Salvation | Rebirth

Wild and Artful were sitting by the window, watching as a small mining town came into view. Wild honestly thought he’d see something more immediately obviously mining-related, perhaps some random carts or tall storage buildings or similar cartoonish concepts his mind brought forth or, perhaps, piles of coal or metals, but the town seemed like a more developed and orderly version of Ponyville. However, one prominent feature reigned supreme - the mountains themselves. While the town seemed relatively flat, the mountains rose and rose, somehow taller than Wild thought they could be.

The town, which Wild learned was called a simple and concise name of Gemstal - a relatively unimaginative combination of words ‘gem’ and ‘crystal’ - was founded shortly after the Crystal Empire’s disappeared. The Crystal Empire, as was its name, was the main source of various high quality gems and crystals, having exported them to Equestria for a long time before Sombra’s rise to power. While gems themselves, individually, weren’t particularly valuable, considering how, surprisingly to Wild, common they were, having a convenient, plentiful, and quality source of them was not something that happened very often. The town of Gemstal was thus founded in order to manage the sudden disappearance of that source, and although both the quantity and quality of gems and crystals was not even close to what the Crystal Empire had once offered, it was enough to keep Equestria from suffering too much economically.

However, Gemstal was not their destination. In truth, it was slightly beyond the town, and the train veered off towards a newly-built large train station next to an even bigger cargo train depot. It was, for now, a temporary stop before the Crystal Empire was connected to the railway network, which could not yet be done for various political and practical reasons.

The train slowly rolled to a stop, and Wild realized that his anxiety had only grown in strength since he had woke up. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to happen, something that would not be good for him or anyone. However, he couldn’t properly vocalize these thoughts, not just yet. Perhaps he was just paranoid, considering how far away he was from what he had grown used to. Or maybe it was something in the air, something that seemed to affect everyone, considering the subdued tones of chatter he could hear as everyone slowly disembarked. He gathered his wits, raised his courage from this depths, and followed. There was work to be done, and it was work he was more than willing to do.

“Listen up, everyone!” someone spoke, their voice amplified by magic. A small podium was erected, and on top of it stood an earth pony in Royal Guard armor, “This is the final stop at which you can easily turn around and go back. Being a volunteer here is not about proving something to yourself or others, it’s not about fame, it’s not about adventure. The main and only goal is helping others. If you are not in it for that, you are out. Cooperation is what will carry everyone forward, and everyone who’s not putting in the proper effort is a delay, a distraction, a nuisance. The only thing that matters here is working, working together, and working well. If you are not willing to put that effort in, then what the hell are you doing here?”

If anyone left, Wild didn’t notice. As far as speeches went, Wild judged this one simple, clear, and straight to the point. He was certainly not here for fame or any other such ridiculous thing. He was helped, and now he felt the need to offer help to others, to repay what he felt he owed. He was not going to be slacking on this job, even if it was not technically a paid job. Still, he volunteered, he knew exactly what the job would entail, and he wouldn’t turn back.

“No one? Huh, guess the word spread,” the speaker seemed both baffled and pleased by this situation, “Alright then, we’re burning daylight, time to move out. Get on the carriages and let’s get a move on.”

Further into the station, what looked like another train was waiting for them. When Wild went closer, he immediately took note of large and wide rubber wheels, overall lower position of the carts, and the fact that the carts were not coupled. These were something like steam-powered buses, though they still managed to look more like trains than any car Wild had known. It was interesting, and he would have liked to take a closer look and see how many similarities there were to the buses and trucks and cars that he did know - for all that he wasn’t anywhere close to being a car mechanic - but now wasn’t the time.

The steam bus interior was simple, featuring only padded benches much like the train Wild had once taken from Ponyville to Canterlot. The ceiling was lower, though the width was about the same. Ponies slowly filled the steam bus using the side doors, although it also had both a back and a front door. The back door seemed to be an emergency exit, though it wasn’t labeled - maybe a remaining part of a train that this bus was made out of or something? The front door, however, led straight to the driver cabin.

Wild and Artful settled down, as usually, together. Wild noted that there were actually safety belts built into the benches. The door to the driver cabin opened, and a pony in a uniform stepped out.

“Alright, buckle up, everyone, this ride’s going to be pretty bumpy, and that’s without a blizzard, so be ready for it to be even worse,” they said cheerfully, “I’ll help you out if you have issues, but it’s pretty simple...”

The pony demonstrated how to wear the seat belt - which was not just a simple belt, it was more of a harness, which Wild thought made sense, considering that humans and ponies did not sit alike at all. Once the demonstration was done, they went around the bus, checking how everyone was doing, and they nodded with approval at Wild’s own efforts, as well as how quickly and how well he helped Artful put on his own harness.

“You’re born to put on safety harnesses, aren’t you?” the pony teased him, “But seriously, good job,” they looked him over again, “Nothing’s dangling, nothing’s too tight,” he then switched to Artful, “Same here too. You work in construction?”

Wild shook his head, then said, “I just have good...” he realized he couldn’t just say ‘hands’, so he just somewhat awkwardly wiggled his magical hands instead.

“Oh, that’s neat,” the pony eyed them with interest, and soon after, to Wild’s relief, moved on. Artful shot him a questioning look.

“Something similar exists where... I came from,” Wild explained quietly, tugging at the harness slightly. In retrospect, perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to show off his hands skills as well as his knowledge - small as it was - of safety harnesses, considering that ponies did not grow up around cars and likely had never even seen a safety harness or belt in their entire lives unless, as the conductor pony said, they worked in construction. However, maybe Wild was just slightly too paranoid. It was far more likely that strangers would chalk it up to him either having experience in construction, just like it was suggested, or having friends or family that had it. It was, after all, far more likely than him having experience of using a safety belt in a different world with a different technology while living in a different body.

Wild slowly inhaled, then counted to four, and then exhaled. The tension he could feel was getting to him, making his thoughts odd. The uncertainty of the future events felt like an itch, and the accompanying anxiety put a strain on his mind. If he knew what he was going to face, he would at least have a chance to prepare, to think of a strategy, but there was nothing but a vague sense of unease.

Wild went through the meager arsenal of spells that he had managed to acquire so far. None except the lightning bolt could be used offensively with any kind of great effect, and he hadn’t yet had enough practice with a shield spell to be certain that it would hold properly under strain. For all the power he now had because of the Alicorn Amulet, he feared that he didn’t have enough skill, enough control over it to utilize it effectively if ever necessary, and he had a feeling that the time of necessity would come very soon.

Wild had purposefully positioned himself next to the window so that, if anything attempted to get into the bus, he had a chance of seeing it coming while also hopefully bodily protecting Artful. The very possibility that Artful could get hurt made Wild feel vaguely sick, unwelcome images flashing inside his head. He pushed them away, having no desire to see blood and gore that his mind could easily conjure up and combine with Artful’s face. Just to reassure himself that Artful lived, breathed, and was unharmed, Wild nuzzled him slightly, receiving a nuzzle in return.

“Something’s wrong?” Artful asked as the bus lurched and started moving, rolling out of the train station. As promised, the ride was already slightly bumpy, which Wild chalked up to suspension. It was likely lacking, considering that trains didn’t exactly need anything sophisticated to keep the ride smooth. Or, at least, as far as Wild was aware, which wasn’t exactly very far.

“...I have a feeling,” Wild finally confessed, “I... hope I am just... overthinking.”

“This whole situation is weird, I can feel that,” Artful nodded thoughtfully, “I think it’s mostly just anticipation. I think. But you think differently, right?”

“Yes,” Wild nodded, “I think something bad will happen. And not... usual,” his face scrunched up in thought, “I do not know what,” he stared out the window, watching as the dark clouds gathered up overhead. It appeared his mood was reflected in the weather. Or perhaps it was the other way around.

The ride was quiet, the chats and talks almost non-existent among the passengers. The wind had picked up, its whistling audible even through heavy thermal insulation that had helped keep the interior of the bus warm. Snow started falling, slowly but surely thickening. However, the bus wasn’t slowing down - if anything, it was picking up speed. Wild sincerely hoped that they had something for proper navigation in this weather, and wouldn’t it be wiser to simply return to the train station to wait until the blizzard died down?

“Keep calm, everyone,” the conductor pony spoke up from their place at the front of the bus where they had been reading a book since everyone buckled in, “I know what you must be thinking. It’s a blizzard, why aren’t we somewhere nice and warm and not on top of this big thing bumping our rears with no pleasure to show for it? Well, the thing is, those blizzards are just completely random, unpredictable. Meanwhile, work needs to be done, and we’re not running out of it anytime soon. This snow-faring baby was tailor-made for this kind of stuff, don’t worry. We’ve made many trips in this weather, this is just routine at this point.”

Wild genuinely wanted to believe them, but he had no idea if he could. If this bus was toppled over, everyone would be stuck, and the steam engine would presumably cease functioning, considering that it likely wasn’t made to operate sideways. Then their source of warmth would likely be gone, and with the blizzard upon them, this bus would turn out to be their snow-buried coffin that would be difficult to find. While they weren’t far from the station, and Wild was sure he could teleport everyone back there if ever necessary, he would rather have everything go smoothly than encounter an accident - or deliberate, malicious sabotage - and have to deal with that.

For a while, it seemed that the worsening weather was nothing but random happenstance, something that was a simple if unpredictable and relatively dangerous obstacle. The bus was making its way at a steady pace, its wide knobby and studded wheels carrying them along the snow relatively easily. It was nice and warm inside, nothing life-threatening, and everyone was alive and well.

Then Wild felt it. Someone’s attention, unmistakable in its imprint on its surroundings, caught as it was in Wild’s active thought-catching ability. It was slippery, like trying to catch smoke with one’s bare hands, but it was still there. Wild didn’t notice his face rapidly paling to a noticeable if still somewhat subtle degree. He looked out the window, meeting nothing but an almost solid curtain of falling snow, but he couldn’t help but almost see a tendril of darkness here and there, flowing in and out of the snow, almost as if it was considering whether the bus and, most importantly, its occupants were worth the trouble of striking. He could feel the hunger, as different as it was from the normal hunger, and mixed in with that hunger was... something else, something more than that. An edge of... desperation, perhaps. Then there was fear, yet it was wreathed in anger like a shield, though it continued leaking out. Longing, too, was present, smothered as it was by almost artificial rage, It was all jumbled together, a mess that Wild couldn’t truly begin to unravel and figure out, not without attracting the attention on whatever was out there.

He sat perfectly still, averting his eyes to stare at the floor instead. His heart was somewhere between his ears, beating so hard it was all that he could hear. His fur, ever so slowly, started to glisten with sweat even as he refused to more than keep the window in the corner of his vision, unfocused and not quite being paid attention to.

Whatever was out there could not notice him, and he would do everything in his power that it remained so. He kept his own thoughts to himself, making sure they remained in his head and did not stray, even as he made sure not to reach out too much, not to make himself obvious to whoever or whatever it was that could easily exist in that sort of a blizzard, perhaps even causing it. He forced himself to breathe, slow and steady and barely enough, but he couldn’t show that he knew, even as a part of him screamed to make him release it, to tell everyone that they had to return or, at least, to hide. They still had time before they reached the Crystal Empire, and he had no idea if what was out there would want to get inside or drag them out.

His lightning spell was ready, and he’d put everything he could put in it if necessary, striking with overwhelming force to make sure that whoever attacked regretted it. Even as Wild felt the other’s attention slowly slipping from the bus, he kept his power tightly coiled, ready to spring at a moment’s notice. However, nothing happened, and the presence retreated, even as the imprint of them remained, lingering like a bad smell.

Wild breathed in, held, breathed out. Once they were in the Crystal Empire, he would make sure the princesses present would know of this. He didn’t think they’d have allowed for volunteers to come if they had, so perhaps whoever or whatever it was - perhaps even Sombra himself - would be then caught by surprise.

Wild’s hope for this volunteer work to be unremarkable was well and truly dashed.