Fallout: Equestria: Written in Sand

Chapter Three: Heat, Dust and Thirst

The desolation only got worse as I pushed onwards. The sickly grass underhoof gave way to barren, blasted earth, burnt black by the long-past apocalypse. What trees there were grew ever more twisted and gnarled, contorting themselves into forms that I could swear were leering at me out of the corner of my eye.

My head was starting to pound again, every step bringing a fresh wave of pain.

I couldn't stop to rest. I still had a long way to go.

I looked up as I walked, watching the dark clouds roiling above my head.

I lowered my gaze just in time to avoid walking headlong into the wagon that lay across my path. I sighed irritably and went to walk around it.

But my hooves wouldn't move.

I looked down.

Oh, of course. The blood was gluing them to the ground. Who's a silly pony? Me. Haha.

I looked back up at the wagon. The tattered canvas flaps were hanging motionless from the roof, undisturbed by the motion of the air.

The darkness through the gap was impenetrable.

As I stared, a feeling of foreboding crept through me, curling around my muscles and holding me in place. I couldn't break the gaze between myself and the the black void before me.

But I didn't want to, in any case. It was very important I kept looking. Otherwise…

'Look away.'

I would have rolled my eyes if that hadn't involved doing exactly the thing that I wasn't going to do.

'Stop. Looking.'

What did I literallyjust decide I wasn't going to do?

'Just look away.'

No.

'Look away.'

No. Won't. Can't.

'LOOK AWAY!'

I tore my gaze downwards. The blood that oozed out from beneath my hooves quickly spread outwards, forming a red, lurid pool under my face. The surface rippled, tiny waves lapping back and forth, forming shapes, an outline, aface.

It grinned at me.

A rush of anger surged through me. With a gargantuan effort, I wrenched my hooves free from their paralysis. I stamped downwards, driving my forehooves through the spectre beneath me. The skin of gore split apart beneath my blow, splitting apart to unleash a void of blackness that enveloped me, burning against my face-

I awoke.

A pair of eyes, glinting in the low light, loomed in my vision. A foul scent of hot breath hung in my nostrils.

I cried out and swatted at the figure above me with a hoof. A bolt of pain ran through my leg as I struck something hard, which yelped.

I pulled myself upright and looked around wildly.

Daylight was starting to filter through the tangle of vegetation that surrounded my hidey-hole, turning the grey of night into the more-brightly-lit grey of day.

I looked over at where Splinter was cringing away from me, whining.

“Oh, fuck you,” I said tiredly. I ignored him as I pulled myself to my hooves, wincing as all the aches and pains of the last two days clamoured for attention, and slung my saddlebag onto my back. As I started to hack at the undergrowth that I could swear had re-grown as I'd slept, I noticed that Splinter wasn't following. After a few moments of glaring, I sighed and reached over to pat him. He shrank away from my first attempt, but after a moment, he raised his head under my hoof and growled. Then he licked me.

“Eurgh!” I groaned, pulling my hoof back and shaking it. It felt like being licked with damp sandpaper. “Stupid animal…” I grumbled, turning back to worming my way out of the thicket.

We continued much as we had the day before, making good time between brief stops when one or the other of us began to flag. The track I followed seemed to skirt most of the pre-war settlements in the region, for which I was grateful. I wasn’t in the mood for another skirmish with raiders or worse, one of those chatter-bots. Especially if it meant picking up another dumb animal.

As the day wore on, the terrain gradually built up from rolling hills to steep slopes of scree and sheer cliffs. The trees were more numerous and less stunted by radiation than those in the Heartlands. In places, they became dense enough to be called a forest. The route we took became less random, the road no longer following the laziest route through the landscape, circling around the steeper hills and meandering along the flats, but instead diligently making for a gap between two peaks that loomed in the distance.

On the far side of those peaks lay the San Palomino Desert. Once I'd made it past them, I could…

Figure out… what to do next…?

I consciously pushed thoughts of the 'What next?' variety out of my mind. The surroundings were closing in around us, the road cutting between a pair of wooded slopes, and I needed to be on my guard, not speculating about the future. That never ended well.

Beside me, Splinter started to growl, his eyes fixed on the point where the track bent out of sight around the spur of rock. I shushed him and strained my ears. The constant quiet was broken by a disturbance further along the track. After a moment's consideration, I dragged Splinter off the track, behind a fallen tree and out of sight.

For a few minutes, there was only the sound of something heavy being driven over the cracked tarmac. As I raised my head for a look, a brahmin-drawn wagon came into view, preceded by a pair of ponies. I ducked back down. I had seen the battle saddles the guards were packing. Without a gang of idiots around to throw themselves in front of those guns for me, I was perfectly fine with just sitting here and waiting for them to pass. It wasn't like I was in a rush.

Splinter started growling. I glanced at him, spotting the oncoming bark before it left his throat. I clapped a hoof over his mouth. “Shut up!” I hissed. I cocked my ears, awaiting the inevitable shout and accompanying fusillade of gunfire.

'…Or maybe not so inevitable,' I thought as the caravan passed without incident.

Splinter whined at me as I removed my hoof from his mouth. “Stupid animal,” I muttered. “Come on.”

I stayed off the track as I approached the bend, just in case somepony in the caravan happened to look back, which they would be doing if they had half a brain between them.

As I rounded the bend, I instinctively dropped to my belly at what I saw, before cautiously raising my head to get a second look.

On one side of the track, the terrain rose in a sheer cliff. On the other was a gentler, but still formidable, slope strewn with broken rocks. Nestled at the point where the slope levelled out was a squat pre-war tower of dark concrete. It was surrounded at its base by a low, sloped wall. The silhouettes of ponies on guard were visible as they patrolled along the top. There was no way past the tower without being spotted by the sentries.

I ducked back into the undergrowth.

“Well, shit,” I muttered to Splinter.

He whined back at me.

I wormed my forward, to the very edge of the treeline. Maybe if I timed it right, I could rush past-

A bullet cracked past my ear, followed by the report of a rifle shot and an alarmed shout.

I snatched up my SMG and sprayed a burst of fire towards the tower as I broke cover and galloped forward. A second round zipped past me before I was across the open ground and skidding to a halt against the base of the wall. Splinter crouched down next to me, his head raised upwards, growling at the unseen sniper above us. I started working my way along the wall, searching for a way in. I kept my gaze up, just in case.

I was vindicated not a moment later when a head poked out from atop the wall, silhouetted against the grey sky. A telekinetically-held rifle was floated out and aligned to the pony's eye. I squeezed the trigger on my SMG just as the rifle's barrel was swung in my direction. I missed, but the sniper flinched, spoiling their aim. The return bullet flew above my head. I fired two more bursts and the sniper ducked back behind the wall's rampart, leaving their rifle floating there. It fired and missed again.

I let my SMG drop against my chest and galloped forward, following the wall. I heard another blind shot from the sniper pony, which came nowhere near me, before I turned the corner and was rewarded with the sight of the gate into the compound.

The gates were ajar, leaving just enough room for a pony to squeeze through. I bolted through and almost collided with a pony on the far side. I caught the briefest glimpse of a gun being levelled at me before I lashed out with a hoof and knocked it aside. The report was loud enough and close enough to set my ears ringing. The constant ache in my head, which I'd been able to push aside for most of the day, redoubled.

I snarled in response to the pain, and smashed my hoof into the startled face before me. If I was going to have a headache,everypony was going to have a headache.

Splinter lunged past me in a blur and fastened his jaws around the neck of the pony in front of me. They staggered back, coughing out a cry of pain around the teeth in their windpipe. They fell down and Splinter started violently wrenching his head from side-to-side, the pony's neck cracking as their head lolled back and forth.

I plucked my lance from its sheath on my back and readied it as I warily trotted past the tree-wolf and his prey. After a few paces, I was through the gateway and out into the courtyard that surrounded the base of the tower. Before I had time to admire the doubtlessly-beautiful view, somepony started shooting at me.

I threw myself aside, behind the rust-ridden wreck of a pre-war wagon. The crack-thump of bullets flying past me and burying themselves in the wall behind me became the clanging of metal-on-metal as they sparked off the chassis. I edged along in the narrow space between the wagon and the wall until the cover afforded by the wagon ran out. I shrugged to myself, dropped my lance and stuck my head out for a look.

'Yup,' I thought to myself as a hail of bullets flew past my head and I ducked back behind the wagon.'That was a dumb idea.

'Let's see… one with the assault rifle on the ground about twenty yards away and that sniper on the wall fifteen yards past her.'

As I weighed up my options in my mind, I was nudged in the back of the knee by something hard. Even as I twisted around in a panic, Splinter barked at me. I grinned at the sight of the blood around his mouth.

“Did you enjoy that?” I asked him. He growled in response, turning his gaze to stare fixedly through the ruined hulk of the wagon beside us. “Yeah, thereare more over there.” I grinned and picked up my lance. “Shall we?”

Splinter barked. I let out a roar and charged out from behind the wagon. I barely registered the first shot that glanced off my chest and ripped a gash down my flank, even if it did knock the wind out of me. A burst from the assault rifle-wielding mare tore past me, just as Splinter did likewise in the opposite direction. The mare cried out and scrambled backwards, hampered by her battle saddle. I heard thethunk of bullets impacting wood as Splinter pounced, driving the mare to the ground.

I galloped past the writhing mare as she screamed and struggled with the tree-wolf. The sniper pony who'd taken the first shot at me was stood at the summit of a flight of steps that led up to the wall's rampart. I watched as the sniper worked the action of their rifle and I jinxed sideways as they fired again. I reached the foot of the steps and began mounting them two at a time.

I felt the next bullet tear through my neck and punch out the back, spraying my back with my own blood. It barely slowed me down. My entire world had condensed down to this little shit who Ireally wanted to kill.

The sniper swore as I reached the top of the steps. Good. He – I noted – swung the rifle around, taking a swipe at me with the stock. With a positively lazy swing of my head, I smacked it aside with my lance, knocking it out of the unicorn's magic field. It skittered away over the concrete and down to the ground below. I swung the lance back around, missing the sniper-no-longer by inches. I rushed forward and struck out with my forehooves. The unicorn reared up as I charged and clumsily batted my attacks aside, leaving him open to a smack alongside the head with the haft of my lance. He staggered to the side, and was powerless to prevent me from spearing him on my lance.

I let the lance slip from my grasp as the unicorn fell down. He coughed and wheezed, weakly pawing at the length of wood-and-metal jutting out of his chest. I let out a bark of laughter and aimed a careful blow at his horn. He cried out as my hoof struck it with acrack.

“Oh, boo-fucking-hoo,” I sneered at him. I reared up, raising my forehooves above his head. “Die, bitch,” I muttered as I slammed them down on his skull. I chuckled as I felt thecrunch under my hooves.

I exhaled.

Almost immediately, the rush fell away and I almost blacked out. I dropped to my knees beside the body. I groaned and raised a hoof to probe at the wound in my neck.

'Potion.'

I heaved my saddlebag off my back and quickly rooted through it, locating the potions I'd taken from the caravan. I downed one, feeling the warmth run through my veins. I regarded the second one for a moment, then shrugged and took a swig of it. Hey, you only live twice, right?

I lay down for a moment to let the potions work, enjoying the sensation of all my bits being coaxed back into place and knitting themselves together. After a few moments, a familiar something nudged me in the side. I flinched and said, “get off.” Splinter ignored me, instead lying down next to me and nuzzling me in the side.

After a while, I felt strong enough to stand. I picked myself up, angrily stamping my hooves to stop my legs trembling as they took my weight. I retrieved my lance and trotted down the steps and over to the door to the tower. It was locked. A terminal embedded in the wall read simply:

Lockdown Engaged.

Access Denied.

I gave the door a few bucks anyway, just in case.

As I walked away, I had to skirt around the bodies of the two ponies Splinter had taken care of. It was quite a mess. I grinned and patted the tree-wolf on the head.

“Good boy,” I said.

The road continued on through the mountains, eventually merging onto a ledge that was cut into the side of a steep canyon. The rusted, mangled remnant of a metal fence was the only barrier between the road and the long,long drop to the canyon floor below. It didn't help that the canyon had subsided over the years; in places, the road had rumbled away at the edge, leaving a rocky ditch that in some places almost reached the sheer cliff on the far side.

I stayed nice and close to the canyon wall.

It was starting to get warmer and drier as the morning wore on; I could feel the air on my tongue when I breathed in – sharp, lacking the humidity I was used to.

Finally, we emerged from the canyon, the landscape opening up before us. The ground gently sloped downwards out towards the horizon, merging into a flat, dusty plain that stretched out as far as I could see. In the distance, at the very limit of my sight, before the brown haze that was kicked up by the drifting winds obscured my vision, I could make out a solitary mountain rising above the terrain, jutting up into the clouds above.

“Well,” I said to myself, turning my gaze back and forth. “Now what?”

More walking, as it turned out.

Joy.

After an hour or so, I stumbled across a dried-out riverbed. Having no other nearby landmark to navigate by, I followed it.

This 'plan' of mine wasreally stupid, wasn't it?

Following in the hoofsteps of a who-knows-how-long-dead pony. A pony who had probably taken two steps out of that house and been eaten by a bloatsprite. And here I was, hoping that out of the whole Wasteland, I would pick the route that would have me stumble across his bones and… well, maybe I'd do a little dance in celebration. Then maybe I could shoot myself. Hooray.

'Better than waiting to die…'

Although, judging by how hot it was getting and how I emptied my last water bottle after less than two hours' walking, I might not have been given much of a choice. I hadn’t realised how much getting shot through the neck could take out of you. How much water had I had when I’d set out this morning? How much had I drunk before I’d even gotten out of the canyon? Why didn’t I remember?

As I trudged onward, feeling the dust starting to work its way under my barding and sticking to the blood on my hooves and neck, I studiously ignored the nagging feeling in the back of mind that I'd made a mistake. My head drooped lower and lower as I focused on the ground in front of my hooves. One hoof in front of the other. Repeat.

I finally stumbled to a halt when a surge of nausea suddenly rushed through me, accompanied by a feeling of light-headedness, and swung my saddlebag off my back. I rooted through it and produced my empty bottles, fruitlessly tipping them up over my open mouth. Beside me, Splinter lay down, letting his mouth loll open.

I growled at the empty bottles and shoved them back into my saddlebag. It didn't matter; I wasn't going to die of thirst. Not now.

As I hitched my saddlebag back onto my back, I raised my eyes to the horizon.

The ground rose gently before me, creating a steep incline where it bordered the riverbed. Atop the small plateau that nestled in the crook of a bend in the river was a settlement. A wall of scrap had been erected across the slope, which, along with the sheer drop to the river, created a fairly robust defence for the inhabitants. The ground before the wall had been meticulously picked clean of vegetation and rocks that might give cover to an attacker.

Where there were ponies, there was water.

I turned to Splinter. “You could've said something,” I grumbled, gesturing at the distant town.

With a firm destination in mind, I continued on, weighing my options in my mind. They weren't exactly comprehensive: either I could continue on and drop dead of thirst, or I could walk up and hope they didn't shoot me on sight and scrounge some water. EvenI could make that choice.

As I approached the gate, a pair of ponies appeared above the wall, both holding guns. Neither of them were aimed at me, but they were deliberately left on show.

“Hold up, stranger,” one of the guards called down to me.

I obeyed, sitting down on my haunches.

“What's your business- what isthat!?”

I didn't think I wasthat ugly.

Then I heard Splinter growling beside me. I looked down at him. He clearly wasn't taking kindly to the raised voices. I reached over and planted a hoof on his back, trying to push him into a sitting position.

“Quiet down, you dumb animal,” I hissed at him. “You want to get shot?”

Splinter ignored me. His ears were swept back against his head, and he was poised as if he planned to leap up over the wall. I glanced at the guards. One of them had lowered their rifle in the tree-wolf's direction. I raised a hoof and thumped it against Splinter's head. “Knock it off!” I shouted into his ear.

Splinter flinched under the blow and turned his ire on me. I matched his snarl with my own, thrusting my head towards his. After a few moments of staring each other down, he relented, sitting back on his haunches and lowering his head. He continued to growl, albeit more quietly.

I turned back to the guards. One was still resting their rifle on the parapet, wavering between aiming it at me or Splinter. The other said, “I'll say it again: what thefuck isthat?”

I turned to regard Splinter for a moment, then shrugged and turned back to the guard. “I have no idea,” I called to him. “It just follows me 'round.” I smirked. “Nice, isn't he?”

“'He'?” the guard said dubiously. “How can you tell?”

I shrugged.

“Right, whatever,” the guard said. “So… what brings you to Sand's Edge, stranger?”

“What's that?”

“He said 'what are you doing here?'” the other guard said impatiently.

I sighed irritably. “I meant: 'what's Sand's Edge'?”

“You're kidding, right?” the guard I decided to dub 'Moody' said. She still hadn't lowered her rifle.

The first guard shot her a warning glance and said to me, “this is Sand's Edge.” He gestured behind himself. “So called 'cause we're on theedge of the Palomino. Which hassand in it, on account of being a desert. Get it? Very poetic, ain't it?”

“Andwe,” Moody said, “are the ponies asking you what you're doing here. Care to answer that yet?”

I shrugged again. “I'm a traveller. Just passing through.” True enough.

“Fine. Hang on, let me get the gate.” The first guard turned away.

“What!?” Moody said, finally lowering her rifle to turn on her companion and start berating him. “That'sit? He just says 'traveller, passing through', and you want to let him in? How stupid can you get?”

I heard the male guard sigh. I decided to name him 'Unlucky'. Because seriously, you had to be to have to put up with that bitch. Unlucky's head poked back above the wall.

“You going to cause trouble, stranger?” he asked.

“Not planning to,” I replied.

“You collect bounties at all?”

I frowned. “What?”

“Are you a bounty hunter?” Moody demanded forcefully.

“Uh… I guess not…”

“You 'guess not'?” Moody said, squinting her eyes at me. Unlucky ignored her.

“Got anypony chasing you?” he asked.

“No.”

“Fine, I'll get the gate-”

“Butthat stays outside,” Moody said.

I glanced at Splinter, who was glaring at Moody, his teeth bared. She wasn't even being subtle about where she was aiming her rifle. Bitch. Probably desperate for a bit of target practice. “He goes where I go,” I said.

“Our town, our rules,” Moody sneered. “It stays here.”

“Why do you want him so bad? Can't get yourself a stallion?” I said snidely. “I'll warn you now: he splinters.”

Moody instantly turned her rifle on me. I barely resisted the urge to snatch up my own gun. “Screw you, bastard-”

Unlucky pushed Moody's rifle aside before clipping a hoof across the back of her head. She swore at him, but shut up all the same.

“If he comes in,” he said to me, “you're responsible for him, 'kay? I get any complaints, he goes out. He takes a bite outta anypony, he gets put down.”

I nodded.

“Good. Lemme get the gate.”

Unlucky disappeared. Moody leant over the parapet. She raised a hoof to her face, jabbing it towards her eyes, then at me. I raised my own hoof, pointing at her, then drawing a line across my throat. She snorted at me, hefting her rifle menacingly.

The corroded metal panels that made up the cobbled-together gate started to shudder, then were pulled upwards, every jerk of movement accompanied by a hideous squeal of metal-on-metal. As the gate opened, Unlucky was revealed on the far side, feverishly working a winch. He stopped, kicking a brake into place, and waved me through. As I approached, he pulled the goggles that covered his eyes up above the brim of his hat. What little of him I could make out under the hat, kitbashed armour and face wrapping he wore made him out to be a fair bit older than I was, if the lines around his eyes was anything to go by.

“Welcome to Sand's Edge,” he said, holding out a hoof to me. I hesitated, then bumped it with my own. “Born Lucky, at your service.”

“Seriously?” I said, cocking an eyebrow at him.

Lucky-formerly-known-as-Unlucky rolled his eyes at me tiredly. “Yeah, go on, get it over with. I've heard 'em all by now, anyway.”

“What did you do to your mother on the way out?” I asked, not bothering to suppress a smirk.

Lucky shook his head. “Wish I knew. 'Least then I'd know what to apologise for. Anyway, what's your name, stranger?”

I hesitated.

“You dohave a name, right?” Lucky asked when I failed to answer. “Or did you trade it away for that log-on-legs you got there?”

Something bubbled up out of my memory and between my lips. “Killjoy. Name's Killjoy.”

Lucky grunted. “Well, I've heard worse. “ He looked me up and down briefly. “Which warzone did you crawl through to get here?”

Right, Iwas still covered in blood, wasn't I?

Lucky's eyes widened. “And what happenedthere?” he said, pointing at my face. I raised a hoof self-consciously and found the raw scar tissue on my head.

“Some asshole shot me,” I said with a shrug.

“In thehead!?” Lucky exclaimed. He shook his head disbelievingly. “Pull the other one. How long ago was this?”

I had to stop and think. Had it really been only three days? It seemed longer. “Three days ago.”

“What!?” Lucky exclaimed. He actually reared back, as if getting the shot in the head was somehow contagious. “That's- No. Just no way. I ain't never heard of anypony gettin' up after a shot to the head, 'specially not after just a few days!”

I smirked at his reaction. “Actually, I got up after just a few hours.” I shrugged nonchalantly. “You know how it is, when you've got shit to take care of…”

“You sure we ain't got our names crossed?” Lucky demanded. “You've got one thick hide to be prancin' 'round after somethin' like that.”

I shrugged again.

“Well,” Lucky said. “You've either luckier than a tail on a two-headed coin, or that skull o' yours is made of… I don't even know what.”  Lucky exhaled, raising a hoof to rub at his forehead. “Hoo… anyhow, anything I can help you with? Lookin' for somethin’ in particular?”

“Yeah,” I said, suddenly feeling the dryness in my throat. “Where can I get something to drink?”

“Well,” Lucky said, sitting back on his haunches, “if it's water you're after, you can use the town well. Just don't go takin' too much. One bucket per pony, per day. After that, you pay for it. Caps or trade, don't matter. Other than that, you can go to Stellar's – that's the saloon, you'll see the sign. Bit pricey, but she gets a good selection from the merchants. Does food, too.”

“Right. Thanks.”

“Quite welcome, friend,” Lucky said.

Moody yelled something about 'leaving the town vulnerable' from above us.

Lucky rolled his eyes. “No rest for the wicked,” he sighed. “Get your rump movin'… Killjoy, weren't it?” I moved past him as Lucky went back to the winch and started lowering the gate. “See you around. An' keep that pet of yours under control.”

I left the guard-pony behind me and headed on into town, Splinter padding along beside me.

Well, I was in. I hadn't even been shot at once. Almost, but not quite. And Lucky had even called me 'friend'. How nice.

‘Killjoy’… Hmph. It would do.

I crossed the open ground behind the gate and slipped down a narrow alley between two shacks, emerging into what I guessed was the centre of town: an open space bordered by buildings that had been thrown together in the same fashion as the wall surrounding the town. A few ponies were drifting back and forth across the square, one or two shooting me nervous glances that turned into outright fear when they noticed Splinter padding along beside me.

In the middle of the square was the well. A pony was resting against it, his shotgun propped up next to him. He had a hat similar to Lucky's pulled low over his eyes, and appeared to be trying to sleep while standing up. He looked up as I approached. “Water?” he said shortly. I nodded. He looked me up and down, then nodded in return. “Help yourself,” he said, pulling his hat back over his eyes.

Well, that was easy.

As I pulled up a bucket of what looked like the most enticing liquid I had ever laid eyes upon, it suddenly dawned on me just how thirsty I was. I set the bucket on the ground and immediately dipped my muzzle into it and started gulping it down. It wasn't perfectly clean, judging by the after-taste it left, but it wasn't irradiated, which was far higher on my list of priorities. I stopped myself at three gulps and nudged the bucket towards Splinter, who mimicked me and started lapping at the water. I shrugged off my saddlebag and produced the empty bottles I was still carrying, setting them down on the ground. When Splinter had finished, I picked the bucket up then hesitated, clicking my tongue as I tried to work out how to get the water from bucket to bottle without spilling any.

The guard-pony sniggered as he watched my moment of indecision. “Good luck,” he said.

“Fuck you.” I set the bucket down again irritably.

“Ah, there's no call for that,” the guard said. “Here…” He leant his head down, picked up a chunk of metal in his teeth and threw it at me. I caught it and looked it over. A funnel. Right, that made sense. I grunted my thanks at him, grudgingly.

As I was bottling the last of the water, somepony said, “well, hello! And what manner o' beast are you s'pposed to be?”

I looked over at Splinter. Sure enough, a unicorn mare was leaning down to inspect him. Her blue coat was bleached from age, and her face was heavily lined, leaving it looking like a sun-baked piece of old leather, but she was regarding the tree-wolf without a trace of fear. Splinter, naturally, was growling at her. She didn't seem bothered in the slightest. Clearly, she had a fetish for bite wounds.

“Sit!” she said in a commanding tone, waving her hoof at Splinter.

The tree-wolf didn't move a twig, other than to continue growling.

“Well, shoot. That usually works.” The mare looked over at me. “Seein' as how I ain't see either o' you around before, I'm guessin' this 'ere beastie belongs to you.”

“Not really,” I grunted as I threw the funnel back to the guard-pony. “He just started following me and I can't get him to stop.”

“Makes him yours in my book,” the mare said. Then she chuckled. “That's how I got my husband, after all.”

“Uh-huh, right.” I slung my saddlebag back onto my back, feeling the reassuring weight of the now-full water bottles sloshing around.

“And surely 'e's got a name…?” she said, cocking an eyebrow at me questioningly.

“Splinter.” Why was this mare talking to me?

She chuckled again. “Well, I ain't got no brains at all if I can't figure out where you got that from.” She stepped around the tree-wolf and walked over to me. “So, what brings you out here? We don't get many visitors these days.”

“Just a traveller. Passing through.” Somepony clearly couldn't mind her own business.

“And where are you headed?”

I paused. Wherewas I headed?

“Don't know,” I grunted.

“Ah, a wandering type, are ya?” She nodded sagely. “Been there, done that. You're probably lookin' fer work, ain'tcha?”

“Well…”

I wasn't. But as I thought about it, it wasn't as if I had a plan. I could do with something to occupy myself with. And if 'work' involved fighting something, even better.

“I guess.”

“Well, ain't that just a fine coincidence!” the old mare exclaimed. “I've got an errand that needs runnin'. Nothin' too hazardous-like, just a bit o' sand-trekkin'. Whaddaya say, buck?”

I shrugged. “Sure, okay.”

“Great! Now listen here. I've got a daughter, see? Lives out a-ways east. She usually comes into town once a week, but she didn't show up this morning. All I need ya to do is head out there and see how she's doin'. Whaddaya say?”

I shrugged again. Okay, maybe it wouldn't involve the fight I'd been hoping for, but it was still something to do. “Alright.”

“Swell,” the old mare said satisfactorily. “I'll have a hooffull of caps waitin' for you when you get back.”

“Uh-huh, and how do I know you'll pay up?” I asked sceptically.

The old mare gasped in mock indignation, clasping a hoof to her chest. “Well I never! Ain'tcha gonna take the word of an old mare? Ask any pony in town, an' they'll tell ya 'Ol’ Ma's word is as good as caps in hoof'!”

“'S true,” said the well's guard, who had apparently been eavesdropping. I glanced at him as he shook a foreleg at me. “I'd stake this leg on Ma's word.”

“Well, thank you kindly, Misfire,” Ma said courteously. The guard tipped his hat to her. “Y'see?” she said to me. Then she frowned thoughtfully. “Although… if it ain't caps you're after, I could show you a thing or two 'bout handlin' yourself in the desert. I've learned plenty in my time, might as well pass it on. How 'bout that?”

I nodded. “Sure. Sounds good.”

“Swell. Just gimme a moment to grab a few things an' we'll head out.”

She trotted over to a nearby shack and disappeared inside. She emerged a few minutes later, wearing a matching hat and coat made from the same tan-coloured leather. She had a gun belt slung across her chest, a gleaming revolver resting in the holster.

“Shall we?” she asked, leading the way towards the gate. I followed after her, Splinter prowling along beside me.

Lucky was pacing back and forth before the gate as we approached.

“Hold up, Ma,” he said, holding up a hoof.. “Need to ask ya to wait there for a few.”

“What? Why?” Ma asked.

The guard jerked his head towards the gate. “Gotta coupla Rangers tryin’ to get in. I’m just waitin’ on- ah, there she is.” He raised a hoof towards somepony behind us. I looked around.

Accompanying Moody as she trotted towards us was an armoured pony that looked more like a machine than flesh-and-blood. Every inch, from head to tail was covered in armour plating. A black, opaque visor hid the pony’s eyes. The metal that made up the armour was scuffed and had blatantly been patched up over a long period of time, if the mismatched metal plates were anything to go by, but the minigun that was slung on the pony’s battle saddle was gleaming in the sun.

“How many?” The armoured pony’s voice was a mare’s. Surprisingly melodious, given her attire. Although it was slightly spoiled by the electronic crackle the sealed helmet introduced.

“Only two,” Lucky said. “Don’t think they’re up to nothin’ but-”

The metal-clad mare snorted. “We’ll see. Open it up.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The two guards trotted over to the winch that controlled the gate and started turning it. The gate slowly, jerkily, opened, the rusty metal parts grinding against each other. It shuddered to a halt, suspended above the ground.

The pair of ponies who walked in were dressed almost identically. Both were clad in pale golden longcoats, stained with dust, that almost brushed the ground as they walked. Their faces were hidden by black masks with inbuilt rebreathers and red reflective eyepieces. They were heavily armed; one with a long rifle, the other with a shotgun, and both carried revolvers and knives in holsters worn over their coats.

“You’re not welcome here,” Metal Mare said as they stopped in front of her.

One of the ponies’ mask lit up with a telekinetic aura and the part containing the eye visor was pulled away. A sliver of face became visible between the segments of dark metal. “We know that well enough,” the unmasked pony said, stowing the visor somewhere in his coat. “Believe me, we’ve got plenty better places to be.”

“Richer places, no doubt,” Metal Mare said disdainfully. “I’ve half a mind to buck you straight back over that wall.”

“No need for that,” the other pony replied diplomatically. “We’ve just come lookin’ for a place to rest, is all.”

Metal Mare snorted again. “Bullshit,” she growled. “Which bounty are you gunning for this time? How many caps are you trying to extort from innocent ponies?”

The still-masked pony muttered something disingenuous. His friend shot him a warning look before saying, “none and none. We just want a place to stay the night, maybe get a bite to eat. We’ll be gone by morning.”

Metal Mare stood stock-still, regarding the new arrivals coldly.

“Fine,” she said at last. “But you’re to leave your weapons at the gate. Don’t even think about arguing,” she added as the masked pony scoffed.

“And leave ourselves defenceless? In this town?” the unmasked pony said.

“That’s the deal. I advise you to take it,” Metal Mare said menacingly.

The new arrivals stepped away to confer amongst themselves for a moment. “We’ll leave our guns,” the spokespony said finally. “But we’re keeping our knives.”

“Agreed,” Metal Mare said grudgingly. “But watch yourselves. Lock up their weapons in the guardhouse,” she told the guard-ponies.

The new arrivals shrugged off their firearms, handing them to Lucky, who promptly dumped them on Moody. She staggered under the weight and tottered off towards the shack next to the gate.

“Much obliged, ah, ‘Renegade’,” the spokespony for the pair said. “Don’t worry: we’ll keep out of your mane.”

“Get out of my sight,” Metal Mare said bluntly. The pair walked past her and disappeared in the direction of the saloon. She watched them go, then turned to Ma. “Well? Gate’s open. Are you leaving or not, Ma?” The helmet turned in my direction and I got the immediate sensation of being closely inspected.  “Who’s this?”

“Just a traveller, dearie. No need for that tone, now, is there?” Ma said appeasingly before I could open my mouth.

Metal Mare grunted. “Stay out of trouble,” she told me sternly. She glanced momentarily at Splinter. “And keep that – whatever it is – under control, else-”

“I’ve heard this already,” I said impatiently.

“Well, now you’re hearing it from me,” Metal Mare said. The minigun spun up for a second, the motorised whir being all the emphasis she needed. Then she nodded curtly to Ma and walked off, the stomping of her armoured hooves leaving imprints in the dust.

“Come on, buck,” Ma said to me, trotting through the gate. Lucky briefly touched a hoof to the brim of his hat as she passed and exchanged a curt nod with me.

“The fuck was that about?” I asked Ma as we set out down the slope, Splinter following us.

“Language!” she said reproachfully. I rolled my eyes as she went on. “Those were Rangers. You don’t wanna go mixin’ up with ‘em; they’re not nice ponies.” She screwed up her face in thought. “Well, that ain’t quite true. They used to be good folks. Used to see ‘em all the time, keepin’ the caravans safe, shootin’ down raiders and the like. Then, a while back, they just stopped showin’. Now when they do show up, it’s to kill some poor pony for a bounty or to try and shake a few caps outta us. Nothin’ more than thugs. Lucky for us, Renegade won’t stand fer it.”

“Who?”

Ma whinnied. “You pay attention to anythin’, buck? That was the mare who showed up in the armour. Calls herself ‘Renegade’.” She rolled her eyes at me. “Don’t ask. Seems nopony’s happy with the name their folks gave ‘em these days. Seems everypony who walks outta the sands feels the need to give themselves whatever name they please. Think it makes ‘em sound tough. Which reminds me, what’s your name, young ‘un?”

“Uh… Killjoy.”

She rolled her eyes again. “Eesh. Well anyway, she showed up outta the sands ‘bout twenty years back. Poor thing, she was half-dead from the heat. Took ‘er weeks to recover. Not long after, some Rangers show up sayin’ we owe ‘em caps fer their ‘protection’. She didn’t like that fer some reason. Chased ‘em right outta town with that armour o' hers.” Ma sniggered. “She’s stuck around ever since.”

Did this mareever stop talking?

“Poor girl,” Ma went on pitifully. “She’s terrible lonesome; don’t got time fer anythin’ that don’t involve hurtin’, whether its Rangers or raiders. Spends all ‘er time cooped up in ‘er home tinkering with that suit o' hers or things ‘round town that need fixin’. What she needs is a good, strong stallion to show ‘er a thing or two.”

I caught the thoughtful glance that she shot at me.

‘Somepony, please kill me.’

“Anyhoo, ‘fore I talk your hooves off…”

‘Oh, thankfuck for that.’

“…what’s your story, stranger?”

I hesitated before replying. I had the feeling that the truthful answer here would be the wrong one. Call it a hunch.

“Nothing special,” I said lightly. “Just somepony out to survive, like everypony else.”

“‘Nothin’ special’,” Old Ma said disbelievingly. “I don’ believe that folks get scars like that,” she said, jabbing a hoof at my head, “without it bein’ special. Or pets like this, fer that matter.” she added, patting Splinter on the back.

I grunted.

“Ah, I gotcha,” she said. “The ‘strong an’ silent’ type, are ya?”

“Yeah,” I said. “You could say that.”

“Well, at least tell me how ya came by this fella,” she said, patting Splinter again. “I ain’t never seen nothin’ like ‘im.”

I gave the abridged version of how I’d been attacked by the tree-wolf’s former ‘owners’, and how I’d fed and released Splinter afterwards.

“Scum,” Ma said disgustedly when I’d finished. “Doin’ somethin’ like that to a fine beast like this.” She placed a hoof on Splinter’s back and started stroking him vigorously. “Who’s a good boy? You are! Yes, you are!” she said condescendingly. Splinter let out a slow, deep creak of appreciation. “And aren’t you a good buck, giving’ ‘im a helpin’ hoof like that,” she said to me.

“I… guess?” I said cautiously.

“And modest, too! Reminds me of an ol’ pal o’ mine …”

She talked.

And talked.

We walked for about half an hour, and she never. Stopped. Talking. Other than to breathe or await an answer from me.

At least some of what she said was interesting. She had, she told me, travelled all across much of the San Palomino in her youth, as well as venturing north towards the heartlands once or twice. She told me, briefly, about the dangers of the desert. The northern edge of the Palomino was mostly just an empty, barren dustbowl, but further south there were sandstorms, raiders, and pre-war military bots roaming around.

I couldn’t help but eye the revolver and ammunition she was carrying. It all looked of fine make – far finer than the bashed-together SMG hanging around my neck.

I unconsciously slowed my pace, dropping slightly behind her.

“… an’ don’t ask me ‘bout Haythorne! I bin near that-” Ma stopped walking and held up a hoof. “Wait.”

I looked around. I couldn’t see anything but dust and rocks. “What-”

Ma floated out a piece of junk from within her coat and lazily tossed it onto the ground in front of her. It bounced once, but before it hit the ground again, a circle of earth beneath it simply opened up, leaving a hole capable of swallowing a foal. The junk fell down and disappeared into the hole. Then it was thrown back out again. Half-a-dozen hairy, spindly legs emerged over the edge of the hole, preceding a cluster of gleaming black eyes above a set of dripping fangs.

Ma’s revolver was suddenly out of its holster. I didn’t even see the thing move; one moment it was resting at Ma’s side, the next it was hanging in the air. Two shots rang out and two bullets neatly removed the creature’s eyes. It collapsed onto the dirt in a twisted pile of limbs and slid back into the hole, leaving a smear of ichor behind it.

“What the fuck was that!?” I demanded, one hoof still resting on my lance.

Ma casually reloaded her revolver, meticulously stowing the empty casings in a pouch. “Language,” she said reproachfully, before saying, “peek-a-boo. Nasty little things. Not too bad fer grown ponies like you or me, but if they catch a foal unawares…” She clicked her tongue angrily. “Do the world a favour and squash every one you see.” She spun the cylinder of her revolver, clicked it back into place and slipped the gun back into its holster.

Right. I’d almost forgotten. In the Wasteland, ‘old’ equates to ‘hard to kill’. Scratch that plan.

“Shall we?” Ma said, stepping around the peek-a-boo’s trap-turned-grave.

After a few minutes of walking (and yet more talking), she drew to a halt next to a bizarre-looking plant that sported a nasty array of spikes.

“This one’ll do,” Ma said. “Watch close, now.” She plucked a purple, equally spiky bulb from the top of the plant. She floated it in front of my face. “Now, this ‘ere might be good eatin’,” she said. “But these spines will tear you up somethin’ furious.” In a flash of gleaming metal, there was a knife hanging in the air in front of my face. Old Ma laughed as I flinched. I watched, disgruntled, as she quickly skinned the bulb. “Here,” she said as she finished and tossed the peeled bulb at me. I caught it gingerly between my teeth. Ma gestured for me to eat it. I did so. It was surprisingly good.

“Like I said: good eatin’,” Ma said, skinning a second fruit and tossing it to Splinter, who started messily devouring it, sending a spray of juice spattering onto the ground. “Just gotta skin ‘em good, first. Roastin’ ‘em above a fire for a minute works, too.” She finished skinning a third and tossed into her own mouth. “‘Course, you gotta be careful ‘bout radiation. If it don’t look like these,” she waved a hoof at the fruit left on the plant, “leave ‘em. Probably poisonous. Or not ripe.

“Anyhoo, that’s half my end o’ the bargain,” she said. She turned away from me and pointed towards the horizon. “You see that hill?”

I squinted in the direction she was pointing. There was indeed a hill rising above the dusty plain.

“Round the south side o' that is my daughter's place. Just call in and see if she's all right. I'll have your caps fer you when you get back. Okay?”

I nodded.

“Good! Mind yourself, now. Lotta peek-a-boo's 'tween here an' there. Just watch your step. Take care!”

With a cheery smile she left, trotting back towards Sand's Edge.

I watched her go, then let out a relieved sigh. She may not have been finding excuses to slap me around like other ponies I could name, but that constant droning was a torture all of its own.

I looked down at Splinter. “Well, just you and me again.”

I learned the most annoying thing about the Palomino very quickly.

It wasn't the heat. Or the ponies. Or the critters – although tripping over a peek-a-boo and having to smack away its fangs before Splinter ripped it in two wasn't something I wanted to repeat any time soon.

No, it was the dust.

After an hour's walk, I was irritably pawing at my eyes with every few steps. Every time I opened my mouth, it seemed, a gust of wind was ready to force a mouthful of dust down my throat. It got under my barding and started to itch.

When I got back to Sand's Edge, I decided, I was going to take Ma's caps and buy something to cover my face before I set one solitary hoof back out in this dustbowl. If I couldn't find anything to buy, I'd kill somepony and take theirs. Ihated dust.

It was getting on towards evening when I reached the house. I sighed in relief as I trotted up to the front door. Just go in, talk to this mare – hopefully she didn't talk as much as Ma (maybe that was why she lived out here, as far away from Ma as possible) – then walk back and…

The front door had been left ajar.

I slowed my pace to a walk and stopped as I reached the threshold.

I gently pushed at the door. It slowly swung inwards, and came to a halt, revealing the darkened interior. As I stepped closer, poking my head through the doorway, I froze.

A thin piece of string had been stretch out at chest-level across the doorway, just beneath my chin.

I slowly withdrew my head, then ducked low and crawled awkwardly beneath the tripwire, mindful of the saddlebag and lance on my back. Splinter followed me, apparently understanding the danger. I patted him on the head. “Smart boy.”

Maybe Ma's daughter was just incredibly paranoid?

I went to call out 'Hello?', then stopped myself. I figured if she was paranoid enough to booby-trap her own front door, she'd probably just blow my head off if she didn't know who I was.

“Hey, Ma sent me!” I said instead. “You here?”

No answer.

I looked around. It was a pretty cosy little shack, with one side given over to a pre-war refrigerator hooked up to a portable generator and stacks of boxed food and the other a large table with a number of chairs scattered around it. A doorway led to another room on the far side from the door I'd entered through, below a staircase that led to the upper level. Scattered around the room were little signs of habitation: unwashed dishes on the table; a shotgun propped against the wall, a bag of shells dumped next to it.

Oh, and a bloody corpse in the corner. That was a nice touch.

I immediately picked up my SMG and moved around the table to get a better look.

I assumed it was Ma's daughter. It wasn't exactly in a good state. Raiders, probably. What a shame.

Well… never pass up an opportunity to scavenge.

Ma's daughter had been a bit of a gun nut, I discovered when I checked the back room. There was a bench against the back wall that was strewn with casings and other bits and pieces. I rummaged through a few boxes, coming up with a few magazines for my SMG that I assumed were the right size. My best find was a revolver that I'd swear was the twin of the one Ma had been carrying. I wasn't particularly enthralled with guns, but I'd happily admit it was a thing of beauty, as was the ammunition for it I picked up.

Upstairs was a disappointment, in comparison. Just a bedroom, nothing of note. As I walked back over to the door to the staircase, I froze.

“…-at wire lower!”

The speaker had hushed her voice, but I still heard it.

Great. A trap. And I'd pranced into it like a frolicking foal. La-de-da-de-dead. Idiot.

I waved a hoof at Splinter, hoping he would understand and stay quiet. I edged over to the wall beside the doorway and gently eased the revolver out of my saddlebag. I started sliding bullets into the chambers, wincing at everyclick.

'Let's see what this thing can do,' I thought as I snapped the cylinder shut and gripped it in my mouth-

“Did you hear that!?”

“Upstairs!”

Damn. Forgot to do that last bit quietly.

I listened to the pounding of hooves as they – whoever 'they' were – charged up the staircase. As they reached the top, I swung out into the doorway, sighted on the startled face just in front of me and pulled the trigger.

'FUCK!'

I would have shouted it if the lower half of my face hadn't gone numb. The kick from the revolver jerked my whole head back. The sound was immense! Was this a gun or a grenade launcher!?

I spat out the revolver, letting it fall to floor, and lunged forward. Hooves were always better.

The first raider's head had been all but removed by the revolver's shot, splattering the pony behind her with chunks of skull and brain. She was still rubbing at her face when I hurdled the decapitated body of her friend and smashed a hoof into the side of her head, knocking her straight through the rickety handrail and down to the floor below.

I was knocked off-balance as Splinter forced his way past me and pounced on the next raider in line, who had time for a brief squeal before the impact knocked him down the stairs in a tangle of fur and wood.

I winced as a bullet skipped off my barding and buried itself in the wall behind me. I glanced down at the fourth raider, who was standing as brazenly as you please in the middle of the floor, lining up a second shot with his pistol.

I drew my lance and threw it in one motion. The stallion dodged to the side as it clattered to the floor in front of him. He aimed back up at me, but I'd already jumped off the staircase and down to the floor.

I narrowly missed the raider I'd knocked off the staircase when I landed. She rolled to the side, smacking her head against the shotgun that I'd seen earlier. Her face lit up as she looked at it and she scooped it up in a telekinetic grab.

“Fuck you!” she crowed, turning it in my direction and pulling the trigger.

There was a click.

“No,” I snarled as she looked at the weapon in horror. I picked up my SMG. “Fuckyou.”

One trigger pull, three bullets, no brains.

The stallion with the pistol screamed around the gun in his mouth and started spraying the air around me. One shot hit me square on the metal plate on my flank, making me stumble as I turned. A second hit me in the shoulder. Then he was out of ammo. Rather than reload he actually dropped his gun and charged.

Just to clarify: he was at least a full hand shorter than me, and as skinny as a twig.

I slapped the stallion across the face, staggering him. Then I twisted round and bucked him square in the chest. He rose up on his hindhooves and fell back into the doorway, where his fall was momentarily arrested by the tripwire that was stretched across it. It snapped under his weight and as he fell to his back across the threshold of the doorway, a single grenade dropped down from the ceiling, landing between his sprawled hindlegs. He scrambled up, propping himself on his forelegs. He looked down at the grenade between his hindlegs. His jaw dropped.

The grenade exploded, hurling his body out through the doorway in a spray of gore. Then I exploded. Into laughter.

I set back on my haunches and howled as I recalled the stallion's final expression.

Being blown up by your own trap. How ironic.

Wait, was that what irony was? I couldn't remember.

I stopped giggling when I reached a hoof up to wipe the tears from my eyes and a bolt of pain shot through my shoulder. Cursing, I twisted my head to see the extent of the damage. I could move my leg, so the joint wasn't ruined, but it hurt like a bitch.

I sighed and took out the half-empty healing potion. I stared at it thoughtfully. I shrugged-

Ow.

I took a swig of the potion, leaving just a little swilling around in the bottom of the bottle. I'd need to see about getting some more, at this rate.

Splinter padded over to me, paws and muzzle stained with blood. I idly patted him on the head as I waited for the potion to work. When its work was done, I made my way back up the stairs, carefully stepping over the bodies as I went, and retrieved the revolver from where I'd discarded it. I emptied the cylinder and shoved it into my saddlebag. I wasn't going to try and use it again – I could swear some of my teeth had been loosened by the recoil – but I could probably get a fair few caps for it.

I looked around as I exited the house, wary of more attackers lying in wait.

Something moved out of the corner of my eye.

I turned my head. There was a figure silhouetted against the sky at the crest of the hill. I squinted, trying to make it out clearly in the fading light. It was… standing upright? I couldn't tell properly across the distance. It looked like it. It looked broader across the chest than any pony I'd seen, as well. And there was something wrong with how its forelegs hung at its sides.

Screw it. I wasn't being paid to tangle with monster ponies.

I trotted off, shooting cautious looks as I went. Until we lost sight of the figure, Splinter never stopped growling.

Level Up: You have reached Level 4!

New Perk Gained: Pack Mule

You've grown used to humping it for long distances across the wasteland.

Effect: Your movement speed while encumbered is increased. In addition, you may fast travel while encumbered.

Quest Perk Gained: Crash Course

You stumbled into the Palomino without so much as a tourists’ guide. Luckily, you’ve managed to survive long enough to pick up the basics.

Effect: You gain +3 Survival. In addition, your hunger and dehydration meters increase at a reduced rate. New food recipes are made available.