Author's Notes:

Well folks, it's finally here. Been far too long but hopefully it's up to par with the rest of the story so far. Stay safe out there and stay tuned! Like I said before, this story ain't dead yet!

“You must relax, my dear! We can handle anything...”

Oasis Springs.

This was my first real taste of a proper wasteland settlement, at least one that hadn’t succumbed to violence and destruction. I grimaced as my mind tried to take me back to Burnout, distracting myself by taking in all the sights. Quite different from the blackened buildings of the last town, Oasis Springs hadn’t been built upon a carcass of the old world.

While ‘new’ was the wrong word, the structures here had clearly been built after the Last Day. Though cobbled together from pieces of the old world, they stood upright and orderly. No bit of scrap had gone to waste, be it billboards turned into walls or wire fence being used in place of windows.

Rather than the…smells of Burnout, when my nostrils flared here they were met with a cacophony of scents. There was, of course, that average wastelander stink of unwashed hides and clothes, but it was more subdued here (after all, they had running water!). There were other scents filling the air as well, so many different things that it almost made my stomach turn. It was like that first wastelander dish I’d gotten from Cookie, but a thousand times more pungent.

Sniffing this way and that led my eyes to a large crowd of ponies near the middle of town, surrounding a number of ramshackle stalls. Distant cries of hawked wares made my ears twitch as I continued towards them.

“If my breath stinks, just say so,” Leather Strap spoke up from beside me.

“Uh, what?” I asked, turning to the mare with a frown.

“You keep sniffing at the air like a hellhound on a scent,” she gave me a querying raise of one brow, “If it’s on account of my breath or something, just say it. I can take criticism.”

“No, I just...wait, what’s a hellhound?” her words derailed my explanation, an uneasy feeling filling my guts. For some strange reason I wasn’t thinking of cute little puppy dogs from a foal’s picture book.

“Massive canines that love digging and killing things,” Strap summarized simply, “You ever feel the ground start to rumble beneath you, fly hard and fast or you’ll end up as a surprise guest on their dinner table.”

“Well that’s...greatly unsettling,” I turned back to the road, feathers ruffling as I tried to picture such a creature. I’d seen dogs in old pre-war books, but what Strap had described seemed quite a bit more terrifying.

“And that’s an understatement,” Strap said, lighting her horn and squinting at a strip of parchment from her bags, “Stick close now. I don’t expect we’ll run into any trouble at the market; thieves or the like, but I’d rather not have you getting lost on me.”

“Lead the way,” I waved a hoof, following as Strap pushed ahead and led on through the crowded market. Stands selling an unending hodge-podge of goods crowded both sides of the street, a great array of ponies trotting about in between.

The vendors hawked their wares, creating a din that made me want to fold my ears. Here were the best bloatsprite sliders! Here you could get the chef’s wasteland famous wasteland omelette! But at this stand you could find yourself the finest cookware, forged in dragonfire, honest! And here was being sold delectable manticore jerky!

“Skies!” I jumped as Leather Strap barked out my name. For once her volume was borne from necessity instead of hatred.

Turning, I spotted her behind me, having stopped at a stand I’d already passed. ‘So much for not getting lost...’ blushing briefly, I turned and made my way through the throng of ponies to where Strap was haggling.

“...I say it’s a fair price!” the unicorn behind the counter was saying as I stepped up beside Strap, getting a dismissive glance.

“Maybe over in Tenpony where toilet paper is sold by the tissue,” Leather Strap countered, “You really expect me to pay ten caps for one measly little thing of iodine? Hell, I can march my ass over to the showers and fill up all my bottles for cheaper than that! Save me the time of waiting for the iodine to purify it all. I’ll give you five per bottle, and that’s a bulk purchase.”

“That’s highway robbery!” the unicorn snapped back with a glare of her own, “I’ll go no cheaper than eight, since you’re buying in bulk.”

“Accusing me of robbery, please!” Strap said with a snort, giving a dismissive wave, “I might be convinced to pay…” she took a moment to inspect her hoof, “Six…”

“And I might be inclined to sell for seven!”

“Deal!” Strap slapped a bag of caps on the table, a few loose ones sliding out.

Just as quick, the unicorn merchant was counting, scribbling on a sheet of paper Strap pulled from her saddlebags, and stamping it. The caps were stuffed under the counter and the unicorn tipped her hat, calling for the next customer.

“All that for some bottles of iodine?” I asked as Strap gestured for us to move on.

“Not a fan of bartering?” Strap asked, pulling out a second list and scouring over it.

I shrugged my wings, wincing at a quick pinch in my belly, “Prices are mandated by the government above the clouds. A bushel of apples in Nimbus costs the same as it does in Thunderhead at any given time of the year.”

Strap paused, giving me an odd look, “You guys have apples up there? Like, freshly grown apples?”

“Well freshly grown is pushing it,” I said, following at Strap’s side, “Most of them are cloud grown and taste like it, ninety nine point something percent water at best. There’s only one or two spots of land above the clouds and they’re used for the hardier, more nutritious stuff like herbs, rice, and potatoes. After all, if you’ve got your herbs and spices you can make almost anything taste good.”

“Huh,” Strap said, “Well I learned something new today.”

I spent the next hour on Strap’s tail, making our way through the crowded marketplace and familiarizing myself with the area. Strap didn’t buy anything at its street value, a fact that puzzled my brain. Whether it be one cap or two or ten, she never accepted anything without scraping a few caps off the price.

And she wasn’t the only one. Taking a moment to listen in on other transactions as we waited in line showed that this seemed to be the norm. Everypony haggled, though not all of them were as good at it as Strap seemed to be, many a wastelander forced to fork over more caps than they bargained for or leave empty-hooved.

The thought of caps brought a worrying thought to my attention, and suddenly I could almost feel the caps I’d accrued jangling in my saddlebags. I’d gotten a hundred of them from Dual Gauge, compensation from Break Action and Rusty Ratchet for the stunt they’d pulled a few days prior.

It didn’t seem like all that much, hearing the costs of everything around me. Cloud Poker and I had been excellent budgeters above the clouds, so when I got a bad feeling about money I tended to trust my gut.

“You said we’d be here a while, right?” I asked as Strap got another stamp on her purchase paper, tucking it out of sight again, “What are we supposed to do in the meantime?” I continued with a twinge of worry, “I mean, I’ve only got a hooffull of caps, if I want to eat decent food and sleep in a decent bed that’s not free here, right?”

“No, nothing’s free in Oasis Springs,” Strap replied, though she continued as my worry spread across my face, “Though, if you can’t pay for it, you can work for it.”

That perked my ears up.

“Most of the folks you see manning and maintaining the walls don’t actually live here, they’re travellers or caravanners like us. But, just like us, many of them are down on their luck and fresh out of caps. Rather than turn them away, Oasis Springs puts them to work on the Workforce.

“The Workforce acts like the backbone of Oasis Springs. They provide all the menial labor that folks like Wrangler and Deep Drink need to keep the place up and running. In return, Oasis Springs keeps them fed and rested. You happen to see those two big tents when we first came in? One on either side of the street?”

“I think so,” I said, recalling two circus-like tents.

“One’s for stallions, other’s for mares,” Strap continued, “Not much privacy, it’s one big open tent, but they give you a cot to sleep on and space to store your stuff. Folks tend to be civil, everypony watches out for everypony else’s stuff and thieves don’t last very long.

“Not saying that you would, but if for some reason you do find yourself on the wrong side of the law, there’s not a whole lot the caravan can do for you. Commit crimes in Oasis Springs and Oasis Springs will own your ass. Depending on the offense that could constitute a fine combined with jail time and or banishment. They don’t typically execute ponies, but ponies here don’t typically commit capital offenses,” at my worried look, she reiterated: “But like I said, I’m not saying you would do anything illegal, just giving you the run of the town.

“You’ll get a stamp card when you report to the Workforce, enchanted little scrap of paper. You hold onto it and get it stamped like the ones I’ve been getting from all the merchants, except you get stamped for completing tasks. Mostly stuff like standing guard duty, cooking meals, helping the merchants, general stuff like that. You can even get a shift in the medical tents.

“Provided you get a certain number of stamps per day, you get to keep your cot warm and your belly full. But if you’re a good for nothing layabout they’ll either charge you to eat or just plain boot your ass out the gate.

“How many stamps do I need to get?” worry slipped back into my voice at the prospect of being kicked out. I’d been hoping to get a break after the past few days, take some down time to relax a little, if these ponies decided to work me to the bone...

“You’ll be fine,” Strap gave a dismissive wave, “it’s not that hard, all you really gotta do is put in eight or so hours of good work. The more ponies on the Workforce the lower the stamp requirement to stay on. Hell, you can even earn caps by going over the minimum requirement, get yourself recognized as an overachiever.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” I thought out loud, “Are you going to be joining the Workforce as well, then?”

“Back in the day, maybe,” Strap replied, “but I’ve got bigger duties now, taking care of supplies and whatnot for the caravan. If Dual Gauge needs me, I can’t have duties to the Workforce get in the way of that,” she turned to me, pre-empting my question, “you on the other hoof, no offense, but you’re just a laymare. Caravan won’t take a hit if your duties are to Oasis Springs for a while.

“You’ll find most of the others on the Workforce, too. Only ponies that really won’t be are Cookie, Gauge, and I. We’ll be busy getting supplies to get the caravan up and running again.”

“I...okay, I guess,” I said, “Suppose I’ll join the Workforce, then.”

“I’ve got a couple minutes, I’ll walk you there.”

“Got another body for you,” Strap said as we approached a mare seated outside the mares’ tent. Sitting back in a chair with a hat over her eyes, she used a hoof to lift it as we approached, “Healthy Skies from Dual Gauge’s caravan.”

“Hi,” I said, raising a hoof in greeting.

The mare gave me a quick up and down with her eyes, “Sure,” she said, sitting up straight and writing something down on a clipboard. That accomplished, she procured a scrap of parchment and hoofed it over, then relaxed back again.

‘That was quick,’ I thought.

“I’ll see you around,” Strap said as I stashed the parchment in my saddlebags.

“See you,” I replied with a soft smile, heading into the tent.

Pushing past the flap, I blinked a few times at the dimmer inside light, taking a moment to look around. The floor was dirt, same as outside, with one large room taking up the entirety of the tent. The heavy tarp was supported by a series of evenly spaced poles rising from the dirt. As Strap had said, a number of mismatched cots were laid out. Many were upright with random assortments of gear and ponies on and around them. Others, all upside down, were vacant of gear and equines.

‘Those are probably the unclaimed ones,’ I reasoned.

Before I could move further in I gave a startled whinny as someone ran headfirst into my hindquarters. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t a good idea to stand right in front of the tent opening.

Turning with an apology on my tongue, I froze as I spotted the mare staring surprised at my wings. Or, more importantly, I froze at the sight of her own wings, half cocked in surprise.

‘Another pegasus!’

“You’re a pegasus!” The pegasus exclaimed, eyes shifting from my wings to my face as a smile split her lips, “Well howdy! Put her there, friend!” The mare extended a hoof, “Name’s High Rise!”

“I...Healthy Skies,” I greeted back, taking the offered hoof.

“Sorry ‘bout runnin’ inta you like that, heh, was in a bit of a hurry,” High Rise smiled, pushing past me and giving me something else to freeze up at, “You new around these parts?”

“I...er, yeah,” I replied, tearing my eyes off her cutie mark...or more specifically the brand that had replaced it, ‘A dashite!’ I thought, ‘Stay calm, stay calm, she’s not going to hurt you...probably,’ “J-just arrived a few days ago...” I continued past my train of thought.

“A newbie, then! C’mon, follow me,” I hesitantly followed as High Rise moved further into the tent, “What they getcha for? Me, it was slander and all the like. Used to be a military mare, but after I seen what the wasteland was really like, well I made like ol’ Deadshot and put the hoof to ‘em!

“They said I could either take the rope or the brand, so I dropped trou, bore flank, and here I am today, heh. Making the wasteland a better place,” she stopped at a cot with a set of mercenary-looking gear. Armored barding, a few guns, and saddlebags that had seen better days.

“That’s, uh, well I hope to do the same...” I said, trailing off for a moment, High Rise waiting expectantly, “I’m a nu...an, I’m a doctor,” I fumbled, eyes darting to her scarred flank as my heart rate started to rise.

“Uh, you okay there, filly?” High Rise raised a brow, following my eyes to her flank, her own drawn to my saddlebags which were covering up my own mark. She took a tentative step to the side, towards an overturned cot, “Say, why don’t you take a load off?”

‘Shit,’ I thought, eyes darting over to the mare’s weapons laying just out of reach, ‘She’s going to see I’m not a dashite! Then what will she do?!’ I could see and hear other ponies in my peripherals, but would any of them step in before it was too late?

“Oh, uh, I’ve actually gotta go!” I countered, backing up. High Rise’s friendly demeanor faded as she matched my steps, “Work to do, y’know!”

“What work you get selected for, Healthy Skies?” Her eyes darted again to my saddlebags.

‘Where’s that darn exit!’ I gave a mental cry, a real yelp escaping me as I bumped into a cot behind me. Stumbling, I half turned to correct myself, taking my eyes off of High Rise. She darted forth as if to help, but then she was beside me, getting a proper look at my cutie mark.

“You ain’t got no brand, no scars!” High Rise huffed, friendly demeanor souring as her ears pinned back, “You really a dashite?”

“I-I never claimed to be…” I countered, taking a quick step back, glancing behind me this time, “You...you kinda just assumed—"

“And what the hell is some Enclave-lover doin’ down below the clouds, hm?” she matched my step, jabbing me in the chest with a wing, “You some kinda spy? Down here to collect intel on us dashites!?”

“What, no! I—" I started to say.

“Hey, Skies!” Somepony called out, drawing my eyes towards the other end of the tent.

‘Flower!’ I heaved a sigh of relief as the patchy-coated mare cantered over with a firm look, eyeballing High Rise with a frown. Behind her, following at a trot, were Axle Grease, Marsh Runner, and Doughy.

“Flower!” I greeted as the mare approached.

“What’s going on here, Skies?” Flower asked, turning to glare at High Rise.

“Y’all colludin’ with an Enclave mare!?” High Rise snorted, feathers ruffling as she eyed the four caravaners who, for their part, fixed the opposing pegasus with spite of their own.

“We’re working with the pony that saved my life!” Flower shot back before turning to me, “C’mon, we grabbed some cots over there for us caravaners.”

“Thanks…” I said, turning quickly before the situation could devolve further.

“Don’t pay her any mind, you’re with the caravan,” Flower reassured me as I gave High Rise a final backward glance, seeing her return to her cot with a glower on her face, “Doesn’t matter whether you’ve got a brand or not.”

“We always try to find a little spot to our own,” Marsh Runner put in as we made our way back and I unloaded my gear by an empty cot, “Even got a spot saved for Rocky when she gets here...”

The mention of Rock Runner took me back to last night, hearing the gunfire from the direction her group had gone. A twinge in my belly drew me back out, and I noticed the rest of the mares seemed similarly affected, all recovering quickly enough from their glazed and antsy expressions. Nopony wanted to relive the hell we’d just been through.

“So, what did you gals get assigned to?” Doughy asked, letting us all breathe easier at the subject change, “Workforce bought a bunch'a potatoes, like real grown in soil potatoes,” my ears perked up at that; soil-grown potatoes were almost a delicacy above the clouds, “Anyways, somepony’s gotta peel 'em all.”

“I got watch team two,” Axle Grease complained.

“Better than team one, our hours suck,” Flower countered with a complaint of her own, “You got team one too, Marshy, right?”

“Yep,” Marsh Runner replied.

“The thing is: I wanted maintenance,” Axle Grease spoke up, “But of course all the lofty jobs are already taken, wish we’d arrived on a Monday, start things off with a new list.”

“At least none of you got latrine duty,” Doughy put in, getting sorry looks from the others, “Figures they go'n give me a cushy job peelin' potatoes followed by a trip to the latrine.”

“Better than the other way around!” Axle Grease laughed, the other wasteland mares joining her.

I added to their merriment with a simple smile of my own, “I have no idea what half of that means,” I admitted as the laughter died down.

“So basically, you’ve got three types of work to perform on the Workforce: menial labor, skilled labor, and guard duty. Menial labor is stuff like cleaning and general tasks,” Flower began to explain.

“Like peelin' potatoes and cleanin' the latrines,” Doughy made a face.

“Skilled labor is pretty much the opposite: performing tasks that only a specialist with job experience can do, fixing broken radios and mending broken limbs.”

My ears perked up, Strap had mentioned I could put my doctoring skills to good use here, “Okay, cool. So where do I sign up for that?”

Axle Grease gave a snort, “It’s not quite that easy, otherwise I’d be running maintenance instead of pulling guard duty on team two. Just because you’ve got the skills doesn’t mean you get the job you want.”

“Yeah, as Axle mentioned just a second ago, it’s Mondays that the jobs get assigned,” Marsh Runner said, poking the mentioned mare with an elbow.

The talk about weekdays threw a wrench in my mental gears for a moment, what day was today? Something as trivial and dumb as counting off days of the week (something I definitely did above the clouds for want of more Fridays) had been entirely forgotten down here in the dirt.

“What day is it?” I asked sheepishly.

“Wednesday,” Flower answered, “Which means all the jobs left are pretty much exclusively menial labor and guard duty. Sometimes you’ll get openings for the better jobs when somepony leaves early, but then there’s a waiting list that gets filled out Monday so even if an opening happens there’s usually someone already waiting to fill it.”

“Yeah, we were scheduled to arrive next next Monday, but…” Axle Grease trailed off, all of us going quiet.

“Okay, well, um, where do I sign up for...whatever’s left?” I put in before any demons could enter my mind, distracting myself and the group.

Flower looked thankful for the second change of subject, “Well—"

“I was wondering if you’d ever show your face again, Axle Grease!” Break Action snarled, zeroing in on the group with eyes burning into the named mare.

‘Uh-oh…’ I thought, taking a step back.

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Axle Grease countered, glaring back at Break Action.

“Yeah! What the heck, Breaky?” Marsh Runner spoke up.

“This nag decided to run out on us all last night and now she comes crawling back to the group when it suits her!” Break Action jabbed an accusatory hoof in the mare’s face.

“Get that hoof outta my face,” Axle Grease bit back, smacking the offending hoof away, “The hell is your problem, we all got here okay!”

“My problem is cowards like you who run at the first sign of trouble!” Break Action growled, taking another step into Axle Grease’s face, jabbing a hoof in my direction, “Even the fucking pegasus has more balls than you! She came back to the group after we sent the ghouls packing!”

“Break Action!” Flower snapped.

“Nothing from you, Flower!” Break Action snapped back with a sideways glare.

“That’s your problem!?” Axle Grease rolled her eyes, “Bitch, please, I—"

Break Action’s hoof was a blur and then Axle Grease was crumpled on the ground, taking out a cot and knocking loose gear across the dirt floor. Her eyes swirled loosely in her head, a startled silence filling the tent as all conversation stopped. The few other mares in the tent turned their gazes towards our group.

“What the hell!” Doughy exclaimed.

“Greasy!” Marsh Runner moved to help the fallen pony.

“Break Action!” Flower snapped, forcing her way between the two mares as I stood uselessly out of the way.

“Don’t you bow up on me!” Break Action growled, butting heads with Flower.

“Hey, stop this!” I called out, taking a step forward.

“You wanna take this outside?” Flower countered, not backing down.

Break Action rewarded her with a sharp headbutt of her own, sending Flower stumbling back. She caught herself on a cot, shaking her head with a low growl and throwing herself back at Break Action. The larger mare braced, but Flower’s horn flashed and one of Break Action’s hooves went out from under her, letting Flower knock her back.

Now it was Break Action that sent a cot tumbling, this one devoid of gear as she stumbled into it. Different from Axle Grease, she was back up and running without a moment’s hesitation, letting out a snarl as she charged back at Flower, who was charging another spell.

Before the two mares could trade any more blows, Marsh Runner thrust her powerful form between them, a flank to each mare. Break Action ran full tilt into the more massive pony, hitting her like a brick wall and dropping back, stunned. At the same time, another telekinetic punch from Flower deflected off Marsh Runner’s opposite flank, barely leaving a scratch.

“Enough!” Marsh Runner called out, looking to be on the verge of tears, “No more fighting! You two need to stop!”

‘That’s what I said!’ I mentally grumbled, but I didn’t have a chance to voice my concerns as somepony else beat me to it.

“What in tarnation’s goin’ on in here!?” I turned to spot a dark blue mare with a wide brimmed hat and a lasso approaching, Dual Gauge ambling along beside with a glare in his eyes, “Y’all look like a bunch of damn bucks all up in fumes over a mare in heat!”

“What the hell are you all doing!?” Dual Gauge growled, glaring between each of us.

“Uh…” I said as Dual Gauge’s eyes focused on me.

“N-nothing, sir. Ma’am,” Flower addressed the two, taking a step back from Marsh Runner and killing her lit horn, “Just a friendly little brawl...wrestle, that’s all.”

“Yeah…” Break Action added, brushing off a shoulder as she stood from her fighting stance. She didn’t meet anyone’s eyes as she added: “Just a little wrestling match.”

Her job complete, Marsh Runner moved back to Axle Grease, “You okay?” She spoke quietly, urging the stunned mare to her hooves.

“Don’t look like a lotta nothin’ to me,” the blue mare countered, “Who’s the one beatin’ on that there mare?”

“No one, it’s—" Flower started.

“Errant strike from me,” Break Action cut in, getting a glare from Axle Grease, “Accidental.”

“That so?” the blue mare turned to Axle Grease, who looked between Break Action and Flower.

She kept her lips pursed for a moment, still seated in the dirt where she’d landed, but after a moment let out a simple: “Yeah, sure.”

“Skies?” I flinched as Dual Gauge called me out, all eyes finding me. A sudden unease flickered across Break Action’s face, unseen by the others.

“She…” I started, ready to throw the mare under the clouds. She'd assaulted Axle Grease, it didn’t matter that the others were trying to protect her, her actions were inexcusable! But a pinch in my belly stopped me as I winced; drawn back away from my thoughts and finding all eyes on me, I continued: “Y-yeah, it was an accident.” Break Action’s sides deflated a little as she let out a silent breath, Axle Grease touching a hoof to her injured eye.

‘Hello!’ I mentally kicked myself as I hopped over to the injured mare, ‘Paging doctor Skies, get your butt in gear!’

“I’m fine, thanks,” Axle Grease winced as I looked over her face. The skin around her left eye was starting to bruise, a small abrasion above the eyelid weeping blood. There’d be swelling galore, but there wasn’t any blood in the eye, no subconjunctival hemorrhaging so that was good.

“Could we get some ice?” I asked, turning to the blue mare and Dual Gauge, “Or a cold pack, something for the swelling?”

“Where you from, filly?” The mare snorted at the idea, “Ain’t no ice in the wasteland, lest you go up north towards Poneva and the like.”

“We’re getting off topic,” Dual Gauge took the reins of the conversation, “Wrangler’s heard my side of the story, she wants to hear from everypony else. I know this…” his stone face cracked for a moment, “this was hard on everypony, just...try to recall all you can, okay?” Exchanging uneasy looks, we nodded all the same, “Skies, join me for a second?”

“I, er, sure…” I said, following as the blue mare, Wrangler, started asking the rest of the mares questions.

Dual Gauge led us out of the tent before turning to me, “What the hell happened in there!?” He growled, though his gray eyes weren’t angry with me. When I opened my mouth to speak, he added: “And don’t give me that ‘it was an accident’ bullshit. I’m old, not stupid.”

“Oh...well, y-you know how Break Action was maybe kinda mad at Axle Grease?” At his unyielding frown, I continued, “Axle Grease and Marrowbone ran off to Oasis Springs after we led the ghouls off, Break Action and I returned to the caravan, she was upset.”

“All right. So what just happened in there?”

“Break Action came in angry, they exchanged harsh words and Break Action hit Axle Grease in the face…” I answered, trailing off as uncertainty laced my voice, “Flower got in her face and they got into a fight, Marsh Runner stopped them...that’s it.”

“Haven’t we all been through enough!?” Dual Gauge growled to himself, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing the bridge of his snout with a hoof. He let out a sigh, “I don’t know, everything...we just need to get back on our hooves. Thanks, Skies, go give Wrangler your side of the story.”

“I…” I started, blood splashing across my mind’s eye, “O-okay…”

I dreaded the idea of delving back into my memories, but as Dual Gauge trotted off I forced myself back into the mares’ tent and over to where the group was waiting. It seemed that Wrangler was getting everyone’s side of the story at once, everypony speaking in turn.

I tried not to think about everything, putting in a comment here or there, glossing over...High Brass gurgled, the shotgun roared in my ears, High Brass was quiet…those parts. Eventually the story led to our arrival at Oasis Springs and after a few questions Wrangler was finished.

“So, an Enclave mare, and pregnant to boot,” Wrangler spoke up after her final querying, drawing my eyes to her own flinty pair, “Not sure I’ve ever seen a pegasus with their cutie mark still intact, wasn’t fully sure you folk still had them.”

“We, uh, we do,” I assured her with a small smile, “and I am...pregnant, that is.”

“Figured, you keep wincing like you got a bloatsprite nippin’ at a teat,” she said, almost nostalgic, “Whatever enticed you on down here?”

“Well, they would’ve made me abort the foal if I stayed above the clouds,” I replied, giving my belly a quick rub, “They’re very strict on population control,” my eyes briefly darted to High Rise, who I found glaring at me from across the tent; the other mares in the tent had turned back to their own worries.

“Some would call you stupid for that,” Wrangler said, making my heart sink a little bit, “Others would say you got grit for it. It’s not easy foalin’ down here, I’ve done my fair share. Fillies and colts are just as like to live as to die in their first years, it’s just the nature of things. Many a mare would sow herself shut or keep a coat hanger in her saddlebags, but we mighty few that bear the burden? We got grit.” She finished, giving me a smile and a pat on the shoulder, making me feel just a little bit better about myself before she headed out.

The ensuing silence only lasted until Wrangler was out of the tent, Flower turning sharply to Break Action.

“You done?” She demanded, glaring at the opposing mare.

“Hey,” Break Action didn’t butt heads this time, raising a forehoof in a sign of peace, “I let that shit get to my head, shouldn’t have let it get carried away. If Axle hadn’t called me a bitch I probably wouldn’t have swung.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of an apology…” Axle Grease put in with a glare.

“Yeah?” Break Action countered, turning to the mare but keeping her distance, “Well don’t hold your breath on getting one. You still ran off when you should’ve returned to the caravan!”

“Your uppity ass would be marching to the brig if not for us lying for you,” Flower glowered in response, “Only reason you’re not is because nopony here’s a blue falcon,” she gave an encompassing gesture to the rest of us, “And, in case you hadn’t noticed, we’re a little short on warm bodies, so maybe keep your grudges private until we can settle them on the dusty trail.”

“Fine by me,” Break Action trotted to a cot on the far side of those that had been requisitioned, depositing most of her gear and heading off with a backwards glance, “See you ladies around, then!” Her eyes lingered on my suddenly uncomfortable form, an unreadable look in her eyes.

“Well, I’m gonna to go get started on those potatoes,” Doughy excused herself from the group, ending the silence that Break Action had left in her wake.

“Yeah,” Flower said, squinting at the dim light above, “Probably getting near the start of our first shift, Marshy. We’re still twelve and balls, right?”

Marsh Runner snorted, “You steel ranger types and your funny lingo, twelve and twelve, yep.”

“Twenty four hour clocks are easier to read than twelve hour ones,” Flower replied, the two departing. That just left Axle Grease and me in our little corner.

The other mare hopped up onto her cot, touching her eye with a wince before settling in.

“You want me to get you something for that?” I asked, trotting over.

“Nah, it’s fine, doc,” Axle Grease waved me off with a quick grin, “Unless you wanna fly out to Poneva and grab me an ice pack.”

“I’d probably just get lost,” I replied with a quick smile and a shake of my head, “Hey, quick question, though?”

“Shoot,” Axle Grease said from the bed.

“Where exactly do I sign up to get a job?”

“You too, huh?” Doughy asked as I came trudging in to the side tent that served as a kitchen, looking around. Unlike the two carnival-sized tents for mares and stallions, the kitchen tent was smaller and more compact with an open roof to let the smoke out. There were a number of other ponies within, stoking large fire pits and stirring great bowls that smelled nothing short of amazing to my basic pegasus palette.

“Yep,” I sighed, plopping down next to her, “I asked about a medical position, but they were all filled up. Since I didn’t have any real fighting experience they said the only thing they could give me was this.”

“Yep, go figure,” Doughy said as I took a seat next to her, picking up a peeler and a potato, a real potato! “Here, go like this,” she set a potato down on one end in a small dish then made quick work of it using long strokes. Rolling the oblong orb of deliciousness onto its side, she peeled the top and bottom, “Done.”

While slower and less deft, I started working off the skin of my own potato.

“Yeesh, you make it look easy!” I muttered once I’d finished, Doughy having already peeled three more.

“Practice makes perfect!” Doughy singsonged. Though it probably helped that she had magic.

“How do you even grow stuff down here?” I asked, “I mean, I get that not everything they told us in school is true, but everything I’ve seen has been a barren wasteland.”

“It’s not easy…” Doughy began before a queer look took her features, “Wait, what do they teach you in school?”

“That the land beneath the clouds is all radioactive...like, melt your face off radioactive,” I felt a little embarrassed as I said that, first-hoof knowledge providing contradicting evidence to what I’d been taught, “And that everything down here that’s still alive would chase you down and eat you, made raiders sound like breezies by comparison.”

Doughy let out a snort of laughter, “Geez, and I thought my schoolin' was bad.”

“I mean, the government doesn’t let us go down below the clouds,” I felt compelled to defend my people, “It’s not like anyone can come down here and check to see if what they tell us is true.”

“I guess,” Doughy gave a shrug, returning her attention to a potato, “Anyways, I’m not the best to ask about crops and whatnot, I can cook, not reap and sow.” She looked up for a moment, eyes locking on a white buck, “Hey, potato dude! What’d you say your name was?”

“Bronco,” he answered, trotting over to us with a quick smile. I tensed as his eyes found my wings, but he seemed to take it in stride, “How can I help you?”

“My friend here was wonderin' how ya go about growin' potatoes in the wasteland?” Doughy spoke, peeling potatoes all the while, “Now that I think about it, consider me curious as well.”

“Sorry ladies, but that’s a well-kept family secret. Me and my fathers before me have kept it ever since my old great, great-something or other grandsire came out of a stable with a go-get-em attitude and a cartload of stabletech brand potatoes!” Bronco grinned for a moment as I exchanged a look with Doughy, then he gave a quick snort of laughter, “Nah, I’m just messing with you mares.

“If I’m being realistic, potatoes are pretty forgiving and rather hardy crops. All you really gotta do is find a spot that’s not all glowing with radiation and start planting. No seeds, you just stick them in the ground and give them clean water,” he pondered a moment, “Good idea to monitor any rain you get, could be magical radiation in that. If so, a little radaway mixed with clean water can do wonders; maybe add some fertilizer if you’re able, to get a bigger yield.”

“Huh,” Doughy said, “Maybe I shoulda' been a potato farmer.”

“It’s never too late to start!” Bronco grinned, giving a nod and trotting off.

“When you think about it, it makes sense,” I said, focusing back on my potato peeling, “That everything’s not radioactive and all, it’s not like the Zebras could’ve hit everywhere with balefire.”

A hooffull of potatoes later and there were no more potatoes to peel. There were still a couple baskets left, but those ones were for baking; the ones we had peeled would be mashed or fried, the potato skins as well. The thought of food brought a rumble from my stomach, and not a moment too soon!

“All righty, folks!” A grizzled, old buck called out as Doughy and I finished moving our baskets. He limped into the tent and took a seat at a table, getting out a stamp, “Shift’s over, come’n get your stamps!”

“Easy day,” Doughy grinned as we got into the quickly forming line.

‘It sure seems that way,’ I thought with a smile of my own. This workforce thing wasn’t all that bad after all!

“Next!” The grizzled buck called me forwards, sending another pony off with a stamp. His old eyes squinted at me, a permanent scowl affixed to his jowls out of which an old-looking pipe protruded, “What were you up and about doin’? Don’t know your face, filly.”

“Peeling potatoes,” I answered, pointing back with a wing, “I just got assigned to the kitchen today.”

“How many of them potatoes you peel?” The stamp clutched in his magic remained in its inkwell, the fact it hadn’t risen and struck my slip of paper starting to worry me. I’d done my part, put in the effort like Strap said I should do...would the fact I was a pegasus bite me in the proverbial ass again?

“Uh, I dunno, I wasn’t counting, ten or fifteen maybe?” I said.

“What in—only a hooffull?! And you think you deserve a stamp for that!?” the buck snarled, almost recoiling as if my words carried a foul stench.

“What? Of course!” I exclaimed, my heart rate rising, ‘Strap said it was easy to get stamps!’ “I-I got here late!”

“And you showed up late!?” I tried to interject but he cut me off, “Zip it and move along! No work, no stamp!”

“But I—"

“No buts!” He slammed a hoof down on the table, “Now move along!”

“Oh, just give her a stamp, will ya!” Doughy spoke up from behind me, “She did her fair share, got picked late to join this rotation! It’s not her fault!”

“Oh, so you want me to give her your stamp then?” The buck growled past me, rising from his seat at the table, “Or better yet, give neither of you nothing!”

I turned my worried gaze to Doughy behind me, seeing her hard glare falter. Her eyes darted briefly to mine before she let out a sigh and closed her mouth, looking away. At least she’d tried.

“That’s what I thought,” the buck settled back down in his seat and turned his glare back to me, “Now move along!”

“At least I’ve got some caps,” I reassured my grumbling stomach, “I’ll just buy some food.”

It grumbled at me again as I stood in line, the smell of baked potatoes only inflaming my hunger. It was all I could do to wait my turn, shuffling along as ponies presented their stamped work slips and were given their grub. Soon enough, I had my turn.

“Next,” the serving pony fixed his one good eye on me, “Show me your stamp.”

“I didn’t get one, how many caps—" I started to say.

“No stamp, no food,” he interjected plainly, “If you’re payin’, ya wait till the workers get their grub!”

“But I—" I started to say.

“Ain’t no buts, neither,” he jerked his head to one side, “Now move along, will ya?”

I held my ground a few moments longer, but was forced to concede by the grumbling of ponies in line behind me. I already had one enemy in the crowd, I had to admit I didn’t need any more.

My stomach gave me a forlorn gurgle as I took a seat at one of the tables, laying my head atop my hooves and closing my eyes. At the very least I could get some rest and I had enough caps to pay for a meal, hopefully there was something left by the time everyone else had eaten.

Sitting there, feeling sore with my eyes closed...what I wouldn’t give for a nice hot soak in the tub or a massage from—

Bang!

I jerked upright at the sound of metal striking metal, spotting Break Action seating herself across from me. Her double-barreled shotgun leaned up against the table beside her, the culprit in the case of the sudden noise.

“Sorry…” she muttered quickly, “Dropped it a little fast.”

“No problem,” I replied, laying my head back down. The apology, halting as it was, was strange coming from the mare, ‘Suppose me not ratting her out gets me some sympathy or whatever.’

Before I could close my eyes I was drawn up to Break Action’s own cool blue pair. She was staring at me, an uncertain crease in her brow like I’d asked her what sound different colors made. Did she expect me to get up and leave or something?

“Why’d you side with me?” She asked as the silence between us became palpable, “That fight between me and Flower. I’ll admit, when Dual Gauge asked you what happened, I about near shit myself.”

‘Thanks for that mental image,’ I mentally gagged, remembering after a moment that she was expecting a verbal response from me.

A stupid: “Uh…” was all I managed in the heat of the moment, caught off guard by the direct question, “I...um, you’re, well, you’re part of the caravan,” I managed to speak.

“So? Not like you’re a full-time member,” Break Action countered.

“Okay, first off: screw you, yes I am! Officially, I might add!” I replied with a sharp air-jab of my hoof, “Second...well, yeah, like I just said, I am an official member of Dual Gauge’s caravan!”

“Wait, what?” Break Action seemed genuinely surprised, raising a suspicious brow, “Since when?”

“Since the caravan heads voted me in, right after…” dessicated, rotting bodies snarling and snapping at the air, eyes wild with the desire to tear flesh from bone, “after that buck and dash thing. One of the runners OD’ed and I brought him back, then convinced Red Mist to take his place and pull the wagon to safety!”

“Oh…” she relented, pausing for a moment, “That still doesn’t explain why you helped me out back there...I hate your guts!” Break Action searched my eyes for a moment, “They would’ve thrown me in jail if they knew…” she stopped herself, casting a quick glance around the room, “Well, you know…”

I opened my mouth to give a matter-of-fact response, but promptly shut it when nothing came. Why had I stood with Break Action?

Flower had given me a look, wanting me to stick with her story, but was it really that simple? If it had been Flower’s butt on the line the answer would be that simple, she was my friend and I stood up for my friends. But I had no loyalties to Break Action, no reason to lie for her. I could’ve ratted her out and slept sound as ever without a care in the world.

Ever since I’d run into Dual Gauge’s group, she’d been a grade-A bitch. Hay, many of the caps I’d earned were compensation from her and Rusty Ratchet! It would’ve served her right to cool off in a jail cell.

So why had I stuck with Flower and helped keep Break Action out of trouble? Why did she deserve my mercy?

And suddenly I had my answer.

“A couple nights ago, after you and your husband accosted me, I talked with High Brass…” biting, choking, blood, death, “I was upset, reasonably so,” I continued, getting a mildly uncomfortable look from Break Action, “And he...well, he sorta defended your actions. Said you were down on your luck, trying to get back your footing, what it ultimately boiled down to was that you were good ponies, just troubled. We became friends on that night, and then...then I couldn’t save him when the ghouls attacked...

“Don’t get me wrong, I considered telling the truth about the fight, hell, I wanted to...but maybe High Brass was right, and if he was then maybe, just maybe, I can honor his memory by thinking like he did.”

Break Action stared at me a few moments longer, eyes searching mine with a half-hearted glare. More and more I wanted to slip out of my seat and retreat back to my cot, but eventually the mare sighed, looking away.

“Here,” she pushed a second baked potato across the table to me, quickly like it might bite her if she kept it any longer, “I...I don’t mean to be inconsiderate or anything, and I know from experience a pregnant mare shouldn’t skip meals...trust me on that.”

“I...wow, thanks!” I exclaimed, stomach giving an eager gurgle.

“You’re...you’re welcome,” the words came, but not easily, her eyes darting everywhere but towards me, “I um...I...owe you an—"

“Apology accepted,” I preempted her awkward speech, earning a grateful, if somewhat embarrassed, grin.

“I don’t do that very often…” Break Action smiled, the two of us finishing our meals in silence. The potato was wonderful and warm, my delighted mastications getting me a couple odd looks from the other mare.

“I should probably get back to the kitchens, see if they need anything else done so I can maybe get a stamp today,” I excused myself once I’d finished, standing from the table and collecting my trash.

“Y’know…” Break Action stopped me, “if you’re not doing so hot in the kitchens I could...I could maybe have you tag along as a defender on the wall...with me.”

“I appreciate the thought,” I pushed back images and sounds from the past few days, ears twitching at a sudden bout of tinnitus, “But I’m not really all that familiar with guns.”

“So? If I’m being honest, most of the ponies up on the wall couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn from the inside,” Break Action gave a snort, “Most of it’s just being visible to deter aggressors. Besides, firearms aren’t all that hard to get the hang of...I could help you if you wanted...”

“I...” I started, about to turn down the offer, but then I was fighting High Brass’ shotgun as the crippled ghoul closed in on me, wasting precious time I could have used trying to save him. Tears stung my eyes as Leather Strap’s words reverberated through my head: ‘He’s dead because you weren’t fast enough and now you gotta live with that!’

“You...are you...okay?” Break Action brought me back from the memory and I realized the tears were very much real as they ran down my face, “I...if you don’t want—"

“No, no, sorry, I do,” I said quickly, wiping away the tears with a wing, “It’s all just, just...emotions...pregnancy,” I fumbled for an excuse, trying to play it all off with a smile, “But yes, I could definitely do with some firearms training.”

I had a feeling Break Action didn’t entirely buy what I was trying to sell, but after a moment she seemed to swallow it nonetheless.

“All right,” she said, “Go grab that shotgun of yours and any ammo you got, meet me at the backside of the mare’s tent. Not gonna do any actual shooting, we’d have to go outside the walls for that and after all we’ve been through I’d rather not leave town alone, so I’ll just give you the basics.”

“Okay,” I nodded, “See you there.”

Fortunately, High Rise (and most everyone else) was gone from the mare’s tent and I was able to retrieve the shotgun and bandolier of ammo without issue. It was heavier than it looked, and tugged at uncomfortable memories just as its sling tugged at my withers.

Break Action was waiting for me out around the back of the mare’s tent. There were a hooffull of old wooden tables scattered about with a lonely fire barrel bereft of flames. Her own shotgun was leaning against one of the tables.

“Lemme see that,” she gestured for my shotgun as I approached. I slid it awkwardly up and over my head with my wings and offered it forth, “Okay, what’ve we got here?” Break Action’s eyes danced over the weapon as she took a seat at one of the tables and set it down. At her quick gesture I took a spot opposite her.

“Hoofberg five-ninety, eighteen inch barrel with cylinder choke, seven round tube,” she actuated the small button that had saved my life...before and moved the pump back a short distance before locking it back forwards, “Oughta get yourself a stock, unicorns don’t really need them but they’re almost a requirement if you don’t have a horn.”

“Okay, where can I get one?” I asked.

“Marketplace, I’d check and make sure Dual Gauge doesn’t have one first though,” she considered a moment, “Though that ship probably sailed when we left all our goods behind. Most of the guns and ammo went with Dynamite’s group. Anyways...” she laid the shotgun out before me, shifting her eyes to mine, “Is it loaded?”

“Uh...maybe?” looking at the weapon, I didn’t actually know. I hadn’t checked since Dual Gauge had hoofed it over to me, “Didn’t you check?”

“I know, but do you know? Yes or no?” Break Action’s voice was firm, but not condescending or angry, “Is it loaded or not?”

“No…” I gave her my best guess.

“First rule of firearm safety: all weapons are always loaded until you personally verify they aren’t. If someone gives you a gun, it’s loaded until you unload it,” taking the weapon in her hooves, she pulled the pump back with a sharp clack, “That leads into rule number two: muzzle awareness,” she paused at my querying expression, setting the weapon back down and tapping the end of the barrel, “The muzzle, that’s the end of the barrel.”

“Got it.”

“Basically: always know where your weapon is pointed, should go without saying that you never want to point at something you don’t want to destroy. Think of it like a ‘you break it you buy it’ sorta deal, except you could kill a friend if you’re not careful. Foals have shot mothers and mothers their foals because they weren’t following this rule.

“Third rule: keep your mouth, magic, and…” she glanced at my folded wings, “Well, wings if you can use those, I guess, off the trigger until you’re ready to shoot. Never rely on a manual safety,” she tapped one of the buttons near the mouthgrip and I marked it as the safety button in my mind, “The best safety you’ve got is the one between your ears. Think you can handle all that?”

“Seems simple enough,” I said, putting her words to memory.

“Good,” Break Action nodded, “Now, is this gun loaded?”

“Yes.”

“Slide release,” I indicated the button, moving my wing over, “Safety. Trigger, obviously,” my wing moved again.

“Check if it’s loaded,” Break Action gestured with a hoof.

With my left hoof still in the pump’s loop, I depressed the slide release and opened the action. Guiding the weapon so the barrel didn’t sweep across Break Action, I turned it over to check the breech, feed ramp, and tube. All three were empty.

“Not loaded,” I confirmed, a proud little smile on my face.

“Good,” Break Action gave me a smile and a nod before her features settled and her tone grew serious, “Now, like I said before, I’d recommend keeping the tube loaded and chamber empty inside towns, provided they allow it. Oasis Springs will, some other places won’t.

“Once we hit the open road top it off and keep the safety on until you’re more familiar with the weapon. Seen too many folks lose a hoof or a friend because they weren’t following rules two and three.”

“Thanks again for all this,” I said, closing the action and slinging it across my withers. It was still heavy, and still tugged at my darker memories, but it rested more comfortably now that I had the basics down.

“Yeah, don’t mention it…” Break Action seemed uncomfortable with the gratitude, “So, if you’re still up for it I could get you a spot on the wall with me.”

“Sure,” I sent a soft scowl back towards the kitchen tent, a thin tendril of smoke rising from the central vent, “Can’t be worse than working in the kitchens. How does it work?”

“All right,” Break Action said, “Way it works is simple: I’m on team three. We do two four hour shifts, one starts at eight AM, the other at eight PM. Time in-between is for rest and relaxation, just can’t show up to the shift all boozy. Like I said before, the brunt of the work is being visible. If you do spot something fishy call it out and get more gun sights on it,” she squinted up towards the cloud curtain, eyes tracing across the great, gray expanse, “Team one should be settled in now, got us a good seven hours till we need to be up on the wall. Just be at the mare’s tent around seven or so, I’ll get you signed up.”

“How do you guys tell time down here?” I asked, staring upwards in an effort to glean some way of telling the sun’s position. Perhaps I should’ve grabbed a watch before I flew down here.

Break Action shrugged, “Guess it comes with being a wastelander. Should be a clock in the mare’s tent, otherwise there’s one in the town center. You’ll see more armed folks get active around the time of shift changes.”

“I guess I’ll keep an eye out, then.”

Break Action nodded, “See you around, Healthy Skies.”

My first thought on how to spend the seven hours between now and the next watch rotation was with some well deserved rest. I’d only gotten a little sleep yesterday and that had been in a bumpy wagon after we’d outrun the ghouls. But I’d already gotten my second wind. At best all I’d get would be a couple hour power nap before my body refused to let me rest up any further.

My shotgun had a more comfortable weight to it now, but I felt that Break Action’s recommendation to get a buttstock had some merit. As it was now I could only brace the weapon with my teeth and a foreleg; a brief ring of tinnitus reminded me how the weapon had kicked me in the teeth the first time I’d fired it...the jaws of the ghoul chomping at the barrel, wild eyes…I grit my teeth, squeezing my eyes shut to kill the memory.

At the very least I could go window shopping to better distract myself and get a better layout of the town. We might be here a while, after all. So it was that I found myself sniffing out the pungent smells of the marketplace, switching to my eyes and ears once I arrived as I looked around for a weapon trader.

Lunchtime had emptied out most of the stalls selling non-edible wares, ponies crowding around those dishing out meals. Fortunately, asking for directions led me to a squat shack with a large sign above the door.

‘Gun Deelers Gun Deels’ the sign read, making me squint and frown at the grammar.

Trying not to lose too many brain cells looking at the sign, I entered the shack and squinted in the sudden darkness until my eyes adjusted. Before that happened, my ears picked up quiet music coming from a radio on the back counter, laced with static from a bad speaker. It had a slow beat with a country twang to it, not really my kind of music, but the first I’d heard in the wasteland.

“Picking up? Dropping off?” I jumped as an earth pony’s smiling face popped up from behind the countertop, his bright eyes alighting to my shotgun.

“Er...what?” I asked, unruffling my spooked feathers and trotting over.

“I offer firearm cleaning and maintenance services, no energy weapons,” he waved a hoof horizontally to emphasize that point, “If it’s all nasty and filled with carbon build-up, lead fouling, or any other undesirable substance, I can get it nice, bright, shiny, and new,” he smiled big, yellow teeth on bright display, “For a price, of course.”

“Oh, no. No thanks,” I patted the shotgun with a wing, “I was just looking to get a stock for my shotgun.”

“Sure, bring ‘er here,” the pony gestured, leaning forwards over the counter, “Lemme get a look at’cha.”

Unslinging the weapon a little awkwardly, I managed to get it into a wing. Before I realized it, the weapon was pointed at the buck’s face.

“Hey, watch your muzzle there, sweetheart!” he hopped to one side, tone not quite taking on an angry note.

“Sorry! Sorry!” I quickly apologized, jerking the gun upright, “Still getting the hang of this…”

“It’s okay. No harm, no foul,” he checked if it was loaded (it wasn’t) before turning it this way and that in his hooves, “Hmm, hmm, hoofberg twelve gauge, pre-war by the look of it,” he racked the action a few times, ears cocked, “Somebody’s kept this fine little lady in excellent condition.”

“So do you have a stock for it?” I asked.

“Sure do,” he set the weapon on the table, “Wood, metal, or plastic? Need it to be a folding stock? Collapsible?”

“Uh…” I trailed off, “What are the differences?”

Another big grin split the buck’s face, “Well wood’s your starting point, solid, hardy, but not super comfortable without a decent buttplate. Metal, if it’s good metal, is gonna vary from stock to stock. Some are heavier, some are lighter, some fold, some don’t, most aren’t built for comfort. Collapsible stocks usually make use of a metal tube and a plastic stock, best of both worlds. Pure plastic’s gonna be your lightest and most comfortable option, won’t warp or rust due to weather but also the least durable under most circumstances.”

“Okay, I guess maybe a regular plastic one?” I still wasn’t entirely sure, “What would you recommend for a newer shooter?”

“You hit it on the money, little lady,” he clopped a hoof on the counter for emphasis, “Someone like you’s probably not gonna be knocking on skulls or kicking in doors. You’ll want a lighter gun, if you’ve got caps to spend a collapsible’s your best bet, but no reason you can’t fall in love with a nice plastic stock.”

“Okay, cool,” I smiled, happy that I wasn’t totally flapping up the wrong storm, though I secretly dreaded the answer to my next question, “What’ll that cost me?”

“Pretty mare like you?” He considered a moment, “Twenty two caps gets you the stock, installation’s free. That includes the new customer discount, of course. Always looking to make new acquaintances from across this here countertop. I can get that stock on there in a jiffy.”

“Sure, that sounds good,” New customer discount and free installation did sound good. I watched him nod and disappear into the back with my shotgun clutched in his maw. Only once he was gone did I begin to wonder if I’d just been swindled. Was twenty-two caps a lot for a shotgun stock? Should I have tried to barter down to twenty? Nineteen? He was installing it so that was a definite bonus, but…

“Urgh,” I grumbled, wasteland economics was no joke. If I stood here letting myself get buyer’s remorse I’d find myself down yet another mental hole I didn’t want to linger in.

Seeking a distraction, I found myself inexplicably drawn to the old radio.

“I wonder,” I thought out loud, using a wing to twist the tuning dial. The twangy music turned to static, catching one or two stations I ignored along the way, before the needle settled at a local station I knew from Nimbus. It was saturated with static, but the music was familiar enough that I knew a popular song was ending.

“That was Dancing With You in the Skies,” a mare’s voice came through, equally staticy but still understandable, “And now a break for the news…”

“It’s been almost a week since the disappearance of local mare Healthy Skies…” instantly I felt goosebumps prickle up the back of my neck, a sudden pinch in my belly not helping my suddenly weighted guts, “Authorities are still in the early stages of an investigation into her disappearance, but foul play is not suspected at this time.

“Ms. Skies was last seen at her home right here in midtown Nimbus, where friends and family describe her as a nice, young mare with her head square on her withers and a solid future ahead of her...”

‘Well at least that’s nice,’ I thought, absentmindedly rubbing my belly with a hoof. My whole body froze at the sound of the next speaker’s voice.

“Skies, honey, wherever you are, whatever it is you may have done, please, please come home!” My mother begged through the radio. Static or no, I could see the tormented tears in her eyes, the anguish on her face, “We miss you and you know we’ll always love you, so please just come home!”

“The voice of Skies’ mother—" I hardly saw the radio as I twisted the dial, banishing the station back into staticy oblivion. I choked down a sob, vision blurred by the tears welling in my eyes.

I had hurt her, I was hurting her. I’d up and left without a trace, no goodbye, no note, nothing but my buckfriend tied to the bed. For all she knew I was dead, beyond reaching, stolen away by dashites to be dragged to the surface and liquified. Her little filly was gone and no one knew where she was but me.

But there was nothing I could do.

But I could.

“Uh...miss?”

The worried voice cemented me back in reality, blurry vision turning to see the buck standing in the door to the back room. I quickly wiped away my tears, seeking to regain my composure.

“Sorry, I...it’s just been a long day…couple of days,” Now that they were no longer filled with tears, my eyes found my new and improved weapon. True to his word, the buck had attached a...while it wasn’t brand new (though down here, what was?) it was a solid-looking stock. Partly to distract myself and partly because I didn’t like thinking of him as just ‘the buck’ I asked, “What’s your name, by the way?”

“No need to apologize,” He replied, continuing with a little bit of eccentric bravado, “And I’m Gun Dealer. Gun Dealer of Gun Deeler’s Gun Deels like the sign says.”

“Healthy Skies,” I introduced myself, taking the offered shotgun and looking it over, “May I ask: is it spelled like the sign?”

“Nah,” Dealer replied with a waved hoof, “Had a discount on the ‘E’s.” He was suddenly back to business as if he hadn’t just found me crying in his shop, “Give her a feel, bring her to your shoulder. I can add some spacers if the length of pull ain’t right.”

I wasn’t sure what that was, but I shouldered the weapon all the same. It wobbled less now that I had a third point of contact with my shoulder, feeling a lot more solid than before.

“Thanks,” I said after slinging the weapon back over my withers, trying not to wince as I saw a fifth of my wealth disappear across the countertop. As I turned to leave a sudden thought crossed my mind, “Hey, is there any place I can go to and relax a little around here?”

“Well, what kinda relax?” Dealer asked.

“Nothing involving alcohol,” I tried not to wince at the pinch in my belly, “Or narcotics, nothing of that nature.”

“Who would’ve thought…” I stared up at the sign for the building nestled up against Oasis Spring’s large plateau.

‘Aloe’s Flows Day Spa’

“A spa in the post-apocalypse,” I thought out loud, ‘Hay, that should be their slogan!’

To see if my eyes were deceiving me I made my way inside, a soft bell chiming as the door opened and closed behind me. The reception room was wide with a hooffull of doors leading out the back; it still had the typical ramshackle look though it appeared someone had tried to recreate a pre-war design if old picture books were to be believed. Outside of some movement I heard coming from behind a long counter the room was empty.

“I’ll be with you in a second!” A raspy voice came from behind the counter.

‘Somepony with a cold?’ I wondered, suddenly not sure I wanted to have a spa day here.

My fears of catching ill were put to rest as the creature behind the counter stood up. It didn’t sound raspy on account of a cold, the creature was a ghoul!

I literally jumped, my nostrils filling with rotten meat, ears with the snarls and snaps of their wicked jaws. Any second the creature would leap across the counter, teeth sinking into my flesh as it smiled and said, “Hello, my dear! How can I help you today?”

My brain locked up.

“Um...hello?” The ghoul asked in a strange accent, a worried expression spreading across its face. A face I now realized bore two eyes that sparkled with intelligence. The flesh upon it wasn’t nearly as rotten as that of the beasts that had chased down our caravan. A sudden realization dawned on me with a memory of Dual Gauge.

“Not all ghouls are feral,” Dual Gauge had said, “Some of them still have every ounce of wit and humor they had back before they up and became amortal.”

“Are you quite all right?” Now that my brain was starting to process signals again, I detected a slight feminine tone to the ghoul’s voice.

“Um…uh...” Yes, those were words, “Hi.”

“Are you here to use the spa?” The ghoul prompted.

“Yes,” I took a moment to smooth my ruffled feathers, “Sorry, I...it’s been a couple of really long days.”

Screaming in my ears, gunpowder in the air, blood on my hooves. My comment was an understatement.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry to hear that,” Her face brightened up, “But not to fear! Aloe’s Flows Day Spa is the perfect place to rest and relax for a spell. I’m the owner, Aloe. I take it you’re a new customer?”

“Yes,” I said again, not helping the image of idiocy that I was surely painting around myself. Stepping up to the counter, I continued, “What, er...services do you offer?”

Aloe’s smile brightened, yellowing teeth showing past leathery lips before she dipped beneath the counter. I suppressed a shiver as I saw those teeth chomping into my flesh in my mind’s eye.

Aloe popped back up, placing a small flier on the counter from her mouth, “We have a variety of offerings.” Her cracked hoof guided me down their listings. Everything from basic showers and baths to massages, hooficures, and, “Horn filings,” Aloe’s bright demeanor faltered as she looked at my hornless forehead, “Er, perhaps you wouldn’t be interested in that last one.”

My eyes danced over the prices, there was everything from basic shower use for a couple caps to the deluxe monthly membership for a few hundred (Wow!). I traced back up into the double digits; I didn’t want to blow the rest of my caps in one place but now that I was here the aches and pains from my past few days on the ground were making themselves apparent.

I eventually settled on the daytime deluxe package, which only cost a whopping twenty five caps (more than my brand new shotgun stock!). However, my buyer’s remorse was quickly forgotten as I felt my body slide with nearly sensuous pleasure into one of the hot baths in the back.

The warm shower when I’d arrived in Oasis Springs had been nice, but I was unable to subdue the contented sigh that the hot water’s embrace elicited from me. I could almost feel the just-tolerable heat sink into my bones, soaking up and soothing all the aches and pains therein.

My muscles had started to melt by the time the heat became unbearable, but then I was belly down letting a unicorn mare work a mixture of well-trimmed hooves and well honed magic down my back. Tight knots and sore spots were sought out with laser-guided precision and exterminated with extreme prejudice.

Once I was sure I had transcended into a liquid form I was astounded how much dirt and grime a new pair of mares managed to get out from my hooves. Then my nails were filed and trimmed, smoothed down to perfection from the cracked and gnarly things that the earthen ground had done to them. I cringed at the idea of setting them back down on the ground ever again.

But alas, to finish the blissful gauntlet I had to make my way to the sauna, resting my thoroughly rejuvenated body on one of the benches as steam wrapped around me like a warm blanket. Here I rested, breathing in the hot, cleansing humidity for untold eons of time.

One thing the spa hadn’t managed to do was give me a good preening, but that was fine. I was picky when it came to my wings and my preening kit sufficed in helping me keep my wings in tip-top shape as I lay on my cot in the mare’s tent.

As blasphemous as it felt I did finally trot out of the spa, making my way back here. My stomach had gurgled and I’d fed it a can of bland pegasus beans, likely having missed dinner during my trip to the spa. I still didn’t have any stamps so it hardly mattered anyways.

True to her word, Break Action did come find me when it was time to take up our posts. We joined a large group out behind the stallion’s tent, names were called (mine included) and a quick summary of rules and expectations were reiterated. Don’t go blasting at things you couldn’t identify, don’t fall asleep, raise the alarm in case of trouble, no booze or drugs.

“C’mon, I got us one of the watchtowers,” Break Action guided me up a set of stairs atop the wall. There was a brief moment of trepidation before I reached the top, my mind’s eye showing me hordes of ghouls waiting on the horizon...but all that waited for me was desertous wastes meeting dark clouds at the horizon.

I breathed a soft sigh of relief and watched as the shadow of night slowly swallowed the world around Oasis Springs.

The nighttime world was pure darkness without the moon or stars, fighting against the numerous bright lights blasting it back away from the high walls. Soft winds picked up and shifted like some great beast lurking within the shadows of the night. I sought reassurance as my nostrils flared at each breeze; there was no smell of death, of ghouls that might lurk in the darkness beyond.

We were safe.

I was safe.

My child was safe.

“Really not too different from night watch at the hospital,” I mused to myself, Break Action having taken residence in the actual watch tower platform with me standing alone on the wall, “Quiet, nothing to do. It’s a pity I didn’t bring my college books to study.” Then again, those hefty tomes would’ve likely prevented flight altogether...

The hair on the back of my neck leapt to attention.

My pleasant musings died in my brain, ears twitching at something.

A sudden worry began to ball in my guts and I sniffed at the cool air.

Nothing.

I squinted into the darkness, trying to banish it all away in an effort to reveal something, anything that might be out there. Glowing eyes, muzzle flashes, a flare falling slowly...

Nothing.

I cocked my ears, listening intently to the soft night air as it whispered soft breezes.

Noth—

“Help!” With my ears tuned in on the darkness beyond the walls, I distinctly heard the cry, “Somepony! Anypony! Help!”

That was a pony! Someone calling for help!

I cocked my wings, ready to fly off to find the caller, but I stopped myself short. What if it was a ploy by the raiders or some other group of ne’er-do-wells? Could hellhounds make sounds like that to lure in unsuspecting ponies like me? Perhaps it was some inequine creature capable of mimicking pony voices, luring its victims out into the darkness to eat them? With everything I’d seen so far, any of those could be the case for all I knew!

Worry curdling in my guts like spoiled milk, I let my wings fall back to my sides as the caller continued to cry out for help, their voice fluctuating on the wind. Still, I had to do something!

“Break Action!” I hissed towards the watchtower, “Hey, Break Action!”

When she didn’t respond, I muttered a quick curse and hurried across the wall and over to the watchtower. It felt dumb even as I did it, but I tried to tiptoe to make less noise. Flapping up the stairs, I pushed open the bottom hatch and poked my head in, seeing Break Action...with Rusty Ratchet atop (and inside) her. I folded my ears back at the quiet sounds they were making.

“Err, ahem!” I cleared my throat, turning my eyes away as I felt my face flush. When had he shown up anyways? “Break Action!”

“Oh, shit, geez!” Rusty yelped, turning a glare my way, “What the hell, pegasus?”

“Rusty!” Break Action growled at her partner, his ears dropping submissively at her tone.

“Sorry!” I said, turning my eyes back to them as they extricated themselves from each other’s bodies. At Break Action’s quick gesture, I ascended the last few steps and shut the hatch behind me, “But there’s somepony out there screaming for help, they might be in trouble.”

“Probably those fucking raiders,” Rusty grumbled as he moved over to an open window, squinting into the darkness with his ears cocked, “Trying to get some unsuspecting ass to run into their trap.”

“Shush, listen!” Break Action replied, copying his gesture as she too listened in.

Silence followed for a few moments before another cry lit the dark air.

“Did you hear that?” I asked, looking to the two of them. But they were looking at each other, exchanging looks fluctuating between worry and terror, “What? What is it?” I asked, lowering myself as I stared into the darkness beyond the walls.

“That’s...that’s Rock Runner!” Rusty exclaimed, getting a nod from Break Action who moved to the window.

“Rock Runner!?” Break Action yelled back, turning to Rusty and dropping her voice, “Start alerting the rest of the watch, have them get us ready for an attack.”

“On it,” Rusty leaned in and got a quick kiss goodbye before darting down the hatch.

“What if it’s not a trap?” I asked, wings wringing themselves at my sides, “What if she’s really in trouble? She could be bleeding or have an infection or...or any number of things!”

Break Action gave me a worried look at that, “You’re a doctor, if you’re not enough Rusty will get some of the others, but Skies...Rock Runner was with the southern group. We heard them get attacked! More than likely overrun! Raiders aren’t known for just letting ponies go, be ready for a trap.” She turned back to the darkness, “Rock Runner, do you hear me!?”

The two of us cocked our ears towards the blackness beyond the walls.

“Yes!” The voice seemed to crack over the distance, “Goddesses be praised, I hear you!”

“How are you holding up!?” Break Action injected a warning tone into her voice, face taking on a grim look.

“I...I’m alone...I think…” the voice replied, fainter than before, “Where are you!?”

“That’s not the ‘I’m in-danger’ response, it might not be a trap after all,” Break Action muttered, squinting into the gloom, “We’re right here, you should be able to see our lights!”

The silence lasted longer this time, worried glances exchanged between the two of us.

“I can’t see!” The voice sobbed, fainter still.

“Are you sure everything’s all right?” I hissed, regulating my breathing in an effort to calm my racing heart. Any moment I expected to spy a flare arcing up out of the darkness, illuminating a great horde of snapping, snarling ghouls.

“I dunno,” Break Action muttered, glaring into the gloom, “How are you holding up!?” she tried again.

“They let me go!” The voice called out, fading away for a moment, “...me to start walking! I’m not under duress!”

“What’s goin’ on, who’s that out there!?” A pair of armed bucks, more guards, made their way into the watchtower.

“It sounds like one of the ponies from my…” Break Action’s eyes darted to me, “our caravan. Only thing is we split the caravan up before we got here. Raiders. We heard her section get ambushed.”

“So it’s a trap?” The second buck surmised, casting a quick glare out towards the darkness.

Break Action didn’t look so sure, “We’ve got some countersigns, phrases for if we’re under duress. She’s not under duress.”

“Hello…” Rock Runner’s voice was faint.

“We’re still here!” I called back, “Give us a moment!” I turned back to Break Action and the bucks, “I can fly out there, see what’s what. If…” I gulped, “If something bad is out there I can get away with ease,” I flapped my wings for emphasis, “I’m also a doctor, if she’s hurt I can start fixing her wounds immediately.”

“Do it, Skies,” Break Action replied, “I’ll get everypony here up to speed, have plenty of guns ready if things go south.” She paused, digging through her saddlebags and hoofing over a head-mounted flashlight, “Here. For light.”

I nodded my thanks, strapping it on and activating it.

“Good, go!”

Swallowing my fear like a cup of spoiled milk, I slipped out of the roofed watchtower and leapt from the ramparts. Maybe I should’ve left my bags and shotgun behind, but it was too late to think of that.

“Rock Runner!” I called out, staying cautiously above the ground. The beam from my flashlight swept out over the black earth, “Rock Runner, can you hear me!?”

“I’m here! I’m here! I can...I can hear you!” Her voice was closer, elation filling it.

‘How is she unable to see the lights?’ I wondered, looking back over my withers as I followed more of her calls. I cast my eyes forwards again, ‘Why can’t she see my light?’

I faltered in the air as I passed over an equine shape. Biting back a scream, I pivoted in the air, the beam of my flashlight shooting out...and suddenly it all made sense, a quick gag nearly costing me my dinner.

‘I can’t see!’ She’d called out, but not because it was dark, no it was because...because she didn’t have any eyes! In their place were two dark sockets in her face, leaking blood instead of tears.

And it didn’t stop there.

Her ears had been sliced down to slivers of what they once were, her mane shaved down to a few patchy tufts and her tail cut down to a stub. Patches of coat were missing, the flesh beneath weeping red. Dried, brown blood stood like lines of tears down her hide, her cutie mark a raw mess of bloody flesh. She was favoring a hoof that looked and smelled dead. How she was even standing was a miracle.

“Rock Runner!” I managed to gasp, frozen in the air.

Her startled whinny snapped me out of my horrified daze, “Th-thank the goddesses!” She whimpered, “Is it...is it really you!?”

“Yes...” I hovered for a moment, beaming my flashlight this way and that, “Are...is it only you?”

“They...they did…” Her chest heaved out a soft sob as she made a weak gesture towards her face, “and they told me...told me to find you. D-deliver a message…”

“Okay, okay, hold on!” I landed, tearing through my saddlebags for some bandages, “Here, come here, hold still.” She flinched at my touch.

I tried not to stare into her ghastly face, suppressing my urge to choke and puke as I wrapped a bandage over her empty sockets. She shivered and shuddered as I dressed the rest of her open wounds. I had to force myself to check beneath her sheared tail as my own tucked down tightly. A number of shallow, horizontal cuts ran across her vulva and anus; beneath that her captors had removed her teats, incising shallow cuts across her udders. Both of us cringed as I dressed those wounds, an empathetic soreness felt in my own feminine parts. There was nothing I could do for the leg besides tie it off with a tourniquet, she would almost certainly lose it.

“Here, water.” I pressed one of my bottles to her lips once my initial first aiding was done, watching her suck it down greedily, “Can you walk? Just a little bit further? Oasis Springs is a short distance away.”

“I...I…” The ruined mare stuttered, eyeless face trying to focus on me, “The message. Their message!”

“Wh-what message?” I asked, giving the area around me another quick sweep.

Still clear.

“Th-they’re coming…” She whimpered.

And then she collapsed into the dirt.

Footnote: Level progress 25%

Skills increased:

+Small Guns

+Barter

+Medicine