“Now, I'm not normally one to discourage an adventurous spirit, but certain... events have convinced me of the value of forewarning."

“How do you spell that? Z-i-r-o? Z-e-e-r-o? Z-i-e-r-e-a-u?”

That was the question that immediately sprung to mind and nearly escaped my lips. However, a sudden nervousness stole my voice. In spite of my hesitation, the zebra still held his hoof out to me in greeting.

Why not greet him back? I swallowed back the uneasiness and bumped his hoof with mine. He nodded, then addressed Willow. “So, Miss Wisp,” he began. “How about we get started?”

“Don’t wanna waste any daylight while we got it, yeah,” the unicorn agreed, her hooded face briefly turning towards the morning sky. “Gonna be dark enough in de Valley as-is.”

Just like that, we departed from Divide, traveling back down the heavily-beaten road that led to Route Forty. Willow took the lead as we cantered, Zero close behind her. I trailed both of them a short ways, stealing glances at the old zebra and his weapon while my mind worked.

Some small, paranoid voice inside my head insisted that his name was in fact the number zero, but what kind of name was that? It clearly couldn’t be his real one… unless he was formerly enslaved or simply had parents with a cruel sense of humor. And if he was conducting business with pseudonyms, what did he have to hide? Who did he work for? The rifle that hung from his battle saddle not only looked advanced, but he kept it covered as if trying to keep it a secret. He’s not from the Institute, is he?

These musings were shoved around by a voice that sounded quite similar to Bertha’s. Why should I immediately jump to negative assumptions? Yes, he was a zebra. If he were a pony, would I be so suspicious of him, or go as far as to think he could be an Institute spy? The college was founded by ponies, so that would be an even more likely scenario, if still probably untrue.

Still, this was the post-apocalypse and a land still largely mysterious to me. Some caution around strangers was warranted, wasn’t it? Seeking to put both voices to rest, I settled on the middle road. I wouldn’t assume the worst of Zero, but I would still keep an eye on him. Hopefully he would earn his trust soon.

It didn’t take long for us to arrive at Route Forty. The wide strip of pavement was cracked and pitted from the many decades of exposure and never-ending hoof traffic, but provided a relatively safe path for creatures to follow through Mulisiana. We turned and headed east down the highway, entering new and uncharted territory for me. Over time, the trees began to grow more densely, and a light mist settled over our surroundings. We passed a large brown metal sign that read “Marepas National Forest: 6”.

“Say, Willow,” I called ahead, then sped up to a trot. Zero watched as I passed him, then came up on the other side of our guide. “You haven’t described the Sunken Valley to me yet. What’s it like?”

The unicorn shook her hooded head. “Dere’s a reason why I left Wick behind... several, really. De Valley’s covered in trees and fog, often so t’ick dat you can’t hardly see a pony’s lengt’ ahead. Den dere’s flaming geysers, sinkholes, quicksand, radiation, and plenty of bad-bad bugs out to eat you.”

I felt my ears droop slightly.

“Unusually large rats, too,” Zero chimed in, smirking slightly.

“I don’t tink dey exist, no.”

What’s he talking about? “Are there any ponies or other creatures living in the Valley?” I inquired. “Any towns or the like?”

“Nah. Brayton Rouge is technically on de edge, but nobody’s lived dere in a long time. As for staying in de valley itself, well…” Willow looked up briefly, though I got the sense that her unseen eyes flicked to our zebra companion. “It’s de kind of place you live if you want to be left alone, yeah.”

True to Willow Wisp’s word, the fog did not take long to manifest. Route Forty assumed a gradual downward grade as we continued, and as the fog and trees thickened, lamps that matched Divide’s began to line the road. They were considerably smaller and many were in disrepair, either fallen over or flickering as the crackling gemstones spun at inconsistent speeds. Willow noticed me checking them out.

“A few decades ago, Divide tried to fund de construction of a safe passage t’rough de Valley. Problem was dat folks had a hard time overcoming fears and superstitions, so most still preferred to take de long way around,” she informed me. “When Brayton Rouge was abandoned, Divide lost de main reason to maintain any roads in here. Dere’s still some lamps left, but not very many, no.”

We were now stepping around puddles in the road, and the pavement was already displaying its disintegration the deeper into the forest we traveled. Defaced road signs gave us occasional updates on our distance from the official entrance to the national forest. The temperature was falling as the fog enveloped us in its cool embrace, and my ears soon popped from the change in air pressure.

“So, uh… how long do you think we’ll be in the Valley?” I asked.

“Well… we’re…?” Willow glanced at Zero, who whickered.

“I need Miss Wisp’s help finding a particular building. Once we’ve located it, the two of you can go on your way.”

“You won’t need a guide back to your… uh, friends?”

“I shouldn’t, no.”

Willow nodded. “Alright den.” To me, “Brayton Rouge is maybe a fifteen-hour trot away from Divide, if de trip is smoot’. I reckon dat it won’t be too far away from where Zero’s looking to end up.”

Passenger wagons, chariots, and motorwagons dotted the road as well. The further we had traveled from Divide, the less scavenged the vehicle carcasses had been. By the time we reached the forest’s official entrance, they were almost untouched. There had been a pile-up of vehicles around both sides of a small gatehouse, with one motorwagon having crashed into the corner of the building and collapsing most of it. A passenger wagon was parked on the shoulder just before the gate, its side decorated with graffiti.

There was a large, rustic welcome sign in front of the gatehouse, reading “Marepas: Where Magic Was Born.” While the others took a look at the sign and the ruins, I investigated the passenger wagon. Names of those who had been lost in the Valley had been listed beneath the windows. Prayers to Celestia and other deities surrounded the victim’s names, along with some crude jokes which had been scratched through. As I circled the vehicle to the front door, I peered up through the windows, which alternated between filthily opaque and broken.

Cramped stairs led me to the interior, a long aisle stretching out before me filled with a dozen rows of seats. A few suitcases and bags were scattered here and there, but as I opened and rifled around in each one, I found that most were already looted. Some seats had been removed, and I found makeshift mattresses in their places.

A suitcase’s interior pocket rewarded me with a Mulisiana visitor’s guide. Unfolding it, I was greeted by a large, full-color map of the region, along with lists of attractions and landmarks deemed interesting enough to grab the attention of tourists. Now this is a great find!

“You done in dere yet, Quill?” I heard Willow call from outside.

Folding up the map, I shouted back, “Yeah, be right there!” As the papers went into my own bags, the commotion seemed to have stirred up another noise from somewhere inside the wagon. It was a low, vibrating sound, almost like insect wings. My fearful mind right away thought of goremoths, but that didn’t seem to make any sense; their wings were quiet and fragile, not able to flap so fast as to hum like this.

The noise echoed across the floor. Crouching down, I peeked underneath the seats on the right side. Everything looked clear, so I switched to check the left. Green, glittering eyes met mine, and then a furious buzz arose as the creature climbed atop the seat it had been resting beneath and then took to the air. It looked like a bloatsprite, only its mouth was horribly stretched, half as long as a foreleg and tapered into a sharp, needle-like point.

I screamed in panic and stumbled backwards. Riptide is somewhere in my saddlebag! I had just glimpsed it when putting the map away, why hadn’t I thought to grab it?

“Quill!” came Willow’s voice, but I was too busy scooting my way down the aisle on my rump to reply. The pointy bloatsprite zipped towards me, and I had only seconds to spare before I raised my saddlebag as a shield. The needle mouth punctured the bag, the wickedly-sharp point halting only inches away from my breast. The sprite tried to pull back with an angry beat of its wings. I threw my saddlebag down the aisle, taking the creature with it. While it struggled to chase after me, I scrambled out of the wagon, joining Willow and a concerned-looking Zero.

“B-bloatsprite,” I panted, shivering with fear and disgust. “In th-the wag-”

“Aw, shit!” Willow yelled, her horn lighting up to draw her shotgun. I turned to see that the sprite had freed itself and had zipped out through one of the shattered windows, its tiny body charging at us like a spear. Just like a spear, however, it lost to gun, as Willow blew it apart with a well-aimed shot. Bits of insect gore splattered onto the pavement in front of us.

“Bloodsprite,” Willow spat. Whether she was correcting me or simply cursing their name, it was hard to say. As the unicorn opened her shotgun to replace the spent shell, I noticed Zero was reaching down to grab a blanket with his mouth. Realizing this was the same plaid one that had covered his weapon, I caught a glimpse of just what was attached to his battle saddle before he concealed it again.

The rifle was a bulky and complex mix of exposed rails, coils, and wires, giving me the sense that it was a prototype weapon of some kind. I couldn’t ascertain any more specifics before it was shrouded by the blanket, and Zero furtively cast his eyes to Willow and then to me. We made eye contact, and I looked away quickly.

Willow was oblivious to any of this. “Almost as bad as goremot’s,” she muttered as she kicked a pebble at the remains of the bloodsprite. “Dey’ll suck you dry in seconds if dey get dat needle-mout’ in you.”

“Excellent,” I groaned. “I haven’t lost enough blood yet…”

When I retrieved my saddlebags from the passenger wagon, I checked inside to assess the damage done by the bloodsprite. Fortunately, the thick stack of reading material I’d purchased in Divide had absorbed the blow and saved my hide. Unfortunately, the center of every page was now missing a chunk, so reading them would be a bit more difficult.

I need a holster, I thought. Looking down at my forelegs, I also reflected, And to make more use of my E.F.S.

As we passed the gatehouse and into the national forest, Willow halted and extended a hoof to Zero. “Hey, can I see dat brochure again?”

The front of the brochure in question displayed the image of a bright, colorful theme park. The title read, “Wonders await in VimVam Land!” When Willow unfolded the paper, a map of the park was revealed, complete with roller coasters, merry-go-rounds, slides, and what looked suspiciously like a fancy Stable entrance in the center of it all.

“Check the back,” Zero informed her.

Willow refolded the brochure and flipped it over. A compressed map of the region pointed to the park’s address, while directions below listed a nearby hotel, only a few miles away from a town called Martingale. Our guide tapped the name with her hoof. “Okay, yeah, I know de way dere. Once we arrive, it shouldn’t be much trouble to reach de hotel.”

Zero nodded. “We’re right behind you.”

Willow formed a bulb from her lighter, then allowed the wisp to forge a path through the building fog that shrouded the road ahead of us. “Stick close.”

Being proactive for once, I switched on my E.F.S. and kept it activated as we traveled. The compass indicated that we were heading eastward, and I spotted the occasional red blip appear for a moment and then vanish. The fog was growing so thick that neither I nor whatever the spell was detecting could see each other. We thankfully hadn’t crossed paths with anything yet, but it was still unnerving knowing that we were in hostile, untamed territory.

By this point the roadside lamps were a true rarity. While the sun was still able to add a bit of ambient light to the Valley, most of our vision was afforded only by Willow’s bulb, my PipBuck’s screen, and a flashlight mounted to Zero’s battle saddle. Had it not been hidden under her hood, our guide’s red mane would otherwise have been the brightest part of our group, I reflected with some amusement.

“Ow!” I hissed as I clipped my hoof on an uneven chunk of road. The pavement beneath us was almost completely worn away now, shattered by weather and conquered by the undergrowth. Zero checked back at me.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” I huffed. Shaking my sore hoof, I fell back in behind him, my eyes once again drifting to the concealed weapon he was carrying. Part of me desperately wanted to ask if I could take a look at it. Maybe when Zero fell asleep, I could sneak a peek…

“So have you ever been to Brayton Rouge before, if you don’t mind me asking?” Zero asked.

It took me a few moments to recognize that the question was directed at me. I looked back up at the zebra, who had a brow raised.

“Uh…” I cleared my throat. “No, I haven’t.” I kept my gaze fixed ahead, now watching Willow’s bulb as it cut through the misty air.

“Hm. Well, it’s sad to say, but you aren’t going to see the city in its prime. I visited before it was ruined… place was just beautiful. The cathedral alone was worth seeing; still is, to an extent.”

Willow chimed in, “What’d de donkeys even worship so much to build a church dat big?”

I had certainly wondered that the first time I’d heard of a cathedral. Pre-war spirituality was a topic I didn’t fully understand. Ponies had held a reverence for Celestia even before her ascension, but actual religion was a practice that seemed mostly left up to the zebras. Now I knew that minotaurs worshipped the sun and northern creatures believed in a warrior’s afterlife, but I hadn’t thought to ask Bertha or Crag whether those religions had existed before the megaspells or not.

“From what I understand, the donkeys have a pantheon of saints that they revere,” our striped companion tried his best to answer. “The cathedral’s lined by stained-glass windows that honor each, but I can’t say I know much beyond that.”

“Fat lotta good dem saints did ‘em,” Willow sneered.

Soon our guide brought us to a halt on the bank of a river. I couldn’t determine the size of the river for all the fog that obscured my vision, but the waters did stir with a gentle current. Willow’s bulb was glowing as bright as it could, illuminating a shoddy wooden platform on the shore, with a pulley system above it that sent a cable out across the water.

“We have to take a ferry?” I groaned, my stomach already knotting. Mulisianan rivers were already a terrifying image, and now one with the extra hindrance of fog was like the perfect nightmare.

Willow lit her horn, using it to rotate a crank on the platform. Rusted gears squealed as they turned, moving the cable. “Used to be an old wooden bridge here, den it got washed away in a flood, so… yeah. Ferry.”

When the boat in question finally came into view, it failed to assuage my fears. The ferry was covered in ivy, and when it clunked against the platform, a shower of rust and condensation fell from its railings. Willow tested the floor with a hoof, and when she didn’t fall through, put her full trust in the ferry and stepped on. Zero followed her lead, and after some hesitation, I joined them. It wasn’t cramped, but I still felt uncomfortable as Willow brought us back out over the water.

“Is it possible to get seasick on a river?” I asked Willow half-seriously as the unicorn took up a long stick with her telekinesis, which had been resting in a small pile of similar implements. She stood at the front of the ferry, looking for any floating obstacles that would need to be pushed out of the way.

“Uh… you get seasick just from de motion of water, yeah? So I don’t see why not,” Willow answered, before double-taking at me as I sat and languished in the center of the craft. “Wait, you’re not gonna be sick, no?”

My response was just to sigh and bury my face, shivering a little as I heard the sloshing of water only feet below the deck.

Zero took over on the crank, allowing Willow to concentrate fully on warding away obstructions. She evidently missed a few, as I would periodically hear and feel the thunk of a log bumping into the ferry followed by Willow’s curses. Our trip across the river lasted several minutes, until finally there was a clunk that rocked the ferry in a different way. I looked up to see that we had reached the end of the cable, attached to a pole which leaned crookedly towards us.

“Where’s the shore?” Zero asked as I stood on quivering legs. Indeed, when we joined Willow at the front of the ferry, we found the platform was askew, while more water stretched before us.

“Dis… dis is it.” Taking her stick, Willow planted it into the murky swirls next to the platform. The shaft sunk… and sunk. When it was almost fully submerged, Willow pulled it back out. Mud coated the stick almost up to the halfway mark. “Fucking hell, it’s flooded.”

I bit my lip. “Is it safe to disembark, or…?”

“Uh…” Willow slowly spun the stick in midair, her tone conflicted. “I mean, technically yes. De ground does rise up ahead, so we wouldn’t be going de rest of de way to Martingale in water or anyt’ing.”

“But?” Zero asked.

“But wid recent flooding like dis, dere’s gonna be quicksand all over de place. I can navigate it, it’s just gonna be slow going.”

“Is that our only option?” the zebra prompted again.

Willow looked downstream. “We… we could detach de ferry and take it down de river, hope dat we find drier ground. T’ing is, I don’t wanna be dat asshole who destroyed de ferry for anyone else who comes t’rough in de future, not just including myself.” She then indicated the way we came. “Den of course we could always go back and look for anot’er ferry, but I don’t remember where de ot’ers are and we’d be losing a lot of valuable daylight.”

“I vote we get off here,” I stated. Zero nodded his agreement.

Psyching herself up, Willow led us onto the platform. It creaked and bounced a little, but held. Our unicorn guide then retrieved a bundled rope from her saddlebags, which she gave to Zero. "Hopefully we won't need it, but you should hold onto dis." She then turned her body away from him, looked back over her withers and flicked her tail. “Now, Mister Zero, hold my tail.”

“Uh…” The zebra scrunched his eyebrows.

“Dis is serious!” Willow growled. “Look, I-I wouldn’t just ask you to do someting like dis for fun. Single-file, we’ll be less likely to take a wrong step.” She took a shaky breath. “And if I do fall in, I need you two to be ready to pull me out. Don't wanna be stuck for very long, else I’ll catch hypo… hyper... uh, y’know. Freeze.”

Zero took a deep breath, then reached his head forward and lightly bit onto Willow’s tail. One of her hindlegs twitched, but she kept her composure.

“Okay, Quill, now you take Zero’s.”

I saw the old zebra in question side-eye me. Looking at his long, brush-like tail, I shifted in place uncomfortably. “I… uh…”

Willow shook her head and nickered, “Ugh, Quill, eit’er you hold his or he holds yours.”

Reluctantly, I moved behind Zero and took up the zebra’s tail in my mouth. His body carried the scent of a campfire, and I was frustrated that I was enjoying the pleasant scent in such an awkward way. Seeing that our little train was finally assembled, Willow used her stick to test the area immediately in front of us. I noticed different levels of resistance as she stabbed, and after multiple tests, she finally took her first cautious step into the water.

She gave it some time, ensuring that the ground somewhere beneath was supporting her, before her second leg went in. The brown water reached her knee. While the PipBuck had proven itself waterproof already, I didn’t want to risk it further or have to clean the device again, so it was placed into my saddlebag before I also took a dip. The water was chilly and the soil beneath was a doughy texture.

We moved through the marsh very slowly, Willow constantly testing with her stick while Zero and I followed her path as closely as we were able to. On occasion I felt one of my hooves sink a little deeper into the quaggy ground than I was comfortable with, and as I wobbled my wing would subconsciously extend and retract as needed to maintain balance. My companions also stumbled occasionally as they too discovered submerged pocks. A couple of times, Willow was forced to stop completely as she poked with her stick, then turned us to a slightly new angle.

This took us a considerable amount of time, my eyes eventually feeling dizzy due to the gently undulating stripes in front of me. Willow proved her skills by keeping us mostly dry, and at last the waters receded to fetlock-level. It was here that she called a break. My legs were terribly sore from the combined effort of walking through water and trying to maintain balance for so long. I dropped Zero’s tail, spitting out a few loose strands of hair.

“Sorry, ma’am,” the zebra apologized to me as he released Willow’s tail. “Glad we’re almost out of here.”

Our guide was breathing heavily as she rested a shoulder against her stick. “Martingale shouldn’t be more den half an hour or so nort’east. Still need to be cautious, but I t’ink we’re past de worst.”

I noticed that grass was now beginning to poke above the water. Small clusters of tarberries were also spread around, and had recently tempted a radhog to its demise. The animal lay half-submerged within the muck, and what flesh was exposed to the air had been left shriveled and exsanguinated, as dozens of tiny wounds in its back indicated that it had been feasted upon by bloodsprites while incapacitated. Whether the hog had been dead or alive when it was drained, I couldn’t say.

This detail urged me to retrieve my PipBuck, reattaching it and booting up the E.F.S. The compass was mostly empty, save for one or two marks which vanished soon after they registered. I let Willow know and she nodded. “Zero, you any good wid whatever you have on dat battle saddle?”

“I am.”

“Glad to hear it, ‘cause we may need it ready. Bugs are still around in places like dis, and if we meet any…”

“Got it.”

My hooves were frigid by now, but the thought of finally reaching dry land soon gave me a much-needed burst of energy. We reassembled our train and forged ahead again. The going was as smooth as it had been until I noticed one, then two, then three red marks appear on the compass ahead of us. They darted back and forth rapidly, then shot to the side. I turned my head forward to inform Willow and noticed that there were six new marks ahead of us, all moving just as erratically.

Dropping Zero’s tail, I called, “Willow, lots of hostiles ahead!” We all halted and listened intently. There were distant high-pitched sounds, muffled by the fog, though they were growing louder.

“Get low to de ground,” our unicorn guide commanded. “Swarm.”

We crouched down, our barrels just above the now inch-deep water. I drew Riptide, checking to ensure it was loaded, and then looked up just in time to see Zero unveil his weapon again. The idea of it being a magical energy weapon was now certain, though I wasn’t sure whether there were crystals housed beneath its brushed steel barrel. Sadly, I didn’t have the time to admire it.

I could now discern the noises that surrounded us more clearly, identifying the chirping screeches of goremoths. I shivered with dread. Willow had now set her stick aside, trading it for her shotgun.

Out of the fog, a pair of large, delicate wings shot over Willow’s head, brushing against her hood lightly. The goremoth seemed to pay us no mind as it also passed over Zero and myself. Another of the insects followed, then another. Then, chaos exploded over our heads as a dozen bloodsprites and just as many goremoths escaped the wall of fog, both groups locked in fierce combat above us. The fog stirred into swirling vortexes above us from the many beating wings.

A particular pair of battling bugs, spinning as they bit and clawed at the other, careened over us. I watched as the bloodsprite fell from the grapple, landing on Willow’s neck. While it was confused and didn’t seem to immediately recognize where it now lay, the pony beneath thought that a lethal insect was just about to bite her. With a whinny of shock and panic, Willow threw her head back and bucked. The action was successful in flinging the bloodsprite off, where it landed in the muck.

However, it also caused Willow to lose her footing. Three of her legs plunged down with a deep sucking noise, and she gasped as she sunk in the quicksand. Zero immediately stood and primed his rifle, setting the coils beneath the barrel to vibrate and crackle with arcing blue magic. A trigger bit flipped up for him, which he took and fired off a shot into the body of a goremoth. The insect was vaporized, the only remains left being a few wing scraps that fluttered down over Willow.

Willow Wisp was now half-submerged in the mire, with only one foreleg free. The quicksand was halfway above her barrel and just above where her cutie mark would be. Her voice rose quickly as she panted, “Fuck! Fuck, dat’s cold!” She shivered as her cloak was rapidly soaked by the wet muck. Her saddlebags had flattened on top of the quicksand and she quickly wrapped them in telekinesis to keep them safe and dry.

I raised Riptide and squeezed off a shot of my own, the bullet flying wide of the bloodsprite which was my intended target. There were probably ten insects still visible around and above us, though my E.F.S compass definitely listed more out in the fog.

Zero’s rifle hummed and then cracked, sending a bright blue projectile searing through another goremoth. We both continued firing until Zero’s rifle clicked. He rotated the weapon forward and down, then ejected some kind of cartridge from the side. “Willow, are you alright?” Zero shouted urgently as he retrieved another to reload. “What do we do?”

“Oh…” Willow groaned as she telekinetically pulled her hood down, any desire to hide her appearance from Zero forgotten. “I shouldn’t sink any more, just keep shooting de bugs!” Her horn flared, and her bulb, still floating ahead of us, intensified in kind. This drew the attention of the goremoth faction, who converged on the new light source.

Zero loaded another cartridge and locked the rifle back into position. As he took aim, a bloodsprite hurtled over me and landed on the zebra’s back, its needle mouth stabbing into his back at a low angle. He screamed and writhed as the sprite’s wings beat excitedly.

“Duck!” I shouted around Riptide, taking aim.

Through the pain and rapid blood loss, Zero heard me. His head went down. I squinted and bit into the trigger. The bloodsprite popped, showering the zebra’s stripes in dark gore. Grunting, he aimed again and fired his rifle, shredding apart multiple goremoths who were attacking the bulb.

I found that Riptide was now empty, and I changed out the spent magazine for a new one. Willow had grabbed onto her shotgun and was using it to keep the last few insects away from her. Within twenty seconds, the last bloodsprite that we could see was obliterated by Zero’s rifle. The distant screeching of goremoths faded into the fog and was replaced by silence once more, broken only by our heavy breathing and the chattering of Willow’s teeth.

“Mais la,” Willow inhaled. Her tangled mane hung in her eyes, and unable to reach it with her hooves, she resorted to her weakening magic to brush it out of the way.

Zero grit his teeth. Taking the rope bundle, he stiffly trotted closer to Willow. “You okay, Miss Wisp?”

“B-b-been better…” she replied. “F-first time I’ve fallen int-to quicksand.”

The rope was wrapped around Willow’s free foreleg, and Zero attempted to pull her up and out. The zebra had little purchase on the soft ground, and his movement unsettled the ground beneath his front hooves, causing his legs to sink slightly.

“Wait,” Willow stopped him. “I n-need to add m-m-magic to it…”

I collected the dropped quicksand-poking stick, then joined Zero. Only then did I notice that the bloodsprite’s decapitated head and needle-mouth were still protruding from his back, blood dribbling from the frayed neck.

“Hold up, you’ve still got, uh, bug stuck in you.”

“I do?”

Zero grimaced as I carefully extracted the needle-mouth. I tossed it on top of the first bloodsprite which was still trying to escape the quicksand, and it buzzed angrily as it was pelted by one of its own. Zero took up the rope and heaved, while I fell in behind to add my weight to the effort. Willow turned her telekinesis on herself, wrapping her body in a soft golden glow. As weak as it was due to her previous exertion, it still made pulling her up easier.

Hauling her towards us, however, proved a much more difficult task, and before Willow finally made it back to more solid ground, the rest of her body and much of her head had been splattered by the quicksand, which clung like mud. The unicorn finally emerged, trembling, and then collapsed to her knees in exhaustion as her magic imploded. Zero and I were at her side, helping shed the sodden cloak that was glued to her.

Zero didn’t flinch when Willow’s radiation scars were revealed beneath her clothes. He took the blanket which had once covered his weapon and wrapped our guide in it, not caring that the fabric was being deeply stained by the quicksand which still dripped from Willow’s fur. She used a corner of the blanket to wipe her face clean, and looked up at us as she shivered.

“W-we n-need to m-move,” she breathed. “M-make a f-f-fire somewhere t-to warm up…”

Zero gazed around. “Can you guide us the rest of the way out?”

“I c-can, yeah..”

Retrieving her stick, Willow stood again, pulling the blanket tight around her small frame. Before we continued, Zero insisted that he hold onto Willow via the rope, which he tied around her barrel. Then, slowly, we resumed our traversal of the marsh. Within a couple minutes, we had found the shattered remains of the highway. Now back on a solid surface, I felt like I could kiss the pavement.

“Thank Celestia!” I praised, clopping my hooves on the road.

“You’re w-welcome…” Willow muttered, dropping to her knees. “M-Martingale shouldn’t b-be much further.”

The majority of our daylight had vanished by the time we reached our destination. Martingale revealed itself slowly, emerging from the fog building by building. The town was eerily quiet, and I imagined the town in its pre-war state could’ve been described as sleepy. Forests already had a way of dampening the bustling sounds of civilization, and the omnipresent fog only deepened the stillness. The clip-clop of our hooves, the rustle of saddlebags, and Willow’s chilled curses were the only noises that echoed in the street, which hopefully meant we wouldn’t encounter any cannibalistic tribals here.

Willow was shivering quite violently by this point. Concerned she may be experiencing hypothermia, I commented, “Let’s just use the first decently intact house we find.”

The others agreed heartily. Zero led us to a nearby townhouse, choosing one of the entrances and kicking it inside when it failed to open normally. The interior was musty but structurally sound. As a bonus, it had a fireplace and was fully furnished. Zero took his rifle to check the other rooms for dangers while Willow dropped onto the couch. She placed her saddlebags on the floor and fished out her lighter.

“C-can you get a f-fire going?” she asked me.

I peered into the hearth. Ashes and dust were all that were inside, so I turned back to the room and looked about for adequate firewood and kindling. The shelves of a collapsed bookcase became the former. Noticing the railing that lined the staircase in the corner of the room, I used the hellhound blade to saw out some of the uprights, which were converted into the latter.

Willow had dropped her lighter, choosing to instead curl up on the couch. I fumbled with it; griffon inventions were not easy to use without magic, and my hooves struggled to hold the small device. Finally, I held it in my mouth while I flicked the flame into being, then held it against the kindling as I tried to coax a fire into existence. The lacquered wood burned well, and soon we had a decent fire going.

Sitting up and cocooned in Zero’s blanket, Willow scooched close to the fire once it was underway and held out her forehooves, feeling the heat. “Dat’s better…” she sighed in relief. Her shivers began to slow, and soon she was steady.

“Zero, how’s your back?” I asked.

The zebra was studying his pamphlet by the front door. He flexed his spine a little, wincing but shaking his head. “Tolerable. I’ll take care of it later; there’s a VimVam station in town, I want to go check it out and see if I can bring us back some fuel.”

“But… we have plenty of kindling?” I pointed out, confused.

“This stuff burns for a long time, and insects hate the thick smoke it puts off. Don’t want anything crawling down the chimney.”

“Oh, well,” I glanced at the fire, then to Willow, then back to Zero. “I... could come with you, just in case.” And so I can make sure you aren’t contacting the Institute or anything.

Zero looked a bit surprised by my offer, but accepted. “Sure, another pair of hooves would be nice.”

“I’ll hold down de fort,” Willow sighed, rubbing her forehooves together.

Before we left, Zero informed Willow that he had found some towels in an upstairs bathroom that she could use to dry off. Once outside, we turned and headed into town, continuing on the road we’d entered on. Our lights were kept low and forward. Even though I wasn’t alone, I felt a creeping paranoia from all the persistent black fog that followed behind us.

“Nice shooting back there, by the way,” Zero complimented.

I dipped my head briefly and replied, “Thanks, you too.” Sensing that this was my best opportunity, I finally turned and asked, “Your… uh, that rifle of yours. What is it?” My teeth clenched in regret as I waited for an answer, feeling that I was asking for an answer he wasn’t willing to provide.

“Oh, this?” He tried to rotate his body enough to give me a better view of the gun. “It’s a gauss rifle. Shoots accelerated crystal-tipped ferromagnetic rounds that explode on impact.”

Had I not been so self-conscious around Zero, I would’ve been drooling. “That’s… very interesting to know, thanks!”

“Sure. You’re a weapons enthusiast?”

“More of a technology enthusiast, I’d say.”

Zero nodded. “It’s the only one of its kind.” His lips pursed a little, and he amended, “... That I know of, anyway.”

Yeah, that’s not suspicious.

As we cantered down the street, I noticed the ground beneath start to gradually take a downward angle, until we both halted as the road simply fell away before us. An enormous sinkhole took up the center of an intersection, its yawning chasm plunging into darkness. I panned my light down inside, reflecting off broken pipes that poked out beneath us like roots over the maw. It seemed that much of the fog was either rising from the sinkhole or was floating down into it.

How deep into Equus the hole went was anyone’s guess, but I felt my hooves tingle at the thought of falling in. How far would I plummet before I finally hit something? As we stood at the rim, Zero kicked a pebble into the darkness. We waited to hear the echo from the bottom. After a minute of silence, we gave up and moved on, skirting around the edge.

The lengths of two streets were searched and another large sinkhole avoided before we finally discovered the fueling station. A large sign on the edge of the road depicted the VimVam logo I had seen so many times now: two V’s stacked atop each other, this version with old, burnt-out bulbs inside the letters. Below were fuel prices listed in bits per gallon. Based on my limited knowledge of how bits and caps compared in both value and in regards to inflation, they looked to be ludicrously overpriced.

After the sign, we encountered two rows of pumps. The tall green contraptions had long tubes that extended from the sides, one of which was still inserted into a motorwagon parked beside it. Zero pulled it out, inspecting the nozzle and giving a lever at its base an experimental click. Nothing happened.

“Pump’s dried out.” He returned the nozzle to a hook on the pump, then knelt down to look underneath the wagon. “Let’s see if I can detach the tank, there might be some inside…”

“So what exactly is this fuel?” I asked him. “I’ve seen drinks all around Mulisiana called VimVam, did they fill motorwagons with it too?” The idea was equally absurd and concerning.

“Technically, yes.” Zero had shed his battle saddle and climbed fully underneath the vehicle now. He rapped his hoof on something attached to the undercarriage, creating a heavy thump-thump noise. “There we go…”

I waited for him to explain more, but it seemed he was preoccupied with rocking the motorwagon, his hooves grasping the tank on both sides. “What do you mean?” I pried.

“Ah, well, you’ve seen wilt apples before, haven’t you?” Another clunk. “This company found a way to make them tolerable as a drink. Towards the end of the war, they also managed to engineer a biofuel out of them, too.”

Apple fuel? “This stuff could’ve helped end the war… we wouldn’t need the zebras’ coal anymore.” I knew that some crazy alternate energy sources had been experimented with in Equestria, but I’d never heard of Mulisiana’s endeavors.

Zero grunted. “Again, it came around real late... too late. By that time, the war was being fought over way more than just coal.”

He had a point. After Littlehorn, the conflict between Equestria and Zebrica had taken a decidedly personal spin for most involved. By the end of the war, both sides seemed bent on simply destroying the other, convinced that reason or negotiation was foregone. The zebras believed wholeheartedly that Luna was still Nightmare Moon; if Equestria had switched to powering their trains and motorwagons with apples, it wouldn’t have stopped the balefire.

“Now all it’s good for is keeping the Cogs’ power armor moving,” Zero continued. “Which means it’s good for nothing.” He scooted out from under the wagon, his hooves smudged with grease and his mane peppered with flecks of rust.

"... So you're telling me that Cog power armor runs on apple juice?” I scoffed. Only then did I recall the brilliant mare who had created the Steel Ranger’s power armor, and realized that she would probably approve highly of an apple-based biofuel.

“That’s one way to phrase it.” The old zebra slowly stood again, taking up his battle saddle. “I need a wrench to get the tank out. Gonna take a look inside, feel free to come with.” I thought of my hellhound dagger, but I felt hesitant to lend it to Zero.

The station’s exterior was quite extravagant, with curving metal buttresses and large glass walls that were heavily stained by the elements. A green-and-white color scheme ran throughout the place, even down to the slick emerald floor inside. Above was a ceiling with multiple skylights, streaked by rain and a ward against the clouds of fog that rested on top of the building.

Multiple aisles formed by looted shelves were spread across the room. Assorted products were scattered across the floor, along with empty VimVam bottles or candy wrappers. Zero began trotting down the aisles while I went to the front counter. There were racks of knick-knacks and souvenirs abound, as well as --to my excitement-- brochures! I grabbed one, studying it briefly. The front depicted a pair of beige unicorn stallions, both aged and grinning. One had a well-groomed red moustache that matched his and his partner’s manes, and the two wore matching pinstripe suits and boater hats.

A quick peek inside told me a brief history of VimVam, along with pictures and a cheap plastic membership card. The whole thing was slipped into my saddlebag for later review, and Zero soon returned to the entrance holding a combination wrench in his mouth, looking satisfied.

Back outside, the stallion was able to unbolt the fuel tank from beneath the motorwagon. Once it was separated and sat near the pump, Zero opened a short valve and peered inside. I too checked, seeing a shallow amount of liquid rippling within. Not only that, but I got a whiff of the biofuel, which had me coughing and blanching. The stench was like rank apple whiskey, far more potent than any alcohol that I’d ever smelled.

Zero didn’t seem as bothered. Reaching into his saddlebag, he pulled out a device and placed it on the ground before him as he booted it up. For a moment I didn’t recognize what he was using, but when it clicked in my mind, I couldn’t suppress a gasp.

I thought I’d been stuck with an antique; Zero was carrying an original PipBuck model! Unlike mine, the 1000 hadn’t yet been miniaturized to be wearable. Instead, it was closer to the result of squashing a terminal into a flat, tablet-like form, complete with a screen and full keyboard. Large vacuum tubes and what looked like a camera were somehow incorporated into the sides. Zero extended an antenna from the top, causing the screen to flicker on and display a topographic view of Mulisiana covered in grid lines. Wait, is that a full-color display?

Noticing that I was watching curiously, Zero gestured at the station behind us. “Making a note of this place, planning on coming back later to destroy any other fuel I can find,” he explained. “Don’t want the Cogs getting their hooves on any of it.”

I nodded. While I had been interested in what he was doing, I’d been more intrigued simply by where and how he’d acquired such a relic of the pre-war world. Before I could ask, Zero had powered off his PipBuck and returned it to his bags, then hiked the fuel tank onto his back.

“Come on, don’t want Miss Wisp to get lonely.”

After pouring some of the biofuel into the fireplace, I backed off with a snort as thick black smoke billowed up from the combusting liquid. It thinned out a little after a couple minutes, but would end up leaving that foul apple scent hanging in the air for over an hour. Zero was also correct in its longevity; the flames burned strong for as long as I had enough makeshift firewood to feed into the hearth.

I parked myself on a loveseat next to the couch, which I pulled up closer to the fire. Zero excused himself into the kitchen. Groaning, I stretched my sore muscles.

“I miss Wick,” Willow sighed longingly.

“Me too.”

With a smirk, Willow looked over at me. “You and Zero getting along?”

“He’s… alright,” I admitted. “I still have some reservations, but he seems nice enough.”

“Reservations?”

“You know… the gun? Where on Equus did he find something like that? Plus, I just found out that he’s got an original PipBuck; those weren’t common even in their heyday. And… I don’t know, there’s just something different about him.”

Willow raised a brow. “Maybe he’s just a collector of rare t’ings, who knows? I’ve had clients dat brought along weird-weird stuff.” When she saw my own questioning expression, she elaborated, “One mare had dis gun wid a leaf blower or whatever built into it, yeah? She’d drop junk into it and boom, she’d splat a radroach wid a stapler or a coffee mug. You ever seen one of dose?”

“Can’t say I have, no.” I didn’t really feel like that was a fair comparison to Zero and his rifle, but I didn’t vocalize my objection.

We sat watching the fire for a bit longer. The reverie was soon disrupted by a great clatter from the kitchen, causing us both to start. I heard Zero grunt, and Willow gave me a concerned look.

“Zero, you good?” I called.

The zebra exhaled and responded, “Just knocked some things over. Gah…”

“T’ink Gramps pulled somet’ing?” Willow joked. Rolling my eyes, I went to check on him.

I found Zero attempting to wrap a bandage around his barrel. Such a maneuver was difficult to perform by hoof, and he’d only managed two or three wraps around his back wound by the time I had arrived. A set of pans had fallen to the floor, and as I entered Zero was placing them back on the counter.

“Hope I didn’t scare you two,” he said. “My tail has a mind of its own sometimes.”

Noticing the pile of gauze on the floor, I offered, “It’s fine; need some help?”

It was Zero’s turn to hesitate after a question. “I would be much obliged, yes. Thank you.”

Bandaging only took a minute with my assistance, and his injury was successfully swathed in weak healing magic. The bloodsprite had left a nasty scar and taken some of Zero’s blood, but thankfully it hadn’t pierced any vital organs or otherwise dealt critical or permanent harm.

“I appreciate it, Miss Quillwright.”

“Don’t mention it.” Now’s my chance! “I do have one more question for you, if you don’t mind…”

“Oh?”

“How doyou spell your name?”

We took turns using the fireplace to warm up our dinners. As Zero slow-roasted a pair of skewered carrots he’d packed, I visited the upstairs bathroom. On the floor inside was the tarnished towel Willow had used to clean up earlier. Setting the PipBuck next to the sink with its screen lit, I dug around in a closet behind the shower and found a washcloth that I used to wipe down my hooves. I undressed and laid out the Stable suit to assess whether the stains from the marsh could be washed out or not. They seemed manageable, but now I had an excuse to finally don my Scribe robes again.

I pulled the folded garments from my saddlebags, hearing a clink as I did so. After shaking out the robes, I discovered that the voodoo necklace had fallen out of the bag. Its jewel twinkled in the pale amber light of the PipBuck, and I kept my eye on the jewelry as I pulled on my robes. Once I was dressed again, I picked up the necklace and turned it over in my hooves.

The magic contained within didn’t seem to be open to me, but when I had put it around my neck in Magnolia Grove, that had opened the door to meeting Cotton Knit, hadn’t it? A town like Martingale surely had its share of ghosts, and maybe even this home contained a spectral resident…

The radio was tuned to static and the necklace slipped on. I nervously stared into the mirror, my face lit from below in a spooky way. Expecting to hear a whisper, I cautiously perked my ears and asked, “Hello?”

Silence. I held my breath.

A murmur.

My hackles raised in electric excitement. Oh my Goddesses, am I becoming a medium?

A muffled laugh. Downstairs.

The thrill that had quickly built up dispersed through a disappointed snort. Resignedly, I shook my head. What, did I expect contacting those beyond the veil to be an on-demand ability? The PipBuck went onto my leg, and I cantered to the door. As I was passing through the threshold, a noise came from behind me, somewhere in the pitch-black and still bathroom. It was faint, so slight that I might not have heard it in any other condition. A light inhale, one that came from just behind my ears.

“... Run.”

I nearly fell down the stairs as I made a hasty retreat from the second floor. Willow and Zero halted their conversation to regard me with confusion.

“You good?” Zero asked. His eyes narrowed slightly when they flicked down to my robes, but it was a brief flash before he was back to normal.

Still attempting to catch my breath, I quickly glanced between the darkness at the top step and my companions. When nothing came chasing me, I started to calm down a bit. “Mhm, just a little spooked out, heh…”

Willow sniffed and tossed her mane. “Don’t worry, we’ll protect you,” she assured, laying the sarcasm on thick.

I returned to the loveseat, now trembling more than Willow. Once I had some leftovers cooked up and consumed, I found a sense of ease again. Zero had since drifted off in his chair. Willow burrowed into the couch and stared into the fireplace. Before I recorded the day’s events, I retrieved the brochure and read it by firelight.

The VimVam Story Begins…

Our wonderful corporation was founded by two of the most nonpareil ponies ever to live: the brothers Flim and Flam Skim. Both Mulisiana natives born in our very own LaFerrier, the colts demonstrated a knack for creativity and efficiency from an early age, going on to enroll in the Equestrian Institute of Technology. They nearly achieved valedictorian statuses, had they not been so hard at work designing the very first steam engine, a pivotal invention in Equus’ industrial revolution.

The Skim Brothers used this remarkable power source to build the very first motorwagons. Having just created a brand new industry, these two masterminds then moved on to a venture near and dear to their hearts since foalhood: beverageering. With a state-of-the-art steam vehicle that could not only drive itself but also squeeze cider at an incredible rate, the Skim Brothers completed a successful tour in Equestria before returning home. Though the machine sustained damage during the trip due to high demand, this did not deter our clever founders.

Already thinking two steps ahead, they then focused on harnessing Mulisiana’s most common fruit, the wilt apple, to create a drink that could rival the best that Equestria had to offer. For anypony else, this task would have been monumental. For Flim and Flam, it was simply another contribution to society. With a unique blend of artificial flavors and additives, the newly blended “VimVam” quickly became a Mulisiana sensation. The classic apple formula was soon joined by a wide variety of other flavors, eclipsing Sparkle~Cola in sheer quantity and proving the more popular product “down south.”

The VimVam Story Continues...

Even today, the VimVam Corporation is at the forefront of invention. Wilt apples not only refresh your body, but now power your vehicles as our patented biofuel. State-of-the-art amusement park VimVam Land is influencing a new generation of colts and fillies to become the most nonpareil creatures they can be. And soon, VimVam will unveil a product which will rock the world of physical wellbeing.

In the immortal words of our founders: “Make the purchase of a lifetime!”

Footnote: Progress recorded. Level Up.

New Perk: Exterminator, Rank 1 - Swat those pesky bugs! You deal 15% more damage against mutated insects and sprites. You now also have a chance to find useful spoils on their corpses.

Author's Note

Bloodsprites are originally from the excellent Wasteland Economics written by Doctor Ham. Check the story out if you haven't yet, it's very good!