Chapter 3: Point of View

Shit!

A bolt of lightning fired past me, shattering an old clock at the back of the office we were cowering in. The Wasteland Survival Guide was full of all sorts of helpful tips. Scavenging guides. A whole chapter on mines. And more! And then there were the not-so-helpful ones. After reading the chapter on “Making Pre-War Earth Pony Technology Work For You”, Littlepip thought that when we came across the ruins of Ironshod Firearms we should take a peek inside and see if there was any technology we could salvage.

Guns and Bullets provided facts about all kinds of weaponry that sounded right up my alley, so I agreed.

Instead, I got myself trapped in a maze full of homicidal robots and automated turrets, fleeing until I managed to back myself into a corner here in an office high above the factory floor. Almost out of ammo. If I hadn’t found that medical box in the employee bathroom, I would have died trying to get across the second floor. I lost the shovel to those monsters.

"This is all your fault!" I cried.

"Don't blame me!" Littlepip poked her out from under the desk. "How was I supposed to know the robots were still active!"

"If you hadn't messed with the control panel we wouldn't be in this mess!"

"You wanted the sawblade!"

"You wanted the laser!"

How could things have gone so wrong?

Below us, three of those robots were rolling about, looking around. They were built to somewhat resemble ponies, with clear domed heads that housed real brains. It was hard to believe that the ponies who built them might have used other ponies’ brains in the construction. Even doing that to an animal’s brain was awful. And clearly, two-hundred years of being online had done nothing for their sanity.

“Come on out. We only want to kill you for trespassing!”

Case in point.

The fact that the voice sounded like a young filly, despite being artificial, just made them that much freakier. Fortunately, the railing on the catwalks leading up to this office were too narrow for the brain-bots to maneuver through..

A deeper, authoritative voice boomed across the room. “Surrender in the name of the Ministry of Technology, zebra scum!”

I cringed behind a line of metal filing cabinets as the room filled with a rush of flame!

Unfortunately, the same could not be said for the other type of guard robot we'd crossed paths with in here. The multi-limbed things looked like giant metal spiders, many of its arms seemed to end in weapons, including a buzzsaw and a flamethrower. And worse, the damn things could fly!

Littlepip slipped the grenades out of her saddlebags and passed one to me. As we waited for the flames to die away the metal cabinets were starting to get unpleasantly warm against my back, and the heat in the air seared my lungs. The second the flamethrower cut off, I turned my head around the corner I pulled out the stem and tossed the grenade at the robot, Littlepip doing the same. The moment it saw me, the robot raised a pulsing green weapon that looked like a unicorn’s horn. Green fire erupted from it, shooting past me close enough to singe my cheek. The blast struck a fan sitting on the desk behind me; it glowed green for a moment, then melted! I ducked back we tossed the grenades.

The explosion rocked the office. I heard a huge twang as part of the catwalk outside gave. Looking back, the robot was in a non-functional heap. The walkway outside was still mostly intact, but sagging badly. I wasn’t sure it could hold my weight.

Stripping what we could from the fallen spider-bot, I considered my options. We couldn’t stay up here forever. If we moved very fast, we could run across the walkway without the brain-bots below getting us. Their weaponry did not seem very accurate. But the first few yards of the catwalk had partially torn free, and sagged alarmingly. The more I looked at it, the less I wanted to put a foot on it.

"Why don't I just levitate us?"

"Have you even tried to levitate yourself before?"

"Well no. And I've seen another pony do it. It should work, in theory." She grinned sheepishly

Considering my options, I just shrugged. "Fuck it. Let's see."

Focusing, Littlepip channeled a glow from her horn we enveloped both of our bodies. It glowed brighter as she tried to lift the both of us. I was shining like a dozen lanterns when I felt my body lift, just slightly, from the ground. Littlepip was sweating. I suggested that she stop but she remained determined.

We were halfway across when the brain-bots started firing in our general direction. A lightning bolt struck the catwalk, arcing along it. I felt very lucky we weren’t actually touching it. But I could see Littlepip was almost spent. Ahead of us, the catwalk stopped right before the huge windows that let twice-filtered sunlight onto the factory floor, supplementing the light from heavy fixtures hanging above. The catwalk shot off in both directions, running parallel to the wall. One was the direction we'd come from. The other lead to a door which had been locked. Only that door didn’t have a lock to pick. Instead, it could only be opened by command from a terminal.

Another shot of lightning missed cleanly, shooting through one of the shattered windows of the observation office and frying the terminal we had just used, not five minutes ago, to unlock said door.

It was a lot of metal catwalk. And the damn bots beneath us shot lightning. Littlepip grunted with the effort that kept me aloft, she seemed close to collapsing.

"Pip, you have to stop!

Releasing the magic, she dropped us onto the catwalk. It wavered, but held. I let go of a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, and we started to run.

“Don’t run! We want to be your friend!”

More blasts. I tensed, expecting to feel paralyzing electricity rip up my body, starting at my feet. Instead, I heard a crash a loud pop and a twang from somewhere above. Looking up as I ran, I saw that one of the bolts had hit the hanging lamp above, causing its softly buzzing light to explode. And that was the last straw: it snapped loose from the cracked ceiling above and swung down, crashing into the catwalk behind us. The whole walkway shook. And then the section behind us tore away with a rending scream.

Oh for fucks sake!

We were almost to the door when the metal walkway dropped out from under us. I grabbed Littlepip and threw her forward, before jumping after her, and I had just missed the edge. That is until Littlepip levitated me back up. The catwalk wobbled threateningly beneath us, sticking out from the wall like a diving board, held in place by bolts that wiggled in wear-widened holes. Cautiously, we stepped lightly towards the door.

A blast of lightning hit the catwalk, shooting up my legs and sending me into painful convulsions. We collapsed, shaking, on the walkway, my hair standing on end. The walkway responded with a metallic cry and tilted several inches, threatening to dump us into the gulf below.

I struggled shakily to my feet. Another blast shot up from almost directly beneath me, missing the walkway by less than a foot and striking the ceiling above. Bits of singed plaster rained down. I gave the door a push, and was vastly relieved when it swung open. Then the catwalk gave further. I lurched, wrapping one arm around Littlepip and the other around the door frame to keep us from sliding down the now quite steep metal platform. A third electrical blast ripped through the air, striking another strip of industrial lighting whose light also exploded, making it swing perilously.

Grunting, I pulled the two of us into the room. Letting Littlepip go, I turned and sat in the doorway, looking down at the brain-bot rolling in circles directly below, trying to figure out how to get to us. Then, with a strong kick, I knocked the last of the catwalk loose. It fell, scraping down the wall, until it smashed through the robot’s brain-case, pulping the organ inside and continuing down, ripping the machine roughly in half. I must admit that I found the crunch immensely satisfying.

"Pip?"

"It was easier to say than Littlepip. Or I could call you Pipsqueak?"

"Don't you dare."

I realize that if the room we had successfully accessed at such great personal risk had not offered another way out, we would've been in deep trouble.

Closing the door behind us, I felt immediately more comfortable. The room had been painted in what had once been a bright orange, and the paint had not lost all its warmth over time. The wood paneling probably brought a pleasant, homey feel to what I believed was clearly the factory managers office. Now that wood was rotted and crumbling. On the back wall above the desk was an oversized logo in deeply tarnished bronze:

IRONSHOD FIREARMS

How do you like them apples?

I didn’t get it.

Ignoring it, I looked around. Large, fancy desk. Chair. Filing cabinets. A poster in a backlit frame -- the same poster I had seen several other times in the factory, but this one in better condition, showing graceful pegasus ponies soaring through the sky, rainbows exploding behind them as they shot down on dark, demonic striped figures with evil, glowing eyes. A wardrobe.

My eyes barely touched these, moving to the important things first. The office held a terminal Littlepip could hack, a wall safe I could pick, and a personal elevator that, if it worked, would get us safely to the first floor and out of this deathtrap. There was an ammo box under the desk. Then my eyes fell on something unique. Mounted on the opposite wall was a glass case. And in the case was a beautiful and perfectly preserved revolver. A similar model to mine, but crafted by an expert. It had a scope, and an ivory bit molded for extra-comfortable fit in the mouth and ease of trigger. On the handle was an emblem, three apples.

I tried the safe first. It was tough, taking a few attempts, but after breaking one bobby pin I learned better how to prevent further losses. The safe opened with a generous click. The impressive amount of objects made me wonder if our excursion into Ironshod Firearms hadn’t been worthwhile after all. I started sorting the treasure from the rubbish. Inside was sack full of pre-war coins, a copy of Equestrian Army Today, a whole bunch of finance papers that ceased to mean anything hundreds of years ago, a box of what looked like bubble gum, a Spark o’ Magic battery and finally an odd hoof-strapped device that looked like it was meant to interface with Littlepip's PipBuck. Curious, I passed it to so she could analyze it.

StealthBuck. Invisibility Spell. One charge.

Sweet!

Next was the terminal. Littlepip was struggling to open it. She had to abort several times to avoid getting locked out. She pulled an apple from my bag and bit into it, intent on the screen, only to recoiling pain. Levitating the apple up to eye level, she saw a bullet embedded in it. Looking down at my saddlebags, I saw there was indeed a small hole, although it took me a few minutes to remember when that had happened.

Once in, she discovered a whole mess of old notes and messages. In addition, the terminal had a shutdown key for all the robotic security. And it could remotely open both the safe and the display case. I rolled my eyes, thanking the universe ever so much for giving us this potentially life-saving option only now that we’d already fought my way to the finish and no longer needed it. I also realized that I could have saved myself a bobby pin if we had worked on the computer first.

Littlepip told the terminal to open the display case. Doing so triggered a message.

“Cousin Braeburn, Ah know we ain’t talked in some time, but the war effort’s takin’ a twist for the scary, and Ah might not have a chance t’ see ya again. Ah want t’ mend fences. Now, Ah ain’t gonna muck this up with words. We all know how well that went last time. Instead, Ah’m sendin’ ya Lil’ Macintosh as a gift and as an apology. T’show you I’m sincere. Keep ‘im safe for me, will ya?”

"That accent. It sounds like the voice on Velvet Remedy’s PipBuck!"

"Really?"

"Yeah. Though this voice belongs to somepony different."

"I guess this is Lil Macintosh." I remarked, holding up the revolver. I could see Littlepip was eyeing it with a little envy. "You want it?"

She perked up. "Seriously?"

I shrugged, "why not? I've already got one. Besides, it'd look good with you."

She used to her magic to place it in her saddlebag, "thanks Casey."

"No problem Pipsqueak."

"Shut up."

All that was left was going through the rest of the office. The ammo box held bullets for Little Macintosh, and not a shy amount. In the wardrobe, we found an old maintenance suit that we could use to repair the holes in Littlepip's utility barding, and other garments that we left behind.

Eventually, I turned to the elevator and pushed the button. Nothing.

Of course it didn’t work. The wasteland just couldn’t give us a break. I opened up the side panel and tried to figure out what was wrong and if I could fix it from here.

To my relief, I could. The elevator proved to be in impressive condition, particularly considering the rest of the building. But the battery for the interface was dead. As luck would have it, there had been a replacement in the safe. One swapping of batteries later, we were on our way. As the doors slid shut, Littlepip perked up, “Macintosh? I know that…”

We moved between the collapsed buildings that littered the area around Ironshod Firearms, not having any particular direction to go. Aimless. We hadn’t found any signs of civilization… civilized civilization, to be precise. Littlepip stated to had given up on finding Velvet Remedy. For now, she satisfying herself with random exploration, although that had just proven exceptionally dangerous.

My ears perked at the sound of overwrought, triumphant music. I watched as a sprite-bot fluttered down a cross street. Running up to it, Littlepip drew herself around in front of it. “Watcher?”

It just floated by.

"Uh, Pip?"

She dashed in front of it again. “Hello?” The music just kept playing. She waved a hoof right in front of its lack of face. It danced around me and kept going.

Well, that was helpful.

I picked a random direction and we starting moving again. I thought of Watcher’s advice. Armor, check. Weapon, double-check. Guidance? I looked back at the Ironshod building. A bit iffy, but check. Friends? Triple-check.

My eyes spotted a Red Rider scooter amidst the ruins. Reaching out, I flipped it back onto its wheels and prodded it back and forth a few times. Three of the wheels were locked with rust; but to my surprise, one still turned.

Looking up, I found myself at the edge of a playground. The swings and slide jutted into the oddly-colored air, blackened by ancient fire. The merry-go-round was warped and canted. The skeleton of a baby pony was still curled at one end.

Sadness and immense shame flooded me. I had been feeling sorry for myself in the midst of all this!? Another tiny skeleton lay against the burnt husk of a tree, three roller skates in the dirt near its hooves. The fourth? I doubt anyone would ever know.

We plodded on, moving through the silent impromptu graveyard.

At the far end, sheltered by walls that were mostly still intact, I found an old vending machine. “Sparkle~Cola” the machine still advertised through the years of grime. It featured a backlit emblem of stylized carrots. Surprisingly, the machine still looked functional. Fishing out a few pre-war coins, I fed them into the machine. I didn’t actually expect that it would still have soda after all these years. I was astonished when a bottle rolled out dutifully. I suddenly realized how awfully thirsty I was!

"Did you have machines like these back home?" Littlepip asked as we received our treats.

"Yeah. Though we had a lot more options to choose from."

"Whoa. That's pretty cool."

"The company who made them, upgraded them to being able to add flavoring to them." I took a drink form my Sparkle~Cola, it tasted like carrots.

She smiled, "that's awesome!"

The clicking of Littlepip's PipBuck warned us that we were ingesting trace amounts of radiation with each swallow, but not enough to be harmful. And besides, if it reached a point where my radiation intake began making me sick, Littlepip had a couple RadAway potions, the only supplies from the Ironshod medical box that we hadn’t needed to use just to survive the building.

We spotted a bench just around the side of the building and decided to take a load off out legs, possibly read some of the Equestrian Army Today book I had picked up. As we turned the corner, my gaze fell upon an old, torn poster affixed to the wall. The image was the face of an elderly pony of almost obtrusively pink coloration. Her mane was streaked with grey. Her eyes were huge, staring. I could swear, poster or not, that she was looking right into me. Some pony had ripped the poster right through the middle; I had no idea what her expression was supposed to be, but I couldn’t help but feel like I was doing something wrong. Bold words above and below the image, now deeply faded, announced: PINKIE PIE IS WATCHING YOU FOREVER! There were additional words, very tiny, beneath, so small and faded that I had to lean close and strain to read them.

“…a happy reminder from the Ministry of Morale.” I stepped back, tilting my head as I looked at the poster again. “What’s the Ministry of Morale?”

"You got me."

Watcher’s voice erupted from over my shoulder, making me jump. “Another well-meaning idea that was so much better on scroll.”

I gasped, willing my heart to beat regularly again, and felt a fleeting empathy with Sawed-Off. The sprite-bot was hovering right next to me. CGod, those things were silent when they weren’t playing music! “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!”

“Oh. Sorry.” I gave the flying orb a glare.

I forgot about the bench and started walking, trying to enjoy the rest of my Sparkle~Cola. The sprite-bot followed.

“I see you’ve got some armor…” The mechanical voice seemed hesitant. I didn’t ask why. Watcher either didn’t care enough to explain or thought better of it. Maybe the fact that I was walking through the Equestrian Wasteland in an outfit coated inside and out with drying blood gave it pause.

"I bet I could probably go up to any Stable pony and go “I am evil, bad, nightmare pony. Arrrr!” and, even despite my size, they would take one look and flee."

I turned to her. "What are the you? Long John Silver?"

"Maybe, if I had a phoenix and a prosthetic leg." She smirked.

“Maybe the reason you’re having trouble finding your place is that you haven’t discovered your virtue yet,” Watcher offered out of thin air.

I stopped. “What? How did you know… oh, nevermind.” Then, “What do you mean, our virtue?”

“Well,” the flying ball began, “The greatest heroes of Equestria, ponies with lifelong bonds of unbreakable friendship and strength, were each known for exemplifying one of the great virtues of ponykind. Kindness, honesty, laughter…”

“Laughter is a virtue?” I asked dubiously.

“Roll with me on this,” the sprite-bot continued without breaking stride. “Generosity, loyalty and magic. They really didn’t know themselves, or each other, until one pony came to realize that her friends represented these virtues, and together they grew to live by them. Now, I’m not saying those are the only virtues, they are just a…” Now the bot paused as if searching for words. “…particularly important set. I’m just saying that perhaps if you learn to recognize the dominant virtue in your own heart, you will find yourself. And you won’t need anyone or anything else to tell you your place in the-" Watcher’s voice cut out with an abrupt pop and music once again poured from the bot.

“Brilliant.” I watched as the sprite-bot slowly sailed away.

Well, if that wasn’t a load of beeswax, I didn’t know what was. Finishing our sodas, we tossed the empty bottles amidst a pile of others. Empty bottles littered the Equestrian Wasteland like weeds.

A new thought was occurring to me. About Watcher. The Wasteland Survival Guide had to be written after the megaspells rained down. Long after, considering its sound advice on scavenging. So that book wouldn’t have been in the Ponyville Library as part of the original, pre-war library. It found its way in there later; from the lack of being burned, defaced or covered in blood, I was guessing recently. Which made me wonder: did Watcher know about those poor ponies the raiders held captive? And if so, is that why were we talked into going there? Were we manipulated into walking into that horror because Watcher hoped we would free them? I couldn’t be sure. And considering that Watcher saved us, I should give the benefit of the doubt. But I couldn’t help the niggling sense that Watcher had played us, and I don’t like being tricked.

My ears perked as the music stopped again, replaced by a voice. But this wasn’t Watcher’s voice. This was somepony else. This voice wasn’t metallic. It was the voice of a smooth male pony with a greasy charisma.

“Friends, ponies, rejoice! Although the world about you is bleak, scarred and poisoned by the war of honor less, thoughtless, inferior ponies of the past, we do not have to live in the shadow of their greed and wickedness. Together, we can raise Equestria back to its former beauty! Together, we can build a new kingdom where all live together in perfect unity! It’s already happening, my good ponies. Already, the foundation for a new and wonderful age is being built. Yes, it’s hard work, but don’t we owe it to ourselves, and to future generations of ponies, to be better? No, to be the best we can possibly be? I’m telling you now, as your friend, as your leader, that we can. We must. And we WILL!”\

"What the heck was that?" Littlepip asked, earning a shrug from me.

The music had resumed -- not popping back in the middle of a song like when Watcher seized control of a sprite-bot, but at the beginning of a new song, like this was how the bot was supposed to work.

"Wait, ponies have a leader now?"

"Looks like it?" I replied.

"That is serious. As far as we can see, we don’t even have a country. Hell, I’d settle for a town! Even just a few shacks built within vague proximity of each other, so long as they had ponies living there in peace. Or as close to peace as the wasteland allowed."

"What are you getting at Pip?"

"If there is a leader, there has to be at least one town, right?"

Trotting faster now, she found a ruin with enough intact stairs for us to get up to what was left of a second floor. I brought out the binoculars and looked about. Sure enough, in the distance, I saw smoke. Enough plumes, close enough together, to suggest some sort of settlement. I prayed to God that the smoke was from cooking fires, not raiders burning it to the ground.

There was a path leading out towards the settlement. That would keep us from losing my way. And there was movement on that path. I passed the binoculars to Littlepip. Her horn glowed as she focused them.

"There's a small group of ponies. Two of them are pulling a heavily laden wagon. A young pony is riding on its back, apparently talking with two others who are some weird two-headed beasts. Their heading towards us, away from the theoretical town. But they don’t look like they're fleeing, and none of them were wounded, all of which seem to be in good condition.

I looked up into the thick, broiling clouds, up to where the disk of the sun made a brighter spot in the cloudy ceiling, and sent a prayer of thanks to Celestia.

The path wasn’t a road, exactly. Rather, it was a long, arcing swath cutting through the Equestrian Wasteland. Two parallel metal lines reinforced with badly-aged cross-planks of wood. Half-an-hour back, it had crossed over a gully on a rickety bridge. After our fun with catwalks, we chose to brave the gully rather than put our feet on something else that was surely holding off its inevitable collapse until it could take us with it.

It turned out to be a good decision, despite the wounds. The gully had been home to a bunch of large, bloated pig-things with extremely nasty front teeth. One of them got ahold of Pip's left hindleg, biting clean through her armor and cutting a deep gash.

Little Macintosh was neither quiet nor subtle. A single shot from that sweet little gun tore the head clean off the pig-thing attacking her! She was able to slay the three others before my I could even pull out my gun.

Beneath the bridge was somebody’s camp. It had a long-abandoned feel to it, but there were scattered supplies, including a few cases of shotgun ammo, a single can of food amidst a litter of tin cans, and a locked medical box. I picked the lock easily, finding a healing potion which I passed to Littlepip. There were magical bandages, nowhere as powerful as a potion but good for flesh wounds, and a box of… mints?

Now I figured we were over halfway to the settlement, maybe two-thirds. I tried to keep myself from imagining what we would find. I didn’t want to set myself up for a letdown. “Even a few shacks” I told myself. We picked up the pace.

I heard a gunshot shot in the same instant that I felt a bullet tear clean through Pip's right hind leg and another clang off the metal casing of the sniper rifle strapped to my back. Pip screamed in agony, collapsing to a skidding halt on the rocky ground, clutching at her leg. She was bleeding profusely through the hole torn through it. The bullet missed the bone, and I could tell that sickeningly because I could see it! She tossed her head back and screamed again.

I dragged over around a large mound of rocks, trying to take shelter from a shooter I couldn't see. I pulled the magic-laced medical bandages from her pack. I tried wrapping the bleeding leg, but the bandages were meant for cuts and gashes, not gaping holes. It was soaked with blood and sliding off almost before I had finished wrapping it. I tossed the bandage and tried again, this time pulling the bandage much tighter. It too soaked bright red, but at least it stayed.

Shaking with fear and pain, knowing from the sudden chills that my body was going into shock, I looked up and tried to spy the pony who attacked us. I looked all around, but no one was there! And there wasn’t a whole lot of cover to be hiding in; these hills of dirt and rock were mostly barren.

But then I looked upward, and there in the sky was a rust-coated pegasus pony with an orange mane under a black desperado hat, and what looked like two rifles, one strapped beneath each wing. The pony had just finished circling back around and was aiming right at me!

With panicked instinct, I lifted a large rock in front of my face as a shield. A crack rang in the air, two rifles fired simultaneously! The first bullet struck the rock, sending chips of stone flying, and ricocheted, lodging in my canteen. The last of our water burbled out at my feet. The second punched through my armor and embedded itself in my left shoulder, sending me reeling. I collapsed, the pain peaking and then beginning to bleed off, which I knew wasn’t a good sign.

So, this is what it was like to die? So overrated.

My eyes felt heavy. I closed them, I don’t think for long. But when I opened them again, I spotted the ponies drawing their wagon, coming over the hill. Behind them would me more ponies, guiding pack... two-headed cattle-things. I remembered the young pony in the back of the wagon.

I doubted any of them would be looking up.

I heard grunting and I turned to see Littlepip stand up, dragging herself into the open.

With difficulty I sat up. "Pip stop!

"If I'm was going to die, I'm not going to be lying down, watching these ponies or you get slaughtered!"

I stood up, the pain in the shoulder was unbearable, but I kept going, marching myself on lame legs until I was standing beside her in the path right in front of the approaching group. Turning, Pip lifted Little Macintosh into the air and pointed it at the rust-colored pegasus who had whipped back around and was again flying right at us.

We stood directly between him and the travelers. I wasn’t sure, even with S.A.T.S., that Littlepip could hit him. And I stood no chance against his aim. He was an amazing shot; technically, he hadn’t missed us yet.

Putting every ounce of me into it, Pip growled as menacingly as I could. And hoped that a pony who had survived a shot to the leg would be mistaken for a pony to be reckoned with. “Shoot at us all you want, but if you attack that family. I. Will. End you!

To my surprise, the Pegasus's eyes widened, and instead of firing, he back flapped his wings, coming to a halt in front of me. “Whoa nelly!”

Levitating Little Macintosh was getting difficult for Littlepip. I could she her legs were giving out

“Ah ain’t the one attackin’ that caravan! You two are!”

"What?!" I cried out, starling him and Pip. "The hell do me 'we're attacking them?' We were just walking and you shot at us fucktard!"

“Well of course ah shot you! Ah see raiders headin’ at a caravan, ah’m gonna perforate them till they ain’t movin’ no more!” The rust-colored pony glared at me. Then, with a strangely proud look, “It’s muh policy.”

I saw Pip's forelegs beginning to give. I tried to grab her to keep her from falling but she waved me off. Little Macintosh had begun to sink towards the ground, but now it swung back up, pointed right between my attacker’s eyes. “We're not raidesr!”

The pony pointed at me argumentatively. “Y’sure look like raiders!”

Seemingly from out of nowhere, the colt from the wagon galloped into view. Pip tried to speak, but nothing came out. Before I knew it, I collapsed, sinking into what felt like a deep sleep. I dropped down to check on her, tears leaking from my eyes.

"Damn it Pip, hang on!"

The colt whinnied, but I couldn't here it. All I could was my own ragged breath as I stared down at my friend.

Author's Note

If you haven't seen my blog post I'm leaving tomorrow to head down to Florida, I'll try to update, but I can't make any promises.

I'm working another chapter of FE: Operation Shattered Glass, along with another story and an anthology set within the FE universe.

Also, I'm thinking of pairing Casey with somepony. I'm thinking Strawberry Lemonade, but let me know your own opinions.

Until next time.