I don't think I'll go back, I want to, the sun is too bright and my packs are still in town. I won't however, not allowed to stay, besides raiders will probably show up again. Its bad to stay in one spot for too long.

It takes too long to walk now, front leg is fairly useless after ..... all that. should probably get it fixed.

So bright, the sun is hot against my bare fur and I realise the sand has been heating up as I walk.

....

Wait...

When did the sun come out? I only remember clouds the last 27 years.

I turn change my direction to the north and walk off the road towards equestrian proper.

I wonder whats happened, guess I'll check it out.

It takes 9 hours through the desert, on a limp leg and bullet wounds. no water, no food.

A good day.

This town is different, where the other one, Ash-something was made of scrap walls and buildings, built at the edge of a ravine, This town is build in a mine.

Several carts sit in a semi-circle around the cliff side entrance to the mine, reinforced by scrap metal and sandbags. in front of one of the carts is a well painted sign on plywood

"WELCOME TO DIRTHOLE, NO WEAPONS, NO GHOULS, NO DRUGS, NO EXCEPTIONS."

.....

Dirthole?

.....

Weird

I walk up to the front cart, where upon, a pony in a duster sits ...oddly on a chair under an umbrella. As I stop in front of him he looks towards me and says in a clipped tone,

"Sorry, no admittance"

.....

"Why?"

"Raider activity nearby, can't be too careful, you might be their spy"

I look down at myself, my brown fur is matted with a mixture of sand and the skin is badly scarred, my left front leg is so blood soaked from my shoulder to hoof it looks like someone else's leg, and somehow I haven't noticed until now that my tail is completely shorn off. I look more corpse than raider.

"Really?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Yes. Really, I don't know who you are, never seen you before." he answers.

.....

"Unless of course" he continues, "you show your willingness to contribute to our fine town with a small advancement of taxes"

A bribe. Figures.

"And if I get rid of the raiders" I ask, squinting up at him.

"I'd be surprised, you look like you're about to keel over"

And yet he won't let me in so I don't

......

"Which way?"

He looks at me sceptically, as if trying to read what I'm thinking

"North-west from here about two hours as the Pegasus flies, But I wouldn't recommend it, they don't mess around over there" he finally answers.

I start to walk away, circling around the caravans until I'm walking north-west. Rising hills and cliffs of rocky outcroppings block any view beyond them sit just past the town entrance and just above them is Celestia's sun, slowly setting. That's going to take me longer than two hours.

.....

My hooves hurt.

5 hours later, standing on the top of the cliff I look down at the concrete building nestled in the end of a canyon, lit up by braziers and fire pits, outside the compound the valleys and cliffs bathed in the light of the moon. the building sits two stories high but the rooftop still sits far below the crests of the cliffs. several old trucks lay ruined outside and and past the chain link fence surrounding the compound, an old dirt road leads northward, winding its way through the valleys. The raiders have set up several tents and towers made of scrap.

7 outside, unknown number inside.

Inventory: Nothing.

Injuries: Many.

Will to live: Questionable.

.....

Sigh

"listen I was thinking"

"That's a horrifying concept" the other voice replied

"No shut up, I was thinking," the first one pressed on. "Why are we even raiding anymore, I mean we got a pretty good setup here, Water, Guns, enough canned food to last until the next Megaspells drop, and a good defensible spot, we could just make it a town and let the suckers pay us to use our supplies"

If they did, he had a point

"Cause we're raiders, 's what we do, we raid"

"Yeah but my point is we don't have to"

"listen, half of us nut jobs are only here to raid and do what we want, civilised world died, and with it bein civil, sides, sounds fucking boring"

It was a good thing they were so wrapped up in conversation that it made it easy to sneak past.

The fence is worn and broken, and there's a significant gap under it where something had crawled through long ago.

I look behind me at the shack I had past. the raiders inside still haven't noticed me. Time to wiggle through, In the dirt. not that it matters as currently there is more dirt on me than fur.

Getting down I push some dirt aside to deepen the hold and start to wriggle under. I figure its best to start inside rather than out, more defensible position, and hopefully a weapon. the gap is small and after scratching myself on the metal, inhaling dirt, suppressing several sneezes and stopping to untangle my mane from the fence, I get myself up on the other side of the fence, the building across the sand covered asphalt of the compound is boring looking, a two story concrete building sticking out of the ground, no balcony, or second floor exits, on the left of the building is a loading dock, large garage doors that haven't been opened in a long while as sand has built up against them.

Above the main entrance is a single sign that reads

IRONSHOD FIREARMS STORAGE FACILITY,
AUTHORISED PONIES ONLY

Raiders with a weapons cache.

That's not a good sign.

I am still crouched down in the sand and dirt, the dark of the night giving me some cover, and in between the building and myself are a few shacks, from within, muffled conversation makes its way across to me.

....

What IS the difference between dirt and sand?

.....

Straining my ears, I try to catch some words. Nothing. Too far away.

Keeping low near the fence I start to circle around the shacks towards the main building. The sand helps to muffle my hoofsteps and soon enough I find myself at the loading dock. peaking around the side of the building I find my way in.

Up against the wall of The building about halfway along Is a metal hatch set at an angle into the ground. A basement hatch.
as I round the corner and make my way over, I quickly glance behind me to the shacks, no alarms yet.

Grabbing the handle with my mouth I can taste the black paint that covers the hatch as I pull it open, the hatch groans and metal squeals as metal grinds against metal. Shit I hope they didn't hear that. With a final tug of my shoulders and neck I pull the door open the rest of the way, the hatch falls and sinks itself into the sand.

I stop and strain my ears listening.

.....

Nothing, I let out a sigh or relief and look down the steep stairs that descend into the pitch black darkness of the basement, and for a moment, it felt like decending into Tartarus.

Author's Note

Level up: perk gained: Toughness

"Its all about how hard you can get hit."