A Slave's Freedom

Chapters

Mississippi Blues
Doubt
Calm Before The Storm
Grocery
Behind Closed Doors
Bitter
Ache
Blood
Break 2
Mercy
Break 1

Mississippi Blues

Pop!

Two men sat on a porch. One popped a cork from his trusty canteen and took a mighty swig from it, while the other looked out over the acres of land he owned, sporting a pipe in his mouth.

“Mighty fine property you have here, Mr. Burr.”

The landscape was beautiful: fields of cotton and corn greeted the men, while the sun kissed the backdrop.

“Thank you, Mr. Stockton. I appreciate your company,” Mr. Burr replied before taking a puff from his pipe. The resulting puff of white smoke slowly faded into nothingness.

“As do I,” Mr. Stockton said, lifting his canteen.

Mr. Burr nodded. The two men were farmers in good ole Mississippi. They were neighbors in a booming enterprise of the era.

Unfortunately, the booming enterprise came with a price.

“Ah…” Mr. Stockton returned the canteen to his side and licked his lips. “You know, Mr. Burr, I admire your... tenacity. You’re able to keep a firm eye on your inventory. If you’ll have me, I must ask for some advice.”

“Oh?” Mr. Burr raised a brow. “What might that be?”

Mr. Stockton’s black mustache formed with his smile. “How do you keep these vermin in line?”

A few loud clicks of Mr. Burr’s black boots spurred a man from the farmstead. He was tall and skinny like a corn stalk, and he wore rugged blue overalls that were fastened tightly against his frame. “Ya called, Master?”

“Bring me a horn of paradise, please.”

“Yes, Master,” the man said, before he bowed to the two gentlemen and walked away.

Mr. Burr looked up at Mr. Stockton. “Does that answer your question?”

“Well,” Mr. Stockton replied, gulping. “You must enforce strict discipline, I see.”

“If that is what you call it.”

Mr. Stockton looked out at the landscape. “Well, I must be off. I need to make sure the kids are in bed, and the wife isn’t screaming at them again.” He rolled his eyes. “May I swing by tomorrow afternoon to see how you conduct your harvest?”

Mr. Burr took another puff from his pipe. “Of course,” he began. He stood up and held out his hand. “You’re welcome anytime, friend.”

“Thank you,” Mr. Stockton said, giving his friend a firm handshake, before tipping his hat and making his way towards the exit. However, just as he was about to turn, he gasped and turned back around. “Oh, by the way, I almost forgot! Will I be seeing you next Wednesday for the meeting at the Crossroads? Mr. Owens heard they’re restocking on inventory!”

Mr. Burr gave a hearty laugh and bobbed his head. “Mr. Owens always hears rumors of inventory.”

“He always got tabs on the new shipments.” Mr. Stockton cleared his throat and buttoned up his jacket. “Glad you’re coming. We’ll celebrate on our selections with cheer, my treat!”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“As am I!”

Then, the light faded, and Mr. Stockton took off down the dirt path, leaving Mr. Burr on the porch.

“Master, I got you your drink and—”

The man took it and sat down in his chair. “Thank you, Dyson. Now go get some shuteye.”

“Alright, Master! I'll be up ‘n ready to work tomorrow!”

Mr. Burr did not respond to Dyson. He was too focused on the sun slowly fizzling out.

I wasn’t sure where I was at, but it sure wasn’t Mississippi no more.

I just woke up in this place, laying down in some grey mush, like mud in the fields, but not that dark brown sort of earth. This looked more lifeless: grey and rough to the touch. The only life that came through it were little trickles of water weaving between the grains. When I felt the wetness of the earth, I stood and saw water coming down like buckets. I was about a foot from the water that fell, and I was not used to water just falling from the sky like this.

Wherever this water was coming from, it’s high up there. I could only assume that, since the water was coming through this thick white fog. I’m praying that it didn’t rain, because if it did, then I could be facing a flash flood down here.

I weren’t no stranger to floods back on the farm. Before all this, I slept in an old stable. Master let everybody sleep there since it was empty and got none of those animals no more. They’re all in this new stable area, since the guards were complaining that the old one’s roof was leaking fierce. They weren’t lying either. Last week’s rain storm had me floating on hay. My ma was furious, but she knew she couldn’t do nothing about it.

Much like how I couldn’t do anything about being in this very narrow place. It was grey, mucky, and full of stones. I knew for sure that I needed to find a way out, because there’s no sign of any sort of life here, but I was not sure if I should follow where the water’s heading. Not sure if there was anything else down here that could kill me besides these stones.

My ma once told me though that there’s this thing called a risk. Every single thing that we say, that we do; all that boiled down to the chance of dying. But that didn’t matter none, that’s cause we were expendable. That’s what Mr. Stockton said, but my ma and pa didn’t like him none. He just that black hat tipper, or that mustache twirler neighbor from down the road.

So I guess I needed to take a risk, like ma said. After all, my ma wanted me to try and be the freest slave there ever be. She didn’t want me leaving, though. She didn’t want another Leo.

I took a head start and followed the stream. It led me into this… dip, like the ground just fell off. And the place got worse. It was all jagged and uneven, to the point where I gotta be careful where I’m walk. If I climbed down on it wrong, I could get some stones stuck in my feet. Luckily, there weren’t no big leaps I gotta take. I only needed to risk just a bit.

I hopped down a couple parts before getting to this huge wide open space. All that’s there was this huge boulder, surrounded in an orange glow. I wiped my brow, and I took a few steps toward it, hoping to take a breather and to get a better view up ahead.

And then, I heard a voice.

“Look out!”

Crash!

My head was spinning. My vision saw two grey blurs in front of me. And I’m much farther away from that boulder than I should be, I think. Yet again, I couldn’t tell if it’s because I was seeing it right or not. My hearing though was just fine. I could hear my feet shuffling against the dry grains.

“Oof…”

That pained groan wasn’t mine. It sounded like a lady’s voice for sure. I weren’t sure how she wound up here. Last time I checked, white folks couldn’t fly. I tried to stand up to see who it was, but my eyes weren’t used to seeing two’s, so I stumbled to the ground again in a thicket of dust, sliding just shy of the two boulders. My body thanked me for doing that, coughing up a bit of the lifeless grain.

Once I was done coughing, I staggered to my feet and tried to walk towards the boulder. While I struggled to gather myself, all the while, I heard her pained groans. They came from behind the boulder. Curious, I pulled myself around the boulder to get a better look.

What I saw wasn’t what I expected.

She weren’t no white folk. She was a small horse, but not one I had seen before. Most horses back home weren’t very colorful like her, but her fur’s a bright blue color, and her mane’s the colors of the rainbow. I couldn’t see her eyes since they were tightly shut, but her muzzle was a lot shorter than most horses. Plus her wings on her back were different. One of them was folded to her side, while the other was twitching in the opposite direction.

I stopped moving, frozen, as if I heard my Master hollering at me. There were many things I could do or say to the unconscious horse in front of me, but the only words that came out were of the realization that—

“I really ain’t in Mississippi no more.”

Author's Note

Wᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ Gʜᴀsᴛʟʏ Gᴏʀɢᴇ.

Doubt

Slowly a man on horseback pulled alongside the dirt road. He kept his brown horse at bay, telling her to stay put, and hopped off. The horse neighed a reply, but it did not get a response. She snorted, before she laid under a giant oak tree, her head gracing the grass.

The man smiled, dusted himself off, and adjusted his black hat. He walked on the windy path in front of him, his shoes pitter-pattering against the dirt. The giant white mansion stared back at him, basking in the early fall heat.

After walking up the stairs to the front porch, the man took off his hat, and leaned against the railing. He wiped the sweat pooling on his head, slicked back his grey hair, and took a deep breath.

Knock. Knock.

The door rattled against its door frame.

“One moment!”

The man stepped back and hung his head.

The door handle jostled, before the door swung open.

“Hello, sir. How may I help ya?”

He sneered at the vermin, before clearing his throat. “I am looking for Mr. Burr, son.”

“Oh!” the vermin squeaked. “You must be Mr. Stockton!”

“Yes, that I am.” Mr. Stockton rolled his eyes.

“Lemme go get him. He be out back tellin’ ‘em what’s what for the harvest!”

The vermin scurried off into the house, turning briskly behind a wall.

Meanwhile, Mr. Stockton stood frozen, his face contorted. Customary, when a slave answers the door, they should offer the guest the most comfortable seat in the house, and ask him or her if they would like something to eat or drink, before tarrying off to get his or her master. Mr. Stockton knew the rule, but the slave that answered the door did not.

Mr. Stockton frowned and stepped back out, his eyes scouring the landscape from the front porch. His sluggish hold on the railing made him look hunchback, while his grey dusty suit burned with the sun’s gaze.

He thought for a while. Was Mr. Burr really the best option to go to for learning more about slave handling? Although the man’s expertise on discipline was strong, if a slave was not welcoming, then they did not understand the ruling in the first place.

While Mr. Stockton’s mind was fielding whether to stay or leave, Mr. Burr was outside, managing the harvest. He watched the slaves field the corn, their sweaty hands clasping onto each stalk with ease, while the cotton was picked slowly off in the deadly heat. A mother told her child to stay put, while she watched him hold the bag open to drop another small fluff-ball in.

Mr. Burr adjusted his pipe. “Don’t haul that over there!” he shouted, pointing at two slaves with a bag full of corn. “Over in the corn barn! Do you want to be sleeping outside tonight you—”

A tap on his shoulder made Mr. Burr spin around in anger. “And what do you—oh, it’s you, Dyson.”

“Yessir,” Dyson said, bowing. “Sorry ‘bout that, Master. I got down here to tell ya that Mr. Stockton’s out front wantin’ to talk.”

A scowl grew on Mr. Burr’s face. “Why didn’t you let him in?”

Dyson shrunk into his chest. “Sorry, sir. I had to get to ya before the work started to be all rough.”

“Alright, son,” Mr. Burr said. His scowl faltered. “We’ll have a talk about this later, ya hear?”

Dyson nodded. “Yessir.”

Mr. Burr walked past his slave, and ran into the house, leaving Dyson to walk amongst the stalks.

Quickly, Mr. Burr ran through the maze of his house, before spotting his friend on the front porch. “Mr. Stockton!”

The grey-suited man turned around. “Ah, Mr. Burr. You did not forget our arrangement?”

“No-no-no, Mr. Stockton,” Mr. Burr said, walking out onto the porch. “I had not. My mind was focused on managing the harvest.” He wiped the sweat from his brow. “I figure you’re edging to see what makes my worker’s tick?”

Mr. Stockton glanced to his left and sighed. “Not if they’re all like that critter that answered the door.”

“Ah, no they are not like that. I’ll be discussing with him about proper etiquette tonight.”

That got Mr. Stockton tilting his head. “Why not now?”

“Because it’s time to harvest! Disciplining on a more… stricter scale requires the right time and place.”

Mr. Stockton hummed. “I see. Do tell in time, yes?”

“Of course,” Mr. Burr said. “Now come, my friend! Daylight is burning.”

Mr. Stockton nodded and walked in to his digging. “Thank you kindly.”

The two men walked out back, much to the dismay of the critter looking on.

Safe.

I sighed and gently laid her near the cave entrance, while I collapsed on the other side of it, propping myself against its walls. It was a small little hole in the huge narrow valley. It reminded me of the shed Master had out back. The only reason why I knew this building existed was because I overheard him talking about it one night, after dealing with a couple of richer white folk. Whenever he stressed about something, he’d go there to rest on his favorite reading chair. There would be that old lamp flickering beside him, the glass looking like a woman when she’s with child. And there would be the sound of silence, something that was far and few between on the farm.

Silence was hard to witness here, too: the water still raged on outside. It became part of the backdrop, as the distant sounds of a maddened demon pierced my ears. It made me wince as I heard how angry it sounded. There was no comfort here, just safety in an area away from the open dull space of this place.

I took a peek back at my plus one. The horse’s breathing finally started to calm, something that I was worried about before. She had been breathing like she was running away from someone, but that changed a little while ago. She was just resting now, unaware of the screams of the night.

Well, until I spoke of her rest. She stirred, her eyes flickering and her neck craning to view her surroundings.

“Where a-am I?”

Her eyes settled on mine, which were wider than a wagon’s tire. She pointed her hoof at me. “What are you?”

The question caught me off guard. I never have been asked this before, so I just told her what I knew.

“I’mma slave.”

She nearly tilted her head off that neck of hers when she heard me say those words. “A slave? In Equestria?” She eyed me up and down. “Never seen a slave like you before.”

Equestria? That place didn’t sound anywhere near Mississippi. So there was no way I was even close to home. “I never seen a horse talk.”

“I am not a horse! I’m a pegasus, buster,” she began, scooting towards me. She shoved me with that hoof of hers, pinning me against the wet wall. “And I am one of the best flyers around! You’ll never beat me in a race, I’ll—”

Her little rant skirted to a halt when her broken appendage made itself known. “Ahh!” she screamed, before snapping to her wing. “What happened to my wing?”

“You don’t remember?” I asked. I got myself comfortable against the rough cave wall.

She tapped her hoof against her chin. “Well, I do remember hitting something…”

“Hittin' me was the first somethin' ya hit.”

“I did?” she said, groaning. “Then what was the second thing?”

“A huge rock. Saw ya layin’ on the other side, so I got on over and picked ya up.”

Her mouth formed into a small ‘o’. “Sorry for hitting you, if that’s anything. Just didn’t expect anyone down here in Ghastly Gorge.”

“Ghastly Gorge?”

She raised a brow at me. “Are you not from here?”

“Sounds like it,” I said, nodding. “I’m from Northern Mississippi, ma’am.”

“I’ve never heard of any place called Mississippi before…”

“And I never heard of this place either.”

She frowned momentarily, those eyes downcast and her ears deflated, but it wasn’t long before she scooted over towards me again and gave me a short smile. “Guess we’re going to go have to work together to get out of here, huh?”

“Looks like it.” I offered her my hand. “The name’s Dyson, ma’am.”

“Weird, but everyone’s got weird names nowadays.” That smile felt more real now, her pinkish eyes twinkling in the dark. “Name’s Rainbow Dash, but just call me Dash.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I felt her hoof in my palm. We quickly shook ‘hands’.

In the dark, I saw her grit teeth. “Never call me ma’am. Dash is good enough.”

I smiled. “Sounds good, Dash.”

Dash stood up, yawned, and stretched her hind legs. “Phew! All this crashing and stressing makes me want to sleep some more.” She turned to me. “But it wouldn’t be fair to you if I didn’t watch over you. Are you wanting to take turns resting?”

“Is it really that bad here?”

“Ghastly Gorge is an extremely dangerous place,” Dash began, sitting on her flanks. “There’s eels that jut out from the walls that’ll eat you if you’re too close, and hydras if you’re near the caverns—”

“Okay, I get your point.” I curled up into a ball. I didn’t want to imagine any of those things right now. “So do ya want to get some more rest first?”

She surprised me by shaking her head. “Although I said I would, I don’t think I should sleep now. You’ve been watching me for probably a while now, making sure I’m safe. I wouldn’t be Loyalty if I didn’t let you sleep.”

I wanted to ask her what that meant, but my body failed to let me speak. A yawn escaped me, which made Dash chuckle. “And it sounds like you need it more than me.”

“Well if ya’re offerin’...” My voice trailed off as I slowly laid down on the rough grains of the cave. Although it was a bit wet, the ground was still dry enough to sleep on. “Thanks, Dash,” I added, mumbling it through another yawn.

As my body finally gave way, I heard her voice over the growls of the night. “Sleep well, Dyson.”

And I did as she said, drifting off into dreamland.

Author's Note

Mʀ. Sᴛᴏᴄᴋᴛᴏɴ ᴅᴏᴇs ɴᴏᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴏғ ʜɪᴍsᴇʟғ.

Calm Before The Storm

The kerosene lamp brightened the room, while the world outside grew dark. Mr. Burr sat in his chair, his feet propped up on another padded chair in front of him. The weekly Ripley Advertiser was open proudly in his hands, the large newspaper full of articles of his hometown. His hands gripped the huge paper, while his thumb rubbed the top of it with care, tempted to turn the next page.

On the other hand, Dyson stood still. His eyes were looking on at his master, while his long, lanky arms dangled at his sides.

“Sir.”

The vocalization made Mr. Burr pause, his thumb stopping its caress, while the grip on the paper loosened. “Yes, Dyson?”

A big old brown clock chimed in the farthest corner of the room. Dyson’s eyes darted to it. “I-I… wanted to ask you ‘bout Mr. Stockton, sir.”

Silence reigned for a moment. Dyson couldn’t see Mr. Burr due to the paper was blocking his view. But then, the paper was folded shut, set aside on the reading chair. Mr. Burr gazed at his slave, and smiled. “Oh?” He got up from his chair. “Why do you ask?”

Dyson twiddled with his fingers. “I… was worried, sir.”

“Worried?” Mr. Burr let out a hearty laugh. “Dyson, you and the rest of those negroes don’t need to worry about Mr. Stockton. He’s absolutely harmless to you lot.”

“It’s not that, sir…” Dyson’s voice trailed off, his eyes flickering between the clock and his owner. “You looked like you were goin’ punch him. I didn’t want to have to yank ya off him.”

That nearly killed Mr. Burr, his hands holding his belly tight. “B-Boy you’re going to kill me with all this talk!” He took a seat back in his chair. “Mr. Stockton’s just grating on the ears sometimes. He tends to… say nonsense that I don’t take kindly.”

Dyson tilted his head. “What did he say, sir?”

“Nothing worth mentioning,” Mr. Burr said lamely. He flicked his paper open again and waved dismissively at Dyson. “Like I said, don’t worry about it. If there’s anything he says that worries me, I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you, sir.”

At first, Dyson took a bow, and moved towards the door. But just as he was about to grip the handle to the door, he stopped and turned back. “Master?”

“Yes?”

“Are ya goin’ to the Crossroads tomorrow?”

Dyson heard Mr. Burr breathe deeply, making him shiver. “Yes I am, Dyson.” He set his paper aside. “Gotta after losing a couple to last years storm, remember?”

Unfortunately, Dyson did remember. His gaze traveled to the floor. “I-I do, s-sir. Hope they be real nice. We be needin’ those new hands.”

“Mhmm.” Dyson saw the back of his master’s head bobbing, while his master’s hand turned the page. At first, Dyson thought that his master had nodded to his response, but then he heard his master’s voice hum to a beat, a beat that Dyson recognized. He was about to ask him why he was humming it, but Mr. Burr beat him to it.

“You know, Dyson? I miss your ma’s tunes. Reminds me of my wife playing her piano,” Mr. Burr said. He hadn’t turned around, but his head was no longer paying attention to the paper in front of him. The night sky was much more interesting.

“I do too, sir.” Dyson stood frozen, his feet numb. “Ma’s really good at piano.”

“That she is, which is why I need you to do me a favor. Could you tell her I’d really appreciate it if she’d start again?” He turned to see Dyson’s stalwart stance. “She’s the only negro woman I ever heard play that well.”

“I’ll tell her, sir.”

“You better,” Mr. Burr said with a smirk. “She needs to start practicing. I’d like for her doing that so I don’t have to read in here anymore.”

“Is that why you come out here?” Dyson asked.

Mr. Burr shook his head, before he turned to his paper once again. “I feel… my wife’s presence here. We used to come in here once in a while to get away from everything.” He paused and flicked to the next page. “You remember that?”

Dyson walked towards him. “Definitely, sir. I came out to serve ya both a few times. That was…” He paused, counting on his fingers. “Five years?”

“Six. Six years, boy.” The paper crackled a bit. “You came with your family that long ago. And she’s been gone for three less.” He plopped his feet back up on his other chair. “Anyway, when your ma does her playing, she makes the house feel more… home-like. It don’t feel so empty, you know?”

Dyson wanted to say no, because he had never had that problem, but he nodded anyway.

“Knew you’d understand. You a smart working negro. That’s why you don’t work as much out there.”

“I know, sir. I appreciate your kindness,” Dyson said with a smile.

“I try, even in these days.” Mr. Burr said, before putting his paper down. He looked at the clock and saw the hands tick-tock their way near twelve. “Whelp, looks like it’s time for you to get some shut-eye.”

“You not headin’ to bed, sir?” Dyson asked as he opened the door.

Mr. Burr shook his head. “No, boy, I’m too absorbed in these news articles to go to bed just yet. But you need to, so don’t stay awake for my sake.”

“Alright, sir. I’ll be gettin to bed. I’ll be up for mornin’ harvest!”

Mr. Burr laughed. “Hope so.”

Dyson bowed and exited the room. “Good night, sir.”

“G’night, Dyson,” Mr. Burr replied.

When the door clicked shut, Mr. Burr smiled, and turned the page.

The sun woke me up, not Dash. There was a problem with that: she had kept watch. I didn’t need that much sleep, so the fact that I even got what felt like forever made my mouth open wide, letting out a tremendous yawn. Rubbing the sleep off my eyes, I turned to look for the colorful-not-horse, whose rainbow mane was resting on the same grains as I. And she was, fast asleep…

...snoring.

I nudged her, furious. How could she fall asleep? She was the one who warned me about this place’s monsters, and here I was, nudging her in hopes of waking her up. Her body just wiggled to my touch, while her snores remained unaffected, loud as can be.

“Dash—” I said, using my words, and a little more force in my fingers.

It got her to mutter something in her sleep, but she wasn’t budging, her hooves curling under her belly. And then I saw it: a tuft of fur on her belly. It looked like a ticklish spot, so I just glazed my fingers over it and—

“W-Wha, huh?” Rainbow Dash mumbled. Her eyes darted to and fro, before she craned her neck to me. "I… Dyson?” She tilted her head. “What are you doing?”

“Tryin’ to wake ya up, that’s what,” I said. “You’d probably sleep through a stampede if I let ya!”

Dash sharply yawned, before letting out a short blow. “Sounds like something Applejack would say.” She frowned. “Probably be worried just like the rest of the girls when they find out I’m missing.”

“Best be on our way to meet ‘em, right?” I said, my hand outstretched. Helping her apparently earned me a confused look, a raised brow that twitched at the thought of me being nice, so I decided to continue, “Need help up?”

She stammered out a reply, “S-Sure.” She put her hoof in my hand, letting me pull her up. It was an awkward tug, but she soon found her bearings. Unfortunately, her wing kept reminding her how not-okay she was, making her wince. “I hope my wing doesn’t get infected. That’d stink having to be grounded at the clinic for a whole month.” She rolled her eyes, and stretched her uninjured wing. “I can’t tell you how much I hate that place. It feels like I keep visiting it every week with a new injury!”

“What’s a clinic?”

Her brow really twitched at that one. Was that something I should have known? I just stared on as that left brow trembled uncontrollably.

“Dyson, when we get back, I need you to talk to my friend, Twilight, because if you don’t know what a clinic is… I wonder if you even know what medicine is.”

I shook my head. “Can’t tell ya that either.”

Dash sighed. Her grit teeth and ruffled muzzle made her look like she wanted to punch me. Maybe not knowing things she knew made her irritated.

Or maybe she was alone with something she never knew existed, while having to deal with a broken wing. She’s stuck with me: a slave who she ran into while flying, and with no way out in sight, it's probably got her all rattled. These are only possibilities though, I don’t know her well enough to just assume, much like she doesn’t know me well.

She walked away from me, whatever her reasoning was, and stared out beyond the cave. I walked beside her and looked down at her. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”

“How did you get up here without wings?”

I wiggled my fingers. “These work hard, Dash. I just climbed my way up.”

She turned to me, her mouth and eyes wide open. “With me on your back?”

“Dash, you is light as a feather on a chicken,” I said, earning me a glare. I put my hands out in front of me. “It’s true! I put you over my shoulder, and climbed. I didn’t know this place, so I made sure to be not near the ground, that way nothin’ would snatch us!” I looked down at the gorge below. I could see the water trickle down. “Guessin’ ya want down?”

She nodded. “But the ledge is way too thin for me, Dyson. I don’t know if I can walk on it.”

I smirked at her. “Wanna find out?”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Take it as ya may, Dash,” I reply, seeing her matching smirk. “I just givin’ you my thoughts.”

She stepped forward, and placed her hoof on the ledge. She was right, the ledges around us were extremely thin. This was where I stopped, since I knew trying to go higher was pointless—all the ledges were too thin for my fingers to get a good grip. So I just settled in this cave, hoping that nothing would snatch us. We were… high up, just not even close to half-way. This place was huge.

I sat on the edge of the ledge, and prepared myself to head down. Meanwhile, Dash looked above us to confirm what I already knew:

“Dyson, we can’t go up either. Those ledges look super thin—”

“Yeah, but them down there don’t look like they ain’t meant for climbin’.” I began to dangle over the side. “Ya ready?”

“Dyson, I can’t do that with hooves.”

Right, she’s like a horse. “Okay, well,” I said, pulling myself back up. “Get on my back, and wrap your hooves round my neck.”

“Okay,” Dash said, doing as I told her. She draped herself over me, her forelegs wrapped around my neck. “Like this?”

I smiled. “Yep, just like that.” I got back on the side of the ledge and began to descend. “Keep a good hold on me, alright?”

“I’ll try.” Her voice sounded anxious. Was she thinking I was going to drop her? “Don’t drop me.”

“Not plannin’ to,” I replied, wearing a smirk.

The climb down wasn’t rough as she thought, but it didn’t mean that her added weight didn’t add any strain. And I bet she wouldn’t admit it, but she was whimpering the first few times I dropped down. It wasn’t something I would make fun of her for, but from what I’ve gotten from her, she’s very prideful, much like Mr. Stockton. And if Mr. Stockton was anything to go by, she didn’t have the guts to admit it right away.

By the time we were closer to the bottom, my fingers were rough, and my muscles felt worked. I decided to check on my passenger to see if she was okay, but her fidgeting told me a different story, one of fear. “Ya alright back there?”

“S-Shut up,” she stuttered.

I couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “Just checkin’ to see you ain’t colder than a wagon tire.” I swing my body a bit. “Careful, goin’ for ‘nother swing.”

That got her to tense up, as I swung myself from one ledge to the next. “Why did you do that?”

“Look to your left, Dash.”

She saw what I was seeing: a larger ledge directly to our left. It had a way down that didn’t involve me getting strangled to death by a worried horse. She gasped, and said, “Just one more swing, Dyson, you can do it!”

I smirked and told her to hold on tight. And tightly she did, but she wasn’t worried anymore. I saw that excited smile, before I took the plunge, swinging to the next grey ledge.

Landed just fine. Although scraping my knee was not part of the plan. I winced slightly, but it was just because the minor injuries hurt the most.

Dash hopped off my back, and kissed the ground rather graciously. “I have never ever said this, so if you told anypony, I’d deny it outright.” She hopped in front of me. “Got it?”

“Understood, Dash.”

“I’m so glad I’m finally on the ground.”

Hearing this was different. Never had someone ever say that they were glad to be on the ground. I get the feeling though. It felt good to finally not have to hear another person shouting at me to do something. So far, I did stuff on my own, or, well, with someone, that is.

“Me too, Dash.” I took a gander at the raging waves ahead of us that were racing down the unexplored valley. “Me too.”

Author's Note

Sɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ɪs ᴍᴜsɪᴄ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʀ ᴇᴀʀs.

Grocery

It was night time, and the grocery was open late. That wasn’t the norm around Ripley: the grocery closed early to ensure there weren’t any drunks wandering the streets of the small town. But tonight was different. Known as 'the Crossroads', the establishment had just gotten restocked of inventory, something that newcomers didn’t know about. Many locals were willing to pay top dollar to get their hands on the new arrivals.

Mr. Burr was one of those high rollers, as he strolled in on his horse.

“Whoa there,” he said, his hands gently tugging on its reins. The horse responded in kind, huddling close beside the establishment.

He quickly hopped off his horse and hooked it to a nearby wooden stable-rack. His brown stallion neighed hard in response, which prompted Mr. Burr to talk the horse down. “There, there,” he cooed, petting the horse. “It’s okay, I’ll be only gone for a minute. I'll get you some more hay tomorrow and—”

“Whatta night, Mr. Burr!”

Mr. Burr nearly yelped as his gaze snapped to the man in the corner. It surprised Mr. Burr that he hadn’t seen the man, but as he realized who it was, Mr. Owens was known for being sneaky as well as being hyperactive.

The man had a face of a young boy, his cheeks puffy and his face lacking of any facial hair. His brown beady eyes beamed at anyone who’d be passing by, and his attire of a clean white shirt, a black bow tie, a brown vest, and a cream sack coat matched his brown pantaloons and shoes. Safe to say, he was dressed to impress.

“G-Glad you could join us, Mr. Owens,” Mr. Burr said with a shaky tip of his hat. “Mr. Stockton told me about your... excitement.”

The shrill screech that came from Mr. Owens nearly made Mr. Burr wince. “You bet! Wilhelm was hollering ‘bout the new shipment, that I jus’ couldn’t keep that ol’ yipper yapper of mine shut!” He stifled a chuckle. “Ripley needed to know about this shipment! It’s the best one this year!”

Mr. Burr raised a brow at that. “How many?”

Mr. Owens came forth, and nudged Mr. Burr. This usually was a way of telling somebody to lend them an ear. So Mr. Burr did just that. He craned his neck low, while cupping his ear. Mr. Owens whispered…

“Fifty-five!”

...and Mr. Burr’s eyes widened. “Are you sure, Mr. Owens?”

Mr. Owens gripped his vest in the center, while wearing the smuggest of smirks. “You betcha! They brought these lot by the wagons—something that Ripley hadn’t seen since the beginning of the war!”

It was like a dream. Mr. Burr knew they were short on hands, so hearing about this… made him crack a smile. “That’s great! I hope that I get something out these lot.”

“All you have is hope when I’m bidding you, Mr. Burr.”

Mr. Burr knew who that was, a certain someone who twirled with his own facial hair as much as he tossed out cash. “You might not want to start counting your chickens before they hatch, Mr. Stockton. There ain’t going to be no prime negroes for your plantation.”

The two men approached each other with pleasant smiles. Then, they shook hands. “Good to see you.”

“Same to you,” replied Mr. Stockton. “Couldn’t help but notice you and Mr. Owens talking up the market. Guessing you got the news?”

“If you mean, the rumor of how many there are, then yes, rather… excitedly, as a matter of fact,” Mr. Burr said, while casting a sidelong glance at Mr. Owens, who approached the taller men with a short, embarrassed grin.

“Well, that’s our Owens. Just a bit excited when word gets out about inventory.” Mr. Stockton twirled the end of his stache. “Let’s not keep the others waiting, shall we?”

The other two men nodded, and entered the Crossroads, or so Mr. Burr tried. He couldn’t help but pause, while the other two men entered without hesitation. He thought he saw a light flickering across the street at the trading post. He thought that someone had forgotten to blow out their candlelight, but that was thoroughly dashed when the light brightened before his very eyes.

And when he blinked, the light was no longer there.

He shook his head and walked into the grocery, willing to disregard the phenomenon.

Inside, merriment was abundant. Men were happily drinking to the tunes of the ol’ South, while the barkeep was keeping tabs on the ones at the counter. Mr. Burr doubted that the upstairs folk didn’t like this noise—if any of them were still up there. On this type of night, no one was asleep. They were either drowning in liquor with friends, or making their way to a light brown door towards the back of the building. Behind that door was an area segregated from the freedom of alcohol, and a place that Mr. Burr’s company were eager to cash-in on.

“‘Bout time for the showing?” Mr. Stockton asked.

Mr. Owens shrugged. “Probably soon. Let’s get back there before—”

“Hello sirs. Want some of the finest beer in all of Mississippi?”

Mr. Burr was about to respond with a negative, but Mr. Owens beat him to the punch. “Naw, we getting ready to see them back in the back.”

At first, Mr. Burr thought he saw the barkeep frown, but that changed when the keep gave the three a bright smile. “Well, when you’re done, don’t hesitate to come back out to get some of the finest drinks in the state!”

“That’d be good. We’ll keep that in mind,” Mr. Burr replied. He gave Mr. Stockton a slight smile. “Go on ahead, I need to ask the barkeep something.”

The two men nodded, scurrying towards the green door of life, while Mr. Burr hopped on an empty stool and looked at his fellow man.

“Whatcha needing, sir?”

Mr. Burr placed a ten dollar banknote on the table, and slid it forward. “As an apology for… Mr. Owens’ outburst.”

The barkeep smiled. “How did ya know I was bothered by that?”

Mr. Burr shrugged. “Intuition had been a strong suit of mine since I was young.”

“Well, thank you kindly.” The barkeep gave him a nod. “You’re a good man, Mr…?”

“Burr.” He said with a smile. “And thank you. I hope you have a nice night.”

“You too, Mr. Burr.” The barkeep snatched the banknote and scrubbed the front desk with a towel.

The two men departed, one working happily at a bar who waved promptly to the other, whose footsteps click-clacked against the floor like glass tapping against drunken memories.

After getting her off my back and onto that ledge, we made our way down, hooves and feet pitter-pattering against soulless dirt. I wondered if this was how it was going to be for the next few days, just walking and worrying every waking moment that something was going to get us. But that wasn’t going to happen, was it?

I shook my head and looked at Dash. She was limping a bit, something that I didn’t notice until she started walking down the ledge with me.

“Dash, you alright?”

She stopped and looked at me. “Y-Yeah…” Her grimace was showing her lie. “I’m doing fine.”

“Not buyin’ it.” I knelt down in front of her and took a look at her hoof. “Yep, that hoof lookin’ banged up. Ya might want to be careful now, could get all bruised up more and ya don't want that—”

“I know, I know,” Dash replied as she rolled her eyes.

I raised a brow at her for that one. What was with that tone? But before I could figure it out, she was walking ahead of me. So I bit my tongue, and kept moving.

Time passed, and not a word was said. Dash was too focused. The only time she checked to see if I was near was if she didn’t hear me close to her. She had craned her neck and saw me lagging behind, which she didn’t take too kindly, saying that she’s ‘seen tortoises move faster than me’. Not sure what she meant by that, but I decided to pick up the pace anyway.

Eventually, we met solid ground. There wasn’t the fear of falling. Nothing but the grey grains and a raging stream of water. I thought she’d recognize the water and ask if we should follow it, but instead, she walked past the thing, and continued her merry way in the opposite direction.

I rushed toward her. “Dash?”

She turned around. “Yeah…?”

“Why you goin’ that way?”

She raised a brow at me. “Dyson, we’re like… a hop, skip, and a jump from the other edge of the Gorge!” She looked at me with a wide smile. “If we find a way up, I could lead us to Ponyville so we can get some help!”

That cliffside was huge. Definitely bigger than the one we climbed down from. “But Dash, that’s really high up.”

“I know, but I’ve flown higher and—”

“Yet ya can’t fly,” I said, pointing to her wings.

Reminding her might’ve made her growl. Either that, or she was trying to fight the pain, if her lip bite and tightly closed eyes were any reason to believe.

“So?” Dash replied with her grit teeth. She opened her eyes and quickly pointed her not damaged hoof at me. “You just had me on your back through that climb down! You could easily carry me up.”

“I don’t think that’d be a thing. I could drop you and—”

Dash growled and stood on her hind legs. She then, lunged toward me, hooking her forehooves around my neck. With a bit of strength, she bumped her muzzle against my nose. “Listen, Dyson. Do we have much of a choice? It’s either we go up, or we go face those hydras out there.” She shoved her left forehoof toward the screaming monsters to make her point. They sounded angry. She pulled back and smirked. “I don’t think you and I are able to outrun them either.”

“They fast?”

“When they’re hungry, they are,” Dash whispered. That got my back all cold. “So, what do you think?”

I think of a lot of things: the fields, what Master was doing that day, making sure my little sister wasn’t running around too much, doing errands for my Master... and a whole lot of other stuff that I couldn't begin to list, since Rainbow Dash was glaring at me something fierce. I better focus on listing what's important now: my options.

Going up was definitely a great one, since we would avoid getting killed by hydras. But what if we fell? What if we died on impact?

On the other hand, we could stay down here. We'd have water, but the problem would be food. We haven't found anything to eat, and there were definitely ones out there that wanted to eat us. And starving to death or being eaten alive wasn't something I wanted either.

So I guess everything made sense now. Don't worry about the what-if's, just worry about getting out. I sighed. “Alright, guess you win. Looks like we be… climbin’ on up.”

“Alright!” Dash yipped as she landed on all fours. Even though she was hobbling, she moved like she wasn’t hurt that much at all. “Let’s get going, Dyson!”

As I watched her waddle her way towards our first obstacle, I felt an aching, nervous feeling, like one of those ones that tickle your stomach until it starts to wretch. Maybe it was the possibility—no, the reality that I was going to go climbing up yet another cliffside. I was nervous. Yeah, just nervous enough that I gulped down what little saliva I had left in my mouth and followed her with a bit of distance between us.

It wasn’t that I was afraid to die… No sirree.

Author's Note

Dʀɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ sᴏᴜɴᴅs ᴏғ sᴜғғᴇʀɪɴɢ.

Behind Closed Doors

He knocked twice. The door swung open.

Mr. Burr walked in, taking in the view of the back of the Crossroads. It always smelled off here, but the inventory trickled owners of all kinds to the place.

The door promptly slammed behind him, leaving nothing but the sounds of chanting and merriment in the next room.

Inside, the room was candle-lit. Each one burned intensely, casting a orange hue over the people inside. The walls, although clean, added to that gritty, gruesome scent. It nearly made Mr. Burr choke back a cough, but thankfully he gulped it down. That would've been the end of it, if he didn't hear the mouse that squeaked under the table in far corner of the room.

Mr. Burr coughed.

Slowly, he took an open seat, away from many of the other patrons. Everyone was watching an older looking gentleman hobble towards the stand. Once he made it, the older man took pause to clear his throat, before he spoke with glee, “Gentleman, I hope y’all havin’ a great night!”

An owner down the line from Mr. Burr wanted to make his presence known. “I sure have! Whiskey's in me good!”

He laughed. Some joined in with hearty good cheer, but the rest of us stayed quiet, albeit for the older man who promptly shifted his cap and leaned on the podium.

One of the fellows next to the boisterous man nudged him, before whispering a few words into his ears. The laughter died soon after.

That gave the time the speaker needed to butt in, casting his hand out to the door next to him. “Well if you haven’t had a good one, then we can make your night much better. We got quite a good helpin’ of able negroes for you folks tonight!”

Everyone waited in anticipation, as the giant gate-like door opened.

Then, they came in.

Mr. Burr took in the sight of the ‘inventory’. It was as Mr. Owens had said: fifty-five negroes of young and old shuffled their way in, chained together like they were just caught running. It wasn’t jarring for Mr. Burr; he had seen this before, but not so many since the time he got into the business. Back then, many of them came: some close to sixty, but that was a rarity. Getting something as close to sixty at one of these was more than a sign of the market growing.

But the fact that these negroes were chained unsettled Mr. Burr. The only time they were chained up was when one of them was an unruly slave. That made him a little less valued—and a bit more of a challenge for an owner to keep on the plantation.

Yet… now it was harder to tell. They were all chained. How was he to tell who was the best to pick?

Yet again, he also knew why they were chained. These folks don’t want another Turner. Another Nat Turner to be precise.

Mr. Burr felt his spine twinge thinking about that. If these lot weren’t chained up, they would overrun the buyers within seconds. The thought made him wish he brought his pistol.

“We’ll start with some of the younger ones, and work our way up…”

Mr. Burr kindly tuned the gentleman out once again. At first, Mr. Burr worked his gaze down the line and back, seeing the young and the old standing still. But, then, as he scanned over the lot a second time, his eyes locked on to a boy, who, if Mr. Burr could estimate, was nearly the same age as Dyson. Although shorter than Dyson, the boy had longer and strong-looking arms. It looked like this boy could haul all the corn and bags of cotton by himself, something that made Mr. Burr imagine stacks of banknotes behind the boy.

And then, those banknotes dissolved, leaving Mr. Burr nothing but that boy to see. Mr. Burr saw the boy’s eyes, how big and blue they were, and how they were looking down the line, at an older woman whose lush bob locks told him the whole story.

Mother and son.

Another possible family to add to the collection.

Mr. Burr patiently waited for the speaker to announce the boy’s turn. Child after child were sold, some to the dismay of others, but he knew that this boy was the one he wanted, and the mother was part of the package. Hopefully someone didn’t try to get his number. He didn’t want to have to match.

“Alright! Looks like we got a prime loader here for somebody lucky enough!” The speaker said. “Wha’chur name?”

The boy sounded nervous. “L-Leo, sir.”

His voice didn’t carry that well. Those nerves are an issue, but with a bit of work, he’d be good for the farm.

“Alright, now for those wonderin’, this boy here is a prime negro who was taken from one of the plantations up north. He’d been working the fields for a long while, so he doesn’t need any training, and he’s been loading grain for a couple years!” The man turned to the boy fully and glared. “Turn around.”

The boy did, although his chains were clacking together a bit. Mr. Burr could sense that he was extremely nervous. The woman he deemed the boy’s mother did too. Her eyes were darting right to him, and she definitely gulped.

Then, the speaker lifted the boy’s shirt up.

“As you can see, no signs of whipping, and the boy is certainly not fatigued! He’s a perfect set of hands for any work needed—”

Mr. Burr didn’t even give the man to finish his speech. He saw enough to make an offer. “I’ll take him and that woman up a ways for twelve hundred.”

The crowd immediately snapped to Mr. Burr, as if he was outright delirious for making such an offer when the speaker wasn’t finished. On the other hand, the supposed mother was looking at him, her eyes watering and her lips curling to a smile.

“T-Twelve hundred?” the speaker asked, his eyes opened wide.

Twelve hundred. Mr. Burr didn’t lie with numbers. He counted high enough, did he?

“A-Anyone else have an offer?”

The room was silent. Not even the slaves muttered a peep.

“Then I guess you got them two Mr.B—”

“Twelve hundred fifty.”

That voice. Mr. Burr knew that voice.

“Mr. Stockton?”

The black hat was tipped in his direction. “I told you all you had was hope, didn’t I?”

Mr. Burr groaned.

And the bidding war drew on into the night...

Hopping down from this huge hill was much easier than climbing up it.

“Come on, Dyson, you can do it!”

And the horse on my back was certainly not helping the cause.

“It’d be much easier if I didn’t have ya wringin’ my neck!”

As if the strained words had weight, Rainbow Dash had slightly loosened her hold on his neck. “Yeesh, sorry! I didn’t know! Is that better?”

“Yes,” I replied, finally being able to breathe. “Now keep it down, climbin’s already rough like this.”

A whiny was what I got. A really irritated whiny. She definitely behaved like a horse when she wanted. I bet she be wanting to growl at me and maybe bite my hand off if she got the chance.

I grabbed onto the next ledge in front of me. I actually haven’t even climbed up the cliff face. No, we’re just getting up the place that I somehow walked down. How did I even do this before? Must’ve been the fog or something, because I definitely couldn’t have walked down this.

Panting, I kept my system going: one hand in front of the other, the harsh grains piercing my hands. It made this charcoal skin of mine turn lifeless, but with a few pats on my pant legs, the dust was gone… although it remained on those pants of mine.

I’m glad that my pants haven’t gotten worn through. Had this pair since last winter. Most of our clothes got cycled out—unless you weren’t working hard. If you was, it was great. If you wasn’t, you was not getting another share until you was. It… made working both motivating and stressful, something that, well, Master noticed when I was working in the fields.

I grimaced as the memory came into full. The sun was high when it happened, because boy, phew, it was hot that day. I remember Leo wasn’t moving well at all. He was telling me that a lot of the other slaves weren’t moving well. He was used to it though, even though he was struggling too. Guess he moved through the pain, or maybe he was just used to being lifeless.

No, he wasn’t. I wasn’t. We wasn’t. We just moved around without yapping to the guards. They can’t do anything for us, neither can Master. He just told us to move, or well, he tried to with me. Master was impartial to me.

But he wasn’t to Leo.

Why? He could’ve been alive… but he ain’t. Leo’s deader than a wagon wheel left astray, while I’m here, climbing with this pony on my back.

I tried not to frown. I tried. It’s there though, now. I could feel my lips curling and such. Why? I don’t know. Leo didn’t want this. Didn’t want me being all sad. Upset. It felt like Dash still had her hooves around my neck. Breathing was hard even though they weren’t there. I grunted. I groaned. I moaned.

My body gasped for breath as I crawled on top of the summit.

“You did it, Dyson!”

“I made it?” My eyes flickered towards the cliff face, still looking like it’s up towards the heavens. “But we ain’t up there yet.”

“Smaller victories, Dyson,” Dash replied with an ear-to-ear smile. “Let’s take a break. We need to save all the energy we can get since we have much more climbing to do.”

“Ya mean I have more climbing to do.”

“Eeexactly.”

I groaned.

At least I wasn’t upset about Leo no more.

Time felt like it tickled my hairs. It must be a way of telling me that I was alive, that this place was not a simple dream. These monsters and this horse was all real. We was real. Nothing else mattered.

So what was the matter, then? The fact that, well, I was stuck here with this horse? I didn’t have a say in the matter. I mean, it’s better than being stuck with that hydra down the stream but…

I shook my head and got up. Grains are hard to relax on. They pinch and stamp your back like whips scarred skin—my stomach crawled. I don’t need to remember him. Not yet…

My body stretched this way and that. Arms bent. Neck cracked. Fingers (although grayed) flexed better than ever. Indents everywhere, but who cared? Not I. Not her. She was looking at the cliff. Why? I don’t know. Curious? Spotting the cracks that could give me a tumble? Not a worrier was she?

Can’t be. Seems like that's not her. She turned and trotted on over.

“Dyson, you’re up. Guess you were more tired than you let on.”

Tired of being choked to death. I rolled my eyes. “Can’t say I was doing well in the first place.”

For some reason, she tilted her head. “What do you—” But then, she gasped. “I said I was sorry!” The tilt was no longer there. She was just looking at me like she was pissed, but she still had some sort of smile wedged on her face.

“Still doesn’t take the pain away,” I mumbled, my hand slowly grazing against my neck. It still hurt from her hooves leaning on it. Maybe Dash wasn’t as light as I thought. Or maybe she wasn’t a fan of falling.

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “You’ll live. Now, come on!” She started walking towards the cliff again, but not without beckoning me with her good wing. “We need to get out of here and fast! The faster we get to Ponyville, the better we’re off!”

The sun was a bit lower in the sky than it was a bit ago. “Alright, hold your horses.”

I didn’t see her stop, but I did hear her neigh, and boy was it a bit more aggressive than the last. “What did you say?”

“On second thought, I’m comin’!” I ran towards her without a second to think. If I wanted to live, then I needed to not say that around her again. Didn't want her to be mad, since she’s the only one who knew this place. If I didn't have her, I'd be dead too.

But now, as I looked at her, she didn’t seem mad at all. In fact, she was brazen with that little smirk that wormed onto her face. “That’s what I thought you said.”

Author's Note

Tᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ʜᴏᴍᴇ, Mᴀsᴛᴇʀ. I ʙᴇ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴊᴜsᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ.

Dᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ, Mᴀ. Dᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ.

Bitter

After sharing a couple drinks with his friends, Mr. Burr walked out of the Crossroads with two new slaves in tow.

The first was an older woman, who was a bit grave in her appearance. Even though her hair bounced happily as she walked, those lush locks couldn't compare to her dragged gait, which collected dust along the path to her new home. In fact, she didn't even look where she was truly going, her eyes downcast. Was there something the matter? Or was she just conflicted? Her face could tell a different tale, a mixture of sadness and relief, a downed woman with a light smile on her face, as she brought her gaze to the second.

The second was a boy, a long and tall fellow who smiled back at the first while he clawed at his wrist. It was, as if, he could feel that woman's presence every time she looked at him. Although, when they weren't looking at each other, their emotions seemed to differ. The boy's smile soon faded into obscurity, wrestled down by the chains that bound him to limited movement. They rattled and dangled like those ready for prison. The boy frowned, whether it was the sound or the fact of them existing was not known, but he frowned nonetheless, as he too walked to the jingle of corrections.

Out of the lot, Mr. Burr was smiling the most. He had finally did it. He had beaten Mr. Stockton in the bidding war, while still carrying a good deal of banknotes on his person. The only thing that worried him was that Mr. Stockton didn't boost the price as high as it could've been. It had bothered him at first, but now served as nothing but a warning not to heed. He had gained a foothold on the plantation. He had more hands to help him revitalize his force. Mr. Burr could see the banknotes coming in.

But, he thought about that moment when everything became clear and…

...

Mr. Burr hopped on his horse. It replied with a harsh neigh and a bit of impatient stamping to boot.

"Now, now, don't fret," Mr. Burr cooed. "These are just the newest slaves to the plantation…"

Explaining it didn't help the matter. The horse was still an irritated horse, as it glared at the two newcomers.

Mr. Burr sighed. "Come close, boy."

The boy did as he was told, but not without some apprehension. He took a deep breath before he slid next to his new owner, which made Mr. Burr pause. "Yes… sir?"

He was a nervous one, that was for sure, but putting it lightly might be an understatement. Those chains clanked against each other when the boy approached, and those legs of his visibly shook where he stood. What was he afraid of? Was it the horse, or was it Mr. Burr?

"Are you alright boy?"

The boy nodded. "Y-Yessir."

"Now don't lie to me," Mr. Burr said sternly. "I'm just worried about you."

Instead of flinching, the boy's gaze went adrift. The ground apparently looked more of interest to him. "Mm sorry, sir. I… won't be a bother."

"A bother?" Mr. Burr craned his head towards the boy, peering down at him. "How so?" When the boy didn't respond, Mr. Burr hummed an affirmative. "I see… well, when we get to the plantation, I will make sure that this is addressed. I do not want my slaves to be scared of me." He rubbed at his chin. "I think you shall see your time with me as… an experience."

The two nodded. The boy gravitated towards the older woman, who he held onto for dear life.

Mr. Burr couldn't help himself. Seeing the scene was both sad and confusing, but his body failed to let him see the difference any farther. It must be that whiskey that was doing him in. Maybe some sleep would help fix him up.

"Alright, let's head on back. Make sure to stay close to the horse, unless you want to be shot by the guards that are walking about."

"S-Shot?"

"Of course, boy! Every plantation got some hired hands for that alone!" Mr. Burr said joyously. He let out a hearty laugh. "Look at it this way, at least mine are told when to fire!"

The two weren't laughing. They were just walking on while Mr. Burr harped about life in a world they never knew existed.

I guess I needed to focus on more than just climbing.

"So, what did you do as a… slave?"

At first, it sounded like she couldn't say the word, but then she said it with such bitterness. I didn't know why she sounded so upset over it. I mean, what was there to be upset about? That's what I was, a slave. The word didn't affect me, it was just a part of me, so while she was burdened with the word, I was keeping my mind focused on climbing, hoisting us higher and higher against the grit and grime of a place soon to be long gone. "I did quite a b-bit, actually. Moved some grain, helped Master when he needed me, and kept an eye out on the others with me."

The pony behind me nuzzled my cheek. I didn't get why she did that; Dash didn't seem to be so close with me before— "Why didn't you leave?"

"The plantation?"

"Yeah! Couldn't you just bust out of the place, or… maybe start a riot?"

I knew the answer, but it was lodged in my throat. She didn't need to know the specifics. She didn't need to know about Leo. No, no. I didn't trust her yet. Besides, she wouldn't understand.

"Dyson?"

I quietly hoisted myself up to the next ledge.

"Dyson?"

That sounded like how mama used to say my name. She was a bit more angry than this pony was, though. I knew that I needed to say something though.

But what?

I sighed. "You really want'a know?"

A neigh in response, with a tinge of a whinny behind it. What type of yes was that?

"I reckon that's a yes?"

I could feel her eye roll from over here. "Yes, Dyson."

"It's because they had a lot of guards around at all times of the day," I began, feeling the tension slowly leave me as I gripped onto the next bit of rock jutting from the wall. "Master was… afraid that we'd leave, even though it hadn't happened to him. Well, and there's another reason too, but ya might not like it."

"Well, I already don't like the fact that you were a slave—" A yelp interrupted her thought as I had to hop a bit too far to the left in order for us to get to a safer path. The heat that bore into my shoulder was certainly not from the sun. She picked up where she left off, "Slave's aren't a thing here in Equestria. The only pony who ever had some was Sombra, and well, let's just say he won't be enslaving anypony anymore."

"Who was Sombra?"

"Some King who wanted to enslave ponies up North. Unfortunately for him, my friends and I were around to stop him… sort of."

"Sort of?"

She hummed as I hopped over to the next ledge to my left. "Let's just say, it was more of Princess Cadance and Spike than me, but I still helped!"

Her wing flapped behind me. I knew that was not because she wanted to fly. "Sounds like ya wanted it all."

"N-No!" Dash stuttered, which caused me to chuckle. I had to keep still, because it was hard to concentrate on climbing when your insides were begging for air. "Dyson, come on! It's not that funny!"

I kept on laughing. She neighed once again, a bit more aggressively this time.

"You still haven't answered my question, Dyson."

And just like that, my laughter stopped. She flipped the coin back in my direction, and I was caught with my tongue stuck in my gullet. "I…" I was about to reach for another ledge, to get this feeling away, but I couldn't. My hand wasn't working like it should be.

I gulped down whatever tension was in my throat. I had to say something here.

"Master… was like a second father to me."

I closed my eyes. I could see her eyes widen, those big ol' pink things looking at me with fire in them. But I could imagine that muzzle contorting and such, like when Master got mad at me for taking the wrong letter, the paper getting ruffled and bent out of shape. It wasn’t a pretty sight with what he did afterwards.

I still remember the crackle of the—

A fierce growl threw me out of the vision I was having, which made me open my eyes to make sure I was still holding on to the ledge in front of me.

"How could he? He enslaved you, Dyson!"

"More like saved me," I mumbled, as I began my routine again, my fingers rubbing against the rough rock. I could feel the pain sear through my dry, cracked skin, but I pressed on. “It didn’t matter. I didn’t get no say. He… was so much nicer than the rest of them.”

For a while it was just the sounds of me breathing in for the next lunge, or grunting as I swung from rock to rock. She didn’t talk, I didn’t talk. It was like silence was the new one holding onto me, while I kept on going up and up.

Then, it stopped. I reached this ledge that jutted far out. I had to swing this way and that to get to it, but with quiet little Dash in the back, I was able to get to it with ease. No more yapping in my ear, just a few moments to let my body regain some energy for one final heave while… well, while I thought about what to say to her.

Was I supposed to say anything to her? I mean, the air had been pretty thick for a while there, since she found out about my Master. Not sure what the big fuss was, but maybe she don’t get it like I do. That’s it, that’s all there was to it.

Still, maybe I needed to try to talk to her about it. It might be nice to do that for a while, since I got us onto this pretty thick slab. Heck, it had enough room for us to prop up against the wall and watch the sun dip down further. It could even be a good spot to rest at, as long as we weren't looking down the whole time. Bet she would get stressed over that.

Or maybe she's stressed over my response.

I groaned, and it wasn’t because I was pulling us further on the ledge. Nope, my legs weren’t numb, and my fingers weren’t blazing like the sun. Not at all.

Crawling towards the wall, I let Dash hop off beside me, which she did, or well, tried, only she slid straight on her butt in a heap of fur and duress.

My back thanked me for leaving her there. She was light as could be for a horse, but she sure could make an impact after being on my back for a while. I’ll be aching until we get to whatever place she has been speaking of. Maybe that fancy clinic she was talking about knows how to cure a bad back.

For now, I stayed put, and closed my eyes. I could feel my heart pumping fast. It did this when I did too much for me to handle. Master told me to keep myself in check, because he didn’t want me to keel over. I was someone he could trust within the slaves he had, so I had to be alright for anything to get done.

My voice hummed. Felt good to just lay and relax. This reminded me of the ol’ oak tree on the farm, the lone one that us little ones hid behind when it was cold, and when Master didn't need me to bring in a yield. He actually let me relax for a while, surprisingly, but whenever I was there, my back felt relieved, and warm. How Iong had we been climbing? Must've been long, the sun was almost down.

“Still a long ways to go.”

Dash’s tired tone told me to look up. So I did.

That wasn’t what I wanted to see.

“How? It felt like I was climbin’ for hours.”

She giggled rather hard at that. “This gorge takes forever to get out of if you’re not a pegasus.”

As if she spoke the wrong words, Dash’s hurt wing reminded her of a story long since forgotten.

“A healthy pegasus,” she murmured through clenched teeth.

She was a bit of a ways from me now. Probably didn’t want me seeing her stretch her legs (probably accidentally stretched her weak wing too). Since suffering was rough alone, why not have her a bit closer? She might not mind it, would she?

I patted the ground next to me. “Have a seat, Dash.”

The pony trotted over to me on her good three legs and set herself down. She didn’t lean into me at all. Maybe she’s still awkward about me being here. I was new to her, after all.

Still, she did like talking to me. “Thanks,” she said. “I… guess we should talk.”

“‘Bout what?”

“You know what.” Blank. As if her eyes were staring into me, expecting me to know what she meant.

Funny thing was I knew. “Yeah, guess we should.”’

Rainbow Dash sighed and looked out into the Gorge. “It sucks that you had to go through all that.”

I felt like I had to look elsewhere. The ground down there was something I wasn’t too fond of, though. “What do ya mean?”

“Being a slave? I don’t think I’d be tough enough to stick it to ‘em. I’d want to get out as fast as possible.” She shook her head. “No pony like that gets to be in charge of me.”

Stick it to them? What did that mean? And being in charge of? I knew I was in his possession but he never…

“You’d want to leave?”

She gave me that look like I was dumber than the rocks I climbed on. “Of course! No pony should do that to another! It’s wrong on all sorts of levels!”

I looked at my fingers. They were grayer than before. “It’s all hard work that was meant for us, Dash. That’s all we got.”

She paused. A cloud floated on by. “How many of them were there?”

I shrugged. “I wasn’t as good at countin’ as I was speakin’.” I took one of my fingers, the longest one, and etched a little in the grit on the rock. “Master knew I was smarter than the rest, so he kept me close.”

Dash frowned. Why? Maybe there was something I wasn’t getting. “Yet you can’t count?”

“I mean, I can count to twenty.”

“Prove it,” she fired back.

I held my hand up, and pointed at each of them one by one. She heard them all, and then some.

“Nineteen, twenty.”

She smiled, but it felt so forced. I wonder why?

“Well, you weren’t lying, but that’s sad that you only know so little.”

“Why do I need'a count higher when I don’t need'a?”

She didn't need to worry about him. She didn’t need to know.

Dash scooted closer, and quietly leaned up against me. “Maybe when we get to Ponyville, I’ll get my friend Twilight to teach you how to count to a million.”

“Sounds… great, Dash.”

How high was a million?

I yawned.

Apparently I fell asleep with her beside me. It must had not been long, because here I was, sitting where I was before. I stretched a bit, and looked to see...

...she was not there.

“Dash?”

“Over here!”

She had gone a little further down this big rock.

“Why ya walkin’ with your weak hoof?”

“Oh now you’re worrying about that?”

I get myself up to find her hind. “You know what I meant!”

I walk down the little edge to see another thing I wasn’t expecting to see.

“You found this here cave?”

“Yep!” she said with a bit of a hop. I gripped at my heart. She nearly made me keel over! “Sorry, did I scare you?”

“When you come hoppin’ out there like ya want me to fall off this here ledge, how'm I supposed to react?”

“Carefully?” she said with a head tilt. Silly horse. “Look, come on, let’s actually sleep in here for the night! It’s so much bigger than out there!”

“Really?” I asked, stepping into the place.

“Look how much space we got to work with!” She raced around like there was no place like home. “This is going to be much nicer to crash at. It's better to be safe than sorry with those hyrdas outside!"

She was right. Those guys could have killed us if we stayed out there. Don’t know why she didn’t wake me u—

“Tried to wake you up earlier, but you’re a heavy sleeper. I’m going to have to figure out a way to wake you up without knocking you upside the head.”

“Knocking me upside the head!?”

I felt gobsmacked there. Was that why I felt a sudden headache?

She laughed. “Don’t worry, Dyson, I didn’t hit you! It was a joke, yeesh.”

Frowning, I told her how it was. “Terrible joke. I actually felt my head hurt when you said that."

An eye roll was what she gifted me. “You’ll be fine. As long as you’re in shape, and we're well-rested, we'll be out of here in no time!”

“Ya really think so?”

Her grin was ear-to-ear as she spoke all happily, “Of course! You’re way better at climbing than anypony I know!”

“Even though we still got a long ways to go?”

“Hehe… ever heard of an exaggeration?”

It was my turn to roll my eyes. Ignoring that. “Well, I don't know 'bout you, but I think it's time to get some shut-eye. Good night, Dash.”

"Alright, G'night, Dyson."

I tried to find a comfortable rock to lean against, but to no avail. It was just a wet, open cave that gave little to no comfort. Thankfully, I curled up near one that didn’t make my back scream in pain, so I closed my eyes and let my mind drift.

This’ll be the last night I have to deal with this, anyways.

Author's Note

Mᴜsᴋᴇᴛs ғɪʀᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ.

Ache

“Massa, y’alright?”

To put it in short, Mr. Burr was not alright. He had spent the whole of last night tossing and turning in his bed, his mind tortured by last night’s merriment. He felt like he could collapse at any minute, leaning up against the railing on his back porch.

Luckily, he was not alone. Beside him was a young negro woman. She was short, slender, and had natural curls in her hair, although she hid most of them under her head wrap. Her appearance wasn’t nothing to sneer at. In fact, she was the one kept the others in line. She made sure they weren’t slacking, hauling all that grain and cotton to their respective barns. Mr. Burr appreciated her being in charge of the harvest. There were no mistakes when she was looming over them.

So why was she next to him? Wasn’t she supposed to be out harvesting with the rest of them?

“I’m… fine.” The words struggled out of his mouth, as his stomach churned and his head burned a blazing fire. He couldn’t let her see him in pain. She could tell the other slaves. He had to redirect her, away from the grimace he tried to hide. “How a-are the rest of y’all doing?”

She paused, clearing her throat. “Good, Massa. New ones doin’ well. Grain be put in the right barns. Lots of cotton, too. We git more here soon!”

Good, good,” Mr. Burr breathed rather strained, which caused his company to steer closer to his side. He put out a hand to stop her in her tracks. “I’m f-fine,” he said through a cough. “Just a slight fever.”

“Ya want me to fetch Mr. Morris, sir?”

Another cough erupted through Mr. Burr at the sound of that name. “No-no,” he said. He didn’t need physic. Not for something like this. “I’d like t-to speak to Dyson, though, if you can find him.”

“Saw him a bit ago, Massa. I git him real quick.”

“Thank you.”

He watched her bow before she had left him, scurrying down the steps in search for Dyson. Mr. Burr sighed shakily. His hands weakly clamped onto the railing, as if he held onto it for dear life, but he wasn’t desperate. He wanted to see the fruits of his slaves’ labor. So, with what little energy he had left to spare, Mr. Burr tried to will himself up, trying to peek his head over the railing. Through his squinting eyes, he saw his slaves harvesting under the hot sun, while his guards, the few that were left, were fiddling with their muskets under the shade of the trees. Some even shouted at the slaves from afar for their 'work'.

His brow furrowed at that, even though he smelled money in the air.

The headache from yesterday got worse. Felt like my head was being split open. Seeing took a lot of effort; everything was blurry, and to make matters worse, there were… voices. They spoke to me here and there, but nothing sounded right. All of it was just a jumbled mess. A mess that was too much to take in.

That… scared me, to say the least. How could we get out of Ghastly Gorge if I was feeling like this? If I took one wrong move…

The thoughts that kept pounding inside my head careened to a halt when I heard Rainbow Dash’s soft snores. I looked over to see her sound asleep, her head resting against her forehooves. She wasn’t affected by whatever I had, she was just fine laying there as comfortable as one could be in a cave.

I took a deep, shaky breath. Maybe I needed to calm down, blink back a bit of the pain, and bite my tongue. That should do it.

Breathe.

Anxious air left me. Suddenly, I felt my muscles begin to relax, slumping against the wall I was propped on. There was no crick to pester me, only a headache that lingered like a ghost, and that alone felt better than feeling a world of pain. It was enough to put a short smile on my face.

And it also made me want to move.

So I got myself off the wall, stretched my arms and legs, and crawled over to the slumbering horse.

She looked so innocent, like a dog napping in the grass. I wanted to reach out and pet her, but that didn’t seem right. So, instead, I decided to be more like a friend, like Leo, and wake her up in the most annoying way possible.

Poke.

Her muzzled scrunched up in response, like one of those instruments back home that crumpled when it breathed. She let out a brief blow, before stirring from her sleep. It made me lightly chuckle, but that soon stopped when her gaze came to me.

“D-Dyson?” she said, slowly pawing where she believed I was.

Of course she couldn’t see me, not when she looked like she was about to fall asleep again. “Right here,” I said, grabbing her hoof gently and pulling it towards me.

She slid her body over to get a better look at me, eyes lazily blinking. “W-What’s happenin’?”

Her voice cracked even more when she was drowsy. I didn’t expect that. “G’mornin’ to you, too.”

“Already?” she muttered. She tried to use her forehooves to rub her eyes, but—wait she could do that?—a yawn decided to escape her first. “Ahh, why does it have to be morning?”

“Why not?”

She frowned and shook her head. “It’s nothing… I’m just being selfish.”

Selfish? The word just stuck there, as if plastered to the wall. Was tempted to ask her what she meant, but she had already shuffled away from me. She was heading straight for the light, which I now notic—ack!

“Dyson?”

Immediately, my eyes were tightly shut, while my hands shaded them from the sun. “Sorry. Been havin’ a hard time.” My brain pulsed at that. “I-I woke up w-with this… poundin’ in my head. And I… I be—”

As soon as I tried to say something, the world as I knew it grew dark, and my body collapsed onto the floor.

“Dyson!” Dash shouted. She nearly made me leap out of my body, as she quickly came to my side and nudged me away from the light. She got me to the back of our cave, where she propped me upright once again. Except I felt her good wing gently wrap itself around my back.

All the while, I had my eyes closed. I couldn’t open them, it hurt to just look at something outside. Was I being punished? What did I do to deserve this?

A growl, much more frustrated than ever, told me all I needed to know. I made her mad. I knew she wanted out now, but I was here, messing it all up. My head was angry at me too. No food, no water. It was telling me I was stupid. Should’ve gotten some water before we got up here.

Just thinking about all that made my lips turn drier, if it was even possible.

“Maybe we should rest a bit more…”

Her murmurs broke the negative thoughts in me. Yeah, sleeping would be nice. Maybe it’ll go away and I can be better tomorrow—

“No, that would make my head worse,” I said lamely.

And that just made paradise, lost.

“Well, what else could we do?”

I didn’t want to say it, but I had to. We had to get out of here, and there was only one way for us now.

“Up.”

“Up?”

“Yes, Dash. Up.” I sighed. "Think my head’s hurtin’ because I didn’t eat or drink none.”

As if on cue, Dash’s stomach made itself known, a loud growl echoing in the cave that I nearly thought was another one of those hydras outside.

“Guessin’ you’re hungry too,” I said, gently opening my eyes to see her face.

For lack of a better word, she had her forehooves cupping her chin. When she saw my gaze, she huffed and let them fall to her sides. “Yeah… you got me thinking of hayburgers from back home.”

“Hayburgers?” I said, raising a brow.

Dash bobbed her head. “Mhm.” She clopped her hooves together and gave me a short smile. “They have a little hay patty in the center that tastes soooo good! When we get back, you should try some with me!”

My burped at that one. “I… don’t think I can have that, Dash.”

“Really?” She gave me a little head tilt, and a little ear twitch to boot. “Why?”

“Hay don’t sit that good in me. It just makes me sick.”

“Oh…” Dash murmured. She glanced away from me, her eyes peering at the light outside the cave. She must’ve forgot I’m not like her. I ain’t got no wings. No fur. No muzzle like hers. I’m different. I’m a slave. She must’ve realized that now and wasn’t saying none.

It seemed like she was just trying to figure me out. She’s been a lot more interested in me than I thought. Nobody asked me this much.

“You… all eat hay usually?”

Dash looked back at me now, a short smile on her face. “Nah. But hay tastes absolutely awesome. You're missing out!”

"I'll take ya word for it," I said, chuckling. She did too. Our giggles bounced around us for a bit. Then there was nothing. Just a scream that reminded me of what we had to do.

“Dash, are ya… ready to go?”

At first, there was no reply. It was like my question fell on deaf ears. I was about to open my mouth to say it again, but she butted in with a stern, “No.”

“No?”

She sighed and walked over to me once again. She held out her good hoof. “I’m not, but if we keep stalling, we'll never get out of here, right?”

“Right…” I said, staring that hoof of hers.

“Are you ready, Dyson?”

Another pulse surged through me. I winced, but kept myself together, taking her hoof in my hand. “I’m sure. Would not be askin’ if I ain’t,” I replied. Those rays weren’t looking so bright anymore, but it still hurt to look at them.

“Then if you say so,” she began, pulling me up off the ground. I let go of her hoof and dusted myself off. “When we get out of here, you’re coming with me to meet my friends, okay?”

I knew what she meant. She told me about them before, that I’m going to learn to count to a million, that I’m going to learn what a clinic is, and that I’ll be out of here. Won’t be a slave no more.

But who am I to choose? I’m always a slave. A slave to my thoughts.

A slave to everyone else but her.

“Okay.”

I gave her a smile and followed her into the light.

Author's Note

Physic(k)*: 1700's-1800's lingo for medicine or medical care.

Nearly two years later, and I updated. Hope you all are still interested in this. Writing is a bit rusty, so let me know if you see any glaring errors in my private messages. Thank you in advance!

Also, click here for the related message for this post. They will no longer be posted in the author's notes.

Blood

Author's Note

DISCLAIMER: Viewer discretion is advised. You brought this upon yourself if you don't like the language being used.

Thanks again to Barracuda Cyborg for editing this chapter with me. Helped me out loads with a lot of issues regarding characters sounding off. Always a great time working with you, bud.

Check out the blog for this chapter here. Let me know if there are any other errors in a private message.

Blood

Dyson was out in the fields. It was the beginning of another day of harvest, and he had just gotten finished with some minor duties inside the estate. His master had him working with one of the new older negro women, who, surprisingly looked younger than what he had thought. She introduced herself as Lucinda, and that she was surprised when his master had picked her and her son out at the same time.

“I thought the white man was jokin’ when he said he wanted both of us,” she said as she scrubbed the floor with a towel. “None was buyin’ in bunches like that… especially ones that knew each other. Yet he did.”

It made Dyson think how his Master did the same for his family. His sister, his mother, his father; all of them were bought by the one he calls master. Why? What did he see in this? It still struck Dyson as odd, since his master talked like them, walked like them, even thought like them at times. He couldn’t do anything about it though, couldn’t even voice his thoughts to his master. He didn’t have a choice.

But they did.

Which made his mind drift to her son. His name was Leo. Dyson was standing next to him now, although if someone came by, they might not see the boy. Dyson dwarfed Leo by far.

Leo was quiet. He hadn’t said much to Dyson since he arrived. A simple hello was all he muttered, before getting down to work, hands gripping the nearest wheat stalk and slicing the bottom with his small little scythe.

Maybe Dyson could change that.

“Hey, Leo!”

That got the boy’s attention, his head turning back towards Dyson. “How do ya know my name?”

Dyson sighed and bent down. “Worked with your ma inside the house. She mentioned ya so…”

“She did?” Leo asked. Dyson nodded curtly. “She must be happy I’m here at least.”

“At least?”

Leo sliced another plant with his scythe. “Mama and I got separated from my sister when we got here.”

“At the plantation?” Dyson asked, wide-eyed.

Leo shook his head and moved towards the next plant. “No, when we got to Mississippi.” The plant fell as he continued. “I tried to grab her from one of ‘em white man but he pushed me away. Told me and my ma to know our place.”

Another plant fell. Dyson watched as he took the stalks and put them aside in a bundle. “Ya think ya might see her again?”

Leo paused and turned to look at Dyson. His lips had sagged down, and his brows crushed in defeat. “I hope so…” He wiped sweat from his head. “What about you?”

“Just got me, my mother, my father, and my little sister.”

“Your whole family is here?”

Dyson nodded. “Yep. Master bought all of us at the same time!”

The boy’s head hung low at the sound of that. Dyson frowned.

Silence pervaded the area. Dyson had even joined in, having walked back to grab a small little scythe of his own to work with Leo for a bit. Master wouldn’t mind.

Besides, Dyson wanted to get to know Leo. He didn’t know why, though.

Dyson fell into the line, working a row ahead of Leo. “So, what ya think of our Master?”

“He different,” Leo replied bluntly.

“How so?”

“He likes jokin’ a lot.”

Dyson tilted his head. “He does?”

Leo gripped the plant’s stem tightly, snapping it at its core. “Says he tells ‘em when to fire.”

“Yeah…” Dyson murmured. There weren’t that many guards out today, but a couple still could be seen on horseback or holding their muskets.

“How many are there usually?”

Dyson turned around. “Well, there be about eight of ‘em out mostly—”

“Only eight?!” Leo practically shouted. He dropped his scythe to cover his mouth with both of his hands. He earned a glare from one of the guards, which Dyson saw from the corner of his eye.

“Sorry,” Leo said, scrambling to pull himself back together. He picked up his scythe and grabbed a couple more wheat. “That’s not a lot for somethin’ like this.”

Dyson sighed. “Master told me somethin’ about ‘em bein’ short around here. Says most called up to go to war.”

“Really?” A soft hum could be heard from Leo. Dyson raised a brow. “Dyson, this is great! We could… you know…”

Dyson knew what he was alluding to. “No, Leo. I can’t.”

“What do ya mean?”

“Master needs m—”

“No he don’t!” Leo growled out. “He don’t need none of us! Dyson, they wouldn’t be able to catch us and—”

“Leo, they’ll shoot you before you even think about leaving.”

“And what? There’s way more of us than them! We can take ‘em!”

Dyson felt a presence linger over him. One that he knew wasn’t truly there, but the ever-watching eye of a guard from that oak tree down by the road was staring directly at them. He needed to steer this conversation elsewhere, or it’ll only be time that he’d trudge on over and really ask what’s going on.

“Leo that’s not the—”

“Point? Dyson you’ve been here for how long?”

“A few years before the war even started…” Dyson murmured. “But what difference does that make?”

Leo dropped his scythe and picked up some of his bundles he left behind. “A lot! I mean, you’ve been here for so long. Have you ever thought what being free was like?”

“No… I’m fine here.”

Leo stopped walking, dropping the bundles he had to the ground. “W-What?”

Dyson cleared his throat. “Master been nice to me and my family. Although rough in the beginning, Master and I been good to one another.”

While Dyson chipped away further and further down his row, Leo hadn’t. He was frozen there, which worried Dyson. Had he said something wrong? He was just telling Leo the truth. Nothing else to tell but the truth.

It took a couple more stalks for Leo to regain himself. He had just bent down to pick up his bundles when suddenly, a voice called from afar.

“Dyson!”

Dyson’s head popped up from where he was situated. It was that young negro woman from before, a friendly face before the war. “Sable!”

Her head wrap bounced as she carried herself toward the two boys. “Finally found ya!” She paused to control herself, panting all the while. “Massa needs ya!”

“He does?”

She looked up and nodded. “He lookin’ weak. Said he had a slight fever.”

Dyson’s eyes widened. “Where is he?”

“On the back porch.”

Dyson dropped everything and ran towards the estate.

Leo looked on. “Does Dyson really care about him?”

Sable nodded. “He does. Massa important here. There ain’t none like him. He saved us from the others.” She turned to look at Leo’s progress. “You better too. Guards ain’t too nice.”

Leo gulped and looked down at his blunder. He tried to pick them up carefully, but his heart was beating faster than he could grip them. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Just keep ya head down and ya do fine,” she said softly, patting him on the back. Leo slowed his pace and picked up the remaining plants.

Neither of them saw Dyson running into the burning red glare of the sun.

I couldn’t believe that I was doing it again, but I was. Rainbow Dash was on my back, gripping me from behind like her life depended on it, while I took these hands of mine and carried us up this wall. I never had done something like this before, so having gotten this far was a good thing. When I was back in Mississippi, good times were hard to come by. I always worked. Master always had something for me to do. At first, times were tough; Master didn’t let me get off so easily if I made mistakes.

“God damn negro, not listenin’—”

He used to be very… aggressive. Angry. It could be because he felt like he was on top of the world. That I couldn’t be like him, or more. I’m always a slave. I didn’t get a choice to do that. I just obey. Yet, he realized who I was. Who I could be. He said it to me after I’d been there for a year.

“Dyson, if you weren’t such a lowly nigger, I wouldn’t mind havin’ you as my son.”

Son. Master hadn’t ever had one of them. No daughters either. Just him and his wife, who we used to call Mother Burr. Don’t know why they couldn’t have one kid at least. Imagine he’d be adorable. That’s all I could do now. Imagine what could of been. This also reminded me of why Master was so angry.

When she was no longer there, Master turned grim, an empty white man who couldn’t accept himself. He, for the first week, couldn’t get out of bed. He’d have some of the other slaves come in, but they would come out with no order or request, except for them to leave him alone. I’d ask them to give him some food and water for the day, hoping he’d let that be, which he had done, accepting the food even though he didn’t feel all too well.

After that week, I never heard him speak out so aggressively. He let me run errands in town more. I felt… free for a time, or rather, more free. Something in Master just changed, and I welcomed it wholeheartedly.

However, even in another world, as I put my hands to the test, his presence lingered. Not sure why—

“Dyson!”

Rainbow shouted into my ears. I had been swinging from one ledge to the next, completely lost in thought. She sounded like she wanted to talk.

“Sorry, Dash. Ya need somethin’?”

She growled, and even whinnied a bit. “Not really, just thought you went deaf for a second.”

“Deaf?” my voice raised a bit at that one. “Why ya sayin’ that?”

“‘Cus I was trying to ask you something and you just… didn’t hear me,” she said, breathing softly near my ear. “Is there something bugging you?”

Tried to say something, but my lips were cracked as the wall. I tried to dampen them, but even my tongue felt withered. I still pushed it out there though, “To be honest, yes.”

“You don’t have to tell me, I und—wait, really?”

I hummed to myself. “Yep. Got lots on my mind.”

“About what?” she said. I could feel her head resting just below my shoulder blade.

“What it was like back in Mississippi.”

A gentle lull hung over us, as I swung ourselves up to the next ledge. Did I get her all mad again? Was she upset I was thinking of that place, a world that would be fine with making me a slave? I couldn’t turn my head around to get a glimpse of what she looked like. I bet she looked like she was frowning while curious about my past. That’s what she seemed the past couple of days.

A neigh confirmed my thoughts. A bit aggressive, like she just forced a blow out of her nostrils. What was she thinking about?

“Dyson?”

“Y-yeah?”

I felt my face heat up. I stuttered. Hadn’t done that since Master had tried to punish me for talking to a lady in town long ago.

“What was it like?”

I paused, my hand nearly reaching towards the next little rock jutting from the wall. “What was what like?”

“Mississippi. Being a... ‘slave’. Your... ‘master’.”

I took a deep breath and took a lunge for the next rock. It gripped into my palm so effortlessly, yet I could not feel my hand at all. It just felt like powder, with bits of smaller grey rocks mixed in. I kept us there, my feet gripping around those little jutted pieces, while I gathered my thoughts.

“It was an interesting place,” I began. “People there were… different. Master wasn’t my first. Had another that was way worse.”

“W-Worse?”

Her voice cracked when she said that. Made me think of the words I needed to say. Didn’t want her worrying too much about me. “Yep. He hated my father. Made sure to not give much room to breathe, so to speak.”

I swallowed, my salvia flooding my throat. It was hard to recall this memory. My head had been good to me so far through this climb, but even it sent surges of pain down my spine. “P-Pa got a lot of l-lashes. Ma had to keep an eye o-on him and—”

“Dyson…” The pony behind him cooed softly in his ear. “Please, don’t go any further.”

“Is it uncomfortable for ya?” I asked.

“Kinda… I didn’t know your kind was as bad as Sombra…”

Her mumbles trailed off, as I willed myself up to the next ledge. Dash didn’t seem like the type to just let things go, but I knew I wasn’t in the right state of mind to be saying all of this. Still, I had to do it. She had to know.

“Not all them were that bad, y’know.”

“They… weren’t?”

I tilted my head. “In Mississippi, there were free people, and then there were people like me. We just so happened to be different than them.”

I heard Dash sigh behind me, the air that escaped her nostrils tickled the hairs underneath my ear. “Sounds doesn’t cool at all to me. I couldn’t imagine being singled out like that.”

“Are other ponies different colors?”

“Yeah!” Dash excitedly replied. “You remember Twilight. She’s purple and has a huge horn and wings!”

I swung to the next ledge. “Really?”

“Uh-huh!” She sounded like my sister when she wanted to ask for some of my bread. “Totally purple! And Applejack? She’s an apple farmer, and she’s orange!”

“Orange fur?”

“Yeah! And then Fluttershy. She’s my best friend and she’s…”

I started to ignore her as he talked about her friends. It reminded me of my mother, who tried to rant about our previous owner in the mucky shed we slept in. It got old, much like hearing her ramble about her friend’s multicolored fur. No use when I needed to make some progress, then we could talk about it.

While Rainbow rambled on, I spotted a ledge above us that was wider than the rest, but the path to it was very confusing. I had to swing my way to the left and then follow the rocks in an outward fashion to get to it. Maybe then we could rest for a bit before continuing on u—ergh!

“Dyson, are you alright?”

Another bit of pain surged through me. “Don’t speak to anyone about this, Dyson. If you do, I’ll have to—”

I shook my head, frantically looking around for the sound of that voice. It was him, wasn’t it? Was he here? Mr. Stockton?

The woman in the room screamed in pain as another flick of the whip cracked against her sk—

“Dyson?”

A nudge from a hoof of my passenger sent me back to where I was. I blinked away the images of back then. What was happening to me?

“I…”

“Let’s get up there, Dyson, okay? We can rest up on that ledge for the night.”

I look up to the ledge she was talking about. The same one with the rocks that jutted in the opposite direction.

All I had to do was lift us up there.

I reached out and—

She looked at me, begging for me to do something, but I knew I couldn’t do anything. I just kept my mouth shut, blankly staring as the shadow of the whip flicked back behind the man. Why was he like that?

—nearly slipped, but I regained control, my hand gripping onto the rock once again.

Rainbow Dash had yelped when I almost missed my mark. She wasn’t too pleased about it either, shouting my name and thensome.

“Don’t scare me like that!”

Why did I always do something like this? Making mistakes is for a slave that don’t belong here. I shook my head. I needed to get these thoughts out of my head. I needed to focus. I needed to breathe. For myself. For Dash.

I sucked in a dry pocket of air. It felt terrible in my lungs, bearing a fire that set my body aflame. However, I had to keep on breathing it in. I would be fine afterwards. I’d be free from this torture. I’d be free from everything here, for now.

“Keep going, Dyson! We’re almost there!”

“Now get going, you’re burnin’ daylight.”

I reached for the first one. My right arm extended out in full.

It didn’t take much effort. I had a good grip on her, and the energy I had behind that made me swing for the next.

“Do you want to meet him again?”

I grimaced and shut my eyes. I don’t know why, but these thoughts of mine were hurting my head. Why now? I was so close to getting out of here and my body was failing me. Why? “Why can’t you help me? Can’t you see what he’s doing to me?!”

I nearly missed that rock too, but I used what little weight I had on my feet to get a second shot at it. Got her with a vice grip.

My heart was racing. One more and we’ll be able to rest for a while.

“Just one more!”

“Wait here, Dyson, while I go get you the letter for your Master.”

The air that rushed through me sent my body for one final jump.

And then…

The sound of a musket firing behind me. A body lurching back. A boy just like me. I fell to the grou—

Suddenly, the world fell to a blur. My legs gave out. My head hit me full force, and everything just looked different.

“DYSON!!”

She was still latched on to me, but not like I remembered it. She was above me now, and I was looking far down below. Air rushed between my arms and legs. I felt as if weightless, and all I could see was how the world looked from this far up, and how fast it was coming so close to us.

Wait, close to us?

My eyes widened. I could hear Dash frantically flapping her good wing, trying to angle us somewhere else, but I couldn’t see too well, everything was a blurry mess of grey. All I could do was be a passenger who was hopelessly hopeful that maybe this wasn’t the end.

But as my body arched back, I felt the pain wash over me, probably like Leo did, tasting the world that some slaves said was between life and death.

Break 2

I was… warm. I didn’t know dying would make me feel warm, but I was. I had my eyes shut though, didn’t want to accept that I was gone. Yet, I knew my time of suffering was ending, and I could finally sit at the right hand with the Father. That’s what they taught me, anyway, them folks at the other plantation.

Yet, I hadn’t heard of angels or any of the stuff I heard about them saying there was. All I heard was just noise. It wasn’t loud noise, just… noise. So, knowing I had nothing more to lose, I opened my eyes.

I was not expecting anything that I saw. I was in a room. There were no windows, and there wasn’t even a door. It was just four walls, me sitting on a wooden chair, a rickety old looking table, and a tall white candle with a small eager flame.

And then there was her. She was beautiful, if I ever could call someone that. She had skin darker than the soot from the fireplace, and eyes that were as blue as water Master drank. She had long, black hair that was straight as can be. She had a black dress on, and a dark purple crown resting on her head.

Didn’t know God looked like that.

“I am not who you think I am, Dyson.”

My eyes widened as her words carried a new weight on my chest. She was not God?! “Then how do ya know my name?”

She gave me a warm smile. “I am the one who dreams. I see what you see. Know how you are. Know you. I can seek more, if you allow me.”

“Allow ya?”

She nodded. Her eyes looked softly into mine. “Do you allow me to see more of you?”

I couldn’t feel myself breathe, but if I could, I would. My heart would be racing, and yet, it did not feel like it was there. I felt nothing, but a whole lot of something. Just a dull bit of pressure right where those words hit me before.

Since I had no choice, I nodded slowly. “Yes, ma’am.”

That earned me a glare from her. “Do not feel like you must agree. I… shan’t indulge further if that is what—”

“N-No, ma’am. I… accept,” I stuttered out. “You know more of somethin’...”

As I said those words, the room began to change. I did not see a door or window, yet it felt like one was open, as a cold gust of air overcame the room. It nearly had blown the candle’s flame out, but it stayed still, only slightly affected by the wind. I could feel it’s chilling presence as it had passed too, the air sending a freezing sensation down my spine. However, as quick as the wind came, so did it leave.

During that sudden change, I had not once saw the woman’s face. Even now, I couldn’t read her face, and I could understand why. The candlelight was not picking up her face. I blamed the wind for this, but the woman was also leaning back in her chair. Was she doing that on purpose? What was this woman thinking? More importantly, who was she? And why was I here and not in that place called heaven?

“I do, Dyson.”

Her voice was soft, yet so intense. I couldn’t help but lean in more. I was numb to it all, but I wasn’t numb to her words. “Then who are you?”

She leaned forward, and gave me a toothy grin. “I told you. I am a dreamer.”

“A dreamer?”

“I oversee the ones who sleep.”

I was sleeping? “Ya mean I’m alive?”

“Yes, Dyson. You are.”

It was like I was falling again, except faster. “H-How?”

“That… I am not sure. You are alive though, otherwise I would not be allowed here.” She must’ve seen how my face looked and held back a laugh with her hand. “I will… elaborate, on that then. I have the ability to oversee other’s dreams. How that is is of my own accord: I must have a connection with the other user’s magic with this world.”

“Magic?”

“Yes, magic is part of this world that you are in now. I know you are not of our kind—”

Of our kind… I gasped. “So are you one of them ponies too?”

She nodded. “I am.”

“Then why are you—”

“—one of your kind?” she interrupted. I bobbed my head rapidly in reply. She giggled. “I must be of your kind so you may not fear me. I… had found out about you from Rainbow Dash’s mind, and decided to extend my reach to you, therefore I must become like you to assure you I am not a threat. However, I found something alarming about you.”

I tilted my head. “What is that?”

She took a deep breath and said, “Your mind is in turmoil.”

“Turmoil?”

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Yes. You,” she began, pointing a finger at me. “Are hard to connect with.”

I found myself wanting to know more, but she was right, my mind was all over the place. I was so… anxious, by everything, that nothing was making sense. So I opened my mouth and just said the first thing that came to my mind: “Am I truly hard to… ‘connect’ with?”

That got this woman laughing, hard. “Y-You are… not hard to connect with!” she said between gasps of air. “M-My stars… I had not laughed hard like that in a long time. I am eager for your arrival. And from what I saw, Rainbow Dash is too.”

“You’ve seen her dreams?”

She smiled. “Of course, but I cannot interact with hers. I refuse, because I know of your path. She is your guide, therefore I must not interfere.”

That meant Rainbow Dash was alive too, but she… was my guide? This woman—pony can’t interact with Rainbow Dash’s dreams? What did all of this mean?

“I can interact her with dreams, Dyson, but I shan’t. It’s my choice. I have already earned my freedom. You haven’t.”

“You can hear my thoughts?”

“Yes, because you allowed me so, remember?”

I blinked. I remembered how she looked. She had done… something, and that something must’ve made her hear my thoughts.

“Exactly—”

“Ma’am, pardon me for sayin’ this…”

She saw my gaze and smiled. “You are pardoned.”

“That’s very… cool.”

The woman giggled at my choice of words, the pressure leaving my chest as she laughed. “I’m glad that you are learning from our dear friend. She… has a way with her words.”

“Yes, she does, ma’am.”

“Glad you see that too.” Her smile faded away. “You… understand what I am telling you, though, correct?”

I nodded. “Yes, ma’am. You… are tellin’ me that I need to—” I felt the pressure linger in my chest once again. “Be free.”

“Yes, what ails you now is what ailed you then. You had been asked before about freedom, yet you felt free already, didn’t you?”

Her soft voice made me shiver in my chair. “I… thought that one time. But I never thought of it again. Master changed after Mother Burr passed and I—”

“You felt as if it were your duty to stand by him?” The woman hummed softly. “I see. Trauma and fear willed you forth, did it not?”

She knew the answer, but she wanted me to say it. All those dry grains… that dry air… it was lodged in me again. “I… I did look at Master that way. B-But he helped me and my family and—”

“Hurt them too, did he not?”

“Yes but—”

I felt the room quake as she stood, her hands thrusting onto the table. “Then it should be obvious to you. Tell me, do you know what I am saying to you?”

I fell silent. My body was stuck in place. I could control my gaze, though, and I knew I had no right to look at her. Not one bit.

She sighed. “I see. Your quest will tell you this, I am sure.”

The room stopped shaking. I saw her out of the corner of my eye scooting the chair back. She was probably sitting back down in her chair. The only thing that stayed the same… was the pressure in my chest.

“I… don’t know what to say ma’am,” I said, voice dry as can be.

“Dyson, you don’t need to say anything else. All I need from you is one thing, and then I will leave you to your quest.”

I looked up to her. “And what that be?”

She stared into my eyes. “Promise me you’ll complete your quest.”

“Promise ya?” I asked. “How I do that when I don’t know what ya meanin’?”

She shook her head and told me my answer. “You reap what you sow. I will keep watch over your dreams if you can keep Rainbow Dash and yourself in one piece.”

I felt my senses start to come to me. My legs, my arms, my heart; the numbness was gone. For the first time, I felt great. I felt ready. I felt…

“I will, ma’am.”

“Then I will see you soon, Dyson. Farewell.”

Then the candle fizzled out and the room was plunged into darkness.

Author's Note

Blog for this chapter here.

Mercy

It had been a long while since Mr. Burr had felt this way. Weakness was not something he would want to show, and this fever had put him out there for all of his slaves to see. Fortunately for Mr. Burr, he now resided in his bed, secluded by the four, white, cracking walls around him. The discoloration in some spots turned what was once pristine white into a light grey. A brown chair stood battle-scarred in the corner. Next to it, a window sill that peered out into the world beyond. And then a candle, in case Mr. Burr decided to read, much like his wife had done—Mr. Burr took a shaky breath.

It was hot in the room. It wasn’t because of the heat outside. No, Mr. Burr was covered in the bed sheets. It was all Dyson’s idea to hide Mr. Burr in his own room, away from the rest of the slave population. “You’ll be comfortable, Master,” Dyson had said to Mr. Burr. Comfortable mattress, yes, but not in temperature.

He unfolded the sheets back a bit, letting his body breathe. He was tempted to try and squirm out of bed to crack open the window, however, his legs reminded him of how this fever took over. His legs were hard to move. It felt like trudging through murky waters, except there wasn’t any water like that in his estate. How could a simple fever make him this weak was beyond Mr. Burr’s comprehension. All he knew was that he was sick, most likely with something that his wife got.

Mr. Burr shook his head. There was no need to be thinking like that. He’ll pull through, he had to. These slaves got nowhere else to turn to. They should know that. Yet…

Outside, the sky began to fade away, the red sun falling further and further out of view. Soon, he’d have to have one of his slaves come in and light the candle by his bedside, or maybe grab that lantern outside in the shed and put her next to him. That would make him want to read the Ripley Advertiser too and—

Mr. Burr didn’t want to admit to his own issues. He felt like his mind was cursing him. Every little waking moment he has now reminded him of every little waking moment he had with his wife, and that he wouldn’t get her back and—

“Promise me you’ll take care of ‘em, my love.”

He sat under the covers, wondering if he’d upheld those words that tortured him.

Two days had passed since Mr. Burr had been under the care of Dyson, who simply said a couple days of rest would help him. Unfortunately, that remedy was a very slow cure. His body felt worse despite the rest he had gotten, and at this point, he did not feel hungry, just incredibly thirsty. He had asked Dyson before for water, but Dyson had heard from one of the other slaves that giving Mr. Burr any sort of water or food would increase the likeliness of death. So, when Dyson had advised him against drinking or eating anything, he had followed through.

Mr. Burr licked his own lips. There was very little saliva left on that palette of his. The rest of his body felt limp, and he didn’t feel like getting up out of his bed anymore, even if the sheets made him feel like a furnace at the blacksmith. Unfortunately, what little sweat Mr. Burr had on his face wasn’t going to fix his tongue nor his hunger. Frustratedly, Mr. Burr let out a long sigh, and attempted to pull the sheets back from his body.

That was, until Dyson made an entrance.

The door flew open, slamming against the door jam. Suddenly, both Dyson and Sable flooded into the room, clambering to his bedside.

“Master, are ya okay?”

“No…” Mr. Burr muttered, his voice strained. He shifted under his sheets. “Too warm in here, and I’m feelin’ like I got run over by a runaway stagecoach.”

The two slaves looked back at each other. Mr. Burr raised a brow at the two.

“Is this how I’m supposed to feel?”

Sable looked downtrodden, her head hung low. She twiddled her thumbs. “Not, exactly…”

Mr. Burr hummed to himself. “What other options do I have?”

Dyson piped up first, “How about we get ya a bit of food and—”

“Massa don’t need to eat none,” Sable stated, her eyes glaring at Dyson. She turned to Mr. Burr once again and smiled. “Massa how’d ya feel about bloodlet—”

“No way in hell I’d do that. Anything involving blood would be what that damn physick would say.”

The sudden burst of energy must have shocked the two slaves, their eyes widened at his words. “Mr. Morris wouldn’t do that, Massa!”

Sable’s words echoed in Mr. Burr’s ears. He grimaced as he remembered what Mr. Owens told him about those ‘insane medical contraptions’ Mr. Morris had in his office. “I wouldn’t put it past him, Sable. He’s one of them.”

Dyson rubbed the end of his chin with his hand. “Then if Master ain’t too comfortable on Mr. Morris, what ya think we could do?”

Mr. Burr knew that question wasn’t for him. It was for Sable, who just tilted her head in response. Silence settled in, only the chiming of a pendulum clock in the living room was to be heard.

Then, Sable gave Mr. Burr a short smile and said, “Massa, have ya gone to Church?”

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “Been stuck here for the past couple days, and last week the church was closed for… ‘repairs’.”

“Then ya at least prayed, haven’t ya?”

Mr. Burr raised a brow at her. “Yes, I have, Sable. Lord’s prayer, every single day I wake up. Is this going somewhere?”

Sable nodded. “They say if ya pray to God, then he help ya get better…” Her eyebrow twitched. “I done what I can, Massa. It in God’s hands now.”

“What about—”

“Dyson!” Sable exclaimed. “Feedin’ him ain’t going to do none—”

“How do ya know that, Sable?” Dyson tilted his head at her, his eyebrows furrowing. “We got no other options! And if none of them other ones ain’t workin’, then we need to give this one a try!”

Mr. Burr smiled as the two argued about him. They were like siblings: a son and a daughter, both arguing about what they should do to help their father. Yet, as Sable gave a loud huff through her nostrils, he knew who they were again. Not his children. They were his slaves. Hell, those two weren’t even siblings. How could he think of them like that?

“We could just put a cold towel on his head.”

“Why ya say that, Sable?”

“Massa said he was hot, right?”

“Very,” Dyson replied, scratching his head. “Why a cold towel—oh, oh.”

Sable smirked and nudged Dyson on the shoulder. “Now ya be usin’ your head, Dyson.”

Mr. Burr tried to stifle a laugh, but due to his dry throat, his laugh turned into a coughing frenzy. The two slaves turned their attention to him, but he waved them off. “Just dry is all. Can’t even laugh when feeling like this.”

Sable sighed. “Well, maybe we should give him a bit of water and—”

“Wait, are ya sayin’ what I think you’re sayin’?”

Upon hearing those words, Mr. Burr saw Sable’s eyes roll hard. He was worried that those eyes of hers would fall right out of her head. Yet, they did not. They just glared at the two of them as she walked towards the door. “Maybe ya might be a bit right, but I’ll believe it when I see it.” She gripped on the doorknob and turned it slightly to the right. “Let Massa rest for tonight. I’ll get him some of that water, while ya get him that candle lit.”

Dyson raised a brow. “Why we needin’ to light that candle?”

Sable turned back around and peeked her head back in the room. “Cuz he been eyin’ it like he got somethin’ with it.”

Mr. Burr suddenly felt his face burst into flames, his cheeks warmer than even the fever that plagued him. He wanted to hide under the covers, but he did not want to show his slaves any sort of weakness. He needed to be strong. He needed to not look at the candle and—Mr. Burr looked at the candle.

Dyson chuckled. “Maybe you’re right too, Sable. Master lookin’ at it right now!”

“Neither of you will utter a word to the others about this,” Mr. Burr growled, glaring at the two in his midst.

Even though they knew of what ailed their slave master, Dyson and Sable stood up straight, or at least Dyson did. Sable was nearly out the door, still peeking in to see what was happening. She did though, step in to show that she did care, despite how she spoke. “Sorry, Master. We won’t tell a soul,” Dyson said, while Sable just gave a very curt nod.

“Good,” Mr. Burr said. “Oh, and while you’re at it Dyson, can you fetch me my newspaper for the day?”

Dyson gave Mr. Burr a grin. “That I can, Master.”

With that, the two slaves left their owner in his lonesome, the door slowly creaking shut in their wake.

The last thing I remembered was sitting in a room with a black woman who claimed she was a dreamer who supervised everyone else’s dreams. She told me how she was not like me, and how she was like Rainbow Dash but not like her as well. She was able to see me, and hear what I was thinking. It was… way too much, yet I was still able to get what I needed out there, while… well, wrapping my mind around this entire quest she told me about.

However, I was not there now. I was on the ground, sort of, washed up on a little shore-like area. I felt like I got run over by one of them horse drawn carriages. Every single part of my body was aching, and as I tried to pick myself up off the ground, I felt every muscle that screamed in agony. I groaned in response, trying to stretch what pain that wore me down, but my leg was surely not going to cooperate. Guess I had something wrong with my leg. However, my body aching was the least of my worries.

I realized that this place was dark, and I couldn’t see a thing. Only a light from across the way, where a pool of water lay was all I could see. And since I saw no other light like it near me, I had to guess that’s where we fell down from, especially since a light stream of water filtered in from that beam. I took a look at the shore and bent down, quickly taking a scoop of water in my hand and gulping it down. Thinking it was okay to drink, I took a couple handfuls before I wiped my hand off.

I was pretty dry to the bone, well, except for my right arm. My arm was still soaked from probably being in it while I was barely on shore. That once over turned for the worst though, as I realized what was left of my clothes were nothing I could salvage. Shirt was all torn to pieces, while what remained was soaked and dirty. My pants were still fine, though, but a few tears are what I could see. And well… where those tears were, so were a few instances of blood.

I winced at the sight of it. The blood looked like it had dried up, but it still didn’t look that good. I’m lucky that nothing else happened and that Rainbow Dash was—wait where was she?

“D-Dash?” I sputtered, a dry cough making me nearly fall over.

I quickly hobbled along the little shoreline that was here, only to find that, well, she was here, just a little ways down the line. That did soothe my mind a bit, but her condition did make my heart race. That strained wing of hers? Bit more bent now. And that bad hoof? There was a bit more blood on it than before. I didn’t want to say it was all hers though, It could be from my body, knowing how much the fall tore me up. But maybe it wasn’t—all I knew was that we must’ve fallen into some other stuff on the way down, or maybe landing in this big water-filled cave did have a huge impact on us.

That wasn’t the worst thing I saw, though. Even though she was much more damaged than before, I nearly fell over when I saw her eyes weren’t open. She was breathing, though, which made me fall to my knees, both thanking whoever watched over us that she was alive, while also checking her over for any other injuries. It didn’t appear like there was much else, only minor scratches across her frame. I sighed a sigh of relief, and held her close. That woman said she was my guide, and if I had already broken my promise…

“You reap what you sow.”

I frowned, watching as her chest heaved in and out. It was like she was desperately trying to breathe, something that made me act quicker than I thought. I had pulled her further from the shoreline, up higher on this landmass in the cave. I tried to wake her up, but her body wasn’t having it. Her muzzle was all scrunched up, and her eyelids were twitching. Was she… dreaming?

A whimper was what I was awarded for that thought. She definitely was dreaming. Was she dreaming of us falling again? Was she wondering if she was dead? Or was that woman telling her something too? I didn’t want to know for sure, I just wanted her to wake up.

I just wanted her to wake up.

My eyes widened. I grabbed a hold of her and started shaking her.

“Dash, wake up!”

She began whimpering more. I could’ve sworn she said my name too—

“Dash! Dash!”

My shaking must’ve done something. Her eyes flicked wide open and she let out this shrill yelp that sounded like a mouse getting stomped on. Then, she turned to me, blinking. “Is that you, Dyson?”

“Yes, Dash!” I practically shouted, my voice echoing in the cave. “We’re alive!”

I watched as she let out a dry, cheery giggle, before coughing like I did too. She pointed at her throat. “T-Throat’s dry, eh heh.”

I gave her a short smile. “Mine was too.” I looked over at the water next to us. “You could drink from here, y’know?”

Dash looked over at it, eyes glazed. “I don’t know about that, Dyson. It… looks kinda dirty.”

“What choice do we have?” I asked her.

She shook her head. “Not much…” She let out a coarse laugh. “Sorry, k-kinda out of it at the moment. That fall got me thinking… less straight than n-normal!”

Slowly, I watched her get up. I held her close, just to make sure she didn’t fall over and bend that wing of hers even more.

“Thanks, Dyson,” she breathed. Her eyes fluttered shut and she gave me a weak nuzzle. “Tell me when I need... to b-bend over.”

I raised a brow at that. “Why? Can’t ya see?”

Her eyes, those pink orbs, they looked like they were swimming in her head. “I… don’t think I-I can. Head’s hurting… a lot.”

“Then I’ll guide ya, Dash,” I said, trying to keep myself steady. I brought my hands gently to her chest, and interlocked them together. Then, I slowly leaned forward. “Lean into ‘em.”

She did, slowly, even craning her neck. Eventually, her mouth found water, lapping at it like a dog on a hot summer’s day. I couldn’t help but smile. “Taste good?”

“Y-Yep!” Dash said, although it sounded like she was gargling some of the water. She tapped me on the back with one of her good hooves, signalling for me to pull up. So I did, pulling her away from the water.

I looped one of my arms around her body. She fell into me as a result. She let out a laugh. “I feel drowsy…”

“Don’t sleep none, Dash. Not goin’ help that headache of yours.”

She sighed. “You’re right…” She gently brought her head close. “What do… you think we should do, then?”

I frowned. “I don’t know, Dash. We need to find a way out of this here cave, but I can barely even see you!”

I watched as Rainbow Dash blinked rapidly. She took it in the surroundings and smirked. “Y-You can’t see any better than I can, D-Dyson!”

“Wait, you can see?”

“Yep!” she began, chuckling. “It’s a bit… b-blurry, but if you keep holding me up, I can get us through here!”

I shook my head. I couldn’t believe that she could see with her being that weak. Guess that’s what horses can see, even though, well, they could easily get scared by a mouse scurrying across their enclosure. But she wasn’t exactly a horse, like one, surely, but there’s no way she’ll react that way, would she?

It wasn’t important anyway. My mind’s like a mouse too, going all over the place. I pulled Dash back towards me. “I’ll do my best.”

She gave me a weak smile. “Then let’s find a way off this little shore!”

We walked along the edge of this thing. There didn’t seem much of a way up to the higher portion of this mass, but as we walked, I felt as if we were going up. It was nice to feel a bit of progress each step and—oof!

I nearly broke my foot as I tripped over something. Dash didn’t see it either, I guess, yelping as she fell into me. “What did we just trip over?”

I turned around and picked up the offending piece of… “Wood?”

She gasped. “Why’s there wood down here?”

I looked back behind us, back at that hole that had the light in it. It must’ve drifted over like those branches I saw in the water. But… why?

“I think that some wind brought this down here,” I said to her. “That light across the water is where we fell in, so it must’ve drifted onto this here shore.”

I could see part of her head bobbing in the dark. “P-Probably, which means we could make ourselves some torches, too.”

Torches. I remembered what those were. They weren’t with the greatest of memories, but for now, I did not need to hear or see those. Being able to see in here would be a big help.

“You see any more of them, Dash?”

And it began, hunting for wood. We kept on going collecting a nice hefty bunch in my hands. She brought herself close, making sure to match my pace. We walked in and around this place, climbing further and further up. Eventually, we saw another light, one peering down at us. We had gotten to a flat part of this place, a grey piece of clearing that looked like a great place to lay down.

Dash must’ve read my mind, she collapsed to the ground in a heap of feathers and pain. “That’s enough moving for right now.” She looked over to me. “You think you could keep watch over me while I sle—”

“Dash, ya can’t sleep, remember?”

She whined, letting out a harsh blow through her muzzle. “B-But!”

I walked over to her and smiled. “No excuses, ma’am!”

“I t-thought I told you... not to call me, ma’am,” she growled.

A rather familiar feeling emerged from me, one that I had felt when Master was sick, or when I couldn’t help myself and let my mouth run off at Leo. I guess I had never truly recognized what it was. A sense of… self? I couldn’t wrap my head around it, I knew who I was after all. Had always been a slave. Yet, here I was, letting the shiver race down my spine. I slowly pointed a finger at her, and smirked. “If you thinkin’ of sleepin’, then I get to call ya that… ma’am.”

At first, that shiver turned into a queasy feeling that stayed on my stomach. Yet, it stopped when I saw Dash’s reaction.

“Okay, okay!” she exclaimed. She shoved her forehooves at me, as if to push me away. “Then you better start trying to get that torch ready. Just, talk to me while you do it, okay?”

“Sure, Dash,” I replied. Grabbing a couple large chunks of them, I began to grind them together like I saw Master do that one time.

Rainbow Dash made sure to maintain her distance while I did this. She probably didn’t want to get any wood or ash in her eyes. But she didn’t stay too far away, either. I could tell that she was watching me intently, about a leg's length from where I was sitting.

I turned my head towards her. “So, what do you want… to talk about?”

“I don’t know,” she began. I could hear her playing with the grey grains of this place too. “There’s... a-a lot that we could talk about…”

“Like what?” I felt my words just tumble out of my mouth.

I heard her pause. She let out a frustrated sigh, and rested her head on her forehooves. “Anything else but this place.”

Ghastly Gorge was all I’ve gotten to see of this place Dash lived in. I didn’t even know what to ask, but I knew she had been asking way too many questions about me, so I should be asking her some. “What’s Equestria like?”

Dash’s ears perked up. Her lips puckered up. “Equestria… is pretty huge. L-Lots of different ponies to meet, and even other creatures.”

“Creatures?” That question got Dash nodding. “Like what?”

The pony bit back her lip, and closed her eyes for a moment. “Let’s see… Griffons, Hippogriffs, Changelings…” Her eyes fluttered partially open. “Lots of d-different ones! They all talk just like me.”

“That’s way different than where I’m from,” I replied. She tilted her head. “Only people like me can talk.”

“Really?!” she exclaimed, only to hold her head tightly with a forehoof. “Agh, can’t really get too excited, my head is killing me.”

“Wish I could help ya with that…” I frowned, slowing my pace with these pieces of wood. Why they wouldn’t spark was beyond me. They weren’t wet.

“Talking helps a bit,” Dash said dryly. She lifted her head for a brief moment before plopping it right back down on her hooves. “Was that why you said you were surprised a… ugh, horse, could talk?”

“Ya,” I said, nodding. “They… ain’t much of talkers. All they did was whine and growl at me, except for Master’s horse. He liked me a lot.”

A piece of bark fell off the side of one of the chunks, but still no spark. How much longer did I need to do this for?

I groaned, suddenly speeding up my pace. I was tempted to grind these down at this point.

Dash took notice of the sudden change and sighed. “I’m glad you don’t think of me as a horse anymore.”

I turned to look at her, and tilted my head. “Well, I thought of ya like that cuz that’s all I knew. Never thought I’d get run over by a flyin’ pony.”

She smirked. “Yeah, and horses around here are far and few between. They’re… really creepy.”

“Really?”

“Their faces are so long…”

I swore I saw Dash shiver when she said that, and it’s kinda funny to think that they see horses as creepy. They were just a smaller version of them, after all.

I chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ll defend you against ‘em.”

She rolled her eyes at that. “You’re so weird, Dyson.”

“Not as weird as you, Dash.”

With that, silence filled the room for a while, except for me grinding away at these chunks of wood. I kept my arms steady and ready, hoping to see just a little flame, but nothing happened.

I sighed, throwing my arms in the air. “This is no use, this wood don’t want to catch fire!”

“Don’t give up just because you don’t see anything,” Dash declared, her smile much stronger than before. “The faster we are, the quicker we’re out of here! Then, I could show you how awesome Equestria is!”

“I’ll take ya on that offer, Dash,” I said. I gave her a smirk. “Ya seem like you’re feelin’ better already.”

“Like I said, talking h-helps!” her voice cracked a bit. “I have to get better. I... need to get us out of here!”

For some reason, I felt my heart twinge at that. It wasn’t her duty to take this all on her own. I promised that woman after all. Dash was supposed to be my guide. She didn’t need to carry this on her own. We were going to get out of this here hole and we were going to go see this world of hers. And… I was going to be free.

Free.

That both scared me and motivated me more than ever.

I reached out and pulled her close. “No, we have to get out of here. We’ll do this together, okay?”

Rainbow Dash looked at me like I had something on my face. Was she not expecting that? Didn’t she say before that we had to work together to get out of here? But as her smile widened and her head nudged into my side, I think she must’ve forgotten. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to let this gorge beat me, beat us. Even if my arms felt like they were going to fall off, I’d keep on going until this torch was lit. For Dash. For me.

For freedom.

Author's Note

You folks know the drill. Link to the blog is here.

Hope you all are having a good day/night! And I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Break 1

I walked outside. Mr. Burr was there, standing across the road from me. He was there, smirking at me, like he knew something was going to happen. It… made me want to walk further down the road.

Master never made me feel uncomfortable like that… I mean, maybe at first, just to make sure I was willing, but he's not like that. Never like that. My gaze fell towards the road.

It was dark. How could I see Mr. Burr? Must be the moonlight, it gave me just enough light to see his face.

I turned my attention back to him, only to see nothing. Was he really there? He's just gone. Where did he go?

I stood still, scared straight in place. Maybe he just went to get a lantern. Yeah, that's it. He knew the way home. Well, actually I should just follow him, but this road didn't look like a road I knew. It was all wavy, and there wasn't this much corn by our place! Where was home? Was it really down this road?

A loud bang screamed in the night sky. Must be one of those guards shooting again. Guess home was just down the road. Who were they shooting at this time? Hopefully not at me. It wasn't my fault. Mr. Burr just left me here to wonder…

Why was he smirking at me? Why was he giving me that look?

To my shock, another shot rang out. That must be a gunfight I'm hearing! That ain't just one firing off twice! They don't shoot that fast!

Before I could run, I felt myself fall to the ground in a pile of smoke. I coughed, and pushed myself up, but realized that in my wake was a huge hole. What was going on? Why do I feel like I just got slammed to the ground?

Why am I just fine?

Maybe I wasn't fine. My back was just crawling. I wasn't alone. Apparently she was near me.

How? How could she be here? Wasn't Ma watching her? She usually is tied to Ma at the hip. How? Why was she near me?!

I shook my head. No. No, this can't be real! This can't be real! She ain't dead. She can't be dead. She's fine, right Ma? Ain't she fine? Why she not moving then, Ma? Why ain't she moving!

Ma please tell me she fine. Tell me all the way home.

All the way home.