"I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the End..."

Sica and I fooled around a few more times that night. The gray unicorn reached a curious equilibrium of jubilation at the prospect of that much sex, and frustration at being roused every couple of hours to start things off with her mouth before we got to what she clearly considered to be the good part; only to be required to clean up in a similar fashion to how things were instigated. Though it was clearly not something she enjoyed, I very much appreciated that the mare humored me whenever I poked her awake and then used her horn to guide her head towards where I wanted it. By the third round, I hadn’t even needed to do that much; the moment my hoof jostled her shoulder she immediately curled around to carry out the routine we’d established that evening.

It didn’t help to improve on her soured mood at that early hour when she discovered that I didn’t actually intend to escalate things to any additional sexual escapades. She did her due diligence though and then went back to sleep, mumbling something about needing to start bringing more whiskey back to her tent at night for use as a chaser.

She didn’t even notice that when she finished up that last time, I took my leave of her tent. I didn’t have the benefit of my pipbuck’s clock, but I knew that it was getting closer to morning and I had a few preparations to make before I confronted Whiplash.

The first thing on my morning agenda: a shower. As thorough as I had forced Sica to be, there were just some things that soap and water could do that a mare’s ultimately disinterested tongue could not. I wasn’t going to challenge my sister to a fight to the death while smelling like spit, seamen, and some other mare. Besides, my body paint had gotten more than a little smeared while we’d been rolling around all night.

I had momentarily debated reapplying it when I was done washing and drying myself off. Part of me—the part that had once been a White Hoof—insisted that, if I intended to challenge another pony to a fight to the death in this place, I should only do it as a true White Hoof warrior, done up properly in the paint I had duly earned.

However, the more cynical side of me saw the merit in not challenging Whiplash on those terms. If I presented myself as a true warrior, seeking honorable combat, I would just be shouted down. Unless I could produce an alliance of other warchiefs that backed my claim, such a challenge would never be honored, and Whiplash would just have me executed. I’d already known that was not how this would go down. The only way that I was going to be able to guarantee that my sister joined me in the ring was to present myself, not as a White Hoof, but as a poser.

I had to be just some piece of shit stallion that stood as a personal insult to her by simply existing. If I could convince every White Hoof present that killing me with any means other than her own two hooves was a clear sign that she wasn’t fit for leadership, I would get what I wanted. That meant that I had to forgo the paint. More than that, it would help if I covered up the brand to, as though I considered it something shameful. That was something that would surely piss a lot of the other ponies here off, but I could also use it as one more point for why this was a matter Whiplash had to deal with personally.

My thoughts continued to wind along as I considered other and further way to manipulate the situation as I stood in the simple shower that had been built using a barrel mounted on top of a pylon and fitted with a lever and pull-rope. The cool water cascaded over my body, washing away flecks of dirt and paint. It was a refreshing experience, and the last like it I was likely to have.

In fact, I was so preoccupied with my own thoughts that I jerked with a start when I felt something start to rub up against my side. My head whipped around, and I stared blankly at the floated brush for a good five seconds as it gently scrubbed away some of the more stubborn motes of white paint that were hard for me to reach. Then I finally registered the color of the magic that was manipulating the brush and glance about. I immediately spotted Sica standing a few feet away, wearing a wry smirk on her face.

I instantly relaxed, and let out a sigh, “you startled me. Didn’t think you wanted to be up this early.”

“What, and miss Whiplash getting her rump stomped?” the mare snorted, “I wasn’t about to miss that!”

For the second time that minute I whipped my head around as my heart leaped up into my throat. How could this mare have possibly known what I was planning?! Had I mumbled something in my sleep? She hadn’t been anywhere nearby whenever I’d spoken to Foxglove. She had to be guessing or something. Though I was sure the guilt had been clear on my face, I schooled my features back into a neutral expression and looked away from the mare, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Another amused snort from the mare, “of course you don’t. The Great and Powerful Jackboot came all the way back home just to take a roll with me before wandering back out into the Wasteland the next morning. Sure…”

…and that was the third time my head snapped around. I was going to just twist it right off my damn neck at this rate! I gaped at the mare. How could she possibly know who I was? I’d had ample time to study her last night and come to a fair guess as to her age. At the absolute oldest, she’d have been a newborn foal when Whiplash ran me out of the valley, give or take a couple months. She couldn’t possibly have recognized me.

It didn’t mean that she hadn’t been right, though, “how…?” even as I asked the question, I very subtly started to spread my stance in preparation for an attack.

“Whoa, whoa!” Sica took a couple steps back and sat down on her hind quarters as she threw her forelegs up in a clear sign of surrender. The brush floated over to her side and started bobbing like a flag blowing in the breeze, “relax, I’m not about to turn you in or anything. Are you kidding? I’ve been waiting for this moment the second I ran into you three months ago,” she hesitated and rolled her eyes, “alright, maybe not that exact second, but the moment Whiplash said who you were, I was totally hoping you’d come here.

“I don’t know why it took that stupid chicken to do it, but whatever,” she added as a somewhat sour aside.

I blinked at the mare, relaxing my stance, “you…wanted me to come here?”

“Of course! Nopony else is going to challenge that psycho. She has all the warchiefs tucked away in her saddlebags. Celestia knows what keeps them there,” she growled under her breath, “she sure isn’t sleeping with them. Nopony’s stupid enough to do that willingly…”

“Wait, wait, wait,” I must have been missing something here, because I couldn’t possibly be understanding the unicorn right, “let me get this straight: you know who I am, and why I’m here, and you want me to kill Whiplash?”

Was this some sort of weird trap that my sister had somehow managed to mastermind? It certainly wasn’t her style, and I couldn’t see or hear anypony nearby that was listening in. It was at this moment that I really noticed the absence of my pipbuck and the Eyes Forward Sparkle it provided.

“You going senile there, gramps? Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” Sica restated, sounding exasperated at having to repeat herself.

“I don’t get it, if a lot of the tribe wants her gone, why do you need me? Even if my sister’s bought off most of the warchiefs, if one of the other warriors can get enough public support, there’ll still be a legitimate challenge,” declining a challenge made by a warrior who was endorsed by a plurality of the tribe, if not any warchiefs, was a sure way to lose face; and perhaps even some of that support.

The gray unicorn frowned at me, “who said anything about the tribe? I want her dead. Most of the tribe seems to be okay with her. As long as they have booze and slaves, the other White Hooves go along with whatever. The average warrior could give two shits about the politics as long as he or she has somepony to fuck and a full belly.”

“So…why do you care then?”

“Why do you think?” the mare glared at me. When I provided no guesses, as I had none that came to mind, she answered the question herself, “because that bitch cheated me out of my birthright, same as you!”

My brain threw a clot. At least, I assume that was what had happened, as pretty much all rational thought ceased for an indeterminable amount of time. What could this mare possibly be talking about? What claim to the White Hooves could she have? Steel Bit had sired only two foals in his lifetime, myself and Whiplash. Each of us had been conceived through a different mare, whom our father had then had killed shortly after we were born. He had had no other brood mares or concubines after Whiplash that I’d ever known about; and he wasn’t the sort of stallion who had any need to maintain a secret lover.

In fact, the only other mare he’d ever been intimate with other than our birth mothers had…been…

Sica filled my field of vision as I stared at the mare. Steel-gray coat…yellow mane and tail…red eyes…

“Sweet Celestia,” I said breathlessly, “you’re...Whiplash’s…”

“…Daughter,” the unicorn nodded her confirmation, “her eldest foal; sired by Steel Bit,” she added. Then her features grew hard once more, “which makes me the true heir to the tribe. Not that bastard, Cestus!”

I was still overcome with a great deal of shock for a whole wagonload of reasons that were going to take some time for me to sort out as the opportunities to do so presented themselves. There were some questions that I felt were worth getting the answers to though, “so why aren’t you next in line?” by all rights, she should have been. Unless there had been some great cause to discount her…

“Because Whiplash didn’t want it getting out that Steel Bit had been raping her since she was a filly,” Sica explained bitterly, “she thought none of the warchiefs would back her claim if they knew she’d been weak enough to be treated like a brood mare all her life,” she was right, they wouldn’t have, “she hid the pregnancy, and then killed the midwife that delivered me to make sure word never got out.

“Bo’s father had been one of Steel Bit’s lieutenants. She gave me to him to raise as his own, figuring that he’d want what the former Chief did to stay a secret too,” the gray mare’s scowl deepened, “he kept quite…until Cestus was born. He knew Whiplash was nuts and figured I’d be a perfect rallying point for the warchiefs to get behind: another of Steel Bit’s foals.

“Somepony must have said something though. He got drunk and ‘fell’ into the radsorpion pit one night,” it was clear that she suspected a far less innocent demise, and again she was likely correct, “after that, all the other high ranking warriors got in line, and there was nopony left who knew who my real father was.”

“Why didn’t Whiplash kill you too?” it was sloppy of her to leave loose ends like this. Evidenced by her words right now, as she told me her story and had already alluded to needing me to aid in her takeover.

The unicorn shrugged, “who knows? Motherly instincts maybe; not that she seemed to care when I was born.”

There’s that sentiment again. I guess it ran in the family.

Speaking of which, if this mare was really Whiplash’s daughter—and Steel Bit’s to boot—didn’t that make her…what did it make her? My niece? My sister? My nister? I was suddenly marginally uncomfortable with what to two of us had done last night. Although, it wasn’t like I had known that she was family! I had just thought she was a hot unicorn mare that appreciated what a more mature stallion had to offer her over some adolescent colt that had probably just figured out which hole his dick goes in.

She’d known who I was though. Yet, for whatever reason, she’d taken her…brother/uncle/bruncle/whatever back to her tent for a lot of sex, “we’re related and we slept together.”

It came out as a sort of moment of clarity as my brain finished processing that sequence of thoughts. I don’t know how I thought Sica was supposed to react to that revelation either. After all, she was that one that had known about our relationship and allowed it to progress the way that it had.

In keeping with those circumstances, the unicorn mare issued a bored nod, “a few times,” she noted. Then added, “I’m pretty sure I swallowed more cum than whiskey last night,” she deadpanned, “I can’t wait to see what happens the next time I take a piss.”

“You could have said something, you know,” I pointed out.

“Well, the blowjobs would usually lead to sex, so I figured it was kind of worth putting up with.”

“I meant about being related!”

The mare shrugged, “I didn’t think that it really mattered. What’s important is that you not do anything stupid until I can get all of the other pieces into position.”

“Pieces?” I narrowed my eyes at the gray unicorn who was still scrubbing away at my coat. There were quite a few revelations being thrown at me all at once here, and I was still trying to process them all. Learning that this pony was the product of my father’s habitual rape of my half-sister would have been shocking enough in its own right—even without learning this only after spending half the night rutting her. Add to that learning that she was also Whiplash’s disowned child, and obviously still feeling rather bitter about it. It looked like she decided at some point that she wasn’t just going to roll over and accept her lot in life though; and that she was going to involve me in her designs.

“Well, you can’t challenge her after last night,” Sica pointed out dismissively, “even if you kill her, none of the warchiefs would follow you. It’d look like you were just doing it for the pegasus. We need to wait and bide our time. Let me feel out the others and see who would be willing to support your bid.

“Then, when we have the support we need, we’ll finally call out Whiplash, and take the tribe for ourselves.”

“I’m hearing a lot of ‘we’ here,” I pointed out, “why do you need me for this, if you really are Whiplash’s kid?”

Sica scowled, “because the only pony alive that could prove it is Whiplash; and I don’t see her admitting it any time soon,” it didn’t sound like the sort of thing that was likely to happen, no, “which means that my only hope of getting anywhere close to being Chief is through you.”

I frowned, “you want me to name you as my successor or something? Acknowledge you as Steel Bit’s third foal?”

“What?” the unicorn’s face contorted in confusion, “no, of course not! Even if anypony believed you, you’re the one they would have supported, not me. If you died or left or whatever, I wouldn’t inherit shit,” she grumbled in annoyance, “the only way I get any control, is if you take me on as your wife.”

I blinked at the mare in surprise, “didn’t you just get through telling me I’m your brother…ish?” seriously, what was our relationship in this gnarled family tree of ours?

“So? Nopony else knows that,” Sica pointed out, looking rather cross at having to repeat herself, “as far as the others are concerned, I’m just another White Hoof. A pony like you taking on a young mare to bear his heirs is hardly anything new; and I’ve been working to make enough connections over the past couple months that it won’t even look that out of place.”

“Wait, you’ve been planning this for months?” I thought back over my initial meeting with the unicorn back in the ruins of that little Old World town. There had been no sign that Sica had recognized me then. So, how could she have been plotting for this? “how long have you known who I was?”

“Not until I got back,” the mare admitted, “I didn’t think anything of it really; Whiplash has loads of spies all over the valley, and it’s not like I know everypony in the tribe personally. But I mentioned running into one of our ‘agents’ near Seaddle and described you, trying to find out your name in case I wanted to meet you again,” the unicorn flashed me a knowing smile, “but nopony who worked with our agents recognized you.

“At first I thought you’d conned me, but your brand checked out, so I asked about anypony who’d been exiled or something,” she smirked, “which is when ponies started bringing up Whiplash’s brother, Jackboot; but also that he was supposed to be dead. When word about you got back to that yellow bitch, you could hear the screaming for miles in every direction,” she chuckled, “it was glorious!

“That’s when I saw my chance,” the unicorn sidled up next to me beneath the shower and used her magic to stop the drizzling flow of water, “I figured you were back in the valley to finally settle things with Whiplash, so I started laying the ground work,” her expression soured slightly, “which you’ve managed to neatly undo by coming here just after they brought in the feather duster,” she forced a smile and brightened herself up a little once more, “but, as long as you don’t make a move for a couple days, we can play things off as a coincidence. Maybe even convince everypony that you don’t have any connection at all to the pegasus and that Whiplash was making it all up to try and discredit you.”

Windfall wasn’t going to last a ‘few days’ in my sister’s clutches. The flier would be lucky to make it to sundown. I wasn’t quite ready to discount Sica’s machinations allowed though. The unicorn had clearly put a lot of thought and effort into her designs, and I seemed to be their linchpin. If she found out that I wasn’t dead set on helping her, I’d very quickly lose the closest thing to an ally that I had among the White Hooves. That meant that I had to at least pretend like I was intrigued by the notion of accepting her help.

“So, you want me to hold off for a few days until the timing’s better,” the unicorn nodded her confirmation, “and where am I supposed to stay in the meantime?”

The unicorn chuckled and rubbed up against me, “with me, silly,” she purred, “we’ve got some ‘ground work’ to lay too, you know?”

“We do?”

The unicorn’s smile became marred by a wry frown, “of course we do. I can get a few of the warchiefs to support your claim based on you being Steel Bit’s eldest foal—that earns you a lot of points, after all; but they’re still White Hooves, you know? You’re not exactly a spry young stallion there, gramps. The tribe’s going to want to be assured that there’s a line of succession in the works if they're putting somepony your age in as chief. The sooner you sire a foal, the better everypony’ll feel. Which means it’ll be less likely we’ll see the warchiefs conspiring against you later.”

“You made it sound like the other warchiefs wanted me back,” I noted, “why would they work against me after supporting me?”

“Because Whiplash is fucking nuts, that’s why,” Sica snorted, than she glared up at me, “I get that you’ve been away for a while, so let me bring you up to speed on how the politics here work; since you seem to have forgotten,” I bit back an annoyed retort, as the unicorn did have a point. She had her hoof on the pulse of the tribe at the moment, while I did not. So I patiently listened to her rhetoric.

“So far as the average White Hoof warrior is concerned, the chief calls the shots. They don’t care how much of a nutcase they are, so long as they have food and booze. The warchiefs, on the other hoof—some of them, at least—take a longer view of things. They know exactly how much damage a crazy chief can do to the tribe down the road. That being said, they can’t just oust a chief that’s incompetent so long as their warriors don’t know she is. Not without some overt reason that’s easy for the common warrior to get behind without thinking too much.

“Like having a more legitimate heir step forward,” she flashed a knowing look at me.

“The warchiefs can then go ahead and prop him up as a replacement chief and the other warriors will be on board because, hey, why not? This is obviously the warchiefs trying to do the right and honorable White Hoof thing by support the ‘true’ heir to the tribe. Everypony loves that shit and they eat it up,” Sica rolled her eyes.

Then her expression got a little more serious, “what everypony doesn’t know is that you’re just a stopgap. The warchiefs can get Whiplash out of the way, look good doing it, and then take their time to get everything in place for one of them to take over; especially because you’re so old and have no foals. They can quietly gather support to get one of them in position to inherit the tribe; and when the timing is right—Bam!” she slammed her hoof on the ground and adopted a tone that was obviously meant to parody a gruffer old stallion, “our noble chief has had a heart attack, as old ponies do. But, don’t worry! We have a successor all lined up! Hail to the new chief!” she grimaced as she let the charade fall away, “you’ll be lucky to survive a year. Worse, they might kill me too, just to tie up loose ends."

Obviously, ‘worse’ was a matter of perspective in this case.

“However,” Sica piped up, once more nuzzling me, “if you produce an heir before they can get everything set up, they’ll be forced to openly support all three of us in public. That’ll buy us enough time to start ‘retiring’ the warchiefs that didn’t support us, and elevate fresh warriors who’ll do what we tell them because they’re too young and stupid to know how the game’s really played.”

The gray unicorn slipped around in front of me, allowing her tail to flip up and curl around my neck as she flashed me a sultry look, “so, until I can get us the support we need to challenge Whiplash, you and I need to work on ‘securing the succession’.”

Oh, Father, you would have been so proud of this mare. I think, in a few ways, she is the most like you: determined, cunning, and even a little incestuous. Which wasn’t to say that there wasn’t a lot to recommend her plan. In fact, if she had introduced me to this concept a few years ago, I’d have been all over it. Not necessarily all over her though, as her familial relationship was still eliciting an uncomfortable tinge in the back of my neck.

“And it doesn’t weird you out that you and I have the same father?”

Sica let out an exasperated sigh, “horseapples, are you really still on that? I’m talking about making you Chief of the White Hooves! Trust me, I don’t like everything about this either,” this surprised me a bit, given that this was entirely her plan, “for the record: I hate sucking off stallions,” the unicorn glared at me and gave a little shiver of revulsion, “you guys aren’t nearly as clean down there as you think you are," she flashed me a determined sneer, "but I’ll do whatever you want as long as you put a load or two where it counts every night to get us that foal we need to make our move.

“Once you’re chief though, thing are going to change in that department. We’re going to get you a slave or something; because, once we’re in, I’m done swallowing your crap,” Sica scoffed as she stuck out her tongue. She stepped a little further around me and I felt her hoof brush up against my underside, “but if that’s what it takes to get you up, so be it.

“Let’s go get you painted up for the day,” Sica started leading me away from the shower, back towards her tent.

I hesitated, as that wasn’t going to work for what I was intending. The whole Idea was that I’d be challenging Whiplash, not as a White Hoof, but as a poser that was a satin upon the honor of the tribe. I couldn’t do that if I was decorated in the traditional white paint of a White hoof warrior. Trying to come up with a plausible excuse for Sica as to why I felt like going without today would be tough though.

Playing along might make things easier, I reasoned. I nipped Sica’s tail and tugged her towards the shower. The unicorn issued a slight peep at the pulling of her tail, but allowed herself to be drawn nearer out of curiosity. I drew the mare around and gave her a kiss on the lips, which seemed to put her a little more at ease as she leaned into it. When we parted, I reached up above us and gave the lever a slight pull and let the water begin falling once again, “if it’s a cleanliness issue, I think I have a solution for that,” I smiled at the mare, “and this time I promise I’ll finish where it’s needed most.”

The unicorn frowned slightly at first, but then fixed me with a playful glare, “you’d better,” she warned before kneeling down and ducking beneath me.

I played nice this time around, and contributed to Sica’s desire for a foal as she’d asked. All the while, the question of how I was going to let her blood relationship affect my feelings regarding performance allowed me to draw things out sufficiently to leave the unicorn feeling sufficiently satisfied with our little romp in the shower. Ultimately, while I was not very happy with the further parallels that the encounter drew between me and my father, I was able to assuage those concerns with the insistence that Sica desired this, and that it was not anything I was going to be capable of making a habit of.

What we engaged in last night was hardly my fault, as I had possessed no knowledge at all of our relation. This morning was less about sex, and more about distracting Sica so that I could do what needed to be done in order to save Windfall. That meant giving the two of us a reasonable excuse to be separated. Making a slightly messier go of things as I finished so that the unicorn felt compelled to linger in the shower and clean herself off while I fetched us some breakfast seemed to suffice.

It allowed me to be alone and wandering through the camp unhindered, at least.

As I had suspected would be the case, a fair number of White Hooves had not made it back to their own quarters that night, and had taken to slumbering wherever they’d ended up passing out last night. Some ponies were tangled up with one another, alluding to some sensual antics of their own, while others had apparently had the presence of mind at the last moment to at least try and find somewhere slightly out of the way to finally lose consciousness.

Foxglove was firmly in the court of the latter, and hers was a very transitory slumber. I had to wonder exactly how much sleep the violet mare had even managed to get when she snapped awake before I’d made it within ten feet of her. Her very tense expression relaxed slightly when she recognized who it was that was approaching her, but I imagined that the unicorn had not allowed herself to sleep particularly soundly in this setting. With her disguise as it was, I very much doubted that any of the other warriors would have tried anything outright violent of malicious with her, but young White hoof warriors didn’t need to be drunk to proposition a pretty mare.

I idly wondered just how many offers Foxglove must have gotten last night.

The mare rubbed at her bloodshot eyes and yawned.

“Sleep well?” I inquired with a slight smile on my face.

“Fuck you,” was the unicorn’s unabashed response as she finished her yawn, “I hope she gave you something that makes your dick fall off. Painfully.”

“You always say the sweetest things,” my smile soured slightly as I recognized that this passing moment for levity was going our last for a good long while; if not ever. Dying outright wasn’t the plan, but there was no denying that my chances of getting out of this alive were slim to none. I had no intention of telling Foxglove any of that though, “I’m going to be causing a bit of a commotion in a minute. You’ll want to be in position before that happens, so nopony notices you going in the opposite direction of everypony else.”

Foxglove nodded and rose to her hooves, “yeah, good idea,” she glanced at me, “just…try not to do anything too stupid, huh?”

“I knew you cared,” I even managed to crack a smile as the unicorn frowned at me, “hey, pass me a green-band grenade, will you?”

This caught the mare’s attention, and it was hard to miss her long period of hesitation as she opened up her saddlebag and floated out the requested apple-shaped orb. She raised a questioning brow at me before releasing her magical hold on it though, “I figure it’ll make for one heck of a distraction when I throw it into the crowd,” or at Whiplash. I hardly intended to fight fair, after all.

My response satisfied the unicorn, and she let the grenade drop into my outstretched hoof. I then tucked the explosive into my tail so that it would remain out of sight. I didn’t want any weapons to be visible on me, so that I could convince Whiplash to have to fight me with her bare hooves. I wanted every advantage I could get, and fighting without any weapons was going to give me an edge that Whiplash shouldn’t be able to openly criticize.

“Now get going,” I motioned for the violet mare to be on her way, “I’ll meet you and Windfall back at Stable 137,” probably not though.

The unicorn nodded and trotted off towards where Whiplash was keeping her prisoner. Meanwhile, I made my way to where my sister had issued her proclamations the previous evening near the radscorpion pit. As I walked, I kicked a few ponies in my way, jostling them awake and prompting some rather irate grumblings. I wanted a big crowd for this, and I needed it to be here long before my sister or her guards arrived in an attempt to deal with me quietly. This needed to be a commotion if I was going to keep any eyes from inadvertently spotting the two mares making their escape.

Once properly positioned, I took a deep breath and issued my challenge, “hey, Whiplash!” I boomed in the direction of her tent, “pull your hoof out of your slit and get out here! Big brother needs to have a talk with his baby sister!”

Most of the ponies scattered about didn’t seem to be registering much more than the fact that somepony was being inconsiderately loud far too early in the morning and needed to shut up. A few even managed to grumble as much as they rolled over in an attempt to return to sleep. However, there were several for whom the words I was saying were fully processed by their waking minds and sat bolt upright. They, in turn, began to wake up their more stubborn comrades and clue them in to what was going on.

More and more White Hooves got to their hooves and took notice. A fair number were even spilling out of their tents to come and see what was up, “Let’s go, Whiplash, I don’t have all day; finish sucking off that cock and get out here!”
I began strutting around in a circle, glaring towards the tent that housed my younger sibling and muttering loud enough for the nearer ponies to hear about how sad and depressing it was that a pony like Whiplash was somehow the figurehead for what it meant to be a White Hoof, “proudest tribe of warriors in the valley,” I grumbled audibly, “and she’s too busy being plowed by some slave to come out and kill one senile old poser.”

I heard a great deal of muttering and hushed asides being exchanged around me now that most of the nearby White Hooves had taken notice. There was even some movement finally coming from the direction of Whiplash’s tent. It looked to be one of the guards being sent to see what all of the yelling was about. He ducked back into the large Chief’s tent quick enough upon seeing me. While I doubted that he recognized me specifically, it wouldn’t have taken a whole lot of wits to realize what was going on.

I flashed a grin towards grin towards the crowd, “she goes through all the trouble of inviting me here, and then shows up late to her own party? I heard her say something about facing me at the crack of dawn, didn’t you?”

Of course, I knew full well that Whiplash had not uttered any such thing last night. However, I doubted that many of the ponies gathered around had even really paid all that much attention to the timetable that my sister had announced; or were even yet sober and awake enough to recall any details at all. The point was to sow those seeds of doubt about Whiplash’s quality of character. I needed them to demand that Whiplash prove herself against my claims and deriding marks, just as any of them would be expected to against a pony that was calling them out like I was.

“Well I’m here, Whiplash, where are you?” I resumed heckling at that top of my lungs, “I’ve killed a lot of your minions to get here; the least you could do is show up!” then I pretended to think for a moment and glanced at some nearby White Hooves, “actually, that explains why she gave up and settled for catching that bundle of fluff, doesn’t it? I mean, if you know you can’t handle a real fight, you rig one that you can win, right?

“That’s how White Hooves face their foes these days, isn’t it?” I turned back to the larger tents, raising my voice to be heard by everypony, “we skulk in the shadows like street urchins trying to snatch somepony’s caps,” this drew an uncomfortable look or two and encouraged murmuring among the public. Good, “and when that doesn’t work, we send an entire raiding party after two fillies and geezer; like the proud warriors we are,” even more grumblings.

“And when that doesn’t work, we abduct little fillies in the middle of the night because our Chief’s eldest colt can’t beat down one old poser stallion,” I sneered at the gathered ponies, “because that’s what it means to be noble White Hooves.

“Steel Bit must be so proud.”

The crowd was pretty stirred up now by the sounds of things, with a lot of looks being exchanged by the gathered ponies who didn’t seem to feel that any of what I said embodied what they thought of as being the acts of a ‘real’ White Hoof. Not that any of these young idiots probably would. So much of that tired rhetoric was just air anyway. My father had never sent me into a ‘fair fight’ in my life. He’d had been beating down on half-starved colts or crippled slaves who couldn’t work anymore. Old ponies and foals accounted for most of those that I’d killed as a White hoof. It wasn’t until I’d reached Hoofington that I found myself struggling against ponies who could fight back on an even footing with myself.

That was immaterial though. These ponies didn’t think like that. They still saw themselves as something special, and that was the ego that I was playing to right now.

“Says the pony that ran away in the middle of the night…”

Everypony’s attention, even mine, was drawn immediately to a small group of ponies that were being none-to-subtle about muscling their way through the crowd. Two painted guards burst through into the ring that had been formed around me, followed shortly by a yellow mare with a charcoal mane and red eyes. It seemed as though my little tirade had spurred her into action much more abruptly than she might have preferred. My sister was adorned in nowhere near the quantity of paint that she had been last night, but she had still managed to get her fetlocks covered and place a few streaks across her face before coming out here.

Clearly she had hoped to be able to make this a much more ceremonial occasion; likely believing that her sentries would have alerted her to my approach long before I arrived. Well, sorry to disappoint, Dear Sister.

Her comment drew some mutterings from the crowd as well, to which I did have a response, as it played nicely into my plans, “I never denied that I was a coward,” I shrugged as I nodded my head. It took some effort not to grin as I heard a few stunned gasps from the crowd and saw the look of irritation on Whiplash’s face, “a gutless coward who fled at the first sign of trouble. Yup, that’s me,” now I glanced up at my sister and grinned, “and yet, you can’t seem to kill me.”

The Chief of the White Hooves flashed me a baleful scowl, her words dripping with loathing as my last remark prompted several audible musings from the crowd, “that will soon be fixed,” she seethed through gritted teeth, “guards!”

The two stallions that smashed their way through the crowd to allow Whiplash to pass charged forward in an effort to tackle me to the ground and subdue me. I deftly sidestepped one and ducked low beneath the other in a movement he had clearly not expected from an older pony like me. The end result was both of the charging guard ponies colliding with one another off to the side. Several ponies in the crowd found this sight quite amusing, judging from the jeering and the laughter.

“What? Can’t handle one old coward on your own, Oh Mighty Chief of the White Hooves?” I jeered as I danced around the pair of earth ponies, frustrating their efforts to take me to the ground. Judging from the hollering going on around me, many found that notion to be funny as well. I just about had them where I needed them, “is a senile old poser like me too much for you to manage without some big strong stallions to help you?”

I turned my back on the pair of guards and faced the crowd, “and this mare is your Chief?!”

As was to be expected from taking your attention off of your opponent, I very quickly found myself tackled to the ground. While I could have done a lot to dislodge them, that would not get me what I wanted; which was the crowd’s support…after a fashion. I needed them to want to see me dead at Whiplash’s own hooves, not those of her lackeys. So, I instead allowed myself to be subdued, taking only a few subtle measures to mitigate my chances of being injured during their rough treatment.

Already I could hear the stirrings of disapproval from the crowd. The jeers and laughter at watching two of the Chief’s guard stumble after an old pony were replaced by grumblings and audible exchanges between ponies about whether or not the ‘crazy old poser’ had a point. While I knew I would never be able to identify who had instigated it, a chant rose up from within the crowd: “Bout, bout, bout…”

The crowd wanted to see a fight. These White Hooves didn’t want to see me put down by Whiplash’s guards; they wanted to see one-on-one combat between myself and my younger sister. I didn’t think for a moment that any of these ponies actually wanted to see me win that fight, of course. I had made a lot of allegations though, and those claims would linger for a good long while unless Whiplash put them firmly to rest here and now.

Judging from the enraged expression on my sister’s face, she knew it too.

The guards piled on top of me heard the chanting of the crowd, and they looked questioningly at their Chief, awaiting her next command as to what they were supposed to do. For her own part, my younger sibling schooled her features into something that at least closely resembled a calm and contemplative expression as she turned towards the crowd of gathered warriors.

She raised her hoof into the air, and the chanting died away until there was only silence. Then she addressed them, “that this poser thinks he’s worthy of facing any White Hoof in an honorable fight demeans us all,” she announced to the crowd. A pony here and there did look rebuked at this, but far more of them kept their expressions resolved. They wanted to see their Chief address this matter personally, and Whiplash seemed to recognize that. Hiding her ire, she continued, “but fine. If you think we should bow down to the whim of every piece of Wasteland trash that we let stumble into our camp, so be it.”

I had to give my sister some credit; she was at least going to capitalize on her victory. If she managed to come out on top of this, she was going to be well placed to exact some sort of penance from the whole of the tribe for making her ‘lower’ herself to killing common rabble for their entertainment. If the warchiefs were in her saddlebags as much as Sica had alluded to, the concessions that she got could be considerable. All she had to do to achieve them was kill one tired old pony.

Not that I intended to make that easy for her.

Whiplash waved a hoof at her guards, “let the filth up,” she said dismissively. Neither stallion was very gentle as they removed themselves from on top of me and back away, leaving me to face my sister without any interference from them. Similarly, the crowd backed away in order to make additional room for a brawl.

“I’m half tempted to have your pegasus slut brought out here so she can watch me kill you,” Whiplash mused.

Oh, that would be very bad if that happened, I thought while working very hard not to let the apprehension I was feeling show on my face. Thinking quickly, I said, “trying to get out of the fight already?”

My sister’s expression soured instantly, “but I supposed I can settle for showing her your severed head when this is over,” she seethed. She reached around and removed her saddlebags from her back, retrieving something from inside before tossing them to a nearby guard. At first, I thought that she was grabbing a weapon. Then I noticed that she was simply slipping a pair of leather cuffs over her forehooves, “I wouldn’t want to stain my hooves with the blood of a coward,” she scoffed.

“S’alright,” I quipped, “I don’t intend to do any bleeding anyway.”

Then I charged.

This moment, right here; I have waited so long for this chance. You, Whiplash, who are the source from which all of the grief and tragedy in my life stems. You are the thief who stole my life from me and left me a mad pony capable of hearing your voice wherever I went. I have killed hundreds in my life, but never before, through all of those deaths, have I actively wanted somepony dead; except for you. Today, Whiplash, you will die, and my suffering will finally be at an end. With you dead, I will no longer hear your incessant prattling in my head and I will have at least one moment of piece before my days end!

That was the monologue that ran through my head. Out loud, it was more along the lines of, “die, you bitch!”

I threw myself at the yellow mare and grinned madly when I saw her hastily scamper out of my way. She’d never been the fighter when we were younger; Steel Bit had not included her in the same training regimen that I’d been subjected to at her age. Whiplash couldn’t compare to me in terms of skill, and was outclassed in this fight by an order of magnitude. She’d be spending this whole exchange on the run until I finally decided that Foxglove and Windfall had been given enough time to make good on their escape. Only then would I end things.

All of that being said, Whiplash was moving a lot more quickly than I would have expected. While I would not say that I was putting forth a genuine effort to catch her up right off the bat, I wasn’t coming as close to nabbing the yellow mare as I was trying to. Nor, did I soon realize, was Whiplash looking as nervous about the fight as I had expected. She had to know had disadvantaged she was here just like I did; so why wasn’t she concerned?

Feeling myself getting nervous at the thought of my sibling knowing something that I didn’t, I decided that maybe I should at least get in a good hit to slow her down; or at least remind her of why a fight against me was not something she should feel confident about winning. So on my next lunge, I broke it down from a single loping leap into two rapid hops in quick succession, allowing me to instantly adjust my direction of attack in response to her attempt to evade my strike.

I was partially successful, as it turned out. As predicted, Whiplash moved to avoid what she had interpreted to be another broad lunge as all of my others had, and was promptly caught off her guard when I fell short only to spring off in a slightly altered direction that would catch her. She was a lot more nimble than I would have anticipated though and very nearly managed to get away from me even then. I caught a piece of her though with my foreleg and the two of us ended up rolling briefly on the ground until Whiplash managed to shove me away at the perfect time to capitalize on the momentum of our tumble. Both of us came up onto our feet on different ends of the circle of watching White Hooves.

Whiplash had a smug expression on her face that seemed very out of place considering what just happened. Did she believe that I was putting forth my best effort and yet she was somehow managing to stay out of my reach? Her escape from that roll had been acceptable, but I’d hardly been looking to grapple with her just yet. She had gotten off lighter than I would have preferred though. I certainly wasn’t any worse for wear…though my shoulder was bothering me a bit.

No…that wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t bothering me, and that was what was bothering me. I was very accustomed to being sore in a lot of my joints. I was still feeling the effects of my tussle with Cestus. Or, rather, I had been feeling those effects until just now. At this moment, I felt…nothing. There was no sensation at all in my right shoulder.

Glancing briefly at the joint to see if it had perhaps become slightly dislodged again as a result of the fight, my eyes were draw to a few shallow cuts that were barely visible through my coat. They were three very neatly spaced parallel lines that lay just about where Whiplash had made contact with me a moment ago. Curious, I spared a brief second to look at the ground where we had been fighting. Visible in the dirt were several other places where that same pattern had been gouged into the hard scrabble of the impromptu fighting ring.

My gaze went back to Whiplash and her satisfied expression. Her eyes met mine, and that was when I knew that she was cheating; and she understood that I had caught on to what she was doing. It wasn’t like I could call her out though. Even if anypony believed me—and why should any of them—it wasn’t like there was a referee who was going to call the fight off. This was to the death; and nearly every pony here was hoping to see mine.

Well, there was at least one pony that was eager to see Whiplash buy it in this bout. I noticed that Sica had somehow made her way to the inside of the ring of ponies to watch the fight. Judging by her own livid expression, I imagined that she was hoping to see us both killed in some manner. She had a very understandable grudge against Whiplash of course; but now that she had seen me completely undermine all of her scheming and throw away her last real chance at achieving power in the tribe, I doubted I was her favorite pony either.

Sorry, sis…er, niece, whatever; it was nothing personal. Your plan just meant that Windfall would end up dead. I couldn’t let that happen when all of this was my fault.

I could feel the numbness spreading further down my leg, suggesting that whatever toxin the yellow earth pony was suing wasn’t necessarily a local one. It looked like I was going to be given less time to work all of this out than I had originally thought. Horseapples.

Playtime was over.

This time when I closed the distance with my sister, it was not nearly so haphazardly as before. No leaps or lunges that were easy to predict and avoid. I ran in on my hooves and worked to corner my sister up against the crowd. I knew Whiplash’s game now: scratch me up and the wait until I couldn’t move anymore before finishing me off. It wouldn’t even look all that suspicious. The poor old poser got all tired out and collapsed. Best to put him out of his misery.

I couldn’t let that happen.

Eventually, I did manage to maneuver Whiplash into a confrontation, but it didn’t last for as long as I’d hoped and my numbing leg was already having a visible effect on my combat ability. I got in a decent strike across her muzzle with my left hoof, but it cost me a graze on the elbow. It would probably be less than a minute before I started to find it difficult to put any weight on that limb. I’d have to lock it to support myself, but that would really slow me down.

I couldn’t afford to let up though, and so I closed again. Each time, I ended up trading a strike for a scratch. My flank, then my chest, and then my ankle; I couldn’t keep taking those sorts of losses in mobility just to get in a bruise or a black eye. Unfortunately, that was how the fight was starting to shape up. While, between the two of us, Whiplash looked the far more beaten and worn, I knew I was the one that was losing. Anypony could see that I was having trouble even staying on my hooves towards the end of it.

Finally it happened, and my left leg gave out, sending me to the ground. I struggled to get my limbs back under me and stand, but it was basically impossible to do when I had to visually look at all of my legs to make sure they were moving in the right directions. I could hardly feel a damn thing anywhere on my body.

This looked to have been the moment that Whiplash was waiting for though. My younger sister boldly marched toward me, a wide grin plastered across her face, “awe…is the little old poser tired?” she jeered. Several other ponies in the crowd were laughing as well, “I guess somepony should have waited for their mid-morning nap before picking a fight with a proper White Hoof,” then she turned to the crowd and glowered at them, “this is the pony you thought I should waste my time with? I’ve seen infant foals put up more of a fight!”

I noticed quite a few sheepish looks from the ponies that had more loudly protested my being executed by Whiplash’s guards. There were quite a few disgusted looks being thrown my way to. I had talked up a pretty good game, but hadn’t even come close to delivering in this fight. What was supposed to have been an epic struggle between two warring siblings for control of the most vicious tribe of warriors in the whole Neighvada Valley had turned into a geriatric stallion chasing a mare around in circles until he got tired and fell down.

I wondered if anypony had been stupid enough to put money on this fight.

“I’d feed him to the radscorpions,” Whiplash went on as she approached nearer, “but I’m worried they’d get indigestion from eating such a worthless piece of shit,” she stepped up and placed her hoof on my throat. I could feel the three little pinpricks that must have been sewn into her leather cuffs as they poked my flesh. My sister sneered down at me, “any last words, Brother Dear?”

“Probably,” I croaked out beneath the weight of her hoof.

Before Whiplash could respond, I threw my legs out and rolled to the side. The wild flailing of my senseless limbs caught the yellow mare by surprise. She had perhaps thought that I was fully paralyzed and let her guard down. The two of us both rolled around on the ground for several seconds. It wasn’t an exchange that I was going to win though. I couldn’t hope to get Whiplash into any sort of holds the way that I was. This was simply a move borne of desperation as took advantage of one of the few regions of my body that she hadn’t bothered to numb: my tail.

Whether Whiplash noticed it or not, I was guiding our brief struggle. By the time it was over, which took only a hooful of seconds, we were oriented facing the opposite direction than we had been when I’d taken her to the ground. I doubted that the yellow earth pony really cared about that though, or could have known why that was something I would have tried to achieve. From where she was mounted on top of me, she couldn’t have seen why anyway.

I felt Whiplash wrap her hooves around my throat and the back of my head and clamp down as she initiated a choke hold. Her head was leaned down close to mine and I could hear her teeth grinding up against each other as she spoke, “you never should have come back here,” she seethed in my ear, “you never came for me a day in your miserable fucking life; why do it now?!

“What makes her so special?”

I could only assume that she was referring to Windfall. In any case, it was very hard to answer her the way things were right now. I gave it a shot anyway, “rrrrgk…mmmmrrrkll,” not quite what I wanted to say, but you know…

It was enough to get Whiplash curious though, and I felt her hold loosen slightly, “what?”

With a great heave, I managed to throw my weight sufficiently that it rolled me on top of the yellow mare. Her grip constricted again almost immediately, but her placement was off as a result of the new orientation. It still wasn’t an ideal position for me to be in though; but that was going to very soon become moot.

“Ah Haid,” I barely managed to get out legibly around the obstruction in my mouth before finally spitting it out, where it fell heavily to the ground next to me, “she calls me, ‘Daddy’,” as far as famous last words go…well, I thought it was funny.

Whiplash turned her head and looked at the steel sphere marked by a green band that was missing a very important stem-like feature. Her eyes grew wide with terror, “wha—are you crazy?!”

She tried to throw me off and get away, but it was too late. There was no way that she would clear the blast radius in time. It had already been cooking for a second or two anyway. She’d make it half a step, at best. Some of the White Hooves who were fortunate enough to have seen the grenade as I rolled over might have kept enough of their wits to start moving in time. They’d need to push their way through a throng of ponies that had no idea their lives were in danger though. Good luck to them.

Me? Oh, I wasn’t going to live through this either. I’d know that going into the fight. True, I would much rather have had this whole thing end with me choking the life out of Whiplash, and then tossing the grenade into the crowd like I’d told Foxglove I was going to do. I would probably have still been cut down as I tried to get through a horde of pissed off White Hooves in an effort to escape; but I would at least have gotten the satisfaction of seeing Whiplash die before my eyes.

I couldn’t even see her this way. At least I would know she was dying along with me. That was something, I guess.

As to my being crazy? I allowed myself a chuckle. Well, peanut gallery, what have we to say about that?

Only, there was no peanut gallery anymore. No Yellow Bitch, Orange Cunt, White Whore, not even a tiny Whiplash or Steel Bit. There was nopony in my head except for me. A peaceful moment of genuine silence where I could be alone with me own thoughts. Funny…I kind of missed them all now. Heh. Maybe I was crazy, after all.

My world became very green, and very loud as I uttered my response to my sister’s final question, “…maybe.”

Footnote:
>>GAME OVER!

>>RELOAD LAST SAVE? Y/N
>>Y

>>RELOADING...

>>ERROR! SAVE CORRUPTED!

>>ATTEMPT DATA RECOVERY? Y/N
>>Y

>>RECOVERY IN PROGRESS...

>>LOADING...

I was pretty sure that Jackboot and Foxglove were arguing again. Which was a little strange, I guess. I mean, it wasn’t like the two of them didn’t rub each other the wrong way on occasion. They’d hardly seemed like particularly close ‘friends’ since they’d met, in my opinion. They’d kept things more or less civil though, at least whenever I was around them. So, in that regard an argument between those two ponies wasn’t anything out of place. This even seemed like one of the quieter ones, with only the occasional slight inflection suggesting that they weren’t quite seeing eye-to-eye.

That being said, I would have thought that the two of them would have gone at least a day or two before going back at it like that. I’d just caught the two of them fucking, after all. Maybe it was one of those ‘hate fucks’ that I’d overheard ponies in the bar talking about. The idea sounded strange to me just as a concept. If you didn’t like somepony, why would the two of you ever consent to sex with each other? Wasn’t that exactly the opposite reason that ponies had sex, or something?

Admittedly, I was hardly an expert on the matter. Maybe it was one of those things that only sexually active ponies understood. I’d have to remember to ask Jackboot about it later. Actually, maybe Cestus would be a better choice. Jackboot was probably going to be a little tight-lipped about sex where I was concerned, given how our last conversation about the topic had gone. On the other hoof, I was pretty sure that the younger earth pony who’d come with us to this stable was open to an intimate discussion.

Now that I thought about it, we’d been having a talk about that sort of thing just before I’d fallen asleep. It had been right after I stumbled onto the others two fooling around in the clinic. Definitely the last thing I’d expected them to be doing in there. I remembered leaving and going to where Cestus was going to be sleeping to tell him about what I’d seen, and explain how it was really weird to have seen that going on between them. We’d talked for a little bit. There’d even been a little more kissing and nibbling involved; which I’d insisted was as far as I was going to let him take things.

The stallion produced a bottle of…something. He’d said it was a special whiskey blend from his hometown. I’d gone easy on it, since I wanted to make sure I kept most of my wits about me, but I wasn’t going to turn down a drink. I’d taken only maybe two sips? Three at the absolute most. We’d kissed a little more…

…and that was it. My next memories were right here and now.

Had I fallen asleep? I couldn’t have, especially when I knew that I was going to have to be on watch for the next few hours. I had planned on a little talking, a little nibbling, and then I was going to do a flight around the area. That had been the firm intent in my mind. So how had I fallen asleep? I hadn’t even felt tired in the slightest.

Maybe it had been the brew? It had tasted a little weird for whiskey. It also seemed to have left me with a slight headache, which was more than a little annoying. I hadn’t suffered from any sort of hangover since I’d been, what, twelve? Actually, no, that wasn’t quite right. I’d gone a little far when I was fourteen after Jackboot and I had cleared out a den of ponies that were suspected of robbing caravans in the area. I must have killed, like, thirty ponies that day. Drank three bottles that evening to get to sleep. The next morning had been pretty rough.

Still, that didn’t explain why a few sips had me aching now. I didn’t even feel all that dehydrated. My bladder was full enough to do with a good piss. Best get up and take care of that. I could swing by the clinic too for something to take the edge off this mysterious hangover too while I was at it, since I could be assured that I wasn’t going to walk in on anything this time around.

It was at about this time that I realized I couldn’t move. More specifically, I couldn’t move my fore and hind legs. My mind blanked at the realization. Curious, I tried again, suspecting that I was still somehow in the trailing throws of slumber and wasn’t processing things quite right. Sure enough, my limbs lacked any freedom of movement. More so, I determined that this was because there was something cold and heavy that was wrapped tightly around them that made a soft metallic sound as I struggled. My wings were similarly restricted by something cold and hard that pinned them to my sides.

That was…concerning, to say the least.

Trying my best to keep a growing ball of panic that was welling up in my chest from getting too far out of hoof, I opened my eyes. This did nothing for me. It wasn’t that the room I was in was pitch black, as there were some scattered pinpricks of light that were visible. However, there was very clearly something that was obscuring my vision, like a blindfold or something similar.

I could very safely say that I had never once awoken anywhere without the ability to see or to move, and I decided immediately that I was not a fan of these circumstances. That feeling of panic was getting a little bigger, and I was having a much harder time now keeping myself from giving in. Something was wrong, and I didn’t know what it was. I needed answers, and fast, if I was going to get my nerves settled.

“What’s going on?” I blurted. Jackboot and Foxglove were nearby, they should be able to hear me. I could only hope they weren’t as bad off as I was. A dozen different undesirable scenarios that explained why I was restrained flew around inside my head, and I didn’t much care for any of them. I hoped beyond hope that there was an innocent explanation for this.

Maybe I had fallen asleep on my watch somehow and Jackboot had found me and was teaching me a lesson? I really hoped that was what was happening. Please let this be a lesson, “where am I?”

The two talking ponies went quiet for a few seconds. This didn’t help to sooth my nerves. Neither did the response that I did eventually receive, “looks like our guest finally woke up.”

It wasn’t Jackboot at all, I realized. The hushed tones had made it hard to distinguish, but the much louder proclamation clearly identified the owner as being Cestus. I was suddenly a lot more uncomfortable about my circumstances. As much as I was kind of hoping this was his idea of something fun and kinky, it went a lot further past ‘nibbling’ than I was comfortable with.

I was also having some doubts about whether the mare I’d been hearing was Foxglove. There should have been a very short list of candidates that a female voice could have belonged to in our group though, and it certainly hadn’t been me that the stallion had been arguing with a minute ago.

“So she did,” was the mare’s assent, “does she know anything worth asking her about?”

“Nothing that I didn’t already tell you,” Cestus replied, “she’s just the bait.”

Bait? Oh, horseapples. There was a rather sparse list of things that I could be used as bait to attract; and Foxglove didn’t have the sorts of dedicated enemies that I knew Jackboot did. This was a lot less brazen of them than the last attempt had been though. Odd, considering where they’d nabbed me from. Odder still that Cestus seemed to be one of them, and had chosen to go this route instead of confronting Jackboot directly in the stable.

Though, now that I thought about it, he and Jackboot had engaged in a little tiff earlier. Cestus hadn’t exactly been mopping the floor with the older stallion in that exchange. Maybe that was why he was hoping to use me to lure Jackboot somewhere more favorable, with his own allies nearby.

It was just too bad we couldn’t pull the same sort of stunt that we had before. Although, that didn’t mean that these ponies couldn’t still be bought. I certainly didn’t have anything to lose by trying that angle, “look, we don’t have to do things the hard way,” I was grateful that my voice didn’t reflect any of the fear I was still feeling. Bounty hunters were ponies that could be reasoned with most times, and they weren’t out to hurt me, so I didn’t have a whole lot to be worried about, “if it’s about caps, we can get you caps. Cestus, you saw the stable; you can name your price with the salvage we’ll get from it!”

“You think this is about money?” the mare scoffed derisively, “White Hooves don’t need your fucking poser money. If we want something, we take it.”

My blood ran cold, and I was very suddenly not feeling as good about my situation. Had she said, “White Hooves? You’re…” this was bad. This was very bad. These sorts of ponies, I couldn’t reason with. Honestly, these weren’t the sorts of ponies that I cared to reason with. There was only one way that I had ever vowed to deal with their ilk, and my fear very quickly gave way to rage as I finished processing the reality of my situation, “…dead. You’re fucking dead!” I screamed at the top of my lungs as I renewed struggling against my bonds, “you killed my family you bastards! I’ll gut every last one of you and mount your heads on fucking pikes! I’ll paint the valley red with your blood!”

“She has spirit,” I heard the mare note in an amused tone, “it’ll be a shame to feed her to the radscorpions tomorrow.”

A renewed vein of fear formed when I heard that detail of my intended fate. It seemed that my usefulness to them came with some sort of expiration date. I wasn’t going to let that get to me though. The last thing I needed to do was to give in to fear and despair. Jackboot would be coming for me, and he was going to kill these ponies, and whoever he didn’t kill outright, I would get the moment I was free. I just had to keep my spirits up, and the bravado helped me do just that, “just you try it!” I dared the pair of ponies, “I’ll ripped their stingers off and run you through with them! I will fucking skull fuck you with their tails, just you wait and see!”

“A lot of spirit,” Cestus agreed. I heard somepony walking around very close to me and made every attempt to kick out at where I suspected they were; not that my bonds let me do so very effectively. I was probably doing little more than quivering, “she would produce equally spirited foals, I should think…”

I felt a hoof being traced along my flank and instantly suppressed the terrified thought of what Cestus was implying might become of me beneath renewed oaths of reprisal. I would not give in to the very real and acceptable despair that was threatening to take hold of me should I let my defenses waver for even a moment, “you touch me and I will bite your dick off, you bastard! I swear to Celestia I will crush your testicles into paste and force feed them down your mother’s throat if you try anything!”

As though she hadn’t heard a single thing that I’d said, the mare continued speaking with Cestus, “I’ll consider letting you take her as a brood mare. If I do, she’ll need to be kept muzzled until she learns her place,” I was sent reeling by an abrupt and unexpected strike by a hoof to the side of my jaw. I tasted blood within seconds, “poser talk bores me.”

I spat out the bitter fluids that were seeping into my mouth, “Jackboot’s going to kill all of you when he gets here,” I hoped it sounded more like a genuine fact of future reality than the vain prayer that it felt like as I spoke. At least my voice didn’t break, “you’re all fucking dead!”

“Tell yourself whatever stories you like,” the mare quipped dismissively, “my brother is not nearly so capable as you might think.

“If he was, I wouldn’t be the reining Chief.”

Oh…fuck. I wasn’t in the custody of two random White Hooves, one of them was Jackboot’s sister, Whiplash. This…this was actually really bad. We probably weren’t even just out in the middle of the Wasteland, were we? If she was here, then I was probably sitting in some White Hoof camp or someplace where there would be dozens or hundreds of White Hooves around. A dozen warriors wouldn’t have been a problem for Jackboot and Foxglove, but against as many as there could be here?

I couldn’t give in though. He’d find a way to save me. The things these two were threatening to do to me weren’t going to happen. Jackboot was going to save me, “you don’t know him like I do,” I hissed in the general direction of where I thought the mare was, “he’ll fucking destroy all of you. You’ll see.”

“I look forward to seeing how long it takes you to break,” the mare sighed, “but first we must attend to my tribe.”

Somepony grabbed me and started dragging me along the ground. Even through the blindfold, things got suddenly brighter. The hard scrabble was rough and painful as I was rather unceremoniously taken from where I had woken up. I became suddenly aware that I was not in some small little camp either. I could hear the voices of what sounded like hundreds of other ponies laughing and talking, and those voices were getting louder. After a few minutes, the pony stopped dragging me, and grabbed ahold of me and brought me up onto my bound hooves.

Then I heard a hush draw over the crowd. Our arrival had been noticed. Whiplash began addressing the other ponies, “My noble warriors, today I find myself bringing a mixture of bitter and glad tidings.

“Recently, some of you may have noticed that there was a restructuring of our upper ranks. This was because I learned that they had been deceiving your glorious chief for decades,” I heard the crowd's murmured reactions as Whiplash paused to let the revelation sink in, “they had sworn to me that my brother was dead at their hooves. I learned that this was a falsehood...”

I drowned out the older White Hoof chief, my thoughts turning to more relevant concerns of escape. This was going to be a lot more difficult than I might have originally anticipated if there were really as many ponies around as it seemed like there were. Even if I somehow managed to get out of these chains and out of the tent, getting away without being noticed by too many ponies was going to be nearly impossible. A daytime escape was out of the question; it'd have to be at night if it was going to happen at all.

My thoughts were interrupted by somepony shoving me forward roughly. I was also much more aware of What Whiplash was saying now, “so I was forced to abduct one of his companions to goad that cowardly brother of mine into facing me,” I barely managed to stay on my bound hooves as I hopped forward to be presented to the gathered ponies. Somepony took exception to this, and I was almost immediately tripped and sent to the ground, where I landed with a grunt. Not seeming to be satisfied with this anemic little outburst, a pair of hooves drove down into my chest and I let out a reflexive scream of pain.

“Look at this pathetic little bird that my brother associates with,” Whiplash spat from above me, “probably some Enclaver trash that even they didn’t want anymore,” I heard a roar of cheering and laughter rippled through the crowd, “chances are that he won’t even show up for her, being the coward that he is; and if he does not, then we will simply have to content ourselves with what little entertainment this little bird will provide in the Pit”

I didn't like the sound of that, or the answering cheers from the crowd as they were presented with that bit of news. Somepony grabbed a feather of one of my wings in their teeth, and I yelped as it was ripped away. I felt somepony lean in closer to me. The voice suggested that it was Whiplash this time, “though perhaps we should pluck her first. I’ve always wanted a feathered headdress,” something that felt a lot like one of my feathers brushed against my cheek.

“Wrong...bitch,” I managed to wheeze out quietly. My ribs still ached terribly from where I'd been kicked.

“What did you say to me?!” Whiplash hadn't liked that comment very much. Fine by me.

“You’re…wrong,” I managed a little more loudly this time, “he’ll come for me,” even though I couldn't see where she was, I glared through the blindfold in her direction, “and when he does, you’ll all die!”

My head was roughly snapped back as somepony grabbed my mane. I tried to muffled my pained gasp as much as possible, but I knew that Whiplash had at least heard it, “he’s a coward,” she hissed in my ear, “and he will leave you to die. You’ll know this to be true when my pets are cutting you up into itty-bitty pieces tomorrow morning,” with that, she threw me back to the ground. Then somepony else clamped down on my tail with their teeth and started dragging me away.

“ When my brother doesn’t show up, I’ll be wanting volunteers to go out and track him down,” I heard Whiplash addressing the crowd once more as I was returned to where I had woken up. After a bout a minute of being dragged across the ground, things grew darker again. I felt my tail finally get released, but that sensation was replaced by a hoof now resting uncomfortably upon my flank and gently rubbing back and forth.

I had the feeling of somepony suddenly being very close to my face as warm breath washed against my cheek. Before I could react, something warm and wet was being dragged along the side of my face up towards my ear. I tried to flinch away from it, but there wasn’t really all that much I could do to escape what was happening. Then a set of teeth gently tugged at my ear as a voice whispered, “I will save you from the Pit,” Cestus' voice promised in my ear, yet I found myself feeling no relief for this offer, “and then I will take you tomorrow night, and every night until you finally foal,” he nuzzled up against my cheek, “and then I’ll take you again…”

“Cestus,” Whiplash called from several yards off, “attend to me.”

I felt the stallion pull away, and more loudly say, “yes, mother,” then I heard the sound of a second set of hooves trotting away from my side.

There was the faint sound of fabric rustling, or something similar to it anyway. Distant conversations. My ears were even able to detect the faint crackling of a small fire that must have been burning nearby. It was impossible to know if I was truly alone though, so I remained quiet and still for as long as I could. I wouldn’t dare give any of these bastards the satisfaction of seeing how much they’d gotten to me.

And they had gotten to me. I could spend all day and night lying to them—and I intended to do just that—but there was no way I was going to be able to deny the harsh truth to myself. That truth was that I was terrified. I was surrounded by White Hooves, I had to be. Ponies that got taken into their territory didn’t ever make it back out, that was a known fact of the Neighvada Valley. I was one of those very ponies that they had taken now, and nothing suggested that I was going to be able to beat the odds that were stacked against me.

As much faith as I might have in Jackboot, what could I honestly expect? He was just one pony. Foxglove would surely help him to rescue me if he asked—and she probably didn’t even need to be asked—but even so, what sort of odds could that pair hope to overcome in this sort of situation. We’d made it out of some tight spots before, sure, but this was different, right?

I didn’t want to admit it. I really didn’t. I wanted to believe that Jackboot was on his way here right now with a plan to get me out and kill everypony here. Dear Celestia, I wanted that more than anything in the whole world. I wanted to believe that was how things were going to go. Somehow that was what would happen.

Because the alternative was…it was something I didn’t want to think about. I didn’t want to think about the sorts of things that were reported to happen to ponies that the White Hooves took. I didn’t want to think about what Cestus and Whiplash had talked about where one of my possible fates was concerned. I didn’t want to think about that stallion putting his hooves on me like that, and doing what he promised he would. I didn’t want to bear his foals.

I’d die before I let that happen to me. Somehow I’d find a way to die, if the alternative was giving him the satisfaction of make me the mother of one of his hellspawn.

…Celstia, let me die…

If there was still a goddess watching over the ponies that lived in the Wasteland, then there shouldn’t have been anypony around to see me finally breaking down and crying. It wasn’t loud; I kept my mouth firmly shut to ensure that much at least. I was still crying though, and I couldn’t help it. There was only so much a pony could do to deny reality before they had to accept it. I couldn’t even move right now, what could I possibly do to stop Cestus—or anypony else for that matter—from doing whatever they wanted to me? For that matter, how exactly was I supposed to take my own life?

I was at their mercy, and as much as I could loudly protest otherwise, they knew it and so did I. I was just another White Hoof slave that their tribe had claimed, and I was going to suffer the same fate that any of them had. It’s not like they were new to this concept when it came to taking captives; and I was hardly the first who’d defied them, I imagined. If they were confident I’d lose my resolve, then who was I to question their experience in such matters?

So I cried.

I’m sorry, Jackboot. I fucked up. You told me to stay away from Cestus, and I didn’t, and now here I am. You knew something was up, and I didn’t listen. Maybe you didn’t know that he was actually a White Hoof, because I’m pretty sure you’d have killed him if you had, but you knew something was off. I was stupid, and I let the fact that he looked so much like you cloud my judgement. It was just supposed to be a little bit of harmless flirting. Maybe there would have been something more than flirting in a day or two, but nothing serious, I swear.

He’d just looked so much like you…

You stupid, stupid, little mare. Bloatsprites have more brains than you do. You spent the last—how many years? Three? Throwing yourself at the older earth pony stallion, and it never occurred to you to stop and think about why that might not have been a great idea. Did you really think he’d been completely oblivious to all your little hints? A stallion like him has been around long enough to see the signs and know what they meant. Rubbing up on him, doing up you hooves and hair for him, putting on pretty clothes…of course he knew what you were trying to do!

He was just trying to be nice and let you take the hint.

But no, you had to come right out and kiss him and try to fucking seduce him openly! Then he tells you ‘no’, like he hasn’t been trying to get you to look elsewhere for years, and you rebound onto the next piece of flank that you see because he ‘looks like Jackboot’. That didn’t mean that Cestus was going to be anything at all like Jackboot though, did it? You thought with you hind quarters, ignored the stallion that knew better, and now you were royally fucked.

You know what was even worse than that? Jackboot probably really was going to try and save you. You know that, right? He’s going to try and save you, and he’s going to fail because not even he’s that good. He’s going to fail, and he’s going to die, and Foxglove is probably going to die too—or worse, end up like you—and it’s going to be all. You’re. Fault.

You just killed everypony in the whole world that cares about you.

Congratulations, hero. What do you call this move?

There needed to be a level beyond crying, so that I couldn’t finally stop. If somepony came by and saw me like this…

“Don’t let them see that.”

The sudden sound of a pony talking brought my current train of thought to an abrupt halt. Oh, Celestia, no! They can’t know that they’d already broken me like this, not after all of the talking I’d been doing!

“It’s worse if they know. Trust me.”

Wait…whoever this pony—mare from the sound of things—was, she wasn’t talking to me like she was a White hoof. Unless there were members of their tribe who felt sympathy for ponies in my position, which I very much doubted was the case. Another captive then? I still didn’t really know where I was. It was possible that there were a whole bunch of other ponies around me. Though I imagined that I would have heard so telltale sign of that by now.

“Who are you?”

“A friend,” the mare replied in a kind tone, “a pony who knows what it’s like to find herself in this place; and what you must be feeling.

“I’m not going to lie to you,” he words grew a little sadder now, “it’s going to get bad; but you can survive it. I’ve been here almost ten years now, and I’m not a very strong pony, myself. If I can endure, so can you.”

“Kill me,” I croaked, “please, just kill me. I won’t let them use me like that!”

There was silence for a long while, “I’m sorry,” she barely whispered, “like I said, I’m not a very strong pony. I promise you, you can bare it.”

“I don’t want to bare it,” I hissed, feeling tear streaming down my cheeks. I didn’t want to die, not really, but I didn’t want to let Cestus do what he promised even more, “I don’t want to give that bastard any foals! Help me die, please…”

I felt somepony near me now. I flinched at first, since the last contact I’d had was anything but comfortable. However, I could sense already that this was the mare who was talking to me, and that this was anything but malicious in nature. A comforting leg was draped over my neck, and I felt myself being pulled into a gentle embrace. I let myself be taken in, and wept into the mare’s neck, leaning in as far as I could into the comfort she was offering.

A hundred distant memories of being comforted by my mother back on the ranch flooded into me, and I was forced to use the mare as a means to muffle my sobbing, “let it all out,” she cooed softly, rocking me gently, “let it out. There we go.”

“Please don’t let it happen,” I pleaded, “please…”

“It’s not happening to you, little one,” the mare assured me, speaking like one who knew such matters, “it’s happening to somepony else, and you’re just there. It’s not happening to you.”

This was so stupid. I'm a grown mare who's faced down hordes of ghouls, monsters, and murderous raiders. Now look at me. Here I am crying into some strange mare's chest like I'm some little filly who'd just heard thunder for the first time and nothing was going to be able to convince me that the world wasn't ending. Much like my mother had back then, this mare was doing all that she could to sooth me. Unfortunately, she wasn't having nearly as much luck.

My world really was ending, after all.

I was grateful that she kept trying though. This strange mare didn't have to do that for me. It may not do anything to change what was going to happen to me, but it was a single happy thought that I was able to fiercely latch onto. Even as deep within a White Hoof den as I was, there were still good ponies here.

“Thank you,” I said softly. The worst of my grief was starting to pass, and the outward signs had finally ebbed enough for me to begin to bring them under control once again. I should be able to put back on a hard facade when Cestus and that other mare returned.

The mare nuzzled me gently, “I'm sorry I'm not strong enough to give you what you're asking for, little breezy,” she replied, a note of regret in her voice. My ear twitched at her comment and I started to pull away as my mind worked to grasp why the words had triggered a reaction in me, “I've seen enough killing in this world. I can't bring myself to add to it.”

I felt her start to get up, presumably in order to resume whatever duties had brought her here in the first place. I tracked her position as best I could and even reached out a hoof to try and keep her attention, “what...what did you call me?”

There was silence for a long moment, then I heard the mare answer with audible embarrassment, “sorry. It just slipped out. It was nothing.”

“No, you...” my mind whirled and flew about as it sifted through a hundred memories that hadn't come to the forefront of my thoughts in over a decade, “you said, 'little breezy',” it was impossible. This was some perverted dream that I was having as my brain tried to deal with what was happening to me. The whole ordeal felt like some horrific nightmare, but I knew full well how tragically real my peril was. This, however, this whole encounter could well be a hallucination. After all, I'd only ever heard that phrase uttered by one pony during the entirety of my lifetime.

It couldn't be, “...Ma...?”

The was deafening silence. For several long seconds, I began to doubt that there ever had been a second pony in the room, and that everything just now really had been a product of my imagination. Please, Celestia, don't let this be a dream anymore. Let it be her...

Then, finally, “...Windfall?”

I'd cried out all of my grief and anguish already. My eyes still burned with the effort, and I could feel that my cheeks were damp. My body had no more tears to lend me now. Which was okay, because I wasn't feeling overwhelmed by sadness. This time, it was happiness.

I found myself gathered up in another, tighter, embrace as the mare rushed back and wrapped her hooves around me. She was crying too this time around, and I could feel that her tears were more than making up for my own dried eyes. Both of us were caught up in the same strange mixture of sorrow and joy that was difficult to put into meaningful words. We’d found each other, impossibly, after so many years having gone by with no real thought given to ever seeing each other again. Yet, as much as both of us might be relishing this dream come true, neither of us could shake the shadow that hovered over the location where this meeting had come to pass.

...Because I know they don't want to see you! Your mother doesn't want to see some White Hoof stallion plowing her precious little filly while you wail for him to stop!

Those had been the words that Jackboot had long ago said to me when we’d discussed ever finding my family again. As my mother held me, I could sense that she was truly fighting back that bitterness even now. She’d found her long lost daughter; and that daughter was a slave of the White Hooves destined to suffer a heinous fate no matter what the morning brought with it.

The darkness was lifted from my eyes as the blindfold was slipped off, and I was finally permitted to see my surroundings. Most of them were obscured by the teal unicorn mare with an ivory mane who was holding me close and peppering me with kisses and tears. It broke my heart to see her now. My mental image had always been of the beautiful and happy mare who had cared for me and my elder brother. Even in the heart of the Wasteland, she had managed to keep both herself and our home looking neat and tidy. It was as though the desolation had simply passed her by.

Looking upon her now, her body told a tale of suffering and woe. Scars littered her hide and testified to all manner of injuries and abuses from cuts to burns to what even looked like pieces of her hide that had been outright flayed off. I knew that my own coat was hardly without blemish from my own hard years, but they were nothing compared to the beleaguered state of the unicorn holding me now.

Her features were drawn and exhausted. Her mane had lost much of its remembered volume and was now a wispy mess. Her tail was gnarled and filthy. Even her cutie mark looked to have been ravaged by her tenure here. The once brilliant dollop of whipped cream was cut up and faded to the point where it looked like it might have been no more than some additional grime marring her flesh.

Around her neck was a contraption of steel and wires that was visibly biting into her flesh. A red light glowed on one side of it. I recognized the device for what it was, though I had only rarely ever seen them with my own eyes: a slave collar. A band of explosives that was designed to keep captive ponies compliant by using the constant threat of a sudden and violent decapitation should they put a hoof too far out of line. My mother looked to have been wearing one for a great many years, as I could make out bits of flesh around the top and bottom of the collar where teal fur no longer even bothered to grow anymore.

It was probably just a matter of coming to a final decision regarding my own long-term fate before I was wearing one of them too.

Finally it looked like she was getting herself under control again, and she pulled back slightly to regard me with blue eyes that could have been my own. These too were not the dancing orbs full of joy that I had known as a young filly. Time and tragedy had dulled them, and they were tinged with grief as that beheld me now in the state that I was in.

“Oh, Windfall…”

I’d never before heard two words that had been so full of regret. Her face insisted that she was doing everything in her power to look reassuring and glad to see me, but she had not been prepared for this. Passing comfort to a stranger, that she could muster the stoicism to offer; but for her own flesh and blood whom she had assumed was safe and far from horrors like these? She was helpless in the face of that.

“Ma, I…” what could I say? Did I apologize for doing this to her? It was my fault that I was a prisoner here. Is that what she wanted to hear out of me after all these years? No. Grief and sadness were already in sufficient supply right now. After the better part of a decade, my mother deserved something more than that, “I hope this was a good time to visit.”

I’d even almost made it all the way through without my voice catching in my throat. Almost. The last two words had to be croaked out, and I was pretty sure the false smile I tried so hard to keep in place was trembling rather blatantly. A joke. A joke was the best that I could do for her, and that somehow hurt me even more deep down.

At least I could see that flash of mirth in her own eyes. It was so brief and fleeting. Maybe I’d even only imagined it, in the end. Still, it was an image that I could latch onto. That fraction of a second when she didn’t look like she was grieving for a foal that she had just lost. I wasn’t dead yet, after all. In fact, if ever I’d felt a renewed determination to get out of here alive, this was that time. I was going to survive this, somehow, and I was going to save her life too.

The ‘how’s’ of all of that were immaterial. It was going to happen. Celestia as my witness, it was going to happen!

“Maybe a letter next time.”

I snorted. I didn’t even mind the snot that began running down my nose as a result. Her sense of humor had remained intact; or she was just doing it all for my sake. I hardly cared. It had helped me all the same. The unicorn reached out and wiped away the tendrils of nose goo. Then she proceeded to start fussing with the rest of my face and my mane. It was like I was her little filly again and we were back home on the ranch.

“You’re mane’s so short,” she commented, “I miss the curls. You were so pretty with the curls,” she gently brushed her hoof through my mane.

“I didn’t have you to brush them anymore,” I said through a wan smile. My surroundings disappeared for the moment, and I was back at the ranch, sitting in my room while my mother played with new styles in my mane and then I’d do the same for her. Pa never noticed when we came back downstairs with the new styles. Ma said that was just how stallions were, “and the wind just kept blowing everything back when I flew.”

“You’re flying now?” the unicorn gushed, “really flying? Of course you are,” she was combing down the fur on my shoulders now, “you’re all grown up. You’re not my ‘little breezy’ anymore, I guess.”

“I’ll always be your ‘little breezy’, Ma,” I assured her.

She smiled more broadly at that. She fussed with the downy mixture of feathers and fur on my chest, brushing out some of the grit that had settled there, “you’ve grown into such a beautiful mare,” she cooed, and then glanced at me with prying eyes, “I bet you’re beating the stallions off with a stick!”

I blushed now, “Ma…”

“I was young once too,” she insisted, “I know how they are. Your pa was that worst of the lot, let me tell you…”

I knew we were both pretending now. We kept the conversation light and focused so that we didn’t have to remember where we were. It was all just a fabrication of course, and it couldn’t last forever. I wanted it to so much though. I wanted to forever live in this moment and pretend like the last ten years hadn’t happened. In this fantasy world that I was building in my head, we’d both been safe and sound this whole time. I was visiting after a few years away finding my fortune in the Wasteland. Now we were just catching up like nothing had happened to us.

It couldn’t last forever, of course. One of us would have to be the first to break the illusion, and I decided that it was going to be me. So when my mother finished regaling me with the story of my father’s first courting attempts, I let my features adopt a more serious appearance, “are the others okay?”

I saw my mother wince at my question, and her sadness at the knowledge that our little reverie was at an end. She bowed her head, “your pa was killed in the fighting,” she said quietly, “and Holstein…” she swallowed, “…they made him fight in the arena.”

There was little need for me to ask for specifics about how that fight had gone. The results were clear on her face. This unicorn had seen two members of her family die, and now she was convinced that she’d have to witness her daughter’s fate all well. I’d asked her to end my own life just minutes ago before I’d known who she was. Now, I found a renewed sense of purpose. She wasn’t going to have to see me die. More than that, I was going to save her somehow.

I’d killed hundreds of raiders and monsters. I was a more capable fighter than half the ponies in the White Hooves, I bet. I’d killed several of their warriors just the other night, with hardly any trouble at all. All I needed to do was to bide my time for that opportune moment. Then I’d strike hard, fast, and without mercy.

There were going to be indignities to bear until that time came, I was certain of that. Cestus was probably going to have a run at me a few times until he’d let down his guard enough for me to seize my chance. If I could be strong though, and not give in…

“I’m going to get you out of here,” I told her. Unlike so much else I’d said to reassure her so far, I was very grateful that nothing in my tone wavered in the slightest.

The teal unicorn looked taken aback by my statement. She searched my expression, looking for any sign that I was just trying to make her feel better, and when she didn’t find anything, she shook her head, “Windfall…if they catch you trying something…”

She didn’t want to lose her last child. It wasn’t that she wanted to see me suffer, but if her only choice was that or watching me die too…

“They won’t,” I assured her with a sharp nod of my head and a determined expression. I nodded back towards my flank, “I’ve been in worst situations,” that might have been stretching the truth just a bit. I’d been in marginally similar situations perhaps, but nothing that had felt quite this dire, “I can get us out of here.”

My mother peered around and her eyes caught sight of my cutie mark. She studied the heart that was framed in a pair of silver wings and bisected by a raised sword. The mark of a pony who had developed a talent for killing. There was another hint of regret in her eyes. That wasn’t the sort of mark that she’d hoped for any of her foals. Her eyes went back to mine and after a brief moment, she allowed herself to smile and issue a nod. It was a sad, fleeting, smile this time, “I know you can.”

I could see in her eyes that she didn’t really believe that I could do it, though a part of her surely wanted to think otherwise. That was okay. It wasn’t like I had any clear plan in mind on how to fulfill my promise just now.

Her head whipped around suddenly, as though she had heard something. My own ears twitched in an effort to find anything amiss. There weren’t any sounds that I heard that seemed out of place, but something had spooked my mother all the same. Her face was a mask of uncertainty and hesitation. Then, with obvious reluctance, she reached a decision and stood up. Her hoof lingered on my face as she did so, “I’ll be back as quickly as I can,” she assured me.

“Just remember: I’ll always be here for you,” fresh tears glistened in the corner of her eyes, “no matter what happens.”

That actually made me feel better, knowing that I wasn’t going to have to go through it all alone. Maybe I would be able to stand it after all. It wouldn’t be forever. Just long enough for me to find that moment I needed to get the both of us away from here and to safety.

This was assuming that Jackboot and Foxglove didn’t find some miraculous way to stage a rescue, of course. Jackboot was capable, and the violet unicorn mare was creative. Maybe they would come through after all, and when they did I would be ready to help in any way that I could. Then the four of us could get away.

Perhaps I was being overly optimistic. Perhaps. I just didn’t want to let go of this newfound optimism. Not when I’d just made such a wonderful discovery in the form of my long lost mother.

It would work out. I’d make it work out.

My mother hadn't been gone for more than a minute before somepony else came into the tent. I noticed immediately that it couldn't have been the same pair that had previously left it. Cestus wasn't among them. It was some yellow mare with a really dark gray mane, and with her was a pony that I doubted could have even been a White Hoof at all. While the mare was painted up in an incomprehensible number of the strange glyphs, the stallion with her bore none at all.

More than that, I could see an indentation on his neck that was indicative of long term wear of something that was remarkably similar in size and shape to the collar that my mother had been wearing. He looked rather gaunt and underfed as well. A slave, I supposed, but it was interesting that his collar had been taken off.

The yellow mare was smiling at him for some reason, but her smile faded rather quickly when she looked in my direction. I froze as I realized that I was not precisely the way that I had been left earlier. My blindfold had been taken off by my mother, but she hadn't replaced it before leaving. Was that going to cause trouble for her if this mare realized it had been the teal unicorn mare that had removed it?

The yellow mare watched me fr a few silent seconds while the stallion shifted awkwardly beside her. Then she seemed to reach some conclusion of her own and shrugged. Her attention went to the stallion, “sorry, love, where were we?” the hairs on the back of my neck bristled as I recognized the voice as belonging to the other pony that Cestus had been talking with earlier. Whiplash, “ah, yes, you’re acceptance into the tribe,” the mare purred as she walked deeper into the tent, the stallion keeping pace behind her. His own expression was an interesting mixture of trepidation and excitement. It was very obvious what type of excitement he was experiencing to.

There was also a bit of confusion that crept into his expression when he saw me. He paused mid-step and was looking between me and the other mare, his mouth hanging slightly agape as though he was about to ask a question. The mare noticed what was going on and whipped her tail up to wrap it around his neck and give him a subtle tug, “no, she’d not for you, sweetie. You’re all mine tonight.”

Well, that was a…relief? While I was grateful not be have been included in the night’s activities, I wasn’t exactly keen on being the sole member of an unwilling audience either. At first, I even managed to maintain enough self-control to keep my head facing towards the entrance to the tent and ignore everything that was going on by the bed. I could still hear everything of course.

It wasn’t like I wanted to watch the two of them go at it.

It was just very distracting to be hearing what was going on and being forced to come up with my own visuals when the spectacle itself was only a slight head-turn away.

“I’m going to need you to prove to me that you’re a stallion worthy of being a White Hoof,” the mare was telling him as the headed for the bed, “I was pretty sure I already saw something special in you, or I wouldn’t have brought you this far. I just need you to show me I was right about you, hmm?”

“Y-yes, Great Chieftess,” the stallion stammered.

“Good,” the mare turned away from him and laid herself down comfortably on the pile of bedding. She flicked her tail up and out of the way and peered back at the stallion, “why don’t you start by paying your Chieftess some real lip service, and then maybe I’ll let you get to the good part.”

The stallion nodded and bent down behind her. The mare crossed her forelegs and rested her head upon them as she took up a relaxed pose. Every once in a while I saw her inhale a little sharply or bite her lip and let out a soft moan of contentment. She stretched out her hooves and bound them up in some of the blankets, drawing them in closer to her as the stallion went on as she had directed him to.

I, ever the virgin despite some not-so-subtle hint dropping with Jackboot, didn’t have a whole lot—or any—personal experience to draw on when it came to what the mare was experiencing right now. There’d been more than a few nights where I’d played ‘sticky hooves’ and there even been that one tryst with a Wild Pegasus bottle; but nothing like that with another pony. The most I’d let Cestus do was feel me us a little; and that memory had been thoroughly soured, so I was content to be of a mind that it had never happened at all.

It did sound like she was enjoying herself though. I hadn’t made any of those sounds during a solo performance, anyway. Maybe I could give jackboot another pass when I got out of here. Even if he’d taken sex off the table, I might still be able to talk him into something like what that stallion was doing now. A little liquor might be needed at first, but that was what it was for, right? I could even ask Foxglove what she’d done to bring him around…

“Good, boy,” the yellow mare groaned, “that’s a very good boy,” her tail teased around below the stallion’s neck and encouraged him to look up, where she met his gaze, “I think it’s time for the main event, don’t you?”

“Of course, Great Chieftess,” the stallion smiled, obvious encouraged to hear that she was pleased with his efforts. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hoof and crawled up onto the bed over her.

The mare arched her back slightly and craned her head around to give him a tender peck on the cheek. Then she buried her face in the sheets that she’d gathered up and gasped as the stallion made his way inside her. This was getting to be a bit much for me, honestly. There were a lot of conflicting emotions. I mean, I hated this bitch for what she and her son had done to me and were planning for Jackboot. Never mind what had happened to my mother and the rest of my family. I wanted her dead, at all costs.

Of course, I was also feeling a little turned on despite all of that. For fuck’s sake, why did she get some while I couldn’t?! I’d spent over a year dropping hints on Jackboot, and most of them hadn't exactly been very subtle, in my opinion. Rubbing up on him, making my hooves and mane look nice for him, dressing up in sexy dresses; everything I could think of, but that damn stallion was like a fucking gelding or something!

Then Foxglove shows up and suddenly starts telling me how I should keep away from ‘stallions like Jackboot’. I didn’t know what that had meant at the time, but then the whole White Hoof thing had happened. Yeah, that had hurt pretty badly, but I’d gotten over it eventually.

I’d thought my dreams were finally coming true back in McMaren. Then come to find out it hadn’t even been him. I’d felt so embarrassed. Foxglove and the real Jackboot had found me before anything super serious could get underway, so there was that. Still, whatever the mare equivalent of blue balls was; I’d had a major case of it that night.

Foxglove had gotten really heavy on the ‘stay away from Jackboot’ rhetoric recently though. I mean, I thought it had just been because she’d had bad experiences with stallions, and I got that. Still, Jackboot wasn’t that kind of pony. I’d known him for years, and he’d never done anything at all like that with a mare. He wasn’t that kind of pony anymore. So finally I’d just right out and told him.

He shot me down in flames worse than those raiders had, and that hurt; but at least I’d tried. I even had hope for the future, kind of. He didn’t want to fool around because he felt like I was his daughter, and I guess I kind of understand that. But, that just meant that all I needed to do was make him stop seeing me as a little filly he needed to look after, and more like a mare he could go after. It might take time, but I could wait for him.

I mean, I at least knew that he liked mares and not stallions. I’ll admit I’d been worried it was like that. Then I’d caught him with Foxglove back at the stable and suddenly a lot of what she’d been saying to me made sense. She hadn’t hated stallions; she’d just been trying to get at Jackboot herself. I wasn’t mad at her for that—well, maybe a little—because I knew he was a good catch. I could understand that. She’d just have to enjoy it while she could though, because I’d been here first, and I was going to win out in the end.

I wasn’t the type of mare who’d be up for sharing either.

Someday, Jackboot would be doing to me what that stallion was doing to the yellow mare on that bed, and I’d be where she was, enjoying myself. I’d have my sweaty face buried in the sheets panting for him to keep on going. I’d be the one screaming into the mattress so I didn’t wake everypony else up. I’d be the one with a knife clutched in my teeth as I—wait, what?!

In a rather jarring change of mood, I watched in horror as the yellow mare lifted her head from the sheets, an intimidating serrated blade clutched in her teeth. Her eyes weren’t filled with a lust for love-making. I knew that expression well. I’d worn that expression. She was out for blood.

The stallion had no idea what was coming. He was wrapped up in the moment, thrusting into the mare with his head turned off to the side away from her weapon. The first hint he got that anything was amiss was when the jagged edge of the blade was sawing through his throat. I didn’t even have time to yell out any sort of warning, the surprise had caused me to hesitate so long.

He was reeling now, throwing himself away from the knife-wielding mare. It was too late, of course. Torrents of blood were flowing out of the wide gash that the mare had opened. He tried to stanch the bleeding, but it was a completely futile gesture, and the blood just continued to pour around his hooves. His attempts to scream for help resulted in little more than choked gurgles that propagated bubbling spurts of blood out through the open wound in his throat.

Eventually, he stumbled and collapsed to the ground, gasping and gargling as he writhed there. All the while, the mare stood up on the bed, the knife still held firm in her teeth, as she watched him bleed to death. When the last of his quivering he ceased, and it became very obvious that he was dead, the yellow mare stepped down from the bed and walked over to where the body lay.

What I had just borne witness to was one of the most disturbing things that I’d ever seen, and yet it didn’t prepare me for what came next. I watched in horrified fascination as the mare straddled the fresh corpse and leaned down next to his ear, as though she was going to whisper to him. Then that was exactly what she started doing, all the while one of her hooves was tucked beneath her. I couldn’t hear everything that was said, but from what I was able to piece together, she had more serious ‘daddy issues’ than I could ever have conceived of.

And I should know!

Despite having had the use of a genuine stallion, the mare took matters into her own hooves to finish up and then rolled off of the corpse. She very calmly trotted over to her vanity and sat herself down on her haunches, “you can clean up now!” she called out as she picked up a brush and started to run it through her mane.

Two painted warriors immediately burst into the tent and trotted over to where the body lay. They didn’t balk or hesitate for even a second. This, none of this, was anything new to them. One of them was even carrying a fresh pelt across his back to replace the one that the stallion had bled all over. The other brought in fresh bed linens. How often did this sort of thing happen to where this pony’s guards had the routine down pat?! What kind of psycho was she!

“You killed him,” I heard myself say.

“Hmm? Oh, yes. I did,” She picked up a towel and started wiping away the blood that had gotten splattered onto her coat when she'd opened up the other pony's neck.

“...why?”

It wasn't as though I was expecting to hear that the other pony had been in way deserving of his fate. He'd obviously been some slave of theirs that she'd enticed into her bed with the promise of freedom. Why anypony needed to entice a slave to do anything was beyond me though. As I understood the concept, you just said something and they did it. That was how the relationship worked.

“Because I can't have anypony around in this tribe who has dominated me in any way,” was her bored reply, “but a mare still has needs.”

Was I supposed to pretend that made any sense to me? Given the compromising position I'd caught Foxglove and Jackboot in earlier, I knew there were ways to go about getting in a good rut where the mare didn't look 'dominated'; but I wasn't about to argue with this particular brand of crazy. This was how she went about getting herself off. It was sick and it freaked me out; but I guess it worked for her?

“Cestus wants me to let you live if I get Jackboot,” the mare said in a conversational tone, as though nothing at all had happened that might have put the mood in the tent off recently, “I don’t think he’s actually taken a fancy to you, you understand; he just wants to hurt something my brother cares about.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel the same way,” she shrugged, “but I’m not unreasonable. It’s not like I’m a monster or anything,” was…she being serious right now, or was this some weird White Hoof brand of sarcasm? I genuinely couldn’t tell, “so I’m willing to just outright kill you, if you’d prefer.”

I blinked. It…might have been sarcasm? Hesitantly, I replied, “so, my choices are death or…?”

“Bearing Cestus’ foals until you either die in foaling, or until he thinks it’d be more entertaining to feed you to the radscorpions, or until he gets tired of you and passes you off to the rest of the tribe for whatever they feel like doing to you,” was the casual response I received, as though we might have been talking about a bar’s drink selection, “but I’m willing to just kill you now, if you’d prefer?”

“Do I have to decide now, or can I sleep on it?”

The mare cracked a smile, “you have until noon tomorrow, provided my brother doesn't show up. I promised the tribe a show in lieu of an execution,” she chuckled, “though they rarely see a difference between the two.”

“A show?”

“In the pit. They do so enjoy watching ponies get ripped to pieces by the radscorpions,” she tapped her chin with a thoughtful hoof, “I think it's the betting aspect. They'll bet on anything: how long a pony screams, how big the pieces will be, whether it's a hind or foreleg that gets chopped off first, that sort of thing,” she turned and looked me over, “I can only imagine what your wings are going to do to the odds when it comes to the losing limbs bets...”

Awesome. It didn't do a whole lot for my nerves that the earth pony was saying all of this with very little sign of any actual malice. It was like somepony talking about how cloudy it was going to be tomorrow. Here she was, talking about killing her brother and feeding me to monsters, and it was....just business to her somehow. It was a part of her schedule that had been marked right after waking up and taking a shower.

I really did not like White Hooves.

The mare finished cleaning herself off and walked back over to the bed and its fresh linens. She stifled a yawn and crawled onto it, “goodnight little pegasus. Sleep well. I'll most likely kill you in the morning,” she proceeded to make herself comfortable.

How the fuck was I supposed to sleep after any of this?! She didn't seem to have a whole lot of trouble though. It was minutes before she was snoring softly in her bed, leaving me the lone conscious pony in the tent.

How sleep had found me, I doubt I’d ever really understand. I wouldn’t have thought that it would be possible with all that I had to think about. Between being captured by White hooves, finding my mother, and realizing that it was Jackboot’s psychotic sister that had possession of me, I should have found it impossible to get any rest at all tonight. Perhaps it was the result of there still being some traces of whatever Cestus had used to drug me before still remaining in my body.

Whatever the cause of my slumber, there was less uncertainty regarding what had roused me the next morning. Somepony was making a boisterous racket outside. They sounded as though they were a fair distance from the tent that I was in though. It was far enough that I was having trouble making out exactly what was being said; but they were loud enough that I could tell it wasn’t anything pleasant. There was also something vaguely familiar about it, but I was too groggy to put my hoof on it quite this minute.

Whiplash seemed to hear it as well.

"Oh, for Celestia's sake," the mare seethed as she rolled out of her bed and slowly made her way to the tent's entrance, "what is going on out there? Cestus!"

The younger stallion appeared very quickly, so much so that I doubted he was actually reacting to his mother's summons. It was far more likely that he had already been on his way to tell her about the disturbance, "Mother, it's Jackboot, he's in the camp!"

"What?" the yellow earth pony screamed, "how did he get past the sentries?!"

"I don't know," her son grimaced, but he's doing a lot of talking, and a lot of the warriors look like they're listening to what he has to say..."

The mare paled slightly, and she looked very worried for a brief moment. Then her features hardened once more and she shoved her way past the stallion, "come, we'll deal with this if the rest of these fucking morons are too stupid to do anything about it. Go get me some paint..."

I watched the yellow mare leave. Only when she was gone did I allow myself to cease suppressing the feelings of elation that were welling up within me. Jackboot was here! He’d come, and had somehow even managed to survive long enough to make it into the center of the White Hoof camp and issue a challenge to his sister. I didn’t know what his plan exactly was, but I trusted that he had one. I just needed to make certain that I was ready to help out when the moment came.

That meant getting myself out of these chains, I supposed. A task that was far easier said than done. There seemed to be only the single lock, but I didn’t have any way to get through it. Even if I had the tools and knowledge necessary, the angle would have been too awkward for me to reliably pick it. Maybe if I squirmed the right way I could manage to slip out of them? It was worth a shot…

I flexed and writhed on the ground in every conceivable direction that I could think of. I tried moving all six of my appendages singularly and in various combinations as I tested out how much play existed in the metal links that were wrapped around me. I could feel them move ever so slightly when I curled up in specific ways, but it wasn’t nearly enough for me to achieve any degree of freedom.

The more I moved without making any additional progress, the more frustrated I became. I had to be able to do something; Jackboot was going to need me any minute!

A sudden flurry of movement at the tent’s entrance caught my attention and I looked in that direction as I grew immediately still. The breath I didn’t realize that I’d been holding released when I caught sight of a teal unicorn mare coming inside, “Ma!” she might be just the help I needed to get out of here.

“There’s somepony out there challenging the Chieftess to a fight,” my mother said breathlessly, “nearly everypony’s gone to watch.”

“That’s Jakboot,” I informed her, “he’s a friend. Get me out of these chains and I think we can all get out of here!”

“A friend?” she looked bewildered for a long moment, and then a flicker of hope appeared in her features though it was heavily shadowed by doubt, “he’s so outnumbered…”

“Foxglove can’t be far away,” I assured her, and explained further at her confused look, “she’s another friend. Come on, we might not have a lot of time. I need to get free!”

The mare hurried over and began to tug and pull at my restraints. They hardly budged at all though, despite my own efforts to aid her by contorting myself. After nearly a minute of fruitless efforts, I finally let out an exasperated groan. We were so close to being able to get out of here! I refused to let a simple chain stand in the way of it all.

I flopped on the floor, grinding my teeth in frustration. Then my eyes found Whiplash’s vanity, and I recalled the sight of the file that the mare had been using on her hooves the previous night. That might be just the sort of thing that we needed. I looked at my mother and threw my head in the direction of the small dresser, “Ma, there’s a file over there! Get it and use it on the lock!”

The teal mare looked up and I saw her horn start to glow blue. A second later the metal file was at her side and she applied it to the lock. The sound of grinding metal filled the air and I could already see a thin gouge forming beneath the hurried oscillations of the file.

It was happening. It would take time, but I’d be free soon enough, and then my mother and I could make an escape! We’d need to find Foxglove before we went too far so that the mechanically inclined unicorn could remove my mother’s slave collar, but that was hardly any sort of consideration. We were going to get out of here!

“You see,” I said with a broad grin, “I told you I’d get you out of here.”

My mother offered a refreshingly genuine smile in return, “really? Because it looks like I’m the one rescuing you right now.”

I laughed despite myself. That was a rather fair observation, I guess. I was going to make a reply when the words caught in my throat. My eyes were riveted on the tent’s entrance, and the brown stallion standing there. His expression chilled me to my very core. He didn’t look upset or angry like one might expect of somepony who’d stumbled across an escape attempt. Rather, he looked…excited.

He surged forward.

Too late, I found my voice, “Ma, behind you, watch out!”

I didn’t know what I was expecting of the unicorn. She wasn’t a fighter to any extent. Old and beaten as she was, the teal mare was hardly in any sort of shape to move quickly and avoid the younger earth pony stallion’s attack. All that she managed to do was turn around just in time to catch one of Cestus’ hooves across her face. This was followed up by a savage kick from his hind leg that sent the unicorn mare tumbling to the ground. The file feel to the ground in front of me as my mother’s magic hold of it was broken by the blows.

Cestus glared at the unicorn as she moaned on the ground, not even making any move to get back on her hooves, “what do we have here?” he cooed in a dangerous tone as he circled around the offending mare, “did one of our slaves forget her place?”

He lashed out with another kick. I cringed at the echoing crack of several snapping ribs. My mother cried out in pain, “you should know better!” he snarled at the whimpering pony, “what could have made you think, for a moment, that was a good idea?”

I saw him rise up on his hind legs in preparation to bring down a strike on my mother that I was terrified might kill her. For a moment, I completely forgot myself and cried out, “Ma!”

There had been no helping it. I was a little filly for a brief moment that was about to watch her mother be killed by a White Hoof. I’d seen that happen to my family once before. Never again, please, Celestia!

My cry seemed to be enough to stay Cestus’ hooves, for the moment. He lowered himself to the ground and cast a curious eye in my direction as he processed what I had said. Then he looked back to the unicorn on the ground in front of him, and I saw a whicked smile spread across his face, “oh, ho ho ho…you can’t be serious?” He paced around the mare once more, looking between her and myself, “what are the chances…you two are related?”

I bit my lip and restrained myself from making any additional comment. Perhaps my previous outburst had saved her life, but I doubted very much that there was anything that I could say that would improve either the situation for my mother or myself any further. I merely glared defiantly at the brown earth pony in silence. He didn’t seem to require any additional confirmation though.

“This is too perfect,” he chuckled as he neared me, “Mother will have to let me keep you now,” the stallion mused. He ran his hoof along my cheek, and I forced myself to not flinch at his touch. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me squirm. Cestus didn’t seem to mind though. He caressed my lips and then pulled away as he headed back towards my mother. It suddenly became a lot harder to keep myself composed.

“I’ll ask her to give me this one too. What better way to keep both of you in line?” he glanced in my direction even as he got closer to the teal unicorn, “you’re going to let me do all sorts of things to you, aren’t you? You’re going to be a nice little brood mare…aren’t you?”

I maintained my silence, even as I felt myself filling with dread. What he was saying didn’t mean anything, because Jackboot and Foxglove were going to save both of us any minute now. All I had to do was whatever it took to keep us both alive until that moment arrived.

“When I ask you a question, you’re supposed to say, ‘yes, Master’,” Cestus growled.

The loss of a little dignity was a small price to pay for the little time that I needed to buy, “yes, Master,” I even managed to not spit the words out and antagonize the stallion further. Play nice, Windfall, for just a little while…

“Good girl,” he nodded approvingly. Then he looked back at my mother, “and you’ll behave from now on too, won’t you?”

“Y-yes, Master,” the unicorn coughed out in a far meeker tone. She’d been doing this for longer than I had after all.

Cestus looked between us once again, and then his smile somehow broadened even further, “this is a unique opportunity I have here,” he purred, “I get to find out exactly how much like daughter the mother is…”

He glanced back outside and thought for a moment. His ears cocked as he listened. Mine followed suit. Ponies were cheering and jeering at something. The stallion’s features creased briefly, “it won’t be much longer…” he looked at the prone unicorn, “…but I have time for one of you,” he sneered at the mare.

Before I could wonder exactly what he meant by that, I saw him roll my mother over roughly onto her back. She gasped as the movement aggravated her injuries, but she didn’t fight him. After nearly a decade in servitude to the White Hooves, I had to wonder if my mother could even summon up the will to resist them anymore. As I watched, I saw that she wasn’t merely offering no resistance, she was actively complying with what Cestus was intending. I suppose she had long ago learned what the stallion was after when he did this to her.

Keeping silent became a lot more difficult now as I watched the brown stallion mount my mother right before my eyes. I had to fervently remind myself that anything protest that I offered, any oaths I swore out loud, would only cause the unicorn greater grief. I had to maintain a stoic exterior. I didn’t even dare to look away, lest Cestus witness my discomfort and take pleasure in it. It was likely he’d derive pleasure from my watching him do this to my mother, but it felt like the least amount of gratification that I could give him nonetheless.

What hurt worse than seeing him do this to her was seeing and hear her seeming to enjoy herself. I couldn’t hardly believe that was the case. Had my mother been so indoctrinated by her time here that she’d allowed herself to grow to appreciate her captors in that way? I didn’t want to think that could be the case, but the evidence to the contrary was right there in front of me as the older teal unicorn cooed encouragements to the stallion grunting on top of her.

She had her hooves wrapped gently around him and nibbling on his neck as she gasped. I found myself now fighting back incredulous outbursts intended to reprimand her for commending him like she was. How could she?!

Then I realized exactly how she could. I caught her eyes glancing in my direction briefly, and I saw the truth within them. She wasn’t enjoying this in the slightest, not really. She was doing it to assuage Cestus’ ire at the two of us. If she gave him a good show, he’d leave without hurting the two of us any more than he already had. She was protecting me. Her coos and caresses were just a ploy to shield her daughter.

Wait…no, they were even more than that. Her fervent caressing had possessed an ulterior motive. My mother had noticed something that I had not while she’d been up close to the younger stallion: a set of keys hanging from his barding. One of her hooves was even now playing with the fastener that held them in place under the guise of massaging the stallion’s flank. Cestus was completely oblivious to what was going on.

She was helping to arrange my escape…

Incredibly, I watched as the keys fell to the ground, the clasp finally released. The teal unicorn mare took no other action beyond satisfying the stallion for several seconds, waiting to see if the sound of the jingling had drawn her partner’s attention. When he didn’t break stride, she moved onto the next phase of her plan. Her horn started to glow, and I saw a mirrored aura surround the keys as they slowly lifted off the ground and started floating towards me.

I stretched out my forelegs as best I could, despite my bindings, in an effort to catch the keys at the earliest opportunity before Cestus noticed what was going on. My eyes were glued to the floating ring.

Whether it was the visible glow of my mother’s horn, or that the use of her magic was distracting her from giving her performance it proper attention, I’d never know for sure. In any case, something had caused Cestus to take note of his surroundings. I only became aware of the pause in his sexual efforts when I heard him exclaim, “what’s going on?”

Both my mother and I looked at him, and we watched with mirrored expressions of fear as his eyes found the floating keys that had nearly made it to me. Comprehension took him an extra second, which was a moment of hesitation that my mother had the presence of mind to seize upon. She bent up and threw her hooves around the stallion’s shoulders and brought herself in close to the earth pony. At the same moment, her horn flared and the keys went sailing through the air a little ways beyond me. I wasn’t watching where they landed though. My eyes we fixed on the pair of ponies in front of me.

If I thought that my mother was making some awkward attempt to subdue the stallion, I’d have been wrong. It would have been a laughable effort anyway. She wasn’t a fighter by any stretch, and Cestus was, and my mother knew that. She couldn’t have hoped to beat him in a struggle. All that trying to fight him would have done was gotten the two of us into further trouble, likely to face rather stiff punishments.

My mother knew this. So she didn’t try to fight him. Not really.

I wish she had…oh, in hindsight, I truly wish that she had.

She didn’t know what was coming though. All that the teal unicorn knew was that her daughter was in danger, and she had a chance to save her. What mother worthy of the title would have done anything differently?

Even as she clung tightly to the stallion trying to peel her off of him, the teal unicorn looked at me with eyes filled with sorrow. Then I heard her say, “I’m sorry, my Little Breezy. I’m so sorry…”

Then her horn flared once more. This time a matching blue magical aura appeared on the collar clasped around her neck. It took my brain a fraction of a second too long to work out what she planned to do. Comprehension dawned at the exact moment that one of the collar’s wires was yanked loose by my mother’s magic.

Deducing that the wearer was attempting to make an escape by removing the collar without the required authorization to do so, the device did exactly as intended...and detonated.

Slave collars contained a small amount of explosives. Realistically, there wouldn’t have been enough to create anything more than a rather anemic grenade if the material was repurposed into such a weapon. It operated on a rather different principal though. Where a grenade was intended to send death in every possible direction, a slave collar needed only to focus its charge inward towards it wearer’s throat. Pony flesh wasn’t very resistant to explosions from so close, so there wasn’t a need for a lot of explosive material in order to create the shaped charge.

It would also not have done for a slave’s death to have inflicted a lot of collateral damage if they were surrounded by guards, or even the slave’s owners. For these reasons, the collars didn’t have a lot of bang for their buck. They had enough to do the job though.

All of that considered, shaped charges weren’t perfect. The material that was detonated, be it black powder or some sort of composite substance, didn’t have the capacity to channel itself in specific directions. It just wanted to explode. It was the job of other materials to direct the blast. The outer metal shell of a slave collar served the purpose in this case. It was thin metal, and made brittle by age and decades of reforging for alternative uses. Two hundred years ago when that same material had been stamped out of the foundry where it had been created, maybe it wouldn’t have even budged. Today though…

My mother’s embrace had placed Cestus’ neck right up against the collar when it was set off. Her death had been assured, and she’d known that. She had just been hoping that hers would not be the only life taken by the collar.

None of that registered at the time though. My mind was keenly focused on my mother’s resigned expression as the wire was broken and the collar around her throat responded appropriately. My pained cry for her to stop, to take any other course of action at all in the world, was drowned out by the soul-crushing muffled wet mess of an explosion.

To call it an ‘explosion’ was to give it too much credit really. In reality, it was like somepony clapping their hooves together. Just a pathetic little ‘pop’. That was all the sound it made. The force hadn’t even been enough to propel my mother’s head away from the rest of her body with any great force. There was a spray of blood that misted outward, and then it just sort of…fell off.

No…nonononononoNO! Celestia, no!

This wasn’t happening! This was the dream, it had to be!

It wasn’t, but it had to be…please…

I barely even registered Cestus writhing and gurgling on the ground nearby. His hooves were grasping at his throat as he tried to staunch the blood flowing freely from the jagged gouges that the collar’s detonation had opened up. His eyes were wide with pain and terror as he comprehended that there wasn’t anything that he could do to save his own life, and that he couldn’t even summon help through the blood that was drowning him. In any other circumstance, I might have watched his last desperate convulsions with great satisfaction. However, that wasn’t where my focus was.

Instead, I was simply staring at my mother’s decapitated body. Her head had rolled to the side and was looking away from me. Perhaps that was a mercy, I couldn’t be sure. It wasn’t as though it really mattered. She was clearly dead. She’d died trying to save me.

“Ma…” I whimpered pathetically, pawing at the ground in an effort to pull myself towards her. I couldn’t move though, not easily. I wasn’t even sure what I intended to do when I got to her. It wasn’t as though a potion was going to fix this, even if I’d had one. I just…I needed to hold her one more time…

No. I needed to get the keys, I told myself harshly. She’d given her life for them. I couldn’t let that sacrifice be in vain! Get the keys you stupid little filly and get out of here. Jackboot was probably waiting for you even now! Get the keys!

I kept pawing at the ground in my mother’s direction. We were supposed to have gotten out of here together! I’d just found you again and I was going to save you! That was how this was supposed to have worked out…

I needed to get the keys, I knew that, but I had to hold her just one last time.

These damn chains though…

The keys. I turned myself around and looked around for them. I hadn’t been paying attention when my mother had thrown them, but they couldn’t have gone far. I scanned every inch of the fur-lined floor of the tent, but I couldn’t see them. Where could they be? Panic started growing in me, colored with despair. I had to find them, if only because my mother had lost her life trying to get them to me. Where were they?!

The anguish pressing down on me finally overwhelmed the fragile barriers that were all that was keeping them at bay. It was too much. I couldn’t hold it in any longer and I was suddenly sobbing even as I continued to futilely drag myself along the floor in a fruitless quest for those keys. I’m sorry, Ma, I’m so sorry!

Finally I stopped and curled up into a little ball, sobbing uncontrollably. How could things have gone so wrong?! We were all about to be free! Jackboot was here and he was going to save us! Now it was just me left and I couldn’t even find that damned keys…

I heard more movement at the tent’s entrance, but I didn’t make any move to respond to it. Probably one of Whiplash’s guards come to see what was taking Cestus so long. He’d spot the bodies instantly and report what happened to Whiplash. There wasn’t anything I could do about any of it regardless.

“Oh my…”

My ear twitched at the familiar voice. I rolled over and craned my head around, “Foxglove?”

No, it wasn’t her…was it? A violet unicorn mare was standing in the doorway, but she was covered from head to hoof in white paint. Then I caught sight of her emerald eyes flashing in my direction and I realized that it really was the mare that I’d been traveling with these last few months. Relief and regret battled within me. Oh, Ma, if you’d only waited another two minutes…Foxglove would have been able to make short work of a distracted Cestus and all of us would be leaving together.

“Windy,” the mare exclaimed in relief, “you’re alright,” she rushed over and quickly appraised the chains that were enveloping me, “hold still,” her horn glowed and her eldritch lance detached from her back. The tip burst to life and she flicked it deftly across several of the links so quickly that I would have doubted that it could possibly have cut all of the way through the metal. Then I immediately felt my bindings falling away. I was free in seconds.

Hardly even thinking, I pushed past the violet mare, much to her surprise, and dashed to my mother’s body. Hesitantly, I reached out a hoof and placed it on her shoulder. No words came to my mind, and I wasn’t even sure what I had intended. I think that I just needed this inexplicable confirmation that she was really dead. As though seeing her severed head lying just over a foot away from the rest of her body wasn’t proof enough of that fact. I was even tempted to roll the head over to see her face.

That probably wasn’t a good idea though…

Neither was the urge I felt to gather her body and take it with me in order to give her a proper burial later. There wasn’t time for that, was there? I glanced back at Foxglove and opened my mouth to ask her if we could, but those words caught in my throat. The unicorn regarded me with clear confusion. At her questioning glance, I said the only thing I apparently could manage, “she…she was my mother…” I closed my eyes and looked back at the body.

Just two more minutes…

Foxglove looked torn between a desire to comfort me, and her knowledge that time was a factor in this extraction. I noticed her looking towards the tent’s exit, looking apprehensive, “I’m sorry, Windy, but we have to go. Now.”

“I know,” I nodded. I didn’t want to leave, but it wasn’t just me who would suffer if I didn’t bring myself to move right now. Foxglove was in danger too, and so was Jackboot. Both of them were here to get me clear. I had to move, for their sakes.

My mother wouldn’t want me to stay if she knew I needed to leave in order to make good on this escape.

“Bye, Ma,” I whispered to the corpse, “I love you.”

I turned and followed the mare through the exit. My eyes found Cestus’ corpse as we left, and I let that little bit of satisfaction fill me with purpose. Killed by a rancher’s wife, you sick fuck. Suck on that!

Once outside, I finally got my first glimpse of the White Hoof encampment. It was much bigger than I had anticipated. Hundreds of ponies must live here. Just about every single one of them was currently gathered in the center of the camp too, forming a thick ring around a couple of ponies. I recognized both of them instantly. It was Jackboot and his sister Whiplash. The pair were dashing about the ring as they sparred with each other.

“He’s got them distracted,” Foxglove informed me, “we need to move, now!”

“But, how’s he getting out of here?”

“He’s got a plan, don’t worry about him,” the unicorn informed me urgently as she started galloping.

I followed on her hooves, but I felt dubious regarding her response. What kind of plan could Jackboot possibly have had for getting himself out from the middle of a cluster of White Hooves like that? Was he intending to take Whiplash hostage somehow and negotiate for his escape? That was certainly a possibility. Though it didn’t look like he was having a whole lot of luck getting his hooves on the slippery yellow mare that looked like she was more intent of dancing out of his reach than she was of actually fighting him.

My eyes frequently went back to the fighting even as I followed Foxglove out of the camp. My wings were a little too cramped by the confines of the chains to offer me much more than short little fluttering flights at the moment. I suppose that worked in my favor, as it reduced my temptation to fly and draw attention to the pair of fleeing ponies that must have seemed out of place when everypony else was so intent on the fighting going on.

Finally I saw Jackboot get a hold of the yellow mare, and I felt myself grin in satisfaction. That’s the way, Jackboot! You’ve got her now and there’s nothing she’ll be able to do about it. Now you can use her to get yourself out safely somehow like you had planned all along.

Then I noticed something green nearby the pair of ponies. It looked an awful lot like…

No…no! It couldn’t be!

Even as the thought froze me in place, I saw and heard the panicked screams of the ponies closest to the pair of struggling ponies. They’d seen what I had, and their reactions confirmed my fears. Somepony had produced a grenade, one of the green magical ones.

If I’d thought there was any way for me to get there in time, I’d have launched myself into the air and swooped in to rescue Jackboot from the ring. However, even if my wings had been working at their peak, I couldn’t have crossed the distance in the limited time required, not from a standing positon like I was. I couldn’t get there. All could do was freeze in place and look on with renewed grief.

Not twice in one day, Celestia, please! Not twice in one hour! I couldn’t lose two ponies I cared about, not like this!

Then there was a green flash.

Ponies were screaming and flailing about in the cluster of onlookers. Painted White Hooves dashed about madly in all directions as they tried to figure out what was going on and what needed to be done in response to the events that had transpired. Nopony was paying attention to the ivory Pegasus and her painted violet unicorn companion standing on the far side of the camp looking down at them. Not yet at any rate.

I barely even registered the sensation of somepony poking at my shoulder. The sound of my name being called sounded like it was coming from the far side of the Wasteland, for all Foxglove must have been all but shouting it in my ear.

Not twice…

It was with a numb sort of acquiescence that my hooves started to move in the direction that Foxglove was urging me. I could run though. There wasn’t feeling enough in my body to manage that without simply falling over. As much as it seemed to chafe at her sense of urgency, Foxglove resigned herself to settle for the awkward canter I was moving at. Hopefully she knew where we were going, because I hardly recognized that we were going anywhere at all. My eyes may have been locked forward, but my mind was looking elsewhere.

Twice. Two ponies that I cared about were dead. The mother that I had only just rediscovered had been alive all this time and the stallion that had raised me from a filly. If there were two other ponies that had mattered more to me in that world, I couldn’t have said who they were. Now they were both gone. What was I supposed to do now? Where was I supposed to go?

Honestly, I guess that it didn’t even matter anymore. Nothing mattered. Not with Jackboot gone. He’d been the pony that had been leading everything. He’d been the reason that I was out in the Wasteland at all. He’d taught me how to kill raiders and monsters. Now he was dead, and I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do with myself.

For now I guess I just needed to follow Foxglove. That was simple enough. I could do that.

It was about all I could do. I was hardly in a position to give any thought to tomorrow or the next day, after all. I could barely process what was going on around me now, or how much time had passed, I was in such a daze. We could have been running for seconds, hours, or even days, by this point.

I was aware that Foxglove was trying to get my attention again. She was saying something to me, by I couldn’t hear her. My mind was still elsewhere. My eyes were locked straight ahead. The violet unicorn wasn’t in front of me anymore. She was off to the side trying to get my attention. The mare was looking rather concerned and adamant at this point. I guess it had been a while since I’d spoken to her. I wasn’t normally this quiet, I guess.

I wasn’t normally dealing with deaths like these either.

Whatever she was saying, it would have to wait. My eyes had noticed something ahead of us. A trio of painted ponies lounging around a fire. They hadn’t notice Foxglove and I. In fact, they weren’t even really looking in our direction. Most of their attention that was wasn’t being directed towards each other as they caroused, was focused away from us, outward into the Wasteland.

Sentries, I realized. These ponies were sentries tasked with keeping an eye out for ponies approaching the settlement. The sort that Whiplash had ordered to keep a lookout for Jackboot. My lips quirked as my mind recalled Whiplash’s final instructions that morning regarding the fate of all the ponies that had been posted on lookout. I wondered if her instructions would actually be carried out now that she was dead.

It would be a shame if White Hooves didn’t die who were supposed to.

Somepony should do something about that.

However long we’d been going for, it was long enough that my wings were working again. Foxglove was yelling at me again, but I still wasn’t hearing what she was saying to me. I didn’t hear her for very long though. A couple of powerful strokes of my wings were all that was needed to send me rocketing towards the trio of White hoof sentries. With the silence afforded to me by an airborne passage, none of them even heard my approach.

The first sign that any of them had that they were in any sort of danger was when an ivory blur shot past them. I didn’t merely soar through their gathering without any mischief though. My hooves wrapped themselves around the head of the pony in the middle of the trio, and I merely held on tight as my flight carried me past, arcing sharply to the right at the last moment. The result of the sudden tight hug was that the unaware stallion had his neck twisted around with a great deal of abrupt force that enticed a loud cracking sound from his vertebrae.

He was dead before his corpse hit the ground, and I was gone in a streak of ivory and aquamarine that left the remaining two ponies stunned. They merely looked at their dead companion for a full five seconds before it finally dawned on them that he was dead and that their lives as well might be in a great deal of danger. They spurred themselves into action, but neither still had any clear idea of what they were fighting.

Their eyes panned around the Wasteland looking for any sign of the threat that had already claimed one member of their party. Neither of them bothered to look up though, and why should they? It was rare to the point of unthinkable that somepony should be descending upon them. Unfortunately for the remaining duo, that was exactly where my next strike came from.

I darted downward, my wings tucked in close to my sides. As I neared the ground I gave my wings a slight flick, and suddenly I was falling with my hind legs angled downward. Both of my rear hooves landed directly in the middle of spine of a mare. I could feel the bones crumbling beneath my strike as her body was driven to the ground. Her scream was piercing and anguished. She wasn’t dead, but nor did she seem capable of moving the rear half of her body anymore.

Her cries drew the attention of the remaining stallion that was the third member of their group. He wheeled around just in time to catch a hoof in his face as I beat my wings and executed a vicious pirouette in midair. His jaw crumbled and he was sent crashing to the ground. I somersaulted through the air and landed with all four hooves directly on the back of the stallion’s neck. He died without a word.

The mare that still yet lived had more than a few words though. Most of them were pleas for mercy. I sort of heard them, but not really. They penetrated about as far into my brain as all of Foxglove’s prior calls had. She had my full attention, but I wasn’t nearly as interested in what she had to say as I did in making her hear what was on my mind.

“They didn’t have to die,” I heard myself say in a voice that was impossibly calm, all things considered. The mare continued to blubber and beg, but I ignored her. The tips of my wings fluttered as I glided to just in front of her and glared into her face, “they didn’t have to die, you bastards.”

I wasn’t speaking to this mare specifically. She was a surrogate for the entirety of the White Hoof tribe, whether she understood it or not. The terrified confusion on her face suggested that she didn’t know what I was talking about. That was alright; she didn’t have to understand what I was saying. She just had to listen to me, “you could have just left us alone.

“What did you even get from our ranch? You killed all the Brahmin. We didn’t have a lot of weapons or food. You didn’t find me, you killed my father…you killed Holstein when you got him back here. Was having my mother as a slave for all these years really worth it? Was she worth all this death?”

There was still no sign that the paralyzed mare knew what I was talking about, “and what about Jackboot? You’ve really been chasing after him for twenty years? One old stallion is worth all that effort…all these lost lives? You ponies are assholes,” I said coldly, “there’s not a single rational thought left in your heads. You just care about causing misery and death.

“I’m going to end you. I’m going to end all of you and put a stop to it,” I raised my hoof and brought it down on the mare’s throat. Firmly at first, but I gradually applied greater pressure to the pony’s windpipe. Her eyes grew wide and she struggled to push me away. I didn’t weigh all that much, but I didn’t have to as I remained hovering in the air above her. The beating of my wings altered slightly and their purpose was no longer to keep my aloft.

They were driving my hoof harder against her throat.

I felt my teeth grinding as the mare’s panicked eyes started to bulge out of her head. Her pleas were just a mixture of gurgling nonsense, “I will crush each and every one of you beneath my hooves, like fucking radroaches,” I seethed through clenched teeth. The mare continued to paw at me, but her strength was ebbing noticeably, “the White Hooves will be reduced to a myth,” I swore at the mare who couldn’t understand why she was being made to pay now for the sins of members of her tribe who were themselves already dead.

I didn’t care though. Maybe this one White Hoof mare hadn’t wronged me directly, or anypony that I knew. She might not have ever even killed a pony, as young as she looked. She was wearing white paint though. That was enough of a crime in my eyes. I hated this mare. I hated her so much, “every last one of you…will…die!”

A final, forceful, stroke of my wings drove my hoof further into her throat and I felt the cartilage crumble beneath it. The mare squirmed and twitched for another few seconds. Then her body grew still, her bulging, bloodshot, eyes staring off blankly into nothingness. I kept my hoof on her throat all the same. I felt no pulse, and no signs of life, but I kept it there. These three ponies would be the first of many on my crusade to fulfill the oath that I’d just sworn.

“Windy…”

I jerked at the sound of my name. My head turned slowly and I saw Foxglove standing nearby. She wore a concerned expression, her eyes wide as she beheld me. From her point of view, I had darted ahead and killed three unsuspecting ponies without warning. She’d even probably been trying to explain some sort of plan that she had for getting past them without anypony needing to die.

Had she been close enough to hear what I’d been saying?

Jerkily, I retracted my hoof and settled to the ground.

“Sorry.”

“Are you okay?”

I thought for a moment, and then I said, “I’m good.”

Foxglove looked dubious. It was hard to blame her. Oddly enough though, I didn’t feel like I was lying to her. I did feel fine. Well, not fine, per say. I wasn’t going to burst into tears again though. Killing these three must have been more therapeutic than I thought.

“You sure?”

I willed a smile onto my face, and surprised even myself with how easily it came, “yeah. Where are we off to?”

Foxglove hesitated, her eyes searching mine. Then she replied, “most of our gear’s still back at the stable.”

“Alright,” I nodded. That sounded like it should be our first stop, “lead the way,” I still had no idea where we were really. I could probably have flown off and gotten my bearings easily enough, but I didn’t want to get too far from the unicorn while we were this far inside hostile territory. It would be best if I kept nearby.

“Windfall, I’m sorry about Jackboot. I really didn’t know he was going to do something like that.”

“I know you didn’t,” I assured the mare, “and it’s okay. Come on, let’s get going before any other White Hooves show up,” I nodded in the vague direction that we’d been heading in thus far.

The unicorn hesitated for another brief moment but then she started trotting along. I hovered beside her.

Every last one of them. They would all die. I would personally make sure of it.

Footnote: Level Up!
Perk Added - Iron Hoof - Increased Hoof-to-Hoof Damage

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