Survival. A word whose meaning is simply the act of continuing to exist and live. And yet I’d never truly understood it before. To me it was a word on a page, important only in books or the stories of other people. I never had to worry about it. I always had enough food and shelter. I had free access to medical care and dental care as a child. I was educated in advanced placement programs. I was protected from harm. In short, I was a product of civilization. I developed the beliefs I did about non-violence and coexistence because I had the opportunity. I became a peaceful, timid person because life had never forced me to be otherwise, because even in my worst moments, I had a way out.

True survival isn’t like that. Strip away the veneer of civilization, the trappings of easy food and water, of safety, and even the most peaceful of people can become cold blooded killers. It can take someone who spends all her time reading and thinking and turn her into a warrior. It gives her a simple choice: fight or die. Kill or be killed. Feelings are a luxury, hesitation is lethal.

I was only just beginning to understand that. Life was a harsh teacher, survival the harshest of all. And there would be many more lessons in the days to come. Lessons I had to learn, if I wanted to survive.

~*~

I struggled to my feet, gripping the nearby metal bannister of the stairs as support. My left leg wobbled weakly under my weight, growing weaker by the second as the sword wound continued to bleed. My Pipbuck, which I had been paying little attention to, beeped insistently, the screen flashing with medical warnings. I’d taken more damage in the battle than I’d realized, and the act of standing left me light-headed. I almost slipped in the pool of vomit and blood I’d left around me as I limped towards the nearest wall, where I could see a small janitor’s corner with sinks and hoses. I leaned against the wall as I activated the sink, turning the hose on my injuries to wash away the blood. The water was freezing cold, stinging me like a cloud of biting insects, especially fierce on the leg wound.

The wound continued to bleed even after I’d washed it clean. “Damn it,” I muttered, grimacing as I brought up my Pipbuck to sort through my bag. I managed to find the magical bandages, pulling out the box and withdrawing one. I had to flop onto the floor again to apply it, taking the opportunity to examine the wound closely before doing so. While I was no doctor, I’d trained in first aid several times over my life, and had accumulated enough bits of medical knowledge here and there to know that this cut was deep indeed, and even with regular treatment would take weeks to heal. Fortunately I had magic on my side. The bandage was larger than I’d expected, more like a roll of gauze than the little Band-Aid I’d been picturing. I wrapped it around the wound and sealed it tight. The magic immediately went to work to stop the bleeding.

I paged through my inventory to find the healing potion, which was indeed the weird turkey baster bottle thing I’d found earlier. I examined it carefully, noting that the squeeze bulb was formed of two parts, one an easy to bite off stopper and the other tougher and more rigid, probably to help earth ponies and pegasi hold it in their mouths as they drank it. Clever design but it was damned awkward to use with hands. I tried repeatedly to break the stopper without biting it but it just couldn’t be done. Finally I gave it, biting it off, scowling at the harsh taste of the rubber, and bent my neck back to drink. Though the goop was thick in appearance it flowed just like water, with a taste like honey mixed with a hint of apples. It didn’t take long to swallow, and even as it worked its way down I could feel the magic going to work, a full body tingle that tickled a little.

With my injuries dealt with I took the time to at least try to wash the blood out of my clothes. I discovered a nasty welt on my chest under where my armor had stopped a bullet. It reminded me a lot of similar welts I’d taken the one time I’d played paintball. Even as I examined it though it faded before my eyes. “Weird,” I muttered.

Unfortunately, while I could get my clothes at least clean in a sense, it was already too late to prevent the blood from staining. And worse I already had several holes. I hoped I could find some kind of sewing kit somewhere so I could fix them. I didn’t want to lose the only clothes I’d found so far that I could actually wear.

“Now what?” I asked myself as I stood. My eyes drifted across the room to the closest fallen corpse, that of the mare with the pump-action shotgun. The sight made my stomach churn. Right. Looting time. That’s what you’re supposed to do. Funny how that idea was always so much easier in video games. Here in reality it felt like I was just stealing. From the dead. That I’d killed...

I took in a deep breath, let it out, and forced myself to move. As I grew close I saw the pool of blood around her head where I’d shattered her skull against the ground. I tried not to look at that as I rummaged through the bag she had strapped to one side, taking everything she had and dumping it into my backpack; I could count it later. I retrieved her shotgun as well. The damned thing was in such poor condition that I’d actually left a small dent in the barrel where I’d kicked it, but I shoved it in my pack anyway, marveling at how it could hold the long weapon. My bag must’ve been enchanted for more space or something.

I went around and scavenged the other corpses, collecting some scattered parts of leather and metal from their armor and their belongings (in one case shoved into their tail, which was utterly filthy.) I also made sure to retrieve my fallen pistol and knife, as well as my helmet. I’d lost it during the battle at some point and hadn’t even noticed. I made sure to use the chin strap this time.

In all I’d found a meager collection of thirty bottlecaps, a small assortment of ammo, none of which fit my pistol, and several useless guns, along with a scattering of chems. The only usable weapon was the fire axe, as the sword, stuck in the ruined generator, was a lost cause. At least the axe had better reach than my knife, even if it was in poor condition. I’d found a holster on Blade’s body for his sword, and with a little bit of creative tying to my pants and vest it served as a makeshift belt for the axe.

I’d also found a screwdriver and a few bobby pins, the requisite Wasteland lockpicking kit, which I tucked away in a vest pocket. Combined with the book on lockpicking it might even let me get into a few things before I inevitably broke all my pins.

With all my looting complete, I headed for the stairs. I hesitated at the first step. I sighed, and turned to face the room again, looking pensively at the bodies I’d left behind. “I’m sorry,” I said, holding a hand to my heart. “I’m sorry I killed you. I didn’t want to! I really didn’t. But, well, you didn’t exactly give me a choice.” I held up my other hand, giving a small wave. A few tears dripped down my cheek. “Please, forgive me. Rest in peace.”

I barreled up the stairs, taking them two at a time just so I could get away faster. Faster, so I didn’t break down again. So I didn’t lose myself in sorrow and shame.

It was only at the top that I finally remembered the contract paper Pumice had given me. I retrieved it from my pack, where I’d crumpled it up earlier. I unfolded it, smoothed it out best I could, and read:

Official Angel’s Rest Bounty Contract

Name: Open Wings

Race: Two-Leg Pegasus

Description: Approximately six feet tall, lilac coat, pink and white mane, with a cutie mark of a bullet flanked by two spread wings.

Desired Status: Dead

Special Instructions: Return with the head as proof to Boundless Sky, Two-Leg Pegasus of the Dawn in Angel’s Rest.

Risk Factor: Moderate

Reward: 5,000 bottlecaps

My lips curled in an expression that was half amusement, half scorn. “Well it’s straight to the point I guess,” I said. “Not exactly the most accurate thing though. My name isn’t Open Wings, and they completely forgot the sun part of my cutie mark.” I snorted that horsey snort and stuffed it back into my pack.

At least I had a name for what I was now: Two-Leg. I remembered that Blade and the others had been calling me that just before we fought. It was short and simple, I supposed, easy to remember. Judging by this Boundless Sky, I wasn’t the only one either, which left me feeling simultaneously relieved and scared. On the one hand, having others like me around meant I’d stand out a little bit less, but on the other hand this one really wanted me dead for… some reason. “What was it Pumice said? I’d gone rogue? Rogue how?” I threw up my hands in disbelief. “Last thing I remember before waking up here was falling asleep in my bedroom!”

I shook my head and sighed. I wasn’t going to get any answers standing around here. Besides, if the reward was anything to go by, Blade’s little group probably weren’t the only ones after my head. Staying here in the wastewater plant would be akin to suicide, and I’d already wasted way too much time as it was. So after taking a brief trip to the barracks bathroom to wash my hands (and wishing I could take a steaming hot shower) I made for the commissary doors.

Blade’s group had left them flung open, and I emerged into a much more massive room, laid out like a factory floor. I spotted puddles of water here and there, as shafts of wan light poured through small holes in the ceiling. Massive hulks of machinery, rusted and useless, loomed around me, casting deep shadows. Wrecks of automated defenses hung from the ceiling here and there, all long dead. On the far wall was a large set of thick, steel-plated double doors, curled in on themselves and covered with scorch marks. Bits of metal were scattered everywhere around them, suggesting they’d been blown open, and recently at that.

I wondered to myself who might’ve been responsible as I made my way towards them. It couldn’t have been Blade’s group. The sort of explosives needed to blow this kind of door open were well beyond the meager weapons they’d carried. Maybe it was done by whatever had brought me to Equestria?

I emerged from the treatment plant into daylight. Pale daylight, with grey skies completely covered by clouds, but daylight all the same. The sight had my wings twitching. A part of me was eager to see just what they could do in that sky. But I resisted the temptation, and took in my surroundings. I was in a large industrial park, judging by the wreckage of brick and concrete buildings scattered throughout the area. The treatment plant was by far the most intact, like the last person standing in a free-for-all brawl. The ground all around was cracked pavement, broken by twisted little brown weeds. A chain link fence surrounded most of the building, topped by razor wire. I scanned it till I found a large hole cut through the fence, and made my way towards it, emerging onto the remnants of a road.

I scanned the area with my E.F.S., keeping a close watch out for any bars, red or orange. Nothing showed though. “Okay, what was it that note said? Go east?” It wasn’t like I had any other ideas, so I turned till my compass showed more or less due east along the road, and started walking.

As I walked, I kept one eye on my surroundings and the rest of my attention on my thoughts. I often lose myself in my head and this walk was no different. I needed to figure out a plan, a set of goals. Overall goal was to get home, of course, but there were a lot of steps before I could achieve that. “Right, so, what do I need? I need supplies. I’ve only got so much food and water, and this dinky gun isn’t going to go very far. I need information. I don’t know anything about Vanhoover because it never showed up in any of the stories I read, and I really want to know why this Dawn group wants to kill me. And I need friends.”

I chuckled to myself as I strode past a bombed out factory. A few red bars had appeared on my E.F.S., but they were just a few bloatsprites, the result of parasprites being mutated by taint. They were keeping their distance, so I left them alone. “Friends would be nice. I’d at least have someone else to talk to.” Or rather, somepony, but I refused to say that aloud. I have standards, damn it. “So I need to find a town. Hopefully one that won’t shoot me on sight.” I blew out a noisy sigh, my ears flattening against my head. (I still wasn’t used to that.) “God I wish I was home already.”

The buildings around me were slowly shifting from industrial to commercial. I spotted a small row of ruined shops in a little strip mall, with the closest being what I at first thought was a gas station. It was a small square building that squatted out in a concrete lot, with a pair of what looked like gas pumps, spaced out enough that two large cars--or rather, carriages--could fit side by side. The building itself was in better shape than others around it, its walls only cracked in places, rather than full of holes. A dirty, half-collapsed sign hanging overhead proudly proclaimed, “Eastside Charging Station #13: powered by Hippocampus Energy!”

I stopped walking, considering for a moment whether or not to check it out. Then my stomach let out a large rumble, making the decision for me. Between the fight, the time I spent searching the wastewater plant, and my injuries, I was hungry. I would’ve thought the thought of food would just turn my stomach, but nope. Hunger called to me. “Guess it’s time for a break,” I said.

I stepped gingerly around the scattered bits of gravel and broken glass surrounding the station’s entrance, and pushed open the door hanging halfway off its hinges. The inside was dark, lit only by a few hanging lamps that flickered on and off. The front was divided between a cashier’s counter and several sets of shelves, almost all of which were completely empty. I spotted a few things--a can of Cram here, a box of cereal there--all of which I shoved into my backpack without thinking too much about it. Behind the cashier’s desk, besides the dust and crumbled pieces of ceiling littering the floor I discovered a small safe, as well as several doors to a back storage area, a bathroom, and an office.

My stomach growled at me, reminding me that I should eat before I loot. I entered the office, which was sparse, just a small room barely larger than a broom closet, with a desk complete with terminal, a chair, and a small shelf full of decaying and/or burnt books and files. I brushed off the chair and flopped into it, grateful to be off my feet. I took off my backpack and set it on the desk, opening it up and using my Pipbuck to bring out my rations. It was time to see if Equestrian Army MREs were any good.

The MRE I picked out was basically a foil package containing several smaller pouches, each labeled as an entree or side dish or what have you, just like the MREs I’d gotten from the Air Force when I was in ROTC in high school. They were even self-heating, probably because of magic because they didn’t need any water or separate heater. The entree I’d chosen proclaimed it was a “fried broccoli omelette” which sounded weird, but I was willing to try it. I didn’t have any eating utensils, so I had to prop the package open and eat it by hand. It tasted… strange, but not terrible. Mostly bland actually. It needed some salt. As I ate it I wondered how the ponies ate from these pouches. Did they have some kind of feed bag they could put them in, or--

The cold touch of a gun barrel kissed my temple. “Don’t move,” growled a deep baritone voice, course like an old singer had lost their magic throat to years of cigarette smoke.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! I cursed myself for not paying attention to my E.F.S. I should’ve known better than to get lost in my own head. I looked up from my food to see a cloak-wearing unicorn stallion standing before me, his brownish coat patchy and dry, with skin showing. Dead, burnt looking skin that looked like it was sloughing off in places. His mane was a patchy mess, with lots of little blonde strands, most of which were frayed and disintegrating. His eyes held a faint cherry red glow as he glared at me, raising a boxy pistol-like device that was probably a magical laser pistol to point right at my head. Not just a unicorn, but a ghoul, then. I looked to my side to see my own pistol pressed against my head, and even as I looked I could feel the fire axe press its blade up into my back, right at the base of my wings. He even had my knife out of its vest pocket, floating up to my throat.

Well I was well and truly fucked. “Uh, hi there?” I said, dropping the pouch of food and raising my hands.

I heard the pistol slide cock as the knife point dug into my throat, making me wince. “I said not to move, fool!” the ghoul said. He bared his teeth, or rather the sharp, jagged remains of his teeth. “Or do you wish to die?”

“Sorry,” I squeaked. I kept my hands where they were, trying not to move a muscle. “Are you going to kill me?”

He raised the fleshy remains of one eyebrow. “That depends on you, Two-Leg. Answer my questions to my satisfaction, and I will let you leave here alive.”

Uh-oh. That could be a problem, if this guy thought I was with the Dawn. “Uh, right, sure, can do,” I said with a nervous giggle. “Whatcha want to know?”

His eyes narrowed. “Firstly, where is the rest of your unit? You Two-Legs never travel without an escort.”

My face scrunched up in confusion. “Unit? What unit?”

Before I could blink he slapped me across the face with a forehoof, filling my vision with stars. “Wrong answer.” Yeah, no shit asshole. “I will ask again. Where is your unit?”

“Ow,” I groaned. I wanted badly to rub my cheek where he’d struck it, but I didn’t dare move. “Look, I dunno who you think I am, but I don’t have a unit, oka--”

Slap! He hit the other side of my face this time. The knife dug into my throat some more, this time eliciting a few drops of blood. “You are testing my patience, Two-Leg. I will ask one more time. Where. Is. Your. Unit?”

I sneered, growling, “I don’t have one! I’m by myself, okay?! Jesus.”

He raised his forehoof as if to strike for a third time, then let it drop. “I see.” He stepped further inside the office and shut the door, keeping his eyes firmly locked on me. “That is unfortunate for you. We will have plenty of privacy, then.”

Oh I did not like the sound of that. The few warning bells in my head that weren’t already ringing up a storm went off, clamoring for attention. “Privacy? For what?” I asked without thinking.

His glare softened, the slightest of grins tugging at his rotten lips. “Information about the Dawn’s leadership, of course. I need it. You have it. You will give it to me, or die. Understand?”

I rolled my eyes. “Like I said, I don’t know who you think I am, but I don’t know anything about the Dawn, okay?”

“Oh I think you do know,” he replied. The knife floated away from my throat to press against my cheek, the blade laid ready to rend it open. “You just need a little… persuasion.”

“Stop!” I screamed. “I don’t know anything! I swear, okay?! I just woke up a couple of hours ago in a fucking wastewater plant for Christ’s sake!”

Once again his forehoof smashed into my face, this time square into my nose. It shattered under the force of his blow, blood running freely. “Your resistance is pointless, Two-Leg. You have the information I need. You must, because you are a Two-Leg, and Two-Legs are the Dawn’s children.”

“Stop hitting me, god damn it!” I roared. I was this close to saying “fuck it” and start attacking, no matter how many guns he had pointed at me. “Please, listen to me. My name is Cassandra, and I’m not a Two-Leg or whatever the fuck I’m a human being and I just woke up as this a couple hours ago and have already had like six ponies try to kill me and now you show up and I just want to go home!”

He let out a hoarse laugh that might have once been charming before his ghoulification. “Truly, this is the best lie you can offer? Your ridiculous stories only bring you more pain.” He readied to strike again.

“I can prove it!” I cried just before his forehoof slammed into me for a fourth time. “I can prove it, I promise.”

He halted in mid-strike, lowering his hoof to the floor. “Oh? Can you now?” He let out another little chuckle. “Very well. But if this is a trick…”

I shook my head rapidly. “It’s not a trick.” My hands dropped towards my backpack, only to feel the axe press further into my back. Right. No moving. “You’re with the Steel Rangers, right?” I asked. The Steel Rangers were a set of elite fighters that, before the bombs fell, served the Ministry of Wartime Technology using powered armor. Like the Brotherhood of Steel, their equivalent in the Fallout games, they were technology hoarders, and one of only two factions in the Equestrian Wasteland likely to be using magical energy weapons such as his laser pistol. The other was the Enclave, but since they were all pegasi I figured I could rule that out.

He stared at me for several long moments, his eyes gone completely cold, filling me with fright. Just as I was afraid he’d shoot me and be done with it, he answered, “...I was. What of it?”

“In my backpack, there’s a device. Something you’ve probably never seen before.” I pointedly looked at the backpack sitting on the desk. “It’s a small thin rectangular prism, in a purple and pink case. One side looks like glass.”

Looking somewhat intrigued, his magic poked into my backpack, seeking out my phone. Soon enough he brought it out. “Is this it?”

“Yes,” I said, fighting the urge to nod. “Right now it’s off. There’s a small pink button on one side, above a slightly larger button. Press and hold the small button for several seconds; that’ll turn it on.”

He frowned at me. “If this is some attempt to call for help, you will die long before they arrive.”

“I know that,” I said. “I promise you this isn’t a trick. Please, just switch it on.”

He sighed, and did so. The screen lit up immediately with the manufacturer's logo, the animated gif spinning in full color as the phone slowly booted up. The instant he saw the color his eyes bulged like saucers. “What is this?” he demanded, his voice trembling slightly.

A fragile little flame of relief ignited within me. “It’s called a smartphone. It’s something very common where I’m from. It has a lot of functions, like a miniature computer in your pocket.”

“But, so small?” he gasped, his attention fully on my phone. “And in color? Stable-Tec only ever produced a few full-color terminals. Not even their most advanced Pipbucks had color screens, and those were all far larger than this.”

I started to smile. “Exactly. That’s because it’s not from your world.” I saw the phone finish booting. “I have more proof than just the phone itself, if you’ll let me show you--”

I cut myself off when I saw his glare. The knife moved back to my throat. “Do not think me a fool, Two-Leg. You will instruct me in its use.”

What smile I had slipped away, replaced with a pained grimace. “Okay then. Do you see the screen, how it shows the time? You need to press on the screen from bottom to top to unlock it.”

He let out a snort of disbelief, but he did so. It took him several tries to get it right, but he finally opened it up to my app list. He held it up so I could see it better. “What now?”

“You see that little icon in the bottom right, that looks like a camera? Touch it. It’ll open up the phone’s camera function.”

I heard him mutter something to himself as he did as I instructed. The screen went dark for a moment, then lit up again, showing the view of the camera. His eyes bulged again, larger this time, as he moved it around. “This is unbelievable!” he said. “How is this possible?”

“It’s just technology,” I answered, my voice dripping with smug satisfaction. If he thought that was impressive… “It can hold a lot of pictures too. If you scroll--that is, press on the screen from right to left, you’ll view the pictures it already has. I have pictures of myself on there.”

He scrolled, calling up the first picture, and his jaw actually fell open so wide I was afraid it would fall off. The picture he called up was of me, standing in my kitchen, holding a birthday cake with thirty-one lit candles while smiling at the camera. As I stared at it, a rush of emotions flooded me in rapid succession: fear, sadness, depression, anger. That was me. That was what I was supposed to look like, a human being, with normal brown hair, pale skin, real feet, real hands. No wings, no weird colored coat covering me from head to toe. Just plain, simple human.

Tears fell from my eyes. I wanted to be me again, damn it. I wanted to be human again. My whole body was wrong and awful and not supposed to be like this, and seeing that picture threw it all into stark relief all over again. I want to be me again.

I want to go home.

“This is really you?” inquired the ghoul, shattering my reverie.

I nodded, and this time he didn’t immediately react with one of the weapons. “Yeah, that’s me. That’s what I should look like.”

He lowered the phone, setting it on the desk. He then stared deep into my eyes. “What are you?”

“I told you, I’m a human being, or I’m supposed to be anyway.” His eyes narrowed, and I hastily added, “We’re bipeds. Primates. We’re not like ponies. We evolved from a shared ancestor with other primates like chimpanzees and gorillas. We’re from a different world; we call it Earth.”

He bit his lip, thinking things over. “How did you get here, then?”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Your guess is as good as mine, buddy. I haven’t a clue.”

“Truly?”

I nodded again. “Yeah. Like I said, I woke up in the wastewater plant down the road, no idea how I got there or why I’m… this. Just a bunch of stuff waiting for me: that backpack, this Pipbuck on my arm, my gun. Then a bunch of ponies tried to kill me, I killed them instead, walked outside, sat down here to eat, then you showed up. That’s it.” I turned my eyes to his, trying to plead with them. “Please, I’m not a threat to you. I didn’t even know you were here. I don’t know what you want to know. Let me go.”

For a moment, as the weapons started to lower, it seemed like I’d make it out of there. Then they suddenly rose again. “I am impressed, Two-Leg.” He held up the phone in his magic. “This almost convinced me. But you made one fatal mistake. If you are from another world, how could you possibly know what the Steel Rangers are?”

Oh for fuck’s sake. What was I going to tell him now? Oh hey guess what your whole world is just a video game mixed with a little girl’s cartoon! Even if I could prove that--and I couldn’t because all I had on my phone was a copy of Project Horizons--it would be a huge mistake. An absolutely massive, ruin everything forever mistake. I’ve read enough science fiction to know that you don’t mess with the timeline unless you really want to screw things up. If I told this guy his whole world was fictional on mine, and if he actually believed me, what would that do to the future of the Equestrian Wasteland? Good lord, what would I do if I accidentally ran across an alicorn? Or Watcher? Anything I say at this point could drastically alter future events, and almost certainly for the worse. I couldn’t risk the future. I couldn’t risk Gardens. I had too much of a responsibility streak in me to do that, even for my own sake.

I heard him cough in impatience, drawing me back to reality. So I stared at him, right in his glowy ghoul eyes, and said, “I can’t tell you that.”

His return gaze was all cold steel. “You cannot? Or you will not?”

“Both.” I lowered my gaze to the floor, bracing myself for more pain. “Punch me all you want, but I can’t and won’t tell you. All I’ll say is what I’ve already said: I don’t know what you want to know.”

For several moments, as I sat there cringing, I heard no reply. No nothing, in fact, until the tinny sounds of my phone playing a video caught my ear. I looked up to see him holding the phone in his magic. It was playing a little video I’d had my boyfriend film on my birthday, of me with our cat. Nothing special, just talking with her, playing with her. A normal, everyday life thing, at least in a world of civilization. Not so much in post-apocalyptica.

“What is this creature?” he asked, his voice a total one-eighty in tone. Almost as if he had a trace of actual warmth to him.

“My cat,” I said, with a small smile. “Her name is Neufchatel. She’s kind of a little shit at times, but I love her anyway.”

The video stopped. His magic twitched once on the screen, then he held it up, showing another picture. “And this?”

The smiling visage of my boyfriend greeted me, the little bearded cutie making my heart ache. “That’s my boyfriend Harold. We’ve been dating for almost five years.”

“I see,” he said in a whisper. He heaved a massive sigh, and the weapons lowered. He set mine onto the desk alongside my phone, and put his laser pistol into a holster on his leg. “Please accept my apologies. It appears I was… in error.”

Oh thank God. I barely managed to restrain the impulse to do a little happy dance. “Hey it’s… it’s okay. You had no way of knowing.” Wait, was I really just going to forgive him? Just like that? Of course I was. Because I wasn’t stupid enough to hold a grudge. This guy could still turn around and kill me. Or take all my stuff, and leave me with nothing. I didn’t want to antagonize him any further.

He turned away from me, opening the door. “I will take my leave. Excuse me.”

I didn’t say a word as he started to leave. As if I wanted him to do anything else. That’s right, just go. Go and leave me alone. Alone. In the Wasteland. With no friends.

Ah hell.

“Wait!” I cried, holding out my hand as I leapt from my chair. “Don’t go, please.”

He halted, turning to look over his shoulder. “Why?”

I held up my hands to him in a pleading gesture. Damn but he was short. I really had to crane my neck to look into his eyes. “Look, I know it’s not really my business, but… you’re alone out here, right? Just like me?”

He blew out a raspy sigh, spinning around to face me directly. “You are suggesting we work together.”

I flashed him a thumbs up. “Why not? We could both use a friend, right? I mean I know I could.”

He cocked his head, his ears going flat in a gesture that was honestly a little cute, even if he was a ghoul. “Even after I attacked you, and held you hostage, you would trust me?”

I threw my hands up. “You see anyone else around?” I cringed, lowering my arms and holding one hand to my busted nose. “Okay yeah, this hurts, but whatever, I forgive you. Like I said, whatever’s going on with you isn’t my business, but you’re alone. I’m alone. We could both use help, at least till we get to the next town. You know?”

The ghoul smiled. Not a smirk, or a sneer of satisfaction, but a genuine smile. Who knew? “You are… an interesting mare, Cassandra. Very well. I will travel with you.”

“Awesome,” I grinned. I held out my hand and, after a moment’s hesitation, he took it and shook it. “What’s your name, by the way?”

His smile slipped away. Too bad. It actually looked good on him. “... call me Lonely Dreamer.”

“Can do, Lonely,” I said.

Footnote: Fifty percent to next level.
Companion Perk: Lonely Shadow. While Lonely Dreamer is your companion, you gain an extra twenty percent to all stealth checks.

Author's Note

Sorry for the late post; I had to deal with some stuff last night that kept me from getting to finish this till this morning. This chapter ended up shorter than I expected. We'll likely see a much longer one next week. Till then, take care, and thanks for reading!