I wasn’t really sure how long we’d been walking, but we eventually passed through a grove of trees and saw the glow of torches pushing back the shroud of night. The gators may not have been trying to kill us, but they were impatient and had kept us at a steady march. Our captors towered over us, even with their hunched gait. They walked upright, on their hind legs, with thick, scaly arms ending in yellowed claws that were long enough to hold the knives some of them had holstered. In the light of the torches ahead, I could make out different colors of scales, patterns of browns, greys, and dark green, and the light made their eyes glow yellow.

My legs and barding were soaking wet from wading through water and mud, my weapons taken, and even if I did run, where could I go? They’d catch me eventually, and I couldn’t leave Grit behind, assuming I didn’t slip into a river and get eaten.

I felt like screaming and laughing at the same time. Who up there had I pissed off to deserve this? Celestia? Luna? Both? I sucked in a deep breath through my nose, trying to force back the tears I felt forming in my eyes and the knot in my throat. Please… I just want to get out of this… I just want to go home.

The gators didn’t say much to us, growling the occasional unintelligible word in their own language as some crude structures came into view. The gator “nests.” Only a few of the central houses had used pre-war structures as a foundation, with all the rest built as simple lean-tos, braced against the trees. Roofs were made of everything from leaves and branches to sheets of corrugated metal, to discolored tarps. As we walked into town, and more of the gators slinked out of their homes to gawk at us, I kept my head down, trying to avoid the pricking on my neck as what felt like hundreds of gleaming eyes bored into me. They led us into one of the few concrete structures and shoved us into a cramped, unused room, shutting the door on us.

I turned in circles as my head swam. I tried to focus on the gaping hole in the roof instead of the walls around me. Imprisoning me. They said they’d come for us in the morning. Grit tried to calm me down, told me I’d work better on some shut-eye. As if I could sleep. Not when there was an entire town of ravenous things outside, probably waiting to eat me. I tried to close my eyes and shut out this cell we were in. Instead, the sound of Malice’s laughter rang in my head.

I told Grit I’d be fine, that he should sleep too.

I wasn’t sure he believed me.

But at least he didn’t fight me on it. Left me to lie awake in solitude. It was… quiet outside. My spine shuddered and my ears twitched and turned, trying to pick up anything, and eventually I did hear some more sounds of activity. Noises from outside the door, too. Sounded like they’d posted a guard. Of course they had.

I curled up in a corner, facing a wall. Tried to ignore the situation and get some rest.

It didn’t work.

* * * * * * *

The door slammed open against the wall with a loud crash! I jumped to my hooves, heart thundering in my chest. I must have finally fallen asleep at some point, but from the way my head throbbed and legs ached, it must not have been long. Another gator, different to the one that had captured us, stood at the door with his his teeth clacking. I could only tell the difference because this one had grey scales instead of dark green. He wore a stained bandolier across his shoulder, holding a crude knife, and a necklace of a crescent moon, roughly-cut from some kind of metal. He reeked of moss and mildew. “Follow,” he growled.

As we walked out, Grit softly cleared his throat, and I glanced up at him, catching sight of his confident grin. He leaned in close and nodded at me. “Lemme do the talkin’,” he whispered. “I’ll put ‘em at ease.” I nodded. I wasn’t even sure I could find my voice, let alone try to talk our way out of this. If they even wanted to talk. The one who had captured us said they wanted us to see their Elder, so maybe we still had a chance to escape alive.

Crossing the threshold of the building they kept us in, the knife-gator led us to the adjacent building. Fewer gators stopped to stare at us this time, but the smaller ones still watched our march. Kids, I figured. As I glanced around, I quickly realized that nearly all the gators wore necklaces. Some had crescent moons, and others had a symbol of the sun, seemingly at random. The smaller ones had none at all.

My head started to throb, and I stumbled, looked down at my hooves again, trying to regain my senses. Even if Grit was going to do the talking, I couldn’t imagine the Elder would let us go without my saying anything. I had to focus. Focus!

I looked up again as the ground beneath my hooves changed from mud and muck to broken concrete. We were being led up a flight of stairs to an open landing, nearly the only thing left intact from whatever building this once was. Getting to the top, I saw what I could only describe as an altar. Crude posts held a roof of corrugated metal above our heads, and shelves flanked us, lined with mud-caked books and jars of everything from different-colored leaves, to dirt, to… what the hell was in those?

But what held my attention was the gator standing over the altar, stirring some kind of liquid in a bowl and growling something in their language. This one was far, far older than any of the others I’d seen before, gaunt and wearing a vest covered in pockets. Its scales were nearly white, and its eyes crusted. In one of its bleached claws, it held an icon, shaped like the sun necklaces I’d seen on some of the gators, but around its neck was another necklace, with a moon pendant.

Our guard stopped before the altar and bowed. “Maîtresse Laveau, voici les poneys qu’on a attrapé la nuit dernière.”

The older gator dropped the sun pendant, letting it dangle from its neck again, and answered, in a creaking, maternal voice. “Merci, Remy. Attendes-là, s’y t’plaît.” Her attention turned to Grit and I, and she beckoned us with a clawed finger. Now that she was staring right at us, I could see that her eyes still burned fiercely. I looked away. “Step forward, ponies,” she ordered. Her accent was thick, nasal, and rolling, mixed with the accents of the ponies in Sugarland, but her voice was firm.

Grit nodded and walked forward. I glanced behind us to see another gator blocking off the staircase. My heart was pounding in my chest and ears. I swallowed and took a shaky breath, walking up to the altar next to Grit. The elder gator pulled out a wide, rust-stained knife. I jumped back, and she snapped her golden eyes to bore into mine. “I will need some of your blood,” she explained, “And if you mean us no 'arm, a small cut is de only price you will pay.” She retrieved two smaller bowls from beneath the altar and poured the purple goop she’d been mixing into them, gesturing again with her free claw. “Place a ‘oof on de table.”

I nodded and looked to Grit. He had a stern expression on his face, but it softened when he met my eyes. We did as she asked, putting one forehoof each on the table. I winced as she sliced a neat, but shallow, cut in my hide, letting some blood pool on the knife. She stirred the knife into one of the bowls as it briefly bubbled in reaction to my blood, then wiped it clean before repeating the process with Grit. When the knife with Grit’s blood was stirred into the second bowl, there was a small crackling and a spark of blue light. I glanced at the elderly gator, but she didn’t seem to react. “Drink de potion. De light of Celestia will bless dose who speak true,” she paused, taking off her sun pendant and placing it down on the altar, “and burn de lies from your voice.”

Glancing over at Grit, I saw him bob his head to the side and then down the potion in one gulp. I followed suit, lifting the bowl with my magic. I had no intention of finding out what she meant by “burning the lies from my voice” but I could make a pretty good guess. The potion had stayed the same murky purple, and made me gag on the moldy smell as it crawled down my throat.

Once both of us had set the cups down again, the elder of the gators spoke again, standing up straight. “I am Laveau, Maîtresse of de caimon. Who are you, and what race of pony are you”

“I’m Grit, a unicorn pony,” he answered first. After a moment, a broad smile crossed his muzzle.

“Alloy Shaper,” I croaked, though as I said the words, I felt a comforting warmth spread from my gut, easing my aches, even lifting my exhaustion. “I’m also a unicorn.” Suddenly I understood why Grit had smiled.

Laveau smiled slyly at us. “Now, wid de easy scales shed,” she leaned over the altar, her eyes burning into us, “What are you two doing in our waters?”

“T’ be honest, ma’am, we had no idea y’all were here,” Grit began. I looked over to him, keeping my mouth shut. “We’re huntin’ a bounty, y’see. Wanted pony ran here on a stolen airboat.”

Wait… what?

“All we knew ‘bout this place’s there was some kinda gator nest. Never heard o’ no talkin’ gators, that’s for sure.”

The elder gator’s attention was fully focused on Grit now. Mine was, as well, afraid of saying something that would contradict him. “A bounty?” she pressed.

He nodded and flicked an ear at the air. “He’s wanted for killin’ ponies an’ stealin’ from caravans up north. Pay’s good, but,” he trailed off, scuffing a hoof at the floor, “Honestly I wanted t’ do some good, y’know? He’s dangerous, an’ if y’all let us go, we could make th’ Wasteland jus’ a lil’ less evil.”

Laveau shook her head, accompanied by the jingling of her necklaces. “Not yet, p'tit. De odder one, who came 'ere on de boat, 'e stole medicines and 'urt tree of my caimon in de escape. Is dis de pony you speak of?”

Grit nodded. “Matches our information, at least. We’d heard our pony’d crashed an airboat in this part o’ th’ Bayou.” His eyes went wide, and he took a step toward Laveau. He had her undivided attention, and mine. “Hey, why don’tcha help us out then?”

The elder gator made a noise between a raspy cough and a hissing snarl, making me jump back from her. Only after a moment did I realize she was laughing. “Why would we?” She answered at last.

“Well,” Grit inclined his head, “this pony, Copper, who knows what he might do now that he knows y’all are here. Might even bring some o’ his buddies down with heavy guns.” The grin vanished from Laveau’s jaw. “If y’all help us track ‘im down, it’d be helping keep your secret, too.”

She leaned over the altar, slowly bringing her jaw threateningly close to Grit’s muzzle. “And what, would you do wid de same knowledge, p'tit?”

Grit took a step back, ears drooping a moment before snapping back to attention. “Look, Alloy an’ me, we’re honest folk. I spend most o’ my time guarding a town up north, an’ Alloy’s a damn fine repairpony. We don’t want no trouble with y’all.”

Laveau stood up straighter, her beady brown eyes burning into Grit, and then me. I met her gaze and forced myself not to flinch, though it took every scrap of effort I could muster.

“We cannot 'elp you, not widdout 'is life, but we will not keep you 'ere.” She waved a claw in the air, dismissively.

I felt an immense pressure lift from my chest, and the deep, clear breaths I took were enough to make me beam. But even so, as Grit thanked her, I mulled over what she’d said. “His… life?”

Laveau looked back at me, tapping a single claw on the knife she’d used to take drops of our blood, pulling back the corners of her mouth in a grin. “Wid de true life of anyone, caimon or pony, I can do more den you could dream of.”

A shiver went down my spine, and I flicked my tail at the air. “What if… what if I had some of his blood?” Now it was Grit’s turn to look at me in surprise as I opened my saddlebags and fished the small journal out of them, opening it to show the dried blood on its pages. “At least, I think it’s his.”

Laveau’s eyes went wide, and she grasped the book in her claws, holding it delicately, as if it would crumble if she even breathed on it. Laying it down on the table, she began to flip through its pages. From where I stood, I saw paragraphs of hoof-written notes and surprisingly-detailed drawings of something U-shaped. She squinted her eyes on that page, running a claw across the worn paper, then closed the book and snapped her gaze back to me. “We will 'elp you, in exchange for two tings.”

I cocked my head slightly, and my eyes narrowed. I could already guess that one was going to be that book, and I frankly couldn’t have cared less about Copper’s old journal. The less I knew about him the better. “What kind of help?”

She walked over to one of the shelves lined with jars and cans, taking a few items off the shelf. “I will make you a pendant. And tru’ it, de Princesses will guide you to dis pony. But we must wait for de correct timing.” She gestured at the sky, and I briefly followed her motion. Shadows still clung to the swamp around us, but through the canopy overhead I could see the thick cloud layer. “Such a cunjaa must be made wid unity in de world, when Celestia and Luna are in balance.” I furrowed my brow, trying to make sense of Laveau’s cryptic phrasing as I looked back at her. “Sundown,” she clarified. “It will give you time t’ get what we need.”

“I guess for starters, you want that book,” I said, nodding towards the battered journal. “What’s the second?”

Laveau cracked another smile, making me shudder. “We want a new radio.”

What.

My face must have mirrored the surprise I felt, and she explained further. “We 'ad one, but it broke some time ago. My caimon liked de music.”

Okay. A radio it is. I mulled the idea over in my head, wondering how we’d go about getting one, and something struck me. “Do you still have the broken one?”

Laveau tilted her head, blinking and staring at me a moment before she answered slowly. “We... do. We did not want to get rid of it just yet.”

“Let me take a look at it,” I began, taking a step forward. “I might be able to get it working again.”

Laveau looked at me with wide eyes now. She stood over her altar, silent for a moment before answering. “If you can fix de radio, de price is paid.” She looked past us, to the gators standing guard at the stairs. “Remy.” The one who had opened our cell that morning stepped forward, and Laveau waved a claw at us. “Montre eux la radio. Dites-moi si é réussit.”

* * * * * * *

The radio was sitting on a table one of the nearby lean-tos; an Equestrian military model that was built to last. It wasn’t Stable-Tec, or at least I didn’t think so, but it was in surprisingly good shape. The gator, or caimon I supposed, who had escorted us here craned his neck over me to watch. My ear flicked, and I took a small step to my side to let him see, and get a little farther from his breath. Breaking out a few of my tools, it took me a while to get the radio open, but when I did, I could immediately see the problem.

Most of the parts were in good shape, but the spark battery was cracked. Some of the wires needed replacements too, but any radio could give them the replacements they needed. I set the radio down on the table and turned to the caimon that had stood guard over us. What had Laveau called him? Remy? “I’ll need some parts, but I can fix it.”

His eyes went wide. “Need what?” His accent was far thicker, and his Equestrian rougher than Laveau’s.

“A spark battery, and some wires. I don’t have any on me, but,” I paused, realizing how this next part was going to sound. “If we can go and get some parts from nearby, we could get it working again. Are there any nearby ruins? We could start there.”

He looked above me for a few moments, thinking, then stared into me. “Try to trick caimon?”

“No, no! I,” I grit my teeth and tried to think ahead of my words. “You can come with us. We won’t run. We need your help.”

Again, it took a long while before the gator answered, but eventually he nodded slowly. “We come wid you. Show you to ruins.”

* * * * * * *

Remy gathered two more gators and marched Grit and I into the Bayou again. Other members of the village watched us curiously as we left, gators of different colors and sizes, but almost all of them wore hoof-made (or claw-made I suppose) necklaces, all of them either of a crescent moon or a radiant sun. I looked to our guards, all of them wearing moon necklaces. Maybe it’s some kind of caste? Is that how they could tell the stallions from mares? Er… what did you even call male or female gators?

The five of us walked in relative silence for a few minutes. I stayed close to Grit, who seemed fascinated in watching the caimon as they walked with us, muttering and growling to each other. I wanted to ask him how he’d come up with the story for Laveau, but something told me I shouldn’t bring that up in front of our guards.

As my attention turned to the gators, I realized that all of them had grown quiet, bowing their heads low as we lost sight of the village. Up ahead was a statue of a pony, mostly intact but covered in wear and moss. What the centuries of exposure couldn’t hide were the shapes of wings and a broken horn.

The statue was propped against one of the massive tree trunks, and the caimon with us took it in turns to brush a claw over the stonework and mutter something under their breath. I noticed that they held their necklaces in the other claw as they did so. Grit seemed to notice too, and asked them about it once we were back on our way. “What’s th’ deal with th’ necklaces anyway?” he said to Remy.

He reached a claw to gently grip the rough moon-shape. “I am of blessed Luna, Princess of de Night. All tings part of Luna and Celestia, even caimon.”

“What about the young ones?” I blurted before I could stop myself.

Remy smirked, craning his head over his shoulder. “When caimon are old enough, Laveau will read der waters. Necklace comes after.”

Grit gave me a small smile as well, before following up. “ ‘Princess’ Luna, huh?” He stopped to consider that a moment. “Guess that was a statue o’ her y’all took us past?”

The caimon didn’t answer for a few minutes, tilting his head. Eventually, he nodded slowly. “Yes. We ask for Princess Luna’s blessing on dis ‘unt.”

“So if Luna’s th’ huntress, what’s Celestia stand for?”

“Trut’, home, and family. Peace, and de day.” Remy’s answer was immediate this time, as though lecturing a foal. “Princess Celestia is de shield, and Princess Luna de sword. Don’t ponies believe?”

“‘Course we do, s’just,” he hesitated. “Different for us.” Meanwhile, I felt my neck bristle. Of course I believed in the Goddesses, but nothing so nuanced. They just were the Goddesses, simple as that. Celestia moved the sun, and Luna the moon. But the more I dwelled on it, the more I wondered.

“We are ‘ere.” Remy’s guttural voice derailed my train of thought. I looked up from my hooves to see a ruin. This one was a squat building with ornately-shaped windows, and more colorful stonework than I’d seen in most wartime buildings. The whole structure was tilted, sagging under its own weight and partially-underwater. Whole sections of the upper floors had already broken away, exposing the interior and crushing the floors beneath. The caimon led us to a wide doorway, and I noticed some kind of diamond-shaped engraving on the floor before us

Remy stopped us and looked to the other two caimon. “Montez la garde. J’veux pas prendre du temps.” They nodded and slipped off down separate hallways, vanishing into the unlit depths. He turned to Grit and I next. “Find what you need, quickly. We will guard.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned to wade into the waters next to the building, slipping under the surface with only the smallest ripple.

I nodded to Grit and immediately set to scanning the first floor. “Look for anything that ran on power,” I told him. “Even if it’s broken, the battery might be still good.” He trotted off up the rounded stairs, hesitating as they trembled under his hoofsteps before moving slower to the upper floors. Meanwhile, I went further back from the entrance, rounding a corner into a wide-open room with desks bolted to the walls, and a sea of bones. I’d never seen so many pony skeletons all in one place. My heart thundered in my chest and my throat was dry as I gingerly stepped around the skeletons, clustered in pairs and small groups. I shook my head and snorted, forcing myself to look past them. There were broken and scattered terminals all over this room, and I needed to check every single one. No time to think about ponies two hundred years ago, huddled in corners and dying. I kicked over one terminal, prying its rusted case open with my screwdriver. But it had no battery, instead relying on a wall plug that hadn’t gotten power in a long time.

I covered the room from corner to corner, never staring at the skeletons for very long, but coming up empty-hooved. Crossing the hallway, I stopped in the entrance of the next room. “MAINTENANCE,” was written across the door, though a few of the letters had faded away. It was a good bet I’d find something I needed in there, but I could see part of the room was underwater, the floor collapsed or something. Light reflected off the slowly-swirling pool, coming from a hole in the wall I couldn’t see. I thought I tasted rust in my mouth, and I snorted. I couldn’t tell if the room was irradiated, but even if it was, all I had to do was poke my head in, right?

Just needed to poke in and see if it had anything.

I lit my horn, casting the room in a green glow as I walked in. Shadows stretched and flickered away from me, and I rounded the corner to see a whole row of storage cabinets, mostly still upright. I sat down in front of the first one, curling my tail around my haunches as I sifted through the bins and drawers. Wrenches of all different sizes, wires, a hammer or three, more wires, some kind of blue fabric, and more wires. I stuffed a few of the wires in the best condition into my saddlebags before I opened another bin that held...some kind of gun? It was like no gun I’d ever seen, with a snaking tube connected to a canister on the back end. I lifted it, spun it around, and turned to carefully stow it in my saddlebags. I wanted to know what it was, what made it tick. And I could probably get some kind of use out of it, once I was back home. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes and closing the cabinet shut. It won’t be long now. Just got to… just a little bit more and I can go home. I opened my eyes with a snort, jumping to my hooves and turning to leave.

I slammed to the floor, head spinning as something powerful pulled on my tail, dragging it down. I craned my head as the room spun and saw green scales and a thick body dragging me towards the water. I scrambled and screamed, trying to find something to dig my hooves into and pull myself away, but I just kept sliding.

Suddenly, I was free! I jumped to my hooves and bolted away from the water, turning to see what’d happened.

Remy was there, holding the radigator’s mouth shut with one massive claw, while he pinned its body beneath his own bulk. It thrashed and tried to roll, but he held firm. It looked like he’d swum up behind it in the water. With his free claw, he reached to his knife holster, and in one clean motion, swept the blade out and into the radigator’s jaw from below. Immediately, the thrashing stopped and the radigator became limp.

The grey-scaled caimon hauled the beast’s corpse up onto the concrete floor and dropped it, still clutching his knife. I panted, gasping for breath. “Thank you,” I finally managed, nodding at him. I wasn’t sure how he felt about killing something that was so close to him in kind. As I caught my breath, I stared at the dead radigator, and then at the caimon, who started to bend over it and skin it. I shuddered, trying to ignore the smell of blood and the wet sounds of tearing hide.

Grit came bolting around the corner that moment, pistols drawn. He looked between me and the gato-the caimon, and slowly holstered them again. “Y’alright?” he asked, tilting his head to look at me.

I simply nodded, taking a deep breath and centering myself, tossing a glance over my shoulder at my tail. “Find anything?”

“Yea, think I did. C’mon.” He turned and walked out of the room, waiting for me to follow before leading me up two flights of stairs to the third floor. The entire floor felt slanted and I took each hoofstep carefully on the wet concrete. But right away I could see what he’d found: a terminal that still glowed with green life.

I broke out my screwdriver and hammer, ready to rip the unfortunate computer apart, when Grit stepped in front of me. “Now hold up, there’s somethin’ I wanna see on this terminal, been tryin’ t’ hack it. Jus’ gimme a few minutes an’ then y’can take it apart.”

I opened my mouth to object, but closed it again. For the first time in a while, we had a little spare time, and after the encounter with the radigator I was more than happy to take a moment to calm down. I spent a few moments watching silently over Grit’s shoulder as he navigated a screen filled with gibberish, stopping every few minutes to close the screen before re-opening it. None of it made sense to me, but after a few tries the computer gave a compliant beep and allowed him in. He grinned and grabbed a cable from his PipBuck, plugging it in and pressing a few more buttons. “Downloadin’ th’ logs for later,” he explained to me as we waited. I just nodded and watched the progress bar move across the screen.

When it was finished, Grit punched a few more buttons on the keyboard before giving a small grunt. I walked up to him, my eyes flicking between the glowing green text and his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Somethin’ else on here. Hidden file with ‘nother password. Lemme jus’...” He trailed off, and I stared at him silently expecting him to finish his sentence at some point. Instead, he set about working on another screen of gibberish, and I wandered over to a window, looking out on the Bayou.

It was still outside. Almost peaceful, but for the trees and shadows pressing in, making it impossible to see very far. Even feeling a little crowded, it was actually almost… beautiful. I thought about how rare trees had been when I lived in New Appleloosa, but I shook my head before that train of thought could go any farther. Standing up and flicking my tail at the air, I turned back to Grit. “Almost done?”

“Jus’ about… Got it!” He grinned and tapped another key triumphantly. Nothing changed on the screen, but there was pop and a grinding sound. We both jumped and rounded on the source of the noise. A hidden section of the wall, that I couldn’t have differentiated from any other, swung outward to reveal a small compartment. A soft, blue-white light came from it, and I immediately saw the source.

A memory orb.

It was next to a small box, and Grit immediately walked over to it, gingerly scooping them both up and putting them in his saddlebags. “Figure I can give that a looksee when we ge’ home.”

I nodded and turned back to the terminal, not feeling particularly eager to experience of one of those orbs again. “Done with the terminal?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Yeah, go ‘head, it should have somethin’ for th’ radio.”

I pulled out my tools and quickly had the terminal open. Inside was a perfectly-intact Stable-tec issue battery, and I pulled it out along with a few more spare parts. With a small smile on my muzzle, we walked back downstairs to where Remy was waiting in the lobby, carrying the fresh radigator skin and meat in a small sack. “All done. Let’s head back,” I announced

Remy turned towards the entrance, calling out in his native language, “On y va!”

I walked past the caimon, but Grit couldn’t take his eyes off the bloody cargo. “That don’t bother you?”

As the three of us walked towards the entrance, Remy looked down at my companion. “I do not understand.”

“I mean,” he paused, tilting his head a little. “You killin’ that radigator. Ain’t it like one o’ your own?”

Remy made some kind of grunt, shaking his head. “Mais, like pony and cow. Or de creature la pischouette wears.”

I looked at my armor, which was mostly radhog hide. “Radhogs and ponies aren’t close to each other,” I said before I could stop myself.

“Exactly,” the caimon answered.

I suppose I had to credit him with that, and it wasn’t any of my business anyway.

We made a direct line back to the village, passing by that statue once again before our return. I didn’t waste any time, trotting back to where the radio was kept and breaking out my tools. It was a simple swap, replacing the battery and a few of the worn-out wires. Within minutes, it was reassembled and I set it back on the shelf, flicking the power switch. A raucous cheer erupted from behind me as music crackled to life from the speaker, and I jumped around to see a small crowd that had gathered to watch, maybe a dozen or more. Some of the the younger gators even started playing and dancing to the graceful song. I recognized it as similar to the music Sugarland played over its broadcaster, but with a faster tempo. Grit beamed at me, and he started bobbing his head in time with the music as the gators started to thank us and I offered just a sheepish smile in return.

I had just started to feel good about fixing the radio for them when the questions started.

* * * * * * *

Dusk couldn’t come soon enough. Ever since I fixed the radio, I couldn’t get a moment’s peace as a barrage of curious and eager questions came my way. Requests to fix other things. Asking about the engravings on my armor. I’d just wanted some time to myself, but none of it could be had. Grit tried to answer as much as he could, but there were too many. Soon enough though, two of them came for me, saving me from a trio of youngsters that didn’t have their necklaces yet.

He led Grit and I back up the stairs of the altar, to where Laveau was preparing her end of the bargain. She had a small, beaten-up pot sitting on the altar--the same one from this morning--and was starting to add pinches of different ingredients to the liquid inside, turning it from purple to green to red, and so on. When she noticed Grit and I had arrived, she beckoned us over. “The blood, vite.”

Opening up my saddlebags, I pulled out Copper’s journal and gingerly tore off one of the blank, bloodied pages. I could see the other gators nearby wince at the sound of paper tearing.

Laveau took the scrap of paper and dropped it into the bowl of liquid, which immediately turned a shade of teal, of rusted copper. “Keep de pony in your minds. Tink of 'im, and of what finding 'im means to you,” she told us, before closing her eyes and holding her claws above the pot. “May Celestia guide us along de pat'. May Luna see de 'unt be swift.” She shuddered, and as she continued to chant, breaking into her language, white fingers of frost began creeping out from the bottom of the pot. It curled up the sides, cradling it and slowly spreading out onto the altar itself. “May de unity of de Princesses guide us all,” she finished, and with this final incantation, the swirling, shifting potion in the small clay pot became completely still. Even my hoofsteps as I inched closer didn’t budge it. The surface was like stone.

Laveau picked up a small piece of metal, roughly shaped into a thin cone, an arrow. A piece of wire had been woven through the top to make a crude necklace, and she dipped the pendant into the potion. The surface immediately began to behave as normal liquid would, rippling and shaking, while the necklace became perfectly still, right until Laveau lifted it from the now-black liquid.

I could swear the shard of metal was glowing now, pulsing as it swung on the wire. It wobbled and pulled gently to the left. Laveau took the loop in both claws and put it around Grit’s neck. “De power of de Princesses will show you de way. 'unt well.” She nodded at something behind me.

I slammed to the floor beneath a crushing weight.

I choked and gasped for breath, air forced out of my lungs. Claws again wrapped around my neck. Voices screamed. I tried to shout too, but no words came. My eyes were wide, and I saw Grit snarling at Laveau. “We had a fuckin’ deal!” he screamed.

“We do!” Laveau bellowed back, grabbing his muzzle in her claw. “You are free to go, but dis one,” she pointed her free claw at me, “stays wid us. We need ‘er to stay. Fix tings, teach us more.”

I coughed. Tears watered in my eyes. This couldn’t be happening. No, no, no, Celestia, please, no! I still couldn’t speak. I wanted to say something, tell Grit to help me, tell Grit to leave me, scream at Laveau for betraying me, but all I could do was make rasping gasps. My chest felt like it was on fire.

Grit looked over at me, a warring mix of emotions in his eyes. Laveau waved at the gators next to him, and they picked him up between them, one of them grabbing both his hind legs, the other grabbing his forelegs. “Leave and find your prey.” The two gators carried him off, and I finally managed to sob, tears falling from my eyes.

* * * * * * *

They put me back in the little cell. I’d given up trying to scream at them.

Celestia, no… I can’t live the rest of my life like this! Even with no collar or cuffs around, I still felt my neck start to itch. I dropped into a corner, curling up, not bottling my tears up anymore. How could I let this happen? What’ve I done to deserve this!? It’s not fair! It’s not fair!! Celestia, what the FUCK did I ever do to deserve all of this shit?! The memories flooded back to me in a torrent; everything since the attack at the Ministry bridge. Malice’s ultimatum. Gumbo kicking me out. And then my thoughts ran back to New Appleloosa.

To a cramped cargo container.

To a burly, scarred stallion holding a collar above me.

I bolted out of my corner, shaking my head furiously, smashing my head against the wall to get rid of the memory. The image of the stallion trickled away, clinging to me for as long as it could, and the room spun as the pain made my heart race. How long had I been in that corner? And then something else caught my attention.

Somepony started shouting from outside, filtered in from the hole in the roof. No, not somepony. The gators were shouting at each other in their language, and curiosity took my attention, the weight of my situation feeling slightly lifted. Had Grit come back for me? He wouldn’t just abandon me, would he? I strained my ears, but couldn’t hear any gunfire or sounds of fighting.

“Psst! Up here!” A voice I’d never heard before came from above me. I looked up instinctively to see the shape of a pony hovering in the hole above me.

No, not a pony. A pegasus.

My jaw fell open and my eyes widened in shock. I’d never seen a pegasus before, and I backed away into the corner again. He landed next to me, and stole a glance towards the door. He was wearing some kind of armor, but I couldn’t make out any detail in the dark except for something that looked like a PipBuck on his forehoof. “C’mon, I’ll getcha outta here.”

I nodded, not about to turn down an escape. He hopped into air and wrapped his forelegs around my chest, hefting me into the air. We hovered up through the hole, and into the night. My heart thundered in my chest at being in the air and flying! His wings beat hard, and we launched through the air, flying through the upper branches of the thick trees, and it was all I could do to stop myself from screaming, pressing my fetlocks against my muzzle.

Once we were finally away into the night, we drifted back down to the ground. The second my hooves were steady again, I rounded on my savior. I sputtered over words I failed to form, trying to ask a million things at once, before all of them were cut off in a flash of green light. It lasted barely a second as it swept over the body of the pegasus, and then was gone.

In his place stood Grit.

For a heartbeat after the energy washed over him, his eyes were solid blue before they returned to normal. His horn lit, drawing one of his pistols as he glanced at me with a sheepish look.

“I uh… I don’t s’pose I can convince you this’ all a dream?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Quest Tracker - 3 days remaining

Footnote: Level Up!
New Perk: Bump in the Night - Enough sneaking and running around in the swamp and you can adapt your stride. While sneaking, you make less noise and move 10% faster.

Author's Notes:

Suffice it to say I've been looking forward to this chapter since I first started WEcon, and from the bottom of my heart, I want to thank all of y'all for reading.

My apologies once again for the delay, but in the end I think the wait was necessary to finalize the chapter, as well as sort out the lives of my editing folk. Next one will not take as long, promise. Also, an announcement: I'm going to be at Everfree Northwest in two weeks, for a panel! I'll be on stage Sunday afternoon along with Tofu, the writer of Outlaw, Relentless of Frozen Skies, and Pacce/Stonershy for Anywhere But Here. Come on by if you're in town!