“So, I been thinkin’”

Tracker’s voice cut through my earbuds. I withdrew one, pausing Trixie’s voice on my pipbuck. We’d stopped at a crossroads in the woods, large and looming trees on every side of us. They did at least shield us from the wind somewhat, but I was really starting to feel the chill out here. “About?” I returned.

“Thinkin about what’d happen to you if I died.”

I stopped in my tracks, fixing the stallion in front of me with my gaze. Moonbrand turned his way too, tilting her head quizzically. “Now, don’t give me that look.” Tracker preempted her. “I’m not so fatalistic right now. I’m just asking what you would do.” He pointed to me with a forehoof. “If’in there was a sniper up in one of these trees and he took my head off, and you had to run off into the woods to get away.”

The question hadn’t crossed my mind. We’d scarcely started on our journey, after all. “I…guess I’d go back home.” I answered with a defeated shrug.

“Say you couldn’t find your way back.” Tracker threw a forehoof over his back, pointing out the thick lines of trees around us. “Say you get lost. Out here, more likely than not.”

I stayed quiet. It seemed like he had something to say, after all. “So, I was thinkin’ I oughta teach you how to live off the land. Take care of yourself in the woods if something were to happen.”

I nodded in understanding. “I suppose there’s no harm in it.” Although the Trixie in me mentally screamed at devoting my time to learning something ‘not’ magical, I was admittingly a little excited to be learning anything at all.

“Good. What are those?” With his pointing hoof, he shifted it to a copse of thin trees off the path. They kind of reminded me of the old picture of a dairy cow we had hanging above the bar. Black and white spotted.

“...Trees?” I answered with mounting confusion.

“Birch trees.” Tracker hopped off the path and strode amidst the black and white bark. “Let’s camp here for the night. Moonbrand, can you fetch us some firewood?”

She hesitated for just a moment before she spoke. “Should we? If there are hunters from Radiator following us…”

I shook my head. “I doubt it. Mom will assume I’m off gallivanting in the woods with you for a few days.” Mentally, I added ‘which wouldn’t technically be untrue.’

She shrugged her haunches. “Very well. I will return shortly.” She cast her invisibility spell before stepping off into the growing darkness beneath the trees. I supposed there was nothing to be afraid of in the dark when you could do that.

“Chehk dish out.” Tracker grasped one of the smaller tree branches, and ripped it from the tree. It fell. “Birch wood doesn’t burn well enough for a fire, too fast and gives off too little heat, but it’s a good tinder.” As he spoke, he dug the knife into the branch and began to shave off the bark. “But that’sh not the coolest part! Shee, birch bark- see this red dust here?”

I leaned in to take a look at what he was showing me. There was indeed a reddish dust! “Sho, you collect the dust. Shtow it in a tin cup. Fetch one outta my pack here, would you?” He wriggled his hindquarters. I could have done without the display, but I grasped where he indicated in my magic and withdrew a tiny tin coffee-mug looking cup.

Tracker guided me through shaving off the dust, which was much easier in my magic. “And then-”

He was interrupted by a loud ‘snap!’ coming from deeper into the woods. He jumped up, his mouth on the grip of his revolver, as the snaps got louder. Snap, snap, crack! Louder, louder, and then I saw the vague outline of a tree against the darkening woods fall. It slammed into the forest floor with a loud ‘floomph’ noise.

The stallion kept his mouth on his gun until Moonbrand made her way back to our little campsite with several freshly chopped logs on her back. “I did not know how much you wanted so I took a tree. Is this enough?”

Tracker muttered something about being glad we weren’t followed. I didn’t ask how she brought the tree down.

Then, he taught me how to build two different types of campfires. When you could light a spark from your horn, the hardest part you got to cheat on. So, I learned the simple campfire. Tinder to catch the spark, fuel to burn and accelerant if a fire is needed urgently. Like if you’re freezing. Keep the wood dry, watch the wind. Simple enough. Thanks to Moonbrand’s generous amount of firewood collected we had more than enough for me to practise on.

I also learned about a ‘Dakota’ style campfire, which involved building it underground and giving it an extra airway. In that way, one could construct a campfire to give off heat without the smoke or too much light giving your position away. Useful, if I ever needed to hide.

I learned all of this with a bellyful of Birch tea. It tasted like mint! Who knew you could eat trees?

After a summary lesson on watch rotation, and Moonbrand taking the first, Tracker retired to his bedroll with a contented smile. I’d noticed it through the early hours of the night, he seemed to really like teaching me this stuff. And..selfishly, it felt kind of…nice? Nice, that is, to have an older pony be proud of me. Well, I was glad I did a good job.

Of course, if Tracker is listening to this, I mean ‘old’ in the most respectful sense of ‘wise’ and ‘learned.’ Not ‘weak’ or ‘slow,’ perish the thought.

Sleeping under the stars wasn’t completely new to me. I’d been out on hunts before, though rarely, and had to do what Ms. Longhoof called ‘roughin’ it’ and sleep in a bedroll. Still, this was the first time I’d slept without a group of at least four veteran hunter ponies keeping watch around me. I have to say, I do not enjoy ‘roughin’ it’. Given the choice, I’d much rather have my hooves up in a big comfy old world bed. That said, the warm tea in my belly helped keep out the chill. It was comfier than I’d thought it would be.

Tracker had taken the last watch of the night which meant he was responsible for waking us up. As I awoke to the morning sun, I’d noticed a curious glint of glass placed on one of Moonbrand’s felled logs. Oh I'd seen a plinking line before! “Shooting practice?” I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes with a forehoof and yawned wide.

“Among other things. Fish your gun out.” Tracker had taken the liberty of setting up four old trash bottles in a line. “Before we head out today, I want to see what you can do. Just take a few shots so I can see your form. No pressure.”

Moonbrand had already roused and trotted up next to me. “Perhaps a laser weapon would be better for her? They are superior, both in technology and effectiveness. Not to mention ease of use and lacking bullet travel time to account for over long distances.”

Tracker looked like she’d just insulted his mother. “Please.” He rolled his eyes. “Lasers can’t pierce hardened armour. Not to mention the lack of varied ammo. That’s if you can find any ammo in the first place.”

Moonbrand was quick to reply. “You also need less in the first place; if your aim is good. Which, combined with the lack of recoil and literal lightspeed projectile travelling, it is very likely to be. Combustion weapons are, frankly, a waste of effort.”

“Yeah, okay.” The sarcasm dripped off his tongue like tar. “And when the crystals shatter because you couldn’t find any spare parts? Because nopony stocks laser weapons in a goddamned wasteland!”

“Fillies!” I interjected, hovering my peashooter out of my saddlebags. “Why can’t I just try both out and see which I like better?”

The pair shared a look. “If she wants to let you borrow hers…” Tracker began.

Moonbrand quickly replied. “I would be happy to.”

“Right.” Tracker rolled his eyes so hard I was worried they were in danger of falling out of their sockets. “Take your stance here.” He stood around thirty feet from the bottles and drug his hoof through the dirt. “You too, Moonbrand.”

Moonbrand bit her lip. “I know how to fire my weapon.” She was quick to respond, but she did as she was told, standing beside me along the little line Tracker had drawn. “I do not see what-”

“Quiet.” The stallion commanded, stepping off to the side. “You said you would follow my orders in combat? Consider this training for that, then.”

Moonbrand nodded. “Very well.”

“Alright.” Tracker cleared his throat. “Trixie, you first.”

I stepped up, drawing my peashooter up in my kinesis. I loaded one of the surplus rounds and aimed, levitating it in front of my right eye. It felt strangely awkward in my magical grip. As I said, I had basic training with guns, but I never owned a gun of my own before. The last time I’d been hunting was when I was a teenager. I exhaled and squeezed the trigger in my magical grip.

‘Pop!’ answered my gun as the bullet whizzed out, striking a tree off to the side, well away from my intended glass prey. “Damnit!” I cursed, grinding my teeth.

“It’s fine. Adjust the sights and try again.” Tracker’s words were calm and patient but my cheeks were burning with embarrassment.

“It doesn’t have any sights!” I blurted out an excuse as I fumbled the load, dropping the kinetically lifted bullet to the ground below. I cursed myself again. Goddess I’d hoped to impress him!

Tracker, though, was cool as ice. “Then adjust your point of reference.” I swore I could see him smirking. “Calm down. Elevated heart rate will throw your aim off. I said no pressure, didn’t I?”

“Perhaps the Coriolis effect blew your simple bullet off course?” Moonbrand joked, earning a glare from our instructor. I appreciated the little levity at any rate. Something else to focus on besides my crippling inadequacy.

Right. Calm down. Don’t overthink it, it’s just like a game. Just a shooting gallery with friends. I inhaled softly, aimed at using the spot at about where the last bullet veered off to as reference. I fired again.

‘Pop!’ and another miss as it ‘thwacked’ into a different, unlucky tree. Closer to the bottle, less egregious of a miss, just as infuriating. I snorted through my nostrils.

Tracker wasn’t making fun of me at least. “Not bad. Again.”

“Not bad?” I focused on the load, racking back the single-shot action to load in another surplus round. “I missed twice.”

“It’s a shitty, dinky, little pipe gun. Of course you’re gonna miss.” His words were reassuring if not eloquent. “You flinch before you fire. Try to get out of that habit. I know it’s loud, but as long as it’s pointed away from you, don’t be scared of it.”

I was flinching? I hadn’t even noticed. I drew my peashooter up again, aimed, and-- “Hold it.”
Tracker's words broke my concentration. “You have your rear and forehooves spread.”

I looked downwards. I was doing that, yes. “So?” I shrugged. “Isn’t that how you’re supposed to shoot?”

“With a rifle.” Tracker trotted up to me and tapped my forehooves with his own. “With a hoof-gun, you wanna have your fores close together and align it with your centre of gravity when you fire. Easier shot that way. Closer. There, about there.” He drew a cigarette from his pack in that strangely earth-pony way with only a single hoof. He took a seat off to the side of our little firing line. “With a rifle, the wider your stance, the less off-balance weight you have to compensate for with your telekinesis.”

Moonbrand chuckled. “You are surprisingly well-versed in kinesis-gripped weapons-use.”

Tracker shrugged his haunches. “She ain't the first unicorn I’ve taught. General rule of hoof? Bigger the weapon, wider the stance. Fire when ready.”

I did my little ritual after assuming the stance I’d been taught. Exhale, breathe, focus on the shot. ‘Pop!’ I heard a ‘ting’ as my bullet jostled the centermost bottle, bouncing off of it but not shattering it. “Damnit!” I’d missed again!

I didn’t need to be told to load another round. Tracker looked on with professional detachment as I took aim once more. Oh, it wasn’t gonna get away from me this time, the little glass demon. I took aim once more in Tracker’s stance and fired. This time, I was answered by the bottle shattering in two. “Yes!” I shouted, nearly leaping in excitement as I looked at Tracker with a wide grin on my face.

“Good!” He chuckled softly. “If you ever need to take on mutant bottles that sit still and glare at you, I think you have it in the bag.” Shaking his head he strode up beside us. “Moonbrand, stand beside her. You’re up now.”

“Very well. Although, please keep in mind, my supply of energy cells is limited.” Moonbrand warned, drawing out her laser pistol. I’d never taken a look at it before. Black frame, chrome front. It looked kind of uninteresting, as strange as it is to say, just like a black rectangle on a trigger.

“Gimme a second. Downrange.” Tracker announced, slipping past us both to set up another sparkle-cola bottle.

In a short moment Tracker was back right beside the alicorn. He was about half her size. It was almost comical when they stood so close together. “When you’re ready.”

In a flash, Moonbrand’s laser pistol shot out four square on-target red beams, slicing through our sparkle-cola branded adversaries with surgical precision. “Was that satisfactory?” She asked, stowing her pistol in the same smooth motion. It took her less than a second.

“No.” Tracker gave us both a hoof wave as he stepped in front of us. “Gimme a sec. No shooting. Going downrange.”

Moonbrand and I shared a quizzical look as Tracker found a few more pieces of trash to serve as targets. This time our prey was old food cans.

When he stepped back to our side, Moonbrand drew her pistol again. “No. Both of you this time.” Curiously, I stepped into place once more, drawing my peashooter and taking aim again.

Tracker cleared his throat. “One more lesson for today. Right now, you’re both facing down four enemies. Pretend these are four raiders that come around the corner, all four have guns. What do you do?”

“I would dive for cover?” I said more as a question than an answer.

“And leave Moonbrand to deal with them all alone? What if they kill her?”

“They probably couldn’t!” I quickly replied, but even I saw the flaw in my reasoning. ‘Probably’ was not definitely.

“What if they did?” The pair of us were quiet.

“I would draw my pistol and shoot all four.” Moonbrand responded to the silence.

“Well and good, you’d probably nail them all, but shooting takes time. Say one of them got a shot off. You have your shield up, it won’t hurt you. What if it isn’t aimed at you? What if it goes wide and hits me? Takes Trixie’s head off?” I cringed, baring my teeth.

Moonbrand’s snout wrinkled. “Do you have something to suggest?”

Tracker nodded. “In combat, you need to be decisive, but you also need to work with and think about your teammates. In the scenario I presented, you’re both facing down four enemies. With that in mind, how do you proceed?”

Thinking I had it, I spoke up. “I would shoot the one closest to me. The one furthest to the left.”

Moonbrand brought her forehoof up to rub her chin. “I, knowing Trixie’s firearm only has one round, would fire on the three farthest away from her, in the order of which one is the biggest threat to me.” After a short pause, she added, “And trusting her to hit her target.”

“Good plan.” Tracker trotted around Moonbrand, and stood next to me. “Let’s see how it goes. On three…one…two…three!”

As one, Moonbrand and I drew and fired. Of course, she hit her targets. It came down to me. This time, there was no time to do my little pre-shooting ritual. If I missed, my life would be in danger, or hers. I simply aimed and fired, using my other shots as a reference, guesstimating about where my bullet would hit.

The soft ‘crack’ of the bottle signaled my shot hitting its mark only a millisecond after Moonbrand’s final target fell. The whole exercise barely took half a second.

Moonbrand smiled. “I see what you are getting at. As a team we are more effective than either of us alone.” She glanced down at me. “And I am proud of you. You have learned to handle that weapon quickly.”

I had to fight back tears. I didn’t know why, but that word, ‘proud,’ it just did something to me in my heart. It made me happy. I wasn’t about to let my new friends see me so vulnerable though, so I made a show of coughing, and thanked her. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling though.

At least, I hoped Tracker would consider me a friend and not just a tag along. The stallion was enigmatic at best when it came to being up front with his feelings.

“It’s a decent start.” Tracker shrugged. “I would like to get in some practice with moving targets, but outside of a range I doubt we’ll find willing volunteers out here.” Moonbrand was looking at him expectantly. “Okay. Gimme a sec, you can take over from here.”

As Tracker said that, he took his cigarette in his mouth, and lifted it to the barrel of my gun. It was still smoking from my fired bullets. He stuffed in the tip of the paper wrap, then pulled it back. It was burning red! Tracker took an indulgent drag off of it and smirked. “And cahn your lasers do dhat?”

I spent the rest of the morning learning to fire and reload Moonbrand’s laser pistol. Tracker let her teach me in peace and packed all our gear up for us so as soon as we were done we were ready to move. It was, like she said, much easier than my own. No recoil. Like holding a toy gun with each trigger pull. It was reloading it, or swapping out the battery, that was difficult. It was small and took fine kinesis to squeeze in right. Goodness, it would be embarrassing to put the battery in upside down in the middle of a gunfight.

Suffice to say it was a productive morning.

A short time later we were packed up and moving. I had the maps on my pipbuck, but I had no idea how Tracker knew where he was going. He never stopped to check his bearings or the wind or anything, just marched forward. According to my maps, he was going the right way. but all these paths down the mountain looked exactly the same. Thick wooded trees on all sides of scarcely trodden dirt paths. If he was faking that confidence he’d give Trixie a run for her money.

An hour later, and we’d made our way down from my heavily wooded home. I turned to look back at the mountain I’d lived on my entire life. The snowy peak, the thick wooded shelf, the little tiny speck of brown way up there that was my old home. I gave it a mental goodbye and turned on my way.

The Line, even before Gardens, had always been rather lush. It bordered the Wendigo Forest in the old days, after all. Those big and imposing trees bled over onto our side from an even thicker wood further East. Then, the war turned them to charred black and sickly husks.

Post Littlepip, though, whatever magic was in the Gardens got some way to bringing them back to life. At this range, there wasn’t enough left in it to purge the radiation, but it did a lot to bring the forest back. Down from the mountain the woods weren’t quite so suffocating, but we’d still find pockets of healthy trees here and there, interspersed with wide plains of dust and a little bit of grass. It was an ecosystem in recovery. A nascent national park for when (if) they rebuild the government back West.

Personally, I never took much stock in the Stable Dweller. Oh sure, everypony had heard of her. ‘Saint of the wastes, saviour of us all’ Yadda yadda yadda. I looked back at Moonbrand and saw her eyes flitting between me and watching the horizon for the new raiders we didn’t have any problems with before. I looked back at Tracker and remembered his brains blasted out on the asphalt. I didn’t feel very ‘saved’ at that moment.

“Fhweet.” A high pitched whistle cut through my thoughts. “Down.” Tracker commanded us, gesturing forward with a hoof.

I hunched down low and crawled up next to him. We’d just crested a small hill, and were looking down at a few old vehicle wrecks. An old motor-wagon with a trailer, quite like Moonbrand’s house, some passenger car now rusted into a hulk. A couple smaller ones that looked like single-pony vehicles.“...What?” I asked the obvious question.

“Ambush.” Tracker flicked his mane. “See that?”

I squinted. I didn’t see anything beyond a swirling dust devil, some rocks, and some old garden patio stuff left out. Probably fallen out of the trailer. “Do you--” I turned to ask Moonbrand but she’d already casted her invisibility spell.

“I do not.” Answered the air next to me, flowing like moonlight on still water vaguely in the shape of a pony.

Tracker smiled, tapping his forehead with a hoof. “Special talent.” He repeated. I arched an eyeridge. “Look, see that old chair over there? How it’s pulled up to that table? Look closer. See the smoking cigarette in the ashtray?”

I shook my head in the negative. “You can see that far out?”

Tracker’s hoof wavered in a so-so motion. “Just the smoke. I’m betting that’s where the scout was posted. I’m betting he saw me crest, then got his lackeys into position. Besides, why would you stay here if not to ambush travelers on the road?”

Moonbrand let out a little ‘harrumph’ “So we are soon to be ambushed. I can take care of this easily. They will not see me coming.”

“Maybe not.” Tracker’s tail flicked. “But if they set up mines, or traps, one wrong step and you’re a goner.”

The alicorn let out an impertinent huff. “So what do you suggest?”

Tracker crossed his forehooves and thoughtfully tilted his head. “Let’s see…place like this, small. Probably only four to six ponies. Not enough travelers around for a big operation. But that being said…if we had a way to get them to come out of hiding. Like a distraction.” He shook his head. “I’d rather not chance it. Let’s turn around and find another way.”

“That may be an issue.” Moonbrand replied. “We lack supplies for a longer trip. We can force our way through.”

“Not all of us have invulnerable magic shields.” Tracker snickered. “Don’t worry about it. It’s a big country, there must be…”

I’d heard enough. “So, you need a distraction?” I was wearing my classic Trixie grin, and had fluffed up my mane back so it looked even poofier than usual. Bright white cotton candy against the drab browns and greens of The Line. “Does The Great And Powerful Trixie serve as an adequate distraction, hm?” I turned my snout up, playing up the hoity-toitiness of my namesake. A little bit of a superiority complex never hurt anypony.

Tracker had a look on his face like I’d just suggested the sky might be made out of pumpkins. “What the fuck are you doing?” He elegantly and poshly asked me.

“Distracting our foes!” I strolled past him, flicking my tail at his snout, leaving the stallion absurdly stunned. “I may simply show myself, and they will be overtaken by the living marvel that is Trixie herself! In the fur! And that should give you peons” I made sure to really enunciate that word, “time enough to get into position, yes? Then do-- mmh, whatever it is you thugs do.” I turned my nose up and smirked.

…”What the fuck is she doing?” Tracker asked the space of air nearest him I guessed to be Moonbrand.

“Oh right!” The air giggled. “You’ve never met the Showmare have you, Tracker? This is the character she plays on stage.”

Tracker’s hoof found his face so hard I worried he might have knocked himself out. “Are you serious? If you walk down there like this there’s a 50-50 you’ll just get shot immediately.”

I pish-pawed. “Oh come on, Tracker! Would you shoot me?” I fixed his eyes with my own and gave him a wide stare, affecting the absolute cutest look I could. Pursed, pouty lips. Big, wide Showmare eyes. The whole shebang.

His nose wrinkled. “Thinking about it.”

“Then that’s enough time for you to get into position!” I quickly pranced in place behind the hill we were hiding on. “Come on, I can do this. Easy peasy. I’m good at keeping ponies’ eyes on me!”

He sighed loudly and threw his gaze skyward. “Lunar lights, mercy on us....”

Although his little prayer didn’t exactly fill me with confidence it sounded like he was considering it at least. I beamed. “So…can I, just, you know, go down there and…”

“Trixie.” He took a tone I didn’t like. It reminded me of the tone my mother took when she was about to berate me. “If you go down there I’m washing my hooves of this. I warned you that you’ll get hurt. Whatever happens to you, it won’t be my fault and I’m not gonna feel bad about it.”

I didn’t hear a no. “So, I can go down there?”

He turned to the air next to me that looked vaguely Moonbrandish if you squinted. “Has she always been like this and I just never noticed?”

The alicorn giggled. I imagined she did her hoof in front of mouth pose but I couldn’t see it. “She has this stubbornness streak about her. Still, you must admit, she would be a good distraction.”

I swear I could hear his brow furrow. “Fine. We’ll follow your lead, Trixie. I’ll take the left. Moonbrand--”

“Yes!” I nearly leapt upwards, pumping my hoof in the air!

“...Moonbrand,” Tracker continued after giving me a few seconds of happy squealing to get out of my system. “The right. Once they’re all out in the open, we’ll-- Trixie!”

I’d already turned and begun my trot down the hill. I fixed my gaze on the wrecks down below and I cocked a half smile. “Showtime.” I whispered to myself. Tracker wanted a distraction? Trixie didn’t do half measures. Trixie would distract the whole goddamned wasteland!

“Ex-cuh-yooze meee!” I shouted at the top of my longs as I trotted into the open between the wrecks, wary of my hoofsteps lest I stumble upon a mine. “I heard there was a group of devious and dastardly thugs about here! I’ve come to, ahem. Uh. Parlay!”

Silence greeted my calls. I stomped my hoof into the ground. “Hey! I know you’re there! Ugh, do you always make mares wait on you!?” I snorted through my nose and tossed my mane impatiently. “Come ooon! I’m here to talk. Trixie didn’t come all the way down here to put on a show for herself!”

Then, I heard movement. Somepony peeked out over a wrecked car. “See? This is the only one of you that is any type of brave at all? This ONE?” I beckoned him-- her? Either way, I beckoned them forward with a hoof.

The brave pony laid a gun on the hood of the wreck. An old, dinky pipe rifle thing. It was aimed directly at me. “This is a raid!” She shouted. I arched an eyeridge. “Give us all your caps and we’ll…we’ll let you go.”

I was vaguely aware of movement around me. Other ponies taking positions with their guns trained on me. I counted three more. Tracker was right. “Oh come on, you’re surrounding me? Is that really necessary? I’m armed, sure, but look at this thing.” The brave mare leaned over the hood, her hoof feathering the trigger as I levitated out my peashooter. “It’s a single shot action. And it’s not even a good shot! I’m really no threat at all.”

I heard a snort. “Is this one on Dash?” Somepony trotted out from the wrecks, a pipe gun battle saddle trained on me. “She’s fuckin’ certifiable.” A stallion. Matted mane, unkempt fur, patchwork raider barding made out of cloth and an old tire. Charming.

Laughing, I smiled demurely and did a little bow. “It’s nice to have somepony brave enough to meet me face to face!” I batted my eyes, stealing Moonbrand’s disarming mouth-behind-hoof giggle that worked so well on me. It seemed to have the intended effect. Though still curious, the raider pony had at least learned I didn’t mean him any harm. He dropped his guard, mouth coming off the trigger-bit for his battle saddle.

I picked up a few skills as a bartender and a showmare. One of those skills was lying. It’s easy to lie, most ponies do it without even thinking, but that’s how you get caught. The best lies are the ones you trick yourself into believing. Better yet, they’re ones you want to believe. Some lies are really simple; A compliment on somepony’s appearance when they look terrible, a faked laugh at an unfunny joke, a blush at a flirt by an older stallion you have no interest in whatsoever.

Lying is second nature to me, but I know when you have to put a little extra ‘oomph’ in a particular lie to really sell it. Showmareship, as Trixie taught me, is really just lying to a crowd. No, you’re not really great and powerful, but what’s important isn’t that everypony else believes it. It’s that you believe it. Thus, the first step in a successful lie is lying to yourself. If you can convince yourself, you can convince anypony. That, and there’s a second part to that first step. You have to know the type of person you’re lying to.

This stallion? This big gruff guy who was perhaps the single ugliest creature I had ever laid my eyes upon? I imagined he very, very rarely gets a compliment. So, I saw him and zeroed in like a shark.

I lifted my hoof and twirled it around my mane, catching a few strings of white hair upon my black hoof. “Wow. You’re…kinda handsome, heh.” I giggled again, loudly and stupidly. I smiled, wide and dumb.

“Yeah she’s batshit.” Another pony, a mare, stepped out from the wrecks. Same shabby barding. “No one sane could think you look good, Trout.” She had stowed her own pipe weapon in its holster. She smiled at me.

The stallion snorted. “Don’t be jealous. Sweetheart. You know you can have me anytime you want me.” Then his eyebrows bounced, turning back to me. “Say, you coming down off something huh? I can make you feel good while you wait it out.” He trotted around me, bumping his hips into mine. He smelled rancid, like old meat. I forced a smile.

The mare with a makeshift rifle, I now noticed was a unicorn, climbed atop the hood of the wreck and slung her rifle over her shoulder. “Can you at least rob her before we hire another mouth to feed?” That mare was pragmatic! I kind of respected that.

I telekinetically whipped open my saddlebags and showed their lack of contents to Trout, who snickered. “Nope. This one’s broke! Ah well.” He chuckled. “We’ll pawn her off to the Regs up at the police station, they’ll give us something for her.”

The rifle mare rolled her eyes. “Don’t ruin the merchandise before we sell it this time.” Then, she fell back down on the roof of the wreck, threw her hoof back over the hood and stretched.

Somepony with a pair of binoculars around their neck hopped out from the wrecks next. She was the only one among the quartet with an actual non-makeshift firearm. A little pistol, but it was much handsomer than the stallion hovering around my flank. I took what little pleasure I could in seeing a real gun again. My eyes lingered on it for far too long. Equestrian army service pistol, standard issue. Nine millimetre. Oh, a real barrel, a real magazine! Not made out of pipes! Luna’s lights I wanted it so badly!

“You lot are useless.” The rest of the raider ponies seemed to look away from her, as if they were afraid to meet her gaze. She wore spiked metal armor. Even Trout stood a little straighter next to me. “Somepony wanders right into our ambush and you idiots don’t even disarm her!?” She trotted up from me, grabbed my peashooter from its holster, and tossed it sideways. “Chain her up. We’ll--”

“But.” I interrupted, she turned to glare at me, her teeth braced in anger. “I want to join you.”

“Hah!” Trout flank-bumped me again. “Yeah? You hear that? She wants to join because of me! I’m attracting mares!”

I nodded quickly, smiling politely at the leader. “Yeah!” I quickly added. “He’s…you know.” I made a show of lifting my forehooves up and tapping them together. “Heh, you know? You know.” Tap-tap.

She made a face like she’d just caught the scent of rotting meat and very nearly threw up. “Fucking crazy mares.” She rolled her eyes. “Fine, but she strangles you in your sleep, it’s your--” Then her head exploded.

Tracker’s revolver makes a sound like thunder when it fires. Loud, attention grabbing, enough to make my ears ring. I threw myself to the ground, grabbing my peashooter in my kinesis again.

“What the fuck?” The rifle mare quickly stood, before she was evaporated in an ozone flash of laser fire. Her and her gun turned to ash, spattered atop the rusty wreck that was now her tomb.

“Amb--” the other mare didn’t have time to scream before another flash of lethal red prismatic light cut her down to ash.

Beside me, Trout scrambled to put his bit back in his mouth. He turned around. “Come on, fuckers!” He shouted to the air around us he drew the sights over the wrecks. “Come on, come on! Say ‘hi’ and I’ll take your fucking head off!” He turned back. Around again. But he’d forgotten about me.

I called on my magic. The one little spell I knew: smokepop

Confused and coughing, he didn’t have time to swing his battle saddle around before I’d levitated up my peashooter and pressed it to his temple. When he saw me pointing the gun at him, I’d imagine he would show fear or anger. Instead, what I saw in that split second beyond the gray fog of smoke was betrayal. I pulled the trigger, and even my ‘dinky little pipe gun’ wouldn’t miss from point blank.

‘Trout’ fell to the ground, alive one moment and dead the next. Blood poured from his head. His hind leg twitched.

This was the first time I’d killed anypony. In stories I’d read, the hero always felt sad after killing. They’d always say they’d regretted how it came to this and wished they could do better. They would have to do better in the future. Maybe make a vow to never kill again?

I didn’t feel anything. I didn’t feel happy, no, but I didn’t feel bad. I didn’t feel guilt or sadness. I wonder if that makes me a psychopath?

I’d been staring at Trout’s corpse for a while, long enough for the smoke to dissipate, pondering my feelings or lack thereof, when Moonbrand’s hoof fell upon my shoulder. She hugged me. It…was one of the most awkward situations I’d ever been in. I didn’t know how to tell her that I really was okay because I knew I shouldn’t be okay. Now I felt sad, but it was because Moonbrand felt bad for me. I didn’t want Moonbrand to feel bad for me. How do I tell her I’m okay without sounding like a psychopath?

So, I did what I do best. I lied. Like I said, the easiest ones are the ones you wish were true. “I…wish it could have gone better.” I didn’t. They were talking about selling me into slavery. That stallion I killed had ‘ruined the merchandise’ before, and if that means he did something to another mare that ‘ruined’ her, he deserved what he got and I would do it again a thousand times.

“Sometimes it has to end like this.” Moonbrand nudged me with her snout. “Do you want to go wait by the road? Tracker and I can finish up here.”

No. I wanted to take that dead mare’s pistol. “Yes.” I said, because that’s what somepony in my situation should say.

What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I not more broken up about this? Maybe I really am insane.

So, I went to go wait by the road while my friends looted the corpses and Tracker tossed that pistol into his own pack. I will admit, I was a little frustrated by being shoved into this-- I don’t know how to explain it, this ‘role’ I was supposed to be that just wasn’t me. Trixie wouldn’t be sad right now. I didn’t want to be either.

“You know, I’m enough of a stallion to admit when I’m wrong.” Tracker trotted up next to me. He double checked his leather barding and gave me a warm smile. “You played that well. Distracting enough to confuse 'em, not threatening enough to get shot. Good work, Trixie.”

Moonbrand followed soon after. I noticed, despite Moonbrand being physically larger and stronger, Tracker had heaped the lion’s share of the loot upon his own backside. Old pipe weapons. Barely worth hauling, but worth hauling. “Yes.” The alicorn agreed. “It is a shame things got violent but I will not mourn them and neither should you.”

I faked trying to fake a smile. “I’ll try.” I hated lying to Moonbrand.

Tracker flank-bumped me and snickered. “Oh, you’re so handsome. You should let me join you. I always wanted to join a handsome cool raider gang…” He threw his head back and laughed out loud. “Goddess, that was great. Freakin’ made my week.”

“Tracker!” Moonbrand berated. “Can you not see she is distraught? Wanton carnage may be standard fair for you, but she--”

I couldn’t help but giggle. “How did you even hear me? Where did you wind up?” I couldn’t hide my smile.

“Behind the trailer. Once the scout jumped off her perch I closed in.”

“Oh! Clever.” I was about to ask where he shot from before I realized that would probably sound a little ghoulish. “Did you…get…anything good?” I asked through gritted teeth.

Tracker shook his head. “Pipe weapons and low power cartridges. Decent enough. Can’t complain.” He saw the disbelief in my eyes and seemed to read my mind. “You can’t have the pistol.”

“What the hell!?” I almost screamed at him. “Come on, it’s the only one that--”

“No.” He snickered. “Learn to kill a raider without needing a few minutes to compose yourself after, and then maybe.” He hip-checked me again and trotted up ahead, taking the lead once more. I cursed him under my breath.

“I…suppose we all cope in our own ways.” Moonbrand said quietly to my side, more to herself than to me. I felt strangely guilty for some reason. If I wasn’t a practised liar when we met it seemed I was rapidly becoming one.

We travelled in silence for a few hours. The sparse woodland got ever sparser, and our small single road widened into a many lane street. I began to see husks of ruined buildings, long turned to rubble.

“Excuse me, Trixie?” Moonbrand broke the quiet. “I was curious about some things.”

“Oh yeah?” Well, I was privately hoping she wasn’t about to ask any hard questions, but I wasn’t about to deny her.

“You didn’t use S.A.T.S. when we were training to shoot. You didn’t use it either in the fight. Why?”

“I didn’t use what now?”

She stopped and arched an eyeridge. “The targeting spell. In your pipbuck.”

“My pipbuck has a targeting spell?” I lifted it to examine it. “How do you use it?”

“I-- well you should just, know. It is your pipbuck. Were you never taught how to?”

I gave a confused shrug. “Really?” She squinted. “May I?” I undid the latch on my pipbuck and gripped it in my kinesis, levitating it over to her and off my leg.

We chatted casually while we walked. I’d never heard of a sats-spell before. Apparently the little thing on my leg I’d just been using as a Trixie content dump and inventory sorter had a few neat combat functions baked in.

At least, it was supposed to.

With a snort, moonbrand floated it back to me after a few seconds. “Somepony modified this to take out all the combat functions. No sats, no combat compass, no injury diagnostics.” She whined, annoyed. “How vexing.”

“Modified? You can do that to a pipbuck?” And here I thought these things were supposed to be tamper proof little bricks.

“Not without developer tools.” She sighed. “Which means, whatever stable this was plucked from was probably a factory for the things. The last OS modification was dated over a hundred years ago, so it must have been when the stable was still in operation. I am sorry I cannot fix it.”

I shrugged. “Hey, at least it still has maps!”

Speaking of maps, I shouted up to Tracker. “Where are we even going? Isn’t this like, a really great spot for an ambush? Couldn’t there be snipers in any of these buildings?”

I saw a smile creep across Tracker’s face. “Good catch. Not around here though, the Loyalists would get ‘em.”

“Loyalists?” Moonbrand and I asked in unison.

Tracker stopped in the street. He took his hoof and pointed skyward. “You two know the-- well you probably fought in it, MB, but you know about the Enclave war?”

“How could I not?” I looked skywards too. The evening sun was warm and comforting. “Two years ago, pegasus enclave invaded the Equestrian surface to disastrous results. Got beat bad.”

“That’s only half the story.” Tracker countered. “Alot of Enclave weren’t happy with the invasion, so they split off to form their own factions. One we got around here, Loyalists, were not loyal to the Enclave, but instead loyal to Rainbow Dash.”

I tilted my head. “So loyal to the element of Loyalty, not loyal to the Enclave. That’s confusing.” Tracker shrugged in response.

Clearing his throat and planting his hoof back on the ground, Tracker nudged his head back skyward. “Yeah, so. Short version? You see any pegasuses in power armour painted blue or with rainbow streaks or a rainbow cutie mark? Don’t shoot ‘em. They’re good pony folk.”

“Pegasi.” Moonbrand quickly corrected, earning an exaggerated eye roll from Tracker.

Tracker turned, flicking his tail to call us to follow. I quickly trotted up after him. “You still haven’t said where we’re going.”

We rounded a corner and I saw it: a wall. A wall made of wood and scrap, taller than a pony, with a simple guard tower behind it. “Pegasus scouts already saw us. Probably let ‘em know we were coming.” Tracker casually mused.

I squinted. I could barely make out the pony in the guard tower waving us in. Waving rather feverishly, too! Below her was a big sign that declared in bold red letters:

Welcome To Crossroads!

Footnote: Level Two

New Perk- Black Widow: Harness your natural charm. You do 10% more damage to members of the opposite sex. In addition, sometimes unlocks unique dialogue options when dealing with stallions.

Skills Up-

Guns: 25
Speech: 25
Magical Weapons: 20

Author's Note

Comments inject dopamine into my brain and convince me to write more please do those