Pyrophobia

Chapters

Chapter One: One Year Later
Chapter Two: And Then There Were Two
Chapter Three: Triple Distilled
Chapter Four: Give It Back!
Chapter Five: Steal This Album!
Chapter Six: Suns Out Guns Out
Chapter Seven: Heart to Heart
Chapter Eight: A Hangover You Don't Deserve
Chapter Nine: Simple Plan
Chapter Ten: Going Home

Chapter One: One Year Later

I remembered going to bed extremely intoxicated, though I had no hangover when I woke. I looked down at my hands only to find they weren't exactly hands. They were some type of claws. Red scales covered them and they ran up the length of my arm. I appeared to be a reptile. I hated reptiles. Was I still drunk? Was this some sort of very weird, alcohol induced, lucid dream?

I looked up from my hands—ugh—claws to my full body mirror I had hanging on my cupboard door. No, I wasn't a reptile; it was much, much worse. I was a dragon. I had red scales, and black horns protruding from either side of my head. I was only starting to freak out when I noticed my wings. They had a green membrane, like bat wings but much larger. I was doing everything I could to stop myself from hyperventilating. Dragons breathe fire; I'm terrified of fire. I burnt my hand when I was younger and the scarring had never healed.

I shakily got out of bed. I felt slightly shorter and slimmer, I estimated my new height to be around five foot six. Man this was one weird dream. I took this time to also examine my forearm where my burn was; it was gone. I touched my scales feeling their texture. It felt unnatural, far too real to be a dream. I clumsily made my way to my set of drawers and found my pocketknife that I kept hidden. The smart thing to do would have been to just get a pin and prick myself. I was not smart. I plunged the knife right into my hand, scales, tendons, and muscle. I think I was too in shock to scream or cry. A knife was sticking out of my hand. I needed help.

I had my mobile in my hand and turned it on, my claws scratching over the surface as I desperately tried to unlock it (turns out claws aren’t good for a touch screen). I rushed out of room as best as I could, knocking over pretty much everything in my way. I reached the kitchen where my home phone was, dialled '000' and waited.

There was a click.
"Hello? Is anyone there I need—" I began to say before I noticed that the line had gone dead. And it didn't go to message bank. Triple zero was dead, whatever happened was serious? My voice sounded higher than usual. What's with that? I pushed it to the back of my mind for another time. I tried calling another three times and always got the same result. Defeated I made my way back to my room. Something seriously messed up was going on.

I managed to bandage myself up with the emergency kit I kept under the kitchen sink. I poured vinegar on my hand and then quickly put the bandages on. The vinegar stung, and then the pain hit me and tears filled my eyes as my body realised it had been stabbed.

After trying the lights a few times I realised the power was completely dead. I wondered how the house phone could have survived that long. The answer escaped me, but I figured it wouldn’t be working anymore.

As I slowly got adjusted to walking with my tail, I decided to go outside to my backyard. I didn’t want to go out the front in case someone saw me. As I looked around I saw something that made my heart stop, and my stomach twirl. A dog’s carcass, exposed ribs and everything.

It was Happy, my best mate. What was left of him. I looked around the backyard to find that everything was very overgrown; it felt like I woke up after a one-year-long nap. I spent the next couple of hours frantically going from door to door in my neighbourhood trying to find someone, anyone, dogs included. Dogs were actually a higher priority than people as I’d never particularly liked people in general. I found neither. Every house was the same, just as overgrown and empty as my own.

The feelings of dread, hopelessness, and crippling depression came to me all at once. I didn’t know how to deal with it so I smashed my head against the nearest house. I didn't realise my true strength until the wall caved in around me. I then let my frustration out and completely destroyed my neighbour’s house in a fit of rage. I don’t know what came over me, but it felt good.

Afterwards, I came back to my house: my humble abode. I guessed I could still live there, but I wasn’t sure what I would do for food. Everything I had was a year old and mouldy or stale. I still had vodka, bottles of it. I couldn’t sustain myself off liquids; I needed solid food, like meat for my protein. I briefly considered eating any dogs I came across, but I wasn’t sure if there were any dogs around, nor was I sure I could deal with such an act after witnessing the carcass of my former pet. I toyed with the thought of not being able to find anyone else, but that sent me into a depressive slump. To try and get myself out of my pessimistic thinking mode I did the first thing that came to mind.

I drank.

Normally I was a lightweight, but now that I’d…changed (don’t think about it, don’t think about it…), my tolerance had gone up exceedingly. I finished an entire bottle only felt buzzed. I considered drinking more to get myself super-smashed, but common sense kicked in and I stopped.

At that point I realised embarrassingly that I was still naked. I don’t know if real winged reptiles need to wear clothes, but I certainly did. I walked back to my room and then the alcohol hit me. I stumbled to my cupboard and sorted through my clothes: pants wouldn’t fit at all and neither would shorts or t-shirts. It turned out I could, however, wear hoodies and jackets.

I got out my favourite black hoodie and slipped it on. It fit, but my wings made this super uncomfortable so I found some belts and strapped my wings down to make my hoodie fit. The belts would probably damage my wings, but I was beyond caring.

I needed to make a game plan.
Step one: find other people, or survivors of whatever happened. I wondered if anyone else was, um, like me.
Step two: find food. Actually food should have been number one, but I could rearrange my priorities later.
Step three: Figure out how to survive in my new body, and figure out what the heck was going on.

Now, with my game plan down and ready, I needed to figure out how I was going to get around. I had my Holden Ute, which could easily hold everything I needed. However, I needed to make sure that it still worked. I wasn’t sure how long it had been sitting.

First things first, I needed to see if the damn thing would start. It wouldn’t. Leaving a vehicle sitting for a year damages things. The oil needed to be filled for a start, it was bone dry and the fuel had to be replaced. Hopefully if I just filled the oil I could make it to at least a petrol station to change the fuel. If the petrol station fuel is any good either. I really didn’t think anything through...At least my battery was okay for now, I’d had it permanently hooked up to a charger. Hopefully it’d last me a while longer. My tyres were low in air pressure so I’d also have to find somewhere to fix that.

I searched some of my neighbour’s houses for oil. I felt bad ransacking everyone’s houses, but it wasn’t like they were around to complain. I found some eventually a few houses down which meant more walking. I hate walking. That’s why I’m trying to get this piece of shit working. So I can drive everywhere, obviously. I also found some some canned food and beef jerky in the houses too.

With the oil replaced I tried to start her up, and to my amazement she did! I cut the engine to save fuel, hoping she would start again. Back inside I gathered all the useful things I could find that I would need with me: a duffel bag filled with booze, and a backpack just full of hoodies and jackets. Took my pocketknife with me too, cleaned so it no longer had my blood smeared all over it. My phone didn’t seem useful since I couldn’t use it effectively, so I left it behind. I did, however, take my wallet with my license in it as I wanted a reminder of what I used to look like.

I was still sceptical whether this was a dream or not, but I was not taking any chances. Once everything was packed and sorted I put it all in the cab of my Ute. The tray I left empty in case I came across some larger stuff that would need the space. It was pretty uncomfortable to sit in the driver’s seat with my wings bound behind my back, and my tail wouldn’t fit anywhere. I apologised profusely for what I was about to do to my baby. I spent the next hour or so carving a hole in the seat for my tail to sit comfortably in. It still felt strange, I could deal with the discomfort in my wings. I would have to find new fuel soon, the old fuel would likely damage my engine after a while.

Everything else from there actually went surprisingly well. I managed to reverse and get to the driveway. I briefly considered getting myself sober before heading out, I was way over the legal limit to drive regardless if there was no one else on the road.

“Screw it.” I said, my unusually high-pitched voice throwing me off for a moment. There was no one else on the road as far as I could tell. At least I won’t get caught drunk driving, I chuckled to myself.

Author's Note

Hi guys, this is my addition to the Ponies After People universe. How do you like it so far? If you have questions about some of the Australian words used just ask.

Also huge thank you to abphinsom for editing this chapter.

One Year Later is a 2001 album by The Carrier.

Chapter Two: And Then There Were Two

I drove with the Brisbane suburbia in my rear view mirror. On my way out I had scavenged various car parts that I could use if I was ever in need. It was late in the afternoon and I was feeling quite peckish. I started nibbling on the beef jerky I had found. I didn’t really know where I was going, I had no destination. I just drove on. I had to find signs of civilisation I guess.

My vision was blurry from the effects of the alcohol. I was driving in and out of the lines. I was lucky there were no cops on the road, or they would have busted me for sure. Something appeared before me on the road, though I couldn’t quite make it out. As I drove closer I realised it was some kind of small purple horse. It seemed to be screaming. I must be hallucinating, I thought. Horses don’t scream, and they certainly aren’t purple.

Oh shit, I realised, That’s no hallucination. I swerved to the right, my precious Ute scrapping up the side of the gutter. I quickly got out, or at least I tried to. My tail was stuck in the hole I had cut. After freeing myself I went over to the small purple horse I had narrowly avoided to see if it was okay. I was fairly certain it was a girl horse (It seemed to have elongated eyelashes), though my vision was still pretty blurry. She seemed to have collapsed from shock. I also noticed that she had blue hair as well. This day just kept getting stranger and stranger.

I carried her back to my Ute, putting her in the back with all the other things. I made sure she was in a secure position. I sobered up momentarily in order to take this strange purple horse to the nearest shelter I could find and wait for her to wake up.

***

I drove a little further south until we were in Loganholme, but the mysterious horse still hadn’t stirred. I searched for nearby shelter, my gaze drifting onto a house that had been left open, meaning I wouldn’t have to break in. As I made my way inside, with her in my arms, I noticed that this place wasn’t simply left open, rather, it had been completely ransacked by someone. Had the other houses been raided as well? Why was this the only one left open? Strange.

I placed the horse on a couch in the living room and waited for her to awaken. I went into the kitchen to see if there was anything of value left, but it had been completely cleaned out, so I went back to my Ute to grab some of the tinned food I had scavenged.

I found a few tins of fruit that she could probably eat, I grabbed the beef jerky and made my way back inside. I went to the living room to check on the pony, but she was gone. I went frantically looking for her, figuring that she couldn’t have gotten far in the short time I’d been outside.

There was a noise coming from the second story upstairs. It was probably her, but I couldn’t be sure, so I took the tinned food with me in case it was some animals, er, creatures making the noise instead. I made my way up the stairs and listened, noticing the bedroom door on the far right. I closed in, up to the door. There was silence now. Had she heard me? I pushed the door open, and there she was standing there with a pocketknife in her mouth pointed at me. When she looked at me further and realised what I was she screamed, like a girl. Then I was also screaming, also like a girl.

“D-d-dragon!” the pony screamed. It’s almost as if she’d never seen one before....oh...oh yeah.

“You can talk!?” Okay this was getting weird now. I’m a dragon. There’s a talking coloured pony in front of me. I’m getting more and more convinced that this is just one big fucked up lucid dream.

“You can too?” she asked, the fear in her voice slightly decreasing.

After we learned that both of us had once been human, she then told me her name was Triple Distilled.

“It’s my pony name,” she explained, “I never liked my human name much, so this is like a new start.”

“Why’s it so weird?” I asked, not really convinced. However, when I saw how depressed my question made her I corrected myself.

“I mean, how’d you come up with it?”

Triple didn’t really answer properly, she just said she was told that that’s how pony names work and I wasn’t in the mood to question further. She explained how apparently there was some kind of cataclysmic event that event a year ago that wiped all humans off the face of the earth and the few left behind were turned into ponies, and, apparently, dragons too. This was a lot to process, I’d have to think on it later.

My next question was about the picture on her butt, which looked like an old-fashioned liquor bottle with “XXX” labelled on the side.

“Oh, this?” she asked.

As if I could be referring to anything else. I bit my tongue and kept my quips to myself. Probably not the best way to make a first impression.

“It’s called a cutie mark.” She said quite proudly, not noticing how I cringed at the name. I didn’t think I would be calling it that.

“I’m Nat by the way,” I said, introducing myself. “I don't think I said that before.”

“That short for Natalie?”

“No…it’s Nathan, why would it be Natalie?” I asked, clearly not understanding what she was insinuating.

Triple just cleared her throat and gestured for me to look at myself. Once I did it was my turn to faint. I was a girl. A girl dragon. Why hadn’t I noticed this until now?

Yep.

Thud.

Author's Note

ch 1 and 2 edited by abphinsom Thank you!!!

I was stuck on this chapter for sooo long. finally added some more to it, I don’t like leaving them under 1000 words...so now its just above.

Hope you like it, now maybe I can get a start on more chapters.

And Then There Were Two is a 1996 album by 2 Tymz.

Chapter Three: Triple Distilled

As I came to, I recognised the familiar feeling of another hangover. I also realised I was still on the floor where I fainted. I slowly opened my eyes to the sight of the po- Triple Distilled. Shit, what else can I call her? I didn’t want to keep using her full name.

“Trippy?” I asked, coming up with a nickname in the process.

“Wh-what?” Trippy stammered, she is...blushing furiously? I guess she didn’t like the nickname. “W-why are you c-c-calling me that? I-I-I’ve n-never had a n-n-nickname before...” she continued to stammer, fiddling with her ~~hair~~ mane in the process.

Oooh....Did she like it? I’m very confused. “Uh, yeah...is that okay?” I ask, “I mean, it’s easier than saying ‘Triple Distilled’ all the time right?”

“Oh, um...I guess.” She shrugged, regaining some her composure. “So...how are you feeling?” She asked, concern in her voice.

“Well it feels like everything’s upside down and someone is knocking on the inside of my skull, but besides that I’m fine. How are you?”

Trippy just stared at me, I couldn’t figure out if she was disappointed in me or was still trying to work out what exactly I was...probably the former. Dunno why, she’s not my mother.

And then, I just had to open my big fat mouth, “What?” I said, putting my hands up innocently.

Trippy then began to go into a massive rant, "Do you realise how irresponsible you are!? I mean I get it, end of the world nopony's around, but it doesn't give you an excuse to drink drive. You're lucky you only just missed me, and what if you actually hit me or somepony else. Besides even if there's nopony around and you're driving like a maniac you can still crash and die yourself. Oh and then you continued to drive while drunk with me in the back, just great then we both could've died. And you had an unrestrained load as well, stuff all knocking about back there, what if something hit me in the head, I could've died from that. Did you think about that huh? Did ya? And then just coming in here with all this," she just gestures to all of me, "I mean, of course I'm gonna freak out if a dragon comes at me, and then you just scream like a girl, because—newsflash—you are one."

Nopony? Somepony? Why is she speaking like that? "Okay well sorry about it." After she had calmed down from her rant I finally asked, “Oh yeah, what were you doing out in the middle of road?”

After sending a scathing glance my way she answered, “I was getting ingredients.”

“For?”

What came next would determine our everlasting friendship.

“Alcohol duh, why’d you think my name was Triple Distilled? For being a-AAH” Trippy was cut off as I suddenly lifted her off the ground in an embrace. “What?”

“Oh Trippy, Trippy, Trip, we are just gonna be the best of friends I’m sure!” I said, holding her closer.

Trippy on the other hand was probably deeply regretting ever meeting me, too late now. Prying herself off me she retreated a few steps, “Yes...anyway, I was on my way back to my refinery when you happened.” She finished, pointing an accusatory ~~finger~~ hoof at me.

"Yeah.…" I trailed off, feeling guilty. I then remember Trippy mentioning how something happened and everyone got turned into ponies, and ugh...dragons. I wanted to find out more about it.

"Say, uh, Triple...this cataclysmic event, can you tell me more about it?"

She gave me a confused look, before softening her expression. "Oh, yeah, you still probably have lots of questions. Sorry for, um, ranting at you before. I just don't like seeing people drink and drive."

She looked up at me forlornly with big, sparkly, teal eyes, making me very uncomfortable.

"Ah yeah it's fine," I said, clearing my throat, "It's not the first ti-" seeing Triple's horrified expression I decided to change my answer, "-me that someone has ranted at me.” Please don't hurt me.

My answer must have satisfied her because she sat down in front of me to answer my questions.

"Okay, so this 'Event'," I began, making quotations marks with my...er…claws, "When did it happen? What happened? Why did it happen?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Trippy cut me off. “I remember going to bed on May twenty-second and waking up sometime in August." She then shifted her gaze up to the left, and then straight to the right.

I recognised the shifty eyes, she was trying to make something psychical up, but she was also remembering something that was spoken. What doesn't she want me to know?

"And then some big magic thing happened and people got turned into ponies and other things," she glanced at me, "but it wasn't perfect and everyone got split up throughout time." She then looked down, "As for why I don't know." And then she added, albeit in a hushed tone, "I forgot to ask."

She's obviously got secrets, but I won't pry, I thought. Not yet.

"So, uh. What was your human name?" She might not have wanted to answer, but I had a plan.

"Umm, I don't really want to say." Called it! Time for my brilliant plan.

"Listen, Trip, if you tell me, I'll let you come up with a new name for me." I offered, smiling proudly.

She sat up and brightened, "Oh, well...I suppose I could tell you. But you gotta promise me something."

"What?"

She walked up and surprised me by somehow grabbing the neck of my hoodie with her hoof.

"If you ever say it to anypony I will end you, and under no circumstances are you to refer to me by that name. Got it!?"

I nodded my head as quickly as I could. Maybe I shouldn't have asked.

"Claire Everen."

It was a nice name. But I didn't dare repeat it.

She then gave me a wry grin, Oh no, I really should keep my mouth shut sometimes.

"And as for you, I'll need time to come up with a decent name. But don't think you're off the hook."

I needed to change the topic away from my name. "Um, how about I take you to your refinery now then? I'm well-rested now." I lied.

"Sure, but this time I'll sit in the passenger seat, not in the back."

I collected the canned food I had dropped on our way out of the dilapidated house, "Here, I got this for you," I said, offering her one of the canned fruits.

She thanked me and we walked to my ute, which I had parked on the other side of the road like a fucking idiot. Now I had to walk an extra couple of metres, what a bore. As I got close I noticed the damage from our near accident. The front fender had scrapes on the bottom of it. I wondered if I could fix it, worried about rust now that the paint had been scraped off.

I had a light bulb moment. Duct tape!

I opened the passenger door for Trip. "Make yourself comfy, I'm just going back to look for something." While Trip got into the seat I ran back to the house.

Duct tape, duct tape, duct tape. I repeated over and over in my head while I searched. Looking through kitchen drawers and cupboards and came up empty-handed. What kind of person doesn't own duct tape?

"Duct tape is also in the garage." I mused to myself. Second light bulb moment of the day! Lo and behold, there it was! It was also at this moment that I heard the familiar roar of a V8 engine with a double exhaust.

She's stealing my ute!

I felt my dragon instincts telling me to search and destroy, and I gladly obliged.

Running outside as fast as my legs could take me, which was surprisingly fast. By the time I was outside, however, Triple Distilled was already gone. I could faintly make out my beloved ute in the distance, but no matter how fast I ran I could not catch her.

"DAMN YOU TRIPLE!!!" I roared, filled with insatiable rage. "I WILL FIND YOU. I WILL MAKE YOU SORRY!!"

I continued to roar in anger until I fell onto my knees.

I felt an animalistic need rise up in me, a need for vengeance. Almost instinctually, automatically. I knew what to do, I could feel how I was going to get my stuff back.

Author's Note

Thanks to abphinsom for editing this chapter too.

Triple Distilled is a 2008 album by Graham Day.

Chapter Four: Give It Back!

Four hours, that's how long it had been since that bitch of a horse stole my ute, my vodka, and all the rest of my shit.

I swore when I found her I would make her pay. I was currently walking in the direction I’d last seen her. There was no way I'd catch her while she was driving, but I kept walking hoping I'd find her and my ute when she stopped.

My intoxicated state had worn off, my anger burning up most of it. I probably still had too much alcohol in my blood to legally drive, but my head was clear, and all I could think about now was her.

She could have been anywhere. But I kept walking in the same general direction hoping for a lead when I picked up a scent close by. Odd, I thought, unless Triple had stopped somewhere. I so hoped she’d stopped somewhere.

I let my nose lead me; it seemed there were certain perks to being a dragon.

Follow me, I'll show you that pesky pony went and then we'll make her pay.

So here I was hunting my prey instinctually like a predator. I looked at my claws and my teeth in a nearby puddle. I could do some serious damage with these.

I can teach you how to use them. How to rip apart that pony who stole from us.

I shook the gruesome thoughts out of my head. I wouldn't kill Triple, that would be going too far. I'd just maim. Seriously maim. Put her within an inch of death. She needed to apologise to me first. Then maybe I'll kill her…

Yes! Do it! Crush her. Break her skull. Break all the bones! Feast on her flesh!!!

Or maybe not. Just maiming. Or something.

As I continued on her trail, no more violent thoughts of revenge surfaced, but I did start to wonder where someone like Triple might choose to hide.

Sniff. Sniff. The scent had gotten stronger. So strong, in fact, it almost made my eyes water.

I was clearly on the right track. My eyes scanned the area. Pony, pony, pony. Where was she? Sound. I heard a sound, electricity perhaps? I was confused: all the houses I’d been to so far didn’t have any power. What could possibly be making the electricity?

Now I followed my ears. Vastly improved hearing seemed to be another perk of being a dragon; maybe being a dragon wasn't so bad after all….

As I got closer I heard it was an engine: a double exhaust note I'd recognise anywhere. It was music to my ears, that beautiful sound. She was close.

I started running, my powerful dragon legs pushing me faster than I could ever hope to run as a human. I got on all fours and broke into a sprint, I was gaining on her I knew it.

A shelter of some kind came into view, skeletons of cars strewn around it like a junkyard or a warning to stay away. It looked out of place in this neighbourhood of nice, modern suburban houses. Even after a year the houses looked the same, albeit a bit dilapidated and overgrown. This shelter stood out like a sore thumb.

I continued to run when I heard a loud noise: my poor baby screaming in pain. They were going to destroy my ute if they kept running her like that. Why? What kind of monster would do this to such a defenseless and beautiful ute?

I got mad.

Yes!

I was filled with rage.

YES!

I ran towards the sound faster than ever when I came upon my ute and Triple Distilled.

She never knew what hit her. I grabbed her by the scruff of the neck, like a puppy being scolded. She screamed in surprise, her hooves flailing. The car stopped suddenly; she must’ve hit the keys in the ignition.

"N-Nat!?" Her eyes shrank to pinpricks, "H-how did you find me?"

I leered facetiously at her and leaning in close I whispered, "I followed my nose." Tapping my nose, I leaned over and looked into the driver side of my ute, where I saw something spilt on the floor, I could smell vodka. There would be hell to pay now.

"What’s this?" I asked, forcibly directing Triple's head to the mess on the floor.

"I-i-i-It was an a-a-accident," she said, shivering in fear.

"An accident?" I questioned, my voice full of venom. I grabbed her by the scruff of her neck again and rubbed her nose in it, like I was disciplining a misbehaving puppy.

“Bad pony. Bad, bad, bad," every time I said 'bad,' I shoved her face further into the mess.

I had probably gotten my point through to her by now, but I was having fun, so I pulled her out of the cab and dragged her all the way to the back and threw her in. She was too frightened to even try to escape. I got out the duct tape, and I taped her to the back wall of the tray. She is not going to move anymore. That was for certain.

"Stay here."

She nodded her head quickly, her eyes full of fear.

I went to check out the makeshift shelter. Maybe there were others with her.

That means more to kill. Or maim, as you like.

It also meant the possibility of more supplies.

I made my way inside the shelter, if you could call it that. It looked as though it could fall apart at any time, a whole heap of junk welded together in the shittiest way possible. Most of it was composed of car parts likely looted from the mass graveyard out front. I recognized some hoods from various models and makes of cars crafted into makeshift armour or camouflage.

Once inside, I heard a television playing what sounded like a familiar movie.

I slowly made my way to the TV, where I found a couch and a winged pony with light blue fur and a white mane that appeared to be matted to his head. The mark on his butt looked like a welding iron, and I supposed he was the one who had welded together the junk on the outside of this shelter. He was holding what looked like a crack pipe. Seriously? A crackhead pony?

He looked at me with a frown and said, “The fuck are you?” A bit too aggressive for my liking.

At his feet I saw a plastic bag of white rock-like things. The crack. He saw the direction of my gaze and knew what I was thinking. He started for the bag, but I was quicker. I grabbed the packet while simultaneously punching the crackhead in the face.

"Ow! You broke my nose!"

I wasn’t too concerned.

"You want this?" I toyed with him.

"Yes, very much. Please give it back." He sounded like he was missing a few teeth. It might have been my fault, but I wasn’t bothered by that possibility.

"You need to do something for me first," I said. I was extorting him, plain and simple. I wanted someone to keep an eye on Miss Purple in the back of my ute.

"What? What? I'll do anything! Just gimme back my crack!" He was really desperate to get his crack back, even sobbing at the end for extra effect.

"Good pony,” I said patronisingly. “What's your name though? I need to know what to call you."

He shakily raised a hoof gesturing to his crack pipe.

"Your name is Crack Pipe?" Seriously? What was with these stupid names?

He nodded, the fear apparent in his face.

My previous leering grin returned, "I have a special job for you."

He shrank back, but he was still interested in what I could need with a crackhead like him.

I brought him out to where my ute and my prisoner were. I heard him gasp, presumably from seeing Triple Distilled tied to the back of the tray. Seeing as they were both near the same shelter, they must’ve been acquainted, and that suited me just fine. I leaned down to his level.

"Now listen, your job is to make sure she doesn't escape." I said, pointing to Trip.

He looked a little apprehensive at the thought of betraying his friend, but I had leverage. I shook the bag of illicit drugs over his nose.

"Do it, or I'll get rid of your crack."

He thought about it and then nodded, somewhat reluctantly. He made his way to the tray of the ute and hopped up, taking a seat and watching Triple with sad eyes. I decided to give him some extra encouragement, so I walked up to him and smacked him in the back of the head, hoping he wouldn't get any wise ideas about being a hero.

Triple just stared at me, her eyes seething with hate. I pulled off a strip of duct tape and stuck it over her mouth to keep her quiet in case she tried to bargain with me. I was done, ready to leave and continue whatever I was doing before I was so rudely interrupted by a pony in the middle of the road.

I sat in my ute, in my nice form fitting seats with the cutout for my tail. So comfy. I took a deep, calming breath and then turned the key.

It didn't start. There were whirring and whining sounds coming from the engine. My temper was boiling. I got out and slammed the door. I was more than just pissed off, I was furious!

I swung myself up into the back, Crack Pipe staring at me with intense fear. I ignored him, my attention on Triple. I ripped the duct tape off her face, causing her to wince in pain, but I didn't care.

"What did you do to my ute?" I demanded, but she wouldn't answer; she didn't even have the decency to look me in the eye. So I slapped her, hard, my claws drawing three lines across her face. Slowly, they started to seep blood.

She flinched, a single tear escaping her eye. Finally, her gaze met my own.

"We used it as a generator to power our hideout. It's what we've done to all cars we've found." The way she said it made it sound like she was giving away top secret information.

"Who's we?" I asked.

"There were four of us." She started, my intense stare warning her to keep talking, "Me and Crack here, another who went off looking for supplies a couple of days ago and hasn’t come back yet, and another who...died."

"Right." I really didn't care about her sob story. I just wanted my ute fixed.

"Fix my ute!" I demanded.

"I-I-I can't, not with hooves." She shrunk under my hateful stare. Having hooves was not an excuse.

I knew I'd have to replace the fuel if it was all used as a generator, I leaned in real close.

"Where's some extra fuel, E-ten preferably?" My voice was cold, devoid of emotion, but Triple understood that I could still explode at any second. She was definitely shaking in her metaphorical boots now.

"W-w-we don't have that, we drained all the cars we found." She looked like a tortoise ready to go inside it's shell, but with nowhere to hide.

"THAT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH!" I slammed my fist down centimetres away from her face, the crackhead stifling a cry of surprise and worry. Triple had her eyes clenched shut and was trying her hardest not to turn to my direction.

I tried a different approach, I softened my voice to be calm and soothing, "Where's the fuel? I wouldn't want to hurt such a pretty pony after all." I threatened, finishing my dramatic performance by slowly caressing her cheek.

This seemed to horrify her even further. She gave me the shifty eyes again, before coming to a sensible decision, "U-um t-t-that Hyundai over there might have some fuel left, it should be E-ten too. We stopped using it because the battery went flat."

"You better hope you're right, or your pretty face is gonna get messed up again."

I got up to go look at the Hyundai but before I could Triple cleared her throat: "Um, did I say Hyundai, hehe? Slip of the tongue… it was actually the, uh, Honda, yeah. They both start with 'H' so it's easy to confuse them, right?" she laughed unconvincingly.

I made my way over to the car graveyard looking for the Honda with fuel to siphon. I hoped I would find it, for her sake.

A Honda Civic. The car that every douchebag uses as their JDM ricer. Luckily it was E10 compatible like my ute, but once I smelt the fuel in the Civic it was clear that it wasn't E10. Damn, it was only unleaded. I was pretty sure that unleaded fuel aged better than E10 anyway. I disconnected a whole heap of cooling hoses from various skeletal vehicle remains and duct taped them together to make a siphon to remove the fuel from the Civic. I tried opening the fuel cap cover but it wouldn't budge, so I used my elongated claws to pry it open. I ran back to my ute to get a couple twenty litre drums I had found on my way out of Brisbane. I hooked up the siphon to the inside of the fuel tank, and after building suction in the system with my mouth, I spat out the fuel that flooded my mouth and aimed the hose into the first drum.

While I was waiting for the fuel to siphon I took a better look around the shelter. Triple had said she had a refinery or some sort of distillery here. If I could find that it would really increase my alcohol storage.

I decided to go back into the shelter to look around for stuff to scavenge. Making my way into the makeshift lounge room I noticed the television was off, likely because I had just cut their power off. They had a nice couch, but I didn’t have enough room unless they also had trailer stashed here somewhere. I had an aftermarket tow bar on my ute to use, but I’d never really needed it before now. I saw the crack pipe that whats-his-face was using sitting on the couch, and I stuffed it in my pocket to use for future “motivation.” At one end of the shelter I found a door slightly seemingly leading to a simple closet. What could be back here? I thought to myself.

Behind that door was the most beautiful treasure I’d ever seen, kegs with hoses running out of them all laid out on a pony-sized bench. Stacked in the corner were dozens of sealed bottles, containing what I hoped was alcohol.. Going over to inspect them, I popped the cap off a few of the bottles and discovered that it was not just one type of alcohol, rather, there was vodka, gin, and whiskey. I assumed that they were all made by Triple Distilled, and if her namesake was in any way involved then all of these were triple distilled brews.

I ran out of the shelter to grab my duffel bag. On the way to my ute I swapped the siphoning hose over to the next drum. After giving my passengers another stern look, I grabbed my duffel bag and ran back to the shelter to grab as many bottles as I could fit in my bag. After that I went looking for a trailer; I came up empty-handed, which was a disappointment but not a big loss. I had enough for now.

Once I was done searching for a trailer and scavenging other various things I made my way back over to my siphoning and disconnected everything. I carried the fuel drums and my recently plundered loot back to my ute, noting how usually light all the stuff felt. I wasn’t the strongest as a human, but as a dragon, it seemed I had significantly increased strength as well. I carried my newfound loot over to my ute, and fueled up. If this didn't work there would be consequences.

Here goes nothing.

I turned the key, gunning the engine a couple of times to run the fuel through the system, and it started! I got out while it was running to re-tape over Triple’s mouth to make sure she wasn’t planning something with Crack Pipe. I turned to see Crack looking at me with pleading eyes. I got out the packet of crack and gave him a pinch of crack. I didn’t give it all to him so that he’d have a reason to stay. Without his pipe he looked down at the chunk I had just given him, before tossing the whole thing in his mouth.

I got in the front of my ute and left their dingy excuse for a hideout. I was off to search the rest of this apocalyptic wasteland, ready to claim everything and anything as mine and mine alone. I was off, continuing my drunken rage trip that had no end destination apart from south.

Author's Note

I think this chapter calls for the gore tag. not gory enough to be mature rated yet, don't know if it'll get there. Hope you like. Oh and thanks to abphinsom again for editing!!!

Give It Back! is a 1997 album by The Brian Jonestown Massacre.

Chapter Five: Steal This Album!

I hadn't even driven ten minutes from Triple’s suburban hideout when the recent turn of events came hurdling back to me. I braked, hard, and heard and felt something (probably the crackhead) smacking into the back of the cab. I ignored it, being too preoccupied with everything running through my head at the moment. I hit Triple, how could I do that? I was so violent. She stole my ute, but being that violent was taking things too far. I had to stop myself from hyperventilating.

Admit it, you liked the power.

There was no way that I was going to do that again. But what was I going to do now? If I started being nice to them they’d think I was either crazy or up to something. If I let them go they might tell others they meet about me and then they might hunt me down and kill me. My paranoia was getting the better of me; the only thing that came to mind was to continue my violent charade.

I heard a knock on my back window, it was Crack giving me a concerned look. I gave him the finger, and his ears went flat against his head as he sulked back to his seat. I turned in my seat, frowning. Do I try and convince them I'm not a pyscho? Let's go with no, I'm a dragon. Based on popular culture, dragons are mainly the villain. I looked at the fuel gauge; it was only about half full. I had filled it with the forty litres I siphoned out of the Honda, and my ute's tank was about seventy litres. First, I needed to find out where I even was first though, and get my bearings. Triple and I were in Loganholme and she stole my ute and went...east? No, west yeah. So if it took her a maximum of say...twenty minutes driving time and me four hours walking time...Nope, I have no idea where we are.

My tongue flicked in and out of my mouth unexpectedly. Oh, that was weird. Am I like a snake? Can I use this to find out where I am? I rolled down my window so I could taste the air better (I didn't know how it worked). What was I tasting? Motor Oil? Kerosene?

A myriad of other smells picked that moment to also assault my senses. Bleh, too much. I could use motor oil, and it would be good to find another source of fuel too. I was going to need some soon, and supply was sure to be scarce. I stuck my head out the window and turned to Crack, "Oi, you." Snapping my fingers and pointing at him, "You're with me." I climbed out the rest of the window as gracefully as a snake.

Crack, wasn't so graceful. He tried jumping out of the back but his foot got caught on the side and he tumbled out landing on his face. It looked like it hurt, and I couldn't help but wince. The fall couldn’t have been too good for his nose either.

I didn't wait for him, though, as I was already distracted, following my instincts. We left Triple still duct taped in the ute.. I felt she still hadn’t learned her lesson. I tried to orient myself and get a better idea of where I was. Looking around I saw the suburban neighbourhood we had come from was right next door to some kind of shopping district. I figured I could find a lot of useful stuff in here. We made our way across the overgrown streets up to the back of a warehouse. It didn't have a back door, so I made one using my head…literally. I think I intimidated Crack even further with my crazy newfound strength.

We split up to look for supplies. I found so much stuff: motor oil, kerosene and other spirits, garden hose－in case I had to siphon anything again. I got sidetracked by shiny car badges; I couldn’t decide which ones to take, so instead I took as many as I could hold onto. Then I went looking for Crack, and found him in the staff room looking in the fridge. I didn’t think that anything would be edible after a year, but it didn’t look like he cared. I saw him pull something out, god knows what it was, and he ate it…or, well, he tried at least. I thought I was gonna be sick.

He was really struggling to eat what he’d found, though. He looked so helpless and pathetic, I really don't know why I did what I did next. I took his sorry excuse for food and put it in my mouth, chewing quickly so I wouldn't taste it. Then I spat the chewed up food into his mouth and held it shut, forcing him to swallow. "Good?" I asked.

"Not...really...but...thank...you." He winced painfully every time he said a word or hard syllable.

"Yeah, whatever. Keep looking around for stuff."

We split up again to continue searching. I found some car jacks and other tools, but by now everything I had was getting difficult to carry. I looked around and found a tarp to put everything in. I laid out the tarp and placed everything on it. I gathered so much more stuff together that I began to wonder how I would transport it. I didn't have much room left in the back of my ute, unless Crack sat in the cab with me. I was still working out the details of fitting this stuff in my ute when my eyes were caught by a glimpse of yellow. A JB Hi-Fi store across the street! I had to check it out, even though I knew none of the stuff in there would be of any use to me now.

"Stay with my stuff!" I yelled out to Crack, assuming that he had heard me, and ran across the road to the JB Hi-Fi. Yes! I hit the jackpot.

I broke down the doors of the store and began scavenging. Vinyl records! Wow, if I could find a wireless record player these would be great (I’d probably have to find batteries)! I took as many as could, all different artists and genres－The Doors, Foo Fighters, System of a Down, Lorde－I didn't care what it was, I took it all.

I made my way over to the game section when I saw Dying Light. I had never played it, and I knew now I probably never would, but the artwork on the cover was so nice, and it wasn’t like anyone would miss it, so I took it with me, along with several other games that I saw. I took some large bags from behind the counter to help carry my increasingly large stash.

I ran back to the other side of the road to drop off my new loot on the tarp before returning to continue scavenging. Back and forth I went, well into late afternoon, but I didn't care. I just wanted everything, needed everything, just for myself and no one else. I found some packs of assorted of batteries, if I found a wireless record player these would be useful. I also found some CD cleaning solvent with 'pentanol' in it. It sounded similar to ethanol-based fuel, if it was then maybe I could run my ute off of this too, so I grabbed as many bottles of the stuff as I could. I taste-tested some, hoping to see if I could tell what it was good for that way, but it was so horrible that I spat it right out.
Once I cleaned the store out of everything I wanted, I went looking for Crack, and found him asleep in a corner. I nudged him awake with my foot.

"We're going," I said, and picked up my new belongings in the tarp rucksack and dragged it along, back to my ute. I didn't wait up for Crack, I just left through the opening I had made earlier.

Approaching the ute, I saw that Triple was gone. She had been freed by someone, her bonds cut cleanly. If Crack had freed her he’d have likely gone with her, so he was in the clear. I felt like I had lost something important, which was odd, seeing as I wasn’t very happy with her right now. All I knew was that I had to get her back, because she was my prisoner and belonged to me, er, I mean, she was my responsibility. I put my stuff in the tray and began investigating the area for leads.

Tracks, lots of tracks, At least eight different sets of track, all hoof shaped...leading east.

You're an idiot, two sets of tracks leading west. They tried to give the illusion of more numbers.

There were at least four sets of tracks, leading in some direction. I was still very disoriented.

I tried doing the things I did before: sniffing, tongue-flicking, listening. I smelt the tracks, recognizing Triple's scent and another I didn't know. No other scents were detectable. Maybe it was only two after all?

Male, also a pony. Species, judging by the tracks he's not a pegasus, the tracks are too deep. He could be like the purple pony.

Wait, how did I know he was male? It didn't matter, I had a lead.

I remembered then that Triple mentioned there was another in their group. Did he follow us to rescue her? Why didn't he go for Crack too? Save the damsel? Yeah, right. That did give me an idea, though.

"Crack, where's Triple?" I asked, more to point out that she was gone than as an actual question.
He shrugged in response. Normally, I'd hate this kind of response but I made an exception on account of him not being able to talk too good. His eyes were what I was watching. He didn't know where she was, but he knew who took her. He probably even knew where they were going.

"Listen, your friend came for her right?" I asked.

He looked away, like he was trying to deny it. Eventually he back to me and nodded slowly.

"And he didn't come back for you?" This seemed to get a reaction out of him.

"Ah!" He stopped himself from saying anymore, it hurt too much. But I got the general message: He'd never forget me or something sappy like that. Crack’s next reaction intrigued me, though. He frowned, as he slowly came to the realisation that, yes, he was left behind with me.

I decided it was time for the comfort words.

"I'd never leave you behind," I offered.

He didn't seem too convinced on my kindness, so I tried to level with him and come out with everything.

"I'm sorry I broke your nose." Wow, seriously, that was all I could come up with? "And sorry for like...beating up Triple...and stealing all your stuff.…" Eh, good enough.
He gave me a sad, tired look. During the short amount of time I’d known him for he always seemed to look sad and tired. He didn't say anything, so I took his silence for acceptance. I didn't wait for an answer, either.

"Whatever, dude, just get in the ute."

He looked worried for a second, but then gave a look of comprehension. I let him sit in the cab, figuring that he’d earned that much at least.

Author's Note

Thanks to abphinsom for editing again. I'm trying to increase my chapter word count, gonna aim for at least 2k words per chapter.

Steal This Album! is a 2002 album by System of a Down.

Chapter Six: Suns Out Guns Out

Pushing the ute into gear, we took off in the direction of what I hoped was west. Crack was staring ahead glumly. I could tell he wanted to object to me doing anything that resulted in violence, but I knew that it hurt too much for him to do so. He really should just be grateful that we are going to rescue Triple, even if it was because I wouldn't let anyone else have her. Triple, was mine. We both sat quietly, the suburban landscape slowly giving way to a more rural scene the further west we travelled.

I sat pondering for a moment as to just how we could effectively locate them. The ute rumbled along the road and exhaust filled my nostrils. I swear the ute didn't put out this many fumes before, I thought. Then I remembered: becoming a dragon had heightened my ability to smell. I'd used it once before, I could use it again. What did dragons use smell for? Hunting! I had an idea, I pulled over the ute and jump out quickly.

"What are you doing? I thought you were going to get Triple?" Cracks cries out from the passenger seat, frustration and confusion clear in his voice. That's what I was able to make out of his pained noises anyway, it could have been something unrelated. I shrug him off and focus, the memory of Triple coming to mind. Strawberries. She always smelt of strawberries. I clear my mind and concentrate, the smell slowly beginning to fill my nose. I look about, shocked, excitedly expecting to see Triple. Of course not, I thought. I felt a tugging sensation in the back of my mind reminding me of what I was doing. Feeling a little absurd at the prospect of 'sniffing out' Triple, I begin to turn back to the ute.

I paused. "Huh" I murmured. The smell had increased ten fold facing that way... I race back to the car, realising what this meant, and gunned it forward.

"What the fu–" Crack began to say as the vehicle slams forward. "Whoa slow down!" He cries out, terror evident in his face.

I kept driving; once I hit a large straight road I accelerated. Until we got to the round-a-bout; Shit, I'm coming in too fast! I pulled the handbrake and turn hard, I drift around the round-a-bout with minimal fishtailing. The sound of screeching wheels filled my ears, and the smell of burnt rubber assaulted my nostrils. I think we lost a few things back there too. Oh well. That's my fault for not securing everything properly.

I then realised something: if we were staging a rescue we might need firepower – for intimidation only. I wouldn't actually kill anyone.

Kill those who steal from you.

Would I? I was too focused on the goal ahead. Looking to my left I saw large wire fences with barbed wire on the top. This was the Greenbank Military Training Ground. It was right across from a public school. I remembered driving past here everyday on my way to my own school. I continued to drive until I found the entrance. I always thought that seeing a military training ground right across the road from a school was so out of place. I didn't linger on thoughts of days passed, however.

Wait. Sniff, sniff. Two scents, one was Triple's... the other I didn't recognise. They were near. They're in the military base, joy. Well, makes it easier. They were in a bit further inside, the scent was faint. I put my ute in first gear and putted along. Don't want them to hear me coming now do I? I found a car park a fair distance from where I had smelled Triple and the other and exited my vehicle. Where do they keep the guns? My first thought was the barracks. Making my way over to them, I failed to notice Crack. He had walked away from my line of sight. I'd find him later.

The Australian sun blared down on me with all its rage. Was it just me, or had the sun gotten hotter? Oh well, moving on.

The neatly arranged buildings in front of me looked like barracks. I busted down the door, though I could have just opened it normally as it wasn't locked. I was surprised to find no resistance from the door and lost my balance, nearly falling forward. My insane new strength was something I had to get used to now. I went and flipped over all the beds hoping to find something. Found a Playboy magazine – nice – but it wasn't what I was looking for. if I was a male human again things might've gone differently. I moved onto the next barracks and finally found some form of firepower. A pistol. Must be a 9mm – that's what it says on it. Being a city-slicker I had zero knowledge of guns. "It's not like I'm gonna use it or anything, it was just for intimidation," I kept telling myself. I never liked guns, but I steeled my resolve and began inspecting the weapon. How do I open the magazine chamber? I pushed a button on the side and the magazine clattered onto the floor. Picking it up I could see it was full. Perfect.

As I continued to look around the place I couldn't help but think of my lost loot. Could I go back for it later? Did I have too much? I couldn't just leave it there, someone else could take it. I didn't even know what I had lost.

Before I could lament further I heard the snapping of twigs coming from outside the barracks. Why didn't I hear them coming earlier?

I make my way outside, gun in hand. I turned the corner and pointed the gun at...another small horse, this one was orange and had a horn. Pretty sure that's a unicorn. To his side was Triple and behind them was Crack. That little traitor he led them to me, after all I did.

The orange one spoke up.

"If you've come for Triple you can forget about it." He said, placing a leg defensively in front of the aforementioned mare.

Don't do that.

"Do what?"

Oh shit, I said that out loud.

"Get away from her," I threatened, shakily holding the gun to point at him.

"You won't shoot me," he said, stepping up to me. This always happened in movies, this crucial moment.

While fiddling with the gun I found the safety switch. Flicking it off, I aimed it back at the newcomer.

"Oh yeah? Try me."

He must have noticed some sort of conviction in my words, or my perhaps unnerving glare, but he still refused to back down.

So I shot him. Not dead, only in the leg. My ears were ringing afterwards. Damn this enhanced hearing! After my hearing came back I could hear screaming.

There was blood on the ground, seeping from the newly inflicted wound in the unicorn's leg. He was on the ground now too, nursing his leg.

"You shot me!" He sounded surprised.

"Yeah...I did," I shrugged, pretending to seem indifferent. The swirling mess of thoughts told otherwise: I was freaking out. Having done what I came for I dropped the gun and grabbed Triple and Crack, one ear in each hand. I began to drag them back to my ute, and they both protested profusely "Have fun bleeding out!" I called back.

"Mic!" Triple cried out, "No, no, no. You can't just leave him there. He'll die."

Mike? That's actually a normal sounding name.

"Watch me." I wasn't backing down.

"I'll do anything!"

She was sobbing by this point; she was very desperate. She looked so pathetic with tears streaming down her face. Finally I broke. Damn her sad face.

"Ugh! Fine!" I pushed them the extra couple of metres towards the ute. "Wait here."

Trudging back to her bleeding friend, I kept wondering why I was actually doing as she asked. Those big sad eyes, I just couldn't help it. I looked down at my hand, it was shaking. I've never shot anyone before. It was so easy too.

As I stood over the bleeding Mike I heard him whimpering like a pussy. Where had all his bravado from before gone?

"Ahem," I cleared my throat to get his attention.

"What do you want?" He looked up at me, then back down still nursing his leg. God, that is a lot of blood. Never thought a bullet could make this much blood.

"Bringing you back, Triple asked me to," I answered, grabbing him and lifting him to his feet, "come on, stand up."

"I can't, it hurts too much." Oh come on dude! I only shot you in the leg, you have three others.

"I swear to god if you don't get up I'll shoot you again," I picked up my gun from where I had dropped it.

Gulping in fear he shakily got up. After adjusting to standing on three legs he gave a quick "Yes ma'am," and started walking to my ute. I let the ma'am bit slide, it had been one hell of a day.

I pushed him towards Triple. He stumbled and fell but kept quiet, likely biting his cheek. I found a first aid kit in my glove-box. My mum always insisted I have one with me. Burying my feelings, I tossed the kit to the others.

"Use it." Pony and human physiology were probably different but sterilising and dressing wounds isn't species specific. I think Triple said 'thank you'. I was ignoring her.

Looking up at the sky I noticed the oncoming twilight. Guess we'll have to set up camp here for the night. Which left another problem to look forward to – fire.

Author's Note

Sorry for the wait!!! Personal issues got in the way, and a heap of other stuff. Enjoy the new chapter!

Edited by BaleonRosen.

Suns Out Guns Out is a 2014 album by Concord America.

Chapter Seven: Heart to Heart

As the sun fell and darkness crept upon the horizon I begun dreading setting up camp more and more as the minutes went by. Setting up camp would mean fire, and fire is bad. My ragtag group of ponies was growing restless, and without rest. I look over to Triple and see her shiver, she must have been cold.

I took the initiative. "I think I have some matches in here somewhere," I announce as I rummage through my hoard of loot. As I search I realise I don't have any matches... My distrust and fear of fire had made me completely avoid any fire making tools.

I hear whisper behind me. Turning around I'm met with a statement I didn't want to think about, "But you're a dragon, just make fire." Yes, thank you Triple if I had known about that everything would be so simple.

I shift uncomfortably, "I don't know how, I only came back today." I wasn't about to tell them I was scared of fire, they could use it against me...somehow. "Also, there's no matches." I finished, leaning onto the passenger side door of my ute.

I could always try banging rocks together to make a spark. Where would I find flint? Not being an expert on soil I had no idea. Unless there was something back at the barracks. With much effort, I got off the door and made my way back to the barracks. Passing the discarded gun I dropped earlier and thinking about how it may be used against me, I pick it up and put it in my hoodie pocket. Looking up I met Mike's gaze who quickly looked away. Yeah, he better.

As I enter the first of the barracks I had gone into I try doing the tracking thing again. Find me a lighter, find me a lighter. Nothing, guess it didn’t work like that. I had to do it the old fashion way. Searching through soldier’s belongings garnered me many new goodies. Amongst them was a lighter–two in fact. I also picked up a pack of fags–I had quit recently because it was getting too expensive–but my mind was quickly swayed back. Who’s gonna miss them? Stuffing the lighter and smokes in my pocket I trudge back.

Oh shit we needed tinder. "Crack!" His head shot up as I mentioned his name, "Need tinder, sticks, leaves, and branches." He nodded in understanding, but didn't move. "Go!" I shooed him away.

After about ten minutes he came back carrying all manner of firestarters on his back. He had his wings outstretched to increase his carrying capacity.

Once the tinder was assorted into a pyramid structure I poured a very small amount of fuel from my jerry can onto it, and lit a small fire using the lighter. I pull my claw hand away and put the lighter away and calmly walk back to my ute.

I then climb in the back, surrounded by all my junk and try to force myself asleep. I couldn't help but look over at my new companions; they weren’t friends and they probably never would be. They all looked happy, trading stories around the campfire. Man I'd been such a dick, or bitch (cos I was a girl now, never gonna get used to that). If they'd never have met me, would they be better off?

I kept contemplating the violence I had inflicted on these ponies; scratching Triple, shooting Mike, doing...something to Crack (there'd be something there). I must have alerted them, because they stopped talking. I only then realised that I had been whimpering and shivering. Jeez, becoming female must have made me way more emotional. I heard Triple approach me, I knew this because her hoofsteps are heavier than the others. I didn't lift my head, not even when she put her hoof on my shoulder in concern.

"Nat?" She did seem concerned, but also uncertain. Unsurprising, considering what I've done to them.

I sit up, slowly, as to not alarm her. I make space in my junk pile and motioned for Triple to join me. She did so cautiously and tentatively. She sat down and waited for me to say something, anything.

I wiped the tears from my eyes, right time to be a man. Deep inhale, "I'm sorry." I said in the most pitiful voice I muster.

Triple's face was completely deadpan, no reaction at my sudden apology. The concern disappeared from her face replaced with anger. “You’re sorry?”

I knew that tone of voice. And anger on smushy pony faces were cute.

“You kidnapped me, only to hunt me down like a wild animal after I got away from your crazy ass, you then proceeded to trash our hideout-”

Did I? Musta forgot.

“-my friend in the leg, and now we’re your prisoners or something.” She must have realised my silence and the fact that I was phasing out most of what she said. “Say something!” That almost sounded like a demand.

Knowing the following words might be difficult to say I held up my hand, indicating to her to wait. Out of my ute I grabbed some Canadian Club bourbon, I needed the good stuff. With my hand still outstretched, I held the bottle in the other. Skulling it under fifteen seconds I turned back to Triple and hiccuped.

“Okay, listen here you fuckin’ purple-smurple horse.” This would be a speech to remember, not that I would, “I woke up today with a fuck off hangover and discover that I’m not a real boy anymore. I fuckin’ stabbed myself in the fuckin’ hand-hic-” I grabbed another bottle and quickly downed half, “I wasn’ dreamin’ I was then in fact very mad, listen here you. I’m a dragon! A chick dragon, the worst two things. Plus I found out my lil’ doggo friend is dead. I trashed my house… or my neighbour’s I don’ remember. Ooh drink,”

Forgot about that.

Downed the remaining half of my second bottle before continuing my long winded explanation, “I drive with me ute which I love very much and you stole it after I saved you. That’s why I chased after you and wrecked your shit, not because the voice in me head told me to or anything. Then other stuff happened and you disappeared again, I had to suffer with the crack’ead for company.” At this point I could feel my words becoming unrecognisable, this was usually the point where I’d pull myself up. Not today.

Another bottle was skulled before I sat up on the bonnet. “-hic-And he’s really boring, all ‘e does is be scared o’ me all da time. Anyway, where wasn’...Oh fuckin’” I started snapping my finger claws to reboot my train of thought. “You, ran away, and I found ya again. But you was wit’ that fuck,” I nodded towards Mic, “And, I honest dunno what came over me. It was like I was jealous of ‘im gettin’ too close to ya, which is weird cos being jealous is shit for boyfriends to do innit? But I was feeling this other thing too… yo! Greed, it’s a dragon thing innit? I wanted you cos I saw ya first, but wait maybe I didn’. Ay but… Nah forgot.” Looking over to Triple I could tell I had lost her, looking very confused she was. “Good talk Trippy!” I exclaimed as I slid off the bonnet and punched her in the arm. I was careful not to be too tough. Either way, I didn’t look back at her dumbfound expression.

Waltzing away I started humming a song to myself. The humming turning into singing.

“For he’s a jolly good fellow-” I had to change the lyrics now, I was now of the female sex. I needed to be more progressive. Oh boy my brain is fuzzy.

“For she’s a-” Nope. Doesn’t sound right. Oh but of course, the solution was in front of me the whole time. Now singing with added gusto I waltzed my way past the merry band of travellers and towards the barracks for more exploration. Not before flipping them all off however.

“For I’m a jolly good fellow,
For I’m a jolly good fellow,
I forgot the rest of the words,
Ba-da-dum fuck it I’m the best.” I gave up on the singing and just lumbered forward with dissonant humming.

Walking to the barracks took longer than it did before. Was that because I was walking slow or was it just further way now?

Taking my newfound fags out of my hoodie pocket I put one in my mouth and lit it up. Having a flame so close to my face almost made me flinch but endured. I made sure I was a fair way away from the group beforehand. I always felt weird smoking around others. As I inhaled I noticed it wasn’t giving me the same relief as before. Guess it’ll kick in later. I was still feeling my alcohol rush. I’d feel it in the morning too.

I walked into a different barrack I hadn’t been in before. I started ransacking the place for loot almost automatically, though I hadn’t planned to.

They kept cans of spray paint here–not exactly regulation, but I would put it to good use. Grabbing three cans–orange, blue, and yellow–I began my masterpiece, humming my tune. I worked for about an hour and stood back to behold in my artistry. In big orange letters with a yellow outline and blue shadow was my graffiti tag: ‘Soup’. I came up with it when I was a kid–it was pretty stupid. The ‘S’ was clumsily finished and the ‘P’ sloped downwards too much, the alcohol clearly affecting my skill. But I didn’t mind, I was still giddy from doing something once deemed illegal–laws didn’t matter anymore.

I stepped back to get a better view of what I had created, bringing my hands up to form a rectangle, framing the image between my thumbs and index fingers. Perfect.

Creak.

This floorboard was uneven. Hidden treasure perhaps? Prying the floorboard up I found a hidden alcohol stash with some Jack Daniel’s and an assortment of others. Come to Mama! I downed another few bottles that night. Having long since flicked out my fag I decided to call it a night. Rather than walk all the way back I went to one of bed’s here. As soon as my head hit the pillow I was out.

Author's Note

Edited by BaleonRosen.

Heart to Heart is a 1981 album by Reba McEntire.

Chapter Eight: A Hangover You Don't Deserve

Everything was spinning. Maybe I had a bit too much to drink last night. Looking at the ground around the bed I was on I saw six bottles of various spirits… six plus the three or four I had earlier.

What the fuck!? I should be dead. No one can drink that much.

I remember one time where I only had a bottle of vodka and passed out for two whole days. Had becoming a dragon increased my tolerance to alcohol? I shifted awkwardly on the bed, it was very uncomfortable with my new body and appendages. These things didn’t matter when I was drunk and tired, but they did now. I needed to stretch.

Getting up slowly I felt the blood rushing to my hand followed by a sudden rush of nausea. I didn’t want to throw up. After a few deep breaths the nauseous feeling subsided and I began to rise out of bed. I used my tail for balance, but balance was soon unneeded when I found myself looking up at the ceiling.

Ow, fuck! I fell. Looking down at my feet I noticed what I had tripped over, a bottle. Reaching out to grab it I got a weird feeling, the hungover hunger where you’ll eat anything. But I couldn’t eat a glass bottle–I’d slice up my insides.

Crack. Crunch.

My hands were empty. I ate it. I was surprised at myself for not remembering something I just did, but more-so to the fact that inedible things were apparently now edible. It tasted… fine. The kind of fine that ice tastes like, just not as cold.

It would suffice for a snack, but is was not enough to sate my hunger. Looking around at the other bottles strewn across the floor I soon consumed them also. If I ate them all I won’t trip over them, my logic was flawless.

I wondered what the bottle tops tasted like, they were steel after all. Perhaps they had a different taste to the plainness of glass. After digging into a couple I had my answer, steel tastes sweet–almost like honey. A couple of them were aluminium, the taste was still sweet but it more like golden syrup. I couldn’t wait to try eating other things to see what they tasted like.

After my snack I really needed to stretch everything out now. I reached up to the sky then to my toes. Arching my back I felt my shoulders pop, it was a good pain. There was some restriction of movement however. After pondering what it could be, I realised it was my wings–I got annoyed at them and strapped them to my body. I hope I didn’t cause any irreversible damage. Although I wasn’t happy about being a dragon, I was somewhat interested in the prospect of flying.

I quickly took off my hoodie and threw it on the bed. I carefully undid the belts holding my wings down and let them unfurl. One wing looked bent but it quickly fixed itself after I flicked it back. I was then momentarily overtaken by embarrassment. I was naked and in front of the window. I was a chick now too, I covered my chest for some reason. I didn’t have tits or anything–it was just scales–I was just acting on instinct, albeit an unfamiliar one. My figure was undeniably female, but by no means was I voluptuous. That was enough gawking at myself–I shook off the feeling, and sure that no one was watching me I put my hoodie back on. I didn’t restrict my wings like before, instead they burst out from the back of my hoodie by themselves. Saves me having to cut holes. It felt way better not having them restricted.

I looked up to a clock mounted on the wall, still ticking along after who knows how long. I needed to know when I was. Being isolated from time messes with people. Focusing my attention to the hour and minute hands I could tell it was something like 6:15am.

Time. I needed to find out what the date was, how long was I out?

Upon closer inspection of the clock, I found it had a digital section that read 5-6-16, so June 5, 2016. Triple said the world ended on May 23, 2015. I was out for a whole year, I wasn’t sure how to feel about this revelation.

I slowly opened the unlatched door to peek outside seeing my ute, unmoved. I also saw the familiar forms of three ponies curled up, their bodies’ occasional rising and falling being the only indication they were asleep.

Good, who knows what I would’ve done if it was stolen again.

Looking back inside the barracks cabin to my graffiti I smiled. I don’t know why but it made me feel good. I hadn’t smiled or laughed since I woke up in this world. Did that make me a bad person? Graffiting stuff felt liberating however, I vowed to myself to do more.

Walking out of the cabin, my now unrestricted wings shivered in the cold. They’re super sensitive to temperature, noted. I still need to get used to them, I doubt I would anytime soon. I walked over to the still slumbering ponies and simply sat down. Waiting until they woke up I would guard them vigilantly.

A couple of hours passed until Triple started stirring. She was the first awake. Seeing me looming over them was probably an alarming sight to wake up to. Her gaze was fixated on my wings as they were new to her. I shushed her and motioned for her to follow me. Tentatively she followed me, and we walked until we were outside earshot of the others.

Sitting down on my haunches I instructed her to do the same. I made sure to keep my voice down and without any hint of aggression.

“What do you wanna do?” I asked. Eager to know if she had a plan, now that the world ended. I recalled she had a refinery or whatever back up where I found her but surely simply squatting in a throw-together building could be called a plan.

Triple paused. Caught off guard by my question.

“Cos sitting around in that shitty hideout you guys had forever wasn’t much of a plan.” I answered for her.

“Well, I guess looking for any others would be a priority?” She answered uncertainly.

“Are you asking or telling me?” My classic sarcasm coming back into my voice. I hadn’t had the chance to be sarcastic lately–too busy worrying about other shit.

“Telling?”

My god woman.

After catching my waiting expression she cleared her throat and changed her answer, “Looking for others is a priority.”

“Good.” I said as I pat her on the head in a condescending manner. She only looked mildly annoyed.

I decided now and then that I would be nicer to Triple. Coming to terms with my recently harsh attitudes towards her was what I was doing in the hours awaiting her awakening. But I felt that she had more to say herself, I would let her speak before continuing.

“I still won’t forgive you.” She said indignantly.

That stings.

“But I’ll give you a chance.” Triple declared.

It sounded like it’d be a final chance. Two strikes and you’re out. I gulped, I didn’t want to lose my first and only friend in this wasteland. However a smile crossed my jaw. Suppose I should call it a snout now. A smile crossed my snout, marking the second time today. It was a nice smile if I do say so myself. The toothiness of it may have unnerved Triple, but she smiled back.

“Is there anyone–or ‘anypony’–” I add in mocking air quotations, “that you wanna visit? See if they’ve come back.” I asked, letting my plan come full circle.

“Not particularly. My parents were overseas on holidays at the time of the incident–I hope they’re okay.” Her response was quite nonchalant, but it had a silver lining. She didn’t have anyone she wanted to go see. So we’d just do my plan then.

“I’m gonna drive south. I have a friend in Tasmania. I need to check on her. I don’t know how long it’ll take, but I will make it. You’ll come?” I conclude. Not really asking her if she wanted to come, more posing it as a suggestion.

My friend in question was Isobel. We met through a school event and had kept in touch ever since. A somewhat long distance relationship, she even said she would have dated me. Not that it did me any good, she moved to Tasmania a while ago so any plans to visit kinda went out the door. There was never enough time in either of our schedules. But now was different, it was the end of the fucking world. She’ll have no other choice but to be with me.

Fuck that sounds bad.

“-I’ll go with you.” Triple finished saying.

Shit, I forgot she was talking. But she’ll come with me, so it’s a win-win. Who cares if I wasn’t listening.

“Great!” I exclaimed excitedly before quickly covering my mouth. I was being loud. My wings were splayed out, probably in response to my outburst.

Triple had started to head back to the others, but I had another question.

“H-hey, listen…” my voice getting caught in my throat, “Now that I’m a girl...can I ask you girly questions?” I sounded pathetic, but I really needed to wrap my head around everything. If anyone could help it’d be the only other girl here.

“Sure.” She replied, flashing me a genuine smile. I liked that smile.

Now all that was left to do was convince the others to come with me. By the off chance the refuse, it’d be no big loss. I walked down a bit further for a quick dart, before heading back to where my three companions were. I had newfound purpose.

Author's Note

Edited by BaleonRosen.

Might later change the rating to Mature because of all the strong language.

A Hangover You Don't Deserve is a 2004 album by Bowling for Soup.

Chapter Nine: Simple Plan

I stagger back to the group, knowing I have to convince the other two to join me on my trip south, and I’ll have to apologise first, which is something I hate doing. As a bit of prep, I take a short detour on the way back. Operation Wait and Intimidate is a go.

When I get back, I see Triple to the side of the campsite with a worried expression on her face. I reassure her with a hushed smile. Mic and Crack are still asleep, lazy bastards. I squat down—the classic Slav squat—and take a loud gulp from a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels I’d brought with me. They must have been sleeping rather lightly because they begin to stir. Perhaps they were already awake.

Seeing me loom over them give appears to give them quite a shock but they hold steady, as do I. I down the remainder of whiskey and, while making direct eye contact, proceed to chow down on the bottle, their eyes widening as I do. I make a show of it, highlighting that it could just as easily be their necks instead of a bottle. Of them, only Triple is safe. I would never hurt my property.

Wait...what? I brush the thought aside for later. Thinking about people as property is too much to contemplate right now.

I shift my weight to balance better on my feet and subconsciously flare my wings to help stabilize myself.

“Y-y-you have wings?” Crack Pipe fumbles.

Seriously? How clueless is this motherfucker?

I clear my throat and sit up properly to deliver my practiced speech. “My dear companions, it is with great virtue to inform that we are leaving to head south and you are free to join us or stay here.” My great speech is met with silence. I sigh and try another approach, a more honest one. “Look, I'm sorry about my recent behaviour and lashing out and all that. This has been a very disorientating experience so far...and the only way I know how to deal with things is through anger and alcohol...so...forgive me?” I hold up my hands in a mock-pleading manner.

Due to my sudden change in demeanor, Crack and Mic look to each other and then to Triple behind me who nods.

Would they really trust me so easily now?

Mic, the apparent leader of the pack speaks up, "We'll give you a chance."

A horrible decision, but we'll see.

Our group plan our south-bound journey for the next couple of hours, working in as many stops as possible. Mic has a bunch of places that he wants to stop at and although I’m tempted to deny him, I ultimately choose not to—I need them. We also find a heavy-duty box trailer on the base and hook it up to my Ute to increase our capacity.

Without Google Maps, trying to work out how long our trip would take with all the detours thrown in is harder than I thought. If only I had kept my phone, I could have used it in offline mode. I silently curse my stupidity and excuse myself from the group to have a smoke and see if I can find a map or atlas on the base.

I pull out a cigarette once I’m far enough away from the others and after lighting it away from my face, I took a big drag and exhaled a smoke ring.

Still got skills.

With a final look behind me to my new traveling companions I enter what I assume is the Command Centre. Inside is a large sign with “BATTALION HEADQUARTERS” plastered on it.

So that's what it's called, I muse, taking another drag of my cigarette.

The building is extremely clean, despite having been abandoned for a year. It’s a little eerie, like an old horror movie with all the clean walls ready to be splashed in blood. I shake the ridiculous thought from my head and continue through the building looking up and down at the walls at the various notices and signs.

Something touches my wing and I almost let loose a very unmanly 'eep', but I bite my tongue. Turning around I see that my wing has just bumped into an open door frame. I release a breath I didn't know I held, crisis averted. I’m going to have to get used to having my wings out now, but I have to admit it felt good to have them out unrestricted.

I feel the muscles running to them and give them an experimental wiggle. Unsurprisingly they respond. I unfurl and tuck them back in a few times before settling on a comfortable position to keep them out of harm's way. I continue to do this as I’m walking down the very clean hallways of the headquarters building.

At the end of the hallway I come across a locked door reading:

Operations Room

Warning: No entry to unauthorized personnel

– By order, LT. COL Thomas

Sure that “Operations” means Maps, I give the door a shove. It moves, but not enough, so I aim a kick near the door handle. The door falls off its hinges.

Serves the door right.

On the tables at the rear of the room are several piles of A3 papers. I make a beeline for them and pick up the nearest one and am met with complete confusion. This just looks like a bunch of squiggly lines and grids.

Suddenly it dawns on me, these are topographical maps. I survey them for a bit as I finish my smoke, but eventually I realise that I don’t understand them at all. Regardless, I gather as much as I can and head back to the others, as I may be able to figure them out later.

***

Luckily the others were still around when I return. Triple looked mildly worried.

“You were gone for over an hour,” she starts. I give her a subtle look of disbelief. I didn't realise I'd been gone that long. “I—,” she pauses, correcting herself, “—we were starting to get worried.” I raise an eyebrow at her statement but don’t respond.

“I found some maps,” I explain, showing them what I am holding. “Problem is...I can't read them, they're topographical maps. I don't understand what all the lines mean.”

Upon hearing me mention topographical maps, Mic's ears prick up. He’s clearly interested but trying not to show it.

"Sure would be good if someone could read it." I suggest to no one in particular.

He groans at my goading, “I can read them.” He stumbles over to me.

Oh yeah, I shot him.

Snatching some maps away from me with his mouth (gross), he lays them out on the ground and looks at them intently. I wonder why he isn't using his unicorn powers to just magically hold the maps, but I figure it’s probably for the same reason I can't breathe fire: he doesn't know how.

Mic then goes on to explain how to read the maps, not really to me but to everyone in general. “These squiggly lines are called contours, these points on each line mean that the ground there is all the same height. This side of the line here—,” he says pointing to one side of the contour, “—means uphill, and this side is downhill.” He looks around for understanding but is met with only blank stares, rolling his eyes he continues, “These small circles here indicate a high point like large hill or mountain, and when they're close together that’s a steep slope.”

I don’t really understand any of that, but I pretend I do.

“So...where are we on it then?” I ask. “I couldn’t make heads or tails of where we were on it.”

Mic then looks up to me with indignation on his smug face, “These maps aren't even of here, they're all of Afghanistan.” He then points to the corners of the maps, “See ‘Operation Slipper’? That was the codename for our involvement there.”

I feel the heat rise in my cheeks as I puff them out. “I-I knew that.” I mumble unconfidently.

I feel myself pouting like a spoilt brat.

“Oh yeah?” a sense of bravado raises in his voice, “ ‘Cos it sure sounded like you didn't. You probably couldn't even read a normal map!” Mic sneers.

Triple looks on helpless as Mic continues to provoke me, complaining about my attitude and getting shot and everything else that’s happened to them since I showed up...I think that’s what he’s going on about at least. I start to tune it out when it looks like he isn’t going to stop anytime soon when suddenly something catches my ear….

“—ya dumb bitch,” I hear him finish. Well...that’s something I never thought I would be called...

Something flips inside me and I have to hold back my growing anger from lashing out so I don’t scare Triple off or inadvertently kill Mic. Instead, I gather myself, kneel in front of him, and settle for flicking him on the ear.

Unfortunately, I’m still not aware of my full strength and, the top of his ear splits in two.

Mic screams in pain, Triple screams in horror, and I scream in surprise. My new girly scream.

“Oh God, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't know I could do that you gotta believe me.” I start apologising profusely, which eventually turns into mumbled gibberish.

I feel a comforting hoof on my arm, expecting Triple I’m surprised to see Mic. “Yeah, kinda my bad too. I was being a dick. Guess I didn't learn my lesson not to mess with you.”

I giggle at that—a girly, annoying giggle. “Yeah, you think?” Then, with much less force, I carefully boop him on the nose which makes him go cross-eyed. Crack suddenly appears at my side with the medkit. “Let me fix it.” I say with determination.

I spend an hour carefully treating and bandaging Mic's ear and leg with gauze, apologizing the entire time. Thankfully I still have hands. I don’t know how I would have treated the wound if I had been stuck with hooves like the rest of them. Maybe you couldn’t have shot him, either. We then pack some more supplies I had found across the base, including some more guns and ammunition, and then sit down for lunch. I give the others a few tins of food that I had stored, and wait until they're done eating, or at least, after I realized they couldn't open the tins with their hooves. When they're finished I munch on the tins themselves, finding them strangely tastier than the food inside...then again, given what they had in them, maybe that’s not so surprising. Alcohol is still more satisfying though.

We give up the idea of looking for maps and all climb into the Ute. Triple calls shotgun and the other two settle comfortably in the back, while I ratchet strap my stuff down to stop it from falling out again.

I get in the driver's seat and turn to Triple who’s absentmindedly searching behind the passenger seat with a hoof.

“What are you d—,” I’m cut off as Triple pulls out a book. Not just any book, a Brisbane Refidex from 2004.

“Fuck!”

Author's Note

Massive thanks again to aphinsom for editing and putting up with my constant tense-shifting.

Simple Plan is a 2008 self-titled album by Simple Plan.

Chapter Ten: Going Home

Twenty minutes after the fiasco with the Refidex the four of us pile into the ute, Triple is still riding shotgun while I drive. Crack and Mic were in the back last I checked. I wasn't looking back at them while I drove. South-west towards Undullah, that was where my parents' house was, situated on a large hundred and twenty acre property. I had fond memories of bush-bashing shitboxes through tracks there in my youth. A sudden wave of melancholic uncertainty overcame me halfway into the forty minute trip.

Would I ever even see my family again? Mum, Dad, Alice... and her boyfriend Luke. I miss them. I didn't want to cry again though, not this soon. Gotta hold it together for another six months then explode. Rinse and repeat. It was my standard go-to for dealing with emotions, so why was it so much harder to keep it together now?

I pat the front of my hoodie and, to my relief, my wallet is still there. I can't think about my family now.

"Hold the wheel.”

Without waiting to see if Triple heard me I pull out my wallet and flip to my driver's licence.

Out of the corner of my eye I see that Triple is struggling to keep my ute straight...on an empty road. Giving an exasperated sigh I grab the wheel again with my right hand as I continue to stare at my license picture in my left. Letting go of any chance of being human or male again I balance the license on my dash. In full view of Triple too, I see her looking at it.

I always hated how my license picture made me look like a criminal, I then hear Triple make a "hm" sound. She must not have expected me to react.

Answering "Yeah?" she jumped a little.

She fiddles with her hooves uncomfortably for a second, "It's just...you're not the worst looking guy I've seen."

Nice backhanded compliment there. "Were." I corrected her.

"I'm not a guy anymore...It's a weird thing to get used to." Which is the honest truth, it was harder for me to acclimate to my gender changing than my species and general physiology.

But to answer her, I replied "Thanks though."

Was Triple into the 'bad boy' types?

Lucky for her, I’m bad at everything. A relationship of any kind with anyone was likely out of reach for me now anyway, however. Besides the obvious gender dysphoria, I guess I would also be dealing with something similar regarding my sexual orientation, like was I a lesbian now or would I like guys… ugh.

Wanting to change the subject away from that as quickly as I can I moved my hand over to tap Triple, but she flinches as I raise my arm.

Oh, she's still scared of me... figures. I retract my hand and place it in my lap instead I start with, "Were you gonna give me a new name?" I didn't want a new name. I was still Nat and am internally struggling enough as it is. But, anything to get her to like me I guess.

Her change of expression was immediately noticeable. Never knew she was this keen to make up a name for me. What was the harm in allowing her then?

"Talon!" she offers excitedly.

"No." I reply flatly. I can already tell the remainder of the drive will be long.

"Jay."

"That's just another human name." I shut down.

"Scorch."

I winced, "No." My preference was against fire-related names.

"Jade."

"I'm red." I start to get bored.

"Red?" She asks, out of confusion. Almost surprised that the colour of my scales are in fact red. She then looks down slightly abashed. "Oh."

"Are you... colourblind?" I asked.

She nodded slowly, shying away with her head down with reddened cheeks. I wonder if she even knew what colour she was, deciding not to mess with her. I drop it.

"So what, it's cool." I try to reassure her. "Wanna go back to coming up with names?"

She wipes a tear from her eye that had formed earlier and nodded, smiling again at me. momentary sadness forgotten, we continue to rattle off names for another ten minutes.

"What about just Red?" Triple backtracks.

"Red...huh. I guess that'll work." Short and to the point.

"But uh... do you think you can withhold from calling me that straight away?"

After a quizzical look from her I continued, "I feel like if I change my name I'll lose another bit of myself. You've had a year to come to terms with everything, I've had a day."

I could practically hear Triple deflate at that.

"But ya know... you can call me that as a nickname." I turn to her and give a genuine smile, careful not to show too many teeth before adding, "Ease me into it."

"Sure thing... Red." She giggled after saying my new nickname.

It did have a nice ring to it, baby steps though. I'll still demand Crack and Mic to address me by my real name.

After another twenty minutes, we near my parents' place as the scenery changes from suburban to rural. The distance between houses became greater and greater, as I slow down from a hundred and twenty and pull into a driveway. Only another seven minutes up the five kilometre driveway, I drive slower as I know that rocks may flick up and damage my ute's underside.

It was only now that I decided to look back at my other passengers knocking and bumping around in the back, they were still there though.

Triple doesn't seem much concerned for her friends, she is too enamored by the large landscape of my family's property. It'd been a while since I last came here, a year with no maintenance definitely shows too. I enjoy watching her reaction, it's probably a big change from a city-dweller like she might have been.

After a couple more kilometres my parents' house came into view, the modern aesthetic of it contrasting with the vast landscape.

"Dude, are your parents rich!?" Crack shouted, popping his head around in a rare moment of lucidity.

"Not really," I answer back to him plainly not being in the mood to degrade him, "They are in debt though." That's why I left when I did.

Pulling in my ute to a stop under the car port I grab my license and wallet and get out to approach the house. The others soon follow, I grab my car keys with certainty that I had a key to the front door.

Not that one. Nope. That's my back door.

I continue to fiddle with my keys until, Ah ha! Found it. Sliding the key into the hardwood front door I feel relief when the door opens. The house was still clean enough, all things considered. Now I could have kicked the door down, but I wanted to show the place a little more care and respect than previous doors.

I look to my side at the small table by the door and consider placing my keys on it, but decide against it and place them in my pocket. I wasn't ready to test those waters again.

I walk around the living room aimlessly as the trio of ponies enter after me.

"Nice crib." I hear Mic mutter.

He was still limping on his front leg.

I don't dignify his comment with a response and continue to walk around the old family house. Connected to the open-plan living room was the kitchen. I enter the kitchen area and open the fridge only to have my nostrils assaulted by the putrid stench of year-old off foodstuffs. Gross. I slam it shut again.

Trying out my new dragon strength I pull the fridge out from the wall, the plug snaps off after it. One, two... three! I heave and lift the full fridge over my shoulder, it's well over a hundred kilograms and I lift without issue or strain. Almost amazed, I carry it towards the sliding glass door at the side of the house.

"Door please." I shout out to anyone, I didn't want to just break through the doors. It was still my parents' place after all. Surprisingly, Mic was the one to grab the door for me. After sliding back two, I nod my thanks and go outside. A little way from the back patio was a clearing and then a sudden drop.

"Hey guys!" I call back, "Come watch this!"

Triple, Crack and Mic follow me outside. I walk closer to the edge of the drop and throw the fridge with all my might, "Yeet!"

I yell out. It flew at least a few metres. I looked back at them unexpectedly, almost like a child wanting approval.

Crack and Mic however cringe at my attempt at humour, now outdated by about two years. Triple meanwhile, stifles a giggle. That made me happy enough.

I ignore Crack and Mic's lackluster reaction to my magnificent feat of strength and head back inside. In the kitchen again, I rustle around on the top shelves searching for booze. I find a bottle of American Honey, nice. Flicking the cap off I walk down the hallway investigating the rest of the house, taking sips of the whiskey as I go.

I reach my old room, second on the right. I see that Mum never changed the doona, it was still Star Wars. Classic, I'm surprised that it was never changed into a spare room. Almost as if they expected me to come back and live here. I decide to drink further and reminisce.

By the time I exit my room it was nearing lunch time, I down the remainder of my drink and begin chomping down the bottle. Just a little tipsily, I shuffle into the lounge room to see the others just sitting around enjoying each others' company. Not wanting to disturb them I shuffle to the front door and outside to my ute.

I grab some canned foods suitable for soft pony palettes. Fruits and beans. I head back inside and give one to Mic, one to Crack, and two to Triple - she deserves more. Myself on the other hand, continue to eat my glass bottle. I can tell it still unsettles Crack and Mic, Triples seems to have gotten used to it.

From my experience, glass only just satisfies my hunger. It is, if anything, a light snack.

As Triple struggles to open her can she turns to me and asks, “Hey Red, where do your folks keep the can opener?” Using my new nickname.

“Dunno, toss me the can.”

Applying a little pressure with my claws broke the lids easily.

We sit in silence for what feels like hours. The food gets finished and no one says or does anything. We sit and twiddle our thumbs, or hooves in their case. Until I hear some commotion coming from outside. Dogs barking.

Dogs? The family dogs, Diamond the Irish Wolfhound, Autumn the Kelpie, and Brick the Bull Arab-cross-Mastiff. Last I saw Brick when he was only a puppy.

I make no time rushing outside to meet the pets. Not giving a second thought to how they might react to my appearance. They approach cautiously as I hold out my hand for them.

Brick, now fully grown, approaches me first. He sniffs my hand before licking me and jumping on me playfully. The others soon copied him. I was glad they recognised my scent.

I play with the dogs outside for a good while. Noting through their interaction with each other, they seem to have gained more intelligence. Emotions were easier to read upon their muzzles.

Soon Triple and the other two joined me outside and I introduced them to the dogs. They all fell in love quickly and the dogs were eager to play with the others too.

The day turns into late afternoon, then night. Our motley crew passed the time wandering the large property, the dogs acted as our guides. Guide dogs, if you will. Before the darkness envelopes everything fully, we made our way back to the house. It was on our way back that I have the brilliant idea of lighting our bonfire, which had already been piled up with mountains of scrap wood.

Despite my fear of fire, I enjoyed a good bonfire (from a distance, of course). My plan was to also add some petrol to the fire and keep it burning into the morning. Perhaps it would serve as a signal fire if there were anymore Returned, my new name for displaced peoples. It sounds cool in my head.

Triple, ever the voice of reason attempted to dissuade me against it, "Such a large fire is really dangerous, and frankly irresponsible. What if it spreads."

My argument for it involved controlling it with the garden hose. It was tank water and the pump should be in working order.

She sighed in mock defeat, "At least go and test if the water actually works." Raising an eyebrow at me.

Visibly giddy with excitement, I ran down to Dad's shed to get the hose, the shit one that we used for bonfires. Mum would have a cow if we used her good hose. And so, the bonfire is lit with flames reaching metres high.

The four of us sit around and stare at first. I want to break the silence. Say something, anything. I truly do want to get along with these new companions of mine. My anger towards them, it wasn’t mine. It was something deeper inside me that wanted out.

However, socializing was never my strong suit. I must have been noticeably fidgeting and squirming, because I felt Triple’s hoof on my hand. I felt heat rising to my face as I try to swallow my pride, looking up at her I see the light flickering across her facial features. She must have read my mind somehow as she had a serene smile on her muzzle. She understands, I look behind her at the other two with similar expressions. They knew too.

Now was as good a time as any to come clean too. I tell them what I feared to say from the start. “Hi, I’m Nat. I was originally a man, and I’m also afraid of fire.” The last thing, although true, sounded dumb after I had so cheerfully and eagerly lit the bonfire.

“Yeah we knew.” Answers Mic.

“Wha-?” I try to get out.

“None of your mannerisms made sense for a girl.” Crack chimes in, ever the philosopher.

“Ha, whatever.” I chuckle, the chuckle becoming a full bout of laughter. Soon everyone else joins.

With all forgiven, the rest of the night is a merry mess. We sing, dance, and drink the night away. Sometime after midnight, the fire dies down to a smolder and all four of us stumble back up to the house all drunk off our asses. I had drank twice as much as all three ponies to feel a similar buzz. Somehow we make it to a bedroom, no idea whose, and collapse asleep. At some point before morning the dogs joined us on the floor.

Author's Note

Going Home is a 1992 album by Elvin Jones.

Half of this chapter lay unfinished since last year, got a burst of inspiration and knocked out the rest a while ago. Terribly sorry for the long inactivity, but fear not - I am fully determined to finish this story. Even if I only publish two chapters a year lol.

Proofread by Greenhorne.