“What about you? What kind of pony are you going to be?”

Credit where it was due, Foxglove was very good at building things. In a little over an hour, she had managed to assemble a small cart from an assortment of scrap and parts laying around the warehouse. Not just any cart either, one that possessed wheels that articulated over rocks and uneven surfaces, causing the bed to hardly bounce at all in response to bumps or divots in the terrain. The result was a way to transport the still unconscious Windfall without risking any further injury to her by hitting a particularly bad bump.

The unicorn was the one pulling the cart. I hadn't had to order her to do it either, she'd insisted; pointing out that I was still not in any condition to do much physically demanding labor. No arguments from me. Just walking was hard enough as it was. Funny. I was the one still on my hooves, yet somehow my road to a full recovery was going to be longer than Windfall's when all was said and done. I didn't really have the option of submitting myself as a patient to the doctors of Seaddle. I'd have to just gather up a stockpile of Med-X and bide my time before I found a pony who knew medicine and didn't care much about the affiliation of their patients.

Look at me, making more plans for the next time I wandered out into this hellscape. No particular reason that I had to. I'd squirreled away money enough to take it easy for a good while. A few months if I lived it up, years if I was frugal. No real reason that I had to go throwing myself back into the meat grinder that was the Wasteland.

Other than it being the only life I knew. For decades, it's what I'd done: gone out, killed something or somepony, and then recovered in town. Rinse, repeat. It was...how I passed the time. Living from one day to the next, seeking only to make it to that next day with no great purpose in my mind other than knowing that making it to that next day was a day I threw a big old 'fuck you' at my estranged younger sister for what she'd done to me. Spite was the at the core of how I lived my life.

How I had lived my life. Traveling with Windfall had...added to that. Somepony to teach, to look after; somepony to look after me when a trip had been unusually brutal. I guess that era was going to come to an end. Once I dropped these two mares off in Seaddle it'd be back to just myself.

That mute yellow mare with the soft blue eyes silently pleaded with me to rethink my decision, but I wasn't inclined to listen. Things had been going wrong for a while, I just hadn't seen it until the fight with Mommy. Windfall wasn't supposed to matter to me like that. I'd taken her on with the expectation of using her to my advantage. She was a tool, to be employed for my benefit whenever I deemed it necessary. She was going to be a pretty face that I could use to open doors. A gun to watch my back. A warm body to keep me warm at night. Nothing more. Nothing that I was supposed to feel attached to.

That plan had gone to shit, obviously. I didn't know where or when it had happened, but I was going to fix things as soon as possible. Get Windfall back to Seadlle, pass her off to a doctor at the hospital there, and then vanish from her life like I'd never even been there in the first place. Get myself back to the way that I'd been in Hoofington, when life had been simple. No investments, no attachments. Just bullets, booze, and sex.

All I had to do in the near future was get to Seaddle in one piece. After the beating I'd taken today, that was feeling like quite the epic undertaking. I could breath easily enough, but my chest still burned in places, and every joint in my legs throbbed. Healing potions didn't help anymore. My body needed a break; from a lot of things, but the walking in particular. Fortunately, it didn't look like we'd have to go very far before finding a likely spot to bed down for the night.

We spotted a small town that wasn't too far off of the path that we were taking to get to Seaddle. It wasn't marked on the map I had on my pipbuck, and a quick scan with my binoculars confirmed that it was likely uninhabited. Hardly a rare sight in the Wasteland, I guess, finding a small hamlet with nopony living in it. Whatever had made such locations desirable places to live before the megaspells ravaged the land no longer existed in many cases; so ponies either abandoned them, or simply passed them by.

It would at least offer us shelter and someplace to keep out of sight from prying eyes. Getting spotted by a White Hoof patrol was one of my bigger concerns while we were out here. If they found us...I was in no condition to fight, Windfall had yet to regain consciousness at all, and I'd never seen Foxglove display any aptitude for combat. We'd be picked off like foals the way we were now.

As we neared the outer edge of the town, a message popped up in my field of vision: 'Location Discovered: Salt Lick City'

I glanced at the pipbuck's map and saw the new marker that had blinked into existence a short distance from our current position. Hm. I scanned the surroundings with my EFS, and noted that there were no blips of any kind within its range. I informed Foxglove that the coast was clear, and we pressed deeper into the small town.

The houses and shops on the outer edges were little more than foundations supporting a random wall or two and a pile of rubble. Hardly suitable as any form of shelter. The larger buildings further in looked to be in better condition, so we headed in that direction.

A small feeling of familiarity tugged at my mind, but I couldn't place it. Probably nothing. I'd wandered through countless ruined hovels over the years. They all started blurring together after a while I'm sure.

We arrived at the center of the town, and that was where we found our first clues about what might have happened to the ponies that once lived here. A collection of pony skeletons lay in the town square, half buried in the dirt. Maybe a dozen. I glanced around at the buildings facing the square, noting that their doors had all been brutally broken down. Otherwise, the structures looked rather intact. I didn't stretch my imagination very much coming up with a theory about what had happened here. Given where we were, there was really only one strong possibility.

“White Hooves,” Foxglove breathed, a note of trepidation in her voice.

I nodded my agreement, “probably.”

“Should we leave?”

“No,” I shook my head, “we should be alright. They don't really have any reason to come back here. They've already sacked this place.”

I appraised the surrounding building and pointed at the tallest one, “Let's sleep in that one,” whomever was on guard could use the upper floors to get a good view of the surrounding terrain. There was a set of stairs at the entrance which the cart couldn't get over, but Foxglove was able to levitate the entire vehicle and its slumbering occupant into the building's foyer. It took a considerable amount of effort on the unicorn's part, if her strained expression was any indication. Internally, I wondered how much a unicorn's magic allowed them to lift. Was it comparable to what they could support with their own bodies? Did that mean a unicorn that exercised could lift most than one who was lethargic and weak?

An amusing image of an over-muscled unicorn lifting a hell hound the size that Mommy had been flashed through my mind.

Whatever. I shook the image from my head and followed the unicorn deeper into the building as she pushed the cart into one of the nearest rooms. There was an old couch within, just beyond the splintered remains of a coffee table. Dried blood painted the furniture, and the faint stench of rot hung in the air. Somepony had died in this room long ago. Probably a few ponies, judging by the amount of blood.

I nodded at the couch, “put Windfall there,” the cart, though an admirable transport vehicle, lacked for padding and comfort. Not a lot of bedding material had been present in the Haywood facility. The pegasus would benefit from some comfort, I was sure. Foxglove's horn glowed to life, and a soft veridian light enveloped Windfall and slowly carried her out of the cart and deposited her still body on the stained couch. The white filly didn't stir even a little at the movement.

Foxglove reached out and put a hoof gently to the young flier's neck, “I...think her pulse is getting stronger. I'm not sure,” the unicorn said, nibbling at her lower lip. A canteen wrapped in a green glow rose up out of one of her saddlebags and pressed itself to Windfall's lips. Slowly, she let water run into the feathered mare's mouth in small sips. I could see her instinctively swallowing the liquid, though a fair bit still spilled out of her mouth.

It was just an involuntary reaction though. The pegasus wasn't becoming any more aware of her surroundings.

Would she ever wake up?

I fought back those poisonous emotions that threatened to seep into my mind once more and fixed a steely gaze on the violet unicorn, “go take a look around. Keep an eye out for signs of recent activity.”

“I thought you said the White Hooves wouldn't come back here?” Foxglove swallowed, trepidation in her trembling words.

“There are worse things in the Wasteland than White Hooves,” I growled, indicating my own recently acquired wounds.

“Won't you see them coming with your pipbuck?”

“If I'm awake and looking in that specific direction when they show up, sure,” I responded with a sneer, which caused the unicorn to wince slightly at my reproachful words, “but I'm not planning on being awake and spinning in circles all night. Just make yourself useful for five fucking minutes and scout out the area without simpering like a fucking foal, will ya?!”

Foxglove drew back in surprise, her ears plastering back into her mane. Her green eyes were wide and hurt. She pursed her lips, as if contemplating a retort, but then her mouth shut firmly. Her expression hardened and the mare turned and left without a word. Good. If I wanted her opinion, I'd tell her what it was.

Playing hard to get, are we? I think she's going for it, Whiplash giggled in my head, why, I bet she's spreading her flank within the hour with more sweet talk like that!

That opinion thing went for my hallucinated sibling as well. I wasn't concerned with keeping the feelings of that mare intact. Windfall was the altruistic one. I just wanted to make it out of the Wasteland alive.

How far are you going to make it if she up and leaves? The piss-yellow mare from my past chided, you and I both know you're too much of a pathetic weakling to get back on your own like this.

I survived you.

Not on your own.

Fuck you.

I shook the voice from my mind and searched for a distraction. Of course, there wasn't anything much in here, save for the pegasus mare breathing softly on the nearby sofa. Silly little filly, I thought at her. Of all of us, you were the one in the best position to escape unharmed. You could have flown away at any time.

“But you wouldn't have,” I whispered aloud, “would you? You never did, not ever,” I sighed and shook my head, “even when you were a filly you never knew when to back down.”

A faint smile threatened to tug at my lips as I recalled the memory of a little filly swooping in to rain death on a group of gangers. All because she was upset that good ponies died while gangers got to go on living happy lives. The Wasteland was an unfair place, but she was determined to balance those scales, even if she had to do it all on her own.

“I thought I could break you of that,” I went on, “keep you focused on the job at hoof. That was my mistake. I didn't realize how stubborn you could be, not back then. I know now though.

“That's why this has to come to an end,” my tone changed subtly, acquiring a veiled edge as I continued speaking to the unconscious mare as though she could hear me. Rehearsing a conversation I never intended to have with her directly, “you aren't ever going to become the pony that I want you to be,” A pause, then, “and I'm not really the pony you want me to be.”

I sighed and eased myself to the floor in front of the couch, wincing at the pain in my rib cage as it came into contact with the floor. My eyes went to the pipbuck on my leg and I toggled it over to the radio function. I couldn't just go on talking to myself all night, and the silence was going to get to me.

A stallion with a deep voice was going on about his love life's various woes, and yet the tempo of the music was somewhat quicker than one might have expected for the subject he was recounting. It was catchy enough though, and resonated a little with me, given current circumstances. I was anticipating a few losses from my own personal life in the near future after all.

When the last note faded away and finally died, another stallion came over the speaker. This one sounding much more lively, and unmistakably familiar.

“Good evening, children! This is you master of music, your maestro of measures, your mayor of...uh, something else music related that begins with an 'M', the marvelous DJ PON3!

“A few interesting developments in the Wasteland going on today. First: reports are in of a platoon of Steel Rangers making their way south across Manehattan. They don't seem to be interested in causing trouble, but, as always, ponies are advised to keep their distance if you see them coming. Especially if you have anything shiny with you; you know how those techno-horders can be.

“Second: A reminder that Red Eye is not to be trusted. I know, I know, I've heard the same broadcasts too, but be reasonable ponies, it's too good to be true. A shining future? Free education on par with a Stable? Don't believe it, children, not for a moment. He's a slaver, and a murderer. Nopony with a history like that can ever offer decent ponies like all of you anything worthwhile!”

I winced a little at the radio jockey's words. The truth hurts though, right? A faint sense of disagreement rose, and then ebbed away almost unnoticed as the broadcast continued.

“Lastly: our Lone Ranger is still out fighting that good fight! Today he cleared out a manticore nest near Fetlock, making it safe for the ponies there to once again scavenge the nearby ruins. Our thanks to you, Ranger! That's what I'm talking about, children, when I ask you to fight that good fight: help out where you can, for no other reason than because it can help make somepony's life a little easier. If we all do that for one another, I know that we can beat the Wasteland once and for all!

“And to help kindle those fighting spirits, here's Hay Riser singing Frame Closer's ,'Praise Celestia and Pass the Ammunition'!”

There was a brief burst of static, and then a third stallion's voice began to chant the title phrase to a melody, adding the occasional flourish and variation.

I tuned the song out, but let it keep playing. Windfall liked listening to music when she was sleeping.

Nopony with a history like that can ever offer decent ponies like all of you anything worthwhile...

“He's right,” I mumbled to Windfall, “you're not like me. You're like the Lone Ranger. That Mare-Do-Well fool. You want to help ponies that can't help themselves, and I just want to help myself. I'm not lamenting that fact,” I added quickly by way of qualification, “I'm just pointing out that you and I want different things. Neither of us is going to get what we want if we keep traveling together. Splitting up is good for both of us. You'll be free to go and save whoever you want whenever you want without me getting in the way. And I can go about my life without being dragged into somepony else's drama every week,” I smirked, glancing out the door that Foxglove had left out of.

“Speaking of which...” I flicked off the radio.

Where was that mare? It had been...twenty minutes according to the clock on my pipbuck. It didn't take that long to do a quick lap around the block looking for nests and monster shit. Either that unicorn had wandered a lot further than she had needed to, or she'd gotten herself into trouble somehow. If I didn't need her to pull the damn cart, I'd let her reap whatever mischief she'd managed to sow just now, but as it was...

“Fucking brilliant,” I groaned as I got back up to my hooves and walked stiffly to the door.

Outside once more, I started making my way through the town, keeping my head on a swivel as I watched for a yellow blip on my EFS. How far would she have gone when it'd taken as much prodding as it had to get her out the door in the first place?!

So help me if she had wandered off after all...

The thought died in my mind as I spied the single yellow blip on my pipbuck's EFS...flanked by a pair of red blips.

Horseapples.

I didn't hear her yelling or crying out, which put me at even greater unease. There was no way she didn't know the threats were there, they were practically merged with her own blip. So whatever it was was something that was keeping her quiet. Some sort of creature that could have paralyzed her, or, more likely, ponies using threats to keep her quiet. I wasn't in any condition to fight a pair of armed ponies, or even typical Wasteland critters.

Was leaving her to her fate an option?

Those pleading blue eyes from Yellow Bitch weren't necessary. It was too risky to abandon Foxglove. If she'd been caught by critters, then they'd surely stumble upon Windfall and myself eventually. The same went for ponies. If I confronted them out here, the unicorn might be able to help in a fight. Windfall wouldn't if I met them in the house. I sighed through gritted teeth.

One moment of peace, Celestia. Why was that so much to ask?!

I tread silently up to the corner of a crumbling wall and peaked around the edge to get a clear look at what I was going up against. My heart sank even further when I spied the threats in the flesh. Two ponies, a stallion and a mare. It was hard to tell the exact color of their coats in the dim twilight, but I was able to clearly make out the pale highlights on their legs and faces that were characteristic of only a single group in Neighvada.

White Hooves.

I pulled my head back around behind the wall and silently groaned with exasperation. Why were they here?! There was nothing worth taking in this town! There was no reason for that pair to be here, none! And just the two of them, really? What kind of raiding party was that? I scanned the surroundings once more, certain I'd spot other red blips, but I didn't. Could it really be just the two of them?

Could I take on that many? I'd have the element of surprise. I'd kill one of them for sure with a bullet to the head from cover. Maybe the second would be caught off guard enough that they'd hesitate and I could get them before they found me. I did have SATS after all. It was possible...

But very risky. They had Foxglove close, and while I wasn't overly concerned with killing her by accident, every bullet that her body caught would be one less that got the White Hooves. Killing the unicorn would also remove a potential ally in the fight.

Did I have any other options?

...Was talking a possibility? Just the two of them. I chanced a second quick glance at the pair. Young. They wouldn't be too experienced, and there was no way they'd been around when I was expelled from the tribe...

A lot of this would depend on how well those two had been raised. If their parents had done things right, this should go well. Hanging my and Foxglove's life on quality White Hoof parenting. Not ideal. But, if things did go sideways, I still had SATS.

Well, here went nothing, or rather, here went everything. If this went wrong enough, neither of us would walk away from this.

I steeled myself against the pain in my limbs and strode around the corner, a look of fury etched into my features, “What the fuck is keeping you, bitch?!” I snarled, my gaze focused on Foxglove, who was currently cowering up against the wall of a collapsed home. All three heads immediately darted in my direction, wearing mirrored looks of surprise and confusion. You're a smart pony, Foxglove, don't fuck this up, “How long can it possibly take you to find a can of Cram, you stupid cunt?!”

The two White Hoof warriors finally gathered their wits enough to take up defensive stances against me, a pair of spears hovering between myself and them. Unicorns, fucking perfect. They still looked a little perplexed as to what was going on, but were keen on establishing that they were the ponies in control of what was happening here tonight. How wrong they were.

“Don't take another step,” the mare demanded, narrowing her crimson eyes at me, a spear wrapping in a matching telekinetic field jabbed menacingly at me.

I ignored the weapon and glowered at the mare, “what the fuck are you doing? Put away that twig before I shove it up your rancid little dick-hole, you brainless little fuck-toy,” I snarled baring my teeth at the mare. She actually took a step back, the spear drooping towards the ground. The uncertainty lasted for only a moment, and then the spear was back up and leveled at my throat. The mare's expression hardened visibly, but in her eyes I detected just the merest glint of amusement. She recognized what this was, and a part of her was eager for it. So far, it looked like I was playing the part well.

These two were not quite as young as I had initially suspected, as it turned out. Age-wise, they had perhaps half my years, but the white hashes smeared across their flanks spoke to those years being quite active while out in the Wasteland. A dozen marks on the mare, half as many on the stallion. She was a proven killer of ponies. My eyes darted momentarily from the tip of the spear in front of me to the mare's withers. I spied the faintest of auras peeking out from beneath her hide barding. A secondary weapon. I kept that information in mind in case things made it that far. Hopefully, I wasn't nearly that rusty.

The stallion wasn't looking any too pleased at my comments either. His weapon had drifted back over in Foxglove's direction though, dissuading the violet unicorn from getting any ideas about trying to get away while they were distracted with me. He also started edging around so that he flanked the pair of us in between them. I held my ground. If this turned into a fight, I'd fucked up anyway. Still, I couldn't let his movements go unremarked upon.

I turned on the stallion now, “didn't your father teach you respect, whelp?” I snapped, stamping my hoof firmly on the ground to get his attention, suppressing the pain the effort inflicted, “you really think that I can't handle myself against your cum-soaked whore? Oh, wait, I see,” I amended, taking on a facade of understanding, “you'd rather test your mettle against a foe more your equal: a slave so inept she couldn't find the ground with her hooves. Is that it?” The White Hoof stallion's expression soured at my taunt, but he stood his ground at Foxglove's side. The violet unicorn whimpered, her eyes pleading with me to stop antagonizing the armed tribals that looked like they were about to take a large amount of pleasure from killing us...slowly.

“He talks some good game, doesn't he, Bo?” the mare's lips curled into a cruel looking smile as she took a couple slow steps towards me. Her spear drifted closer as well, the tip coming to rest against the side of my neck. The pressure was enough to make me aware of its presence, but it was clear that she was not intent on causing injury.

Yet.

“Pfft,” I snorted derisively at the mare, “talk's just air. You want to see 'some good game', let's have ourselves a roll right here, right now. Loser sucks my dick,” an audible gasp from Foxglove, which she quickly subdued. I refrained from looking in her direction. Just keep quiet. I know what I'm doing.

The mare actually chuckled at my challenge, her eyes started dancing with mischief, “you mean you're a stallion?” she said, aghast with feigned surprise, “I thought that thing was a second belly button you'd mutated!” she started pacing around me, her eyes tracing along my body. The spear stayed at my throat, “besides, an old fart like you would throw a hip before you threw a punch. Can you even get it up anymore?”

“Age jokes from a filly, how original,” I rolled my eyes at the mare, turning my head to track her movements, noting that the point of her weapon gave way to my movements instead of piercing my flesh. She was buying it, “If you can't think of anything intelligent to say, why not make your mouth useful and choke on my cock.

“Or,” I added with a growl, “you two can finally fuck off and let me get back to work!”

“And what work would that be?” the stallion finally jumped in. The mare's smile had broadened, but she stayed silent as she let her companion take over the conversation. She simply continued to circle around me.

“Gathering intel on the Republic, moron. What, you think that Whiplash just magically knows the location of caravans and NLR patrols?” I snapped at the stallion, “why else would I be out here dressed like a fucking poser?”

“Because you are a poser?” the White Hoof stallion theorized. He stepped closer to Foxglove and leaned in close to her, sniffing at her mane. The violet mare swallowed and closed her eyes, but stayed still and silent. Good girl, “I like your friend here. Mind if I take her for a spin?”

“I'll let you fuck mine if I can fuck yours,” I offered, ignoring Foxglove's whine. My eyes went to the mare pacing around me, gauging her reaction to my statement. While her expression remained unchanged, the stallion's soured significantly. He did not like that notion at all. I might be able to use that, given the mare's apparent disposition.

I turned my attention to her now, speaking as though the stallion didn't exist, “on second thought, I might need the purple one too. I'd need somepony to teach a foal like you how to fuck properly,” I uttered the words as I drew my lips into a smirk, letting my eyes wander along her withers and flank. The mare noticed my gaze, but rather than take offense, she actually started to arch her tail and accentuate her stride a little.

“What makes you think I'd let that rusty old prick you call a penis anywhere near me?” the mare challenged coyly, “No wonder you screw a unicorn slave. You need her to use magic to make it a dick worth fucking.”

“What if I let you call me, 'daady', so it'll bring back all those fond foalhood memories when I'm plowing you?”

It wasn't until just this moment when I realized how much I'd missed this. Throwing around insults and thinly veiled flirts with other White Hooves that you came across. It wasn't something you did in most other parts of the Wasteland unless you were looking to get into a fight. Something I'd found out rather quickly my first couple months in the Hoofington area. It had struck me as very odd, since this was exactly how you talked to one another in White Hoof society in order to avoid a fight.

If you presented yourself as tough and fearless, ponies didn't mess with you. You were sure of yourself and your skills, confident. The way a White Hoof should be. On the other hoof, if they thought you were a push over, then they would try to do just that: push you over. You'd either learn to be strong, or get made somepony's toy and never go out on raids where our targets would see you for the pathetic little shit you were.

The stallion had apparently had enough of our exchange, and was now at my side instead of Foxglove's. His own weapon jammed itself into the underside of my chin. I kept my head where it was, fighting against the pressure the point was putting against my hide, and felt a stab of pain as his weapon surely did draw blood. The mare's fell away though, a reproachful look in her eyes as they stared at her partner. She still wanted to play the game, and he was having none of it. Of the two, he was definitely the more inexperienced here. He'd taken it personally.

That might prove dangerous.

I glared at the stallion, fury spilling over my words as I spoke, “you'd better kill me with your first stroke, whelp, or by Celestia, I will break every bone in your legs, drag you by your dick before Whiplash, and geld you in front of everypony with a rusty tin can lid. Then I will take your balls and shove them down your mother's throat before I skull fuck her to death for ever birthing a colt so worthless as to turn a weapon on one of his own, you...dead...fuck!”

With the last word, I swept the spear aside with my hoof and launched myself at the stallion. I paid the mare no mind. She was convinced of who I was, there was little doubt. The focus of attention let me press my attack in a manner that the stallion had not expected. A lone older earth pony buck surrounded by White Hooves going on the offensive? Only if he was crazy!

Fortunately for me, most of the voices in my head suggested that I was.

I ran right up in front of the White Hoof stallion, whose brown eyes had widened with newfound surprise at my actions, and then I slammed my forehead down right above his left eye. I felt bone give way beneath my strike and heard the loud scream of pain as the other pony drew back from me. However, I wasn't about to let up. I crouched down and swept the ground with my hind hooves, gathering up all four of his legs and sending the stallion toppling to the ground. I was back up on my own feet before even knew he'd fallen and slammed a hoof down on his throat. His pained cries were stifled into a collection of frustrated gasps as I applied enough pressure with my hoof to make him hurt, but not quite enough to crush his throat.

Killing this White Hoof was not my intent. If I did that, the mare would be forced to strike me down too, and a fight wasn't what I wanted here. Not really. Not against them. I glared down at the stallion beneath my hoof. With my other, I wiped at the spot on my neck where his spear had been and looked at it. Sure enough, he'd drawn blood. I growled down at the stallion and shoved my blood-smeared hoof in his face, roughly rubbing it over his snout, “drawing blood from your own outside of a sanction roll. You ignorant little fuck,” I spat at the stallion, “you could be thrown into the pit for that, you know?”

I felt the metal tip of a spear tap me just behind my right ear. At the corner of my vision, I noticed a crimson haze cast light on my face, “easy there, gramps,” the mare said in a conversational tone, “afraid I can't let you kill him just because he's a moron,” the stallion beneath my hoof narrowed his eyes at the mare for a brief moment before returning a defiant look in my direction.

Taking the other White Hoof's meaning, I gave the nose of the stallion I'd pinned a final firm smack with my hoof and then back away from him. The mare's spear stayed in contact with the side of my face as I returned to a respectable distance, “I'd be doing the tribe a favor,” I snarled.

“Maybe,” the mare shrugged, then her playful gaze became a little more serious, “if we're really in the same tribe. Like I said, you talk a good game. But talk's-”

“-just air,” I finished, nodding.

“So, if you wouldn't mind?” the mare pointed a hoof at my shoulders as she offered up a wan smile, “we've got places to be too.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the time for banter had finally come to an end it seemed, and now it was down to business. The mare spoke like she was pretty much certain of what she would see when I shed my barding, but she was not fool enough to judge a pony based on their ability to hurl insults.

I guess, deep down I knew that this was something that I was going to have to do when I stepped into this. I'd hoped that talking would be enough, but...

I glanced back for a brief moment at Foxglove, who was looking between me and the spear hovering at my throat. She was very frightened, certain that I'd been found out. I saw her body tensing up. She was looking for my signal to attack. To start fighting and hope for the best now that they'd called my bluff. Poor mare. She was going to be in for a shock.

You called me a good pony once. Told me I was one of the most genuinely decent stallion's you'd ever met since leaving the stable.

Will you choke on those words now?

I turned my head to the side and undid one of the buckles on my armored barding. A flip of my head sent the reinforced segment covering the nape of my neck aside, revealing the brand for all to see. The mare scrutinized it for only a few seconds before lowering her spear and allowing her smile to bloom once more.

“Why haven't I seen you around the camp before?” She asked, stepping closer, her eyes dancing, “A buck like you, I'd remember.”

“I've been away on assignment for...a long time,” I let out a slow, tired sigh. I had been away for a long time. Away from ponies that I understood, a culture I was raised in. This encounter had been a little taste of, well, home I guess. A cruel tease in the end. Once these two left, I'd be right back where I was. My eyes went back to the mare. She was so young, and a unicorn to boot. If the two of us were back in the main settlement...oh, I'd show her what an old pony like me could do with a mare like her...

She could have been one of your concubines, Steel Bit's voice reminded me.

She could have been my wife.

Could have.

I glanced away again, the knowledge paining me a bit, “deep cover...it's like that. You have to stay away. No telling who's watching.”

“It must get lonely out here,” the mare stepped right up next to me, holding her head in such a way that only a slight movement would bring me into contact, “on your own,” an invitation. She'd been impressed alright, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tempted.

Oh, if it was just me...

But it wasn't, was it? Foxglove was still standing a short distance away, barely containing her shock and horror at what I'd recently revealed. All that held back a terrified sprint was the knowledge that it might get both of us killed, or at least herself. And if they hung around and found Windfall, how did I explain her?

“Why do you think I have that with me,” I drew back enough to make clear my tacit rejection of her offer and nodded at the violet unicorn trembling nearby.

The White Hoof mare curled her nose at Foxglove, “that pathetic thing? You're joking,” an edge crept into her tone. It occurred to me this mare might not be used to getting told, 'no', when she propositioned stallions. I had to defuse this before she became as violent as her friend had.

“The joke is thinking that I have the time to train a filly to fuck like a mare,” I turned on the White Hoof, causing her to draw back in surprise at my suddenly harsh tone, “look at you, I probably have foals out there older than you. What could you possibly know about pleasing a stallion?”

“I haven't heard any complaints,” the mare seethed, obviously genuinely affronted now.

“What, from colts like him?” I nodded in the direction of the stallion that was only now picking himself up off the ground, a hoof pressed to his injured eye, “he's just happy to get his flaccid little cock into a hole. He'd praise the carnal skills of a can of Cram if that's all he had at hoof.”

The expression of hate on the stallion's face doubled at the remark, but he stayed silent and kept his weapon at his side. Talk is just air. We were back to playing the game again, and he'd remember that this time now that he knew for certain I was a White Hoof too. The mare barely suppressed an amused smile that threatened to take hold as she contemplated the image that my appraisal conjured and then held up her head haughtily, snorting at me with contempt, “I think you just fuck her because you know she wouldn't laugh at your performance.

“I changed my mind,” she added to her companion as she turned and started walking away, “we can leave. Come on, Bo.”

The stallion looked after the mare as she passed, and then fixed me with a baleful look for a few seconds before falling into step behind her.

“And for being such a useless little shit, you can fuck yourself tonight, Bo,” the mare added, loud enough for me to hear, “probably tomorrow too,” the stallion's ears flattened, and I caught a second glare as the two of them vanished over a hill to the west.

I let out a breath that I hadn't realized I'd been holding and allowed my posture to sag slightly, finally wincing at the throbbing pain that coursed through my entire body. Med-X, seriously, I needed to invest in a healthy supply of Med-X.

I looked out in the direction they'd gone for a few moments, and then turned back to Foxglove. The mare was staring at me, her eyes wide and fearful. Don't fall apart now, you idiot. I cuffed her upside the head with my hoof, saying loudly, “what are you waiting for, you dumb cunt? Did you forget the way back already?” I shoved her in the direction of the house that we had put Windfall in and whispered in a much lower tone, “play the part until we're inside. We're not safe yet,” more loudly I stated, “All those nights fucking your brains out, I'm going to see if I can't fuck a little in tonight!”

Foxglove kept things together just long enough to make it through the front door of the house we had claimed for the night. Then she refused to budge another inch. I at least made it to the doorway of Windfall's room before stopping. The pegasus hadn't moved since I'd left her, unaware of everything that had just transpired outside. With any luck, she would remain ignorant of tonight for the rest of her life. Of course, there was now one pony in my presence who knew more about my past than anypony else in Neighvada. I looked back over my shoulder at the unicorn, who was still standing in the doorway, her wary eyes staring at me in wide fright. It was like she had just walked in on me horrifically murdering somepony. She was looking at me like I was a monster.

“That was all just an act, you know? I'm not really going to fuck you.”

I didn't really expect that to put Foxglove at ease, not really. I just needed to say something to break the silence. I didn't like her looking at me like that; like I was the enemy.

Silence. Then, “and the rest?” Foxglove managed to squeak out, “are you really a spy?”

Look at her, the image of Whiplash grinned, trembling in her hooves. Remember what she said to you? How much she was grateful for what you'd done for her? Look at her now. Look at somepony who knows the truth about you.

Imagine how Windfall will react...

That did stick in my craw a bit. Everything I'd done for this mare, and now she was looking at me with the same terror she'd felt for those other two White Hooves. Hell, I'd just saved her life again, and I had yet to hear any sort of thanks from this bitch's lips!

What had I ever done to her to earn that look? Mark or no?

“What if I am a spy?” I asked her evenly, turning to face the violet unicorn, “what if I'm a White Hoof, reporting on NLR movements? What are you going to do about it?” Foxglove averted her eyes, shifting uneasily on her hooves, “are you going to kill me in my sleep tonight? Rat me out to the guards the moment we pass through the front gate?”

No response. Just fear. Unbelievable, “are you fucking kidding me?” I growled, “what did I do to earn this from you? Was it the time I saved your life ten minutes ago? The time I saved your life six hours ago? When I saved you from slavers? Gave you food? A warm bed to sleep in?”

Every question earned me another pained wince from the mare, “I have never raised a hoof against you. I never abused you. Never mistreated you in any way. But look at you now. Well, fuck you. If that right there is how you show gratitude to somepony who's helped you even a tenth as much as I have, no wonder you kept getting screwed over by the ponies you met you ungrateful...fucking...bitch,” with the last spat word out of my mouth, I turned away and headed for the doorway once more.

“I didn't have to do a Celestia damned thing back there you know? I could have just let them take you.

“Maybe I should have.”

“I'm sorry,” Foxglove mumbled, causing me to stop, “I'm sorry,” she repeated, a little more loudly. I looked and saw her shamed expression regarding me with pleading eyes, “y'all are right. You and Windy, y'all ain't never done wrong by me. Not once. I just...nevermind. There ain't no excuse for how I acted just now. What does it matter if you're a White Hoof if you're also the only stallion that ain't ever tried to force me into his bed?

“I'm sorry. And thank you. And, no,” she went on, noticeably more relaxed, if not seeming to be entirely thrilled by the notion, “I won't act against you when we get to Seaddle. Whatever you have going on with the NLR and the White Hooves, it ain't none of my business. You've kept me safe, and I promised you a lot for doing that. I'm a mare of my word. I'll stick around long enough to see my end of things through.”

I held the gaze of the unicorn mare for a long while. She sounded sincere, but was she? She was a very large risk now. Just a word to the Republic soldiers and I'd be dead. Just a word to Windfall...

Killing her was the safest thing to do.

Two pairs of eyes, one sapphire and one emerald, were firmly against that notion. Oh, right. My decisions had to go through a committee now. So how did the other delegates care to vote? Steel Bit was a no-brainer. His only point of contention was whether I should rape her before or after I killed her. Was Whiplash going to deadlock things?

Did you seriously just put yourself through all of that just to waste the effort by killing her yourself? The piss-yellow mare from my past chided, moron. Besides, she could still be useful...

So...that's a 'no' then, I guess? She had a point though. Somepony would need to stay behind in Seaddle to watch over Windfall when she finally did wake up. Foxglove was a perfect fit. As perfect as I was likely to find anyway.

I would probably need to clear up a few things first though, “we need to talk,” I motioned for her to follow me into the room where Windfall slumbered. I took up a seat near the door and waited for the unicorn to make her way in, though I noticed her gate was still rather hesitant. She'd promised not to kill me, but I suspect she noticed that I had not reciprocated any such assurances. She also noticed that my position would block any attempt she made to beat a hasty retreat if I chose to act on any ill intent. In the end, she took up a seat near Windfall.

The unicorn's gaze fell on the pegasus for just a brief moment, and I noticed that even then there was a lack of the fondness I had seen previously. Right, if I was a White Hoof spy, and Windfall was my steadfast companion, then she was obviously in league with the tribe as well, even if she did lack the mark. I couldn't have that, not for what I was intending.

“I'm not a spy,” I began, talking flatly. Foxglove's concerns needed to be laid to rest, and all I had to do was tell her the truth of the matter regarding my relationship with the White Hooves. Something that a pair of emerald eyes in my head found to be a rather novel act for me. Well, fuck her. Lying wasn't a compulsion I had, it was just frequently the only means I had to not be killed by the ponies I met in my travels. Hardly my fault, was it?

The unicorn frowned slightly at the revelation, dubious of the claim, “I'm not even a White Hoof,” that she flat out snorted at. My expression soured now, “not anymore.”

“I didn't think that leaving a group like them was an option,” the violet mare said, her gaze searching for the signs of deception that she was certain she'd find.

“I didn't leave,” I corrected, “I was forced out,” this got Foxglove's attention at least, though she didn't look very convinced. I opted to explain further. I needed her to believe me, and the best way to do that was given her the whole story.

“My father was Steel Bit,” I didn't suspect that there should be any reason for Foxglove to know that name. She'd been in the Wasteland for only a few years, and he'd been dead for decades; but I guess I'd been used to ponies reacting to that name when he'd been alive, “he was the former chief of the White Hooves,” the unicorn's eyes widened at that revelation at least, “and, yeah, that means I would have taken over when he died. I would have been leading the White Hooves right now.

“Would have,” I stressed, genuine irritation coloring my tone as the memories flooded back, “had my sister, Whiplash, not murdered him and bribed his guards. She tried to have me killed too, but I managed to escape. Now Whiplash is their leader, and I'm on their 'kill on sight' list.”

“So why didn't those two try to kill you,” Foxglove inquired. She didn't sound quite as skeptical now, just curious.

“Probably because all of this happened more than twenty years ago, and I doubt those two were even born by then,” I suggested dryly, “the point is, that I don't work with them. I'm not even welcome among them if they knew who I was. And, more importantly—most importantly,” I held the unicorn's gaze to instill the utter seriousness of my next words in her mind, “Windfall knows none of this.”

That got Foxglove's attention, “she doesn't?” the disbelief in her voice was obvious, “she hasn't seen your brand?”

“She's seen it,” I admitted, “she just doesn't know what it means. She thinks I was a White Hoof slave.

“And you never told her the truth, why?”

“Because there's never been a good time to, or a reason to,” I explained, “when I first met her, it was just after her home had been raided by a group of White Hooves. She was the only survivor. I'd never have been able to convince her to stay with me if I'd told her the truth.”

This seemed acceptable to the unicorn mare, though she did have one other pertinent question, “so why tell me?”

Foxglove had started to relax noticeably during the accounting of my history. After all, if I was going to kill her or something, there would have been little point in me telling her all of that. It was a good start. I still needed to get her on board with what I intended though, “because I want you to do something for me. Call it a renegotiation of our deal.”

“What do you want me to do?” that note of uncertainty had returned.

“I want you to look after Windfall for me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“When we get to Seaddle, I'll be leaving. On my own.”

“What?” was Foxglove's shocked response, “why?”

“Because I have decided that it's time for me to go back to being a solo act,” I informed the mare. I wasn't speaking honestly anymore, and a part of me didn't like that. Well, whatever that new part of me it was that was uncomfortable about deceiving other ponies could suck it. I'd had my genuine moment for the week, and if that wasn't enough, then they could get together with Yellow Bitch and have themselves a good cry about how I wasn't listening to their whining often enough. This was my Celestia-damned life, and I'd live it however I pleased, lies and all!

“Windfall's old enough to be on her own,” I continued, “there's no reason for me to stay in the picture. What I need you to do is keep an eye on her until she'd fully recovered. After that, what you do is your business, I don't give a shit. Stay in Seaddle, travel with Windfall, strike out for Manehattan for all I care.”

“Does Windfall know you're going to be doing this?” her tone suggested that she was doubtful, and she was right to be.”

“No, she doesn't. You'll explain it to her.”

“Explain what?” Foxglove's voice rose dramatically in volume, and my gaze darted to the pegasus briefly. However, her ear hadn't so much as twitched, “what am I supposed to tell her?” her tone abruptly shifted to what I took to be a halfhearted satyr of her hypothetical future conversation with the winged mare, “well, sorry, Windfall, but it looks like your father ran off and left you behind. Why? Fuck if I know!”

I grit my teeth, finding myself preferring it when Foxglove was frightened and wary of me, “You can tell her whatever you want; and I'm not her father!”

“You might as well be!” the unicorn snapped, “hell, you could have fooled me the way she acts around you. She adores you! You have to know she's going to come looking for you?”

“Convince her not to. Make up whatever story you have to. Tell her I died in the fight with the hell hound.”

“Oh, you mean so she can go on a vengeful killing spree as she picks a fight with every hell hound in Neighvada? I've heard the way she talks about White Hooves. The only thing that keeps her from flying right into the heart of their territory and going out in a blaze of glory is you!” Foxglove jabbed her hoof at my chest, an edge creeping into her voice as her passion regarding the subject grew, “why, in Celestia's name, would she listen to me? She's known me for a week, Jackboot! She doesn't respect me the way she does you.

“She'd get herself killed in a day, tops.”

The mare was probably right. Windfall could be...aggressive. She was certainly a lot more willing to pick a fight with somepony than I was. She'd probably have made a good White Hoof. Telling her I was dead would just get her riled up, and she would go out to pick a fight with whomever she could. Still, if she knew I was alive, she would come looking for me, and probably eventually find me. Then what? How would I talk my way out of that?

Could I have Foxglove tell Windfall the truth? That I was a White Hoof? The pegasus surely wouldn't want to travel with me after learning that. But would Windfall even believe the unicorn without proof? Probably not. And the only proof that would satisfy would be...well, actually, she'd seen my mark. Somepony else reputable would have to tell her, like a guard or something.

But she'd probably still want to confront me about it...

“You need to tell her yourself,” Foxglove informed me evenly.

I shook my head, “I can't tell her I'm a White Hoof, it'd break her.”

“Then don't,” the unicorn said, “make something up, but whatever you tell her, it needs to be you doing the telling.

“That don't mean that I don't think what you should be telling her is the truth though,” Foxglove amended, “ain't no good ever come from lying to somepony you care about. Trust me on that.”

The truth wasn't an option, but I was starting to feel like the unicorn mare might not be wrong about who needed to explain the situation to Windfall. Granted, I certainly wasn't looking forward to that particular talk. She'd have a lot of questions regarding why, and she'd be making a lot of compromises in order to change my mind. Standing my ground without looking like a complete ass would be tough.

…

Or, it might be just what I needed to do. Windfall adored me, right? According to Foxglove anyway. She certainly obeyed me. I didn't force her to continue tagging along with me; she followed willingly because she respected me. What if she didn't? What if Windfall no longer felt any desire to stay by me? She'd gladly let me leave her behind then, wouldn't she?

So there we had it. New plan. Stick around Seaddle until Windfall recovered, and then proceed to emotionally abuse her until she wanted nothing more to do with me. She'd be out of my life, and I'd be free of the emotional attachment that had formed between us. Meanwhile, the pegasus mare was free to live out her life as she saw fit with whomever she chose to associate.

I wonder if all those years with you has predisposed Windfall to a certain type of stallion, Whiplash mused from the back of my mind, I bet they won't think twice about enticing her into their beds. Teach her all about those tender urges you've been repressing...

Will she moan your name?

She was a grown mare. Who she did what with was not my concern. Not any more.

“I'll think about it,” I wouldn't. Judging by the expression on Foxglove's face, she knew I wouldn't either, “go upstairs. Keep an eye out. I'll be up in a few hours,” the mare nodded and made her way back to the door, heading for the staircase.

As she passed by, she left me with one last comment, “You know, one time, I chose myself over the ponies I cared about,” she paused, and her eyes glassed over with a sad, distant, look, “it cost me everything,” now she looked up at me, “will you be ready to pay that price too?”

I met her gaze resolutely, “I've already lost everything once.”

“Maybe,” Foxglove nodded. Then her eyes wandered briefly back to the still form of Windfall, “we'll see,” her eyes met mine one final time, “good night, Jackboot.”

Her words echoed in my head as she ascended to the second floor. A couple of the ponies in my head seemed to indicate they knew what she was talking about; the others and myself had no clue. Ominous nonsense probably. Unicorns were weird like that...maybe. I don't know, maybe I was just tired and reading into things too much. I'd had a long day, and a little rest was sounding really good right now. I trotted over and curled up in a chair near the couch that Windfall was sleeping on.

My mind wandered back to the interaction earlier with the two White Hooves. Neither of them had recognized me. They hadn't even asked for my name. I guess it had been a long time since I'd been essentially usurped. A little white paint, and maybe...

No. While most of the current generation wouldn't have a clue, there were bound to be plenty who'd figure it out. Chief among them Whiplash. Going back wasn't an option. It was never going to be, no matter how much I wished it were different. My home just didn't exist anymore.

Whine, whine, whine, Whiplash said in a condescending tone, does the little foal want his blanky to make himself feel better?

I ground my teeth together. Yeah, pining wasn't going to do anything. I just needed to focus my mind on the next steps I had to take. My gaze went to the unconscious pegasus.

She's not going to like you very much.

That's the point though, isn't it?

I sighed, “you're not going to understand why I'm doing it,” I said softly, knowing that she wouldn't hear anything, “you're going to think you did something wrong, that it's your fault. You're going to hate me.

“And even though you'll never know: I'm sorry.”

It's just how it has to be. For both our sakes.

Be honest...

Footnote:...

Thank you so much for reading! As always, a thumbs up and comment are always greatly appreciated

I've set up a Cover Art Fund if you're interested and have any bits lying around! You can see what I'M capable of, heh; professional assistance is clearly needed here!