A lone griffon, shrouded in cloak and hood, wandered aimlessly through the city ruins with only a metal bat covered in bolts. Hyena-like laughs escaped from her beak, but she continued forward.
Buildings had either fallen over or eroded enough to develop gaping holes in their walls. Food wrappers, magazines, and loose pre-war posters littered the ground. She saw no other signs of life.
She laughed once more and paused. It was oppressively quiet.
Gunshots rang out, causing the griffon to grow alert. She relaxed, however, and tried to resume her walk, but another series of gunshots made her look up at a tower.
Her wings flapped and she flew up towards it. The tower was three stories high, enough for the griffon to look down at the surrounding area with ease. She perched herself upon the roof’s edge.
The griffon glanced down, and saw an earth pony filly, around her early teens, chained against a wall within a basketball court. The other side revealed a group of crudely armored ponies.
Raiders.
One of them levitated a rifle and fired a shot in the filly’s direction. She managed to dodge in time, her chain being long enough to do so. She shot them a scornful glare.
"Go on, squirm!" one of the raiders said as he fired another round. “I can keep doing this all day!”
The griffon kept her eyes on the scene. She briefly turned away before glancing at the filly once more. Specifically, the leather collar she wore.
The griffon descended with little hesitation, landing on all fours. She was behind the raiders, who were momentarily caught off guard before pulling out their weapons. A raider levitated a sharpened pool cue near the griffon.
"Who the fuck are you!?"
Silence.
“Who are you!?”
"Where did you buy her?” The griffon heaved, her voice a dry croak.
The raider sneered, her spear inching closer to the griffon.
"Fuck off! She's our toy, go find your own!"
The griffon took one step forward and the raider shouted, “Kill this bitch!”
The raider lunged her weapon in a flash at the griffon, who quickly caught it, broke off the tip, and plunged it into the raider’s eye.
A bloody screech filled the sky. The raider fell to the ground, her forehoof desperate to cover her face.
The other raiders took action. A pair fired at the griffon with their pipe guns. The third charged forth with a crowbar in his teeth.
The griffon flew out of the way, though a bullet struck her left fore leg. She growled at the pain, and lunged toward the crowbar-wielding raider, her arm reaching out to grip the raider’s neck.
His eyes widened, and was too late to respond as the griffon’s talons pierced through his exposed flesh. He screeched out, dropping his crowbar as the griffon lifted him up.
The griffon swung the raider around just in time as the other two fired. Her pony shield took a few shots before the other raiders stopped and began to circle the griffon.
She tossed the dead raider aside and drew her bat. She flew near ground level towards one of the raiders.
The first pipe gun raider fired at the griffon. A few shots grazed the griffon’s chest, but she continued on, the tip of her bat scraping against the ground with sparks before she swung upwards toward that raider’s chin. The raider’s neck snapped at the impact and fell limp.
A shiver ran across the last raider’s body. He pulled the trigger of his gun. He received only clicks. He tossed the weapon away in frustration and began to make a run for it. The griffon took notice and flew in front of him, grabbing hold of one of his hind legs.
She threw the raider to the ground as he kicked and screamed. The griffon yelled as she dragged him through the stone court, then tossed him toward a brick wall. He whimpered, and did nothing as the griffon used both claws to twist his leg in a wet crunch. The shock alone made him lose consciousness.
“You bitch!”
The griffon turned around and noticed the same raider who had used the pool cue.
“You’ll fucking pay for this!” the raider yelled as blood streamed from her face.
She levitated her broken pool cue and took charge at the griffon.
The griffon laughed as she unholstered her bat. She readied a downward swing for the raider. The slave filly, however, bolted between the griffon and raider. Shortly after, the raider fell.
The griffon saw the chain from the filly’s collar near the raider. She briefly looked to her left to find the filly nearly choking.
The raider stood up, and she tried to levitate back her weapon, only for the griffon to stomp on it.
“Ok, ok!” the raider shouted, body shaking. “We don’t remember where we got the little shit!”
The griffon kicked away the pool cue and walked closer to the raider. She began to unholster her bat.
“She’s yours now! You’ve won! You’ve fucking won! Don’t do this!” the raider begged.
The griffon swung her bat downward at the raider, resulting in a loud crunch and clang against the ground.
She swung again.
And again.
And again.
Until the raider became a still body, blood pooling beneath her.
Silence filled the air, and the griffon looked back at the filly and saw her catching her breath. The griffon looked at her wounds, then proceeded to search around the corpses of slain foes. There was little to find at first, but eventually one of the bodies had what she was looking for: a healing potion.
Meanwhile, the filly caught her breath, staring in awe at the hooded griffon.
“Hey!” the filly said, causing the griffon to turn to her direction. She swallowed, but gave a smile. “That… That was actually pretty awesome.”
The griffon paused, and cocked her head at the filly.
“N-name’s Scrap…” the filly said with a drawl. “You killed them, to save me?”
The griffon laughed before drinking her potion, then walked over to the filly. Scrap flinched a bit before seeing her savior reach for her collar with a single talon, and sliced it off. Scrap touched her freed neck.
The griffon turned back to Scrap. “You’re a slave? You remember where they sold you?”
Scrap nodded.
Half an hour passed. The two had been on the move through the quiet ruins. After they passed over a fallen stop light, Scrap spoke. “Really, what’s your name?”
Her saviour said nothing. The hood had obscured the griffon’s expressions, and Scrap was left only to guess at the griffon’s reaction. When the griffon replied, it was only a dry chuckle.
"You’ve been doing that a lot,” Scrap pouted. “Is there something funny about me?"
The laughter came to an end.
"No."
Scrap sighed and continued her trot, occasionally watching the ground for any broken glass or radroaches.
"Vena," the griffon muttered.
"Huh?" Scrap blinked. "Oh! Your name? That's a pretty cool name."
Vena didn’t respond.
Scrap kept her pace, remaining in front of Vena, and looked back.
“You know, I’ve never seen a griffon who could fight raiders without a gun,” she said as she stared at the baseball bat holstered on Vena’s back, spotting the word Cava scratched into it.
“He’s all I need,” Vena said and gestured to her bat.
“He?”
“Cava. I think of him as a he. He’s been with me for awhile now.”
Scrap could feel Vena’s glare.
“You can’t have him,” Vena said.
“Oh no!” Scrap shook her head. “I wouldn’t be thinking of it. Er, him. Besides, it makes you look like the Swordmare… Just you know, using a bat instead of a sword.”
“Swordmare?”
“Comic book I used to read. Mare with a big sword fighting monsters and such?”
Vena shook her head.
“Is there anything you enjoy in your spare time?” Scrap asked.
No response.
“Do you want to find something fun?”
More silence.
“Or what about-”
“You haven’t been a slave for that long, then,” Vena said with a raised eyebrow.
“Uhm,” Scrap blinked. “How would you know?"
“Most slaves don’t fight back. You did. And now you’re talking about happy things… Either you weren’t broken in yet or you’re that tough.”
Scrap looked down at the ground, but cracked a soft smile.
"Yeah… not for that long. I’ve been on my own for awhile now, occasionally traveling with others,” she sighed. “There were these nice caravaners I was with, but we got ambushed by slavers.”
Vena kept silent.
“And that’s not fair,” Scrap said and grit her teeth. “Who are those slavers to think that they can just lash a collar and feel there ain’t nothing wrong? It’s ponies like them that are the reason this place is still a Wasteland. And I won’t let them get away with it! Like DJ Pon3 says, fight the good fight! And that’s what I’ll do!”
Vena laughed softly.
“You really do think it’s funny?” Scrap asked, frowning.
“No,” Vena coughed. “You don’t want to let this Wasteland kill you. Maybe you can be like me one day. I respect that.”
“Really?” Scrap beamed and began to laugh. “I-I don’t think I’d be able to be as good as a fighter as you are.”
For a brief moment Scrap could see Vena’s silver eyes narrow as she cracked a smirk.
“It’s a start,” Vena said. “All that matters is your will to fight.”
A smile crept over Scrap’s muzzle. She looked away from Vena and toward the gray, cloud-covered sky.
“That… yeah,” Scrap said. “I do want to be like you. So you were like me?”
“Longer,” Vena laughed. “There was more blood. More rust. More death… Years.”
“How’d you become free?”
Vena tapped Cava’s handle as she spoke, “A pit. Slaves would fight to the death. Enough kills, and you’re free. I’m one of them.”
“That… doesn’t sound good. Being made to fight other slaves.”
“It was me or them,” Vena said and gripped her cloak tightly, but eventually loosened her hold.
“So,” Scrap gulped. “Now you want to have those slavers face justice?”
“I want them dead.”
“I… ” Scrap said, biting her lip. “I’ve never killed before. Wildlife, sure, but ponies?” She took a deep breath before continuing. “I know it ain’t pretty, but if I wanna save folks, I’m gonna have to.”
Vena only sighed.
“Alright!” Scrap said and stomped on the ground. “It’ll be hard to fight them slavers alone.”
“You could die.”
“I know!” Scrap said and came to a stop. “But you said it yourself: it’s a start, even if I don’t… you know. Make it. All that matters is that I have the will to fight. I can’t run and hide from the Wasteland no more!”
Silence filled the air between the two. Another laugh escaped Vena before she responded. “You mean it?”
“Of course!”
Vena squared her shoulders and turned away from Scrap. “Let’s keep going.”
“So this is it?” Vena asked.
They stood in front of a two story building with a faded sign calling it ‘Loose Ends’. Windows that had been shattered had been boarded up with plywood. Its walls, once clean and pure, were riddled with explicit graffiti.
“Yeah, this is the place,” Scrap said and nodded. “There's around a dozen of ‘em.”
Vena scanned the store. The front entrance was heavily barricaded. The rest of it, however, wasn’t given the same amount of protection. Just on the left edge of the building was a dormant air conditioning machine, with an air duct.
“Come on,” Vena said and began to fly towards it.
“Hey!” Scrap shouted. “I can’t fly!”
Vena rolled her eyes, and flew back toward Scrap, offering her back to the filly. Scrap climbed up, doing her best to put some distance between herself and Vena’s weapon.
When they arrived, Vena began to check the duct’s size. Enough, it turned out, to fit both of them. She tore out the vent lid and tossed the twisted metal aside. They crawled into the vent, Vena in the lead.
Scrap felt dumb and clumsy behind Vena, her hooves making much more noise than Vena's near-silent feline paws and eagle talons. Each step rattled the metal beneath them. Soon enough Vena stopped moving and huddled at the edge of a grate that looked down on a room. Voices drifted upward.
“You’re right. Grease is starting to get soft with the merchandise.”
“Yeah, but what can we do? He’s the boss’ brat.”
“So? Trim should start being his pa and fuck him over till he’s a proper slaver.”
Vena’s laugh echoed through the vents.
“Vena!” Scrap whispered. “What are you doing?”
Vena placed her claw against her beak and took heavy breaths through her nostrils. Her free claw formed into a fist and hit her head.
“Hey, you hear that?” one of the slavers asked.
“Yeah,” the other said, drawing a shotgun.
Vena, after calming down, stared at Scrap, who finally got a look at Vena’s scarred, gray-feathered face.
Scrap blinked and stepped back as Vena broke the grate off.
Vena dropped down into the room and lunged at the slaver with the shotgun, ripping it out of his levitational grasp and clawing at his throat.
The slaver’s partner tried to bring out a walkie talkie, but Vena quickly ripped through her captive’s throat and tossed his body away before she lunged at the next slaver with Cava drawn.
The last slaver dodged in time, but wound up dropping his walkie talkie. Swearing, he glanced at the tossed-aside shotgun and made a run for it.
Scrap, after jumping down, beat him to it and snatched the shotgun away in her mouth. Her eyes widened as she aimed the gun at the slaver and instantly pulled the trigger.
The blast hit him in the chest, and he slammed hard against the wall. His body fell, leaving a trail of blood.
Vena holstered Cava and chuckled again before turning to Scrap, asking, “First kill, right?”
Scrap groaned, having fallen from the impact. She had dropped her shotgun and was massaging her jaw with her hoof. Her breathing increased as she saw the remains of the slaver.
“Crap. I… “ She swallowed hard to keep herself from vomiting, Vena watching her with wide eyes. “They probably heard us! I just blew our cover, didn’t I!?”
“Wouldn’t matter,” Vena said with a shrug. “They’re all going to die soon anyway.”
Scrap began to ease up her breaths. Looking at one of the bodies, she trotted over and fetched a pistol from his holster.
“I think a shotgun is too much for me right now,” Scrap said.
“Hey!” someone shouted, a series of rough knocks banging on the door. “I heard one of you idiots shoot!”
The door opened to reveal a slaver stallion.
“If any of you-” he began, stopping once he saw the carnage. His eyes then turned to Vena. “Oh, shit.”
Vena skewered the slaver’s throat with her talons in an instant. He fell to the floor with a gurgle.
“See what I mean?” Vena spat at the dead slaver before she chuckled. “Come on.”
Vena stepped out of the room with Scrap following behind, tip-toeing around the fresh corpse into the hallway. As the two walked through it, Scrap looked into Vena’s hood. Her eyes were bloodshot, her beak began to contort into a grin as wide as it would allow, and the talons of her right hand tapped rapidly on Cava’s handle. It would be a lie to say that Scrap wasn’t unnerved. She merely shook her head, though, as a lump formed in her throat.
They reached the end of the hall. Scrap peeked out into the main lobby, its bookshelves and tables long since emptied. She noticed around five slavers on the main floor. One leaned against the wall nearest them, another sat near the dormant escalators on the left, and a third near the entrance on the right. The last two were standing in a corner of the room by a cluster of tables.
Scrap recognized one of them. A unicorn in dark blue leather barding, the edge of his mane receding around his horn. The shape of his jaw and the narrow, beedy squint of his eyes hit her like a punch to the gut.
“Trim,” Scrap muttered with a sneer. “He’s their leader.”
She pointed with a hoof. Vena noticed and nodded.
Trim was speaking to the last slaver present, a meek unicorn sitting at one of the tables.
Vena drew out Cava and prepared to walk into the lobby.
“Wait!” Scrap whispered to Vena. “You’re just going out in the open?”
Vena ignored the question and charged towards the slaver near the bookcase. The slaver noticed too late when Vena’s bat swung at the slaver’s head. The sound of crushing metal and wood echoed through the hall, and made Trim fall quiet.
The other slavers and Trim pulled out their firearms and began to shoot, though Scrap noticed the one meek slaver near Trim hide away behind the counter.
Vena dodged the torrent of lead directed at her and flew across the lobby. As bullets left a trail of holes in the walls and ceiling, Scrap looked around for a better position for herself. It was not until Vena landed on the slaver near the escalator that Scrap decided to take cover behind a large flower pot full of nothing but centuries-old dirt.
There were only two slavers left, but each were firing at Vena. Scrap, seeing that she could take advantage of this, aimed her pistol at the one slaver near the entrance and fired. The bullet grazed the slaver’s shoulder and she grit her teeth hard enough that it stopped her from firing. Vena took the opportunity and slammed Cava against the slaver’s neck.
“Are you fucking me!?” Trim shouted as he kept shooting with his SMG. Scrap noticed the lead slaver looking behind. “Don’t just hide there you piece of shit! Do something!”
Vena took Trim’s distraction to her advantage, finally flying over to him and ripping out the SMG from his telekinetic grasp. Trim tried to reach out for a side arm, but Vena intercepted him and pinned him to the nearest table.
With no other slavers present, Scrap began to search around each body for some keys, but found no luck. Scrap turned to Vena, her claws piercing hard enough into Trim’s skin to draw blood.
“Y-you?!” Trim shouted before Vena slammed his head against the table. Vena laughed as she kept up her assault.
“Vena!” Scrap shouted. “Does he have the keys?”
Vena ignored the question and stabbed into Trim’s shoulder, causing him to yell. Scrap turned away from the scene before Vena used the talons of her other hand to stab into Trim’s throat.
Scrap scanned the rest of the room, thinking, Wait… there was another slaver here. Didn’t he…
She trotted over to the coffee shop, ignoring Trim’s pleas for mercy, and looked over by the stand. There, she could see a cowering unicorn who first froze upon seeing Scrap, and then raised his forehooves. Scrap’s body trembled as she stepped closer to the last slaver.
“The keys to the cages. Where are they?” Scrap demanded, but was met with only silence. She grit her teeth. “Where are they?”
The slaver just gave an empty stare. Scrap raised a hoof in the air before stomping on the slaver’s face, though it barely made the slaver flinch.
“Where are they?!” She shouted and struck again, this time applying more force. Still, the slaver made no sound, and merely balled up as Scrap pounded him with a barrage of stomps. “Speak!”
She yelled, again landing a strike against the slaver. Scrap panted as she raised her hoof again with the intention of striking again. She hesitated, her hoof frozen in mid air, and took a deep breath. She slowly brought her hoof back down to the floor and simply stared at the slaver.
“Cactus Flower,” the slaver coughed.
Scrap blinked. “What?” she asked.
“Cactus Flower… make sure she’s alright…” he said as he laid his head against the floor. His tail flicked, and landed on his body, pointing over to a pocket on the right side of his barding. “Take it.”
Scrap shook herself before reaching into the pocket and taking out a key ring. She looked back at the slaver and trotted away. She glanced back to the table where Vena had been torturing Trim, and gagged upon seeing his remains. Shaking her head, Scrap looked at the front entrance, seeing Vena leaning against the wall, laughing.
“So,” Vena said mid-laugh. “That’s all of them?”
Scrap shook her head.
“There’s one behind the counter over there,” Scrap gestured to where the last slaver was. “But he’s not fighting back. Otherwise, I think that’s all of them.”
“You saved him for me?” Vena snorted as she walked over to the counter.
“Well, not really. I just didn’t know what to do with-”
Scrap was interrupted by the loud bang of Vena’s weapon. The griffon raised Cava into the air once more and brought it down on who Scrap could only assume was the last slaver.
Vena kept up her assault. Soon, Cava’s clangings were mixed with the sound of bones breaking. Scrap’s pupils shrunk as she stood there, watching the scene unfold. The filly’s body trembled as her breathing quickened.
Silence filled the air, followed by Vena’s laugh as she walked away from her carnage. She came face to face with Scrap.
Scrap forced a cough, and took just a few more breaths before speaking to Vena, saying,“Well… we better go save the slaves. I know where they are.”
Vena nodded at Scrap and followed the teenager as she trotted toward the dormant escalator. They made it halfway up before Scrap turned around, looking Vena in the eye.
“Did you really need to kill him?” Scrap asked.
Vena shrugged, saying, “I felt like it.”
Scrap bit her lip and turned around, resuming her trot.
“You really want to save them?” Vena blurted behind Scrap.
“Of course I do,” Scrap replied.
Vena’s eyes narrowed as she said, “Of course you do.”
“I can’t believe you came back,” a mustached earth pony stallion said from inside his cage. Scrap grunted as she placed key after key into the lock, all while other slaves stared at her expectantly.
“Couldn’t leave ya here,” she said with the keys in her mouth. “Even without Vena I would’ve found someway to free all of you.”
The stallion glanced over to see Vena leaning against the railing close by. She stared ominously toward the slaves. He gave a nervous smile and said,“Quite an interesting friend you ran into.”
“Y-yeah, she saved my life,” Scrap laughed nervously. The last key turned smoothly, and the cage door swung open. “So, after this would you-”
“Well, I’d like to travel with you, but after that attack I’m afraid I don’t have a caravan no more,” the stallion said, cutting her off. Once the cage door was opened he immediately trotted down the escalator.
Scrap gave a solemn sigh. She glanced back at Vena again, who remained silent. Scrap trotted over to another cage to unlock and took notice of a yellow-green earth pony mare. Scrap knew that the mare before her wasn’t part of the caravan she had traveled with.
Seeing the slave’s cutie mark, a cactus, Scrap coughed a bit before speaking to the slave. “Cactus Flower?”
“Yes?” Cactus asked and blinked as her body shook.
“Just wanted to know if you were doing alright,” Scrap said as she forced a smile and went over to fit a key into the cage lock.
“How did you know my name?” Cactus asked, narrowing her eyes at Scrap.
“Well, one of the slavers asked me to see if you were alright…”
“Where is he?”
“Who?”
“Grease. One of them was named Grease. Where is he?”
Scrap paused as she tried to think of the right words to say.
“I killed him,” Vena finally spoke.
“You…” Cactus seethed through her teeth. “Killed him?”
“Vena?” Scrap whispered, dropping the keys as she trotted over to Vena. “You really shouldn’t.”
Vena merely shrugged, asking, “Why would she care?”
“Why would I- Why would I care?!” Cactus slammed against the cage bars. “Grease hated being a slaver! He was even going to buy me before leaving this shithole!”
Vena chuckled, but Scrap could see through her hood that the griffon was sneering at Cactus.
“You think it’s funny!? He was all I had to look forward to once I was free. Did you at least have a good excuse for killing him? Was he fighting back?!”
“Ma’am…” Scrap said as she shivered and took a long breath. “I’m… we’re sorry. We couldn’t have known.”
“He didn’t fight back,” Vena coughed and sneered at Cactus. “And if he wasn’t fighting, he wanted to die. Blame him.”
Cactus froze for a while before slowly lowering herself to the floor. Tears flowed down her face.
Scrap shook as she looked between Cactus and Vena. She gulped, but turned to Vena with a sad look, saying, “Vena… You’re going too far.”
“I don’t care,” Vena snorted and spat towards Cactus’ cage. “If she wanted to keep her slaver colt toy alive then she should have fought back and escaped with him before we arrived. She didn’t.”
“But she wasn’t in a position to fight back,” Scrap whispered to Vena. “Just like I was before you-”
“You fought back,” Vena retorted. “That’s what makes you better than her.”
Scrap took a deep breath, and looked Vena square in the eye with false bravado.
“Then could you go out and wait for me?” Scrap asked.
Vena laughed and brought a claw to her face. Once she calmed down, she grunted and walked over to the escalator.
“Fine,” Vena said. “I’d leave her. But I’ll wait until you’re done."
Scrap sighed in relief.
Cactus, who had been tightly hugging herself, gave a weak, forced smirk before glaring at Vena and saying,“Maybe if you were a slave, a slave who had nothing to look forward to once she was free, then maybe you’d know what it was like being told that you deserved it.”
Vena stiffened and became silent. Scrap could see Vena’s eyes twitching under her hood. The griffon slowly brought a claw to grip Cava’s handle.
“I deserved it…” Vena muttered. “I deserve it.” Her hyena-like laugh began softly. “I deserve it?” Her laugh grew louder. “I deserve it?” Her grip tightened. “I deserved it?!” she shouted.
Scrap stepped back with wide eyes. “Vena?”
Vena turned to Scrap, then looked away to where the filly had dropped the keys.
“I don’t deserve it,” Vena said as she reached down to pick up the keys while approaching the cage. “I won’t deserve it!”
Vena jammed key after key to see which one fit. Cactus panicked and scampered over to the opposite end of her cage. The other slaves followed suit, none daring to protest.
“Stop it!” Scrap shouted, taking out her pistol and aiming it at Vena. “You need to stop now, Vena!”
Vena turned around, eyes wide, only to narrow quickly at Scrap. A burst of wild laughter escaped her throat.
“What are you doing?” Vena managed to ask. It came out breathless and hoarse through her laughs.
“I thought you were better than this!” Scrap shouted, sweat flowing from her forehead.
“I am better,” Vena said and took hold of Cava’s handle. “You’ve seen what happened to them, so you really think you stand a chance?”
Scrap shook her head, tears falling down her face. Her breaths became heavy, but she still kept her aim steady at Vena.
“No… but at least I’ll fight,” Scrap countered. “That’s all that matters.”
The room fell silent, sans the nervous crying coming from Cactus. Scrap trembled as she attempted to keep her show of courage. Vena kept still, glaring menacingly at Scrap.
Eventually, Vena let go of her grip on Cava. Her eyes softened at the still-shivering Scrap, and turned back towards the cage to give Cactus one last sneer before turning again and this time walking over to the escalator.
Scrap said nothing as she watched Vena leave. She kept her pistol aimed at Vena, but soon relaxed her posture when the griffon began to head downstairs.
“You said I was awesome. That you wanted to be like me…” Vena turned her head, revealing a tired look on her face. “You lied.”
A soft wind flew past Vena’s cloak. She sat behind a dead tree, miles from the bookstore. She had been staring at the building for a long while now. All Vena could hear was the wind and her own heartbeat.
Vena laughed. She put a hand to her beak, and shuddered as her yip became mixed with a hiccup. When she eventually calmed down, she took her hand away from her face and looked back at the bookstore with dry, tired eyes.
Vena stood up and began to march toward the bookstore. She stopped herself after a few steps, and narrowed her eyes at the building. She collapsed to the ground, yipping out of control as she heaved and thrashed.
She calmed down again, and looked up, back toward the bookstore. Her eyes narrowed, and her body shook once more.
She bolted back up, her wings flapping before turning around to fly away from the building. Her laugh echoed throughout the sky as she flew further, leaving behind only silence.
