Chapter 4: Rude Awakening

Rousing from unconsciousness on my own instead of being startled out of it by a blaring alarm clock was a new experience for me. It was, however, a lot more painful given the circumstances. I felt like ten miles of storm clouds.

My head was hammering worse than when I’d woken up with that hangover the other day. I could feel the beginnings of two lumps starting to form—one right on the back of my head from when I’d tumbled into the tree branches, and another on the left side where I’d struck the huge root I was now using as a pillow. My body ached pretty badly as well, due in no small part to my rough drop from the canopy above.

According to the ScoutBuck, I felt a lot worse than I actually was. A stroke of good fortune had allowed me to scrape by without breaking anything, and it seemed like I’d managed to avoid winding up with a concussion as well. I sighed in relief when I realized that I’d successfully made my escape without being killed, but when I remembered where I was, that relief quickly turned to panic.

The Everfree Forest was supposed to have been one of the most dangerous places in Equestria before the war. As far as I knew, it hadn’t gotten any better two-hundred years after the fact. In fact, if my years of observations on the Wasteland had taught me anything, it was probably even worse now.

“I have to get out of here.”

I pushed myself back to my hooves with a groan that was totally masculine, and not at all that of a hurt little filly. Aches and pains I wasn’t even aware of flared up at the sudden motion, and I realized that I was probably covered in scrapes and bruises from the crash landing.

Reaching a hoof upward, I struggled to push my goggles up onto my forehead as the strap caught and tangled with the ScoutBuck, but eventually managed it after no small amount of swearing. With my eyesight now unimpeded, I took a look around me, and quickly noticed that almost no light was making it through the forest’s thick canopy. I had the funniest feeling that the cloud cover had absolutely nothing to do with the low-lighting conditions. Visibility was poor, and my view was obscured by the thick wood, as well as tangles of vines and other plantlife still growing wild despite the irradiated land. Truly, this place was a whole different world compared to the Wasteland proper. It felt… wrong. Evil. Just the simple act of standing in the forest made me uneasy.

Something had been bothering me since I’d regained consciousness, but I hadn’t been able to put my hoof on it until I’d taken an honest-to-goodness examination of my surroundings. It was quiet. Too quiet. A forest should have been alive with the sounds of its untold number of occupants, but all I could hear was dead silence. Even in the aftermath of the balefire holocaust, shouldn’t there still have been some resilient wildlife left over? There were still ponies and dangerous creatures roaming the Wasteland…

And then I heard it. A low, guttural growl that made my hackles stand on end. I could feel a pair of eyes on my back, and I turned very slowly to look over my shoulder, swallowing nervously as I did. Standing a few meters behind me was one of the most terrifying creatures I’d ever laid eyes on, and I’d seen Hellhounds before.

Just behind me, barely visible between a pair of trees, was a massive canine. Its ears were pitched straight forward, and its lips were bared back in a snarl, revealing gnashing, razor sharp teeth. The slavering beast’s spittle ran in slow trickles from its maw to collect on its bottom lip, where it occasionally pattered down onto the forest floor. Two unearthly green eyes fixated hungrily on me and burned fiercely with an eerie magical glow, and I could see the thing’s nose wrinkling now and again as it sniffed the air to pick up my scent. I’d heard stories about these creatures, but going by those stories alone, this one didn’t look anything like it was supposed to.

As near as I could tell, this thing was a Timberwolf. All the stories I’d read about them painted them as creatures made of magically animated bits of wood, but this thing only vaguely resembled the creature of lore. The monster staring me down was a massive, dire-wolf-sized animal with a muddy brown pelt and a huge bushy tail that was standing straight up, but erratically twitched and thrashed itself against a nearby tree with an oddly hollow sound once or twice. The only resemblance this thing passed to its fabled self were its eyes glowing that bright, luminescent green.

I could feel my heartbeat immediately quicken, and I started to quiver as the adrenaline began to surge. My body tensed up, and I could feel every one of my muscles ready to react at a moment’s notice. I stared the Timberwolf down, and it did the same, watching me for my reaction. Waiting. I had to make a decision, and now. I could either hoof it and hope I could outrun the beast, or I could stand my ground and hope I could beat it in a fight.

With none of my weapons loaded and ready? Yeah, right.

I ran.

I took an extra second to check my map and note which direction would take me out of the Everfree the fastest, and then I bolted. The second my hooves started moving, the Timberwolf let loose a furious snarl and gave chase. I pushed my bruised body as fast as I could make it go, using the sounds of the Timberwolf’s bounding gait, growls, and snarls as motivation to push myself even harder than I thought possible in my current state. I’d never been much of a runner, but my military training had given me an overabundance of endurance, and I drew deep down into my reserves to ensure I didn’t tire out and become this thing’s next meal.

Trees rapidly swept past me on either side as I darted nimbly between the trunks within the thick-woven forest. I leapt over protruding roots and ducked low-hanging branches and vines, my eyes constantly on the lookout for tripping hazards as I galloped full-tilt towards the forest’s boundaries. I didn’t dare chance risking a glance behind me and slowing myself down, but I could practically feel the Timberwolf’s breath on my haunches, and once or twice I felt as much as heard its massive jaws snapping shut much too close for comfort.

Somehow, someway, I still managed to stay ahead of the ravenous beast. Exhilaration flooded through me as I continued to sprint to the forest’s edge, and I saw my salvation a scant fifty meters ahead. I felt a triumphant grin spreading as I neared relative safety, and pushed myself just a bit faster. Almost there, now. All I had to do was break through those trees and I’d have plenty of wing clearance to take flight and leave this eldritch mutt behind.

At least, that’s how things would’ve gone in an ideal world.

I found my pride quickly torn to shreds as red hot fire erupted in my right hindleg. Powerful jaws seized my leg just above the hoof, and I was jerked to a sudden halt by the Timberwolf as it caught me and attempted to bring me down. My weight and momentum worked out in my favor, and I pitched forward, pulling the monster with me into a rough tumble onto the forest floor. Once I’d come to an abrupt stop, I quickly fought to scramble back to my hooves and get moving before the Timberwolf could do the same, ignoring the burning pain now radiating from my leg.

It was then that I learned that like real wolves, Timberwolves didn’t always hunt alone.

Just as I managed to stand, a sudden loud snarl from my right drew my attention, and I turned to see another Timberwolf leap from the underbrush and aim straight for my unprotected side. Time seemed to distort, and my brain was able to make a few quick notes before I could swing my forehoof to ward off the attacker. It seemed that the old tales held true—to a degree, at least. The Timberwolves’ dark brown pelts weren’t fur as I’d thought, but hard, barklike skin. The wooden armor protected the Timberwolf from head to toe, but for a few spots in between joints to give them free range of movement.

Hooves would be useless. I had to move.

I tried to run before it made contact, but I succeeded only in making things worse. Before I could move, the creature’s jaw snapped shut on my wing, and on pure reflex I attempted to flee, wrenching the injured limb away from the predator. I screamed in agony as I pulled with all my strength and was met with resistance, but following a blinding, excruciating wave of pain and a sickening pop, my wing slid free of the Timberwolf’s maw and flopped loosely to my side with a shower of blood droplets and feathers.

The second my brain registered the fact that I was free, the throbbing waves of pain became only so much background information. I immediately resumed my escape, streaking off at a limping gallop and leaving the hunting pair of Timberwolves back where I’d been ambushed. They gave chase once they noticed their prey escaping, but by the time they started moving, I’d already made it the rest of the way to the forest’s edge.

I charged through the underbrush, exploding out into open wasteland and putting the Everfree Forest behind me. The sounds of the Timberwolves faded as I continued to gallop on in a panic, hell-bent on getting as far away from the deadly pair of predators as I could. It seemed that luck was finally on my side for once, as the Timberwolves refused to pursue me past the forest’s boundaries. A quick check over my shoulder revealed nothing but two pairs of fiercely burning green eyes glaring after me as I fled.

I heaved a sigh of relief and slowed to a canter in lieu of stopping completely. It was difficult to see in the low light, but my eyes had adjusted to the darkness so that I could make things out just well enough with the aid of the dim, cloud-filtered moonlight. I squinted into the darkness until the familiar shape of a ruined town resolved itself, and headed in that direction. North, by the E.F.S.’s reckoning.

I wasn’t concerned with investigating that stable pony’s fate anymore—not primarily, anyway. After that encounter with the Timberwolves, the more pressing issue was shelter. I needed somewhere to rest and scavenge medical supplies before I could even begin looking for the bridge where I’d seen the raiders confront the little Stable 2 mare.

My right wing hanging limply at my side was a constant reminder that I needed immediate medical attention. Burning waves of pain radiated outward from just behind my shoulder, and a dull ache throbbed in time to the burning. It had definitely been dislocated, and if I couldn’t find somepony to help me fix it soon, I’d only be making things worse. My bitten leg throbbed with every step, insistently demanding that it too was injured. I was a lot less worried about my leg than my wing, but I still ran the risk of infection if I didn’t get it patched up.

Right. Shelter and first aid scrounging first, help second. No way in hell was I traveling at night with an injured wing.

I was so deep in thought and distracted by my injuries, I didn’t notice the ground shifting beneath my forehooves. I gave a started cry and immediately pitched forward, tumbling head over hoof down a muddy embankment and splashing down into a shallow trickle of a river. I growled in anger as I pulled my head up out of the filthy water and pushed myself back to my hooves. I could feel the mud caking on my coat and flight jacket, and the stinging in my leg redoubled as the sodden dirt pressed into my exposed wounds.

I trudged forward through the muddy water, which quickly rose up to neck level as I neared the middle of the river. Regardless, I tipped my chin up and kept moving, only lowering my head when the water level once again began to recede. I was panting by the time I made it up the side of the opposite riverbank, finally worn out from the physical exertion of both my flight from the Enclave, as well as my escape from the Timberwolves. The nearest building would have to be good enough. I was too damned tired to be choosy about which dilapidated ruin I took shelter in.

I hummed thoughtfully as I crested the riverbank and spotted the building ahead of me. I had to tilt my head backward to even fit the tall structure entirely within my view. It was a large rotunda, towering up over the majority of the buildings in Ponyville. Although, after taking a quick look around and seeing mostly levelled wrecks littering the town, perhaps such an observation wasn’t very noteworthy after all.

Tall windows circled both of the building’s balconies, their arch-shaped frames long since liberated of their large glass panes. Upon closer examination, the entire upper level appeared to have sustained immense damage at an earlier point in its lifetime. It would have to have been renovated extensively to repair damage of the magnitude I was seeing. Checking carefully to make sure I was indeed alone, I cautiously pushed the door open as quietly as possible and made my way inside.

You’re never really prepared the first time you smell a decaying corpse. Or any time after, really. Even when you’re ready for it, it has a way of taking you by surprise. The scent has a disgustingly cloying attribute to it—lingers in your nostrils and makes you want to heave, no matter how strong your stomach is. Blood is often the main contributor of the stench, gives it that coppery metallic smell that, when strong enough, can even play havoc with your sense of taste.

I sure as hell hadn’t been prepared for the smell. The stench of death emanating from the building was so intense, it socked me in the nose like a burly pony’s hoof, and I nearly felt that I had to brace myself to keep from being knocked to the floor by the terrible scent.

“Sweet Cygnus!” I exclaimed in disgust. It was bad. Real bad. Never in my life had I experienced the stench of rotting corpses to this degree. I stood there on the threshold for a while, burying my nose in the sleeve of my flight jacket and trying my best not to retch. Was it really a good idea to head in? What if the culprit or culprits were still inside? I was in no shape to fight, and I still hadn’t had time to load either of my weapons.

After some thought, I decided that if the perpetrator was indeed still on the premises, they most likely would have made their presence known by now. If I could just make it up to one of the balconies, the stench of decay would cease to be an issue, so I headed inside despite the awful smell. It was far too dark to see inside, so I toggled on the ScoutBuck’s night vision function. What greeted my eye when I did made me relieved it wasn’t in color. I’d stepped right into an abattoir.

I’d seen dead bodies before. Hell, I’d made a few myself. But the degree to which these bodies had been maimed was absolutely horrifying. Pony corpses were strewn all about the first floor’s massive assembly room, and even more were piled up in the center and around its walls. Body parts and entrails had been tossed with reckless abandon all about the room like decorations of macabre festivity. Banners and tapestries that had once hung high on the walls were now torn or burned, shot through with bullet holes and caked with blood and feces.

Raiders. Might have even been the same raiders that had gone after the stable pony and her fellow captive earlier tonight.

I made sure to scan the building’s interior very carefully before I proceeded any further, checking the large walkway that ran the circumference of the room, as well as the many balconies that overlooked it. Being caught off-guard while I was injured would more than likely be a death sentence. To be thorough, I did multiple sweeps of the building, even going so far as to slowly turn in two complete circles. The E.F.S. came up clear however, and so I proceeded further inside.

Limping carefully around the mound of corpses in the center of the chamber, I made sure to give them as wide a berth as possible as I made my way towards the rear of the building, towards an archway covered with a shredded set of curtains set to the right of a small stage. When I parted the curtain, I managed a small whinny of excitement.

Directly ahead, mounted to the wall beside a staircase leading upwards, was a small metal box. Not just any box, though. This box was a light pale yellow and emblazoned with three little butterflies, the symbol of the Ministry of Peace—Ministry Mare Fluttershy’s cutie mark. First aid supplies!

I hobbled over to the first aid box and was surprised to find that it wasn’t locked. The cover popped open with a gentle tug, and I lowered my ears in frustration when I peered in at the contents. No wonder why it wasn’t locked, somepony had already raided all of the good stuff. There were no healing potions or syringes of Med-X within, and likewise no bottles of RadSafe or pouches of RadAway. The only item that hadn’t been pilfered from the kit was a lone roll of magical bandages.

It would have to do. Snagging the roll of bandages and stuffing them into my jacket pocket, I carefully plodded my way up the staircase beside me, and eventually came out on the upper walkway of the rotunda. The windows I’d seen from the outside ran around its entire circumference and overlooked every inch of Ponyville and the surrounding area. Moving over to one of the empty frames, I gazed out at the remains of what had probably once been a quaint little town, and found myself trying to imagine it in its heyday.

In the town square below, the demolished ruins of an earth pony statue were scattered about the inside of an old fountain. Further in the distance, I could make out a building that had been built within the hollowed-out innards of an enormous tree, a modest little train station, and if I didn’t miss my guess, a boutique, or maybe a haberdashery. I found myself mildly surprised at how accommodating the little town of Ponyville had been before the war. I was used to large cities and modern creature comforts, but this place had a rustic feel that wasn’t altogether lost on me. I felt oddly at home here.

I shivered and quickly moved out of the window. The last thing I needed was somepony with a keen eye and a scoped rifle sighting in on my head while I was busy sightseeing. Sighing, I put my back to the wall nearby before sliding down onto my rump, keeping my eye on the door downstairs in case anypony decided to wander in behind me. The air was indeed a lot fresher up here by the windows, and now that the stench of decay wasn’t violating my senses quite as severely, I realized that now would be a great time to take care of one of the most pressing issues that had been plaguing me recently.

Undoing the catch on the strap around my chest, I carefully shrugged out of my battle saddle, doing my best not to jostle my injured wing. I’d have to rely on my energy pistol for the time being. I didn’t have any ammunition for Rattler since live rounds were hard to come by in the Enclave, but I could at least swap out the spent microspark cell in the coilgun so I’d have a little more firepower at my disposal.

Once I set the battle saddle down in front of me, I felt the bottom drop out of my stomach, and I stifled a sudden outburst. Rattler—my precious machine gun, which had been liberated from a surface recovery team many years ago—was in a severe state. Even as I reached a hoof out to touch the warped barrel, I felt my stomach twist itself into a knot. I had to have come down on it while I was dropping through the Everfree’s canopy. The machine gun’s barrel had bent completely backward, and there was no way I’d be using it in the foreseeable future.

Reluctantly, I partially disassembled the weapon, sliding the damaged barrel free and tossing it angrily to the floor below. What were the odds I’d ever find a replacement barrel for it? It had taken years just to find the weapon in the first place! It could’ve been worse, I suppose. The entire weapon could have been rendered unusable in the crash, but as it was now, if I could find a replacement barrel I could easily have it working again.

I took a moment to gaze forlornly at my damaged weapon before breaking my gaze with a depressed sigh. Jamming my hoof into my jacket pocket, I procured the roll of magical bandages I’d recovered and fought briefly with it until I could manage to get the end unraveled. After an awkward amount of fumbling the roll and swearing, I finally managed to get my injured leg wrapped up tight, and I tied off the loose bandage, tucking the rest of the roll into the ammo pouch on my battle saddle for safekeeping.

As much as I hated the idea, I was going to have to get some sleep. I was far too tired and physically exhausted to travel, and traveling by night was a dangerous proposition anyway. I’d spent enough time flying over the Wasteland to know that the creepy crawlies liked to come out of the woodwork at night.

Stuffing my forehooves into my jacket pockets, I hunched my shoulders and tried my best to hunker down within the thin garment to ward off the night’s chill. I wasn’t quite sure how I was going to manage sleep with my dislocated wing aching as it was, but I had to try. Dawn was only a few hours away, and it would be safe to travel by then. All I had to do was cope with the pain until morning, and then I could seek out anypony with some medical training. Hell, I’d settle for an extra hoof to just help me pop the joint back into its socket.

My thoughts soon turned to my family, and I found myself wondering what had happened above the cloud cover in the wake of my departure. Was Dad all right? Had my attempt to take the fall for him cleared his name and allowed them to resume life as normal? They’d have to deal with the fallout and negative stigma that would arise from my alleged ‘crimes’ going public, but it was a small price to pay. So what if everypony shamed my family because they thought I was a criminal? At least we were all still alive, if separated.

I shrugged a little deeper into my jacket, sighing restlessly to help alleviate some of the anxiety I was feeling. I’d done the right thing. I knew I had. My sacrifice would allow my father to continue to live free, and in doing so, he could continue to provide for my mother and sister. This had been the right choice. The only choice—I was certain of it.

As my eyelids grew heavy and slowly drooped shut, a faint feeling of panic and fear caused me to shiver uncomfortably. Why was I suddenly feeling like I’d just made one of the biggest mistakes of my life?