The filly had long since stopped crying, and the only thing I could hear through the thin walls of the bathroom cabinet, which I was getting too large to fit in, was the sound of his hoof slamming into her again and again. I had my hoof in my mouth, desperately trying not to make a sound through the tears. If he hears me, I'll be next. Fear kept my eyes wet; the impending loss of yet another friend kept my chest tight.

There were so many friends I'd lost that way. So many whose parents thought that maybe I should have a sleepover instead for once. I couldn't tell them what would happen if I did. Sometimes, he wouldn't do anything, after all. I'd come home to find him passed out on the couch and we could play quietly in my cupboard of a room, then sneak out in the early grey of morning. But this wasn't one of those times, and I so desperately wanted Free Range to be my friend that I didn't take any precautions. Now, she was out there with him. One way or another, I'd never see her again. Was I going to spend my entire life friendless, under the sway of this monster's rage?

The rhythmic smacking noise stopped, and I heard him start the second phase of his assault. My throat closed up and coldness seeped through my chest from my heart.

Just as quickly as it had begun, the coldness ceased, replaced by sudden burning. No. I had to stop this. I was the only one who could. If I didn't want to grow up alone, I had to do something, right now, even if I was afraid of what he would do to me if I tried. No, because I was afraid, because she was afraid, because all the others had been. Nopony needed to be that afraid again. There was only one thing to do, to stop all of this from happening again.

I knew the combination to the gun locker because it was the same as the one to the liquor cabinet. They held the most expensive things in our house, so it was only natural that he locked them up. I dialed the numbers with my hoof, pausing as the lock clicked open, looking back over my shoulder into the hallway to see if he was coming. When I had ascertained that nothing was following me, I reached in and removed the first weapon I found.

The rifle was heavy in my hooves. I'd gone out shooting once before, with him and his friends because they thought it was cute to watch a filly fire a gun, so I knew how to load it. Two shells. It grew heavier, with the weight of finality as much as any ammunition. Trembling, I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath. The room seemed to sink away from me as I opened my mouth and shouted.

"Stop!"

There was a notable absence of sound from the other room. His hooves slid and shuffled against the metal flooring, and Free Range started to cry anew.

"What the fuck did you just say?" His voice was muted by rage, disbelief, and the distance between us, but it still felt like a kick in the head.

His hooves scrabbled on the floor and I quivered as he approached the bedroom I was in. "What the fuck did you just say to me, you little bitch?"

My eyes snapped open. His shadow spread over the hallway. I forced my hooves up, sighting down the length of the barrel, placing one near the trigger.

"I said st-stop," I whimpered.

He appeared in the doorway, tall and lanky, his beard flecked with spittle and his eyes rolling whtiely. He took one look at the gun, sneered, and marched forward into the room.

"What in the fuck do you think you're gonna do?" His words set my hooves trembling, marring my aim. "When I'm done with you, you're gonna wish that was you in there."

"Stop right there." My voice was barely a whisper, and he didn't so much as flinch. "I swear I'll pull this trigger."

He laughed. I pulled the hammer back. Suddenly, the gun pressed back against me as he dug his chest into the barrel.

"Who do you think you are, you piece of shit? Put that thing down and get your ass over here so I can beat it raw!" The rage on his face grew less impotent by the second. "I'm your fucking father, so you're gonna do what I say!"

I wanted friends. All the other foals in town had them, so why couldn't I? Why did I have to go to birthday parties and run home crying just because I saw another filly's parents being kind to her? The image of a unicorn father smiling as his daughter blew out the match stuck into a two-hundred-year-old piece of lemon-flavored cake steeled my resolve.

"No you're not."

I splattered his lungs through his spine and all over the front wall of his bedroom. He made a half-croaked noise of shock and crumpled to the ground, his face a lifeless mask of frustration and incredulity. I dropped the gun and ran out of the room, heedless of his blood on my hooves. I ran to her, my only friend in the world, and held her and told her that it was all over and she was okay now. We shared tears of relief, and I waited for the tears of remorse over what I had done.

Adults came and took us away, her to the hospital and me to the town constabulary. I waited for the tears to come. They told me she was gone, and I waited for the tears. They congratulated me on getting my cutie mark and then took me to the orphanage. I waited some more.

"Twelve years," I tell myself, clutching a damp, moth-eaten sheet to my chest. I rock back and forth on my mattress until I've shaken the images off, then let my head sink into my hooves. "It was twelve years ago." Saying it helps make the nightmare vanish.

It was twelve years ago, and I'm still waiting.

So why do I keep dreaming about that night?

"Gotcha!"

Leaping over Millstone's front gate to bat a Molotov cocktail back at a Raider is not the smartest thing I have ever done. Honestly, I'm lucky the damn thing doesn't break when it contacts my hoof. But, listening to the screams of the bastard who's been throwing them as he finally gets a taste of his own medicine, I feel justifiably proud of having done it. As a bonus, the bottle shatters in between him and the next Raider over, giving me two for one.

I know enough not to linger over my small victory, though, and scramble across the top of the wall to the bunker the Mayor's in before the Raider even starts screaming.

"That was damn stupid," he tells me.

"I know! Won't happen again, I swear."

He shakes his head, moves out of cover, takes a shot, and moves back. "I don't need you getting yourself killed, Single."

"You and me both, Chief."

Somepony further down the wall shouts, "They're leaving!" and a cheer goes up from our side. I poke my head around cover to see the tails of five Raiders turned away from us and galloping off. I'm not so proud that I don't take an extra shot at them; it misses, but nopony's counting.

"Everypony okay?" Mayor Cheap Shot sends a look to either side of the wall, then to the town courtyard below. I draw a breath in through my teeth as I see one of the farmers, Shallot, with a bullet in her left hind and a large piece of shrapnel sticking out of her flank.

"Shit."

I make my way down to the ground, using half a rusted ladder and a tangle of chicken wire. Patches, our medic, is already at her side as I walk up to them. There is blood everywhere.

"Sorry, Chief," Shallot says, gritting her teeth as she looks up at me.

I shake my head. "You're not the one who should be apologizing." I lift my gaze. The others who were in the fight encircle us.

"Anypony else?" I can't hide the hurt and frustration in my voice. Thankfully, I get nothing but no's and head shakes in return. Genuine Article has a mild concussion, but that's his own damn fault for slipping off the wall. He just needs some rest, and I trust Patches to fix Shallot up. I nod to the Mayor as he passes, congratulating the warriors and urging everypony to go back to their lives. There's nothing left to do now but powwow.

"And in other news, children, I'm gettin' reports of an Ursa in the woods over near Hoofington. I'd give that place a wide berth if I were you, unless you think you don't smell particularly appetizing. Only Raiders need apply, ha-hah! Meanwhile, in--"

I switch the radio off, spinning the chair at the head of the table around and sitting in it upright.

"Aw, c'mon, Chief!" Rock Solid pouts at me. "I was listenin' to DJ Pon-3!"

"Not a fan, greenhorn," I deadpan. "I can't fault his message, but I also don't like false hope. It makes ponies feel more powerful than they really are. Now."

I give the five ponies that make up my security team a pointed look. The single bulb in the closet I use for a security room, the war room as we call it, gives us all a washed-out pallor. It's hard to tell actual haggard weariness from the angle of the light.

"I've been security chief pushing four years now. I've had five casualties in that time." I take a deep breath, letting that sink in. "Today was casualty number six. So I wanna know why."

Despite me trying to keep an even keel in my voice, the looks and non-looks I get are nervous.

"Anypony? I'm sure one of you saw something out there."

"It was her fault," Miracle Mile says, stretching her hoof forward and then retracting it the moment I lay eyes on her.

"Shallot's fault she got hurt," I repeat. I don't question, and I don't accuse. Miracle seems to be reconsidering her eagerness to speak up first.

"Er, well... I-I saw her when I was on roundup." She rubs her hooves together, nodding to Turnkey as though he's likely to back her up. "She was out of bounds, running away from the alarm."

Turnkey sighs. "Mir's right, Chief." He rolls his eyes, looking pointedly away from Miracle. "She was trying to save her watering can."

I nod slowly and chew on the inside of my cheek. "Mmkay. So Shallot's out of commission for the better part of a month and it's her fault one of us, more than likely, is gonna be on crop duty. That the story?"

Miracle meets my gaze now and nods. Turnkey nods as well. I let out a breath.

"Well, it's not gonna go well for her when I tell the Mayor."

The new guy perks up at this. "Oh yeah, Chief, I almost forgot. Mayor caught me on the way here, says he wanted to talk to you."

I search Rock Solid's face, trying to figure out if this is a good thing or a bad thing. If it was nothing important, Cheap Shot would have told me himself after the battle. The newbie doesn't let anything slip, other than that he's wondering the same thing I am. Probably bad then.

"Okay." I stand. "I gotta report to him about this anyway. Anything anypony else wants to add? Dirt Clod? Cornbread?"

Two shaking heads.

"All right. Get your butts on out."

Hooves scramble gleefully for the door. I wait until they're all gone before heading to the Mayor's office.

Mayor Cheap Shot lives and works in the center of town, a privileged spot surrounded by at least one other house on each side. He got it from the last Mayor, and so on and so forth. We've always had a friendly relationship, on account of me succeeding him as Chief of Security, but like all people who move into politics, he gets just paranoid enough about his status and responsibilities that he's become a real pain in the flank over the past three years.

I step aside as three foals rush past, giggling and chasing a ball down the corrugated metal hallway. Just an hour ago, they were huddling under their beds, wondering if they would see each other or their parents ever again, and now here they are, laughing and playing as though their lives aren't constantly in danger.

That's because they aren't, a voice in my head says, and I wonder how much hubris is required to agree with it. At least I can counter any ego swelling with the knowledge that Cheap Shot did at least as good as job as me, if not better. But seeing the children enjoying the vibrancy of life so soon after yet another Raider attack reminds me just why I do this, just why they're worth protecting.

When I think about Millstone, I think about the ocean. Not that I've ever seen it, mind, I just read a book about it once. It said that the further down you go, the darker it gets, until eventually you can't see anything at all. That's where the real monsters of the deep live, the fathomless creatures with sharp teeth and glowing eyes, most of which nopony has ever truly seen and lived to tell about.

I think about a diver, encased in a glass box, going down to that depth, where all they have is the knowledge that they're still alive and those things are out there. The diver and all the air in that box are Millstone and its inhabitants. The unknown monsters of the deep? Those are the Wasteland, the Raiders, the regular monsters that ponies are all too familiar with. Me, I'm the box, and I know damn well that if the glass breaks, the diver drowns.

I knock on Cheap Shot's door, and he opens it almost immediately afterward. He's been pacing; it's bad, all right.

"You wanted to see me, Chief?" I ask, stepping inside as he waves me to his back office.

I said the Mayor's house is a place of privilege, but that's only because it's out of the way of stray gunfire. Millstone doesn't have much room for expansion in its walls, so everypony that pitches in gets an equal share of the space. That's the Millstone Way, the way of life that I've decided is precious enough to defend with my own life.

What I'm trying to say is, despite its privilege, Cheap Shot's house really isn't impressive inside. His furniture's a little nicer than mine -- slightly scuffed plastic instead of clapboard and rusty nails -- but at the end of the day, we're both sleeping in the same twenty by twenty box, just like everypony else here. It's only fair, after all.

"You know," he says through a low chuckle, "I'd bet biscuits to bottlecaps you'll only start calling me 'Mayor' after I've retired."

I bite back saying that he's more likely to get killed than actually live to see retirement. Kind of like his predecessor. Instead, I say, "What's up, Chief?"

He levitates a chair made of packing crates and bailing wire out and places it in front of his desk. "Please, Sin, have a seat."

Oh boy; it's really bad. I sit as bidden and he scoots into the wheeled chair across the desk from me. That chair is more or less the symbol of office in Millstone, and it's got the bullet holes and blood stains to prove it. He takes a deep breath and presses his hooves together.

"What's the word on Shallot?" he asks. He's dodging whatever horrible thing he brought me here to talk about, and I let him.

"Mir and Turn say she was chasing a watering can."

Cheap Shot scowls. "Shit." A cigarette pack with three butts left lifts up, and he takes one, setting it alight a moment later. "I was hoping you wouldn't say anything like that."
He rubs the spot just below his horn. "She knows the rules just like everypony." He's talking to himself now, so I just sit back and stay quiet. "I don't want to bend them for her, but I feel like I have to. We're short-hooved as it is, and we're going to need more farming in the near future if my plan works out."

Now he's got my attention. "And what plan would this be?"

He puffs smoke out through his nose, frowning at nothing in particular. "I've got a proposition for you, Single." He licks his lips. "And I know you're gonna hate it, so please, just hear me out, okay?"

I relax somewhat. This bad thing isn't going quite where I thought it would.

"Like I said, we're short-hooved, not just in farming, but everywhere, most especially security."

I lean forward in my chair. "Now hold on, Chief, I--"

He looks like he's trying to swallow a radigator whole, but he still cocks an eyebrow at me to shut me up. "Hang on, you said you'd let me finish."

I snort, but sit back, crossing my hooves over my chest.

"I've been contacted by a group of ponies, Sin." He takes another long drag on his cigarette. "They say they're in the business of protecting ponies."

My scowl must be louder than I thought.

"Come on, not like that." He holds up a hoof, getting animated. "They actually gave me references! References that checked out! References in the Wasteland, can you believe that?" His enthusiasm wanes when I don't reciprocate and he sits back in his chair. "Point is, I think we need help, and I've asked them to come and talk with us, show us what they can do. If we like what we see, we can double our fighting force. Best yet, we can keep ponies with special skills off the front lines and out of harm's way. No more Shallot incidents, right?"

He spreads his hooves for me to speak, and I don't waste any time.

"No."

"Come on, Sin."

"No way!" My face scrunches up. "I'm not trusting the security of this town to a group of mercenaries! They're just one payday away from being Raiders!"

"We've got the money, Sin."

I lean forward. "I'd rather we trained townsponies, ponies I can trust."

"Training takes too long and Raider activity is increasing."

I wave my hoof. "They'll get the hint eventually and leave us alone!"

He snorts. "In case you didn't know, Raiders don't all subscribe to the same magazine."

"Oh, come on, Chief." I look away from him, and a thought hits me. With a second's hesitation, I spit it out. "It's like you don't even trust me."

A low shot, but the breath hisses in between his teeth. Bullseye.

"Okay, Sin, listen to me." He extinguishes his cigarette and spreads his hooves, looking at his desk. "I put myself back in your shoes before making this decision, and you have absolutely every reason to feel that way. I would have too if this was Emerald telling this to me."

"Well, I do feel that way!" I don't hold back the indignation.

"But look at it my way, Sin. We're a small town and it's a big Wasteland out there. We've got a good system, but only just. One pony goes down, and poof, we're struggling to get by." He closes his eyes. "With a fighting force on our side, we don't have to worry about Raider incursions--"

"Which still aren't all that frequent--"

"--But which are getting more frequent, as I said." Now he's getting mad. I can hear his hoof tapping the floor. "We can't keep hoping that just enough is good enough, Sin, is what I'm saying."

I cross my hooves over my chest again. "Oh, so you really don't trust me?"

He draws a hoof over his face. The tapping gets faster. "Sin, come on, you're not making this easy--"

"You're not giving me a reason to!"

He grunts. "Well look at it this way: I'm trusting you enough to give you the task of potentially dealing with a group of mercs we don't know from Celestia. You're the only pony I can put this on." He leans forward, cajoling me with his winningest smile. "Please, Sin. I'm only asking that you see what they've got. If you don't like them, I promise I'll tell them no."

I narrow my eyes. "You're not just trying to foist this off on me?"

"Would I do that?" The hurt on his face is convincing.

Snorting, I glance off to the side. There's a picture of him with his parents, probably twenty years old by now. I start to worry my lower lip and realize my mind is wandering.

"Fine." I look him in the eye. "Let them come and show us their stuff, as you put it. But I'm telling you now, I'm severely against even doing that. It's gonna take a miracle for me to change my mind."

He blows a raspberry. "All right." Squeezing his eyes shut, he puts his head in his hoof. "You can be so Celestia-damned hard-headed, I swear."

I stand and look him over coolly. "It's what keeps this town safe."

The White Wishes Mercenary Group is, I have to admit, the most impressive such group I have ever seen. Considering I have some experience in their line of work, I think I'm a qualified judge. They don't exactly have matching uniforms, but they do all wear berets. A little touch like that makes them seem that much more efficient, if not also more intimidating.

Their ride is a pre-war armored carriage, refitted with a vault door and, if I'm not mistaken, reharnessed to be pulled by ground ponies. The carriage likewise has an air of intimidating efficiency, with hard lines welded onto it and a very cleanly-painted white logo. Sweet moon above, they have a logo.

White Wishes' leader is a unicorn stallion named Monolith. His name, I should add, is completely fitting, as he's easily twice my size, the same foreboding grey as the evening sky, with a short-cropped black tail and an almost comically tiny goatee. There's no way I'd ever laugh at this guy, though. Every inch of him is muscled and honed. He looks like he could drop a Raider at forty paces just by staring at him. So I make sure to be on my best behavior around him, despite being the one who's supposed to be getting impressed here.

"Security Chief Single Action," he says in a voice that could shake boulders loose from a mountainside, "please allow me to show you our operation."

"I'd be honored," I say, keeping my body language professional, as he is. "And please, just Single is fine."

He has nothing to say to that. Instead, he leads me to view the "troops", ten ponies, most of them earth, of varying shapes and sizes. I'm pretty sure one is a ghoul. They are, at the very least, well disciplined, standing at perfect attention while I give them the once-over. The closer I look, the more permanent scars I notice; I guess not everything can be equally perfect. Still, I can't help feeling I'm studying livestock, and the thought turns my stomach.

"If they aren't to your standards, Chief Action," Monolith says, and I grimace at his use of my name, "then perhaps you will be more impressed with our equipment."

I already feel like I won't be. "Mister Monolith--"

"Captain Monolith, please."

That really should not have come as a surprise. "Captain, I'll level with you. The Mayor set me up to this... parade over my objections. Your group is set up nicely, and I'm sure you do good work, but I don't think you're going to convince me that we really need you. I'm sorry, I'd just rather have ponies by my side who I know and trust."

He's quiet for a good minute as he leads me to the bank-vault door of the carriage and pauses. I find myself worried about just how this monstrous mountain of a pony is going to handle rejection.

Surprisingly, he turns to me with a soft smile. "Chief Action, I understand that attitude all too well and I can't fault you for it. But why come out here if you were already planning to say no?"

I frown. "Well, I--"

"Please, just humor me. If our equipment doesn't change your mind, then I'll accept your no with grace and depart with my team."

That's not too much to ask, I suppose. It's not like I have much to do at the moment. "All right," I say, making sure my sigh is extra-resigned, "I'll have a look."

He nods to the pony guarding the carriage, the stallion who comes closest to matching him in bulk, and the lock cycles. The carriage's interior is pitch-black until Monolith lights his horn, revealing it to be far roomier than I would have anticipated.

And every square inch of that room is filled with guns.

Pistols. Rifles. Shotguns. Grenade launchers. Missile launchers. Weapons of zebra design. A few can only be magical energy weapons. I have quite honestly never seen such an assortment before, let alone this vast a number of weapons in a single place.

"What do you think?" he asks, pride dripping from his voice that not even his basso whisper can hide.

"I don't like it," I say, shaking my head. "I'm sorry, Captain, but it's definitely no."

He turns to me, barely hiding his confusion. "But why? Surely you can't have encountered a group of ponies so well trained and armed before."

"That's precisely my issue." I let out a breath and sit back on my haunches, letting my gaze roam over the armaments once more.

"Captain Monolith, with all due respect, I've never thought much of ponies who stockpile weapons. Guns are meant for the weak to protect themselves from the powerful. Start hoarding them, and suddenly it's you they have to protect themselves from." I shake my head. "I can't in good conscience allow this caravan inside the gates of Millstone, Captain. I'm sorry."

He makes an "mmm" sound, sweeping his head back and forth, the orange light from his horn steady. "From what your Mayor has told me, you keep the town of Millstone ready with just the bare minimum to defend it."

Damn you, Cheap Shot. "What of it?"

"And Raider attacks on your town are becoming more frequent."

"Nothing we can't handle."

Monolith raises a hoof. "Chief Action, if there is one thing I've learned in all my years wandering the Wasteland, is it that this world exists solely to grind ponies into dust. We will all of us one day succumb to its inexorable crush. In the meantime, it takes power to resist, to extend one's stay in this Luna-forsaken land and increase one's chances of building something better out of it. It is power that I have, power that I earned my cutie mark in attaining."

I take a moment to look at his mark: a steel pillar supporting an oversized chunk of concrete. It's no less cryptic than mine, I suppose, and I don't give it a second thought.

"I understand if you don't wish to pursue power," he says evenly. "That is laudable. But to continue as you have is also foolish. You cannot control everything around you, and one day, the Wasteland will take you by surprise."

I rub my forehead. I never would have thought a stallion so beefy would be so... talkative.

"Captain Monolith, what I can control is the ponies around me. They give me the confidence to press forward against any opposition, with what I have at hoof." I stand. "If you're done with the marketing speech, I'll take my leave."

He lets me turn before speaking. "You're from Friendship City, aren't you?" The glow from his horn intensifies momentarily.

I flash back to a tiny two-room apartment made of equal parts corrugated steel and cardboard. Of hiding in a cupboard while a monster beat a helpless filly near death.

"What of it?" My voice is so low I can barely tell I spoke.

"Before we go, I think I know somepony who would like to talk with you."

The vault door swings open. Stiff-legged, I step out of the carriage into the half-light of the afternoon sky. In front of me stands one of the beret-wearing ponies I had inspected before, a mare wearing an eyepatch. She's obviously taken a great deal of damage to that side of her face, judging by the scars around her mouth.

"You haven't changed at all," she says, her voice low and husky.

I stare at her for a few moments more, trying to place anything at all about her. Her mane is short-cropped and black like the rest of these mercs, her coat a pale tan, and her cutie mark a pair of crossed pistols. Nothing familiar. She gives me a lopsided smile.

"I guess you don't recognize me. Can't say I blame you." She takes a step forward. "But if you remember a filly named Free Range... That's me."

Hearing that name is like getting kicked in the gut. I can feel the past rushing back to me all at once, and before I know it, the eager filly desperate for friendship has overtaken me. I've got her in an embrace before I have time to think about anything.

Immediately, she pushes me away. I can hear her hyperventilating. I'm getting another gut-buck as she holds me at hoof's length, staring at the ground and panting.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she says quickly. "I don't like physical contact." She gives me an apologetic look. "I... really need to start trying to make exceptions."

"They told me you were dead!" I barely knew this mare once, but my throat is still trying to close around the words.

She casts a glance to the side. "There's probably a lot you want to know."

Monolith appears beside us, moving far more quietly than a stallion his size has any right to. "Everything okay, ladies?"

"Permission to decamp," Free Range says, her tone brusque. Monolith nods, and she turns to me. "Permission to enter the town."

I give her another look. This isn't the filly I knew so long ago, but then surely I'm not the same pony either. If she had cut her mane and dyed it, if her pearly white coat had greyed from the dust of Wasteland travel, and if she'd earned a shooting cutie mark after a life hard-spent, then maybe this could actually be my one-time friend.

A smile creeps over my lips.

"Permission heartily granted."

The whole point of Millstone is to keep a group of ponies safe, so we don't have much use for venturing beyond the walls save to tend our fields. Therefore, you can find everything a thriving community of less than two hundred could need in the ramshackle conglomeration of rusting steel boxes that make up its "residential district". Because of the Millstone Way, there aren't exactly businesses per se, just locations where you can do something away from home.

The most well-worn of those locations is Leaky's, Millstone's one and only bar, if such a word can really be applied to it. It's twice the size of the standard living quarters, having been constructed from an old train car, dim and dingy like most things in the Wasteland. Only a certain fondness from the citizens keeps its harsh lines from seeming cold. There's always somepony in there, drinking juice or Sparkle Cola since we can't spare any crops for fermentation and alcohol is forbidden by Way law, at any rate.

It is thus the perfect place to bring an old acquaintance so we can catch up. I order a pair of the pricey colas, because by Celestia, this is a special occasion and I'm not going to let my friend, if I can call her that, have anything but the best. There is only a smattering of intact booths in the place and we take the one furthest from the bar. The centuries-old fake leather cracks and screeches as she sits across from me, smiling weakly.

"So you really thought I was dead?"

I nod and hold my bottle up to clink it against hers. "They told me so," I say after a sip.

She sighs, taking a long drag of her cola before setting it off to the side. She leans forward, placing a hoof under her chin, and gives me a look with more pity in it than I prefer. "They told you I was gone, not dead. My parents left Friendship City right after..." She shifts like something is about to hit her in the face. "After the last night you and I saw each other."

Isn't that a kick in the teeth? Here I am, never having thought to question a filly's misunderstanding of a simple word. I suddenly feel extremely foolish.

"I'm glad you're all right," I say quietly. There's a sudden weightlessness at my shoulders, and I realize it's twelve years of wondering if I could have acted faster dissipating like condensation off the bottles. My whole body seems to give out and I slump onto the table.

Free Range squeaks in surprise, but all I can do is let out a long breath, halfway to a laugh. I look up, and she's staring at me with her single eye, mouth open.

"Are you all right?"

Sitting upright, I nod. It's hard to say if I am or not. Forgiveness, especially of the self, isn't something I'm used to encountering.

"I just-" I let out a small laugh- "I can't believe I'm seeing you again."

Range gives me a long, hard look, then relaxes. "It does seem a little strange." She takes another sip of her cola, then begins slowly. "So... where to start?"

I wave a hoof at her. "Why not pick up where we left off?"

"All right." She shrugs, and smiles genuinely for the first time today. "Well, like I said, my family left Friendship City just as soon as I was able to walk again. I have an uncle in Tenpony Tower, and my father had been thinking about moving there anyway." She takes a deep breath, and a long sip of her cola. "He never made it that far." Her eye closes, and she shakes her head. "He was such an idiot, trying to drag his family through the Wasteland like that."

"I'm sorry," I say, unable to think of anything else to do. She frowns slightly and shakes her head.

"That uncle took mom and me in for about a week and then said we had to find someplace else to live. I don't think he liked my mother very much." Her face hardens. "Or maybe it was the opposite. What did I know?

"I've been living on the road ever since." She leans back, spreading her hooves. "Joined a caravan, learned to shoot, got my cutie mark, lost mom to radiation sickness about five years ago and met White Wishes just after that. They're my family now."

I nod, understanding all too well the need to replace loved ones. "What about your eye?"

She scowls. "That was your father." Her hoof waves in a circle around the side of her face, and I see again the crinkled webwork of scars along her cheek. "This too. And the mental scars." She forces the scowl off her face. "Which I'm sorry about, by the way. Spend a lifetime avoiding physical contact and you sort of get locked into a series of responses and habits."

I make an effort to really memorize those scars before I answer. "You don't have to be. If anything, I should be apologizing."

"I'm glad to hear you say that," she says quietly, the faintest smile folding her scars like a blanket kicked off a bed. "So what about you then?"

I shrug. "This is me after a life spent on the road, too. I got out of the orphanage when I was thirteen, joined a caravan like you and did some merc work. Then half my colleagues got blown to hell, I lost my leg, and I decided it was time to settle down somewhere."

Her eyebrows go up and she looks me over. "Lost your leg?"

"Yeah!" I feel slightly more animated in telling this story than I usually do. "Grenade took it clean off. Probably the worst experience of my life."

She snorts, and I try not to wince.

"Getting it grown back was the second-worst. Took all my savings, too." I tap my hoof against the top of my bottle. "That's the other reason I decided to settle down. Out in the Wasteland, life is just too unpredictable. When I found Millstone, well, it just felt like the right place to be, and I stayed."

"Why Millstone?"

Despite its abruptness, the question lacks any hint of an edge, so I bite.

"Great ponies here, who have a great system. Once you get your cutie mark, everypony chips in and does what they can to help the town. Lodgings and food are provided for those who work. Everypony's equal, it just depends on what they do with what they have."

The eyebrow goes up again. "Equal, huh? What if somepony gets injured, or too old to work?"

I smile. "Old age isn't really a factor around here, sadly. But there are bylaws for retirement, and anyway we need foalsitters and such. Even if you're too old to do what you used to, there's still a place for you here in Millstone. As for getting hurt or sick, well, there's medical care..."

I trail off, as Shallot comes to mind. There's medical care, unless you're a damn fool and get yourself hurt by breaking the rules. Then you're on your own. Unless the Mayor feels like he has to break the rules in order to keep you around because we're short-hooved. Dammit. I close my eyes, sucking a breath in between my teeth.

"Mm-hmm," Range murmurs. "I don't think I could do that, personally."

As I open my eyes, I watch her drain the last of her Sparkle Cola.

"Can I tell you something about Captain Monolith?"

I nod, and she continues.

"The reason I've stayed with him and White Wishes for so long is that he treats everypony with respect. He's got a keen eye for figuring out what a pony is best suited at, not only by their talents, but by their personality." Her eye wanders the tabletop as she digs into it with a hoof tip. "None of this, 'You pull your weight or we kick you out' business. He asks you what you want to do, whether you feel like doing it, and you say yes not because you know it's good for you, but because his respect for you makes you respect him."

She points at me and there's a pause. I'm suddenly not liking where this conversation is going.

"What are you, some kind of spokespony for him?" I try to lighten the accusation with a laugh, but it's plainly mirthless.

"You don't think he'd send me out here just so we could catch up on the past, do you?" She gives me another pitying look. "I'd like to be friends with you again, Single, really I would. And maybe we can. But it's my livelihood I'm trying to sell here, and that comes first."

I sigh. "That's... reasonable, I guess." The block of cooling steel in my stomach says otherwise. The little filly who wanted so badly to be friends with anypony claws her way up into my throat and lodges herself somewhere around my voicebox.

Range rubs her eye. "Really though, this was kind of not going to work out from the start. I mean, seeing someone you never thought you'd see again is great and all, but we were six. The only thing we had in common was being in the same class and being fillies." Her voice lowers, a hint of danger growing in it. "And as much as I really shouldn't, I kind of still hate you for what your father did to me."

If the guilt leaving me left me feel weightless, its return makes me feel like I'm six feet underground. I must look stricken, because she puts both hooves on the table and lowers her face down toward it, like a cat watching a mouse.

"I should've listened to what the other foals said."

"What did they say?" The words trickle out of my mouth. I can feel myself trembling, unable to look away from her.

"'Don't be friends with Single Action,' they said. 'Don't go over to her house or you'll come home crying. Her daddy's a monster.'"

She slams her hoof onto the table, knocking the bottles over. Mine leaks a trail of bubbling cola onto the floor. Voices in the other booths stop, and Leaky catches my eye from behind the bar. I give him a slight shake of my head; Free Range doesn't seem to notice.

"I begged my parents not to make me go over to your house, but they convinced me otherwise. 'She's been here three times already, it's time for you to share, don't you think?' So I went, and I found out what all the other foals already knew. Only I got the worst of it."

Her horn lights and the eyepatch lifts so I can see the blackened, oozing socket behind it. I try to tell her to stop, but that knot is still in my throat. I'm too busy trying to keep my Sparkle Cola down anyway.

Her voice is like a hot file shoved under my hoof. "How many, Single Action? How many fillies had to go through what he put them through before you got the guts to act?" The eyepatch lowers and she puts her nose directly in front of mine. "How many?"

"I don't..."

"You don't, or you couldn't? Or maybe you didn't want to."

"Range, please..."

Her face breaks into a sneer. "I told him please. So you're just gonna have to hear this instead. The moment he came into that room and saw me, you ran. You left me for dead." Her voice rises and eyes turn our way. "You knew what he was going to do to me, because he'd done it before! That's how rumors start, after all, isn't it? You hid and you let him savage them, and then they stopped being your friend and that's why you were so desperately lonely." She laughs sourly. "Don't look so shocked. Kids aren't as dumb as adults like to think they are. Everypony knew, and the adults wouldn't listen, so it just kept happening. And all that time, you had the ability to stop it, but you did nothing."

"I couldn't!" I can feel my eyes beginning to tear up. "He said he'd do worse to me! He hit me so much! I was only six!"

"You had it in you!" She slams her hoof on the table again and I can hear chairs scraping as ponies leave. One of the bottles falls onto the metal floor and shatters. She's seething now, holding her head in her hooves and panting.

"What is it you do here, as Security Chief, anyway?"

The change of subject catches me off guard, and I answer. "I protect the ponies in my care. It's what my--"

"Protect ponies, that's right." Her hooves drop and she looks at me. I can see the muscles of her face quivering, trying to keep her expression neutral. "But you couldn't protect me. Or any of them. You couldn't do it until the very last moment, until after my life had been ruined. You want to know what the worst part is?" Her eye closes. "I can't even hate you. Because you saved my life and now I owe you something for that, because that's how it goes."

She grits her teeth and I can see moisture soaking into the bottom of her eyepatch. How fucking cruel is it that that's the only part of her eye still left?

"I owe you my life, Single Action, and I hate you for it."

I can't take it anymore. My resolve breaks and I look to the side, tears flowing.

"What good is this kind of life, anyway?" I can hear her own tears in her trembling voice. "What purpose did you saving me serve? Is it my destiny to help White Wishes Mercenary Group make money by killing ponies? Is it? Well, answer me!"

Shaking my head is all I can do. I can't even see right now. She stands, and I hear her hooves on the flooring, moving around the table to my side. The bench covering creaks under her weight and her breath falls hotly over my withers.

"You wanna know why we're called White Wishes?" She breathes twice. "It's because if you hire us, we'll turn anypony you wish white. White like death."

I lean backward slightly as she leans forward, the bench covering cracking audibly. She whispers in my ear.

"I wish you were dead, Single Action."

The bench almost tips me forward as she stands. I can hear the unshattered bottle slide across the table top, and then her hooves as she leaves the bar. I press my face into my fetlocks and cry.

--

Moon above, a Security Chief isn't supposed to act like this. I thought I'd left all that guilt and pain behind me years ago. I've seen ponies I valued as friends cut down by automatic gunfire and monsters coming out of the night, but none of those losses hurt more than the one where my friend was still alive afterward.

My hooves clunk across the wooden walkway as I drag myself aimlessly through town. With every dragging step, it sounds like somepony's playing an out of tune xylophone.

I could have been faster. It's what I've told myself every time I have that dream. It's what I've been telling myself for twelve years, but it was only half true. I could have acted sooner. I could have ended it sooner. I could have resigned myself to lashing and worse from him, or I could have faced loneliness, just to save them from the pain. I hurt so many ponies out of pure selfishness.

What are they doing now, those ponies? I turned out okay. Free Range turned out relatively okay, I guess. Are the others still dragging themselves through Friendship City, cursing my name with their every breath? Did they escape into the Wasteland, only to die horribly, or worse, be twisted into a depraved Raider? Are they out there, waiting to take revenge on me like Free Range wants to?

Do I want them to succeed?

I look up with a start as somepony calls my name. It's Miracle Mile, dragging Free Range behind her. I push the self-deprecating thoughts from my head so I can play Security Chief, drawing myself up straight.

"Chief, I found this one poking around the inner wall. She's with those mercs, isn't she?"

"I was just leaving," Free Range says evenly. "Couldn't find the door."

"Let her out, Mir," I say, keeping my voice low. I can't bring myself to look Range in the eye, so I focus on my lieutenant instead. "I think we're done with these mercenaries."

Range snorts and leers at me as Mir pushed her toward the front gates. She turns her head back over her shoulder and calls out to me.

"Hey, Single! Ever wonder what my special talent is?"

Unconsciously, my gaze shifts to her cutie mark. Two crossed guns. Funny how similar that is to mine, a single gun emblazoned on a shield. I stare at her mark as she's shuffled to the front gate, trying to figure out what it could mean.

"It's doing two things at once!" She lets out a high-pitched laugh that sets my mane on end. What was that all about?

Then, as the doors close behind her, I see her horn glow.

From my right, somepony calls out, "Grenade!" I turn to see the greenhorn pointing at something in the air, but its trajectory is all wrong.

Two guns. One gun. Oh shit.

It's an empty bottle of Sparkle Cola with a burning rag stuffed in the end. And it's heading over the wall from our side. There's no time to do anything about it; I hear the glass break and shouts of "Move the carriage!" from the other side of the wall as I scramble to get on top of it.

Flame chews at the grass just outside the wall. The mercenaries have moved away from it, two of them batting at one of the armored carriage's wheels that's caught fire. Monolith sees me as I reach the top and looks up at me.

"You not only rebuff my overtures and insult my lieutenant, but you have the gall to attack us as we leave your town?" His face is a thunderstorm of fury. "You have five seconds to remand the perpetrator of this act to my custody, or I will break these walls down and mete out justice to everypony inside them! Five!"

"Range, what have you done?" I'm unable to take my eyes off her smirking face.

"Four!"

"If you want the perpetrator, she's right there next to you!"

"Three!"

He's not giving in. Range continues to look at me with that same smirk.

"Hey Single," she calls.

"Two!"

"Guess what other thing I was doing!"

"One!"

I scramble down the wall, shouting, "Everypony arm yourselves!" Below me, the gates explode inward, magic the color of Range's obvious around them. The mercenaries enter Millstone with guns blazing.

"We will leave only when we have found justice!" Monolith's voice booms out through the gunfire. I watch in horror as he unslings a grenade from his bandolier and tosses it into the middle of town. I can hear a death scream in the explosion.

My rifle is at my side, blasting mercs back as I try to make for a more defensible position. I can see three of my security team already scrambling into positions to hold off the assault. A second later, the warning bell sounds, and within a minute every fighting pony in town is involved in the battle.

I didn't want this. It's obvious from two seconds of fighting that these mercenaries are good at what they do. They have to be, since their livelihood is at stake, like Range said. The ponies I swore to protect, are going to get killed, there's no doubt of this in my mind. The only question is, how many?

Another grenade lobbed in my direction sends me skittering across the ground. Dirt showers me as I dive behind a stack of engine parts. This will have to do for now.

Miracle Mile goes down in a blast of magical energy, but the cloud of sand and gravel it kicks up gives me hope that the shot went wide. Mayor Cheap Shot appears in the middle of the courtyard, only to be taken down by a bullet to the shoulder. One of the mercenaries' heads becomes a red mist. Ponies on both sides are running in every direction.

This is the worst possible scenario. There's got to be a way to rally, to improvise a defense and push these mercs back out through the gate. But I'm surrounded by carnage and I can't make myself think. Think, dammit!

All of a sudden a shot spangs off my shelter, and a second embeds itself in the metal just inches away from my head. I peer through a crack in the rubble and see Free Range, holding a pair of very large revolvers with her magic. I am intensely aware that she was just drawing my attention; with bullets of that caliber, she could easily punch through my cover and into me if she wanted to.

"Come on out, Single!" A fiendish edge on her voice makes my heart flip-flop. "This is gonna be just you and me!"

Finding my voice, I say, "I don't want to fight you, Range."

"I'm sorry, but you don't have a choice!" Another bullet rips through my cover near the ground. "Get out here and finish this!"

I can see Turnkey leading four ponies in a highly effective phalanx maneuver. If my team is rallying, that means I can focus on Free Range. I scan the rooftops. "Why are you doing this?"

"Revenge, duh!" Her laugh is the cruelest I have ever heard. I wanted to be friends with this mare? "I want revenge on your father for ruining my life! You took that away from me, so I'm gonna take it out on you!"

A grenade explosion draws both our attentions and she shuts up for a minute. I take the opportunity to kick out of my hiding place and towards the rain barrel behind it. A pair of leaps and I'm on the rooftop.

"Cute," she says. "Don't think you can beat me with that rusty old rifle though. Say, it's not the one you killed him with, is it?"

"No." I glare at her. "I didn't want to be tainted with his guns."

"Too bad!" She lets out a dramatic sigh, inspecting her hoof. I notice one of her guns waver slightly in midair. "It would have been poetic or something, I'm sure." With a snort, she turns a maddened glare at me. "I've owed you my life for far too long, Single Action. Now's my chance to take it back!"

With that, she looses a pair of shots, placed well enough that I can't dodge to either side. I scramble back along the roofing, returning fire, but the edge of the roof obscures my vision and I miss the shot.

"I'm not going to kill you, Range!" I shout as I reload. "All I want is for these ponies to get out of my town! You don't have to leave in a coffin!"

"No, but you do!" She fires both guns simultaneously. I duck, one bullet whizzing over my head while the other impacts a significant distance away, dislodging a metal plate from the roof.

My eyes lock on the plate. "Are you telling me you think that a dozen ponies can beat a town of one hundred?"

"When you don't have our training or our weapons? You're damn right I think that!" She circles to the east and I creep toward the edge so I can keep an eye on her.

"You don't need a hoard of weaponry to win a firefight, Range! One shot is all it takes!"

She scowls. "Why fire once when you can fire twice and be doubly sure of a kill?"

A grin kisses my face. "If you're confident in your aim, you don't have to."

"What?" She fires, missing. "Shut up!" She fires again, and this time scores a hit across my right fetlock. I try not to let the pain show, but I also can't let her out of my sight. She's moving now, mounting a stack of empty crates piled against the wall across from me. My high ground advantage isn't going to last much longer.

"You're right," I say, "we're not the ponies we were when we first met. I understand you now."

"You don't understand shit!" she spits. I scramble out of her sights, making for a nearby chimney just in time, and the shot ricochets off it. "You didn't have to live a lifetime of being half-blind and scarred, afraid to touch anypony because they might do you worse!" I can hear her start to reload.

"No," I say, keeping my voice level, "but I did have to live with the guilt of thinking that I let my friend die. And you're right, I could have saved more foals than just you if I'd acted sooner, but I didn't. And I'm sorry. You didn't deserve it."

"Fuck your sorry!" Another pair of shots dents the chimney further. "Stop acting like you understand what I've been through!"

"I could if you just talked to me! I thought you said you wanted to be friends!"

I can hear her trying to get on top of the wall. If she makes it, we'll be on even footing again. I dash for an upper story rise and almost take a bullet in the side.

"You really think we just happened to meet by chance?" She laughs, and again it's like being prodded all over with knives. "I wouldn't have taken you for such an enormous idiot, Single! You're foolish and you're weak, and that's why you're going to die today!"

"I am foolish." I peek my head around the corner, drawing another shot from her. The metal plate she dislodged earlier glints in the half-light. "And furthermore, I am weak. I don't keep a huge stash of guns. I don't want more ponies fighting by my side than I need. But there's one thing that separates me from you, Range."

"What's that?" She snorts.

"I don't mind looking weak, or being underarmed or understaffed. Because at the end of the day, I have confidence in my skills and the skills of those ponies. I have confidence that my trust in them, and in myself, is what will get us through a situation like this." I relax, closing my eyes, and breathe slowly in. "It's confidence that wins, Free Range, not superior firepower."

"What a load of shit! Just fucking die already!"

She begins firing round after round into the wall, just inches away from striking me. I take another deep breath and let it slowly out, then I take off in a sprint across the roof. My rifle thunders and bullets rip up the metal beneath my hooves as I surge toward the metal plate. I tumble to my side, just missing another shot, and kick out with my back leg.

The metal plate flies off the roof and across the courtyard, impacting with one of Free Range's guns. She shrieks as it knocks against her and in that moment, I kneel, aim, and fire. I don't even think about whether she deserves an end to her misery or not.

The bullet enters her good eye.

"A single shot," I whisper as she falls from the wall, crashing into the crates below.

Movement out of the corner of my eye draws my attention. I turn my back on my former friend and find myself staring at a six-way standoff just in front of the gates. Two mercenaries and Monolith against two of my security team and Cheap Shot, who seems to be holding up well against that wound.

I grit my teeth and charge across the rooftop. Monolith looks up for a split second as I dive from the edge and onto his back. In the same moment, one of the mercs goes down, spurting blood from a neck wound, and Cheap Shot and the greenhorn dash for cover.

I jam the muzzle of my rifle against the back of Monolith's head.

"Free Range used you to get revenge on me," I say quickly.

"What are you talking about?" He tenses to buck and I cock the hammer.

"I don't know what led you to coming here, but it wasn't by any miracle that one of your team just happened to know me. She used you and now she's dead." I thunk the end of the rifle against his skull to emphasize my words. "This. Ends. Now."

"Cease fire!" he cries out, voice booming over the courtyard. Immediately, the remaining mercs duck behind whatever cover they've found and stop firing.

This isn't the time to be impressed by their discipline. I call out, "Stand down!" and hear the sounds of gun barrels hitting the ground. I take a moment to sweep the area, then I relax my rifle off Monolith's head. He lowers slowly onto his haunches so I can dismount.

"Get out," I say quietly. He turns to look at me, then nods, his expression infuriatingly placid.

"White Wishes, retreat!"

Just like that, it's over. The mercenaries, now only eight, shift themselves up and plod toward the gates. The start of a cheer rises from the townsponies, but I cut it short with a glare and a wave of my hoof.

"Don't," I say warningly. "This isn't a victory for anyone."

Monolith leads his team back to their war carriage without so much as a glance behind him. Honestly, I can't bring myself to care if he's sorry or not, just as long as I never see his face again.

I sense Turnkey beside me, breathing heavily.

"Fifteen casualties, Chief. Three fatal and three more don't look so hot."

My chest seizes. "Miracle Mile?"

"Lost her leg. Magical energy cauterized the wound. She'll make it."

Thank Celestia; that's something, at least.

"Get those gates closed, form a triage and set Patches to the worst of the wounded. Somepony gather up the dead for burial, both sides."

"Chief..."

I turn to him. His expression wavers between sorrow and indignation. I place my hoof on his shoulder and force a smile.

"I saw you out there, Turn. You did good. Now let's get the town cleaned up and lick our wounds. There's time for mourning and blame tomorrow."

A scream from the alley where I fought Free Range draws everypony's attention. There's a crash and a series of thunks as the crates shift and fall away from her. She's still alive. Oh sweet Luna, she's still alive!

"No!" Her scream threatens to tear her throat. "No, no, no, no!"

I hold back, confused as I watch her crash headfirst into the wall, stagger, and then take off running in short bursts in a seemingly random direction. She stumbles over the ground, shrieking and flailing wildly. The moment she falls, I'm off running to her side.

"Range, stop! Just stop!"

"No! Fuck you! Fuck you!" She begins shouting wordlessly, her voice rending and being choked by tears as I throw myself on top of her. Her legs thrash and I let the blows fall where they will. She screams my name, obscenities, and meaningless cries of anguish.

I chance a look back at the rest of the town. Silently, I thank Turnkey for taking charge of things so I can deal with... this. My trust in him was never misplaced.

"Shh," I say as Range's kicking grows less powerful. "Shh!" I wrap myself around her as though she were an infant, holding her forelegs down so she can't hurt either of us further. She trembles and whimpers, breaking into loud, impotent sobbing.

Cooing softly into her ear, I hold her and whisper, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

I give my resignation to Cheap Shot at the side of his triage cot. My last acts as Security Chief are to appoint Turnkey in my staid and defer my medical treatment to Free Range. The bruises on my face and chest from her kicks will heal on their own, as will the shallow wound on my fetlock. Patches cleans both of her eyes up as well where the bullet rebounded off her skull and exited through her cheek.

Our best runner is understandably heartbroken about the loss of her leg, but I reassure her that I have some experience with limb regrowth. It takes the whole town pooling together what bottlecaps we possess, but with the inclusion of my savings, we get enough to buy the services of a high-class healer. The question comes up of where we'll find one and who will go, but in my mind there's no question at all.

I give the news to Free Range that evening, having stood watch by her bedside as she slept.

"We're going to Tenpony Tower," I tell her outright.

"Who's 'we'?" Her voice is small and broken, like the filly being savaged by my father.

"You, me, and Miracle Mile. There's a healer there who can regrow legs." I shift uncomfortably.

She sniffs. "Why me?"

"You said you had an uncle there, right?" I smile, then feel awkward about having done so.

"No," she croaks, shaking her head. "Why did you save me? Why couldn't you kill me or just let me die?" Her misery fills the air like fog.

I reach out and touch her foreleg gently. She flinches away.

"I wouldn't be much of a friend if I just let you die, now would I?"

"You're still desperate." She rolls away from my touch, flicking her ears. "It's disgusting."

I lean forward so that there's no way she'll miss my words. "You said you owed me your life. I think you owe it to yourself to keep living it."

"What's the point?" Her voice crumples beneath the weight of self-pity. "I'm completely helpless. My friends are gone. I'm no good to anypony anymore."

I can't help but scowl in disgust. Shaking it off, I reply, "You're none of those. You're just scared of looking weak. Maybe in time, you'll learn that there's nothing wrong with weakness so long as you've got friends to support you."

Smiling, I add much more softly, "And you've got me here, supporting you, Range. I swear, on everything I hold dear, that I will not leave your side so long as you live."

I give her a moment to stop sobbing before continuing.

"I couldn't protect the ponies in this town from my past. But by Celestia, I will protect you. I'll give my life for you if that's what it takes." I lay my hoof on her withers, and this time she doesn't flinch. "And who knows? Maybe they can grow eyes at Tenpony, too."

She shudders. It's not like when she recoiled from my touch earlier; her whole body heaves and she rolls back over, grasping for me with her hooves. New sorrow soaks the bandages over her eyes. Her tears are no longer bitter, but pure, like a filly's.

"I'm sorry," she says in between sobs. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

Our best cart holds two ponies, and though Miracle says she can walk just fine, I'd rather have her eyes open and her gun ready. Free Range remains sullen and listless, bundled into the cart next to Miracle. Part of me can't blame her. She doesn't have any reason to trust me, despite having no choice but to. We're going to be sitting ducks on the road. I just have to hope that Miracle and I can handle any threats on the way to Tenpony Tower.

I cast a final glance back at the gates as they close. Everypony in town is either behind them as they close or on the wall, waving and cheering us on. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I'm trying to keep positive, to look ahead, but it is entirely possible that I will never see Millstone again. I want to capture this image in my mind's eye so that I can cherish it when things get rough.

With my eyes closed, the faces of the three ponies lost in the fight, and the fourth who died afterward from her wounds, flash through my mind. Fallow may never walk again. Gin Rummy lost her voice. Rock Solid lost an eye. I couldn't protect those ponies; why do I think I can protect these two, or even myself?

I grit my teeth, feeling my head lowering. Tears of remorse prick at the corners of my eyes.

"Chief?"

Miracle's not going to stop calling me that, I'm sure of it. At least she trusts me. I take in a deep breath and lift my head.

"Are we ready?" I ask, looking behind me. Range nods and Miracle smiles. "Okay. Here we go."

The harness is rough against my skin, despite the fact that I'm wearing barding beneath it. The wagon resists at first, its weight more than physical. Once it gets rolling, though, pulling becomes easier. The road is smooth through our fields, though I know it will get bumpy before long.

I look up to the clouds, glowing grey, and the battered, scarred Wasteland beneath them. Tenpony Tower is three day's fast march from here, and we've packed for a week. Between lies the unknown, the unpredictable, a vast expanse of life and death. I take one more look back at Millstone and see Cheap Shot standing atop the gates. He lifts his hoof once in a show of confidence, holds it for a moment, then drops it and climbs back into town.

A past I hadn't known I was running from caught up with me, and ponies suffered for it. I don't know if I'm starting this journey out of a sense of penance, or even if it suffices as punishment for what's happened. What I do know is, the vow I made to Free Range is the most important thing I have ever done in my life. Whether what happened twelve years ago was my fault or not, I'm making sure I never forget that past again. Like it or not, we're friends now, and friends stick together.

Smiling up at where Cheap Shot was, I return the gesture. Then I turn back to the road and keep pulling.

Author's Notes:

For those paying attention to me (you sillies), this is not the "serious FoE side story" that I've been teasing about in my journals. That hasn't happened yet. This is something completely different, though also serious. Funny story about it.

I was reading a comic about talking animal people when I came to this page. The last line of Herman Orca's dialogue got me thinking about guns for some reason, and the idea that "Guns are meant for the weak to protect themselves from the powerful" popped into my head. Immedately, and I don't know why, I wanted to explore this theme with ponies. The question of "how ponies have gun?" arose, and I realized that FoE was the perfect sandbox to throw the idea into, since I wouldn't have to explain anything. (I have since been shown the error of my ways.)

Then the Pre-Readers did another prompt battle, and the prompt I got was "Their past has finally come back to haunt them." After a bit of deliberation, I realized that combining it with the guns thing would turn an idea-driven story into a character- and idea-driven story. The pieces seemed to fall into place one after another. I've never written this kind of story before, and I was quite pleased with myself for getting to a position where I felt comfortable doing so.

Of course, I can't say I'm overly pleased with the result. If I'd had more than a week (and not another writeoff in the meantime), maybe I could have fixed up some of the problems with this. I'll just have to throw myself to the mercy of the internet, though, and see what comes of it.

All comments are appreciated, feedback most especially. Thanks for reading!