Rainbow In The Wastes

The embers burned with vigor, the crackling of the burning wood filling the confinements of the cold, damp cave. Crouched in front of it sat a lone mare, her sorrowful expression focused on her only heat source available. Clinging tightly to her figure was a very soaked vault suit, the two numbers on the back barely recognizable as they faded into the dirtied blue surface beneath it. The entire apparel was considerably muddy, a perfect accompaniment to its owner's likewise muddy appendages.

Clasped securely within a leather holster upon her chest rested a jagged combat knife, almost unnoticeable against the shadowed area of her form. Resting next to her lay the corpse of a molerat, her only source of food she had found since she had left the town. She only needed to eat one bite to figure out that she could not fully depend on the rat to sate her still aching hunger. Shivering lightly, the mare cast a glance back to the mouth of the cave, the heavy Wasteland rain being her answer back.

Looking down to the floor with a sigh of defeat, the Pegasus shook her body uncomfortably, shifting the still wet fabric of her armor to a new area on her body; she was beginning to develop a rash, and combined with the mud and dirt that covered her entire figure, she might soon develop a sickness of some kind. Honestly, she had no idea what could become of a rash, but this world was a lot different than her own. Along with the radiation could come new diseases and illnesses.

Still, the mare wasn't an expert at sicknesses.

Her mind wandered to the night before, to her nightmare. What Applejack had told her. What had happened. Why she was here.

The wedding. Chrysalis. The Princess. Twilight. Dead.

Her best friend was dead. That much she knew. Applejack desperately fought back tears as she recounted this.

Rainbow herself almost began wailing in loss.

No more would she see her Egghead friend engaged in studying. No more would she ever be able to secretly check out books and engage in reading. No more was her Unicorn friend, Twilight Sparkle. No more would she see her friends. Any of them. Not while she was stuck in this simulation. The mare suddenly found herself suppressing tears she didn't previously know she was shedding. Wiping her eyes with her hoof, her mouth began to tremble with pressure. Relenting, the mare let loose a torrent of loud wails of sadness, burying her face in her hooves as she keeled over and wept.

The crackling of her fire soon intensified by a breeze flowing through the cave system, the flames almost touching the mare herself as it flickered and wavered from its wooden birthplace.

You're gonna carry that friendship.

Applejack's final words rang through her head. Her final words before she suddenly dissipated with a crackle, like a hologram on a futuristic movie flick. It's meaning was still lost to the rainbow-maned Pegasus, who rested her chin over crossed forelegs, resting on her belly as she sat by her lonesome within the cave. Her shelter for the weeks to follow.

The mare slowly brought a hoof to her chest, finally resting upon a familiar object. Her combat knife withdrew with ease, its recently bloodied blade glistening in the flickering light of her fire. Flipping it around, she held it with both hooves and aimed the blade at her chest. Remaining like this, she lowered her head and shut her eyes with finalization. Breathing through her nostrils, the mare proceeded to begin her activity. As her forelegs rose to the prime position, her mind raced through her life, saving the various amounts of good times she had had in her past life. She smiled a grim smile, one of forgiveness, both for her predicament, and for herself.

You're gonna carry that friendship.

The sound of footsteps stopped the mare dead in her tracks. Opening her eyes, she stared down at the blade still grasped within her hooves. She raised an eyebrow. Before her lay the answers to all of her problems. Her life. She could end all of it now. It could become her endgame. The mare contemplated this for two heartbeats. The blade soon found itself gripped within its owner's teeth as she stalked to the mouth of the cave, twin streaks of mud lathered across her cheeks in a warrior-esque manner.

Her answer could wait.

Idly lounging in front of the entrance was a single party of raiders. Two held hunting rifles. One gripped a shotgun with steady hands. Easy.

Though the mare knew the trio would be simple to eliminate, she found herself wondering if their friends were nearby, and how many would come soon after. Shaking her head with disagreement, the mare crouched low in the shadows of the cave, searching for a hiding place. The men approached. She would have to look fast. Her gaze travelled upward, to a pair of long, jagged stalagmites hanging above her head. A smile etched itself upon the mare's face.

Perfect.

Tucking herself away from the entrance of her shelter, the mare silently watched the men argue, before they began to make their way into the tunnel. Looking at her left foreleg, she took a second to turn the brightness down on her Pip-Boy, knowing full well that she would become a living beacon were it not for her remembering the wrist-mounted device.

The shotgun wielder was the first to pass underneath her as he noticed the mare's still burning campfire, "Well well well. Lookie over here. Looks like we got some meat boys," he sat crouched over the mare's game, a bare hand groping the rat's body, "and it's still fresh too." The mare's eyes narrowed to a slit. She earned that meat.

One of the rifle-wielders passed underneath her, diverting her train of thought, "Good. That rain's been killin' my stomach. I could use a bite."

"Paul, I recommend you wait for Roger. You know how he is if you get first bite-"

"Shut up Randall. I'm not a fuckin' idiot-"

"Hey, wait. Where's Roger?" the raider raised his shotgun, surveying their surroundings intently.

"Shit," Paul whispered in a hushed tone, "he was behind me a second ago."

The duo aimed their firearms at every part of the cave, searching for their missing friend among the darkness.

Suddenly, a dark blur fell from the roof of the cave, hitting the floor with a loud thump. Paul approached the object, pulling back the bolt on his hunting rifle in case of panic. What met him was a blank-white eyed Roger, his throat cut open as crudely as a four year old draws. The raider stepped back, hyperventilating. He backed up into his comrade, who likewise bumped into him. They both turned around swiftly, aiming at each other with a look of fear in their eyes.

Both breathed a sigh of relief, before the sound of a rock hitting the floor reached their ears. Both aimed toward the noise. Roger's corpse was gone, the only thing left being the pool of blood that recently marked his jagged wound. Randall cocked his shotgun. The fire behind the two went out.

Their screams of pain were muffled as the thunder outside roared with fury.