Kirkyard Rest Halloween Event

Regrets.

I've always lived my life by not having them. If things went sour, I’d just saddle up and move on. No looking back, no reflection, and no worries. The ultimate freedom to be anywhere, be anything. Nothing was a big deal to me, nothing mattered so much that I’d lie awake at night thinking about it, life was better living in the moment, or so I thought.

Ten years ago, give or take a few months, I had walked out of my hometown with nothing but the clothes on my back and stolen money in my pocket. The lives I'd ruined weren't important, all that mattered was the next big adventure. And now retribution had come calling, I had a debt to pay and come hell or high water, I was gonna pay it.

I stared at the tiny bundle in my arms. She was so small, this little caramel and honey coloured girl. Perfectly formed, a tiny champagne coloured nose wiggled at me from the blankets. Looking back at the dead mare at my hooves, my mind slowly turning over what had happened.

She’d been in my bed for months, I think she really believed marriage was on the horizon. Yet as I do, I'd walked on out of town when things got boring, never looking back. No worries. Same old story, nothing new. New town, new me. Then I'd arrived home one day, the mare I'd abandoned on my doorstep, covered in blood with a bulging stomach that roiled and contracted.

“Save her,” She’d whispered, weak and pale. “Save our baby.”

Shock. My heart felt like it had stopped, then my hooves moved on their own, racing to get Candy, the sweet nurse who served as our only medic. Confusion. Baby. Whose? Ours? I didn't have foals. Candy had shoved me to the side, desperately seeking a pulse. The mare was too gone to be saved, she’d yelled. She’d dragged her inside, screaming at me to help, and like a zombie I’d obeyed. Together we’d strapped the mare down, then Candy had pulled a knife. Numb, I watched her slice open the bloated stomach of the mare, pushing aside organs that slithered out onto the floor. She reached her hooves in and pulled out something squirming before hacking at the umbilical cord. Then she sat back, wiping sweat off her face. I vividly remember the streak of deep red blood she’d inadvertently wiped on her face. Not the bright red of fresh blood, but the deep red of arterial blood, the kind that you didn't want to see, not ever. It stood out so stark against her white mane and pink coat, glistening in the dusty sunlight.

Grabbing a dirty towel off my bed, she began wiping down the tiny wriggling thing, gently and tenderly. The room felt empty and hushed, as if all the world waited for something.

The baby wailed. A loud, robust cry, and suddenly the world came rushing back in.

“Congratulations,” Candy smiled, handing me the bundle wrapped in the filthy towel I’d used that morning. “It’s a girl.”

Now I stared down at the tiny little girl, who’s face so mirrored my own, squishy and blood covered as it was. Her mother lay at my hooves, blood splashed all over my once clean living room. There must be some mistake, I thought to myself, confused. I went to hoof her back over to Candy.

“Oh no Mister,” Candy stood shakily up, helping herself to my whiskey. My good whiskey, I might add. “I got her out in time. Now she’s your problem.”

I could only look at her, my mouth agape like a fool. It felt unreal, like a dream. Candy saw my face then rolled her eyes, putting the bottle down on my dresser with a thunk.

“Silver, she’s got your colouring. She’s yours, through and through.” she walked over to me, leaning over my shoulder to look at the blood covered baby who was now peacefully napping. Her lower lip moved as if she were suckling at something, and a tiny frown grace her face. My heart gave a thump.

“Now I don't know who this mare was, or who she was to you, but you’ve got a problem. That there baby is gonna need a wetnurse, and real soon, or she’ll die. What you do with your kin is your business, but if you allow a newborn foal to die in this town, I can't guarantee your safety by morn’.”

“But how?” I asked, stupidly. “How is she mine?”

Candy gave me a side eyed glance. “Well when a mare and a stallion love each other-”

“Not what I meant.” I cut her off, rolling my eyes. The baby’s frown eased at the sound of my voice, and my heart thudded again. “I meant, isn't there an orphanage nearby? You said yourself she’d need a wetnurse.”

Candy laughed, a harsh bark of unamusement. “This is the wasteland, sugar. There ain't no orphanages.” She stepped back over to the whiskey and drained it in a pull. “Cherry Mane over yonder had a foal not too long ago, she’s probably still got milk. I'd suggest heading over to her first, see if she’ll take the poor thing. Either way, you gotta pay for the burial of the mare. I’ll go get Mort to come take her away.”

With a nod, Candy disappeared from my home.

Cherry Mane. a pretty but dumpy mare with freckles, stomach always swollen with her husband’s latest spawn. I was sure she’d be grateful for another baby to cuddle. Nodding to myself, moving to grab my hat. The movement jostled the baby in my arm, and she began to wail. What an awful noise! My ears flattened against my head and I looked around for something to jam in her mouth to shut her up. The empty whisky bottle was contemplated momentarily, but I shook my head, instead sitting back on the bed, wiping my hoof off on my vest before sticking it in the baby’s mouth, humming a tuneless song like I'd seen other mares do. The kid stopped crying and began sucking hard at my hoof. I was surprised at how strong she was, that kind of force could suck the poison straight from a manticore! She set herself to gnawing fiercely at my hoof, looking up at me. Startled, I gazed back. She had the same beautiful pink eyes of her mother. I had forgotten that mare, leaving her behind in the dust with all my other worries. Now here I was, holding the tiniest little thing that had the same beautiful eyes, peeking up from a face that looked just like mine. Shaking my head, I removed my hoof and grabbed my hat, dumping the foal in it. Balancing it on my back, I set off for Cherry’s. Any longer with this thing and I’d start to think about things best left forgotten.

Cherry smiled at me with pity in her eyes. “Ah mean it, Silver.” She said softly. “Ah can’t take her. Mah milk is dried up.”

“But she’ll die without a wetnurse!” I repeated, horror filling my heart.

“If yeh c’n get them t’ take it, they’ll survive jes’ fine off o’ pig milk. Not all babies will do, mind, but it’ll give her a chance.”

Pig? Pig milk? I was expected to feed my daughter swine milk? I flinched internally, realising I’d started mentally referring to the baby as my daughter. Since when did I have a daughter? Since this morning, apparently, my mind replied dryly.

“Ah’m sorry.” Cherry repeated, hoofing me a baby bottle and some other supplies. She gave me a sad nod before moving off with her brood clutched around her. I sat down in the dirt, my mind raced as to what to do. Farmer Maggot had pigs, I could barter milk from him, I had some caps saved. Either way, somewhere in the last few hours, I'd started calling her my own. Shaking my head at these dangerous thoughts, I trotted back into town, only to be stopped short by Candy.

“There’s some fellas looking for you.” She said, nervously looking over her shoulder. “Say they’re here to claim the girl was promised to them as payment. I don't trust ‘em, SIlver. Something don’t feel right about them.”

That was excellent news! “Where are they?” Perhaps I wouldn't have to worry about Maggot’s pigs, after all?

Candy frowned, shifting her hooves the dust. “Over at Mort’s. Say they’ll bury the mare, but the girl is theirs.”

She’d barely finished speaking, but I was already gone, a spring in my step and in my heart. All the confusing feelings had stopped, I would be rid of the kid and back to my wonderfully free bachelor life. I could hear the baby gurgling on my back, she’d be hungry soon and it would be someone else’s problem.

Rounding the corner, I spotted the Mortician’s house across the way. Old Mort was out front, scratching at his patchy mane with a hoof while he listened to something one of the stallions was telling him. The three stallions were heavily armed, unusual this far into the desert. Frowning, my trot slowed to a walk. Why would heavily armed mercenaries be looking for Sunflower and her baby? I had gotten close enough to hear the conversation drifting to me across the square. Straining my ears, I stopped to listen before they noticed me.

“She’ll have a good life with us. Mister Strikes always provides the best care for the foals he takes in.”

Mort was nodding, he knew Marble Strikes by reputation. Good stallion, always willing to help out where needed. Everyone knew Marble, and my heart sank. See, I'd done something to Marble long ago. I'd agreed to do a job for him, and the payment had been beyond my wildest dreams. Except when I finished the job, I stabbed him in the gut and stole both the payment and the job profit. It’d fuelled most of my travels for the past few years. I never thought he’d reach me down in New Appleloosa, it was months on hoof from his operations up in Stalliongrad.

Slowly, casually, I turned around. Best not to attract attention to myself by running. Nice and easy walk away, nothing to see here.

“Silver! These gents want a word!”

Fuck you in the ass, Mort. I began to run, the baby squalling on my back. I paused long enough to put my hat in the doorway of a house, couldn't run for my life with a baby, and without Maggot’s pigs she’d be dead by morning anyway. “Sorry, little one.” I whispered, turning and fleeing. The stallions were hot on my tail, fast even for all their weapons.

My heart thundered as I ducked and weaved through the town, kicking up dirt and knocking over indignant passerbys. Shouts rang from behind me but I kept running, my sides heaving with the effort.

CRACK.

The bullet struck me in the flank and I went flying, my ass on fire. The pain was unbearable. Rolling to a stop with a moan, my flank felt hot and wet, blood pumping from the wound.

“You shot him in the ass!” One of the stallions was laughing, a loud and donkey-like bray. I could do nothing but lay there panting with the pain as three shadows came into my line of sight.

“I did. Gotta break his leg though, he’ll heal before we get him back to Mister Strikes if we don't.” I screamed in panic, my hooves scrabbling in the dirt to escape. The townsfolk who were gathering curiously were murmuring. The mayor stepped forward, taking off his hat.

“Boys, I cant allow this in our town. You came to claim a baby and you’ve got her, I gotta ask you to stop torturing my citizens and leave.”

“Hold up, boss. We got a warrant for this one.” The big blue stallion with his hoof on my leg scrabbled around in his saddlebags, producing a crumpled piece of paper. Cold sweat bloomed on my forehead, the seal was from Strikes. My ass throbbed with my heartbeat. “There you go, everything is in order.”

The mayor looked over the paper, his lips moving while he sounded out the more difficult words. He looked down at me, and hope flared briefly in my chest. “Seems all in order. Mister Strikes is well known even out here.” He crouched down, looking me in the eye. My hope withered. “You did a dumb thing stealing from such a good man, son. I hope it was worth it. C’mon y'all, let's leave these men to do their jobs now. Shoo! Git!” The mayor began working at dispersing the crowd. The stallion standing on my leg shoved the paper back in his back with a grunt, bent down and swiftly broke my back leg with a businesslike heave. It took a moment for the pain to arrive, then my entire body felt like someone had run it over with a loaded wagon. Screams of agony escaped my lips, joining the screams of the little baby who’d arrived on my doorstep like the harbinger of doom.

“She needs some milk, cuz. I reckon she was only born this morning.” Someone said, I don't care who. Looking back at my leg, I saw it was broken at the joint, an unnatural angle that I knew would take months to heal, if it healed at all. Sobbing, I tried curling up into a ball only to be lifted by caramel coloured magic.

“Don't you fret none sir, we won't let it fester and will heal you right up in time to be presented to Mister Strikes. I'm an excellent healer.” The stallion smiled up at me, presenting me with his medical bandage cutie mark. Then we were off.

Every step back to wherever the stallions were camped bumped me around in the magic, sending fresh waves of pain rippling through my body. Not once did the baby stop crying, her heart wrenching mewls drilling into my brain with every throb of my wound. By the time we’d arrived, I was ready to kill her just to shut her up. A pudgy mare with swollen teats came running to meet us, grabbing the baby without a word and placing her to her breast. The girl instantly quietened, contented grunts and sweet noises replaced the ear drilling scream.

“Ooh she’s got a strong suckle, this one!” The mare said, happily holding the tiny baby. “I'm glad you brought me along Bale, she’s a fighter.” The blue stallion who’s name was apparently Bale leaned down and kissed the mare on the top of the head.

“I'm just glad you're blessed with so much milk, Daisy. Otherwise she’d have died with the sunrise.”

I found myself placed in a tent, to which the pony holding me in his magic promptly zapped me with a spell. Instantly all the feeling in my legs disappeared, the horrific pain fading away. I trembled with relief, the pain had been excruciating. A pony with a pipbuck appeared, pursing her lips in disapproval. “Did you have to break his leg so badly?” She asked the brown stallion. “That’s gonna be a bitch to heal.”

“You can heal it, right?” Even I could hear the desperation in my voice.

She smiled at my question before walking over and smacking me in the mouth. “Yes, I will heal you. But you, however, have lost the right to speak in my presence. Anyone who steals from Master Strikes steals from all of us. You answer only when I ask you a question, is that understood?”

Shocked, I nodded. This bitch was crazy!

“We had to, Juni. He was runnin’. Left the babe behind and all, poor thing.” The brown stallion looked sad for a moment before perking up. “But Daisy’s got her on the tit now and says she’ll be fine.”

The mare named Juni looked pleased, picking up a salve and spreading it on my ass.

“That’s good, I'm glad she wasn't hurt..” She said quietly. “We’re gonna head out in the morning, long road back to Stalliongrad. She’s gonna need all her strength.” Juni looked sternly at me, lifting her spatula with obvious threat. “You will too. You’re damn lucky Bale knew how to break a leg properly or you'd be in a lot worse condition than this.” Her voice softened. “Try to get some sleep. Mister Strikes isn't unreasonable. We will be leaving early, so you’ll need some rest.”

With that, Juni and the stallion left the tent, the flap not quite covering the hooves of the guard out the front. Groaning, I put my hooves over my head. I was fucked.

True to Juni’s word, we left before daybreak. I was strapped to a wagon, with Daisy and the baby riding with me, another small baby in a sling at her side. The spell on my legs mercifully didn't wear off, so the trip was relatively comfortable. Daisy beamed at me, cooing at the babies as they fed and cuddled.

“Your daughter is a real cutie, Mister.” Daisy commented, holding the foal tenderly. “Such beautiful eyes. From her mother, I presume?”

I nodded wearily. Poor Sunflower, she hadn’t deserved such a grisly end. She’d been a sweet mare, and always eager to please. Daisy pulled herself over to me, folding the blanket back so I could see the baby’s face. Bright eyes stared back, and she gave a milky smile. Even I had to admit she was adorable.

“She's a real lady, this one. Polite as you please.” Daisy chirped happily. “Thing is, I don't even know her name!”

“I uh.. I haven't given her one.” I mumbled, looking away in shame. It's true, I'd just been referring to her as ‘the baby’ or ‘the girl’. I hadn't even thought of a name.

Daisy looked shocked, but quickly hid it. “Well that just won't do! A girl’s gotta have her name. You're a papa now!”

The baby waved pudgy hooves at me, bringing an unconscious smile to my face. She had been the reason for my past catching up to me, but it wasn't her fault. She was innocent in all this. “How about Pastry? Her momma always loved desserts, and talked about opening a bakery one day. Pudding, for her grandmother.” My own mother was hardly worth anything, but Sunflower’s mom had welcomed me with open arms into their family. They'd all been hoping I'd join them permanently, and now Sun was cold and dead in the dirt. My breath hitched in my chest. I wonder if her mom knew?

“Pastry Pudding ey? That’s cute. I like it.” Daisy was positively twinkling down at the baby. “Pastry Pudding. You are just a pudding aren't you? Yes you are!”

Naming her changed something. I don't know how or what, but suddenly something inside me just clicked. This wasn’t some random baby. This was my baby. My daughter, and her name was Pastry Pudding. Fumbling, I reached towards the bundle, suddenly desperate to hold her. Daisy wordlessly placed her in my arms, a mother’s understanding from years of experience rearing her own. I looked down in wonder at the tiny girl, her hooves now being slobbered upon as her eyes watched the roadside pass by. Pastry Pudding, daughter of Silver.

From that day on, while everyone else in the caravan was cold to me, Daisy went out of her way not to be. She was always warm and friendly, happy to let me hold Pastry and teach me how to be a parent. I learned how to change diapers, how to bottle feed, how to burp. Pastry endured all my clumsy attempts with the sweet patience she had been born with, fussing only if I was too slow. The miles passed by quicker than I thought, and my leg healed steadily. Strangely enough, I had no desire to make a run for it. Pastry still needed Daisy’s milk, and would for a while. Every day brought something new with it. Pastry liked being cold, and she hated being swaddled. She liked pretty coloured toys but was also happy to chew on rocks if she could. I loved learning about her, this little piece of my heart. Soon, Every moment of every day was spent tending to her needs, and I loved it all. How could I have tried to abandon my beautiful little daughter to save my own hide? The shame of it burned and bit at me in the night as I lay awake listening to Bale and Daisy attempt for baby number eight.

All too soon we’d arrived in Stalliongrad. The gates loomed ahead of me, and I shifted awkwardly. My legs were healed perfectly, but now I wore a bomb collar in case i ever thought of running. Get too far away from the detonator, and boom goes my head. Bale always wore the detonator in a bag around his neck, which meant I stuck close to Bale. Thankfully, so did Daisy and that made it bearable. We rolled into the small village, the sounds of bustling activity all around me. Foals shrieked and ran across the wagons path, ponies called out to the mercenaries like long lost friends. The sinking feeling in my stomach got even lower. Everyone here was so kind, so happy. Why wouldn't they be? Marble Strikes provided safety, security and a home. All he asked for in return was loyalty. Except I knew what that loyalty cost. Marble Strikes had everyone sign a contract when they joined him, and in that contract was a clause that gave up your freedom to him. Everyone around me was a willing slave to a pony who offered them an oasis in a world fed by madness and pain, and they always signed with a smile.

Marble would only offer contracts to those he’d rescued, those who he knew needed a place to stay. A lifetime of devotion in return for a lifetime of safety. As a result, every single pony in his employ was a blind devotee. It was a cult. A grey pegasus landed gracefully in front of the wagon, her pale eyes staring cooly down at me. I cringed. This was the worst of them all, this was Buttermilk, secretary to Marble Strikes and his strongest devotee. She’d kill for him, I’d seen her do it.

“I see you found it.” She turned away from me, addressing Bale. “Welcome home, Bale.”

Bale grinned, pulling Daisy to him. She stepped forward, uncovering the bundle containing Pastry and showing Buttermilk. The mares cooed over my daughter, ignoring the unloading of the wagons. I wanted them to hand Pastry to me, but from the looks Bale was shooting me, I had better keep my mouth shut. Buttermilk touched Pastry with a wing, eliciting a giggle. She smiled at her, before turning her cold eyes back to me. “Master Strikes is waiting in his office. Please follow me.”

She accepted the dusty bomb detonator from Bale with a grimace, holding it delicately with her feathertips away from her. Buttermilk was beautiful, and I felt the dirt and dust from the long trip keenly. I knew I smelled atrocious as well, especially in comparison to the floral fragrance radiating from the mare leading me through the halls of the run down manor Marble called home. Where I'd once been an honoured guest, ponies now looked at me in disgust and anger. Stooping to hide my face, I lowered my ears. This was the worst.

Buttermilk tapped gently on the mahogany doors before opening them, bowing deeply with her wings spread. Guards on either side of Marble stood to attention. Here I was, at last in front of the most powerful stallion I knew. One who was betrayed, stabbed and run from.

“Silver Bullet, otherwise known as Silvertongue.” Marble was a green earth pony with a pale blue mane streaked with the beginnings of grey. He looked at me impassively, and I withered beneath his gaze. “You have done me a grave discourtesy, son. I offered you work, and instead you took whatever you could from me.” He leaned forward with his hooves together, peering down at me. “I would ask why, but news of your true lifestyle has reached my ears. I cannot deny your nature.”

I didn't reply. I just wanted to sink into the earth and go back to Pastry.

“However, I am a patient, forgiving stallion.” I looked up, not daring to hope I'd get out of this alive. “You know the terms of staying in my town. Safety, security, and love in return for everything you are. I am willing to offer these terms to your daughter.”

To my daughter? He meant to take Pastry? That bastard! “You can't!” I snarled, lurching forward. Buttermilk held a feather over the detonator, glaring me into submission. “I mean, she cant sign, she’s a baby.”

“Indeed.” Marble said, dryly. “However if her last remaining legal guardian signs her over to me, then we won't have an issue. I will consider your debt paid. You would no longer be welcome in these parts, but you would be free to go.”

My mind was yammering, anger and fury mixed with worry and fear. On one hoof, Pastry would be safe, albeit a slave. On the other, I'd never see her again and that was simply unacceptable. “No.” I said, firmly. “You can do as you like to me, but I won't sign her into your fucked up cult. I will raise my daughter, not you.”

Marble raised his eyebrows at the conviction in my voice. “You seem certain.”

“I am. I will never let you have her.”

“You tried to abandon her back in New Appleloosa.”

“That was before I'd gotten to know her. Before-” I swallowed, nervous at admitting it outloud. “Before I’d named her.”

“Indeed.” Marble slid a contract out of his drawer, the paper pristine and white. He must have paid a fortune for it. “There is another way.”

I didn't like this. “What did you say?”

“I said, there is another way. Sign yourself to me. You are untrustworthy, so you will be chipped at first. Prove yourself to me, prove your devotion to your daughter, and you will both have happy, prosperous lives here until she comes of age and can choose her own fate.” He slid the contract to me. The terms were clear. My life and servitude, for the debt and comfort of my daughter. She’d grow up out of the wasteland, be educated. All I had to give up was the life I'd lived till now.

“Of course, you don't need to sign.” I looked up in confusion. “I can simply sell you to Obsidia for her mines. No consent required. I must recoup my lost profit, after all. Your daughter would be looked after until she too is old enough to be sold.”

My choices were bleak, I stared blankly. Sign Pastry to him and she’d be safe but a slave and I'd never see her again. Sign myself to him and Pastry grows up safe, but I wouldn't travel again. I'd be the slave. Dont sign, and I'm sold off to the mines and so will Pastry once she’s old enough. Damned no matter what I do. I cursed my past self for stealing from one of the most powerful ponies in Equestria.

“I’ll sign.” I mumbled.

“I’m sorry, I didn't quite catch that?” Marble’s voice was polite and measured, giving nothing away.

“I said I’ll sign! For myself, not her. She gets all the perks, you get me. Deal?” I was in no position to demand anything, but I had to keep my pride.

“I knew you'd come to see things my way.” The paper and a pen slid toward me glistening in the sunlight. They were innocently malicious, but I knew I had no choice, not if I wanted to keep Pastry in my life, and Celestia help me, I did. Picking up the pen, I signed with a flourish. My soul for my daughter.

Buttermilk swept the papers up and they disappeared into the safe. I watched them go glumly, not moving even as one of the guards injected me with a tracking chip. I was stuck here, now and forever.

Marble stood, offering a hoof. I could see a thin scar on his ribs where I’d stabbed him. “It was a pleasure, Mister Bullet. I am pleased to be working with you from now on.” I took his hoof, shaking it with a mild distaste. “If you’ll please follow Butter, she will take you to your new quarters.”

“Pastry will be living with me, right?” I was tired, but if Pastry wasn't living with me then my work here wasn't done. Marble stopped, looking at me quizzically.

“Of course. You’re one of us now, after all.”