I awoke with a start. I remember the last thing was the Pink pony bursting through the door like a riot guard, and then a cannon. Not questioning why I was alive, I decide to sit up. Looking around, I notice that I'm in some kind of bedroom of sorts. There's a small book shelf across the room; I look towards the floor and notice a basket with a blue blanket and pillow inside it. I take several minutes to notice the other things in the rooms such as paintings and such, until I come to a realization.

"This is the softest bed I have ever sat on." I stated out loud for no one.

Getting out of it was difficult for it's extreme plushness. Finally sitting with my feet to the ground, I notice that my boots have been taken off. Getting up, my hole filled, sock covered feet feel the cold, hard wooden floor. It's been awhile since I felt something like this. Taking a few steps forward, back, left, and right; I do my best to get the blood flowing through my feet.

Deciding that I could walk straight, I begin to walk towards the stairs; each footstep a silent pad against the floor boards without my boots. As I approach the open way, I decide to listen in to a conversation being held down them.

"I don't know Twilight darling, he seems a bit; eehh, brutish." a voice with a posh accent said.

'Great, MORE biggots.' I thought to myself as I continued to listen in.

"He seems like a nice pony to me. Plus I feel really bad about knocking him out with my party cannon," said a voice with a hyperactive tone to it.

That must have been the pink pony; Pinkie if I recall correctly. Note to self; be careful around her.

"Well I think he's alright, plus he seemed to get along with Luna, so he MUST be at least some what decent." said a intelligent voice.

That must be the one I've talked to before, the purple one named Twilight.

"I don't trust him! And I can't believe you guys would! I think if AJ was here she would agree!" a arrogant and brash voice said.

"Darling you forget that HE was the one that SAVED Applejack." said the posh voice.

I decided it was time to make myself known.

"Will someone please tell me why the last thing I remember was being hit by a giant girly cannon?" I say as I step into the open view of the stairs.

The ponies from before all turn to me. Surprise written on some faces, while for the rainbow pegasus from earlier wore a scowl.

"Sorry about that, Pinkie can some time get a little too excited when meeting new poni- er, people." Twilight said while blushing.

With a sigh, I turn to the nearest window I see. As I notice how dark it was outside, I realize I must've been out for three to four hours. I turn back to ponies.

"Where are my boots?" I ask as the wooden floor felt unknown to my sock covered feet.

"Oh! I put them outside, the dirt and the smell was starting to revolt everypony." the white unicorn said.

'Well, at least she's honest.' I thought.

"Fine. I'm going to need a place to sleep, but if you want; I would gladly sleep outside." I say as I shrug.

Before anyone could say anything, Twilight decided to speak.

"What are you talking about? You're staying here aren't you?" she said as she gave me a quizzical look.

I merely stared at her as I sighed again.

*Sigh* "fine, but let me get one thing straight." I say as I glare towards all of them.

"If I even suspect someone's trying to capture, kill, or use me. I will find you all. And let's just say my face will be the last thing you ever see." As I finish the sentence the rainbow bitch flew right into my face, anger and rage plastered on there like a mask.

"HEY! You do NOT! Threaten my friends! You got that!" she yelled as I merely stared at her.

The staring contest lasted for a minute before I started to raise my eyebrow. A trick Volm taught me, is that if you raise the eyebrow without showing emotion. You will most likely make the enemy feel unnerved.

As I did this, I could see the all-familiar glint in her eyes. Now, if some one tried this, they might think the glint dangerous, or even hostile. But in reality, it means that a tiny bit of nerve has been moved.

The rainbow pony backed off, still keeping her glare on me, but I could tell she was somewhat fearful now.

*GGRRRROWWWWLLL*

I froze as I was still starving.

The ponies looked at Jacob with mixed faces. Rarity, a look of disgust on her face; mainly due to how battered and dirtied he looked. Twilight, one of curiosity. Rainbowdash, one of distrust and hate. Pinkie pie, one of happiness; and pure adrenaline. Finally, Fluttershy was the one to speak out of the five that were there.

"Um, if you don't mind Twilight. But, um, I think Mr. Jacob is hungry." she said.

As Jacob turned towards her, she immediately hid behind her hair with a *meep!*. The ponies cast worrying glances (except Rainbowdash, who still had on a scowl) towards Jacob and Fluttershy. His unwavering gaze made the butter-yellow pegasus remember what happened in the forest. What happened to the maticore.

What happened to her.

Nopony besides her knew this, but when she was angry enough to use the stare on Jacob, she felt something. But it was only until he stared back that she felt it's true force.

Pain.

Pain, suffering, loneliness, fear, anger, madness; these things she just couldn't describe. So as she sat there cowering, Jacob let out a long sigh.

"I'll be out near the forest if any of you need me." he said as he began to walk out.

"Wait!" Twilight exclaimed as she got in front of Jacob.

"I thought you were going to stay here, at the library?" she asked, looking a little hurt.

Jacob merely scoffed at her attempt at puppy dog eyes. Hell, he's seen people eat puppies.

"So far I've been tackled by skittles and that ass-hole of a guard, knocked unconscious by a cannon, and almost killed your baby dragon. I think I'm better off camping than staying here." He said, as he walked past and opened the door.

"I'll be near the forest, just look for the fire; or the strange smell." was the last thing he said before walking out and closing the door.

It was harsh, but it had to be done. I couldn't take being there, being with them. I grunted as I rubbed my head to get rid of the sharp head-ache. Why? Why was this happening now. I've had breakdowns in the past but they were never like the one before. The words still echoed in the darkest corner of my mind.

...Killed her...

I paused. I remembered what happened that day. The day where being a Dead-man became more of a burden than a pleasure. I snapped out of my thought as I was approaching the edge of the forest. This forest is home to animals that can tear apart these ponies in under a few seconds. Wolves made out of wood, creatures that can fly, poison, and maul you to death all rolled into a single creature which has a thick hide that bullets have trouble piercing. Who knows what other creatures are in there.

Just like home.

I find a small clearing just out of sight but is still see-able from an angle. Dropping my bag, my hands automatically go to work at getting the sleeping mat that was rolled up. Putting it aside, I take out the small rock and tiny bit of iron. Going over a mental check-list, I make sure I have the supplies to make a fire.

'Let's see, flint & tinder? Check. Sleeping mat? Check. Firewood?' I stop my check-list as I realize that's something I don't have.

Getting up from a crouched position, I start my trek closer to the edge. Looking closely, I start my search for sticks, and branches that I could use. Finding a few sticks, I test each one to see whether it's too wet. Finding one with some fungus on it, I remembered what Volm told me about mold.

"If it's green or yellow, it will be flammable. But, if it's red; careful, it's explosive when exposed to intense heat."

This mold was a light green, which I decided would be suitable. Picking up the rest, I start walking back to my small clearing. Volm. To think that old bastard was more of a father than my birth parent. As, I finally appeared in the clearing again, I set the sticks down in the middle of my make-shift camp. I never thought about it, but I found it funny how I met Volm. Even after the predicament I found myself in.

The boy was there for days. Not only was his hand scarred and still in pain. But he found the less he used it, the more he started to miss his home. Tears fell again as he curled up into a ball. Starving, battered.

Broken.

"...And this is the merch we found four days ago." a female voice claimed from outside his iron cage.

"Ha! Look'at em! A sniveling little whelp ain't he? He won't last a week!" a harsh male voice called out.

Followed by a gunshot that made him curl even tighter as he sobbed more and more into his arms.

"We don't insult the merchandise. Especially while we have buyers in the fort." a man with an upper-class accent said.

"Yes, Mr. Burtchell." The woman's voice said automatically.

"Good. You know what I do with disobedience."

The boy shivered at the response. The man's words cut through him like a knife through milk-butter. Merchandise. He was merchandise. All his life, he never imagined being a slave. Having to be forced to serve hand 'n' foot to the man or woman that bought him. Finally, he sat up. His tear stained face stricken with pain and fear as it adjusted to the sun's bright rays. He looked around his cage. Rusted iron bars standing as pillars of torment, weathering, and pain.

'Why me?' he thought as he got up.

He walked to the nearest set of bars. He froze as he gasped at a few of the bars. At first it looked like rust, but no. It was a darker color, that smelled of iron. Not rust.

Blood.

Dried blood was on some of the bars, some covered in rust while others seemed almost stained with it. Doing his best, he avoided looking at the bars as he approached and started looking around the encampment known only to him as "The Fort". Focusing back on looking around, he noticed many other cages around his; it looked almost like a thing he read in a book once, before his father burned it in the fireplace. A zoo was what he thought it was called. It was used to hold animals, exotic animals even.

He also noticed how many of the cages seemed empty, some clean; others, seemed to have blood covering almost every inch of space inside the cages. The boy looked up. Vultures, or at least; what he thought were the carnivorous birds, were circling the entire camp.

His sight-seeing was cut short as commotion was coming at the far end of the long row of cages he was in.

"We had a deal!" a male voice yelled in anger.

"Yeah, well the deal's off." Another voiced replied.

"Volm be reasonable! This operation depends on-" the voice; which now the boy realized was the man named Burtchell, was cut off.

"Fuck your operation!" The other voice yelled, followed by clicking of multiple guns.

"Your outnumbered Volm. Even if you kill me, another will just take my place."

He listened for what felt like an eternity, waiting for the answer; will he get out of the horrid place? He could only wonder.

"Fine, but I at least want to purchase one." the man's voice said, seeming tired and sad.

"Hmm. Change of heart about slavery then? I thought as much." The man known as Burtchell said.

"Well now, which one?" Burtchell asked with curiosity.

"Why; the boy who's been a listener to this entire conversation" he said, followed by footsteps that were leading to the boy's cage.

He scrambled back in fear as a man dressed in brown leather trench coat approached his cage. The man was old, or at least seemed like it due to his gray hair and dark-gray 5'0 shadow. The boy noticed a duffel bag draped across his shoulder, similar to the bag he once had once he left the safety of his town. The man noticed his stare.

"So then slave, do you want to come with me?" he said as he stared at the boy.

The boy finally came to a conclusion, but decided to ask a question first.

"Are you a dead-man?" his voice came out in almost a croaked whisper.

The man gained a look of surprise, normally slaves didn't care as long as they got out of The Fort. But, he didn't really care at the moment.

"Yeah, yeah I am. Now, answer the question. Yes, or No?"

The boy didn't need any second thought.

"Yes."

The man smiled; turning back toward the man named Burtchell, he spoke up.

"I'll take him" was all that he said.

Handing a bag filled with jingling objects of an unknown nature, the cage was opened as the boy was pulled out. The boy was shoved to the man's feet. Looking up, he noticed the old-man glaring at the guards that shoved him. He didn't look back, but somehow knew the guards were afraid.

Standing up, the boy noticed two guards carrying his old things. As the worn out duffel bag was thrown into the mud, he immediately bent down to pick it up. Only to hear a *CLICK-CLICK* of a pump-action shotgun pointed directly at his head.

"Boy, you even try it; and I'll blow yer goddamn head off." The man stated with a smile, hoping the boy would do it.

He stood there looking at the man, trying to decide if he was kidding or not. But before he could do anything, the old-man behind him gasped as they brought out a leather trench coat very similar to that of his own. As that was also thrown into the mud, the old-man gathered his duffel and coat and hoisted the two over his shoulder.

As he walked away, he merely said one word.

"Come."

At that moment, the boy followed the grizzled old-man. As they exited the front metal gets of The Fort, the boy looked back towards the place, then to his burned hand. The old man took notice of this.

"That burn's gonna leave a scar, we might want to patch you up before we travel too far lad." he said as they continued walking.

"Now, I have a questions; I want you to answer all of them truthfully." the old-man said as they stopped.

He turned towards the boy, his unrelenting glare making the boy very nervous.

"Where did you get these things?" he asked.

The boy contemplated whether or not he should answer.

"Sir, I was given them. B-by the mayor."

The old-man was silent for a long time. Every movement of his face the boy tried to read to get understand the man's judgement for him. Finally, after what seemed forever to him; the old-man spoke.

"Tell me, did the mayor ever use the term Dead-man before?" The old-man never stopped glaring at the boy, almost as if he's never stopped glaring since his birth.

The boy shook his head to the question, choosing to stay silent and safe then to say the wrong thing and get punished. The old-man finally lessened his gaze a little, realizing this boy was thrown into a very, very dangerous world.

"The name's Volm, for now on I'll be your master; and you, my apprentice. Do we understand?" he asked as he handed the large coat to the boy.

The boy while slipping on the coat responded with a small nodding as he moved his arms through the long sleeves. Volm merely scowled at the boy's quiet and timid nature.

"Answer me, enough of this nodding, I'm not the bloody devil." Volm said in displeasure.

The boy paused, before finally speaking up.

"Yes, master."

2 Years later...

"I...I don't know..." A teenage boy said as he held a dirty hunting rifle.

Volm and the boy have been hiding in the bush for an hour. After hearing a few sounds, Volm saw a very rare animal that would soon become their dinner.

"You know we don't have any more provisions. It's either it dies, or you do." Volm whispered harshly as he eyed the magnificent mauler that was grazing on dry nearby shrub.

The creature had dirty brown hair, and was about the size of a ankle-biter. It stood on 4 hooves, and had one large antler growing out the top of it's head. As the boy breathed in, he started aiming the rifle. The creature looked up, looking around cautiously to find any sort of predator that might be in the area.

The boy lined up the sights, as he squeezed the trigger, the rifle let out a loud *BANG!* as it kicked back into the boy's shoulder. The creature let out a cry as it fell to the ground.

"Ha! Finally, now lets-" Volm was cut off as there was a slightly muffled squeal.

Looking back, the old-man and the boy noticed the creature was panting as blood flowed from the newly acquired wound in it's body. Volm's face changed from one of excitement, to one of sadness. He turned to the boy, now noticing tears rolling down his eyes.

"Well? What're you standin there for? Go finish it." Volm said with a solemn expression.

The boy merely looked back to the old-man. As realization came, he got up from the bushes, and slowly approached the injured creature.

The creature was trying it's hardest to breathe, as the boy approached it, he got a good look at where he shot.

"I missed your heart by a mere two inches..." the boy said as he scanned the creatures wound.

"I'm sorry." Was all he said as he aimed the rifle, and shot the mauler point blank between the eyes.

When the deed was done, the boy shouldered his rifle as he went to work picking up the creature to bring back to the make-shift campsite. The creature's fur was matted with blood and dirt as the boy picked it up; the blood dripping onto him and his dirty and worn coat. He turned around as he noticed Volm walking back, taking his leave, he followed. The sun was hot on them as they traveled across the barren wasteland known to the boy now, as the Dead-lands. He, was a Dead-man, he traveled the wasteland; accepting jobs, and bringing supplies to nearby towns and such. Dead-men were feared, they say each Dead-men had their own motive for doing anything.

Some for money.

Some the thrill.

But for most, it was for mere survival.

It was a hard life filled with danger. The boy's been traveling with the old dead-man known only to him as Volm. He's had to learn how to kill and hunt for survival, he's even had to eat things only to throw them up hours later. He occasionally thought back to the life he had before, back when he didn't need to do all this. Hunt, gather, learn the difference between edible, flammable, and poisonous plants. He hated all of it; yet, he seemed to stop thinking about it as soon as he remembered the judgement. With a sigh, the boy finally saw the sight of camp; Volm, already sitting by the fire with empty spit upon it.

"There you are, I was wonderin if you were eaten or shot." Volm said as he got up to help unload the dead mauler from the boy's back.

"Volm, do you ever wonder what it was like?" The boy asked.

"Like what?" Volm replied while giving a curious glance back towards the boy.

"Before the Dead-lands, you know? Before the war?"

Volm sighed at the boy's question. He hated answering things that were hard to answer, he mainly preferred to either put a bullet in the questioner's head; knock flat on his ass, or just walk away.

Yet, he found the boy's company almost enjoyable besides the silly questions.

"No. The past is the past boy." Volm said, roasting the carcass of the dead creature on the fire.

"If we dwell on the past for too long, then we won't be focusin on making a better future." he said, while taking out a orange bottle of whiskey.

The boy was silent for a long time. As they waited for their meal to finish, he thought about what his master said.

"Volm?"

"Whaaat?" Volm said annoyed.

"What was the first thing you ever killed?" the boy asked, staring at his master with an emotionless attitude.

The Old Dead-man paused. He merely looked back to the boy, wondering why he would ask such a question.

"Oi! What brought this on all of a sudden?" Volm said, avoiding the question entirely.

"*Sigh* if you didn't want to answer you could have just asked." The boy said as he went back to staring into the spit.

"And you need to answer me when I ask; what brought this on?" Volm said coldly as he glared at the boy.

The boy merely shrugged at the man's glare, having spend so much time with him that it became useless. The old-man sighed again as he took a big whiff of the cooked meat.

"Smells like dinners ready." was all he said as he started carving it up.

7 Years Later...

"Come on! Hurry it up!" A man said as firing of bullets hailed down on his tiny bit of cover.

Drawing a revolver, the Dead-man fired a small volley in the direction of the oncoming fire.

*BANG!* *BANG!* *BANG!* The sound of his revolver went off as he blindly fired from the cover of a small stack of barrels.

Frenzied towns people were running to their houses and locking their doors, while others were finding cover to hide from the battle.

"Ha ha! I love when fists turn to guns!" An old man yelled as he fired a shotgun in the direction of the hail of bullets, eliciting a scream of pain followed by a *THUMP* of a dead body hitting the wooden porch of the saloon they had taken cover in.

"You know I can hate you so much sometimes you crazy, old bastard!" The young Dead-man yelled to his mentor as he sprinted to a new bit of cover.

As he ran, bullets whizzed past his body, while some caught his old, worn coat; which cause of years of misuse looked like a heavy torn duster. As he made it to a small upturned wagon, he noticed a woman and her child staring at him in complete and utter fear. The boy had tears in his eyes as he clutched his mother tightly, while the mother was trying to cover her son from oncoming danger.

The young Dead-man merely frowned at the fear on their faces as he took aim and fired from the cover of the old wooden wagon.

Thirty minutes.

Him and his old mentor have only been in the saloon for thirty minutes when Volm chose the moment to break a whiskey bottle over some poor bastards head for spreading old rumors and myths about the Dead-men. After the incident an entire bar fight broke loose, which is now why they were here; firing their weapons at the attacking drunks and thugs.

The Dead-man leaned out of cover, spotting a shooter with a hunting rifle. Taking aim, he fired a round aiming for the guy's head. The guy drops down in pain, covering his bleeding, blown off ear as he dropped the rifle and retreated to cover.

"Nice shot kid!" Volm yelled as he ducked and weaved from cover to cover, seeming to not even care at all the very close shots that came close to his head.

"But next time," Volm aimed an fired a shotgun, blowing another shooter's head into a gory mess.

"Aim a little to the left." he finished as he ducked back into cover.

Finally, the firing stopped, a few clicks were heard, while one idiot decided to yell "Dammit! I'm out!" followed by the sound of a glass bottle breaking over bone. As I peaked over to Volm, I saw that he was standing up; shotgun raised and aimed towards the saloon. Joining him, we slowly begin to walk backwards, both our weapons aiming at the saloon that was now dark on the inside.

The silence was maddening. Shutters and doors cracked open, spectators wanting to see who was dead and who was the victor. Both Dead-men were keeping their eyes trained on the saloon.

"Boy, look back and give me an estimate on how far the gate is." Volm said quietly, but with the deathly silence, he could have been yelling for all the Dead-man knew.

The Dead-man looked back, seeing the gate maybe about forty-seven paces from their current position.

"I'd say it'd take about five minutes if we sprint. Seven if we keep our guard up." The Dead-man said as he aimed his revolver toward a curious head that was poking out one of the shot out windows of the saloon.

Immediately, the head ducked after seeing the revolver aimed at it. After the bluff, the Dead-man sighed as they walked backwards slowly coming closer to the gate. Glancing behind them, they noticed that the drunkard that Volm knocked out standing there with a very angry scowl. But that was not what the old and young Dead-men noticed. No, it was the dirty and dent AR14 that he had aimed at the both of them. The gun itself was in decent condition, but if it had ammo; the two didn't know. It still a rarity to both how they find some of the most rarest weapons in the hands of the most stupidest of them.

"Well now, I still owe ya you for that bottle you bloody fuckin wank!" The man said as he started aiming the rifle.

The young Dead-man tensed up, not knowing how to defuse the situation. However, Volm had other ideas than talking.

*BANG!* The sound of his shotgun went off as it tore apart the drunkard's leg.

"AHHHH!" He screamed as he fell to the ground, clutching the remaining pieces of flesh still attached to his leg.

The wound itself was ugly. Large chunks of muscle and tissue were missing as it was bleeding heavily. The man's face froze as Volm approached the injured drunkard, holstering the shotgun to draw his large sharp hunting knife

He crouched in front of the drunk, waving his knife very closely to his face.

"Now you listen here." Volm said, grabbing the man's head as he lowered his own to eye level.

"You never fight a Dead-man, without learning what it means to fear us." He said as he pressed the knife against the drunks face.

"Tell me good sir, do you know the definition; of insanity?" He said, a creepy smile growing on his face.

"Insanity, is when things happen over and over again, expecting things to change. HAHAHA!" Volm laughed maniacally as he stopped suddenly, his smile dropping; he stared back into the wounded man's eyes.

"You can never understand; no, comprehend what we do on a daily basis." He said as he pressed the knife near the man's throat.

"I've been killing long before you've been alive. Over and over again, I have seen men, women, and children raped, murdered, tortured, even eaten by people a lot like yerself." He said as his knife cut just deep enough into the skin to let a tiny trickle of blood flow.

"Now, I don't want you spreading rumors about me or the lad back there again. Because if you do; I'll come for you. And not even this entire town will stop me from getting to you." With that, he retracted and re-sheathed his knife.

Getting up, Volm started walking towards the now open gates. The Dead-man could feel his mentor's anger as he followed. But he could also feel fearful and prying eyes even as he left the town. He could only wonder if his master's drinking will lead him into more fits like this in the future.

Four years later...

"Lad...Lad wake up." Volm said as he was shaking the knocked out man.

The man couldn't believe he had been knocked out by a simple slaver, well; at least he wasn't killed.

"What happened?" He asked his mentor as he rubbed his head while sitting up groggily.

"A slaver got the drop on ya, if I hadn't had shot'em, you would have got decapitated by a shovel." Volm stated while getting up from his crouched position.

"D-did the slaves make it?" The man asked, hoping that none of the slaves were hurt.

"Ay, yes they did; one of'em was pretty shocked being rescued by Dead-men and all. But if you think about it, we probably should have killed all the slavers before we released the slaves." Volm said while scratching his small, grey beard.

"So, what's next on the list?" the man asked as he looked back up to the old-man.

The old man looked to his former apprentice and smiled.

"Next stop, the fort..." Was all Volm said as he started walking while picking up a few weapons here and there.

"Here." He said throwing a weapon towards the man.

As he grabbed it out of the air, he realized what his former master had just given him.

"A machete? Really?" He asked, a tiny bit confusion in his voice.

"Ya, so? Laddy, you see; that there tool can be used to slice 'n' dice vegetation, and severe the head from a body." He said while pointing towards the blade.

"What about my knife?" The man asked as he unsheathed his old knife that once was given to him by his sister.

"Ehhhh, keep it hidden; you never know when you might need it." Volm said as he stored the looted gear into his duffel.

With a sigh, the man strapped the machete to his back, making sure to adjust the strap to his body build. Following his old mentor, the man set off on the quest that he had been waiting most of his life for.

The quest, for payback.

The memory brought salty tears to my eyes as the fire was dying down. I realize that I needed more firewood, though I couldn't imagine that it had been that long. As I get up, I pick up a nearby stick and prod the burning embers to keep the flames up. Putting it back down, I start my small trek near the edge of the forest again. It had been years since I've seen that old dirty bastard. Ever since... the fire.

I shivered as I remembered the incident. All those dead bodies of people I use to know. But the worst, was what my father had done.

I was shaken from my thoughts again as out of the corner of my eyes I spotted a few small rotted logs.

Perfect.

Picking them up, I heard a rustling coming from the bushes near me. I froze with anticipation as I waited for something to happen. Finally, the strangest bug I've ever seen came from the bushes. It had a very small blue spherical body. Tiny wings that buzzed like a fizzer, and two eyes that seemed to be just one main color. I could also depict; a smile?

The creature buzzed as it began to hover in the air and move towards me. I seemed transfixed at how smile and happy.

It annoyed me.

As it came closer it began to sniff me, most likely smelling my scent; but as it got two whiffs, it made almost a scared, frightened sound and flew off into the woods. Well, at least those little bugger would leave me alone. As I started walking back towards the path again, my stomach growled.

Again.

With a sigh as I made it back to camp, I placed the logs in the fire, seeing them ignite into a steady glow. I then grabbed my duffel bag and opened the zipper. I knew I had at least one of those steaks left, and I had a feeling it would be a long time before I would be able to eat something like cow again. As I pulled out the little plastic baggy, I smiled as I saw the dried beef strips inside. Smiling for the first time since coming here, I immediately tore open the bag, grabbed a strip, and took one large bite out of it.

The taste of food was like pure heaven.

I almost choked as I tried swallowing without chewing it enough; the only set back to dried beef, well, that and the possible disease it could carry if not cooked and dried properly.

Swallowing, I smiled as I could feel the small snack travel down to my stomach, ending it's annoying wrath. I decided to keep my eyes open a little longer as I looked up at the moon.

"Wow..." was the only thing I could say as I marveled at it's beauty.

It was so unlike the moon back in the Dead-lands, which gave it an almost sickly color. It was also far more brighter than the moon back home. I smiled as I laid down on the soft grass, just simply gazing up at the beautiful sight before me. As I continued to gaze at it, my eye lids slowly became heavier and heavier; I don't know what happened, but I could sense that tomorrow was going to be a new better day.

Oh how horribly wrong I was.

Author's Note

Whew! Finally got it out. If there are any errors and such please notify me down below and I will edit later. Also, I want to thank DustTraveller for telling me about facts in the story that would probably confuse some of you, such as knives or guns, I'm thinking of finding a pic to them and making them a link to help with imagination. Anyway I hope you all like the story, and be sure to like or favorite and leave a comment.

This is Theblarglknight out.