Startin’ this has not been easy. I swear I’m gonna wreck the tape before I get somethin’ we’re both happy with. She says I keep makin’ it about me, that friggin’ banshee. She’s doin’ this on purpose.
Whelp, here’s try number seven.
Hi there, my names Maize Dancer, and if you are listenin’ to this it means you are me. Hello! Or you’re my travellin’ partner, but if you aren’t either of those then future me is in a wee bit of a bind. So if by Celestia’s whim future me is still kickin’ and has the good sense to skip this bit. I’m going t’jabber on so the future me who has the problem, can find you.
Okay?
Good. Just find a seat away from all the wasteland gribblies, and relax as the Madame Maize Dancer regales you with our tale of wasteland adventure. Depending on future me’s situation we are going to be here awhile. I’ll at least try to make it entertainin’.
ZBZBZB I already know what you are thinking and... well. Spoilers.
Anyways I was Dodgin’ potholes on the E5 between somewhere and nowhere. Behind me was my home and refuge, a house-wagon that had seen me and my kin rest our heads for generations. On my left, the sun was peekin’ over the endless shrubs of the windswept fields. On my right, even more of the endless shrubs, soakin’ in what light they could from Celestia and her throne. As I said before, I was truly in the middle of nowhere.
I weaved around another of those dang potholes, takin’ my home off the road. They’d swallow you whole before you knew what was happening. Though that could also be the rad-scorpions. The asphalt was caked in so much dirt you wouldn’t know it was there if not for the occasional sign.
I was passin’ some billboard when an echoing gunshot shattered the serenity of the mornin’ calm, causin’ my ears to perk up. It came from the direction I was headed but I only managed to spot a red dot far off in the distance. It could have been it but ya see, out on the plains, you can hear a gunshot miles away. However that’s no invitation to take matters lightly. Any wastelander worth her salt can attest: if you get the slightest inklin' of trouble, you respond to it. So I did, movin' onwards cautiously, my little Beam Pistol unholstered and warm, my mind on the harness’s quick release.
There’s no good place to hide in the open fields. Plus it’s less stupid to run towards gunfire than turning your back against it. And yeah, I need a damn good reason to leave my carriage unattended.
The farther I trekked, the more I could make out what that one aforementioned red dot was: A scooter statue, balancin' on a single wheel atop a small buildin' as if an invisible pony were performin' some kind of stunt on it. The sign was so big, I doubt anypony passing by could have avoided the bold bright words, ‘RED RACER DINER’. When I read those words and the smell of the house soup and fresh baking tickled my nose. Well my stomach growled somethin’ fierce, diggin’ it’s claws into my sides like one of the monsters of the wasteland. Remindin’ me I hadn’t had my mornin’ meal yet, or last nights evenin’ meal or even yesterdays lunch. For a second I let my guard down, givin’ voice to my thoughts. “Roadside diner? Score!” Carefully, I hauled my cart off the main road into the small parkin' lot. I left it near a broken chariot so it wouldn’t stick out too bad.
Was this probably a bad idea? Oh almost certainly but hunger makes a mare do funny things, besides nothin' out of the ordinary had happened just yet. I wasn’t easin’ up or anythin’ either, no matter what my stomach had to say about it I still had some rad-scorpion meat that probl’y hadn’t gone off yet… maybe, was best to play it safe. My caution paid off when I heard some shoutin' from inside. I crouched under the long misty windows t’get t’the front door. Slowly and carefully, I raised my head t’peer through the blurry glass. Twasn’t easy, but eventually I made out three ponies standin’ in front of the counter, guns raised. Behind the counter was an aged mare, the business end of her double barrel starin’ down the trio. By the looks of things, they were havin’ a heated conversation.
“FUCK YOU!” A very heated conversation.
“You owe us caps, Happy!” one stallion shot back.
“I owe you chem pushing dirt bags nothing!”
Another stallion stepped up. “Your kid bought our merch—”
“Your merch is what got him hung up in bed for days!” She turned her shotgun at the first stallion who was about t’take a step forward. Was at that point I realized I was witnessin’ a chem-call gone awry.
He snorted. “Our merch is what Smiles bought and put on your tab. Wasn't easy gettin’ our hooves on those mint-als, Happy.”
“Horse shit! I’ve seen you weasels skulk around my diner. I’ve seen you ogle my cash register, my caps, my kid. You dragged him into your shit just so you can get to my savings.”
“Put the gun down, Happy.” The third stallion spat and pointed a hoof behind his shoulder. “You don’t want a payin’ customer to get hurt do ya? It’s bad business.” My heart skipped a beat thinkin’ he was referrin’ t’me. But his hoof wasn’t pointin’ at me. He was pointin’ at a hooded fellow seated in one of the diner tables.
Happy narrowed her eyes. “Fuck. You.”
Poor thing wasn’t the actiony type from what I could tell. Pressing yourself on the flat surface of a table won’t protect you from gun fire. You have better chances under it. I couldn’t make out anything beyond that though. T’was hard t’tell with this damn window.
Now, I have a strict policy I think everypony should abide t‘survive the wastes. If something ain’t your business, you don’t interfere. Let bygones be bygones and let ponies sort out their own shit. That’s the secret to a long life in the wasteland, lemme tell ya.
I would have followed that policy, I really would have. I could have walked back to my wagon and sneaked off and it would’ve been just another close call. But, it seems the sisters had something else in mind. Cuz when you’re holding anythin’ in your magic, your horn just starts shinin’ bright.’ Too bright to not notice. If one of the mooks hadn’t turned his head, probly catching sight of my horn all lit up, I would have just backed out and had some stale grilled rad scorpion. But as it stood, that was no option anymore.
Now I want you to put yourselves in my shoes for a sec. A bunch of drug peddlin’ mules are tendin’ to their business, and the next thing you know, you’re likely on their chopping block now. D’you run away hoping to high heavens they don’t chase after ya? D’you try to negotiate a deal with them? Or d’you start shootin like a lunatic hopin’ to be the toughest sum’bitch in the wastes.
Here’s what I did.
“Mornin’ folks, strikin’ the iron while it’s still hot?” I stepped into that diner holstering my beam pistol whilst I gave out an empty greetin’, and whad’ya know? So many guns were so eager t’meet me… Twas’ just a matter of keepin’ my cool and playin’ the scene and I’d be out in a jiffy.
“And my day just get’s worse...” the third stallion, a unicorn, groaned. “May we fucking help you?.”
“Yes please, I’ll take whatever soup you folks got goin’,” I replied with the most naive smile I could muster. “Been marching since dawn, stomach’s just about ready to revolt.” I waltzed past the startled goons, hopin’ to the sisters they didn’t catch wind of the show I was puttin’ on. I took a seat opposite to the hooded fellow.
“She sat in front of me. Didn’t she...” The hooded fellow muttered. She had a mature voice. Smooth as velvet, but with a slightly rasp.
“Mornin’ there ma’am, you on the run or somethin’? most ponies don’t bother hidin’ their face so much unless it’s winter.”
“Go away.” She answered, nonplussed. Spoilsport. No cake for you.
“Woah there, just tryin’ t’strike a conversation, but if that’s how bad I am at small talk I don’t rate my chances here very high.” I gave her a sly wink. Then realized she didn’t receive it with her head pressed against the table.
“I said go away.”
“Maybe the guns didn’t give a clear indication of what we’re about.” The unicorn pressed his firearm t’my head. t’was a hideous thing built from scrap lookin’ for the first excuse to blow up. “How about now?”
“Woah there.” I tensed up, pretending I just now noticed them. “No need t’make a mess of things.”
“You’re right.” He pressed harder. “So here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna leave here, go far far away and pray you never see us again. Clear?”
“Does that offer extend to me?” The hooded fellow chimed.
“You’re staying here.” He put a gun to her covered head. “We need leverage.”
“Hey!” The cafe owner banged her hoof on the counter. “Stay the fuck away from my business!”
“We gave Smiles a batch worth three days. It’s been two days, and I doubt he eased up on them. So if you wanna discuss a return policy, I suggest you do it now, Happy.” There was a quick skirmish above us as hooves scrambled around desperately. “And I think your spawn just got the memo.”
“One last warning, you drug mules!” she gesticulated giving the double barrel a good shake for emphasis. “Get. Out.”
Things were gettin’ tense. I had to hightail it before shit hit the fan. “Well, if it’s all the same to you lot,” I got up from my chair. “I’ll be taking my leave now.”
As I scooched my way out of dinin’ chair, my mind was at ease. Did I still have an empty stomach? Yes unfortunately. But hey, beggers can’t be choosers in the wasteland. I made my way to the exit, nodding at the unicorn’s lap dogs. But before I could turn that rusty door knob, I stopped dead in my track.
“What’s the hold up?” One of the earth ponies asked, growing impatient.
I honestly didn’t know. I was off the hook! Easy win if I ever saw one, and Madame Maize Dancer is no righteous pony, lemme tell ya. I have done the same things everypony else has to get by in the wasteland. So what was the holdup? I looked around the cafe, as though my answer lied somewhere within in these walls. I looked at the owner. She seemed nice, but nopony I’d risk my life to save for no good reason. I looked up at the ever tremorous ceiling; still nothing registered. I looked at the drug mules. Definitely no.
Then my eyes fell on the hooded fellow, her hunched back that raised and fell with every shaky breath. The poor soul under that robe, wondering if her life was cut short. She made no attempt to fight back. She didn’t know how. ‘Twas then I realized, I felt pity for the poor thing. And let me be clear. I have acted on that instinct alone before, just never this bad. Even now doesn’t make sense to stick my neck out for somepony to slit like that...
So, I took what might have been the deepest breath of my life, and turn a one-eighty to the earth ponies closest to me
“You got something to say?”
To his suprise, I smiled genuinely. “Couldn’t resist.” With all the force my telekinetic grasp could muster, I slammed my cap bag on the floor, making the smoke bombs inside go boom.
The first order of the moment was to make a quick roll through the smoke to confuse the shooters. Second was to unholster my beam pistol. Third was to push my beam pistol right into mister horn heads face and shoot.
Good plan? Good plan! And in the hooves of the right pony, it would have gone down swell! Too bad I am not that pony. Like I said, bonafide badass I am not. You see, I use smoke bombs to get out of sticky situations, not tangle myself in further. What does that mean? It means I was as blind as everypony else in the cafe. So try not to judge when I say I didn’t expect one of the earth ponies to get a clean shot on my leg… and my stomach… and my chest… I fell on the ground like a rolling dice.
I repeat. Bonafide badass I am not.
The owner deciding only NOW would be a fun time to act, shot one of the distracted earth ponies in the back of the head. Good thing they were close to her. Apparently she only had the one shot in her barrel, as she slammed the butt of the shotgun into the other goon’s head. The unicorn couldn’t tell what was going on, whipping his pistol from the hooded fellow. He shot at Happy’s vicinity but hit nothing. The mare probably ducked under the counter.
The smoke bombs I use are for theatrics… mostly. So they don’t last very long. As the haze cleared, he managed to get a good glimpse of me trying to crawl away. Levitating his gun behind the back of my head, he spat. “You. Little. Bitch.”
“Hehe… Made quite the mess of things, huh?.” I gritted out through my clenched teeth, not making an attempt to hide the fear in my voice.
“You had one chance.” He responded, cocking his gun to fire the second time. I closed my eyes, thinkin’ that was it. Have to say, that would have been quite the way to go. Moral of the story my little ponies? Don’t play hero. And yeah, that’s where my story should have ended. But as I awaited my final breath, I noticed something was up. Namely the lack of a mighty bang followed by oblivion or perhaps the heavenly thrones for the sisters to cast judgement on my life… or oblivion.
As I dared my eyes open, I saw the hooded fellow roughing it up with the drug mule. My suspicions of her fighting prowess were made rather clear as he had the obvious upper hoof.
I found in front of me his scrap gun. Slightly bent out of shape but still usable. I snatched it up tryin’ to line up a shot, but I got a factory manufactured beam pistol for a reason. Somethin’ made clear as I fired one and then two and then three bullets into the melee not even five feet in front of me each time the recoil knocking the barrel up and back throwing the bullets into the ceilin’. Didn’t help that my wounds were taking their sweet toll on me.
Mr. Unicorn getting wise shifted her in front of me blocking any followup shots. Shakily I stood up onto my hooves, bringing the gun with me, putting it at a distance where I couldn’t miss. I gave a dark chuckle as I echoed his words pulling the trigger. “You had one chance...”
BANG!
He went down. And so did I. Seems I had spent all my energy puttin’ the bastard down. Almost worth the trouble if you ask me.
Almost.
My vision was a blur at this point. The hooded fellow, ran up to me and the last thing I remembered was her taking her hood off.
“You have pretty eyes...” That’s what I muttered before I blacked out.
Cool last words, eh? Well tough, cuz those weren’t. Next thing I know, I woke up in cold sweat on a blood caked mattress. The sisters can be such a bother sometimes. One minute you’re dyin’ all romantic-like, next minute you’re on a mattress that smells like your old rotten blood. Strange ways they operate in…
It was dark. Really really dark. The greedy cloud cover wasn’t letting any light from the moon break through. The only thing that kept the room lit. was a lonely little lamp on the opposite corner of the room. It bathed the room in a weak yet ominous shade of umber.
I squinted, trying to adjust my eyes to the darkness. I wouldn’t consider myself afraid of the dark, just by the things squirmin’ in it. It was a pretty standard wasteland crib. You had a desk full of old knick knacks, a musty mirror, and a salvaged rug to tie everything together.
Twas getting frightfully lonely up in here. “H-hello?”
“Happy and her son are asleep downstairs.”
I would have jumped if my body let me. There in a corner of the room where the little lamp’s light didn’t have the courage to travel, on an old chair, sat the hooded fellow, her hood splayed back. I could make out the silhouette of a face eerily lacking in symmetry. But the darkness was sparing me the details. My little beam pistol was cozy in her claws
Yes. Claws.
“Feeling better. Are we?”
“No, but I guess that’s an improvement.” I gave a slight chuckle to cut the tension. I wasn’t really too far off either what parts of me that didn’t hurt were sore and what wasn’t sore was stiff. But hey. At least I knew I was alive.
A sharp appendage distinguishable by the glint of silver in the dim light tapped on my beam pistol habitually. “You’ll be operating at a hundred percent by the next day. I didn’t have much to work with.”
"So how you do it? You seal me in bandages or did yah crack open a healin' potion?"
“I’m no ameture wasteland medic.” She said, putting her hood back on. “Or whatever passes as a professional around these days...” She got off the chair and ambled to the table. Celestia be damned she was tall. Not alicorn tall, but look down at you like a schoolyard bully tall. With her claws she began, mixing various substances haphazardly poured in cans. Her claws moved elegantly with finesse and dexterity.
“Didn’t say that, just that’s how a pony is patched up so quickly. You fish for the bullets?” I queried as I dropped my head back down to the pillow.
“You ask too many questions.”
"Need'ta know whether or not I pass on in my sleep tonight." I sighed.
She held three bullets between her appendages in front of the light, and let them slide in her palm in a closed fist. “You’ll be fine. Sore in the morning, but nothing to keep you up at night. I’m assuming that wasn’t your first soiree?” She began mashing some powder with a stone pestle.
“Nah, I am just used to running away from the bucks with guns. Not towards.” I admitted as I shifted my weight.
“Is that so...” She trailed off for a moment. “Not used to playing hero?”
”Sweet Celestia no!” I exclaimed. “Today was the exception. Certainly not an act I am plannin’ on repeatin’.”
“Quite the intelligent thing to say for a pony who made the biggest mistake of her life not too long ago?” She poured some water into the bowl. “What made you think it was a good idea at the time?”
“Dunno. Didn’t seem right is all.” I sighed leaning my head back examining the wood grain looking for the answer. “I had a clean break, everything was going to plan, I didn’t even get shot at!”
“If I had a cap for every time I heard an idiot say that...” She stirred the contents of the bowl.. “Going against your own self-interest to save a mare who can’t even stop her son from becoming a junkie. I might grow old enough to outlive all the rot in the waste and that mentality still won’t make sense to me.”
I burst into giggles and couldn’t contain myself for a second. “More like the poor schmuck trying t’shut the world out and ignore the fact that she was caught in the middle of a stick up.”
She paused for a moment. “I suppose we’re even then.” She began stirring again. “I would have preferred someone more qualified than a bargain bin wasteland hero though.”
“I prefer the better part of valor, honey. The part, that puts me well away from the angry ponies with guns.”
“How is that working out for you right now?”
“I’ve made it this far haven’t I?”
“Luck.” she answered matter of factly, “And it tends to run out. Especially for upstart wastelanders with honour codes” She brought the concoction up t’me, gyrating it in one claw. “If you know what’s good for that body of yours, you’ll keep to yourself next time. But then again, the hero types tend to be rather stubborn.”
“Trust me, not planning t’be anywhere near gunfire for a long time. I’m highly allergic as you see. “ I free a forehoof from its warm blankets prison t’gesture at my state.
“Atta girl.” She offered me the curdled liquid in what used t’be a can o’beans “Now drink this. It will help with the pain.”
“Yes, Ma’am…” I stuck out my tongue like a foal as I plucked the bowl out of her grip with my magic. Taking a few tentative sniffs nose gaining a few folds from the assault that… concoction launched. “Buck me, what in Celestia’s half acre is in this!”
“Some ingredients I improvised to the same effect of Parafyndol.”
“Parafyn-what? You mean like candles?”
“It’s a salve that heals long-term tissue damage, but the last properly manufactured unit probably expired a hundred and ten years ago.”
“Don’t you put a salve on the wound?”
“Emphasis on the word ‘improvise’. Though if I were in my prime, I would have thought of something better.” She said longingly, walking up and taking her place on her wooden throne of throniness, pulling her hood back.
With a hard swallow, I downed that, that thing I know all the ingredients are supposed to be tasty but it tastes like my harness after a day of running and goes down twice as hard. ”If you’ve poisoned me, I’m haunting you till the day you drop.” I managed to squeeze out a threat between coughs.
“You’ll be waiting quite a while. I have pride in my craft, miss...”
“Maize Dancer.” I finished. “And you?”
“Gwendolyn.” She answered hurriedly as though getting off track. “Anyways, You seem to be stable now. ”
“Good to know. I‘m not quite ready to see the thrones yet.”
“Well, my job is done for now. Why don’t you get some rest for now, Miss Dancer. Your vitals should be stable by tomorrow.”
“Probably a good idea, bound to be an early day tomorrow.” I state as I slowly shift back closing my eyes. As my head hit the pillow there was something odd. She didn’t leave, she didn’t even move there was no creaking of 200 year old furniture no clip clopping of hooves over floor. I waited, seconds became minutes and those minutes stretched on. Eventually I spoke. “You... gonna be there all night, Gwen?”
“I need to make sure you won’t pass away in your sleep tonight.”
“Didn’t you say-”
“I’m a careful one. I refuse to take any chances.”
“Don’t you need some shut eye?” I asked pointedly
“You ask too many questions, Miss Dancer” She shifted on the throne of throneiness.
“Everypony sleeps dear, anypony that doesn’t is on somthin’ or dyin’, and you ain’t either of those.”
“Dying is a relative term.”
“Quite a bit is relative in the wastes. What’s up, Gwen.”
“You really should get some sleep.”
“You keep sayin’ that but it ain’t making me want to sleep.” I finally open my eyes. “Now you can tell me why you wanna keep an eye on me like a creeper, or I can just stay up all night. And if I am, I might as well grab somethin’ from my wagon.”
“You’ll fall over by the time you get to the door.”
“I’ll take those odds, thank you very much.” I didn’t really want to think about what she would do to me if I just left things as they were. Sue me! I barely knew the mare. I shifted about in the bed ripping the covers off, as I called maroon power to my horn having it coalesce into a ball at the tip, the magic changing into a bright white as it collected. Detaching into a luminous sphere that hovered at about head height.
I’m not going to say I expected what I saw. Then again, I won’t say I didn’t either. There aren’t many colorful ways to describe what I was looking at but I think this sums it up perfectly.
Ready?
Okay.
She was missin’ half her flippin’ face! I’m sorry, but that is honestly the best way to put it. The right side of her luna damned face was skull. I stared at it with petrified fascination. An exposed skull with a look of perpetual melancholy from the sullen shape of the eye-socket with a blue ring that I could only assume was a pupil. The other side was that of a dishevelled bird. So she was a griffon, a ghoul griffon. I swear, lookin’ at her was like looking at a prewar zoology textbook, one with illustrations.
“You have some gall!” She hissed like water on hot metal, pulling up her hood, hiding the skull side of her face.
There really wasn’t much to say. She was a ghoul I knew many ponies had an issue with them if DJ Pon3 was anything to go by. But she didn’t seem all that different from a any other wastelander. Sure she was missing half her face, but she was just as prickly as any other wastelander and the other half seemed to be workin’ just fine. After a moment or two invitin’ somethin’ to nest in my mouth I finally spoke up with all the skill and eloquence my folks taught me.
“FACE!” Truly a master of prose, I am.
You’d think it’d be hard to read a griffon’s expression when half of her face is bone, but you underestimate Madame Maize Dancer. Cuz as always, reading folks is half my job. The other half is running. So much running... But it don’t take much to see that she was like a rolling cloud just ready to let loose angry thunder and lightning, and by Celestia’s word was she angry.
“What is wrong with you?!” She adjusted her robe in a futile attempt to hide the rest of her body. I winced when i chanced a glance at her ribcage.
“Lot’s? Your kind of asking the mare that knowingly walked into a robbery.” I replied trying to get back on top of the situation after the loop I was run through, I can’t say I was expecting that.
“Not the point, is it?” She crossed her arms, a more refined look about her now that she didn’t need to keep her little secret from me.
“Look. Gwenny. Can I call you Gwenny?”
“No!”
“I just don’t want t’sleep in the same room as you, no fault of your own, I just don’t know you and I’d rather ere on the side of caution.”
“Incase you haven’t noticed, you don’t have much of a choice in the matter.” She turns her head towards the window. “Unless you can muster enough strength to walk down stairs all the way to that cart of yours.”
“The other solution is that I just don’t sleep.”
The griffon smiled slyly. The skull side of her head looking very sinister. “I doubt that will be a problem.”
I responded with a smirk of my own before stifling a yawn, “I think you are selling me short. But just one thing: you’re a ghoul, ghouls sleep too. See ‘em lyin about all the time in my travels.”
“Different ghouls have different needs. Some need sleep, others need to eat, I need neither.” She adjusted her hood. “I did however feel the (intalic)need(italic) to put animal tranquilizer fluid in my patient’s medicine to have her quiet down.”
“Wait you wha-” Those were the last things I remember saying before everythin’ went dark. I have to say, she got one up on me.
Cudos you over-reaching banshee.
Cudos…
My acquaintance Maize Dancer
So this is where I begin…
Given past circumstances, I have been lead to believe that my envoy, Maize Dancer, is not fit to tell this story alone. Putting it succinctly. Multiple aspects of these events must be considered! Knowing her, she would not be forthcoming with detail. It took her seven tries before I gave up and let her word off on her own. Ergo, I will let you in on my account and you may piece together the rest on your own. I will try to ease off on the heavy prose as per the Maize Dancer’s request.
She said I am often prone to pretentious diction.
But before I can continue, I believe I should introduce myself. My name is Gwendolyn Astoria Lovegale. I am a griffon, a ghoul, and relevant to this story. I am a doctor; the most capable doctor in the wasteland. I received my training from Canterlot University, doing my residency in New Moon Royal Hospital before the war began.
Yes, I am what would be referred to as a pre-war ghoul.
Just like Maize Dancer, I believe it appropriate to begin this story from the diner. Everything that came before I can explain to you when I consider it most relevant.
I was on the run when I happened upon Happy’s diner by mere coincidence. Why she didn’t take exception to a stranger draped in a clandestine robes, I will never know. Her son was suffering major withdrawal symptoms. Poor thing was barely old enough to travel in a caravan without his mother, and his body was being destroyed by a cocktail of wasteland drugs. Nothing that any subpar nurse couldn’t handle, but still.
She agreed to let me rest for the night when debt collectors arrived. They took me hostage, Maize Dancer came, and well, the rest you already know. Why Maize Dancer chose to put her life on the line for me? I will never comprehend. To be fair, I believe it is something even she cannot grasp. It was a question I mulled over as I watched her rest.
No I will not apologize for what I did to her. It was for her own good.
I kept watch over the unicorn, perched on my seat like a crow over a dying pony. The wounds she sustained were all but healed thanks to my custom potion that I synthesized. Honestly, if I knew she would be so petulant, I’m not sure if I would have used up so many of my reagents to save her ungrateful hide. The ingredients I use are NOT easy to come by you know.
At the break of dawn I noticed something amiss with her. Her eyes began shifting under her lids. Her mouth began quivering. Soon she began tossing and turning violently. It seems our unicorn was having a night terror. I rolled my eyes, pulled my hood forward, and hopped of my seat, walking up to her.
“Wake up.” I said, gently nudging her.
As if on some sort of circadian cue, her eyes slipped open and she shot up, breathing heavily. “Wai- wah?” She was disoriented. I hate it when patients get like this.
“Calm yourself.” I began. “It was just a-”
“You drugged me!” she shouted, scrambling away. The sweaty blanket adhered to her fur. She smelled putrid.
“I sedated you.” I walked back to the desk, pulling my hood down. She already knew what my face looked like, no point in hiding it now.
She took a deep breath, the explosion of anger and fear transforming into something not unfamiliar. “You gave me chems without my consent. Explain how that isn’t a drugging,” she asked calmly, steel in her voice.
I pulled out some herbs from my saddlebag, crushing them with a mortar and pestle “I am a medical professional working under my oath. I will do anything and everything to ensure the physical well-being of my patients.”
“Couldn’t you have left and come back when I was asleep?” she asked running a hoof through her filthy mane. “Not like I would complain if I didn’t know.”
“No.” I responded matter of factly. Tapping the reduced herbs into the bowl I used last night. If anypony from my practice saw me re-using an unsanitized container, I would have been barred from practicing medicine. But I am in no position to waste clean water.
She sighed taking her hoof away with a sour look on her face. “And why not?”
“You seem to be under the false pretense that your right to privacy is a factor in mending your wounds.” I walked up to her, stirring the new concoction in a claw.
“So you did it just so I couldn’t complain.” She responded flatly beginning to squirm to the edge of the mattress.
“I did it to ease the pain. You quieting down was only an added bonus.” I offered her the bowl.
She narrowed her eyes. “Do you really expect me to drink that?”
“No.” I splashed the contents of the bowl on her face, not paying heed to the incredulous look she was giving to me.
“What the heck is wrong with you?!” she screamed writhing out of her bedsheets. “You can’t be this freaking inconsiderate.”
“You’re right.” I answered, putting away my things in a saddle bag. “Maybe next time I should light up my horn to get a good look-see under a ghoul’s hood. That will show her.”
“Ok, if you’re gonna be like that-”
She was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Is everything alright in there?” Happy called.
I gave Maize a quick scowl and turned towards the door. “Of course, we were just coming down to greet you.”
“Oh, is she awake?.” The mare laughed behind the door. “Smile and I are throwing something together for you two.”
Maize Dancer smiled awkwardly “That’s fine. You don’t have to-”
“No back talk!” Happy chided. “It’s the least we can do.”
I sighed. “Alright, we’ll be downstairs soon.”
With that, the mare left. Maize and I looked at each other uncomfortably. It was clear, we didn’t enjoy each other’s company. And the prospect of sitting down and prolonging our interaction did not strike my fancy.
With a deep sigh, she walked up to me until our faces were a hair’s length apart. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I don’t like you. I REALLY don’t like you. Truth be told, saving your ungrateful hide feels like the biggest mistake I’ve made in a long long time. I don’t want to see your mug ever again.” To the point. I almost admired that. “But, I’m a guest and Happy seems nice. So you and I are going to walk downstairs. Greet Happy, be nice to her kid, indulge in whatever they have waiting downstairs for us, and leave. You walk in one direction. I walk the other. The end. Agreed?” She offered me a hoof.
I looked at it and then her, making no attempt to hide my suspicion. But with a reluctant claw, I accepted and we shook. “Agreed.”
With that conundrum resolved, Maize Dancer stepped back and squeezed her mane. “Good. Now help me get this gunk off. I don't care if it helps with the healing.”
“No.” I answered.
“Oh come on!” The unicorn yelled at the breach of our trust. “We had a truce!”
“That’s not potion.” I said, scooping some of the remains of the substance in the bowl.
“Then what is it?” She grinded her teeth with mounting ire.
“Hair conditioner.” I answered, rubbing a claw full through the feather side of my head.
“Why did you-”
“You smell putrid.”
After a few minutes of sorting ourselves out, Maize and I made our way downstairs. We smelled of Lavender. Maize Dancer’s mane had adopted a buoyant property, bobbing up and down as she walked, something she was clearly growing fond of if the little bobs and tilts of her head were any indication. We did our best to avoid eye contact to honour our little agreement.
As we neared the diner entrance. My beak caught scent of something rather nostalgic. “That can’t be right...”
Maize Dancer raised an eyebrow. “What’s the matter?”
I shook my head, pushing the door open. “I don’t know why, but I smell-”
“PANCAKES!” a young colt burst out from behind the counter, a plate full of flat confections on his back. The hollows under his eyes had grown lighter than the last time I saw him. Good.
“My own recipe.” Happy bragged as she pulled out a jar full of some purple substance from under the counter.
Maize was looking between the two quizzically. “What’s a pancake?”
“Delicious!” the colt answered ecstatically, plopping the plate in front of the unicorn. “Dig in.”
Maize Dancer took a bite out of the confection, her eyes lighting up instantly. “This jam is made of Tarberries. How did you get your hand on tarberries? You can’t get this, not without losing a couple of hooves to the merchant sellin’ it.”
“We grow it out back.” Happy pointed a hoof outside. “Took me and my late hubby years to get it right.”
Maize Dancer took another bite speaking as she chewed. “Never heard of anypony managin’ to just grow them. Must make yah a tidy profit.”
“Not really, It takes a lot of berries to make the jam. You’re the first pony out of my family to have a taste of the stuff.”
“You didn’t have to do that for us.” Maize smiles apologetically.
“Nonsense.” Happy rubbed a hoof on her sons mane. “If it weren’t for you two, me and mine would have been dead.”
Maize laughed awkwardly. “You took down two of them, I was pretty useless.”
“The third would have ended me.” The earth pony mare chortled. “Now shut up and keep eating.”
()()()()()
Hey Gwen, how long are you gonna hog the… Oh hey, you’re still talkin’ about Happy and her kid. Yes my little ponies, pancakes are still a thing. So head on down to the Red Racer Diner, and eat like a prewar king. Hey I Rhymed! Also, could you tell’em-
IN YOUR OWN TIME MAIZE DANCER.
()()()()()
As I was saying, She took another large bite out of her pancake, her eyes narrowing.
“Something bothering you?”
The unicorn stuck her tongue out, a white seed sitting cozily on her taste buds.
“Ohohoho!” Happy looked at the seed with great intrigue. “You just found yourself a seed!”
“Is that important?” The unicorn spat. It landed on the table.
“Depends.” Happy chuckled, turning to me expectantly. “Why don’t you take a bite?”
I stared at my batch, I could tell Smile had made it. Several pancakes were singed from the edges and misshapen, unlike Maize Dancer’s batch. I sighed. Food doesn’t sustain me anymore. Giving me any rations is the practical equivalent of pouring distilled water on dry concrete expecting rutabagas to sprout. I didn’t want to make a fuss, though. With all the refinement I could muster without proper cutlery, I took a small bite out of the pancake.
If my tongue could register anything resembling taste, it would have been absolutely salivating. The few functioning tastebuds I had left tingled with excitement. It was so good, I almost didn’t notice when my beak bit down on something hard. With my claw, I fished it out and lo and behold, another seed.
“Another seed!” Smile held his head with her hooves as though trying to keep it from shooting off her shoulders. “Do you know what this means?”
“You need to invest in a strainer?” Maize suggested, eagerly accepting my batch when I passed it to her
“No- I mean yes. Beside the point. It means you two are gonna be lifelong friends!”
The unicorn choked on her mouthful. “Wah?”
“You’ll have to forgive the little scuttlebug” The colt’s mother cooed, roughing his hair. “He just gets excited.”
I placed my seed next to Maize Dancer’s seed. “A rather arbitrary thing to say, don’t you think?”
“Old pony legend.” Happy stroked Smile’s hair. “They say that when Luna came home from her exile, Celestia made pancakes for her. She was so excited to have her sister back, she botched up the batter. ‘Dropped a couple pumpkin seeds in it. When Celestia served it, both found the seeds and kept them. The two loved each other after that till the day they died”
“Quite the story.” I remarked off-handedly.
“Just a legend, to keep foals from fighting with each other.”
Maize wiped her mouth after scarfing down the last of the flat cakes. “I liked it.”
Happy pulled her foal closer. It seems her little story made her crave rapport with her son. “Well regardless, keep those seeds. They’re good luck.”
Maize Dancer and I gave each other a look. She gestured me to take it, although hesitantly. I complied reluctantly. The rest of the morning we made small pleasantries. Although Maize Dancer and I didn’t make any eye-contact, we had an understanding. Luckily Happy and her son had a knack for keeping a conversation from meandering to a halt. They were even polite enough to not pester me over my ghoulism. A model family in the wasteland, if there is such a thing.
I did however, ask them something that was close to becoming of a top priority for me. “Happy, do you have anything of the irradiated variety.”
“Nope.” She thumped a hoof on her chest. “I only sell the highest quality product.”
Maize Dancer looked at me quizzically. “Why do you need something with rads.” It was the first time she asked me anything in a while.
“My form of ghoulism calls for exposure to radiation every now and again, or I start developing adverse symptoms” I stroked my scarf.
“Well, it's not hard finding the stuff out there in the wastes.” Happy gazed out the window. “Go out for a stroll. You’ll come across it eventually.”
I nodded, not liking her answer. There was a worrying lack of radiation in these parts.
A few hours of chatter and one last check up on Smile later, we decided to bid them adieu. I don’t know why I followed Maize Dancer to her wagon. I should have just stuck to the main road. Maybe I wanted to make sure she made a full recovery. Either way, she did not object.
“Well Gwen,” the unicorn began, “I guess this is goodbye.”
“It seems so Maize Dancer.” I offered a claw. I was not fond of her, but manners maketh the mare. That phrasing makes no mention of griffons, I am aware. She looked at my claw trying to hide how she was relieved to be rid of my presence. But still mustered the decorum to shake, albeit with lack of vigour.
I nodded to her and began walking. For some reason I expected her to wait a few minutes before she hawled her cart out of the parking lot.
She didn’t.
I tried to pretend she was not there as I made my way out, but the creaking of her unoiled wheels did not help. Nevertheless, I persevered, waiting for us to get to the main road so we could part ways. I admit, saying farewell at the parking lot was an ill-calculated move I wouldn’t have made it in my prime. But what is the weight of my sin here?
We arrived at the main road and I breathed a sigh of release knowing the cart’s infernal creaking would eventually die down.
It didn’t.
As the small roadside diner was left behind to disappear into the horizon the metallic torture of that sound refused to cease. I recall thinking that she would take the soonest exit but as we passed it she continued on as I ignored her in my march. Eventually I heard her familiar voice to my simultaneous relief and chagrin. “So... where ya headed?”
“We’ll part ways, eventually.” I answered not bothering to face her. “This highway is known to branch out along the way.”
Some minutes later, we passed a highway exit. The carriage’s did not meander to a different path. Several minutes later, we reached another exit. The creaking persisted. An hour passed and we had passed fourteen forks along the way.
“Uh... Gwen?” She called out as the creaking procession of her wagon hastened, it’s noisy cycle growing in volume.
“Yes Maize Dancer?” I answered, no attempt to hide my chagrin.
“I’m headed up to Humdrum, so if we’re goin’ the same way one of us has gotta wait for a bit or start talkin’ to the other.” she chirped over my shoulder. “Heck I can just give you a ride, you weigh what, a hundred and fifty macs?”
“...Is Humdrum far South?”
“About a couple days travel.”
I sighed. “One hundred and seventeen macs.”
“Well... it ain’t much trouble for me to give you a lift down that way.” The hesitance in her voice was palpable.
I brushed some dust off my scarf. Waiting was something I could not afford to do. I had already wasted too much time tending to Maize. “I don’t suppose you can wait an hour or so for my sake, would you?”
“Not in good conscience, an hour’s a long time for somethin’ to go wrong. What say you, I know I’ve got a massive blindspot, besides one half-dead bird out alone ain’t much of a threat.” She seemed to be warming up to the idea as she spoke.
I ran a claw through my feather side of my head, my hood slipping back. “We travel together then”
“Alright...”
With our new arrangement properly established, we kept walking. Truth be told, the awkwardness of it all didn’t subside from admitting we were sticking close now. Every now and then, I would catch Maize staring at my skull or she would catch me looking over one of the myriad scars she had accumulated.
I am not in my prime anymore. But it only takes an eye with a modicum of training to tell she made plenty use of factory produced healing potion. That paired with the scars from what I can only assume were impromptu self surgeries, and we have a pony who needs long-term therapy and treatment if she wanted to stay out of a wheelchair by her forties. That’s not even brushing the obvious symptoms of recreational drug use.
“Somethin’ up?” She asked, noting that I had examined her for a second too long.
“Nothing.” I lied. “My eyes just tend to wander.”
She gave me a cheeky smirk. “You were checking out my flank weren’t you?”
And thus began my arduous side-odyssey of dealing with Maize Dancer’s various sexual misconducts. I’m not saying this will come up often. I’m saying keep a tally. Where was I? Right. “When was the last time you saw a physician, Maize Dancer?”
“Uh… you obviously?”
“Before me.” I answered, my chagrin spiking momentarily.
“Didn’t get any holes I couldn’t plug myself recently, so not for a few months. I only go see the doc when I’ve been shot, need to top up on potion, or if I get a case of the sniffles.”
“Mhmmmmm.” Thirties. She will be in a wheelchair by her thirties.
I could go on about that day, and I am sure some would take joy out of the awkwardness I endured from SEVEN HOURS of dead silence and aborted attempts at small talk. But, it seems prudent to hurry things along lest I start gathering cobwebs… again.
Night fell and Maize fell asleep in her cart. I decided to perch on the roof, staring at the cloud cover. The only thing to keep me company was the melody of the breeze and Maize Dancer’s loud snoring. When you get to my age you know how to wait away the march of time. Contrary to Happy’s supposition, we encountered no sources of radiation in our path. I hadn’t gone this long without exposure in decades. Was I getting sloppy? I wouldn’t be surprised if I was. I’m not in my prime anymore.
A few hours before dawn I heard whimpering from inside the cart. Peering through the front window, I found Maize Dancer tossing and turning in her mattress. She was having nightmares again. I didn’t bother waking her. She was not my patient anymore.
What did however catch my attention was a faint noise coming from the distance. It was light, but continuous like the pitter patter of a light drizzle, or the scampering of small rodents through the royal gardens…
Or hoofsteps. Light surreptitious hoofsteps. I bit my index talon in worry. Did I really burn enough time for them to catch up with me? I was sure I had gathered a good deal of distance. As non-chalantly as I could look. I leaned over the roof and knocked at the small round window overlooking Maize Dancer and her mattress.
She yelped awake before gathering herself. “Gwen? What time is it?”
“I need to talk to- are you… are you wearing a nightgown?”
She answered rubbing her eyes. “yuh-huh,”
“Why do you- Nevermind. I need to talk with you urgently.”
“Okay.” she let loose another yawn as she flicked on an arcane lamp with her magic and with that, the soft scampers turned into fast scrabbling as whomever was sneaking up figured out they’re cover had been blown.
“We’re being followed!” I yelled, snapping Maize out of her daze.
She nodded muzzily as she opened the window. “How many’s out there?”
“I can’t say.” It was a tight squeeze, but griffons are a very flexible species. “Do you have a plan?”
She pointed at a shotgun mounted on the wall beside the door sitting at about head height. At first, I thought it was a gauche attempt at decor, but it didn’t take long to notice the wire wrapped around the trigger that disappeared into the latch-lock of the door.
“Help me with that couch.” The unicorn ordered, liberating her small beam pistol from it’s holster on the wall. I had little reason to disobey. We climbed the ladder and pushed the couch opposite to the door. Now it was only a matter of waiting as the hoofsteps became louder and louder.
A loud voice thundered outside. “If you know what’s good for you, you’re gonna come out with no weapons.”
Maize Dancer was quick to reply, as she fiddled with the netting above us that prevented a myriad objects from falling and crushing us with her magic. “Sure, once you raider pisswhiskers come to the sharp realization that what you’re askin’ NEVER WORKS!!”
“You got till the count of three before I bust open the door!”
“You sure you wanna? When you burst down that door, I’m gonna unleash such whoopin’ your great gran mama’s gonna feel it, and she’s already dead”
“I warned ya.” He roared and rammed through the door triggering the shotgun trap. It seems Maize Dancer is quite the merciful soul as the lead in his cranium granted him a swift albeit messy death. Despite all preconceived notions grey matter has much more colour than you would think. Especially when it has been violently exposed to air.
“YOU KILLED JUGS!” Another voice screamed from outside. “YOU’RE FUCKING DONE!”
“How good is your throwing arm?” Maize Dancer asked me with a little put upon sigh as if she were a pony stuck in traffic two centuries ago, plucking a pouch full of smoke bombs from the netting above.
Maybe in my prime. “Uh- not my area of-”
“No time.” she said flatly as she bequeathed the pouch to me. “I need you t’throw that out the door as hard as you can. While I give cover fire. Got it?” I gave a minute nod before ducking under gun fire. Maize Dancer returned the favour with her own. “Any time this century Gwen!”
I raised my head and ducked under some more bullets flying over head. If I were in my prime this wouldn’t be such a chore. Suddenly the hail of bullets stopped. It seems our assailants needed to reload. Taking the opportunity, I raised my arm back and flung it at the interlopers. But for some reason, the pouch did not follow.
I looked back to see it hovering inches away from the ground under Maize Dancer’s telekinetic grasp. “Gwen, what the fuck?!”
I didn’t have time to answer as the flurry began again. “I-I don’t-” I was interrupted as the barrage of bullets began once more.
Maize looked at me than the entrance. “No time for that. Try again.”
I nodded and raised my arm back once more, making sure the pouch stayed tight in my grip. I shot my arm forward expecting the damn thing to smash against the opposite wall. But as you can tell, I am no athlete, and my muscle memory dictates if I hold on to something twice, say a scalpel, I do not loosen my grip. Ergo, do not be colored surprised when I say the smoke pouch hit the edge of the couch, immediately setting it off.
“GWEN! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!” Maize coughed, jumping out of the cover.
My vision was compromised and I needed an out. I crawled keeping out of the gun fire as best as I could. “I’m a thinker, not a fighter!”
“Really!? Sweet Celestia! you know what good enough. Help pull the hatch!”
“What Hatch?” I yelled, falling forward as I realized I had made it all the way to the exit.
Getting my bearings together, I looked up to find two ponies with firearms looking down at me confused. “Uh.... Hooves in the air?”
I complied. Both of our assailants were ponies. They were too clean to be raiders, They didn’t seem to be the affiliated with the ponies I was running from, given the shock in their eyes when they got a good look at my face. The female unicorn nudged the male earth pony to fish out my acquaintance.
But as soon as he touched the cart, Maize Dancer’s voice erupted from inside. “Not another step closer you raider jerk wads! Or by the sisters I swear, you’re gonna regret it.”
“We came here on behalf of Wood Jug.” The female answered with admirable level-headedness.
There was a short silence. “Remind me?”
“The stud who’s brain you decided to decorate your house with.”
“Well he’s gathering flies now, so you can beat it.”
“Not so fast princess.” She answered, her eyes narrowing. “Or should I say, Madame Maize Dancer”
There was another silence, a longer silence. When Maize Dancer finally spoke, to my confusion it was as though she was possessed by a Duesselhoof Gypsy. “Ze fool has parted ways, and is facing ze judgement of ze sisters. He shall find himself unable to pay his debt to you from ze beyond. What business do you seek with ze Madame.”
“We know you’re a con-artist.” She rolled her eyes. “And we want our caps.”
“...If it is caps you seek, then turn to-”
“Enough with accent!” The earth pony banged his hoof on the cart.
“Fine! You want the caps? I spent them at Mercury's Fashions!”
“WHAT?!” both screamed.
“All the caps are back where yah started.”
“That’s what you should have told jug when he wasn’t smear on the wall.“ The mare spat close to my bad hind leg. “We’re still gettin’ paid for our work.”
“You can take whatever's in his bags and be on your way.” I could tell she was nervous.
“Not happenin’ toots.” She nodded at her companion who stepped inside. “He promised us caps in the three digit figure.”
“Uh… Boss?” he began. “She’s holding a landmine.”
“And?”
“Her hoof is pretty close to the button.”
“Big deal. She won’t follow through on it. Con-artists don’t have it in’em.”
“You really wanna take that bet?” Maize Dancer began. “I’ll splatter the whole lot of us across this land.”
“Don’t try to impress me, bitch.” The mare began. “You don’t have the nerve for it.”
“Try me.” Maize Dancer said. I noticed her voice crack. I think our unicorn assailant did as well.
She pushed me inside with a heavy hoof. Then as though waltzing into a prewar barbershop, she walked inside past her cohort. She came to a stop a foot away from Maize Dancer who stood upright, the minefield firm in one hoof, the other was inches away from the red button.
“Maize Dancer” I insisted, ”I implore you to reconsider.”
“Shut it, Gwen.” she exclaimed with venom, eyes locked on the mare in front of her. Suffice to say, she blamed this whole fiasco on me. To be fair though, her ire was not entirely unfounded.
The unicorn assailant’s horn lit up a purple hue. Maize Dancer brought her hoof closer to the trigger. A poorly timed hiccup could have set it off. With a telekinetic grasp, she slowly slipped the landmine away from Maize Dancer’s hoof. Once it was in her reach, she latched the safety back on. Maize Dancer stood herself back on her front legs, a look of defeat in her eyes.
With a swift blow to the side of the head, Maize Dancer fell to her side. The unicorn assailant turned to her cohort. “Tie them up and keep watch. We head back in the morning.”
As the earth pony pulled a rope out of his saddle bag, Maize Dancer turned her gaze towards me. Allow me to correct myself, her glare towards me. Till this day, among other things, that mare never let me live what transpired down.
If I am being honest with myself, I can’t really say I blame her.
