Equestrian Ranger

January 20

-Day 9

I had a dream last night…more like a nightmare.

Recalling it now, it’s foggier than a misty midnight. But I saw his face, a face I will forget until uttering my final breath. His scarred lips, those demonic eyes filled with utter hatred and sadism; despite my beliefs, I never once thought that satan walked the living world disguised as God’s precious creations.

Yet, remembering him, reminds me that there are things worse than the devil living among us humans.

Never mind that, anywho. He’s dead now, and we're all better off for it.

My crew and I stopped two days out from Appleoosa- no sign of civilization yet. Shimmering pointed out a town not too far, hosting some Liberation members, scouts, who’re judging whether or not it’d be worth raiding. It also turns out that it’s where Shimmering and his dead buddies wandered into Appleoosa from. He’d convinced them prior and broke off once those who weren’t defecting turned their attention elsewhere. So, hopefully, our welcoming committee won’t be too paranoid and attack us on sight, especially with Shimmering tagging along.

Thinking it over, I realize this whole ordeal may be harder than I thought. Shimmering’s an outlaw (basically). James and I are towering hairless monkeys to ponies and stick out like sore thumbs. Mrs. Iron is the sole ‘normal’ member void of attracting unwanted attention. Getting anywhere, especially when things ‘re stirred up, won’t be easy, so to speak.

We’ll figure something out after the day breaks. Camp’s set and the tents are erected. We only brought three, so Shimmering’s sharing Big Iron’s for now.

Imagine James and him splitting a tent- how much sleep would we lose?

There was an immediate, glaring issue Finn’s entourage was currently facing- dietary costumes.

Ponies, by their nature, are herbivores- anyone who spent more than thirty minutes around equines knew as such. Home-bred ponies and Equestrian ponies are similar in that regard. Humans, in contrast, can theoretically live exclusively off fruits and vegetables, but meat is vital for maintaining energy. Without it, Finn’s aging self wouldn’t be ten feet near a saddle or firearm, bedridden and frail.

Sadly, since the buffalo James proved cumbersome due to its sheer mass, he’d been forced to abandon any leftover meat he couldn’t carry. And whatever they took didn’t last.

So, logically speaking, hunting for food comes next.

Sadly-

“I-I can’t believe you two.” Across a crackling, dancing campfire, Big Iron appeared ready to empty her stomach and faint, face pale, caked with glistening sweat illuminated by crackling flames. Eyeing the skinned lizards ran through by sticks positioned over the flame, sizzling and cooking, she shuddered. Shimmering, the cold-blooded killer and monster he (still?) was, looked no better.

James sighed, clearly disgruntled. “How many times do I have to say this? If you two don’t like us eating meat, go eat your fruit bowls in your tent.” The words sounded rehearsed, spoken with little to no enthusiasm or weight. Bags weighed James’s eyes, solely focused on his and Finn’s first real meal- not entirely consistent with greenery goods- in days. “It’s bad enough we got scrapes from these lizards, and they’ll be bland too. ‘No reason to use spices on something so minuscule.” He bemoaned. Hares littered the area hours ago, but Big Iron…heavily disagreed on eating them; lizards were what they settled on- for now.

Closing his journal, Finn huffed, taking refuge near the crowded flame. “Be glad we found something, boy. I’m all for eating sweet fruits, but it isn’t my thing.” He chuckled, patting his knee.

“I bet your veins look like clogged sewer pipes.” James deadpanned, earning a hearty laugh from his older companion.

“...Is it any good?”

Three pairs of eyes widened, shooting their stunned looks toward Shimmering Comet, bundled underneath his cloak and intently staring at the cooking lizard meat. “Several creatures ate meat when I wandered around the liberation camps. I-I’m not fond of its smell…but tasting is an entirely different thing, y’know?” He muttered, shrugging impassively.

Big Iron shot up, “H-How can you ask somthin’ like that, Shimmerin’?!” The young stallion leaned back, squinting. “Ponies can’t eat meat! It’s just wrong!” She scolded loudly.

“Come on, Sis. You can’t tell me you wondered as well!” Shimmering retorted.

“N-No!” Big Iron answered hesitantly, an embarrassed blush forcing her to turn away. “It’s weird.”

“You’re weird.”

“Says the one thinking about eating meat!”

Finally, Finn raised his hands and flagged down the bickering siblings, while James struggled to suppress his laughter. “Simmer down you two! Let’s not get into a debate on whether ponies should eat meat or not.” After sharing a look, Shimmering and Big Iron fell silent, the former sitting down. “Although…I’ve seen horses back home eat snakes and mice. Perhaps it ain’t all too different here. The ability to digest meat, that is.”

A low neigh sound behind the wagon past their tent, Shimmering’s ears flicking in the same direction. “Why do you keep calling them Whorses? A little rude, ya think?” He stated, frowning.

“There’s. No. Point.” James muttered repeatedly, hands obscuring his face.

Unable to resist deadpanning, Finn shook his head and picked out a cooked lizard. “Uh…let’s save this discussion for tomorrow, alright?” Neither pony raised further complaints, exhaustion evident on their faces. It’s another funny quirk Finn noticed ponies possessed, their easily read expressions- hell, an Equestrian would most likely go broke from one poker game. It’s traits brought upon by wider eyes, he reckoned. They held more emotion. Nevertheless, Finn’s mind was less occupied with pony faces than his growling stomach, the freshly cooked lizard smelling vaguely of earthy musk and chicken intensifying his hunger.

After finishing their respective meals, Shimmering Comet hesitantly rejecting his meat taste test under Big Iron’s piercing gaze, they all retired for tonight, snuffing the fire. Hopefully, when Finn woke up, things smoothed out.

Unfortunately, they did not.

Firstly, good news.

James partially explained why horses WEREN’T oversized pony prostitutes or sex slaves, didn’t talk, and what their riding gear did. It still didn’t help them understand how Who-mane wasn’t correct either, but one step before the next.

Also, the town Shimmering mentioned stood a mile ahead!

The bad news?

“State your business, strangers! I’m not afraid to use this!” Shakenly ordered a shouting pony dress in ragged leather, armor plating, and a repurposed- what Big Iron saw as -royal guard helmet. This imposing character peered downward at them, stationed high behind erected walls constructed from scrap and junk. Painted faces, vulgar messages, and point appendages poking through the wall's gaps made Finn ponder if these folk weren’t too appreciative of newcomers.

However, what concerned him and his partners more was looking alongside the antsy guard's sights, its rear resting on his cheek.

Another liberation rifle.

Raising a submissive hand, Finn smiled cautiously. “Hey there friend! Sorry for startling you.” He greeted.

“I ain’t your f-friend, freak!”

He ignored the blatant insult, “We were passing through looking for refuge ‘Supplies is runnin’ low, so it’d be kind of you to open this gate.” Truthfully, they had two days worth of consumables left, but restocking never hurt anybody.

A sharp crack shattered the still desert air, newly given pain cutting across his left cheek, blood trickling onto his lower jaw and shirt.

Smoke billows from the rifle's shaking barrel, the guard's wide, terrified eyes reflecting an inferno of rage. “NO! We ain’t fallin’ for that again, freak! We let your buddies inside and they ruined us once. Wild Wind won’t let it happen, he won’t! Turn around and leave us ALONE!” Spittle flew past his snarling lips, tears glazing his unfocused eyes. “Go away! Go away! Go away!” He demanded frantically. The first shot was his first and only warning, and Finn doubted this feller’s obvious distress hindered his sharpshooting abilities. Behind him, James primed his rifle while Big Iron protectively shielded her brother, said brother appearing unsure and panicked.

Taking the golf ball-sized hole centimeters from James's legs as reassurance, Finn returned his attention. “A-Alright, partner. I won’t settle here if you don’t want us to.” He carefully said, inching a hand closer to his holstered sidearm.

“Alright everypony, take five!”

An audible click followed the unexpected new voice, the guard yelping loudly as he jumped. Thank God this idiot didn’t have one of those newer automatic rifles. How did Finn not notice? Regardless, a slender peach-colored mare appeared, approaching the spooked gate guardian’s side, resting a comforting hoof on his wither.

The guard turned to the lanky mare, “Mrs. Marian! W-Why are you-?” Her hoof left his shoulder, wordlessly signaling for him to stop talking.

“Worry not, Clean Streak, I was simply passing through.” Mrs. Marian’s voice rang softly like a gentle river flow, but Finn caught firm undertones lining her tone. Strangely enough, this soft-spoken mare reminded him of his aunt. Blondie hair tied into a hair bun, reading glasses, and those clam yellow-brown eyes. “My injuries are nothing to be concerned about. You, on the other hoof, should go rest for now. I’ll have Brigade take your post.” Clean Streak looked conflicted- whether he should reject her offer or not. Ultimately, he nodded, stealing one last glance toward Finn’s gang and walking off.

Strapping out and onto the ground, James stored his rifle over his shoulder. “Hey, Finn, you sure we’re supposed to be here? This isn’t looking good so far.” He lamented, grimacing. Finn returned a hesitant side-eye, shrugging.

Only one way to find out.

“Pardon us, Miss…Marian, right?” She faced them and nodded pleasantly, “Sorry for causing you trouble! If y'all aren’t accepting visitors, we’ll leave.” Finn said.

Marian giggled lightly, shaking her head. “Nonsense. Wild Wind hasn’t turned down somepony in need- thus far.” She replied jokingly, although there was a hidden trace of uncertainty. “I’ll have the gate open momentarily, and I shall accompany you fair creatures soon.”

With that, Marian’s head dipped past the gate's upper railing. “This isn’t good, or maybe it is?” Shimmering Comet spoke.

His sister raised an eyebrow. “Shimmerin’?”

The disgruntled ex-liberation soldier groaned quietly, pulling his cloak tighter around him. “This was swarming before I left. There should be enough soldiers to storm Ponyville easily! A-And this wall…it’s most definitely new.” Finn slowly digested this information, nodding in understanding. He’d also expected unpleasant company, which led to bloodied, drawn-out combat.

To feel cautious or optimistic, it matters only after the gate opens.

Minutes later, rusted wheels gliding across improvised railings pushed the towering scrap metal gate aside, bridging a gap connecting Finn's gang and three ponies. Marian, as expected, flanked on each side by similarly dressed guards, came close, stopping in front of Finn and James’s mounts. “Again, apologies for our rather unkind greeting. You see, some undesirables invaded Dodge Junction recently, leaving us destitute and frightened. Even following reinforcements and Wild Winds provided training, the after-effects remain raw and painful.” She solemnly explained, both guards shifting uncomfortably. “Besides that, we welcome you…” Judging her drawn-out ending, Finn smiled.

“Finn, and here’s my partner, James.” He greeted and motioned toward the guarded young Ranger. “There’s two others behind me, but it’s best to let them be. Travelin’s taken a lot out of them.” Big Iron revealing herself, no problem. Shimmering Comet? ‘Let’s not get ourselves shot at or banned when we haven’t even taken one step inside.’ Finn thought.

Marian’s small smile grew wider, “Pleasure for your acquaintance. I’m Marian, Dodge Junctions Librarian. Although, due to recent events, you may view me as Dodge Junction’s caretaker, of sorts. I’ll handle any request, complaints, or questions- that I have no doubt you have -you harbor.”

“Lead the way, Miss,” Finn said. “Are there any open lodgings nearby?”

The composed mare nodded, turning back and walking away, Finn’s gang closely trailing her six. “Unfortunately, if they weren’t destroyed beyond proper use, all of our hotels, motels, and inns are at full capacity- some even doubling as hospitals.” Again, grief flashed over her features, a subtle frown overtaking her smile until it swiftly returned. “However, we do have open stables we used to house livestock in. You can store your wagon there.”

Then, James made himself known. “Stables? What happened to your town’s livestock?” He absentmindedly questioned.

“Rotting in the stomachs of those who attacked us.” Marian answered bluntly, making the younger Ranger flinch.

“S-Sorry.”

If Appleoosa’s scuffled was bad, Dodge Junction looked damn near abandoned. Empty streets lined with torched, shattered rubble, some spots showing signs of clean-up; houses missing entire chucks, empty spaces where shops used to be, and ruined wagons littered all four directions. Worse yet, they came across a pony here and there, all almost wearing dried, bloody bandages, splints, or just exposing infected wounds to the naked air. Groans and sobs accompanied this tapestry of disappearing, residents wandering aimlessly with glazed eyes. Finn could hear Big Iron’s subdued gasps, her brother all but silent, as James scanned their surroundings. Seeing the Liberation’s aftermath, Finn seethed internally.

“Take whatever you can grab, boys! Whoever brings me the most expensive shit and the most fuckable whore this shit-hole has, I’ll reward you handsomely!” The scarred devil cackled, his bloodlust unbound. Finn stood frozen, mostly numb and cold despite the burning town surrounding him.

Dammit.

Slower than he preferred, Finn eventually stopped when Marian did so. “Here we are!” She announced. Four square boxed-in structures made of plank wood housed ten or so injured residents, cracked roofs providing their sole protection against the sun. Mud had long since dried, feeding troughs devoid of slop and repurposed into compartments holding miscellaneous items. “There’s an open stall on the very end,” Marian pointed out, “Just park your wagon behind the stables. Oh! Make sure your possessions are secure or nearby. Ponies here are…desperate.”

All Finn responded with was a shallow nod, allowing Marian and her two acquaintances forlorn departure. “Goddamn, this’s sick,” Finn muttered bitterly, clenching his hand holding the reins tighter. James glanced at him, lips pulled thin.

“You spoke my mind, sir.”

Shimmering Comet didn’t sleep that night.

He had stayed hidden within their improvised lodgings until Celestia’s sun disappeared, but it didn’t stop their pained moans and cries. If anything, Luna’s night amplified the already noiseless town’s desolate air, including the sounds of suffering.

Is this what he meant by freedom? Zambia preached non-stop about free choice, how no being, mighty or benevolent, could restrain the common creature’s will. How you can simply take back your life if you joined him- on your decision, of course -and helped create a new Equus. Shimmering fell hook, line, and sinker for his gilded promises, having felt shackled by life’s misfortune and whatever crap he believed then.

Did having an unadulterated choice mean building a foundation of bodies? Anger blinded him, tugging Shimmering along like an obedient dog.

And Zambia was pulling his leash.

Sitting up, Shimmering tired eyes checked his reluctant allies. Finn and James lay upon the dried straw they found during a patrol, discovering any important landmarks they felt they should know. Their weapons rested not far away, two smaller ‘pistols’ stacked on top of a sleek rifle, one much more streamlined than Zambia’s forces standard-issued weapon. Thank Celestia he didn’t have firepower just as destructive. The older Who-mane snored noisily as if somepony were strangling a sea serpent, James soundlessly dreamt, his facial muscles twitching periodically. On Shimmering left, Big Iron’s back hid her face, but, judging by her rising and falling shoulders, she’s suffering similar night problems as well.

The ex-liberation soldier sighed, “Can’t sleep?” He whispered.

His older sister hadn’t replied immediately, letting Dodge Junction's agonizing symphony play out longer than Shimmering wanted. “Remember those trips Dad took us on sometimes? The ones to Manehatten?” She said lowly, her voice dejected. “I’d always wanted to visit the entertainment district, play games, and eat junk food till I got sick. Then you come running, putting on your best shit-eating grin, askin’ me if I wanted cheesecake because you knew I wouldn’t say no regardless?” A weak chuckle escaped her, sounding more like a choked sob.

Try as he might, it’s hard resisting a faint smile when Shimmering recalled simpler times. “Dad stepped in, saying we’ll get some to go. And despite your later stomach ache, you ate half after we fell asleep.” He added, earning a slightly heartier noise of amusement.

“Funny, huh?” Big Iron said, shifting, “Dad had been there for us whenever needed. He kept you from doing stupid things out in town. He made sure I wasn’t overworking…I miss him.” Hearing his sister’s sudden juxtaposition gave him emotional whiplash, her wince clear without a direct visual.

“Me too.” Shimmering pathetically said.

“...I w-wanna, b…bu-but I can’t forgive y-you.” Big Iron’s words were broken between muted sobbing, her head and hind legs curling into her midsection.

His heart choked, causing a sharp inhale and pursed lips.

“...I know.”

Big Iron didn’t seem to hear him, continuing with feverish distraught. “You. Left. US!” She hissed, “You didn’t even say anything to us, didn’t try. Is this- “Her hoof shot out, pointing toward the ruined town, “-what you left our family for?! This mindless destruction?” Nothing left both siblings, skin-writhing discomfort filling the void between them. She continued. “You know? Dad went lookin’ for weeks after you abandoned us. I helped too, of course. We found nothin’. Mom was heartbroken, and he began drinking again.”

Instantly, Shimmering diverted his eyes when his sister began rolling over. What must’ve been minutes passed on before he dared a look. Big Iron’s puffy, red eyes produced endless tears streaming down her stained cheeks, her breath shaky and uneven, passing through quivering lips. He saw hurt, anger, sorrow, and guilt mashed into one, all confined inside her soul-crushing whimpers.

“Was it worth our Pa and Ma’s life, Shimmerin’?” She spat.

Surreal is what Shimmering Comet described this current moment. He saw Big Iron, his sister, as an immovable temple; no matter what, she pulled through, never complaining once, wanting for nothing beyond her standard interests.

He hesitated, “That’s a foolish question. Then again, I’m no better, am I?” There’s no reality where explaining himself would do any good. What happened, happened.

Zambia was right on one thing, excuses were useless.

They couldn't change how filthy he felt.