We gambled on that building.

We risked a lot, and it cost us ammo, medicine, injuries… and it could have cost a lot more. For what? Old knowledge and the potential for something valuable to scavenge. We saved a life, but his salvation was more of a byproduct of our reckless sprint for the door than any sort of good intentions. The decision to even enter those vaulted doors left an ashen taste in my mouth.

Still, a Stablepony and his pipbuck had the potential to be an asset to our little group… in spite of the fact that he was something of an enigma to us. Despite the questions we could have asked — what kind of pony he was (morally speaking), what skills did he have, why had he stayed in the building infested with ghouls as long as he had — the fact remained that he literally had nowhere else to go. That Stable door was sealed, and whatever had happened to force him out hadn’t exactly been kind to him. Had we left him behind, it would have been a death sentence one way or another.

We still had a long ways to go, and we could use all the help we could get.

—Snap Roll’s Journal

Bernard and I had just closed the door to that ancient building, sealing in the horrors that lurked within. The noises inside had gone quiet, but none of us were willing to trust our luck at that point. In a blind run, we made our way back up the road, towards the fork. Tailwind and I flew above, occasionally glancing back to make sure the door was still closed, while Bernard and the Stablepony ran along below us. We passed the same wrecked sky-carriages, running until our injuries forced us to stop, Bernard’s in particular. His foreleg was clearly broken, and it would need to be looked to sooner rather than later. It wasn’t his injury that drew our eyes, however.

Our attention was on the one out of place pony among us, the same pony we’d only just found inside the building. Now that I got a closer look at him, he was wearing a duster that seemed to have more years on it than the buck himself. The Stable barding that showed underneath looked like his, as did the pipbuck around his foreleg. He had what appeared to be a sabre sheathed… no, more like strapped to his side. With duct tape. Finally catching his breath enough to speak, he stammered out, “What… what were those?!” His eyes darted questioningly from one pony to another in our small group.

Spitting out through a series of hacking coughs, Bernard replied, “Ghouls.”

“And those are...?” the Stablepony asked, clearly not following Bernard’s attempt at explanation.

“Undead ponies…” Tailwind replied quietly, her eyes downcast. “Those who sought the safety of your Stable when the bombs fell, but were too late.”

“So much for ghost stories,” I added as I started assessing the injuries among our party, figuring we were safe enough to get fixed up where we were. Everypony, even the new buck, had to be checked.

Bernard definitely took the worst of it, his barding having been of little defence against the ghouls. Large areas of his coat had been cut or bitten open. Blood flowed freely from his wounds, slowly seeping into his jacket and robbing his warmth. On top of that, his front left leg had a fracture partway up his calf. Thankfully, it hadn’t broken all the way through, but he’d still be stuck with a limp if we couldn’t do something about it. For my part, the bite marks on my flank throbbed, bleeding freely but otherwise not of serious consequence. Tailwind had stayed safe throughout the fight, and was just tired as the adrenaline wore off of us all.

I moved to run my hooves over the Stablepony, but he shied away from my touch. With a tolerating expression, I reassured him, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. I know medicine, I just want to see if you’re ok after all that.” I gave him a smile which he didn’t return, still looking uncertain. I tried a more personable approach, trying to get him to open up just a bit. “My name’s Snap Roll, what’s yours?”

That managed to draw a response from him at last, and he tentatively replied, “I’m Crafter… Crafter Odds.”

I took a few careful steps towards him. “That’s good, Crafter!” I remarked, glad to be making headway at last. “May I take a look at you? I just want to make sure you’re ok.”

“Just… don’t do anything weird, ok?” He finally relented, though his unease was palpable.

I gently ran my hooves over him. He wasn’t injured, nothing that I could see anyways… but on further inspection, some rather serious questions were raised. He showed obvious signs of dehydration, with early symptoms of starvation evident in his scared features. He was also very obviously uncomfortable with me being so close to him. I made a mental note to bring it up when we had more time, before moving on to treating our physical injuries.

Healing potions are strange things. If you pour it directly on a wound, it’ll only heal the area it touches, but if you have the recipient drink the sweet, purple liquid it’ll spread throughout their system, prioritizing heavily injured areas. With Bernard’s leg broken, if he drank it would heal where it was. Even if I set it beforehand, there was no way I could guarantee it would heal right. I figured our wounds weren't bad enough to warrant using our last one, so instead I went about carefully cleaning our injuries with alcohol swabs, stitching the wounds together with a needle and stitches Chess had given me (I had Tailwind help me with my own), and patching them up with magically imbued bandages.

Then came the unpleasant part, for Bernard at least. I had him lay on his uninjured side I did what I could to set the bone in his foreleg. It took both Tailwind and I to keep him still while I set the bone, without anaesthetic. To say there was screaming on his part would be an understatement, but all things considered... I guess he took it pretty well.

Once it was done with, I tentatively asked in a quiet voice, "Sorry, but it had to happen... are you going to be alright?"

Gasping through the pain, Bernard replied, "I'll... be fine... just give me a bit."

I gave him room to recover, backing of just a bit. In the meantime, I had a moment of inspiration in regards to how I’d immobilize his leg now that we’d gotten the bone back in place. I started unclipping the spent shotguns from my battlesaddle, intending to break them down and use them as an improvised splint.

As I did, I never caught Crafter’s eyes opening wide in some form of comprehension, but I definitely saw him start to back away, drawing the pistol he’d fired at me earlier and using the brown aura of his levitation magic to point the weapon shakily in my direction. “You’re with them, aren’t you?” He shouted, at the edge of losing control. “This was a trap! You just wanted me out of the building!”

Staying firmly where I was and moving my hooves well away from the shotguns, I replied as calmly as I could manage, “Crafter, please put down the gun. With whom?”

Tailwind fluttered to the ground next to me, saying in a soft voice, “Hey hey, come on. We won’t hurt you, just tell us what’s wrong.”

He gave us a look of uncertainty before replying, “The ponies who killed my friends. Haywire… You’re with them, aren’t you?!” He motioned with the pistol’s barrel towards the battlesaddle, before readjusting to point at my chest. Rather, he thought it was pointed at my chest. He was looking through the ironsight wrong, and actually pointing off to the right… I wasn’t about to correct him. “They had that exact thing with them!” With a nod of his head, he indicated the shotguns now lying between us in the snow.

Tailwind wore a look of confusion on her face the same instant I realized what had happened. “But Snap, you got them from…” Realization hitting her, she turned back towards Crafter, “Oh I’m so sorry…”

My expression became part pained and part sympathetic. “We put down the previous bearer of these guns two days ago, along with his group.” I took a hesitant step towards him. “For what it’s worth, I’m very sorry for your friends.”

As he seemed to consider that, he brought the gun up in my direction again. His heart wasn’t in it, there was no malice in his eyes. He was scared, lost, alone… and now even any desire he might have had for revenge would just feel… impotent, I suppose. He was trying to act tough, even if the only pony he convinced was himself. After a few seconds of making his decision he let out a sigh, holstering the gun and slumping down. His half-lidded eyes looked exhausted.

My heart ached for the poor buck. From how malnourished he looked, he might well have left his Stable before Tailwind and I had even reached the surface. I took a few casual steps over, wanting to just reassure him with… a companionable presence, I suppose. He was confused, scared, and had to see himself as being very much alone.

He glanced up at me, though I got the impression he wasn’t comforted like I’d hoped. He was just confused more than anything. However, after a moment of him sitting there, he commented rather abruptly, “I’m hungry…”

I started digging through my pack for the remainder of my Enclave field rations. It wasn’t much, but it would be a good idea to start him off slowly enough to give his stomach a chance to start digesting again. “We’ve got some rations you can have… not exactly dandelion sandwiches,” I chuckled lamely at my own joke, bad as it was, “but it’ll fill you up.”

He glanced from my face to my outstretched hoof to the offered rations for about a split second, before snatching up the ration bars from my hoof and munching on them ravenously. After the second bar, he added almost shyly, “...Thanks.”

Tailwind stepped forward, “Hey, I know how it hurts to lose someone close to you, I really do. But you can trust us. Please, we just want to help you.”

He glanced up at her, eyes wide, “Really? Th-thank you. I thought everypony was like those other ones…” He let out a sigh of relief. “Hey, um, when you ran into those other ponies, did they… Was there somepony else with them?” He asked tentatively.

My blood turned to ice. No. No no… damn it, he can’t be… Tailwind and I shared a quick, pained look. I’m sure I paled visibly as I asked, “What… did she look like?”

“Her name is Spring Breeze. Sh- She has seeds as her mark.” He glanced from Tailwind to me, sensing that something was amiss.

Tailwind’s voice caught as tears started to well in her eyes, “Oh you poor soul…”

He started tearing up, himself. I’m sure deep down he knew what was coming. He asked anyways, “What…?”

My eyes went distant, as if focusing on something far away. In my mind, I was replaying the scene all over again. “We… we found her with them. We ended up getting trapped in a room with her… we fought several of them off, but my wings were injured.” My voice cracked as I tried to find a way to continue.

At my pause, Crafter asked, with tears falling freely down his cheeks, “A-and what happened to her?”

I didn’t cry, not yet. To be honest, I probably wore an expression of mild shock. “She…”

I can’t tell him what they were doing to her. He doesn’t need to know that.

“She was already in a bad way, but she was shot in the fight. I… moving her would have killed her.” I glanced at the brown buck, eyes pleading. For what? To release myself from having to tell him? I don’t know. He deserved to know, and it was barely enough to salve my conscience as it was. “I asked her… We couldn’t take her with… I told her, and… she told me she wanted it to end.” With a moment of perfect clarity, I caught his gaze, before saying, simply, “So I did.”

I never did get around to telling Tailwind exactly what happened down there… Kind of a shitty way to find out, huh.

He started sobbing, “She… She asked for it…?” He got to his hooves, walking a few paces away before slumping to the snow, burying his head in his forehooves and letting himself be wracked by pained sounding sobs.

Tailwind shared another sympathetic look with me, giving me a light kiss on the cheek before heading over to sit beside Crafter, pulling him in close with her wing, attempting to give him some comfort. I was immensely grateful.

It isn’t my place to offer him comfort… Not after what I did.

This time, he accepted the embrace fully, leaning into her and sobbing into her breast, “I told her- I said we’d be fine! We’d survive. All of them. Now…”

Now he’s all alone. Just like I’d be if I’d lost Tailwind…

I felt another twinge of guilt, building upon the mess of emotions already vying for attention.

Or if she’d lost me… So this is what the Wasteland is, huh? Day in, day out of this. I can see why we'd leave it to its fate. To save what we could above the clouds, there are a lot of ponies who would make that decision without a second thought. I can't blame them.

Tailwind slowly stroked his mane with a wing, saying softly, “It’s not your fault, you didn’t make those evil ponies do what they did. You’re…” Her voice choked up for a moment before she found the strength to continue, “You’re a slave to circumstances beyond your control… You can’t hate yourself for what they did.”

“I know,” He replied, face still buried in her coat, “It’s just… Why… I- I need some rest.” He mumbled through his sobs.

Bernard spoke at last, having observed the conversation to this point from an emotional distance. He spoke in a low voice directed to me. “Yet another soul torn by the whims of the wastes… But Snap, it’ll be night soon.”

“Night,” I commented, wiping my teary eyes with a sleeve, “We need to find shelter. We can use the bunker from before. It isn’t too far away. We know the way....” My voice failed me at the end. Circumstances can be cruel, but I have to admit I shared the blame in having to take our new companion there.

Tailwind continued to speak to him in her soft tone, “You should come with us, we’ve all been hurt by this place. We can find strength together, just like in old Equestria before all this hate…”

He sat there clinging to her, thinking for a few moments before concluding, “What else am I gonna do?”

“Hey now,” Tailwind straightened up, “is this what she would’ve wanted, you to fall into misery and remorse? I think she would have wanted you to be strong, to carry on… To be happy.”

“You didn’t know her. How would you know?” He responded, getting his hooves under himself as he wiped away the tears in an attempt to look dignified. He needn’t have bothered — It didn’t really help any, but none of us would have judged him by it.

Tailwind stayed where she was, meeting my gaze and commenting in a soft, faraway voice, “It’s what I would want of Snap.”

As we trotted along, I kept an eye on our new companion. Not out of suspicion, but out of curiosity. He kept looking up, towards the grey clouds stretching beyond the horizon. But every time he did, he’d glance away, blinking rapidly. As if his eyes were still adjusting to what was to us, a rather dark, overcast day with the perpetual cloud cover. His expression seemed to be that of a pony who had only just realized how small his world had been, and was at once both horrified and enticed by the wide open Wasteland he now found himself navigating.

As I made guesses as to what was going through his head, he misplaced a hoof in the soft snow, sending him sliding down into a slight dip in the side of the road. A few seconds later his face emerged, full of snow as he struggled to regain his footing on the slippery ground.

I flew down to him from my post above, concern on my features. “This is new to you, isn’t it? All of this?” I gestured expansively, indicating I was talking more about the Wasteland in general than simply the snow.

He glanced up at me, shielding his eyes against what little sunlight filtered through the clouds with a hoof, simply giving a nod in response.

“We need to get under cover before dark. The nights are quite cold this far north, and its about an hour’s trot to some shelter. We can see about getting you something a little more filling to eat once we’re there.” I commented while I helped him to his hooves.

Bernard piped upwhile he lent the unicorn a hoof. “You’re gonna need to keep your footing better than that, my friend, lest your bumps out pace you.”

“Thanks, I’ll work on it. It’s just… I’m not used to any of this. The Stable was so simple in comparison.” Back on his hooves, Crafter resumed trotting as Bernard and I kept to our pace.

The older buck smiled back, “Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it.”

As I flew along beside them, I added, “Technically speaking, I believe you’ve actually been on the surface longer than Tailwind and I have.”

Crafter glanced to the front of our group, to where Tailwind was flying forward sentry. “That’s her name then? Tailwind?”

Nodding, I replied as I continued to gaze in her direction. “Yeah, that’s her. We’ve been…” I hesitated, deciding to word it as neutrally as I could. There was no way he knew about the Enclave yet, and I was in no hurry to have that conversation with him. “Down here for about four days now, and it already feels all too familiar.”

As I casually observed her, I noticed none of her usual playfulness in her flying language. That’s not to say that every pegasus doesn’t have certain body language that they express through flight, but once you’ve known a pony as long as I’d known her, the little things practically shout out when something is wrong. Missing were her usual aerial stunts she did as she simply enjoyed being in the air. I’d always thought that it was as if life itself were reason enough for her to rejoice in a constant dance of flight as random yet beautiful as the mare herself. Just then, she simply flew, wings barely fluttering to keep her hovering at an altitude of about ten meters from the ground. A few times, she started sinking towards the earth, before pumping her wings a few times to return to her altitude. The cycle slowly repeated itself a couple times as I watched.

Something is very wrong.

Distractedly, I gave a lame excuse to leave the conversation. “Crafter, Bernard… speaking of which, I’m going to go check up on her.”

I fluttered off, hearing a conversation between the two starting up with Crafter asking something along the lines of, “Bernard, what exactly is a ‘Snap Roll’?”

Flying at a measured pace, I caught up to Tailwind rather quickly. She was only a couple dozen meters away from the pair of dirtponies, just out of earshot of their conversation. As I approached, I sidestepped around whatever she might be thinking, neutrally greeting her with a soft, caring tone. “Hey Tail, easy flying up here?”

“Hey Snap…” Was her monotone response as she avoided eye contact, keeping her head turned away from me.

She didn’t call me Chief…

“Tailwind… What’s wrong?” I asked, concern entering my voice. I had a suspicion, and typical for me, I voiced it without any leadup whatsoever. “Is it about Nosedive?”

She turned to me, making several verbal false-starts, before breaking into tears.

I snatched her up in a hug, clinging to her in an attempt at comfort. “Tailwind, he…” My voice failed me as I teared up as well, the feelings I’d repressed until then spilling out. “He made the choice, for both of us!” I sobbed into her shoulder.

I’d never been good at dealing with loss. I always bottled it up, saying I could deal with it later. I managed for years after my father died, before crumbling into Tailwind’s tender hooves a couple years ago, much as I was right then. We’d always gotten through by sharing the pain, the sorrow… eventually. During training, it had always made the pain, the bad days go by that much easier knowing another pony felt the same way you did. That they were sharing it with you. But this time, it was different.

She continued sobbing, “No… he… you both were only there because of me! ‘Cause I didn’t, couldn’t grab my harness in time. He’s-” She hiccupped, “He’s dead because of me!”

She believed she’d been the one to get him killed. In my selfishness, I’d taken the blame upon myself as the commander on the ground, without even considering that she might have felt she was the reason the choice had to be made in the first place. I was stupid, but it wasn’t too late to fix my mistake… how I’d let her hurt herself without my even realizing it.

I wiped my nose and eyes with the sleeve of the stolen barding, replying, “Tailwind, remember when we enlisted? Do you remember that silly little oath we made?" I pulled back slightly to try and catch her eyes with mine, to get her to focus on me. "We said we'd stand by eachother, giving our last for our friends if we had to. We all stumble, we all fuck up... I got that poor buck's special somepony killed the other day! We... we have to rely on our friends when we do mess up, when we fall."

She met my eyes before hugging back, still sobbing, “Then today… when they grabbed you... I thought I’d lost you as well! I don’t I don’t know what I would do if that happened…”

“I’m so sorry Tail… I thought… Oh, skies above I don’t know what I was thinking, trying to get into that stupid building. We saw the signs, and I was reckless. I’m so, so sorry.” I replied, petting her mane and holding her close.

“I just- I don’t want to lose you too.” She hugged me even tighter, clutching at me as if I were… well… the last shred of hope in her life. She’d lost her team, her home, and her family. I was all she had to show for twenty three years of life, and she desperately clung to me.

“I’m here Tail, and I’ll never stop fighting to stay by your side. No matter what this Wasteland throws at us!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the bucks had caught up to us. From what I caught of their conversation, Bernard was filling him in on some of the mythos of this region. The same stories I’d heard from Chess. The ones I now knew had more than just a kernel of truth to them, and were all the more horrifying for it. It mustn’t have been a pleasant conversation, but the younger buck had to be told sooner or later. I caught Crafter’s gaze as he glanced up at the hugging, sobbing, intertwined mess of mares hovering over his head. I shot him a glance that said, ‘Keep walking. We’re having a moment.’ Much to his credit, he caught the look and snapped his eyes back to Bernard’s, intentionally oblivious to us.

Tailwind nodded, tears still in her eyes. “You’re right, I… I’m sorry. You- I have no right to do that. We need to be strong, for one another… Isn’t that what we said, all those years ago?”

I nodded with conviction. “I don’t intend to belie that, love. For Nosedive’s memory, and for us.” I said, a smile spreading across my face. “That’s a promise.”

She nodded, putting on a half-hearted smile as she wiped her face with a forehoof. “We should probably catch up, seeing as we’re supposed to be flying point.”

“Sounds good,” I nickered, showing no sign of moving until she was ready. She let go, and we both flew towards the front of the group again, continuing the trek towards the bunker.

We stood before the small grave, fully covered with snow since we’d left it. The pitiful chunk of wood we’d carved her cutiemark into still stood silent vigil over her final resting place, frozen like the rest of this region.

“I’m so sorry, Crafter.”

He dropped to his knees in front of the small headstone. “She’s… she’s really gone…” I saw tears forming in the corners of his eyes, clearly thinking back on memories of a pony I never got the chance to know. It was a lot to take in. “I guess… I still thought that… maybe she was fine, and… and it wasn’t her.” He slumped to the ground, his chest laying upon the all too thin layers of snow and dirt she was buried beneath.

I put a hoof on his shoulder, simply commenting, “Live for her. Her memory lives with you, never forget that.”

He spared a glance up at me, his eyes shimmering behind unshed tears before he whispered as if to the mare buried beneath him, almost too quietly for me to hear, “I’ll be strong… For the both of us. It’s not the same without you, but it’s the best I can do…” He closed his eyes, causing a tear to run down each of his cheeks.

“Take your time,” I added quietly, “Come inside when you’re ready.” I turned, nodding to Tailwind and Bernard. The three of us headed for the bunker, leaving the poor buck to say his final goodbyes to the mare he must have loved very much. I felt wretched.

As we entered, I noted that with the fire in the levels below long since extinguished, the entire complex had to be nearly as cold as the outside, a serious problem with night rapidly approaching. “Tailwind, last time we were here we used up most of the remaining fuel from the second level down. It might be a little difficult to get a fire going for the night.”

Nodding sagely as she stepped into the building, she did a double take as she saw the still-locked terminal on the room’s wall next to the locked door. With a sly smile she replied, “You never did unlock this, did you?”

Oh. Right, that.

“Um…” I glanced at Bernard, who simply shrugged his shoulders. “No. No we didn’t.”

“Seriously Chief, what would you do without me?” She snickered, hacking the terminal in about ten seconds flat.

Well, how about that.

With the sound of gears turning behind the walls (thankfully, without the grinding sound of them destroying themselves this time), the door slid open revealing a room that would comfortably fit all of us. It even had its own ventilation system through the roof. The room was mostly bare, but wooden shelves, cabinets and the like remained. The wood had largely rotted, but it would be more than enough to build a fire for the night. It was patently obvious that the raiders had never managed to get in there, as there wasn’t a hint of the desecration that we’d seen in virtually every other room of the bunker complex. Judging from the placement of the room, its security system and the layout of the shelves, I imagined this would have been an armoury once. The Rangers that once manned it must have pulled out organized like, lending credence to the notion that this facility had never truly saw combat… simply being abandoned, maybe even before the war ended.

“We’ll bunk down here for the night.” I concluded. Not like we had much option anyways, but it needed to be said. “Tailwind, could you get a fire going? I’ll get our bedding set up.”

Bernard piped up from across the room, “Won’t that be a problem? We all have bedrolls, but Crafter’s barely got the barding on his back.” He’d already starting to get wood stacked neatly for once the fire got underway.

“Oh, I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” I replied with a sly smirk.

Crafter quietly made his way inside, head down. Noticing that, Tailwind beckoned him over and started showing him how to replicate what she was doing. His eyes lit up, and he watched intently. I was glad, and it was good to see him showing an active interest in something, even if it was mostly just a distraction. Not one to do things by half-measures, Tail started quoting the text we’d both learned fieldcraft from pretty much verbatim, giving Crafter an impromptu lecture on firestarting.

I sidled up beside Bernard, as the first sparks caught upon dry wood. “He can borrow my bedroll for the night.”

I awoke to the rhythmic chirp of a female voice that was far too cheery for a winter morning. The suddenness of the noise was enough to send a jolt of adrenaline through my body. I’m sure Tailwind felt it; the sleeping bag we inhabited wasn’t exactly designed for two. ‘Intimate’ is the word I’d use to have described our proximity, in fact. Glancing over, I discovered the noise to be originating from Crafter’s pipbuck.

He had the hood of my sleeping bag up to cover his head. Waking up in an unhurried manner, the buck rubbed the sleep from his eyes with a forehoof, yawned, and then swatted the pipbuck on his leg with a practiced movement from his opposite leg. It seemed to be the morning routine as it had always been for him. Ritual completed, he blinked twice before seeming to snap back to the reality he now inhabited.

“Sorry about that, guys.”

I groaned, beginning to extricate myself from both Tailwind and the sleeping bag. Not an easy task, as she had been using my right foreleg as a pillow, and was rather… attached to it, at the moment. “Crafter, you’re gonna need to turn that off in the future.” I explained in a mildly chiding tone, “There’s always the chance of that alarm going off at a very inconvenient time.”

Tailwind let out a large yawn of her own, briefly letting go of my leg as she stretched out her sore muscles. “Yeah, like when somepony is sleeping…”

Seizing the opportunity, I freed my leg from her warm embrace and started getting my kit together, throwing on my barding and beginning the process of mounting the submachine gun (my only available weapon with ammo, I noted rather morosely) to my battlesaddle. It didn’t even have a mouth-grip, but that didn’t really matter — the saddle had its own mechanisms to connect to. “Come on Tail, up and at ‘em.” I insisted idly.

In protest to the concept of leaving the sleeping bag, Tailwind proceeded to pull it over her head and make humming noises to drown out my words.

“At any rate, if you still want to listen to it, at least turn it down.”

He seemed to consider that for a moment, before punching a few buttons on the pipbuck with his nose, commenting, “No, off is better.” He seemed to frown, squinting at the screen. “Huh, what…?” He mumbled, presumably to himself. “Hey, uh, what’s this number here?” He asked, seemingly to anypony who might be able to answer his quandary with the pipbuck.

Having at least a passing knowledge of the technology behind pipbucks, I cantered over. He seemed to have an inventory sorting spell active, and it listed his (heartbreaking small) collection of worldly possessions. He was pointing his hoof at a trio of items listed beside each other. The “10mm Pistol” he’d fired at me was first on the list, above what seemed to be the sabre he carried — that was listed as “Celestial Riposte," and below that was what it called a “weathered duster.” Beside each of the items was listed a seemingly arbitrary currency called “caps”, with the number twenty-six hundred beside the sword and a measly twenty-four beside the duster.

I couldn’t make much sense of it, but I knew just what to do. A smirk growing across my face, I turned back to look at the sleeping-bagged form of Tailwind. “Oh, whomever would we turn to for an issue with a pipbuck?” I bemoaned in my best damsel in distress voice, totally overemphasized. “I mean, it would be really, really nice to have somepony with an interest in that sort of thing to look it over.”

From the confines of the sleeping bag emerged an overexcited squee of “Pipbuck!” Followed by a teal blur as Tailwind dove out of the sleeping bag in an uncoordinated mess. In a tangle of wings and hooves, she slammed first into the wall, then the roof, before finally landing beside me, right on top of Crafter.

Beneath her, I heard a pained moan of “Such finesse…” coming from Crafter’s mildly crushed form, as Tailwind yanked on his hoof in order to get a better look at the screen. Near instantaneously, she began flying through logs and system files faster than I could ever hope to follow, all the while humming merrily to herself.

Feeling rather good about my solution to getting Tailwind up in the morning, I turned to the last member of our party only to see that Bernard had already finished stowing his gear and had been looking on at the rest of us, amusement plain to see on his features. “Bernard, what is it with Wastelanders’ fascination with bottlecaps?” I asked, a mix of curiosity and mild derision vying for prominence in my tone. “I even found a collection of them on the Red Eye folks we got these winter wraps from.”

“Well, ‘caps’ have been the major form of currency down here in the Wasteland for generations now. It’s simply been that way since long before I was born. Honestly never thought too much of it.” He replied, still watching the tangle that was Tailwind and Crafter.

“What,” I eloquently replied, dumbstruck. We’d left dozens… maybe hundreds of caps behind! If what I saw on Crafter’s pipbuck had any correlation to that, if his duster was worth twenty-four… “You mean… we left…” I whispered, realizing the magnitude of what I quite simply hadn’t had the mind to pick up.

“What, did you think we still used bits down here or something?” Bernard chuckled. “We do, but there isn’t a set exchange rate. After everything went to shit, it turned out that bottlecaps were one of the easiest things to carry and exchange, they were something we could assign a base value to.”

“Well, we still use bits in the Enclave. They never really… well… we kind of assumed there wasn’t enough structure down here to sustain anything other than heavily improvised barter systems.” I replied, still baffled but moving towards confused as to why we hadn’t been briefed on this simple yet obviously essential part of the Wasteland. “At least, I think we didn’t know. Otherwise…” I frowned, trailing off.

Otherwise our superiors simply never planned to tell us about it. They must have assumed we’d never have to interact with surface ponies...

I was, thankfully, interrupted by additional noise from the pair behind me. Crafter had managed to adjust his position such that both he and Tailwind could look at the screen at the same time. “What are you doing? I don’t get it.”

“I’m rebooting the combat systems,” she replied, “They’ve been decommissioned for whatever reason, dumb mudponies not knowing how useful… Aha!” She gave a small cheer, evidently having succeeded.

“What is this?” Crafter asked, “What’d you do to me?” He seemed to be reaching out a hoof to touch something about a foot in front of his face. There was nothing there.

Ahh, Tailwind must have activated his Eyes Forward Sparkle.

I could imagine it being rather disorienting to see an image transposed over your normal vision for the first time. Having an EFS was essentially second nature to me. Pretty much anytime we were doing anything military, Tailwind and I had our TFD’s on. It was simply how we trained, how we fought. Confirming my suspicions, Tailwind piped up happily, “That, my ground-bound friend is your EFS, or Eyes Forward Sparkle. It lets you know when others are nearby. Blue for friendlies, red for baddies.”

Crafter seemed to visibly calm, his eyes no longer darting about looking at all the new symbols that no doubt made his vision hectic the first time he saw them. “Wow… so, do you all have one of these?” he asked, looking around the room and seeming to get gradually better acquainted with the systems that would become integral to the way he lived.

“Well, no. It’s inherent to Stable-Tec systems, such as your pipbuck or the Steel Rangers’ power armour.” Tailwind replied. “Snap and I have different versions incorporated in our TFD’s.” She tapped the eyepiece clipped behind her ear for visual representation.

“Steel Ranger?” He asked curiously, glancing furtively at each of our forelegs, in turn. He seemed to realize that he was singled out by the device on his leg rather quickly.

Tailwind waved a forehoof in derision, “A bunch of backwards tech-worshiping introverts. They’ll bully or kill a pony for something a lot less rare than your pipbuck.”

“Oh,” He replied unsteadily. From the look on his face, I could imagine he was trying to come up with a mental image of what the hell a “Steel Ranger” might look like. “And… they just go around, killing things and stealing their stuff?” He asked it so innocently, like the concept was so far removed from his situation that it was like he was commenting on the weather or something.

Tailwind slipped into the even tone she used when she was actually passing on information as she replied, “Well, they claim to have a moral set or ‘codex,’” She made air quotes with her hooves as she said it. “But it basically outlines that concept. They’re dangerous enough, with nigh impregnable armour and enough ordnance on each of ‘em to level a small town — they pack quite a punch.”

Crafter thought about that for a moment, before glancing over the rest of us, clearly taking in our assorted armaments and gear. “Have you guys ever taken one out?” He asked.

Tailwind shot me a glance. "Not exactly..." She replied vaguely.

I was in no particular rush to have that conversation with him. The one that would have involved the Enclave and Ranger struggle... and my father. “Suffice to say, if at all possible we should avoid fighting them.” Was my equally vague reply.

From the doorway, Bernard gave a polite but firm cough into a forehoof, startling us all from our collective train of thought. “We’d best be going. Still a days’ trot to Neighson and I don’t particularly want to be caught out at night.”

I nodded, glad to leave the topic be. “Quite right. We’re burning… um… ‘daylight’, as it were.” I trailed off, belatedly realizing that yet another of the sayings I was used to pretty much ceased to have the same meaning it used to.

As we left the shelter of the bunker, once again Bernard set the pace. Slightly slower than before, his injury was making its presence known. Tailwind and I accommodated, flying ahead, but maintaining our distance with our ground-bound companions. Every now and then, when I was glancing back I found Crafter staring intently at something, as if aiming at it or potentially looking at a compass direction. He was definitely still getting used to the concept of the EFS.

We passed the fork in the road, headed left this time. The road followed a series of turns, winding down into the valley. In keeping with my suspicions of the road’s previous incarnation as a railway, it avoided tight corners entirely, meandering us lower and lower. As we progressed, the terrain began looking more and more familiar. It took me a minute or so, but I realized I was looking down on the route we’d originally taken to get to Chess’ waystation, days ago now. As we crested yet another rise, the destroyed form of our crashed Vertibuck came into view. It had been picked clean by passersby, Red Eye or otherwise. Even the loose paneling had been dragged away. Anything that could feasibly be removed had been, leaving a stripped, threadbare wreck that was slightly buried under a coating of loose snow.

“Tailwind…” I glanced over at the mare hovering beside me, having come to a halt when the crash site came into view.

She replied with a somber expression. “Yeah Snap… I see it.”

I waved down at the ponies below us, just to indicate I was going to be landing up ahead. Bernard waved back. I angled my wings to take myself into a shallow dive, and Tailwind followed at my wing. Once we got closer, I could make out the silhouettes of both the dead wolf and its unfortunate victim, “Dove,” if memory serves. Aside from the heavy dusting of snow they had each received in the days since, I could make out another form beside the pony.

Once I got low enough to make out details, I realized that the form hunched over Dove’s corpse was the other mare, the one who’d been devastated to learn of her death. Continuing the gentle descent, I flared my wings at the last second, landing easily on my hooves. At about a dozen meters up, Tailwind broke off and covered me from the air.

The dichotomy between the two corpses was… unnerving. There was Dove, who’d been violently ended by the wolf’s claws and teeth — and then there was her… friend? Sister? Lover? I had no idea, but the mare had obviously meant a lot to her. Her body was frozen where she’d lain down beside the corpse. Tears still glistened on her cheeks, which were frozen as solid as the corpse she had been embracing. They were like a sculpture, frozen in time.

How different are we… myself and this pony, willingly frozen to death holding the mare she’d loved? What would happen if I lost Tailwind? How would I react…

Thankfully, it was only a couple minutes before our earthbound companions caught up. Along the way, I caught Crafter staring at the wreck as he passed it. He seemed to be piecing things together in his mind, presumably about Tailwind and myself. I left him to his conclusions.

“Friends of yours?” Bernard asked, breaking my reverie and announcing their arrival. It took me a moment to realize he was referring to the corpses.

“Nah, we’d just met.” I replied distantly. “I spared her life… and she chose to die beside the one she’d loved.”

“Should we… bury them?” Crafter asked hesitantly. He seemed queasy just being around the bodies, as he was actively avoiding looking at them.

“We don’t have time for a burial… but you’re right, something would be nice.” I replied distantly. My thoughts were elsewhere. In my mind’s eye, I could practically see the small shack, just on the other side of the plateau that overlooked where we stood. “Tailwind and I need a minute, there’s… a spot up there we both need to pay our respects to.” Tailwind was already hovering at the lip of the ravine, undoubtedly looking at the shack I knew to be up there. I glanced back at the pair beside me, doing what I could to keep myself together, at least in front of them. “We won’t be long. Be done whatever it is you’re going to do for them by the time we get back.”

As I crested the hill, the scenery I’d recalled from that day had changed. The shack had partially fallen in on itself, the third wall having blown outwards at some point. The melted corners of the blast gave me the disturbing impression of the type of thing I would expect to see if the magical containment gem of a large plasma weapon had been punctured… with catastrophic results.

I fluttered up beside Tailwind, who was still hovering where I’d seen her, shocked and staring at the shack. “I-I don’t want to see him like that, Snap…” she stammered.

My heart went out for her, but… in my own way, I needed to be sure. I owed it to him to see my decision through to the end. I wrapped her in a hug, giving her mane a quick, comforting brush. “I’m not asking you to, dear.” I pulled back, keeping my forehooves on her shoulders to look her in the eyes. “I have to check... I have to know.”

She nodded, and I flew off towards the building, though with how much damage it had taken, I suppose “ruin” was more applicable at that point.

It wasn’t obvious, but along the way there were similarly sized divots punched in the ground, small craters that had since become covered in snow. Most of them were clustered around and in front of where I’d seen the Red Eye forces clustered initially. Nosedive had most certainly not gone quietly.

As I closed with the shed, it was as if the remaining walls were taunting me with what lay behind. I could smell the lingering stench of ozone. I steeled myself for what I knew I was about to see, as I rounded the corner.

Nosedive…

The charred husk of what was once my friend was half melted to the back wall, presumably from the same blast that tore most of the building down. His armour was presumably all that had kept him from being annihilated by the violent release of pent up magical energy. Black ichor had sprayed all around the slope, puddling in places where it had burnt through the snow. His corpse had frozen, but a couple of the small puddles of goop still steamed softly, a testament to the destructive power that was once bound within his weapon of choice.

I dug through my saddlebags until I found my shiny, relatively new Flight Commander rank insignia. I examined it a moment, before placing it upon what was left of his chest. Tradition was that he should be cremated… that wasn’t really an option anymore.

There was simply nothing more to be done.

I turned around, slowly flying back to Tail. I met her gaze. No words needed to be spoken. As I neared, she fluttered forward and wrapped me in a hug as my whole body was wracked with sobs. I let out the pent up emotions I’d stored away, hidden until I’d finally let myself feel them. I let out everything as I cried into her shoulder.

Everything. Even that small, lingering hope that he might have still been alive.

Some minutes later, I pulled myself together enough to wipe away the tears. We both knew there were no words of comfort for what had happened, just a communal outpouring of grief. Sometimes, that’s all there is.

We returned to Crafter and Bernard, who had erected a small cairn around the two bodies using rocks and light debris. I approved of the burial, but I was too distracted to really comment on it. As they looked up, I think my expression quieted any questions they might have had. My voice was still hoarse with emotion. ”There’s nothing left for us here. Lets go.” I stated simply, as I turned to start off down the path again. I didn’t look back.

It wasn’t overly long… maybe another hour of travel before we came upon a building that had to be Great War era, about a hundred meters past the corner we’d just rounded. It was, all things considered, a rather plain, two story structure made of reinforced concrete. It was square shaped with a slanted roof, but a large tower extended into the skies, seventy-five meters or so tall, all told. Numerous sandbagged walls littered the path at strategic intervals, seemingly placed with the intent for any potential defenders to sally forth and occupy them. In all, the building gave off a rather defensible demeanour.

Crafter looked up. And up. Once he’d properly taken it all in, he commented eloquently, “Huh. Wow.” He seemed to be in a bit of a state of awe.

I turned back to the group. “Looks like it’s definitely an outpost. Anypony know if they’re friendly?” I glanced over the stolen barding Tailwind and I still wore, adding, “Or… potentially friendly with Red Eye forces?” It took me a moment to realize that, realistically, the question was solely directed towards Bernard.

Bernard shrugged, replying, “Never been this far North. Wouldn’t know.”

I gave a soft exhale as I decided on a plan, simple as it was. “Allright, Tailwind and I’ll cover you from the skies. Start making your way towards the tower, and we’ll try and flush out anything before it sees you. Try to move from sandbag to sandbag, don’t make yourselves too visible.

The two ground-bound ponies nodded in unison, taking out their pistols. Crafter levitated his with the brown aura of his magic, while Bernard gripped his between his teeth. I noticed Crafter’s magical glow briefly connected with a rather sizeable wrench, positioned on a tool pouch of his Stable barding. The glow disappeared, as I supposed he thought better of whatever it was he’d planned to do with it.

As we were about to move up, Crafter picked that moment to pipe up with uncertainty clear in his tone, “Hey, uh… guys?” We all turned to look at him. “I see, well, three blue bars by… the building.” He pointed a hoof directly at me, though I don’t think he was consciously aware of that. “And one more… over to the right?” He moved his hoof, pointing towards a snowbank off to the side. He was clearly unsure what to do with the information.

I glanced at the building, seeing nothing… then I realized that he would be seeing would be our blue bars. Though in his defence, that still left the anomaly behind the snow bluff.

“Blue bars, you’re sure?” I was (justifiably) skeptical, considering he still hadn’t realized that the first three represented the ponies immediately around him.

“Uhh, yeah.” He squinted real hard, presumably double checking the info that was literally being projected onto his eyeballs. “Yeah, that’s what I’m seeing.”

I gestured to Tailwind with a quick set of hoof signals, intending for her to flank the unknown target behind the bluff, and we’d try and take it by surprise. I’m sure the signal was completely baffling to Crafter, and I hadn’t educated Bernard on them… but then, the message wasn’t for them.

And that was about the point at which a griffon burst from behind the snow bluff. He wore a faded grey overcoat that might once have been white, with a strange fuzzy hat perched upon his head. A vicious looking rifle was slung along his back, along with a bag hanging off of his left shoulder. The things I really noticed at the time? His talons were splayed, and he was yelling in a language I didn’t understand.

"Turiet to! Nenāk kāds tuvāk! Vēl viens solis varētu pārvērst mūs miglā!"

There were things I could have taken the time to glance over a second time. Perhaps the fact that his talons were splayed rather than clenched, ready to attack. Perhaps the rifle that was still slung over his back. In short, didn’t take the time for that second glance. Combat reflexes had already kicked in.

“Griffon!” I called out before dropping my targeting reticle onto his chest and biting down on the trigger bit of my battlesaddle. I hadn’t fired the submachine gun before then. It didn’t exactly disappoint, but I… kinda forgot to anticipate the recoil. The first shots of my burst stitched a line of bloody impacts across his chest, but the rest went wide, over his shoulder.

The rest of our group replied… well, “individually” is about the only word I can use for it. Tailwind gracefully triple-tapped him center of mass with energy beams, while Crafter started to frantically fire his pistol in the griffon’s general direction. He probably fired more rounds than I did, and his weapon was semi-automatic. The instant his breach clacked open, his immediate response was to telekinetically hurl the spent weapon through the air towards the griffon, followed almost instantly by the large wrench I’d seen on him earlier. Both objects sailed well clear of the griffon, who seemed rather shocked at the sudden violence levied upon him. He stared slack-jawed at his newly acquired injuries before falling to the ground, out of sight behind the snow bank. Bernard, for his part, had ducked behind a sandbag.

All was quiet for a moment. I was surprised our reaction had actually worked. A small curl of steam escaped the barrel of my current weapon.

The brief quiet was interrupted by a series of sequential screeches, the sound rising high into the air before falling upon us, turning the area we stood upon into a controlled inferno of violence. Unguided rockets impacted sandbag barriers, sending shrapnel in all directions. Tailwind fell, diving for cover behind a sandbag bunker. I felt slashes cut across my underbelly and the undersides of my wings.

Crafter had the most eventful reaction of us all. He sat right down and started screaming, loud and long as the rockets landed all around us. It was a scream of confusion and terror, of a pony who had literally no concept of what an “explosion” was. It was the sound of him finding out yet another piece of the Wasteland I’m sure he wished he’d never known.

As quickly as the torrent of fire had started, it came to a sudden halt. A lone figure in polished Steel Ranger armour stood before us all, the backwash of two dozen mini-rockets silhouetting her in front of the entrance to the main building. From the fact that she’d technically missed us, the Ranger’s message was clear. To clear up any potential doubt as to her intentions, she then shouted them through the voice amplification spell built in to her armour. "Lay down your arms or be eviscerated!"

It would seem she is not a pony to mince words.

I glanced over our available armaments in brief consideration. One damaged magical energy rifle, one submachine gun, one long rifle and a ten mil- wait, he’d thrown that. It took me all of about a second to shout back a reply, “Don’t shoot! We’ll drop ‘em!” It took some finagling, but eventually I managed to work the light gun off of its mount on my battlesaddle, semi-carefully dropping it to the snow.

My companions did likewise. Tailwind carefully set her rifle down on a set of sandbags — it just wouldn’t do to get such a fine (if already damaged) weapon wet, now would it? Bernard had already dropped his weapons at some point, and stepped out from behind his cover of choice. I noted that it had taken several direct hits, though the buck thankfully remained unscathed. Crafter called out, “You already have my wrench!” before finally dropping to the ground and covering his head with his forehooves. Long after the barrage had ended. It was comforting, if baffling, but he seemed to have escaped injury during the barrage.

After seeing our combined compliance, the mare nodded, still using her amplified voice to shout at somepony still within the structure, “Twist, get out here. Fade needs help… again.”

The disdain with which she pronounced the word led me to believe such occurrences were not out of the ordinary for that particular griffon. In fact, I was still mulling that over when the pony addressed as “Twist” quickly cantered over to the downed griffon. As I watched, she took a rapid survey of his vitals before determining it was safe to move him. She then unceremoniously hooked a pair of straps from her saddlebags around his back and shoulders, and combat-dragged him into the building and out of sight. She seemed to have a decent medical head on her shoulders, probably the team medic.

Seeing that operation beginning to work itself out, the original Ranger turned her head back to the rest of us. “Alright you lot, get inside. Line up along the far wall for processing. Non-compliance is not an option.” She ordered in a tone that was clearly used to being obeyed, and I wasn’t about to say “no” to that much ordnance pointed our way.

I caught Tailwind’s eye, giving her a curt nod before I started cantering towards the indicated doorway. I figured walking would keep the ground-bound Rangers appeased. Tailwind replied with a subtle nod of her own before falling in behind me, and the others followed suit.

As we passed her, the Ranger — a paladin, if I was reading her rank correctly — didn’t deign to turn her head as we passed by. I did, however, notice a slight tick of her head. Just a slight raise and dip, but having lived around power armour as long as I had, the tell of somepony talking on a closed channel was rather obvious.

Upon entering the building, my eyes took a couple seconds to adjust. Once they had, I caught sight of a third Ranger, this one with an older wooden-stocked rifle and automatic grenade launcher mounted to his armour. Despite the closed helmet he wore, his body language gave me the impression that there was a lot of anger contained within that armour. I couldn’t tell where it was directed at — us, maybe the griffon, hell, maybe whatever it was he ate for breakfast — but it was definitely there, simmering under the cold surface of the armour. I couldn’t see any rank insignia, so I guessed his rank at knight.

The building itself was simple enough. Various pelts were arrayed about the floor, helping seal in the warmth put off by the fireplace in the far left corner. The wall nearest the entryway had several tables set against it, all covered in various tools or laid out to form a reasonably organized workspace. A door was located on the right-hoof wall of the room, presumably leading up to the tower. Off in a corner, the Ranger “Twist” was busily working on the griffon, carefully pouring healing potions down his beak.

The paladin followed us in once the last of us — Bernard — had passed her, closing the door behind her. There were more slight nods of the head, both for her and the knight. There was a conversation happening, and it pointedly didn’t include us. I continued walking to the appointed spot and stood there, keeping my mouth shut and adopting a casual at-ease posture.

At some point, Crafter had ended up between Tailwind and I. He stood beside me, looking me up and down before mimicking my stance. He couldn’t have known my reasoning for it, but it would seem he wanted to blend as best he could. His stance was off and he looked completely ridiculous, but I wasn’t about to correct him in front of the Rangers.

“Who are these guys?” Crafter asked, keeping his voice to a whisper. At a guess, I figured he wasn’t aware that they had sound-amplifying enchantments built into the armour. Still, I didn’t know how good the ones down here actually worked (or if they still had them, for that matter — it had been a long time since the Enclave had access to working Ranger armour).

“Steel Rangers.” I whispered back, “The best armed technology hoarders in the Wasteland.” I was more or less testing the waters with how much of our conversation the Rangers could actually hear, and I kept my eyes glued to the paladin’s helmet as I spoke. Incidentally, at the time she was trotting over to one of the tables on the end, seemingly oblivious to us.

Deciding to continue poking at the topic, I elaborated. “They’re one of the few surviving remnants of Equestria from the Great War, and supposedly the local chapter is around two hundred ponies strong.”

Crafter looked around the room in awe… it seemed like he was trying to imagine two hundred Rangers all in the same place, with the way his jaw dropped just a little. After a few moments to think on that, he concluded, “Are… they’re going to kill us, aren’t they?”

“We’ll see, but they’re definitely going to want to take a look at your pipbuck.” The way I phrased it, I’m pretty sure I gave the poor buck the impression they were going to forcibly remove his leg. I still wasn’t sure if the paladin was intentionally ignoring us, or her hearing was really that bad.

That was about the point that the paladin reached up with her forehooves and removed her helmet, revealing a cherry red coat and a short cut, clean white mane. She sighed heavily before turning around, slowly trotting back towards us. “Oh, I see you’re more than happy to spread slander about us.” Her tone was hard. I had no misconceptions that she cared for our lives in the slightest. “Mind telling your friend here what you do in Fillydelphia? I’m sure it would be a fun story.”

Ahh, she had heard us. She’s just a tough nut to crack.

“Fillydelphia?” I commented, without a single trace of a lie in my voice. “Never been there.”

I heard Crafter whisper in a soft voice, “What’s Fillydelphia?”

Tailwind’s quick attempt to shush him was entirely overruled, as the red-coated mare addressed him directly, “Oh a fun little place. A city of slaves, worked under the harshest conditions till they bleed their last for the glory of Red Eye,” She ended the statement with a definite trace of venom seeping into her tone. “And every day, my brothers and sisters do what they can to combat this menace -- Paying with their lives to try and do better.”

She paused, perhaps catching herself as she let slip more than she intended about her own thoughts on the matter. It took but a moment for her to change the tack of the conversation. “But, it is quite strange to see a Stable dweller in their influence.” I think she suspected weakness, and was probing at what she no doubt saw as the weakest link of our party. “Very odd… unless you’re not affiliated with him at all…” Seemingly coming to a conclusion, she returned her red-eyed gaze directly to me. “So, to whom do you pledge your word?”

Crafter looked my way. I’m sure the conversation to that point was so far over his head he didn’t have the faintest idea what side he was even affiliated with at the time.

“I’m surprised you have to ask, Ranger.” I replied with a moderately dramatic flare of my wings. I carried a slight mocking tone, just enough to get her to clench her teeth together — a slight flexing along her jawline. I wasn’t there to make friends — it was about survival, and if I could enforce as much casual disdain for the thought of being allied with Red Eye as I could through my tone of voice, so much the better. “The Grand Pegasus Enclave was where we-” I gestured towards Tailwind with a wingtip, “-called home, until we found ourselves trapped down here several nights ago.” I kept up the dramatics, letting a trace of bitterness enter my voice. I was hoping that the emotion and manner of speaking would be enough to get her to gloss over the holes in the story. “A Red Eye patrol was the first ponies we encountered. They tried to kill us, so we broke through and made a run for it during the storm. This barding was the warmest we had during the storm, so it’s what we’re wearing.” I returned my wings to my sides and finishing my explanation with, “So, for the time being, the answer to your question is ‘only to each other.’”

Crafter seemed to take a second to think about all that, before shuffling closer to me, nodding sagely, and adopting an expression that… honestly, I had to tear my eyes back to the paladin’s to avoid bursting out laughing. It was like a pony trying to look impressive after he had literally thrown his weapons at the enemy.

Whew… just... think about burning, or something... Great balls of f- NO, not that. That definitely doesn't help right now.

I bit my lip to stifle a chuckle that would definitely have been out of place given the seriousness of the conversation.

I was incredibly grateful when the paladin saved me from my own thoughts as she finally replied, “Oh, I gathered that much.” She looked at what was, realistically, a wall — but the motion wasn’t lost on me. She was looking directly at where the crash site was from here, through wood and stone and snow. “Hard to miss such a graceful landing.” She delivered the statement like a punchline, before glancing back at Crafter, “Did she tell you about her people, new blood? Or did she just regulate her hate for those land-bound to exclude you for the time being… I’m quite sure that her version of ‘each other’ will only include you as long as it takes them to find the first elevator up.”

“Honestly,” I replied easily, “I was content to leave the issue alone. I’m not about to defend what the Enclave has done, but I wouldn’t have taken him with us if I intended to leave him out to dry the second we found a way back to the clouds.” I glanced down morosely, “Besides, does it look to you like we’re going to find this ‘elevator to the skies’ any time soon?”

She let out a humourless laugh, scoffing at me. “Oh spare me the semantics, you honestly expect me to stand here as you judge me on what your intel and rumours have to say? All while trying to take the moral high ground saying you’re ‘not like them.’ Bollocks I say. You’re both scouts, probably trained to operate alone and to use the populace to your advantage.” Her voice had been steadily rising throughout the last rant, reaching yelling levels that made me reminisce of a certain drill sergeant I had the unfortunate opportunity to displease. “I’ve spent my entire life trying to help the ponies here. To save them! I’ve fought and gladly killed a number of your comrades. Why should you and your cunt of a junior be any different than those before!”

I suppose it was a form of gauging the flow of the conversation, but Crafter slowly backed away from both Tailwind and I, seemingly confused by these new allegations. There was some damage from that last statement, and it would need to be repaired if he ended up sticking with us. If he even wanted to stick with us. I can’t say I’d blame him for leaving, after what I did.

I bit my lip harder, this time in frustration. I had no readily available counterargument to most of that. When I did respond, my tone had deflated somewhat, a slightly more humble approach. “I can’t expect any benefit of the doubt, but that intel and rumours were all we’ve ever known.” I let a touch of anger trickle into my voice again, “The Enclave sent us down here to look for a fucking griffon FOB.”

I saw a twitch in her eye, and a slight curl of her lips. She thought the notion was funny. During our stay, Chess had eventually gotten around to explaining how the griffons operated — by hiring out as mercenaries. They categorically, almost without exception operated in small groups, contracted out the bulk of the time. Finding an organized group of griffons the size of which we were looking for would be an effort in futility.

I started to escalate the volume, just as she had. It wasn’t even a conscious verbal gamble — I was just pissed that she saw the events that led to everything we’d gone through as funny. “Aside from Red Eye-aligned ones, the only griffin I’ve seen is the one over there, high on Med-X. We didn’t even know there were Rangers in the region before we dropped, and it took a Wastelander to make us realize that Red Eye is one of the biggest threats to the Wasteland. Hell, maybe even the Enclave itself. So you’ll excuse me if I want to distance myself just a little from the government I used to serve!”

The griffon, apparently having been fed sufficient healing potions to no longer be dying off in the corner coughed hard as he burst into a fit of laughter, sprawling himself out on the floor across from where the paladin and myself were squared off. “A griffon base?! What? The only thing we can stand less than you bloody poniji is each other!” With that, he rolled over and resumed laughing, grabbing on to a foreleg belonging to the Ranger addressed as “Twist.”

Her response was to halfheartedly prod at the claws digging into her armour in an attempt to dislodge them. She replied coyly, “You should be more or less better now. You’ll be coughing up blood for a while though, but that’s perfectly normal.” She definitely seemed cheery enough to be a field medic, and no mistake.

That sideshow apparently over with, the red and white paladin visibly deflated. She stated in a weary tone, “Fuck, let’s just do this then. Name and mark, we need to record anypony moving through this outpost.”

“Snap Roll,” I replied dismissively, just glad that the argument had ended in us not being summarily executed. “Mark is a shooting star, having just impacted a cloud.”

“It’ll be a rainbow bolt soon enough,” she muttered as she moved along our line of ponies, taking down notes as she did.

“We’ll see about that,” I replied under my breath.

Once she had gone down the line, the paladin turned to address us as a whole. “Alright, this building is Fort Neighson Outpost Kilo, you are permitted free access to the lower floor and all it’s commodities. The upper levels are prohibited. You are free to stay as long as you please.” The speech was dry. Rehearsed. She’d made it a thousand times, almost certainly.

“Wait,” Crafter asked, “So this isn’t, uh, Fort Kneesun? And… you aren’t going to steal our stuff and leave us for dead?” He turned his head towards Tailwind, presumably going off of what she’d initially told him about Rangers in general.

Oddly enough, his reply came from the griffon off in the corner. Twist had moved away some time since I’d last glanced at the pair, leaving him to hack a bit of blood into his palm before rolling over, sitting up and jabbing a talon at our group. “Everything but my things! You so rudely perforated me when I was trying to keep us all from being turned to paste! And not the useful kind. The dead kind.” He crossed his arms, glowering as he added, “As for your things, it’s not theft. As far as I’m concerned, you owe me. For the shooting, and all.”

Evidently concluding that the situation would sort itself out reasonably well, the as-yet-unnamed paladin sighed, trotting towards the upper level. As she did, she called out to her subordinates, “Tart, watch them for now. Twist, back up to the eyrie.”

Her orders were met with a groan from the buck, “Tart” and a nod from Twist. The latter had followed her superior out the door, presumably into the upper room of the building.

As the Rangers sorted themselves out, Crafter made a beeline straight for the griffon, presumably to have a more sociable distance between them than shouting across the room. I caught snatches of their conversation, as I listened in… just a bit. “So… you took my wrench? Can I have it back?” He had simultaneously forgotten his previous question and grown enough of a spine to speak up on his own, and was with the intended consequence of retrieving the wrench that he’d thrown. I was torn between being elated and depressed.

“You threw that?” Fade asked, “While the rest used guns? Hmm…” He narrowed his eyes, which, now that I had time to properly get a look at them, were a peculiar magenta colour. They were sort of... pretty, I suppose. He’d evidently come to a conclusion. “I like you, wrench-pony.”

Well that was… not what I was expecting.

“No, I shot you first.” Crafter replied. “You have the wounds to prove it. I’d only had a quick glance at Fade’s injuries before healing potions were poured down his throat, but I was reasonably sure the only hits he took were from my nine-mil and Tailwind’s rifle. He continued, still affecting a tone of misplaced confidence. “The wrench is my back up… and I’d like it back, please.”

Fade scoffed, shaking his head as he replied in a manner that almost seemed… disappointed. “Ah, you still conform… and I had hope for your kind. We shall see.” He glanced down at his attire, still bloody from his wounds. He scrutinized the jacket for a few moments, cringing at the amount of his own blood that had seeped into them. After a short, awkward silence his head snapped back up to stare at Crafter with his odd, predatory stare. “As you just admitted to inclusion in my attempted demise, I should think it fairly obvious that I did not have time to find your hunk of metal while getting to sample my own claret. That being said, it is still outside somewhere with the mine I dropped, and I would appreciate it if you would retrieve it for me. Then I’d call the grievance even. Unlike the two more adept members of your party with whom I would like to have… words.”

As Crafter made his way off towards the entrance, Fade called out to his retreating back, “If you hear beeping, let me know!”

Meanwhile, Tailwind made her way over, presumably eager to make amends. “Oh yeah, um… yeah, that was partly my bad. But hey! You’re such a good looking target, how could I resist, right?” She wore her most sincere smile, a tad strained.

He replied in a perturbed tone, “A good looking target? Yes, I do so enjoy being scorched and having passes made at me by… your kind. Thank you, m’dear. But I don’t want to end up bitter and alone like Tart over there so how about we make a deal…?” As words were exchanged, the griffon didn’t seem to be actively hostile… judging from his body language, at least.

I took that as my cue to make myself scarce (She might have participated in shooting him, but I kinda gave the order), and as Fade had mentioned, the remaining Ranger — “Tart,” apparently — did seem to be quietly staring off into a corner. I quietly approached him, quickstepping past Fade’s field of view. In a businesslike tone, I asked without preamble, “Is there any chance we could trade for medical supplies? Those rockets were awfully… effective.” I cringed, the little shrapnel cuts stinging where they’d broken skin. “We could also use some ammo if you’ve got any to spare.”

He’d watched my approach and listened as I put forward my question. His reply was to bark back a steady stream of profanity in a voice something akin to gravel being run through a drying machine, “Fucking swell! You can’t even properly cap the useless Luna damned avian and now you come asking me for blasted gear like I’m some fucking Sparkle~Cola machine. Fuck.” He then ripped his helmet off with a hoof, revealing a heavily scarred brown coat and very short-cropped dirty tan mane. His left eye was covered by an eyepatch, and looking at his features I assumed it wasn’t just cosmetic. “Hell, I’ll give you a rub and tug if you get me a new fucking eye! That sound good for ya?”

I’d thought I’d sensed some anger coming off of him… yeah, definitely quite the angry equine. Seems like he needs to get laid.

“That wasn’t a ‘no,’” I replied cheekily as I started sauntering towards him, closing the gap between us to a little closer than normal conversational distance. “Maybe if poor little me had something more effective than a submachine gun, I might’ve been able to finish the job.” I’d opted for a bit more… affectionate attempt at persuasion. “And in regards to your eye… believe me, the fillies like battlescars a helluva lot more than any crazy sort of cybernetic bullshit.”

He stared me in the eye as he flipped up his eyepatch, revealing a mass of half healed, pussing scar tissue — it was a sickly green, and pulsed slightly. “Fuck hun, then you must just be ‘bout ready to spread ‘em at this rate.”

I blanched. It didn’t have the look of an old wound, not at all — though the scars on his face spoke of the injury itself being years in the past, at least. “That’s… I’m sorry.” I muttered weakly, completely derailed from my attempt at persuasion. “What happened?”

“Got myself shot, whilst hiding behind a prewar barrel. Got some fucking liquid in the wound. Pretty, ain’t it.” He shed a bit of his hard demeanor as he dropped the patch back in place, moving over to sit down beside the fireplace. “Woulda died if Paladin Rose hadn’t been nearby.”

I sat down beside him, enjoying the warmth and seeing an opening in his otherwise pissed off exterior. “Paladin Rose? I presume she’s the one I had the recent... ah, discourse with?”

“Mmhm,” he replied, looking into the fire. “Paladin Vanilla Rose. She saved me that day. By burning out my eye mind you, but saved me nonetheless. She’s what made me aspire to join the Rangers.” He glanced up, seeming to realize something, “Another thing, Neighson ain’t like the fuckers down South. We don’t give a fuck ‘bout ‘What the Codex Dictates’, we’re here to help the ponies under our charge. As such we’re forced to recruit from outside the family.” He let out a tired sigh, “What with the casualty rate being what it is, we’d die out real quick if not for loosening the recruitment pre-reqs.”

“You got hurt Fighting Red Eye forces?” I asked, glancing over to see his expression. “I still don’t get what they’re after this far north.”

“Heh,” he let out a slow chuckle, like I was missing something. He glanced over at me with a sad, distant smile on his features. “Naw, I wasn’t fighting Red Eye. Back then I ran with one of the local gangs… got shot by another gang.” He chuckled again, a bit more heart in it this time. “Some career change, huh?”

I glanced down. He’d avoided the intent of my question, but I expect he didn’t exactly know either. Maybe the fact that there were ponies up here at all was enough for them? I changed topic again, hoping to breathe a bit more life into the conversation. “I feel I ought to apologize for earlier. Rose seems to be a decent pony. You all do, in fact. It was wrong of me to make the assumptions about you that I did.” I glanced over my shoulder at my wings, a twinge of whimsy in my voice, “Perhaps in another life we could’ve been friends.”

The stallion let out a short laugh that seemed more of a grunt in response. “Apologize for what, words? Ain’t fuckin’ worth shit. The fact that you saved that useless Stable fuck means more than what you could ever say.”

I frowned at his assessment of Crafter. “The ‘useless Stable fuck’ seems to be more confused by the Wasteland than useless. I learned a lot of the same lessons he did in the past couple days.”

His characteristic frown returned. “He knows next to nothing. No context, no skills. He’ll be dead within the fortnight.”

Tailwind sat down beside the two of us. “Oooh, who are we talking about?” She asked as she started rummaging through her saddlebags. “Is it somepony I know?”

I gave a soft chuckle. “Just Crafter, nothing too serious.” I shot a mildly chiding look Tart’s way, which he deflected by means of not actually noticing, as he was still gazing off into the fire. “Anyways, what’d you and Fade talk about?”

She put a hoof to her chin and glanced down, wearing a mildly embarrassed smile on her face. “Well… He’s willing to forgive us if I make him a cup of coffee.”

I canted my head to the side and quizzically raised an eyebrow. “Coffee? The bitter tasting stuff from the ration packs?”

She jabbed a hoof at me, “I know, right? That’s what I said! It’s the weirdest thing.” She resumed digging through her saddlebags. “Apparently the Rangers won’t let him have any… Aha!” She’d found one of the little sachets of dark brown powder, victoriously holding it up before putting some water in a canteen cup and letting it warm up over the fire. That operation that had hardly even begun when we were interrupted by a commotion from the other corner of the room.

Fade had jolted upright at something Bernard had said, leaping forwards and grasping him about the shoulders. He was shouting, “I do? Tell me! What with?! How do I need help?! What do you know about me?!” He seemed to be very concerned, but with the grip he had on Bernard’s shoulders, his talons dug deep into the earth pony’s flesh.

Bernard cried out in pain as he tried to pull away, only causing the razor sharp digits to dig deeper. Blood ran freely down his legs.

Fade released him, seemingly realizing what it was he’d done only after the fact, backing up into a crouch, raising his ho- er, talons up beside his head. He seemed to suppress a glance at the blood running down his arms as his voice took on a note of desperate pleading, “Forgive me! I know not what I do! Please don’t withhold the truth, oh strange, knowledgeable earth pony!”

Bernard had dropped to his knees, trying in vain to stem the blood flowing from either shoulder. He was continuing to cry out in surprise and pain.

Tart was the first to respond, as if this course of events wasn’t as completely surprising and disorienting as it was for the rest of us. He jumped to his armoured hooves and shouted, “FADE! What the fuck did you do!”

Just as quickly, the Ranger Twist appeared out of the door to the “eyrie” at a gallop, headed for the confrontation. She was carrying a heavy bag with the universal insignia of the Fluttershy medical corps stenciled upon it.

Dropping his arms from what I could only assume was some form of position of surrender (I can never tell with griffons), he slowly looked down at the blood upon his talons. In a distant voice, he proclaimed to nopony in particular, “It would seem there has been a drastic communication error.”

Tart cantered over and placed himself directly in front of Fade, “Now you’re fucking attacking travelers? Get your shit together you feathered idiot!”

Simultaneously, Twist came to a sliding halt beside Bernard that did the combat medic in me proud. Tearing out medical bandages and a healing potion, she tended to his wounds with a natural, easy talent. I grimaced at the thought of what the healing potion would do to the bone in his injured leg, but by the time I was in a position to comment, she'd already started getting him to drink.

Tailwind and I took flight, the coffee making forgotten. We dropped down by Bernard’s side as Tailwind called out, “Bernard, oh my are you alright?!” For my part, I dropped down and reflexively reached for my holstered energy pistol, before remembering I still had no ammo for it. I settled for placing myself protectively between Bernard and the griffon.

Fade turned to Tart. “One, I attacked nopony.” He started raising digits as he spoke, as if taking a tally of his points. “They attacked me. In case your steel-encased mind failed to notice. Two, it was an honest accident that I intended to fix until you so rudely interrupted me. Three, shit is not something one should ever have together. That goes without saying; to normal beings, it seems at least.”

Tart gave a swift retort, seemingly unfazed, “Don’t give me your shit Fade, you’re a danger to everyone around you. Get yourself together!”

“Tart!” Twist called out, having finished tying off the last of Bernard’s bandages, “Leave him alone, its not his fault!”

I stood down, not sure what was even happening around me anymore.

Fade stood, moving past Tart as he added flatly, “Yes, thank you Twist. Not all of us are quite so angry all the time, Ranger Tart. Please stop assuming we are.” Sidestepping the Ranger, the griffon approached Bernard. He came to a halt out of arm’s reach before dropping to a crouch, he cleared his throat quietly and asked in an apologetic tone, “Umm… if it’s not too much trouble, might I speak with him Miss Twist? At your permission only, of course.”

Bernard, having mostly recovered (mostly thanks to a healing potion that probably did more for his leg than I’d been able to up ‘til that point), responded in her stead, “As long as there is no further maiming, yes.”

Tail, myself and Tart all moved away to give the two of them room. Tart was still swearing under his breath as he made for the door to the outside. He shouldered aside Crafter, who had happened to be returning at the same time.

“Hey!” Crafter called back out the door, having the guts to snap back at the clearly pissed off Ranger. Seeing a complete lack of response, he muttered under his breath as he walked towards our conglomeration of ponies in the corner, “Whatever did I do to you…” He was carrying our discarded weapons slung across his back, his wrench included. I saw no indication of his pistol. What I did see, however, was a disarmed mine hovering in the brown glow of his magic.

The griffon actually sent him to find a MINE?! Is he crazy? Wait… if recent events are any indication, the answer is a definite “Yes.” ...Well, at least it seems to have turned out alright.

Fade let out a faint sigh of relief as he grinned sheepishly at the downed form of Bernard, not noticing Crafter’s return. “Ah, yes. Sorry about that. Sometimes yo… I forget about these things.” He waved his talons for emphasis. Now that I had a chance to actually watch him, his eyes didn’t seem able to focus for extended periods of time, instead jumping around from one object to another, even as he spoke. “But you see, you said I needed help. Clearly you know more about me than I do, and anything you could tell me would be much appreciated.” He scratched the back of his neck as he glanced up at the ceiling as he muttered, “Rather a bother not knowing yourself.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Bernard replied, seemingly giving the matter some serious thought. “ You’ve lost yourself? I’ve only met a few who can say as such…” He shifted to his haunches, “That path is a long one, I’ve heard that certain ponies might be able to mend whatever damage happened to make you, ah, unhinged… but even then the path to recovery is one only you can take.”

Seeing that conversation beginning to go smoothly, Twist trotted over to me. “Ah, Miss Snap Roll. I believe I overheard that you were asking about trading for some of our medical stores?”

She broke me out of the reverie I’d caught myself in. “Oh, yes. We don’t have much, but I was hoping we could get enough to patch ourselves up with and have enough leftover for the last leg of the trip to Neighson. Your…” I rubbed the back of my head with a forehoof in mild embarrassment, “Heh, ‘deterrent’ was rather effective.” I held up a foreleg with multiple small shrapnel cuts along it.

Twist removed her helmet quickly, attaching it to her saddle. Her light orange coat and white mane were well kempt and unscarred. Those, along with her smaller size led me to believe she was a fair number of years younger than myself… at a guess, sixteen or so. “Oh my, well we don’t have that much.” She replied sheepishly, “But Paladin Rose instructed me to spare some of our stock...”

As she opened up her saddlebags, I started looking through their (admittedly rather sparse) collection. Apparently a roll of medical bandage was on the house, for which I was immensely grateful. I held off on trying to fence the armour or enchanted sword — they were the big ticket items I was hoping to turn into some decent gear once we got to Neighson, and Tart was only doing straight across trades. She didn’t have a supply of caps available, but I couldn’t reasonably expect her to. They weren’t merchants, after all.

As we were quietly bartering, I overheard Crafter calling out once he saw Fade, “Hey, griffon! I found your… thing, that you lost!”

“Wrenchy!” Fade replied, a jubilant announcement judging from his tone. “You found it! And you weren’t blasted into paste! Oh, I was right to put hope on you!”

"Yeah, it was no problem.” Crafter replied, “Found it while I was- wait, blasted? Blasted by what?”

“That!” Fade replied, pointing a talon at the oval, grey piece of metal still hovering in Crafter’s magical grip. “The landmine! You know, kinda their shtick to make ponies blow up.”

He didn't know. He went to find a mine with no idea of what one was. I'm speechless.

Crafter glanced at the mine in horror, dropping it almost instantly and jumping away.

Everypony in the room went deathly quiet as we watched the mine drop. Twist and I stopped bartering mid-sentence. Tailwind dropped the small tin of water she’d been shepherding over the fire. Fade and Bernard just watched, open mouthed in wordless horror. I’m sure some of us were absolutely certain that he’d just sealed our fates. When the mine clanged harmlessly to the floor, we breathed out a collective sigh of relief. Functionally oblivious, Crafter stated, “You had me search for that?!”

Fade took a moment to compose himself, before adopting a cross attitude and bending down to retrieve the small piece of metal. As he moved, he started to explain. “Yes. I had you look for it. That was the deal, remember? You shot-… no, attempted to shoot me, so I had you go and find my very expensive mine in return. Don’t much appreciate you dropping it, but all is forgiven I suppose.”

Crafter stared back at him in disbelief, looking from Fade to the mine and back again before shouting out a belated warning, “Careful griffon! You don’t know what could happen with that thing!” He took another couple steps back, slowly and carefully.

Arching an eyebrow in apparent amusement, Fade glanced to the mine in his hands before holding it up and pointing, “This? I don’t know what could happen with this?” He made a “tsk” noise by clicking his beak before following the retreating unicorn. “Clearly you’ve missed a key fact about this device. One which explains why, after picking it up, dropping it, and having me pick it up, you and I are still very much alive. Can you guess what it is, Wrenchy?”

The poor unicorn continued to back off, trying to keep his distance in the room that was rapidly running out of space to back up into. “It’s Crafter, and what?” His tone was worried… yet curious.

A glint came over the Fade’s eye as he pushed off the floor and did a feline-like leap towards the pony, looping an arm behind his neck as he did, bringing the mine right in front of Crafter’s muzzle. “See this?” He asked, tapping at a small button on top of the mine, “This is the trigger.” He pressed it down so a small “click” was heard, but didn’t stop talking. “If it were going to blast us there would be a lot more angry red right there and a lot more beeping!” He started to snicker as he dropped the disk at Crafter’s feet. “It’s deactivated, Wrenchy!” He stated as he pulled away and started full on laughing, in earnest.

For his part, Crafter had looked like he was about to have a heart attack when the griffon tapped the top of the mine. He started to hyperventilate, staring down at the mine, before unceremoniously flopping over onto his side. He’d fainted.

Fade seemed to come to when he heard the thump of Crafter hitting the floor. His response was to blink once and let out a simple, “Huh,” before rolling the poor unconscious pony onto his side, using the mine as a pillow for his head.

I coughed to clear my throat, bringing Twist’s otherwise enraptured attention back to me. We settled on a trade, and I shook her hoof. I’d managed to acquire a nice, full healing potion, some additional magical bandage, as well as more rubbing alcohol and surgical thread. Nothing as fancy as what Chess had used, but it would do its job if we needed it. “Good doing business with you,” I stated cordially. “Ranger Twist, was it? I’m curious how long you’ve been with the Rangers. Pardon me for saying, but you seem awfully young to be a knight.”

I was wording it nicely, but from what we’d heard in our briefings, the Rangers had a very strict system in place. Being a full knight at her age would have definitely been an oddity, if our intel was any good at all.

Closing up her saddlebags, Twist chuckled lightly before responding, “Yeah, I get that a lot. I passed my initiation though.” The pride was unmistakable in her voice. “Both my parents are paladins, so nopony was very surprised when I did. My name’s Blueberry Twist, sorry for leaving you with a disadvantage there.”

I waved off her apology, “No apologies necessary. Actually, I’m impressed. The Steel Rangers are… well… apparently the only group I think I have a decent understanding of down here in the wastes. Enough of an understanding to know that becoming a knight is no mean feat.”

I managed to piece things together from her age and the fact that Tart was allowed in at all, that the attrition rate this far North must have been positively atrocious. Her parents, already serving, having to deal with their daughter being put in harm’s way because they simply didn’t have enough ponies? That must be rough. ‘Course, I had enough tact to avoid that side of the conversation.

I saw her blush under her orange coat as she replied, “Oh, ah, thanks.” She seemed to take complements in an adorably awkward fashion. “You’re from the Enclave right?”

I dropped my gaze. “Yeah. Both Tailwind and I lived in the clouds a week ago, before our Vertibuck was shot down.”

She looked at me with eyes that were just shy of pleading. “So, you’ve seen the sun?” She asked quietly, almost seeming to regret asking. “Is it what they say it was like?”

She’s way too cute. Kinda makes me wish I had a little sister.

I laid a hoof on her shoulder, my own troubles forgotten. “It’s… it’s warm. Radiant, even.” I wasn’t entirely sure how to elaborate, but I dearly wanted to do the description justice. It was obviously important to the kid, and I thought back to the pendant I wore beneath the barding. “It dominates the sky. From what I’ve seen, a lot of the surface believes in the ‘goddesses.’” I dropped the hoof, meeting her gaze with a soft smile. “From what I’ve seen, the sun and moon still rise and fall each day… their patterns are a little weird, but who knows, maybe they are still out there. Watching over us.”

She seemed to take that in for a few moments, before replying, “Thanks, thanks for that…” She seemed to startle, as if just realizing something. “I’ll go let Paladin Rose know that you’ve been supplied.”

Medical supplies attained, I headed over to where Bernard and Tail were waiting. “So, any idea what’s the deal with the griffon? He seems… a bit touched.” I tossed my mane to indicate my saddlebags, “Oh, and we have some medical supplies. I’d like to take a proper look at both of you while we have the time.”

Tailwind chirped up as she shrugged out of her barding, “He seems nice enough, just unstable.”

Bernard nodded at her appraisal, “He has some sort of mental stint. Either a birth defect, which is unlikely at best, or something happened to him. Either of which means we have to tread carefully around him.”

Bernard was completely fine, as it turned out. He’d picked some decent cover, and got out of that rocket storm completely without injury. Tailwind had taken a series of small cuts, which I delicately wrapped in medical bandage before getting her to put her barding back on. Having finished patching her up, I started to put away the remaining magical bandage. We didn’t have too much, and I wanted to save what was left.

Tailwind’s wing unexpectedly came down to swat at my hoof, and I dropped the medical bandage. “Don’t you think you’re forgetting something?” She stated, leading off in a way that made me think there was something I should remember. Seeing my dumbfounded expression, she let out a soft sigh, picking up the magical dressing in her hooves. “Yourself, Chief. I know you got hurt…”

Oh yeah, that.

As usual, she was right. I wriggled out of my own barding, letting her gentle hooves wrap the bandage over of the worst of the cuts along my legs and wings. Whenever she closed off a wrap, I could feel the light itching of magical healing seep into the wounds. “Don’t get too comfortable,” I stated abruptly, catching Bernard’s attention. “We should do everything we can to get to Neighson tonight, and not only because we don’t have much food left.” I’d left unsaid that every day that escaped us, it was going to be that much harder to pick up the trail of Bernard’s filly. As Tail was finishing up the last of the wraps, Fade started to amble towards us.

Bernard was silent, a hard look in his eyes.

Tailwind saw it, and attempted to cheer him up. “I’m sure somepony like this ‘Serpent’ would be pretty hard to miss. Somepony there will’ve seen him.”

He gave her a glum look and didn’t reply.

I turned to him with confidence in my voice, “Cheer up, buck. You’ve got two pegasus recce specialists helping you now.” I put a comforting hoof on his shoulder. “We’ll find her.”

Finally breaking out into a smile, Bernard quipped back, “And yet our friend here managed to get the drop on us, more or less.”

Surprisingly, Fade was the one to pipe up as he leaned against the wall across from us. “Want to get to the Fort tonight?” He asked, while idly scratching his cheek with a talon, “Then you’ll have to get a move on soon. Nights are cold and you’ll be freezing your tails off before long.” He leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees, fixing us with a blank expression, “It’ll happen too, you know. Saw it myself. Hair snaps like icicles. You ponies look bloody ridiculous without tails.” He paused for a moment in consideration, before belatedly adding, “Well, even more ridiculous than you usually do.”

“‘Ridiculous’ you say,” I replied, turning to address Fade. I let Bernard’s quip hang in the air for the time being — it was enough to see him smile. “Says the one who was bleeding out on the floor half an hour ago. But yes, we need to get to the fort before nightfall.”

He placed a hand on his chest and winced slightly, but waved his other hand in a dismissive fashion. “Aye, that be true. Not of my own volition, of course. However the fact remains that you are ponies, and ponies are simply ridiculous.” He shook his head, as if we should already have been cognizant of that “fact,” before moving on to a new topic, pointing dramatically towards the outpost door, “Then like I said, unless you want to become an ice ornament on the road, you’d best get your pictured flanks moving.”

Behind him, Crafter had approached unnoticed, evidently trying to get caught up on the conversation after his impromptu “nap.”

I saw Fade’s eyes flick back, presumably upon hearing hooves upon wood behind him. Without turning his head, he commented, “Ahh, Wrenchy! Good to see you. All is well, ja?”

The dull clank of the mine Crafter’s head had been placed upon was the only response to greet our ears.

Bernard surreptitiously coughed into the crook of his forehoof before turning to Tail, “My point exactly.” Tailwind, for her part, wore a look of mild shock that Fade would endanger Crafter so idly.

Seeing her look, Fade blinked in surprise, before jumping to his own defence. “He was on good terms! I was fairly certain he wouldn’t blow himself up, and I was right!” He exclaimed, jabbing a talon at the unicorn, “All in all he…” I saw his eyes glance up and down Crafter, settling on the pipbuck adorning his leg, before taking his statement in a completely different direction than he seemed to have intended, “He’s a Stable Pony?”

“Yeah, I’m a ‘Stable pony,’ and what’s it to you, griffon?” Crafter replied, some indignation in his voice. Granted, I’d be pretty pissed if I woke up on top of a mine.

“You’re a Stable pony and not a ghoul?” Fade asked, “My oh my, quite the surprise you are.” His eyes were wide and eager as he asked, “Tell me, what are they like? The not-wrecked, deadly ghoul-filled deathtrap type of Stable, that is.”

Crafter stared at him for a few moments, taken aback by the sudden change in topic about as much as the rest of us. “Uh, what’s a ghoul…” He asked after several seconds of silent thought.

Damn it Crafter, we went over this.

Hoof met face as I replied, “Crafter, those were the things that scared you into tagging along with us. Remember?”

Fade nodded in agreement, adding, “You find heaps of them in Stables. I swear it’s like the things were built to produce them!” Shrugging, he settled his stance into leaning forwards again. “Eh, but you seem alright Wrenchy. Must not have been all of them.”

“No, not at all…” Crafter replied, reverting to a more somber expression, obviously not liking to talk about the Stable. It seemed to be a sore spot for him, and we never had asked what exactly had happened.

He’ll open up to us in his own time, if he wants to.

Changing topics, I glanced over at our griffon companion. “So Fade, you’ve obviously been to the Fort before. How far is it from here? We really do need to get moving.”

I seemed to have caught him in a moment of inattentiveness, as he tapped his talong softly against the floor, glancing up sharply when I called out his name. “Hmm? The Fort?” he asked, looking thoughtful. “We’re about a half-day’s travel from Neighson now. Us flying types can get there faster, especially if you know the air currents, but I doubt you want to leave the less fortunate among you behind.” He turned his head, glancing outside. I assumed he was gauging how much light we had left. “You head out in the next fifteen minutes and don’t stop, not for anything, and you should get there before nightfall. So long as the road isn’t snowed over there shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Leaving are we?” Vanilla Rose interrupted us. I don’t think any of us had noticed her standing at the doorway to the upper level. Her intonation was even, and I couldn’t quite tell whether she was glad to see us leave or just curious.

“Aye, we need to keep moving.” I replied levely.

“Mhmm, that would be wise.” She glanced over our collective group before finally resting her gaze upon Fade. A look passed between them that I couldn’t for the life of me decipher, but he seemed to give a knowing nod in response. “The road should be safe enough, but keep your wits about you. A trader caravan went North a couple days ago, but they never reached Neighson. If you see anything, pass it on.”

“Will do,” I replied. “Keep safe, Rangers.”

Wordlessly, we all got to work collecting the weaponry Crafter had so generously collected for us. Tailwind lovingly clipped her rifle to her battlesaddle, Bernard gave his a quick wipedown before slinging it across his shoulders again. My SMG seemed to be in working order, so I clipped it back into place and hooked up the ammo feed. Crafter gave a dramatic flourish of his wrench before magically dropping it into what I realized must have been a toolbelt attached to his Stable barding — his pistol was nowhere to be seen, but he was in high spirits.

Everything was stored, belted or clipped where we wanted it in short order. I called out as I started making my way towards the door, “Alright everypony, lets get this show on the road.”

“Thanks for everything!” Tailwind called back right before darting out the door, wings unfurling before she was even past the threshold. Still favouring his leg, Bernard took his time, but was out the door not far behind Tailwind and I. Crafter stuck beside him, keeping pace.

As we headed out, I saw Tart still standing off by the sandbags, looking back towards us. A nod was the only sign that he registered our departure. Now that I knew where to look, I could see the silhouette of Twist high upon the watch tower, standing a silent vigil over the pass.

It didn’t take us long to shake out into the usual formation, with Tailwind and I flying point, finding ways to fly at walking speed. Tailwind was in a good mood, doing her silly dives, loops and rolls as she flew. I flew a slow, lazy pace as my mind was occupied with thoughts of our encounter with the Rangers.

There were inklings that what we’d been told had kernels of truth in it, despite Rose’s denials. Come to think of it, she had avoided commenting on the tech-hoarding issue directly. Still, there were far more things that didn’t line up with what we’d been told. Helping ponies along, providing security for this area… I wondered if they applied to the Rangers as a whole, or if Neighson and the Rangers of the North were the exception. At the time, I supposed those questions would linger until we came to the Fort. In need of another topic to distract myself, I came upon one rather quickly.

Fade.

The griffon was an abnormality among abnormalities. His eyes, never seeming to settle on any one object. They seemed to have a life of their own as they danced around a room, seemingly just focusing on almost arbitrary things as he went about his things. His… peculiar tendency to switch between languages, seemingly unconsciously. Most of all, his interactions with Bernard… There was something there. For all his… eccentricity, there was a sense of loss about him, something I couldn’t quite put a word to.

I was startled by the sound of heavy wings behind us and an accompanying whistle. I spun mid-air, completely caught off guard. The leonine form of Fade had landed by Bernard and Crafter, apparently deciding to follow us. The trio were talking rather animatedly as I caught Tailwind’s eye and tossed my head back towards the group. I then cut speed and banked back the way we’d come.

Tail took another couple seconds to recover from a roll, and another to grasp that we had a new arrival, but upon spotting the griffon she let out a shriek that sounded like what I imagine was a combination of Fade’s name and an incoherent shout of joy, mashed together. She then none-too carefully dove, speeding past me and wrapping him in a hug that practically tackled him to the ground. “I’d hoped you’d come along with us!”

Fade seemed understandably surprised, as he laid flat on his back with a pegasus hugging his chest. “Ah… you did? Well I’m… glad, Miss Tailwind. I think.”

She darted to all fours (still upon his chest), gasping in horrified realization, “I forgot the coffee!”

He blinked a number of times before pushing himself up into a sitting position as much as he could, grinning bemusedly at the sky blue pegasus standing atop him. “It seems you did. I suppose you’ll have to owe me. Consider it another reason for my tagging along.”

I continued my gentle descent, watching the show unfold before me. I was listening idly as I landed lightly on my hooves, on my own time. “To what do we owe the pleasure, mister Fade?”

He turned his head as I landed, thinking for a moment, before answering, “Ah yes. I’m here at Paladin Rose’s request. The Fort might not be far but things can get tricky on the way, not to mention the… odd shift in weather recently. As such, I’ll serve as a guide since I know the area. If you’re not opposed to the idea, that is.”

Tailwind jumped off him, prancing lightly on the spot. It was good to see she had her energy back, despite everything.

“The help’s welcome,” I replied easily. “As is the company. The more the merrier in this band of exiles.” I smiled, offering Fade a hoof up.

I saw a moment’s hesitation as he reached up to take the offered limb. I was fully aware that it was as much a gesture of trust as one of assistance, especially after his previous experience with talon-on-pony contact. With exaggerated care, he delicately wrapped his fingers about my hoof, and pulled himself back to his feet. He released my hoof and started dusting snow off of himself, taking extra care to remove it from his feathers. Satisfied, he responded cheerfully, “Then this’ll be a downright gem of a time! When we get to Neighson, drinks are on Miss Tailwind.” He hiked a thumb back in her direction. “Well, mine is, at least.”

Tailwind’s response was to blow a raspberry before shooting off into the air. Bernard nodded, accepting the new arrival with his usual stoic demeanor before turning to continue down the path, Crafter in tow.

“Hopefully there’s something a little more… ah, filling before we get to the drinks.” I replied in her stead, thinking back to the rations that had kept us going as long as we had. “But I’m looking forward to that, Fade.” I then took to the air, close behind Tailwind.

He gave a nod of affirmation before turning his eyes to the sky, where the soft glow of the sun was starting to drop towards the mountains. “You can have your fill of almost whatever you like at the Fort. I doubt you’ll be disappointed, Miss Roll.” He flapped hard, getting off the ground and keeping in earshot. “So long as we get there before sundown all should be well.”

An hour or so later saw us traversing across the side of a mountain, with a steep slope off to our right. With the sun in decline, fierce winds had gusted up, forcing those of us with wings to within ten meters or so of the ground. For simplicity’s sake, we walked along beside the ground-bound ponies.

As we rounded a sharp bend in the road, before us were the remains of what I could only assume was the caravan Rose had mentioned. Two carriages were strewn across the path. The first was turned on its side, effectively cutting off our view past the obstacle. I could make out about half of the other carriage, upright about ten meters past its less-intact twin. There was a thick layer of what looked like ice over most of the debris, scattered about the road surrounding the carriages. As far as I was concerned, the entire setup practically screamed “Ambush!”

Taking a moment, I glanced from the wreckage to the surrounding area. The uphill side of the road had a slow, easy slope to it, and lead up to the edge of a forest. On the downhill, the steep slope was close to sheer. No way around, my sense of unease deepened. Beyond, I could see a hill a hundred or so meters past the wreckage, the perfect spot for overwatch on the entire road.

I quickly darted to the corner, reducing my visibility as much as I could, beginning to formulate a plan to make it past the potential killzone. I needed information, and Fade was the easy source for it. I whispered back quietly enough that my voice wouldn’t be carried by the wind, “Did those folks pass by your checkpoint, Fade?”

I knew something was amiss when his response came from in front of me, a sense of dread settling in my stomach. He had kept walking right up to what was the edge of the killzone and, of all things, started picking through pieces of debris scattered around. “Hmm?” He asked, seemingly properly taking in the wreckage before him for the first time. “I do believe they did. Weren’t too talkative, but they should have been well enough off to make the trip. Rather daft to try and do it during a storm, mind you.” He moved up a bit more and prodded at what I realized was a frozen corpse, one of three I could see from my position. “Wonder what happened to the blighters. They seem right proper dead to me.”

Crafter and Bernard had simply continued forwards, completely oblivious to the potential danger. I mentally kicked myself for not laying down… well, I suppose the phrase would be ground rules, for our trip. Tailwind had fallen in behind me when I’d moved for cover, but I forced myself to remember that I was dealing with ponies (and a griffon) who had no formal military training whatsoever… though in Fade’s case, I didn’t know for sure at the time.

They're.... They're headed right into... The Danger Zone!

Despite everything, I still snickered at the thought, hiding it with a cough.

I started making my way forwards. I didn’t want to, but we were already committed, and we needed eyes looking down the road. My eyes were up, battlesaddle trigger bit deployed. If there was a trap, calling out to them would more likely than not have dropped whatever was waiting on them. I thought maybe, just maybe, I could figure out what was going on before anyp- anyone touched something they shouldn’t have.

“Looks like something big attacked them.” Bernard stated as he stood over a second body. As I passed, I noted that it seemed like… as if their flesh had melted, before being flash frozen to the stone beneath them. I couldn’t make out any sort of rationalization for that.

It still disturbs me, now that I think about it.

“Or somepony less interested in loot than in killing folks was waiting for them,” I snapped. “Careful what you touch, there might be some sort of nasty surprise left behind.” I passed Bernard, and once he saw my expression, he wore a look that told me he had just realized mistakes had been made. He started slowly unslinging his rifle.

Up ahead, right behind the upturned carriage, Crafter had stopped and glanced back my way, before slowly backpedaling back towards the rest of us. “You mean…” His voice was shaky, “Like a- a trap?”

I passed him, nearing the edge of the carriage. I was so close to seeing what was past the carriage, my nerves were on edge. I felt so exposed it make me feel nauseous, and only then did I realize that the rest quite simply didn’t feel that, didn’t have that same kind of danger sense. I replied through gritted teeth, “Yeah, something like-”

I rounded the corner.

A huge, angry arctic wolf stood practically muzzle-to-snout with me. Its hackles were up, its teeth were bared, and its eyes were angry. It had a leash made of what looked all too much like woven tendon, magically held by a unicorn mare who seemed way too pleased to be at work. Her dark red coat was covered by interlocking bone and metal plates over a thick fur jacket. A wolfbone helmet adorned her head.

“-That.”

All too late, Crafter yelped out, “Oh, ah! Guys! Red bars!”

“Morre suína do sul!" the mare screamed, the throaty cry ringing out as she released her hold on the leash, simultaneously pulling out a sharpened fire axe. The wolf, released from its bonds, lunged forward, and sank its teeth deep into my right shoulder. It bore me to the ground. As we hit, its jaws clamped down even harder. I felt it when the barding punctured, searing pain shooting through me as I saw the red of my own blood coating its teeth.

Tailwind cried out from somewhere behind me, “Chief, NO!”

I cried out in pain as I did the only thing I really could with it on me — bit down on the battlesaddle’s firing bit and clamped my mouth shut. I could feel the wolf’s teeth chattering in my shoulder as my bullets fired straight into it’s throat, their normally loud reports muffled by the fact that my weapon’s barrel was practically touching the damn thing. I watched the ammo counter tick down inexorably as the chattering shook my teeth.

120.

Huge gashes were torn out of the beast’s tough hide, beginning to shred a hole through its neck, spraying blood across both of us. It’s response was to torque its head side to side, widening the gashes in my shoulder. I would have screamed if I wasn’t already biting as hard as I could.

110.

I could see its eye staring at me, defiant. Despite the clearly fatal damage it was taking, it held on with its literal last breaths.

100.

Finally, rounds found solid purchase. I must have severed its spine or something, because its jaws gave one final jerk, before finally coming to rest… frozen in place. Teeth locked. On top of me.

I released the firing bit and screamed in incoherent pain. I later realized I’d left permanent indents of my teeth in the grip.

Fade had moved up, his body language dropping from his erratic, random movements of before to fluid combat movement that would have made me jealous if I were able to think on it properly at the time. He moved with a deliberate speed, not rushed nor slow, pivot turning around the overturned carriage and with two rapid pulls of the trigger put an aimed burst deep into the mare’s chest. She dropped with an angry, wet yell.

I couldn’t see much past Fade’s legs, but I heard the snappy report of a long rifle aimed our way and Bernard’s instant call of “Sniper!”

I started trying to do what I could to lever the wolf’s mouth off my shoulder. I was in the open, and it was what was keeping me there.

The howling of wolves greeted our ears, and I tilted my head “up,” seeing a quartet of wolves just like the one still lying atop me, sprinting down the slope towards us, headed straight for Crafter. Incidentally, he had his wrench out, levitating it in his magical aura. I don’t know what he intended to do with it, but with the way he dropped it and screamed in terror before running straight for the protection of the rest of our group, I surmised it wasn’t to fight the enemy.

The front wolf was already hot on his heels when Tailwind placed a series of energy bolts into either foreleg. She’d foregone the hope of taking it down entirely, settled for crippling it. It went down hard, sliding face-first along the snow and mewling in agony.

Fade turned to see the advancing wolves. Again with the grace I never would have expected of him, he dropped his rifle, letting it hang on its shoulder strap. With one hand, he reached into the musette bag hanging from his shoulder, pulling out a twin to the mine that Crafter had retrieved for him previously. He adopted a stance with one leg outstretched, slapped the activation switch with his free hand and, using the momentum of his turn, threw the landmine. It spun through the air, passing Crafter and landing in the snow, face-up. Right in the path of the next two wolves far too late for them to halt their pursuit.

The explosion echoed off the sides of the valley, and our backline was painted with gore as the unfortunate pair of wolves found themselves dead center of the mine’s kill radius. The one uninjured wolf decided to rethink its choices in life, fleeing back exactly the way it came, clambering up the rocks and dipping out of sight.

Bernard’s rifle roared as he continued trading rounds with the sniper up in the hills. I got the impression that it wasn’t going well. Return fire forced him to dip his head back below the lip of the carriage.

Tailwind and Fade sprinted for the carriage, taking cover on opposite sides. A slight lull had set in, no one willing to expose themselves to fire, on either side. And I was still trapped under a fucking wolf. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of movement on top of the hill overlooking the battlefield. The rustle of a cloak, camouflaged with snow. On closer look, I could see the faint shine of a sight, catching what little light managed to penetrate the cloud layer. I raised a forehoof to point in his general direction.

A sudden, sharp crack cut through the cold air. Agony cut through my lower body, and I instinctively squeezed my eyes shut. When I finally managed to open them again, there were tears in my eyes as I saw my own fresh blood spattered across the snow. The bullet had left a ragged edged, horrifyingly large exit wound above my hips. I must have screamed, but I still clamped my forehoof down in a vain attempt at putting pressure on the wound.

“Chief!” Tailwind screamed from the direction of the carriage. “Bernard, where is he?”

He spat the rifle’s firing bit out before starting to hoof load rounds into the weapon’s breach. “The rise, about seventy five meters out. Right at the top of the bluff.” He’d seen where I was pointing, evidently.

“Gotcha,” she replied before slowly crawling on her belly to the far edge of the overturned carriage. “I need one good shot…” She muttered.

Fade sidled up against the edge of the overturned carriage, rifle down as he swept the ridge with his eyes. He clacked his beak, evidently having come to a conclusion. “If you want I can try and draw him out for you. Your friend can’t stay out there for long, so it’d give us a chance to take care of the sniper and get her mostly out of harm’s way. Call is yours, Miss Tailwind.”

“Do it!” She hissed back, a note of desperation edging into her voice.

Fade leaned around the corner, brought his weapon up and fired a burst in the general direction Bernard had indicated. Before he’d even finished firing, he dropped with feline agility right as a round passed through the space he’d occupied not a heartbeat before, tearing up snow and dirt behind him.

A single ozone-laced crack sounded out a split second later. Off in the distance, I could swear I saw the hillside briefly illuminated by a flash of light, followed by a victorious shout from Tailwind. “That’s right, fuck you!”

I was starting to see black at the edges of my vision when I felt strong hands pry the wolf’s dead jaws from my shoulder. My vision swam, and I found myself staring straight up, seeing the cloud cover swirling above us… so far away. Fade grabbed me by the collars of my barding and combat-dragged me back into the shelter of the carriage. He laid me face-up, leaning against the wood of the overturned vehicle. I was now looking straight at my belly. I thought it was almost unbearably funny how my right side had a tiny little hole in it, barely even leaking, while my left was a bloody mess. Fade was looking down at me. It felt as if he’d hit an experience wall, completely lost as to what to do. He wrung his hands (covered in my blood, I noted) as he muttered, “Lādēties. Tas ir slikti, ļoti slikti…”

Damn it Fade, I don’t understand griffonic.

That’s what I tried to say, at least. What I said probably included a lot more blubbering. My lips wouldn’t work properly, and I could feel the black creeping in on my vision. In some corner of my mind, I saw the signs of shock setting in, but there was nothing I could do about it, myself.

I felt a sharp prick in my good shoulder. It was far eclipsed by the agony in my midriff, notable only in the fact that I hadn’t felt pain there before. Then, an icy coolness swept through me. It carried away the pain, leaving only a dull ache. When it hit my head, the black receded, replaced by a cool, artificial clarity.

Bernard had jabbed me with Med-X, and saved my life in the process.

I glanced around. Bernard, Tailwind and Fade were all clustered around me, looking down at me with concern and fear in their eyes, all trying to help without knowing how. “Fade, cut away my barding around the holes. Tail, take all the bandages I have, and stop the bleeding.” I had to cough into a hoof, but it was already so bloody I couldn’t tell if I’d coughed up more or not. “Take a healing potion, pour it over my wounds. All of it!” The effort of speaking had taken it out of me, and I slumped down. I just hoped my instructions were good enough.

Practically unnoticed off to my left, Crafter called out, “Hey, there’s one left!” At a glance, he was looking through the carriage, presumably seeing another bar on his EFS. “Kill it!” He looked around, frantically hoping somepony would respond.

The rest of us were quite, ah, busy at the time. Understandably, I like to think.

Crafter seemed to realize this when none of the people around me moved to help. He seemed to grasp for his ever-present wrench, but he’d dropped it at some point. He muttered a curse under his breath. Evidently down to literally the last thing he owned, he drew Celestia’s Riposte from its impromptu sheathe and charged around the corner, out of sight.

Fade moved with a purpose now that he had instruction, slicing through the barding with his razor sharp talons. He dug into my saddlebags and pulled out the twin bottles of purple liquid: our only healing potions. He unstoppered the first, and delicately poured over both entry and exit wounds until a purple-looking sludge had formed over them. For good measure, he poured some over my shoulder as well. Following his lead, Tailwind and Bernard wrapped healing bandages around my midsection as fast as they could, not stopping until the last of the bandages were exhausted and my midriff was practically insulated from the cold by all the layers over it.

Fade then unstoppered the last healing potion and brought it to my lips, tilting my head back and easing the sweet purple liquid down my throat. I hadn’t told him to use the last one… but I wasn’t in a state to protest.

It was probably for the best, anyways.

I felt that familiar itch of healing magic, centered in a warm little bubble between my hind legs, with a similar but far less intense feeling in my shoulder.

From the other side of the carriage, I heard a bellow that sounded a lot like the mare Fade had put down, as if she were speaking through lungs filled with fluid. “Você não vai me matar nanico!”

A bright light appeared on the other side of the carriage, casting a long shadow back towards our side of the vehicle, presumably Crafter’s. We all heard a sickening, wet noise. Crafter screamed. The mare continued yelling, “Sujo vira-lata, onde você foi?”

Sounds of a struggle met our ears as confused shadows danced in the strange, artificial light. At long last, a barely feminine, gurgling sigh came from the other side of the carriage, and Crafter’s yelling continued for a few moments before slowly trailing off into silence.

Quiet descended upon the road. No one was shouting, we all just… in our own ways, came to terms with the fact that all of that had just happened. In all, maybe five minutes had passed since we rounded that fateful corner.

Having stabilized me, Tailwind turned to the other two and started delegating. We’d need a perimeter, and someone would have to clear that sniper’s nest, wherever it was. There was work to be done, and sooner rather than later. Whatever it was that passed between them never did click with me, but they got to work, leaving me safely leaning up against the wagon.

With the three of them occupied, some part of my still mildly shocky brain clicked that Crafter needed help. I started dragging myself along until I came around the side of the carriage, upon a scene doused with a copious amount of blood. Crafter was trapped beneath the motionless body of the mare I’d last seen taking a burst of rifle fire to her chest. I caught sight of a discarded auto-injector that looked very much like some of the drugs Chess had safely locked in his medicine cabinet. Both ponies were covered in blood.

“Crafter!” I called out, pushing the mare’s body (actually dead this time) off of Crafter, I discovered that somehow he’d stabbed her with his sword — now, I didn’t understand sword tactics, but my general understanding is that you don’t stab with something that only has one cutting edge. When that failed to put her down, it seemed he’d resorted to kicking the sword into her, until all that was still visible was the hilt pressed flush against her chest. Crafter was shaking and staring off into the distance, early signs of shock. He was covered in blood.

“Crafter, look at me!” I shouted at him as I ran my hooves over his body, looking for injuries. I’d seen her with a fire axe last, and he could well have been hit by that. “Did she hit you? How much of this blood is yours?”

In the time it took him to register that I was talking to him, I’d found that the only injury on him was a dislocated foreleg, hardly even worth getting worked up over. He glanced down at me, and I flashed him a tired smile. “You’ll be fine, buck,” I murmured dizzily. As the adrenaline wore off, everything seemed to be getting further and further away. “You’ll be… fine…”

For whatever reason, the only thought that went through my head was how oddly comfortable his lap was, and how far away the clouds were right then.

My tired body decided it would be a great time for a little nap, and I was in no state to protest.

Author's Notes:

Whew, what definitely took a while. This chapter was... rather technical, as I'm sure you've seen if you read this far. I don't anticipate chapter lengths like this to be the norm, but I find that my chapters aren't so much dictated by length as by flow, and especially places for particularly pertinent journal entries. This one... was definitely one of the former.

This chapter sees Jetwave joining the editing team, which now consists of him, Belmor, Plain and PersonalGamer. Those guys are awesome, and a lot of what you see is evidence of their feedback and criticism.

As always, thanks to Kkat for creating a most enjoyable sandbox.

Oh, and if anyone ACTUALLY has conversational knowledge of Latvian or Portuguese, please send me a PM. I'll have some minor work for you if you'd like, along the lines of what you've already seen.