Bounty On The Frontier

by MajorPaleFace

Rating: teen
Tags: Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Adventure
Length: 35940

Thestral Guard Ash stumbles upon an opportunity to strike it big and leave her old life behind.

It has been centuries since the banishment of Princess Luna and Thestral society is a shell of its former self. In a land filled with strife, disorder and injustice Thestral Guard Ash stumbles upon an opportunity to strike it big and leave her old life behind. The age of the Equestrian frontier and the wild west is now.

Published 2020-05-13 22:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2023-04-09 02:10:21 UTC

1. The Mare In The West

I guess I should have stayed in school.

Ash wiped the sweat from her brow, her battle armour was unwieldy and heavy, made worse by the never-ending Southern Equestrian heat. They had been marching for hours, this the middle of the second day. Ash was a Thestral or 'bat pony'. Larger than their Equestrian cousins, she could never figure out why the Thestrian leadership allowed them to be used like expendable muscle.

Ash had been in the Batican City Territorial Army Reserve for two years, stupidly signing up for six. Her platoon had been ordered to escort on-hoof a Crystal Empire Stallion by the name of Soft Shine, who sat inside a cushy four-wheeled carriage. He was the new money in the brewery business, Batican City itself had been built inside a cave network but above ground the arid landscape had been transformed into crop fields.

Grapes for wine, barley for beer and sugarcane and maize for alcohol. The new money, and others like him, had seen plantations established all over, and as a Thestral you had three main types of employment: as a Guard, a fishermare or a farmer. On the approach to his southern-most and newest sugarcane field, the road had wound through a dried up riverbed. Up ahead the lead of the pack stopped.

Soft Shine sighed loudly, “Guard! Why have we stopped?” Ash could hear from her spot behind the cart. He had an irritating hoity voice.

“The roads blocked.” A gruff stallion replied. “Landslide.”

“Well go around, what about that road there?”

“Sir, I'm not sure about that, we can remove the –”

“Nonsense,” Soft Shines interrupted, “I have an excellent sense of direction. I’m quite sure we can make it this way: all roads lead to the same destination, my father always used to say.”

“As you like, sir.” The same gruff speaker allowed.

The scenic route was just that, passing barrel cacti and the occasional rock. The path was narrow and uneven, and their already feeble pace was slowed to a crawl. “Oh laws it is hot, I do need a rest. Guard, stop the cart.” Soft Shines uppity voice called out.

Their caravan ground to a halt, either side the two rows of dirty and tired Thestrals moved to rest positions. Ash puffed out a hot breath as Soft Shines backed his silk-covered self onto the path. “All this travelling is simply exhausting,” the noble complained.

“Yes, sir,” Ash’s Sergeant said unenthusiastically.

Their rest dragged into a few minutes, although she was supposed to remain in formation, Ash had to relieve herself.
No sooner had she lifted her tunic and squatted behind some dead vegetation than an explosion shook the earth and made her lurch. Shouts and the clashing of weapons sounded and Ash stumbled over herself to get back to the column.

Another wagon had pulled up on the road ahead, bandana-wearing, sword wielding bandits were rushing the Thestral Formation. A mix of ponies and Thestrals. Another Explosion flashed bright orange. After lowering to her belly, Ash scanned the left side. There was a Unicorn, she could hear them charging their horn for another attack.

The first shot had hit the four-Thestral pulling team, turning them to chunks of flesh contained in plate armour and suspended in webs of their own skin. The second had landed right where Ash should have been, the crater turned to glass and the five Guards around her, Ash’s friends, blasted to pulp.

A third flash heralded another explosion, this one missed the Carriage and blasted a huge crater in the sand behind. Soft Shines had scampered under the cart and was trembling and crying. Ash rushed left, running quickly through prickly brittle bushes and over thorny cacti. The Unicorn was standing between a taller species of Cactus and flung it at her telekinetically after seeing her.

Ash dodged, using her wings to catapult her forward. The Unicorn, who was blood orange in colour with salt and pepper mane, drew a crappy looking blade. If you could afford it, or if you were an officer you got the good stuff. Sabres and wing-blades – lightweight and extremely sharp. Ash only had a basic-issue forged steel short sword, it didn’t have a guard over the handle, which she held in her mouth.

Their weapons clashed, the speed and anger in the Unicorns movements meant he was probably using uppers. Uppers, or speed, was a name for methamphetamine. A favourite of the nasty drug-crazed criminals in this region, the ponies who used it felt no fear.

The unicorn wasn’t giving up easily, on the main road a sharp scream was cut short wetly. She parried left and the Unicorn tried to zap her with a bolt of magic. Ash sidestepped, turned in and kicked the bandits' legs out. Dust and sand swirled as he fell, and she with him. Unicorns were especially dangerous because they could kill you in a multitude of ways and you wouldn’t see it coming.

Ash head-butted the Unicorn, his face scrunched and his horn crackled, then they rolled several times. Hot sand was in her mouth and eyes, the Unicorn pressed down on her as she landed underneath. Her sword just barely preventing his blade from slashing her jugular.

They rolled again, this time she applied pressure on the poor quality sword, while plucking out a small hunting knife. She nearly had it in the Pony’s eye, but a jerk of his head meant it only cut his cheek. He yelled and struck her with his foreleg, then began desperately trying to force her head away with his untangled hoof. It neared her mouth and she bit clean through the thick keratin covering. Hot blood rushed down the back of her throat and the Unicorn screamed, she unreleased the hoof from her teeth and drove the knife down with blows from her other leg.

The tip kissed his neck and he wailed, thrashing around. The second dug deeper and a wet shriek escaped him, finally it sank deep into the Unicorns throat, a geyser of blood spurted out and covered her. Matting her grey fur. Ash breathed deeply, spitting up blood not her own, and stumbling to all four hooves. It was mostly quiet, dead lay all around, and smoke fluttered over three glassy craters.

There was a sob from the cart, and then a grunt. She approached warily, repositioning her sword into her hoof so she could speak. “Hello?” She demanded.

“Gahh!” A strained voice cried in pain.

Ash carefully trod over the bodies, checking for survivors. They all lay motionless, covered in blood.
Under the cart, Soft Shines lay while peeking out fearfully. Two Thestrals were on the ground as well. One was the gruff-voiced Sergeant – a makeshift knife jutted out from his chest between his armour plates.

The other wore rags and saddlebags, and was still alive. A big gut wound was weeping steadily as the Thestral tried to paw it shut. Gut trauma hurt, but it bled you out slow. He could still live for another two hours. It seemed she was the only survivor. Ash watched him struggle, “you brought this on yourself.” The bandit croaked, pawing at his saddlebags and retrieving a scrap of paper. Ash took the offered material.

It read: Banjo, take your crew down to the trail at the Shines new field, switch the route and ambush the convoy. Heavy security, so you’ll need to be careful. Bring Soft Shines to me, Alive at Rattlesnake Ranch. You’ll get your money.
- Rattlesnake

The bandit croaked, “th-thousand bits. Help me and,” he rasped, “I’ll split the reward.”

Ash whistled low and slow. five hundred bits? That was more than she made in a year.

Soft Shines stirred and removed himself from under the cart. “My goodness, what a disaster!” The irritating Shines crowed.

“He’s offering me money to take you to some pony calling themselves rattlesnake,” Ash said.

“Rattlesnake? That philistines been trying to scare me out of business for months. I’m rather starting to regret coming down here,” Shines volunteered while he adjusted his silken casualwear.

“Where is Rattlesnake Ranch?” Ash asked.

“Somewhere further south, near a lake.”

As Shines stepped away, the dying bandit raised a hoof and coughed, desperation in his yolky eyes, “you can have more than half!” HIs eyes fluttered and he settled into the dirt.

“Is that so!?” Shines asked incredulously. He spoke down to the bandit, “what a disgrace, get me out of here mare.” He started to climb back into the cart.

Ash snorted, “he just offered me lots of coin to kidnap you, aren’t you even gonna offer to buy me out?”

He turned, his light yellow face turning red with obvious anger, “you've already been bought. Now unhook those poor sods and drive me away from here!”

She’d already decided what to do. There’d be no turning back. Ash disliked military service, she disliked her family and Batican City to boot. And she hated Ponies like Soft Shines. She dropped down to the bandit, turfing out his satchel. Tobacco, a water bladder, some crusty bread and some Equestrian bits. There were also a set of shackles. She took the cuffs, the bandit weakly grasped Ash’s foreleg and she slapped it off easily.

“What are you doing?” Shines demanded.

Ash didn't answer, instead, she thrust her sword though the bandits neck. He died with a sickening schlick sound. She tossed the shackles at Shines hooves, “put em on.”

He gaped, “you’re crazy!”

Ash took a menacing step forward, she was covered in blood. Soft Shines backed into the carriage, trying to put as much distance between him and Ash. “Put them on!” She shouted.

He rattled around the inside of the cart, “Help! Somepony help me!” Shines screamed frantically.

It felt good watching him squirm, “ain’t no use in hollering, ain’t nopony gonna hear you anyhow.”.

She grit her teeth as she spoke, “now put em on, or I’ll come in there. And trust me mister Shines – you do not want that.”

He shakily began locking his four legs in the chains and brackets. “You don’t know who your messing with! My family are very wealthy, you’ll be hunted like a diamond dog to the edge of the map!”

She ignored him.

Ash removed her armour. The heavy and mostly worthless for protection – as evidenced by all the dead Thestrals – plates clattered as she tossed the segments into the cart. Ash dragged the tied up Shines roughly, he fell into the dirt with a pathetic moan. She forced him along the track, ahead of the bodies and hauled him into the bandit carriage. It was a simple two-wheeler, sun-damaged rose paint peeled and flaked. The small cargo space had some rations and jugs of both water and liquor. There was some rope, and Ash used a complicated nautical knot to tie Shines down.

“Don’t go nowhere now,” she said. He glared at her.

She trotted back to Soft Shines expensive-looking carriage. Inside were a few sacks and designer glass bottles. The bags had fine clothes and a nice blanket. She emptied one sack and put the blanket inside, there was a lockbox under the seat, and that went in the sack too. Along with two bottles of Soft Shines liquor, a case of cigars and an expensive lighter. A small sack of fine food, cheeses, crackers, and fresh bread was inside. Both sacks went into the cart next to Shines.

She began appropriating some gear from the deceased, a crisscrossed leather strap across her torso, and some very nice saddlebags. Their group Captian lay dead in a ditch nearby, he had an expensive Thestrian Sabre. The equally exquisite sheath looked good against her side. He had a nice pocket watch too, which she seized.

Guardsmare De La Bourg lay dead a short distance from where Ash had nearly met her end, skewed through the back with a sharpened pole. Ash dragged her toward Shines Carriage, dumping her just underneath. The mare had been far too chatty, always trumpeting on about her home. Well, she’d gone and gotten herself dead, and Ash was going to ensure nopony would suspect her. Before when she’d thought about there only being three kinds of work for a Thestral, there was another way. If she did this deal with Rattlesnake, she’d be leaving her old life behind to find fortune by robbing fools.

Can’t wait, she thought. She'd had enough of working for dickheads like Soft Shines. As far as she was concerned, being a soldier meant being a lackey for the rich. And why work for the rich, who coerced and stole from folks, when you can work for yourself?

Ash took a bottle of Soft Shines expensive liquor and poured it across the cart and the corpse of De La Bourg, she wanted the body nice and unrecognisable. Once empty, Ash removed her identification tags and looked at them. She swapped them for the ones around Bourgs neck. She pocketed the tags and stepped back. Taking the expensive lighter out, she lit the flint and held it low to the ground.

The flames took and quickly spread across the spilt liquor. Shines had started shouting again, so she stuck a bundle of cloth in his mouth and tied up his muzzle. The pompous pony silenced, Ash hooked up to her new cart and pulled it in the direction of Rattlesnake Ranch. She didn’t even look back as the flames spread to devastate most of the ambush site.

After another day and night of travelling, Ash stumbled within the side of a body of water, off to her left she could see dim notes of light. Although cold and tired, Ash kept on for the white specks. The rough ground she had been carefully navigating blended into a well-travelled path, the journey from there on was faster, smoother and gentler on her hooves. The night was as dark as they came. Without moonlight and low level cloud cover, she could feel a rain coming on as thunder rumbled off of the far Sierra San-Pony mountain range.

Despite the pitch darkness, Ash could see just fine. Her Thestral eyesight gave her an advantage nocturnally. The ranch emerged ahead, semi-hidden in a dusty bowl in the landscape. Tumbleweeds drifted at the edges of the ranch fence accompanied by a light breeze.

She drifted through the entrance, two wooden posts either side covered in rattlesnake skins. There was a barn, a small field to the rear behind the main building, with a barely held-together outhouse. The front door opened on squeaky hinges and five dirty ponies emerged. They had weapons drawn and spread themselves out between her and the house.

A short rat-faced blue stallion came out next, he wore dirty red pyjamas – the kind with the butt-flap – and had lit a rolled cigarette that was permanently sticking out of his stubble covered mouth. He stopped just behind what Ash thought of as his compadres. Ash had unhooked herself and was bringing the shackled and gagged Soft Shines down to present to rat face.

“Eh, who are you and what are you doing here?” Rat faced asked in a quasi-Mexican accent.

“I ran into your little raid on Soft Shines convoy. I met a Thestral called Banjo, he didn’t make it. Before he died he told me you’re paying one thousand bits for this here pony,” Ash said steadily.

He sighed in a groaning manner, puffing his cigarette, “Banjos dead? Damn chica, bad mojo, no?” He spat out the butt, and lit another immediately, “so, you want me to pay one thousand for this Stallion?”

“That’s what was written in the letter,” Ash said.

Ratface stepped passed his compadres, “what if I said that was a deal for Banjo. And I think you killed him and stole his bounty. What would you say to that chica?” She placed one hand at the hilt of her new sabre, “I’d say that was pure speculation, with no evidence to back it up.”

His face crinkled into a smile as he looked back at his fellows, “oh, I don’t know. I think he might’ve seen something.”

Ratface stepped close, lowering to meet Soft Shines gaze, “did you see something, did you? Did this mare Rob you and tie you up?” Shines was screaming through his cloth, “yes! Yes! Help me! I have money, I have money – I’ll pay you!”

“Oh-ho-ho, ha. Mira, he has money.”

Rat-Face drew a blade far too quickly for Ash’s liking and pointed it as Shines, “I’ve got money too, amigo.”

He turned to his Compadres, “hey mouse, go get it.” A small white Stallion slowly backed up to the main house and entered.

“Oh chica,” rat face smiled with yellow teeth, “you’ve done a good thing for me.”

Mouse returned with a satchel, it bulged. Rat Face took it from mouse and shook it lightly, making a jingling sound.
His eyebrows raised in an expression of temptation, “now, ain’t that the best sound you ever heard, chica?”

It did sound good, “hoof it over, and you get Shines. No funny business.”

Ratface looked offended, “no problema. He put the money down halfway between Ash and the Compadres, then backed up with a foreleg held up non-threateningly. Ash gave Shines a shove, but he resisted and looked back fearfully.

“They’ll kill me!” He muffled through his gag.

“I don’t fucking care,” Ash said slowly, pushing him hard toward Rat Face.

She kept pace with him, still ready to draw her weapon if anypony made a wrong move. At the halfway point she quickly picked up the satchel, wildly checking Rat Face and his compadres weren’t up to anything. Because Shines slowed the closer he got, Rat Face jumped forward and beat him around the head with his hoof and Ash backed away quickly.

Shines lay on the ground, coughing through his gag as blood gushed from his nose. The pyjama wearing pony laughed cruelly, “ponlo en el granero.”

Ash’s grasp of the southern Equestrian language was minimal, but she understood well enough as Shines was dragged toward the barn. She tossed her money into the cart and hooked herself up. “You ever need work this way, let me know!” Rat Face called after her.

Ash nodded at him as she left, not intending to be anywhere near here again. She wasn’t stupid, as soon as Shines convoy hadn’t shown up yesterday, search teams would scour the area until they found the massacred escort. Guards would descend on the region, hopefully, discover De La Bourgs body with Ash’s identification tags and rule her out as the one to take Shines away.

They’d probably also be able to trace her cart to Rattlesnake ranch, the tracks across the desert easily visible – something she’d made sure of. Once at the Ranch – she was gambling that Shines and Rat Faces' bad blood was well established, and if no evidence was found they’d probably accuse Rat Face outright. Either way, as she left she adhered to the roadway. The route would cover her a little and make it difficult for anypony to follow her.

She knew there was a town a days travel from here, so she’d settle her affairs and then disappear southwest, looking for work. Ash was already tired but felt well enough to go on without rest, only stopping briefly to wash as much of the blood from herself as she could after crossing a stream. She could catch a breather once out of the frying pan – so to speak.

Two weeks later. Somewhere in the Western sands.

Ash and her cart were on the road to a town that she'd found on a map, the sign outside the town read 'saguaro'. This far west would be advantageous for Ash in that it was fairly lawless, not to mention most ponies viewed the west as an obstacle, not a destination. Fearing the rugged mountains, vast deserts and many native tribes. Perfect for a new start. After rattlesnake ranch, she had arrived at the next town along, traded the weapons to a merchant for a month's supplies, bought a fishing pole, a tent and fire-starting gems.

Checking her pocket watch often as daybreak came and went, she had spent no more than an hour in the town. She had a meal and a whiskey at the tavern and moved on with directions to a town along the way with less law and work for a mare like Ash. Saguaro was down in a valley alongside a stream, it had a small windmill and a watermill. A few patchy sets of crops existed, as well as a pen for chickens.

Masses of them, as she entered the sparsely populated township they roamed freely everywhere. This place should have been called chicken town. There was a sheriff’s office at the end of the towns main street, the wooden buildings were dirty and flimsy and the entire place was smokey, smelly and cramped.

A saloon lay halfway down one side, the batwing doors clattered open and a brown Pegasi was tossed into the street. He rolled in the mud and groaned. She left her cart outside and entered, all of her valuables were stored inside her saddlebags, and she had pulled a sheet of canvas and tied it down tightly to cover the contents of her cart.

The inside of the bar was smokey. Stallions in one corner played poker – expressions hidden behind wide-brimmed hats. Almost all the ponies inside were smoking pipes or cigarettes. A single stallion sat in the middle at a bench, eating some kind of stew off a tin plate. The bar was short, and a mare behind was busy wiping a dirty glass with an equally filthy rag.

Ash made herself comfortable, only getting the barmaids attention after placing a few bits on the bar. “What’ll ya have?” The mare asked.

“Whiskey,” Ash said, “and get one for yourself.”

“Well, thank ya kindly, four bits,” she said.

Ash paid while the barmaid poured, they raised their shot glasses, touched them together and drank after bouncing them off the bar top. “So,” Ash began, “I hear this place has some work for a mare who ain’t afraid of getting her hooves dirty.”

The barmaid nodded, “well I ain’t got nothing – head down to the Sheriff’s office, he might have something for you.”

Ash smiled thinly, “Is there somewhere I can leave my cart? Somewhere it ain’t gonna get stolen?”

The barmaid shrugged, “bring it round back and I can keep an eye on it. Ten bits a night. Rooms usually 25 if'n you need one, you can have it for 5.”

“You don’t get a lot of customers’ I’m guessing, with a discount like that,“ Ash noted breezily.

The barmaid took off her apron, “it's too early in the season for prospectors. Getting to be fewer of em with each year, too. Mercs' and Bounty Hunters mostly. A couple came this way three days ago, the sheriff sent em off and they haven’t come back.”

Ash did her best to absorb every word, “they cause any trouble?”

The barmaid shook her head, “naw, nothing like that – he sent em off to handle some business. Some asshole came through last week, killed one of my mares and cut up another one real bad.”

Ash frowned, “mares?”

“Yeah you know, working fillies. Bout the only way a mare can make any money round these parts, less you know how to handle a weapon.

“Well,” ash said, “that’s a real shame. Look, I’ll drop my wagon around back – I’ll give you ten bits to hold it, and be by later on.”

The barmaid nodded as she came out to take a few dirty glasses off a table, “okay then.”

Ash put ten bits down and left. She hooked up and brought the cart behind the saloon. The rear of it fed into a stable, and she reversed it inside. She closed the doors and started for the sheriff’s office. The office was really just a small one-level home with the word 'sheriff' scrawled on one wall.

She knocked at the door, a bitter male voice shouted, “ it's open!” Inside was a stuffy and bare-bones living room, a single table with a single seat and a fireplace. She could see a small kitchen in a side room, a tub of water piled with dirty plates and clothes alike. The room smelled like body odour and tobacco smoke, tinted with mould and dust.

A stocky Auburn coated stallion emerged from a bedroom at the rear of the home. He had frown lines all over his face. He wore a leather duster, leather hat and boots of all things. Ash thought only rich assholes wore boots. He tweaked his silver sheriff’s star pinned to his chest, “who are you, what are you doing in my town and what do you want?”

“Names Ash, Sheriff,” she said, trying to seem polite. “I came looking for work, and I heard you had a job chasing some stallion?”

He came forward, using a foreleg he dragged a metal pot near himself, sniffed and coughed – then spat a thick black wad into the tin. He sniffed again, saliva trailed down his chin and he looked at Ash with dull eyes.

“Crazy thing, what that colt did. I already done sent three killers after him, but that was days ago.” He tossed her a piece of paper from his desk, “goes by Colter, he’s big and ugly, dark tan coat, shaved his mane off he did.”

On the paper, a crude image of the Stallion showed him as having a fairly square face, with green eyes and a lip scar. “You go git em, dead or alive and the town can pay you 75 bits.”

Ash moved closer to him, he stuck a ball of tobacco in his mouth and began chewing. “Alright Sheriff, you got a deal. Any idea where he might be?”

He took out a map, “five days ago he was seen heading south toward hooters hollow. Three days ago I sent those mercs’ after em, yesterday a traveller coming from that'a way said he was attacked by a feller looked just like our Colter. Passed the three ponies I’d sent, and wound up here – then they left.”

“Okay,” Ash said, her mind awash with pieces of a plan. “You got another map?”

“Sure,” he said, “you can have this one. I got others,” he spat more tobacco.

“I reckon I’ll be back by tomorrow. Or the day after.”

The sheriff made an expression like he’d believe it when he saw it and returned to the bedroom to leave Ash to show herself out. Ash stopped by the saloon, telling the barmaid she could keep her stuff if she didn’t come back – and that she’d pay for any more days if she did.

She returned outside, it was late in the afternoon and the scorching sun had finally started to lower. In a 26 hour day, the west got almost 18 hours of sunlight. She extended her leathery bat wings, giving them a good stretch and began warming up the joints with little circular motions. Once she felt comfortable, she conferred with the map, before taking off fast, the air rushed past her face – and she climbed high.

Ash levelled out, the town of saguaro appearing to be miniature. Gliding on rising hot winds, ash allowed herself to drift, she could cover huge distances like this and would fly all night. Her eyesight allowing her to pinpoint this colt with ease. She just had to catch up first.

The flight spanned over miles of never-ending desert. Occasional rocky formations and mountains broke up the sameness, her shadow trailing down to her left, tracing over dirt and cacti. She glided for hours, night-time approached but was still about four hours away. She was following the road, checking as far as she could see for any signs of life.

There was smoke on the horizon, a tiny trail of white that led down into a small cluster of black tents. Ash started lowering down to get a better look, she circled the camp – seeing a dozen shapes moving around. Several ponies moved around, they hadn’t spotted her yet. She decided to chance talking to them.

She dropped to ten meters and glided around the camp, a few of them spotted her and tracked her as she circled. Finally, she looped around and landed at the camp entrance, under a solitary tree that provided some much-needed relief from the harsh sun.

Two ponies approached, a dark violet Pegasi and the other, actually a mule – a pony/donkey hybrid. Them stopping several body lengths away from her. “What do you want?” The mare asked in a sharp biting tone.

Ash took a drink from her water bladder, “information. I’m looking for a stallion, he killed a prostitute down in Saguaro. He’s big and has no mane, dark tan coat.” The mare looked at the mule and spoke in a language Ash had never heard before. The mule, also a female, given her mature kindred voice, returned something back in the same language.

“This is Nerja,” the Pegasus introduced the mule, pronouncing it Ner-ca. “She invites you to sit with us." Ash needed a lead, and so accepted – hoping to get anything on the pony called Colter.

The camp was simple and looked to be only temporary. The three mares sat on some old well-worn mats, and Ash was given a little cloth-wrapped brick about the size of a spectacle case. “What’s this?” Ash asked, confused.

The mule spoke in that same language, the Pegasus translating, “its who we are.”

“Heroine,” the mule emphasised.

Ash gave it back to Nerja, “so you’re drug smugglers.”

The Pegasus translated, Nerja laughed, her translator speaking, “we’re business ponies. But unfortunately, we are having some problems moving our business through the county into Equestria." Ash leant back a little, “and why are you telling me? I might be the law.”

More translating, “Nerja doesn’t believe you are, she has an offer for you, you are a mercenary, yes?”

“I’m not anything. What’s the offer?”

Nerja spoke, several sentences at once, the Pegasus speaking in Equestrian after, “we know where the pony you’re looking for went, if you take this sample to our buyer in Riverside, west of here, and return, we’ll tell you where he is.”

Ash stood, “as long as I’m paid, you got it.” The Pegasus spoke to the mule, she never breaking eye contact with Ash.

“She says you are being paid in information."

“You’re asking me to detour quite a ways here,” Ash said, “I could probably find him without your help – his bounty is more worth my time,” it wasn’t, but they didn’t know that.

Nerja and her Translator spoke, “she says if her offer is not worth your time, good luck."

Ash smiled in a fake friendly way, “alright. Who’s the buyer?”

“He calls himself Mister Hay. Find him in an abandoned warehouse on the west side of town, you’ll draw attention if you fly overhead, so go around, use the creek,” the Pegasus informed and advised.

“And try not to dawdle, this buyer could mean big money for us.” Ash took the sample when Nerja offered it and took off after exiting the camp.

Ash had been flying west for an hour, the sun still offering plenty of light. Around a small lumber mill, which looked abandoned, was the town of Riverside. It seemed from the air that the once large river had dried up, along with any interest in the town. She dropped down to ground level, masterfully skirting trees and boulders and hugging contours in the land.

She overshot the creek and glided around to meet it again. Dipping her wings, and lowering into it. She continued gliding along the stream, using it as cover. On the right, there was an old wooden dock and boat storage, far away from where the trickling stream was today. Ash dashed up under one of the boardwalks and peered out at the town. It was similar to Saguaro, only bigger with a lot more residential looking buildings.

The west side looked to be the old industrial sector, with abandoned buildings and warehouses overgrown with weeds and sparse desert grass. She didn’t see anypony, and so dashed over the ground and landed right by the first warehouse. Well, she didn’t think of it as the first, but more like the warehouse.

The door rolled open, and she stepped through the crack. Closing it behind her. Sunset was fast approaching and she wanted to be out of here before nightfall. Ash inspected the property, rusty tins and marks in the wooden floor made her think the place had been filled with heavy machinery. Probably a canning factory. Ash gave the expansive place a look over, nothing of interest, seemed everything had been stripped.

The roof had huge rafters, so she leapt into flight and landed on a beam near the middle. There was a partial wall, which offered some cover from below, as well as a gap in the rooftop, so she could watch the road. It wasn’t long before a pony passed on the other side of the street, he moved through an alleyway and she lost sight of them. Shortly after, she heard hoof steps outside and angled herself to see the long shadow of a pony right against the outside wall.

Another door rolled open and shut again. Then silence. “I know you are here, reveal yourself.”

She paused, checking outside again and listening for any other signs this might go bad. She dropped down quietly, landing with a flourish of her wings. The stallion was a white colour of thin yet muscular build, with an off white shirt and a black vest over it. He had a cherry red mane and tail that was well-groomed with a large handlebar moustache of the same colour.

His cold brown eyes looked her up and down, “are you the mules' emissary?” He had the voice of a stallion who’d spent a lot of time at the theatre.

“I am,” she said.

“Do you have what we requested?” He asked.

Ash feigned confusion, a thought suddenly coming to her, “where’s the payment?”

He frowned, “I wasn’t informed there was to be an exchange on my part. What are you talking about?”

Ash sank a hip impatiently, “my employers negotiated a small fee for this drop a short time ago.”

His eyebrows rose, “I suppose such a thing is possible, I’ve been stuck in this town for a while now. Fine, this should cover you for your grievance.”

He removed a small coin purse from his vest, counting out a couple dozen bits.
He held it out, and Ash took the money, placing the heroine brick in his waiting hoof.

“Ah,” he said, appraising the brick, “tell your superiors we shall be making contact with them shortly, and here is proof of our meeting.” With that, Mister Hay gave her a small band of copper, withdrew himself out of the door, opening it and then closing it behind him. She could hear his hoof falls gradually fade.

She put the coins and copper ring in her saddlebags, shit, tricking ponies into handing over money is easier than I thought. And that gave her a dopey smile for the journey back.

Once over the camp, only visible by the firelight as darkness had mostly enveloped the landscape. No moon, once again. She spiralled and touched down softly under the same tree as before. The dark violet Pegasus from earlier approached, stopped halfway, and gestured for Ash to approach.

“You get on okay?” She asked Ash.

“Sure, smooth as silk,” Ash showed her the copper ring.

"Keep it. If you ever need work down in Mule City, come find us at North park station. Show the ring to the teller, and we’ll make contact.” She tossed a rolled map at Ashs' hooves.

She tipped an imaginary hat at the Pegasus, “I’ll bear that in mind”

As the violet mare left, Ash unfurled the map. It had both Riverside and Saguaro, and a red circle had been marked around a place the sheriff had told her of – hooters hollow.

Ash stored the map and copper, then resumed the journey further south.

Author's Note

Updated 05/11/2020. What a crappy year this had been.

2. A Fall From Inelegance

Ash crawled silently on her belly, routinely checking her pocket watch. It had been five hours of flight followed by two hours of creeping along the ground. Equestria at nighttime was often unbearably cold, and the days, by contrast, tended to be extremely hot. Her thick grey fur offered her partial protection, she could survive, but she wouldn’t be comfortable.

What was worse a strong wind had started up and between it and the frigid dirt, the warmth was being sapped from her. By nightfall Ash had spotted an old campsite, the embers were still warm and she followed the hoof tracks on the ground, maintaining a timely pace. Not long after, she spotted her quarry, Colter. His sand-coloured coat allowing him to blend in with his surroundings, yet the lack of hair on his head gave him away.

But he’d made the mistake of silhouetting himself, something every guard worth their salt kept an eye out for. He vanished over the hilltop and she crept onward to catch up. Once alongside the rim of the hill, she could see he’d moved further down into a slope, with gradually rising walls to each side. Ash kept left, deciding to use the high ground to her advantage. The landscape opened up into a maze of escapements, the Igneous rocks forming a hundred paths her bounty could use.

She paused as the rock formation she was moving along came to an end. She dug inside her saddlebags for a length of rope, finding it she quickly tied it into a lasso. Her rope now had a big O at the end. Once around something if she pulled on the rope it would tighten the lasso. Ash checked her sabre wasn’t too movable and tightened her saddlebag bands. With lasso gripped in her teeth, she glided down, aiming to pass by directly and closely above Colter. The sound from the wind as it swept through the passages perfectly obscured any other noise.

Ash neared to within three body lengths, she whipped her head so that the lasso draped in front of Colter and the noose snagged around his neck as she threw her head back. Ash pulsed her wings to give her some heavy vertical thrust and was almost able to pull Colter from the sand. He choked and gagged on the lasso-turned-noose. She carried him for a few seconds, then pulled up so he was fairly high off the ground and relaxed her bite – sending him smashing into the dirt.

Ash was on him in a flash, scrambling to collect the long end of the rope and wrap it around his four legs. He was stunned and barely drawing breath, so once she’d made doubly sure he couldn’t unbind himself, she loosened the rope around his neck. He took in several huge gulps of air. Panting and coughing, the rope had left a tight band of red swelling.

“Mister Colter,” she gasped. Ash was likewise exhausted, “I’m bringing you in.” Then she muttered, “sonofabitch,” Colter was a meaty pony.

She looked through her saddlebags, removing another section of rope and a fancy white handkerchief she’d found amongst Soft Shines personal effects. Ash stuffed the balled tissue in his mouth as he wriggled, he persisted and received a harsh back-hoof strike for his trouble. Next, she tied his muzzle up with the rope to immobilize his jaw and neck. He didn’t have much in the way of personal items, a small dagger, an empty water canister, some bent rolled cigarettes with no matches and about twenty bits.

Ash stowed the bits, used her fancy lighter to ignite one of the cigarettes and took a swig from her water bladder. She discarded the empty canister and the dagger in the dirt, and after stowing his bulky body over her back, she started the long march back to collect her reward.

The Thestral outlaw was beginning to stall. After the ambush on Soft Shine's convoy near Batican city, she’d slept for a few scattered hours in the desert – worrying the law would somehow catch up to her. Aside from a short power nap of maybe an hour before pulling into Saguaro, after that, she’d been travelling for over twenty hours, and now for the last two hours with Colter’s dead weight pressing down on her. Her weary legs demanded that she rest.

This area of dreary and drab orange landscape offered little in the way of protection, but she’d spied a small corner to hide in. A cluster of particularly tall cacti blocked the view to the west and north, while a pair of boulders not greatly higher than the head of a standing pony offered protection from the east and south.

She dumped Colter forward, at which point he immediately began moaning and weeping. He was rolling and looking at her with sunken eyes. Against her better judgement, she pulled his gag out, “wha’ sorta pony sneaks up on a feller like tha'! Minding my own damn business-mmmphh! Ash sighed and stuffed the gag back in as he squirmed and emitted muffled groans. She used some excess rope to pin him facing a cactus, if he moved too much he’d prick himself.

She moved to the other side, away from him and next to the boulders. She lay down, and after listening for a long time, Ash closed her eyes and tried to get some sleep.

Something stirred nearby, waking her. Something was clamped over her mouth and she screamed, bucking and thrashing violently. She stood, two ponies had a hold of her and were obviously unprepared for her strength. The one behind jumped on her back, looping both forelegs under her chin and gripping her neck, his breath reeked of whisky and tobacco. The one in front punched her in the muzzle and her head started spinning.

Her eyes wouldn’t focus and she wobbled, choking as her right eyesocket swelled like a balloon. Ash tried to rear up but her back hooves didn't have the strength and the rider on top of her adjusted his weight to counter her movements. She snapped her head back and stars exploded across her vision. She felt a spray of hot blood across the back of her head and the assailant's grasp slackened.

The pony in front with tribal red paint covering his face and mane styled into a Warhawk, rushed forward with a yell. She managed to turn and throw whiskey breath to the ground while red-face loosed a couple of jabs that caught her in the head.
Ash was vaguely aware of lying face down on the cold ground, her head and face pounded and she could barely open her eyes.

Her hooves had been tied underneath her, her wings were bound and she realised with dread that she wasn’t alone. Three dirty stallions sat around a campfire, they weren’t near the boulders and the cacti, which meant she’d been moved. How far were any ponies guess. She rotated her neck to look around, careful not to draw attention to herself while she dragged her bound hooves underneath her.

Colter lay on his side facing away from her. He was still tied up as she had left him. Her wandering forelimbs hitched halfway into her leg-pit, she found the little blade she’d been searching for. Made from sharpened bone and as long as the width of her hoof as to be easily concealable.

She glimpsed back at the three stallions, one of them bellowed a laugh as his head rocked back to finish the contents of a brown liquor bottle. He got up and wobbled toward her, she relaxed and shut her eyes. He came closer and then brushed behind her. She heard him shift his weight, before the sound of pattering liquid filled the air.

She let one eye open slightly to see whiskey-breath with his rear end to her. Black tail swishing vigorously as he relieved himself. She quickly started sawing at the rope against her ankles, the blade was sharp, making no sound and cutting effortlessly.

As he urinated he burped and farted loudly, he chuckled to himself as the flow of urine slowed to a trickle, causing her to seem unconscious again. He sniffed and adjusted his weight once again, his hoof steps fell nearby and he leaned over her. She prepared to jamb the little blade through his eyes and then make a run for it. “Hey!” A deep voice called, “leave off - we need her in one piece.”

“Aw shit,” whiskey breath sounded like he had a bad cold, “I was only gonna have some fun with ‘er.”

“Bo, I know your kind of fun, she ain’t no good to us if'n you go messing her up! Boss specified he wants any mare ta' be alive,” the same deep voice reprimanded.

“What’s speci-ci-fried mean?” He snorted.

A sigh, “it means leave er' be!”

“Well shoot," Whiskey breath stomped his hoof in annoyance, "if'n we can’t fuck er' or eat er', then why we bother rustling er' for?! Bitch damn near broke my nose!”

The leader turned fully and levelled harsh red eyes at the apparent cannibal. "Last warning, Bo'."

Alcohol breath shuffled away after a few breaths, muttering something about “yew’ gon get yers.”

Ash breathed deeply and started to loosen her forelegs. Then carefully began removing her rear ankle ties. She rubbed her sore legs and turned to get a look at her surroundings, carefully reaching back to free her leathery wings. She figured these were the three ‘bounty hunters' the sheriff had sent ahead of her.

More like hillbilly cannibal criminals, she thought.

The camp consisted of two lean-tos', a campfire and some log benches. They had a sack of something, and her saddlebags and sabre were sitting near one of the lean-tos'. Whiskey breath was in the middle facing away from her, already halfway through another bottle.

Red face was sharpening a little tomahawk axe, his attention lost in staring deeply into the flames of the fire. The third member was covered in shadow, the few licks of firelight showed him as having narrow features and scar tissue across his eyes. The camp itself was near the edge of a cliff, nothing but blackness following it.

Ash was just considering her next move when all three stood quite quickly. She figured she’d been spotted and rose as well, brandishing the hold-out blade. They were facing outside the campground, her usually keen night-time eyesight was late in detecting several ponies emerging out of the desert darkness.

Four Thestrals wearing dusters, a unicorn, a Pegasus and earth pony in the same tan coats.“You fellers lost?” Scar-face said, his tone harsh and threatening.

“We’re right where we’re s’posed to be,” a Thestral with light grey fur and gold eyes said. His voice was silky smooth but in that 'not right' kind of sociopath way.

“You oughtta get lost fore thangs' get ugly, partner,” whiskey breath warned.

The Thestral brought up a piece of paper and started to list off names, “Pazi Red, Bo Festus and Dusk Younger of the younger gang. I have in my possession a written warrant from the Court of Higher Justice for your apprehension,” he licked his lips. “Come along quietly, and there won’t be any need for violence,” he continued, pulling back his coat to reveal a matched pair of Sabres much like Ash’s stolen one.

Both Whiskey breath and Scar-face had their weapons out, red stood calmly with his tomahawk held low. With a rebel yell, red wound up and sent his axe hurtling at the lead Thestral. He side-stepped and rushed for red with the two immaculate and long sabres.

In a frenzy of movement, the two others took on three of the law-ponies each, whiskey moved far more quickly than his inebriated state might indicate. Deflecting a thrust and burying his weapon into the neck of the attacker. He was quickly slain by the two following law-ponies.

Red and the lead Thestral duelled, neither gaining the advantage. Scar-face parried and scored two kills in quick succession, and then turned to back away with his red-painted gangmate. A strobe-light of purple captured everything in view as the flash of a camera might.

A Lance of energy shot out from the sole unicorn law pony and both Red and Scar-face fell with pained screams. Ash had been edging around for her pack and sabre. As she’d tightened her saddlebags and held her sheathed sabre in her foreleg, two Thestrals cut her off.

The Pegasus and Earth pony lay unmoving in widening pools of red that turned the sanded earth a peach colour. The Thestral Whiskey breath had attacked was struggling with a vicious neck wound and shuddered as she tried to close it. The unicorn was trying to help but abandoned his efforts after a glance from their leader. Red and Whiskey breath was still alive, albeit under a loose definition of the word.

“Wanted dead or alive,” the lead Thestral said.

And without a hint of hesitation made a pair of little slices along the back of their heads, pulling the blade up and over. They howled and cried in the sort of way that made your breath hitch, Ash wasn’t a stranger to violence but even she had to look away.

The blade sliced wetly, the occasional crunch and scraping of the blade against bone making her cringe and clench her jaw.
Ash felt sick to her stomach as the Thestral proudly held two matching scalps, complete with their respective owners' ears still attached.

He dangled them at Ash as she began to back off toward the edge of the canyon. “These savages only understand savagery, I’d rather it be different.” He had a fake little smile and Ash decided he wasn’t being truthful.

“If you say so mister,” She said a little uneasily.

One of her rear hooves skidded at the edge of the canyon. She glanced back and then forward, the remaining law ponies had arranged around her much in the same way as they had with her three foalnappers. He moved closer, “My names Agent Bucksaw. And, uh – who might you be, miss?”

“Ash,” she said tonelessly.

He smiled in that creepy way, “Ash what?”

“Just Ash.”

None of the law ponies had stowed their weapons, and she wasn’t certain she could take on anypony right now. She felt drained, her head was throbbing and her right eye had almost fully sealed. He stepped closer, and his posse matched him step-by-step.

His eyes flicked down, “that’s a nice quality sabre you go there.”

“I like it just fine,” Ash replied. Her mind swirling to think of a way out.

“And, uh – How’d you come by it?”

She cocked her head, “family heirloom?"

He chuckled humourlessly, “well now. A murderer and a liar. For shame.”

“I know who you really are, Miss De La Bourg.”

Ash’s eyes widened. How had they caught up with her so quickly? “So I’ll give you the same offer I gave to these here gentlestallions,” he continued.

“Come along quietly, and there won’t be any need for violence.” He jangled the scalps at her again.

She was so close to the edge now if it had been a wall she would have been pancaked against it. “That’s a fine offer, mister. But I’m afraid I’m gonna have to decline.”

“So be it,” he said and started moving towards her.

Ash shut her eyes, took a big breath and then jolted forward in a fast charge that caught him unprepared for the irregularity of her movement. As fast as he was, their sabres met in a pronged fork of forged steel. Using his off blade, he tried to curve it around to catch her in the side.

Ash – like many Thestrals, had been using a blade or likewise similar weapon since the cradle. While some Thestrals belonging to more nobility centric circles, or those with plenty of military in their veins had specific fighting styles. Ash’s father had taught her to be tenacious, unrelenting and above all, dirty.

A tactic for which most Thestrals were not ready for. She moved inward of his reach and head-butted him hard, the blow caused stars to rush over the good side of her vision and split the welt covering her right eye socket. But it sent him down, and his sabre only brushed across the leather of her saddlebags instead of lodging between her ribs.

She stuck her blade out and scored a bloody wound into his mouth, a wet gurgling shout filled the air. His comrades rushed forward, and Ash darted to the ground, swiped up his dropped sabre, flung a hoof full of sand up at them and leapt backwards off of the cliff.

She fell at high speed, her vision was spotty and not at all clear, the ground swept by in a blur of stubbly rocks and sprigs of red flowers so far unseen. She heard more shouting from behind her and chanced a glance back, a red flash rushed to meet her and she burned.

Her coat singed and her wings seemed to evaporate. Smoke and sparks rushed around her and she was vaguely aware of crashing through a long trail of cacti before stopping in a tangle of barbs and pellet-sized rocks. She blinked and gasped, did that really just happen?

Pain filled every part of her. Cuts and bruises. Her fur had saved her from the worst of the cacti splinters. There were a dozen in her muzzle and around her eyes. The swollen part of her eye socket was seeping and she could feel the tightness lessoning. She was more concerned with her wings, the pain in her back was immense. Like sunburn multiplied exponentially.

She was at the edge of a mass of tall Cacti, and she couldn’t see the cliff when she looked back. Despite the pain, she began pulling herself out onto some flat rock. Moving her wings even the slightest bit was agonising, so she relented to leaving them semi folded.

Steadily Ash rose and turned away, collecting her sabres and began to follow a path across the valley floor. The canyon was steep on the side she’d fallen from, and she realised she was probably in shock. That drop should have killed you, her inner voice reminded her.

She felt along her face for the spines of the cacti, deciding to ignore them for now. She could hardly see, had nothing to remove them with and her hooves had begun trembling from the adrenaline dump. Ash contained her pain and kept moving, following the night sky – and using the northern Star as her guide.

Author's Note

Updated 05/11/2020

3. Desert Storm

Day 1
I have started to write in this diary, for fear I shall not survive the coming journey. I am approximately five days travel from a trading outpost on the border. From there I can travel into Mulico and lay low for a while.

The sun had risen a few hours earlier and she needed to conserve water, luckily Ash had found an ancient overturned cart and now was laying down beneath. She had a bottle of posh Whiskey and after gulping some down, she used the glass end as a mirror. Carving a pair of thin chopsticks from the cart, Ash winced as the first thorn was pulled from below her right eye. The swelling had gone down, but it was still very tender.

There were five more arrayed under that same eye, with maybe forty others around her face. The few embedded in her fetlocks had dropped off during the trot from the canyon. She’d taken enough food and water for three days, and already used close to two days worth. Food wasn’t such an issue as it was water. Without it, she’d die. Ash knew little about the desert and so wasn’t entirely sure she could make it. The rationing would be difficult, and the sun would only worsen things.

Her wings were badly burned with welts and blisters covering every inch of the once leathery flesh, which was now charred and crispy. She would need a doctor, but for now, she would remove the thorns and then try to sleep. Not looking forward to what she had planned come sundown. Sundown, she thought with a grimace. Already she was desperately thirsty and the tiny sip she allowed herself to take barely made any difference.

Although the temperature had chilled significantly, it was still fairly warm as the very last ounces of daylight fought the ever-darkening skies. Ash picked up her gear and moved on achy legs further south. Her face was sore and any movement such as blinking or simply looking about herself caused twinges of pain. The saddlebag strap across her back rubbed into her wings and nudged them as she walked. The pain was flaring again the longer she went on. Hours seemed to go by, feeling like an eternity.

Ash stopped halfway over a small berm, catching a moment to capture her bearings and take another sip of water. She had whiskey for the pain but knew it would act as a diuretic and subsequently drain her of precious hydrating fluid. The horizon held no signs of help, she hadn’t expected to travel this far south and so her map only covered the areas of southern Equestria, yet not this part. Carrying onward despite the discomfort, she thought for the first time since her self-served departure about her family.

Her mother and father would surely be shocked by her newest life choice if indeed they even knew. They always had been stuck up old-fashioned morons as far as Ash was concerned. Too unadventurous to try and get them and their children out of their destitute life. Both had been in the home-guard, and during her mother’s multiple pregnancies she was forced to work as a cleaner in the upper districts, making a pittance for hours of cleaning. Cleaning for the Batican City elite, who wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire.

The state of society in the Thestral and the greater Equestrian world was a botched and entirely unfair system. The one per cent held over ninety per cent of the wealth and land, with only places further into the more wild south and west offering a chance at a more self-sufficient life. Growing up her family had never had a lot of money, a fact compounded by the more children her parents kept having. She didn’t understand when she herself was a Filly, but they should have stopped at one or two. Not the twelve they had.

Two years ago, after Ash’s youngest sister Grey Bean was born, her mother had returned to active service. Barely a week later and both her parents had been killed by tribals. Ash had been fifteen, and so had her identification forged so she could get into the Territorial Guard Reserve a year early. By this stage three of her siblings had been killed, and two more had died of disease.

Grey Bean and the five others, Cinders, Dark Clod, Bitter Cloud, Bark and Cold Weather remained in their parents' tiny shack in Batican City’s slum district. She hadn’t seen any of them for her two year reserve period, but her older brother Cinders wrote to her almost every month. She didn’t reply, but the letters kept coming. She expected by now they would think her killed.

This thought hadn’t concerned her before, she’d wanted nothing more than to leave home and start a new life and live it her way. But now she felt guilt. Guilt because she hadn’t managed to fare any better than her parents, at least they had a home and managed to maintain some stability. And despite all their flaws, she knew they loved them all. She remembered when two of her brother’s had died in a tunnel collapse – as miners.

Her mother had cried for hours and Ash, as a child, didn’t know how to help – but wanted to make the pain go away. Somewhere along the way her frustration and anger had materialised and she blamed her parents for all of it. Maybe it was just her being a stupid kid, which she almost still was. She paused again to have another sip, a few hours passing since the last. Her legs were weak and she herself felt entirely out of power.

Just over the next hill, she lied to herself and continued to push on for the remainder of the night until the first strands of daylight stemmed up behind her. Mixing white and sepia with the black and grey of the previous evening.

Day 2
My first all-nighter march and even after several hours of patchy sleep I feel like a runny shit. I think my wings are a lost cause, the pain is not as bad tonight but I feel numbness and tingling. I think if I can't get the blood circulating or if I get gangrene – it could be the beginning of the end. I just need to get out of this godforsaken desert.

She didn’t dare move her wings, the once thick and beautiful bat appendages now looked as shrivelled as over-boiled cabbage. She had her head craned around and while trembling with the last half bottle of whiskey in her mouth, splashed copious amounts over the affected wings. She hissed through the bottle clenched in her teeth and shut her eyes as they teared up.

She leaned in once she’d regained her composition and sniffed her wings. The burned and charred flesh looked awful but thankfully did not smell foul. Which meant no infection hopefully, Ash only knew basic first aid. Next, she lifted them off her back and looped her saddlebags carefully underneath. She removed another fine handkerchief from her knapsack and spread it underneath her wings between the leather of her saddlebags. She sighed as the discomfort dissipated ever so slightly.

A wind had picked up tonight and the moon had finally appeared as a splinter of silver. The crescent showing signs of the banished princess across its surface. The topic of Princess Luna was a hot one amongst Thestrian rulership, some praised her and stood behind her, others sided with her solar sister and backed the decision of punishment by temporary exile.

Ash didn’t really have an opinion on the matter, she knew the tale – all Thestrals did. They had a statue of her memory in her school that they all used to touch for good luck while some Thestrals offered up prayers. But putting that aside, it had been a few hundred years since she had left. The once proud, unified and equal Thestral-kind had been reduced to squabbling nobles, disagreeing military leaders and impudent kings. It was, Ash reckoned, because of Luna’s disappearance that her life was the way it was.

There was a flash of light ahead and although too late to really process it, Ash threw herself to the ground. Then hissed and cursed herself for being lost in thought. It came from the air, she crawled over the coarse sand and wedged herself in a little recess at the edge of a patch of cacti. There it was again, now just a shimmering glint but it was there. Somepony on the ground.

She remained very still, listening and watching. Trying to catch any scent on the wind, or any sound from the horizon.
Time passed and she considered what to do, already she was beginning to shake from the cold. Not having enough food to eat the day before during her sleeping period meant she was low on calories. There was a sharp note from above her, not wanting to give herself away she remained in place.

Entering her peripheral vision there was a V formation of ponies. Probably Thestrals from their size and flight speed. They cruised above and then split off in pairs to spread out over a greater distance with the pair on the ground rising to do the same. No doubt searching for her. Had they done so only thirty seconds earlier, she probably would have been caught.

She crept along, the landscape shifting from arid rocky crevices to a more flat open sand. There were dunes. She’d officially entered the desert that spanned west from Southern Equestria to the coast near the Gryphon Port town of Aylesbury. If she pushed through the desert south enough, she’d stumble into the Mulican Peninsula and from there on to Mulico city. Equestrian Law had no jurisdiction there so she’d be relatively safe. Of course, there were yellow-maned savages and Mulican outlaws to contend with. The south was a rough place, Ash just hoped it didn't chew her up and spit her out.

There was a seventy mile stretch of barren sand between here and there, but that was fine. A thirty mile a day pace would see her there okay and hopefully in time to not have died of dehydration. The hours stretched on and the wind only became more intense. Strong gusts blasted sand clouds high into the air, occasionally sprinkling her with grains of it like a wave at a beach.

She’d gotten so much in her eyes she could feel a crust start to form. Heavy cloud cover had started to form and despite her hearing the southern sands only having rain once every few years, it was looking more and more like a good shower was on its way.

The moonlight flitted through the cloud cover, the slim rays like sunlight underwater. They painted eerie shadows across the sand. And even with her decent nocturnal vision, her mind was playing tricks on her. More than once she rounded a dune, careful to stay low so as not to silhouette herself to any pursuing law, and found herself facing ten pony-shaped shadows.

Only for the light to shift and it was revealed to be her imagination. From the moon’s subtle shift in position, she estimated it to have been three hours since entering the desert proper and paused to have a short rest in a particularly deep pit between three sandy hills. She drank some water and ate some bread. Actually, she sucked on the bland provisions since they were rock-solid. She only had enough water for a few more sips, she needed to conserve it. Afterwards, and ignoring her unquenchable thirst and insatiable appetite, Ash slogged on. Dragging her hooves through the sand as if made of concrete.

Day 3
Time is starting to blur. No sooner had I rested and eaten than the sun seemed to rise, yet it should have been several hours of darkness to go.

The wind punished me all night and I slept very little, my wings feel better and moving them slightly to promote blood flow was not too painful. The day is overcast and as it ends I shall continue moving south. I spotted law ponies last night, and again this morning. I am worried, I feel as if the noose is tightening.

Rain, it had started raining and after a gradual increase into a downpour, it was now torrential. Having never left the outskirts of Batican City and spending most of her life underground, the only rain Ash had ever really seen was in the far mountains to the north. The clouds and shadows as the rain flowed were replaced by water in places deep enough to swim in.

Ash couldn’t fly and so was relegated to sticking to the higher parts of the dune trails. Thunder rumbled and lightning forks pierced the air. She was soaked through, the rain was cold and the wind chilled her to the bone. Grumbling as she skidded over wet sand, the sand itself not absorbing the water quick enough and so the lower channels, ditches and lakebeds were filling up fast. Another lightning flash revealed that a flat plane ahead was completely submerged. The black water swelled, swirling strong and violent.

Another lightning strobe sent a long prong of electrical energy into the water not too far from her. She heard it crackle and a small amount of vapour flashed before dissipating. What she had thought of as a set of sand dunes was actually a riverbed. Even now she could see the wall of water twenty feet high rushing through its far end, engulfing everything in its path.

A panicked gargling sound shot out of her mouth and she turned back the way she’d come. Only to see a landslide of sand and mud churning away at the path she’d just used. Steering herself around, she darted down and over a mound of sand that collapsed as soon as she touched it. Struggling through the morass of water and sand she all but hauled herself along the dirt up the adjacent mound to temporary safety.

The wind howled and kicked up waves of water, the rain continued to fall in sheets as thick as glass. The veritable river of water flowed over the land and ebbed at her heels, Ash scurried and tripped over herself as the water caught up to her.
She felt the freezing and tumultuous water stream over her and suddenly she was submerged by it. She thrashed and kicked to try and surface as her lungs began to ache under the pressure. Still underwater, she was dragged by the fast-moving undercurrents along a rocky sand bed.

She hit her head on something as she was cartwheeled around. As she was flailed her rear hooves touched something solid – and with a single powerful kick, her head came bursting from the topwater. She coughed and spluttered as her body was forced back under, again and again, bobbing along she occasionally brushed against something here or there.

Deadwood sailed past and a little way off, briefly illuminated by a flash of lightning, Ash saw the outline of an uprooted tree. It turned and rocked as it was dragged along, the water around it leaving wake trails that buffeted her even further.
Thunder clapped and the vibrations shook her thoroughly. She kicked and swam, the distress making her wheeze and cry since the tree neither distanced itself nor became closer.

Her wings had unfurled unconsciously and although it should have hurt she noted no such agony, her adrenaline likely masking it. Continually she swam through the black River that swirled and eddied around her, pulling her and twisting her.
She had completely lost her sense of direction and was almost considering giving up, such was the fatigue placed on her body, when she smashed painfully into the uprooted tree.

The branches snapped as she scrabbles to find purchase, she wrapped her forehooves around the thickest part and clasped on for dear life. While she rocked and swayed with the tumbling motion of the tree, she occasionally had to reposition so as not to drown. With difficulty, she worked on pulling herself up, yet the tree only rolled as she tried. Ultimately, it seemed to level out and she was able to get most of the way out of the water.

Ash was completely exhausted, the rain continued in earnest but the thunder and lightning display started to clear off. She rested for a while with her upper body wedged uncomfortably between the spikey tree branches. Even in the darkness, she caught glimpses of movement in the water, the current pulling all sorts of debris in the form of driftwood and trees.

Considering she was in the desert she didn’t know where they’d been pulled up from but was nonetheless grateful. She uncharacteristically offered a small prayer to the goddess of the moon, Princess Luna. Ash took in several breaths and started to pull herself fully across the log. It began turning but she countered it using her weight. She needed to stabilise her new raft and dug into her saddlebags for anything of use. Finding a small length of thin rope, her good rope was dropped following her escape, she had left it tied to Colter back at the camp.

She made a loop and used her teeth to pull it tight into a short lasso. It wasn’t able to be pulled taught, but she could throw it around something and drag it her way. She moved to straddle the log, her rear legs dangled in the water as the current calmed a little, it was like being in the middle of the ocean. On the horizon, lightning flashed and coursed, like blood through veins – pulsing as if to an imaginary heartbeat.

She looked around her, hearing something solid connect with something else a few feet from her. Taking a gamble she tossed the rope out across the water. It draped over something that was floating a little ahead of her and being pulled away by the current. She reeled on the rope and it snagged on something. She pulled, slowly tugging the debris closer.

Ash reeled hard and fast. Hoof over hoof, pulling it closer. It touched the far end of her tree and seemed to tangle on the branches. She let it drift off slightly and then used her other foreleg to push against the current and gently rotate the log. And then she pulled it in again, this time it met her tree side-by-side. A little smaller, but it would do for a start.

Carefully she used her unsheathed sabre to loop the rope around the equally spiny tree and tie them together. Her issue was she now had no more rope. Although the two logs together were infinitely more stable, they were wildly uncomfortable.
She had a file in her pack and began the long process of removing some of the worst little branches between the two trees.

It took some doing, but she now had a small pocket to sit in. The trees were ropey, as they must have been alive when uprooted. Sawing the branches off was a time-consuming process and her grip began to waiver. Giving up after getting the file lodged in a thick branch, she curled up uncomfortably – being careful of her wings and promptly entered the world of unconsciousness.

Author's Note

Updated 05/11/2020

5. Tourist Trap

After marching about ten miles, Ash had placed her saddlebags in a pit nestled between a triangle-shaped boulder and a dead scrub. It was still dark but despite that she didn’t want to risk getting spotted if it there turned out to be Thestral law at this marker.

She’d belly crawled west for five minutes, hugging the terrain while stopping every once in a while to listen. Finally, she broke the summit of a mesa that overlooked a dried lake plateau. It was a village alright, barely. But something was happening. The village, if it could be called that, had five small huts around a larger central townhouse.

They had a tall metal wind pump and a few cables suspended on poles that led from the tower to each building. Whoever the inhabitants were, they appeared to be in trouble. Tables and chairs had been used to barricade the town and a pen outside the village had three dead cows inside.

A dozen raiders of some kind were whirling around waving torches, firing arrows and generally trying to break through to the village’s occupants. It was hard to understand from this distance, but it looked like twice as many ponies stood behind the barriers brandishing brooms, shovels and the occasional knife.

Ash had patrolled much of western Thestria with the Guard and it was always the same. If you had a trickle of water and some geothermal power, there was always some asshole who wanted to kill you for it. Ash was no hero in her mind. But if she could help turn the tide, maybe the ponies would be grateful. Maybe they’d chuck a little coin her way.

She watched for a time. Neither side gained an advantage. But then with a whooping cry from the raider’s leader, they turned and barrelled away toward Ash. Shit. If they spot me I’m as good as dead.

Ash backtracked, slipping into a crevice and pulling a scrub down to cover her. Hoof-falls beat the ground as the raiders passed by a few feet from her, torchlight casting wild shadows all-around before fading. Her heart hammered in her ears. The hoof-beats subsided and she chanced a look around. All clear. She noted.

She’d never be able to take them all out on her own and while the getting was good she moved on the town. The area around the village displayed evidence of fighting, there were dried blood pools, drag marks and hoofprints. The villagers tensed up as she charged across the open lakebed, emerging from the darkness to the perimeter. As she neared a harsh female voice called “That’s far enough!”

Ash stopped a few body lengths from the makeshift fence. A dusty white grimace emerged between two of the tables. Cast in shadows, her puffed-up blue eyes were framed with a bright scarlet fringe. “We don’t want whatever you’re here for missy. Y'all best turn around and head back the way ya came,” the red-headed pony said with a southern drawl.

Ash kept her hooves away from her weapon. “I need your help, and you need mine. Let me in before they come back and we can talk about it.”

The mare’s eyes narrowed shrewdly, “ah’ don’t reckon we will. We can talk plenty right here.”

Ash took a chance in drawing her sabre and the few eyes that looked on widened with fear. She tossed the blade to the ground by the tables. “I mean you no harm, honestly. Take my weapon and let me in.”

The grimace softened into consideration. She backed off and a few voices all whispered harshly.

“It could be a trap! What if she’s trying to lure us out?” one cautioned.

“I don’t think so, she’s not dressed like them.” another reasoned.

Silence for a few beats. “What’re you thinkin' Red?” the first voice asked.

There was stillness. Ash was starting to wonder if disarming herself had been wise. But then the red-head emerged more openly into view. She wore dark leather overalls and had a kitchen knife in one hoof. With care, she picked up the surrendered sabre. The mare rotated it around to appraise it before levelling it at Ash.

“Come on, git inside,” she offered reluctantly, with a flick of the sabre.

Ash moved slowly and deliberately, not wanting to startle anypony into doing something stupid. She passed the barricade into the village. A dozen weary and dirty faces greeted her. None of them offered any resistance, they weakly clutched their farming tools and cleaning equipment-turned weaponry. Once the red-head had entered the tables were drawn together. Ash was effectively sealed inside the village.

“Folks call me Red, who are you?” Red asked.

“Ash,” she said. Waiting before saying more to get a feel on their intentions.

“What do you want?” The first speaker, an older stallion with a pipe stuck in his mouth asked.

“To help you help yourselves.” Ash looked around. “I need medicine and I need to get to Mulico.”

“We haven’t got any medicine. None to share with strangers anyhow,” Red stated testily.

“And,” said the pipe smoker, “Mulico’s full of crime. What sort of bad stuff are you mixed up with, filly?”

Ash ignored the query, “how about a meal, some water and a bed for a day if I help you chase off these assholes?”

Red, the pipe smoker and another young mare with wide brown eyes all exchanged glances. Red nodded and looked curiously at Ash. “What do you suggest we do?” Red asked, returning the sabre back to Ash.

“Firstly,” she took the weapon, “tell me about the raiders.”

Red led Ash further into the village. There were ponies on watch positions around the barricade, armed only with a torch and hope. “It started a week ago,” Red began. “Couple fellers shows up, saying this was their turf and to pay them for protection.”

The brown-eyed mare was following behind Ash, and she hadn’t taken her eyes off of her the entire time. Ash tried to ignore it. “Then a few days later, a whole bunch of em come round threatening the place. So we gathered what we could to defend ourselves. But they cleared off once we stood up to em. Thought we wouldn’t see anymore of em.”

Red walked up the two steps into a raised shack on the eastern side of town. The lakebed stretched on seemingly to the infinite. The dark was swallowing anything a few feet past the shack’s lakeside exterior.

Ash walked in next closely followed by the brown-eyed mare. The room was basic, a few cots stacked on one side, a table with an oil lamp and another cot with an occupant. Two dirty young fillies sat on either side of the cot. The stallion inside had a cloth covering his head, redness staining the material. He also had a wound on his torso which looked to still be bleeding. His breath was slow and wheezy.

“Last night they came through. I had a couple of ponies on lookout. Now they’re buried around back. They took two of our mares, poor Gust here got his scalp taken, but we got some of them as well. Few hours ago they came and dragged theirs off and been harassing us since before you showed up.”

Ash watched as Red lit a rolled cigarette. She exhaled through her nose and lifted the bandage on the top of Gust's head, her eyebrows drooped and she let it drop back down.

“Can’t stop the bleeding, don’t suppose y’all know any medicine? Our doc was one of them mares that got took.”

Ash waited while she stared at Gust’s wheezing form. Brown eyes, Red and the children all looked at her with hopeful optimism. Ash had spent time near Vareville. The area was plagued with tribes and raider gangs and scalping was a signature tactic amongst the varied groups. Ashes medical knowledge wasn’t exceptional, yet she had watched intently as a doctor from the area had treated some of her unit.

He had claimed persistently that the two best treatment methods were magical regeneration and pegging, or boring small holes in the skull. And neither was painful until the new tissue attached to the uninjured scalp. Ash stepped close and lifted the bandage to take a sniff: coppery but not foul.

“Okay,” Ash said, “first things first, take any knives you have and tie them to the ends of broomsticks, hoes or shovel handles you have. Spread your ponies out evenly and set up lookout times. Make sure some of them are sleeping and eating, or you’ll run out of juice.”

Red turned to brown eyes, who was still intently watching Ash, “Lilly, go to Ol' Custer and tell him what she said.”

Lilly left after nodding eagerly, casting a waning glance back at Ash as she did so.

“She’s got a staring problem,” Ash said.

Red frowned, “and what are we doing?” She asked hotly.

Ash looked at the two children, “I need these two to get a pail of clean hot water, a couple bottles of whiskey and I’ll need some fine tools; tweezers, an awl or drill – anything. A sewing kit and a clean towel or two and clean bandages, or some bedsheets to wrap his head once I’m done.”

The kids looked to Red with wide eyes. Red simply swished her head for the door, “go on,” and they both scurried out.

Ash removed her harness, her water bladder, belt and leather vest. There was a dirty mirror with a crack in it and she got a good look at herself for the first time in a while.

She looked sordid. Her fur was clumped in some areas and patchy in others. Her wings looked god-awful, the feathers and fur around her back had been scorched black. They were fleshy and crusty at the moment. She wasn’t terribly worried, a good doctor and a few weeks Rest and Relaxation on a hot Mulico beach would set her right.

One of the fillies returned with the handle of a pail of steamy water in her mouth. She dropped it unceremoniously, water sloshed around and splattered on the dusty floor. Ash cleared herself some space as the child fled to fetch more items on Ashes list. She placed the two stools together and sat with her rear legs wide for balance.

She pulled the pail forward and began to clean off her hooves and gave her neck and face a good scrub as well. The water was quite hot but oh so nice. It hurt as it dribbled over her sensitive wings, so she was careful not to over expose them to the water. A few minutes passed as the two children gathered her specified items. She had an awl, a sewing kit, a few different sizes of tweezers, two bottles of whiskey and a pair of stained, yet clean smelling, pillowcases.

She took a shaky breath, “okay. Here we go...”

Ash started by removing the stained and dirty bandage and pouring some whiskey over the Pony’s scalp. They jerked as their pain receptors briefly fired off, but they didn’t stir out of unconsciousness. She began with the awl, using forceful little motions to bore small holes in the skull.

She was careful not to go all the way through, she had gathered how to do this simply from observations, so who knew what complications could arise. After close to an hour of carefully drilling holes, she sat back to appraise it. The skin from around the ears had been removed all the way to the forehead, and down to the base of the skull. The skull itself was showing, with the new holes seeping cloudy red liquid.

Ash used a pillowcase to dab at the seeping holes. Essentially this practise would cause the growth of new capillaries and form scar tissue thus providing the area with a rich blood supply. Ash adjusted herself so she could work more comfortably around the stallions midsection.

She lifted the padded material across his chest and had to shut her eyes to avoid physically recoiling. The stallion had suffered multiple machete wounds. She feared improper treatment might kill him. The gashes and cuts ran deep and crisscrossed between his front legs.

The overlapping nature of the wounds was preventing them from clotting very well. Ash unfolded the sewing kit, taking the single dull needle and holding it over the flame of an oil lamp for several seconds.

Once it had air-cooled she threaded the needle with some cotton thread and began stitching. She started by dousing the cuts in whiskey, then working with a large cluster of five crisscrossing injuries. It was very untidy, his flesh bulged between the stitches but she'd sealed the largest wound. Next, Ash spent several minutes working from under his leg pit and down his side to below his ribcage.

"I can't see shit," Ash said irritatedly.

Red helped by holding an oil lamp, while one of the fillies held a little mirror to reflect more of the light. It was hot and cramped and she was sweating profusely. Finally, she was finished. Ash was by no means a doctor and she had only been taught basic first aid. But she had to admit the work she'd done wasn't basic and internally she congratulated herself.

She handed the pillowcase to one of the fillies, “just keep a close eye on him. If he wakes up don’t let him touch his head.”

She spoke to Red directly, “over the next few months, as long as his head doesn’t get infected, he should grow new skin. And eventually, his mane might even grow back!”

Red looked critically at Ash’s work. The small holes were darkening as time went on. Surely it was a good sign if what the surgeon in Vareville said was to be believed. She used the remaining lukewarm water to re-clean her hooves and gave her neck and face another splash. Red followed Ash outside. The night air was cold, but soothing to her wings. Clouds were rising above them, and evermore frequently one might glimpse the star-studded sky. Looking as sugar spilt over black marble.

“We need to organise. They’ll be back, probably at sun-up,” Ash said suddenly.

“Well, the only ones who can fight is you an' me. Now granted Custer can handle himself I guess. But the rest of these guys are farmers and miners. Ain’t even held a sword before!”

Ash frowned, “alright, I’m thinking. Tell me what you’ve got here that we can use in a fight?”

Reds face twisted and her eyes rolled exaggeratedly, “ooh why don’t I take you by the armoury and y’all can pick out whatcha like? Dumbass, we barely have a pot to piss in!” Red spat to further display her frustration.

Ash hummed, “dynamite?” She asked.

“A few sticks,” Red replied nastily.

“Setting an ambush seems easiest.”

“With the two of us?” Red scoffed. “The other night when they came there must’ve been close to thirty of em. Not sure why they don’t just roll over us, it’s not like we can offer much of a fight.”

“No, it’s not,” ash allowed. “Let’s hope when they come back it’s all of them. That way we can take them out in one blow.”

“’Take them out?!’” Red parroted, “I just wanted you to scare em off!”

Ash leaned in close, “don’t be a fool! Only way stop em is to kill em all!”

Reds gaze was as sharp as daggers, “you’re gonna get us all killed!”

“No,” Ash said with vindication, “trust me, this will work.”

Reds gaze softened a fraction. From fatigue or frustration, Ash wasn’t certain.

“So you reckon the two of us and a few sticks o' dynamite can take these fellers down?”

"Oh," Ash grinned like a predator, "I reckon we can Red."

Author's Note

Updated 06/11/20

6. Ghost Town Sword Fight

The sky was coloured a light yolk-orange with streaks of yellow and white. It was early morning and although still gloomy the heat had returned with a vengeance. The clouds above, while spread across the skyline, were wispy and failed to offer any protection from the rising sun.

She ran through the plan again in her head. Of the remaining forty settlers and miners only six had offered to help, the rest remained huddled behind the town’s makeshift walls. Red, Lilly and herself were stood between the town and the rising hillside where the bandits had fled to, where Custer and six villagers were waiting out-of-sight armed with crude spears.

A wind picked up for a second, carrying the sound of stampeding. They looked left and right, waiting tensely for the coming fight. Over the hillside far to the right came two dozen ponies. They wore studded leather and wielded fascine knives. Ash looked at Red and Lilly. Their eyes and stance were wide, they breathed heavily. Likely every instinct telling them to flee. She saw Lilly’s brown eyes look to her and she nodded in reassurance.

“We can do this,” Ash said. “Stick to the plan and it’ll work out fine.”

The twenty or so bandits, all male, approached in a spread-out mass. One of the larger ones skipped ahead and stopped abruptly someway between the three mares and the vicious-looking raiders. “We done told ya the first time Red, pay up and we’ll leave ya alone!” The speakers face was clay-white with dark tan leathers covering his entire body. Ash wasn’t sure how he could wear it all, she was boiling in only minimal leather.

“This is your only chance,” Ash spoke confidently, “leave this place, or die.” Her tone was casual but her voice carried far and wide.

The stallion chuckled, looking back at his posse who jeered and yelled, “kill that bitch, Lich!”

'Lich' pulled a wavy-shaped sword as long as his body and began bounding toward them. Ash had her sabre out and stalked low to meet him. His gang cheered and screamed like a crowd at a street fight. He neared and took a big winding swing. She easily stepped back and then leapt forward, she held her sabre in a reverse-inside grip, then lashed out and chopped his legs out from under him.

Thestrian steel was really something. She’d sharpened the weapon all morning in anticipation and to help her stay distracted. The blade cut cleanly through his front legs just below the knees. His momentum carried him into the dirt head-first as he cartwheeled over once and lay on his side. And then the screaming started. So awful and desperate that it made her chest tighten. He shrieked and shrieked until his voice sounded hoarse.

Ash gripped the sabre tightly and aimed it between his eyes. In a single thrust, the shrieking stopped. The silence that followed was decidedly worse. The remaining bandits had hushed but it was only time before they exploded into violence.

Phase two, Ash reminded herself. She looked back at Red and nodded grimly. Red jammed a hoof in her mouth and gave off the loudest whistle Ash had ever heard and stepped forward to join her. Ash had gifted Red her spare sabre while Lilly rushed back at full-tilt.

The bandits began to whirl and hop about angrily, shouting amongst themselves as they tried to create order. Who would lead them now? Who would handle this Thestral mare? A pair of the more courageous ones zipped from their lines, spurring the others on as well. In an instant, twenty angry stallions were barrelling towards them.

“Get back, get back!” Ash yelled as she and Red moved toward the town.

Once the first stallion had reached her he swung wildly with his smaller blade, she parried and thrust her sabre for his throat. His neck burst as blood spurted from his exposed jugular almost five feet to the side. He collapsed and she continued to backpedal.

A group of half a dozen split off at the rear of the group and moved around to take a shot at the town itself. A raider sprinted forward and tried to bulrush Red. She yelled as she exchanged a few sloppy blows with the larger pony. She was caught in the shoulder and went flying back to create some distance. Ash drifted her way as they retreated. The pony blanched at her appearance, she could move far more quickly and with greater strength than her Equestrian counterparts.

He jabbed at her desperately and she moved inside his swipe. She felt the blade skit across the leather on her flank. He wasn’t a pushover and used his height advantage to deliver a crushing headbutt. She absorbed the strike and while dazed shot back with a jumping headbutt of her own. His legs wobbled and she used her sabre to draw a line across his throat.

He went down with a gurgle and she doubled back as fast as she could whilst still facing the bandits. Yells and shouts erupted from the town as the bandits reached the perimeter. Chancing a glance, she saw a dirty raider stallion slumped over one of the walls with a spear in his ribcage, while the others were held at bay by the defenders.

The remaining bandits were almost on top of her now, from over the miasma of dirty faces she could see Custer leading some villagers down to the rear of the bandits. It was time. “Lilly!” Red yelled as if she had read Ash’s mind.

There was a delay as time seemed to slow. The raiders were seconds from smashing into Red and Ash. So numerous that she doubted she could get more than two or three before she was overwhelmed.

Lilly was on the plunger, wires barely hidden in the sand led to the towns two sticks of dynamite. Duel explosions detonated from underneath the middle of the raider gang. Those close to it were blown to bits in an instant as the whumf of the blast hit them. Many of the others were hurled to the ground or chucked into the air before landing again heavily.

Ash didn’t mess around, she dived forward into the dust as debris and chunks of rock and flesh rained down. The first stallion she found was on his hooves. His leathers were dusty and his eyes wide with shock. He’d lost his weapon and didn’t offer any resistance as she quickly killed him.

Two more were on the ground and still moving, she dispatched them as well – Lilly and Red followed her into the field of bodies. Custer and the villagers with him moved in from the back, they obviously weren’t used to the violence as they moved languidly with slack-jawed expressions.

By this stage a few of them had recovered enough to stand and fight. She estimated over half had been killed or wounded in the blast. She’d killed their leader and two others, plus three just now. Five ponies gathered up and moved back-to-back. They looked around worriedly at the carnage.

Ash and Red moved as if one mind controlled them both, they stood menacingly frontward of the bandit survivors. The five that remained eyed the mares cautiously, they seemed unwilling to move in any single direction.

“Surrender peacefully and you’ll be tried for your crimes,” Ash offered reluctantly.

“No way mare!” One of them shouted back, “tell yer friends to back off and we’ll leave all peaceful like.”

Ash looked at Red, “it’s your call. What do you want to do?”

Lilly joined them and together they watched the gathered bandits. Ash again looked at Red but her eyes simply followed the bodies from one onto the next. Finally, she breathed deeply and looked at the survivors with a harsh and hard gaze.

“Drop your steel and clear off. Y’all can take one sword with you, but if I ever see you round this way again, it’s gonna get ugly.”

They chatted amongst themselves. The speaker from before seemed angry at their defeat. If he wanted to fight Ash would remove his head in a second. He looked back them hotly, seeming to struggle with what to say, “fine. We’ll go.”

They tossed their weapons to the ground, some more reluctantly than others. The speaker shoved his fascine knife through a loop in his belt and led the rest away with a passing sneer.

“Thank you,” Red said at length.

“You’re welcome,” Ash replied. She hadn’t considered it before, but there was a small amount of satisfaction in helping others, something she hadn't experienced being forced to work for the booze barons of the Thestral world. Maybe being a criminal degenerate wasn’t for her. She supposed she wouldn’t know until she got to Mulico.

The day had begun. Not more than an hour after the skirmish and the sun was on the rise, high into the air. The heat broiled the last vestiges of water vapour from the sky, leaving nothing but crystal blue as far as you could see. It was hot. The sun on her wings starting to irritate her, she hadn’t noticed before but they were becoming more and more sensitive.

The township had fended off the six stallions that had rounded on them and tried to bust their way inside. Their bodies had been dragged into the desert along with the others. Several of the villagers were busy carving out a hole big enough to dump all the corpses. Disease and infection were a real risk, especially in this heat. They were already starting to swell.

“What will you do now?” Lilly asked. The first time she had spoken yet. Ash sniffed as she watched the sky, feeling good about tomorrow for the first time in a while. “I’d like to stay here for a few days. I need to rest a bit and I can help in case they come back.” Reds eyes remained hard and Ash could see the cogs turning in her head.

“You can have two days. We can’t afford another mouth to feed,” she said after a few beats.

“I just saved your shithole town,” Ash shot back hotly.

Red took a step forward, “you’re lucky ah’m affordin’ you that much.”

“What?” Red asked rhetorically at Ash’s frown, “Y’all think I’m an idiot? A mare comes high-tailin’ out of tha’ desert. Begging to help us while on her way to Mulico?” Ash blinked and relaxed, she shouldn’t have been surprised. Speech notwithstanding Red was obviously not a complete moron.

“Those wings’a yours were torched by a darned unicorn. Ain’t none of them around this way, cept’ for law ponies.” She tossed the sabre to the ground at Ash's hooves.

“But she did help us, Red!” Lilly said suddenly. Her voice was deep and sounded perpetually hoarse.

“Well in that case,” she said dramatically, “she can bunk with you. You got the space since the sisters got took. Two. Days.”

Lilly and Ash shared an uncomfortable glance while Red sauntered off toward the gravesite. The mare was too soft looking for frontier life in Ash’s opinion, although Equestrian mares often looked to her like they belonged in the finest clothes in their shiny capital. She had a light brown coat that was a shade lighter than her auburn mane and tail. Her chocolate eyes unnerved Ash, although she’d never admit it.

“Come along then, I’ll show you where home is,” Lilly said and made for the town.

Ash followed after casting a look at the haul of corpses being ferried into their final resting point. She spat and then took a swig of water. It wasn’t long before she was standing inside Lilly’s accommodation.

It was a simple one-room shack on stilts as tall as a pony. The steps were made of clay bricks, unlike the other homes which had wooden stairs. There were some flowers in little pots hidden just under the structure, water lilies. Inside there were four beds, although three remained spartan while one had some personal items around it.

“That one’s yours,” she said softly.

Lilly hovered around the far bed, seemingly saddened by simply being near it. There was a small frame with a picture that was obscured by Lilly’s shoulder. Ash ignored the mare and spying a bent nail just off to the side, she hung her spare sabre from it.

“I’m going to get my pack,” she said as she left. Lilly did not reply.

Ash passed through the small village. The two dozen huts of various sizes had been added one by one, she could tell. Probably as and when they needed more beds. It was a simple set up, a wind pump brought up groundwater. And a dry steam pump was giving the place a small amount of power. She hadn’t noted any electrical lights last night, but maybe they were having issues. She knew geothermal power was a very new technology. Ponies feared magic would go the way of the wendigo. Ash wasn’t so certain.

She had walked on flat, cracked ground until the edge of the plateau began to shift into craggy hills. She slowly made her way up the side, careful not to slip. Ash didn’t necessarily get lost – but it took longer than she would have liked to find and recover her saddle bags. Everything was in order.

Ash returned to the town. She took the wrong approach and ended up winding along a crevice that was double her height. She emerged from the end and then scampered back. Thesrtals. Law ponies, at least ten.

What were they doing here? She thought with irritation. Probably attracted by the dynamite.

They’d landed at the towns northern side, adjacent to the grave. She kept low and kept her ears and eyes up. Last thing she needed was her cover blown. Half of them stalked the area around the work detail who had almost finished with the bodies. A pair of them had walked inside the town she could see, and were talking with Red.

Ash settled in for the long haul. She had no water or food with her, so this could be a problem. She hoped they would leave soon. Her eyesight was good, but she couldn’t make out every detail, or hear much beyond the occasional murmur.

Some of the Thestrals began searching the homes. The villagers looked on sadly. The leader said something to Red, Ash saw her shake her head. Was she about to be sold out?

There was a commotion inside Lilly’s home. The leader and another Thestral neared the home as Lilly was sent flying through the doorway. A large law pony emerged, with Ash’s sabre held proudly for all to see.

Shit.

The leader approached menacingly. Even from here Ash could tell Lilly had broken down in fear. He took the offered sabre from the other Thestral and examined it. He turned the blade over and then he used the back edge to strike Lilly across the head.

Lilly let out a pained yelp. There were shouts from Red and the others and a few of them moved to help. The leader whistled sharply and all of his Thestrals drew their steel and stood off with the villagers.

A horn was sounded by one of them, with a series of notes returning from far away. They held an exchange over a few minutes. She understood what was happening, those were directional bleats. The Thestral leader next to Lilly barked something loudly, but it didn’t quite reach Ash's ears.

It wasn’t long. Ten minutes Ash figured. The townsfolk had been corralled into a huddle just outside the walls. The Thestrals waited around menacingly. Their predatory bearing just daring any pony to step out of line.

Another pair of horn blasts came from behind her and she tried even harder to become one with the earth. A single beat came from the town. Moments later a long dark chariot swept in overhead. It glided silently, two pairs of Thestral escorts moving down with it. Landing outside the town, several ponies disembarked. It was him, the pony from before at the camp.

What was his name? She asked herself. Agent Bucksaw, she remembered with a hateful expression.

There was a unicorn with him as well, the same one who had burned her. What she would give to see him on the end of her blade. The agent spoke with the Thestral commander. It seemed so cordial, completely at odds with the energy of the townsfolk. Bucksaw stood near the ponies. He was speaking to them but Ash couldn’t hear what he was saying. Red was talking now, her slight accent just about reaching her. The fact that they weren’t tearing their way towards her led her to believe they were trying to lie to him or send him off the wrong way.

She couldn’t tell if he was buying it. He was talking again, the commander as well. The three of them had a little back and forth. Lilly added something and they all faced her. She wilted a bit, even from this distance Ash could see her ears fold flat.

Agent Bucksaw said something again, and one of the Thestrals hauled Red from the sand. He turned and along with the unicorn they boarded the transport. There was a six-Thestral pulling team and the craft took off at high speed to the west. Most of the Thestrals raced after it.

There were six remaining in the town. The civilians were unarmed and huddled on their knees. Part of her knew this was extremely stupid and risky, but it was do-or-die. She needed food and water and she needed to head south as fast as her legs could carry her. She had hoped to have more time, but no luck.

She backtracked through the crevice, shuffling and wiggling to gain traction. Once back at the entrance she rose to the hillside and had a check around. All clear. Ash moved quickly, sticking low and ensuring she didn’t make the rookie mistake of silhouetting herself. She rose over mounds and rushed across gaps in the broken terrain. Her wings twitched as she caught some air, instinctively she was trying to extend the ruined appendages.

A few minutes later and she was at the point she estimated the bandits to have come from. She moved along as the hillside fell to an opening. She peered out and smiled at the sight. She could see the town and the Thestrals were on the other side.

With hurried steps, she approached the town. She kept her form low but made the distance quite quickly. Using the buildings as cover, she snuck from one to the next. She was considering her approach as carefully as possible. Her mind was reeling from what she was thinking as if threatening to rebel. The instinct to stay alive was so crystal and so prominent – that risk of death made her feel so very strange.

And there it was. Her opening. She breathed, sabre in hoof. She offered a soft little prayer to the moon goddess, “Princess Luna, guardian of the night. Grant that my sword be steady, my aim be true and my hooves swift. And should the worst come to pass, grant me forgiveness.”

With that, she moved for the first Thestral. She got to within three strides when the one closest to him cried out in alarm. She lunged with sabre leading her as the Thestral tried to turn and move. She caught him in the face, leaving a tremendous wound across his muzzle. He howled and she thrust the sabre cleanly through the gap between his helmet and torso armour.

He remained locked in position as she spun for the second law pony. Thestrals were tenaciously fast and violent fighters. They were locked in a heated exchange, two sabres dancing around one another as each tried to outwit their opponent.

She feinted with her sword – the jerky motion caused the Thestral to lean back with his guard up. She dived instead, kicking a hoof-full of sand at his helmet and tackling him. She used her lower centre of gravity to get his hips down and pinned him for a moment. Two more were almost atop her and she rolled across the one on the ground to escape.

She had to abandon any fatal strikes she had planned, as now two larger Thestrals were attacking her relentlessly. She yelled with each parry and flash of steel. Whirling around she was able to simultaneously kick the weapon from one of the ponies and catch him in the teeth with both hooves. There was a tremendous crack as her hooves met bone and he fell.

The townsfolk were rioting, with the two remaining Thestrals wavering as they tried to arrest their uprising. One of the stallions in the group rose to challenge them and got a little cut across his chest for his trouble. It was like poking a hornet’s nest. Suddenly twenty ponies were tearing into the two hapless Thestrals.

Ash had her hooves full and so returned her attention to trying not to get killed. The blinded Thestral was rising, complaining, “I can’t see!”

The other was rounding on her. He’d picked up his downed partners blade and she now had to contend with two sabres racing towards her. She backstepped and parried, the force of the strikes as they hit her sabre chipped her blade and made her wrists ache.

Another backstep and she slipped in the sand. He used both blades to make a massive downward strike aimed for her head. She rolled with the trip and came up on his left. She turned and kicked again but her hooves found only empty air.

As if by instinct she shifted into his counter attack. The blades just barely missing her as she came around to headbutt him so hard her neck cracked, pain exploded down her spine from the nerve shock but she bared her fangs and pushed on.

He was stunned as he sloppily tried to use upward diagonal swings to ward her off. On the third swing she used a front leg to kick the blades back down, stabbing him through the chest with her sabre. His grip loosened and they went crashing to the ground. He squirmed and tried to pry her off by jabbing his hooves into her eyes. She screamed out as she stabbed and stabbed. Hot blood covered her face and got in her mouth. The coppery taste only serving to fuel her blood rage as she rose and hacked at his neck.

Behind her, the two Thestrals had been stampeded to death. Both lay with bodies bent and twisted. The townsfolk were ambling around, the stress and anxiety creating a very uncertain atmosphere. Lilly approached from behind and recoiled as Ash turned with a severed head in one hoof.

“Oh my…” she said as she heaved, nothing but spit as she coughed. She had a massive swelling bruise across half of her face.

“Quickly,” Ash said, dropping the head and replacing her damaged sabre with a nicer model.

“I need water and food. Enough for four days and then I’m going to Mulico.”

“What?!” Custer said alarmed, “what happens when they come back?!” His eyes – all of their eyes – were wide with worry.

He and Lilly followed her like lost puppies as she loaded up on food from the kitchen hut, the smokestacks and dishrack a dead giveaway. She used a faucet to wash as much of the blood from herself as she could, soaking herself entirely. She went inside and filed her saddlebags with food and took another water bladder.

“I’m sorry about Red,” she started as she emerged, “I truly am. But if she isn’t already dead then she soon will be. So will you, unless you do exactly as I say,” she paused to ensure the message sunk in and to look them both in the eye.

“This is crazy!” Custer complained.

“Take their bodies and bury them with the raiders, do it as fast as you can. Clean the blood and cover it with sand, try to make everything look normal. When that Thestral comes back tell him I was spotted heading south and the Thestrals chased after me.”

She marched back to the carnage as the settlers all watched her with expressions of shock, Custer and Lilly followed. She found another sabre and ripped the sheath from one of the downed Thestrals.

“But-but,” Custer stuttered, “you’re headed that-a-way ain’tcha?”

“I am,” Ash said. “But he won't believe anything else, he knows where I'm going." She took a breath as she checked her equipment, “Thank you. For everything. Now hurry!”

Ash turned to leave, marching south and exiting the table-fence perimeter. She glanced back, Lilly had followed and waited on the edge, desperately looking at her as she turned her back on the mare and broke into a run.

The clock was ticking and the adrenaline was pumping, she had maybe an hour if she was lucky. Assuming Agent Bucksaw went back to the village and believed them when they said she was heading south, then she had a maximum of an hour and fifteen minutes. She had a quarter of the time for every hour passed for him to reach her she estimated. She just hoped he would take the wrong bearing.

Author's Note

So I finally have access to a computer. I've been writing a bit here and there, I have some fallout writing (non-pony) over on fanfiction.net. If anyone is interested hit me up and i'll link it, I think I'd get penalised for putting the direct link here.

Some twists and turns for our bounty hunter. I have a vague idea of where I want this to go, any suggestions or feedback welcome and appreciated. If you've got an OC you want in the story I'd be happy to use them. I did it for my other story, and I didn't even kill them off! How about that.

UPDATE 06/11/20
So I've reorganised the chapters, deleting one and combining a few things, while also making it read a little smoother. If you've read till now, nothing major changes story-wise other than she spends less time in the desert.

Hit that like button!

paleface out.

7. In a Valley of Violence

After two arduous days of travel Ash had made it to Mulico City. Situated in a valley near Lake Texcoco and originally built by the Aztecas, it had been reconstructed following the great siege almost three hundred years earlier. Her grandfather had fought and died here in one of many wars fought between Mulico and Equestria. The few letters her mother had kept from him had mentioned it as La Ciudad De Los Palacios. The City of Palaces. From her position on the far edge of the desert where the Equestrian and Mulican borders blended she could see far into the Mulico Basin, a beautiful area of verdant green farmland and hazy orange suburbs on the edge of plentiful farmland. The city sprung up beind an ancient stone wall that was broken and disjointed, dense residential areas became tightly packed and smokey the further afield her eyes wandered.

Her journey continued as she descended into the valley and walked the dirt trail deeper into Mulico. She didn't travel alone now, many mule farmers stalked the fields, collecting the harvest or tending the crops, while many different species trekked into or out from the city itself. Mules, Ponies and Thestrals, she even saw a Griffin. There were abandoned fortifications at the edge of the farmland, three Mules in dirty sombreros and ponchos watched her approach from a blown-out fortification and eyed her with salacious interest. Ash stunned their wandering gazes by striding up into the guard post and snagging one of their water canteens. She greedily gulped and smacked her lips in satisfaction afterwards.

"You ought to watch yourself, mare. This ain't Equestria. You in Mulico now, puta," the dirtiest of the three stated harshly.

In answer, Ash removed a few bits and dropped them on the crate they were using as a blackjack table, "Where's North Park Station?"

Their eyes fell on the golden coins as she spoke. The one on the left who had a greasy mane tied back under his hat snatched them up. The other two began to fight and argue with him for it, greasy mane managed to break free of his amigos and escape out the back entrance with the others behind him. They must be seriously underpaid. Although unfortunately, that was also some of the last bits she had with her, the rest was left in her cart back in Saguaro.

She took the semi-full water canteen with her as she left, deciding to take her chances in town. The terracotta domiciles she walked by looked like they had only been built recently, although they seemed far too clean for the mud-covered farmers she saw back on the main road. As the streets thickened the many inhabitants and travellers seemed to spread and thin out. They entered an avenue and the noise and commotion of a largely populated city hit her senses. It must have been market day because the open-air stalls were pitched all across the square. The street she was on had another road that branched across this end of the avenue and connected to a massive cobblestone walkway. This walkway went on for perhaps a mile, the end blurred with masses of bodies and stalls.

She saw a signpost that read Sur Diego. Presumably, North Park Station was North of here. She stopped by the first stall which offered all sorts of leather materials and accessories. "I need directions," she started to say.

"No hablas," they interrupted.

She took out the copper band, maybe it was universally attributed to the place she wanted to go, "North Park Station?" She tried hopefully.

The mule seller dismissed her with a wave of his hoof and the words, "no se."

Ash frowned at the mule, who was busy greasing a leather vest piece with a soft cloth. The mule was a head shorter than she was, and had - like most of the inhabitants she’d seen since entering the market - a bushy moustache. Ash’s Mulican was rusty, but she knew a few phrases.

“Uh, amigo, uh… por favor, necesitas direcciones. Para el train station? Tú comprendes, no?”

The mule sighed heavily, his thick brows and arched muzzle lent him a look of utter boredom and disinterest. “Dinero.” He said.

“Money?” She parotted. She didn’t have much, maybe a dozen.

She took four bits out of her satchel and put them on the stall surface. The mule put down the cloth and held them up to appraise the gold coins. Bits were a common currency in these parts, mainly because they were more stable than Mulican pesos, and far more valuable. Something like 150 pesos to the bit. Although from the letters her grandfather had written you could get a meal for six ponies using just a few bits and the local mares cost even less than that.

He smiled suddenly, “hermoso.” Beautiful. His tone was as if they were old friends. He held out a hoof and pointed at her satchel.

“Uh,” was all she could say as he tugged the strap over her head, he was delicate with her wings, and paused as he eyed the burned appendages with slight sadness.

“¿Banditos?” He asked.

“Si,” she said.

“Dios,” he said. “Very, very bad.” He tutted as he spun the satchel. The strap was frayed and worn, damaged from the water and the weather.

The satchel was fabric, not leather. Yet he used a small set of cutters to slice the straps at their ends and then used a stiff brush to clean the bag. She watched him, interested. Within a few minutes, he’d pulled some of the frayed stitching and replaced it with fine thread. He snipped the ends and gave a pleased smile as he held the bag up, then he held it out and she took it, but it didn’t have a strap anymore. She looked at him expectantly and his mouth made an O shape. He bent under the stall and pulled out a length of leather, he attached some clips and an adjustable slider to taper the excess. He came around, took a quick measurement of her and slung the tape around his neck. Then he attached the strap to the satchel, and placed it over Ashes back.

The satchel felt smoother against her flank and it sat much better. The strap was likewise more comfortable and set in a position so that it didn’t interfere with her damaged wings too much. All in all she was both gratified and surprised at the act, having thought ill of the mule for trying to scam her or ignore her. But he’d done her a kindness.

He scraped two of the four bits into his coin purse and placed the other two back in Ash’s hoof. When she looked down and met his eyes she saw no sign of malice or contempt. He’d done her a favour for not much, out of nowhere as well. She didn’t know what to say.

“Gracias, seňor,” she said a bit formally.

He chuckled and pointed behind her, away from the market and down a bustling street with a few static stores and a hall of some kind, “Ve al parque y encontrarás la estación de tren.” He spoke fast and with a thick accent. All she understood was parque and estación de tren. Go to the park, and she would find the train station. Her latin equestrian class was worth paying attention to after all.

“Thanks, mister,” she would have tipped her hat if she’d had one. But she settled for a nod and he returned it after getting back behind his stall.

After a ten minute trot, Ask arrived at a park area, there was a winding path and arranged flowerbeds. A gardeneer was tending to some passion flowers and orchids. She only knew what they were thanks to her middle sister Bitter Cloud, a fishermare who hobbied as a florist. Ash had told her she’d be better off practising her swordwork if she wanted to make any real money than to waste time with floral decorations, and she’d say, “I’d rather wear flowers in my hair than diamonds around my neck.” Seeing the gardeneer sweat dirt as he made the displays prim and tidy didn’t elate Ash in any way to make her feel more connected to her sister. She’d take the diamonds any day.

Through the park and out via a stone arch with more orchids and vines, there was a cobble street of semi-paved red brick and levelled pavements. And there it was, North Park Statin, or Estación del parque norte, as the golden sign above read. The station building was long and curved, of stone, brick and terraced roofing tiles. There was a steel veranda of oak-leaf green and ornate golden fleur de lis’s. Colonial efforts by other equine nations, no doubt.

She went inside, there were ponies disembarking a gilded steam carriage on a platform she could see through a steel fence. Inside the station were vaulted ceilings that spiralled high with ornate patterns and sigels’ of different nations. This was a fancy place, it seemed. It also seemed she had come in via the commoners entrance, as through a security barrier guarded by national Mulican guards, there were Equestrian ponies and Mulican elite Stallions and Mares that slowly moved out into a luxurious courtyard hidden by a circle of tall trees and a wall. She could see the myriad of carriages being towed into place by Mules in red porter outfits and then the nobles would board and be hauled off for who knew where, probably the upper class municipalities. Whatever the case, Ash could smell the money already. Many of the Mares sported expensive jewellery and the Stallions had ornate canes and expertly crafted tophats and blazers.

The station was busy, on the far wall were teller stations with a dozen booths. Each one had a line of Mules and Ponies, many of them of working class based on their attire or lack thereof. As Ash was looking around something bumped into her, when she turned she saw a flash of dirty turquoise and a crooked smile. A young colt barely up to her hips had knocked her and was spitting out apologies in Mulican. He was backing off and turned around and that's when she saw her coin purse, complete with copper band inside, tucked under his tail.

"Hey!" She shouted.

He froze and then bolted. None of the travellers inside the station batted an eye and Ash found herself pushing herself to catch the evasive youngster. A thief - a pickpocket no less. It wasn't her style to draw attention to herself but she needed that band if she wanted to make contact with the syndicates here, as that was her meal ticket.

She followed him through the entrance, barrelled past a couple of Mules in overalls and a Pony wearing a grey tunic with crimson thread. The colt was already someway ahead by the time she'd turned the corner of the street. The stone road had a pair of steel rail lines going down it with a red trolley at the end, it was leaving ash in its dust and the pickpocket had just hopped on the back side. He spun to look at her with his tongue out in a mocking gesture. What I wouldn't give for my wings, she thought.

Ash was still pretty drained from the journey here, but the indignation she felt sent a shot of urgency up her butt. She was off, entering a sprint that funnelled air over her back like she'd started an aerial diving run. Storefronts and apartment buildings flashed past her periphery as the surrounding world started to blur. She was catching the tram, but then it rounded a corner and started winding down a slope faster than she could run. How she wished her wings were well again. The thief seemed acutely aware she wasn’t giving in and he scrambled over the rear divider and into the passenger compartment, much to the chagrin of the ponies and mules inside.

The trolley rounded a bend at the bottom of the slope and turned onto a wide boulevard of paved stone, iron lamp posts and three-story terraced buildings. There were ponies and mules milling around, many stopped to watch as Ash barrelled over a crossing merchant, nearly knocking him over to shouts of protest.

Ash’s anger was rising, “out of ma’ way! Stop that cart! ¡Para ya! ¡Para ya!”

The thief had managed to swing himself onto the roof of the trolley, and as the trajectory of the passenger car brought it alongside the back ends of some terraced common buildings, with wooden stairs, awnings and balconies all joined together to make a communal living space. The young pony hopped across and paused to laugh at Ash quickly.

There was a sign on the left with a wine glass and bottle, El Verano Medio. And a collection of wine barrels on the pavement that were being piled sideways by two stocky mules. Ash diverted and entered a gallop at maximum speed. She leapt up the barrels like a ramp and then jumped the three body lengths to the balcony. Even without her wings, a Thestral was capable of great agility. She was a balcony down from the thief who gasped and spiralled away from her in surprise. The landing sent her careening into the wall and her head cracked off a single-pane window which shattered easily. There was a feminine scream from inside the room and a male voice started bellowing in Mulican. She rounded the corner of the balcony and watched as the colt tripped over himself to leap into the next balcony, crossing the fall of an alleyway. She easily leapt through the divide and was about to tackle the colt when he diverted through an open window too small for Ash to fit.

“You wiry little fuck, I’ll rip your legs off!” Spit flew out of her mouth.

Ash tracked him through the building as he pushed past a waiter who was doing an inventory report to jump out the opposite window. Ash looped around the balcony which continued around the corner and over the next alleyway where she was able to feed down a plank onto the backside of the building. It looked like this block of terraced homes and businesses backed onto one another over a back alley courtyard. She heard a squawk of Mulican and a harsh slap kick around the otherwise quiet space. The walls of the courtyard softened the noise of the outside world considerably.

Ash leant over the railing by a staircase, and saw her quarry in the middle of a group of Mules dressed like vagabondos. They had patchwork leathers, dirty grey ponchos and she could practically smell the whiskey and body odour from here. At present they had her thief in custody and were shaking them down. She saw her coinpurse and several other valuables not hers getting passed around freely as they laughed and mocked the young thief. Ash’s displeasure was at its tipping point and she felt the need to crack somepony around the head as a consequence.

“Let me go!” The child said defiantly. “I ain’t afraid of you!”

There was another slap and a bellowing laugh, “mira, quit struggling and hoof over whatchu’ got, cabron!”

Ash ducked around the walkway, the interior of the courtyard had a complete ring of access ways onto the balconies and they all fed to crooked doors and boarded windows. Looked like the veneer of the buildings on the streetside was just for show, as back here was as rundown and decrepit as her grandfather had described Mulico City in his letters.

She was overhead of the Vagabondos and leapt over to drop behind one. He turned at the noise of her heavy landing. The stocky, shorter Mule sized her up with a raise of a rusty dagger. “Ey, back the way you come, que puta… this ain’t none of your business, tu perra!”

She understood the meaning, curse words were the first thing you learned in any new language. Ash would show him that this bitch whore wasn’t to be messed with. In a flash of Thestrian steel, her fine officer's sabre was out as she sliced the limb of the mule off at the knee with ease. He didn’t register the loss of the foreleg as the dagger, still magically clasped by the hoof, dropped wetly to the ground with a clatter of brass. The two amigos of the first backed away, but pulled weapons of their own.

After a good five seconds of delayed response, he let out a strained, pained groan. His eyes rolled back as a spurt of blood painted the young thiefs face and he collapsed backwards. The thief scattered back into Ash and stayed glued - almost in a child-mother role - to her side. She could feel him tremble and any pretence of bravery was gone. The other two moved out to the side as if to intimidate her, and with an easy flick of her sabre she painted a line of blood between her and them.

“Cross that line, you get hurt.” She said simply. “Drop all the loot, and you can go free.”

She didn’t know if they even understood her. The vagabondos looked at each other with matching dirty scowls, one seemed hesitant, the other had an angry ape-like expression with a ridged monobrow and flat muzzle. Ape-face came forward with a yell, the thief ducked under Ash and she nearly fell over him as she moved to parry. Ape-face came in with a high-raised strike, aimed for her head. She ducked the blow, sidestepped and cracked the shorter mule in the snout with a vicious headbutt that flattened him out into dreamland.

She dived forward, entered a sprightly roll that had her rise to her full height barrel-to-face with the next vagabondo. He tried to ward her off with a swipe of his rusty dagger, but she brought her sabre in close to twist the blade from his hoof in a flourish of steel. The blade clattered and the Mule fell onto his flank in abject shock. She turned and kicked him hard with a single leg, she watched over her shoulder and broken wings as the snot was thrown from his nose and mouth with the force of the blow. He toppled like a sack of shit to land in a pile, groaning in choking unconsciousness. She stowed her sabre.

The thief sat with slack-jawed awe, eyes glossy and wide as he regarded her like you might a caped vigilante. Ash quickly went through the ponchos of the bandits. She found tobacco, rolled cigarettes, a box of matches, a tin of beans, half a bottle of whiskey and some water in a bladder. All of which she stowed. The thief’s stolen possessions lay nearby, shaken from the colt at the hooves of the vagabondos. She retrieved her coin purse, inside was 6 bits and her copper band. But in the next pair of purses she found almost a thousand pesos in paper form, useful enough - but best of all was a pair of silver earrings adorned with amethyst crystals.

She whistled, the colt still hadn’t moved and wilted a little as she looked at him, “these are worth a few bits, I reckon. I’d whup you for being a thieving runt, but I should say thanks for the earrings.” She jingled them and put everything in her satchel.

Before she left she pulled the cleanest looking poncho from one of the bandits, the hesitant one - as it happens - the smell wasn’t altogether too unbearable. She figured she could wash it later, or replace it. She aquired his sombrero as well. The poncho was tan and crimson, it hid her features and sabre, and kept her wings free of the sun. Lastly she took the rope belt that was holding ape-faces canvas pants up and tied it around the amputated foreleg of the first vagabondo. It would stop him from bleeding out. She doubted anyone would care if he died, but she didn’t want to needlessly draw attention to herself.

As she brushed past the seated thief she said, “good hustle, kid. But keep away from me.”

With that said she disappeared down an alley, under awnings of wood and the end balcony that saw her back into the harshness of the Mulican sun and the busy sounds of the city. Ponies and Mules bustled across the street in front of shops and she saw a woodmill down one off road, where work ponies moved timber around into the backs of carts. A trolley went past on squeaky wheels, and Ash hopped aboard. The conductor eyed her warily. “¿Estación de tren?” She asked.

“Si,” he said, facing forwards.

“¿Quantos?” She asked. How much.

Ash pulled the Mulican money out, the thousand or so pesos were broken into twenties. He pulled three bills from her hooves and slapped a series of coins on the side rail. She put the change back in her purse with a brusque, “gracias.” And waited for her stop.

After a short circuit through the block, through similar looking terraced streets of homes, businesses and bars. North Park Station came into view. She hopped off the tram at the stopping point, although the trolley stayed in perpetual motion. Entering the station again she felt far more sure of herself. Her poncho hid her valuables from any would-be thieves and she kept her eyes on guard as her ears swivelled under the scratchy sombrero. She looked the part, but was still close to twice the size of the Mulican inhabitants and marginally larger than all but above average equestrian stallions that existed in the lineup, so she didnt exactly blend in. She joined the queue and waited.

After several ponies and mules left with train tickets in hoof, she was at the tellers booth. He regarded her, and spoke in perfect Equestrian, “how may I help you, miss?”

“I need some directions,” she flashed the copper band and the teller held out a well-manicured hoof to take it. He stashed it in a compartment in his cash register, printed a ticket, put a red stamp on it which she felt was unusual and then gave it to her as he lent in close over the counter.

“Take line 1, two stops and get off at Lechería station. Show your ticket on the way out and someone will meet you on the bench by the fountain.” He leant back, “Have a safe journey, miss!”

Ash left, moved through the security barrier and showed her ticket to a porter on the platform. He eyed the red stamp and then whistled, and pushed her towards another porter on a separate platform. There was already a three-carriage train alongside it, building steam. The second porter said, “Buenos días, may I see your ticket?”

She showed him with a little uncertainty, and he smiled smoothly. “Ok, miss, just step aboard. You are travelling to Lechería, correct?” She nodded.

He smiled again, “just two stops, miss and someone will meet you at the fountain. Safe travels!”

Once aboard the train she felt uneasy. Although she was heading in the right direction in terms of employment and hopefully far away from those Agents, the fact that the crime syndicates of Mulico City were apparently so well organised felt like it could be both a benefit and a detriment, depending on what your reputation was. The conductor blew the steam whistle as the train started to chug away from the station. Just two stops and hopefully she’d meet some pony who could get her on track to making the big bits, and that settled her unease and put a dopey smile on her face as she imagined all she could do with the money.

Author's Note

Been a two year hiatus, and I feel ready to do a bit more writing for this fic. If you arent sure what you're reading, its Narcos, Breaking Bad and Read Dead Redemption inspired.

If anyone has any ideas about the story, or wants to create a character for me to use and abuse - shoot me a DM.

Thats all for now.

8. Lukewarm Welcome

"Welcome to Mulico, Hermosa." Somepony said from behind Ash. That startled her a little.

She had perhaps nodded off, and despite clutching her satchel between her legs like an old mare, she felt a little embarrassed about being out in public and worried some of her belongings had gone for a walk while she had been napping. The speaker came around the fountain, where Ash was sitting, to join her like they were old friends. It was the dark violet Pegasus Ash had met in the drug camp outside Saguaro. She had a short white lace dress that was hemmed asymmetrically from her shoulder to her flank, no hat and a small satchel tied just under her neck.

"Were you sleeping?"

"Just resting my eyes," Ash yawned and lit a rolled cigarette.

"You look like you haven't washed in a month and smell like manure," her aubergine-coloured snout scrunched, "we ought to get you to a bathhouse before you meet our handler."

Ash coughed out a few smoke rings and tossed the Rollie on the ground, "yeah, I've had a rough few days."

They started walking. Lecharía station looked like a giant greenhouse, within which was a myriad of vines, flowers, plants and large trees that offered shade. There was a mosaic fountain at which Ash had been seated, with an entrance per side of the platforms.

"What's your name anyway?" Ash asked.

"I change it every now and again," she explained, "right now I go by Kleo."

"I'm Ash if you didn't know already." Kleo smiled softly but didn't comment.

The mares exited onto a paved road, lined with iron lamp posts and terraced homes. This portion of the city looked better developed and more fanciful than North Park Station.

"This is the latest district to be built by Presidente Calédula. He was a federal army war hero, then seized power from the last dictator…" Kleo coughed, "sorry, I mean legitimately elected official," she rolled her eyes. "Whole place is financed using illicit bribes, back alley dealings, federal endeavours and of course drug and flesh money."

"And let me guess, the federal army acts as muscle for El Presidente and turns a blind eye to his friends?"

"Bingo." Kleo said, "Makes business easy for us at least."

They were heading towards a checkpoint of said federal army, the Mule guards were stocky, equipped with basic leather and fabric uniforms, short swords and wide-brimmed hats. They stopped their idle chat to glare, particularly at Ash, and that annoyed her. She supposed she looked like a vagrant at the moment, and Kleo was right, every now and then she caught the stench of an unwashed tramp. She had thought it was the locals, but now she realised with a disgraced grimace that it was coming from her.

Shit. One of them put himself in their path.

"Oiga, señor, señora, necesito ver su identificación." The guard said.

He wanted identification papers, which she didn't have. Unfortunately, she could only grumble a retort of "stupid prick," under her breath, as he'd mistaken her for a stallion. She was more prominent than Kleo, she admitted, and her matted shaggy fur and bandit attire did hide her features. But still, bastard.

Luckily Kleo stepped in with perfect Mulican and fumbled apologetically for some papers out of her satchel. Ash understood bits and pieces of the conversation as she tried to look feeble and stare at the paving slabs. She could see Kleo play the part of Mulican local to a T. She changed her voice and accent to sound airy and sing-songy. She bewitched the hapless guard with a flash of her eyes and a gentle touch to his wrist as she showed him the papers. Whatever thoughts of argument he might have had vanished as he got caught up drooling over the violet Pegasus.

In a moment of scrambled brains, the guard completely disregarded Ash to fawn over the suddenly flirtatious Kleo. A short while later, following a dainty wave from the purple mare, they were on their way again.

"Word of advice," Kleo said, voice back to its usual huskiness, "doesn't matter the species, all stallions think with their cock. If you can play the part, you can flirt your way out of any bad mojo."

Ash grumbled, "I'll leave the smooth flirting to you, chica. I prefer to let my blades do the talking." She showed a glimpse of the thestrian sabre hidden under her hobo garment.

Kleo whistled, "where'd you cop that?"

"It's better you don't know," Ash said, hiding it again.

The streets of paved brick and fancy homes were broken by a wide iron gate. The gate was open and although there was another federal checkpoint, the soldiers that lounged in the shade of some palms didn't seem interested in asking for I.D. Ash suspected it would have been a different matter had they tried to enter the gated community as opposed to leaving it. As it was, they were probably happy she was vacating. The paved streets turned to sand and dust, the pavements became scratched and chipped, the spaced planters vanished and the terraced buildings became creamy white homes with arched windows. A few terracotta pots outside and covered in undulating, traditional clay tiles.

The locals on this side of town wore more simple working attire or nothing at all. Kids played a game of ball in the alleys as the breeze waved the few overhead wires that supplied power. There was a wide villa set back from the road, outside were tables and chairs, it was fairly busy as a half dozen servers flitted about with trays of tapas and pitchers of water and bottles of rum and wine. There were families here, kids played in between the tables much to the scorn of their mothers. They were typical working folk, and it was the first sign of normal living Ash had seen in a long while.

"Follow me, Hermosa," Kleo started as she made for the arched and covered side entrance, "bath house is at the back."

The bathhouse was really just a row of white plaster stalls, each with a wooden tub set inside. Kleo paid for them both, and once the transaction had been made, Kleo was left to bathe herself while a trio of white-clad Mule mares descended on Ash. She was Uncomfortable with the contact, as her poncho and hat were taken away - presumably to be cleaned, they removed her satchel and sabre, and a scared croak escaped the mare responsible as Ash snatched her Sabre back.

"Gracias," Ash said, "but I'll hold onto this. It's very sharp, dangerous." She demonstrated this fact by using the edge to effortlessly chop some of her fetlock furs away.

"Oh," the mare said with a dense accent, "please sit."

Ash didn't have a chance to sit as she was backed into the stall, where another mare had filled the tub with warm soapy water, the feeling as she was forcibly sunken to her neck was a combination of shocking and welcoming and her mind numbed to the mixed sensations.

They brought out stiff brushes to clean her with, but one of them paused the actions with a shout of Mulican, she gingerly lifted one of Ash's destroyed wings. The frame of her wing was visibly blackened and lacked the few proud feathers and webbed bat skin she once had. The mares all looked a little green once they'd seen them.

"Ten Cuidado," the mare said. Be careful.

To their credit, they were very gentle. Generously applying a lather and using spiky brushes to drag the matted fur away. Once they'd done as much as they could with her legs, sides and haunches while avoiding her wings. One sat half at the edge of the tub right in front of Ash's nose and used a small cleaning kit to pamper and moisturise her face. The small pinpricks from all the cacti spikes she'd suffered during her tumble from the bandit camp were still sore, and she had to bite her tongue as the mare cleaned her up. She even used a small set of scissors to tidy the fur and trim and neaten her features.

Ash wasn't much for pampering, besides basic hygiene, she never dressed up, dolled up or even knew how to use a makeup brush or feminine grooming set. She was more interested in strengthening her body for physical altercations or sharpening her blades over her personal appearance.

She felt her tail being lathered and brushed, then her mane, there were too many small sensations for her to process and she felt the onset of sensory overload. Her legs became taut as she prepared to bolt out of the tub. Any thoughts about escape were washed from her as surely as the grime. One mare pulled a lever and looking up at the clunk sound, Ash was doused in cold water. Perhaps ten gallons washed over her and rinsed all the foam off as slats at the bottom of the tub opened to flush all the brown murky water out.

She came out spluttering, pushing the two mares in front of her backwards. Her fur was still clumped in places and hung over her eyes and face. She felt better but still annoyed at the forced bath. She shook like a sheepdog and sprayed water all over.

Next, they sat her down on a tiled terrace and used large metal combs and sharp shears to cut most of her fur back, the relief was immediate as the snags and clumps had been pulling at her skin and making her achy and sore. One of them, a pretty young thing of slight features, brown fur and chocolate eyes hung within Ash's breathing space to cautiously resume trimming the fur around her neck and face. She cut it quickly, neatly and professionally. Ash had never been able to afford a mane stylist or likewise grooming service growing up, she'd always resorted to doing it herself.

Her wings were left alone, although they did cut the fur back a lot around the area. Thinning it out with wide-toothed scissors and combs. Kleo had appeared before her. Her dark violet coat and short jaw-length off-black mane and tail were immaculate and shiny. She looked every bit the upper-echelon canterlot Pegasus, not like how she'd appeared back on the Equestrian border and quite out of place within Mulico.

The Mulico Mares stepped back and Ash stood up tall. She was head and neck taller than the locals and chin-to-eyes with Kleo. She also probably had thirty kilos on the Pegasus. Although she felt remarkably lighter and more sprightly given her cleanse. She took a deep breath and couldn't have been more grateful for surviving the desert. She gave a mental prayer to Princess Luna - whether the Mare in the Moon was listening or not, she didn't know.

"You look good, Hermosa," Kleo said as she circled Ash. Her long coat had been chopped back and neatly untacked along her body, legs and rump. She felt silky and relished the idea of flight and the feel of the wind over her contoured coat. "Shame about your wings," the Pegasus added.

"Yeah well, at least I'm still breathin'," Ash grumbled. She turned to face the three wash mares, "muchas gracias, chicas," she thanked them.

"And thanks to you, Kleo. For paying I mean," she said a little bashfully.

Kleo sank a hip, "it's being added to your tab, mare, don't think anything in this biz is free."

"I won't," Ash promised, "but I'm just saying… I'm grateful, is all. Can we get something to eat?" She said as her stomach grumbled embarrassingly loudly, "I'm starving."

"You are looking a little thin now I can see you properly," Kleo tutted softly.

The Pegasus spoke in quick bursts of Mulico and before Ash knew it they were sitting in a recessed, shaded and privately lit alcove at the back inside the restaurant. She hadn't been given a menu, but they'd brought Tapas dishes of bread and olive oil, olives on bread, goat cheese stuffed in roasted tomatoes, breaded squid, tortilla wedges and finally plenty of wine and water.

"Compliments of the house," their waiter said in flawless Equestrian.

At the back behind the kitchen was a fat Mule, he had a crop of black mane and a cigar in his mouth. He lifted his cigar as if to salute the mares with a shark-like smile. It was friendly and warm. The perfect facsimile of the family restaurant owner. But something in his eyes put Ash on edge, something only experience with these kinds of ponies could teach you.

"Who's the boss?" Ash mumbled through a mouthful of olives and bread.

Kleo finished eating, and wiped her mouth with a stitched handkerchief, before she said, "that's El Cocinero."

"The cook?" Ash said, looking up from a ravaged omelette.

"The Chef," Kleo corrected, "this place - El Pozo de Agua, or water well, acts as mutual space for the syndicates to talk things down. There's no violence permitted here and inside Lecharia as a whole. Well, more or less. Makes it a pretty sweet spot for us to conduct business. Don't have to worry about much, and our product goes out safely, we don't get bothered by the Federales or Syndicate enforcers."

Ash had stuffed half a dozen portions of fried squid, olives on bread and sliced tortilla down, chugged a pitcher of water and was now on her second glass of wine as the waiter topped their water and brought more food. Kleo by contrast ate rather daintily, but Ash supposed that was Pegasi for you.

"Hungry?" Kleo asked sardonically with a bemused smile.

"I was stuck in the desert with barely any food or water for five days, I'm lucky I got out alive," as she spoke, specks of food flew out rudely to splat against the plate of omelette she was devouring.

"Well, eat your fill, then I'll take you to a friendly place to get your wings looked at."

"Mmmhmmm," Ash said as she ate five squid rings in one go. Already her gut was rumbling with the sheer amount of food, but only after eating five more tapas dishes and with a final glass of wine did she feel satisfied.

She returned a nod to Kleo who signalled to hold off the next wave of tapas dishes. The two mares sipped water and left to begin a conversation about the state of the city, its inhabitants and the gangs Ash would need to become familiar with if she was to work for them.

Ash snagged her clean poncho and sombrero from a drying line, they felt soft and smelled half decent. Once dressed, they'd begun walking for Kleos 'safe house.' All Ash knew was it was on the other side of Lecharía near a canal crossing.

"So you've got El Presidente Calédula, right?" Kleo began.

"Right," Ash parotted. "He's the boss then?"

"Kind of," she said, "Calédula controls the federal army, and has all the generals in his pocket. He also has ties to the cartels and syndicates that run the city's underbelly. No one organisation is strong enough to muscle out the others, so they divide the city into territories, they each have security teams, enforcers, intel, counter intel," she elaborated with a hoof swivel as they moved through row after row of terracotta-topped white homes.

"It's rare for the cartels to push outright violence directly against another, and there are harsh punishments set in place from the cartel's board - that's the bigwigs who pretend to be friends, but in reality, they're all holding a knife behind their backs - should they step out of line. So they use proxy gangs and mercs to stir things up and do the dirty work. That's kind of where our operation comes in."

"But while El Presidente splits his time between his golden room of court jesters and holidaying in the Mulican tropics, the Mayor of the city, Cielo Azul, runs a pretty strict ship in terms of actually dealing with the syndicates. They've tried for the last two years to replace her with someone bribable, but the mares got balls. Last week the syndicates were stirred up big time when a drug operation was hit by Mayor Azuls corps of Guadia Civil. They seized a lot of important stuff, and detained or killed several of the Cartels' top Lieutenants. They're a city-wide police force. Well trained, equipped and all staunchly anti-cartel. The cartel overlords use their enforcers to set traps and the intel teams of each Cartel and affiliated Syndicates use counter intel to leak fake deals and other targets too juicy for the Guardia Civil to ignore. They also target the families of cops and soldiers loyal to Mayor Azul and make it hard for them to do their jobs, personally, I just think it secures the Mulican folk against the gangs, rather than helps the Cartels."

Ash's interest was piqued, her ears swivelling to pay close attention to what the violet Pegasus was telling her.

"There are four quarters to the city: Norte, Este, Sur, Oeste." She clarified for Ash quickly, "or North, West, East, South. Simple enough, right? But here's where it gets complicated." They turned a corner and ended up close to Lecharía Station, Ash could see the glass roof over the homes, in the midst of the upper-class district it was nestled between.

"You've got Los Chacales, or Jackals to the North. They're the city's primary outlaw group, they're responsible for almost every stagecoach, locomotive and bank robbery from here to the Mulican Gulf. Nasty, territorial and the most troublesome to deal with.

"In the East, there's the grupo coyotes de cobre. Or Copper Coyote Posse. They're a mining syndicate, they started off with copper, expanded, took over the other mining corps, next they went to coal, then iron, then emeralds…" she trailed off as they neared the canal and turned to follow it, riverboats and fishing vessels were docked all along the boardwalk. "They're also a big user of Zebrican slave labour, which they get from our next cartel in the south.

"The Black Dragon gang, south of the city. They're probably the most vicious and wicked of the four. Their leader Teldaris is rumoured to be an actual dragon from the far east, although no pony has ever seen him. Whoever he is, he controls his gang through a system of mirrors; ponies who talk to each other, and relay messages, but no one has direct access to another mirror or knows anything about them or their boss. They use griffons as muscle, and control the Zebrican slave trades in this region, even pushing their merchandise into Equestria, Griffonia and the Cerividian Hegemony where they can."

They paused at a dirt intersection where three carts holding covered cages rolled past. "Speaking of merchandise…" Kleo trailed off. The mule-pulling teams ignored the Mares but the pair of mean-looking Griffins atop each gave them an investigative scowl.

Although covered, Ash could see the striped bodies chained inside and felt a pang of something, maybe empathy, for the Zebrican slaves. She'd never met a slave, nor knew much about it. She just knew it was outlawed within the walls of the Thestrian cities, much to the protest of the trading guilds and plantation owners who had to employ ponies instead of buying them outright, not that they paid their workers well. Although indentured servitude was prevalent in bat pony society, it wasn't quite the same thing. A servant was a volunteer and skilled in something or other, they usually agreed on a term of service, although Ash had heard tales of Thestrals disappearing into servitude or their contracts never really ending. Maybe that was why Zebrican slaves were outlawed, too illegal even for the Thestrian elite.

As the carts vanished down a backroad, Ash noted the sun had almost vanished behind distant mountains, there was a shimmer of heat now instead of the oppressive boil she was enduring before. "Poor fuckers, they'll be sent down the copper mines or shipped to plantations in South Mulico. Harsh conditions, either way." Kleo said.

"Last, but definitely not least is our umbrella syndicate, that's who we're employed under, Cártel de Lecharía. They started right here before the rest of them moved in. Before the federal army swept the gang violence under the rug and the cartel board was set up to keep the peace. Although Lecheria is neutral territory today, like I said, so most of the gang is away in the east of the city.

"You remember Nerja?" She asked abruptly.

"I remember," Ash replied.

"Good," Kleo said as they entered an area of dead ground where the canal crossing was. "she's our main gal in the world, but she answers to somepony else, who'll you'll meet tomorrow." On the opposite side of the bridge was a foggy veil of dark brick industrial estates, smoke stacks pumped sooty smog into the sky, and dirty workers left one factory as the whistle for hometime sounded.

"It's in here," Kleo indicated and they waltzed into the open warehouse of a steel mill. There were dirty mules and ponies of all colours working tirelessly using machines to cut steel beams and check them along an assembly line. Ash had no idea what they were making.

She didn't have time to look around, her attention shifted to her hooves as she nearly slipped down a small flight of stairs, she followed Kleo into an underground storage room. There was a grungy off-room of peeling brick and cracked mortar. There was an old Mule wearing a vest coat and slacks with spectacles on his square face, he was sitting at a desk flicking through some papers under a dim office lamp. There was another pony at the back, hidden in shadows and checking off their clipboard.

Kleo caught the mules' attention with a wave and quick burst of Mulican. He chuckled and said something back, "hiding from the work as always," she said.

He smiled a row of gapped teeth, "a good worker is hard to find, don't you know?" Then his attention snapped to Ash and his smile vanished, "Who's your friend?"

"Ash, this is Dr Capistrano. He's our gangs' surgeon, each gang has their own. Usually, they don't help each other unless ordered to by the head honchos. Doctor, this is Ash, a stray we're taking in. Her wings need some therapy."

The Mules' brow creased and he pushed his thin spectacles back onto the bridge of his muzzle. "I see," he murmured, then got up and moved to a short medical cot. "Please remove your clothes and take a seat young filly," he said politely.

Ash did as instructed and was soon sitting with her back to the Mule and her hind legs dangling from the edge of the cot. He was in her blind spot as he looked over her wings with a hum and stroke of his chin. "A unicorn is responsible for this, yes?" He asked.

"That's right," Ash said with rising distaste, "fucker shot me out of the sky over the Equestrian border. Had to march 5 days through the southern desert to get here. Not much food or water." She swallowed thickly, and although she had eaten and drank enough for three ponies, her perilously close call over the sands made her feel perpetually famished and dehydrated.

He hummed again, "Impressive survival instincts. Magic caused this, and yet…" he trailed off. "Clam, come here please."

The pony in the back set the clipboard down and came over as they cleared their throat. She was tall, lanky and a dark Auburn colour. A unicorn, no less. Ash glared at the horn on her head with no small amount of distrust and suspicion. She had aquamarine eyes like the deepest lakes, blonde hair as silky and as perfect as Ash had ever seen and a small robe of black and red that covered her metallic coat.

"Yes, doctor?" Her voice was soft and gentle, maybe even soothing.

"This Thestral had her wings burned by another unicorn, they don't look beyond repair. Magical regeneration ought to do the trick, I think."

"Of course," she said and moved to replace the Doctor at Ash's back.

Her horn lit with a tingle-ringing sound and a slight warmth enveloped Ash's back. She tensed, eyes clenched shut. She didn't want to act like a foal, but thinking back to the memory of her wings tearing apart while she spiralled into the ground made her feel really, really scared.

With a slight breathless groan, the magic stopped and the Unicorn appeared in Ash's peripheral vision. "How do you feel?" She asked. "Do you think you could extend your wings for me?" Her voice was placating, silky, calming. The magic-user unnerved Ash simply by what she was, but Ash tried not to judge a pony by their stink.

She nodded and carefully tried to make her wings spread out. They crept slowly, stiff from disuse and covered in char from the burns. With a slight ache, they were at about half spread when the pain started to flare up again. "That's about all you'll get," Ash grunted through gritted teeth.

"Ok, that's lovely."

The magical aura started again and this time Ash was able to keep her eyes from shutting entirely. There wasn't any pain, if anything it was a nice feeling. Like having your coat brushed gently by your mother. The taut discomfort lessened and Ash tried to move her wings outwards more. This time the resistance came a bit later as the magical tingle stopped again.

"This could take a while," Claim said to Dr Capistrano.

"Take as long as you need, dear," he said. "I have some business to discuss with our Miss Kleo here, anyhow."

Ash didn't mean to, but she must have levelled her best don't leave me alone, look as Kleo gave her a gentle rub on her neck, "you'll be fine. Clam's great, don't sweat it. I'll be back soon, we'll catch forty winks later and then you can meet the boss tomorrow."

"Sounds swell," Ash said unconvincingly. She hated the thought of being left alone with the unicorn.

The healing and stretching antics had gone on long enough that Ash's flanks had gone numb from sitting on the cot and she'd started to feel chilly due to the underground status of the decrepit old room.

"We can take a break if you like?" Clam spoke for the first time in a while.

"Ok," Ash agreed.

Clam came around and went to the back room, she flicked a switch and a dim hum emitted from a pair of lights on the ceiling. There was another cot hanging on the side wall next to some filing cabinets behind Dr. Capistrano's desk, and a small fireplace that was full of soot and cigarette butts. Ash blew into her hooves as she stood to get the blood flowing.

Clam came back over and put two crystal glasses on the desk, then poured them both a healthy dose of whiskey. Ash took the glass and drank it immediately. Clam looked like she'd wanted to toast something, and her ears turned down as she resolved to drink in silence. Ash took the bottle and refilled their glasses.

"So, Clam, what's a unicorn doing in Mulico? Thought you guys never left your ivory castle in Canterlot." She knocked the second back with a gasp and poured a third as the unicorn looked at the soot-filled fireplace with a detached expression. She fiddled with the tumbler, idly swilling the whiskey.

"I was an orphan, they picked me up from a raided caravan. Gave me some old spell books, put me to work. And," she drew out with a sigh, "I've never left."

Ash poured a fourth slug for herself and a new one for Clam as the mare finally finished hers. The unicorn's eyes were watery, but not exactly sad. She looked like a wounded animal, vaguely dangerous and unpredictable. Ash wasn't very well experienced with Unicorns, having never talked to any before, but rumours had them as uppity and impolite ponies with personality complexes. Too much magic in their veins. She didn't know how much truth there was in that.

"But now that you're grown, you could head for home, get out of this life." Ash started, to a slow turn from Clam, "you don't exactly look suited to it."

"This is my home," she said with a frown. "Only home I've ever known, anyhow. Doubt there'd be a place for me in Canterlot, or wherever I'm originally from." She shrugged, "Far as I'm concerned, I'm from Mulico, now. As sure as shit stems from an outhouse."

"Do you remember your parents?"

"Listen, respectfully, I don't usually talk to strangers about my particulars. All you need to know is I can fix you if you're hurt, I also turn raw emeralds into cut gems and fence any… misplaced jewellery. Savvy? So if you happen across any while out in the city, bring them to me and I'll pay you for them."

Ash hummed and downed her last slug, her head was swimming nicely, her vision had become diluted and her senses fuzzy. Comfortable - that was how she felt. She moved to the coat hook where she had slung her poncho, sombrero and satchel with her sabre. Reaching into the satchel she dug around, finding the silver earrings she'd acquired from the young pickpocket.

The amethyst crystals shone, they were polished but a little glassy at their core. That meant they weren't as fine quality, but Amethyst was almost as valuable as Sapphire, another non-magical gem which ponies coveted for its inert magical nature, supposed emotional healing properties, and to the more superstitious - the warding against dark magics.

Clam grasped them from Ashs' hoof in her magic and looked at them with scrutiny. Pulling a jeweller's loupe from a drawer and glueing it to one blue eye. She inspected the earrings, turning them, rotating her head, and turning them over again. After a while, she hummed and said, "they're nice, chica. Very nice."

"Very valuable?" Ash prodded.

"Hmm, they're good. Not perfect. But…" she drew out with a hiss through her teeth. "I expect I could fetch a hundred bits from my contact. I work on a 20 per cent cut, leave them with me and I'll give you 80 per cent of whatever I negotiate. Could take a few days, I need to draw up a legit-looking bill of sale." She trailed off, turned and rifled through a drawer at the back to leave Ash for a moment.

There was a knock at the door, and Kleo and Dr Capistrano walked in. "Are you gals playing nice?" The Mule asked.

"We're done, Doctor," Clam said gently. "Ash, come back tomorrow and every other day for a week. We'll get you back in the air again, but you'll need some flying rehab."

"I can do that," Kleo said. "No problema."

"Ok," Clam said and wrote a note in a journal, "I'll send a scroll to Cloudsdale, see if they have any Pegasi rehab material."

Capistrano procured a single key and a small note from his vest pocket, "there's a spare room above the mill, next building down. Kleo will show you where, that's where you'll stay for now, and some forged Identification papers, it'll keep the Federales off your back, but if Kleo hasn't already told you, the Guardia Civil are the ones to watch out for. Very scrupulous. "

She took the key and I.D slowly, "thank you," Ash said, "but I can't afford to give you anything right now."

"It's on the house, until we get you to work and then you're on your own, figuratively speaking." Capistrano chuckled gently, "you do good and earn your way, you'll always have somepony you can count on."

Kleo slapped her on the shoulder and she nearly jumped, "but cause any problems and you'll vanish faster than Doc's wife can unbutton her overalls."

"Hey!" Capistrano shouted, half seriously. "Keep my wife's name out your mouth, dammit."

The corner of Kleos lips turned up, "come on," she gave Ash a knock towards her belongings. Ash thanked Doc and the Unicorn again. Having gone in with low expectations, and come out with more promise than she could hope for. As they walked out through the mil, past the silent metal working stations, Ash said, "why are you guys being so generous? You don't know me, shit I didn't even do much for you in the way of work."

"That's where you're wrong, I know who you are. Thestral law ponies came around our camp, shortly after we met. We tipped them off, we didn't owe you any loyalty. Didn't want them sniffing around, sorry."

Ash halted walking, "are you serious?" She tried not to raise her voice but the anger she felt was rising. "I nearly died, their leaders a fucking nut job! He scalped two Stallions for next to fuck all, just for kicks. Would have done me as well, but I threw myself off a cliff to get away." Her wings had started to extend in indignity.

Kleo looked at the burned appendages with a little sorrow, "like I said, chica, we couldn't afford them sniffing around. Had to turn them away, told them you'd robbed us for a map, told them where you'd likely gone. They said they knew you were looking for that maneless pony, and the rest was left up to god."

Kleo turned so they were face-to-face, "that's why we feel like we owe you now. Nerja said if you showed up, give you food, water, a bed and time to heal. Thought you'd need it, don't think she knew how right she was." Kleo started walking again and Ash kept pace, but her disdainful look was still trained on the violet Pegasus.

"Look, I can 'preciate you're upset about it, but it wasn't nothing personal. Now you're here, we know you're skilled, hungry, and above all, you've proven you're tenacious and willing to do anything to survive. A mare like that always has her uses."

Ash faced forward with a forced breath, "you don't know shit about me, mare."

"Believe me. We ain't so different."

They made it around the back of a similar steel mill and trotted along a fence that divided the mill from a storage house and up a set of rickety sun-scorched steps. The frame groaned with their weight, and then they were at a thick wooden door. Kleo stepped aside, and Ash plugged the key the Doc had gifted her. The lock opened with a resistant clunk and opened on unoiled hinges to show a short lengthways hall with two rooms and no windows. The floorboards were threadbare and the light from the overhead lamps from the factory floor below shone through, as did the noise of the still-active workplace.

There was a cot with rolled mattress, a lamp, a single chair, a nightstand and a cabinet. In the other room was a cramped bathroom, shower and washbasin, and a tiled hole in the ground. Ash stepped into the hall and put her sombrero on the coat hook that was wonkily nailed to the wall between the two rooms.

"Home sweet home," Kleo said.

Ash unrolled the mattress, it was crumpled, and stiff and had a giant brown stain almost corner to corner. She turned to look at Kleo with a raised eyebrow.

"Like I said," Kleo said as she started to leave, "cause any problems, you'll get disappeared." She shut the door, "sweet dreams!"

"Charming," Ash said to herself. She settled in, had a quick wash in the basin in the next room, locked the door and rested the chair against the latch. It was dark out now and even if it hasn't been, Ash was dead on her hooves. She put herself on the cot and was lights out immediately.

Author's Note

Like and comment. Tell me what you liked and didn't like, TELL ME GAWDDAMN IT.

9. Fateful Exchange

Darkness. That was all Ash could see, something had stirred her, something annoying. That sound - the rooster! Her eyes adjusted quickly after a few blinks and her memory returned. She was lying on the ratty bed and creaking frame, back aching, legs numb, head foggy from too few hours of unconsciousness. She got up with a groan, traipsing into the washroom to clean her face and rub the crust from her eyes.

Her ears perked as somepony came up the stairs. There was a thudding knock, three beats and then silence. She took her sabre from the wall, before removing the chair from under the latch and pulling the deadbolt. Pre-dawnlight spilt in through the crack and she let Kleo inside. The mare was unkempt compared to yesterday evening and smelled like a saloon outhouse.

“Have you been drinking?”

The violet mare sat down heavily on the mattress and sighed, “went with the Doc, one or two he said, but that's an old lie and I fall for it every time. Still, at least he was buying.”

“You hungry?” Ash asked and went to get her belongings.

“Yeah, thought we could eat breakfast around the corner, little food stall the factory workers use. They make amazing black bean burritos.” She eyed the sabre as Ash stowed it and put her poncho and sombrero back on.

The mares left for the corner stall, the factory dayshift had started to the song of rooster and steam whistle. The mares rounded the district and found the food stall amongst a gathering of factory workers. All of them were Mules, not a pony to be seen. As the line lessoned the two mares stood out as clear as day. They reached the end, and Kleo said, “Dos burritos.” They ate the food while they walked. The burritos were hot, deliciously creamy and slightly spicy.

Ash stayed alongside Kleo as they wound through quiet suburban streets of cream homes, clay tiles and busy Mules as the adults went to work and kids to school - or in some cases - went to work themselves. They had crossed the canal to venture into Lecheria proper. An expansive zone of the domestic working class, they passed an Army Checkpoint, although they weren’t queried for Identification. They went down an alley and turned left across a plaza area, then into a large villa that overlooked the sweeping Mulican valley of clay-tiled homes and large parks.

The interior was a vibrantly colourful Mediterranean style that brought life to the rustic villa and sunny patio, giving Ash an old-fashioned, solid sense of family. Stucco and plaster wall finishes provided visual interest. There were also elements of many different materials, such as wrought iron, stone, ceramic pottery and copper. There was activity in the large kitchen that spread at the front of the villa, raised wooden shutters allowed an open-air view of the outside courtyard. An olive tree was stationed singularly, providing a small amount of shade to a mosaic table and iron chairs against the early sun.

On the wall above the coffee table in the main room existed a portrait of a handsome Mule, he was in his mid-years and possessed hard eyes and a stern expression. As if to allow a comparison the owner of said portrait flowed from the kitchen, followed by Nerja. The artist had either taken some liberties or time had been unkind to the Mule. He looked a few years older, with greying hairs at the edges of his coat and mane. His eyes were creased from too many years spent squinting into the sun.

He carried a tray of water on his back and the two Mules went to sit at the courtyard table. Nerja gave them a nod in her direction, and Kleo and Ash joined to sit with them. “Good to see you, amiga,” Nerja said with some warmth towards the Pegasus.

She turned to regard Ash with a less-than-friendly look, she scanned her form and looked deep into her eyes. Ash nodded but she just looked at her compatriot with a disinterested expression, as if she didn’t care for Ash. Given what Kleo had told her last night about them having betrayed her position to the law ponies before, she felt a small amount of anger bubble underneath her fur.

“So, Ash.” The greying mule began, “You’re the bat pony I’ve been hearing about?”

“That’s right, sir. I’m here for work.”

He chuckled, “Only my barber calls me sir, to everyone else I go by Padoro. And there’s always work, especially for you. I have something easy to get you started, are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” she said.

“Good.” He got up with a slight stutter and went back to the kitchen, she heard something scrape and then get dragged across the tiles. Soon after, he’d pulled a wooden chest half as big as Ash into the courtyard. He lifted it and set it in front of Ash with a grunt. There was a lock on it.

“So, Ash, I’ll give you an update on who you’re working for. Our operation cooks heroin, we occasionally take part in other business opportunities. We work for the Lecheria Cartel, they buy most of our product, but we need to move it ourselves. Sounds like a strange deal, I know, but it works out well. I already employ ponies to transport the product, but what I need you to be is my errand mare, I always have odd jobs that need doing, which is Kleos department, so you’ll be sticking with her so she can… what do you Equestrians say? show you the ropes?” He sat down heavily and lit a cigar.

After exhaling he spoke again, “There's another gang on the other side of Lecheria, we compete with them. They have ties to those Black Dragon Pendejos, and they’re trying to take over our turf. We had an unpleasant dealing with them already and now I want to give them this peace offering as a way to… encourage them to stay out of our business. Comprende? They already have the key that is to open this chest, so worry not, just deliver it to them at the paint factory on the corner of Clavel and Manzano in San Marcos. Kleo knows the way.”

Kleo and Ash exchanged a glance, and then Podoro said, “There is a cart at the back of the house, hide the chest inside the hollowed-out barrel and pull it to the paint factory, here’s a certificate of approval that should get you through the army checkpoints, no problem. Just keep a low profile, please Mares.” Ash took the form, it was in Mulican with a wax seal on it.

“Now get out of here,” he said suddenly dismissive.

They left with a respectful farewell, picking up the chest between them and leaving the estate. They huffed the crate to the back entrance. There was a wiry dark grey Mule on watch duty, almost as tall as a pony. He had a white and red bandana around his throat, two short daggers at his hips and a thin black moustache under dark eyes that were both outwardly emotionless and bulging with crazy.

“Ah shit,” Kleo muttered.

“Oy, Kleo, who’s the new chica?” He licked his lips salaciously and looked Ash up and down with a creepy smile.

“Keep your eyes off me, asshole, before I cut that smirk off your chops.” Ash glared at him and the pretend friendliness vanished to be replaced with equal aggression.

“Ohhhh, temper, temper,” he remarked.

Kleo sighed in resignation, “Ash this is Mariposa, another helper for Podoro.”

“I’m more than a helper, chica, that’s all you’s are. Me and the jefe are practically hermanos.”

“Right,” Kleo said dismissively, “we’re taking a cart to the paint factory in San Marcos. Where is it?”

“Weeeellll the thing is, chica, I had to use it for something. Borrowed it to a friend, you see. You know how much of a good friend I can be, right? So follow me, and we’ll get it back off him.”

Kleo sighed, “It’s always extra work with you, ain’t it? Boss says there's a cart, you say there ain’t. I’m sick of your stupid games, Mariposa.”

“Woah, Woah! Settle down, chica, settle down. It’s just around the corner, no sweat.”

They followed the stallion, he led them through an adjoining alleyway, down a cobbled path behind a row of homes and back towards the canal. Once near the crossing, he diverted them left and they took a busy street for a series of storehouses. Ash and Kleo had the crate suspended between their bodies, ropes tied around their necks.

“So, Ash is it? What brings a pretty thing like you to Mulico?” Mariposa spoke with a slow, sly tone that made her want to slice his ear off.

“Call me pretty again, hermano, and you’ll be kissing the ground.”

“Answer the question, mare, I just need to know if you're trustworthy.”

“I can vouch for her,” Kleo injected, “so hush up.”

“I only accept vouchings from the boss, chica,” he said, glancing back with one disturbing eye, “how come we ain’t sure she’s not undercover for the mayor?”

“That shits a rumour, pendejo, ain’t no undercover ponies in the gangs. ‘Specially not ours.”

He faced forward, “Sound’s like somethin’ a cowardly spy would say.”

They reached the end of an intersection and the mares had to dance around a group of school kids out on some arranged trip. A pair of teachers, one a balding Mule with a gut and glasses and the other thin with stick limbs and narrow eyes. They hurried the kids onwards while glaring at the three of them.

“You got a staring problem, amigos?” Mariposa said with a hoof on one of his daggers. The teachers looked a little green at that, shook their heads, clearly afraid and moved off quickly.

“Tranquillo, Podoro said to keep a low profile. We don’t even have the damn cart and you’re trying to pick fights with the locals,” Kleo spoke admonishingly.

“Look, chica, it’s not my fault those pendejos couldn’t keep their eyes off me.”

Ash chuckled, “Probably thought, ‘Is that a molerat or just an ugly Mule? We don’t know. Looks like it’s been pulled out of a sewer. Better write to the department of exotic animals and have it examined.’” Kleo belted out a harsh laugh.

“Hah, hah,” Mariposa said humourlessly. “Carts this way.” He was quiet after that.

The cream and terracotta homes changed back into industrial brickwork, interlaced with crumbling stone walls from the old city and wood and iron of the newer factories and storehouses. They bypassed two with closed gates and little sign of activity as the communal Mule activity stopped altogether. The third had an open gate, a small brick compound with a tin and plank shed at the rear, centrally there was a small two-wheeled cart with the towing mounts resting on brick columns with a barrel in the back.

Kleo and Ash, following Mariposa's lead, trotted into the compound and walked through the gate. They didn't receive any greeting, and Mariposa hooked himself up after pushing the bricks over.

"Should we let somepony know we're taking it?" Kleo asked as she and Ash placed the crate in the rear of the cart.

"Nah," Mariposa said, "what's to tell? It's the boss's cart. Besides, they're expecting me to come for it. Why you think the gates all unlocked-like?"

Kleo made an uncertain sound but backed in next to Mariposa with an uncomfortable look shot at Ash and hooked herself to the cart. Ash hopped in the back and put the crate inside the hollowed barrel, then held it steady as they started to roll out.

"I'll lead, Chica," Mariposa said under his breath.

"Remember, paint factory in San Marcos." Kleo reminded.

"I know where I'm going, mare. Sound like my ex-wife."

"You were married?" Ash asked incredulously. "I can't imagine it."

"Oh," he said fondly. "She was a darlin', love of my life. She was the stars and moon to me…" he trailed off with a growl. "You give a mare your heart, give her your coin, you build her a house and what do you get? You walk in on them screwing your best friend!" He stomped.

"I don't peg you as the lovey type, Mariposa," Ash said.

"Well, anyway, that's all in the past. Buried it, you could say. Or," he chuckled deeply, "buried an axe in it."

She caught Kleos eyes and she could see the meaning, crazy. Mariposa was obviously a few screws short of a toolbox, even now he was jittery and always in motion, eyeing everypony with malice and bulging eyes.

Their trek south was relatively uneventful, save for a brief encounter at an army checkpoint. Mariposa switched on the charm as Kleo flashed the transport documents to a mule with a blue Cavalry hat. The three other mules didn't pay them much attention to that, although there was a fourth in a small tower who kept his eyes sharply trained upon Ash at all times. They were there for about five minutes, while blue hat did the talking and asked them seemingly innocuous questions, Ash knew from her military service it was a combination of trying to goad them into making a verbal error and boredom. Thankfully, despite Mariposa's batshit temperament, he didn't blunder and after a while, they were waved through the barrier.

"Fucking pendejos," Mariposa hushed as soon as they were out of earshot.

"Far to go?" Ash asked.

"Nah, few more streets," Kleo said.

Shortly thereafter, once they'd crossed a pair of quiet intersections amongst factories and a lot of terraced brick houses, the bustle of the city had all but dissipated, bared by the waves of streets and rising semi-industrial areas. A wind breezed through and Ash had this suddenly unsettling feeling sink into her gut.

"Someponys watching us," Kleo said as if to read Ash's mind.

"I was thinking the same."

"You nervous nags need to stop jawin', just worry about getting to the paint factory."

They trotted by more houses and at another intersection, they could see a tin building sticking out somewhat haphazardly. There was a face in one of the windows in the opposite building which vanished as Ash let her gaze fall across it.

"You seen that right?"

"Yep," Kleo sounded off.

"I didn't see nothin'," Mariposa dismissed.

"Are you playing dumb or just blind? Feels like you're leading us into some bad shit," Ash said.

"Now why would I do a damn thing like that? It's my neck on the line too, Jefe is pissed about this whole thing."

Ash looked away from the windows, "I thought the gangs got along? Shared territory?"

"That's right, mare," he said slowly, as if to a child, "the big gangs do, publicly-like anyway, they use us and others like us to do their dirty work. So while we have our own rules to play by, the competition aren't always as lawful as us. Comprende?"

She looked back at the buildings as something moved, it was like those floaty things in your eyes that vanished whenever you tried to look directly at them.

"So the other gang, who are they?"

"We don't know," Kleo stated, "boss said their guys called Machu Pichu, some short pendejo".

"Remember;" Mariposa injected, "let me do the talking."

"Sounds like you'll have a lot in common, Mariposa," Ash said.

"What do you mean to say by that?"

"I mean you're a pendejo as well. Am I saying that right? I'm trying to learn the lingo. Fit in."

"I'll be 'fitting you in' if you don't show me some respect, mare," he growled.

"I invite you to try, assflap."

"Quit your bickering," Kleo said. "We're here, so could you act civil for ten minutes?"

The paint factory was a rusty shell of sheet metal and old wood, the frame seemed to get ever more crooked the closer they got, with dark slate tiles caked in soot and moss and the windows that were so uneven it caused the marginal amount of OCD within Ash to scream for its demolition so she didn't have to look at it.

The door opened as they arrived and a slight breeze blustered through the street. Ash had glided to the door instinctively and met the shorter stallion, he was almost up to her chin. He had a flat wide nose and one ear was deformed, his eyes were dark and offered nothing.

"¿Qué?" He asked.

"Podoro sent us," she said.

Mariposa tried to replace her subtly but she stood her ground.

The mule glanced between them with a slight shrug, "ok."

Mariposa and Kleo unlatched themselves and carried the case. Inside was a lowered concrete floor with several industrial manufacturing machines bolted into the concrete. A dusty timber staircase rose on the left to a short catwalk and some kind of observation office and creaked as a few mules moved down it. A dozen more stood around the inside, eyes on their little group. They all sported leather vests and little curved blades at their hips, very similar in style to the pair Mariposa sported.

There were another few Mules arrayed on the concrete at the centre where a larger Mule waited. Even as the door closed and her eyes immediately adjusted to the low light, she could make out a scar along his forehead and the scratchy edges of fur sticking out from his hat. As they got closer she recognised the telltale signs of scalping.

All eyes were on them as a scrape sounded overhead and a stick-thin figure trotted out of the observation booth to slowly creep down the stairs and onto the central platform. He wore a finely sewn crimson vest with gold thread and a white hat. His face was gaunt and the little goatee he sported immediately annoyed her. Don't any of these fuckers know what a razor is?

"Buenos," the new arrival said. "Podoros sent more of you than we were expecting. It's no problem, except… where's our mule?"

Mariposa stepped away from Ash and into the proverbial spotlight, dragging Kloe with him as she held the other handle on the crate.

"What Mule?" Kleo asked.

He dropped to the lower level, "Our mule. The one we negotiated for?"

"What the fuck is he on about, Mariposa?" She hushed.

"Beats me, mare." He faced the finely clothed mule, "Listen, hombre, Podoro sends his sincerest regards and this little… offering of appreciation."

The mule shuffled forward, a few of his gang bunching into small teams. Ash felt acutely aware of the locked door at her back and the few mules that moved into position between them and the entrance.

"This isn't what was agreed, where is our Mule?! Where is Lorca?!" Anger bubbled in his slight face.

"We don't know nothing about any damn mules," Mariposa said hotly, "but why don't we show you what's in the box and be on our way, then you and Podoro can work out whatever you need to."

Ash glanced at Kleo, she had the same look. We're screwed.

The mule stiffened, looked around angrily and finally made a gesture at the box. He looked at the broad Mule beside him, "Open."

The mule complied and with one hoof on his cutlass and one eye on Mariposa, Ash and Kleo, he unlocked the crate. with the crunch of the lock setting the tension extremely high.

He lifted the lid and gasped as he pulled back with a gag, Ash bent around to see and heard the flies before she saw them. There was a decapitated head inside, tongue and eyes bloated and swollen.

The wail from the finely dressed mule was sharp and painful to listen to, he fell forward and placed both forehooves on the lid, "Mi hijo!"

He glanced up, eyes red and raw, mouth agape with shock and anger. He screamed, something loud and hate-filled. The room burst into movement, Ash saw the several Mules on either side of the box draw blades and flow forward with choppy movements.

Time stalled, the air was musty and the sound of the wailing mule was all she could focus on for a split second. She didn't have time to think, Kleo screamed something, a short curved blade in each wing.

Mariposa pulled both curved swords and whirled on his hind legs, surprisingly nimble as he used his long frame to ward off the wave of Mules that moved for them.

Ash's brain was on fire with a single word filling her brain, escape, escape, escape. They had to get out of this warehouse or they'd be joining the head in that box.

She spun to meet the rear mules, they'd stayed back, blocking the door, gazes daring her to try to get through them. She swung herself, pivoting sideways and launching herself forward with a sabre drawn.

Their eyes bulged as she moved on them, that familiar rush of violence filled her legs and haunches to the point of itchy agony. She had to keep moving. The middle and left-most Mules teamed up to flank her and managed to partially dodge her mass. She threw herself at the lone mule on the right. He brought his sword up and she almost chopped through it, swinging down and then switching her stance. She ended the manoeuvre by catching the sabre in her opposite hoof and driving the blade through his neck. He fell with a gurgle.

As she turned to face the others, she heard Kleo and Mariposa fighting back to her. From the moment of the box to now perhaps ten seconds had passed.

One mule moved toward her with a cry, she jumped high over him and he skidded to change his angle, she caught him in the head with her rear legs and the snap of his skull echoed like a bullwhip.

She landed beside the other, and he thrust and met thin air as she easily sidestepped and struck him in the muzzle with a forelimb. He stumbled, tripped and dropped his sword. Ash sliced his throat and he went down in a spray of blood that missed her by a slim margin.

Kleo and Mariposa had backpedalled to the door, taking a few Mules down as they did so. Ash cut them off, bust the lock with her sabre hilt and was out into broad daylight. As her compatriots piled through after her, Kleo had a captured Mule blade and closed the door, stabbing the blade through the door and sheet metal wall to keep it sealed. A moment later and something crashed against it heavily.

"Move!" Kleo shouted. She took to the sky, flying back the way they'd come.

Mariposa hooked himself up to the cart, Ash hopped in the rear and he was off with a jerk. He raced down the street at a flat gallop, the ride was shaking her as she held on. The door burst open and a dozen Mules burst into the street, angry and seething.

"Why ain't you running mare?! You're slowing me down!"

"Shut it and keep driving, I'll keep an eye on your rear!"

"That's my line!" He said.

Kleo was overhead, gliding effortlessly, there were more Mules on the junction ahead, they had swords out and spaced themselves to cover the intersection.

Kleo dived, pulling up and scattering the group. They yelled and cursed as she made another pass, by the time the cart had gotten to the junction they were too far to hurt them. One neared the last second and Ash scared him away with a swing of her sabre.

"Left! Go left!" She heard Kleo shout.

As they hit the next junction, Mariposa swung into the turn. The cart drifted onto one wheel and nearly sent her crashing onto its side, Ash dropped her weight to counterbalance and kill the cart's tipping motion.

They kept going. She could see distant figures down the other two streets. Mariposa followed directions from Kleo, skipping through the intersection after intersection. Finally, they came within range of the busier industrial area. Mariposa slowed with a gasp and Kleo landed.

"That was close-" he managed to say. Kleo slapped him hard, he struggled against the harness. Ash got the message and laid the flat side of her blade across the top of Mariposa's back.

"Be still."

"What in Tartarus was that for?!" He complained.

"What was that, Mariposa? Did you know about that? Podoro screwed us big time!"

"I swear I didn't know! Boss said take the offering and see how the new mare performed!"

Kleo was face to face with him and as angry as a hornet. Blue eyes harsh and unforgiving. She could be scary when she wanted to be.

Workers and normal Mules were walking ahead and some had come near enough to glance at them with concern.

Ash sheathed her sabre, "This ain't the place, what do you want to do?"

Kleo stared hard and long into his eyes. He didn't say anything. "We go back, any funny business, Mariposa and I'll sell your hide to the Jackles."

"I don't know what he was thinking, honest! I'm as betrayed as you."

Ash and Kleo exchanged uncertain glances. The journey back was quiet and fortunately, uneventful.

4. These Horseshoes Were Made For Walking

Day 5, yesterday a sudden flood swept over the desert. I can only assume it began in the mountains and worked it’s way down, in combination with heavy rainfall the desert is almost completely covered. I managed to make a raft out of logs and driftwood. I have water enough for a few days and a little food.

This morning I found a dead Thestral scout, he’d been killed by a lightning strike, I have his Sabre and meagre supplies. Seems he was as ill-equipped as I am. The weather is clearing by now as I float for what I hope is further south. I worry. They'll be looking, If not for me then the scout.

Hours. It had been a few Ash reckoned and she was too tired to row anymore. There were a slight breeze and enough of a drag on her raft to pull her along. She wasn’t sure which way she was heading, with no point of reference to draw from.

The clouds remained heavy overhead and she feared further downpour. But at least the sun wasn’t burning her to death.
Ash had managed to create a raft from two old trees and built a fire in the middle. Between bouts of rowing, she had amassed enough boiled water from two dozen uses of an empty sardine tin to fill her water bladder with clean, albeit murky water. She drank greedily. The taste wasn’t too unpleasant and was certainly better than nothing. She had been glancing around aimlessly, looking at the sameness of the grey waters and sky occasionally broken up by mounds and lines of sand or rocks.

Something reflected ahead of her and she studied it. It fluttered and moved just above the waterline. She checked to make sure she had both sabres at the ready. Law this far out? Although she could have easily turned back. She wasn’t sure of anything right now and so resorted to waiting patiently. The raft was being pulled toward the movement, and she was too fatigued to change her course.

She neared closer and closer, the movement subsided until only a rocky mound appeared. The drag was pulling her from underneath, like before, the mix of sand and stone was acting as a drain. As she neared she touched her pole to the rocks and it emitted a sudden cracking sound. Movement and fluttering burst from the other side, as a dozen giant carrion birds erupted in fright. Scaring Ash half to death.

Her heart was in her throat and she breathed heavily in relief that it wasn’t some kind of ambush. Tentatively as the raft remained locked against the side of the rocky formation, Ash left the raft with a single sabre outstretched. Nothing around her indicated anything untoward. Yet her basic training remained and kept her alert. She moved quietly, over the mound to see a corpse floating amongst the driftwood. A Thestral wearing leather and silver plate, a big male from the size. She moved closer to examine, very confident in his death from the blood diluting into the water.

She reached down and dragged him out onto the bank, he stank of death and rot. He was already very swollen. Almost centre of his wings across his back was a charred wound as big as a hoofprint. She spread the flesh a little to investigate, it wasn’t magical. He’d been hit by lightning and his partner had probably fled, she'd found them this morning. Rolling him she could see he had a buckle for a weapon that was absent, probably at the bottom of the floodwater. His face was semi chewed from the birds' feast, but she didn’t recognise him from her encounter at the raider camp.

He had a star with the crest of the Thestrian government. Ash took it and pinned it to herself, who knew when pretending to be an official of the kingdom would be to her benefit. He had some belongings in a bag, water-drenched and mostly useless. He had several tins of sardines and beans, the larger cans meant she could boil more water at once.

There was bread which had disintegrated in the water, and a silver hip flask which she opened and sniffed. Scotch. Ash had a swig, and with her face scrunched she screwed the cap and stored it in her belt. He had another knife like hers which she also relieved him of, a coin purse and some tools. All in all a good find. He also had rolled up in a pouch a map of the area.

It wasn’t much good to her, the land was flooded and she was grounded. She wiggled her wings and that sent reprocessing pain along her back and she hissed. Ash returned to her raft and pushed off with renewed strength. The logs jostled as the current fought to return them to the shore. She continued roughly in the direction she had been headed.

She swore to herself if she ever made it out of this place she would invest in a compass and maybe get some enchanted armour. It was extremely rare and expensive, but who knew what the black market could churn out. She’d heard some crime organisations lived the lavish live down south, and if she could rub shoulders with them, maybe she’d get very ahead.

Ash sighed heavily. Although her appetite and thirst had been sated, she still hurt incredibly. The clouds were lifting and starting to thin, she estimated it to be mid-noon. She had allowed her fire to burn itself out as it was warm enough by now for her not to require it. On the horizon, the water and sky blend was disturbed by craggy hills, a sure sign of a halt in the water-way transit.

Around the prelude to the solid ground were dozens of mounds that rose like giant grey lily pads. Evidence of lightning strikes was abounding. The few isolated trees had been charred and split by the energies while pockets of sand had been turned to blackened glass. Ash was looking at the map she had found on the scout. His scribbled bearings weren’t particularly helpful, without a compass Ash was very lost.

She knew which way south was on the map, but she didn’t know where she was exactly. What she needed was a good landmark to identify where she was roughly and go from there. The water surface was as unmoving as a millpond, and she relied on the momentum of the occasional burst from some underwater current to tow her along.

Soon enough, however, she rose to steady herself as the raft knocked into the rim of a stone Mesa. She didn’t hesitate, cautiously placing her saddlebags over her back and making landfall. She put the spare sabre through her side strap, careful not to slice her pack off.

Ash looked at the raft. As she stepped onto the makeshift shore, she left one hoof on the logs and thanked whoever might reside above for any help. The rocky ground became sandy and rose onto a small hill. She shuffled to the top, hooves sinking as she did.

The view was quite something. The horizon was still vast and stretched on in whites and heat-shimmering oranges. The flatness had returned and the water seemed to have failed to breach into this area of the sands. Her spirits lifted. The clouds also ended shortly over the Mesa. Once night came she could figure out which way to travel by using the stars. By the turn of the sun in the distance, it was perhaps seven or eight hours until nightfall. So she would wait until then.

She settled in, finding a little crevice of shade behind a thick rocky spire. Ash wouldn’t return to the raft for firewood, the light would give her away if anypony was out here looking. She wanted to maintain a low profile, at least until she reached Mulico City.

Ash awoke. Her left foreleg numb from resting her head on it. It was pitch black and quite cold. She didn’t ache too much and felt weirdly half asleep. Blearily and with uncooperative limbs she gathered her pack and weapons, looping her two water bladders around her neck and walking a few steps away.

She shook her legs to get the blood flowing. Her wings remained unresponsive. She tried to wiggle them a little and gasped as blood began to flow into them. She kept it up, gently massaging them while vibrating them softly. They smelled okay and the wet wounds had dried which were good signs.

Looking skyward she had a big drink of water and swished it around her mouth before swallowing. The stars were out, occasionally broken by the odd rogue cloud. Back the way she came remained water covered as well as cloudy. The moon was high above the vapours, with ghostly beams of white shining through small holes in the cloud top.

There weren’t many constellations she recognised. But the few she did gave her hope. She scanned for a few minutes, trying to find the northern star. Eventually, she used her hoof to trace a compass shape in the sand. She used a few pebbles and rock chips to denote the few star clusters she could find and glanced back at the cloud covered area behind her. Trying to visualise where the north star might be in relation wasn’t difficult, there were two constellations that resided either side of the north star.

She’d found one, and knowing where she was roughly in Equestria meant she could gauge that it was rising eastward, so she knew where north would be roughly relation. Checking up, she couldn’t see it. But another cluster was low to the other side, visible through a hole in the clouds. This meant north was assuredly between them and now she knew which way north was.

Returning to her pack, Ash secured it across her back and began to trot south. She might have drifted a dozen kilometres from her original bearing, but she would eventually stumble into Mulico. There were dozens of towns along the way. The route down was tricky. Small outcroppings existed at decreasing levels and Ash hopped from one to the next like a mountain goat.

It was chilly, yet not actually as cold as she had felt the last few nights. A sure sign that she was recovering from the attack.
With a deep breath, Ash continued on, keeping the two constellations in her peripheral vision.
She wasn’t dragging her legs anymore either. And although still sore and tired, she felt remarkably better.

She considered her plan once she reached Mulico city. Primarily she needed medical attention, but from there she planned on finding North park station and getting some work with those drug runners. She’d need contacts with the Mule syndicates if she wanted to make some big payoffs, and that required knowing people. On a whim, Ash pulled out the heavily creased map she’d collected off the dead scout.

Now she had some idea of South and North, she could make sense of some of his markings. There were two spots of interest, one far behind her with a little home icon, and the second a short detour to the west. Camp locations possibly. Ash wasn’t certain, maybe these were towns. She decided to drift west for the second mark and hoped to whatever mystical force might exist to keep her lucky.

Author's Note

Updated 05/11/20