Wild was glad to be outside again, breathing in the fresh slightly chilly air. The wind was barely strong enough to ruffle his mane, and the colors of autumn were pleasant to his eyes. The noise was likewise pleasant with no rumble of cars distant or close, which was something Wild had taken quite some time to get used to. No matter the time of day, no matter if there were birds singing or ponies playing, it was always far quieter than he thought was natural. However, now he learned that this quietness was indeed natural, and it was very soothing in a way he couldn’t quite describe.

However, he wasn’t there to enjoy the nature right now but to play a game of paintball. Precision led him outside and to one of bigger sheds on the Royal Orphanage grounds, situated nearby a forest. Wild could see that the closest section of the forest was separated from the rest by some kind of a net, and there were structures within that perimeter. Near the shed, a small crowd of ponies was gathered, all between ages of ten to fourteen if Wild had to guess. All in all, with him and Precision, it was nearing a dozen, and they were joined by a steady trickle of even more ponies. Wild wondered just how many ponies there actually were in the Royal Orphanage. The cafeteria was certainly large enough to host more than a couple of hundred, yet he hadn’t seen it filled to capacity yet. Were there more orphanages around Equestria? Perhaps he would look into it. He didn’t really have a particularly good reason to do so other than to kill time and fill his head with what was essentially useless trivia.

“Shouldn’t be long before everyone’s here,” Precision told him once they were close enough to the group, “I’ll be around, find me if you need me.”

Wild nodded, and Precision left him, going to other ponies to talk to them. He didn’t exactly know what to do, so he just stood there. He turned away from the group and gazed at the surrounding nature instead, content with doing just that until the entire event began. After all, he didn’t exactly expect to make friends here, not like this, it just didn’t feel... right. Or perhaps he thought it didn’t feel right, but he wasn’t exactly looking for the difference or the truth of it.

He had never been much for group activities. Interacting with others was often... cumbersome, in some way. When others easily found words to say, he was awkward instead. Something simply didn’t click between him and others, and that was without his aggression coming into play. He knew he was weird, he knew he wasn’t very likable, and he understood that he would, most likely, remain alone for the rest of his life. Of course, there were people he knew and interacted with on a somewhat regular basis, but they weren’t friends, and none of them even knew much about him. Precision, Swingblade, they were fine when it came to being clubmates or when they were sitting next to him during meal times. Artful was fine to listen to and to be around without feeling awkward. Lina, well, Wild could admit he liked how blunt she could be and... she was someone he could play a game with.

“Oh hi, how are you?” a masculine voice said, breaking Wild out of his thoughts. He turned his head and saw an earth pony stallion with... was that some makeup? His eyes were certainly standing out as if outlined, “M’name’s Sharpshooter. Well, it’ll be my name when I get the mark, but yeah.”

Wild winced internally. That was just what he wanted - someone talking to him for no reason. However, he inclined his head in greeting and signed his name.

“Oh, uh, sorry, I don’t- I’ve not really learned the sign language yet,” Sharpshooter smiled sheepishly, “But, um... pleased t’meet’cha. First time here?”

Wild nodded.

“Cool, bet you’ll like it,” Sharpshooter said, “It’s really fun! We earth ponies get to shoot some awesome stuff, it’s so cool!”

Wild nodded again, privately wishing the energetic young stallion would go away. Wild wasn’t really in a mood to make any more acquaintances, he had enough as is. He shifted slightly in place, hopefully hiding his discomfort.

“You’ll just get a regular slingshot, so it’s lots harder to aim, but it’s fine, you’ll manage it,” the young stallion said and then attempted to nudge Wild in what probably would have been a friendly way, but Wild flinched and stepped back. Sharpshooter flinched in response, looking surprised, an expression of uncertainty now on his face, “So, uh, yeah,” he then turned his head, a smile back on his face, although perhaps a bit strained, and he called, “Oh hey! Over here!”

Thankfully for Wild, Sharpshooter walked off then, leaving him alone, letting him let out a sigh of relief. He did not like to be touched, especially without any warning. As far as he was concerned, Sharpshooter better not return because, well, Wild didn’t really care for this kind of behavior all that much. He knew he was broken, too different from regular ponies, not fitting with them in any way whatsoever, but he didn’t want his face rubbed into this fact.

He inhaled, held his breath for a bit, and then exhaled. It was an accident. Sharpshooter didn’t mean anything but friendliness by it. Wild was odd, Wild was weird, and it was his own problem, a problem he had to deal with and not anyone else.

He dearly wished he brought his fidget toys, or at least one of them, along. As it was, he was left to kick at the ground to relieve some of the tension in him, to let it dissipate into the earth beneath him. Everything was fine, he came to this event to have fun, and he would have fun. Despite these self-assurances, he felt like it would be best for him to just leave. To return to his dorm perhaps, or to just find a quiet place in a nearby forest, maybe swim in the lake - as much as he could swim in his current body, at least, - or, well, anything else.

With a sudden viciousness, he thought just how much he would absolutely love to break something, to express his frustration, to relieve it by physical exertion and by the effort it took to break whatever it was. He would shout, he would jump, he would roll, he would kick, he would do anything and everything to just get it all out of his system, everything. Perhaps he would even cry afterwards, which would be embarrassing even if no one else saw it, but... crying felt good, and who could blame him for it, who could call it weakness? Princess Luna, at least, didn’t. She let him cry freely when he did. It was no less embarrassing, but not hearing any words of judgement from her, it was... good.

“Alright, everyone’s here!” he heard Precision yell, and he pulled himself away from his own thoughts. He came here to have fun, and he would have fun, “Right, so there are a few newcomers, so lemme just tell you all the rules. First,” her horn lit up and two weapon-like things and one simple slingshot were lifted into the air and placed on a folding table Wild didn’t remember her bringing, “The things we shoot each other with, because that’s what this entire game is about.

“First, unicorns get this,” she lifted the regular slingshot, “And an assortment of balls. The balls are filled with liquid that will always show up on your fur no matter the color, so very easy to see. Also easy to wash off. You can even eat the balls, no harm in that, but that means eating your ammo, so don’t do that,” some ponies chuckled at it, “So yeah, regular slingshots for unicorns because magic is awesome and gives a huge advantage. This game wouldn’t be fun if unicorns won each time, right?

“So, with a slingshot, you get a bag of balls,” she said and showed the bag, then took one ball from the bag, “You get one ball - or multiple if you’re feeling lucky - and you put them right here, pull, and then let go to shoot,” she demonstrated it, hitting a target with an audible splat right in the center. Wild silently cursed at himself for not even noticing her putting the targets up while he was feeling sorry for himself. More importantly, however, was the fact that the paint was indeed clearly visible on all the colors of the target that spread from the center. The paint, it appeared, took the exact opposite of the color underneath and around, and the contrast was easily visible.

“There’ll be some practice for you all unicorn folks to get used to it and maybe aim more or less well,” Precision said and put down the slingshot, “Next, for pegasi, we have this thing. It’s essentially a crossbow but uses a sling,” she demonstrated it, “Hey Mimi, give it a try for demonstration, huh?”

“Yeah, sure,” a pegasus filly a couple years younger stepped out of the crowd, “So, we pegasi can fly, so that’s an obvious advantage, but we can’t hold things very well, so we get this slingbow that makes aiming a lot easier. However, we have to land to reload it, and you do it with a lever. Set it down, nose-first, then pull the lever. Once you hear a click, put a ball in a slot right here, it’s marked with red. And done, you’re good to go!” she shook the slingbow, “The ball won’t fall out no matter how hard you fly too,” she then flew up, adjusted her body so that one of her front legs held the front of the slingbow while the back of it was pressed against her chest, “Aiming’s easy when you’re flying around, just look down the slingbow as straight as you can make it, aim in a way that the target is between the two prongs in the front, and then use your other foreleg to pull the trigger.”

With another splat, a second shot hit its target - not in the center but close enough.

“You can also divebomb people,” Precision said, showing everyone balloons filled with the same liquid as the balls, “Just drop it on them, easy.

“And the last thing, the multi-shot slingbow,” she showed the most complex weapon out of the three, “You wear it with this harness here. Sharpshooter, c’mere and show us how it’s done.”

“On it!” the earth pony chirped cheerfully and then swiftly put on the harness, on the side of which the slingbow was mounted. After some adjustments, there were three things in front of his face: two differently-colored levers and one target reticle, “An earth pony gets five shots in a magazine, which’s really difficult to change when the slingbow is on,” on the other side of the harness was a bag with one tube made of some clear material, a spring visible within, “But you can get used to it. First, you yank the white lever like this,” he demonstrated, using his maw to grab onto the lever and then pull it back, “And then you turn it up,” he tilted his head and did so, “And then you tilt to the side, and the spent magazine falls out. After that, you get the new one and put it in like this,” he used his maw to expertly grab the magazine in the pouch and then put it in its right place on the sling bow, “And then you turn the lever down and bring it back. Bam, you’re loaded and ready to go.”

He then pulled on the black lever after aiming, and his own shot struck very close to the center of the target. The white lever was then pulled and brought back, not unlike a bolt of a rifle, and the next ball was loaded and then shot out of the sling.

Wild understood - unicorns had to be careful about everything from loading to aiming, but there was much versatility in having just a regular slingshot; pegasi were afforded better aiming and the same strength of the shot each time, giving them consistency, yet aiming for them was harder since they had to turn their bodies; and earth ponies were given the best weapon that could shoot fast and accurately, although the bulk of it could prove problematic. Overall, the playing field would be quite level, and no one was really at a serious disadvantage. At the very least that was true in a casual setting - unicorns that spent their time with a slingshot would probably beat everyone else. However, he didn’t think any of this ever went beyond the casual, so there were no issues with that.

“With the fun done, now there’s some safety,” Precision said, “Everyone will wear a full shield on their heads. Getting the balls in the eyes hurts.”

Some giggled at that. Realizing the possible turn of the phrase, Wild decided not to linger on that interpretation.

“Alright, so the rules are simple: you get shot anywhere, you’re out, depending on the exact rules. Before any of you get any of the slingshots, put the shields on.”

As it turned out, a shield was a transparent helmet of a kind, protecting the eyes and the front of the muzzle without restricting breathing. It felt like it was made out of some kind of plastic, but Wild couldn’t really tell. All he cared about that it didn’t fog up, although he could already see a problem - there was some distortion going on in his peripheral vision. Nothing major, but it would definitely be a bit distracting.

“Alright, looking good everyone, now to practice before we begin shooting at each-other!”

Finally, something Wild was actually looking forward to. The entire group was brought to a shooting range with pony-shaped targets at various distances and a bunch of balls lying in bags in front of a fence that separated the range itself from where the ponies would shoot. Wild took a place at the end of the row where he would only have to deal with one pony by one of his sides and not be sandwiched between two, and then focused on the shooting.

Precision made it look easy, but it was anything but. Wild thought he had a good eye for judging distance, but his first shot missed completely. And then the next. And the next one after that. The closest target was perhaps ten meters in front of him and yet he couldn’t hit it. Thankfully, his fifth shot clipped it, so that tiny spot of paint was better than nothing. He even managed to relax despite the growing frustration at not being able to hit something that he was fairly certain he would be able to hit if he just threw the balls with magic.

“No throwing the balls with magic!” Precision called out to someone who apparently did what Wild was thinking about, “Your slingshots only!”

Wild nodded, mostly to himself, and redoubled his efforts. In what seemed like no time at all, he was more or less consistent at landing shot after shot at the closest target, missing only one in four. The target after that, however, proved even more difficult. However, as time passed, he found himself hitting it as well, although not with any kind of consistency he would hope for. Using a revolver or a regular pistol was certainly much easier, although he was thankful these slingshots were extremely far from them in function. He didn’t think he would be at ease aiming a gun at a pony, especially a young one. Slingshots, he heard about them, and they were firmly associated with children and teens at best, so there was no uncomfortable parallel to draw. The slingbows were certainly a lot more advanced, but both their form and function were far different from any gun he had ever handled.

Precision sharply whistled.

“Alright, everyone!” she yelled as ponies stopped shooting, “That’s all good enough, let’s go get some real practice!”

The group yelled their approval, and Wild went along with them to the front of the area separated by the net. He could almost feel the excitement swirling all around him. If he had a weaker hold on his powers, he would certainly know the exact thoughts everyone was having about it all, but he held it all in control. He hadn’t slipped even after the Nightmare, so that had to count for something.

“The first thing is just a good old team on team fight!” Precision announced, “Two teams, I’ll be a captain, who else wants it?”

A couple ponies loudly argued for the position, although it was all good-natured. In the end, an earth pony young stallion Wild didn’t know called Spring ended up as the second captain. He was a small pony, certainly noticeably younger than Wild physically or mentally - or spiritually. However, Wild had a feeling that he would be a competent captain for a reason he couldn’t discern. The feeling was simply there, unexplainable.

After the second captain was picked, the group was divided into teams, each captain calling out a name. Precision, unsurprisingly, decided to name Wild as a teammate, and so he joined her team.

“Alright, team Spring and team Precision. Anyone here has issues seeing red from blue? No? Alright, then I’m team red, Spring’s team blue. Let’s get everyone dressed, shall we?”

Wild received five very red strips of stretchy fabric, one for each leg and one around the top of his head. He also received a pouch with a bright white cape inside of it.

“If you are hit, pull the cape out and drape it over yourself,” Precision explained to everyone, “That way you won’t get hit, on purpose at least, when you’re getting out of the field.”

It felt absolutely nothing like military uniform, and Wild had, at one point in his life, gotten a hold of plenty of military-related clothing and tried it on. He remembered how much of a fool he was, thinking that he would join the military, and so he did his best to learn how to march, how to crawl, and how to be quick, like a soldier. It didn’t really last long - becoming a knight took over his mind - and so he was glad he wasn’t going to be reminded of that again aside from this twinge of a memory. Aside from the fact that the game was about shooting people, it was nothing at all like anything close to military things, and he was glad for that.

“Alright, Team Red, follow me!” Precision called after she set a timer on an alarm that would tell both teams when the round begins, “We’ll go over some basic strategy, but don’t worry, it’s all just for fun so who cares? Let’s shoot the other team!”

The team yelled their approval in unison, and even Wild smiled. He liked this sort of energy and, perhaps, it would propel him forward as well.

Wild readied himself and allowed himself to pull the corners of his mouth into a toothy grin. It was not a regular sort of fight, but it was a fight nonetheless, and he would thrive in it.

Author's Note

Paintball is honestly one of my favorite activities, though I've not had a chance to do it often. Also, I hope how ponies do paintball makes sense as I described it. After all, they can't exactly use what humans do.

This is a monthly reminder that I have a Boosty where I post chapters twice a week. Currently, you can access chapters up to Chapter 58 with more yet to come. This story has definitely grown long and I don't think it's even halfway done. Which is unsurprising, the road of recovery from trauma is long and difficult, which is exactly what I want to portray as accurately as I can.