I grabbed it in my hooves and shoved the mouthgrip into my maw. A small rope bracelet was attached to the sliding part—the pump!—and I slid my hoof in and racked it back and forth, shaking as I pointed it at the zombie and tongued the trigger.

Click.

“Mmph!” I yelled into the weapon, pumping it again, ‘No! No! Please work!’

Click.

I pumped it a third time, but it was clearly out of ammo...and the zombie was still dragging its way towards me on its forelegs, rotting flesh rubbing off its hindquarters as they dragged against the ground. Its dull eyes seemed to glower with animalistic carnage, wishing for nothing less than my utter annihilation.

My wings refused to open, terror locking them against my sides as I scooted backwards on my butt, aiming the shotgun at it in an attempt to ward it off. From the way the creature kept advancing, the effort was futile.

“P-please! No!” I cried at the creature, “Help! Please! Somepony help me!” I screamed, rolling onto my belly and getting to my hooves, “Help me—” my cry turned to a scream as another zombie pounced on me, fetid breath blowing across the back of my head as its rotten teeth bit and tore at my mane, its weight knocking me back down.

There was a loud report of a rifle and with a sharp splat the zombie on top of me went limp with a shudder. Its rotten corpse pinned me down, something with a feeling of wet goop filling my mane and running down the back of my head. I shivered and retched at the sensation.

Another scream left my lips as I thrashed and tore at the ground with my hooves, trying to get out from under the dead weight.

A low growl that somehow managed to roar above the sounds of battle made me freeze, a warm puddle of something I was certain wasn’t blood pooling around my hindquarters.

The crippled zombie was still coming.

My throat was sore as I cried out again, doubling my vain efforts to escape from beneath the slain zombie. The crippled one was advancing, eyes set only on me.

I cried out again, begging for help...and my cries were answered as something bounced off my forehead, hitting the dirt and rolling in a half-circle as it came to a rest at my breast. It took my terror-addled mind a few seconds to realize just what it was: a shotgun shell. My gaze turned quickly to where High Brass was laying, my stomach twisting as I saw him slump back against the wagon, unconscious.

Practically juggling the shell and shotgun, I tried to fit one into the other before it was too late. The zombie pulled itself closer.

There was a big slot on the bottom. The shell went in there, right? Cramming it in, I slid my hoof into the pump-bracelet and pulled back, just like in the movies.

The pump refused to move.

I cried out through the mouthgrip. What had I done wrong!? Why wasn’t it working!? I pulled harder, rattling the weapon, maybe it was jammed? How did I unjam it?

The zombie was five yards away.

I let out a whimper, kicking my hind legs in a vain effort to throw the dead zombie off my back.

Growling with untamed fury, the zombie pulled itself another yard. Four more to go.

Maybe the safety got engaged, did that stop it? I quickly found a little stud by the mouth grip, biting down on it and trying to rack it again. Still nothing.

The zombie was three yards away now.

I reversed the safety and tried again, making me cry out with frustration as the pump refused to move.

Two yards.

“Come on!” I whined at the gun, looking over it again. There was another stud I hadn’t noticed by the trigger, maybe that was the safety? I bit it, pulling back on the pump once more.

Never before had I ever felt something as absolutely glorious as the pump sliding back with a loud, satisfying ‘clack’. Had the feeling lasted longer and not been in such a hellish situation, it would’ve been better than sex.

One yard.

I slammed the pump back, lifting the weapon in my mouth. The zombie’s teeth gnashed down on the end of the barrel, tearing and pulling on the hard metal as I found the trigger with my tongue, pulling it for all I was worth.

BOOM! The weapon roared with a sound akin to thunder.

All my hearing went out the window as the gun threw my head back violently, an obscene amount of gore punching out the back of the zombie’s head as the weapon was torn from my mouth. It clattered to the dirt as the now-dead zombie followed it, impacting wetly as my ringing hearing returned moments later.

A pool of partly-coagulated blood, thick and almost black, gushed out around the dead zombie’s head, flowing freely from its gaping maw. Its dead eyes stared sullenly into the soil, finally, finally leaving me.

A cry of joy escaped me, a loud and glorious half-laugh, half-sob choking its way out of me as warm tears blurred my vision. The sounds of combat were dying down, more cries of pain and suffering ringing above those of gunshots and growls of the undead. A wave of fatigue began to sink into my limbs, making me want to lay my head down on the soft, soft dirt and take a nap.

But the shotgun in front of me reminded me I wasn’t done yet.

Using my brain, I twisted about under the zombie’s corpse, using the weapon as a lever to pry the body off me. At first it didn’t want to give, but after a glance towards where Brass lay, I let out a growl and threw my all into it.

The zombie rolled off with a soft thud and I was on my hooves in an instant.

The dressing I’d been using to stem the bleeding from Brass’ neck had fallen away with nopony to hold it. I dug out more from my discarded saddlebags, pressing them to the wound, but it appeared the bleeding had stopped.

The bleeding had stopped.

“Oh, no! Blue above, please no!” I found the mandibular artery under his jaw, watching his chest for signs of breathing.

But he had no pulse.

And he wasn’t breathing.

“No, no, no!” I said, shifting over, tearing open his vest, and beginning compressions. ‘One, two, three…’ I counted in my head, my own heart rate rising. The dressing fell away again, blood trickling from the wound as I tried to keep it circulating, “Damnit!” I snarled, pressing the dressing back in place. My hooves quivered as I secured it quickly with a bandage and began CPR again. I felt his ribs crack under my hooves as I counted up to thirty again.

I used a wing to pull back one eyelid as I started doing rescue breaths. The pupil was unnaturally dilated—that wasn’t good—and from smell alone I knew he’d soiled himself.

The world was growing blurry as I shifted back to compressions, not trying to think about the low percentage of times that CPR worked. It had to this time! It had to!

“Come. On!” I growled between compressions, “Don’t. You. Die. On. Me! Don’t. You. Fucking. Die!”

Then it was back to rescue breaths.

Hooves rushing over dirt heralded the approach of another pony. I barely looked up, spotting the blurred form of Leather Strap with goggles and mask in place, medical saddlebags at her sides. She dropped her horn to Brass’ body, evaluating him with her magic.

I shifted back to compressions, wiping my tears with a wing.

“H-help!” I didn’t stop pumping his chest, he didn’t stop playing dead, “H-he—”

“He’s dead,” Strap’s harsh voice cut me like a scalpel as she straightened up. I froze, lifting my eyes to hers, hooves planted firmly on Brass’ unmoving chest.

“No! No, no, no!” I wailed, trembling like a feather in a storm, “You...he, he c-can’t! No, he can’t be! He—”

Her horn flashed as she gave me a telekinetic slap across the face, making me choke back on my words. With another burst of magic she dragged me across his corpse, shoving her face into mine.

“Shut-up!” she snapped, holding us snout to snout with her magic, “Saying ‘no’ never solved anything! He’s dead because you weren’t fast enough and now you gotta live with that!” A choked sob escaped me as I tried to pull away, but she held me still over his still-warm body. “Now quit your crying, grab your supplies, and get your dock moving! We’ve got ponies to save!”

“But he’s—”

Strap silenced me with another sharp slap, this one with her hoof, “You. Can’t. Help. Him!” she drilled into me as I touched a hoof to my stinging cheek, “Get ahold of your-fucking-self or give me your medical supplies! High Brass is dead, you can’t help him! Other ponies are dying, you can help them!” she tore me to my hooves with her magic, “Get your flank in gear!” she shoved me a few steps back from Brass’ body, “Move! Prove to me that you’re the doctor you say you are!”

I wasn’t really a doctor, but I was suddenly moving not of my own accord, I was on autopilot, I was reacting, training took over. My ears hurt from the cries and my nose wrinkled at the stench of blood and waste.

There was a surgical mask on my face, but I didn’t remember putting it there. I was side by side with another crying mare as a buck thrashed and screamed beneath the dressings I secured over his bloody wounds.

A needle to a saline drip went in once I found the right vein, and Strap reassured the pony they were going to make it. After all, she’d never waste good saline on a pony she doubted would make it.

I provided support as one of Strap’s better trained ponies set a broken foreleg with magic. I wasn’t sure whether or not it was ironic that he had a bonesaw as a cutie mark.

A mare kept screaming for her mother as blood pumped out of her shredded hind legs. Eventually Strap swore and touched her horn to the patient’s head, putting her to sleep to let her die quietly.

An old buck whimpered and cried like a little colt as I held his intestines in place with a dressing. After a wave of her horn, Strap gave him a sip of healing potion, secured his guts atop his open belly, and had him carted away on an improvised stretcher.

“Will he live?” I dared to ask.

“Don’t know,” Strap replied, already moving to the next patient. All her previous hatred of me was absent, though I attributed that more to fatigue than any sudden change of heart.

I took a quick moment to collect myself, taking a few gulps from my canteen. The cries of the wounded had lessened—through the mercies of medicine or death—and already the caravan had nearly recovered.

“C’mon, get ‘em up in the wagons. We need to get a move-on here, people!” Gauge’s growly voice cut through the hubbub as he approached the medical mare, “Strap, how many more wounded that can’t walk?”

“Just a couple more,” Strap reported, already moving to the next crying pony. She jerked her head for me to follow, “A couple more minutes and we’ll have them loaded up.”

“Good, good,” Gauge replied, looking around, “Has anypony seen High Brass?”

The mention of Brass made me freeze mid-step, more wounded or no. Turning, I spied Gauge getting nothing but negatives on the whereabouts of his son. Sorrow squeezed its way up into my throat, warm tears flooding my eyes.

Should I tell him? Was that my responsibility, having been the one not fast enough to save him? What would I even say? How would he react? Would he kick me out for not being able to save his son? Would he—

“Skies!” I jumped as Leather Strap snarled my name, “Get your feathery ass over here!”

Gauge turned at the shout, spotting me staring at him with teary eyes. Not wanting to find out what he’d do if he knew I’d let his son die, I turned quickly and followed after Strap.

There were just two more injured ponies laid out by the medical wagon. Both of them had only minor wounds and had been triaged down to the least concern. The two were already being taken care of by four other medical ponies.

The first had been a case of friendly fire, the friend in question hovering over the pony he’d shot issuing an endless stream of apologies. Most of the worry in his eyes was unnecessary, the wound was a through and through and was quickly bandaged up.

The second pony—

“High Brass,” the gruff and worried voice of Gauge made me jump as it came from just behind me, “Was he among the wounded?”

Turning slowly, as if I were in a dream, I came to face Dual Gauge. My eyes met his, and I found them filled with an emotion I’d not thought the angry, old stallion was capable of: fear. Oh, he’d looked scared in Burnout, everypony was put on edge by the bodies, but this was something else entirely. This wasn’t the rough and tough leader of the caravan, this was a father worried for his son.

If only I could’ve helped calm his fears.

“Was...did you see him among the wounded?” Gauge asked again, my silence only feeding his fright, “Tell me he’s okay!”

“Gauge, I…” I began, words failing me. Fortunately, another pony supplied the answer I was so afraid to voice.

“Gauge,” Leather Strap cut in as she trotted up to us and let out a quiet sigh, “he didn’t make it. I’m sorry.”

Gauge said nothing, he just stared at her and then at me, then back to Strap as if he didn’t quite believe what’d just been said.

“I’m sorry, Dual Gauge,” Strap repeated, injecting all the comforting bedside manner she could into her voice, “Skies?” she turned to me, “Take Gauge to his son, I’ll finish up here.”

Gulping once, I only managed a nod before leading the way.

* * * * *

I’d seen ponies die before at the hospital. I’d watched a few times as the doctors consoled crying or stone faced relatives of the deceased, never thinking I’d ever be the one doing it. Yet now as I looked from High Brass to his father, I found myself at an utter loss for words.

Did I say that I felt sorry for his loss? I did for sure. Did I apologize for not being fast enough? I hadn’t been. Did I tell him everything was going to be okay? But how would it be? Numerous options scrolled through my head, words forming on the tip of my tongue before I bit them back to reword it, to make it the right thing to say.

Whether fortunately or not, Gauge spared me the worry of my wording.

“He’s the only reason you’re here, you know,” he spoke up in my silence, “I was gonna leave you behind at the chapel...but Brass, he…” his voice was somber and quiet, “Well, it was his idea to trade you medical supplies for safe passage.” He seemed to find something funny about that, a mirthless, pitiful chuckle escaping past his lips “‘Safe’ passage…” he trailed off and let the quiet resume.

A soft pain filled my chest, a tightness creeping up my throat as I stared down at High Brass’ body. I wanted him to move, to breathe, to blink and wake up and talk to me, to his father! But I knew enough about anatomy to know dead ponies couldn’t do that.

“How…” I began, glancing briefly to Gauge, “how do you want to move the body?”

Dual Gauge said nothing, just standing there looking at his son.

“Gauge?” I hesitantly touched a hoof to his shoulder. He jerked as if startled, turning weary, red eyes to me.

“What?” his voice was quiet and hoarse, broken like he was inside.

“Is there a...a body wagon or...something?” I asked, “Wh-where do you want his body?”

“Where do I want...” he choked on the last word, turning back to Brass as he brought a forehoof to his face, “I’d...I’d want to bury him...maybe with his mother…” he hesitated a moment, fresh tears rising to his eyes, before stepping forwards.

His horn lit up, lifting his son’s body and slowly—gently—stripping away his gear. He set the body back down, resting his hooves across his chest in a more peaceful pose. His magic faded with a notable hesitance.

“Gauge?”

Teary red eyes turned to me, their owner looking too weary to give a response.

“If...if you’d like I could get a couple others and do it ourselves if it’s...if it’s too hard right now,” I offered, “I just need to know...which wagon—”

“Skies,” he cut me off, turning away with Brass’ gear in tow, “it doesn’t matter...what I want.”

I just stared at him, not comprehending.

“Rule...number four,” he said, “if...if you can’t carry it...” finishing the sentence was more than he could bear, as he turned away, weeping, and trotted off without another word.

‘Rule number four?’ I wondered, glancing from Brass to Gauge. What had that one been? ‘If you can’t carry it…’ my eyes grew wide, and I missed a beat with my wings as the meaning of his words dawned on me, ‘...you can’t keep it.’

But that was hardly sane! It was inequine! He couldn’t carry the body so we’d just have to...have to leave it behind!? Surely they could make room in one of the wagons! He couldn’t possibly be serious! That was cruel, horrible!

But this was the wasteland.

* * * * *

Footnote: Level progress 75%

Skills increased:

+Small guns

+Medicine

Author's Note

More violence, more death, another chapter completed

08 - Nopony to Spare

Author's Note

Well fillies and gentlecolts, it's back and better than ever!

08 - Nopony to Spare

CHAPTER EIGHT:

Nopony To Spare

“If everybody does their job, then maybe—just maybe—we’ll all pull through...”

“That’s just the way that it is,” Strap said, gesturing for two burly pullers to move the last casualty into the medical wagon, “Dead ponies are dead weight, plus a health hazard. If we can, we bury or burn them when they pass, but we’ve got no time for that now. Gauge needs us up and running ASAP.”

The calm, almost nonchalant, tone she spoke with about the dead seemed too cruel to my folded ears. These were loved ones! Friends and family alike! Yet the way she spoke they were a nuisance...little more than garbage! Left out for buzzards and...I derailed that train of thought, not wanting any of the mental images it might bring.

“But it...it’s just-just so wrong!” I retorted, cold sorrow nestled firmly in my throat, “How can we j-just leave their bodies out like that?!”

Strap gave me an ugly look, “You really are an idiot, you know that?” she grumbled, “Is it wrong? Yes, yes it probably is on some moral level, but you know what?” she paused, but not long enough for me to get a word in, “Life’s not about doing everything the right way, it’s not about getting what you want,” she jabbed me in the chest with a hoof, “It’s about doing what needs to be done so you and your own survive,” she gave a snort, glancing pointedly at my belly, “Figured you’d at least understand that sentiment a little.”

Sorrow paved way for anger as she hopped into the medical cart, “You’re a real bitch, you know that?”

“I’m not wrong, though,” Strap replied, sticking her head out with horn aglow, “Now hold still for a second.”

Flapping just off the ground, I was about to ask what for when a bucket dashed out from the wagon, blasting me with warm water.

“What the hell!?” I sputtered, startled and snarling as a rag soon followed in her magic.

“You’re covered in ghoul blood,” Strap replied before I could kick her naggy face in. She scrubbed at my head and neck with the rag—not very gently—before drawing it away and showing me. A blackish goo now soiled the rag, “You get bit at all?”

‘That was in my mane!?’ I worried, reaching up and feeling more of the crusty ichor with a hint of nausea, “N-not that I remember,” I answered as I thought back, wincing as I saw Brass again overrun by the monsters, “But…‘ghouls?’ That’s what you call them?”

“It’s what they are,” Strap replied, dunking the rag in a new bucket and scrubbing at my head again. A whistle sounded off from up ahead and the wagons all started to move. I kept pace with the wagon as the pullers started off again, “Long story short: a lot of magical radiation plus an unlucky pony turns you into a half-rotten piece of meat for a long, long time.”

A new bucket came out of the wagon as Strap gave me a rinse. I flinched, but this time she poured it over me more gently, “You didn’t have to throw the water in my face the first time,” I stated as she finished.

“You called me a bitch,” Strap replied simply, “Now shake off and hop in here, you might’ve gotten a few RADs from that blood.”

“RADs!?” I exclaimed, heart skyrocketing in my chest as I felt a twinge from my womb, “What...but, my foal—”

“Is probably fine!” Strap interjected with annoyance, “Goddesses, I should’ve known you’d overreact! You foal’s fine; just a few RADs at the worse and it’s fixable with some radaway. So shake off and get your stupid flank in here,” she finished, grumbling something unintelligible and disappearing into the wagon.

* * * * *

“Told you, just a few,” Strap replied as her horn died, “Nothing a quarter-dose of radaway won’t fix,” she tapped the orange-filled IV bag to make sure it was going, “While I’ve got you here, might as well check the foal, lie down on your side, belly to me.”

My unease towards the request was cured when, instead of grabbing a probe, she just ignited her horn and dropped it to my belly. Certainly there was nothing wrong with the mundane approach, I just wasn’t the happiest of ponies when it came to inserting things that didn’t belong to Cloud Poker into my body. Pressing her horn lightly to my coat, she probed from my lower belly down.

“So...is this like an ultrasound or something?” I asked, trying to be still.

“What? Yeah, sure, just stick a plug up my ass and you can see the feed on a screen,” Strap snorted, “Has it been a month yet?”

I shook that rather colorful image from my head before replying, “A-almost...I think. I only found out a few days ago, but, well, it was a few weeks before that I figure I got pregnant,” a hint of worry tainting my voice, I dared to ask, “What...what do you—”

“You’re coming along just fine, it’s early so obviously there’s not a whole lot to show,” Strap commented, straightening up and checking the bag. Seeing I’d gotten my dose, she undid the IV and closed the wound with a touch of magic, “You’re good to go,” she said, waving me off and turning to the many injured within, “But stay within shouting distance, I don’t wanna have to send a runner to find you. Everypony might be stable now, but we’ve got a long ways ahead of us down a bumpy dirt track.”

* * * * *

I swooped along in lazy arcs, doing as Strap told and staying near the main medical wagon. The casualties had flowed over into a few of the merchandise wagons, two of which had been converted into temporary medical wagons.

A weight hung over the caravan as we continued onwards. The attack had taken more than one life, and some of the others were forced to pick up the slack. Ponies that had been armed to the teeth as defenders now pulled wagons as pullers. With the added weight of the injured, it wasn’t nearly as fast as we were going before.

Dual Gauge had taken the wagons on a detour through some hilly dunes. The caravan remained in defilade, taking a winding path that kept us beneath the crests of the surrounding dunes. It would add time to our trip, but it would also keep us out of sight for now. I had been instructed to keep my flight path low, so as not to give away our position by flying too high.

The highlight of the morning came when Strap finally called me to get breakfast for the wounded. Fortunately, it came with help from a few of the other medical and cook ponies.

I was starting to really crave the food filling the bowls, the smell taunting me as I carried it away for other ponies to consume. When we finished I was ravenous, craving the taste of wastelander food as I started to make my way over to get some breakfast of my own.

My quest for food was interrupted by a crunch of dirt-under-boots as Red Mist came in to land next to me. Startled at his sudden appearance, I opened my mouth to ask where he’d been, but he beat me to it.

“Skies, can you come with me for a sec?” Mist asked, taking off without giving me a chance to reply.

“Sure, why?” I asked, following as he took us away from the caravan. I began to worry as we moved off, but the caravan was a large and slow moving target. Even if we did lose sight of it, it wouldn’t be hard to find again.

“I just wanna talk...alone,” he cast a glance back towards the caravan.

We flew in silence for a few moments longer—the dust trail and wagons much smaller now—before settling down. Mist landed with a crunch of dirt, while I opted to stay at my usual hover, hooves clear of the grimy, gritty ground.

“Why didn’t you run?” Red Mist asked, suddenly sounding like his new, angry self again.

I replied with a look of surprise; this is what he’d dragged me out here to talk about?

“What!?” I exclaimed, glancing back towards the caravan. But they were out of earshot, as had been Mist’s intent, “What the hell do you mean?”

“I mean: ‘why didn’t you escape during the attack?’” Mist growled in reply, “Didn’t I say it was a bad idea to burn the bodies, to send up a signal saying: ‘Hey, assholes, come and find us!’ And didn’t I say that we needed to be out of here when it happened?”

“We couldn’t just leave them! They were in trouble and we…” I began, only to trail off as the cold truth slowly dawned on me. “You ran away!” I gasped, staring at him in disbelief.

“My E.F.S. went off, I went to investigate it, saw the ghouls, and decided to bug out,” Red Mist answered, “I came back to wake you, but you were gone. I figured you’d be smart enough to escape when the ghouls came knocking. Guess I was wrong there.”

“How could you do that!?” I cried, the weight of what he’d just admitted doing crushing my heart. He’d deserted us, the caravan, in our greatest time of need! “We needed you! You could’ve helped drive back the attack! To help...to help save High Brass from dying!”

“What? ‘We?’” Red Mist countered, giving me a look under that helmet of his, “Skies, ‘We’ are not part of the caravan, remember? Or did that supposed scuffle between you and those two dirt-fuckers never happen? Those ponies,” he gestured off with a hoof, “don’t give a bird’s ballsack about us. They nearly killed us in that chapel, and took a bunch of your medical stuff just so we could tag along with them!”

“It was a fair trade,” I replied, struggling for words for a moment while trying—and failing—to keep my growing rage in check, “and we’re both still here because of these ponies! They fed us, protected us! Who knows how long we would’ve lasted out here on our own!?”

He grumbled something under his breath, tail giving an agitated snap.

“What!?” I snapped.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have!” he spat out, “Maybe we never should’ve left the clouds!”

“What the hell is wrong with you, Red Mist?” I demanded, my anger making me ignore his greater size and strength as I got in his face, “You didn’t used to be like this! You used to not be such...such an utter asshole!”

Red Mist stared at me, giving a mirthless chuckle as he shook his head slowly with disbelief, “You still don’t get it? Do you?” he said, “You still don’t fucking get it…”

“Oh, I don’t get it!?” I snapped back, not quite liking his attitude, “Well if I don’t ‘fucking get it’ then how about you fucking explain it to me, huh!? What exactly do I not ‘fucking get’!?”

Red Mist stared at me for a few seconds, jaw clamped tight as his helmet’s bug eyes blazed into mine. I was about to repeat myself when his lips parted.

“He saw me…” Red Mist said, his wrathful tone subdued, almost sounding fearful of the words he spoke.

The sudden tone flip startled me, confusion leaking into my burning tank of anger, “What? Who saw you? What the hell is that supposed to mean!?”

“Cloud Poker saw me…” Mist said again, snout contorting for a second before returning to its steely set, “He saw my face, Skies...I can’t go back…”

“Mist, you’re still not making any sense!” I snapped, flinching as my womb gave a twinge, “Ever since we joined the caravan, even before, you—”

“Before we joined the caravan!” Mist cut me off with a snarl, jaw set and body posed to strike. Startled, I took a quick step back, but the blow never fell, “we were back above the clouds! A-and now...and now...” he hung his head, rage making way for sorrow, “I can’t go back…” he mumbled, so quiet I almost didn’t catch it.

I said nothing, remaining where I was with my wings flapping tense and ready to fly in case he really did snap.

“I can’t go back! I can’t go back!” he suddenly yelled again, anger filling his voice as his wings and tail snapped with agitation, “I had it all planned out. It was so fucking simple! I’d take you down, show you how miserable it was, you’d cave in and we’d go back!”

‘What!?’ I mentally recoiled, nearly losing my hover as the words fried by my brain like a lightning bolt.

“Nobody would miss me, nobody would know I was gone! I was on leave, they’d...they’d never think twice if I went off the radar for a bit, but no!” he continued his tirade, “No!” a hoof smashed into the dirt as his bug-eyed goggles locked onto me, “Don’t you get it? Don’t you fucking get it!?”

He stared at me, wanting a reply...but I couldn’t possibly grant him one. He’d been my only hope of having a foal, my only chance at escape and salvation...and his plan was to have me abort the foal all along!? He’d given me so much hope by taking me down here! But it had all been part of some ruse to convince me to get an abortion!?

“I. Can’t. Go. Back!” he spelled it out for me, turning away and marching off a few steps, talking to himself more than me now. Something had ignited inside him, and like a set of dominoes there was no stopping it now, “I spent my entire worthless life fucking around! I got overweight! Fat! I wasted away my life jerking around with useless, petty, bullshit until I joined the military! They were setting me right! I mean, look at me! I was going to be someone! Somepony who fucking mattered instead of some fat, fucking slob sitting around with his dick in his hooves all day! My life was going somewhere good for once! And now...now…” his restless hooves came to a stop, head tilting up towards the sky above. The inequine goggles of his helmet remained impassive as he seemed to choke for a moment, streaks of wetness flowing out from beneath his helmet.

In a sudden fit of rage he tore off his helmet and threw it away with a yell. The sudden movement made me jump, “He saw me…he fucking saw me!” he turned back towards me and for once in a long time I could actually see his face. It was contorted with rage, fear, and sorrow, tears running streaks through a thin layer of grime.

“Don’t you get it?! I can’t return! Your fucking buckfriend saw me, my face, he knows I helped you…” he finally seemed to cave in, collapsing to his knees in a weeping mess, “I’m a traitor, a deserter…they oughta set me up against a wall and vape me with a firing squad!”

I hovered over him, not sure what to say, not sure what to do. Anger, sorrow, and the feeling of betrayal all wrestled for dominion over my head. He had planned on betraying me, bringing me down here just to convince me to abort my foal. And I had considered it a few brief moments, but ultimately it was him that had reassured me that everything would be okay. Maybe not so much with his words, but with his familiar presence there assuring me that I would survive. Him telling me that all that had been a hoax, a lie, an attempt to get me to just abort the foal made me want to cry, rage, and run all at the same time.

But here he was, lying broken before me—my supposed knight in carapace armor—collapsed and choking his sobs into the dirt. All because I had destroyed him, his career, his life. I’d gone to him and convinced him to help me by breaking the law, and the very ideals that he stood for. Pokerface had seen him, and would report him when the authorities came looking. He’d be called a deserter, stripped of his rank and title, maybe even executed for his insubordination, and all for what? So I could give birth to a foal that would never see the sky?

My anger at the realization of his betrayal told me to spit on him. He’d gotten what he deserved for lying to me about wanting to help me find somewhere to give birth. He deserved to be stripped of rank, title, and life!

My sorrow argued that he didn’t; I’d manipulated him—whether intentional or not—to violate his beliefs for a foal that wasn’t even his own! I was the only pony to blame for this debacle. I should’ve just obeyed the law, listened to Cloud Poker, and gone into that clinic.

And so I just hovered there, flapping as I stared off at nothing, not knowing how to react as the chemical synapses in my brain struggled to determine the best course of action. I was at an utter loss, nothing like this had ever happened before, there was nothing that could’ve prepared me to react to such a damning realization. I’d destroyed Red Mist’s life! Yet he’d planned on betraying me from the start! But did that really mean he deserved to have his very way of life, his ideals, torn apart in front of him? But of course it did, the bastard had wanted to ruin my life, to have me see my foal torn apart before my own eyes!

A brief cramp from my belly eventually drew me back away from my spiraling thoughts. Hate remained on my tongue, and sorrow in my heart, but my head was clearer and I realized that all the time spent here was time for the caravan to get further away. Mist remained where he’d collapsed, still sniveling slightly, his green eyes puffy and red.

After a final and brief internal debate, I let out a sigh. There was just nothing I could think to say, nothing I could do but turn around and start flapping after the caravan. We’d hurt each other, and whether that made us even or not I didn’t know.

* * * * *

For a time, I just wandered, swooping about over the heads of the caravaners, alone with my mind numb to everything around it. I didn’t want to think about Red Mist or the caravan, or my future down here, or anything at all, really. For the first time in a long time, I just wanted to be alone. Of course, a twinge from my belly reminded me that for the next ten or so months I would never really be alone...unless—

No! I gave my head a sharp shake, no there was no thinking about that. I was going to have this foal with Red Mist’s support or not. Hay, I had a doctor who, even if she was a bitch, knew her stuff and I had a small number of ponies who supported me. I was a healthy, young mare and nothing was going to happen to make me lose this foal!

Yet for how much longer would I even have these ponies? I’d made a deal with Dual Gauge and that only accounted for transport to their next stop. After that, I was back to square one...unless.

Drawing myself from my thoughts, I cast my eyes to the ground just below as I searched for the old unicorn. Flapping to and fro, it didn’t take me long to spot him and home in on his position.

“Dual Gauge! Hey, I hate to complain, but we’ve been at this for hours without any breaks. We really need—” one of two pullers strapped to a wagon complained as Dual Gauge passed him by.

“I know, Crusher,” Dual Gauge butted in with a sharp tone, “But after that attack we can’t afford to have everypony on rotation. Talk to Dynamite or Rock Runner if you want a swap, just know you probably won’t get it.” Then he was continuing his rounds without leaving room for a reply.

I hesitated in the air for a brief moment, his sharp tone making me doubt whether now was the best time. Debating in my head for a moment, I steeled myself and dropped down; Dual Gauge was a fair pony, angry or no.

“H-hey,” I started with a crack, getting a sidelong look as Gauge continued his trot.

“Skies,” Gauge replied, “Did Strap send you? What is it?”

“What? No, I…” I trailed off, following him, already regretting my asking. Yet I’d stuck my hoof in it, there was no turning back now, “I just...I wanted to ask…” I bit my lip, cursing myself before spitting it out, “I want to sign on permanently...with this caravan. You lost good ponies this morning,” High Brass juked and dodged through my head before the ghoul latched onto his throat, I shook my head to dislodge the memory, “You’ve got a good thing going here, and I think it’s my best chance of survival.”

Dual Gauge eyed me for a moment, thinking as he cast his gray eyes briefly away.

“I assume that Red Mist will want to join up as well?” Gauge inquired.

“He…” I began, my eyes dropping away from his, ‘...ran away at the first sign of the attack...was going to betray me and my unborn foal from the start...saw his way of life ripped apart before his very eyes…’ So many different things ran through my head in the brief instant before I answered, “...well, I actually haven’t run this by him.”

“Oh?” Dual Gauge squinted one eye up at me, sensing my hesitance. Yet I said nothing more, “Well, it’s not just up to me whether we take on a pony or not,” I finally got my answer, “Any time we get a new applicant I run it by my divisional leaders and we take a vote.”

“Oh…” I trailed off, feeling my odds flutter and fade. Dynamite, Leather Strap, and Cookie already didn’t like me and I didn’t even know who the head of the pullers or fixers were. Maybe that Rock Runner pony I’d just heard Gauge mention was the pullers’ leader?

“Hey, look,” Gauge spoke up, hearing my dejected tone, “We’ve still got a ways to go, and I…” he hesitated and a shadow broke through a sudden crack in Dual Gauge’s otherwise stalwart facade. A flash in the eyes, a turn of the lip, and then he sealed it up and stored it away, “I know what you did for...for High Brass. You might be a pegasus way out of her depth, but you’ve got my support, and I’m sure the others will come around.”

My outlook immediately brightened, and I almost hugged him, “Oh, thank you! Thank you!” I said, “I promise I won’t let you down.”

“I’m sure you won’t,” Dual Gauge replied, though his small smile faded fast, “Just know, though. I don’t hold Red Mist in as high a regard, and neither do the others. Each pony is evaluated as an individual, and I wouldn’t hold high hopes for him getting in, powered armor or not.”

“I...I understand,” I gave a sober nod, ‘That might not be so bad…’ a part of me thought.

“Just keep up the good work,” Dual Gauge said, starting to end the conversation, “Good doctors are hard to come by, I’m sure—”

The sudden shout jerked both of our heads towards the left flank of the caravan. Just over the lip of one of the hills a pony disappeared, a trio of defenders charging up after the figure.

“What was—” I began.

“Go find a cloak for those wings, get Red Mist hidden, now!” Gauge snapped back, drawing one of his revolvers, “Keep us on the move!” he shouted to the caravan at large, “Eyes to the hills!”

Growing tension filled the air around me as I moved to follow Dual Gauge’s command. Pullers sped up their pace as defenders aimed their weapons up across the hills around us. I prayed to the winds it was nothing, that the pony on the hill was just some nobody, hoping against hope that it wasn’t—

“A flare!” a mare cried from somewhere off to my left, “Up ahead, it’s a flare!”

Oh no...I turned about, spying the soft white light sparkling as it fell slowly. A cacophony of horrible images entered my sight as I remembered what had happened last time. Yet I shoved them away as a sudden idea sprouted in my brain, spinning about as my wings began to pump. It was only a hunch, but maybe if I got to it fast enough…

The flare had popped into existence a ways up ahead of the caravan, almost as if to signal a waypoint in our path. I skimmed the defiladed trail as I zipped forth, eventually popping up over a hill as I approached the falling ball of fire.

Changing course suddenly, I arced up and bit down on the small parachute that the burning light was attached to. The small, glowing gemstone burned bright and hot, making me squint as I dropped down, taking the flare with me and…

I screamed as something cracked sharply in my left ear, a gunshot erupting from below. Rolling to the right, I dove and, scanning the ground past the burning glare, I spotted something that made my heart nearly stop.

A whole new horde of galloping ghouls, all of them with their heads tilted upwards towards me. Yet they were the least of my worries as another two bullets snapped past me, forcing me to juke back left and dive back towards the ground...towards the horde of rotting dead.

My guts turned to ice and my heart hammered hard as I pulled up over their heads, their maws biting and snapping up at me. Yet I was a good yard or two above them, and there was nothing they could do, but follow me...follow me away from the caravan’s path!

My eyes widened as a sudden elation coursed through my veins. I could help! I was helping! Leading the horde away from the caravan!

I nearly lost the flare as I cried out again, more shots ringing out from behind me. My elation died as I felt something snap through my tail, taking a few strands of hair with it. Pumping my wings, I went back to evasive maneuvers before any more shots could strike me, looking back to try and spot my attackers. Yet the first thing I spotted was another flare as it burst into existence.

Then a very strange thing happened. Here and there within the horde the ghouls began to turn their heads to this new source of light, some of them slowing along the edges and turning away. Slowly but surely, the entire horde began to turn and chase this new source of light.

“No, no, no!” I cried out, dropping my flare and turning to try and get the horde’s attention again, “Follow me! Follow me!”

Yet only a sparse few were chasing after me now, wild eyes gleaming with the desire to maim. The rest...it was almost as if they were being corralled like in some grainy old cowpony flick. No, not almost, I came to realize. They were being corralled, as ludicrous as that sounded!

A new burst of gunfire flared up, but not at me. Scanning with open ears, I spied a group of defenders blasting at what could only be the raiders corralling the ghouls. Ignoring them, I took the opening to fly straight up and nab the second flare from the air, watching as the ghouls turned with me, away from the caravan.

‘Take that you raider scum!’ I thought cockily to myself.

My joy was short lived as third flare popped into my peripherals, only this one was further back, a ways behind the caravan. There was no way the horde I was leading could possibly see it, so what, then?

I looked down to the horde beneath me, then out towards the new flare.

There’d already been two hordes...what if there were more!?

Pumping my wings harder, I sprinted through the air, leaving the horde behind me and tossing the flare with my gained speed. Turning away, I heaved a sigh of relief as the ghouls continued to chase the fluttering flare. They’d been taken care of...but if there was another horde then we weren’t done here yet!

“Hey!” I called as I approached the defenders on the hill. They were in the midst of looting three dead ponies, one of whom still clutched a flaregun in her maw. Turning my eyes from the bodies, I set them on the defenders, “They’re corralling the ghouls with the flares! I think there’s another horde!”

“What? What do you mean another horde?” one of the defenders asked, eyeing me with scorn.

“Those flares were meant to lead a group of ghouls into our path,” I replied, trying my best to keep my tone calm. I cast my eyes briefly to where the third flare was still falling, “There’s another horde over the hills that way,” I gestured back the way I’d come, “and I think there’s a third one now.”

“Really?” the buck asked, testing my patience, “Because if you ask me—”

“Hey, shut-up, shit-for-brains!” a mare with a patchwork coat interrupted as she approached. My eyes widened as I realized it was Flower, the mare with radiation sickness that Strap had had me diagnose. She still didn’t look a hundred percent, but was clearly doing much better, “The only reason that I’m still alive is because of that medical stuff she gave us, so cut the crap,” she turned to me, wasting no time, “Think you. Can get keep snagging flares?” I nodded, “Good, I’ll tell Dynamite.”

With that, thankfully, settled I was flapping my wings hard again.

Sensing danger, more defenders had spread out across the hilltops to find whoever had lit off the new flare. Skimming low, I kept an eye out for the third possible horde, eyeing the dips between hills where the other one had been kept hidden.

Only this time I spotted the raider team first as a sudden glint coming from an old wagon wreck caught my eye. Like with before there appeared to be three of them, and—I screamed as something struck me in the side through my saddlebags, a loud report telling me just what it was.

A bullet.

My heart nearly burst as I hit the deck, wings pounding as more shots rang out at me. Yet I barely noticed them as a sudden wetness began to coat my side where I’d felt the hit.

‘No, no, no!’ I worried, forcing myself to glance down to my side where blood was...was…

But there was no blood.

Checking myself, I noticed a dark stain growing through my saddlebags. Taking a quick moment to peek inside, I found the canteen Red Mist had given me leaking water fast through a hole in its side. I nearly cried at the sight, joy at not having been shot coursing through my very soul.

Yet I still had bigger problems to deal with, so I stuffed my elation away for later and changed course. The third flare was nearly on the ground now and with a suddenness that sent my heart rate soaring again, a third horde charged up a hilltop and came into view.

Gunfire still spasmed up from where the defenders and raiders were battling it out, but with the horde now plainly in view the defenders had new targets. And so did the horde…

“No, no, no!” I cried out as the horde immediately locked onto the defenders. The ponies cried out and ran at the overwhelming sight of the ghouls cresting the hill. They were leading the monsters straight towards the caravan!

I tucked my wings and dove down, skimming through the canyon towards the caravan.

“Dual Gauge!” I cried out, zipping over the wagons and looking for the familiar, old unicorn, “Dual Gauge!”

“I’m down here!” I got a return cry.

Pivoting with ears cocked, I spotted him waving up at me with a concerned scowl.

“I thought I told you to get a cloak and hide—” he began, yet I had no time to let him finish.

“There’s another horde coming this way, it’ll be here in minutes!” Ponies around us gasped in concern, seeds of growing terror filling the ranks around me.

“Now, hey!” Dual Gauge cried out, “Everybody stay calm and mount up!” he turned back to me, “We’ve no time to set up a perimeter, get to Leather Strap and have the medical ponies start distributing dash and buck to the pullers. We’ll outrun them. Go!” he shouted, and I was off as ponies everywhere began hopping into wagons.

I worried at the sound of sporadic gunfire, not wanting to think of what was going to happen to the defenders we were leaving behind. On quick wings, I was at the medical wagon, spotting Leather Strap with a great number of inhalers and pill bottles already clutched in her magic.

“Take these, start distributing, I know the contingency plan!” she snapped at me, her and the other medical ponies rushing off. I flew to the far end of the caravan, hoofing out the inhalers and pills to wary looking pullers. The ethics of using addicting drugs made my skin crawl, but in this situation I didn’t see any other option.

The rumbling stampede of the horde was audible as I finished hoofing out the drugs.

Up ahead, a whistle sounded off and the caravan took off like never before, the pullers’ drug-induced highs igniting like rocket fuel. I hovered near the end of the caravan, hopping atop one of the last wagons.

“Okay, go now!” the pony riding at the reinscalled as all the wagons ahead took off. The two pullers initiated their inhalers and sprinted with newfound energy, making me stumble atop my perch.

“Whoa! I...I think...I’m not…” I heard one of the pullers say before there was a sudden lurch and the wagon pulled to a stop.

“Oh, shit! Shit, shit, shit!” the reins-riding pony exclaimed.

“What? What happened?” I cried out, peeking over the front and spotting one of the pullers, the pony who I’d heard complaining before, Crusher, collapsed in his harness. The other puller looked jittery, inhaler still strapped to his lips as he trotted in place.

“Crusher! Crusher!” the pony at the reins hopped down and I followed, igniting her horn, “C’mon, stay with us, dude!” Yet Crusher refused to respond, body spasming as his breath came in short gasps, froth bubbling out past his lips.

Any basic buck-scout with a medical merit badge could tell you Crusher was suffering from a drug overdose. Whether because he’d been overworked or not wasn’t a great concern now with the horde of ghouls nearing our tail.

“He’s ODing!” I cried out.

“Yeah, no shit!” the unicorn spat back, pulling at the straps holding him in place, “We need to get him unstrapped, now!”

“What’s going on!? Why aren’t we moving?” One of the few ponies riding in the wagon called down.

Ignoring him, and with my help, the unicorn got Crusher untied and grunted as she magically shoved him into the caravan. I hopped in after him, going into diagnostic mode over Crusher’s twitching body.

“All right, go!” the unicorn hopped back to the reins, snapping them quickly. Back behind us, around a bend, the defenders from the hills galloped after us.

“I don’t know how long I can do this alone—” the lone puller began.

“Just do it!” the unicorn snapped the reins again and we were moving, albeit only about as fast as a pony on their own. Not nearly fast enough to elude the horde for long.

Crusher continued to twitch and squirm, eyes fluttering rapidly under their lids. His pulse was skyrocketing, dangerously high and his breathing remained quick and short. I quickly got the other three ponies in the wagon to hold him down on his side, shoving the random assortments of merchandise aside.

“What do we do?” a buck asked me, looking from me to Crusher with worried eyes.

‘Drug overdose, drug overdose!’ I thought, running through my brain. The drugs that I’d put most of my study into were the ones commonly found inside of a hospital like morphine and epinephrine. Illegal meds like buck and dash were as alien to me as a wiring diagram; at most I knew the basics of what each drug did. But how to treat an overdose?

If he’d been conscious, I might try giving him charcoal tablets and a healthy dose of water, but he looked like he was about to go into cardiac arrest. If I had a stomach pump I might’ve tried pumping his stomach, but I didn’t and dash was inhaled, not ingested. Snarling out a curse, I threw off my saddlebags and rifled through my medical supplies as Crusher writhed on the floor. Then, suddenly, his writhing stopped...and so did his breathing.

“No, no, no…” I mumbled, checking his pulse and finding nothing, “Crap, get him on his back!” I yelled, flipping him over and starting compressions. Briefly, images of High Brass flashed through my mind as I thrust my hooves into his unmoving chest, but with a growl I cast them aside and switched to rescue breaths, “C’mon…”

Gunfire erupted around us, and briefly I noted weapons poking out of the backs of wagons further ahead. Behind us the defenders still on hoof, realizing their doom, opened up against the horde in a valiant last stand. I tried not to think about their screams.

“They’re gaining on us, they’re gaining on us!” one of the other ponies in the wagon wailed.

“C’mon, we need more speed!” the mare at the reins called out. The lone puller up front just gave a growl.

The snarling, stomping stampede of undead behind us only drew closer inch by inch in our mad dash towards safety. Here and there a ghoul dropped to a lucky shot, but shooting from the back of a wagon rolling quickly over bumpy terrain was just as hard as it sounded. I nearly jumped, folding my ears as one of the other ponies in our wagon—an old unicorn buck—began putting out slow shots with a rusty repeating rifle. My ears rang at each report, but I ignored it as I tried to get Crusher’s vitals back.

I swapped back to rescue breaths, pressing my lips to Crusher’s as I forced air down his throat. My hope of saving him was fading fast when, as I shifted back to pumping his chest he gave a sudden gasp and jolted awake with a yell. His eyes shot wide as he cried out in pain, writhing and gagging. Sensing what was about to come, I shoved him on his side a second before he vomited painfully.

“Shit, he puked on me!” the unlucky buck opposite me cried, dancing away from the growing puddle of vomit.

“Holy shit, he’s alive!” another cried out as Crusher shivered and retched.

“Goddesses,” Crusher hacked, spitting miserably, “Goddesses, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

“Try to lay still!” I ordered over the steady gunshots, digging through my saddlebags and pressing two charcoal tabs to his lips with a wing, “Take these!” I added, requisitioning a canteen as I remembered mine was destroyed and letting him drink, “Just keep breathing!”

Behind us, the old unicorn began to reload his weapon, “I don’t have many more rounds!” he called back.

“Crusher’s back!” the mare at the reins glanced back, “Think he’s up for another run?”

“Are you kidding!?” I demanded, looking from her to Crusher’s shaking form.

“We need another puller if we’re gonna survive this!” the mare spat back.

Casting my eyes back inwards, I didn’t like what I found. Two of the others were unicorns. The one with the repeating rifle was far too old, the one next to him—wiping puke off his foreleg sleeve—was gangly-legged and young. The last was an earth pony, but he was short and stout with a set of tools attached to his armor. We needed somepony strong of leg and limb.

“Can’t they send somepony from up front?” I asked, flinching as the old unicorn began firing again. Some of the faster ghouls were breaking out from the rest, rotten legs pummeling the ground as they raced forwards. He was targeting these ones, picking them off as they got so close you could see their rabid, glowing eyes.

“Nopony to spare!” the mare called back at me.

Glancing about the wagon, a growing sense of worry seeped in under the canvas. The two ponies not shooting began ditching merchandise, tossing the heavy stuff out. Morbidly, I noticed as one eyed Crusher’s prone form as if he would be next. Removing the merchandise helped, but the horde still drew nearer and nearer, and I bit my lip as I looked at my wings. At the very least, I’d be able to escape a death by ghoul horde, but the others in the wagon…no! There had to be a way! I couldn’t fly everypony to safety, we couldn’t fight off or outrun the horde, we needed another puller! But as the mare had said, we had nopony to spare. Everyone else was up ahead, pulling a wagon or…

But there was one pony, I came to realize as a knot of regrets twisted itself like a dagger into my guts. But what chance did I have in convincing him? Was he even still around?

“What are you doing?” the mare growled as I pushed myself up beside her, “There’s no way you can pull—”

“Not me,” I replied, scanning the skies around the caravan...and spotting a black speck low over the hills to our right. Haltingly, I stepped back into the wagon and leapt out the back with a flap of my wings, “Red Mist.”

A growing sense of worry niggled its way into the forefront of my mind, conflicting emotions rising like bile in my throat. There was no time for petty bullshit, lives were on the line! I flapped harder, glancing back to remind myself why I needed him.

“Mist!” I forced myself to say as I approached. I stopped short at the burning emotions that filled me as his head turned to me. I didn’t know if I wanted to punch him and scream or hug him and cry, ‘Not now, damnit!’ I snarled at myself, forcefully shoving my emotions away as gunfire echoed below, “I...we need your help! One of the pullers ODed and now—”

“Why the hell should I care?” Red Mist growled. His coat was still a little damp under the eyes, but his helmet was back on and the rest of his face was hidden from me.

“Drafts-damnit, Mist! Because they’re ponies in need! They’ll die—”

“We’re all ponies in need!” he snapped back, not changing course as he flew low over the hills parallel to the caravan.

“We can help each other—” I tried again.

“Oh, sure, try that one out. Because they’re so accepting—”

“Stop cutting me off, you asshole!” I snapped back at him, anger coming to the forefront of my mind as I flitted up into his face. He tried to say something else, but I cut him to it again, “You’re going to listen to me and you’re going to help me! If you want to mope around and cry then fine, you can do it on your own time! But you’re the only pony who can help and by the winds you’re going to help pull that wagon!”

“Like hell I am!” he snarled at me.

“Like hell you are!” I snapped back, all stupid rage and spitting fury.

“Give me a reason!” he shouted back.

“Because I’ll rat your cowardly ass out to Dual Gauge and have him drop you from the caravan!” I met his cry, hooves shaking as I held them back, “You’re damned lucky I haven’t already!”

In the back of my mind, where reason still lingered, a part of me noticed a sudden chink of trepidation in his otherwise stalwart emotions. Yet he covered it quickly and responded with a sneer.

“Why the hell do you think that’ll faze me!” he growled.

“Because you’re still following the caravan!” I replied with a venomous, knowing, grin as some part of me enjoyed watching him squirm. Egged on by his sudden silence, that dark, predatory part of me pushed at the chink in his armor, “You would’ve flown off to some greener pasture if you didn’t give a crap about staying with the caravan! You don’t owe me anything any longer, you never owed the caravan a damned thing to begin with, but you’re still here,” I emphasized the last three words with jabs to his chestpiece, “So now you’re going to pull your weight and save those ponies or so help me, I’ll—”

“Fine!” Red Mist snapped back at me, shoving past me with a mutter.

* * * * *

“You’re gonna need this,” the mare said as Mist strapped himself in, offering a spare dash inhaler.

“Rerouting suit power to my wings!” Mist bit back as he started flapping, “Don’t need it!”

And true to his word he didn’t as the wagon gained some much needed speed, slowly pulling away from the rotting maws of the horde. Yard by yard we put distance between us and them, the ghouls disappearing around a bend and out of view.

And by the yard, as I felt my emotions settle, a great void was left in place of the burning rage that had filled me. With the confrontation over, and with me as the victor, it was hard to hold onto the anger. So like an invasive species, sorrow took its place as I came to realize that once more I’d manipulated Red Mist into doing what I wanted.

I couldn’t help but feel a little emptier inside as I watched the armored pegasus flapping furiously at the reins.

“No,” I muttered, quiet enough that nopony else could hear, “it was different this time. Lives were on the line...and there was nopony to spare.”

* * * * *

Footnote: Level Up!

Skills increased:
+Speech
+Medicine

Perk attained: Horse Sense – You always were swift on the uptake! You now gain experience points faster!

Pregnancy Perk Attained: Emotional Maelstrom – your hormones make you an emotionally-unstable mare, but that’s not always a bad thing! During confrontations, you now have a chance of gaining an emotionally-charged boost to charisma! Sociopaths and non-sapient creatures are immune.

09 - When the World Itself is Against You

CHAPTER NINE:

When the World Itself is Against You

“Uh oh...”

I jolted awake as the wagon rumbled to a halt, heart pounding, blood rushing through my erect ears. Gunfire and screams echoed through my consciousness as the world around me unfurled from the blackness of my slumber…

Only that rumbling sound wasn’t gunfire, it was a great many wagon wheels as, one by one, they came to a halt outside. And those screams were just hushed voices, quiet in the darkness around me. The battle was over, the chaos of the past day was behind us, and somehow in spite of all the horror I’d managed to find myself asleep. I didn’t know what it said about me that I could sleep after...all that. Shuddering, I suppressed the dark miasma of horrid images that threatened to flood my mind’s eye.

“You okay there?” the gangly-legged young buck drew my wild eyes, his own worrisome as they peered back at me.

“Yeah,” I said, plastering on my best reassuring smile, “I’m fine.”

As the order came to finally disembark, I stretched my wings briefly before flapping out into the dark of night. Squinting into the inky blackness, I noticed that this night Dual Gauge had the caravan setup with wagons ready to move. With all our recent losses, we were far too few to properly defend against another ghoul attack. And like it or not, there were certainly more ghouls out there...

I shuddered as something foul flashed across my vision, ichor in my mane, blood in my nose, the machete buried itself in the wall behind me as I drew my taser and fired. The stench of a battlefield: foul blood, loosed bladders and bowels, gunpowder in the air. A groan escaped me as I squeezed my eyes shut, hovering in place as I fought to overcome my thoughts.

Fortunately, help came in the form of a harsh voice.

“Healthy Skies!” Leather Strap called from below, garnering my attention.

‘What does she want now!?’ I mentally grumbled, looking down at the medical mare.

“Come with me,” Strap stated, turning and strolling off without another word.

“Ugh,” I grumbled, swooping down after her, “Crusher OD’ed,” I reported as I followed on my wings, “Probably didn’t have enough nutrients in his system to properly metabolize—”

“Yeah, that much I figured,” Strap butted in, not bothering to look back at me, “that was a real stupid stunt you pulled back there. Nearly got you killed, smart thing would’ve been to cut your losses and escape.”

“Seriously?!” I snapped, “I...I saved their lives with that ‘stupid stunt’ I pulled! If I hadn’t gotten Red Mist down here...if I hadn’t gotten Crusher’s vitals back...ugh!” I wanted to swoop down there and wring her ugly neck! “What the hay does it take to get a wind-blasted compliment from you!?”

Strap halted, glaring back at me for a moment as she struggled with something. After a brief moment, she seemed to cave as her eyes found mine.

“Good job,” she admitted, then turned and briskly trotted off again.

I hovered for a moment, stunned, then felt a small smile crease my lips as I flew after her. She led me only a short distance more, halting at what appeared to be a group meeting of sorts. Dual Gauge, Dynamite, Cookie, and two other earth ponies I didn’t recognize stood together...along with Red Mist, black armor making him nearly invisible in the darkness. He glanced at me briefly before turning his bug-eyed helmet away, sewing a seed of foul emotion in my gut.

“Good, we’re all here now,” Dual Gauge spoke as Strap took her place among them, a semicircle facing Mist and me.

“What’s this about?” Red Mist scowled.

“I’ve called this meeting of the caravan heads due to the events that transpired earlier today,” Dual Gauge spoke up, looking to his fellows, “Normally this process takes longer to evaluate individuals like yourselves, but in light of recent events we’ve decided to make an exception.”

“To what?” I asked, ‘There’s no way...do they really mean…’ I wondered.

Dual Gauge looked briefly to his fellows before returning his gaze to us, “Healthy Skies, Red Mist, due to your actions earlier today, the lives of six caravaners and one wagon were saved. You risked life and limb in spite of everything to save six ponies you didn’t even know. For that, we thank you and offer you a permanent place within the ranks of the caravan.”

It had only been a day ago that I’d gone to Dual Gauge asking about exactly this, and now here I was, being offered a permanent position within the caravan. My heart fluttered and a smile split my lips as I opened my mouth to say—

“No thanks,” Red Mist replied before I could speak.

The caravan heads looked just as flummoxed as I was, glancing quickly amongst themselves before settling their eyes on Dual Gauge.

“I...um...you’re sure?” Dual Gauge asked, looking surprised, “Look, you’ve gone above and beyond the call of duty. You came down and helped pull a caravan of strangers to safety...at risk to your own life.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I want to join you ponies,” the way he said it, ‘ponies’ was a polite replacement for a foul expletive, “You nearly killed us when we first met, your people have constantly harassed us just because we’re pegasi, why would we want to join you?”

“My sentiments exactly,” Dynamite grumbled back.

Cookie gave a soft grumble of his own.

“Both of you shut your traps,” Dual Gauge growled at the two stallions, “The vote favored them four to two.” Then he turned to me with a look of confusion, “Skies, I thought you said you wanted to join the caravan? Are you reconsidering?”

“No, I...I do,” I said, looking from Mist to the others, “Blue above, I do!”

“What!?” Now it was Mist’s turn to be confused, “Skies, you can’t be serious…”

“I can and I am,” I would’ve stomped a hoof for emphasis, but the gritty ground made me hesitant, “We already won over a lot of these ponies, Red Mist! Why should we throw all that away and start over in some town filled with ponies just as ready to hate us as they were?” I gestured to the caravan heads with a hoof, “We’ve started something good here! It’s been a hell of a few days, but it’s been hell with ponies who I can call friends!”

Mist stared at me in the darkness, mouth a firm line against his crimson coat. Yet he had nothing more to say to me when he turned to the caravan heads.

“I decline your offer. I’ll stay with you as far as the next town, but then I’m gone.” And with that he trotted off with the sound of boots on dirt, black armor melding into the night.

“Well, that concludes that, I guess,” Dual Gauge spoke up, “Everypony, dismissed.”

The six caravan heads departed, each going off in their separate ways. I was about to fly off to find a spot for the night, but something on my mind made me flap after Leather Strap instead.

“So four to two, huh?” I spoke up as Strap trotted back to her wagon, “The way things went it looks like the two were Dynamite and Cookie.”

“Yeah, so?” Strap threw me a look over her withers, “Rock Runner and Hot Wire only voted to keep you on after hearing what you did during the chase.”

“So why did you vote to keep me on?” I asked with a small smile, “I figured you just thought I was some dumb old fool of a pony.”

“You’re not a fool,” Strap admitted, then killed the spark of happiness I'd gotten from the words, “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m sorry, what!?” I halted briefly in the air at the verbal slap, “How the hell is that any better?”

“A fool is blind, an idiot just needs to open their eyes,” Strap looked forwards again, “If you were a fool, I’d have thrown in my vote with Dynamite and Cookie and forced Dual Gauge to a standstill. I nearly did with your friend, but he might’ve proved useful. Lucky for me, he declined Dual Gauge’s offer.”

“Red Mist is hardly my friend,” I grumbled, looking away with a scowl.

“And that’s one of the many reasons why you’re an idiot,” Strap replied, turning to face me as we reached the medical wagon, “You’re weak, both physically and mentally. I can’t talk to Red Mist’s mental state, but physically he’s prime material; perfect for those times when you can’t run from your troubles. Ponies like you and me need to surround ourselves with ponies like him; when your ass is against the wall and a raider comes charging at you with a sledgehammer and a hard-on, there’s not a lot you can do.”

I felt my scowl weaken and flutter, tearing my gaze from Strap’s. Again the mare threw her machete at me...again I fired my taser and zapped her to death. Yet darker thoughts sprung up as I imagined what might’ve happened if Red Mist hadn’t been there.

“Whatever trouble there is between you two, I say make amends, shake hooves, and get the hell over it. Enemies don’t sit well in a small community like the one we’ve got here, and you’ve already got plenty of ponies that don’t like you,” Strap turned and climbed into the wagon, holding the flap open for me to follow, “Sure, he’ll leave when we reach Oasis Springs, but it’s always nice to have brawny friends around if you ever want to settle down.”

I followed her into the wagon, but only physically as her words drew my mind away from everything. My physical form donned a medical mask and peered over wounds, but my mind was elsewhere, up in the clouds as I looked down upon a world without Red Mist...

First and foremost I’d have been stuck above the clouds, with no way out. I never would’ve guessed to come down to the wasteland, I’d been suckered like everypony else into believing all the propaganda. It would melt my face off, boil off my coat, turn me into a bloated mess of tumors in some B movie horror show.

A mare winced and whimpered as I stitched her wound closed.

And even if I had come down here, I never would’ve gotten this far. I never paid attention in the survival aspects of the Filly Guides, I just ran around with my friends and sold bland cookies. The fire Mist had made that first night? Forget about it.

My nose wrinkled as I peeled back a bloody bandage, cleaning the wound and applying a fresh one.

Maybe I could’ve found the church, but even if I did I didn’t have any E.F.S and when the raiders arrived...the buck with the hammer grinned that grin at me again, and I couldn’t help but shudder as…

“All right, that’s the best we’re going to get for tonight,” Strap might as well have smacked me as my train of thought was derailed. Coming out of my reverie, I found a mass of wounded now much better off with cleaned wounds and stitched hides.

“Get some sleep, just keep near the wagon,” Strap said, removing her mask and goggles, “Dawn’s only a few hours away and we move before first light.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, wearing more emotional baggage now than I had been before. It dragged me down like weights in a windstorm, so I gave in and unrolled my sleeping bag—the one that Red Mist had given to me—and snuggled in, staring up at the blank, black sky. No moon, no stars, no nothing, just a pitch, inky blackness devoid of any glimmering flicker of light. The dark should’ve helped me sleep, but instead I just stared upwards with a somber expression...at least until a sharp cramp made me wince and rub at my belly.

“Damnit,” I grumbled, tossing off the top flap of the bag, re-rolling it, and stuffing it back into my saddlebags. I’d be lucky if I got any sleep with the chaos in my skull, but maybe—just maybe—I could find a way to settle it.

* * * * *

I spent most of the time it took to find Red Mist thinking over and re-thinking over what I was going to say to him. Did I start mean? No, that would only make things worse. Did I apologize first? No. Hell no! He was the one who had tried to trick me! So what, then?

All too soon, I came across his prone form, looking as uncomfortable as ever as he lay down in his armor. Hovering over the dirt at his back, I found myself at a sudden loss of words. I was about to turn away, he was probably asleep anyways, but there was a soft scuffling of dirt as he rolled over to face me. I could almost see him scowling at me in the dark.

Well, it was now or never.

“Hey…” I said, approaching him with caution, “Did...did you really just bring me down here just to get me to change my mind about the foal? Just...to just get an abortion?” I asked.

A heavy sigh escaped Mist’s lips, “Do you really need to ask that, Skies?” he sat up, outline shifting in the darkness, “I really should have just let you walk out of my hotel room and try to rough it out on the clouds. But we were friends, Skies, and I didn't want to see you get burned. Figured if I took you down here you'd cave and get it taken care of," he paused for a moment, "Maybe it worked. I’d be utterly amazed to know that the foal hasn’t slipped yet.”

I gave him a punch for that last remark, but he barely even had to shrug off the blow as my hoof bounced off his armor. He didn’t bother to respond as I shook the offending appendage with a soft ‘ow.’

“Then be amazed!” I retorted, lifting my forehooves for dramatic effect, “I had Leather Strap check on the foal just the other day and it’s doing just fine.”

“Hurray for you,” Red Mist replied with all the gusto of a rock.

Part of me wanted to hit him again, to make him respond the way that I wanted him to, but I stuffed that part of me down. That part of me wasn’t the part I wanted to call on now; like it or not, Leather Strap was right about this. Hitting Red Mist wasn’t going to help me make amends...no matter how much I really did want to hit him.

“Look,” I said, swallowing my hate for a moment, “I hurt you, you hurt me...I guess we’ve got a lot of hate between us right now, but we were friends once—”

“I don’t hate you,” Mist muttered, giving a sharp snort as he turned away, “Damnit, I can’t hate you! All of this is my own, damn fault; I broke my vows to the Enclave, I got seen by your damn buckfriend. You just got knocked up and wanted to beat the system like any other mare,” his helmeted head turned back to me in the dark, “By the winds, I want to hate you...but everything I’ve done so far has been my fault! I shouldn’t have led you on, lied to you and taken you down here…”

“Well...” I spoke up as he trailed off, “In all honesty I’m glad that you did...an...and I’m sorry. I’m sorry you...I’m sorry I...just, I’m sorry, okay?”

Mist seemed to ponder over my words for a few moments, sitting quietly in the dark beside me, “Words don’t change the fact that we’re both still stuck down here.”

“No, no they don’t,” I said, thinking for a moment, “But really? What can?”

“Nothing short of a miracle. Provided your buckfriend spills his guts to the authorities, we’re wanted ponies above the clouds,” he replied, settling back down in the dirt.

I quickly changed the subject, “But we don’t...ugh, we’re what? A few more days out from our next destination? Oasis Springs?” I said, not satisfied with his answer, “If you’re really leaving…” I let the sentence hang in the air.

“Skies, seriously,” Red Mist grumbled, “Has nothing in the past few days shown you how bad an idea it is to stick with this caravan? We’ve been harrowed by racists, ghouls, and raiders. Our initial stop was in a slaughtered town. Before that they were about to run into an ambush that we just so happened to stop on accident. These ponies run into shit non-stop, and its been getting worse each time. They’re bad luck, Skies.”

My taser crackled as the raider mare fried, twitching and...I shook my head and squeezed my eyes shut against the image, “How do you know settling down in a town will be any better? We’re bound to run into more ponies who don’t like us! At least here some of them are warming up to us!”

“To you,” Mist grumbled, “You’re the one…” he trailed off.

“You’re the one who helped pull the wagon to safety,” I finished his sentence, though not the way he’d intended it, “Don’t...don’t sell yourself short,” I added.

Red Mist mulled that over for a moment, a scowl in his voice, “Only because you blackmailed me into doing it...I burned off most of my suit’s energy reserves with that stunt, it’ll be running at minimum capacity for at least the next day or two!”

“I...um…” I stumbled at the sudden change in tone, “It-it was necessary! Lives were on the line! So what if your suit’s burned out, we saved lives!”

“Yeah, but who's?” Mist said with a sense of finality, settling his head back on the ground.

“It doesn’t matter who’s life it is!” I snapped back, feeling the grip on my emotion slip, “The hiponycratic oath—”

“You’re the one with the stupid oath to do no harm,” Mist interrupted me, dropping his voice to a hiss, “I’m the one who’s sworn an oath to defend the Enclave from these ponies! I’m the one who’s been training to kill them!” Even in the darkness I caught the glare he was giving me, “Look, do what you want to do, but I’m out of here at Oasis Springs or whatever. Have a good life,” and with that, he turned back away from me, ending the conversation.

Hovering there for a moment, anger told me to get in the last word. Yet as my mind drew a blank, I eventually found myself flapping off, muttering foul words under my breath. I’d come to him trying to bring peace, but he’d just turned it back to war! Ugh! Why couldn’t I just make him understand!?

Still muttering, I threw my sleeping bag on the ground and tossed myself onto it, rolling over and staring up into the dark pitch above. My eyes danced over the unending blackness, searching it for something more, a glimmer, a break, anything...

A starshell exploded overhead.

The effect was immediate, cries of alarm springing up everywhere with ear-twitching cracks of gunfire. My heart leapt into my chest as any thought of sleep perished from my mind; I was on my hooves and shoving my sleeping bag into my saddlebags in an instant.

“Get moving! Get moving!” an older stallion’s voice called out.

“Run!” a younger buck shouted in alarm.

“Where are they, can you see them!?” a mare whinnied in fright.

“Gunshots! Those shots are at us! Find cover!” my ears perked at the final voice, squinting around in the sudden light. Two ponies that had been hitched up to a nearby wagon lay limp in their harnesses, blood leaking from fresh wounds in their hides.

More gunshots followed in tandem with a shout of pain from a buck that had just strapped into his harness. He crumpled and sagged as his partner leapt behind a wagon, bullets eating into the dirt where she’d just been.

They were targeting our pullers!

Taking the hint from the other ponies about, I jumped behind the medical wagon, putting it between me and the direction of gunfire. I was quickly joined by Leather Strap and another one of the medical ponies as the gunfire began to die down.

“Who’s shooting!?” the other pony cried, “What do we do?!”

“Small group of scouts, most likely,” Leather Strap threw a squinting glare to the slowly spiralling starshell, “They can’t run us down—not enough horsepower—so they’re planning to bog us down with gunfire till the undead cavalry arrives,” she spat, “How the fuck are raiders using ghouls as weapons?”

Sporadic gunfire blasted forth from the caravan, but the light of the flare made it almost impossible to see the enemy’s muzzle flashes.

“Hold your fire! Hold your fire!” I heard Dynamite’s voice snarl above the din, “Look for the origin of the next flare! Return their muzzle flashes!”

“What do we do!? What do we do!?” the other medical pony pranced in place.

“I-I could grab the next flare...L-like last time,” I offered, though after what had happened the last time I really didn’t want to.

“No, stay put! Both of you!” Strap shot down the idea without hesitation, “If they’ve got any brains between their ears they’ll expect that and shoot you down in a heartbeat,” she squeezed an eye around the side of the wagon, pulling it back before any pot shots could be taken, “All they need to do is sit there and shoot anypony that tries to make a run for it, they’re smarter than your run of the mill raiders.”

The world returned to an inky pitch as the flare died, a fog of silence falling with it. Shuffling hooves and the clacking of teeth on mouthgrips were all that could be heard. I strained my ears, listening for—above all else—the sound of stampeding hooves over the ground.

I flinched as, with another pop, bright light shone down from above.

“Over there! I saw the shot come from there!”

“Open fire!”

“Shoot! Shoot!”

Gunshots made me cringe and lay low as the defenders blasted away towards the origin of the flare. Then a new volley echoed from my left, bullets cracking past me as more caravan ponies screamed.

“Move!” Strap yelled, magically shoving me around the wagon and out of the new line of fire,“Move! They changed posit—” her shout turned to a cry of pain as she crumpled to the dirt, holding a wounded foreleg.

“Strap!” I yelled, biting down on the collar of her shirt and yanking her around the wagon. Dirt kicked up around the ground where she’d just been and with a sick feeling I heard the medical buck collapse under the storm of bullets.

“Ow, fuck! Get off me, I’m fine!” Strap sat up, pressing her back to the wagon as she waved her glowing horn over the wound, “Goddesses damnit!” she snarled, wrapping the wound in a bandage and tossing a few pills down her maw.

Return fire blasted back from the caravaners, bullets cracking past me in both directions as I cried out and covered my head with my forehooves. My flattened ears hurt, whining at me as Strap dragged the medical buck around the wagon and began stripping his body of supplies.

Why me!? Why us!? What had I ever done to deserve this!?

Peering between the wagon wheels towards where the enemy fire was coming from, I saw the sporadic muzzle flashes in the dark. Briefly the snarling, grinning faces of the raiders were lit up with them before fading away into the darkness.

The darkness…

My eyes darted to the falling flare, seeing its light fade faster and faster as it neared the ground.

Strap gave a soft hiss, holding her foreleg gingerly, glancing towards me as I dropped my saddlebags and began to dig through them. I knew I’d seen it in here the other day—aha!

Gripping it in my maw, I watched and waited until—with a final, feeble, flicker—the flare died away. Then I leapt out from behind the wagon and tongued the flare gun’s trigger.

My own flare rocketed off into the night, bursting into bright light over the raider’s position. There were only five or six and they froze, startled eyes blinking and squinting in the sudden light.

‘Gotcha!’ I leapt back to safety.

“Open fire!”

The gunfire was one-sided now, cutting through the raiders as they ran for cover. None made it more than a few startled paces, caught off guard out in the open.

Another flare was fired towards the location of the raider’s original flare, but whoever had fired it was gone.

“Move! Now!” I heard Dual Gauge’s voice call out, “Leave the dead, load the wounded, everypony else on hoof!”

“He’s dead,” Strap jerked her head to the medical buck’s body, now looted of medical supplies. A ruckus was rising around me as pullers now strapped themselves in, taking off without hesitation, “Go help the others!”

I nodded, stowing the flare gun and grabbing up my saddlebags.

Rushing into the chaos, I heard cries and whimpers as the wounded were loaded up; clicks and clacks as ponies were strapped to wagons. Dust lifted and wheels rumbled as wagons took off.

“Skies!” I turned to see Dual Gauge flanked by Dynamite and Hot Wire, rushing over at his call.

“I’m here,” I reported.

“Where’s Leather Strap?” Gauge asked, eyes darting behind me.

“Medical wagon, she took a bullet in the leg,” I replied, adding: “She’ll survive.”

“Good,” Gauge turned to Dynamite, “Take your wagons on a roundabout route to the north. Hot Wire, you take yours and Rock Runner’s to the east, I’ll keep the main force going to the northeast. I don’t care if you hear screams and shouts from another group, your objective at this point is to escape and get to Oasis Springs. Somebody needs to warn the wasteland about these raiders and their ghouls.”

“Yes, sir,” Dynamite rushed away.

“Will do,” Hot Wire gulped, cantering off.

“Skies, you’re with me,” Dual Gauge began to supervise the final group of ponies as they loaded the wounded and got moving. I watched as the caravan peeled off into three groups, each headed off on a different vector. Some of the wagons were being left behind, there were simply too few of us to drive them all.

“W-we’re splitting up?” I asked, worry lacing my voice.

“They’ve got more than enough ghouls to wipe us all out in one fell sweep,” Gauge scowled, not looking at me as he gave a quick whistle and had our group roll out, “What I’m hoping on at this point is that they don’t have enough raiders and flares to target all three groups at once. They’ll have to track and target each one, one at a time.”

“But if...if they target this group…” I trailed off as he met my fearful eyes with his own hard grays.

“Like I said: at this point it’s about somepony getting the message out about the ghouls—Keep it moving!” he shouted at a wagon that had slowed.

“Wh-why don’t we do the dash and buck thing?” I posed, “Outrun them again? Surely—”

“Pullers are too drained, you saw what happened to Crusher first hoof,” he shot down the idea as we moved with the caravan, “And we’ve only got a few inhalers and pills left. That was meant to be just a one-time thing, something for an emergency, and it worked,” he turned to me, “Check on the wounded, report back to Strap, and if you feel that you’re up to it…” he ignited his horn, unslinging a shotgun and bandolier from his back. The weapon was immediately familiar, bringing with it the memory of High Brass’ death, “Take this.”

* * * * *

“Nice gun,” Strap commented as I landed near the medical wagon

While a small voice within me whined, I forced myself to tolerate the gritty ground at the moment. I needed to conserve my energy if things became desperate and, more importantly, there were wounded ponies that needed my help. Once again I felt myself closing bullet wounds and administering a dwindling supply healing potions. I didn’t want to have to pick and choose who got a potion and who didn’t, but that was all part of the medical game. Triage was a real bitch.

“The wounded in our caravan are all stable,” I said, adjusting the shotgun as it lay across my back, “Dual Gauge wanted me to report back once I was done checking on them. Are...are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Strap replied, trotting on three legs, “Bullet wound, burns like hell but bleeding’s stopped. Stick close, stay frosty.”

The two of us hopped out of the medical wagon—Strap more gingerly—and she cast her eyes to the darkness surrounding us, then jerked her head towards my weapon, “I hope you know how to use that thing.”

The ghoul’s yellow-brown teeth snapped at the end of the barrel before its brains splattered out the back of its skull—I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, keeping my stomach in check.

“M-me too…” I gulped.

“Hey,” Strap drew my eyes to hers, dead set as they burned into mine, “If we get overrun, you fly, got it? Dump that thing if you need to, but you fly and you don’t stop.”

With a deepening feeling of terror in my gut, I managed a quick nod of my head.

“You damn well better,” Strap growled.

* * * * *

The shotgun was heavy across my back as the night went on, the rolling of wagon wheels the only sound in the cool night. The dull rumble was like a hurricane in my twitching ears, swiveling this way and that as I tried to pick up something, anything that might be a waiting horde of ghouls or a raider ambush.

I was just about to let my heart relax a little when the distant echo of gunfire started up from our South. Terror leaked into my bloodstream, chilling my guts like a dip in a snow cloud. Anxious murmurs sprung up all around the caravan, then died at harsher hisses for silence.

Wincing as she trotted, Leather Strap turned towards the distant sound, muttering a curse under her breath.

I watched the distant darkness with her for a short while, biting my lip as my abdomen gave a quick pinch. My gaze was only relinquished as I nearly trotted into a stopped wagon, giving a short shout of alarm.

“Quiet!” Dual Gauge hissed, cantering around the wagon, “Strap?” he continued in a whisper.

“I’m here, what’s going on?” Strap replied, “Why are we stopped?”

“We’re ditching anything we can live without, consolidating the wounded to one wagon and pushing on,” Dual Gauge began to whisper his plan, giving the caravan a backwards glance to ensure his orders were being followed. As he’d said, the few wounded from the merchandise wagons were being moved, pullers arming up and grabbing supplies. Ponies were filling up anything they could from the water wagon, a forlorn-looking Doughy standing by the main spigot, “Fewer wagons means faster speed and less noise.” His eyes were drawn to the distant gunfire once more, dying down now, “Hurry!”

“No,” Strap whispered back as Dual Gauge began to turn away, “Dual Gauge, we need to ditch the wounded. Arm them and leave them behind, continue on hoof.”

“What!?” I exclaimed, “You can’t—” my words went unheard by both ponies as they continued over me.

“I’m not leaving the wounded behind, Strap!” Dual Gauge hissed back, “Hell, you’re wounded!”

“And I’m armed,” Strap’s horn ignited, lifting a small, pocket-sized handgun.

“I don’t have time for this shit, Leather Strap!” Dual Gauge shot back, “We keep one wagon—”

“Damnit, you old coot, listen to me!” Strap snarled, “You’re all a bunch of dead ponies if you keep the wagons and the wounded. This has evolved way beyond any fucking form of morals now,” Dual Gauge glared at her as she paused for a breath, “Now it’s about survival, plain and simple. Arm the wounded, leave them...leave us behind. Otherwise we’re all just dead ponies walking.”

Leaving the bodies behind and unburied I understood to some degree, but this!? This was madness, you couldn’t...you couldn’t just leave ponies behind to die! An image of the defenders that had been left behind the the previous day burned through my mind. Their screams as they were overrun made my ears twitch.

“Guys, we can’t—” I tried again, shaking off the mental images.

“Open your fucking eyes, Healthy Skies!” Leather Strap snapped, turning on me and forcing me back a step, “When the world itself is against you then there’s fuck-all that you can do but cut your losses and run!” She turned her eyes back to Dual Gauge, “Now it’s time for you to run.”

“Dual Gauge,” Break Action spared me a sidelong glare as she approached the old unicorn, “We’re ready to move out, on your order.”

Dual Gauge turned from Break Action to Leather Strap, his old eyes glaring into hers, searching them for a moment. She stood resolute, scowling back at him.

“Dual Gauge…” I said, words failing me as he turned tired eyes to my face. Anything that could be said had already been spoken. All that remained was for him to make his decision.

The gunfire to the south had ceased.

“Move out,” Dual Gauge said, holding Strap’s hard gaze with a harder one of his own for a moment, “All of us.” And with that he turned on his heel and struck out into the darkness.

“Goddesses damnit,” Leather Strap spat, yet she followed the order, if sullenly.

I allowed a sigh of relief to escape me as the caravan moved on.

* * * * *

Footnote: Level progress 55%

Skills increased:

+Small Guns

+Medicine

Fame Gained: Dual Gauge’s Caravan – Hero of the Day

Author's Note

For those who didn't catch it, Hiponycratic oath is a play on the Hippocratic oath :derpytongue2:

10 - In a World of Life and Death

CHAPTER TEN:

In a World of Life and Death

“When you’re right, you’re right, I’ll give you that...but when you’re wrong? Well, then you’re just dead...”

A hush had fallen over the tattered remains of our caravan, broken only by the quiet bumpity-bump of the heavy medical wagon, now laden with all of our wounded. We were all exhausted, all worried, all hoping to see the next sunrise. Little else but that mattered...

I gave my head a shake to dislodge my darkening thoughts, instead reflecting on the good. We’d won a small victory by not leaving the wounded behind, and in that I took some pride. The wasteland didn’t have to be a place of sorrow and strife, good things could still happen, I was sure of it!

“Skies, I need a headcount,” Dual Gauge spoke from my side, nearly making me jump, “Strap’s getting the numbers of those in the wagon, I need you to get the ponies still walking,” he gestured to the silhouetted equine shapes in the dark around us, “Names, numbers, and their position; defender, puller, cook, you get the picture.”

“Um, yeah, sure,” I said, thankful for a task to take my mind off things, “Anything else?”

“Not for the time being, thanks,” Gauge replied, speeding up his trot to move back towards the front of the caravan.

“Okay,” I said to myself, “Well, Dual Gauge: leader, Leather Strap: bitch slash medical lead, and Healthy Skies: medical pony makes three…”

* * * * *

“Marrowbone,” the first pony I ran into said, tipping his hat with a hoof, “Medic, but they got me on defender duty.” He gestured to one of the two armed ponies walking with him, “This here’s Axle Grease, she’s in the same boat I am, but she’s supposed to be a fixer.”

“Hey,” Axle Grease gave a tired nod.

“Hi,” I said, just as sleepy.

“Flower,” the third and very much familiar mare smiled, “Defender. How you holding up?”

“I’m...I’m doing fine,” I had some difficulty managing a smile before moving on, “That’s six…”

* * * * *

Just my luck the next two ponies I came across were also ones I knew...just not so well as Flower.

“You know our names,” Break Action muttered, though her glare lacked effort and wasn’t all there, “Defender and Fixer,” she gestured to herself and Rusty Ratchet.

“Thanks,” I moved on thankfully, “Eight…”

* * * * *

“Cookie,” Cookie said with a scowl, “Head cook.”

“Doughy,” Doughy echoed with a sigh, “Cook.”

That made ten...

* * * * *

“Restless,” the left puller on the medical wagon spoke up, “Defender...well, puller currently,” he said, gesturing to the wagon.

“Marsh Runner,” Restless’ puller counterpart added, “I’m a puller, always have been.”

“Thanks,” I said, starting to move off, For a grant total of twelve.

“Hey,” Marsh Runner stopped me, casting her eyes quickly to the south, “Hey, uh, you or Dual Gauge hear anything about Rocky?” At my inquiring look, she added, “Sorry, Rock Runner? She’s my sister and I know she was wounded and went with that other caravan and, well...” she trailed off, looking at me with a mix of worry and hope.

“I’ll look into it,” I promised, though in all reality I didn’t want to think about what had probably happened to the pony in question.

Moving around to the back of the wagon, I gave my hooves a break and poked my head in through the back tarp of the medical wagon...and immediately came face to face with a small pistol clutched in a magical grip. I froze on the spot, staring down the sights at Leather Strap’s pink eyes.

“This is why we announce ourselves when coming in,” Strap said, tucking the weapon away.

“Sorry,” I apologized, pushing in and landing. The smell inside the wagon made my nose wrinkle, the cloying scents of waste, blood, and infection creating a concoction of unsanitary horror for the senses to enjoy.

“Sorry might not always cut it, Skies. This is the wasteland,” Leather Strap said, igniting her horn and checking over another pony, “Not your happy-go-lucky world above the clouds.”

“You know it isn’t so happy-go-lucky as you seem to think!” I growled, in need of a good venting after everything that had happened today, “For one: the food sucks compared to down here—”

“Oh, so it’s even more radioactive and hard to come by?” Strap cut in, giving me a backwards glance with one eye, “Is your average pony worried about starving to death if they don’t eat from a glowing can of beans?”

“Well...but...ugh! Okay, maybe not, but you have to have a birth card to have a foal and—”

“Do you get to choose who impregnates you?” Strap snapped back at me, turning awkwardly in the cramped space, wincing as she put pressure on her wounded leg, “Or can any sick bastard with a bigger gun than you tell you to lift tail and spread cheeks?”

“I...you’re not listening—” I tried to say, stomping a hoof.

“You don’t have anything of value to say, Skies, you lack the perspective!” Strap countered with a scowl, “From the perspective of the wasteland, you’ve lucked out so far. You got in with a decent group with decent food for a decent price. You’ve only been down here for a week and the worst that’s happened is a few bruises and maybe a wounded psyche,” she cast her eyes to my belly, “but, how much longer do you need before you can pop that foal out? How much longer is your luck going to last?

“Those raiders that are chasing us?” she threw a gesture to the back of the wagon, “If they catch you, regardless of whether or not they kill you first, they will without a doubt rape you,” I couldn’t help but recoil at that, wanting to spit something foul back...but words failed me in that moment and she continued, “They won’t stop if you tell them you’re pregnant, they’ll laugh and grab a rusty, old coat hanger. They won’t care if you scream, they might even enjoy it more. When they’re done, you’ll be lucky to get a bullet in the brain, but if your luck ran out? They’ll drag you back to their den for seconds, thirds, and fourths. Your only chance at salvation is if one of them knocks you up and decides he wants a foal of his own. Then maybe, just maybe, they’ll let you off the rape hook until you pop out the foal, but then it’s back into the frying pan.

Leather Strap’s voice went quiet as she looked away from me, “I wasn’t alone when I got captured by raiders, we were in a caravan...just like this one. I wasn’t the only one they decided to keep around, but I was the only one that survived. That shit?” She continued, looking up and staring straight into my eyes, “That shit changes a pony, Skies. And from what I’ve seen, you can’t handle change. You wouldn’t survive...” She turned away with a shudder, staring at the floor for a moment, “You won’t survive.”

I didn’t quite know what to say to...all that. She’d shot down my argument at every turn, and thrown in some terrifying, tail-tucking mental images to boot. Again I saw the raiders and again I tried not to think what would’ve happened if Mist had been overwhelmed...yet her final comment drove the longest nail into the coffin.

“I...you...you don’t think we’ll make it?” I said, my stomach icing over as I threw a quick glance towards the rear of the wagon.

“I don’t know,” She shook her head, pawing at her mane, “it’s too close to tell and I honestly don’t know. If those raiders find us out here…” Strap gestured to all the wounded, “pretty much everyone in this wagon is guarenteed to die. The only question is how slowly. If you use that mass of gray matter between your ears and fly away, you’re the most likely to survive. The rest? Maybe if they’ve got another good run in them then they’ll survive; but they’re all running tired, at best they’ll put up a good fight and eat their guns before they’re overrun.

“I’m only thirty-four. I’m not old for a pony, but I am for a wastelander,” Strap continued, sounding tired now more than anything else, “I’ve faced bad odds before, and I’ve beaten bad odds before...but I’ve also lost to them. This is definitely one of those bad odds times, and Dual Gauge only made it worse by keeping us wounded along with him.”

“It was the right thing to do!” I asserted. The rest she could have, but I wasn’t going to give ground on that issue.

“And sometimes doing the right thing gets you killed, Skies,” Strap sighed, “The wasteland isn’t a world of right and wrong, it’s a world of life and death.”

“Look, I just came here to get the number of wounded and their jobs. Dual Gauge wanted a head count,” I changed the subject, looking around the cramped wagon, “Is Kiddo around? I didn’t see her out there.”

Strap shrugged as she turned back to the wounded, “I dunno, haven’t seen her since yesterday. She probably went with another group. If not then hell, maybe she up and joined our raider pals and their pet ghouls!”

“How can you say that?” I took a short step back. Kiddo was her, well kid, her foal, her offspring, yet my own belly gave me a pinch and again I saw the raider’s leering eyes on me. In a moment of darkness, I asked myself the terrible question: would I ever be able to love a pony born of rape? A child forced upon me from some horrible creature I’d never love, I’d never wanted to love? I had ultimately forced Cloud Poker’s hoof (and other parts of him) in not committing to safe sex, but what if it had been the other way around? Would I have walked into that abortion clinic and...no, I didn’t want to think about that, I didn’t want to go down that trail of thought. Whatever the case might be, Leather Strap wasn’t going to be winning the mother of the year award any time soon.

“She’s my whelp, remember?” Strap sent me a quick glare, “And half raider to boot, wherever she is, she’ll live.

“As to this lot?” Strap continued, gesturing with a hoof to the wounded, “Ten; one cook, four defenders, three pullers, one medical pony, and one fixer. You got that?”

“One cook…” I said, reciting the numbers in my head until I had them memorized, “Got it.”

* * * * *

“Twenty-two…” Dual Gauge said the number to himself. His gray eyes seemed to lose their luster for a moment, his stalwart scowl cracking under pressure. A startled whinny escaped me as he stumbled and I hopped forth to help catch him.

The caravan came to a sudden halt, the quiet voices fading as all eyes fell on the old unicorn. A second flashed by and his jellied legs were stiff once more, wizened face scowling again as ever.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine,” Dual Gauge replied, throwing a look to the others that got them moving again, “Just...a loose stone…”

I kept my doubts to myself on that matter as the caravan got moving again. Hushed voices started up once more, though as I looked around I spotted a decent number of eyes washing over Dual Gauge.

“Just a little over a hundred ponies when we started out…” Dual Gauge mumbled to himself, eyes cast to the ground.

“What?” I asked.

“What? Nothing, it’s nothing.”

An uneven silence resumed in the wake of our conversation. Wagon wheels rumbled and bumped over dirt and occasional whispers were carried to my ears through the night time air. I began to wonder again on our chance of survival; it had been some time since we heard the group to the south get attacked, maybe the raiders had given up after all...

“Do you…” I began to ask Dual Gauge, finding his gray eyes locking onto my own, “Do you think we’ll make it?”

Dual Gauge held my gaze for a few short moments before casting his eyes to the darkness ahead once more. He remained grimly quiet for a few moments longer before he spoke.

“All that matters is spreading the word about these raiders,” Dual Gauge seemed to dodge the question, “The whole point of splitting up the caravan wasn’t to save everyone, it’s about something bigger than that.”

That was decidedly not what I wanted to hear right now, “But...but I...I don’t want to die!” I winced at the number of heads that turned at my outburst, mentally smacking myself for it.

“Nopony sane of mind does,” Dual Gauge spoke, eyes losing focus as a knot formed in his throat, “All the same, death takes everypony whether they like it or not...”

I felt a soft pinch in my belly, High Brass bleeding under my hooves for a moment before I forced the memory back behind the curtains.

“Whatever the case—” Dual Gauge said with a deep breath, cutting himself short as he came to a sudden halt.

“Dual Gauge?” I asked, stopping beside him.

“Shh!” he hissed, dropping his voice, “Halt! Halt!”

The others in the caravan echoed Dual Gauge’s command in hushed whispers and a tense silence fell over us. My ears strained, swivelling back and forth as my eyes fought a losing battle against the surrounding gloom.

‘What I wouldn’t give for just a little moonlight!’ I worried.

Beside me, Dual Gauge stood tense and still, sniffing at the air. Taking the hint, I took a cautious whiff as well, wincing at the sharp smell of unwashed clothes and the sickly-sweet scent of decay...wait.

No.

No! No! No! My tail tucked tight as I felt panic squeeze my heart, wings coming away from my sides. Using my inherent weathersense, I felt the soft ebb and flow of the cool nighttime air, letting the drafts flow through my feathers as I zeroed in on the direction.

That second smell, the one that made me want to run and hide, was being wafted ever so gently from directly ahead of us.

I didn’t want to say it, I didn’t want to think it, but all the same I saw Dual Gauge’s eyes find my wings. He turned his eyes to mine as I folded them back against my sides, reading my stricken look like a book.

Then the fateful word dropped from Dual Gauge’s lips: “Ghouls.”

* * * * *

“A-and we...we’re sure it isn’t, like, a bunch of dead bodies or...I dunno, something else!?” I whimpered, not wanting to accept the cards that fate had dealt us.

“Yeah, 'cause we’re just gonna run into a nasty batch'a dead bodies,” Cookie grumbled, giving me a withering look, “Y’know what? Why don’t ya go'n fly onwards and see fer yerself what—”

“Cookie, that’s enough!” Dual Gauge stomped a hoof, silencing the glowering cook and turning to me, “In any case, I am going to ask that you go with the scouts, Skies.”

“What?!” I kept my outburst at a whisper this time, turning to Dual Gauge with wide eyes, “B-but I...I’m just a medical pony, I—”

“You’re a medical pony, but you’re also a pegasus,” he pointed a hoof to the wings I had plastered to my trembling sides, “You have keen feel for the weather, right? Winds?”

I nodded, unable to trust my trembling voice.

“Then you’ll be able to keep the other scouts downwind, guide them in and confirm or disprove our fears,” Dual Gauge explained, “and if things go south, you can fly. It’ll be a hell of a lot harder for them to detect you if you’re airborne.”

“That’s the plan, then?” Break Action gave me a quick glare before turning her eyes to Dual Gauge, “The three of us plus her go track down these ghouls?”

Dual Gauge gave a nod, “If you can find out where they are and what they’re doing we should be able to either sneak around them or wait for them to pass by.

“And if it comes to the worst and you’re detected, you, Axle Grease, and Marrowbone are the fastest three ponies we’ve got outside of Restless and Marsh Runner. Skies,” he turned to me, “You’ve still got that flaregun, we know the ghouls will follow it. If you’re detected, use it to distract the ghouls.”

“Again, I’ll suggest unhooking the wagon and leaving the wounded behind,” Strap spoke up, “Hell, use us as a distraction and get your sorry asses a head start. I can take the flaregun and—”

“We’ve lost enough ponies, Strap!” Dual Gauge snapped back, turning to the rest of us, “Night-time’s a'wasting, get a move-on before dawn takes away our cover.”

“Will do,” Break Action replied, turning to me with a sour growl, “C’mon, buzzard, let’s put that weathersense of yours to good use!”

* * * * *

It was nothing short of a miracle that the sound of my hammering heart hadn’t given us away yet. It was practically I all could hear as I let the air flow through my feathers, ears erect and straining against the thundering sound.

I did my best to combat the panic rising through my body like a warm front, concentrating on my breathing. In and out and in and out...yet the more I breathed, the more I smelled the rotting decay of the ghouls. Keeping downwind of them meant that they couldn’t smell us, but we could still very much smell them.

And now we could hear them as well.

Faint animalistic growls and grumbles could be heard on the wind, followed closely by a cacophony of noises that made my face flush. Guttural moans and groans and wet, sloppy sounds of two ponies in coitus. The second set of sounds was coming from the left of the ghoul herd, the other ponies all exchanging looks in the darkness. With a gesture, Break Action signaled for us to zero in on the two fornicators.

Moving in, we were close enough now that the shifting shapes of ghouls were visible in the dark. Their snaps and snarls clearly audible and very much terrifying as their silhouettes shifted like a mass of black ooze.

We stopped atop a low hill overlooking the mass of shifting shapes, laying low in the grimy dirt. Somewhere in the back of my head I promised myself a good, deep clean the second I saw a working shower or bath.

Break Action waved to the others in the dark, grabbing a viciously large knife in her maw and pointing to it with a hoof. Marrowbone gave a nod, drawing a long, pointed bayonet of his own. The two then crept quietly off towards the sounds of two raiders, though the two were so focused on their…deed that I doubted they’d have heard them at all.

A short moment passed, then a startled whinny was cut short and silence from the two raiders followed. There was a sudden disturbance amongst the ghouls, as if they sensed something was amiss, but after another moment Break Action and Marrowbone returned unharmed.

“Just the two of them, then?” Axle Grease whispered.

Break Action gave a short nod in the darkness, “Didn’t see a third, maybe—”

“Are you two sorry fucks done fuckin’ around yet!?” a sour voice sprung up from my left, down the slope of the hill. Everypony dropped, eyes and ears scouring the darkness until we spotted another dark shape headed for where the raiders had been, “I’m filthy, stinkin’ tired of you two getting it on, and I swear if either of you tell me to go stick mine in one of them ghouls, I’ll cut yours off and feed ‘em to the rotting bastards!”

“What do we do!?” I hissed, ‘When he finds his dead friends…’

“Goddesses damnit!” Break Action snarled, drawing her knife and charged towards the voice.

“Where the hell are you two, can’t hardly see in this damn—” the raider’s voice was cut short by a violent sound of two bodies impacting and a shout, “Hey! Lemme—” the raider’s voice cut out again, followed by the sound of shuffling hooves...and snaps and snarls from the ghouls. They were starting to sense that something was amiss!

All of us went tense, my wing dipping into my saddlebags and finding the flaregun. A gangly mass appeared in the darkness, Axle Grease and Marrowbone raising their weapons, only to lower them as Break Action appeared. A dirty-looking earth pony was at her side, Break Action’s knife to his throat.

“Ca’ ‘fem off!” Break Action hissed through her knife’s handle, digging the blade deeper into his skin.

“Oh, they won’t attack,” the raider snarled, eyeing the rest of us with a foul look, “Not until I tell ‘em to, that is!” he let out a low chuckle, “They listen good, real good, they’ll rip you limb from limb if I choose to say so and there ain’t nothin’! Nothin’ that’ll stop them besides me tellin’ ‘em to stop gnawin’ and start, ruttin’!”

“Screw this. Skies?” Axle Grease turned to me, “Give ‘em something to chase.”

It took my fear-addled brain a moment to process what she meant, but when it clicked, I pulled my wing quickly out of my bag, procuring the flare gun.

“What the hell are you…” The raider’s glaring eyes were lit up as my flare arced up, up and away from where we were.

The effect was immediate, and altogether terrifying, as the ghouls growled and snapped their way after the flare, disappearing over a dune.

“Well shit…” the raider said. Then his eyes bulged wide and he gave a gurgled whimper as Break Action drove her blade into his throat, shoving him to the ground. He squirmed, hooves pawing at his throat as blood spilled out in the dirt around him...wait.

I was starting to be able to make out the finer details.

Soft light was beginning to spill across the wasteland.

“Okay, ponies, let’s get back to the caravan, move, move!” Break Action called, turning back towards were we’d left the caravan.

“Screw that noise, we need to get the hell out of here! Oasis Springs can’t be far,” Axle Grease countered, squinting at the brightening horizon, “They can find their own way, the path is clear.”

“Yeah, but for how long?” Break Action didn’t budge, “They’ll need all the guns they can get if shit goes sideways.”

“What the hell are three guns going to do that what they got back there can’t?” Axle Grease retorted, casting me a quick sideways glance, “No offence to Ms. Pegasus and her shotgun.”

‘Hey!’ I mentally whined, though I had to admit...

“Sorry, gals, but I’m in agreement with Axle here, we gotta get to Oasis Springs, come on!” Marrowbone seconded, turning and cantering off. Axle Grease wasn’t far behind.

“Fine, fuck the lot of you then, you included, buzzard!” Break Action snarled, turning back and hoofing it towards the caravan at full tilt.

“I didn’t even…” I started, finding myself suddenly alone in the fading darkness. It wasn’t even a second before I was flying after Break Action, ‘Stupid nag,’ I growled to myself, ‘Of all ponies, why would I ditch the others!?’

“Skies, Break Action!” Dual Gauge had his pistols out and ready as we found the caravan once more. Break Action gave me a quick, unreadable glance as we zeroed in on Dual Gauge to report in, “Where are the others, did they—”

“Fucking scumbags decided to bail,” Break Action reported before I could say anything, “We found a small horde and three raiders, cleared them out and moved them off, but Axle Grease and Marrowbone decided to fuck off to Oasis Springs on their own.”

“At least they’re safe,” Dual Gauge said, taking the information in stride.

Break Action grew tight lipped at the statement, but said nothing more as she cantered towards Rusty Ratchet.

“You did good, Skies,” Dual Gauge reassured me with a nod.

Soon enough small lines of smoke were rising towards the cloud cover ahead of us. Again the images I’d seen of Burnout fell into my mind, rising horror making me wonder if whoever had got them had found Oasis Springs, too. But Dual Gauge reassured me that it was just regular cookfires and the like.

“Oasis Springs, as the name implies, is built up around a series of hot springs; water’s too hot to bathe in directly, but it’s rad free. Place like that’s got security tighter than a filly’s flankhole...pardon the expression.

“One of the, shall we say...fancier places in the wasteland, but without all the bullshit politics of places like Tenpony Tower or the low life ‘gangsters’ of Pennyworth. Oasis Springs is all about good business through and through.”

“Not from around here…” I spoke up, still keeping my head on a swivel.

“Oh, right. Well, Tenpony Tower’s an old hotel run by a bunch of butt-sniffing snobs who’ll stab you in the back soon as sell you the knife. Pennyworth’s an old casino run by some old ghoul who’s all about squeezing her customers for caps just so they’ll come back to lose more,” Dual Gauge turned to me, “Neither place is worth a damn, far as I’m concerned.”

“Wait, how can a place be run by a ghoul? Or was that not meant to be literal?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Not all ghouls are feral,” Dual Gauge put it simply, “Some of them still have every ounce of wit and humor they had back before they up and became amortal.”

Soon enough the tops of watch towers and walls appeared ahead of us, and our steps became faster as salvation finally came into sight.

‘We’re going to make it!’ I thought, almost cheering as I began to make out ponies atop the towers, ‘We survived!’

And for once fate decided to throw us a bone.

"I can see it!" Doughy shouted excitedly.

The light of the sun (even hidden by the clouds) all but gleamed over the horizon, and for the first time since landing in this wind-blasted wasteland I felt a true kindle of hope. White wisps I had previously mistaken for clouds I now saw as rising pockets of steam and mist above the town that would be our salvation. These were joined in part by darker trickles of smoke, probably campfires and the like.

As we approached closer, I made out a squat, flat mesa of reddish dirt, layered like a massive cake before us. Just off center were the tall, steep walls that enclosed the town, made of sheet metal and hardened clay. Here and there a watchtower poked up over the wall, small moving shapes likely guards within.

Dead center stood a set of tall metal gates, powerful and imposing. Daring all who saw them to test their strength with any number of war machines. While before I had harbored fears of seeing Burnout again, now I saw that those fears were unwarranted. If anything, the place looked imposing, and I couldn't help but nudge Dual Gauge.

"Um, this is suppose to be a town and not some, I don't know, evil lair of a dragon or something?"

The old pony let out a chuckle as some life seemed to return to him, “That’s the look they’re going for. Make it look mean and imposing to keep the riff raff well away. Town’s been around for...oh, I dunno, years now. Built well before I was ever born. It’ll be standing when my bones are nothing but dust, for sure,” he said, speeding up ahead of the caravan and stopping before the gates.

“Dual Gauge!” Dual Gauge called up to a pair of heads poked over the side, all of us anxious to get inside, “We have urgent news about a band of raiders! I need to speak with Wrangler immediately.”

The two ponies atop the gate exchanged glances, “You’re not due for another week or so,” one of them spoke up, looking over our group, “And you’re a good number of wagons short.”

“Like I said,” Dual Gauge said, staring up at the two with his stiff, gray eyes, “We have urgent news about a band of raiders.”

This time it was nervous glances exchanged between the two ponies.

“Open the gates!” the one that had spoken called down, “I’ll have someone get you to Wrangler.”

“And do me a favor...” Dual Gauge continued as the gates swung outwards, “Keep an eye on the horizon.”

* * * * *

Time seemed to speed up once the gates to oasis Springs closed behind us. Dual Gauge disappeared and Leather Strap took command, barking orders for the wagon to be taken to the medical center. Break Action glared around, probably trying to spot Axle Grease and Marrowbone, but everypony else followed with a renewed vigor in their step. We were safe at long last! We’d made it to Oasis Springs, to safety!

And speaking of, this place was stunning!

My only taste of the wasteland had been an old abandoned church, a dead town, and a bunch of smelly caravaners. This was something utterly new!

It was nowhere near as large as even the smallest city above the clouds, but Oasis Springs was bustling with activity. The buildings, while basic, were upright and stiff standing, not the rotting, sagging buildings of Burnout. The ponies here, while often sporting nasty looks at the sight of a pegasus, seemed decently groomed for the most part. The dirt streets were clear of debris and well traveled with wagons kept to the center and equestrians to the sides.

Soon enough we came across a large, white tent with a trio of pink butterflies on every side. Everypony still walking helped get the wounded out of the wagon and into the tent. Then everypony still walking got a quick exam before we were released.

It was only once I stepped out of the tent that I felt the gravity of my situation fall square on my back…

“We made it!” I called out, hopping joyously into the air. Everything we’d done, all the sacrifices we’d made, all the blood and the death was finally at an end! Leather Strap was the last out of the tent, jerking her head for me to follow.

“Come on,” Leather Strap said with a sudden, small smile, “I think you’ll like this.”

Curious, but also very confused at the positivity from the downtrodden mare, I followed her around the tent, noticing that most of the others were heading this way as well. As we all got behind the white, tarp walls my eyes lit up.

“Are those…” I was almost too afraid to ask and jinx myself.

“Not much privacy, but yes,” Strap said, limping along, “those are showers. Draw directly from the springs so the water’s actually hot.”

“Hey, Leather Strap!” a darkly colored earth pony sitting off to one side of the shower area called out, hopping off a barrel and approaching. “What happened to your leg?”

“It’ll heal, Deep Drink. You still in charge of the showers?” Strap replied, her unsour tone almost making her a new mare.

“Yeah,” the earth pony nodded, eyes finding my wings and a scowl crossing his features, “Who—”

“She’s with the caravan,” Strap answered his unspoken question.

“Officially?”

“Officially,” Strap nodded as I gave Drink an uncomfortable smile.

“If you say so,” Drink jerked his head towards the showers, “Anyway, Dual Gauge said to put you guys on his water tab.”

“Really!?” Restless perked up from in front of us, “Sweet!”

“Hey, don’t you go wasting water, asshat,” Drink grumbled, “Water’s still water, so don’t go letting it go to waste!” He turned to Strap, throwing me another quick glance, “Well, you look like shit, Strap, no offense, so go treat yourself.”

“Sure thing, Drink,” Strap smiled.

* * * * *

Water!

Warm, fresh, glorious water was running down my sides, through my mane, across my wings. I gave a shudder of delight, giggling like a madmare at the blissful sensation, not a care in the world. All my troubles felt like they were being washed away with the grit and grime and blood…

High Brass choked on his own blood, his throat a gaping, red maw.

“No, no, no!” I muttered, squeezing my eyes shut and pressing a hoof to my temple. I didn’t want to think about that, I couldn’t! I worked to shove that into the darkest recess of my memory. I needed this! I had to allow myself a moment of bliss, or I was going to go crazy.

“Hey,” Strap drew me away from my inner demons, my eyes finding her own pink pair, as she showered across from me, separated by a chest-high divider, “We’re not there anymore, we’re here, we’re alive, we made it. We’ve still got luck to spare.”

“Not everyone made it,” I mumbled. There was still no sign of either of the other groups.

“Not everyone who woke up today will wake up tomorrow,” Strap said, taking a moment to scrub at her mane, “That’s life, ponies live, ponies die, nothing you can do about it.”

“You’re a doctor...we’re doctors, of course there’s something we can do about it!” I countered, “We...we save ponies, stitch up their wounds, set their bones, save their lives!”

Leather Strap was silent for a moment, “Maybe,” she finally answered, “You can’t save everyone, but take solace in saving the ones that you can save. Learn from those that you can’t; whether that be coming to terms with the fact that you never could save them, or that maybe you could have if things had gone differently.”

She had started to make me feel better, which I never thought I’d be thinking about somepony like Leather Strap, but the end of her statement only started my mind down its dark path again. There were so many ways it could’ve gone differently, if I’d only...

Seeking a distraction, I poked one wing out towards my saddlebags, digging out a pair of bottles: liquid soap and shampoo.

“Really?” I heard Leather Strap chuckle as I started to lather up, “When you packed to face the apocalypse, you brought soap and shampoo?”

“Yeah, so?” I grumbled, scrubbing mane and opening one eye as the bubbles ran down my face. I noted the simple bar she was currently using. It looked and smelled like it was made from rendered fat, “You...you want to use some?”

That gave the mare pause, halting her scrubbing for a moment before stopping, “Sure, why not give the fancy pegasus shampoo a try?” she relented, taking the offered bottle in her magic and squeezing some into her mane, “Smells nice,” she admitted, suddenly speaking up as she lifted the bottle, “Hey, anybody wanna try some of this fancy pegasus stuff?”

“What!?” I startled, as ears perked up and heads turned, “Hey, don’t…” I trailed off as all eyes turned to me, sighing with a smile, “Just don’t use it all up, okay!” I called out.

* * * * *

Footnote: Level Up!

Skills increased:

+Sneak

+Small guns

Perk attained: Intense Training – It almost seems like fate has taken a liking to you, sure seems to feel that way! You gain a +1 to your Luck attribute (7)

Pegasus perk: Weathersense I – You’ve always had an innate feeling for the weather, you just never knew there were other applications for it! You are now harder to detect so long as you remain downwind of your enemies.

Author's Note

It's finally here, fellow survivors!

EDIT: Some scenes were edited on 12/08/18 and 01/24/19.

11 - Rest and Relaxation

Author's Note

Well folks, it's finally here. Been far too long but hopefully it's up to par with the rest of the story so far. Stay safe out there and stay tuned! Like I said before, this story ain't dead yet!

11 - Rest and Relaxation

CHAPTER ELEVEN:

Rest and Relaxation

“You must relax, my dear! We can handle anything...”

Oasis Springs.

This was my first real taste of a proper wasteland settlement, at least one that hadn’t succumbed to violence and destruction. I grimaced as my mind tried to take me back to Burnout, distracting myself by taking in all the sights. Quite different from the blackened buildings of the last town, Oasis Springs hadn’t been built upon a carcass of the old world.

While ‘new’ was the wrong word, the structures here had clearly been built after the Last Day. Though cobbled together from pieces of the old world, they stood upright and orderly. No bit of scrap had gone to waste, be it billboards turned into walls or wire fence being used in place of windows.

Rather than the…smells of Burnout, when my nostrils flared here they were met with a cacophony of scents. There was, of course, that average wastelander stink of unwashed hides and clothes, but it was more subdued here (after all, they had running water!). There were other scents filling the air as well, so many different things that it almost made my stomach turn. It was like that first wastelander dish I’d gotten from Cookie, but a thousand times more pungent.

Sniffing this way and that led my eyes to a large crowd of ponies near the middle of town, surrounding a number of ramshackle stalls. Distant cries of hawked wares made my ears twitch as I continued towards them.

“If my breath stinks, just say so,” Leather Strap spoke up from beside me.

“Uh, what?” I asked, turning to the mare with a frown.

“You keep sniffing at the air like a hellhound on a scent,” she gave me a querying raise of one brow, “If it’s on account of my breath or something, just say it. I can take criticism.”

“No, I just...wait, what’s a hellhound?” her words derailed my explanation, an uneasy feeling filling my guts. For some strange reason I wasn’t thinking of cute little puppy dogs from a foal’s picture book.

“Massive canines that love digging and killing things,” Strap summarized simply, “You ever feel the ground start to rumble beneath you, fly hard and fast or you’ll end up as a surprise guest on their dinner table.”

“Well that’s...greatly unsettling,” I turned back to the road, feathers ruffling as I tried to picture such a creature. I’d seen dogs in old pre-war books, but what Strap had described seemed quite a bit more terrifying.

“And that’s an understatement,” Strap said, lighting her horn and squinting at a strip of parchment from her bags, “Stick close now. I don’t expect we’ll run into any trouble at the market; thieves or the like, but I’d rather not have you getting lost on me.”

“Lead the way,” I waved a hoof, following as Strap pushed ahead and led on through the crowded market. Stands selling an unending hodge-podge of goods crowded both sides of the street, a great array of ponies trotting about in between.

The vendors hawked their wares, creating a din that made me want to fold my ears. Here were the best bloatsprite sliders! Here you could get the chef’s wasteland famous wasteland omelette! But at this stand you could find yourself the finest cookware, forged in dragonfire, honest! And here was being sold delectable manticore jerky!

“Skies!” I jumped as Leather Strap barked out my name. For once her volume was borne from necessity instead of hatred.

Turning, I spotted her behind me, having stopped at a stand I’d already passed. ‘So much for not getting lost...’ blushing briefly, I turned and made my way through the throng of ponies to where Strap was haggling.

“...I say it’s a fair price!” the unicorn behind the counter was saying as I stepped up beside Strap, getting a dismissive glance.

“Maybe over in Tenpony where toilet paper is sold by the tissue,” Leather Strap countered, “You really expect me to pay ten caps for one measly little thing of iodine? Hell, I can march my ass over to the showers and fill up all my bottles for cheaper than that! Save me the time of waiting for the iodine to purify it all. I’ll give you five per bottle, and that’s a bulk purchase.”

“That’s highway robbery!” the unicorn snapped back with a glare of her own, “I’ll go no cheaper than eight, since you’re buying in bulk.”

“Accusing me of robbery, please!” Strap said with a snort, giving a dismissive wave, “I might be convinced to pay…” she took a moment to inspect her hoof, “Six…”

“And I might be inclined to sell for seven!”

“Deal!” Strap slapped a bag of caps on the table, a few loose ones sliding out.

Just as quick, the unicorn merchant was counting, scribbling on a sheet of paper Strap pulled from her saddlebags, and stamping it. The caps were stuffed under the counter and the unicorn tipped her hat, calling for the next customer.

“All that for some bottles of iodine?” I asked as Strap gestured for us to move on.

“Not a fan of bartering?” Strap asked, pulling out a second list and scouring over it.

I shrugged my wings, wincing at a quick pinch in my belly, “Prices are mandated by the government above the clouds. A bushel of apples in Nimbus costs the same as it does in Thunderhead at any given time of the year.”

Strap paused, giving me an odd look, “You guys have apples up there? Like, freshly grown apples?”

“Well freshly grown is pushing it,” I said, following at Strap’s side, “Most of them are cloud grown and taste like it, ninety nine point something percent water at best. There’s only one or two spots of land above the clouds and they’re used for the hardier, more nutritious stuff like herbs, rice, and potatoes. After all, if you’ve got your herbs and spices you can make almost anything taste good.”

“Huh,” Strap said, “Well I learned something new today.”

I spent the next hour on Strap’s tail, making our way through the crowded marketplace and familiarizing myself with the area. Strap didn’t buy anything at its street value, a fact that puzzled my brain. Whether it be one cap or two or ten, she never accepted anything without scraping a few caps off the price.

And she wasn’t the only one. Taking a moment to listen in on other transactions as we waited in line showed that this seemed to be the norm. Everypony haggled, though not all of them were as good at it as Strap seemed to be, many a wastelander forced to fork over more caps than they bargained for or leave empty-hooved.

The thought of caps brought a worrying thought to my attention, and suddenly I could almost feel the caps I’d accrued jangling in my saddlebags. I’d gotten a hundred of them from Dual Gauge, compensation from Break Action and Rusty Ratchet for the stunt they’d pulled a few days prior.

It didn’t seem like all that much, hearing the costs of everything around me. Cloud Poker and I had been excellent budgeters above the clouds, so when I got a bad feeling about money I tended to trust my gut.

“You said we’d be here a while, right?” I asked as Strap got another stamp on her purchase paper, tucking it out of sight again, “What are we supposed to do in the meantime?” I continued with a twinge of worry, “I mean, I’ve only got a hooffull of caps, if I want to eat decent food and sleep in a decent bed that’s not free here, right?”

“No, nothing’s free in Oasis Springs,” Strap replied, though she continued as my worry spread across my face, “Though, if you can’t pay for it, you can work for it.”

That perked my ears up.

“Most of the folks you see manning and maintaining the walls don’t actually live here, they’re travellers or caravanners like us. But, just like us, many of them are down on their luck and fresh out of caps. Rather than turn them away, Oasis Springs puts them to work on the Workforce.

“The Workforce acts like the backbone of Oasis Springs. They provide all the menial labor that folks like Wrangler and Deep Drink need to keep the place up and running. In return, Oasis Springs keeps them fed and rested. You happen to see those two big tents when we first came in? One on either side of the street?”

“I think so,” I said, recalling two circus-like tents.

“One’s for stallions, other’s for mares,” Strap continued, “Not much privacy, it’s one big open tent, but they give you a cot to sleep on and space to store your stuff. Folks tend to be civil, everypony watches out for everypony else’s stuff and thieves don’t last very long.

“Not saying that you would, but if for some reason you do find yourself on the wrong side of the law, there’s not a whole lot the caravan can do for you. Commit crimes in Oasis Springs and Oasis Springs will own your ass. Depending on the offense that could constitute a fine combined with jail time and or banishment. They don’t typically execute ponies, but ponies here don’t typically commit capital offenses,” at my worried look, she reiterated: “But like I said, I’m not saying you would do anything illegal, just giving you the run of the town.

“You’ll get a stamp card when you report to the Workforce, enchanted little scrap of paper. You hold onto it and get it stamped like the ones I’ve been getting from all the merchants, except you get stamped for completing tasks. Mostly stuff like standing guard duty, cooking meals, helping the merchants, general stuff like that. You can even get a shift in the medical tents.

“Provided you get a certain number of stamps per day, you get to keep your cot warm and your belly full. But if you’re a good for nothing layabout they’ll either charge you to eat or just plain boot your ass out the gate.

“How many stamps do I need to get?” worry slipped back into my voice at the prospect of being kicked out. I’d been hoping to get a break after the past few days, take some down time to relax a little, if these ponies decided to work me to the bone...

“You’ll be fine,” Strap gave a dismissive wave, “it’s not that hard, all you really gotta do is put in eight or so hours of good work. The more ponies on the Workforce the lower the stamp requirement to stay on. Hell, you can even earn caps by going over the minimum requirement, get yourself recognized as an overachiever.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” I thought out loud, “Are you going to be joining the Workforce as well, then?”

“Back in the day, maybe,” Strap replied, “but I’ve got bigger duties now, taking care of supplies and whatnot for the caravan. If Dual Gauge needs me, I can’t have duties to the Workforce get in the way of that,” she turned to me, pre-empting my question, “you on the other hoof, no offense, but you’re just a laymare. Caravan won’t take a hit if your duties are to Oasis Springs for a while.

“You’ll find most of the others on the Workforce, too. Only ponies that really won’t be are Cookie, Gauge, and I. We’ll be busy getting supplies to get the caravan up and running again.”

“I...okay, I guess,” I said, “Suppose I’ll join the Workforce, then.”

“I’ve got a couple minutes, I’ll walk you there.”

* * * * *

“Got another body for you,” Strap said as we approached a mare seated outside the mares’ tent. Sitting back in a chair with a hat over her eyes, she used a hoof to lift it as we approached, “Healthy Skies from Dual Gauge’s caravan.”

“Hi,” I said, raising a hoof in greeting.

The mare gave me a quick up and down with her eyes, “Sure,” she said, sitting up straight and writing something down on a clipboard. That accomplished, she procured a scrap of parchment and hoofed it over, then relaxed back again.

‘That was quick,’ I thought.

“I’ll see you around,” Strap said as I stashed the parchment in my saddlebags.

“See you,” I replied with a soft smile, heading into the tent.

Pushing past the flap, I blinked a few times at the dimmer inside light, taking a moment to look around. The floor was dirt, same as outside, with one large room taking up the entirety of the tent. The heavy tarp was supported by a series of evenly spaced poles rising from the dirt. As Strap had said, a number of mismatched cots were laid out. Many were upright with random assortments of gear and ponies on and around them. Others, all upside down, were vacant of gear and equines.

‘Those are probably the unclaimed ones,’ I reasoned.

Before I could move further in I gave a startled whinny as someone ran headfirst into my hindquarters. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t a good idea to stand right in front of the tent opening.

Turning with an apology on my tongue, I froze as I spotted the mare staring surprised at my wings. Or, more importantly, I froze at the sight of her own wings, half cocked in surprise.

‘Another pegasus!’

“You’re a pegasus!” The pegasus exclaimed, eyes shifting from my wings to my face as a smile split her lips, “Well howdy! Put her there, friend!” The mare extended a hoof, “Name’s High Rise!”

“I...Healthy Skies,” I greeted back, taking the offered hoof.

“Sorry ‘bout runnin’ inta you like that, heh, was in a bit of a hurry,” High Rise smiled, pushing past me and giving me something else to freeze up at, “You new around these parts?”

“I...er, yeah,” I replied, tearing my eyes off her cutie mark...or more specifically the brand that had replaced it, ‘A dashite!’ I thought, ‘Stay calm, stay calm, she’s not going to hurt you...probably,’ “J-just arrived a few days ago...” I continued past my train of thought.

“A newbie, then! C’mon, follow me,” I hesitantly followed as High Rise moved further into the tent, “What they getcha for? Me, it was slander and all the like. Used to be a military mare, but after I seen what the wasteland was really like, well I made like ol’ Deadshot and put the hoof to ‘em!

“They said I could either take the rope or the brand, so I dropped trou, bore flank, and here I am today, heh. Making the wasteland a better place,” she stopped at a cot with a set of mercenary-looking gear. Armored barding, a few guns, and saddlebags that had seen better days.

“That’s, uh, well I hope to do the same...” I said, trailing off for a moment, High Rise waiting expectantly, “I’m a nu...an, I’m a doctor,” I fumbled, eyes darting to her scarred flank as my heart rate started to rise.

“Uh, you okay there, filly?” High Rise raised a brow, following my eyes to her flank, her own drawn to my saddlebags which were covering up my own mark. She took a tentative step to the side, towards an overturned cot, “Say, why don’t you take a load off?”

‘Shit,’ I thought, eyes darting over to the mare’s weapons laying just out of reach, ‘She’s going to see I’m not a dashite! Then what will she do?!’ I could see and hear other ponies in my peripherals, but would any of them step in before it was too late?

“Oh, uh, I’ve actually gotta go!” I countered, backing up. High Rise’s friendly demeanor faded as she matched my steps, “Work to do, y’know!”

“What work you get selected for, Healthy Skies?” Her eyes darted again to my saddlebags.

‘Where’s that darn exit!’ I gave a mental cry, a real yelp escaping me as I bumped into a cot behind me. Stumbling, I half turned to correct myself, taking my eyes off of High Rise. She darted forth as if to help, but then she was beside me, getting a proper look at my cutie mark.

“You ain’t got no brand, no scars!” High Rise huffed, friendly demeanor souring as her ears pinned back, “You really a dashite?”

“I-I never claimed to be…” I countered, taking a quick step back, glancing behind me this time, “You...you kinda just assumed—"

“And what the hell is some Enclave-lover doin’ down below the clouds, hm?” she matched my step, jabbing me in the chest with a wing, “You some kinda spy? Down here to collect intel on us dashites!?”

“What, no! I—" I started to say.

“Hey, Skies!” Somepony called out, drawing my eyes towards the other end of the tent.

‘Flower!’ I heaved a sigh of relief as the patchy-coated mare cantered over with a firm look, eyeballing High Rise with a frown. Behind her, following at a trot, were Axle Grease, Marsh Runner, and Doughy.

“Flower!” I greeted as the mare approached.

“What’s going on here, Skies?” Flower asked, turning to glare at High Rise.

“Y’all colludin’ with an Enclave mare!?” High Rise snorted, feathers ruffling as she eyed the four caravaners who, for their part, fixed the opposing pegasus with spite of their own.

“We’re working with the pony that saved my life!” Flower shot back before turning to me, “C’mon, we grabbed some cots over there for us caravaners.”

“Thanks…” I said, turning quickly before the situation could devolve further.

“Don’t pay her any mind, you’re with the caravan,” Flower reassured me as I gave High Rise a final backward glance, seeing her return to her cot with a glower on her face, “Doesn’t matter whether you’ve got a brand or not.”

“We always try to find a little spot to our own,” Marsh Runner put in as we made our way back and I unloaded my gear by an empty cot, “Even got a spot saved for Rocky when she gets here...”

The mention of Rock Runner took me back to last night, hearing the gunfire from the direction her group had gone. A twinge in my belly drew me back out, and I noticed the rest of the mares seemed similarly affected, all recovering quickly enough from their glazed and antsy expressions. Nopony wanted to relive the hell we’d just been through.

“So, what did you gals get assigned to?” Doughy asked, letting us all breathe easier at the subject change, “Workforce bought a bunch'a potatoes, like real grown in soil potatoes,” my ears perked up at that; soil-grown potatoes were almost a delicacy above the clouds, “Anyways, somepony’s gotta peel 'em all.”

“I got watch team two,” Axle Grease complained.

“Better than team one, our hours suck,” Flower countered with a complaint of her own, “You got team one too, Marshy, right?”

“Yep,” Marsh Runner replied.

“The thing is: I wanted maintenance,” Axle Grease spoke up, “But of course all the lofty jobs are already taken, wish we’d arrived on a Monday, start things off with a new list.”

“At least none of you got latrine duty,” Doughy put in, getting sorry looks from the others, “Figures they go'n give me a cushy job peelin' potatoes followed by a trip to the latrine.”

“Better than the other way around!” Axle Grease laughed, the other wasteland mares joining her.

I added to their merriment with a simple smile of my own, “I have no idea what half of that means,” I admitted as the laughter died down.

“So basically, you’ve got three types of work to perform on the Workforce: menial labor, skilled labor, and guard duty. Menial labor is stuff like cleaning and general tasks,” Flower began to explain.

“Like peelin' potatoes and cleanin' the latrines,” Doughy made a face.

“Skilled labor is pretty much the opposite: performing tasks that only a specialist with job experience can do, fixing broken radios and mending broken limbs.”

My ears perked up, Strap had mentioned I could put my doctoring skills to good use here, “Okay, cool. So where do I sign up for that?”

Axle Grease gave a snort, “It’s not quite that easy, otherwise I’d be running maintenance instead of pulling guard duty on team two. Just because you’ve got the skills doesn’t mean you get the job you want.”

“Yeah, as Axle mentioned just a second ago, it’s Mondays that the jobs get assigned,” Marsh Runner said, poking the mentioned mare with an elbow.

The talk about weekdays threw a wrench in my mental gears for a moment, what day was today? Something as trivial and dumb as counting off days of the week (something I definitely did above the clouds for want of more Fridays) had been entirely forgotten down here in the dirt.

“What day is it?” I asked sheepishly.

“Wednesday,” Flower answered, “Which means all the jobs left are pretty much exclusively menial labor and guard duty. Sometimes you’ll get openings for the better jobs when somepony leaves early, but then there’s a waiting list that gets filled out Monday so even if an opening happens there’s usually someone already waiting to fill it.”

“Yeah, we were scheduled to arrive next next Monday, but…” Axle Grease trailed off, all of us going quiet.

“Okay, well, um, where do I sign up for...whatever’s left?” I put in before any demons could enter my mind, distracting myself and the group.

Flower looked thankful for the second change of subject, “Well—"

“I was wondering if you’d ever show your face again, Axle Grease!” Break Action snarled, zeroing in on the group with eyes burning into the named mare.

‘Uh-oh…’ I thought, taking a step back.

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Axle Grease countered, glaring back at Break Action.

“Yeah! What the heck, Breaky?” Marsh Runner spoke up.

“This nag decided to run out on us all last night and now she comes crawling back to the group when it suits her!” Break Action jabbed an accusatory hoof in the mare’s face.

“Get that hoof outta my face,” Axle Grease bit back, smacking the offending hoof away, “The hell is your problem, we all got here okay!”

“My problem is cowards like you who run at the first sign of trouble!” Break Action growled, taking another step into Axle Grease’s face, jabbing a hoof in my direction, “Even the fucking pegasus has more balls than you! She came back to the group after we sent the ghouls packing!”

“Break Action!” Flower snapped.

“Nothing from you, Flower!” Break Action snapped back with a sideways glare.

“That’s your problem!?” Axle Grease rolled her eyes, “Bitch, please, I—"

Break Action’s hoof was a blur and then Axle Grease was crumpled on the ground, taking out a cot and knocking loose gear across the dirt floor. Her eyes swirled loosely in her head, a startled silence filling the tent as all conversation stopped. The few other mares in the tent turned their gazes towards our group.

“What the hell!” Doughy exclaimed.

“Greasy!” Marsh Runner moved to help the fallen pony.

“Break Action!” Flower snapped, forcing her way between the two mares as I stood uselessly out of the way.

“Don’t you bow up on me!” Break Action growled, butting heads with Flower.

“Hey, stop this!” I called out, taking a step forward.

“You wanna take this outside?” Flower countered, not backing down.

Break Action rewarded her with a sharp headbutt of her own, sending Flower stumbling back. She caught herself on a cot, shaking her head with a low growl and throwing herself back at Break Action. The larger mare braced, but Flower’s horn flashed and one of Break Action’s hooves went out from under her, letting Flower knock her back.

Now it was Break Action that sent a cot tumbling, this one devoid of gear as she stumbled into it. Different from Axle Grease, she was back up and running without a moment’s hesitation, letting out a snarl as she charged back at Flower, who was charging another spell.

Before the two mares could trade any more blows, Marsh Runner thrust her powerful form between them, a flank to each mare. Break Action ran full tilt into the more massive pony, hitting her like a brick wall and dropping back, stunned. At the same time, another telekinetic punch from Flower deflected off Marsh Runner’s opposite flank, barely leaving a scratch.

“Enough!” Marsh Runner called out, looking to be on the verge of tears, “No more fighting! You two need to stop!”

‘That’s what I said!’ I mentally grumbled, but I didn’t have a chance to voice my concerns as somepony else beat me to it.

“What in tarnation’s goin’ on in here!?” I turned to spot a dark blue mare with a wide brimmed hat and a lasso approaching, Dual Gauge ambling along beside with a glare in his eyes, “Y’all look like a bunch of damn bucks all up in fumes over a mare in heat!”

“What the hell are you all doing!?” Dual Gauge growled, glaring between each of us.

“Uh…” I said as Dual Gauge’s eyes focused on me.

“N-nothing, sir. Ma’am,” Flower addressed the two, taking a step back from Marsh Runner and killing her lit horn, “Just a friendly little brawl...wrestle, that’s all.”

“Yeah…” Break Action added, brushing off a shoulder as she stood from her fighting stance. She didn’t meet anyone’s eyes as she added: “Just a little wrestling match.”

Her job complete, Marsh Runner moved back to Axle Grease, “You okay?” She spoke quietly, urging the stunned mare to her hooves.

“Don’t look like a lotta nothin’ to me,” the blue mare countered, “Who’s the one beatin’ on that there mare?”

“No one, it’s—" Flower started.

“Errant strike from me,” Break Action cut in, getting a glare from Axle Grease, “Accidental.”

“That so?” the blue mare turned to Axle Grease, who looked between Break Action and Flower.

She kept her lips pursed for a moment, still seated in the dirt where she’d landed, but after a moment let out a simple: “Yeah, sure.”

“Skies?” I flinched as Dual Gauge called me out, all eyes finding me. A sudden unease flickered across Break Action’s face, unseen by the others.

“She…” I started, ready to throw the mare under the clouds. She'd assaulted Axle Grease, it didn’t matter that the others were trying to protect her, her actions were inexcusable! But a pinch in my belly stopped me as I winced; drawn back away from my thoughts and finding all eyes on me, I continued: “Y-yeah, it was an accident.” Break Action’s sides deflated a little as she let out a silent breath, Axle Grease touching a hoof to her injured eye.

‘Hello!’ I mentally kicked myself as I hopped over to the injured mare, ‘Paging doctor Skies, get your butt in gear!’

“I’m fine, thanks,” Axle Grease winced as I looked over her face. The skin around her left eye was starting to bruise, a small abrasion above the eyelid weeping blood. There’d be swelling galore, but there wasn’t any blood in the eye, no subconjunctival hemorrhaging so that was good.

“Could we get some ice?” I asked, turning to the blue mare and Dual Gauge, “Or a cold pack, something for the swelling?”

“Where you from, filly?” The mare snorted at the idea, “Ain’t no ice in the wasteland, lest you go up north towards Poneva and the like.”

“We’re getting off topic,” Dual Gauge took the reins of the conversation, “Wrangler’s heard my side of the story, she wants to hear from everypony else. I know this…” his stone face cracked for a moment, “this was hard on everypony, just...try to recall all you can, okay?” Exchanging uneasy looks, we nodded all the same, “Skies, join me for a second?”

“I, er, sure…” I said, following as the blue mare, Wrangler, started asking the rest of the mares questions.

Dual Gauge led us out of the tent before turning to me, “What the hell happened in there!?” He growled, though his gray eyes weren’t angry with me. When I opened my mouth to speak, he added: “And don’t give me that ‘it was an accident’ bullshit. I’m old, not stupid.”

“Oh...well, y-you know how Break Action was maybe kinda mad at Axle Grease?” At his unyielding frown, I continued, “Axle Grease and Marrowbone ran off to Oasis Springs after we led the ghouls off, Break Action and I returned to the caravan, she was upset.”

“All right. So what just happened in there?”

“Break Action came in angry, they exchanged harsh words and Break Action hit Axle Grease in the face…” I answered, trailing off as uncertainty laced my voice, “Flower got in her face and they got into a fight, Marsh Runner stopped them...that’s it.”

“Haven’t we all been through enough!?” Dual Gauge growled to himself, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing the bridge of his snout with a hoof. He let out a sigh, “I don’t know, everything...we just need to get back on our hooves. Thanks, Skies, go give Wrangler your side of the story.”

“I…” I started, blood splashing across my mind’s eye, “O-okay…”

I dreaded the idea of delving back into my memories, but as Dual Gauge trotted off I forced myself back into the mares’ tent and over to where the group was waiting. It seemed that Wrangler was getting everyone’s side of the story at once, everypony speaking in turn.

I tried not to think about everything, putting in a comment here or there, glossing over...High Brass gurgled, the shotgun roared in my ears, High Brass was quiet…those parts. Eventually the story led to our arrival at Oasis Springs and after a few questions Wrangler was finished.

“So, an Enclave mare, and pregnant to boot,” Wrangler spoke up after her final querying, drawing my eyes to her own flinty pair, “Not sure I’ve ever seen a pegasus with their cutie mark still intact, wasn’t fully sure you folk still had them.”

“We, uh, we do,” I assured her with a small smile, “and I am...pregnant, that is.”

“Figured, you keep wincing like you got a bloatsprite nippin’ at a teat,” she said, almost nostalgic, “Whatever enticed you on down here?”

“Well, they would’ve made me abort the foal if I stayed above the clouds,” I replied, giving my belly a quick rub, “They’re very strict on population control,” my eyes briefly darted to High Rise, who I found glaring at me from across the tent; the other mares in the tent had turned back to their own worries.

“Some would call you stupid for that,” Wrangler said, making my heart sink a little bit, “Others would say you got grit for it. It’s not easy foalin’ down here, I’ve done my fair share. Fillies and colts are just as like to live as to die in their first years, it’s just the nature of things. Many a mare would sow herself shut or keep a coat hanger in her saddlebags, but we mighty few that bear the burden? We got grit.” She finished, giving me a smile and a pat on the shoulder, making me feel just a little bit better about myself before she headed out.

The ensuing silence only lasted until Wrangler was out of the tent, Flower turning sharply to Break Action.

“You done?” She demanded, glaring at the opposing mare.

“Hey,” Break Action didn’t butt heads this time, raising a forehoof in a sign of peace, “I let that shit get to my head, shouldn’t have let it get carried away. If Axle hadn’t called me a bitch I probably wouldn’t have swung.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of an apology…” Axle Grease put in with a glare.

“Yeah?” Break Action countered, turning to the mare but keeping her distance, “Well don’t hold your breath on getting one. You still ran off when you should’ve returned to the caravan!”

“Your uppity ass would be marching to the brig if not for us lying for you,” Flower glowered in response, “Only reason you’re not is because nopony here’s a blue falcon,” she gave an encompassing gesture to the rest of us, “And, in case you hadn’t noticed, we’re a little short on warm bodies, so maybe keep your grudges private until we can settle them on the dusty trail.”

“Fine by me,” Break Action trotted to a cot on the far side of those that had been requisitioned, depositing most of her gear and heading off with a backwards glance, “See you ladies around, then!” Her eyes lingered on my suddenly uncomfortable form, an unreadable look in her eyes.

“Well, I’m gonna to go get started on those potatoes,” Doughy excused herself from the group, ending the silence that Break Action had left in her wake.

“Yeah,” Flower said, squinting at the dim light above, “Probably getting near the start of our first shift, Marshy. We’re still twelve and balls, right?”

Marsh Runner snorted, “You steel ranger types and your funny lingo, twelve and twelve, yep.”

“Twenty four hour clocks are easier to read than twelve hour ones,” Flower replied, the two departing. That just left Axle Grease and me in our little corner.

The other mare hopped up onto her cot, touching her eye with a wince before settling in.

“You want me to get you something for that?” I asked, trotting over.

“Nah, it’s fine, doc,” Axle Grease waved me off with a quick grin, “Unless you wanna fly out to Poneva and grab me an ice pack.”

“I’d probably just get lost,” I replied with a quick smile and a shake of my head, “Hey, quick question, though?”

“Shoot,” Axle Grease said from the bed.

“Where exactly do I sign up to get a job?”

* * * * *

“You too, huh?” Doughy asked as I came trudging in to the side tent that served as a kitchen, looking around. Unlike the two carnival-sized tents for mares and stallions, the kitchen tent was smaller and more compact with an open roof to let the smoke out. There were a number of other ponies within, stoking large fire pits and stirring great bowls that smelled nothing short of amazing to my basic pegasus palette.

“Yep,” I sighed, plopping down next to her, “I asked about a medical position, but they were all filled up. Since I didn’t have any real fighting experience they said the only thing they could give me was this.”

“Yep, go figure,” Doughy said as I took a seat next to her, picking up a peeler and a potato, a real potato! “Here, go like this,” she set a potato down on one end in a small dish then made quick work of it using long strokes. Rolling the oblong orb of deliciousness onto its side, she peeled the top and bottom, “Done.”

While slower and less deft, I started working off the skin of my own potato.

“Yeesh, you make it look easy!” I muttered once I’d finished, Doughy having already peeled three more.

“Practice makes perfect!” Doughy singsonged. Though it probably helped that she had magic.

“How do you even grow stuff down here?” I asked, “I mean, I get that not everything they told us in school is true, but everything I’ve seen has been a barren wasteland.”

“It’s not easy…” Doughy began before a queer look took her features, “Wait, what do they teach you in school?”

“That the land beneath the clouds is all radioactive...like, melt your face off radioactive,” I felt a little embarrassed as I said that, first-hoof knowledge providing contradicting evidence to what I’d been taught, “And that everything down here that’s still alive would chase you down and eat you, made raiders sound like breezies by comparison.”

Doughy let out a snort of laughter, “Geez, and I thought my schoolin' was bad.”

“I mean, the government doesn’t let us go down below the clouds,” I felt compelled to defend my people, “It’s not like anyone can come down here and check to see if what they tell us is true.”

“I guess,” Doughy gave a shrug, returning her attention to a potato, “Anyways, I’m not the best to ask about crops and whatnot, I can cook, not reap and sow.” She looked up for a moment, eyes locking on a white buck, “Hey, potato dude! What’d you say your name was?”

“Bronco,” he answered, trotting over to us with a quick smile. I tensed as his eyes found my wings, but he seemed to take it in stride, “How can I help you?”

“My friend here was wonderin' how ya go about growin' potatoes in the wasteland?” Doughy spoke, peeling potatoes all the while, “Now that I think about it, consider me curious as well.”

“Sorry ladies, but that’s a well-kept family secret. Me and my fathers before me have kept it ever since my old great, great-something or other grandsire came out of a stable with a go-get-em attitude and a cartload of stabletech brand potatoes!” Bronco grinned for a moment as I exchanged a look with Doughy, then he gave a quick snort of laughter, “Nah, I’m just messing with you mares.

“If I’m being realistic, potatoes are pretty forgiving and rather hardy crops. All you really gotta do is find a spot that’s not all glowing with radiation and start planting. No seeds, you just stick them in the ground and give them clean water,” he pondered a moment, “Good idea to monitor any rain you get, could be magical radiation in that. If so, a little radaway mixed with clean water can do wonders; maybe add some fertilizer if you’re able, to get a bigger yield.”

“Huh,” Doughy said, “Maybe I shoulda' been a potato farmer.”

“It’s never too late to start!” Bronco grinned, giving a nod and trotting off.

“When you think about it, it makes sense,” I said, focusing back on my potato peeling, “That everything’s not radioactive and all, it’s not like the Zebras could’ve hit everywhere with balefire.”

A hooffull of potatoes later and there were no more potatoes to peel. There were still a couple baskets left, but those ones were for baking; the ones we had peeled would be mashed or fried, the potato skins as well. The thought of food brought a rumble from my stomach, and not a moment too soon!

“All righty, folks!” A grizzled, old buck called out as Doughy and I finished moving our baskets. He limped into the tent and took a seat at a table, getting out a stamp, “Shift’s over, come’n get your stamps!”

“Easy day,” Doughy grinned as we got into the quickly forming line.

‘It sure seems that way,’ I thought with a smile of my own. This workforce thing wasn’t all that bad after all!

“Next!” The grizzled buck called me forwards, sending another pony off with a stamp. His old eyes squinted at me, a permanent scowl affixed to his jowls out of which an old-looking pipe protruded, “What were you up and about doin’? Don’t know your face, filly.”

“Peeling potatoes,” I answered, pointing back with a wing, “I just got assigned to the kitchen today.”

“How many of them potatoes you peel?” The stamp clutched in his magic remained in its inkwell, the fact it hadn’t risen and struck my slip of paper starting to worry me. I’d done my part, put in the effort like Strap said I should do...would the fact I was a pegasus bite me in the proverbial ass again?

“Uh, I dunno, I wasn’t counting, ten or fifteen maybe?” I said.

“What in—only a hooffull?! And you think you deserve a stamp for that!?” the buck snarled, almost recoiling as if my words carried a foul stench.

“What? Of course!” I exclaimed, my heart rate rising, ‘Strap said it was easy to get stamps!’ “I-I got here late!”

“And you showed up late!?” I tried to interject but he cut me off, “Zip it and move along! No work, no stamp!”

“But I—"

“No buts!” He slammed a hoof down on the table, “Now move along!”

“Oh, just give her a stamp, will ya!” Doughy spoke up from behind me, “She did her fair share, got picked late to join this rotation! It’s not her fault!”

“Oh, so you want me to give her your stamp then?” The buck growled past me, rising from his seat at the table, “Or better yet, give neither of you nothing!”

I turned my worried gaze to Doughy behind me, seeing her hard glare falter. Her eyes darted briefly to mine before she let out a sigh and closed her mouth, looking away. At least she’d tried.

“That’s what I thought,” the buck settled back down in his seat and turned his glare back to me, “Now move along!”

* * * * *

“At least I’ve got some caps,” I reassured my grumbling stomach, “I’ll just buy some food.”

It grumbled at me again as I stood in line, the smell of baked potatoes only inflaming my hunger. It was all I could do to wait my turn, shuffling along as ponies presented their stamped work slips and were given their grub. Soon enough, I had my turn.

“Next,” the serving pony fixed his one good eye on me, “Show me your stamp.”

“I didn’t get one, how many caps—" I started to say.

“No stamp, no food,” he interjected plainly, “If you’re payin’, ya wait till the workers get their grub!”

“But I—" I started to say.

“Ain’t no buts, neither,” he jerked his head to one side, “Now move along, will ya?”

I held my ground a few moments longer, but was forced to concede by the grumbling of ponies in line behind me. I already had one enemy in the crowd, I had to admit I didn’t need any more.

My stomach gave me a forlorn gurgle as I took a seat at one of the tables, laying my head atop my hooves and closing my eyes. At the very least I could get some rest and I had enough caps to pay for a meal, hopefully there was something left by the time everyone else had eaten.

Sitting there, feeling sore with my eyes closed...what I wouldn’t give for a nice hot soak in the tub or a massage from—

Bang!

I jerked upright at the sound of metal striking metal, spotting Break Action seating herself across from me. Her double-barreled shotgun leaned up against the table beside her, the culprit in the case of the sudden noise.

“Sorry…” she muttered quickly, “Dropped it a little fast.”

“No problem,” I replied, laying my head back down. The apology, halting as it was, was strange coming from the mare, ‘Suppose me not ratting her out gets me some sympathy or whatever.’

Before I could close my eyes I was drawn up to Break Action’s own cool blue pair. She was staring at me, an uncertain crease in her brow like I’d asked her what sound different colors made. Did she expect me to get up and leave or something?

“Why’d you side with me?” She asked as the silence between us became palpable, “That fight between me and Flower. I’ll admit, when Dual Gauge asked you what happened, I about near shit myself.”

‘Thanks for that mental image,’ I mentally gagged, remembering after a moment that she was expecting a verbal response from me.

A stupid: “Uh…” was all I managed in the heat of the moment, caught off guard by the direct question, “I...um, you’re, well, you’re part of the caravan,” I managed to speak.

“So? Not like you’re a full-time member,” Break Action countered.

“Okay, first off: screw you, yes I am! Officially, I might add!” I replied with a sharp air-jab of my hoof, “Second...well, yeah, like I just said, I am an official member of Dual Gauge’s caravan!”

“Wait, what?” Break Action seemed genuinely surprised, raising a suspicious brow, “Since when?”

“Since the caravan heads voted me in, right after…” dessicated, rotting bodies snarling and snapping at the air, eyes wild with the desire to tear flesh from bone, “after that buck and dash thing. One of the runners OD’ed and I brought him back, then convinced Red Mist to take his place and pull the wagon to safety!”

“Oh…” she relented, pausing for a moment, “That still doesn’t explain why you helped me out back there...I hate your guts!” Break Action searched my eyes for a moment, “They would’ve thrown me in jail if they knew…” she stopped herself, casting a quick glance around the room, “Well, you know…”

I opened my mouth to give a matter-of-fact response, but promptly shut it when nothing came. Why had I stood with Break Action?

Flower had given me a look, wanting me to stick with her story, but was it really that simple? If it had been Flower’s butt on the line the answer would be that simple, she was my friend and I stood up for my friends. But I had no loyalties to Break Action, no reason to lie for her. I could’ve ratted her out and slept sound as ever without a care in the world.

Ever since I’d run into Dual Gauge’s group, she’d been a grade-A bitch. Hay, many of the caps I’d earned were compensation from her and Rusty Ratchet! It would’ve served her right to cool off in a jail cell.

So why had I stuck with Flower and helped keep Break Action out of trouble? Why did she deserve my mercy?

And suddenly I had my answer.

“A couple nights ago, after you and your husband accosted me, I talked with High Brass…” biting, choking, blood, death, “I was upset, reasonably so,” I continued, getting a mildly uncomfortable look from Break Action, “And he...well, he sorta defended your actions. Said you were down on your luck, trying to get back your footing, what it ultimately boiled down to was that you were good ponies, just troubled. We became friends on that night, and then...then I couldn’t save him when the ghouls attacked...

“Don’t get me wrong, I considered telling the truth about the fight, hell, I wanted to...but maybe High Brass was right, and if he was then maybe, just maybe, I can honor his memory by thinking like he did.”

Break Action stared at me a few moments longer, eyes searching mine with a half-hearted glare. More and more I wanted to slip out of my seat and retreat back to my cot, but eventually the mare sighed, looking away.

“Here,” she pushed a second baked potato across the table to me, quickly like it might bite her if she kept it any longer, “I...I don’t mean to be inconsiderate or anything, and I know from experience a pregnant mare shouldn’t skip meals...trust me on that.”

“I...wow, thanks!” I exclaimed, stomach giving an eager gurgle.

“You’re...you’re welcome,” the words came, but not easily, her eyes darting everywhere but towards me, “I um...I...owe you an—"

“Apology accepted,” I preempted her awkward speech, earning a grateful, if somewhat embarrassed, grin.

“I don’t do that very often…” Break Action smiled, the two of us finishing our meals in silence. The potato was wonderful and warm, my delighted mastications getting me a couple odd looks from the other mare.

“I should probably get back to the kitchens, see if they need anything else done so I can maybe get a stamp today,” I excused myself once I’d finished, standing from the table and collecting my trash.

“Y’know…” Break Action stopped me, “if you’re not doing so hot in the kitchens I could...I could maybe have you tag along as a defender on the wall...with me.”

“I appreciate the thought,” I pushed back images and sounds from the past few days, ears twitching at a sudden bout of tinnitus, “But I’m not really all that familiar with guns.”

“So? If I’m being honest, most of the ponies up on the wall couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn from the inside,” Break Action gave a snort, “Most of it’s just being visible to deter aggressors. Besides, firearms aren’t all that hard to get the hang of...I could help you if you wanted...”

“I...” I started, about to turn down the offer, but then I was fighting High Brass’ shotgun as the crippled ghoul closed in on me, wasting precious time I could have used trying to save him. Tears stung my eyes as Leather Strap’s words reverberated through my head: ‘He’s dead because you weren’t fast enough and now you gotta live with that!’

“You...are you...okay?” Break Action brought me back from the memory and I realized the tears were very much real as they ran down my face, “I...if you don’t want—"

“No, no, sorry, I do,” I said quickly, wiping away the tears with a wing, “It’s all just, just...emotions...pregnancy,” I fumbled for an excuse, trying to play it all off with a smile, “But yes, I could definitely do with some firearms training.”

I had a feeling Break Action didn’t entirely buy what I was trying to sell, but after a moment she seemed to swallow it nonetheless.

“All right,” she said, “Go grab that shotgun of yours and any ammo you got, meet me at the backside of the mare’s tent. Not gonna do any actual shooting, we’d have to go outside the walls for that and after all we’ve been through I’d rather not leave town alone, so I’ll just give you the basics.”

“Okay,” I nodded, “See you there.”

* * * * *

Fortunately, High Rise (and most everyone else) was gone from the mare’s tent and I was able to retrieve the shotgun and bandolier of ammo without issue. It was heavier than it looked, and tugged at uncomfortable memories just as its sling tugged at my withers.

Break Action was waiting for me out around the back of the mare’s tent. There were a hooffull of old wooden tables scattered about with a lonely fire barrel bereft of flames. Her own shotgun was leaning against one of the tables.

“Lemme see that,” she gestured for my shotgun as I approached. I slid it awkwardly up and over my head with my wings and offered it forth, “Okay, what’ve we got here?” Break Action’s eyes danced over the weapon as she took a seat at one of the tables and set it down. At her quick gesture I took a spot opposite her.

“Hoofberg five-ninety, eighteen inch barrel with cylinder choke, seven round tube,” she actuated the small button that had saved my life...before and moved the pump back a short distance before locking it back forwards, “Oughta get yourself a stock, unicorns don’t really need them but they’re almost a requirement if you don’t have a horn.”

“Okay, where can I get one?” I asked.

“Marketplace, I’d check and make sure Dual Gauge doesn’t have one first though,” she considered a moment, “Though that ship probably sailed when we left all our goods behind. Most of the guns and ammo went with Dynamite’s group. Anyways...” she laid the shotgun out before me, shifting her eyes to mine, “Is it loaded?”

“Uh...maybe?” looking at the weapon, I didn’t actually know. I hadn’t checked since Dual Gauge had hoofed it over to me, “Didn’t you check?”

“I know, but do you know? Yes or no?” Break Action’s voice was firm, but not condescending or angry, “Is it loaded or not?”

“No…” I gave her my best guess.

“First rule of firearm safety: all weapons are always loaded until you personally verify they aren’t. If someone gives you a gun, it’s loaded until you unload it,” taking the weapon in her hooves, she pulled the pump back with a sharp clack, “That leads into rule number two: muzzle awareness,” she paused at my querying expression, setting the weapon back down and tapping the end of the barrel,“The muzzle, that’s the end of the barrel.”

“Got it.”

“Basically: always know where your weapon is pointed, should go without saying that you never want to point at something you don’t want to destroy. Think of it like a ‘you break it you buy it’ sorta deal, except you could kill a friend if you’re not careful. Foals have shot mothers and mothers their foals because they weren’t following this rule.

“Third rule: keep your mouth, magic, and…” she glanced at my folded wings, “Well, wings if you can use those, I guess, off the trigger until you’re ready to shoot. Never rely on a manual safety,” she tapped one of the buttons near the mouthgrip and I marked it as the safety button in my mind, “The best safety you’ve got is the one between your ears. Think you can handle all that?”

“Seems simple enough,” I said, putting her words to memory.

“Good,” Break Action nodded, “Now, is this gun loaded?”

“Yes.”

* * * * *

“Slide release,” I indicated the button, moving my wing over, “Safety. Trigger, obviously,” my wing moved again.

“Check if it’s loaded,” Break Action gestured with a hoof.

With my left hoof still in the pump’s loop, I depressed the slide release and opened the action. Guiding the weapon so the barrel didn’t sweep across Break Action, I turned it over to check the breech, feed ramp, and tube. All three were empty.

“Not loaded,” I confirmed, a proud little smile on my face.

“Good,” Break Action gave me a smile and a nod before her features settled and her tone grew serious, “Now, like I said before, I’d recommend keeping the tube loaded and chamber empty inside towns, provided they allow it. Oasis Springs will, some other places won’t.

“Once we hit the open road top it off and keep the safety on until you’re more familiar with the weapon. Seen too many folks lose a hoof or a friend because they weren’t following rules two and three.”

“Thanks again for all this,” I said, closing the action and slinging it across my withers. It was still heavy, and still tugged at my darker memories, but it rested more comfortably now that I had the basics down.

“Yeah, don’t mention it…” Break Action seemed uncomfortable with the gratitude, “So, if you’re still up for it I could get you a spot on the wall with me.”

“Sure,” I sent a soft scowl back towards the kitchen tent, a thin tendril of smoke rising from the central vent, “Can’t be worse than working in the kitchens. How does it work?”

“All right,” Break Action said, “Way it works is simple: I’m on team three. We do two four hour shifts, one starts at eight AM, the other at eight PM. Time in-between is for rest and relaxation, just can’t show up to the shift all boozy. Like I said before, the brunt of the work is being visible. If you do spot something fishy call it out and get more gun sights on it,” she squinted up towards the cloud curtain, eyes tracing across the great, gray expanse, “Team one should be settled in now, got us a good seven hours till we need to be up on the wall. Just be at the mare’s tent around seven or so, I’ll get you signed up.”

“How do you guys tell time down here?” I asked, staring upwards in an effort to glean some way of telling the sun’s position. Perhaps I should’ve grabbed a watch before I flew down here.

Break Action shrugged, “Guess it comes with being a wastelander. Should be a clock in the mare’s tent, otherwise there’s one in the town center. You’ll see more armed folks get active around the time of shift changes.”

“I guess I’ll keep an eye out, then.”

Break Action nodded, “See you around, Healthy Skies.”

* * * * *

My first thought on how to spend the seven hours between now and the next watch rotation was with some well deserved rest. I’d only gotten a little sleep yesterday and that had been in a bumpy wagon after we’d outrun the ghouls. But I’d already gotten my second wind. At best all I’d get would be a couple hour power nap before my body refused to let me rest up any further.

My shotgun had a more comfortable weight to it now, but I felt that Break Action’s recommendation to get a buttstock had some merit. As it was now I could only brace the weapon with my teeth and a foreleg; a brief ring of tinnitus reminded me how the weapon had kicked me in the teeth the first time I’d fired it...the jaws of the ghoul chomping at the barrel, wild eyes…I grit my teeth, squeezing my eyes shut to kill the memory.

At the very least I could go window shopping to better distract myself and get a better layout of the town. We might be here a while, after all. So it was that I found myself sniffing out the pungent smells of the marketplace, switching to my eyes and ears once I arrived as I looked around for a weapon trader.

Lunchtime had emptied out most of the stalls selling non-edible wares, ponies crowding around those dishing out meals. Fortunately, asking for directions led me to a squat shack with a large sign above the door.

‘Gun Deelers Gun Deels’ the sign read, making me squint and frown at the grammar.

Trying not to lose too many brain cells looking at the sign, I entered the shack and squinted in the sudden darkness until my eyes adjusted. Before that happened, my ears picked up quiet music coming from a radio on the back counter, laced with static from a bad speaker. It had a slow beat with a country twang to it, not really my kind of music, but the first I’d heard in the wasteland.

“Picking up? Dropping off?” I jumped as an earth pony’s smiling face popped up from behind the countertop, his bright eyes alighting to my shotgun.

“Er...what?” I asked, unruffling my spooked feathers and trotting over.

“I offer firearm cleaning and maintenance services, no energy weapons,” he waved a hoof horizontally to emphasize that point, “If it’s all nasty and filled with carbon build-up, lead fouling, or any other undesirable substance, I can get it nice, bright, shiny, and new,” he smiled big, yellow teeth on bright display, “For a price, of course.”

“Oh, no. No thanks,” I patted the shotgun with a wing, “I was just looking to get a stock for my shotgun.”

“Sure, bring ‘er here,” the pony gestured, leaning forwards over the counter, “Lemme get a look at’cha.”

Unslinging the weapon a little awkwardly, I managed to get it into a wing. Before I realized it, the weapon was pointed at the buck’s face.

“Hey, watch your muzzle there, sweetheart!” he hopped to one side, tone not quite taking on an angry note.

“Sorry! Sorry!” I quickly apologized, jerking the gun upright, “Still getting the hang of this…”

“It’s okay. No harm, no foul,” he checked if it was loaded (it wasn’t) before turning it this way and that in his hooves, “Hmm, hmm, hoofberg twelve gauge, pre-war by the look of it,” he racked the action a few times, ears cocked, “Somebody’s kept this fine little lady in excellent condition.”

“So do you have a stock for it?” I asked.

“Sure do,” he set the weapon on the table, “Wood, metal, or plastic? Need it to be a folding stock? Collapsible?”

“Uh…” I trailed off, “What are the differences?”

Another big grin split the buck’s face, “Well wood’s your starting point, solid, hardy, but not super comfortable without a decent buttplate. Metal, if it’s good metal, is gonna vary from stock to stock. Some are heavier, some are lighter, some fold, some don’t, most aren’t built for comfort. Collapsible stocks usually make use of a metal tube and a plastic stock, best of both worlds. Pure plastic’s gonna be your lightest and most comfortable option, won’t warp or rust due to weather but also the least durable under most circumstances.”

“Okay, I guess maybe a regular plastic one?” I still wasn’t entirely sure, “What would you recommend for a newer shooter?”

“You hit it on the money, little lady,” he clopped a hoof on the counter for emphasis, “Someone like you’s probably not gonna be knocking on skulls or kicking in doors. You’ll want a lighter gun, if you’ve got caps to spend a collapsible’s your best bet, but no reason you can’t fall in love with a nice plastic stock.”

“Okay, cool,” I smiled, happy that I wasn’t totally flapping up the wrong storm, though I secretly dreaded the answer to my next question, “What’ll that cost me?”

“Pretty mare like you?” He considered a moment, “Twenty two caps gets you the stock, installation’s free. That includes the new customer discount, of course. Always looking to make new acquaintances from across this here countertop. I can get that stock on there in a jiffy.”

“Sure, that sounds good,” New customer discount and free installation did sound good. I watched him nod and disappear into the back with my shotgun clutched in his maw. Only once he was gone did I begin to wonder if I’d just been swindled. Was twenty-two caps a lot for a shotgun stock? Should I have tried to barter down to twenty? Nineteen? He was installing it so that was a definite bonus, but…

“Urgh,” I grumbled, wasteland economics was no joke. If I stood here letting myself get buyer’s remorse I’d find myself down yet another mental hole I didn’t want to linger in.

Seeking a distraction, I found myself inexplicably drawn to the old radio.

“I wonder,” I thought out loud, using a wing to twist the tuning dial. The twangy music turned to static, catching one or two stations I ignored along the way, before the needle settled at a local station I knew from Nimbus. It was saturated with static, but the music was familiar enough that I knew a popular song was ending.

“That was Dancing With You in the Skies,” a mare’s voice came through, equally staticy but still understandable, “And now a break for the news…”

“It’s been almost a week since the disappearance of local mare Healthy Skies…” instantly I felt goosebumps prickle up the back of my neck, a sudden pinch in my belly not helping my suddenly weighted guts, “Authorities are still in the early stages of an investigation into her disappearance, but foul play is not suspected at this time.

“Ms. Skies was last seen at her home right here in midtown Nimbus, where friends and family describe her as a nice, young mare with her head square on her withers and a solid future ahead of her...”

‘Well at least that’s nice,’ I thought, absentmindedly rubbing my belly with a hoof. My whole body froze at the sound of the next speaker’s voice.

“Skies, honey, wherever you are, whatever it is you may have done, please, please come home!” My mother begged through the radio. Static or no, I could see the tormented tears in her eyes, the anguish on her face, “We miss you and you know we’ll always love you, so please just come home!”

“The voice of Skies’ mother—" I hardly saw the radio as I twisted the dial, banishing the station back into staticy oblivion. I choked down a sob, vision blurred by the tears welling in my eyes.

I had hurt her, I was hurting her. I’d up and left without a trace, no goodbye, no note, nothing but my buckfriend tied to the bed. For all she knew I was dead, beyond reaching, stolen away by dashites to be dragged to the surface and liquified. Her little filly was gone and no one knew where she was but me.

But there was nothing I could do.

But I could.

“Uh...miss?”

The worried voice cemented me back in reality, blurry vision turning to see the buck standing in the door to the back room. I quickly wiped away my tears, seeking to regain my composure.

“Sorry, I...it’s just been a long day…couple of days,” Now that they were no longer filled with tears, my eyes found my new and improved weapon. True to his word, the buck had attached a...while it wasn’t brand new (though down here, what was?) it was a solid-looking stock. Partly to distract myself and partly because I didn’t like thinking of him as just ‘the buck’ I asked, “What’s your name, by the way?”

“No need to apologize,” He replied, continuing with a little bit of eccentric bravado, “And I’m Gun Dealer. Gun Dealer of Gun Deeler’s Gun Deels like the sign says.”

“Healthy Skies,” I introduced myself, taking the offered shotgun and looking it over, “May I ask: is it spelled like the sign?”

“Nah,” Dealer replied with a waved hoof, “Had a discount on the ‘E’s.” He was suddenly back to business as if he hadn’t just found me crying in his shop, “Give her a feel, bring her to your shoulder. I can add some spacers if the length of pull ain’t right.”

I wasn’t sure what that was, but I shouldered the weapon all the same. It wobbled less now that I had a third point of contact with my shoulder, feeling a lot more solid than before.

“Thanks,” I said after slinging the weapon back over my withers, trying not to wince as I saw a fifth of my wealth disappear across the countertop. As I turned to leave a sudden thought crossed my mind, “Hey, is there any place I can go to and relax a little around here?”

“Well, what kinda relax?” Dealer asked.

“Nothing involving alcohol,” I tried not to wince at the pinch in my belly, “Or narcotics, nothing of that nature.”

* * * * *

“Who would’ve thought…” I stared up at the sign for the building nestled up against Oasis Spring’s large plateau.

‘Aloe’s Flows Day Spa’

“A spa in the post-apocalypse,” I thought out loud, ‘Hay, that should be their slogan!’

To see if my eyes were deceiving me I made my way inside, a soft bell chiming as the door opened and closed behind me. The reception room was wide with a hooffull of doors leading out the back; it still had the typical ramshackle look though it appeared someone had tried to recreate a pre-war design if old picture books were to be believed. Outside of some movement I heard coming from behind a long counter the room was empty.

“I’ll be with you in a second!” A raspy voice came from behind the counter.

‘Somepony with a cold?’ I wondered, suddenly not sure I wanted to have a spa day here.

My fears of catching ill were put to rest as the creature behind the counter stood up. It didn’t sound raspy on account of a cold, the creature was a ghoul!

I literally jumped, my nostrils filling with rotten meat, ears with the snarls and snaps of their wicked jaws. Any second the creature would leap across the counter, teeth sinking into my flesh as it smiled and said, “Hello, my dear! How can I help you today?”

My brain locked up.

“Um...hello?” The ghoul asked in a strange accent, a worried expression spreading across its face. A face I now realized bore two eyes that sparkled with intelligence. The flesh upon it wasn’t nearly as rotten as that of the beasts that had chased down our caravan. A sudden realization dawned on me with a memory of Dual Gauge.

“Not all ghouls are feral,” Dual Gauge had said, “Some of them still have every ounce of wit and humor they had back before they up and became amortal.”

“Are you quite all right?” Now that my brain was starting to process signals again, I detected a slight feminine tone to the ghoul’s voice.

“Um…uh...” Yes, those were words, “Hi.”

“Are you here to use the spa?” The ghoul prompted.

“Yes,” I took a moment to smooth my ruffled feathers, “Sorry, I...it’s been a couple of really long days.”

Screaming in my ears, gunpowder in the air, blood on my hooves. My comment was an understatement.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry to hear that,” Her face brightened up, “But not to fear! Aloe’s Flows Day Spa is the perfect place to rest and relax for a spell. I’m the owner, Aloe. I take it you’re a new customer?”

“Yes,” I said again, not helping the image of idiocy that I was surely painting around myself. Stepping up to the counter, I continued, “What, er...services do you offer?”

Aloe’s smile brightened, yellowing teeth showing past leathery lips before she dipped beneath the counter. I suppressed a shiver as I saw those teeth chomping into my flesh in my mind’s eye.

Aloe popped back up, placing a small flier on the counter from her mouth, “We have a variety of offerings.” Her cracked hoof guided me down their listings. Everything from basic showers and baths to massages, hooficures, and, “Horn filings,” Aloe’s bright demeanor faltered as she looked at my hornless forehead, “Er, perhaps you wouldn’t be interested in that last one.”

My eyes danced over the prices, there was everything from basic shower use for a couple caps to the deluxe monthly membership for a few hundred (Wow!). I traced back up into the double digits; I didn’t want to blow the rest of my caps in one place but now that I was here the aches and pains from my past few days on the ground were making themselves apparent.

I eventually settled on the daytime deluxe package, which only cost a whopping twenty five caps (more than my brand new shotgun stock!). However, my buyer’s remorse was quickly forgotten as I felt my body slide with nearly sensuous pleasure into one of the hot baths in the back.

The warm shower when I’d arrived in Oasis Springs had been nice, but I was unable to subdue the contented sigh that the hot water’s embrace elicited from me. I could almost feel the just-tolerable heat sink into my bones, soaking up and soothing all the aches and pains therein.

My muscles had started to melt by the time the heat became unbearable, but then I was belly down letting a unicorn mare work a mixture of well-trimmed hooves and well honed magic down my back. Tight knots and sore spots were sought out with laser-guided precision and exterminated with extreme prejudice.

Once I was sure I had transcended into a liquid form I was astounded how much dirt and grime a new pair of mares managed to get out from my hooves. Then my nails were filed and trimmed, smoothed down to perfection from the cracked and gnarly things that the earthen ground had done to them. I cringed at the idea of setting them back down on the ground ever again.

But alas, to finish the blissful gauntlet I had to make my way to the sauna, resting my thoroughly rejuvenated body on one of the benches as steam wrapped around me like a warm blanket. Here I rested, breathing in the hot, cleansing humidity for untold eons of time.

* * * * *

One thing the spa hadn’t managed to do was give me a good preening, but that was fine. I was picky when it came to my wings and my preening kit sufficed in helping me keep my wings in tip-top shape as I lay on my cot in the mare’s tent.

As blasphemous as it felt I did finally trot out of the spa, making my way back here. My stomach had gurgled and I’d fed it a can of bland pegasus beans, likely having missed dinner during my trip to the spa. I still didn’t have any stamps so it hardly mattered anyways.

True to her word, Break Action did come find me when it was time to take up our posts. We joined a large group out behind the stallion’s tent, names were called (mine included) and a quick summary of rules and expectations were reiterated. Don’t go blasting at things you couldn’t identify, don’t fall asleep, raise the alarm in case of trouble, no booze or drugs.

“C’mon, I got us one of the watchtowers,” Break Action guided me up a set of stairs atop the wall. There was a brief moment of trepidation before I reached the top, my mind’s eye showing me hordes of ghouls waiting on the horizon...but all that waited for me was desertous wastes meeting dark clouds at the horizon.

I breathed a soft sigh of relief and watched as the shadow of night slowly swallowed the world around Oasis Springs.

* * * * *

The nighttime world was pure darkness without the moon or stars, fighting against the numerous bright lights blasting it back away from the high walls. Soft winds picked up and shifted like some great beast lurking within the shadows of the night. I sought reassurance as my nostrils flared at each breeze; there was no smell of death, of ghouls that might lurk in the darkness beyond.

We were safe.

I was safe.

My child was safe.

“Really not too different from night watch at the hospital,” I mused to myself, Break Action having taken residence in the actual watch tower platform with me standing alone on the wall, “Quiet, nothing to do. It’s a pity I didn’t bring my college books to study.” Then again, those hefty tomes would’ve likely prevented flight altogether...

The hair on the back of my neck leapt to attention.

My pleasant musings died in my brain, ears twitching at something.

A sudden worry began to ball in my guts and I sniffed at the cool air.

Nothing.

I squinted into the darkness, trying to banish it all away in an effort to reveal something, anything that might be out there. Glowing eyes, muzzle flashes, a flare falling slowly...

Nothing.

I cocked my ears, listening intently to the soft night air as it whispered soft breezes.

Noth—

“Help!” With my ears tuned in on the darkness beyond the walls, I distinctly heard the cry, “Somepony! Anypony! Help!”

That was a pony! Someone calling for help!

I cocked my wings, ready to fly off to find the caller, but I stopped myself short. What if it was a ploy by the raiders or some other group of ne’er-do-wells? Could hellhounds make sounds like that to lure in unsuspecting ponies like me? Perhaps it was some inequine creature capable of mimicking pony voices, luring its victims out into the darkness to eat them? With everything I’d seen so far, any of those could be the case for all I knew!

Worry curdling in my guts like spoiled milk, I let my wings fall back to my sides as the caller continued to cry out for help, their voice fluctuating on the wind. Still, I had to do something!

“Break Action!” I hissed towards the watchtower, “Hey, Break Action!”

When she didn’t respond, I muttered a quick curse and hurried across the wall and over to the watchtower. It felt dumb even as I did it, but I tried to tiptoe to make less noise. Flapping up the stairs, I pushed open the bottom hatch and poked my head in, seeing Break Action...with Rusty Ratchet atop (and inside) her. I folded my ears back at the quiet sounds they were making.

“Err, ahem!” I cleared my throat, turning my eyes away as I felt my face flush. When had he shown up anyways? “Break Action!”

“Oh, shit, geez!” Rusty yelped, turning a glare my way, “What the hell, pegasus?”

“Rusty!” Break Action growled at her partner, his ears dropping submissively at her tone.

“Sorry!” I said, turning my eyes back to them as they extricated themselves from each other’s bodies. At Break Action’s quick gesture, I ascended the last few steps and shut the hatch behind me, “But there’s somepony out there screaming for help, they might be in trouble.”

“Probably those fucking raiders,” Rusty grumbled as he moved over to an open window, squinting into the darkness with his ears cocked, “Trying to get some unsuspecting ass to run into their trap.”

“Shush, listen!” Break Action replied, copying his gesture as she too listened in.

Silence followed for a few moments before another cry lit the dark air.

“Did you hear that?” I asked, looking to the two of them. But they were looking at each other, exchanging looks fluctuating between worry and terror, “What? What is it?” I asked, lowering myself as I stared into the darkness beyond the walls.

“That’s...that’s Rock Runner!” Rusty exclaimed, getting a nod from Break Action who moved to the window.

“Rock Runner!?” Break Action yelled back, turning to Rusty and dropping her voice, “Start alerting the rest of the watch, have them get us ready for an attack.”

“On it,” Rusty leaned in and got a quick kiss goodbye before darting down the hatch.

“What if it’s not a trap?” I asked, wings wringing themselves at my sides, “What if she’s really in trouble? She could be bleeding or have an infection or...or any number of things!”

Break Action gave me a worried look at that, “You’re a doctor, if you’re not enough Rusty will get some of the others, but Skies...Rock Runner was with the southern group. We heard them get attacked! More than likely overrun! Raiders aren’t known for just letting ponies go, be ready for a trap.” She turned back to the darkness, “Rock Runner, do you hear me!?”

The two of us cocked our ears towards the blackness beyond the walls.

“Yes!” The voice seemed to crack over the distance, “Goddesses be praised, I hear you!”

“How are you holding up!?” Break Action injected a warning tone into her voice, face taking on a grim look.

“I...I’m alone...I think…” the voice replied, fainter than before, “Where are you!?”

“That’s not the ‘I’m in-danger’ response, it might not be a trap after all,” Break Action muttered, squinting into the gloom, “We’re right here, you should be able to see our lights!”

The silence lasted longer this time, worried glances exchanged between the two of us.

“I can’t see!” The voice sobbed, fainter still.

“Are you sure everything’s all right?” I hissed, regulating my breathing in an effort to calm my racing heart. Any moment I expected to spy a flare arcing up out of the darkness, illuminating a great horde of snapping, snarling ghouls.

“I dunno,” Break Action muttered, glaring into the gloom, “How are you holding up!?” she tried again.

“They let me go!” The voice called out, fading away for a moment, “...me to start walking! I’m not under duress!”

“What’s goin’ on, who’s that out there!?” A pair of armed bucks, more guards, made their way into the watchtower.

“It sounds like one of the ponies from my…” Break Action’s eyes darted to me, “our caravan. Only thing is we split the caravan up before we got here. Raiders. We heard her section get ambushed.”

“So it’s a trap?” The second buck surmised, casting a quick glare out towards the darkness.

Break Action didn’t look so sure, “We’ve got some countersigns, phrases for if we’re under duress. She’s not under duress.”

“Hello…” Rock Runner’s voice was faint.

“We’re still here!” I called back, “Give us a moment!” I turned back to Break Action and the bucks, “I can fly out there, see what’s what. If…” I gulped, “If something bad is out there I can get away with ease,” I flapped my wings for emphasis, “I’m also a doctor, if she’s hurt I can start fixing her wounds immediately.”

“Do it, Skies,” Break Action replied, “I’ll get everypony here up to speed, have plenty of guns ready if things go south.” She paused, digging through her saddlebags and hoofing over a head-mounted flashlight, “Here. For light.”

I nodded my thanks, strapping it on and activating it.

“Good, go!”

Swallowing my fear like a cup of spoiled milk, I slipped out of the roofed watchtower and leapt from the ramparts. Maybe I should’ve left my bags and shotgun behind, but it was too late to think of that.

“Rock Runner!” I called out, staying cautiously above the ground. The beam from my flashlight swept out over the black earth, “Rock Runner, can you hear me!?”

“I’m here! I’m here! I can...I can hear you!” Her voice was closer, elation filling it.

‘How is she unable to see the lights?’ I wondered, looking back over my withers as I followed more of her calls. I cast my eyes forwards again, ‘Why can’t she see my light?’

I faltered in the air as I passed over an equine shape. Biting back a scream, I pivoted in the air, the beam of my flashlight shooting out...and suddenly it all made sense, a quick gag nearly costing me my dinner.

‘I can’t see!’ She’d called out, but not because it was dark, no it was because...because she didn’t have any eyes! In their place were two dark sockets in her face, leaking blood instead of tears.

And it didn’t stop there.

Her ears had been sliced down to slivers of what they once were, her mane shaved down to a few patchy tufts and her tail cut down to a stub. Patches of coat were missing, the flesh beneath weeping red. Dried, brown blood stood like lines of tears down her hide, her cutie mark a raw mess of bloody flesh. She was favoring a hoof that looked and smelled dead. How she was even standing was a miracle.

“Rock Runner!” I managed to gasp, frozen in the air.

Her startled whinny snapped me out of my horrified daze, “Th-thank the goddesses!” She whimpered, “Is it...is it really you!?”

“Yes...” I hovered for a moment, beaming my flashlight this way and that, “Are...is it only you?”

“They...they did…” Her chest heaved out a soft sob as she made a weak gesture towards her face, “and they told me...told me to find you. D-deliver a message…”

“Okay, okay, hold on!” I landed, tearing through my saddlebags for some bandages, “Here, come here, hold still.” She flinched at my touch.

I tried not to stare into her ghastly face, suppressing my urge to choke and puke as I wrapped a bandage over her empty sockets. She shivered and shuddered as I dressed the rest of her open wounds. I had to force myself to check beneath her sheared tail as my own tucked down tightly. A number of shallow, horizontal cuts ran across her vulva and anus; beneath that her captors had removed her teats, incising shallow cuts across her udders. Both of us cringed as I dressed those wounds, an empathetic soreness felt in my own feminine parts. There was nothing I could do for the leg besides tie it off with a tourniquet, she would almost certainly lose it.

“Here, water.” I pressed one of my bottles to her lips once my initial first aiding was done, watching her suck it down greedily, “Can you walk? Just a little bit further? Oasis Springs is a short distance away.”

“I...I…” The ruined mare stuttered, eyeless face trying to focus on me, “The message. Their message!”

“Wh-what message?” I asked, giving the area around me another quick sweep.

Still clear.

“Th-they’re coming…” She whimpered.

And then she collapsed into the dirt.

* * * * *

Footnote: Level progress 25%

Skills increased:

+Small Guns

+Barter

+Medicine

12 - Reunited

CHAPTER TWELVE:

Reunited

“Guess who’s gonna be home early this year...”

“Fuck!” The curse exploded out of my lips.

Thoughts of ghouls and raiders were swept to the back of my mind as I dropped down and pressed a wing to Rock Runner’s jaw. She didn’t have any discernible pulse.

“Skies!?” The cry came from the lights of Oasis Springs.

“She collapsed!” I screamed back, rolling Rock Runner onto her back and starting compressions. The sharp smell of urine mingled with the stench of her wounds, ‘One! Two! Three…’ I counted up in my head, driving my forehooves into her chest. An image of High Brass flashed across my vision, “No!” I growled the memory away, moving to rescue breaths.

Then compressions.

Then rescue breaths.

Compressions.

Rescue breaths.

Compressions...

“Skies! Skies!” My headlamp beamed across Leather Strap’s tired but stern face, her pupils constricting in the white light. How long had I been giving CPR?

Armed ponies were around me with flashlights searing out into the darkness, two others bore a stretcher. I continued giving CPR as Strap’s magic checked over Rock Runner, expression grim.

“We can’t be out here!” Somepony growled, “Need to get back inside.”

“Damnit,” Strap snarled, digging through her pack and procuring a strange device. There was a ring that went over her horn, two wires ending in electrodes coming off of it. She pressed the electrodes onto Rock Runner’s chest as I counted compressions, “Hooves off, stand clear!”

Her horn flashed, Rock Runner’s body jolting.

“Check for pulse!”

“We need to move, ladies!” I heard, checking Rock Runner’s mandibular artery with a wing. I turned my eyes to Strap, shaking my head.

I gave seven compressions before Strap’s horn lit up again.

“Hooves off, stand clear!” I took my hooves away, watching as Strap squinted in concentration.

Rock Runner’s body jolted.

“Pulse!?”

I shook my head and started compressions.

“If there’s something out here—”

“You want these wires up your dick-hole!? Shut up!” Strap spat back, “Hooves off, stand clear!”

Rock Runner jolted upright. Her scream of pain pierced the night air, bandaged face turning this way and that as she gasped down breaths.

“Ow! Fuck, it hurts!” She groaned out another cry as Strap moved to lay her back down.

“Lay back, lay back!” Strap spoke, quickly strapping the mare into the stretcher with the help of two large bucks.

“I can’t see…” Rock Runner whimpered, shivering as if she were cold, “m-message...th-they’re coming.”

“Shh, shh,” Strap tried to calm the mare, taking Rock Runner’s large forehoof with her own, looking down over her ruined face, “Skies, IV, saline bag in my saddlebags,” she turned to the bucks that were ready to haul the stretcher, “When she’s done we move. Straight to the medical tent. No stops. I don’t care if princess-fucking-Celestia herself shows her ugly mug and starts signing autographs, you do. Not. Stop!”

They nodded as I trotted around Rock Runner and dug through Strap’s saddlebags, quickly starting an IV in Rock Runner’s good forelimb and feeding her saline. Leather Strap kept her contraption attached to her horn and to Rock Runner’s chest, keeping pace as the two bucks lifted the stretcher and started off. I managed to match their pace as well, keeping the saline bag elevated with a wing.

I was only vaguely aware of the armed ponies around me, focused more on Rock Runner in case she elapsed. Sooner than I thought possible our armed escort left us, the gates leading into Oasis Springs rumbling shut on the dark wasteland.

“Hey, you still with us, Rock Runner!?” Strap encouraged the mare as we all cantered towards the medical tent.

“...coming…” Was all Rock Runner managed to mumble, her snout scrunching in a wince.

The flaps to the medical tent brushed past us, the stink of sickness and medicine filling my nostrils.

“Down, down, gently now!” Strap ordered, shrugging out of her saddlebags, “Skies, pulse!”

My eyes widened at the hammering I felt through my wing, “Blue above, way elevated!”

“Ladies, ladies, I’m the on-call doctor tonight,” a buck approached us. Looking over Rock Runner his eyes widened, “Oh my...what—”

“Adenosine!” Strap barked at him.

“Pardon?”

“Get her a shot of adenosine before she goes back into cardiac arrest and I have to zap her back again!” Strap gestured to the device attached to her horn, “Now!”

The buck jumped at her shout, cantering off towards a cabinet at the far end of the tent.

“Skies, keep a wing on her pulse.”

I nodded, keeping my wing pressed into Rock Runner’s mandibular artery. She seemed to be in and out of it, teeth clenching every now again and her shuddering breaths the only indication she was still alive. My eyes caught on an analogue clock attached to one pole. I counted heartbeats as I watched the second hoof move.

Thirty pulses in the first ten seconds.

“One-eighty,” I reported, getting an anxious look from Strap.

“Got it,” the buck returned with a small injector pen. He held it out to Strap in his magic.

“Hit her with it!” Strap spat back, gesturing to her horn, “Can’t use magic with this thing on my horn.”

Ten more seconds had elapsed, I had counted forty more beats.

“I don’t—” I cut him off by biting down on the injector and jabbing it into the IV line. I gave the saline bag a gentle squeeze to flush the medicine in and then wordlessly pressed a wing back into Rock Runner’s jaw, “Oh…” he mumbled uselessly, trotting away after another moment.

Forty two beats in the next ten seconds. My jaw tightened with worry. My wing stayed in place, Strap ready to give Rock Runner another jolt.

Thirty-five beats.

Twenty-nine.

Twenty.

Rock Runner mumbled something and I lost count at ten.

Eighteen.

Fourteen.

Thirteen.

Twelve.

Fourteen. Worry crossed my features.

Thirteen. I heaved a sigh of relief, counting another two sets of ten seconds.

“She’s holding steady at around eighty. High, but…” I gestured hopelessly at her injuries.

“I’ve got a hydra,” the buck offered, trotting up with the administer held ready, “I know how to administer—”

“Were you born yesterday, you worthless halfwit!?” Strap’s snarl made both of us jump, Rock Runner whimpering softly, “How old are her wounds, you inbred moron? You want to give her a shot of hydra with old wounds? Sure, let’s make her sprout tumors out of every fucking orifice and wound!”

“What?” The buck mumbled, taking a frightened step back.

“Hydra’s only good for the first hour or two, her wounds are older than that,” Strap let out an exasperated sound, “Go the hell back up your mother’s cunt before you kill my pony! Skies.” She waved a hoof for me to pass her the saline bag, “Go grab me another saline bag, a syringe, and some magical bandages.”

“What!” The buck exclaimed, “You can’t just...I need to document everything—”

“So document it, you dimwit dipshit!” Strap butted in, jerking her head for me to move, “You try to touch my pony without my direction and you’ll be in one of these beds.”

I did as ordered, rifling through the medical lockers, only vaguely aware of the buck peering over my shoulder to see what I was taking. Ignoring him, I rushed back to Leather Strap who had busied herself peeling back the bandages I’d applied with a hoof and sniffing at the wounds beneath.

“Replace these with magical bandages,” she pointed out a hoofful of wounds, taking the saline bag and swapping it out with the empty one. Nodding, I applied the magical bandages where they were needed, feeling the soft cooling sensation they gave off on contact, “Can you draw some blood?”

“Not with a syringe,” I admitted, “If I had a butterfly needle—”

“Nevermind, I’ve got it,” Strap interrupted me, nodding towards Rock Runner’s jaw, “Wing on that pulse, if you feel her elapsing let me know so I can get my defibrillator back on.”

I nodded, pressing a wing into Rock Runner’s artery. Strap found a vein in the opposite side of Rock Runner’s neck, glancing to the abused mare’s bandaged face before deftly filling the syringe with bright red blood. She secured the wound with a flicker of magic once she was finished, then held the syringe up to a light, peering into it with her horn glowing. Rock Runner’s heart rate held steady at around eighty beats per minute.

“Geez,” Strap murmured, looking away and blinking rapidly before peering at the syringe again.

‘What is she doing?’ I started to voice my curiosity, but then remembered who I’d be asking and decided not to interrupt.

“Toxicology,” Strap answered my unasked question, finally lowering the syringe and killing her horn’s light, “Someone pumped her full of med-X, buffout, and dash,” she frowned at Rock Runner’s ruined leg, “Should be fine to give her a couple healing potions.” She scowled at the buck as he hovered some distance away, “What’s your name?”

“Day Pacer,” he answered, flinching at her glare.

“Go grab me two healing potions.” She held up a hoof before he could trot off, considering a moment, “Wait over there till I call you back.”

Pacer frowned at the request, but nodded and trotted over to the medical lockers.

“Keep a wing on that pulse,” Strap said. She lowered her horn to Rock Runner’s scalp, a brief flash of magic rendering her unconscious, though with her injuries it was hard to tell. Strap’s voice lowered at my inquiring look, “Gonna check for rape trauma.”

My tail tucked, ears flattening, “Oh…”

“Just stay there a sec, not doing anything invasive. Same basic principle as when I checked on your foal.” Strap trotted over to Rock Runner’s backside and ignited her horn. Even she couldn’t help but cringe at the damage the raiders had done. After a minute or so she waved Pacer back over with the medical potions, waking and sitting Rock Runner up so she could drink them down.

“These’ll help you get better,” Strap said as she pressed the vials to Rock Runner’s quivering lips. The mare managed to get most of it down, her shaking subsiding as she laid back; she began mumbling and whimpering quietly again.

Strap peeked under some of Rock Runner’s bandages, watching as flesh started to pull itself back together. Both of us worried as the potions seemed to have zero effect on Rock Runner’s left foreleg. Healing potions couldn’t heal what was dead...

“Day Pacer,” Strap directed his attention to Rock Runner, “watch her a sec. You can check a pulse, right?”

“I’d like to think I’m at least that competent,” his annoyed scowl faltered and died under Strap’s sullen glare, “Er, I mean...yes...ma’am.”

Strap nodded, Pacer and I swapping places as Strap pulled me out of his earshot.

“No sign of rape,” Strap’s frown confused me.

“Shouldn’t that be a good thing?” I asked, matching her quiet tone, “I mean...with everything else she’s been through…”

“No, it is. Goddesses only know the hell she’s been through,” Strap cast a pair of sorry eyes to where Rock Runner lay, “It just doesn’t make any sense. Only damage was external, no internal tearing of…” She trailed off as she saw my growing discomfort, “Sorry. Raiders and sodomy go together like good wine and cheese. That and what the hell were they doing with her? The torture I get. But pumping her full of drugs? Those don’t come cheap. And you do realize that one of them would’ve had to get her within spitting distance of where you found her, right? When they woke me and told me what was going on I was sure you’d walked into a trap. You did a good job, but going out there alone?” Her voice took on a scolding maternal tone, “That was dumb, Skies.”

“What was I supposed to do?” I countered with suppressed anger, tossing a hoof towards Rock Runner, “She’d be dead if I didn’t act!”

“You did a good job,” she stressed again, tone placating, “You should have got more folks out there to back you up. Break Action should’ve known that so fault’s not entirely on your shoulders. We can chalk it up to all the stress and bullshit of these past few days messing with everybody’s head. I...” Strap looked away for a moment, steeling herself, “I was worried about you, Skies. Thought for sure you’d wind up shot or stabbed by waiting raiders...or worse.”

“W-well, I’m not,” I said, taken aback by Strap’s admission. With things settling back into place, something came back to me, “When I first found her she said she was supposed to deliver a message…” I turned briefly to the injured mare then set my eyes back on Strap’s inquisitive pair, “‘They’re coming.’”

Strap suppressed a shudder, casting a quick glance to Rock Runner and smoothing her hackles with a hoof, “That explains some things.”

“We...we’re safe here, right?” I asked, Strap’s unsettled response dredging my own fears up from the depths. Sure, there were high walls and armed guards but Burnout had had those things as well…

“We’re safe,” Strap set a reassuring hoof on my shoulder, “That shit’s just them trying to use psychological warfare. They know they can’t get to us here, Oasis Springs is too well guarded, so they’re doing the wartime equivalent of sticking their tongue out at us. Trying to spook us, make us piss our proverbial pants. Don’t let it get to you.

“Still,” her calming tone hardened, “there’s something up with these raiders and we can’t underestimate them. I’ll pass this on to Dual Gauge and Wrangler, see if we can’t requisition some more bodies for the walls, keep a sharper eye out for trouble.” Strap took a deep breath, a scowl spreading across her face, “But first we’re going to have to amputate that leg…”

“You can’t do anything with magic?” It was a stupid question, but I still had to ask it.

Strap confirmed what I already knew with a shake of her head, eyes wandering over to Rock Runner, “Tendons were severed in multiple places, large chunks of muscle mass removed, fibula’s been broken. The punctures and cuts I could handle with enough time and magic, but deep tissue damage is its own animal. You must’ve seen how the healing potions had no effect on the leg,” Her eyes moved to mine, “You understand how healing magic works?”

“Direct arcane stimulation and control of the body’s immune and repair responses,” that had been a question on a recent test, actually. I would’ve smiled proudly at my matter-of-fact response, but with how things were right now? Nopony was smiling.

Strap nodded, “You’d be surprised how many people think it’s just poof and you’re done. For all my years of medical work I’m still only good for fixing cuts and scrapes with magic. Anything else is best left up to the body itself. I could fix all Rock Runner’s parts up in theory. A healing megaspell would certainly do the trick,” she gave a quick gesture to the mare, “But in reality, that’s just not the case. Weaving veins and muscle together the wrong way would kill her, regrown eyes might not work, bones might be too porous and leak marrow into the bloodstream. There are magical tools that can be used to fix her and cybernetics aren’t out of the question. But anything that could get her back to normal would cost a small fortune.

“No, it all boils down to time and tools. Time’s not on our side, she’s already got bacteria growing in the leg and without enough blood getting to it it won’t matter how many healing potions we get into her, her immune response can’t reach it. If we don’t amputate now she’ll get gangrene and in the state she’s in one bad sneeze could put her back into critical condition,” Strap paused as Rock Runner made a soft noise that startled Day Pacer, “The leg’s useless. We remove it, we save her from gangrene. The other wounds will scar but they’ll heal. Some antibiotics will help her along and keep infection of her other wounds away.”

Taking everything in, a thought slapped me in the face, “Does...does Marsh Runner know? About any of this?”

The question slapped Strap in the face as well, a worried look bruising her features, “I don’t think so. I was at the Inn when folks grabbed me; Marsh Runner’s on the Workforce, right?” I nodded, “I doubt anybody would’ve told her…” Strap took a breath, turning back towards where Rock Runner was lying with a pensive look, “For now, we need to finish things here.”

“Do you...want to take a minute?” I asked.

Strap blew a long breath out her nose, nodding, “I’ve done this plenty of times, doesn’t make it any easier. Give me a couple minutes. If you’re up for it, get an elimination catheter going. She’s going to be bedridden for a while.”

“I can do that,” I replied, Strap flashing me a grateful smile before her pensive mood swallowed it back up.

I was actually surprised when I found what appeared to be a brand new foaley catheter kit. I had figured the best I’d get would be a used one that someone had (hopefully) cleaned and disinfected. Looking over the rest of the medical supplies in the locker, they generally seemed to be brand new. Was it a testament to Oasis Springs’ wealth that they were able to get such things? All the meds the caravan had seemed way past their expiration date. I could always ask Strap about it...later, of course.

“Rock Runner?” I approached the mare, Day Pacer eyeing the kit pointedly, “I’m going to give you a catheter, all right? Can you relax for me?”

Rock Runner gave a shaky nod, a soft, “Mm-hm,” mumbling past her lips.

The procedure itself was nothing new to me. Back when I’d been the junior nurse I was on constant catheter duty, a thankless job if ever there was one. Clean the area, lubricate the tube, insert and inflate the little balloon once it was inside the bladder, good to go. With Rock Runner lying on her back, I secured the waste bag to one of the legs of her cot, making sure it was above floor level so nopony could step on it.

“All done,” I said, forcing cheer into my voice for Rock Runner’s sake. The effects were dubious, her ruined face hard to get a reading on.

Seeking something else to look at, I turned towards Strap. Across the room I spotted her nod to herself, meeting my gaze with a sober expression.

It was time.

I made to approach and ask for directions, but she lifted a hoof and approached instead, shooing Day Pacer away with a silent gesture.

“Rock Runner?” Strap took a seat on the mare’s right, opposite her ruined forehoof. She took the mare’s good foreleg in her own, stroking it gently, “It’s me, it’s Leather Strap.”

Rock Runner’s jaw twisted up into an anguished scowl, “You-you’re going to cut off m-my leg...”

“Do you want Marsh Runner to be here?” Strap asked, voice quiet and calm.

Rock Runner’s mouth twisted into a cross between a grimace and a smile, “Sh-she m-made it? She’s...alive?”

“She is. Alive and well,” Strap’s face brightened with her tone, “I can have her here in a jiffy if you want.”

Rock Runner’s lips twisted back to a pure grimace, a soft whimper escaping her, “N-no...see me like this…” her voice hitched into a short series of quaking sobs. Strap waited, holding Rock Runner’s hoof in her own, letting the mare choke out her sorrow, “...I...I can’t…”

“You’ve been with the caravan as long as I have, you know me well enough to know I don’t mess around with this stuff.” Strap’s voice sobered and her expression became serious, “I’d never do anything to hurt you, I wouldn’t do something unless I knew for sure it was the only option. If it was the better option.”

Rock Runner's lips trembled and Strap wiped some snot from the mare’s dripping nose.

“I know you’re afraid. Hell, I’d be terrified...” Strap paused, wiping at her own glistening eyes with her sleeve, “But you’ve got a family, a loving family who will be there to take care of you. And I don’t just mean Marsh Runner, everyone on the caravan will be there for you. Whether you stay in Oasis Springs or go elsewhere, we’ll always make sure to stop in and say 'Hi' every now and again, see how you’re doing.”

“I’ll...I’ll just be a...a burden.”

“Family is never a burden.”

“I can’t see, S-Strap!” Her lip curled back in a mixture of agony and disgust, “M-my face...leg, th-they...if I ever have a-a foal, I’ll...I couldn’t nurse them…th-they m-made sure...”

“You’re selling yourself short, Rocky,” a soft smile crossed Strap’s features, her tone following suit, “You’re the kind of mare that adapts and overcomes. Hay, I think of all the caravan heads, you’re the one who went from a laymare to an overmare the fastest. Dual Gauge and Dynamite don’t count since they started off in charge, naturally.” Strap paused for a moment, stroking the mare’s hoof with her own, “You’ll learn to cope without sight. You’ll train hard enough to run miles with a prosthetic. You’ll bring beautiful, big, healthy foals into this world and when you do you’ll find a wet nurse, the best. Hell, there’s spells that’ll make mares lactate without the need for a pregnancy. I’m sure your sister would be willing, so would I, I’ll learn the spell.”

Rock Runner was silent.

“You know I don’t tell this to everyone: your life is worth living.”

“Is it?” Rock Runner let out a quick sob.

“It is,” Strap soothed, “You can recover from this. You will recover from this.”

Rock Runner was silent, her harrowed face contorting, occasional soft murmurs and whimpers escaping past her dry lips. Then, suddenly, she grew quiet. For a moment I startled, thinking that she was going back into cardiac arrest, but then her mouth shifted into a grim line of determination.

“Do it,” her voice was barely a whisper, tinged with agony.

“All right,” Strap nodded once, running a hoof through Rock Runner’s ruined mane, “Just relax. Gonna put you under.”

“I…” Rock Runner bit her lip, chewing something over for a moment, “O-okay...”

Strap pressed her horn to Rock Runner’s scalp, a flash of magic anesthetizing her. Strap used her magic to feel the larger mare’s pulse and check her blood pressure before turning to me, “All right, onto the easy part. Wash up, prep for surgery. Pacer, you too, you’ll be handling any supplies that we need and only the supplies that we need. If I don’t ask for it, don’t bring it. You got that?”

“Got it,” Pacer nodded as I moved off.

I tried to shake off the antsy feeling of sharp anxiety mixed with jittering excitement. It wasn’t as though I was explicitly looking forward to chopping Rock Runner’s leg off, but this sort of thing was my calling, it was what I woke up for every morning to do. Who could fault me for getting a little hyped up at the prospect of doing a good job?

Washing my pinions thoroughly, I slipped a set of disposable covers over them, a surgical mask following over my snout. Strap had Day Pacer procure me a set of safety glasses while she settled for her own hardware store-style set. Once I was prepped and ready, I returned to Strap’s side. Her magic tingled over me as she cast her sanitization spell on us, our tools, and our patient.

Strap removed the touniquet I’d applied. Then a ring of purple magic flared around Rock Runner’s ruined limb. It sparkled up and down before settling a few inches below where the tourniquet had been.

“No heartbeat past here,” Strap said, not taking her eyes from the area, “Mark it for me, will you? Outline the upper side of the ring.”

I nodded, taking a marker pen and outlining Strap’s magic. Once I was finished she applied a new tourniquet, checking the limb and nodding once.

“Clean dressings and a waste tray,” Strap sent Day Pacer off to collect those things, laying the dressings out for easy reach and positioning Rock Runner’s leg over the tray. Day Pacer was then tasked to focus his attention on Rock Runner’s vitals.

The first tool Strap brought out was a magical shaver. Its gemstone lit up and its small buzzing blades whirred to life in Strap’s magic as she shaved away the hair a couple inches below my marker mark.

Next came a scalpel from Strap’s own pack.

The blade dipped effortlessly into the flesh, slicing a careful circumference around the ruined limb. The dermis was folded back away from the cut on both sides, exposing glistening muscle within. Bleeding was minimal with the tourniquet, wounds weeping blood assisted by the pull of gravity. I was tasked with cleaning it away with gentle touches of dressings, which were then tossed in the waste tray.

“She’s getting up towards ninety-five beats a minute,” Day Pacer’s magic swirled around Rock Runner’s tail base, “Blood pressure is...slightly above normal.”

“Understood,” Strap replied, going in again with the scalpel once I’d cleaned the wound. Now she targeted the muscles, cutting away to expose the bone. Her first scalpel was set aside and I took the moment to wipe away the upwelling blood again, “Skies, shot of med-X, into the right thigh.”

“On it,” I said as Strap started cutting away the muscles again. I trotted around to Rock Runner’s other side, taking an autoinjector from my own bags and jabbing it quickly into her. Day Pacer took the injector when I was finished, setting it on a side table as I returned to find Strap finally exposing white bone with a new scalpel.

Strap trimmed back the muscles from both sides of the initial cut. She was more careful with the ones still attached to Rock Runner’s shoulder, shaping them into the rough stump that would remain. The muscles on the side that was being amputated were more roughly cut for timeliness, so that only a white length of bone mated Rock Runner to the ruined limb. Even I had to admit the sight was macabre, a sense of unease tingling down my spine and my own forelimb aching in sympathy.

The scalpel was set aside and a thin-toothed non-powered bone saw came out of Strap’s bags. This was used to quickly and cleanly saw through the bone, completing the amputation. Strap’s magic ensured the removed leg didn’t simply flop unceremoniously to the floor, setting it neatly in the waste tray.

The final pair of steps required the scalpel to finish forming the stump and then Strap’s own magic to close off the blood vessels and arteries. The flap of dermis was folded back forwards and sewn shut to finish off the stump. Strap eyed the wound carefully as she removed the tourniquet again, giving a final satisfactory nod when no blood flooded out of the wound.

“Bag the limb and make sure it’s properly disposed of,” Strap ordered Day Pacer, “I don’t want to see it wind up as tomorrow’s lunch special.”

As Pacer bagged the limb and trotted off, Strap let out a sigh, lowering her goggles and removing the face mask. She checked Rock Runner’s vitals again, nodding as if satisfied.

“That went about as well as we can expect,” Strap said, turning to me, “Can you keep an eye on her? Make sure that dipshit doesn’t stick something in her he isn’t supposed to. I’ll get with Dr. Holiday about having you put on as an extra hoof in the medical tent if you want. He’s the one in charge of medical staffing.”

“You have that kind of sway here?” I asked. I could’ve been on medical duty all this time if I’d just asked Strap!? Though it was a jealous and inconsiderate thought. If I had, Rock Runner...no, I didn’t want to think about that. Would anyone have heard her? Much less come to her rescue in time?

A nostalgic smile sprouted across Leather Strap’s face, her words helping to distract me, “Good number of my younger years were spent here, plenty of time to grease elbows with Wrangler and her folks; Deep Drink, for one. Greased a lot more than just elbows with him. I…” her face fell, a shadow passing over it, “I eventually joined a little caravan, one before Dual Gauge’s. They needed a doctor and I needed a change of scenery.” Her tail tucked, her ears going flat, “Didn’t end well...but I came back. Joined up with Dual Gauge after I’d recovered. The rest is history. So how about it?”

“Yes, thank you!” It had to be better than peeling potatoes and standing guard duty, so why not? Rock Runner was one possible reason why not, and with a quick glance to the unconscious mare I voiced my concern, “But...what if somepony else from Rock Runner’s part of the caravan shows up…” ‘With their genitals mutilated and their eyes gouged out,’ I stopped myself from saying the words for my own sake more than anything else, “...injured?”

“They probably won’t,” Strap gave the wounded mare a quiet glance, “As bullshit as the raider’s message is, it’ll still get more folks up on the walls for a week or two. They’ll know we got their message if they’re watching Oasis Springs. Raiders aren’t known for wasting horseflesh…” She considered a moment, “but they’re also not known to waste drugs like they did with her. They could’ve accomplished the same by carving those two words into her side and leaving her dead outside the gates. Wouldn’t have gotten as big a reaction, maybe...urgh, these raiders don’t make any sense! Gonna wind up keeping me awake all night trying to figure them out.”

“That’s not the part that’s gonna keep me up,” I spoke my thoughts, tail tucking at the idea of somepony taking a knife and slicing…nope! I was not going to finish that train of thought! Looking for something to change the subject, I focused on Strap’s bandaged forelimb, “How’s the leg? Yours, that is…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Strap waved me off, giving the appendage a quick wiggle, “Hurts like hell after running all around tonight, but I’ve survived worse.”

I didn’t doubt that for a moment.

“I’ll pop some acheaway when I get back to my room,” she gestured to the medical tent, “You good here? Want some coffee or something?”

“I’m good, thanks.” After all that had just happened I was wide awake, no need for caffeine tonight.

“Stay safe, Skies,” Strap sent a quiet scowl towards where Day Pacer was trying to be inconspicuous, Rock Runner’s leg taken care of, “I’m going to get with Dr. Holiday in the morning and make sure everyone on medical watch knows what the hell they’re doing. Rock Runner’s not the only pony we’ve got in here, after all.”

Day Pacer flinched but didn’t look over.

“And Marsh Runner?” I asked before Strap was gone.

Strap’s scowl turned worried for a moment, “I’ll talk with her in the morning.”

* * * * *

I had no trouble staying awake for the rest of the shift. Different from the ones that the wall defenders stood, the medical tent workers were split into three eight hour shifts. The first ran from six in the morning to two in the afternoon; the second from two to ten in the afternoon. Both of these always had two ponies on staff with four on standby in case something big went down. The four ponies were still on call for the remaining eight hours (ten PM to six AM) but only one pony was present in the tent at that time.

“Do the four on standby still get stamps if nothing happens?” I asked as Day Pacer paused in his explanation to take a sip from a water bottle.

“Not on the workforce,” he shook his head after setting the bottle back down and wiping his lips with a forehoof, “Those are the Oasis Springs doctors, the ones who actually live and work here. They swing by during the day from time to time.”

“Oh,” I said, ‘Probably should’ve guessed they’d have their own doctors, duh!’

“Now let me ask you something,” Day Pacer threw a glance out the tent flap, “Was your friend serious about getting me kicked off my job here? I got this assignment legitimately!”

“I’ve never known Leather Strap to lie…” I replied noncommittally, picking over my words for a moment. I didn’t want to burn any bridges, but still… “Are you a doctor?” I followed up with a question of my own.

“Are you?” Pacer snorted with sudden annoyance, “Is anyone a real doctor anymore? It’s not like we’ve got schools to go to like in the history books.”

“We do above the clouds,” I countered. The use of combat drugs was beyond my field of expertise, but even I knew hydra didn’t work for old wounds. All Rock Runner would have gotten was tumorous growth where her wounds had been, “You really could’ve messed Rock Runner up if you’d given her hydra.”

“Yeah, well, good thing I didn’t,” Day Pacer’s annoyance didn’t falter as he put on a pout and turned away from me.

Conversation lulled after that, Day Pacer getting a little mopey at the prospect of losing his job. I busied myself with the many patients in the room. The majority were still from Dual Gauge’s caravan, but another good chunk were from elsewhere. Recounting the numbers I’d memorized last night, I came up one short for the ponies we’d brought in. Whether that meant they’d recovered or perished I didn’t know…

* * * * *

Morning came in waves.

The first was in the form of that pre-dawn blue color that leaked into the world as the sun began to rise. It was muted with the clouds high above, grayed out, but still discernible.

After that was the rising noise of ponies waking up and getting to work. A general racket that all civilization generated, no one thing discernible above the rest. It was as if Oasis Springs itself were rising, awoken by the blaring tune of its alarm clock.

‘Great gusts, that’s one thing I don’t miss! Alarm clocks!’ I turned my gaze to the clock in the tent, ‘Nothing wrong with regular ones, though.’

The third and final wave, of course, was the little second hoof as it ticked around its racetrack towards infinity. Or, more relevant for me at least, towards six AM. It wasn’t much of a wave, but my tired brain just shrugged at the proverbial corner I’d backed myself into as I yawned.

“Healthy Skies?” I gave a slight jolt as a tall beige unicorn buck brushed through the medical tent’s flap.

“Um, er, yes?” I collected myself as his eyes found me and he trotted over. Day Pacer slunk away across the tent in my peripheral vision, trying not to be noticed. The unicorn trotted over to me, sizing me up with a contemplative look before offering a small smile and a hoof.

“I’m Dr. Holiday,” I shook his offered hoof, “Leather Strap speaks highly of you, which of course means she told me you were someone who was ‘actually worth a damn’ among a few other choice things.”

‘An idiot?’ I mentally guessed, “She mentioned you…maybe putting me on the medical shift?”

“It’s against protocol,” my heart sank with my tail and ears towards the floor. All three jumped back up as he continued with a gesture around the room, “But seeing as how most of these ponies have been under your care and at Strap’s request, I feel we can make an exception.

“How familiar are you with our protocols here?” Holiday continued.

“Day Pacer filled me in last night,” I jerked a hoof in his general direction.

“Excellent,” he turned his eyes to the clock, “It’s a few minutes to the hour so I’ll take over from here.” His horn ignited and a small stamp was pulled from a coat pocket before eyeing me expectantly.

“Oh, duh, right,” I procured my empty stamp card, letting him stamp it smartly.

“There you are,” the stamp disappeared back into a pocket, “Be back at ten PM.”

“I’ll be here,” I said, a good feeling raising my spirits. With a final nod he began to trot over to where Day Pacer was trying to be inconspicuous again. Not wanting to be around for whatever confrontation was about to go down, I collected my shotgun from where I’d left it beside the tent flap and trotted out.

* * * * *

I made my tired way back to the mare’s tent, fixing for a nice, long rest. After sleeping on the ground or in bumpy wagons the past few days a cot sounded wonderful. A gurgle from my stomach forced me on a quick detour, eyeing a thin trail of smoke rising from the kitchen tent. However, a sickening smell made me question my stomach’s gurgling as I got closer.

“Oh, what is that?!” my voice came out nasally as I pinched a pinion over my nose.

The large earth pony mare sitting at the currently empty serving table fixed me with a glare and I realized it might not be a good idea to insult whoever was cooking. Before I could apologize the mare’s scowl turned querious.

“Pregnant?” she asked bluntly.

“I...er, yes…” I lowered my wing, breathing through my mouth, “I didn’t mean to insult anypony’s cooking, I just...it smells kinda...off?”

The mare shrugged, “They’re frying up hashed browns in brahmin fat. I couldn’t stand the smell of anything like that when I had my belly full of foal,” she gave her stomach a quick pat, “You got stamps?”

I nodded, procuring my stamp card.

“Cool, I can get you a bowl of oat porridge if you’d like that instead,” she offered as I stowed my stamp card back in my saddlebags, “Should be easier on the senses.”

“Yes, please.”

* * * * *

Maybe I was just really hungry, or maybe it was my pegasus palette, or it could have been some side effect of the pregnancy, but the porridge was really good. There was a hint of something slightly sweet added, honey maybe? I didn’t care as I forced myself to chew slow and not wolf my food down.

In spite of my measured mastication I nearly choked when a greasy-smelling bowl settled down next to me, the bench shifting as Flower took a seat in front of the bowl.

“Mare of the midnight hour,” Flower greeted with a smile and a quick pat on the back.

“What?” I forced myself to swallow my porridge, trying not to breath in the stink of Flower’s food.

“Last night?” Flower prompted between quick bites of her own food, “Rock Runner?”

“Oh, right,” my porridge was suddenly inedible, the stink of greasy food making me queasy. I forced myself to stick a spoonful of porridge in my mouth, swirling the suddenly tasteless muck about for a moment before swallowing.

“You okay?” Flower asked, spoonful of hash browns hovering in front of her face, “I heard you saved Rock Runner’s life,” the spoon dropped back into the bowl as a hint of panic took her voice, “Wait, wait, wait...did she die?!”

“What!? No, I just...your...the food smells,” I nodded my head towards her bowl, “Pregnancy’s making me sick from the smell.”

“Oh, crap, right, sorry,” Flower scooted down a ways, “I’d heard about that.”

“Thanks,” I said.

The stink lessened after a moment, helped away with a few quick flaps of my wings. There was still the slightest stench of it in the air, but my porridge was much more bearable now. I ate it a little more quickly, not wanting—

“Hey, Skies,” Doughy sat where Flower had just been, a bowl of greasy hash browns in front of her, “I heard about—”

“Doughy!” Flower cut in, tearing the mare’s gaze and words away from me.

“Flower, what’re—” a mildly annoyed Doughy turned towards her interruptor.

“Scoot down here for a bit, your food’s making Skies’ stomach act up.”

“Pregnancy,” I added.

Doughy’s eyes snapped from her bowl to mine, then to my face, “Oh, my bad.”

Stomach aches be damned, I finished my bowl fast before anyone else could interrupt me, not following a quiet conversation between the two mares.

“I just wanted to say: good job, real good job,” Flower left her finished bowl down the table, scooting back over once I’d finished. “Real damn glad you joined on, Skies. Marsh Runner wanted me to deliver her thanks as well, she took off for the medical tents as soon as Strap told her what happened.”

Worry filled my voice, “Rock Runner’s in really bad shape, did Strap…” I trailed off.

“She didn’t leave much to the imagination,” Flower shuddered beside me, eyes glazing over as she stared into the table for a few short seconds. Doughy finished her food and scooted back over.

“Next sparkle cola I find has yer name on it,” the young mare gave me a quick salute.

“Thanks,” I chuckled at that, it almost seemed silly. ‘Save a mare’s life? Have a sparkle cola on us!’ It could almost be a slogan.

“So what’re you gals up to this fine’n dandy day?” Just like that, things went back to normal, Doughy looking between us.

“Going back to sleep in a bit,” Flower adjusted her butt on the bench, “Back on the wall at twelve-hundred sharp.”

“Keep an eye out for those gaiders,” Doughy got seriously confused looks from both of us.

“Alligators?” I prompted. What with hellhounds and feral ghouls, I didn’t know what the wasteland had done to alligators; I didn’t want to know!

“What? No, gai-ders,” her sounding it out with her mild twang didn’t make it any clearer, “As in: ghoul raiders? Those rotten scumbags that’ve been chasing us the past few days? I thought that sounded better than raidouls or somethin’. Raider-ghouls.”

Flower let out a snort of laughter, “Raidouls. Sure, gaiders, why not? I’ll keep an eye out for the gaiders, Doughy,” she snarked.

“I thought it was clever,” Doughy put on a mild pout, turning to me, “What do you think, Skies?”

I returned her question with a noncommittal shrug, “I hadn’t really thought about giving them an identifier.”

“Okay, whatever, back to my original question, then. Skies?” Doughy dismissed the whole ‘gaiders’ thing with a hoof wave.

“I got put on the medical watch after last night, I’m there from ten PM to six AM,” I answered, feeling my lips tug upwards towards a smile, “For now I’m probably going to get some sleep, gonna take a rainy minute to get into a night watch sleep schedule.”

“Wow, nice!” Flower exclaimed, “I’ll make sure to stop by then if I get the clap or something.”

Doughy let out a snort of laughter.

“Don’t go out of your way,” I said with a soft smile and a pair of rolled eyes.

“Anyways,” Doughy drew out the word until both of our attentions were on her, “Spa date? Some time after yer shift and before yours,” Doughy indicated Flower and me in order, “I’ve got a couple tickets left for Steamy Pete’s and after…” she trailed off, her face going slack for a moment, eyes staring into the distance. I knew where she was, “...well, I figured I might as well use ‘em. My treat!” she broke out of her emotional turmoil, forcing a smile that slipped into place after a moment.

“I...yes, that sounds wonderful,” I nodded.

“What time you thinking?” Flower turned to Doughy.

“Well, with you workin’ on team one and you working, what? Ten to six, was it?” I nodded and Doughy continued, “So maybe after dinner? Five thirty or so? I’ll be done in the kitchens, you’ll be done with yer mid shift, and it’ll be before you need to be at the medical tents.”

“It’s a date!” Flower declared, smiling between the three of us.

* * * * *

Sleep came within moments of my back hitting the cot, wrapped loosely in my sleeping bag. It was a few feathers short of being a cloud bed, but after sleeping on the ground and in wagons the past six nights I couldn’t tell the difference.

Something shadowed and hidden stalked me until I awoke and banished it from mind and memory. But in spite of troubling dreams, I still managed to get some solid sleep. For the first time in what felt like a long time, I awoke feeling refreshed.

I slipped out of my sleeping bag and stretched only for a prickly sense on the back of my neck to make me freeze. Turning my head, I found a pair of eyes belonging to High Rise glaring at me from across the mare’s tent. The dashite’s level glare whittled me down, wilting my returned scowl into a simple frown until I turned away and busied myself by looking around. There were only a hoofull of other mares in the tent, most of them sleeping between shifts. When I looked to the cots surrounding me, I found that Axle Grease was my only companion.

“Didn’t wake you, did I?” the mare asked, strapping into some light armored barding. That and a quick glance to the tent’s analogue clock told me it was about time for the defenders’ shift change.

I shook my head, getting a nod in return.

“Heard about Rock Runner,” Axle Grease spoke up once she secured the last strap, turning this way and that to make sure her barding was secured, “If that had been me…” she suppressed a shudder, her tail tucking, “Not sure I’d want to be alive after all that.

“Not to take a shit on your hard work or anything. Hay, I don’t have the guts to go running outside the walls at night,” she put in quickly as an annoyed frown creased my lips, “But doc? If something like that ever happens to me?” She put a forehoof to her head, making a soft gunshot sound with her lips.

Then she left without giving me a chance to respond.

* * * * *

Back above the clouds the idea of two spa days in a row was a ridiculous luxury on my budget. Normally if I needed to relax I could just take a hot bath or steamy shower (preferably with Cloud Poker) or uncork a couple of cheap wine bottles with some gals from work.

But thinking back over the last few days (or, rather, trying desperately not to think about the last few days) a little extra self care was entirely warranted.

“‘Steamy Pete’s Sweat Shack?’” I raised an eyebrow at the sign above the door. The building itself was no more rickety than its brethren, the name just left a bad taste in my mouth.

“Eh. Don’t judge a book by its cover?” Doughy offered, “Sure, it’s no Aloe’s Flows, but who the hay has the caps to spend there?”

“I did,” I said. Still, though, I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Don’t anymore, I reckon,” Doughy grinned as she opened the door for Flower and me.

The reception area was more cramped than the one at Aloe’s Flows. One door led off to a small locker room, the other to a hallway with numerous doors crammed together. The reception desk was simple and utilitarian, a grim-looking griffon statue set up behind it.

The statue blinked.

It wasn’t a statue.

Some deep-rooted animal instinct that had kept my ancestors alive ten or so thousand years ago shot up from the neolithic depths of my brain. My heart fluttered as adrenaline shocked my system, my wings shooting out and a sudden urge to urinate kinking my tail up.

“Oh, shit, Skies, you okay?” Flower’s face filled my narrowed vision and I tried to center myself on her alarmed eyes, “You freaking out? Can you hear me?”

“Mm-hmm,” was all I could manage besides a jerky nod of my head. Even I didn’t know which of the three questions I was responding to.

Movement behind Flower drew my eyes to the stony gray griffon’s face as he (I assumed, considering the moustache) fixed me with a confused frown. His eyes darted towards my flanks and something like surprise flickered in his eyes.

“Enclave, huh?” The almost comically high pitch of the griffon’s voice helped ease me out of my terrified stupor. I suddenly became aware that I was breathing in tune with Flower, her breaths deep and measured in an effort to get my spiraling mind back on track.

“Yep,” I just managed not to squeak.

“Well hello, Enclave,” the griffon continued, “You paying or gawking?”

‘Trying to come to terms with seeing an actual griffon standing not a few hoof-lengths away from me?’ The fact that I managed the mental quip told me my brain was starting to accept the notion that griffons were a normal thing below the clouds. If I remembered my history, that was largely due to efforts made by the Enclave.

“We’re payin’, we’re payin’, don’t get yer beak in a bunch,” Doughy brushed past me, an apologetic look in her eyes. She offered up the three tickets to the griffon, who sniffed, licked, eyeballed, and rubbed them between his talons before accepting them as genuine.

“Pick a locker. You put a lock on it then it better be off by closing time or I get a big old set of bolt cutters and it’s finders keepers for what’s inside,” the griffon recited, “You try to take something from someone else’s locker and I get a big old set of bolt cutters and start cutting tendons, capisce?” The high pitch of his voice didn’t take away from the threat, the three of us nodding in understanding.

“Bring some water and a towel,” Flower said as we stowed our belongings in a set of open lockers. Doughy set a lock on her own, but Flower seemed to trust her fellow equine enough and I didn’t have a lock regardless.

The griffon tossed a numbered key that Doughy caught in her magic and the three of us found the matching door. A tub of hot rocks sat in the middle of the room, pipes in the ceiling letting a slow trickle of water down onto them and filling the room with hot steam. I plopped my towel and then my butt down on one of the three wall-wide benches ringing the room, relaxing back as I let the steam do its work.

“Never seen a griffon before, huh?” Flower relaxed back next to me, Doughy laying flat across the bench on the opposite side of the small room.

“Just in textbooks,” I replied with a shiver, “Most of them depicting griffons terrorizing pegasi.”

“Ah, Pete’s all bark and no balls,” Doughy waved off, lifting a lazy hoof in the air, “I mean, not literally ‘no balls,’ though with that voice it makes ya wonder...”

“So you’ve snuck yourself a little peek, then?” Flower teased.

“Emphasis on ‘little,’” Doughy shot a mischievous little grin our way. She brought up two hooves to show how small, “But he’s a griffon so go figure, I guess. Their tools’re made for different slots, if you’ll pardon a little innuendo.”

“This about the same kinda stuff gal pals talk about above the clouds?” Flower turned to me, “Or is it more around the lines of ‘Hey, how’s the weather up here?’”

I let out a snort of laughter, “No, it’s more or less the same kinda stuff. Who’s got the cutest butt, who’s got the nicest looking penis. Of course my answer was always Cloud Poker when I was answering…” I trailed off as I saw the look on his face when I’d left him, my smile drooping into a frown.

“He the father?” Flower pointed to my belly as I felt a soft cramp pinch me there.

I nodded, “He, um...we didn’t...I told him…” words tumbled out of my unhinged lips.

“It was an accident?” Flower prompted.

I cringed at the last word, but nodded, “I...well, we were,” I cleared my throat, “out of condoms at the tail end of last cycle.” My uncertainty as to why I was unburdening myself here and now didn’t stop me from continuing, “Am I a bad pony for telling him...I said I’d get rid of it if I got pregnant...and when I didn’t I went to Red Mist and...and I think I ruined his life!”

“Skies,” Flower leveled with me, drawing my own eyes to her deadly serious pair, shimmering blue burning into wine red, “I’d be dead right now if you hadn’t come down here and joined the caravan,” her magic tingled against my cheek as she wiped away a tumbling tear, “Rock Runner would be rotting out there in the sun. The wagon Red Mist pulled to safety would have been overrun with ghouls! I don’t care what the hell you did above the clouds, down here you’re as good a pony as they come.”

Blue above, when she put it like that? Cloud Poker’s gaze still lingered in my mind, but the effect it had on me had faded just a little bit.

“Thanks,” I croaked, and Flower opened her forelegs to me, offering a reassuring hug which I gladly accepted. Her rose red body was hot against mine, but maybe that was just the humidity.

“Now kiss,” Doughy ruined the moment with two words.

“Screw you, Doughy,” but Flower laughed as she said it, a grin and a snicker breaking out past my own lips as we separated.

“Actually, leads into a quick question for the resident pegasus. Somethin’ I’ve always wondered but never got the chance to figure out,” Doughy rolled onto her side, propping her head up with a hoof, “I can’t speak to the source that told me, but is everypony in the Enclave gay?”

“What!?” I wasn’t as taken aback by the question as I sounded, mostly just startled at the blunt way that she’d posed it, “I mean, not everypony, no, but it’s a good way to keep the population under control and certain incentives over the years have led to a lot of same-sex couplings. Red Mist is into stallions and I’ll admit I dabbled with the idea of mares back in the day, but there’s plenty of folks who fly straight.”

“‘Fly straight,’” Flower parroted, “I like that one!”

“‘Dabbled with mares?’” Doughy queried, a grin on her face as she continued, “If you were to rephrase that for an adult audience…how deeply did ya dabble?”

I opened my mouth, then shut it as a grin of my own split my face, “Well, the clitoris isn’t that deep down the pony hole so it’s not like I was spelunking very far…”

Doughy burst out laughing, Flower cackling beside me.

“Tell that to every stallion I ever met!” Doughy snarked.

“When have you ever been with a stallion like that?” Flower shot back, “You’re barely even a full-grown mare, what are you, thirteen?”

“I am a fully grown and sexually mature mare of the age of fourteen, thank you for asking,” Doughy replied with a flash of haughtiness, flicking her mane with a hoof. She grinned again, “And, since ya did ask, I feel it my duty to inform ya both that our dear Marrowbone doesn’t necessarily get the ‘bone’ in his name from the marrow!”

“Isn’t he ten years older than you?” Flower raised an eyebrow.

“Ten years more experienced, maybe,” Doughy gave her flank a little wiggle.

“Geez, does your dad know you’re a gold digger?” Flower grinned.

“Oh...what…” Doughy sputtered, turning a little rosy around the cheeks, “You nag! I’m not a gold digger! That would be like...like screwin’ Dual Gauge or somethin!’”

“Yeah, fair point,” Flower shrugged, then turned to me, “So who was your first?”

“Uhh…” I said, caught off guard by the question.

“Why don’t you go first, Flower?” Doughy saved me.

“Sure: Scribe Cherry Pop,” Flower replied fondly, “We’d just been initiated and she’d snuck some booze into the barracks. Passed it around a few times and everypony was wasted.

“The two of us were young and the booze made us both pretty sloppy, but I’ve had worse since.” She got lost in her mind for a moment, then smiled, “Goddesses, we got yelled at the next day, I was sure they were going to toss me out then and there.”

“Wait, were you in some sort of military?” I asked.

Flower raised an eyebrow at me, then something clicked and her lips formed a surprised ‘Ohh!’

“Oh! Oh, right, you’ve probably never heard of the steel rangers, have you?” Flower filled me in when I shook my head and I couldn’t help but feel she was painting them in an over-exaggeratedly negative light. “Anyways, I didn’t really leave them in the most mature manner I could’ve…” she admitted, pausing for a moment, “I’m a phytokinetic,” she pointed at the trio of thorny roses emblazoned on her flank, one in each primary color, “You know what that means?”

“Plant magic,” I nodded, getting a surprised look from Flower.

“Look at you with all your fancy knowledge,” she said, continuing, “I wanted to do field work, as in do stuff outside the bunker, not work in actual fields. But all the rangers wanted was for me to grow crops so day in and day out I worked my horn off growing stuff for ponies to eat. It was a thankless task and most of the earth ponies, Cherry aside, didn’t really see eye to eye with me on magically-induced crop growth. I kinda just snapped one day, burned the wrong bridge, and that was that...” she rubbed her forehooves together, looking uncomfortable.

“Jasmine Tea in my first year of medical school,” I spoke up suddenly, trying to take the mare’s mind off of her past by bringing up my own. Both Flower and Doughy gave me questioning looks, and I elaborated with a sultry smile: “You asked who my first lay was...”

* * * * *

Before I knew it it was time to leave, Pete was giving the door a sharp knock and letting us know he was closing up shop. The steam slowly dissipated and we all toweled off after a quick shower before heading out. I still had a few hours before I needed to be at the medical tents, but I headed there anyways. Strap had said extra work paid off and I was in one hell of a good mood after unwinding with the other mares.

“You sick, buzzard?” A buck glared at me and my intact cutie mark when I entered the medical tent. From the fact he was standing about with a clipboard in his magic and not bedridden or bruised I assumed he was one of the Workforce ponies.

“I’m the night shift,” I tried not to let his glare and his tone ruin my peachy mood, “I thought I’d stop in early and see if I could help out at all.”

The buck’s glare returned to his clipboard, his magic flipping through the pages. When he stopped his eyes scanned quickly.

“Name?” He didn’t look up.

“Healthy Skies,” a sudden worry struck me that Dr. Holiday hadn’t written my name in whatever it was the buck was referencing. Was I going to get kicked out without another stamp? But the buck seemed satisfied with my response, flipping back to the first page and setting the clipboard down.

“Maybe you can help by getting that mare out of here,” when I followed his hoof I saw where Rock Runner’s beaten and bandaged form was laying. But the mare the buck was referring to was Marsh Runner, whose large form was curled up next to Rock Runner’s cot, “She’s been weeping and worrying over her sister all day and she’s blocking the route between cots.”

“That’s her sister,” seemed like a smart response in my head, but out loud it just sounded dumb. The buck knew already that, “I mean, she...look what they did to her.” That also sounded dumb as it came out of my mouth, but if something that bad had happened to Cloud Poker, or my parents, or even Reuben, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to leave their side.

“I can see that,” from his tone I could tell he thought my comments were stupid, too, “but she keeps pestering us about little things, worrying over every little thing she thinks is wrong!” the buck’s harsh tone could use some work, but I could see how that might get annoying. I would know if a wounded Cloud Poker was regressing or otherwise needed extra attention, but I doubted that Marsh Runner knew anything more than basic first aid, “That, and again: she’s blocking access to that row of cots,” again his hoof pointed to where Marsh Runner was laid down, “If we have a mass-cas and need to move around—”

“Okay, okay! I’ll see what I can do,” I relented, hating that I’d have to be the villain and force Marsh Runner away from her sister, but in all fairness the buck had a point. He let out an unsatisfied huff, but stopped berating me all the same.

I took a few steps towards Rock Runner’s cot, then hesitated as I started to think over what I could say. Bedside manner could be a difficult thing, especially with ponies who were distraught as Marsh Runner would be.

With a simple conversation started in my head, I trotted forwards again. Both mares appeared to be sleeping, though Rock Runner proved my observation wrong as her right foreleg dropped down to her sister. She pawed blindly for a moment before making soft contact with Marsh Runner’s head, rubbing gently to rouse her.

“Marshy, Marshy!” She coaxed Marsh Runner awake with a soft voice, “Skies is here.”

“Mmm,” Marsh Runner let out a whimper, rubbing her snout with a hoof and opening her bloodshot eyes. They shot wide and filled with fresh tears when she saw me.

“Mar—” I couldn’t even get a single syllable out before the mare was upon me, powerful hooves sweeping me up in a great, big hug, “Agh! Please! Squeezing! Pregnant!” I protested even as she let out an unending string of “Thankyou! Thankyou! Thankyou!”

“Goddesses, I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Marsh Runner swept back like her mere presence might be hurting me, letting me back on my own hooves.

“Marsh Runner—” I managed three syllables that time.

“Goddesses above and below, I’m so glad you brought Rocky back, Skies!” Marsh Runner’s words barreled out over my own, “If...if you hadn’t…” she hiccuped out a quick sob, “I’m in your debt, we both are. If you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask. Nothing I can do will be able to repay what you did for me and Rocky.”

“I don’t...it wasn’t—” all my calm explanations of why Marsh Runner needed to leave and let us trained medical ponies do our jobs crumbled in my brain. I took a half-step back, overwhelmed by the massive mare’s words. I shouldn’t be in her debt! It was just me doing my job mixed with dumb luck that had saved her sister. Hell, it was Strap who did most of the heavy lifting...or, cutting, as it were, “I was just doing my job,” I finally managed to say past a slight blush, “You don’t owe me—”

“Please!” she cut off my attempts at modesty, teary eyes begging my own wide pair. The sheer force of the mare’s pleading voice made me take a half step back. All I could do was offer her a simple, sober nod, but it let her relax and wipe her nose with a forehoof.

“Satisfied, sis?” Rock Runner reached out her forehoof again and Marsh Runner moved into it, wrapping it gently in her own.

“You’ll take good care of her?” Marsh Runner turned to me, more seeking reassurance than anything else.

“I will,” I gave her a stoic nod.

“They need you on the wall, now, Marshy,” Rock Runner’s voice was firm, but gentle. Marsh Runner froze up at the prospect of leaving, trembling as she gripped her sister’s leg as if letting go would mean saying goodbye forever. Rock Runner’s stumpy foreleg started to move, as if she were going to bring it around to give Marsh Runner a reassuring pat, but stopped as she undoubtedly realized it would no longer reach. Fortunately it wasn’t needed and Marsh Runner finally managed the courage to lean in to kiss Rock Runner on the forehead, running a forehoof through her tattered mane. Then she pulled away with a jerky movement as if terrified Rock Runner would pull apart at the seams.

“Thank you,” Marsh Runner turned to me before trotting out of the tent, the buck at the far end watching her go with a mixture of annoyance and relief.

“Sorry about Marshy,” Rock Runner spoke up once Marsh Runner was gone, “I love her, but she’s kind of an idiot.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” I tried to reassure the mare, but she waved me off with her good forehoof.

“Trust me, you weren’t here earlier. She was like a young mare who’d just given birth, terrified that every little hiccup and sneeze was a sure sign I was going to die.”

“I guess I’ll take your word for it,” I shrugged before realizing the gesture would be lost on her. Feeling awkward, I changed the subject, going back into doctor mode, “How are you holding up?” I trotted around to her right side, mostly so my eyes wouldn’t be morbidly drawn to the wounds beneath her tail, “You sound like you’re starting to feel better.”

I questioned my choice of words as the mare’s face scrunched up, but she seemed to overcome her torment, “I can still feel it,” she moved her stump, lifting her head for a moment before remembering she didn’t have any eyes, “But when I try to scratch it…” she didn’t need to finish the thought, forcing a smile, “I could kiss the pony who invented med-X right now.”

A quick check of her bandages and waste bag told me somepony had already changed them, and that her wounds were healing nicely...at least the ones that would heal.

Rock Runner waved away my worry again when I asked if she needed anything so I made a quick round around the medical tent. Another unicorn entered as I was doing so, but her cutie mark and lack of wounds made me think she was the other Workforce doctor on shift, perhaps returned from a quick break. The look she fixed me with made me think I wasn’t supposed to be here, but after speaking with the buck she ignored me.

The two unicorns seemed to be holding a private conversation when I’d made sure there was nothing the wounded needed, so I returned to Rock Runner’s side.

“How does healthcare work down here?” I asked, both to satisfy my own curiosity and for want of something to talk about, “Like, do you have to pay for all the stuff they use at some point? Since Strap did most of the…” I hesitated as I tossed a glance to Rock Runner’s stump, “the work does that get you a...discount or something?”

“‘A discount,’” Rock Runner let out a quiet snort of laughter at that, though with her face wrapped in bandages it was hard to tell how genuine her mirth was, “Assuming you know what insurance is, Dual Gauge has a full policy with Oasis Springs. Pays a premium of medical supplies and caps and all his ponies get taken care of,” she scowled, “Though I assume the cost of both are gonna go up after, well...this.” She made a vague gesture with her good foreleg, looking thoughtful for a moment...though it was admittedly hard to tell for sure that’s what her expression had turned to, “But now I’m curious; how does it work up there?” her hoof pointed up beyond the fabric of the medical tent, “healthcare, I mean.”

“Paid for by taxes, mostly,” I said, happy to help take the mare’s mind off her current situation, “General medical expenses are covered. Break a leg or a wing, check into a hospital, get right as rain, and as long as you’ve got the proper tax forms submitted proving that you’ve paid you’re good to go.

“Only time you’ve gotta pay is for elective stuff and some instances of negligence or misconduct. Like, if you broke your wing doing something incredibly stupid, the government can fine you for wasting resources. It only happens in extreme cases and a lot of them get thrown out in court. Same goes for if you cause someone else undue harm, you gotta pay for their medical expenses out of pocket.

“For us gals, once you turn eight you gotta start doing an annual pregnancy evaluation every Fall to make sure you’re not pregnant. If you are, then you’d better be able to produce a birth card in three weeks...” I trailed off, rubbing at a sudden cramp in my belly with a hoof.

“What if you can’t?” Rock Runner queried.

“You…” my hoof paused a moment in the slow circles it was making,“You can apply for an extension, but ultimately they take your foal...abort it…” Cloud Poker’s hurt gaze flashed behind my eyes and I continued speaking to get the image out of my head, “You’re expected to do a self test if you think you’re at risk after your cycle and if you...you’re expected to abort it if you are pregnant without a birth card. Accidents are one thing, maybe a condom broke, it happens. But for repeat offenders or those who try to hide it there’s a fine or jail time. If it keeps happening, well, they can sterilize you...”

“Ponies just let them do all that to you?” Her scowl and tone told me she didn’t think very highly of what must seem like an overbearing government. But it all made sense when you thought about it!

“I mean, there’s always one or two mares every year who resist,” And I was one of them now, I realized. But I still felt the urge to defend my people, “We’ve gotta keep control of the population…” but coming from my mouth the words reeked of hypocrisy. I didn’t have a birth card and I’d promised Cloud Poker I’d do what had to be done if he got me pregnant. But now here I was...

“Nopony ever thought about just opening up the cloud layer and spreading yourselves out wide?” I wasn’t sure if that last part was supposed to be some sort of vague double entendre, but I assumed not as I replied.

“Well...some ponies, sure, but they’re either in the minority political parties or they’re dashites,” I couldn’t help the quiet tremble in my voice, seeing the glaring, misshapen faces of “Deadshot” Calamity and “Radioactive” Radar on posters here and there above the clouds, “The government tells us it’s all for the best, that we can’t live down here, the radiation and the beasts would kill us all.”

“What do you think now that you know that’s all horseapples?” Rock Runner asked.

“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s all horseapples,” I countered, a little more defensive that I wanted to be, “I mean, there’s still radiation and monsters and raiders and ghouls and—”

“Hey, not trying to be pushy, just making conversation,” she stopped my rising tone with a placating gesture of her hoof, “About all I’m good for now.”

“That’s not all you’re good for,” I quickly reassured her, hesitating a moment before taking her hoof in my own.

She looked like she was about to protest, maybe ask me what else I thought she was good for (which I would have struggled greatly to answer), but then she swallowed the thought.

“Thanks,” she said, managing a sad smile.

* * * * *

Darkness descended, hushing the general hubbub of civilization.

Dr. Holiday showed up at ten PM and was pleasantly surprised with my early arrival, promising me an extra stamp in the morning. The clipboard the Workforce buck had used to confirm my name was passed over to me and then I was alone with the wounded.

It was almost like working at the hospital again, except smaller, more cramped, no patients with wings, and now I was working as a fully fledged doctor instead of a simple nurse. That last part gave me pause, guilt filling my mind as I cast a worried look to all the injured ponies around me. Was it wrong that I had professed to be a doctor when, in fact, I was only a nurse? I was working towards a doctorate above the clouds, sure, but if I pretended to be a doctor up there I could be fined and even jailed or sued for practicing without credentials.

But as Day Pacer had said the night before, they didn’t have medical schools down here. So maybe a piece of paper telling someone you were a licensed physician was good for nothing other than toilet paper when it came to the wasteland. If that was the case, then maybe I was a doctor in the wasteland sense. I might not be as skilled as Strap was, but I knew my way around a wound, and perhaps that was better than any cloud-based document.

‘Dr. Healthy Skies, Wasteland M.D.’ I mused in my mind, a small smile brightening my face.

“Skies!” I jumped out of my reverie at Dr. Holiday’s call, turning about frantically as he rushed into the tent, “Go grab your gun and get to the wall!”

My panicked brain tried to make the command make sense. What had I done wrong? Why was he making me a defender again? A plea formed in my head to be given another chance, that healing ponies was my calling! But his eyes set with worry, not anger, I realized, and he was dressed in light armored barding with a pistol and spare magazines strapped to his side. Something else was going on.

“I’ll take over here,” already the tall buck was moving away, his magic sweeping through lockers as he checked over medical supplies, “Find Leather Strap at the main gate, hurry!”

The order cut through the growing fright that was swamping my mind. If they’d woken up Strap, maybe that meant they’d found another injured pony from the caravan. Somepony could be dying out there like Rock Runner had been!

My wings lifted and I was off, flying over the buildings thankful for the low light of the street lamps guiding my way. Something dark flashed past in my peripherals and I let out a startled whinny, but when I turned my head whatever it was was gone. Fearing some avian wasteland creature, I lowered my altitude so I was skimming the tops of the street lamps.

I arrived at the mare’s tent without incident, finding it empty and vacated in a hurry. My shotgun was where I’d left it, the magazine tube loaded when I flipped it over. I threw a heavy bandolier of shotgun shells over my withers and rushed back out towards the gate.

A great many whispers rose to an orchestra of uncertainty as I galloped closer, spotting Leather Strap, Marrowbone, and a few other ponies with medical cutie marks and bags around her.

“Skies!” she barked my name when she saw me, waving me over with her injured foreleg.

“Strap! What’s going on!?” I didn’t care that my voice was trembling.

“Not entirely sure. Somepony thought they saw something out there and raised the alarm. Then someone started shooting, not sure who.” The mystery of the situation didn’t help my trembling hooves as I ground them into the earth, trying to hide my shakiness. My mind immediately dredged up shadowy equine figures, illuminated only by the flashes of their weapons as they shot us off our walls. “Nopony was injured, but we’re on high alert now.”

“Probably some dipshit bandit taking potshots,” a buck I didn’t know grumbled, casting an annoyed glance to the wall as he let out a yawn.

Strap ignored him, her eyes finding my weapon, “Gimme that for a sec,” she gestured with her hoof, “Go fly up there, see what you can see. Just a quick peek, stay in the darkness. Probably won’t see anything, but I’m tired of waiting for them to send runners down here to keep us updated.”

I hesitated a moment, not sure that I wanted to go up there and take a peek, but I was the best pony for the job. Strap checked that my shotgun was loaded as I hoofed it over, nodding for me to take flight. I had to force my wings from my sides before I finally managed to flap them, Strap giving me a reassuring look before I started rising up, the lip of the wall slowly approaching.

Taking a quick peek before darting back down a bit got me nothing but an annoyed look from one of the defenders crouching on the wall. I took a longer peek again, seeing nothing but darkness. I couldn’t decide on whether that was reassuring or not.

Then they came.

Three blood-red flares flashed silently into the sky, their pulsating light illuminating a liquid mass of movement laid across the wasteland below. It almost looked like a great flood of blood flowing across the low plains, but I knew better.

It was a massive swarm of ghouls.

* * * * *

Footnote: Level progress 60%

Skills increased:

+Medicine

+Speech

Author's Note

The caravan arc is finally coming to a close...

Since I mention Doughy's age as being 14 but her still being a fully mature mare I'll post again that I subscribe to the idea of a pony ageing system not equivalent to humans, because that's just boring. Her human-equivalent age is 18-19ish, and estrous cycles start around the age of 8, which is about 16 for humans.

00 - Safe Sex

Author's Note

If you’re not a fan of clop, and you’re really missing out if that’s the case, then you can skip the prologue. All you really need to know from it is the narrator’s in heat and her buckfriend goes in without protection after she promises to abort if she conceives.

If you are a fan of clop, enjoy!

00 - Safe Sex

PROLOGUE:

Safe Sex

“You know what they call bucks who use the pull-out method? Fathers.”

A crescent moon and sparse few stars were the only witnesses to the sin-smelling room, peeking in through an open window; voyeurs of our sexual escapade. A warm, summer night breeze wafted through the room, doing nothing to stem the flames of fertility that danced up and down my tingling spine.

His tongue, like moist velvet, traced up me again, digging deeper into my dripping slit. I shivered with a moan as his tongue played with my clit, my tail kinking up even further and back arching from the cunnilingus.

“Mm, Cloud Poker!” I gasped out his name as he retracted to lap at my dripping slit. Beneath my hindquarters, one of his hooves stroked over my belly and teats, massaging the nubs with the tip of his hoof.

“Almost at the home stretch, lovely?” he asked, retracting his muzzle from my burning nethers. I opened my mouth, but he gave me no time to reply as he dove back in with renewed vigor, finding and pressing into my sweet spot with his tongue, stroking my undercarriage with his hoof.

I lasted another good minute before I finally went over the edge, a rush of endorphins blasting the world around me into nothing but pure, orgasmic bliss.

Inhaling sharply, my hind lips clamped down around his tongue as I came, trying to milk him of every last drop of his non-existent seed. He took the time to wiggle his trapped organ around, continuing to tickle my love tunnel as I let my legs give out from under me, collapsing with a sigh as I rode out the pulsating waves of orgasm that wracked my very core.

I felt his tongue, giving me a few more tastes, leave me as my slit unclenched, freeing him from its iron grip. He collapsed beside me with a sigh, planting a warm peck on my cheek and stroking my back with a wing.

Turning my head to him, a small smile gracing my lips, I met his own lips with mine, tasting myself on him as he no doubt tasted what remained of him on my own.

“Was it everything you ever wanted?” Cloud Poker grinned as he settled on his side, the cloud bed beneath us making soft, fluffy noises.

“It was good,” I said, glancing downwards as I felt something hard and fleshy poking into my flank. Not surprisingly, his little dining session had left him fully aroused.

“Heh, s-sorry,” he muttered, cheeks flushing as he made to scoot back and let it subside.

But before he could move, I had the flat head of Pokey junior in my forehoof, keeping him still. With a slow rhythm that elicited a grin from him, I began stroking him with the frog of my hoof.

“It was good for you too, I see,” I said, meeting him with half lidded eyes as I felt his shaft twitch under the guide of my hoof.

“Ooh, yes,” he moaned, bringing our lips together again as I sped up my hoof.

Rolling onto my own side, I brought one of my hind hooves up to assist in helping get him off. He groaned into my mouth, tongue sliding in and dancing with mine as both hooves began to play with his erection. Unconsciously or not, he softly bucked his hips in tune with my strokes, pressing himself harder into me as I brought him closer to climax.

“Oh, Healthy Skies!” he moaned my name as he pulled our lips apart before diving back in. I continued to stroke his massive member, coaxing him further and further along as he bucked to the tune of my strokes, sucking at me with his mouth.

With a sudden gasp, he pulled his lips from mine, arching his neck up with a grimace as he went off, letting me lean forth to suckle at his neck as his warm seed was emptied onto the bed between us, soaking into the already filthy cloud-blankets.

He brought his head back down to trade happy nuzzles, tired eyes looking ready for sleep. However, fatigue sat at the back of my mind. I wasn’t quite ready just yet.

Fire still coursed through me. Though dampened, the estrus-induced heat burning within me continued to dance through my body, telling me to take this gloriously sexy stallion and make him rut me till night’s end to fill my womb with a foal.

Flipping back onto my belly and whisking my tail to one side, I turned to my love with my best pair of bedroom eyes. It didn’t seem to register for a few moments, the spark of recognition in his eyes taking a few extra moments to light up.

“We really shouldn’t,” he replied, eyes darting from my flank to face.

“If only somepony hadn’t lost his pack of condoms,” I sniped back, accusingly.

“My roommate took them!” Cloud Poker retorted unhappily, rolling onto his back and resting his forehooves over his chest. He opened his mouth as if to further plead his innocence, but promptly shut it.

“And who’s fault is that?” I grumbled, considering for a moment before replying. I really wanted something a little more than a bit of oral sex to cut back the raging hormones, “Well how about I let you in raw?”

“You’re in heat, lovely,” he replied simply, still staring at the ceiling, “and—”

“No birth card, I know, I know,” I retorted with a groan before trying again, “But I’m already at the tail end of my cycle, the chances of me conceiving are practically zero!”

Cloud Poker was quiet for a time, throwing an occasional glance back down my body. I knew he could smell the scent of my heat, seducing him on a chemical level.

“I...you’re okay with aborting...if you do conceive?” he turned to me, looking suddenly dead serious. He didn’t need to remind me that an unlawful birth, one without a proper card, was an immediate felony offense.

“I thought that was obvious,” I replied, nonchalant, “It’s not like I won’t be able to have another once we finally fill out a marriage contract.”

“Y-yeah…” he said, trailing off, still staring at the ceiling.

I waited in silence, expecting more out of him. But when it became obvious he wasn’t going to continue, I spoke up again, “C’mon! I fucking need this, Pokerface! We forgot the protection this one time, I’ll bring a couple with me next season,” I frowned, “or is it because the abortion thing? Look, Lilac had to abort last season and she’s perfectly fine! There’s an Abortion Corporation building right down the street from me.”

His chest caved in as he let out a sigh, “You promise me?”

“By the wind,” I muttered with a shake of my head, “Are you trying to find an excuse not to rut a mare in heat?” I asked, “What are you, gay?”

He turned to me with a serious look.

“I promise,” I sighed, “On the off chance I conceive, I’ll abort it, happy?”

Leaning forwards, he gave me a quick kiss before standing. I could already see his growing girth as he moved around behind me.

“Happy,” he agreed.

* * * * *

Footnote: Healthy Skies’ S.P.E.C.I.A.L:

Strength= 4

Perception= 7

Endurance= 4

Charisma= 6

Intelligence= 7

Agility= 6

Luck= 6

13 - The Siege of Oasis Springs

Author's Note

After far too long it's finally here! I can't promise that I'll be posting chapters more regularly, but I feel like I'm getting my steam back. Enjoy!

13 - The Siege of Oasis Springs

CHAPTER THIRTEEN:

The Siege of Oasis Springs

“Ponies are supposed to help each other and be kind. So let's stop this senseless fighting...”

They’d warned us they were coming.

Now they were here.

It took all of my strength to perform a controlled landing instead of just plummeting to the ground. I still stumbled when I touched down, jarring my limbs as faceless ponies rushed up around me. The earth trembled hazardously beneath me but when I lifted a hoof the limb kept shaking on its own.

Fetid breath blew across my neck...the raider mare’s snarling voice echoing wordlessly between my ears...the crippled ghoul bit down on High Brass’ shotgun as he died not a few yards away...the soft ringing of tinnitus filled the silence of the world as gunpowder and rotten flesh filled my sinuses…

“Skies!”

Leather Strap’s shout jolted me out of my mental freefall, her injured forehoof lifting my eyes to hers. There was anger in them, but a deeper well of compassion filled her gaze. Subconsciously, I knew it hadn’t been the first time she’d called out my name and something like shame or guilt made me turn away.

“No time for that, now,” her hoof guided my face back to hers, “I need you here now, Skies, not there.”

“But they’re here,” I whimpered, feeling the images of blood and death creeping up through my peripherals again. The raiders that had chased us for the past few days were back! How was I the only pony freaking out right now!? They were right outside our walls and—

“They’re out there,” Strap’s words were slow and deliberate as she jabbed a hoof to the gate. Following the gesture, I was distracted by the sight of muscle-bound ponies lifting great beams of metal and shoring it up. “We’re in here,” Strap’s voice drew me back to her face, “and we’re gonna help make sure they stay the hell out there.” Her hoof hooked around my own, further cementing me back in place, “I need you here to do that, Skies. I need your head in the game!”

“Flare!” I heard a call from above, my eyes snapping to the sky. Dark night greeted me, unmolested by the wicked red light. Whoever made the call was looking at something far away, the smart part of my brain realized as it started coming back online. That meant the raiders and their ghouls were still too far away to hurt me directly. Maybe that meant things were okay...

“Wh-what…” the word trembled past my lips so I took a calming breath and tried again, “What’s the plan?”

“Right now we sit tight and look mean; posturing,” Strap cast a glance to the walls, my eyes following and finding a large number of ponies crowding them, all armed and most looking scared. But they still had the courage to poke their heads out, weapons scanning the darkness before they ducked back down.

Those ponies were counting on me, I realized. If they were shot or wounded I was one of the only lifelines that they had. One of the few ponies in the wasteland who knew how to suture tissue or pack a wound. The last fringes of darkness faded from my vision, though a well of healthy fear remained in my guts. I turned back to Strap as she continued.

“Raiders are too far away to engage with direct fire, but if they’re watching they’re gonna see a lot of lights, heads, and guns waiting for them here. Dumb as they are, Raiders aren’t suicidal so if we can puff up big enough they’ll pack up and go. Ghouls probably don’t give a shit, but they can’t do shit, either. Not enough brains to use guns and they can’t get past the walls.

“It’s a game as old as predator and prey. We’re stotting and pronking to show the predators that they’re better off looking elsewhere for an easy meal,” she frowned a moment before adding: “Of course, since we’re in modern times, it’s more us showing them that if they mess with us, we’ll burn them down in a hail of bullets,” Strap’s glare returned to my face, but the mix of anger and hatred wasn’t directed at me, “Medical ponies are on standby down here. If things go to hell and bullets start flying, you keep your head down and wait down here,” she tapped her hoof in the dirt for emphasis, “Ponies get injured, there’s others that’ll bring them down and we’ll be treating them, again, down here. Don’t go flying off alone if you see someone take a bullet up there.”

“Got it,” I hoped the semi-darkness hid my mild blush, ‘I would not go flying off to do that!’ I mentally protested, wondering if it were true or if I was just being defensive.

“I’ve sent the others off to rouse more warm bodies and grab extra supplies. Meds and coffee, help keep folks lively and awake,” my shotgun floated up in front of me, held in the purple light of her magic, “Hope you don’t need this.”

I took the weapon after a moment’s hesitation, its weight returning with a flash of something painful behind my eyes. Moving to sling it over my withers, I stopped myself and checked the tube and chamber. Full and empty. After a moment’s consideration, I checked that the safety was on and slipped my forehoof into the pump’s loop, biting the slide release.

The loud racking sound the weapon made as I pumped it was music to my ears. I topped the tube off with a fresh round as Break Action had shown me the day before.

Locked and loaded.

* * * * *

The quiet times before battle, I was quickly coming to realize, sucked.

Terror still trickled down across the ridges of my brain, but it was little more than a dull ache now. Emotions that had run hot a couple hours before were drying out as the waiting game continued. Nothing was happening, no real moves were being made, we were all just waiting around for the other horseshoe to drop. For the raiders to make their next big move. Was our armed presence going to be enough to deter them and scare them off? Or would they heedlessly throw their bodies and bullets against us in an attack?

Or, a darker part of my mind whispered, was Oasis Springs about to become the next Burnout?

But that was silly, right? My eyes turned to the massive gates rising a solid thirty feet overhead. Even their reassuring presence didn’t stop the chill that ran up my spine or the quick shudder that followed it. My neck hurt as I tilted my head back, expecting to see a flare burst into the sky over the town. The continued darkness above did nothing to stop the butterflies in my stomach.

I tried to settle them by taking a small cup in my lips and tilting my head back, but the coffee I’d gotten earlier was still gone. Just like everything else in the wasteland, it had been dripping with a sharp, roasty flavor like nothing I’d tasted before. I didn’t even need to drown it in sugar and creamer like I did above the clouds.

Strap had given me odd looks at the almost orgasmic sounds I made when I sipped at it. The only thing that kept me from chugging it down was the scalding heat that burned my tongue with every succulent sip. I did my best to savor every drop, but the cup still emptied too soon and I really wanted another. But I had a foal to worry about and one cup was going to have to be my limit.

Oh, the sacrifices we’re forced to make for the ones we care about...

Seeking a cure for my rising boredom, I peered about the low light at the base of Oasis Springs’ gate. Leather Strap and Marrowbone were the only two ponies I knew in our small medical team. Doctor Holiday had come by, offering to take over for Leather Strap, who had turned his offer down, saying simply: “I’m already here.”

There were twelve of us in total now, spread out at the base of the gate with what appeared to be a good portion of Oasis Spring’s medical stock. I hadn’t asked the names of the other ten ponies and they hadn’t offered. Nopony was really in much of a mood for casual conversation.

Strap had procured a set of cots from the Workforce tents. While the idea was to use them to hold casualties from the coming battle, most of the medical ponies were using them to rest up for now. Strap herself was laid out on one of them herself, her eyes closed. The way her ears twitched this way and that, always cocked and listening, told me that she was just resting her eyes.

Two of the nameless ponies and Marrowbone were using another cot as a makeshift table, playing with a deck of old cards. I tried to follow the slow pace of the game for a few minutes before giving up. It wasn’t blackjack, go fish, or anything else in-between so I had no idea what they were playing.

“Flare!” A voice from the wall called out tiredly, and my neck was too sore to look up and see if it was overhead.

The soft rumbling of wagon wheels approaching from down the street made me jump. In and of itself the sound was innocuous, but my wired brain wasn’t expecting it amid the sounds of quiet voices and shuffling cards.

Peering down the road, I spied a pair of wagons being pulled by two-headed bovines. A small group of ponies led by a mare in a trench coat with the sleeves cut off shuffled along at the wagons’ sides. All of them were armed for war, and the ease at which the bovines pulled the wagons led me to believe that they were empty.

“Gate’s closed!” Strap hopped gingerly from her cot, moving to meet the caravaners halfway. Watching Strap, Marrowbone excused himself from the card game and trotted quietly after her. Looking between them and the approaching caravan, I did the same, not sure if I was supposed to or not. I had a feeling mine and Marrowbone’s weapons wouldn’t be very helpful against the fusillade of firearms the caravaners had.

“So open it!” the lead mare replied evenly, turning to her caravan, “Whoa, there, whoa!”

“‘Whoa’ yerself, missy!” one of the lead bovine’s heads shot back, but the creature stopped all the same. I tried to do a better job of not being transfixed by the bizarre beast of burden, but those twin heads were just so weird!

“Yeah, sure,” Strap didn’t move, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She tipped her head towards the large beams shoring up the gates, “Let me just take down those big old bars with my massive muscles and pop the gate wide open for you.”

“So get somepony else to,” the mare snapped back, her gaze dismissing Marrowbone and me as she fixed back on Strap. Her own ponies ambled up around her with hard looks, but their weapons remained relaxed or holstered, “Somepony obviously put them up, somepony can take them down.”

“Not my job,” Strap shook her head, “even if it was, it’d take an order from Wrangler or her folks to get the gate open. In case you haven’t heard, we're in a lockdown.”

The mare let out an annoyed nicker, “I know there’s a lockdown, that’s why I’m trying to get me and my ponies the hell out of here! Every second I waste here is a bunch of caps I’ll never see,” she took a moment to size Strap up before continuing, “Look, if it’s caps you want what’s it gonna cost? We’re riding empty, some good sales made yesterday so I’ve got a decent chunk of change to spare. I can give you two hundred caps to open the gates for me.”

“The gates are staying closed,” Strap didn’t relent.

“Fine,” the mare grumbled, “I’ll double it, four hundred caps.”

“Filly,” Strap countered with a huff, “I don’t care if you offered me a million caps and were good for it, too. Caps are only good if you’re alive and that gate opening threatens my chances of staying alive.” She gestured around with her injured foreleg, “Hell, it threatens the chances of everypony here staying alive. If you’d seen what I have of these raiders you wouldn’t be so keen to leave.”

“Fair enough, but you can bet your butt I’m good for a thousand...” Some of the mare’s own ponies glanced pointedly at her, and I wondered if she’d have enough to pay them after the bribe.

“Do you have a death wish or are you just plain stupid, filly?” Strap let out a sharp huff, annoyance coloring her voice. It felt nice not being the one on the receiving end of Strap’s ire.

“Excuse me?!” The caravan mare took a menacing step forwards, but Strap held her ground.

“Oasis Springs has walls, water, and weapons,” Strap was addressing the caravan at large now, looking between the ponies, who, for their parts seemed to be having second thoughts, “You go out there, you’ve got the water you’re carrying and the guns on your backs. I can tell you that ain’t gonna mean jack shit if those raiders decide they want you dead.

“My caravan left Coin-Toss Quarry over a hundred ponies strong with twenty wagons chock full of goods. Last headcount I got before we made it here was a little over twenty ponies, half of which are still bedridden, and one rickety wagon without even a percentage of our ideal payout. The bastards out there?” she gestured a hoof towards the gates, “They did that in a matter of days with only a fraction of our numbers. We killed a shit-ton of ghouls and a hoofull of raiders, but they just kept coming.

“Now here you are weighed down by all your guns and, no offense, your brahmin,” she gestured to one of the beasts, which gave her an amiable shrug, “You step out those gates, you’re good as dead.”

“Don’t listen to her!” the mare spoke up, looking back to make sure her ponies were listening. Some were, but most of them had their ears cocked towards Strap, “It’s dark out, they won’t see us leave.”

Strap jerked her head up to the wall where spotlights were searing out across the wasteland, “They’ll see you leave in all the light we’re putting out, that’s all they need. Probably wouldn’t even take more than three of them, no need for the ghouls.” She sized up the group, letting her eyes linger on the ponies around the main mare until they started to squirm. “They’d wait until you were well out in the wastes, blind you with one of those flares, and shoot you dead from cover of some rocks or ruins.” She lifted her injured hoof, “That’s how I earned this, and I was one of the lucky ones. The buck next to me? Couple shots through the torso; had to leave him and a bunch of others behind for the ghouls just so we could escape.”

I knew Strap was taking some creative licenses with that description. The ponies we’d left behind were all dead and we weren’t being chased down by ghouls in that instance, but I wasn’t going to say otherwise.

“I think you’re full of shit!” The mare bit back. But Strap was done with her, addressing her ponies now.

“My name’s Leather Strap and I’m the head medical mare of Dual Gauge’s caravan. We’re currently hiring able-bodied ponies who know their way around a weapon. Whatever she’s paying,” Strap gestured to the stupefied mare, “I’ll match if you hop up on those walls and help us hold the town.”

“How...how dare you try to poach my...hey!” The mare finally managed to sputter as a number of the ponies around her started to split off and start heading towards the walls.

“Sorry, Roach,” one buck offered his condolences as he passed her fuming form, “But the mare’s got a point.”

“To...to hell with the lot of you, then!” Roach snarled at their receding forms. She let out a low growl, turning to see that all she had now were a pair of other ponies plus her brahmin and wagons. Her glare settled back on Strap and she spat to one side, before growling: “Bitch!” And turning to leave.

“Been called worse by better,” Strap muttered once the mare and her scattered caravan had left earshot. Marrowbone let out an indifferent snort and headed back to his card game, Strap turning back to her cot. Boredom was the only thing waiting for me at the cot I’d claimed so I followed after Strap instead, searching for something to say.

“What’s Coin-Toss Quarry?” I asked as Strap hopped back up on her cot, “Did a pair of ponies settle some dispute there with a coin toss? Maybe the coin they tossed fell in and they never found it? Or is it just some old quarry where they used to dig for gold to make Equestrian bits?”

“Not even close,” Strap replied as she settled down, favoring her wounded leg, “It was an old gemstone quarry, dried up a while before the war. Stable-Tec bought it out and built Stable Fifty there,” she raised an eyebrow at me, “Guess where this is going yet?”

“A coin toss gives you a fifty percent chance and ponies thought it would be clever to work that into the name?” I ventured my best guess.

“Thought it would be clever not to draw attention to the fact it was a Stable, but there’s no doubt some smartass wit played into it,” Strap nickered, “Used to think it was dumb, but it’s grown on me. We’ll probably be headed there after we sort things out here.”

The idea of heading to a Stable was interesting to say the least. The only knowledge the Enclave had on Stables had been gathered well over a hundred years ago after assimilating the pegasus Stables above the clouds. Would they still have running water after all this time? Did water talismans last that long? The idea of having to miss a shower until the caravan returned to Oasis Springs was...unsavory to say the least.

“Lesson for you,” Strap spoke up in the sudden silence. She pointed a hoof down the road where Roach and her wagons had disappeared into the gloom, “when a big mare comes at you thinking she’s tough, go for the legs.” She swiped her good forehoof like she was doing just that, “proverbially in this case, but it applies in the literal sense as well.”

I nodded, though if a pony like Marsh Runner ever asked for my lunch money I’d probably just hoof it over.

“For a second there, I thought she might shoot you,” I said, only half joking.

“High walls tend to keep folks civil,” Strap said, shifting on her cot, “Unless you’re over in Fillydelphia or something.”

“Fillydelphia?” I scoured my memory for a moment, “Isn’t that a pre-war city? It sounds familiar.”

Strap nodded, “Red Eye’s slaver capital of the wasteland these days,” Strap summarized with a shrug.

“So not only are there ponies who’ll make you into a slave, but they’ve got a capitol as well?” I frowned at that worrisome thought, then another one popped into my head, “Do raiders have a capitol, too?”

Strap let out a snort of laughter at that, “Goddesses, no. Most raiders probably couldn’t even spell ‘capitol’ if you pointed to it in a dictionary; much less organize into groups large enough to claim anything bigger than a scrap of land here or there.”

“What about the ones…” I couldn’t finish the thought, casting a fearful glance to the gate as blood and gunpowder seeped up into my sinuses. But I still had to be strong, I couldn’t go wandering down terrible memory lane. My hooves ground into the earth as I cemented myself.

“The ones out there?” Strap finished my train of thought, suppressing a shudder of her own, “It takes more than figuring out how to train feral ghouls to make anything like what the slavers have. You could almost argue they’re their own nation, slavers. Red Eye, their leader, probably fancies himself a king or something,” she spat off to one side at the thought of that. “We don’t ever tarry into his territory. This far west you’re not going to run into anything but freelance slavers and the like, little more than raiders who figured they were better off selling prisoners than eating them. We still gun them down all the same.”

“Lovely,” I commented with a frown, “Here I thought I’d already seen the worst the wasteland had to offer.”

“Still think the clouds are any comparison to what we’ve got down here?” Strap asked, making me turn away with another embarrassed blush. In hindsight, that conversation sounded incredibly lame, but Strap changed the subject quickly enough. “How are you holding up?”

I started to answer, then frowned, “I don’t know the counter-phrase to that one.”

Strap returned my confused look for a second, an eyebrow raised before she realized what I’d meant. “‘I’ve never been better.’” She answered, “Hopefully you never have to worry about that.”

“If I do run into trouble, I’ll go for the legs,” I grinned, getting a quick chuckle from Strap.

“But seriously, how are you doing?” She pressed, poking a hoof towards my belly, “Stress isn’t good for a foal.”

“I…” I started, only to trail off.

I’d killed a pony, two ponies if you counted ghouls.

Three if you counted High Brass...

I’d witnessed the deaths of countless more, and not the painless healthy death that came from pulling a plug or passing in one’s sleep. Ponies had bled and screamed and suffered in their final moments…

More still had had their bodies desecrated, mutilated simply because...because...I didn’t even know why…

I’d been assaulted, threatened with death and less wholesome things, shot at, shot (even if it had only cost me a canteen), coated in ghoul blood and irradiated (even if it was only a few RADs)...

And all of it in the span of only a week.

“I don’t know…” I admitted, lifting my eyes to hers only to pull them away again, “Should I be okay after...everything? After all this?” I paused a moment before continuing, “I keep...seeing things over and over again in my head, I...High Brass and that raider mare…” I clenched my eyes shut, trying to tune out his gurgling and her cackling. I hesitantly brought my eyes up to Strap’s, worried she might be fixing me with a condescending glare, but she wasn’t, “You-you saw me when I flew up there…s-saw the raiders outside and...” I trailed off, and kept quiet for a moment before asking: “How do you deal with all this?”

“I’ll tell you, but my way might not be the best way for you,” Strap said after a thoughtful moment, “For me, it’s always been simple: you put one hoof in front of the other until you can’t anymore. You find the simple monotony of something and you focus on that; you eat, you sleep, you breathe, you…” she trailed off for a moment, her eyes glazing over and her tail tucking as her ears flinched downwards. I was quiet until the moment passed and she looked back up at me, “Throw yourself into your work, stay cemented in the present and don’t look back unless it’s to learn from your mistakes.

“For what it’s worth, you’re not doing so bad, all things considered,” I felt my spirits rise a little at that, “You still gotta work on not freaking out so much, or at least internalizing it so it doesn’t make you freeze up. You’re not always going to have someone there to snap you out of it, and the second you don’t you’re going to get yourself or someone else killed.” Strap grew thoughtful for another moment before continuing, “Some folks believe in finding your virtue. Radhogwash as far as I’m concerned, but maybe you can find something in it.”

“Safe to assume that’s something different than finding your special talent?” I gestured to my cutie mark with a wing.

Strap nodded, “A virtue’s supposed to be some sort of moral center or compass, like you’re always honest or faithful,” a scowl played across her face as she continued, “But most ponies who believe in that crap turn it into a crutch or some vice that they use to enforce their beliefs or their way of life on others.

“Me? And most ponies down here, for that matter? We’re too busy surviving to worry about that kinda crap,” Strap continued, frowning a moment before finishing, “Still, something to think about, maybe.”

* * * * *

The ghouls were charging Oasis Springs and I had to use my preening kit to stop them!

But no matter how many times I dug through and emptied my saddlebags I couldn’t find the damn thing! Had somepony stolen it? Had it been High Rise? She was the only one who made sense, nopony else around here needed one.

The sound of rotten, bony hooves trampled closer.

I hopped off of my cloud bed and over to my vanity, my reflection a warped mess in the mirrors. The drawers slipped in and out as I searched through them, pulling them out and dumping them into the dirt. Brushes and combs, bullets and bandages all spilled out into the dirt, but still no preening kit.

The stench of the ghouls was choking me now as they drew ever closer.

Desperation made me turn this way and that, scouring through one of the burnt-out homes in Burnout. Had I left it here, somehow, somewhere? I stopped before the final door, knowing what lay beyond: the bloody crib. Cold terror gripped my heart at the prospect of entering that room, but what if High Rise was there? What if she had my preening kit!? I needed that to stop the ghouls!

The ghouls’ vicious maws snapped and snarled just beyond the gates of Oasis Springs.

Steeling myself, I burst through the doors and found myself outside, the great gates of Oasis Springs stretching up to the clouds above me. Stars shone down from above, illuminating the empty stretch of street. Was this where High Rise had wound up?

I scowled, looking about, but didn’t see her anywhere.

I didn’t see anypony anywhere.

Oasis Springs was empty and silent.

The quiet should have been nice, I could relax now that the ghouls were gone, but there was something unnerving about it, something wrong with the silent world.

“What happened?!” I tried to call out, but my voice hitched in my throat and all that escaped was a soft squeak.

A deep sound drew my eyes to where the massive gates were rumbling open, a black maw through which pure darkness poured. The wasteland beyond the open gates was impossible to see as the stars were snuffed out.

Until a bright flare lit the sky...

“Skies,” I flinched awake to find Strap tugging at one of my legs with her magic, blinking my eyes against the soft morning light.

“Did I fall asleep?” I asked groggily, rubbing my eyes with a wing. When I beheld Oasis Springs’ large gates they were still forced shut. That fact and why it was important brought the events of last night back in a flash, a fresh unease settling in my guts.

“That or you’re really good at staying still for hours on end,” Strap replied with a touch of sarcasm. “Breakfast’s coming.”

“Please tell me it’s not fried potatoes,” A crick in my neck made itself apparent as I sat up, looking down at the naked cot beneath me. I winced, rubbing at my neck with a wing and cursing my past self for not getting my sleeping bag.

“Who doesn’t like fried potatoes?” Strap gave me a frown.

“Pregnant mares, apparently,” I gave up on trying to fix my sore neck, dropping down to all fours and stretching. “The smell of them frying up breakfast killed my appetite yesterday.”

“Huh,” Strap said, sudden nostalgia stealing away her gaze, “When I was pregnant, I…” then the look evaporated into a scowl as she trailed off, a darkness flashing across her face, “Nevermind, I’m sure we’ll get you something to eat.”

I was tempted to press her on the matter, if only to glean some insight on her own pregnancy. But already knowing the hard parts of her story I decided against digging my hooves into old wounds.

“Are the…” I cast a quick glance to the large gates, “are they still out there?”

“About to find out,” Strap pointed out an armed pony making his way down from the walls. The buck quickly spotted Strap and made his way over, “What’s the damage, Bleeder?”

“They’ve set up almost a mile out along the main road in,” Bleeder looked like a hard pony, but he still shivered when he answered, “Tried counting the ghouls once or twice,” he shook his head, “Going off estimates there’s got to be at least two hundred of the fuckers at the minimum, maybe forty or so raiders. How they’re not being torn to shreds by the ghouls is beyond me.

“There were also a couple of wagons, and at least seven prisoners based on the chains binding them,” he cast a quick look back towards the wall, “One of the mares on the wall said they were from your caravan.” Bleeder’s hard eyes rolled over me for a moment, gaze lingering on my wings, “One of them was a pegasus she didn’t seem too fond of—”

“Red Mist!” I blurted out, the cascade of emotions spilling out of my brain swallowed the world around me. He was alive! But he was a prisoner of the raiders! It served him right! But was he okay!? Was he hurt!? If he was, he deserved it! But did he really? Or was this just another thing that was my fault?!...Too many thoughts and ideas to process made me grit my teeth and grind my hooves into the hard earth to ground myself, bringing me back in the middle of Strap’s reply.

“...long can we hold out?” She was asking.

“Wrangler’s got an exact figure,” he frowned, flicking his tail as he thought, “Water’s good forever with the springs in the plateau, they’ll outlast all of us. We’re stocked up on food, last a month, maybe two. Not till winter, but I doubt the raiders will linger that long,” Strap nodded in agreement and I hoped she was right, “I’m honestly more concerned about all the caravans we’re essentially holding hostage. No ponies in or out means no business means no profit, some of them have gotten heatedly vocal with Wrangler over that issue, but she’s holding strong.” I figured I knew at least one of the caravaners he was talking about, “Let’s see...we got a message out over the airwaves, should be getting piggybacked from here to the DJ in Tenpony. That should keep folks away. Until then—”

“Raider approaching!” The call came from a buck on the wall, my stomach twisting in on itself; though from fear or the pregnancy I could only guess, “Just one!” The buck continued, eye pressed to a scoped rifle, “The rest of them are holding where they are.”

“That’s my cue,” Bleeder gave Strap a nod and me a thoughtful glance before turning, “Is it armed!?” Bleeder called up as he made his way back towards the wall.

“Not as far as I can see!” The buck on the wall called back.

“What do you think they’re doing?” I turned to Strap, who was watching Bleeder ascend the ramparts, “The raiders,” I specified.

“Probably sending a newbie they don’t like to gloat or taunt at us, see if we’ll shoot first and ask questions later,” Strap answered, burning a scowl into the gates, “At least, that’s what I’d expect your normal breed of raiders to do. These ones?” she let out a huff, “Well, maybe it’s an attempt at a distraction. They’ll try to get us to watch one hoof while they move the other, but Bleeder’s good at what he does, he’ll make sure folks are watching the rest of the pack while we deal with the lone body. Won’t get tunnel vision.”

I nodded my head, but still sent a fretful look to the gates. Burnout had had gates, and there was a very good chance that these raiders were the same ones that had turned that place into a...I stopped myself before my mind could dredge up any worried memories.

“Hey,” Strap put a reassuring hoof on my withers, “Don’t let them get to you, no matter how smart they still gotta get through those gates,” she jerked her head towards the gates in question. “Those gates are thirty feet high and practically all metal,” she fancied them with a look of her own. “Wrangler claims they’re transfigured from a stable door. Dunno if that’s just a story to help boost the town’s image or not, but if it’s true those things could stand up to a batch of balefire eggs and not even dent.”

I nodded at her reassurances, but her words did little to quell my worries.

* * * * *

A good chunk of my fear faded as breakfast lifted my spirits. Thankfully it was porridge and not greasy, fried potatoes this morning. I jumped at the chance to get another cup of coffee when a pot was brought out, doing my best not to burn my tongue on the savory, black liquid.

“They don’t have coffee above the clouds, do they?” Strap asked when she caught me staring forlornly into my empty cup.

“No, we do,” I assured her, spooning up the last few bits of my porridge, “But like everything else, cloud-grown coffee beans don’t impart a whole lot of flavor when you brew them.” I toppled my empty cup with a hoof and a sigh, rubbing a cramp in my belly.

“I’ll be sure to get you a tin of coffee before you have to return, then.” Strap scooped up my fallen cup and empty bowl with her magic, setting them aside with the rest. “Hell, maybe you can start a trade route between here and the clouds, make a killing off of wasteland coffee.”

I giggled at that idea, though something like sorrow worried its way into my brain at the thought of leaving the friends I’d made down here. There were certainly things I’d miss (like food), but as the past week had shown, this was no place for me to try and raise my foal. One way or another, I’d have to make my way back above the clouds when the time came…

“I need her,” I hadn’t noticed Bleeder arrived until he was right in front of us. It took my brain a moment to realize who he was talking about.

“Me!?” I stopped absentmindedly rubbing my belly, worry tearing my eyes up to the ramparts where armed ponies were waiting.

“For what?” Strap looked between me and him, “You’ve got folks for running wounded down here, and she’s—”

“She’s a pegasus,” Bleeder cut in with a sense of mild impatience, “I need to send somepony down the wall to see what the raider wants.”

“What?!” I regretted the volume I lent to my voice, earning more than a few glares, but it was entirely warranted with that insane request. Me? Talk to the raider?! That had gone oh-so-well last time I’d tried it!

“Yeah, I’m with Skies on this one,” Strap agreed with me. It was an insane notion, but I couldn’t have misheard her, “What the hell do you need her for?”

“The raider arrived a couple minutes ago, he shouted up that he wanted to parley face to face, didn’t want to shout things out.” Bleeder let out a sharp huff and admitted: “The fact that he knew that word might be promising in ending things with minimal loss.” His eyes turned from Strap to me, “As to why...Skies, was it?” I nodded, “As to why I need you specifically, it’s simple: I’m not opening the gates and we don’t have the horsepower to lower somepony down and bring them back up with telekinesis if things go haywire,” he let his words sink in for a moment, “That really only leaves a pony with wings who can fly up out of there on her own if this is a trap.” I followed a quick hoof gesture to the armed ponies on the wall, “You’ll have over a dozen ponies with guns all trained on the rat-bastard and he’s unarmed, so if he so much as sneezes we’ll be able to put him down before you can say ‘gesundhoof.’ All I need is somepony to, essentially, go down there, listen to what he has to say, and tell him to get lost or die.”

“Wh-what about High Rise?” I stammered, looking around for any sign of her. She was a mercenary, right? Could she be on the walls with the rest of the town defenders? “She’s a pegasus!” I blurted.

“Is she around?” Bleeder asked, though his eyes didn’t move from me.

“No…” I had to admit there was no sign of the dashite. Hadn’t I had a dream about this? Something about her and my preening kit? There were even ghouls and everything, if I remembered right!

“Then I can’t use her,” Bleeder reasoned, sighing, “Look, I’m not asking for much, but if you think it’s too much then just say so and I’ll drop it.” Bleeder gave a decisive wave of his hoof, “There’s nothing stopping us from dropping the bastard and daring his friends to come charging after us, but if the raider really just wants to chat, then maybe we don’t have to take the risk of return fire.”

“I’m not gonna tell you one way or the other,” Strap said, taking a moment to chew over her next batch of words, “But I’ll admit that maybe Bleeder’s got a point…” Strap looked at her hooves, “And if they’ve got captives, maybe they’d be willing to trade…”

“No!” I wanted to cry back, I was not about to go out there on my own and face down a raider! Even if...even if he was unarmed? Even if I had a dozen ponies watching my back? Even if I could fly safely away if trouble arose? Even if the raiders had Red Mist and other caravaners? Even if there was a chance I could bargain for their release?!

Damnit.

“Okay,” I said, gulping down my fear like a hunk of stale bread, “I’ll...I’ll do it.”

* * * * *

So far the coast was clear.

Careful wingbeats led me down the other side of Oasis Springs’ walls. My head was on a swivel, switching between scouring the wasteland for any sign of trouble to fixing the lone raider buck with a worried glare.

He didn’t really look much like a raider, at least not one of the ones that I’d seen so far; covered in filth and wearing the hides of their fellow equine. Instead, he was naked like me aside from my saddlebags, but also unarmed which was unlike me. When I finally settled on the dirt after another quick look around it was with only three legs. My fourth was slipped through the loop of my shotgun, ready to bring the weapon up to my mouth at the slightest provocation. I hoped that made me look mean and threatening, because if push came to shove I wasn’t sure I had it in me to shoot an unarmed pony...even if he was a raider.

The raider’s eyes were a deep, dark blue that was so close to black his irises almost blended with his pupils. His coat was so dark that it swallowed all definition, making him look almost like a living shadow. What little mane and tail he had were a midnight purple, his cutie mark (assuming he actually had one) seemed to blend with his coat, like a shadow in the night. When he smiled his teeth shone out past his dark lips, the expression not even trying to reach his eyes as it laid mirthlessly across his face. An old picture of a shark from a pre-war book swam through my head and the similarities were striking.

“You must be Healthy Skies,” I flinched when he said my name, my hackles rising at his quiet voice. It was smooth like a pool of water in the dark depths of a cavern, calm but hiding something terrifying beneath its still surface.

‘Must’ve got my name from Mist or one of the others,’ I realized, swallowing my initial question and offering another.

“What do you want?” I gave myself a mental pat on the back when I didn’t stutter out the words, putting on a firm demeanor as I continued: “You said you wanted to talk. What about?”

“Could you spare some water?” He licked his lips and cleared his throat.

“I...some water?” The request threw me off guard, a frown creasing my lips. I’d been prepared for a cackling monster telling me about how he was going to turn my mare parts into a purse. My eyes darted briefly to his distant encampment; were we sure this pony was from the same group that had been hounding us for the past number of days?

“I’m a bit parched from my walk over,” the raider gave a quick headbob of a nod. His eyes never left mine as he made the motion and I couldn’t remember if I’d seen him blink yet, “Left all my belongings back there, in case you didn’t notice.”

I considered his request for a moment. I could of course tell him to get lost or die as Bleeder had suggested, but so far he hadn’t made any unreasonable requests. That, and what kind of mare would I be if I refused someone water? Even if he was a raider…

“Sure, hold on,” I dropped my eyes to my saddlebags before quickly snapping them back up, fearful that the raider might try something. Perhaps his almost cordial demeanor was simply a ruse meant to lull me into a sense of complacency. But he was just standing there quietly; I still rummaged about with a wing and kept my gaze locked onto him. When I finally procured one of my water bottles I started to step forwards before re-thinking the move and holding it out in a wing.

He took my offering with his horn, his magic lingering just briefly on my pinion before I snapped it back to my side, sans water bottle. Could magic transfer diseases? Regardless, I made a mental note to wash the wing thoroughly the next chance I got.

The raider’s eyes continued to bore into mine as he unscrewed the cap and drank slow and deep, forcing my eyes away with the intensity of his own. I cemented my gaze on his chest, watching for the slightest twitch of a muscle that would betray his attack. But he remained perfectly still as he finished off the bottle with a number of slow gulps.

“Ahh, much better,” he was still staring at me when I lifted my gaze back up, seeing my emptied water bottle held out in his magic for me to take.After a moment’s hesitation I shook my head, let him keep the damn thing. No amount of sanitization would make me comfortable drinking from it again, “Thank you,” he said, and my skin crawled when the bottle disappeared into thin air. I had no time to ponder what kind of magic would do that as he got down to business, “If you come with me right now I’ll take my flock and leave the good people of this town to their business.” He worked another smile across his face, equally insincere as the first.

I started to ask why before stopping as I realized I probably didn’t want to know the answer to that question. Instead, I added a few more words before voicing my response.

“Why would I do that?” I tried on a scowl, channeling my inner Leather Strap, “We’ve got more than a hundred guns up on those walls and supplies to last through winter! You’ve got a few dozen guns and a few hundred feral ghouls that’ll never make it through those gates,” I jabbed a wing back towards the gates in question, “What makes you think you’ve got that kind of bargaining power?”

“Worth a shot,” the raider offered me a shallow shrug and another chilling smile, “I’m Mister Wizard, and I’ve got a proposition for you, if you’ll hear it?”

‘Is there a Missus Wizard?’ My brain snarked, but the thought of another pony like him made my tongue dry out so I didn’t voice the question. I gave him a curt nod instead, letting him continue.

“I’ve got prisoners, you’ve got caps,” he smiled again and I suppressed a shudder at the sight of it, “Let’s trade.”

“How much?” I tried not to sound over-eager at the prospect of freeing the prisoners. There was no way it was this easy, right? But logically it made sense. Mister Wizard knew he couldn’t take the town, so he was going to take our caps instead. I only hoped the prisoners wouldn’t arrive in the same state that Rock Runner had, “And they’d better be in good shape.”

Mister Wizard grinned a nauseating grin that cut through my harsh facade like a scalpel, “You enjoyed what we did to the earth pony, did you? Really outdid myself with her. I hope she got our message out before she passed.”

So he was the sick bastard behind Rock Runner’s torture? Maybe I could shoot him in cold blood after all...

“Actually, she’s doing quite well!” I snapped back with a triumphant smile, “In spite of your best efforts to break her down and kill her, we brought her back! She’s still very much alive and on track to make a speedy recovery.”

“Five hundred caps per prisoner,” Mister Wizard didn’t seem to hear my words, “That’s three thousand caps for the whole lot. I’ll even throw in one of the wagons to drive them over for free.”

“We counted seven prisoners,” I said after crunching the numbers, “That should be thirty five hundred caps for all of them.”

“Red Mist isn’t for sale,” Mister Wizard replied, “Though I’m sure he’d enjoy your company. Hay, I’ll even throw in a discount: four hundred apiece if you come along with me when we leave.”

“I’m not leaving with you!” I snapped back, managing to take a menacing step forward. The effect it had on the raider was dubious, but it made me feel better, “Deal with it.”

Mister Wizard considered my words in silence and I tensed under his unblinking gaze. Had I crossed some line? Was he about to strike? I was considering bringing my shotgun to bear when his lips parted in another gruesome grin, “Okay.”

Whether that meant he’d accepted my challenge or accepted that I wasn’t coming with him, I wasn’t sure. Somehow, not knowing made it all the worse.

‘It’s just psychological warfare,’ I tried to calm my racing heart, remembering Strap’s words two nights ago, ‘He can’t do anything without getting a faceful of lead, he’s just trying to psych me out and scare me!’

“You’ll send us the prisoners first,” I got back to business after a quick swallow to wet my dry mouth, “Then you’ll get the caps.”

“My terms are as follows,” Mister Wizard spoke as if I hadn’t said a word, “I’ll bring the wagon to no mare’s land between the town and my flock,” he inclined his head slowly backwards, his eyes still never leaving my own, “You will bring the caps there, where I will take them, count them, and let you take the prisoners.

“You will bring no more than two others to pull the wagon back to town and they mustn’t be armed. You may keep your fancy scattergun, if that makes you feel better.” He let a smile wiggle across his face, “I will be alone as I am now when I receive you, just me and the prisoners, my flock shall not intervene.”

“And then you’ll leave the town in peace,” I didn’t make it a question.

Mister Wizard only smiled his wicked smile.

* * * * *

“We accept your terms!” I watched Dual Gauge shout down from the wall, a sour glower on his face. It hadn’t taken long to bring him over and get him up to speed on the situation, he’d agreed almost immediately to Mister Wizard’s offer.

“You’re sure you’re up for this?” Strap asked me as Dual Gauge descended and started making his way over to us. A number of guns on the wall tracked upwards as they undoubtedly followed Mister Wizard’s retreating backside.

“No,” my wings were wringing themselves at my sides, but I gulped down my fear and tried to put on a brave face, hoping to reassure myself just as much as Strap, “But I’m still the best pony for the job…I can check the prisoners and I can fly.”

“Fine, I’ll give you that, but Skies,” Strap burned a hard gaze into my face, stealing every last bit of my attention, “If something goes wrong, get the hell out of there. Forget the caps, forget the prisoners, forget about any heroics. You with a shotgun against a horde of ghouls and raiders is not a fight you can win. Make sure at least one of you comes back alive.”

“I’ve still got the flare gun and one round left,” I told her my contingency plan, “If they try to send the ghouls after us, I’ll use it to throw them off. If they start shooting at me and forget the ghouls, same deal. It’ll at least cause some chaos and buy some time for the prisoners.”

Strap looked like she was going to shoot me down again, but after a moment she sighed and conceded, “Okay, that’s not the worst plan I’ve ever heard. But your priority is still getting yourself back here in one piece.”

“I agree,” Dual Gauge joined the conversation as he trotted up to us. His gray-eyed gaze settled on Strap, “someone’s getting the caps?”

“I sent Marrowbone off,” Strap jerked her head down the road, “Probably could’ve gotten a better deal if I’d done the talking,” Strap added, “Not to piss on your parade, Skies, you did the best you could.”

I wasn’t sure whether to be upset that she was trying to barter over ponys’ lives or accept her mild praise.

“Ponies are worth more than caps, Strap,” Gauge grumbled back, “I’d have gladly paid triple the raider’s asking price and let him keep the damn wagon.”

“Three thousand’s going to put us back a month if it doesn’t put the caravan under for good after all we lost,” Strap turned to him with a sour look, “We’ll probably have to sell the wagon off regardless, maybe get back a quarter what it’s worth after all it’s been through.”

“Insurance will come through,” Gauge asserted, helping to put my mind at ease, “We’re not going to go under.”

“Premiums are going to go up and we’ll be fighting to make back what we lost for months, if not the next year.” Strap’s frown was unconvinced.

“Damnit, Strap! We’ll make this work!” Gauge snapped back with a little more vehemence than necessary. Strap scowled, but said nothing more as he turned to me, “Are you certain you’re up for this? I’ll go out there myself if you’re not.”

“I’m good,” I nodded, gesturing to Strap, “We were just talking about it. I can light off my last flare and get to safety if something goes wrong.”

“Expect it to,” Gauge glowered through the closed gate, “That raider’s trouble, the quiet ones always are,” he let out a snort, “I’ll take a loud raider over a quiet one any day. I’d have put a round square through that grinning head myself if not for our prisoners,” he turned back to us, “if he comes back after they’re secure, you can bet your butts I will.”

“They’ve still got Red Mist…” I said, still not certain how I was supposed to feel about that. Even my worst enemy didn’t deserve to be held prisoner by ponies like that! But he was beyond my worst enemy!

“I’m sorry,” Gauge’s hoof ended my inner turmoil as it settled on my withers, “For what it’s worth, I’d have paid for his freedom, too.” I settled a wing atop his hoof, giving a gentle squeeze as way of thanks before he took it back, “Good luck out there, Skies.”

* * * * *

Sips of water kept my nausea at bay as the large gates of Oasis Springs crept open for me and two other ponies to leave. Restless was the first, Break Action was the second. Both of them were naked to keep weight down, and I’d ditched my bandolier of shotgun shells for the same reason. I’d have to make the eight shells I had count if things went teats up.

Everything seemed to be going according to plan as far as the raiders were concerned. We’d watched as six shackled prisoners were bullied into the wagon, which was then pulled out to the halfway point between us and them. The extra raiders had departed and now Mister Wizard and the wagon awaited us all alone.

The gates startled me when they slammed shut behind us, but I swallowed my second thoughts and pushed on with the other two.

“If this goes south, give me that shotgun,” Break Action spoke up as we made the tense trek, “You can fly away, but I’ll make sure the two of us don’t suffer if those ghouls bear down on us and we can’t get away.” She shivered and I remembered the screams of the ponies who’d been left behind in our mad wagon dash mere days before.

Restless nodded with a quiet grunt and I forced myself to nod in turn.

“Thanks, Skies.” Break Action turned her gaze back to the horizon, “Still hope it doesn’t come to that...”

“It won’t,” I tried to reassure her as a bout of tinnitus rang in my ears. But she only nodded and said nothing more.

It only took us about eight minutes at a careful trot to reach the spot where Mister Wizard was waiting. He just stood there, not moving, his eyes boring into mine with an almost reptilian quality. I still swore I hadn’t seen him blink yet, but I calmed myself by switching to a three-legged trot as I slipped a forehoof into the shotgun’s loop and flicked the safety off.

“Got the caps?” Mister Wizard ignored the other two as they poked their noses carefully into the wagon, nodding to themselves and strapping into the harnesses. That meant everything was good on their end, so keeping my gaze on Mister Wizard, I dug into my saddlebags with a wing, bringing up the fat sack of caps and holding it forth.

The raider weighed the sack in his magic for a moment, making it rattle with a soft shake. Then, like my water bottle before it, it seemed to evaporate into thin air. Was that what teleportation looked like? I refused to believe that anyone was mad enough to just destroy such a sum of money.

“I do love the good jingle jangle of payday,” I flinched at the quiet sound of Mister Wizard’s voice, “Don’t you?”

“You’ve got your money, now leave us in peace!” I would’ve stomped a hoof for emphasis but with a forehoof in the shotgun’s loop I didn’t have one to spare. Instead I just fixed him with my best Leather Strap glare, “You can’t take the town and you just lost the only bargaining chip that you’ve got!”

“Oh, so Red Mist really doesn’t mean anything to you anymore?” Mister Wizard cut at me with his words, “Just a tool for you to use and discard once its point is dulled?”

“What…I didn’t…how dare—!” I fumbled over my words at that ridiculous accusation only for Break Action to call out.

“Skies!” Break Action let out a snort and stomped, ears pinned back and tail flicking anxiously, “Forget him! Get in, let’s get out of here!”

Mister Wizard let a mirthless chuckle slip out past his dark lips, “Goodbye, Healthy Skies. I’ll let Red Mist know you said hi.”

I answered with a snort of my own, stepping back and hopping aboard the wagon which took off at a quick pace. Mister Wizard didn’t move, watching us depart with his shark-like features until he was just a tiny black figure in the distance. Seeking a distraction, I shoved my tumbling thoughts away from the raider and Red Mist and turned my focus to the now freed prisoners.

A wild variety of festering wounds greeted me. Cuts and scrapes and bruises and bites that were scabbing over or weeping blood and pus. What bandages they had were little more than dirty scraps of cloth turned brown with old blood. Clearly the raiders hadn’t bothered giving any of them treatment, though whether due to cruelty or a simple lack of medical knowledge I could only guess. Still, though, none of their wounds were immediately life-threatening and I wondered if that was because all those with life-threatening wounds had perished.

“Should’ve brought more water,” I thought out loud as I saw the last few drops disappear before everypony had had their fill. Dehydration had been setting in among the wounded, tenting skin, raising heart rates, and incurring fevers.

One of the ponies gave a wry chuckle followed by a dry cough as he heard my words. After a moment, I recognized him as Hot Wire, the head of the caravan’s fixers.

“Don’t worry about it, filly,” he wheezed as I stepped carefully over to him, “Plenty of clean water in Oasis Springs.”

“We’ll be there soon,” I gave him a nod and a small smile.

“Flare!” My smile collapsed as Break Action cried out the fateful word.

I stumbled quickly to the back of the wagon, trying my best not to step on any of the wounded. I could no longer see Mister Wizard, but as I watched a great cloud of dust began to rise from his camp. My wing, however, hesitated from grabbing the flaregun as I scanned the overcast skies for the slowly falling flare.

“Where!?” I called forward, “I don’t see it.”

“It’s over the city!” I didn’t miss the mix of unease and confusion in Break Action’s voice as I turned and trotted forwards to stare with my own mix of surprise and incredulity at the sight before me.

High up above the walls of Oasis Springs, a bright flare was falling slowly towards the ground.

“They lit it off?!” I couldn’t help the incredulousness in my voice, “Oasis Springs?”

“No way in hell a raider got in,” Break Action shook her head, “Are the ghouls responding?”

“They are!” I nodded, glancing back at the rising dust cloud behind us as something suddenly dawned on me, “But they’re too far out, we’ve got enough of a head start that we’ll get back well before they do!”

“Did someone inside the town light it off?” Hot Wire spoke up from his spot on the wagon bed beside me, “Perhaps as a distraction?”

“This was supposed to be the distraction,” I explained, showing him the flare gun in my saddlebags.

“Think you can beat us there on those wings?” Break Action asked.

“Yes,” I said, giving my wings a few quick flaps, “Want me to go find out what’s up?”

Break Action nodded, “Do it! But do me a favor, Skies…leave that shotgun.”

* * * * *

“No idea, accident maybe, get behind the wall and get ready!” Bleeder dismissed my question without even a glance as he held fast upon the ramparts of the wall. Others stood beside him, offering prayers to the goddesses as they prepared for the siege.

That answered one of my questions, but left me just as uncertain as ever. I hesitated in the air, frowning between the flare and the impromptu medical station below. Time was of the essence, did that mean I should go prepare to treat the wounded or go and grab the flare to distract the ghouls?

Glancing down, I saw the other medical ponies all taking position to intercept the wagon and unload the wounded with haste. Leather Strap had been joined by Holiday, both of them back away and discussing something. A final glance to the distance told me I had a few minutes before Break Action and Restless arrived with the wagon, maybe a dozen until the ghouls threw themselves upon the walls.

Biting my lip, I turned towards the flare and started pumping my wings.

I considered my options as I lined up my intercept. Did I bring the flare to the ground or fly off with it? If the ghouls lost line of sight on it what would happen? I suppose I could grab it, bring it down, and see what they did, then go from—

The breath went out of me as something struck me from behind, making me flounder and catch myself in the air. For a terrifying tearful moment I was worried I’d been shot again, the truth of the matter did little to ease my fear.

“High Rise!?” I wheezed out, turning in the air to see her as I clutched my chest.

“What’chu think you’re doin’, Healthy Skies?” the dashite snapped, kitted out in all her gear with her weapons trained on me.

“What do…you mean?” I spread my forelegs out to show her I was unarmed, taking a moment to recover my breath. “Why did you hit me? We need to grab that flare, the ghouls—”

“Ain’t no we, Enclave-lover!” she spat, casting a look over her shoulder and strafing around me so she could watch the gates. I followed her gaze, maybe a minute and a half until the wagon arrived. The gate was fully opened now, surrounded by large ponies ready to close it once the wagon was through.

“Look, whatever, fine!” I turned my attention back to High Rise, whose weapons were still aimed my way. “Oasis Springs needs that flare to disappear, the ghouls are following it! So please stop aiming at me and let me grab that flare.”

“There’s more at stake than Oasis Springs,” High Rise said, her eyes finding mine for a moment. A chill ran up my spine at the tone of her voice. “Fly back home, filly, ain’t gonna get another chance.”

“What…what are you…” I tried to piece together whatever it was that was going on. Was this some vendetta against me, against the Enclave? What did she hope to accomplish by screwing over everyone else just to give me a little shit? Was she really so blinded by her hatred that my words were falling on deaf ears? Was that a flare gun holstered on her breast?

I almost lost a wingbeat when I saw it, a flare gun just like the one I had, (or more importantly: like the raiders had) holstered within easy reach of her mouth. A piece clicked into place, not that it made any sense or made any greater picture come alive, but it clicked into place all the same.

“Did you light off the flare!?” I exclaimed, flapping a few yards back. A glance told me the wagon would arrive in thirty or so seconds, I could make out Break Action and Restless, huffing and puffing, nearly home free.

“Ain’t nothin’ you can do about it,” High Rise drawled, her eyes still focused on the wagon as she extended a…was that a radio antenna?...out with her teeth. Was she going to report in to someone? If so, was it the raiders or Oasis Springs?

“Please,” glancing at her guns, I took things a step back and tried a gentler plea. “I’m just trying to help the ponies down there, same as you! I may not be a…a dashite like you but there are ponies I care for down there, please just tell me what’s going on.”

High Rise spared me another glance, was that a splash of uncertainty I saw in her eyes? Her weapons shifted off me for a moment and her mouth opened and closed a few times.

Then her gaze hardened.

“They’re beyond help,” she said, pressing down on the pocket the radio antenna was coming out of. Looking down in confusion, I saw the wagon pass through the open gates of Oasis Springs.

Then it exploded.

My scream was a volatile mix of emotional turmoil; terror and disbelief, sorrow and confusion as the wagon disappeared in a miasma of dust and violence. The sharp crack of the detonation waited a moment before assaulting my ears, the pressure wave vibrating its way through my chest like the bassy crescendo of a rave.

Then others were screaming down below.

“Told ya,” the antenna clacked as High Rise collapsed it with a hoof, stealing my blurring vision from the catastrophe below. Her expression remained sour as I wheeled on her, fury and rage at seeing what she’d done boiling their way to the top of my head. “If it means anything, nothin’ personal.”

Nothing personal?

Break Action and Restless, Hot Wire, all those wounded ponies in the wagon I was going to help save…and how many more medical ponies caught in the blast as they tried to help!? Leather Strap and Marrowbone, Doctor Holiday and how many others!? Tears were blurring High Rise from me as I felt my breath hitch and rattle its way out of my throat.

Nothing personal!?

“You bitch!” I poured every ounce of anger I could muster into my cry, launching myself at her with hooves outstretched…

But she was a wasteland-hardened merc and I was just some nurse.

I barely heard the gunshot as sheer, mind-numbing pain lanced down my right wing. The blurry figure that was High Rise fell away from me…no, I was falling away from her! A cry escaped my lips with the taste of bile as I plummeted towards the ground; my right wing was a useless metal rod pulled hot from a forge and plunged into my side. My left wing flapped, useless without the use of my right, sending me spinning through the air.

‘Am I going to die?’ The thought came from the back of my head as the buildings of Oasis Springs rose up to welcome my corpse. The terror that came with that macabre thought brought a flurry of images to my mind, was this what it felt like when your life flashed before your eyes?

I saw my family again, smiling faces around the dinner table, then we played frisbee in a park down the street. Cloud Poker sat across from me on our last date. His lips pressed into mine for the very first time and the sound of his laughter filled my ears.

Little Reuben cried endlessly when mom brought him back from the hospital and then it was my turn as mother calmed me after I’d sprained my wing. My first test landed on my desk in high school, covered in sharp red marks. Then I was tossing my graduation cap into the air with all my best friends.

Had it been a good life? Perhaps, but it had not been a complete life. There was still so much I wanted to do! Get married, have my foal, grow old with Cloud Poker...was this the end?

My saddlebags saved my life.

I jerked to a stop with a sharp sound of tearing fabric as they caught on the corner of a roof. Enough of my momentum was lost in the split second that my saddlebags held that I hit the ground with an “Oof!” instead of a SPLAT!

It took my brain a few agonizing moments to realize I was still alive, staring up at the blurry gray sky and the lone flare falling down towards us, a harbinger of doom. High Rise was gone, or perhaps merely indiscernible amongst my tears.

Hooves galloped around me, cries and the distant pop-pops of gunfire growing steadily. Somewhere in the back of my head I knew that meant the ghouls were still coming. That they would be here in minutes with snarling maws and chomping jaws. Would the walls be enough to save us? Could we get the gates closed in time?

With a sob and a shout I rolled over and managed to get to my shaking hooves. Adrenaline had started to numb the pain of my wing, which I didn’t dare look at. My saddlebags felt lopsided as they hung from my body and I nearly tripped on the spilled contents from the side that had saved me, now shredded and torn open. Did I have time to collect the spilled contents? Did they matter?

I blinked my eyes to clear away the tears, staring down the main road to where the dust cloud kicked up by the explosion was thinning out. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected to see, but it was far worse than I could have imagined.

A crater sat between the great gates, all that remained of the wagon. Bodies and debris lay strewn about, some of it burning, some of it screaming, some of it still. Whining in pain and effort, I stumbled forwards. There were more medical supplies up ahead, Leather Strap…was she alive? She had to be, she’d know what to do.

My shaking hooves froze as a great groaning protest of metal met my ears. One of the great gates of Oasis Springs was swinging shut! Someone had to be moving it, closing it! Only…it was moving in the wrong direction, swinging slowly inwards as the wall it was attached to began to twist and crumble and wither. After all, the gate was transfigured from a stable door…but the wall holding it up? It wasn’t anything but a weak link.

Then, with a great whooshing of displaced air and a reverberating SLAM! the great gates of Oasis Springs tore free from the walls and fell crashing to the ground.

Footnote: Level up!

Skills increased:

+Barter

+Speech

Perk attained: Shotgun Surgeon – You’ve had enough time using scatterguns to learn how to use them with surgical precision! All shotguns now ignore 10 points of DT.

Pegasus perk: Falling With Style – You’ve had more than a few crashes and falls in your life, maybe you should be a little more careful! Regardless, you now take reduced fall damage.