“When in Roam.... It’s best not to think too much about how you got there, and focus on how you’re getting out alive.”

Pain. It seems like life always begins with pain. On the plus side, I think you have to acclimate to it eventually. The itching was next, like nothing I’d ever felt before. I would have scratched, but I don’t think I had a muscular system yet. Apparently my neurological system was the first to regenerate. Needless to say, I couldn’t see anything. I didn’t hear anything either, once the mental screaming quieted to a dull roar in the background. My bones have hurt before, but this was something more fundamental than a break, bruising or a ripped tendon. I was ecstatic by the time I felt a twitch. I had nothing but the slow agonizing sensation of my body reknitting itself from scratch.

I hadn’t known my harness could do that. I couldn’t remember what had happened to me, so I could only assume it’d been quick. I wondered how long this regeneration was taking, how long it had already been.

My celebration of movement was short-lived as a fresh hell of torment opened up. I’m pretty sure I blacked out, and frequently, during the growth of my flesh. I finally woke up and could see as my fur grew back, which surprised me a little, I was half expecting that I’d be walking around like a shaved cat until it grew in again. My mane had apparently grown too, the red faded to a maroon and my multi-colored roots starting to show to my own vision. I took a deep breath and triggered a miserable sneezing fit, coughing up muddy gobs of dust. I blinked my watering eyes in turn to clear out much of the same. I was positively filthy and emaciated, if not for my hoof it looked as if my pipbuck would have slid right off. There wasn’t just dirt, there was some kind of moss or lichen growing over me. I had to literally scratch it out of my skin.

It was slightly phosphorescent and grew all around me, illuminating everything with a cool glow. I’d always had great night vision and the magical augmentation had enhanced it to where I had clear sight in all but complete darkness.

I was weaker than I’d ever felt, the effort of reaching out to the grimy device on my foreleg sent a scream along the muscles of my side, but I bit back the cry and hit the power button hoping for some clue as to what was happening. Despite the best pressure I could force on it, the unit was either dead or I wasn’t powerful enough to depress a simple switch. I couldn’t quite lift my head, but pushed my face along the ground to where I saw some kind of weed or grass in addition to the lichen and moss. I strained for it with lips and tongue, sobbing with relief as I felt the arcane technologies that sustained my existence convert it to energy.

I expect I spent at least an hour slowly crawling around my location scarfing any form of possible sustenance. On the upside, I've always had a very strong stomach. Even before the experiment, I ate things ponies were not meant to eat. When traveling in foreign lands, enjoying exotic hospitality, I was occasionally served things where not only did I know better than to ask what was on the plate, but who, lest I end up on the menu. And so I just started eating everything in my face where I fell. There was grass, there was dirt, there were weeds, clover, flowers, thorns, bristles, poisonous or not, insects and maybe even a few small rodents. I’m sure Fluttershy would have been horrified should she have been around to see it.

And then I fell asleep again.

I take a while waking up, always have. In retrospect, I am very lucky not to have been attacked in my slumber, but at the time I don’t think I could have done anything else. “Mmm Captain Equestria, olives are the secret to the super soldier serum...” Shrill chirping roused me from my slumber. Luna damn it, right when things were getting good. Although I can’t quite get drunk after the experiment, extensive regeneration leaves me with an effect rather like a hangover. Slowly I cracked my eyes open. Oh good, not too bright out. I thought.

I’ve always had a problem where my face, and especially eyes kind of swell while I sleep. I also tend to drool a bit. The improvised meal and my all over grubbiness had only exacerbated the problem. My body was not happy with me. My stomach and my mouth offered their own upset, then as I looked to the sky, forcing my eyes to open wider, I was further treated to a splitting headache. Sure it was overcast, but looking directly at the sun, even through cloud cover, is generally inadvisable.

I sat up slowly, surveying the wreckage about me, flexing my wings and checking my balance before trying my hooves. I was trying furiously to put my brain to work to figure out where I was, but couldn’t quite push through the sleepy stupor of waking. I looked to one side and saw a crumpled wall. To my other another vaguely shaped wall with a somewhat regular looking opening in it. I looked up to see a twisted, rusting scaffolding against the cloudy sky and then I began to feel scared.

This wasn't a minor amount of damage, more than a firefight or even exchange of artillery fire. More troubling than the extent of the damage was its evident antiquity. The lichen alone told me that it had been years, and depending on its species, it could have been even longer than that.

As I stood up and stretched, I became really afraid. It wasn’t terribly uncommon for someone to unhook my harness as a mean-spirited prank, I never took it too seriously because they usually re-fastened it just as quickly. So who had done it now? Hoofprints that led to nowhere meant little. I am many things but a talented tracker I am not. My good Samaritan could be another pegasus like me, or a unicorn with a float spell, or even an earth pony who was an exceptionally good jumper. No, what was bothersome was how did they know? Who were they? I was super top, top secret, and while a few aforementioned well informed individuals were aware, I also wasn’t a very exciting breakthrough. A single soul just isn’t efficient enough, not to mention the expense and scarcity of the network of Gemstones which studded my harness.

So, I did what my pre-war profession had taught me to do, I took off and surveyed the area.

* * *

I’d been in dense isolated wilderness before, I’ve adventured through wilds untouched by ponykind, or any other kind of sentient life, but I’d never seen such desolation as this before. I’d seen cloudy skies, but even in the worst storms the clouds were never quite so widely and evenly distributed. I flew closer to investigate, not really noticing or expecting what appeared to be metal rods sticking out of the clouds every so often.

Electrocution isn’t fun. I’m not sure if it killed me or not, but it is never fun to have your heart forcibly kick-started. Fortunately, I didn’t fall too terribly far before regaining control or consciousness. The first time I really crash landed was bad enough, getting a wing dislocated and a severe concussion just isn’t a great day; no matter the painkillers and alcohol I shouldn’t have mixed or the literally out of this world tricks I picked up that night. But then there was the time in the war when I was fighting some horrific monstrosity in the air that actually managed to rip my wing off.

Having been born to an earth pony mother, raised on the ground, I’ve always had a slight fear of falling. So when I found myself flailing desperately and ineffectively with the stump of one wing streaming blood everywhere, the experience was beyond terrifying. Especially the alternating views of the ground rushing up to meet me and the sky falling away. I tumbled head over hooves, streams of magical energy and lead bullets zipping past or through me. Nothing compared to the absolute horror and pain of the slow motion liquefaction of my flesh as I hit the ground. Well, maybe regenerating from chalky, mossy bone.

At least the harness kept itself pristine in all its time. While I still needed to bathe occasionally it always kept ship-shape whether it was clasped or not. I was also pleasantly surprised to see a dim glow from my Pipbuck. In any case, I did what I think anypony would do in my situation, what with the shock of electrocution only to regain consciousness while plummeting towards a likely demise.

I went looking for a drink.

* * *

I’m pretty sure my cutie mark has to do with making phenomenal fuck ups, although I always felt procrastination would have been more suitable, but then, what would a pony whose talent was procrastination even look like?

I flew for a very long time that night, trying not to dwell on the fact I was seeing devastating craters and rubble everywhere. I wasn’t sure where I was, I think whatever had happened to destroy me had taken more of my memories with it.

I had been flying too long and probably more than a little loopy. Although my soul amplified through gemstones was apparently strong enough to keep me “alive” for however many years I’d been in the ruins, I still needed to do usual pony things. Like sleep and eat. Sure, I could in theory go without indefinitely, but starvation blows. I was most displeased when they performed that test. The sleep deprivation test was fun, though that most likely had to do with the Mint-als and the fact I apparently have a very crowded subconscious. Technically I wasn’t a high enough security clearance to know most of the details of my own experiment, and I honestly think Rarity wouldn’t have told me that the experiment involved manipulating my soul except for the fact that it had killed me. I love Rarity, don’t get me wrong, but as Generous as she was, she was no Applejack.

In any case, when I saw the camp, I was perhaps a little too overeager to approach. Even though I’d had Equestria’s best military survival training, and especially considering I was supposed to be a scout, I really should have done a bit of recon before introducing myself.

“GREETINGS FILLIES AND GENTLECOLTS!” I said in my best Royal Canterlot Speaking Voice, landing in front of their bonfire. I chuckled a bit, thinking I’d done Luna proud. Then the gunshots started.

“It’s a Pegasus Ghoul!”

“Oh fuck, an alicorn!”

Most of the shots bounced off my force fields. Unfortunately, one glaring flaw of my harness design was that there had been no comfortable way of shielding my wings while still maintaining their ability to maneuver and retain aerodynamics. Luckily, I’d always been pretty down-to-earth for a pegasus, so I did what any respectable pony would. I reared up, turned and fled with my tail between my legs. My sensitive, also unshielded tail.

“Celestia banish me to the moon.” I sobbed to myself, I was even hungrier now, regenerating swaths of flesh and extruding bullets really takes it out of you, no pun intended. But I kept running until I collapsed to the ground.

“Looks like I got some lead poisoning.” I chuckled to myself as I finally finished recovering. Not leaving anything to waste, I even ate a couple of the used bullets that lay around me.

And then I looked at myself. Really looked at myself. Now I knew why they called me a ghoul, to say I was emaciated would have been an understatement. I looked like a walking corpse, right out of a Nightmare Night tale. I wondered how bad I’d looked before eating, when I’d first awakened. I gave thought now to the other comment as I stood up and really started looking myself over. I’d gotten taller, my wings were larger. “Aww Princess Dammit, what’s the point of being immortal if you still age?!” I shouted. One day I should probably stop talking to myself, but then, where would I be now? “Actually, that’s a good question.” Feeling a certain kind of sexy because once I piled on a bit more horseflesh I’d be a rival to Princess Luna or the Supermodel Fluer De Lis in frame, I spread my sexy new wings and took to the sky again.

I was still bothered by the uncanny regularity of the clouds. I stared at them, speculating. I bet if I get enough speed I can burst through them, lightning rods of death or no.

It hurt like hell, but landing on clouds was so much nicer than landing on the ground. I was startled to find myself in a garden. I didn’t stop to think twice, I just started eating. I was still eating when I heard power armor approaching. “Oh thank, Celestia. I can’t wait to see friendlies again.” I mean whoever was at that campsite was probably just surprised at seeing a nearly Luna sized walking skeleton. I mean, if I were sleepy in camp and a skeleton popped out I’d be pretty terrified and shoot without asking too. And since I have the magical shields, an alicorn isn’t too far off for a guess.

“Wait a minute, but why would they specifically state Alicorn? Why wouldn’t they have shouted Nightmare or Princess or...” Oh man, the itis struck hard. “Uhg, I ate too much.” I complained, the soldiers were closing the distance now, approaching cautiously, they could probably hear me. Then again I was trespassing as well as stealing and I looked like a wild pony in lingerie, so they wouldn’t be far off if they thought I was crazy to boot.

I wondered when they’d successfully developed the cloud seeding technology. Granted I wasn’t of a security clearance to know about that either, but that was one of the benefits of being a grunt, for being bright purple and a shameless exhibitionist, people tended to overlook me when I kept my mouth shut. “I can’t wait to get back to a barrack, debrief and I will be OUT before my head hits the cot.” I couldn’t see their expressions through their visors and I was a little put out by the way they held their tails. I’d always shared Rarity’s disdain for the manticore inspired scorpion tails, they really were just garish and excessive. I mean, why do you need a tail barb when you have rifles? Pegasi don’t get into CQC. Or at least, shouldn’t. I was not a good pegasus. A little too much earth pony in my bloodline. Luckily, it means I’m better at CQC than most other Pegasi.

“You are under arrest for trespassing under order of the Grand Pegasus Enclave.”

“Enclave, what the hay is that? Oh, by the way what year is it?” The fact that this wasn’t the first time I had asked this question struck home as further evidence of the fact that I really needed to take a serious look at my life choices. They didn’t seem amused or obliging so I sighed and did as any military grunt did upon being taken into custody. “Indigo Breeze, Captain, 13,488,324. I am unarmed.” Truth was, I’d actually been demoted after the incident, before Rarity offered me the chance to take part in an experiment. That was half the reason I was volunteered. Knowing the Element Bearer of Generosity has perks when you need a favor. Of course, after the experiment I didn't officially exist at all anymore, my identity, much less rank, were taken away, replaced with the empty designation of Shadowbolt Gust.

I took measure of my nervous captors. I’d always been tall for a mare, especially for a pegasus, but I had never expected I would get quite so tall. I didn’t recognize their flight designation. I tried to remember who had what, but hell, sometimes I had trouble remembering my own flight, having transferred a couple of times. I flicked my wings a bit and shifted my weight impatiently. They weren’t quite certain what to do with me.

I was still trying to determine their rank when I finally started to realize that I really didn’t recognize their insignias. Hell, I might even outrank them. I thought to myself. One of them pulled out hoofcuffs, and I got a little bit scared. “Hey guys, at least get me a drink first.” I laughed nervously. Suddenly, I had a bad feeling about this. “So, guys, girls, can’t really tell under the armor, uh, where am I? Where are you kids stationed? Who’s your commanding officer? How goes the war efforts?” Okay, so I was yammering. You’ll notice I do that. They weren’t responding. They were bringing their tails to bear and preparing to pounce. I gave a desperate flap of my wings and leapt. Had I not forgotten my growth, I probably wouldn’t have made it. I barely cleared above them, and immediately dove back down through the clouds behind them.

Naturally I blacked out for a moment passing through the lightning layer, and my pursuers had gained on me. I don’t know who was more startled when I recovered, as I struck out at their faces and started flapping in earnest. I don’t know how I managed to keep so much distance except for the fact that they really weren’t expecting me to wake up from that electrifying experience. I knew where I was going now, pleased that my larger wings had increased my speed. If I really wanted to push my luck I knew I could outfly them by the strength of my new wings alone, but honestly it wouldn’t have been worth the effort. I had a much more efficient plan in mind.

I flew back through the camp that had greeted me so enthusiastically earlier. I knew better than to slow down this time, mercifully speeding through without catching any bullets, but as my escorts followed, the encampment’s rifles were at the ready.

I didn’t know what was going on or who was on who’s side, but I felt sick as I watched the two factions tear each other apart. As much as I’d acclimated myself to the concept of ponies fighting Zebras, watching ponies murder other ponies with such enthusiasm really disturbed me. I swallowed my regrets on the spot, making survival my first priority.

I waited for the firefight to die down before scouting the site from far above. Not quite to the cloud layer but out of range of the encampment's rifles. I circled down slowly, to be sure that nothing stirred aggressively.

I was distraught as I finally landed. The camp was eerily quiet, and I gnawed on my halter as I assessed the fallen. The two pegasi lay still in pools of blood. For a moment my scavenger nature insisted I take their armor, but I knew that not only would it be the stuffy experience I barely accepted in the war, their armor was probably too small for my new frame.

The other ponies weren’t much better off, mostly earth ponies with a unicorn or two; their armor not nearly sufficient to have offered a challenge to the pegasi rifles. I looted a bit then, recognizing healing potions and meds. I took no notice of the various garbage in their saddlebags, and was considering the selection of what armament would be available to me when I noticed three large cages.

I didn’t realize anything was in them at first, looking over the bundles of rags on the floor.

I felt more concerned by a lack of concern as I realized I was looking at more dead ponies. These ones wore collars, huddled together against the rain of bullets that had passed through the area. Mares in one, Stallions in another and the third appeared empty.

I swallowed again, trying to tamp down the dark knowledge that I had visited this fate upon them.

I did a double take as I approached the last, the tiniest movement catching my eye. Listening sharply and watching like a hawk I began to identify signs of life.

I was so intent on the heap I didn’t notice the movement behind me until two bullets lanced through me. I turned on the blue and yellow blur of a mare facing me. She’d taken damage already, barely standing on her hooves. She was a pegasus herself. I wasn’t sure how to describe her wings, other than that she had clearly never flown. Her mane might have sparkled if not for the grime coating her. I was surprised she was alive honestly, despite the hastily applied bandages around her midsection. By the red staining, I was certain she hadn’t the training necessary to use them effectively.

She leveled a rifle on me but she’d gotten too close. I struck out with my hooves, slipping my brain into self-defense mode, aiming for her head and forequarters, I hoped I would knock the gun out of her grip. A few more bullets dug through me in the process, breaking through my barriers at such close range, but they blew straight through me, although they did take considerable chunks of meat with them. I didn’t stop stomping until her body lay still. Then I backed off, covered in blood and chest heaving as my injuries healed. I still danced nervously, planting a few entirely unnecessary hoof strikes as I retreated, spooked.

It had been a long, long time since I’d had to eliminate another equine in such close quarters. I tried to pretend to ignore her lack of stripes, I tried to ignore her similar wings, I forced myself to look away from the shattered remains of her skull and ribcage. My eyes lingered only a moment on the blood stained cutie mark of a star and spiraling nebular sky.

My brain stopped whirling as my heart rate normalized, I barely felt or noticed my healing injuries as my body buzzed with adrenaline. Nervously I skipped around the camp again, looking for any stragglers I may have missed, determined to mercy kill before my enemies revived. Gracefully it wasn’t necessary. By the time I rounded again on my personal victim I had gained a small collection of not too terribly destroyed guns and some ammo. I would check later how well the two collaborated. The spoils of the camp hung from my frame in a variety of extra saddle bags and duffels with a few mismatched swatches of armor plating covering my flanks below.

I started to hear the late protestations of my casualty, the haze from the fight dimming. “My property... I’ll protect...” I tried to ignore it, instead re-investigating the crate containing life. I prayed to the goddesses that more of the bullets from my altercation hadn’t gone wild into the bundle as I bucked the rusted cage door open.

I dug through the rags and found two small foals and one griffin chick huddled tightly together. They were very small, filthy, and emaciated, most especially the chick.

The largest was a magenta earth pony filly. She looked at me calmly, inquisitive. “So are you our new master?” She asked all too calmly.

“Master love?” Piped the middle one, a cobalt unicorn colt, fixing me with the widest and most loving eyes I’d ever seen. My heart leaped in spite of myself and I wondered how he’d managed such a demeanor in such conditions. The griffin chick barely reacted, huddling tighter into a ball. It had barely begun to fledge, covered in a dirty coat of downy feathers.

“Hey, babies, it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.” I settled my body down, sitting my haunches outside of the mobile wagon and resting my forequarters inside, as close as I dared to get to the timid group.

“Are you an alicorn?” The filly asked me, pointing cautiously towards me with one tiny hoof. “You look like your horn is broken. Does that mean you can think for yourself?”

“Er, yes.” I didn’t really know what she was talking about, but I decided that it was best to shut up and let them decide what was going on. Maybe I could pick up on what was happening.

I couldn’t venture an age for the filly, I’d guess her older than her looks, I knew the unfortunate truth that abused children tended to have stunted growth. The colt I was pretty sure was only just learning words, and I had no idea how to gauge the health of the griffin chick. Whatever the case, they needed warmth, and I moved the mostly cooperative colt into one of my saddle bags, and with considerably more resistance settled the chick into another. She (or he, I really couldn’t tell) screamed and shrieked as I fought with her, but as soon as the fabric walls of my bag surrounded her, she burrowed down and went silent.

The filly watched, not making eye contact with a look of resignation I couldn’t bear to acknowledge. “If you hop up on my back we can leave more quickly.” I offered.

I felt the hooves dig into my spine and shoulders as she did just that. I waited for her to get settled and prepared to take off when she interjected, “Aren’t you going to grab the caps?”

“Pardon?”

“The bottlecaps! You aren’t going to be able to feed us without bottlecaps! What kind of stupid slave raider are you?!”

I opened my mouth to protest as my brain interpreted the information, as well as the ringing from the shrill voice directly into my ear. “Uh, well of course, I... Um. Yes...” Bottlecaps, eh? It didn’t make sense and I was tempted to write it off as the filly’s fancy, but something about her matter of fact tone, and the number of them I’d seen encouraged me to follow through.

Eventually, I heard the tell-tale sound of pegasus armor approaching and disappeared into the woods before they could come into visual range. No doubt reinforcements had finally been called in to investigate the situation.

I walked for several hours after a short flight away from the camp, the foals all falling asleep in my care.

It worried me how easily they gave into fatigue. There was no way around the fact that they were starving, but I doubted they would fare well if I were to force sparse leaves and foliage down their throats. I didn’t even know what I would be feeding the griffin chick.

Well, actually, I had suspicions of what I needed, and that was almost more troublesome.

I had no idea where I was going or what I was going to do, I didn’t even know where I was, much less what I was actively doing.

Had I been alone I might have just broken down and cried. Fortunately (I think?) having others depending on me made me screw my head on a little tighter. I laid down in the center of a clearing (possibly the same one as before, but I wasn’t sure if the furrows were dug by my hooves or some other animal) and carefully slipped free from my saddlebags. I was tempted to slide free the filly on my back but she seemed pretty resolute despite my moving and had actually gripped me more tightly when the straps of my saddlebags slipped past her.

I walked around the perimeter several times searching for any dangerous spoor as well as checking if there were any suitable pieces of vegetation, I needed some real food to supplement the meagre ‘rations’ of the slaver caravan. Ideally these kids needed some oats to pack on a few pounds before introducing richer nutrients into their systems, in small portions at a time so as not to induce colic, but I was in the middle of fucking nowhere and I had yet to see any clear signs of civilization. Well, there was above the clouds, but I wasn’t leaving these kids unattended for that long and certainly wasn’t going to take them through the lightning rods.

I sniffed the air and considered my options, I wasn’t going to go far, I didn’t want to let my precious cargo out of sight, but the thick brambles didn’t look terribly promising. I pushed my way through, carefully using my hooves, and where possible wings to keep wayward branches from lashing out at me, or my sleeping charge.

I did fairly well until one poorly restrained limb swatted me meaningfully across the face. I yelped and recoiled, rearing. Blinking in pain, I realized the thorny perpetrator was none other than a raspberry bush. The berries were small, sour, and likely underripe, but it was food, and it was something to feed the children while I tried to sort out our predicament.

“You’re a spaz.”

I grinned, still half wincing as a bead of blood rolled past my eye. “Yeah, well, you’re a razz.” I grumbled playfully, eyeing my shrubby nemesis speculatively, considering my best options for harvesting. “So, ... you kids are slaves....” I shuffled uncomfortably just at the word and tried not to dwell on the implications of how I’d found them, or their deceased peers. “...You seem... educated about things, and especially insubordinate, not that I dislike that mind you, what’s your deal?”

She looked unimpressed with my questioning. “What’s yours?” She snorted. “You obviously have no idea what’s going on around you, like a stable pony, and having looked at your forehead more closely you don’t have any remnants of a horn. .... And I don’t think I’ve heard of pinto Alicorns.”

We both stopped and stared each other down for a moment, gauging reaction. “Let's start from the beginning. My name is Indigo Breeze. I used to be a cartographer, joined the military for an education grant because I decided I wanted to be a Veterinarian, got drafted into a war, and then woke up this morning in a hostile wasteland where everypony I’ve run into has tried to kill me.” Well, the pegasi in the clouds were probably only going to arrest me. Which of course just gave me more guilt to bottle up for later. “Present company excluded of course.”

She looked at me speculatively. “Woke up where?”

“Er, stasis pod, I guess it malfunctioned and woke me up, just lucky it was a successful prototype I guess. What’s happened to the world?” It wouldn’t do to tell the whole truth to anypony who asked.

“Are you telling me that you’re over 200 years old?”

“What?!” I stared. “Did I hear you right?”

“The War against the Zebras was 200 years ago, it ended when the Zebras dropped a shitload of megaspells one day. Everypony alive is either foreign or out of a stable. Or a ghoul.”

“Ghoul?” I managed weakly, my brain struggling to compute that my whole life was two centuries old, I was ancient outdated history. Oh and that whole ‘EVERY FUCKING ONE I EVER KNEW IS DEAD’ thing.

“Basically mummies. Or zombies. Some are still sane and just like normal ponies, others are mindless flesheaters.”

“Cannibal zomponies, right.” Radiation, radiation everywhere, I wondered how much was around, how much was in me, whether or not my magical barding even shielded against radiation.

“I think.... I think it’s time for me to go to bed.... Um, what is your name?”

“Whatever you decide it is.”

“Um... what?” That snapped me out of my pity party. “You don’t have a name?”

“I’m a slave dumbass, I’m not even a person. Hell, I’m just a little filly, no one even wants a foal slave, well, there are... but my last masters had slightly higher standards about clientele.” She was clearly very bitter. Not that I could blame her.

“Uh... I... I guess I’ll call you Razzle, if that’s okay?” My earlier comment as to her chidings and the berries in my hooves that matched her coat made it seem suitable. I wasn’t very good at names.

“It’s not terrible. I think you’ll be a decent owner for a change, it’s been awhile.”

I knew it was a stupid question, I knew it was rude, but, I needed to know, and I know it’s selfish, but I was looking for some kind of closure. “H-how many times have you been sold?”

She glared at me. “I’m not sure. I was born into it, or sold as a newborn. Probably by my own mother. My first owners I remember weren’t so bad, some kind of aristocracy. They kept me as a house servant, were training me to be a maid and handmare for their daughter. Sometimes they pretended we were equal, but I think that was only my fellow servants trying to reassure me things weren’t as bad as they were. In a childish fit, one day I decided to run away because I was sick of it and thought that I’d go it alone in the world, as if no one would know I was a slave.

My next masters were not so kind.”

She went silent for a moment, and I didn’t dare ask her to continue. I knew the look in her eyes, I wanted to hold her, to tell her it was alright now, but I knew I didn’t have that right, that I’d be lying to her, and lying to myself. This was not a world I knew.

“They kept me for awhile, but they didn’t need me. They used me until they replaced me, I was sold through a few times, usually as part of a bulk deal with other slavers, like I said, most ponies don’t want a foal, and it’s easy to get overlooked when you’re small. Sometimes, other slaves will even help you out if they know you need it.

“Not all of them.

“Some of them are just as quick to kick you and steal your food as a capricious owner will.

“I just count myself lucky that I’m still alive, some days. I’ve been sick a few times, I’ve been injured a few times, I’ve been starved, but in the end I’m mostly sure it’s fortunate that I was never just outright left for dead.

“My last owners...

“They had certain.... ethics.” She looked at me and sighed. “They were part of Red Eye’s slaver army. Not that you know who he is. But, they weren’t going to sell me off to just anyone, and in fact probably weren’t going to sell me at all, Red Eye’s big on public education for all the little fillies and colts.”

“That... doesn’t sound so bad?” I knew the other hoof would drop, but I couldn’t resist.

“Red Eye’s army is a cult, built on slave labor, his schools are reeducation camps to make slaves more eager to work themselves to death for his crusade. He wants to rebuild Equestria in his own image, and he uses mutant alicorns to enforce his validity. Lucky for me we’re a long way from Fillydelphia, so I had time to think about what to do with myself before we got there.

“And then you showed up.” I couldn’t quite read the look she gave me.

“And... that was a good thing right?” I asked hesitantly.

“Well of course, was that not clear? You might be an idiot, but you seem to at least be able to defend yourself.”

“Thanks! I think.”

“Whatever, just finish picking those berries, I’m going back to sleep with the others.”

She wasn’t asleep when I got back, though I could tell she’d been trying.

“I’m a bit of a night owl myself.” I whispered, setting down the small collection of berries I’d picked and tentatively lying down next to the foal.

She looked at me without saying anything, her features blank. Then she looked away and curled back up.

I sighed and sorted through my extra saddle bags, not ready to sleep just yet myself. I saved the armament for last, first trying to identify and then organize the various drugs, medical supplies and rations. Unlike many ponies I’d grown up in rougher areas and knew the habits of less than fortunate souls who turned to vice. I was tempted to discard some of them, but I knew I would need any edge I could get in this unforgiving Wasteland, and enabling junkies would probably be a kindness in this harsh new world.

I had quite a few of the bottle caps, I sorted them into stacks of fives, and then tens in order to count them all. I hoped a few hundred would be enough to get properly outfitted. I thought about asking Razzle what the general value of individual bottle caps were, but decided not to disturb the little filly. She probably needed the rest.

I was about half way through sorting, dismantling, cleaning, and discarding the useless pieces of the firearms when I looked up to see her staring at them wide eyed. I stopped and when she noticed me noticing her, she turned away and was quiet, until I started to continue. "You seem to know how to use those."

"Well, I was in the military, they make you practice cleaning and reassembling your rifle until you can do it blindfolded." I frowned concentrating on a particularly rusty join. "Don't worry, I made sure they were empty first, I put all the ammo to the side, I'll sort the bullets out to their respective compatible arms later." She was silent. "You aren't afraid of me because I use guns are you?"

"No."

"Are you afraid of guns?"

"I'm not afraid of anything." She still wasn't looking at me and I saw the little shudders she'd picked up since we'd started this conversation.

"Have you ever handled a gun before?"

"No."

"Well, I'll have to teach you, I get the feeling you're gonna need to learn how to use 'em out here."

She was silent again. I considered trying to goad more conversation out of her, but decided against it, and went back to the task at hand. I could barely keep my eyes open by the time I got all of the supplies and items sorted into appropriate saddle bags, I would properly equip myself with armor in the morning. I didn't want to risk another day with only my magic barding to save my flanks from a fire fight. I wondered dimly if I would be able to fashion anything for the children and set my head against the duffel bag full of extra, empty saddle bags.

* * *

The feel of my lover was always overwhelming, I moaned to him my pleasure and I shuddered at the delicious sound of his whimpering response. He bucked into me furiously as I continued to push back slowly, I could tell by his pitch and desperation he was reaching his breaking point, which only served to bring mine closer...

Razzle woke me up by kicking me in the head. “You really make a lot of noise when you’re sleeping." She said with a dirty glare.

I mumbled something half-heartedly, not even forming the idea of words, and yawned, blinking deliberately. I stretched and flexed slowly before sitting up and wiping the drool from my face with the back of one unshorn fetlock. My brain sluggishly took its time warming up, placing my thoughts. I wanted more than ever just to return to the dream, but as reality slowly dawned I tried to bury the fact that he was long since dead.

Oh sure, I could try to invent solutions that he managed to survive somehow, the way I did. I knew better, of course, I'd lost him even before the end of the war. I still remembered waking up to learn the news his base had been destroyed in a savage surprise attack from a Zebra strike team. I had just seen him the night before, breaching all of my nondisclosure regulations just to see him, after however long I'd spent in the asylum, and then recovering from the experiment. We'd fought actually, he was upset that I'd disappeared, and I was a complete wreck because of the experiment's unexpected psychological side effects.

The grief of losing him might have destroyed me, especially amidst the strain the experiment had inflicted on me, but Rarity passed me off to Rainbow Dash, who found a use for a pony such as I, in no small part because I was already broke. She used my pain to dismantle me, and then rebuilt me as something more. It was rather like the time spent in officer's training when I'd been commissioned into service, but only so much as a swimming pool is like the ocean. Becoming a Shadowbolt was probably the only thing that saved me.

But sometimes, even a Shadowbolt had to dream. I imagined that maybe he was actually in a prototype stasis pod. Or maybe he's one of those ghouls, I thought with morbid irony. That’d be real sexy, a dried up and dessicated walking corpse. It'd be like a dog's well chewed stick. Well there’s always... No. The whole universe, hell even just the world, there are more important ponies than my coltfriend to track down. Hell, if He were even around, the world probably wouldn’t even be in this state. Still there was that mystery of the disappearing hoofprints...

“So, we need to get to civilization before the Griffin chick dies.” Razzle snapped me out of my idealistic daydreams. It was better to leave dead as dead and deal with it later, when I was alone. I couldn’t afford to break down now. I mean, we were soldiers, we knew we’d probably die somehow. Hell, I’d seen personally plenty of other ponies I’d cared for ripped to shreds by bullet fire, grenades, IEDs and every other horror of war. There was a reason I’d been demoted...

And here I was feeling sorry for myself when I was sitting here with three examples of how the worst of Equinity could treat those more vulnerable than myself. “Right, so which way is civilization? You mentioned last night that we were far from Fillydelphia, how far?”

“About a month’s travel northeast.” Razzle snorted. “Nearest settlement is a few hours west. I already fed the little ones.”

“Okay, I’ll just be the packmule, I’ll fly us there and you lead the way?”

It took awhile for us to get our bearings from the sky and find the rutted little wagon road to follow, but we found an inn about an hour and a half away. The flight had been more demanding than I'd been expecting, my endurance was nowhere near where it used to be. In flight school, I'd been on the school track team with Soarin' of the Wonderbolts fame and used to smoke him at long distance races. Well, almost, sometimes, on a good day. Of course, that was until he'd gotten distracted by a pie, or maybe it was a filly in the stands and he'd accidentally knocked me into a thundercloud. I quit the team after that, recovering had taken longer than my final track season anyway. Then again I’d imagine my stamina had remained quite good when my profession as a cartographer had taken me the length and breadth of Equestria and beyond.

I was pleased to see a few of the inn's residents were stirring when I entered, the entry way an open bar and restaurant area with stairs leading away to rooms. My stomach growling threateningly, I half shouted. "Luna damn I'm so hungry I could eat a hor-" I cut myself off realizing that such an entrance was less than tactful as the bartender leveled a shotgun at my head. It wouldn't have hurt me at this range but I didn't want to risk the scatter hitting the foals. Besides which, I was hoping to be a customer here, not an assailant.

"There are no whores here and I suggest you get out of here if you don't have any business." Her eyes were hard, resolute, but tightened with fatigue as much as worry.

I half-sighed, half-chuckled as I took a step back towards the door. "Take it easy, I mean to be a customer, I need a bath and I have a few charges to look after."

"Leave any and all weapons by the door." She motioned with the rifle towards an open closet type rack where I could see other burdens lying in neat piles. Carefully, I unburdened my bags of armament trying not to disturb my more precious cargo.

"So, how many caps for a hot bath, and -" I paused calculating in my head. "Fo- no three meals, no maybe just start with two." I didn't want to risk overfeeding the starved children, I could always order more if they needed it.

"We only have lukewarm baths here, but the water's clean." The bartender said warily, slowly setting down the shotgun. "Two hundred caps."

I turned to reach into the bag I was carrying the caps in when I heard a shrill voice over my shoulder demand. "Eighty, and not a cap more."

"One seventy five." The bartender replied, eyes narrowing at the fuschia filly on my back.

"Ninety five." Razzle continued.

"Razzle, you're standing on my head." I pointed out, bemused by the exchange. She kicked me in response and I shut up and let her do the talking.

"One sixty."

"One hundred."

"One forty."

"One ten."

"One twenty five or I'll toss you out."

Razzle was silent for a moment before responding with a shrug. "Fine. Indigo, pay the mare. We could stay at a whorehouse tonight and get double the treatment for half the costs, but I know you're in a hurry." She snorted.

I counted out the number, glad I'd separated them into smaller bundles instead of just tossing them all together, and wondered at the assertiveness of the filly.

"That foal's a real pistol." The bartender mused.

I shrugged. "She's precocious, that's for sure." I looked back at the bar. "How much for a bottle of your strongest, and no, I don't care if it tastes like paint thinner."

"Well, I could give you the rotgut we make for just that purpose, but if you have interest in the finer things we do have one almost full bottle of Wild Pegasus on hand."

I considered my options. "Well, let me eat and think about it."

I raised my head as I heard one of the occupants emerging. I was a little surprised to see he was a griffin, middle to old age as near as I could tell, grizzled and combat ready. I couldn't believe my luck. I approached him, digging out the griffin chick. "Sir, would you happen to know anything about raising fledglings?"

His eyes nearly popped out of his head, I couldn't tell if it was shock, rage or indignation as he demanded. "How did you capture a griffin chick?!" I was suddenly very glad that the Inn instituted a no weapons rule, as I was fairly certain he would have blown my head off, as it was, I saw his talons dig into the floorboards.

Chuckling nervously I shrugged. "I found it in a ruined slaver caravan with this one." I nodded to Razzle, and then reaching into my other bag producing the colt I'd come to call blueberry. "and this one."

"Found them." His eyes were narrowed to slits. Yep, he definitely would have killed me if we'd met outside.

"Fifty caps and the chick is yours." Razzle offered. He was so transfixed on the filly with apoplectic rage that he didn't notice my jaw drop, having my turn to feel shock and indignation.

Finally, he responded. "Fifty, for a useless slave? I'll give you fifteen"

"Forty five."

"Twenty five."

Razzle was quiet, thinking it over. "I like you, how about thirty."

"Fine. Thirty." He glared for a moment more, and then in a quick, jerky moment, pulled out a small pouch. He dropped it on a nearby table, and counted out the caps while Razzle watched closely, counted them for herself, and then put them away for me.

"Indigo, hand it over."

"She will no longer be an it-slave and I will raise her to be an honorable contractor. Like me, she will be trained especially in how to destroy slavers and raiders." If looks could kill. I did my best to remain impassive as he traveled to the door to collect his gear.

"Um, I ordered a few meals and was meaning to share some of it with the chick..."

"A griffin does not require pony food." And then he was out the door. I heard him take off with a few powerful snaps of his wings, and then I made my way back over to the bar.

"I don't much approve of slavers, but I have no rules against it. That said you're to leave as soon as you finish your bath and meal."

"Okay." I was still processing the fact that Razzle, and by proxy, I, had just sold another living being as if it, no she, were a piece of merchandise.

As she was preparing our meal the Innkeeper was accompanied by another mare and the two muttered under their breath, giving me occassional dirty looks. Eventually, the newcomer served the plates as I finished setting the foals up to share their meal, hoping that they would eat a reasonable amount but not too much. The waitress lingered for a moment before asking in a low tone. "Are they for sale as well too?" I nearly spat out the lettuce leaf I'd just taken into my mouth, but stopped, and slowly chewed it before swallowing tightly.

"Umm, I'll need to think about it." I flashed Razzle a stricken look but the filly's face was unreadable as she looked after Blueberry. "We'll finish our bath first."

"I'd really rather not continue the whole slavery business." I told Razzle after we entered the room.

"You need the caps."

"And, I mean... I really would rather you be free to be your own pony."

She snorted derisively. "What so I can wander the wasteland alone long enough to get killed, raped, and/or captured again?!"

"I-I didn't mean..."

"Look, I know you mean well, but it's safer for me as somepony's property. Nopony respects a foal, but sometimes ponies respect other ponies enough not to mess with their property."

"So... what do you want then?" I'd started to remove the baggage and makeshift barding as I set Blueberry down to scoot around the room at his own volition.

She looked at me, quiet for a moment, I could see the wheels turning in her head. "Those two mean to adopt us. They can't have foals of their own, so they wouldn't mind taking some secondhand. They'll raise us as their own, but they'll still expect us to work at running the inn with them." She shrugged. "But if you really want to know, as much as I don't want to wander the wastelands alone again, I don't much like settling down in a provincial region trying to scrape together two bits off of loners and vagabonds."

"You want to be a wanderer then?" I asked with a ghost of a smile.

"I can be of use to you, we've already established you have no idea what you're doing and I can't count on somepony else being as naive as you." As if to prove her usefulness she reached up towards the clasp of my harness. As reflex I sidestepped and slapped her hoof away with a wing. Her eyes lowered as she withdrew. "I guess you don't trust me that much, huh?"

I laughed weakly and agreed. "No, not quite that much. Yet." I added meaningfully, giving her a reassuring nudge.

"How does that magical armor work, it's got a lot of gems and all but I don't see any spark batteries or big enough talismans for what I've seen it do."

"Top secret." I responded, picking up Blueberry and heading to the bath. She followed me with an interested look. I sighed a little inside. I really didn't want her getting too curious about it, but I wasn't about to let her know just how vulnerable it made me either. Not for the first time I wondered if I could get a lock installed over the clasp. I didn't have anyone to answer to anymore that would need to access it.

***

"I can't believe I let you trade Blueberry for a bottle of booze." Razzle groaned as we flew on to the nearest settlement.

"What? You said yourself it was a good deal." It had been fine whiskey, if not for the filly I would be nursing the bottle now, but I'd contented myself to just a taste back at the bar.

"I feel like we just sold my little brother to support your alcoholism."

"He's not actually your little brother is he?"

"Don't think so, not that I would know anyway, but he was actually the son of that mare you killed in front of the foal cage."

"W-what?!" I stopped flapping to look back at her.

"I told you ponies sell their own children." She said with a little shrug.

"So when you said that they'd raise him as their own..."

"Oh come on, they're innkeepers not slavers. He's of more use to them amusing customers and eventually sweeping, waiting tables, cooking and serving patrons, than he would be in caps. I'm still surprised that they accepted all our offers, I expected the bath and meals to be no less than one fifty and I didn't think I'd get twenty out of the griffin. And just so you know, the bottle of Wild P is worth a lot more than a toddler slave. They really wanted to have a baby."

"Well, my whole life has been a moral grey area, no time to stop being amoral now I guess."

"Psh, you still have standards. You haven't sold me for sex yet."

"Or tried to force it on you." I added.

"I'd like to see you try honestly."

"It strikes me that this conversation just got awkward."

"Well, I'm the one riding you anyway."

"Change of subject, you realize that ethics and morals are different right?"

“What do you mean? Aren’t those just different words for goody two shoes stuff?”

“Not really, it’s not so one dimensional as good and bad, and especially given that different cultures, and different ponies, all have different opinions of what’s right and wrong, it’s insufficient to lump it all into one thing. Morals are basically what you would consider the base level of expectation from Equine decency. It’s what you think ponies should and ought to do. The next layer, societally speaking is usually the Law, it’s a little more specialized than morals, obviously, in order to be legislated, so, while morally it would be wrong to say, steal a pencil, legally, no pony would really care and you’d probably be written up for a frivolous police report for reporting a stolen pencil.”

“Okay, I guess that makes sense, what about ethics."

“Ethics are usually a personal moral code, it is usually stricter than general morals, but although I like to think that I hold myself to a higher standard with my ethics, not every pony does. Especially ponies in positions of power tend to have stricter moral expectations of others, even while violating those tenets themselves. Ponies have a tendency to believe what they’ve been told about themselves, for better or worse. One who is raised with affirmations of their intellect and good looks will be confident, somepony who is belittled as simple minded and plain will more likely need encouragement to accomplish anything. It varies of course, most of these criticisms and flattery are often false. In the examples I made, the former pony might actually be rather homely with no common sense, the latter brilliant and too shy to smile or meet anypony’s gaze, but I feel that at the end of the day we are what we believe ourselves to be. I often think that reality is what we choose it to be, but consensual reality is a bit of a digression from morals and ethics.” I trailed off.

“So what do you make of the wastelands so far?”

“A lot of scared and desperate ponies. I may not approve of the way they’re behaving, but I may be able to understand where they’re coming from. You really can’t hold ignorance against someone, we all are in some way or another, but choosing to remain ignorant is another thing entirely. I had a teacher once who put it this way ‘There is nothing wrong with being ignorant; there’s something wrong with staying that way’. I know it’s naive of me, but I’m hoping I can help educate ponies, raise awareness and understanding of other ways of living. It will be hard, and I don’t have all the information I would like to start remediating a world torn asunder, but you have to start somewhere.”

“How long do you think you’ll last?”

“I have no idea, I’m flighty on a good day, and finishing a project is always harder than starting one. For now I still need to figure out what kind of approach I’m taking. It’s hard to reach ponies though, and you can’t help those who don’t want help. Sometimes all you can do is just put it out there and walk away. A lot of ponies can’t handle that, especially the ones who only want to help out of a misguided savior complex that they can save the world. But I don’t want to save the world, I want the world to save itself, and if I’m lucky I can save a few ponies along the way. I don’t want to be in history books or have my name carved in stone, I want to go quietly into the earth and sleep knowing I did the best I could. If you want anything more out of life, you’re only setting yourself up for failure. Keep it simple. Find out who you are, and what you want to do, don’t let other ponies dictate your life, your priorities or your terms for you. I mean, you have to make sacrifices and compromises on the way, but figure out your boundaries ahead of time. Of course, I’m not sure I need to teach you how to bargain.”

“What makes you so sure I need teaching at all?”

I looked back at her with amusement. “Everypony has something to teach, everypony can learn something new every day if only she keeps her eyes and ears open.”

“What about stupid ponies?”

“We’re all stupid ponies. It’s only by doing stupid things that we can learn from our mistakes, and sometimes we accidentally stumble over a breakthrough. Life is about moving, you might backtrack, you might get lost, you may go in circles for awhile, but the important thing is to avoid getting stuck in a rut. The rut may be comfortable, and seem easier that pushing on, and sometimes you just need a break, but you have to keep moving or you lose it.”

And so we discussed the differing stances of laws, ethics and morals and tried to guess where we fell along these axes whilst we closed the distance to our next destination.

Author's Note

I have no idea how well this will be received, as there's nothing but OCs for the majority of the story and is predicated on a lot of what is fanon at best, but I'm hoping for a tone somewhere between Project Horizons and Pink Eyes, a bit harder and edgier than the original Fallout Equestria but not quite as brutal as Project Horizons.

Hopefully I don't throw off too many people by starting with my main character being overpowered and slowly getting more beaten as time goes on instead of the usual weak pony to immortal progression.

There's also going to be a lot of weird time stuff as Indigo struggles with adapting to the world of the future.

These chapters are also ten times the length of the other fic chapters I usually write, so even though I have a bit of a headstart, I'm probably going to upload once a month. We'll see how I'm doing in six months.