Author's Note

Bleh. Here are words.

Lesson: 2 – There is Always Tomorrow [Preview]

Fo:E - The Lessons We Learn

By: Chapter: 13.

Lesson: 2 – There is always tomorrow

“They say, ‘Time heals all wounds.’ But, what about scars?”

Dawn came. Fleeting light peeked its way through the cloud layer and pierced the darkness of the night. I watched as a single ray of light shone through the broken window, slowly growing as the sun rose higher in the sky. I waited until the beam had made its way about halfway up the wall before I rose to my hooves, stretching my freshly wrapped body. It would take a little bit before the bandages would conform to my body, to which I would have to deal with the slight discomfort they supplied. My body still hurt, my right side still on fire from, but it was manageable now. I took a test trot around the old apartment, happy that I could now trott with minimum pain.

I stopped my trot and turned to where my charge. The little filly had slept calmly through the night, which was something I hadn't suspected from a child who had recently lost so much. She awoke with a cute little yawn, curling herself tighter into my duster I had laid across her small shivering form. I found the sight adorable, to be honest, and couldn't help but crack a smile.

From what I could see, I had to options: adopt her as my own, or wander and find her a proper home. Part of me wanted to do the latter, or rid myself of the excess burden of a child. But, a larger part of me felt like I owed the filly’s mother.

After all, she had saved me.

I shook my head: time for this particular train of thought could wait. I had to first make sense of the present. I made my way over and collected the rest of my stuff. Slowly, I removed my duster from the child. She stirred, but didn’t awake. I slipped on the recently repaired garment. I looked over the duster and frowned. It was stained a bit with a combination of what was now my blood, and that of others. I shook my head, then attached my saddlebags tightly at my sides. I made my way over to my chair and picked up my hat from the armrest. I have it a once-over, it didn’t seem to have any new stains, then placed it snuggly on my head.

All geared up, I turned once again to my charge. She was curled up in the corner, a peaceful smile on her face. Her chest rose and fell. It was now that I finally got a good look at the kid. She was a small, unicorn filly. Her coat was a dark blue, while her mane was a deep platnum. She didn’t have a cutie-mark yet, which was actually a surprise--ever since the bombs fell, most kids tended to grow up quick.

What am I gonna do with her? I asked myself, again.

It was an honest question, one that I honestly didn’t know the answer too. After mulling it over for a bit, adopting her seemed to be out. I had a hard enough time taking care of myself. Adding a clueless kid to the mix wouldn’t end well. It was one more thing I needed to look out for, one more thing that I needed to worry about. One more thing that could get me killed. Like it or not, she was a liability. If I was heartless, I would leave before she woke up. Thankfully, for her, I wasn’t. That left the only option of finding someone to take care of her. I had heard of a few orphanages that were still operational. With the abundance of abandoned and orphaned children in the wasteland, some ponies with hearts bigger than their brains had decided to take care of these lost few. It would take me some time to find one of these places, and even more to make sure that it wasn’t actually a front for a slavery ring. It was a sad reality that I had seen too many times before--little fillies and colts in chains, being carted off like stacks of meat. It made me mad, but I tried to ignore them as much as I could. I was just one pony, nothing special--I wasn’t in a position to fight a war against this disgusting practice.

I shook my head. I was beginning to get off topic. First things first, I needed to wake the kid. It was only fair that I, at least, discussed this with her. She may have been young, but she deserved to have a say in her future.

I trotted over to the filly and have her a few shakes with my hoof. She muttered something, but didn’t wake. I grumbled, then shook her harder. She finally cracked an eye open, blinked a few times, then looked up at me. Her silver eyes met mine, and she screamed. The filly crawled away from me and into a nearby corner. She shook. It seems like she was beginning to process what had happened yesterday.

Shit.

I tried to think of my next move. Should I think of her as a frightened animal? Might work. I'm not the type of pony one would call, 'good with kids,' or even like the damn little brats. Children were a liability. And, even before the megaspells, I didn't like them. Always sticky. I shook my head of that train of thought.

I stood there for a while, trying to think of a plan of attack. I eventually decided to play the long game. I laid down, hissed at the pain in my wounded flank, then waited.

She cowered, I waited.

After a while, she stopped shaking. I observed her look around cautiously. She seemed to get a feel of the environment. Her eyes paused at a nearby window. Second story, kid. You'll break a leg if you don't got some trick with that horn, I thought to myself. She seemed to come to the same conclusion as me, as she turned toward the door. Could probably make a run for it. Might make it past me, but what if there are others? Wouldn't risk it, if I were you.

This continues for a while. The kids eyes shot from place to place. Sometimes, her eyes would give me a judging stare. I always replied to her with a raised eyebrow. I tried to be as little of a threat as possible. If that was possible. I can imagine a strange, bandaged pony isn't exactly a welcoming sight. The fact my eyes glowed with an unnatural orange light probably didn't help.

I briefly though of trying to talk to the kid, but decided against it. It was up to her to make a decision. Run, or communicate. If she trusts me, this would be a lot easier.

More time passed, and the kid finally made a decision: diplomacy.

"W-who are you?" she said meekly.

"A pony," I replied dryly.

Her nose scrunched up. "I know that! I meant, what is your name!"

"Silver Lining."

She paused and thought something over. At least, that's what I assumed.

"Why did you take me?" the kid spoke up.

"Uh…" I baked.

"My mom said not to trust strangers, so you better tell the truth!"

I snorted. "And how would you know I'd I was?"

Her face got red. "I'll just know, okay?!"

"Sure." I rolled my eyes. "To answer your question: I owe your mother a debt."

The kid's eyes went wide.

"She saved me," I mutter. "She could have tried to save herself, but she didn't—she chose to save me. She's a fool, a damn fool… but, she's a hero. My life wasn't worth it, kid. You're mom was twice the pony I could ever be."

There was silence, for a bit. At some point, my eyes had gone from the filly to the rotten floorboards at my feet. I couldn't meet her eyes. What I said was true: she was a better pony then me. But, she was a fool. You don't live long in this world being an altruistic. You needed to be tough, self-centered, and a coward to survive. Is was all that in spades. Doesn't make me a good pony: only a survivor. I was content with that. Well, most of the time. My mind shot to a few other points in time where I had gone against my nature and tried to be a hero.

In the end, none of them had made me a better pony…

A noise snapped me out of my mental tirade. Apparently, the filly had gotten up and trotted over to me. I felt her hoof on mind. I didn't dare look up.

"If she saved you, that means she saw something in you that made you worth it."

I didn't respond to that. I didn't have any words.

"Momma always said that there were good ponies out there. I think she thought you were one of them."

I chuckled. It wasn't of mirth, but of disgust. Your mother was a terrible judge of character. I thought, but didn't dare speak the words aloud.

I felt a tug on my hoof. I finally looked up and met the filly's eyes. They were sad, but hopeful. I couldn't help but smile at that.

"You're gonna take care of me, right?"

I took in a deep breath, held it, then exhaled slowly. Not taking my eyes off the filly, I cracked a smile. "Do I have a choice?"

"No," she giggled.

I shook my head and chuckled myself.

"Alright, then," I began, then rose to my hooves. The filly took a step back, but didn't run away. For some reason, she seemed to trust me, now. I didn't know why, but she did. "Let's get going."

With that, I trotted over to the door. Bullet followed in my step. She gave us a little birth; not staying too far behind, but still put some distance between us. She trusted me, but was still cautious.

Smart.

We made our way over to the door. I nudged it open with a hoof, held it for the kid, then preceded to trot down the hall and down the stairs. We soon made our way to the lobby and exited the barely functioning door. Opening it with a hoof, I was greeted by the faintest bit of sunshine, and the two of us trotter into the cool morning air.

Chicacolt. Once a bustling, busy city before the war, was now a ghost of its former glory. I stepped onto the cracked asphalt, filly in tow. My eyes continued to scan from side to side, as we stepped out of the relative safety of the apartment complex. The city was filled with dangers; Raiders, the occasional Alicorn, gangs, and mutated creatures. Despite them, however, life still thrived in the city. The Hive would be a substantial loss to the city's economy, but it would recover. Many more trading hubs and small ‘towns’ could be found sprawled around the city, and they would make up for the loss in time.

Life went on. It always did.

I wasn’t sure of my next destination, as I didn’t have one. To be honest, I rarely ever had a destination. I was a wanderer, and that was what I did. From town to town, I traveled. I never really did anything. I didn’t like to fight, I didn’t like to stay, I didn’t even like being around other ponies. They only made me nervous, and even after all these years I could never be sure who I could trust. I was a lonely life, but it was still life, and not death.

Well, I suppose that had chanced now.

I turned to look at the filly trotting in my step. Her eyes looked around with innocent curiosity and mild awe. If I had to guess, the kid had spent her entire life in the Hive. At least, enough for the general wasteland to cause her excitement. It wouldn't last long, though. It never did. I'd seen other ponies view the wastes as a fascinating place of wonder and excitement—adventure and glory around every corner.

That usually ended with a bullet in their nieve heads.

It was then the thought that I hadn't actually asked the kid what she wanted to popped into my head. I shot a quick curse out under my breath. I had told the kid that I was gonna take care of her. What that meant, I didn't yet know. My mind wandered to an orphanage I had once passed by near the south end of the city. It was an option. If anything, it was a direction. I directed our course toward that side of the city. I wasn't sure if the place was still around, as it had been a few years, but it was a start.

The street that we were currently on was originally a transition from the residential area to the business area. The buildings around us began to grow higher and higher—their piques almost too tall to view. I had to be careful trotting through this area—we, I mentally corrected—as it was known to house snipers that hid in the ruined skyscrapers, waiting to pick of an unsuspecting prey and steal their belongings. I was always constantly on alert, but now my focus was mainly at my charge.

As we walked, I kept looking back toward the filly. She seemed to pick up my unease and stuck closer to me than before. When I stopped, so did she. When I got low, so did she. It was good that she didn't wander.

Another ten minutes or so of trotting went by without incident—the only thing that I had spotted was a scampering rad-roach. It wasn’t uncommon to travel this long without seeing anypony, as most tended to travel in larger groups, or simply remain in their settlements. It was safer, as there was power in numbers.

My paced slowed as a staticy sound began to fill my ears: a familiar buzz that I had heard countless times before. The filly picked up on this too. Unlike me, her body became uneasy. I debated on explaining it to her, but figured it would be better if I showed her rather then told.

I continued on and searched for it source until I eventually found it: a single radio sat in the broken front window of an old electronics store. It’s power had somehow not run out, yet. I trotted inside and up to the radio. I flipped the dial and tried to find a station. The kid watched with mind fascination. I liked the radio, as it brought music and news from the ponies who had somehow managed to keep it running even after the bombs fell.

Eventually, the static cleared and a familiar voice filled my ears.

“Hello, Wasteland! This is DJ PON-3, and how are y’all doing in this fine hell-hole we call home?”

The voice was masculine and official. Soothing, almost.

“Well, children, I hope it’s better than me. I just got news from Chicacolt that a group of Raiders just tore through and, well, raided the tradecenter called, ‘The Hive’. As of now, there has been no confirmed survivors, but I have a feeling that at least one of the town’s ponies managed to get out alive.”

I sunk my head, knowing firsthand that his optimism was poorly focused. There had been no survivors, as raiders didn’t like taking ponies alive. They would sweep through like a swarm of locusts, destroying everything in their way before moving on.

“Now, I don’t know where exactly these raiders are set up camp, but reports from the area show a rise in activity near the Metro system, so until somepony can deal with them, I suggest steering far, far away from that area.

“Anyways, that’s all I have for you right now. Stay safe out there.”

The DJ’s voice stopped, replaced soon after with music I had heard countless times before.

"It's just us?"

I blink, then look down to the filly that had made her way to my side. Her eyes were downcast. I bit my lip.

"So it would seem, kid."

She remained quiet at that, not moving or saying anything. Music played, the world around us was quiet. I tried to think of something, anything, to cheer her up. Nothing came to mind.

"Come on," I spoke up. "We need to keep walking."

The kid nodded, then rose to her hooves. I trotted ahead of her, and she followed. Part of me wanted to say something to my charge who followed. Cheer her up. Again, nothing came to mind. I wish I was a better pony—maybe then I could say something that would make light of all of this shit. My eyes glanced back. I chewed my cheek.

"Y'know, kid, the thing is—"

Bang!

"—Fuck!"

My body was thrown to the side, pain erupting from my side. I heard a scream, I think it was the kid. My mind reeled from shock. I let out a few more curses, then rolled to my hooves. My body was on fire, but I tried to focus. I heard gunfire, screaming, and the sounds of battle. My eyes were a little fuzzy, but I made out a few shapes in the near distance. On autopilot, I pulled out my .44 from its holster. The first thing my mind told me to do was run, but another though quickly filled my head.

"Kid, run!" I screamed out. I had lost track of her, and my vision was still a little fuzzy. It took me a sec to regain my bearing enough to see strait. When I did, I spotted the kid. She was standing, wide eyed, in the middle of the street. I knew that stare she had—it meant she would be useless. "Fuck!"

I threw my gun into my open pouch on my side, not wanting to waste time putting it in its proper holster, and ran over to her. I grabbed her by the nape of the neck in my jaws, then started to run. Bullets flew around me. My eyes scanned for cover, and I spotted it soon enough. I dove with the kid still in my jaws into a building that was missing most of its front face. I hid behind some rubble, then dropped the kid. I reached into my pouch and retrieved my pistol.