The skies were a pitch black as the heavy rain fell, darkening the forest to his sides and limiting his vision of the muddied dirt road he trekked on. The ground giving in under his weight and sinking his boots an inch deep into the mud, making it a real chore to walk. He was drenched from head to toe, his heavy coat and water-resistant tarp around his upper body and head doing little to keep the water from soaking into his cotton uniform. He was cold, wet, and in dire need of some food. And yet, he continued on. He knew the town should be just ahead, and if he could survive bullets before here and live through six years in this damned crazy world...he could take a few more minutes in this weather.

After some more time slogging through the mud and cold, his destination was in view; a faint little back-woods town in the middle of who knows where to accommodate those who were headed North. He hurried his pace at the thought of getting someplace warm. Making it through the deserted looking town without much more difficulty, especially with the absence of the locals. There was not a soul in sight. No one dared venture out in this weather, all except himself of course.

That or he had already scared them all off.

He made his way towards the tavern, it was a simple two story building built in a style that reminded him of the towns built in the rolling hills back home, dark wood with a white plaster. Multiple chimneys spewed smoke into the dark sky with the flickers of burning embers from the fires within. At least it would be warm. There was a faint smell of alcohol and body-odor that wafted amidst the smell of rain and earth as he approached the building. As he stood before the doorway, he listened in on the muffled conversations and hearty laughter coming from within. The bar was definitely packed right now. This is going to be fun, he thought sarcastically. With his luck, he will have stumbled into a town of Earth ponies that would have no second thoughts at forming a mob.

He opened the door and stepped in, pipe smoke accommodating the other odors now. All the conversations quieted down to a faint murmur or died fully; its occupants preferring to watch him as he entered the warm room.

He studied the crowd of Ponies, Griffins, Diamond Dogs, and even a hulking Minotaur sternly while he scanned the hall for a place to rest down. He slowly turned and closed the door before marching down the isle of tables and chairs to a booth he eyed in the corner of the room, dozens of eyes on him the whole time. He took a seat, removed his soaked tarp and unbuttoned his heavy wool coat. Setting them next to him, and patiently waited to be serviced. He eyed the many service ponies who promptly looked away from the intimidating human.

How rude. He thought to himself with a frown.

A moment later, a brave Earth pony barmare came along towards his table, the staring stopped and the lost conversations picked up again. Though most of the crowd still gave him the stink eye.

"Uh...w-what could I get you, sir? Something to drink?" She quivered for a second, but recovered her confidence as she serviced him, if only for the sake of her job, and for maybe a tiny bit of fear for her life.

"Do you have any wine?" He had not had some since his time in Griffonstone, those Griffons sure knew how to brew a good set.

She was very surprised by the question, "Uhh...no sir, we have ale..."

He blew the air out his nose in disappointment, and the mare may have flinched, "That is fine. I'll have it with something hot..." He peered around to the few griffins enjoying a few pieces of meat on their plates, "You serve meat?"

She nodded, "We tend to keep some salted in the back to serve the more...carnivorous crowds." She forced a weak chuckle.

He nodded, "Hmm, I'll take some salted pork, warm if you would." Good, these taverns always had salted pork, sadly the only real decent meat dish he could get here.

She nodded, in almost a bow it was so low, before trotting off.

He removed his officer's cap and set it on the table before him, fumbling with the patch on it. It was dark with the water soaked into it on some parts. The Imperial Eagle and Swastika had a bit of grime on it from the lack of proper cleaning, but he could deal with that when he found a place to wash his uniform. He had lost his head pin awhile back, and he knew his Division commander would have his ass on a platter for it if he found a way home.

Somehow...

But he would deal with that when the time came. Now, he had to focus on survival. He took out his small personal shaving mirror from one of his overcoat pockets and studied his face. Rubbing around his cheeks and neck, he would need to shave the next time he stopped by a river. His lean face was also a bit dirty, and he had some light bags around his eyes from lack of proper sleep as of late. He sighed as he ran his hands through his dark blonde, almost gold, hair as he pondered on what his life had come to.

He looked up from the mirror at the sound of someone entering the tavern, telling by the sudden sound of the rainstorm outside. He eyed the direction of the door, peering through the crowd at the black cloaked figure closing the door behind them. Son of a bitch! He had swore he had lost this damned stalker two towns back. This pony had been following him since he left Buckingham and headed North. He may be the only human around these parts, but he wanted no dealings with shady figures, he had been asked if he was for hire to do some dirty work a few times, but he wanted no part of that. Funny coming from him. The cloaked pony eyed the crowd for a moment behind their large hood before moving to the other side of bar, disappearing from his sight.

His view was broken as the same yellow Earth pony came by with a plate of steaming food and a mug of cool beer. He thanked the mare and started on his meal, he had to get out of here while he could, before anything stupid had a chance to happen. He ate as fast as he could, while savoring the flavor; swallowing the pork he stuffed in his mouth and helping it down with a long gulp of beer. He stopped however when he felt a presence before him. He lowered his glass, cursing inwardly once more.

Sitting in the other booth across the table was the hooded pony, staring at him from behind the darkness of the hood. He slowly set down his mug and lowered his fork as he returned the favor, staring back into the darkness of the hood. The pony reached over and stopped a trotting barmare, "I'll have a beer, and a daisy salad if you would please." The voice was surprisingly feminine. Light and soft, graceful even, but stern and strong.

The baremare eyed him briefly before nodding and trotting off.

They sat in silence for a good while, long enough for the same barmare to come and give the stranger her order. She drank from her mug immediately.

He used the distraction to slowly pull his Luger from its holster and pointed it at her from under the table.

"I don't know why you see the need to have a pistol under the table." She said looking down into her mug, a neutral expression on her face.

"Give me a reason not to." He simply replied.

"Give me a reason why you keep running from me." She poked her salad with a fork she had brought out from her cloak.

He shrugged his shoulders, "Just a feeling I have some trouble lurking around..." He squinted his eyes at the pony.

She let loose a light chuckle shaking her head, "You think I'm trouble? Have you seen yourself...?" She pointed at him with her salad fork, "Ponies run in fear of you, not me. You bring trouble everywhere you go, I've seen it. Remember that stallion you robbed awhile back? You killed him, and with finesse if I do say so myself. People, all people, try to hire you because your a walking killing machine."

"You don't know a damn thing about me." He snapped, though her words held truth. He did kill that pony, he needed the money, as if he cared about the lowly races of this world anyway.

"Oh? I don't do I?" She reached into her cloak again but this time tossed something out onto the table.

His eyes widened slightly as he picked up the Death's Head pin. It gleamed brightly in the faint light of the tavern, the skull's lifeless sockets stared back at him. "Where did you get this...?"

She chuckled again before taking a few leaves of lettuce and daisy flower in her mouth, 'Patience my friend. First things first. I'll explain on the way.' He literally went wide eyed when she spoke fluent German.

"Where did you learn to speak that?" He muttered to her.

"What? Germane is a relatively common language, no?"

"I've heard this world's 'Germane', It sounds nothing like my German." He growled.

'As I said, I'll explain on the way.' She spoke in German again before taking a bite of her salad again.

'What makes you think I'll go with you, pony?' He asked in German, clenching the pin in his right hand.

She gasped sarcastically, 'Bringing race into the matter are we? I expected better of you...' She continued in German. He swore he saw her smirk at that statement from under that hood. The click of a safety sounded from below the table.

'What are you going to do? Shoot me?' She smirked.

'Like I said, you don't know me. I'd have no regrets shooting a mare sticking her nose where it doesn't belong.'

She raised a brow at that. Then just chuckled at his threat, shaking her head as she brought the mug up to her face, "How will you get home if I'm dead?" She drank.

He paused at that, much longer than he would have liked, as expressed from another chuckle from her after she downed the rest of her ale. A baremare immediately there to replace it.

'You think you can get me home?' He asked her.

"I don't think I can, I know I can."

He squinted at her, this mare was starting to piss him off with her lies, "That's some bullshit and you know it."

"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. You won't know until I explain everything."

"Then explain mare." He raised his voice more than he would have liked, as some of the patrons looked up form their drinks to look at him, just waiting for him to so something stupid.

'No, not here, there are ears everywhere. What I will tell you will be safe once we leave town.'

He was silent once again for a moment, pondering deeply the pony before him and what she had said. He held the feeling that he couldn't trust her to heart, he didn't trust her one bit. But if she could get him back home...

He flicked his safety back on his pistol.

"Good choice. Now that I have your cooperation." She pulled the hood down. Her perfect blonde mane flowed out and rolled down past her shoulders, almost hitting the table. Her fur was a pure pearl white, and her gleaming azure eyes that shinned in the dim light of the tavern stared right into his own blue ones. "The name's Aryanne." She stuck her hoof out over the table. He hesitated, clenching the pin tighter in his fist before holstering his pistol and taking it in his hand.

"Schindler. Emil Schindler."

They shook, though hesitantly.

"Well, now that that's over, how about I finish my salad, and we can head off."

He continued to study her as she ate her salad and drank her beer. "Are you going to stare at me the entire damn time, or are you going to eat that pork?"

He raised a brow at her suddenly hard demeanor, and the question about his pork.

"Well are you?" She asked again.

He nodded and returned to his meal. They ate in silence for most of the time they spent there, Schindler looking up to make sure she wasn't going to try anything. She eventually finished her salad and polished off her third mug and wiped her muzzle.

"That was good, could you be a gentlecolt and pay, I don't have many bits on me at the moment, though I can surely repay you later."

He said nothing as he finished his ale. Damn moocher. He was already starting to regret agreeing to this whole thing.

She flipped up her hood and moved out of the booth, "I'll be waiting outside."

"What of the storm?"

She smiled behind the hood, "I love the rain."

She turned towards the door, "Don't keep me waiting too long, and don't try to run away again. You know I'll find you anyways. This is as much important to me as it is for you..." She trotted off.

Schindler re-clothed himself properly for the storm outside and placed his cap back atop his head. He payed for their meals and drink at the counter, the tender only giving him the eye the whole time. Tipped the baremare, if only for the fact she had bigger balls than the rest of the staff, and exited the tavern; his Death's Head pin shimmering in its rightful place as the last ounce of light from the tavern was lost.

Author's Note

https://www.fimfiction.net/blog/708877/updates

Explains the whole Rewrite situation and the 'Hiatus' status of this story.

Thanks for reading if you're new, and thanks for returning if you read the original!