"Why can't I have the nice one?" I whined. I really didn't like it when I whined and honestly it wasn't how I had intended to sound. But this just seemed insult to injury to me. My sister always seemed to get the nicer stuff. This time she got the teddy bear that was in almost new condition, just a few small patches on it. I got one with the stuffing all squished worn thin all over with a big patch on the rump and missing an eye. It was just a bear and not what I wanted but still....
"Now Snow we only had the two bears to choose from and you know how you are with your toys," my mother soothed.
I glared at my mother with all the huffiness a newly minted 8 year old colt could and snottily said, "They don't last because I always get the ones that are already falling apart." I was hard on my toys but I was a scrawny unicorn colt who looked like a stiff breeze would blow over. If they had been in good condition to begin with they would have lasted.
My father pitched in at this point with, "Now, Snow, be grateful for what you have. It may not be the best but it's better than nothing," with a reprovingly and a subtle hint to his voice that said drop it. I knew to ignore that voice was to invite a spanking or worse.
Unfortunately I was too wound up to heed that voice and so I took the tattered bear in the grip of my magic and chucked it into the scrub as hard as I could. Looking back in defiance at my parents I snorted my opinion of the gift, not my brightest move I will admit.
My father's eyes blazed with anger at what I had done. "If you truly do not want the bear we can sell it for a few caps in the next town but you will go retrieve the bear from the scrub, NOW," he snapped. Oh shit, I thought as my stomach lurched, why did I have to forget dad's rule about accepting all gifts gracefully. I tucked my tail tight and went after the bear hopping I wasn't going to get the living daylights paddled out of me.
It took me almost 15 minutes to find the thing. Taking it in a telekinetic grip, not wanting to find out what it tasted like, I started back. Just as I was reaching the edge of the brush I heard the voices of strangers. The one doing most of the speaking had a faint whistling accent that I didn't recognize.
Stepping to the edge of the brush I saw 5 griffons in black armor with 4 bright red diamonds in a diamond pattern on their shoulders. My father's quick eye caught sight of me immediately and he passed the signal, in the signs he had drilled into all of us for as long as I could remember, to stay hidden and stay quite. I was tempted to defy him, but I was already in trouble and honestly there was something about the griffins that raised the hairs on the back of my neck. So I stayed back and listened without making any noise.
The big griffon that was clearly the leader said in a demanding tone, "You don't have anything of value?" They sounded like bandits but I had never seen such well armored or armed bandits.
My father replied with a polite firmness, "No, we trade primarily in scrap metal and electronics. I have already given you the handful of caps we do have. Please leave us in peace we have nothing else that you would want." I was pretty sure that was a lie. Dad had 10mm pistol and a couple of clips of ammo for it, maybe more. But he wore it in a holster hidden by his light leather barding where it wouldn't be seen unless he drew it. There might be other things in the packs as well, such as our medical supplies and caps, as I knew he didn't keep all the caps on his person just for such situations. The packs were full mostly of what he had said; you would have to unpack them completely to find other things.
The griffon behind the leader said, in a rather board tone, "Come on Thunder, this isn't worth the time."
The leader, Thunder apparently, snarled "I'm not so sure of that! They have to have at least enough stuff to trade to live off of; after all they hardly look starving. That one has armor on but only a varmint rifle while the mare has a bat? You," he said pointing to one griffon in the back, "Search the mare and foal! You," pointing to another griffon, "Dump their packs! Look for anything of value. Traders always have things worth a fair bit and I want enough out of 'em for a night of booze and whores!"
The two griffons moved to do as they were ordered and my sister looking frightened backed up a pace, in doing so I saw that she wasn't wearing her leg wraps and therefore her pipbuck came into view and I winced. Now they would know there was something more! Why were her leg wraps off, and why hadn't mom or dad gotten her to put them back on!
Thunder saw the pipbuck immediately, "I knew it! Get that off of her! It's worth a lot of caps to the Steel Rangers!"
One of the griffons said diffidently, "But Sir! We don't have the right tools for that!"
Thunder grinned in a way that made me ill, and chuckled before saying with a certain glee, "Sure we do!" He pulled out a big machete and offered it to the griffon, "Here use this we can just pull out the messy bits after you have it off."
The griffon took the blade and looked uneasy as he approached my sister. I saw my father tense and I knew he was getting ready to draw his gun on these fuckers. I swallowed dryly and wondered where my father's normal air of confidence was when dealing with raiders or bandits. Did he know something about them? The griffon with the machete took a firm grip on the handle and moved to go around my mother.
What happened next happened so very fast and yet seemed to happen in slow motion. My mother took her bat that was never far from her into a magical grip and brained the griffon leaving his helmet badly dented as he went down without a sound. My father's gun cleared its holster with lightening speed and he fired the first shot into the lead griffon; with his typical never miss a target accuracy. But it went rapidly FUBAR from there. Thunder grabbed the griffon that had been moving to search the packs and yanked him in front of himself. It threw the griffons balance off causing him to fumble his weapon but my father's next two shots went into him instead of Thunder. Thunder used the time to draw the biggest pistol I had ever seen and shot father, the boom the loudest I had ever heard from any gun; even as my mother was moving up on him fast.
I had seen my father shot many times but always before it had barely fazed him. This time he staggered back a few steps with an explosive grunt and swayed on his hooves, his head starting to drop. My mother looked shocked for just a moment a soft whimper escaping her as she paused but she started right back up. The pause proved fatal though, as one of the other griffons caught her in the chest with a shotgun from no more than 15 feet away. She went down with a gurgling scream as buck shot tore though her leathers into her chest. My at father's anguished grunt, ice ran though my veins for I could see blood coming from one nostril and staining the grip he had on his gun, but his head came back up eyes blazing with an anguished fury I had never seen before. I knew that was bad, very bad.
As his head started to come back up, Thunder chuckled in amusement letting the griffon he had used as a shield fall, "Ill grant you're a tough buck to still be standing after that but you're out of your league." Thunder shot him again knocking him back a few more paces. I stifled a whimper of shock for my sister who had been at the back of fight was painted in gore her own eyes wide in shock. Father's side streamed blood like a miniature waterfall.
My father swayed ever so slightly and then went down to one knee clearly struggling to stay standing, his gun dropped from his grip into the dust. It was like watching Tenpony tower fall. It had always been there and you knew it always would. Until it wasn't. My father fell to his side coughing up a mouthful of blood. Thunder chuckled, "Best fight I've had in weeks, such as it was." He then turned slightly looking at my mother who was gurgling and thrashing. I saw some of the pellets had caught her in the throat and she was chocking on her own blood. Thunder sighed, "Well guess I should put the bitch and her whelp out of their misery." With a casual air her shot my mother in the head reducing it to a red ruin. I jerked as if I to had been shot. Then he turned his gun on my sister who had just started to turn to run realizing at long last the danger she was in, but it was too little too late. The huge had gun boomed a fourth time and almost cut her in half.
Thunder started to turn back to the others when he noticed my father trying to get a grip on his pistol. "Oh just die already. Its over you stupid fuck." The gun boomed one last time and my father stilled his head burst like an over ripe melon. The furry in his eyes faded into the blank ever staring look that any waste lander knew all too well. He turned fully to the other griffons, "Search everything and grab anything of value. I want to be back on the wing in 20 minutes." As an afterthought he looked down at the griffon he had used as a shield that was clutching his chest in pain. "And you, you worthless git go drink a healing potion and stop laying around, you can heal the rest of the damage for not being faster at pulling a trigger than an earth pony was at drawing his gun and shooting." He looked over at the one griffon that had brained by mother and shook his head, as his talons began the process of reloading the massive pistol, discarding spent casings as he went. "Strip Steven of his gear. Let him be a lesson to you all. Ponies aren't to be dismissed as a casual threat. Corner any prey and it can lash out."
They chopped Moonbeam's leg off for her pip buck and then my mother's when they found hers. I rubbed at my own though my leg wrap and tried not to whimper, though if it was fear or lose I couldn't say. The tossed things all about as they searched and found in time dads spare ammo, the caps and a few other goodies he had hidden away. As an afterthought they took all the water and food before taking off.
After they had been gone a while I came out of the brush and went to my father. Looking down at him I tried to make sense of what had happened but it felt like my brain was talking to me in zebra or something. He couldn't be dead. He just couldn't. It wasn't possible! I trembled standing there next to my father's fallen body only a few yards from my mother. My little sister was only a few feet away. Even though no one had hit me I felt like I had been beaten with sticks. Until Thunder shot her I would have said I hated my sister and in doing so I would have lied. I had loved her but my jealousy had hidden that fact from me.
I looked around unsure what do, unwilling to keep staring at their bodies, when I saw something that caught my attention. Laying on a rock near where my sister had been sitting were her old faded pink lag wraps. Next to them were pale purple ones ratty and worn but in better overall shape then her old ones. Next to those were a bright blue set, brand spanking new. I had admired them in a settlement a week ago but mom had refused to get them for me saying they were too expensive, being new and made of hand woven cloth.
I just stared at them, wishing with all my heart I could take it all back. That I could say sorry or that I loved them. Anything. But while the dead might listen better than you would think, they never reply. Never tell you, you are forgiven. The never say I love you. As young as I was I knew how childish I had been. Had known it at the time and done it anyways. I wanted to take it all back..... and would never be able to.
If not for my pipbuck I might not have known how long I stood there, tears slowly sliding down my muzzle. I felt no hunger, took no notice of the change in lighting from day to night to day again. I was only aware of the drying blood and the desperate wish that I could trade my life for theirs. But father had taught us from a young age that all of Deaths deals are final and to try and cheat him was to bring a fate worse than death. Here and now I could not imagine such a fate. How could any fate be worse than being alive when they were dead? Knowing that I lived because I had been angry over a gift given to me!?!
The next day I twitched suddenly all over. It was like I was shocked by a light socket or something. Maybe as I grew dizzy from dehydration, it was a mental kick start I guess and I heard my father's voice in my head saying, "Some days the waste land will leave you thinking that you will not live to see tomorrow. When that happens, live for the next hour. When you do not think you will live to see the next hour, live for the next minute. When you do not think you will see your next minute, live for each second. Fight for life, fight to survive! One step at a time if you have to. But never stop fighting to live, if you do the waste land will take your life and laugh." I remembered he had hugged us both and finished softly, "Your lives are more precious than anything in all of creating, once gone they are gone. So don't sell them cheaply." I didn't understand it then and wasn't sure I understood it all even now.
I pulled out my personal canteen and drank; in doing so a new sense of life came back to me. I was alive. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. I should have died with them. But I was alive and my father would have been horribly disappointed in me if I just lay down to die. I drew a shuddering breath and tried to gather my thoughts into a useful pattern. Walking over to my families scattered belongings I grabbed a shovel and began to dig.
I was a horrible pony, who did not deserve to be alive, but I would see my family buried as was right and proper. It took me the rest of the day to bury them. I left a blue leg wrap on each grave as the best apology I could offer. The last went into my saddle bags as a reminder to never complain about a gift again. I added to my bags the ratty teddy bear, not as a toy but a reminder of my parents love. I took my sisters teddy bear as well, though it was now crusty with her blood. Wrapped in her new leg wraps it went into my saddle bags with a promise to somehow someway find a way to make up for being such a shit to her and never saying I love you to her. Then as an afterthought I took everything out of my saddle bags and put them in my fathers. I kept my mother's comb as well. Last I added the discarded shell casings that had killed my sister and parents; they were like nothing I had seen before and would hopefully help me track down the griffon who had butchered my family.
When I set out, I did not head back the way we had come or even for where we had been going. My father had taught me to survive in the waste lands and so I would cut cross country, north towards Detrot. The direction the griffons had taken. Someday I would find the griffons that had killed my family.
Quest Perk: Survivor's Guilt, you have survived a massacre. It haunts you waking and sleeping. Getting a night's sleep is never easy and you take 20% more time to get a nights rest 2 nights in 3. The emotional scaring can be seen in your eyes and many ponies will find your haunted eyes disturbing.
