Fallout Equestria: Burdens

Chapter 8- Hindrance

“It’s never easy. It’s just the nature of things… “

“Seems like you had a good reunion with your khum-hal.”

Her words come out from behind me, grabbing me so hard I nearly drop the servings meant for Avie and myself. They’re narrowly saved by a small maneuver of the wings, and some of the unicorn’s magic.

“You could’ve just asked me to get these things for you. You know that, right?” Wildcat goes on, “The line wouldn’ have been as long, either.”

I try maneuvering my way across packed mazes of ammunition, gun metal, and ponies— both Aridian and not. “How does the Matriarch know Equine? How do ya know, yourself? Stagona? Is it because of the Enclave?”

I’m not sure what I heard was a sneeze or a scoff. “Vain. No, Stagona’s a Scholarinn; knowledge and language— as far as I know from hearing her— go hoof in hoof. I know it because it’s one of two of my mother tongues…”

Passing by another ladder out in the middle of the train cart. A pony’s moving heavy boxes along one side of it that’s got some kinda chain ladder. I catch a glimpse of the box as he pops it open. That’s some big ballistic lead…

“Vain”... That word pops up in my head in Wildcat’s voice. “What did you mean by that?”

“Huh?”

“I asked a question about ya, Stagona, and the Matriarch knowing Equine, but— ya called it ‘vain’ when I asked.”

She doesn’t answer for a little while, “You call them ‘Corpos.’”

“What about them?”

“The story goes, according to the faith and the Remembrancers, that the Mutfalinn came through Aridia with the idea of exploring and expanding the map of the world they knew. My ancestors. The Matriarch was there, and that’s where she learned ‘Equine.’ ”

“That… does answer one thing. It doesn’t answer the other.”

“You’re not that dense. I hope you’re not, anyway.” Silence sets in. I don’t know if she expects me to say anythin’, or if she is going to say anythin’ more. It’s the latter, “I guess you Enclave are lucky the Matriarch and others know how to speak to you in a way you’ll understand. I won’t say anythin’ more about it.”

“How long ago was this?” I ask, wondering if the next cart over is our stop, or not.

“A long, long, long time ago.” She answers. “I know what you’re thinkin’. There’s things about Aridia— things about the Matriarch— that you or the Enclave don’t know. She was always here, and she’ll continue to be here long after all of this.”

“She’s immortal?” I ask. Even as I just said that, it’s like I already know the answer. I guess I just want to hear it from somepony who is a part of this whole thing.

“She’s the All-Mother— what would be the translation, at least.”

I guess that’s a “Yes”…

The cart we enter looks familiar. It’s ringing like deja vu, and it’s not as crowded as the last few. Almost there…

Huh… “What does that word mean?”

“I can’t read your mind.” She says.

“Con— something. You’ve been using it for a while. What are ya saying when ya say that?” Trying to say it is tying my tongue into tight knots. She’s always saying those strange words, and when she’s speaking it to the Aridians so naturally it’s like I’m being choked up on the inside while my bones get jittery. Just the fact they could be talking about anything…

“Khum-hal.” She says it, almost like she’s enunciating it this time. “You’re pronouncing it like ‘a’ in ‘apple’ when it should be a long ‘o’ sound like in ‘boom’.”

“What does it mean?”

“It means…‘other’; ‘Other’ in a more intimate sense, but it’s what the direct translation is.”

“You mean like a ‘significant other’?” I ask, suddenly feeling strange that I point it out.

“Close? Not really? It means more than just that.” She explains. “Would you rather I call her your lover? Your spouse? Your marefriend? ‘Significant Other’’s too robotic; not respectful of… Aviatrix is her name?”

Deconstruction after deconstruction. Now none of them sound right in my head. I’m not sure if it’s because of her little ramble just now, or if it’s something else. Maybe I’m just trying to put those fuzzy and awkward feelings away somewhere. Suddenly that word she uses sounds a lot better; feels right.

We’re just outside the door to our roomette, after hopping, dancing, wing-beating over crates of ammunition from the last two carts. So much fucking ballistic chew for a train— and some of it looked like it ought to be in something bigger than a rifle.

I take one glance inside, and she’s still in there. Avie’s quietly sleeping, wrapped in my uniform jacket. It’s better than the rags they had her wear. So much better…

A lover… A spouse… A marefriend… Mildly annoying to hear those labels. I don’t know if it’s the fact that Wildcat is prodding in our business, or the fact that it’s like none of those titles come close to what I think of her. We became closer than all of that… If only for a quick second…

“She’s still sleeping?” Wildcat’s words cut through the warm fuzziness in my head. She gets around me to peer in, “Wore her out, hmm?”

A pang in my chest brings out a snarl or a snort. “Watch it, Uni.”

She snorts at my words, “Wasn’t what I was thinkin’. At least you thought to get her something to eat.”

“What did ya mean, then?”

“I was thinkin’ about the Enclave— your General— that was what I was thinkin’.”

That pang from before rolls up into a ball and drops with a dense thud into my stomach. A chill washes over my face, afterwards, and then heat.

She just stares at me. I can’t make out what that flat expression is, or the way her eyes jitter and hop side to side in her narrowing gaze. “The Matriarch did ask me to give you time. I guess you had plenty to make it up to her.”

I reach for the latch, but am stopped by Wildcat, “We’re not done.”

I try again but nothing budges no matter what. A quick peak reveals a glow, and it leaves me growling. “What?”

“This is about the Matriarch and your mare. Her name is Aviatrix? You didn’ answer me last time.”

“Yeah. That’s her name.”

“Right. About the Matriarch, she wanted me to tell you somethin’.”

I tilt my head and raise a brow. “She couldn’t tell me back at the Cage?”

“That’s what you call your own home?” She asks, brows rising sharply before settling. “Yes. She spoke it in that ‘split-tongue’ language as your stallion escort called it— if that gives you an idea about the situation with who was involved.”

The last thing I needed was to hear “stallion” and “escort” together and tack both on Ace’s face… “The General didn’t like that, did she?”

“She didn’ need to know. Nevertheless, she wanted me to tell you that she understands.”

Another pause; my brain is studying those words much more than I think would be normal. The more I let them seep through the cracks— the more it’s filtered over and over again— the more that disturbing pang in my gut gets to me. “She understands… what?”

“I won’ assume anythin’.”

I want that feeling in my gut— the idea that I know what she’s telling me— to be nothing but hunger pains. Why can’t they be just that? And why do I know what she means now?

“Look,” She says. “Whatever’s eatin’ you… just look after your khum-hal.”

Right…

* * * * * *

Avie stirs in her spot, pulling herself up to look over at us walking through. A small squeak escapes her yawning maw as she stretches her forelegs over her head and wings out as much as she can. No matter how hard she stretches, my one–size–too–big dress coat barely hugs her small frame. Her wings beat and she rubs an eye, smiling sleepily and humming, “Breakfast?”

“Well, it’s not exactly sunrise, but it’s a little past high-moon.”

She holds the smile, chuckling a little, but taking another look at the food. The glowbulb dances about, carefree. I set my serving aside to give hers. “They didn’t have much, but it’s all there was for us.”

Avie takes her serving, gently letting her hind legs drop off the edge. After a minute of looking at the citrus fruit and dates, she pecks my cheek. Warmth washes over like a hug.

“You tryin’ to give yourself a nosebleed?” Wildcat’s intrusive words pull me out of my head. Lungs start pumping air in and out, and I’m dizzy all of a sudden. “Damn colt. You’re lookin’ like you treatin’ affection as if it were a slap across the face.”

All good feelings wither and sour at her comment. My brows become heavy as I stare at the unicorn across from us.

“Are you… A friend of Ward?” Avie asks.

“I meant no disrespect. Somethin’ about the way he turns purple gets me thinkin,’ is all.”

I look away as I feel the blush getting stronger from the embarrassment, and then a gentle brush against my back. It beckons me to look over, and Avie’s still smiling back at me. The strangling feeling from before lifts easily.

“He does that.” Avie says, turning her attention back to Wildcat. “You didn’t tell me your name. I’m sorry, I thought—”

“Nothin’ wrong.” Wildcat says almost immediately. “You did nothin’ wrong. You were tired, and I gave y’all the space.”

“Oh.” Avie looks away a bit, rubbing her eyes. “I’m sorry. I wish we met a little more formally.”

“Wildcat. Wildcat Cartridge.”

“Heh. That’s a neat sounding name. Creative...”

It really is… I know that I can say it over and over again in my head and it just sounds weirder every single time. I thought it would’ve been more outlandish, somehow. I guess that’s only raiders.

“And you’re Aviatrix, right?” Wildcat asks.

“Yes. Call me ‘Avie.’”

I take a citrus wedge and a sip of warm water, listening to the two of them go back and forth. Still, is there more to what Avie’s saying to Wildcat about her name?

“So… What do you do?” Avie asks. “What… Why are you here? A guard?”

Wildcat bobs her head, shrugging even. “Keldusrah.”

“Not one of the… the Saan-Srah? I hope I said that right.”

There’s a twinkle of surprise in Wildcat’s brass eyes. “Your accent’s almost on point. Where’d you learn that?”

“From the locals, mainly. You pick it up when you’re exposed to it enough, right?”

“Yeah…” Wildcat trails off with a stare that makes me uneasy. It’s like something isn’t clicking, until it does. “You’re one of the Sanctioned Couriers aren’t you?”

Avie nods, “I’ve done some work for the Aridians.”

“But you’re one of them.”

“Yes.”

“I thought you’d be treated better,” Wildcat says. I hear Avie shift, in tandem with the tightening of the knot in my stomach. The unicorn takes a sloppy-looking bite of her meal, dripping with what I take for gritty, mud-looking oil clinging to and slipping off flatbread. “I’m not of the Saan-Srah. I was too old when our Matriarch took me in.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Wildcat shakes her head, sighing deep, “It’s just how things are. Still, I guess you can say I’m blessed with what I have.”

“What do you do? What’s a… a Keldusrah’s job?”

“Well,” Wildcat breathes, “I’m more of a reserve guard; part of the greater Qummsrah-han. We cover the blind spots of the Saan-Srah. Kinda redundant, really— forgive me, my Matriarch.”

Why does that resonate all of a sudden?

“And you’ve been looking after Ward?” Avie asks.

“I volunteered…” She… What?

“All you Aridians love your Matriarch, do you?” Avie asks in that gentle, reaching voice.

Wildcat nods. “My family was a Neo-Tribe from the East Region; all ponies— all Mutfalinn.”

“Which one?” Avie asks.

“The Munitionists.”

‘Munitionists?...’ My eyes pull attention to her hind legs hanging off the edge of her seat. It’s odd. In a landscape where bright colors would be a disadvantage, she decides to wear overlapping red and white wrapping. It’s on her and her gun— around the scope and barrel and in some off places. Is there even an advantage worth mentioning, at all?

Avie’s about to ask something, but she doesn’t. Her ears droop, “I’m sorry…”

About what?

“Don’t be.” Wildcat tells her. “I’m doin’ what I can for their memory, and this right now— where we are— you and him, are part of it. Whatever it takes.”

Something about her— it’s like slowly watching hooves come out from behind her to strangle her; like expecting to see the thing that’s got her in such a space whispering right into her ears. She just shakes whatever’s going on in her head away and finishes her meal.

The ambient cool of the air reminds me I’m without my thick jacket— nothing but some kinda undershirt; the only thing left from the clothes the Matriarch gave me. A thought, a memory, goes off in my head. A hoof to my chest makes that vacant hole far more noticeable from before. I look over to Avie, seeing her gently sip her steaming cup.

Her ears flick my direction, and she turns. That glowing smile widens, “You okay?”

“I–uh–” There’s a lump in my throat. There’s too many knots coming up from my stomach. Clearing my throat helps a little, but the water keeps those feelings from climbing for now; long enough for me to tell her, “—I left my talisman in the chest pocket.”

Avie doesn’t say anything, putting a hoof to one side of her chest and then to the other. Her face lights up and she gives it to me, “We’ll find something to replace the neck string.”

Seeing it again is like feeling an extra gust go through me. Every nerve ending and every feather tip breathes to see it, again. It doesn’t last as she points it out, and she’s not wrong. “Yeah.”

“Wait, what if…” Avie turns to Wildcat. “Do you have anything to help keep a pendant around the neck?”

“Hmm? What’re you—” Her words sound like they’ve hit a brick wall. Those brass-colored eyes look up from her rifle and laser focus on the talisman between my hooves.

“It’s something of mine,” I tell her.

“It’s his mother’s talisman.” Avie speaks up for me. “He’s never been without it until now. We need something so he can keep it around his neck.”

Wildcat doesn’t take her eyes off it, and I’m half tempted to see just how long she’d keep them glued. Instead, I cover the talisman and bring it back into one of the pockets I still have.

“It’s okay. We’ll find something at the Mountain when we get there,” I say, trying not to sound bothered by those brass eyes, and the way they blink rapidly afterwards tells me I did the right thing.

“For the record, your stone reminds me of the Curse-Crystals,” Wildcat says.

“Curse-Crystals?” I echo.

She rubs a hoof into one of her eyes, looking like a mildly annoyed instructor, “The Enclave didn’ teach you about those either?”

“We know what they are. The Enclave isn’t that ignorant,” Curse Crystals; “concentration and corruption made visible”… A terrible sign… “They beat it into our heads pretty hard.”

“You Enclave don’ make pendants of those things, right?” Wildcat asks.

The question is quite the curveball; Avie and I aren’t sure what to make of that. “My talisman isn’t one of those things— if that’s what you’re getting at.”

Wildcat shakes her head, “It reminds me of when my tribe was still around, and our longhunters would come back with the strangest stories. We knew about the Curse; we knew the signs. The Greenhorn Raiders— when they weren’ as big a nuisance— they wore them like trophies along their bodies; treated them like jewelry to be proud of. They clearly didn’t understand the danger, because what our longhunters found…”

Her words trail off as did her eyes. She pulls a hoof up to her lip as she looks to be sinking deeper in thought. “They found?” Avie prompts, bringing the unicorn back.

“Well, the story went that our longhunters— who had been keeping an eye on a nearby Greenhorn Raider Camp— found it as quiet as a flatlan’ roo-rat. They thought it was abandoned, until they found their underhill. They were all there, and they couldn’ tell who was who from the crystals. All their pale, ugly colors blended around the jewelry that came together and made one, giant, underground sigil that pulsed with their united anguish… The Greenhorns are sick bastards.”

“The jewelry did that?” Avie asks.

Wildcat takes a deep breath, “Yes, that’s the whole thing about it.”

“How did it do that?” Avie asks further.

Wildcat just shakes her head, “I wasn’ there. I was too young to go on my first hunt, and I only know the story they told. The longhunters, they were hardy stallions and mares, and even they didn’ get over it with time.”

“It does seem to line up with some things we were told about the Curse-Crystals,” Avie speaks up, again. “Why you shouldn’t touch them, and what could happen if you did.”

“Yes, but it’s not instant,” Wildcat points out, “The School— the Vhoski— they study the Crystals often from the… the… the Null Voyagers who bring them.”

“The Vhoski?” I echo, then try connecting the dots in my head till they become cohesive, “The Zebra. They expose themselves to those things?”

“They do, but they’re not careless; far from it.” Wildcat snaps at me, the force of which pushes me back into my seat. “I can’t tell you how they do it— I’m not even allowed in some of those rooms. Maybe you can ask Stagona when you get back. Maybe.”

“Yeah,” I nod my head, “And you think my talisman is one of those things?”

She groans through her teeth, “If it was then you wouldn’ be talkin’ to me. I wouldn’ be havin’ this conversation, or have met either of you. Don’ fuss; it’s nothin’ I’d worry about.”

My focus shifts to Wildcat. She’s sitting down now, and back in her own bubble. Her serving of food is set aside— empty for all it has without a single idea that anything was in it— and the rifle is back in her lap. “Remember to eat,” she says without taking her eyes off the ballistic, “Try to keep courtesy by fin—”

Wildcat is pulled back. I brace my seat and Avie, but my fruit bowl flies from my lap onto the floor. The apple wedges splat and the large skinless dates disappear under the unicorn’s seat. The metallic shrieking is in my ears, and it’s outside the metal plating; outside the cart, itself. Everything grinds to a halt, and I relax.

Wildcat says something in that Aridian language, again; sounds nasty with the way it comes out. She gets out of her seat and pokes her head out the cabin door just as we all make out the distant clamor of voices and hoofbeats stepping out in haste towards the front of the train.

She tries hailing somepony, and one of them— one of the crew— stops. An exchange of words is being made, then it ends when her head is back in the cabin. Her horn lights up, and her packs are laid out where she sat. Her tone’s still sharp, but saw-toothed.

“What’s happening?” Avie speaks up.

“Reports came in. We might have trouble— hope to the Sands that we don’t, but I won’t slide with it.” Wildcat answers, pulling a block of a ballistic pistol from one of her packs. She ejects the clip and pulls the slide back simultaneously. A single bullet flies out of the ejector port, but her magic catches it, putting it back with the others before ramming the whole magazine back into the pistol and letting it chamber forward.

Of course it couldn’t have been that easy. There’s always something, and it’s always when I forget. Fuck me, I don’t see this panning out, already…

“You familiar with these?” Wildcat asks, checking that clunky thing again.

“Never liked them.” I answer.

“It’s not for you.”

What?...The pistol floats right over to Avie, mouth-grip first. “You know what it is, right?” Wildcat asks.

Avie reaches for it and the magic grip vanishes, placing the pistol into her hooves. “Only one magazine?”

“It’s for emergencies, only.”

“What kind of report is going on?” Avie asks, again.

“I can’t be too sure. I didn’t get the details other than from here until the next couple of miles it’s goin’ to be a Vanguard Escort; slow crawl to safety.”

“Ya don’t have an extra?” I ask Wildcat.

“An extra… What?”

“Weapon? Pistol?”

“No.” She answers. My eyes immediately shift to the red-gripped gun slung along her chest. I look back up at her with a glower, and she puts a hoof over it, “Not for you; not a spare.”

“If we don’t know the threat, wouldn’t it be best if we all had—”

“It would. It would be ideal to have everypony with iron, only if you had a different state of mind.”

“What—”

“You’re not in any fit state to be given a weapon. You’d be more of a danger to yourself, your khum-hal— everything around you. I can’t have that.”

I expect her to keep going, but even if she didn’t I can still hear her. I can feel the doubt creep in for a mental pecking order, beating into my brain ideas that make my chest burn.

“Avie’s been isolated the same time as I have.” I say, out loud.

“And she has a cooler head on her shoulders. I’m glad for her, but I can trust her to know where to point that ten mil.”

I growl, fixating on her ‘cooler-head’ saying, “I have a Pipbuck. S.A.T.S..”

She shakes her head with a sigh that reminds me of a disappointed drill sergeant at grenade practice, “Pipbuck or not, I don’t trust you with anythin’ higher than twenty-two Long Rifle.”

“Ya haven’t told me why,” I point out. Why won’t ya just let me help?

“I don’t trust you with any kind of gun right now. Does that settle it?” she asks with a razor-like tone. “If you want to help, stick to your Eyes-Forward Sparkle and be your khum-hal’s eyes.”

I guess no matter what I do, we’ll be here all night. I can see it in Avie’s eyes, and they make me swallow this whole ordeal. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth and this building sense of inadequacy looming over makes it hard to breathe like it doesn’t bother me. Only one magazine for Avie… “If ya won’t give me a ballistic, then at least give Avie a spare mag.”

“She’ll only need one.” The unicorn says, taking one more peek outside and pulling her head back in.

“If that’s your way of saying ‘we only need ya,’ then why give her the pistol? We’re riding too much on this being smooth— from the sound of it,” I tell her. “Ya want somepony watching your back, then give her more to work with.”

There’s a long pause as Wildcat puts her packs back on her person. Her eyes wander up, then her focus falls with her muzzle. One of the flaps to her pack slips open and two black pistol-sized magazines float over to Avie in what looks like a flank-style holster.

“You need help putting it on?” Wildcat asks.

“Yes. Thank you.” As she gets up I feel the slightest tug, again. It’s not as sudden as the last one, and definitely softer; as soft as the rhythmic chug-chug-chugging outside.

* * * * * *

A snail’s pace isn’t the best thing to describe just how slow this train is going. I only know it’s moving because of the rhythmic, repetitive, droning noises outside. Looking through the eye-slits in the armor panels, barely anything’s changed.

The cool, blue moonlight makes my eyes feel like lead, and the dry cold air quickly saps the moisture from them. Everytime I rub them out I get a rush; not a good one, either. It’s like if I don’t look up after I’ve got the sleepiness out of my eyes fast enough something’s going to be right in front of me.

The E.F.S. doesn’t tell me anything to worry about. There’s just the same yellow notches that idly, lazily, slide across the compass lines. The Aridians; there’s so many of them out there walking the train, ears flicking at strange angles and their glowing eyes scanning every bit of their surroundings. None of them say a word; no holler of reassurance to one another. Not one…

“How long ‘till this whole alert dies down?” I ask.

“However long it takes; however long is necessary.” Wildcat answers.

I yawn again. When was the last time I slept?

“Ward can I ask you something?” Avie asks, pulling my attention away from the eye-slit. “Who gave you the Pipbuck?”

I look down at the thing, again. That yellow, cartoonish-looking pony’s walking in place; wings out, beady-eyed, and smiling like he just doesn’t care how the night will drag him down. “The… Vo—Vooo— V-hoa—The Zebra.”

She exclaims softly, “That’s nice of them.”

“Yeah. I guess it was.”

“Well, how do you like it?”

Her question prompts me to look back on it, again. Shaking my forehoof I think, “Well, it’s a bitch to deal with when putting jackets on, but it’s lightweight. Half the time I can’t feel it unless I knock it against something.”

“Are the rumors true about the Stable-Tec HUD?” She asks.

I shake my head, “They’re not very annoying. They only come up when… I don’t know— when I need to see something, I guess? It’s hard to explain, but it’s like I can’t tell if half the time the compass and all those features are always in my peripheral vision— just out of sight— or they only show up when I want to pay attention to something about it.”

“Is it fused to your forehoof?”

Bringing the Pipbuck back up, I put more focus on where the rim and the fur meet. “I wouldn’t say it is? Again, it’s a little hard to explain. When I look at it I can’t see anything that tells me it’s fused to me, but when they put it on… It…Ugh!”

My feathers stand on end, and every nerve in my body shutters hard with the memory. The moment I gave the Pipbuck the light of day to settle on me, it felt like my heart was gonna come out my ass. Calling it a ‘shock to the system’ doesn’t do that feeling justice.

“That bad?” She asks.

“Yeah. Though, Stagona says it only feels that way at first. Come the next time— if ever— it shouldn’t be the case anymore.”

Her head tilts a little, “Stag-ona?”

I shrug, “A little hard to say. She’s… She’s the zebra who looked after me when I woke up.”

“She’s a Vhoskinnyi,” Wildcat says, “The Zebra apparent to the Grand Scholar’s Seat of Aridia.”

“That doesn’t sound entirely like Aridian,” Avie points out.

Not sure if I can hear a difference, myself…

Wildcat looks right at Avie, but not letting her rifle down. “It’s a borrowed word. Vhoskinn, plural; Vhoskinnyi, singular.”

“What does it mean?” Avie asks.

“Something about pastures,” Wildcat looks like she’s stuck mentally, “I forget how she told me, but it’s their name from where they came from. Vhoski.”

“You know her?”

“Yes. She’s one of the reasons I’m here lookin’ after your khum-hal.”

“That’s a nice word. What does it mean?”

“Your stallion asked the same thing earlier.”

I can feel Avie’s eyes on me. I should feel flustered like I normally do when I’m not seeing them, but with how the cold creeps in it’s a welcomed warmth.

“You goin’ to tell her?” Wildcat prompts.

I shift my focus back and forth between Avie and Wildcat, and I try finding the words, “Something like a significant other, but not really? I think–”

My ears flick. What was that? All my senses pull me to the eye-slit. I can hear that noise in the back of my head; a faint, audible ‘boom’ noise. An explosion? “Something’s happening out there.” I think aloud, trying to look for anything that told me. A sudden column of smoke building; a distant, barely peeking flash of light just somewhere out of reach. I’m not sure which direction it came from. “Y’all didn’t hear it?” I ask aloud.

“Might just be a distant skirmish,” Wildcat says. Her words aren’t arrogant or dismissive; they sound like they’re tip-toeing about the subject.

-*boom*-

There it is, again— I swear it’s closer this time. Looking back at the mares, both their sets of ears are flicking about like mine. I don’t need to say anymore, then…

“Check the Pipbuck,” Wildcat tells me, looking into her rifle. “That’s too close, right now.”

The E.F.S. toggles with my focus. Yellow… Yellow… Yellow… “Nothing.”

It’s coming to me now. I don’t know what to expect, and that might be messing with the Pipbuck, itself. I don’t know the specifics, but how does it know an enemy from a friend? A friend from a liar? Can I say something’s an enemy ahead of time, when I’ve never known them? How does it work?

There’s a great shout from outside like an alarm going off. Overhead; might as well be next to me, the roar of a cannon stresses my ears; the ringing doesn’t have time to settle, and the room rumbles relentlessly—

A breath-snatching thump hits me in the chest; everything is tingly for the slightest seconds, like in free-fall; a great and terrible force pushes, then shoves with intensity. My vision goes lopsided– the room’s spinning so fast, I can’t catch my—

* * * * * *

I gasp and cough immediately. My lungs sting; head’s pounding; ears ringing. The air is thick, I can feel it weighing on me as I try to pull myself up.

Something grabs at me; pulls at me urgently. Once more, my head’s killing me from the pressure and strain from getting on my hooves. I haven’t opened my eyes yet— I don’t want to. They’re bobbing around in their sockets on their own, aimless and unable to sit still. It’s like the room’s spinning too fast. I feel and taste the fruit sludge in my guts rushing up the back of my throat. I can hold it… I can hold it…

Deep breath, followed by immediate release of all my stomach contents onto the floor. The pressure isn’t helping; now I feel something creeping along my scalp towards my forehead. Reaching for it, there’s nothing. My searching hoof is wet with something. I open my eyes slowly and with effort, catching a glimpse and a glint at my hoof tip; it’s trimmed with crimson red.

What’s in the air? Why is it so thick? Why does it burn everything? No matter how small I try to breathe, it’s enough to feel like something’s crawling down my throat and pulling on everything till it’s clogged.

The room stops spinning for a second, I can see purple… Amethyst eyes. Her white coat is stained, and the mane poking out from under her cap and goggles is frizzy. What’s she saying to me? Why’s she waving her hoof in front of me with that look in her eye? I’m alright… Honest…

* * * * * *

Gasping, again. Everything’s different. The air stings a little less, but everything still feels fuzzy and loose. My eyes are a little more open this time, and she’s still there behind them.

She’s ducking behind the crates I’m leaning up against, but I can’t hear what’s going on. My ears can’t pick up on anything— not the panic in her face or the teeth-baring ferocity in Wildcat’s behind her… Not even the cocking of the pistol Avie just drew in front of me.

Ducking, peeking over; the gun in her maw’s flashing, and each one makes the ringing peak in pitch. The only thing I can make out is the slow, steady rhythm of a heartbeat.

It’s hot here. Everything feels so sticky and stinky, I can feel the sweat cling to me as it slowly rolls down my throbbing forehead and onto my muzzle. My nose is runny, too. Wiping it away… my hoof’s even more red, and everything smells like blood now.

The top of Avie’s head comes into my tunneling view. She’s loading a pistol? She’s shaking… Avie… Avie stop shaking… I try to reach for her, but my foreleg is lame; it weighs a ton, and the Pipbuck adds to it. Her eyes come up. “Let me…” I try to say, “Let…” What was I going to say, again?

* * * * * *

My ears ring like an alarm, and my eyes snap open. Gasping again, coughing— sand wafts into my mouth, gritting everything up. I think I can hear again— no, not anymore. I can hear them; distant-sounding, muffled, rapid-paced cracks.

Everything’s lopsided; only one of my eyes will open. There’s shapes in my blurry vision, tussling and jumping like lightning in a bottle. The shadows become slightly more defined; I know they’re different shapes, now. A built, towering figure is trying to grapple with something smaller than it. I blink, and the more I do the clearer the picture.

Still can’t hear, but the muffling… it’s like they’re speaking to one another. Shouting?

It’s a pegasus; a white pegasus; Avie. She’s fending off a… bird-cat… A griffin. The snarl in that beak is growing. Their hind legs move funny, and I can feel the alarm in my mind and chest ringing loud.

“Avie… watch his wings! Watch his legs!” I’m trying to say it, but I think it’s only loud in my head. “Avie! Avie… Avie! The legs! The wings!”

The griffon pulls himself up into the air, digging their talons into her head and slamming her down under its squatting physique. Seeing her toss and turn does things to me; forces me to dig desperately for the strength and the authority to make my lame body move. I can feel myself wanting to move with the sand in my face moving in reaction to my struggle.

“Get away from her…

“Get off her…

“Get away…

“Get away!!!”

My words are louder; my head throbbing at the strain to get my words out. Still nothing. I can’t see her anymore. Something else saying I shouldn’t and tears my focus away from the fight. My mouth is still not cooperating, and I need to scream; to protest, even if the pressure splits my head open.

The sky’s dark, or maybe it’s the way I’m still seeing things. The moon’s staring down at me with its pale face and bluish white glow. There are no stars I can see. Silhouettes move into view, and one of them gets closer to me— bringing their features into clearer focus. They have a beak and feathers for a face.

My hearing clears a little, and I hear a voice come through the closing dark.

“It’s them… Bag ‘em…”