The vinyl player stood tall on top of an unorganized stack of timeworn album covers. The record spun in place with its needle pressed down firmly against the groves as the horn amplified its beat-heavy track. The rhythmic beat of a drum bass pedal and a simple guitar lick fills the room along with the sound of a soft brush rubbing against metal. A dull-blond coat stallion sat on the edge of his seat while holding onto a brush. “Boom boom boom boom!” He sang while brushing the nooks and crannies of his left metal prosthetic arm. “Bang bang bang bang!”. He paused. “Haw haw haw haw.” He continued to brush his prosthetic in a rhythmic fashion that mimicked the track of the song.
Enjoying himself, the stallion cleaned his prosthetic with no inconveniences. After a few minutes, the stallion placed the brush on the table and flexed his prosthetic. He frowned and stood up from the table. Restlessly he walked, jumped, and butted his prosthetic arm against various objects; his face becoming visibly more annoyed as he fidgeted around. Eventually, the stallion screamed and grabbed the brush in frustration. Swapping from his right hoof to his mouth, he repeatedly tried to move the bristles of the brush behind his upper arm. However, no matter what position he tried, the brush was just shy of the spot. The stallion continued to jerk his limbs around to find a position to allow the brush to reach the area. Unknown to the stallion, just beyond his door, a guest had arrived. The guest grabbed onto the bottom of a wind chime and rattled it before walking into the stallion’s room. A brown feathered gryphon with a red bandana tied around his neck peeked in. “Hey Birdie! Where you?-“ He abruptly paused. Birdie laid on his back as he stared at the gryphon with the brush in his mouth. Both the gryphon and stallion had been frozen in place as they stared at each other.
The gryphon laughed, breaking the silence. “What are you doing?”.
The stallion, Birdie, spat the brush from his mouth and stood up. “Don’t you know how to knock before entering! For gods’ sake, I could have been naked!”
“You’re always naked.” The gryphon snarked. “Besides, I rang the chimes before I came in. Anyway, what are you doing? We’re going to be late!”
Birdie rolled his eyes, “Celestia, Bassline we still have like, an hour.” he then continued to try and reach the area with his brush.
The gryphon, Bassline, sighed. “I know, but I know you always take an hour to get ready!”
Birdie laughed. “I know!”
Bassline chuckled and shook his head. He wandered around the room and fiddled with a few objects, while he waited for Birdie.
As Bassline wandered around his room, Birdie turned to him and held out the brush. “Do you think you can get this area for me? I took a sand bath a few minutes ago and I can’t get the sand out of my joints.”
“Sure.” Bassline replied as he grabbed a hold of the brush. “Where do you want me to start?”
“Behind my upper arm.” Birdie replied. “It’s somewhere underneath my shoulder.”
“Here?” Bassline placed the brush under his shoulder and scrubbed the metal. Birdie nodded and stood still as Bassline brushed the area. Once Bassline stopped, Birdie took a step forward and flexed his prosthetic. He smiled, “That’s the spot! Man, that was driving me crazy! I could feel the sand grind against my joints every time I moved it”
Bassline chuckled, “That’s good. Now hurry up! We gotta get going!” He placed the brush down on the table and made his way to the door. “I left my fiddle outside, so ill wait for you out there.”
Birdie nodded and shuffled around his room to grab a few of his accessories. He then trotted towards a flat polished sheet of metal wall and stared at his reflection. In a hurry, he donned his earrings and placed a bluish/purple bandana around his neck. Tightening the ends of his bandana he admired his appearance and ran his metal talons through his hair. “Birdie, honey?” called out an older mare. “Bassline is waiting for you at the door!” Birdie’s ears drooped as he let out a sigh. “Alright Auntie! Tell him to hold his horses!” He trotted away to exit his room and grabbed his guitar case before walking to the main exit. He yelled out his goodbyes to whoever was inside the house and opened the door to the outside.
The piercing hot sunlight had temporarily blinded him, but within a few seconds his eyes adjusted to the brightness. Laid before him were the familiar sight of sand, rocks, and dilapidated homes. Chipbowl, just residing within the northern part of the Badlands, was a safe haven for many soldiers, prisoners of war, slaves, and fleeing families during and after the Great War. However, since the fall of Appleloom, Chipbowl has not seen any new refugees for more than a century. Thus, returning Chipbowl to its former use as a mining town. Today Chipbowl has open trades with the New Canterlot Republic for exchange of basic living necessities.
Bassline had been waiting next to the door, balancing a variety of instruments on top of his body. With a sigh of relief, he looked at Birdie. “You ready to go?”
Birdie laughed and pointed at his head. “You know that’s a tambourine and not a crown, right?”.
Bassline frowned. “Well maybe I wouldn’t wear it like a hat if you would help me carry this around!”
Birdie laughed again and grabbed the tambourine from Bassline’s head and placed it upon his own. Together they began to walk down the disheveled log path, greeting many of its residents as they walked by. “Everyone seems to be in good spirits today.” Birdie stated while waving at a mother and her foal.
Bassline looked up at the sky and squinted his eyes. “I would imagine so. Its been about a week since we’ve seen the sun out like this. It’s a shame that we won’t be around that long to enjoy it”
Birdie rolled his eyes. “You talk as if we are going to be gone forever. We’re literally going to be gone for about a day or two.”
Bassline folded his ears, “Yeah...” He paused for a moment and looked towards the ground. “…But aren’t you worried about what it’s like out there? I mean, you heard the stories. What if we get trapped out there or get lost? Doesn’t that worry you, even a little?”
Birdie shrugged. “I try not to think about it. We’ll worry about that when we cross that road.” He turned his head to Bassline and chuckled. Bassline stopped in his tracks and looked at Birdie with disbelief as Birdie kept walking. Bassline shook his head disapprovingly and continued to follow him.
Eventually, the pair walked towards an open area that had been crowded with Chipbowl’s residents. The smell of dry alcohol and toasted sand filled their lungs. Accompanying the welcoming scent, was a loud, but rhythmic ear candy, of the local band playing. Birdie and Bassline walked to an open table and placed their instruments upon it. Together they sat down across from one another and enjoyed the music. Occasionally, they would lean over the table and gossip about the other residents who arrived. Sometimes a small group of colts and fillies would bother Bassline by asking him to give them a ride through the air. Meanwhile, Birdie would be playing a game of non-consensual-tug-of-war with his prosthetic arm with the child pranksters of Chipbowl. However, minutes passed as the pair grabbed their instruments and walked to the side of the platform where the current band was playing. They unloaded their instruments from their cases and began maintaining them. Birdie held an unlabeled acoustic guitar in his arms as he plucked the strings to check its tuning. Another instrument Birdie would wield is a harmonica that suspended itself in front of his mouth. Bassline was surrounded with a variety of percussion instruments, but he focused on tuning his violin.
Birdie strummed all six strings in unison then smiled. He stood up from the milk crate and placed his guitar within the case. “I’m going to the bar to get something to drink. You want anything?” He asked.
“Anything’s fine…” Bassline replied. “…But no alcohol.”
“I know you don’t really drink”
Bassline raised an eyebrow. “I was talking about you.”
Birdie inhaled deeply and turned away. “Alright, so nothing for you? Got it.” He began to walk away.
Bassline’s feathers puffed slightly. “Wait! Birdie!” He called out to him, but Birdie was seemingly ignoring him. “I-No! Hold up!” He placed his violin into the case and flew towards Birdie. When Bassline arrived next to Birdie, he had discovered Birdie had been chuckling at his reaction. Bassline glared at him and followed without saying anything.
The two walked towards an open canopy where a brown donkey stood between a makeshift countertop and a bookshelf of assorted alcoholic bottles. Birdie smiled and waved at the donkey. “Hey Creed! Can I get two steins of water? Ice if you could?” He asked.
Creed raised an eyebrow, then chuckled. “You’re asking for ice from a bartender that is located in the middle of a desert town?”
Birdie nodded.
“Well, you’re in luck.” Creed leaned over and reached underneath the counter. “I just so happened to have gotten some ice underneath the counter right here.”
Birdie raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
Creed then pulled out two steins and placed them on the counter. “No.” He replied, chuckling after the thought.
Bassline joined Creed as they laughed together. Birdie bit his tongue and folded his ears from embarrassment.
“Boys. If I had the power to chill your drinks, I would. But until that day comes, I hope you two are alright with room temp.” Creed poured water from a pitcher and served the two. “Anyway. Is today the last day you boys are going to be playing for the town?”
Birdie shrugged as he gulped down his drink.
“It depends.” Bassline answered. “We planned on adventuring out tomorrow, but we don’t know if we are going to leave or not”
“Is that so?” Creed stated, as he wiped a glass with a clean rag.
Birdie exhaled as he wiped his mouth. “We’re having trouble deciding on where to buy a wagon or something to hold our equipment when we travel. We thought about going to the New Canterlot Republic, but my aunt said we shouldn’t.”
“Well, that’s a thinker, isn’t it?” Creed paused as he looked over the two. A line had begun to form behind them. He frowned. “Listen, we can talk about this a little later if you like, after your performance. I do get a lot of ponies waiting to get a drink.”
Both Birdie and Bassline jolted up from their mugs as they turned around and saw the line that formed behind them.
Bassline’s cheeks turned red. “I-Sorry Creed!” He then tugged on Birdie’s elbow, motioning them to move.
The two began to move, but Birdie’s ears perked up as he remembered something. He quickly shifted back to the counter, cutting in front of someone. “Sorry!” He then looked at Creed. “I forgot to ask. What’s for lunch?”
Creed shook his head, then smiled. “Well, a little someone told me you two were leaving tomorrow morning, so they asked if I could whip up some radgator pie”
Birdie’s eyes flew open as he slammed his hoof on the table. “WELL, WHAT ARE WE WAITING FOR? COME ON!” He screamed as he grabbed a hold of Bassline’s wing and pulled him away from the canopy.
Bassline yelled. “H-hey! Don’t grab me like that! Birdie?! Stop! It’s not even our turn to play yet!” He continued to yell at him as Birdie kept pulling on his wings.
Creed laughed and waved goodbye to the two, continuing to serve the long line that had formed.
The pair walked back to their spot beside the stage and sat down next to each other as they watched the current band perform. Only a few more minutes before Birdie and Bassline take the stage. As the band wrapped up their final song, Birdie and Bassline stood to the side of the stage. When the band had finished, the pair took to the stage and pulled out a stool just in front of their microphones. Birdie sat to the right of Bassline and licked his lips, focusing on the microphone. Just beyond the microphone, displayed the entirety of the open area; the bar, tents, tables, and ponies, lots of ponies. This was the village square where every family, drunkard, traveler, and just about every living thing that populated Chipbowl had gathered. Birdie and Bassline looked at each other, then smiled. Birdie readied his instruments and closed his eyes. Birdie plucked the strings on his guitar, allowing his talons to fret the board. Every guitar lick he played; he had followed up with a light slap on the face of the guitar. He did this repeatedly, playing the rhythm of the song with the strings, followed by the percussion of the slapping of his guitar. He then leaned forward and blew into his harmonica to accompany himself. Bassline had also closed his eyes, swaying back and forth in his seat while he listened to Birdies playing. After a while, Bassline readied his violin and played when his verse came in. The two played in harmony together as they enjoyed the sounds of their instruments as well as the audience who had cheered them on for the rest of their performance.
Author's Note
Hope you enjoy the first chapter of "Far From Home"! The I'm going to try and post a new chapter every week or so, but it may depend on my work schedule. The person who did this chapters art was a fellow bandmember, @AzusaBeScuba on twitter. While you are at it, if you want more Caravan content come check out our twitter, @CaravanColors. There I will be posting updates to the story, artwork of scenes, and original/covers of Caravan music! Hope to see you again!
The Promise of Radgator Pie
The instruments rested beside the square table near Creed’s canopy. Birdie, Bassline, and Creed sat at the table, just opposite of each other. They enjoyed their afternoon lunch with the accompaniment of familiar chat. The cutlery scraped the face of Birdie’s plate as he scarfed down a slice of radgator pie.
“I know we live in a small town, but I swear- I have never in my life seen a pony, or anyone, woof down a radgator pie like you.” Bassline laughed.
“Kids’ a natural at it!” Creed added.
Bassline and Creed laughed together.
Birdie looked up from his plate and with a mouth full of food, he tried to speak.
“Listen, I’m glad you love the food, but maybe finish what’s in your mouth before you speak.” Creed stated.
Birdie thumped his chest with his hoof, then painfully swallowed. “I think I bit off a little more than I could chew. Literally!”
Creed smiled. “Well, make sure to pace yourself. I know the food is good and all, but if you eat too fast, you might choke. Eat too much, then you’ll look like that radgator we fileted. Besides, when you two go out adventuring, you might need to count on Bassline to bail you out if you get yourself into a sticky situation. Can’t have a speedy getaway if you’re packing a few extra pounds, now could ya?”
“And you’re heavy enough as it is.” Bassline added.
Clearly flustered, Birdie slammed his hooves on the table. “Look! It’s not my fault my arm is made out of metal!”
Creed and Bassline laughed again as Birdie pushed his plate away, crossing his arms in frustration.
“Speaking of which, are you two set on traveling out tomorrow?” Creed asked.
Birdie sighed, leaning back on his chair. “It’s like I said, it depends. We already have a rough idea of what to do, but currently, our problem is finding a way to carry our equipment. Bassline’s dad told us, “We can bring any instrument we wanted to take”, but the problem is that we want to bring too much.”
“My dad fully supports us going on our own, but…” Bassline paused. “…He didn’t really approve of the idea of Birdie and I tried to balance four instruments on our backs. Nor did he like our idea of our “sled.”” He laughed nervously.
Creed shook his head in amusement. “You boys never change, do you?” He chuckled. “Well, have you two considered about maybe a wagon or something?”
Birdie and Bassline nodded their heads.
“We did try to see if we could get a hold of a wagon, but we already knew that no one in this town would have any.” Birdie answered. “We went ahead and asked everyone anyway, but it was expected. Well, except for the merchants. However, I don’t think they will allow us to take their wagon, since they use it for Chipbowl’s trades.”
“What about making your own wagons?” Creed asked. “It’s hard work, but you could build exactly what you need.”
“We tried that as well.” Bassline sighed. “But as I mentioned before, my dad didn’t like the idea of our “sled”. Which I understand, since it was just a large tarp dragging across the floor!” He laughed. “Besides, I talked to the mayor, and he told me, “As much as I love you boys, I can’t offer you a lot of wood for your project.” However, he did give us a few sheets of lumbar, but it’s not nearly enough to patch a hole in the wall.”
“So, you two hit a roadblock, eh? Well, I’m sure you two can figure things out. You boys are smart.” Creed smiled.
Birdie sat there poking his plate. “Hey creed? You’ve been outside of Chipbowl before, right?”
Creed nodded.
“What’s it like?” Birdie asked.
Creed sighed. “I’m not the kind of person you should be asking if I’m honest, but I have made a trip or two with the merchants before. All I can say is that it’s… Different.”
“Different how?” Birdie asked again.
“It’s different.” Creed repeated. “You know those children’s books that talk about Equestria, the sisters, and everything like that? It’s not really the same as what those books depict. It’s dangerous out there. You boys as well as the other children in Chipbowl, have been shielded by the outside world. You don’t know what it’s truly like out there. Again, I wasn’t a traveler myself, but being a bartender at my age; you hear many stories. Chipbowl isn’t what it is today. Back then we used to be, and still is, a refugee town for Equestria. We are sheltered from things that any normal pony wouldn’t dare imagine. Which is why it puzzles me that you two would even consider on leaving.”
Birdie and Bassline looked at each other for a moment and smiled.
“It’s complicated.” Birdie stated.
Creed sighed. “Listen boys. I don’t want to sugar coat anything, but you two need to realize that outside these ridges is not sunshine and rainbows. You got no plans from what I see, no knowledge of any beasts that live out there, no knowledge of the environment, and not even the slightest clue about combat. I don’t even know if you have even fired a gun before! Let alone wield a blade!”
Birdie’s head hanged low, and his ears folded. However, he refused to let his smile fade. Rather than smiling from excitement, it was of worry.
Bassline twirled his thumbs. “I-Creed?” He said softly.
Creed looked over to see Bassline looking at his claws, smiling slightly.
“I-I know we don’t really have any plans…” Bassline spoke timidly. “…The truth is, we have no idea where to go or what we are going to do when we leave Chipbowl, but I know Birdie and I have been thinking about this for a while. Ever since…” He paused, peeking over at Birdie. “…Well. You know.” He stopped again. “We just think that it’s time for us to live a little, you know? We love it here! Don’t get me wrong! But- Do you ever get the feeling that there is more to life than what is within this town?”
Creed shook his head. “Can’t say I do.”
Bassline and Birdie’s smile slowly dwindled as they sat there in silence.
Seeing the sight of the duo, made Creed fall silent. Then he broke the silence with a sigh. “Listen boys. Although I may not agree with your decisions, it doesn’t mean that you should give up on your dreams. There are going to be ponies out there in the world who are going to be worse than me. You need to learn how to tune out what others might say, regardless of what doubts they might have of you. You do what makes YOU happy. You understand what I’m getting at? If you boys want to go out and see the world for yourself, do it. You don’t need mine or anyone else’s blessing if that’s what makes you happy. You look out for yourselves and your own goals. However…” Creed sighed again. “… If you two feel strongly about this, you have my support.”
The duo raised their heads and smiled.
Creed returned their smile with his own. “Keep in mind. It’s not sunshine and rainbows out there. So, you two need to look out for each other. Anyway, I might have a solution for your traveling problems.”
Birdie and Bassline’s eyes lit up.
“Really?!” Birdie stood up from his seat and slammed his hooves on the table.
Creed gestured his hoof to calm Birdie. “It’s just a suggestion. I’m not sure how much it would help, but if there is anyone who knows about wagons, it’s McCullen.”
“The sheriff?” Bassline asked.
Creed nodded. “McCullen and his team escort the Chipbowl’s merchants to the border when they trade with the New Canterlot Republic. They walk through that route once a week for almost their entire lives. Surely he has seen something along the way that may help you.”
“You think he can help us?” Birdie asked.
Creed gave a vague shrug. “It’s entirely possible. With your situation right now, he seems like your best bet. Even if he can’t help you boys at the moment, I’m sure he’ll come up with something.”
Birdie smiled enthusiastically, then tugged Bassline’s arm. “Come on. Let’s go see the ole sheriff!”
“You are going to see him now?” Creed asked.
Birdie and Bassline nodded.
“Why not?” Birdie stated. “If he knows a thing or two that can help us, why wait?”
The duo began to load the instruments on their backs, as they hurried themselves to meet the sheriff.
“Well hold your horses!” Creed chuckled, as he stood up from his chair. “If you two are going to see McCullen, do you mind if ya’ll take up his lunch to his office for me? I need to get back to the bar.”
“Huh? Umm, sure?” Bassline responded.
Creed winked. “I knew I could count on you boys. Now sit tight while I pack him up a slice.”
The duo nodded as they followed Creed to the canopy and waited outside.
After a few minutes, Creed had emerged from the canopy, holding a worn metal tin in his hooves. “Alright boys. Sorry for keeping you waiting for so long. I needed to make sure it was nice and hot.”
“Here! I’ll take it! Just place it right here.” Birdie pointed at the top of his head, as it was the only available space not occupied by an instrument.
Bassline rolled his eyes, then unloaded his instruments on top of Birdie’s back.
“Hey!” Birdie yelled, struggling to stand up from the increased weight.
Creed chuckled, then handed the tin to Bassline. “You know where his office is, right? It’s on the flats near the entrance of the town. I’m counting on ya’ll.”
“No worries!” Bassline smiled. “We’ll be there in no time.”
“Alrighty then! I’ll see ya’ll later. Have a good one!” Creed waved to them goodbye.
The duo waved back, then began to walk up the spiral path.
The entirety of Chipbowl had rested within a large dig site. The road had spiraled along the sides which made it easier to section off the different “districts”. There were three districts in total. The bottom of the spiral was the town center. There, the majority of residents spent their free time at the bottom. It was the coolest area, away from the sun, but perfect to allow the light to shine in. The second district was located at the middle of the dig site. The spiral path ran along the side, where all the residents of Chipbowl had lived. Lastly were the flats, the top. The top ridge, or the flat. There were small clusters of shops and extra homes that surrounded the dig site. The flats were the hottest areas of Chipbowl; it was only active during nights.
As the duo walked up the spiral path, both stayed relatively quiet. Occasionally, Bassline stopped to watch as Birdie struggled to carry the equipment up the slope.
“You need help with that?” Bassline asked.
Birdie panted, pulling himself up the slope one hoof at a time. “No.. I’m Alright… Just need to catch my breath.” He sat down, then fell over onto his back. “Can you give me a minute?”
Bassline chuckled, as he sat down next to Birdie.
Birdie laid there, trying to control his breathing. Once he had caught his breath, he looked over at Bassline. “How come I have to carry all the equipment? You’re like, almost twice the size as me!”
“Because unlike you, Creed wants the food to arrive in one piece.” Bassline stated with a sarcastic royal tone.
“Fair.” Birdie replied. He then sat up from the ground and overlooked the bottom district. “You think Mr. McCullen can actually help us look for wagons?”
“You heard Creed. He said that if anyone knows anything about wagons, it’s gotta be the sheriff.” Bassline answered. “Besides, if he didn’t believe that Mr. McCullen couldn’t help us, I don’t think he would have told us.”
“Yeah, maybe-” Birdie frowned. “Or maybe he is trying to get us to do his work for him, again!”
“I don’t think so. Or at least I hope not.” Bassline replied. “But it’s not like we have any other options anyway.”
“You’re right. I can’t dwell on this now!” Birdie stood up, then picked up the fallen instruments. “Well come on then! We can’t let the food go cold now!” He then began to march up the road once again.
Bassline smiled. He stood up, then followed Birdie from behind.
As Birdie and Bassline emerged from the dig site, they were immediately hit with a rush of hot air. The two shielded their eyes for a moment, then continued making their way along the flat, sandy, terrain. Passing them was a great deal of semi-vacant shops. Unlike the dig site, the flat resembled an old western ghost town. Many of the shops had visible deterioration from the age and weather. The only “vibrant” atmosphere that leaked from the flats were the single shopkeepers waiting for their shifts to end.
Eventually, Birdie and Bassline arrived at the sheriff’s office.
Bassline knocked on the door, then waited for an answer. Nothing. He knocked on it again, then waited patiently for an answer, but received none.
“Maybe he’s not here yet.” Birdie stated.
Bassline folded his ears and looked at the Sheriff’s meal. “Well. I guess we can leave it on his desk and wait for him to come back.”
Birdie nodded.
The duo slowly opened the door to the office and peeked inside.
Like the other buildings, the sheriff’s office is composed of a single, studio-like-apartment, room. Like any other office, the walls had been covered in various maps, family photos, children’s drawings, and paperwork. The furniture was limited, as it was composed of different cabinets, two chairs, and a large desk that occupied the majority of the room.
The duo sheepishly entered the room. Upon entering, they became distracted by the various objects in the room.
Bassline shook his head to regain his thoughts. He then walked over to the desk and placed the tin on the surface.
Birdie, still distracted by the photos, turned his head to the corner of the room. His ears perked up as he let out a long, “Wow.”
Bassline turned around, then watched Birdie make his way towards a wooden-framed weapon cabinet, tucked away in the corner. “Woah, wait! Birdie! I don’t think we’re supposed to be back there!” Bassline quickly followed.
“Don’t worry.” Birdie said calmly. “I’m not gonna open it. I just want to get a closer look.”
Bassline folded his ears anxiously. “Yeah, but- Maybe wait for Mr. McCullen?”
The duo then walked over to the weapon case. Birdie standing in front and Bassline from behind, they peeked through the glass plane that separated themselves from the firearms. A sticky note was placed just in view of them, it read, “Break in case of firearms.”
Birdie sucked in air through his teeth, then folded his ears in worry. “Hey Bassline?” He asked. “You don’t think…” He paused. “Mr. McCullen used these before, right?”
“Well…”Bassline twirled his thumbs. “The glass is still intact… and… it does say “Break in case of firearms”. So, maybe he didn’t need a gun?” He gave a sheepish smile.
The duo looked at each other, giving off the same nervous smile before staring back at the guns.
A stern male voice appeared from behind the duo, “What are you two doing?” His voice had weight to it, as it rattled the duo.
Birdie and Bassline screamed as they jumped from their places. Within a split second, their instincts told them to run. They trampled over one another, ultimately causing both to collapse onto the floor.
Standing near the entrance of the door, was a tall and sturdy looking earth pony. His coat was a dirty turquoise, but his hair was a clean-cut of white. His beard had been neatly trimmed, as it traveled from his chin, up the sideburns, then connected to his hair. The lip of his hat tipped down over his eyes, but the duo could see the silver stare of a sharpened blade glaring at them. He stood there, waiting for an explanation.
The duo looked up from the ground, then simultaneously blurted out responses that fused together to form an inaudible gibberish.
The stallion shook his head in confusion. “I- One at a time! For Celestia’s sake!” He growled.
“Creed asked us if we could deliver your lunch to your office!” Bassline blurted out.
“I see that.” The stallion responded. “However, I’m more interested in why you two were eyeing my guns.”
Birdie folded his ears. “We were just curious.”
The stallion stood in silence, eyeing at the duo. He sighed, then took off his hat and placed it on the coat rack. “Well. I shouldn’t be too worried. I know your good boys. I’ll let you off the hook this time, but next time, don’t go behind my desk.”
“Yes Mr. McCullen.” The duo responded.
“Anyhow, thank you for the meal, boys. Tell Creed I give him my thanks as well.” McCullen grabbed the tin from the table, then sat down at his desk.
“Actually-“ Birdie interrupted. “We didn’t just come to deliver your food, sir. We came to see if you can help us out with something.”
“Oh?” McCullen replied. “Don’t worry. I’ll talk to the kids again, so they’ll stop trying to steal your arm.”
“No! Wait. Yes! But also, no!” Birdie stammered. “Creed told us that you may be able to help us get a wagon.”
“A wagon?” McCullen repeated. “I’m sorry boys. I don’t think we got the resources to trade anyone for a wagon. Realistically, at least. Not many merchants I know would be so willing to trade their wagons, even if the price is right. Have you two considered building your own? It just takes a few pieces of lumbar, a large tarp, and some elbow grease.”
The duo nodded.
“We tried, but the mayor said that the wood we have is only for repair jobs on existing wagons and houses.” Birdie explained.
“Well. He’s not wrong.” McCullen played with his beard and tried to think of a solution. “Are you boys willing to trade for an existing wagon, or plan to make one yourselves?” He asked.
Birdie shook his head. “I feel like buying a wagon would be too expensive for us. We’re willing to make it ourselves, but we don’t have any ideas on where to get the materials.”
An idea sparked in McCullen’s head. “I do have an idea that you boys might like, but the chances of it succeeding is slim.” He reached under the desk and opened a cabinet. Inside were various scroll-like papers. “Are you boys familiar with Chipbowl’s roots?” He asked, while looking through the scrolls.
The duo gave a vague nod.
“I know that Chipbowl used to be a mining town at the beginning, but over the years turned into a refugee camp during and after the war.” Birdie explained.
McCullen smiled, placing a roll on the table, unknotting the twine. “You’re right, but did you know that ponies from Equestria used to travel back and forth between Chipbowl and Equestria for minerals?” Once he had undone the knot, he rolled out the scroll onto the desk. It revealed a map of the entirety of Chipbowl and the southern hemisphere of Equestria.
The duo gazed upon the map in awe.
McCullen continued. “Back then, when the Friendship Express was in development, ponies needed metals for the large railways that stretched across Equestria. Chipbowl, at the time, was rich in metals, but the task of traveling between the two was hardly worth the effort. That is, until miners began to build themselves mobile homes, known as caravans.”
Birdie placed his hooves on the table. “You think there is a possibility that those caravans are still around?!”
“It’s possible.” McCullen shrugged. “But I wouldn’t keep your hopes up.” He pointed at the entrance of Chipbowl, then dragged his hoof across a road drawn on the map. “I do know that along our trade routes, I often see abandoned wagons, sleighs, and caravans that had been buried due to the frequent sandstorms surrounding the area. However, a lot of the materials for them have been nicked. Large pieces of lumbar, such as flooring, walls, and sometimes roofs have been taken by scavengers; leaving nothing but the wooden skeleton behind."
Birdie folded his ears, gazing upon the map. “Do you think that there is a chance that one of the caravans is untouched?”
McCullen exhaled slowly. “It’s like I said, it’s possible, but I wouldn’t keep your hopes up.”
The duo sat there in silence, as they stared at the map laid out in front of them. Feeling a mix of emotions, they did not know how to handle them. Nor did they know how to express themselves.
McCullen sighed, rolling up the map. “I’m sorry boys, but I’m afraid that’s all I know. Tomorrow I leave with the merchants and will be heading down that route. I promise that I’ll keep an eye out for any wagons or caravans that haven’t been nicked of their wood. So, when I come back, I’ll let you know.”
The duo continued to stand there in silence, as they tried to handle their emotions.
Birdie clutched his hooves on the table, then muttered out a few words. “Can I come?” He asked.
“Hmm?" McCullen looked at Birdie in confusion.
“I want to come as well!” Bassline followed.
McCullen shook his head. “Absolutely not. You know how much trouble I could get into if anything happened to you two? Let alone what your families would go through if something happened. Just stay here where it’s safe and wait for me to get back.”
“Please!” Birdie and Bassline shouted.
“No!” McCullen responded. “The wasteland is not a place you should be toying around in!”
“Please!” Birdie shouted again. “We promise we won’t do anything, we won’t cause any problems, we’ll follow your rules, and we’ll even help carry some stuff!”
“Absolutely not!” McCullen repeated.
“No” was not an answer the duo was willing to accept. They continue to beg McCullen. The duo stating their own plea at the same time to convince McCullen to change his mind.
Frustrated, McCullen placed his hoof on his forehead. “Boys. Boys!” He shouted. “Let’s say that I do let you tag along. What will you do if we get attacked? What could you do?” He rephrased. “You two have never stepped foot outside Chipbowl. Never once even known anything about the dangers of the wasteland. If we encounter something that you aren’t prepared for, I don’t know how you two will act. Can you two protect yourselves? What happens if I’m not there to defend you?”
“But what about the merchants?” Birdie asked. “They don’t know how to fight either!”
“That’s different.” McCullen answered. “The merchants that I guide know the risks and dangers of the wasteland. They have experience.”
“We know the risks and dangers too!” Bassline stated.
McCullen sighed. “That’s not the same. The merchants are risking their lives for your sake. They are sticking out their necks for you and the others to get you a decent meal.” He held up the metal tin of food. “This right here is expensive. Lives are at risk whenever we step outside of Chipbowl. Everything you eat, everything you drink, costs more than just an object. I know you boys want to come with me and want to follow your dreams, but you must think realistically. Wanting is not the same as needing. You understand?”
The duo wanted to say something in response, but McCullen’s words had cut deep within them. They lowered their heads and stood there in silence.
McCullen sat there in his chair, gazing upon the duo. He stayed silent, but eventually broke the silence with a loud grunt. He leaned forward in his chair and rubbed his face. “Why do you two want to come? I already stated that I will keep an eye out for caravans for you two. Do you not trust me?”
The duo shook their heads.
“We just want to see for ourselves.” Mumbled Bassline.
McCullen shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. I mean, why are you two pushing yourselves so hard? I gave you my word that I’ll look out for what you need. You don’t need to push yourselves and stick your neck out for something like this. I’m sure you heard this from Creed, the mayor, hell, even your parents. It’s not a safe place outside of Chipbowl. It’s not a game, nor should it be taken lightly. You’ve heard that, right?”
The duo nodded.
“Why trouble yourselves so much?” McCullen asked. “Why disregard all the risks and warnings everyone tells you?”
They looked at each other for a moment but remained silent.
“Because…” Birdie mumbled. “Because we want to see what the world is like. We always hear stories about the outside being dangerous and scary; and that we should always stay within the city. However, it always feels like all we know is “this”. I love Chipbowl, and everyone here, but sometimes it feels like we’re forced to stay here. Is it too much to ask to explore the outside once?”
“We just feel trapped.” Bassline added. “My dad used to tell me, that back then, he and his friends would be able to race all the way to the border and back. However, every time we stood too close to the outer rocks, we were told to come inside."
McCullen sighed and leaned over his desk, placing his hooves on top of their heads. “You boys are a handful, you know that?” He gently caressed the top of their heads before leaning back in his chair. “Look. I’m sorry that I got riled up. I know you two really want to explore the outside, but you must understand that not only I, but your families worry about you. Many residents who had left on their own, rarely come back. We just don’t want to see that with you two.” He sighed once again. “However, if you two are so passionate about leaving this town, then who am I to stop you? You can come along.”
The duo’s eyes lit up brightly. “Really?!” They shouted.
McCullen nodded, but quickly leaned back on his chair as he was ambushed by the duo’s hugs. He laughed. “You can join us, but on one condition. You must stay close to me. I don’t want you two wandering off on your own. I already have my share of regrets on my shoulders.”
The duo pulled away from McCullen as they wiped their tears.
“Thank you, Mr. McCullen.” Birdie said with a smile.
McCullen chuckled. “No need to thank me. However, before I let you tag along. I want both of your guardians here, so I can inform them of what we are doing.”
Birdie chuckled. “But- you know we’re like, twenty something, right?”
“I don’t care.” McCullen stated. “In their eyes, you’re still their babies. I don’t want them worrying about you if you mysteriously disappear."
The duo nodded, understanding his request.
“Then it shouldn’t be a problem.” McCullen smiled. “I’ll be sure to tell them that you are in safe hooves. But make sure they show up to my office before sundown. We leave early in the morning, and if you’re not here, we’re taking off without you. Understand?"
The duo nodded once again and thanked McCullen for his understanding. They waved goodbye to him, then ran off to tell their guardians.
McCullen, now alone, stared at the metal tin and chuckled. “Those little rascals.”
Author's Note
Sorry for the delay! Recently, things have been crazy lately with the world and I needed to step back and attend to those problems. However, I am back! A few important notes I should mention. This week I shall be working on editing the first chapter and this current chapter, if there are any mistakes needed to be addressed. Currently, my "editors" have dropped the project, so I must do all the editing myself. Because of this, I will be a little slower at releasing chapters and art for external social medias. Anyway! This chapters art was made by fellow band member, @AzusaBeScuba, on Twitter!
