Chapter 2: Into The Flames

“I survived because the fire inside burned brighter than the fire around me.”
- Joshua Graham, The Burned Man

“Hey, Stormy... Wake up,” a mare’s voice cooed.

It was dark. The sky was populated with gray clouds with just the smallest gaps that let trickles of moonlight through. In the distance we could see rows of white houses with black lattice, their faded paint reflecting the glow of several fires and lanterns.

I was lying in the front of a wagon that my father was pulling, curled up to the warmth of my mother beside me. We had been travelling all day and I must have passed out from exhaustion. I looked up into her eyes.

“Are we here?” I asked.

Evergreen Sky smiled-- an easy smile that always made me feel safe, and I saw her milky eyes sparkle, even in the dead of night. “We are,” she said as she looked towards the glow in the distance. “Silverhoof.”

My excitement grew as we reached the outskirts of town-- this was it! I was finally going to see my home! Perhaps we would finally settle down in a nice place for a while… I could make friends! And maybe I’d find something that would spark a memory of what life was like before the Wasteland…

But, of course, that’s not what happened.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I couldn’t see, and my head was throbbing worse than it ever had. It felt as if Celestia herself had been sitting on it for a century, or like somepony had used it for batting practice. My guess was that the latter option was closer to the truth. I had worried for a moment that I may have actually been blinded, but I could feel the rough fabric wrapped around my head as I flexed my jaw.

I discovered that the benefit of being blind with a splitting migraine was that my hearing was spectacular at the moment! ...Too spectacular. Every creak and groan of the wagon was obnoxious, and every so often we’d hit a large bump that would knock my head into something hard, causing another wave of splitting pain to cascade through my skull.

Beyond the groaning, rattling wagon, I heard two ponies in the middle of a conversation outside, and I listened as a gruff, older-sounding stallion spoke.

“--is pissed that he lost property because of that thing.”

“Yeah,” replied a younger colt, “but he said he had a special place for him.”

“Probably going to sell him off in Emerald City. Those Society ponies have a fuckton of caps.”

Emerald City? That sounds… oddly nice. Despite my current situation, I couldn’t help but imagine what such a place would be like. Was it a land filled with emeralds? Or was the city made of emeralds!? Perhaps there were great buildings with tall spires made entirely out of emerald and the whole city shone green! I shook my head, and was rewarded by a burst of pain between my temples.

Ow. Okay, no more shaking the head...

I tried to move my legs, but it seemed they were chained down. I tried flexing my wings, but there seemed to be something wrapped around my body that kept them from fully extending. I couldn’t feel the weight of my barding, and I was sure they took my weapons off me as well. But…

I flexed my wings again.

I still had my wing blades. Either my captors didn’t expect the ridge guards to have a cutting edge, or they didn’t notice them with my wings tucked in.

Hmm… I stopped and listened for a moment. It sounded like all the slavers were trotting alongside the wagon as it rolled noisily down the rough road. The inside was relatively quiet, barring the obnoxious creaking and rattling. If there was a guard pony in here, he was either asleep or extremely quiet.

I wiggled around until I could get the fabric tied around my body to shift just enough forward to catch it with the front of my wing. I flexed my wings and felt them rub against the fabric. That’s it! I can do this! As I relaxed, the fabric shifted backwards and I let out a sigh. This was going to take a while…

~ * ~ * ~

“This won’t take but a second!” Carbon Cylinder said, making his way into the front of an old diner.

The restaurant looked like it was made of curved sheet metal, more resembling an enormous silver bullet than a building. Large, boarded-up windows were set in the front and a sign with giant light-up letters spelled out the name of the diner. Based on the marks where letters were removed, I guessed that the sign used to read “Ash’s Diner”, but now had been creatively rigged to read “Ass Diner”.

I giggled to myself, and wiped the sleep from my eyes as I brushed my stone blue mane aside. Turning to mom I asked, “What’s he getting?”

Evergreen watched Carbon fiddle with the door, and gave an amused snort. “This used to be our hiding place. We hid a stash under the floorboards where the cash register is. When we left Silverhoof, when you were much younger, we left several things here that would make our lives a lot easier for when, or if, we’d ever return.”

Carbon disappeared inside, and I turned to mom. “And this is where you found me?” I asked.

She extended her wing and pulled me close. “Not here, specifically,” she said, “but yes… Silverhoof is where we found you…”

“Then where?” I prodded.

She smiled. “That’s a secret!”

I pouted, and muttered. “I hate secrets... When do I get to find out?”

“When you’re much, much older,” she said as she nuzzled my cheek.

Carbon emerged from the building empty-hooved and trotted towards the wagon. “Hey, the place has been trashed. Can you give me a--” He stopped dead. “Shit, we gotta go.”

My mom bolted upright on the wagon and looked behind us as Carbon rushed to the front and hitched himself up as quickly as he could. I looked around frantically.

“What!? What is it?” I asked.

“Keep out of sight,” Evergreen said, pushing me towards the back of the wagon. I crawled under the canvas and peeked out, trying to catch a glimpse of what my parents were so afraid of.

The wagon lurched as Carbon took off at a full-tilt gallop, and Evergreen pulled a rifle from behind the seat. She popped the magazine, inspected it, then knocked it against her hoof a couple times before reinserting it. She partially opened the breech, then slammed it shut, nodding.

Carbon shouted from the front, huffing as he spoke, “Are they gaining?”

As if to answer, the first shot rang out from behind us, and I heard an electric crackle whiz by overhead.

Evergreen shouted back, “I’ll fend them off! Just keep running!”

She took flight from the front of the wagon and flew up above us, easily keeping up with the wagon’s pace in the air. She whirled and took aim, firing off two shots. There was a scream from behind the wagon, followed by somepony falling and rolling.

I made my way to the back of the wagon as it bounced and lurched wildly. Gunfire continued to ring out as several boxes fell over, nearly crushing my talon. As I peeked my head out of the canvas in the back, another shot from my mother’s rifle rang out.

A black-clad pony who was only a few feet from the back of the carriage lost his head. His body continued to run for several steps until it stumbled over and fell to the ground, while the head bounced several times, still encased in the pony’s black helmet. I saw the legs of the body curl in before it was obscured by dust and darkness.

I could tell there were others pursuing us, but my night vision wasn’t as good as my parents, and the wagon was kicking up an immense amount of dust. I could simply hear them galloping behind, only catching sight of them when they were within about 10 or 15 feet.

“There’s too many!” my mother yelled from above.

“Boy!” Carbon’s voice rang out. “Ditch the cargo! It might slow them down!”

I stared at the dark void behind us and the dirt rising from the wheels of the wagon, then looked at the cargo around me: a lifetime of stuff: memories, tools...

“Boy!”

“I got it!” I shouted back, and grabbed the first box I saw. I threw it out the back of the wagon and as it hit the ground it exploded with fabric and leather. I looked for a heavier box.

Bullets continued to fly towards us, some impacting the wagon, many whizzing past us or above my head. I kept finding things to throw out the back to litter the road behind us with: nails, scrap metal, terracotta pots…

Suddenly a bright red beam arced across the sky with a deafening twangy buzz. A crimson glow illuminated the dozen or so ponies still pursuing us for a split second, revealing black silhouettes with scary masks that had tubes sprouting from them.

My mother screamed out in pain, then swore. “Shit!” She flew low over the wagon and shouted down at me, “Storm Mist! Get to the front, climb on your dad’s back and undo the wagon hitch.”

I swallowed. “What?”

“Do it!” she ordered. “Do it now!”

My heart pounding, I rushed to the front to do as she asked. Shaking violently, I flew above my father and wrapped my talons around the quick release on his harness. I pulled as hard as I could until the metal pin creaked and came loose. The wagon immediately crashed to the ground behind us, then spun as it dragged to a stop.

“On my back, son! Save your wings,” Carbon said as he grabbed my tail with his teeth, yanking me down. I held onto him for dear life, as he continued to gallop fiercely.

I turned and looked back as the wagon was hit by the red bolts of energy and burst into flames. I saw my mother land hard not far behind it, her right wing was mutilated and she panted hard as she stared at the ground.

She looked back at us for a brief moment that felt like an eternity. Her teeth were clenched, and her eyes betrayed a grim determination. I could swear she mouthed the word “Go” before she turned to face our pursuers.

Carbon kept running as I watched a dozen black figures surround her, all with weapons pointing at her. One figure calmly trotted up to her, and they exchanged some words before I saw a final red flash.

My mother’s body turned bright white, surrounded by a red corona, as she was immolated.

I didn’t even scream out. I wanted to… I wanted to fly off my dad’s back, straight into the group of ponies, and systematically rip them all to shreds with my talons… but it was like my brain had stopped working. I just stared at the burning wagon with tears in my eyes, as it fell further and further into the distance.

~ * ~ * ~

With a rip, the bonds holding my wings came free.

I brought my right wing up to my face and managed to pry off the blindfold. The sudden influx of light made my head explode in fresh new waves of pain, but after a few moments figures took shape.

The wagon had two rows of ponies chained to the floor, and I was smack dab in the middle of the group on the right. Supplies were stuffed in nets that hung above us and swung every time we hit a bump. In the middle of the cramped wagon between the two rows were several crates strapped to the floor. My father was nowhere in sight.

“Impressive,” said the mare across from me in a hushed voice. She was a gray unicorn with a messy short-cropped mane that was a deep charcoal color, almost black in some areas. She had some kind of metal computer attached to her left foreleg, and she looked at me with crimson eyes that seemed to convey an intelligent and confident nature. I just stared at her dumbly, unsure as to what to say.

“I was about to make a daring escape when I saw you start to move,” she said, “then you started wiggling around and I thought you might’ve been dancing.”

“...Dancing?” I asked incredulously.

“Yeah... I thought it was weird,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Thought maybe it was some sort of griffinpony thing.”

“...What?”

Somehow her words just seemed to make my migraine worse.

“Isn’t that what you are? Some kind of griffin… pony… hybrid?”

I closed my eyes and sighed. “I’m a hippogriff.”

“Ooh!” she exclaimed in a melodramatic whisper. “I didn’t think griffs could join HIPA! I’m a member too! Still in silver status, but hope to reach gold someday...”

“A member… What now?”

“Of HIPA! You know, Highly Intellectual Ponies of Amada!” she said with a smile.

“What’s Amada?” I asked.

“Nothing! What’s a matta’ with you?” She giggled to herself.

I closed my eyes and tried to rub my temples, but realized for a second time that my legs were chained. I groaned.

“Sorry, nerd jokes,” she said sympathetically. “But seriously, the way you cut yourself free was pretty impressive!”

“Thanks,” I mumbled. “So, how exactly were you planning to make a daring escape?”

“Ah, you see-- I was going to pull out the bobby pin I had hidden under my PipBuck and undo these chains and this collar, and then cut my way out of this wagon, fleeing stealthily into the night!”

I looked around at the light illuminating the wagon. “It’s... day.”

“I know,” she said, “but ‘fleeing into the night’ sounds better than ‘fleeing into the day’.”

Were all unicorn mares this weird?

“And you were stopped from doing this by my… dancing?” I asked.

She giggled. “Not quite, but it was a glorious distraction!”

“Then... what?”

“You see this ring on my horn?” She lowered her head towards me and I saw the small metallic ring engraved with several runes. “It keeps me from using my magic. If you could help me get it off, we can get out of here.”

I nodded. She leaned towards me, straining against her chains and I did the same, stretching my wings out and trying my best to manipulate the object. After a few failed attempts, I was able to pull it free, and it dropped to the floor of the wagon.

Her horn lit up with a crimson glow and a bobby pin floated out from underneath the computer on her leg. The hoof restraints came free, and she stretched out her legs. She then manipulated the collar around her neck with both hooves and her magic and the little red LED briefly flashed green before turning off completely. She slipped it off with ease.

“Ah, much better!” she said. For a moment, I expected her to just jump off the back of the wagon and leave me here, but she kept her word and undid my restraints and collar.

“What are those things?” I asked as she levitated the collar.

“Slave collars,” she said, “a device used by slavers to keep ponies in line. Try to tamper with it? It explodes. Try to escape? It explodes. Basically, if you make a slaver's life difficult or unprofitable, they'll just blow your head off with the push of a button.”

“Shit…” I was glad she was telling me this now, instead of when she was fiddling around with the damn thing attached to my neck.

The unicorn moved to the back of the wagon and peeked out between the canvas flaps, before turning to me. “Alright, one of those ponies will get tired or distracted sooner or later, when they do, we can make a run for it.”

“Wait,” I said, looking at the other slaves chained in the wagon, “what about them?”

She looked back at me quizzically. “Huh?”

“Can’t you release them too?”

“Oh!” She looked at the other ponies as if they just magically appeared. “Yeah, I suppose I could do that. Maybe we could all overpower them to escape!”

The wagon stopped abruptly, and there was a commotion up front. I exchanged a glance with the unicorn, and she immediately floated the two slave collars in front of her and started messing with them.

“What the hell are you doing?” I whispered.

“Something crazy,” she replied.

I heard the sound of one of the lead ponies being unhitched and a body falling to the ground.

“We lost another one,” said one of the slavers.

Somepony hopped off the front of the wagon as he spoke, “Drag him out of there. Leave his carcass by the ditch.” That was the voice of their leader, and I was filled with the sudden realization that I had missed the shot. Fuck...

“Alright, little ponies-- shift change!” a voice said from the side of the wagon, and I heard hoofsteps circle to the rear.

“Be ready,” the unicorn whispered to me. I stayed behind her and prepared myself.

The canvas flaps at the back of the wagon opened as the pony spoke, “Alright now! Which one of you wants to pull-- huh?”

The unicorn whipped the slave collars at the face of the pony, and they landed with a resounding clack against his head. I braced for the explosion…

...that never came.

“Oww, fuck!” The pony retreated, a hoof over his face as he continued to swear. “Celestia damned rugmunchin’ unicorn motherfucker…” He carried on.

“Wasn’t it supposed to go boom?” I asked.

“Uhh... yup?” the unicorn replied sheepishly. “That was the plan, at least...”

“So, what’s the plan now?”

“Fight!” she said, and she jumped out the back of the wagon.

Okay. Unicorn mares were definitely crazy. ...But so was I, I guess. I followed her out.

Absolute chaos had erupted. Within just a few seconds, the unicorn mare had flung the swearing pony’s machete into an earth pony, who she had swiftly disarmed and was now taking shots at the red unicorn sniper pony.

The swearing pony turned to face me, a hoof still over his face as I swiped at him with a talon, ripping through his unarmored foreleg. I extended a wing and slashed at his head, but he ducked under me and pounded his hooves into my chest.

I backpedaled, wheezing from the impact, then took flight as the pony went for a tackle. I narrowly avoided his grasp, flying up above him. Turning in the air, I dove down and tackled the pony while driving a talon into his head. He fell unconscious.

More shots rang out, and I turned to see that the unicorn mare had made short work of the sniper pony. She was now systematically mowing down every other slaver that pointed a weapon at her. Every guard pony who was wearing a collar immediately dropped their weapons and put their hooves in the air.

The leader appeared at the front of the wagon, revolver in teeth, and was raising it towards the unicorn. Visions of my mother surrounded by black figures pointing weapons at her flashed before my eyes, followed by the sight of my father with a knife to his throat, and me: frozen in place.

Do something this time!

“No!” I screamed as I rushed towards him.

I saw the hammer pull back just as the lead stallion hitched to the wagon applebucked the leader for all he was worth, his unconscious body flying an impressive distance before landing in a heap.

“That’s for mah brother,” the stallion said with a whinny.

Within less than a minute, it was over. The unicorn mare trotted up to me with a smirk. “That wasn’t so bad!”

Yup. Unicorn mares: Definitely crazy! “Sure,” I stammered. “How’d you do that?”

“What?” she asked as she popped the locks on the leads and unhitched the stallion from the wagon.

“Move so fast!”

“Oh.” She pointed at the metal computer on her foreleg. “PipBuck.”

“You have super-speed thanks to a computer?” I asked.

“Sort of-- it’s not just a computer. It’s one of the most technologically advanced spell matrix devices in the history of Equestria! It has a feature called S.A.T.S. -- Stable-Tec Arcane Targeting Spell. It momentarily speeds up the user’s perception so they subjectively have more time to execute a set of actions.”

Right… So, super-speed thanks to a computer.

“Ah,” I said lamely. We released the slaves and searched the wagon. I was able to retrieve my axe, combat knife, and armor, and the unicorn retrieved a blue and yellow jumpsuit. As she slipped it on, I noticed it had ‘131’ embossed on the collar.

“There’s… probably better armor choices out there,” I suggested, pointing at her jumpsuit.

She smirked. “Yeah… probably. But I’ve grown rather attached to it.”

Was it just me, or did her crimson eyes betray a hint of sadness as she said that? “Well, I’d be happy to augment it for you,” I said, “if there’s materials available.”

She looked up at me with surprise, then stared at me like she was deep in thought. After a long moment, she smiled. “I’m Crimson Rose.”

“Storm Mist,” I replied.

Behind the wagon, the slave collars that had hit the swearing pony in the face finally exploded in a sharp but underwhelming puff.

* * * * *

We had dragged the mess off the road, freed the slaves of their collars, and chained up the slavers that were still alive. The sun was getting low in the sky, and so we decided to make camp. Some of the slaves we had freed were huddling together in smaller groups, while others just kind of wandered around, unsure of what to do with themselves.

The stallion who had pulled the wagon wandered over to a large tree and began digging a hole beneath it. After some time I realized that he was digging a grave for his brother, and I lent a claw to his effort, helping to deepen and enlarge the grave. We wrapped the deceased pony in a sheet we had found in the wagon, and laid him to rest. Crimson Rose watched us with sad eyes while sorting supplies from the wagon with one of the slaves.

There were ample rations to go around: cans of Cram, boxes of Sugar Apple Bombs, Fancy Buck Cakes, as well as some salted meat that we fried up on a spit. As night settled, we sat around the fire and ate.

Crimson Rose sat across from me, alternating between eating hooffuls of Sugar Apple Bombs and bits of the fried meat. A bottle of rye sat by her side, the soft orange light of the fire flickering off the glass, and illuminating her coat. Her red eyes seemed to glow as she cut a piece of meat from the spit, and she glanced up at me. “So what’s your story?”

I considered the question for a moment. “Like… my life story?”

“Yeah,” she replied as she popped the meat into her mouth.

“Well, I think I was born in Silverhoof during the war, but I have no idea who my biological parents were, or what things were like back then… At some point in my early childhood I was put into a stasis pod, but I don’t remember anything about that, or when my adoptive parents found me…”

I told her about how my ghoul parents found and rescued me, raising me as their own. She laughed when I talked about my father and his eccentric ways, and her eyes turned sad as I told her about my mother-- how she always tried to teach me about plants and medicine but I was too dumb or too young to listen. I may not have learned anything about plants, but she taught me a lot about compassion, and showed me how important it is to fight for those you love... right up to the end.

I told her about the night we arrived back in Silverhoof after many years, how our wagon was pursued by raiders, and how my mom died. After a moment, Crimson Rose’s compassionate expression turned to confusion. “Wait…You said they were raiders?” she asked.

“Yeah… why?”

“How do you know that’s what they were?”

I considered the question... How did I know that? “Because… they were attacking us for no reason? And my dad always described them as raiders.”

She sat up and looked at me inquisitively. “Did you… see any of them?”

“Yeah, they were all clad in black and were wearing these helmets that looked like gas masks with tubes extending from them.”

“All of them?”

“Yeah… why?”

Her brows furrowed, and she looked at me seriously. “Storm Mist… I don’t think those were raiders.”

My mind went blank and I felt a chill. “Wh… But, why not?”

She sighed and looked into the fire as she spoke, “Because raiders aren’t that organized… they’re not that fast, and they don’t have a standard uniform… Usually they’re clad in cobbled together armor stolen from a dozen different victims, and they have a tendency to prefer spiky things… the ponies you described don’t fit the definition of a raider at all…”

“Then… what do you think they were?” I asked.

She took a pull from the bottle of rye. “Honestly? Sounds like Enclave… or maybe a merc group fitted similarly.”

My father’s words rang in my ears: “The Grand Pegasus Enclave is very real and very dangerous…”

Could the Enclave actually have been there that night? No… they’d have no reason to be down below the clouds. And why would they chase two ghouls? It didn’t make sense...

I was about to ask more questions when I heard a groan from where we had chained the slavers. The leader was waking up. Despite the massive amount of dried blood on the back of his head and neck from the powerful kick he received, he was alive. I gave Rose a look, then grabbed the six shooter revolver and headed towards him, and she followed by my side.

I looked down at the face of the evil stallion and asked, “Where’s my father?”

The leader wavered and wobbled as he slowly lifted his head. As his eyes met mine he broke into a bloody smile and laughed in my face.

I raised the revolver and asked the question again. “Where… is my father?”

He spit a gob of blood at me and chuckled a couple more times before speaking. “Well, Celestia spank me with her scepter, Pretty Birb’s got guts…” He eyed Crimson Rose. “And a new friend it seems… did you two do it in the back of the wagon? Heh heh…”

I cocked the hammer back with a talon and knelt down in front of him, making sure he had a good view of the loaded pistol. I tried to hide the fact that my claw was shaking. “Where--”

“Is my father?” he mocked, then looked me straight in the eye as his grin vanished. “In the middle of the road. Several miles back. Probably getting torn apart by vultures and feasted on by radsnakes and bloatsprites.”

My claw continued to shake. “I don’t believe you.”

“Believe me or don’t, kid. But if you’re gonna try and shoot me again, don’t miss this time. You might take out your unicorn friend like you took out your dad.”

I shook as rage flooded my body, and doubt flooded my mind… Had I? No. There was no way I could shoot my dad… I tried to remember... He was standing behind my dad, with a knife to his throat… I had the revolver in my talons, and I was looking down the sights like my dad had taught me… I… I lined up the shot! But then I was hit in the back of the head… Wait, was that before or after I took the shot? I shook my head and growled angrily.

I heard Rose’s voice behind me. “Storm Mist…”

I aimed the revolver at the orange stallion’s head.

Do it!

“Don’t do it,” Rose said gently from behind me. “Not like this.”

My claws were shaking to the point where I could hardly keep the sights on the stupid pony’s head from just a few feet away. He just stared at me and laughed, as if I wasn’t a threat at all! As if I was powerless...

Kill the bastard!

“You’re not an executioner,” Rose said.

“How the fuck do you know!?” I screamed as I whirled around, tears stinging my vision. She took a couple steps back. “How do you know who the fuck I am when I don’t even know!?” I dropped the revolver on the ground. “He held a knife to my father’s throat! His sniper nearly took my dad’s head off! He captured you and me and everypony here! Tell me he doesn’t deserve to die!”

As I spoke, Rose’s expression turned from fear to compassion. “I never said he doesn’t deserve to die, “ she said quietly, “but look around...”

The ponies who had been enslaved were all standing now, scattered around the camp. Every one of them watched me: some with anger in their eyes, some with sadness, and some who didn’t have any emotions left to display. But none of them turned away, and all of them were still.

“They’ve all suffered like you have,” she continued, “and for far, far longer than you or I… Would you deny them their justice?”

I looked around at all the slaves we had freed. They were battered, beaten ponies. Some were missing body parts or had grievous injuries, while some, like the stallion who stood by a fresh grave, had lost-- or been taken from-- those that they had loved. Suddenly, I felt an intense shame. This stallion was not mine to take revenge on: He was theirs.

“Damnit, kid-- shoot me!” the leader suddenly yelled. “Put a fucking bullet in my brain! I’ll-- mmphhfffarrrumpff” Crimson magic wrapped around his jaws, silencing him.

Rose smirked. “He talks too much.”

I grabbed a length of rope from the wagon and wrapped it around his muzzle, securing it with a tight clove hitch. I turned and looked at the ponies around me. “He’s yours,” I said as I stepped away from the orange stallion.

They all silently nodded at me, then continued as they had before I drew attention to myself. I took the revolver and trotted over to the stallion who had buried his brother. He looked at me with weary eyes. “This should be yours,” I said as I held the revolver up to him.

He simply shook his head. “Naw… I dun’ wann’ any reminders of today...”

I nodded slowly, then turned away.

“I really thought you was gonna do it,” he said from behind me.

“Me too,” I muttered. I threw the revolver back in the wagon and sat back down by the fire. Crimson Rose trotted up and sat down next to me.

For a while we just sat in silence and watched the crackling fire, until eventually, she spoke. “It’s not easy being a hero, is it?”

“Who’s a hero?” I retorted.

“You are.” I snorted. “No, really-- you are,” she said as her crimson eyes met mine.

I shook my head. “I’m just a smith’s son.”

She placed a hoof on my foreleg and I jumped slightly. “Heroes are those who face impossible decisions… and take the harder path,” she said. “You did that tonight. You chose the harder path. That makes you a hero.”

“Sure doesn’t feel like it,” I said.

She gave a soft laugh. “Never does.”

I thought about what my dad would say when I found him. Whether he’d be disappointed in my actions: losing it in front of everypony, allowing myself to get captured... I sighed and stared into the glowing embers at the base of the fire.

After some time, I looked away from the flames and realized Rose was still lying beside me, her left hoof still resting upon my claw. The PipBuck on that leg was reflecting the light of the fire, and her head was resting on her other hoof.

The day had been a blur of travel, capture, and escape. I had been so focused on what had to be done that I didn’t think about where I was, or who I was with. Now I was lying by a campfire with a unicorn mare... An extremely deadly unicorn mare.

I shuddered as I thought about how efficiently she had exterminated a half dozen slavers in the same amount of time it took me to deal with only one. I knew it! Unicorns were deadly superheroes! I chuckled to myself, and wondered if she knew who the “Chiefs” were.

I considered asking her about her story, but when I turned to look at her again, her eyes were closed and her breathing was even. I sighed and continued to stare into the fire as my eyes grew heavy as well, and I started to drift off into a dreamless sleep.

* * * * *

The next morning was a blur of activity. The resources from the wagon were split up among different groups, the fire doused, and the camp broke. A large group were all planning to travel to the same area, and so it was collectively agreed upon that they should take the wagon. Several smaller groups would all go their separate ways, and the slavers would be left chained in the broken camp, beaten and bloodied. They most likely wouldn’t get the chance to starve to death, as some creature would smell the blood and come looking for an easy meal.

All except one that is. The slave ponies decided that the leader should be beaten and quartered for his crimes. By the time Crimson Rose and I left, they had tied each of his limbs to a harness on four different ponies and had started to pull his joints out of their sockets. We could hear his screams echo in the distance for at least an hour until the slaves grew tired of his screaming and simply galloped off in four different directions, leaving his split and broken body in plain sight of the rest of the slavers.

I never even knew that pony’s name. But that’s probably for the best: evil stallions like him don’t deserve to be remembered.

As we walked along the road, Rose carried both the sniper rifle and the slave leader’s revolver: despite offering it up for the taking, nopony had wanted it. The air had a cool bite, but it was a clear, mistless morning. And as I peered down the rocky mountain road stretching into the distance, I couldn’t help but think it felt like a nice day... I was just waiting for something to go terribly wrong.

I shook my head and flexed my wings.

“Are you going to start dancing again?” Rose asked.

I scoffed, “No, I--”

“Cuz I’m just saying, I’m not opposed--”

“I wasn’t dancing!”

“What’s wrong with dancing?” she asked with mock indignation.

“Nothing! But I wasn’t... You-- argh!” I stammered.

Rose giggled, then punched my shoulder with a hoof. “You’re so easy to rile up!” she said with a grin. I muttered, unable to keep myself from smiling. Stupid funny unicorns…

“So… you’re nervous,” she said as she cast her gaze over the ridge.

“...Yeah. I’m not sure what I’m going to find back there,” I said as I lowered my head.

Rose simply smiled. “Well, whatever it is, you at least won’t have to face it alone.”

I looked over at her as we trotted along and asked, “Why did you decide to come with me?”

She held up a hoof triumphantly. “Because you’re the great hero and I’m your awesome sidekick!”

I snorted. “I told you I’m not a hero.”

“Oh right,” she said, “then I’m following you because you offered free armorsmithing work and a girl would have to be a moron to not accept an offer like that.”

“Fair,” I replied, then paused, “but, I can’t help but feel there’s something more to it than just that.”

Her grin disappeared, and I caught a glimpse of the same sad look she had when I was helping that stallion bury his brother. “Get me drunk someday and maybe I’ll tell you. But for now, I’ll say this: I’m following you because you’re the kind of pony who can do the right thing… and that’s pretty damn rare in the Wasteland.”

I hummed to myself, taking in her words as we continued walking. “Rose?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not a pony.”

She laughed, then gave me a sly look. “Your ass-end is!”

* * * * *

We traveled for several hours back down the gravelly road before I spotted some landmarks that looked vaguely familiar. The mountain winds were cool, but timid, and the diffused glow of the sun filtered through the cloud cover, illuminating everything with a drab, even light.

We encountered the occasional tainted animal as we walked, but I easily dispatched the radrats and radroaches with my axe, and Rose was particularly good at sniping bloatsprites with the rifle before they could get close enough to infect us. She seemed to always have a sense of when something was near, and when I asked her about it she told me more about the arcane device on her leg.

Apparently the device had a feature called E.F.S., or “Eyes Forward Sparkle”, that somehow augmented her vision so she could see when other living things were nearby and whether they were aggressive or not. I thought the name was stupid, but the feature itself sounded incredibly useful. How awesome would it be to know exactly where everything is around you and whether or not it wanted to rip your head off?

She was quick to correct me, however. “It doesn’t see everything. At least, not all the time.”

“How so?” I asked.

“It can’t tell you what kind of creature a life form is, or whether or not it’s truly hostile or just a pony who’s afraid of you and ready to defend themselves. Sometimes it fails to pick up a threat entirely, especially if that life form is technically dead. I’ve noticed it won’t recognize feral ghouls until they’re already running at you full-tilt with snapping teeth.”

I chuckled. I was very familiar with fending off ferals. “Ah, you just kinda develop a knack for it over time, I guess. I tend to kind of know when one’s about to jump me.”

She looked at me oddly for a second. “You’ve killed ghouls?”

“Feral ghouls, yeah... Why?” I asked.

She hesitated. “Isn’t your dad a ghoul?”

Ah, right… I suppose that could be considered a weird thing, couldn’t it? But the difference between killing a ghoul and killing a feral was night and day, to me at least.

“A ghoul, yes,” I explained, “but not a feral.” I turned to face her.

“Sometimes when a ghoul has been around for too long, they turn: either got exposed to too much taint, or forgot who they were... When they lose that sense of who they are, or what their purpose is, that’s when they start to turn. Killing a feral isn’t an act of murder; it’s an act of mercy. It’s putting a soul who has suffered through the worst of the Wasteland to rest.”

Rose looked at me in her peculiar way. “So, if your father turned, you would--”

“Give him mercy, yes.” I aimlessly scratched at the road with a claw, picking up a smooth pebble and flicking it with my talons over the ridge. Crimson Rose gave a sympathetic smile, then kept walking. I followed.

It wasn’t long until we reached the crest of the ridge that the slaver’s wagon had been parked on. The marks from where the wagon’s wheels dragged as it turned were still visible as clear gouges in the dirt road.

Looking down towards where my father and I were assaulted a day ago, I didn’t see anything physically lying on the road, but parts of it were still stained red from blood. I could barely see a set of brahmin hoofprints leading back down the road in the direction of Tiny, and there was a stack of rocks just off to the side.

“See anything?” I asked.

“Nothing on E.F.S. You?” Rose asked, and I told her what I could see. “You saw all of that from here?” she asked as she peered down the hill and squinted.

“Yeah. Why?”

She laughed. “Well, if I ever lose something in the brush, remind me to get you to look for it.”

I shrugged and we trotted down the hill. As we reached the bottom of the crest, Rose pointed at the pile of rocks. “Were those here before?”

I thought for a moment. “I’m not entirely sure, but... I don’t think so?”

She leaned down and scrutinized the structure. Two rocks formed the base, with a larger one laid across the two. Several smaller rocks were all balanced on top.

“It’s a cairn,” she finally said.

“What’s a cairn?” I asked.

“It’s a hoof-made rock formation that used to be widely used by the Native Equestrian Kirin Clan that inhabited these mountains. They’re used as markers: sometimes as a way point, or a territorial marker, or sometimes as a...” She hesitated for a moment, then looked up at me. “Sometimes as a memorial.”

Great. I sighed, looking at the little rock structure. “So, what do you think this one is?”

“I’m not completely sure,” she admitted, “since I’m not an expert in ancient Kirin customs, but the way it’s built... The rocks are all set to one side, and this one--” She pointed to a flat rock near the top of the stack that jutted out, parallel with the direction of the two rocks on the base. “Kind of points in the same direction as the bottom of the structure.”

I stepped around the cairn and looked in the direction it was pointing: down the side of the ridge and into the brush and trees below. I stepped to the edge of the road and peered down. It was a steep slope, but definitely traversable for a ground creature, and the plants near the edge of the road seemed to be bent in a different direction from their natural growth: somepony had wandered into the brush.

Suddenly, a growl echoed through the canyon behind us, followed by several yipping sounds from all around. Crimson Rose and I exchanged a glance as we readied our weapons.

“So, how’s that E.F.S. working out for you?” I muttered, looking around for any sign of the predators.

“It’s great,” she said as she slammed the bolt of the rifle closed. “We’re totally surrounded.”

I was beginning to really hate this stretch of road.

Footnote: Level Up.

New Perk: The Pony Prance
Just get with the flow and let yourself go! Your moves are naturally charismatic, and you find it easier to persuade, convince, or attract others. New dialogue options are available.

Author's Note

And so we meet Rose! I absolutely love the dynamic between these two and it just gets better and better. Heheh! Also, thanks again to Cadet for helping bring her to life in the artwork!

And last, but not least, huge thanks to Artimae for helping proofread this chapter!

~ Forest Rain