“Guess who’s gonna be home early this year...”

“Fuck!” The curse exploded out of my lips.

Thoughts of ghouls and raiders were swept to the back of my mind as I dropped down and pressed a wing to Rock Runner’s jaw. She didn’t have any discernible pulse.

“Skies!?” The cry came from the lights of Oasis Springs.

“She collapsed!” I screamed back, rolling Rock Runner onto her back and starting compressions. The sharp smell of urine mingled with the stench of her wounds, ‘One! Two! Three…’ I counted up in my head, driving my forehooves into her chest. An image of High Brass flashed across my vision, “No!” I growled the memory away, moving to rescue breaths.

Then compressions.

Then rescue breaths.

Compressions.

Rescue breaths.

Compressions...

“Skies! Skies!” My headlamp beamed across Leather Strap’s tired but stern face, her pupils constricting in the white light. How long had I been giving CPR?

Armed ponies were around me with flashlights searing out into the darkness, two others bore a stretcher. I continued giving CPR as Strap’s magic checked over Rock Runner, expression grim.

“We can’t be out here!” Somepony growled, “Need to get back inside.”

“Damnit,” Strap snarled, digging through her pack and procuring a strange device. There was a ring that went over her horn, two wires ending in electrodes coming off of it. She pressed the electrodes onto Rock Runner’s chest as I counted compressions, “Hooves off, stand clear!”

Her horn flashed, Rock Runner’s body jolting.

“Check for pulse!”

“We need to move, ladies!” I heard, checking Rock Runner’s mandibular artery with a wing. I turned my eyes to Strap, shaking my head.

I gave seven compressions before Strap’s horn lit up again.

“Hooves off, stand clear!” I took my hooves away, watching as Strap squinted in concentration.

Rock Runner’s body jolted.

“Pulse!?”

I shook my head and started compressions.

“If there’s something out here—”

“You want these wires up your dick-hole!? Shut up!” Strap spat back, “Hooves off, stand clear!”

Rock Runner jolted upright. Her scream of pain pierced the night air, bandaged face turning this way and that as she gasped down breaths.

“Ow! Fuck, it hurts!” She groaned out another cry as Strap moved to lay her back down.

“Lay back, lay back!” Strap spoke, quickly strapping the mare into the stretcher with the help of two large bucks.

“I can’t see…” Rock Runner whimpered, shivering as if she were cold, “m-message...th-they’re coming.”

“Shh, shh,” Strap tried to calm the mare, taking Rock Runner’s large forehoof with her own, looking down over her ruined face, “Skies, IV, saline bag in my saddlebags,” she turned to the bucks that were ready to haul the stretcher, “When she’s done we move. Straight to the medical tent. No stops. I don’t care if princess-fucking-Celestia herself shows her ugly mug and starts signing autographs, you do. Not. Stop!”

They nodded as I trotted around Rock Runner and dug through Strap’s saddlebags, quickly starting an IV in Rock Runner’s good forelimb and feeding her saline. Leather Strap kept her contraption attached to her horn and to Rock Runner’s chest, keeping pace as the two bucks lifted the stretcher and started off. I managed to match their pace as well, keeping the saline bag elevated with a wing.

I was only vaguely aware of the armed ponies around me, focused more on Rock Runner in case she elapsed. Sooner than I thought possible our armed escort left us, the gates leading into Oasis Springs rumbling shut on the dark wasteland.

“Hey, you still with us, Rock Runner!?” Strap encouraged the mare as we all cantered towards the medical tent.

“...coming…” Was all Rock Runner managed to mumble, her snout scrunching in a wince.

The flaps to the medical tent brushed past us, the stink of sickness and medicine filling my nostrils.

“Down, down, gently now!” Strap ordered, shrugging out of her saddlebags, “Skies, pulse!”

My eyes widened at the hammering I felt through my wing, “Blue above, way elevated!”

“Ladies, ladies, I’m the on-call doctor tonight,” a buck approached us. Looking over Rock Runner his eyes widened, “Oh my...what—”

“Adenosine!” Strap barked at him.

“Pardon?”

“Get her a shot of adenosine before she goes back into cardiac arrest and I have to zap her back again!” Strap gestured to the device attached to her horn, “Now!”

The buck jumped at her shout, cantering off towards a cabinet at the far end of the tent.

“Skies, keep a wing on her pulse.”

I nodded, keeping my wing pressed into Rock Runner’s mandibular artery. She seemed to be in and out of it, teeth clenching every now again and her shuddering breaths the only indication she was still alive. My eyes caught on an analogue clock attached to one pole. I counted heartbeats as I watched the second hand move.

Thirty pulses in the first ten seconds.

“One-eighty,” I reported, getting an anxious look from Strap.

“Got it,” the buck returned with a small injector pen. He held it out to Strap in his magic.

“Hit her with it!” Strap spat back, gesturing to her horn, “Can’t use magic with this thing on my horn.”

Ten more seconds had elapsed, I had counted forty more beats.

“I don’t—” I cut him off by biting down on the injector and jabbing it into the IV line. I gave the saline bag a gentle squeeze to flush the medicine in and then wordlessly pressed a wing back into Rock Runner’s jaw, “Oh…” he mumbled uselessly, trotting away after another moment.

Forty two beats in the next ten seconds. My jaw tightened with worry. My wing stayed in place, Strap ready to give Rock Runner another jolt.

Thirty-five beats.

Twenty-nine.

Twenty.

Rock Runner mumbled something and I lost count at ten.

Eighteen.

Fourteen.

Thirteen.

Twelve.

Fourteen. Worry crossed my features.

Thirteen. I heaved a sigh of relief, counting another two sets of ten seconds.

“She’s holding steady at around eighty. High, but…” I gestured hopelessly at her injuries.

“I’ve got a hydra,” the buck offered, trotting up with the administer held ready, “I know how to administer—”

“Were you born yesterday, you worthless halfwit!?” Strap’s snarl made both of us jump, Rock Runner whimpering softly, “How old are her wounds, you inbred moron? You want to give her a shot of hydra with old wounds? Sure, let’s make her sprout tumors out of every fucking orifice and wound!”

“What?” The buck mumbled, taking a frightened step back.

“Hydra’s only good for the first hour or two, her wounds are older than that,” Strap let out an exasperated sound, “Go the hell back up your mother’s cunt before you kill my pony! Skies.” She waved a hoof for me to pass her the saline bag, “Go grab me another saline bag, a syringe, and some magical bandages.”

“What!” The buck exclaimed, “You can’t just...I need to document everything—”

“So document it, you dimwit dipshit!” Strap butted in, jerking her head for me to move, “You try to touch my pony without my direction and you’ll be in one of these beds.”

I did as ordered, rifling through the medical lockers, only vaguely aware of the buck peering over my shoulder to see what I was taking. Ignoring him, I rushed back to Leather Strap who had busied herself peeling back the bandages I’d applied with a hoof and sniffing at the wounds beneath.

“Replace these with magical bandages,” she pointed out a hoofful of wounds, taking the saline bag and swapping it out with the empty one. Nodding, I applied the magical bandages where they were needed, feeling the soft cooling sensation they gave off on contact, “Can you draw some blood?”

“Not with a syringe,” I admitted, “If I had a butterfly needle—”

“Nevermind, I’ve got it,” Strap interrupted me, nodding towards Rock Runner’s jaw, “Wing on that pulse, if you feel her elapsing let me know so I can get my defibrillator back on.”

I nodded, pressing a wing into Rock Runner’s artery. Strap found a vein in the opposite side of Rock Runner’s neck, glancing to the abused mare’s bandaged face before deftly filling the syringe with bright red blood. She secured the wound with a flicker of magic once she was finished, then held the syringe up to a light, peering into it with her horn glowing. Rock Runner’s heart rate held steady at around eighty beats per minute.

“Geez,” Strap murmured, looking away and blinking rapidly before peering at the syringe again.

‘What is she doing?’ I started to voice my curiosity, but then remembered who I’d be asking and decided not to interrupt.

“Toxicology,” Strap answered my unasked question, finally lowering the syringe and killing her horn’s light, “Someone pumped her full of med-X, buffout, and dash,” she frowned at Rock Runner’s ruined leg, “Should be fine to give her a couple healing potions.” She scowled at the buck as he hovered some distance away, “What’s your name?”

“Day Pacer,” he answered, flinching at her glare.

“Go grab me two healing potions.” She held up a hoof before he could trot off, considering a moment, “Wait over there till I call you back.”

Pacer frowned at the request, but nodded and trotted over to the medical lockers.

“Keep a wing on that pulse,” Strap said. She lowered her horn to Rock Runner’s scalp, a brief flash of magic rendering her unconscious, though with her injuries it was hard to tell. Strap’s voice lowered at my inquiring look, “Gonna check for rape trauma.”

My tail tucked, ears flattening, “Oh…”

“Just stay there a sec, not doing anything invasive. Same basic principle as when I checked on your foal.” Strap trotted over to Rock Runner’s backside and ignited her horn. Even she couldn’t help but cringe at the damage the raiders had done. After a minute or so she waved Pacer back over with the medical potions, waking and sitting Rock Runner up so she could drink them down.

“These’ll help you get better,” Strap said as she pressed the vials to Rock Runner’s quivering lips. The mare managed to get most of it down, her shaking subsiding as she laid back; she began mumbling and whimpering quietly again.

Strap peeked under some of Rock Runner’s bandages, watching as flesh started to pull itself back together. Both of us worried as the potions seemed to have zero effect on Rock Runner’s left foreleg. Healing potions couldn’t heal what was dead...

“Day Pacer,” Strap directed his attention to Rock Runner, “watch her a sec. You can check a pulse, right?”

“I’d like to think I’m at least that competent,” his annoyed scowl faltered and died under Strap’s sullen glare, “Er, I mean...yes...ma’am.”

Strap nodded, Pacer and I swapping places as Strap pulled me out of his earshot.

“No sign of rape,” Strap’s frown confused me.

“Shouldn’t that be a good thing?” I asked, matching her quiet tone, “I mean...with everything else she’s been through…”

“No, it is. Goddesses only know the hell she’s been through,” Strap cast a pair of sorry eyes to where Rock Runner lay, “It just doesn’t make any sense. Only damage was external, no internal tearing of…” She trailed off as she saw my growing discomfort, “Sorry. Raiders and sodomy go together like good wine and cheese. That and what the hell were they doing with her? The torture I get. But pumping her full of drugs? Those don’t come cheap. And you do realize that one of them would’ve had to get her within spitting distance of where you found her, right? When they woke me and told me what was going on I was sure you’d walked into a trap. You did a good job, but going out there alone?” Her voice took on a scolding maternal tone, “That was dumb, Skies.”

“What was I supposed to do?” I countered with suppressed anger, tossing a hoof towards Rock Runner, “She’d be dead if I didn’t act!”

“You did a good job,” she stressed again, tone placating, “You should have got more folks out there to back you up. Break Action should’ve known that so fault’s not entirely on your shoulders. We can chalk it up to all the stress and bullshit of these past few days messing with everybody’s head. I...” Strap looked away for a moment, steeling herself, “I was worried about you, Skies. Thought for sure you’d wind up shot or stabbed by waiting raiders...or worse.”

“W-well, I’m not,” I said, taken aback by Strap’s admission. With things settling back into place, something came back to me, “When I first found her she said she was supposed to deliver a message…” I turned briefly to the injured mare then set my eyes back on Strap’s inquisitive pair, “‘They’re coming.’”

Strap suppressed a shudder, casting a quick glance to Rock Runner and smoothing her hackles with a hoof, “That explains some things.”

“We...we’re safe here, right?” I asked, Strap’s unsettled response dredging my own fears up from the depths. Sure, there were high walls and armed guards but Burnout had had those things as well…

“We’re safe,” Strap set a reassuring hoof on my shoulder, “That shit’s just them trying to use psychological warfare. They know they can’t get to us here, Oasis Springs is too well guarded, so they’re doing the wartime equivalent of sticking their tongue out at us. Trying to spook us, make us piss our proverbial pants. Don’t let it get to you.

“Still,” her calming tone hardened, “there’s something up with these raiders and we can’t underestimate them. I’ll pass this on to Dual Gauge and Wrangler, see if we can’t requisition some more bodies for the walls, keep a sharper eye out for trouble.” Strap took a deep breath, a scowl spreading across her face, “But first we’re going to have to amputate that leg…”

“You can’t do anything with magic?” It was a stupid question, but I still had to ask it.

Strap confirmed what I already knew with a shake of her head, eyes wandering over to Rock Runner, “Tendons were severed in multiple places, large chunks of muscle mass removed, fibula’s been broken. The punctures and cuts I could handle with enough time and magic, but deep tissue damage is its own animal. You must’ve seen how the healing potions had no effect on the leg,” Her eyes moved to mine, “You understand how healing magic works?”

“Direct arcane stimulation and control of the body’s immune and repair responses,” that had been a question on a recent test, actually. I would’ve smiled proudly at my matter-of-fact response, but with how things were right now? Nopony was smiling.

Strap nodded, “You’d be surprised how many people think it’s just poof and you’re done. For all my years of medical work I’m still only good for fixing cuts and scrapes with magic. Anything else is best left up to the body itself. I could fix all Rock Runner’s parts up in theory. A healing megaspell would certainly do the trick,” she gave a quick gesture to the mare, “But in reality, that’s just not the case. Weaving veins and muscle together the wrong way would kill her, regrown eyes might not work, bones might be too porous and leak marrow into the bloodstream. There are magical tools that can be used to fix her and cybernetics aren’t out of the question. But anything that could get her back to normal would cost a small fortune.

“No, it all boils down to time and tools. Time’s not on our side, she’s already got bacteria growing in the leg and without enough blood getting to it it won’t matter how many healing potions we get into her, her immune response can’t reach it. If we don’t amputate now she’ll get gangrene and in the state she’s in one bad sneeze could put her back into critical condition,” Strap paused as Rock Runner made a soft noise that startled Day Pacer, “The leg’s useless. We remove it, we save her from gangrene. The other wounds will scar but they’ll heal. Some antibiotics will help her along and keep infection of her other wounds away.”

Taking everything in, a thought slapped me in the face, “Does...does Marsh Runner know? About any of this?”

The question slapped Strap in the face as well, a worried look bruising her features, “I don’t think so. I was at the Inn when folks grabbed me; Marsh Runner’s on the Workforce, right?” I nodded, “I doubt anybody would’ve told her…” Strap took a breath, turning back towards where Rock Runner was lying with a pensive look, “For now, we need to finish things here.”

“Do you...want to take a minute?” I asked.

Strap blew a long breath out her nose, nodding, “I’ve done this plenty of times, doesn’t make it any easier. Give me a couple minutes. If you’re up for it, get an elimination catheter going. She’s going to be bedridden for a while.”

“I can do that,” I replied, Strap flashing me a grateful smile before her pensive mood swallowed it back up.

I was actually surprised when I found what appeared to be a brand new foaley catheter kit. I had figured the best I’d get would be a used one that someone had (hopefully) cleaned and disinfected. Looking over the rest of the medical supplies in the locker, they generally seemed to be brand new. Was it a testament to Oasis Springs’ wealth that they were able to get such things? All the meds the caravan had seemed way past their expiration date. I could always ask Strap about it...later, of course.

“Rock Runner?” I approached the mare, Day Pacer eyeing the kit pointedly, “I’m going to give you a catheter, all right? Can you relax for me?”

Rock Runner gave a shaky nod, a soft, “Mm-hm,” mumbling past her lips.

The procedure itself was nothing new to me. Back when I’d been the junior nurse I was on constant catheter duty, a thankless job if ever there was one. Clean the area, lubricate the tube, insert and inflate the little balloon once it was inside the bladder, good to go. With Rock Runner lying on her back, I secured the waste bag to one of the legs of her cot, making sure it was above floor level so nopony could step on it.

“All done,” I said, forcing cheer into my voice for Rock Runner’s sake. The effects were dubious, her ruined face hard to get a reading on.

Seeking something else to look at, I turned towards Strap. Across the room I spotted her nod to herself, meeting my gaze with a sober expression.

It was time.

I made to approach and ask for directions, but she lifted a hoof and approached instead, shooing Day Pacer away with a silent gesture.

“Rock Runner?” Strap took a seat on the mare’s right, opposite her ruined forehoof. She took the mare’s good foreleg in her own, stroking it gently, “It’s me, it’s Leather Strap.”

Rock Runner’s jaw twisted up into an anguished scowl, “You-you’re going to cut off m-my leg...”

“Do you want Marsh Runner to be here?” Strap asked, voice quiet and calm.

Rock Runner’s mouth twisted into a cross between a grimace and a smile, “Sh-she m-made it? She’s...alive?”

“She is. Alive and well,” Strap’s face brightened with her tone, “I can have her here in a jiffy if you want.”

Rock Runner’s lips twisted back to a pure grimace, a soft whimper escaping her, “N-no...see me like this…” her voice hitched into a short series of quaking sobs. Strap waited, holding Rock Runner’s hoof in her own, letting the mare choke out her sorrow, “...I...I can’t…”

“You’ve been with the caravan as long as I have, you know me well enough to know I don’t mess around with this stuff.” Strap’s voice sobered and her expression became serious, “I’d never do anything to hurt you, I wouldn’t do something unless I knew for sure it was the only option. If it was the better option.”

Rock Runner's lips trembled and Strap wiped some snot from the mare’s dripping nose.

“I know you’re afraid. Hell, I’d be terrified...” Strap paused, wiping at her own glistening eyes with her sleeve, “But you’ve got a family, a loving family who will be there to take care of you. And I don’t just mean Marsh Runner, everyone on the caravan will be there for you. Whether you stay in Oasis Springs or go elsewhere, we’ll always make sure to stop in and say 'Hi' every now and again, see how you’re doing.”

“I’ll...I’ll just be a...a burden.”

“Family is never a burden.”

“I can’t see, S-Strap!” Her lip curled back in a mixture of agony and disgust, “M-my face...leg, th-they...if I ever have a-a foal, I’ll...I couldn’t nurse them…th-they m-made sure...”

“You’re selling yourself short, Rocky,” a soft smile crossed Strap’s features, her tone following suit, “You’re the kind of mare that adapts and overcomes. Hay, I think of all the caravan heads, you’re the one who went from a laymare to an overmare the fastest. Dual Gauge and Dynamite don’t count since they started off in charge, naturally.” Strap paused for a moment, stroking the mare’s hoof with her own, “You’ll learn to cope without sight. You’ll train hard enough to run miles with a prosthetic. You’ll bring beautiful, big, healthy foals into this world and when you do you’ll find a wet nurse, the best. Hell, there’s spells that’ll make mares lactate without the need for a pregnancy. I’m sure your sister would be willing, so would I, I’ll learn the spell.”

Rock Runner was silent.

“You know I don’t tell this to everyone: your life is worth living.”

“Is it?” Rock Runner let out a quick sob.

“It is,” Strap soothed, “You can recover from this. You will recover from this.”

Rock Runner was silent, her harrowed face contorting, occasional soft murmurs and whimpers escaping past her dry lips. Then, suddenly, she grew quiet. For a moment I startled, thinking that she was going back into cardiac arrest, but then her mouth shifted into a grim line of determination.

“Do it,” her voice was barely a whisper, tinged with agony.

“All right,” Strap nodded once, running a hoof through Rock Runner’s ruined mane, “Just relax. Gonna put you under.”

“I…” Rock Runner bit her lip, chewing something over for a moment, “O-okay...”

Strap pressed her horn to Rock Runner’s scalp, a flash of magic anesthetizing her. Strap used her magic to feel the larger mare’s pulse and check her blood pressure before turning to me, “All right, onto the easy part. Wash up, prep for surgery. Pacer, you too, you’ll be handling any supplies that we need and only the supplies that we need. If I don’t ask for it, don’t bring it. You got that?”

“Got it,” Pacer nodded as I moved off.

I tried to shake off the antsy feeling of sharp anxiety mixed with jittering excitement. It wasn’t as though I was explicitly looking forward to chopping Rock Runner’s leg off, but this sort of thing was my calling, it was what I woke up for every morning to do. Who could fault me for getting a little hyped up at the prospect of doing a good job?

Washing my pinions thoroughly, I slipped a set of disposable covers over them, a surgical mask following over my snout. Strap had Day Pacer procure me a set of safety glasses while she settled for her own hardware store-style set. Once I was prepped and ready, I returned to Strap’s side. Her magic tingled over me as she cast her sanitization spell on us, our tools, and our patient.

Strap removed the touniquet I’d applied. Then a ring of purple magic flared around Rock Runner’s ruined limb. It sparkled up and down before settling a few inches below where the tourniquet had been.

“No heartbeat past here,” Strap said, not taking her eyes from the area, “Mark it for me, will you? Outline the upper side of the ring.”

I nodded, taking a marker pen and outlining Strap’s magic. Once I was finished she applied a new tourniquet, checking the limb and nodding once.

“Clean dressings and a waste tray,” Strap sent Day Pacer off to collect those things, laying the dressings out for easy reach and positioning Rock Runner’s leg over the tray. Day Pacer was then tasked to focus his attention on Rock Runner’s vitals.

The first tool Strap brought out was a magical shaver. Its gemstone lit up and its small buzzing blades whirred to life in Strap’s magic as she shaved away the hair a couple inches below my marker mark.

Next came a scalpel from Strap’s own pack.

The blade dipped effortlessly into the flesh, slicing a careful circumference around the ruined limb. The dermis was folded back away from the cut on both sides, exposing glistening muscle within. Bleeding was minimal with the tourniquet, wounds weeping blood assisted by the pull of gravity. I was tasked with cleaning it away with gentle touches of dressings, which were then tossed in the waste tray.

“She’s getting up towards ninety-five beats a minute,” Day Pacer’s magic swirled around Rock Runner’s tail base, “Blood pressure is...slightly above normal.”

“Understood,” Strap replied, going in again with the scalpel once I’d cleaned the wound. Now she targeted the muscles, cutting away to expose the bone. Her first scalpel was set aside and I took the moment to wipe away the upwelling blood again, “Skies, shot of med-X, into the right thigh.”

“On it,” I said as Strap started cutting away the muscles again. I trotted around to Rock Runner’s other side, taking an autoinjector from my own bags and jabbing it quickly into her. Day Pacer took the injector when I was finished, setting it on a side table as I returned to find Strap finally exposing white bone with a new scalpel.

Strap trimmed back the muscles from both sides of the initial cut. She was more careful with the ones still attached to Rock Runner’s shoulder, shaping them into the rough stump that would remain. The muscles on the side that was being amputated were more roughly cut for timeliness, so that only a white length of bone mated Rock Runner to the ruined limb. Even I had to admit the sight was macabre, a sense of unease tingling down my spine and my own forelimb aching in sympathy.

The scalpel was set aside and a thin-toothed non-powered bone saw came out of Strap’s bags. This was used to quickly and cleanly saw through the bone, completing the amputation. Strap’s magic ensured the removed leg didn’t simply flop unceremoniously to the floor, setting it neatly in the waste tray.

The final pair of steps required the scalpel to finish forming the stump and then Strap’s own magic to close off the blood vessels and arteries. The flap of dermis was folded back forwards and sewn shut to finish off the stump. Strap eyed the wound carefully as she removed the tourniquet again, giving a final satisfactory nod when no blood flooded out of the wound.

“Bag the limb and make sure it’s properly disposed of,” Strap ordered Day Pacer, “I don’t want to see it wind up as tomorrow’s lunch special.”

As Pacer bagged the limb and trotted off, Strap let out a sigh, lowering her goggles and removing the face mask. She checked Rock Runner’s vitals again, nodding as if satisfied.

“That went about as well as we can expect,” Strap said, turning to me, “Can you keep an eye on her? Make sure that dipshit doesn’t stick something in her he isn’t supposed to. I’ll get with Dr. Holiday about having you put on as an extra hoof in the medical tent if you want. He’s the one in charge of medical staffing.”

“You have that kind of sway here?” I asked. I could’ve been on medical duty all this time if I’d just asked Strap!? Though it was a jealous and inconsiderate thought. If I had, Rock Runner...no, I didn’t want to think about that. Would anyone have heard her? Much less come to her rescue in time?

A nostalgic smile sprouted across Leather Strap’s face, her words helping to distract me, “Good number of my younger years were spent here, plenty of time to grease elbows with Wrangler and her folks; Deep Drink, for one. Greased a lot more than just elbows with him. I…” her face fell, a shadow passing over it, “I eventually joined a little caravan, one before Dual Gauge’s. They needed a doctor and I needed a change of scenery.” Her tail tucked, her ears going flat, “Didn’t end well...but I came back. Joined up with Dual Gauge after I’d recovered. The rest is history. So how about it?”

“Yes, thank you!” It had to be better than peeling potatoes and standing guard duty, so why not? Rock Runner was one possible reason why not, and with a quick glance to the unconscious mare I voiced my concern, “But...what if somepony else from Rock Runner’s part of the caravan shows up…” ‘With their genitals mutilated and their eyes gouged out,’ I stopped myself from saying the words for my own sake more than anything else, “...injured?”

“They probably won’t,” Strap gave the wounded mare a quiet glance, “As bullshit as the raider’s message is, it’ll still get more folks up on the walls for a week or two. They’ll know we got their message if they’re watching Oasis Springs. Raiders aren’t known for wasting horseflesh…” She considered a moment, “but they’re also not known to waste drugs like they did with her. They could’ve accomplished the same by carving those two words into her side and leaving her dead outside the gates. Wouldn’t have gotten as big a reaction, maybe...urgh, these raiders don’t make any sense! Gonna wind up keeping me awake all night trying to figure them out.”

“That’s not the part that’s gonna keep me up,” I spoke my thoughts, tail tucking at the idea of somepony taking a knife and slicing…nope! I was not going to finish that train of thought! Looking for something to change the subject, I focused on Strap’s bandaged forelimb, “How’s the leg? Yours, that is…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Strap waved me off, giving the appendage a quick wiggle, “Hurts like hell after running all around tonight, but I’ve survived worse.”

I didn’t doubt that for a moment.

“I’ll pop some acheaway when I get back to my room,” she gestured to the medical tent, “You good here? Want some coffee or something?”

“I’m good, thanks.” After all that had just happened I was wide awake, no need for caffeine tonight.

“Stay safe, Skies,” Strap sent a quiet scowl towards where Day Pacer was trying to be inconspicuous, Rock Runner’s leg taken care of, “I’m going to get with Dr. Holiday in the morning and make sure everyone on medical watch knows what the hell they’re doing. Rock Runner’s not the only pony we’ve got in here, after all.”

Day Pacer flinched but didn’t look over.

“And Marsh Runner?” I asked before Strap was gone.

Strap’s scowl turned worried for a moment, “I’ll talk with her in the morning.”

I had no trouble staying awake for the rest of the shift. Different from the ones that the wall defenders stood, the medical tent workers were split into three eight hour shifts. The first ran from six in the morning to two in the afternoon; the second from two to ten in the afternoon. Both of these always had two ponies on staff with four on standby in case something big went down. The four ponies were still on call for the remaining eight hours (ten PM to six AM) but only one pony was present in the tent at that time.

“Do the four on standby still get stamps if nothing happens?” I asked as Day Pacer paused in his explanation to take a sip from a water bottle.

“Not on the workforce,” he shook his head after setting the bottle back down and wiping his lips with a forehoof, “Those are the Oasis Springs doctors, the ones who actually live and work here. They swing by during the day from time to time.”

“Oh,” I said, ‘Probably should’ve guessed they’d have their own doctors, duh!’

“Now let me ask you something,” Day Pacer threw a glance out the tent flap, “Was your friend serious about getting me kicked off my job here? I got this assignment legitimately!”

“I’ve never known Leather Strap to lie…” I replied noncommittally, picking over my words for a moment. I didn’t want to burn any bridges, but still… “Are you a doctor?” I followed up with a question of my own.

“Are you?” Pacer snorted with sudden annoyance, “Is anyone a real doctor anymore? It’s not like we’ve got schools to go to like in the history books.”

“We do above the clouds,” I countered. The use of combat drugs was beyond my field of expertise, but even I knew hydra didn’t work for old wounds. All Rock Runner would have gotten was tumorous growth where her wounds had been, “You really could’ve messed Rock Runner up if you’d given her hydra.”

“Yeah, well, good thing I didn’t,” Day Pacer’s annoyance didn’t falter as he put on a pout and turned away from me.

Conversation lulled after that, Day Pacer getting a little mopey at the prospect of losing his job. I busied myself with the many patients in the room. The majority were still from Dual Gauge’s caravan, but another good chunk were from elsewhere. Recounting the numbers I’d memorized last night, I came up one short for the ponies we’d brought in. Whether that meant they’d recovered or perished I didn’t know…

Morning came in waves.

The first was in the form of that pre-dawn blue color that leaked into the world as the sun began to rise. It was muted with the clouds high above, grayed out, but still discernible.

After that was the rising noise of ponies waking up and getting to work. A general racket that all civilization generated, no one thing discernible above the rest. It was as if Oasis Springs itself were rising, awoken by the blaring tune of its alarm clock.

‘Great gusts, that’s one thing I don’t miss! Alarm clocks!’ I turned my gaze to the clock in the tent, ‘Nothing wrong with regular ones, though.’

The third and final wave, of course, was the little second hoof as it ticked around its racetrack towards infinity. Or, more relevant for me at least, towards six AM. It wasn’t much of a wave, but my tired brain just shrugged at the proverbial corner I’d backed myself into as I yawned.

“Healthy Skies?” I gave a slight jolt as a tall beige unicorn buck brushed through the medical tent’s flap.

“Um, er, yes?” I collected myself as his eyes found me and he trotted over. Day Pacer slunk away across the tent in my peripheral vision, trying not to be noticed. The unicorn trotted over to me, sizing me up with a contemplative look before offering a small smile and a hoof.

“I’m Dr. Holiday,” I shook his offered hoof, “Leather Strap speaks highly of you, which of course means she told me you were someone who was ‘actually worth a damn’ among a few other choice things.”

‘An idiot?’ I mentally guessed, “She mentioned you…maybe putting me on the medical shift?”

“It’s against protocol,” my heart sank with my tail and ears towards the floor. All three jumped back up as he continued with a gesture around the room, “But seeing as how most of these ponies have been under your care and at Strap’s request, I feel we can make an exception.

“How familiar are you with our protocols here?” Holiday continued.

“Day Pacer filled me in last night,” I jerked a hoof in his general direction.

“Excellent,” he turned his eyes to the clock, “It’s a few minutes to the hour so I’ll take over from here.” His horn ignited and a small stamp was pulled from a coat pocket before eyeing me expectantly.

“Oh, duh, right,” I procured my empty stamp card, letting him stamp it smartly.

“There you are,” the stamp disappeared back into a pocket, “Be back at ten PM.”

“I’ll be here,” I said, a good feeling raising my spirits. With a final nod he began to trot over to where Day Pacer was trying to be inconspicuous again. Not wanting to be around for whatever confrontation was about to go down, I collected my shotgun from where I’d left it beside the tent flap and trotted out.

I made my tired way back to the mare’s tent, fixing for a nice, long rest. After sleeping on the ground or in bumpy wagons the past few days a cot sounded wonderful. A gurgle from my stomach forced me on a quick detour, eyeing a thin trail of smoke rising from the kitchen tent. However, a sickening smell made me question my stomach’s gurgling as I got closer.

“Oh, what is that?!” my voice came out nasally as I pinched a pinion over my nose.

The large earth pony mare sitting at the currently empty serving table fixed me with a glare and I realized it might not be a good idea to insult whoever was cooking. Before I could apologize the mare’s scowl turned querious.

“Pregnant?” she asked bluntly.

“I...er, yes…” I lowered my wing, breathing through my mouth, “I didn’t mean to insult anypony’s cooking, I just...it smells kinda...off?”

The mare shrugged, “They’re frying up hashed browns in brahmin fat. I couldn’t stand the smell of anything like that when I had my belly full of foal,” she gave her stomach a quick pat, “You got stamps?”

I nodded, procuring my stamp card.

“Cool, I can get you a bowl of oat porridge if you’d like that instead,” she offered as I stowed my stamp card back in my saddlebags, “Should be easier on the senses.”

“Yes, please.”

Maybe I was just really hungry, or maybe it was my pegasus palette, or it could have been some side effect of the pregnancy, but the porridge was really good. There was a hint of something slightly sweet added, honey maybe? I didn’t care as I forced myself to chew slow and not wolf my food down.

In spite of my measured mastication I nearly choked when a greasy-smelling bowl settled down next to me, the bench shifting as Flower took a seat in front of the bowl.

“Mare of the midnight hour,” Flower greeted with a smile and a quick pat on the back.

“What?” I forced myself to swallow my porridge, trying not to breath in the stink of Flower’s food.

“Last night?” Flower prompted between quick bites of her own food, “Rock Runner?”

“Oh, right,” my porridge was suddenly inedible, the stink of greasy food making me queasy. I forced myself to stick a spoonful of porridge in my mouth, swirling the suddenly tasteless muck about for a moment before swallowing.

“You okay?” Flower asked, spoonful of hash browns hovering in front of her face, “I heard you saved Rock Runner’s life,” the spoon dropped back into the bowl as a hint of panic took her voice, “Wait, wait, wait...did she die?!”

“What!? No, I just...your...the food smells,” I nodded my head towards her bowl, “Pregnancy’s making me sick from the smell.”

“Oh, crap, right, sorry,” Flower scooted down a ways, “I’d heard about that.”

“Thanks,” I said.

The stink lessened after a moment, helped away with a few quick flaps of my wings. There was still the slightest stench of it in the air, but my porridge was much more bearable now. I ate it a little more quickly, not wanting—

“Hey, Skies,” Doughy sat where Flower had just been, a bowl of greasy hash browns in front of her, “I heard about—”

“Doughy!” Flower cut in, tearing the mare’s gaze and words away from me.

“Flower, what’re—” a mildly annoyed Doughy turned towards her interruptor.

“Scoot down here for a bit, your food’s making Skies’ stomach act up.”

“Pregnancy,” I added.

Doughy’s eyes snapped from her bowl to mine, then to my face, “Oh, my bad.”

Stomach aches be damned, I finished my bowl fast before anyone else could interrupt me, not following a quiet conversation between the two mares.

“I just wanted to say: good job, real good job,” Flower left her finished bowl down the table, scooting back over once I’d finished. “Real damn glad you joined on, Skies. Marsh Runner wanted me to deliver her thanks as well, she took off for the medical tents as soon as Strap told her what happened.”

Worry filled my voice, “Rock Runner’s in really bad shape, did Strap…” I trailed off.

“She didn’t leave much to the imagination,” Flower shuddered beside me, eyes glazing over as she stared into the table for a few short seconds. Doughy finished her food and scooted back over.

“Next sparkle cola I find has yer name on it,” the young mare gave me a quick salute.

“Thanks,” I chuckled at that, it almost seemed silly. ‘Save a mare’s life? Have a sparkle cola on us!’ It could almost be a slogan.

“So what’re you gals up to this fine’n dandy day?” Just like that, things went back to normal, Doughy looking between us.

“Going back to sleep in a bit,” Flower adjusted her butt on the bench, “Back on the wall at twelve-hundred sharp.”

“Keep an eye out for those gaiders,” Doughy got seriously confused looks from both of us.

“Alligators?” I prompted. What with hellhounds and feral ghouls, I didn’t know what the wasteland had done to alligators; I didn’t want to know!

“What? No, gai-ders,” her sounding it out with her mild twang didn’t make it any clearer, “As in: ghoul raiders? Those rotten scumbags that’ve been chasing us the past few days? I thought that sounded better than raidouls or somethin’. Raider-ghouls.”

Flower let out a snort of laughter, “Raidouls. Sure, gaiders, why not? I’ll keep an eye out for the gaiders, Doughy,” she snarked.

“I thought it was clever,” Doughy put on a mild pout, turning to me, “What do you think, Skies?”

I returned her question with a noncommittal shrug, “I hadn’t really thought about giving them an identifier.”

“Okay, whatever, back to my original question, then. Skies?” Doughy dismissed the whole ‘gaiders’ thing with a hoof wave.

“I got put on the medical watch after last night, I’m there from ten PM to six AM,” I answered, feeling my lips tug upwards towards a smile, “For now I’m probably going to get some sleep, gonna take a rainy minute to get into a night watch sleep schedule.”

“Wow, nice!” Flower exclaimed, “I’ll make sure to stop by then if I get the clap or something.”

Doughy let out a snort of laughter.

“Don’t go out of your way,” I said with a soft smile and a pair of rolled eyes.

“Anyways,” Doughy drew out the word until both of our attentions were on her, “Spa date? Some time after yer shift and before yours,” Doughy indicated Flower and me in order, “I’ve got a couple tickets left for Steamy Pete’s and after…” she trailed off, her face going slack for a moment, eyes staring into the distance. I knew where she was, “...well, I figured I might as well use ‘em. My treat!” she broke out of her emotional turmoil, forcing a smile that slipped into place after a moment.

“I...yes, that sounds wonderful,” I nodded.

“What time you thinking?” Flower turned to Doughy.

“Well, with you workin’ on team one and you working, what? Ten to six, was it?” I nodded and Doughy continued, “So maybe after dinner? Five thirty or so? I’ll be done in the kitchens, you’ll be done with yer mid shift, and it’ll be before you need to be at the medical tents.”

“It’s a date!” Flower declared, smiling between the three of us.

Sleep came within moments of my back hitting the cot, wrapped loosely in my sleeping bag. It was a few feathers short of being a cloud bed, but after sleeping on the ground and in wagons the past six nights I couldn’t tell the difference.

Something shadowed and hidden stalked me until I awoke and banished it from mind and memory. But in spite of troubling dreams, I still managed to get some solid sleep. For the first time in what felt like a long time, I awoke feeling refreshed.

I slipped out of my sleeping bag and stretched only for a prickly sense on the back of my neck to make me freeze. Turning my head, I found a pair of eyes belonging to High Rise glaring at me from across the mare’s tent. The dashite’s level glare whittled me down, wilting my returned scowl into a simple frown until I turned away and busied myself by looking around. There were only a hoofull of other mares in the tent, most of them sleeping between shifts. When I looked to the cots surrounding me, I found that Axle Grease was my only companion.

“Didn’t wake you, did I?” the mare asked, strapping into some light armored barding. That and a quick glance to the tent’s analogue clock told me it was about time for the defenders’ shift change.

I shook my head, getting a nod in return.

“Heard about Rock Runner,” Axle Grease spoke up once she secured the last strap, turning this way and that to make sure her barding was secured, “If that had been me…” she suppressed a shudder, her tail tucking, “Not sure I’d want to be alive after all that.

“Not to take a shit on your hard work or anything. Hay, I don’t have the guts to go running outside the walls at night,” she put in quickly as an annoyed frown creased my lips, “But doc? If something like that ever happens to me?” She put a forehoof to her head, making a soft gunshot sound with her lips.

Then she left without giving me a chance to respond.

Back above the clouds the idea of two spa days in a row was a ridiculous luxury on my budget. Normally if I needed to relax I could just take a hot bath or steamy shower (preferably with Cloud Poker) or uncork a couple of cheap wine bottles with some gals from work.

But thinking back over the last few days (or, rather, trying desperately not to think about the last few days) a little extra self care was entirely warranted.

“‘Steamy Pete’s Sweat Shack?’” I raised an eyebrow at the sign above the door. The building itself was no more rickety than its brethren, the name just left a bad taste in my mouth.

“Eh. Don’t judge a book by its cover?” Doughy offered, “Sure, it’s no Aloe’s Flows, but who the hay has the caps to spend there?”

“I did,” I said. Still, though, I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Don’t anymore, I reckon,” Doughy grinned as she opened the door for Flower and me.

The reception area was more cramped than the one at Aloe’s Flows. One door led off to a small locker room, the other to a hallway with numerous doors crammed together. The reception desk was simple and utilitarian, a grim-looking griffon statue set up behind it.

The statue blinked.

It wasn’t a statue.

Some deep-rooted animal instinct that had kept my ancestors alive ten or so thousand years ago shot up from the neolithic depths of my brain. My heart fluttered as adrenaline shocked my system, my wings shooting out and a sudden urge to urinate kinking my tail up.

“Oh, shit, Skies, you okay?” Flower’s face filled my narrowed vision and I tried to center myself on her alarmed eyes, “You freaking out? Can you hear me?”

“Mm-hmm,” was all I could manage besides a jerky nod of my head. Even I didn’t know which of the three questions I was responding to.

Movement behind Flower drew my eyes to the stony gray griffon’s face as he (I assumed, considering the moustache) fixed me with a confused frown. His eyes darted towards my flanks and something like surprise flickered in his eyes.

“Enclave, huh?” The almost comically high pitch of the griffon’s voice helped ease me out of my terrified stupor. I suddenly became aware that I was breathing in tune with Flower, her breaths deep and measured in an effort to get my spiraling mind back on track.

“Yep,” I just managed not to squeak.

“Well hello, Enclave,” the griffon continued, “You paying or gawking?”

‘Trying to come to terms with seeing an actual griffon standing not a few hoof-lengths away from me?’ The fact that I managed the mental quip told me my brain was starting to accept the notion that griffons were a normal thing below the clouds. If I remembered my history, that was largely due to efforts made by the Enclave.

“We’re payin’, we’re payin’, don’t get yer beak in a bunch,” Doughy brushed past me, an apologetic look in her eyes. She offered up the three tickets to the griffon, who sniffed, licked, eyeballed, and rubbed them between his talons before accepting them as genuine.

“Pick a locker. You put a lock on it then it better be off by closing time or I get a big old set of bolt cutters and it’s finders keepers for what’s inside,” the griffon recited, “You try to take something from someone else’s locker and I get a big old set of bolt cutters and start cutting tendons, capisce?” The high pitch of his voice didn’t take away from the threat, the three of us nodding in understanding.

“Bring some water and a towel,” Flower said as we stowed our belongings in a set of open lockers. Doughy set a lock on her own, but Flower seemed to trust her fellow equine enough and I didn’t have a lock regardless.

The griffon tossed a numbered key that Doughy caught in her magic and the three of us found the matching door. A tub of hot rocks sat in the middle of the room, pipes in the ceiling letting a slow trickle of water down onto them and filling the room with hot steam. I plopped my towel and then my butt down on one of the three wall-wide benches ringing the room, relaxing back as I let the steam do its work.

“Never seen a griffon before, huh?” Flower relaxed back next to me, Doughy laying flat across the bench on the opposite side of the small room.

“Just in textbooks,” I replied with a shiver, “Most of them depicting griffons terrorizing pegasi.”

“Ah, Pete’s all bark and no balls,” Doughy waved off, lifting a lazy hoof in the air, “I mean, not literally ‘no balls,’ though with that voice it makes ya wonder...”

“So you’ve snuck yourself a little peek, then?” Flower teased.

“Emphasis on ‘little,’” Doughy shot a mischievous little grin our way. She brought up two hooves to show how small, “But he’s a griffon so go figure, I guess. Their tools’re made for different slots, if you’ll pardon a little innuendo.”

“This about the same kinda stuff gal pals talk about above the clouds?” Flower turned to me, “Or is it more around the lines of ‘Hey, how’s the weather up here?’”

I let out a snort of laughter, “No, it’s more or less the same kinda stuff. Who’s got the cutest butt, who’s got the nicest looking penis. Of course my answer was always Cloud Poker when I was answering…” I trailed off as I saw the look on his face when I’d left him, my smile drooping into a frown.

“He the father?” Flower pointed to my belly as I felt a soft cramp pinch me there.

I nodded, “He, um...we didn’t...I told him…” words tumbled out of my unhinged lips.

“It was an accident?” Flower prompted.

I cringed at the last word, but nodded, “I...well, we were,” I cleared my throat, “out of condoms at the tail end of last cycle.” My uncertainty as to why I was unburdening myself here and now didn’t stop me from continuing, “Am I a bad pony for telling him...I said I’d get rid of it if I got pregnant...and when I didn’t I went to Red Mist and...and I think I ruined his life!”

“Skies,” Flower leveled with me, drawing my own eyes to her deadly serious pair, shimmering blue burning into wine red, “I’d be dead right now if you hadn’t come down here and joined the caravan,” her magic tingled against my cheek as she wiped away a tumbling tear, “Rock Runner would be rotting out there in the sun. The wagon Red Mist pulled to safety would have been overrun with ghouls! I don’t care what the hell you did above the clouds, down here you’re as good a pony as they come.”

Blue above, when she put it like that? Cloud Poker’s gaze still lingered in my mind, but the effect it had on me had faded just a little bit.

“Thanks,” I croaked, and Flower opened her forelegs to me, offering a reassuring hug which I gladly accepted. Her rose red body was hot against mine, but maybe that was just the humidity.

“Now kiss,” Doughy ruined the moment with two words.

“Screw you, Doughy,” but Flower laughed as she said it, a grin and a snicker breaking out past my own lips as we separated.

“Actually, leads into a quick question for the resident pegasus. Somethin’ I’ve always wondered but never got the chance to figure out,” Doughy rolled onto her side, propping her head up with a hoof, “I can’t speak to the source that told me, but is everypony in the Enclave gay?”

“What!?” I wasn’t as taken aback by the question as I sounded, mostly just startled at the blunt way that she’d posed it, “I mean, not everypony, no, but it’s a good way to keep the population under control and certain incentives over the years have led to a lot of same-sex couplings. Red Mist is into stallions and I’ll admit I dabbled with the idea of mares back in the day, but there’s plenty of folks who fly straight.”

“‘Fly straight,’” Flower parroted, “I like that one!”

“‘Dabbled with mares?’” Doughy queried, a grin on her face as she continued, “If you were to rephrase that for an adult audience…how deeply did ya dabble?”

I opened my mouth, then shut it as a grin of my own split my face, “Well, the clitoris isn’t that deep down the pony hole so it’s not like I was spelunking very far…”

Doughy burst out laughing, Flower cackling beside me.

“Tell that to every stallion I ever met!” Doughy snarked.

“When have you ever been with a stallion like that?” Flower shot back, “You’re barely even a full-grown mare, what are you, thirteen?”

“I am a fully grown and sexually mature mare of the age of fourteen, thank you for asking,” Doughy replied with a flash of haughtiness, flicking her mane with a hoof. She grinned again, “And, since ya did ask, I feel it my duty to inform ya both that our dear Marrowbone doesn’t necessarily get the ‘bone’ in his name from the marrow!”

“Isn’t he ten years older than you?” Flower raised an eyebrow.

“Ten years more experienced, maybe,” Doughy gave her flank a little wiggle.

“Geez, does your dad know you’re a gold digger?” Flower grinned.

“Oh...what…” Doughy sputtered, turning a little rosy around the cheeks, “You nag! I’m not a gold digger! That would be like...like screwin’ Dual Gauge or somethin!’”

“Yeah, fair point,” Flower shrugged, then turned to me, “So who was your first?”

“Uhh…” I said, caught off guard by the question.

“Why don’t you go first, Flower?” Doughy saved me.

“Sure: Scribe Cherry Pop,” Flower replied fondly, “We’d just been initiated and she’d snuck some booze into the barracks. Passed it around a few times and everypony was wasted.

“The two of us were young and the booze made us both pretty sloppy, but I’ve had worse since.” She got lost in her mind for a moment, then smiled, “Goddesses, we got yelled at the next day, I was sure they were going to toss me out then and there.”

“Wait, were you in some sort of military?” I asked.

Flower raised an eyebrow at me, then something clicked and her lips formed a surprised ‘Ohh!’

“Oh! Oh, right, you’ve probably never heard of the steel rangers, have you?” Flower filled me in when I shook my head and I couldn’t help but feel she was painting them in an over-exaggeratedly negative light. “Anyways, I didn’t really leave them in the most mature manner I could’ve…” she admitted, pausing for a moment, “I’m a phytokinetic,” she pointed at the trio of thorny roses emblazoned on her flank, one in each primary color, “You know what that means?”

“Plant magic,” I nodded, getting a surprised look from Flower.

“Look at you with all your fancy knowledge,” she said, continuing, “I wanted to do field work, as in do stuff outside the bunker, not work in actual fields. But all the rangers wanted was for me to grow crops so day in and day out I worked my horn off growing stuff for ponies to eat. It was a thankless task and most of the earth ponies, Cherry aside, didn’t really see eye to eye with me on magically-induced crop growth. I kinda just snapped one day, burned the wrong bridge, and that was that...” she rubbed her forehooves together, looking uncomfortable.

“Jasmine Tea in my first year of medical school,” I spoke up suddenly, trying to take the mare’s mind off of her past by bringing up my own. Both Flower and Doughy gave me questioning looks, and I elaborated with a sultry smile: “You asked who my first lay was...”

Before I knew it it was time to leave, Pete was giving the door a sharp knock and letting us know he was closing up shop. The steam slowly dissipated and we all toweled off after a quick shower before heading out. I still had a few hours before I needed to be at the medical tents, but I headed there anyways. Strap had said extra work paid off and I was in one hell of a good mood after unwinding with the other mares.

“You sick, buzzard?” A buck glared at me and my intact cutie mark when I entered the medical tent. From the fact he was standing about with a clipboard in his magic and not bedridden or bruised I assumed he was one of the Workforce ponies.

“I’m the night shift,” I tried not to let his glare and his tone ruin my peachy mood, “I thought I’d stop in early and see if I could help out at all.”

The buck’s glare returned to his clipboard, his magic flipping through the pages. When he stopped his eyes scanned quickly.

“Name?” He didn’t look up.

“Healthy Skies,” a sudden worry struck me that Dr. Holiday hadn’t written my name in whatever it was the buck was referencing. Was I going to get kicked out without another stamp? But the buck seemed satisfied with my response, flipping back to the first page and setting the clipboard down.

“Maybe you can help by getting that mare out of here,” when I followed his hoof I saw where Rock Runner’s beaten and bandaged form was laying. But the mare the buck was referring to was Marsh Runner, whose large form was curled up next to Rock Runner’s cot, “She’s been weeping and worrying over her sister all day and she’s blocking the route between cots.”

“That’s her sister,” seemed like a smart response in my head, but out loud it just sounded dumb. The buck knew already that, “I mean, she...look what they did to her.” That also sounded dumb as it came out of my mouth, but if something that bad had happened to Cloud Poker, or my parents, or even Reuben, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to leave their side.

“I can see that,” from his tone I could tell he thought my comments were stupid, too, “but she keeps pestering us about little things, worrying over every little thing she thinks is wrong!” the buck’s harsh tone could use some work, but I could see how that might get annoying. I would know if a wounded Cloud Poker was regressing or otherwise needed extra attention, but I doubted that Marsh Runner knew anything more than basic first aid, “That, and again: she’s blocking access to that row of cots,” again his hoof pointed to where Marsh Runner was laid down, “If we have a mass-cas and need to move around—”

“Okay, okay! I’ll see what I can do,” I relented, hating that I’d have to be the villain and force Marsh Runner away from her sister, but in all fairness the buck had a point. He let out an unsatisfied huff, but stopped berating me all the same.

I took a few steps towards Rock Runner’s cot, then hesitated as I started to think over what I could say. Bedside manner could be a difficult thing, especially with ponies who were distraught as Marsh Runner would be.

With a simple conversation started in my head, I trotted forwards again. Both mares appeared to be sleeping, though Rock Runner proved my observation wrong as her right foreleg dropped down to her sister. She pawed blindly for a moment before making soft contact with Marsh Runner’s head, rubbing gently to rouse her.

“Marshy, Marshy!” She coaxed Marsh Runner awake with a soft voice, “Skies is here.”

“Mmm,” Marsh Runner let out a whimper, rubbing her snout with a hoof and opening her bloodshot eyes. They shot wide and filled with fresh tears when she saw me.

“Mar—” I couldn’t even get a single syllable out before the mare was upon me, powerful hooves sweeping me up in a great, big hug, “Agh! Please! Squeezing! Pregnant!” I protested even as she let out an unending string of “Thankyou! Thankyou! Thankyou!”

“Goddesses, I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Marsh Runner swept back like her mere presence might be hurting me, letting me back on my own hooves.

“Marsh Runner—” I managed three syllables that time.

“Goddesses above and below, I’m so glad you brought Rocky back, Skies!” Marsh Runner’s words barreled out over my own, “If...if you hadn’t…” she hiccuped out a quick sob, “I’m in your debt, we both are. If you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask. Nothing I can do will be able to repay what you did for me and Rocky.”

“I don’t...it wasn’t—” all my calm explanations of why Marsh Runner needed to leave and let us trained medical ponies do our jobs crumbled in my brain. I took a half-step back, overwhelmed by the massive mare’s words. I shouldn’t be in her debt! It was just me doing my job mixed with dumb luck that had saved her sister. Hell, it was Strap who did most of the heavy lifting...or, cutting, as it were, “I was just doing my job,” I finally managed to say past a slight blush, “You don’t owe me—”

“Please!” she cut off my attempts at modesty, teary eyes begging my own wide pair. The sheer force of the mare’s pleading voice made me take a half step back. All I could do was offer her a simple, sober nod, but it let her relax and wipe her nose with a forehoof.

“Satisfied, sis?” Rock Runner reached out her forehoof again and Marsh Runner moved into it, wrapping it gently in her own.

“You’ll take good care of her?” Marsh Runner turned to me, more seeking reassurance than anything else.

“I will,” I gave her a stoic nod.

“They need you on the wall, now, Marshy,” Rock Runner’s voice was firm, but gentle. Marsh Runner froze up at the prospect of leaving, trembling as she gripped her sister’s leg as if letting go would mean saying goodbye forever. Rock Runner’s stumpy foreleg started to move, as if she were going to bring it around to give Marsh Runner a reassuring pat, but stopped as she undoubtedly realized it would no longer reach. Fortunately it wasn’t needed and Marsh Runner finally managed the courage to lean in to kiss Rock Runner on the forehead, running a forehoof through her tattered mane. Then she pulled away with a jerky movement as if terrified Rock Runner would pull apart at the seams.

“Thank you,” Marsh Runner turned to me before trotting out of the tent, the buck at the far end watching her go with a mixture of annoyance and relief.

“Sorry about Marshy,” Rock Runner spoke up once Marsh Runner was gone, “I love her, but she’s kind of an idiot.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” I tried to reassure the mare, but she waved me off with her good forehoof.

“Trust me, you weren’t here earlier. She was like a young mare who’d just given birth, terrified that every little hiccup and sneeze was a sure sign I was going to die.”

“I guess I’ll take your word for it,” I shrugged before realizing the gesture would be lost on her. Feeling awkward, I changed the subject, going back into doctor mode, “are you holding up?” I trotted around to her right side, mostly so my eyes wouldn’t be morbidly drawn to the wounds beneath her tail, “You sound like you’re starting to feel better.”

I questioned my choice of words as the mare’s face scrunched up, but she seemed to overcome her torment, “I can still feel it,” she moved her stump, lifting her head for a moment before remembering she didn’t have any eyes, “But when I try to scratch it…” she didn’t need to finish the thought, forcing a smile, “I could kiss the pony who invented med-X right now.”

A quick check of her bandages and waste bag told me somepony had already changed them, and that her wounds were healing nicely...at least the ones that would heal.

Rock Runner waved away my worry again when I asked if she needed anything so I made a quick round around the medical tent. Another unicorn entered as I was doing so, but her cutie mark and lack of wounds made me think she was the other Workforce doctor on shift, perhaps returned from a quick break. The look she fixed me with made me think I wasn’t supposed to be here, but after speaking with the buck she ignored me.

The two unicorns seemed to be holding a private conversation when I’d made sure there was nothing the wounded needed, so I returned to Rock Runner’s side.

“How does healthcare work down here?” I asked, both to satisfy my own curiosity and for want of something to talk about, “Like, do you have to pay for all the stuff they use at some point? Since Strap did most of the…” I hesitated as I tossed a glance to Rock Runner’s stump, “the work does that get you a...discount or something?”

“‘A discount,’” Rock Runner let out a quiet snort of laughter at that, though with her face wrapped in bandages it was hard to tell how genuine her mirth was, “Assuming you know what insurance is, Dual Gauge has a full policy with Oasis Springs. Pays a premium of medical supplies and caps and all his ponies get taken care of,” she scowled, “Though I assume the cost of both are gonna go up after, well...this.” She made a vague gesture with her good foreleg, looking thoughtful for a moment...though it was admittedly hard to tell for sure that’s what her expression had turned to, “But now I’m curious; how does it work up there?” her hoof pointed up beyond the fabric of the medical tent, “healthcare, I mean.”

“Paid for by taxes, mostly,” I said, happy to help take the mare’s mind off her current situation, “General medical expenses are covered. Break a leg or a wing, check into a hospital, get right as rain, and as long as you’ve got the proper tax forms submitted proving that you’ve paid you’re good to go.

“Only time you’ve gotta pay is for elective stuff and some instances of negligence or misconduct. Like, if you broke your wing doing something incredibly stupid, the government can fine you for wasting resources. It only happens in extreme cases and a lot of them get thrown out in court. Same goes for if you cause someone else undue harm, you gotta pay for their medical expenses out of pocket.

“For us gals, once you turn eight you gotta start doing an annual pregnancy evaluation every Fall to make sure you’re not pregnant. If you are, then you’d better be able to produce a birth card in three weeks...” I trailed off, rubbing at a sudden cramp in my belly with a hoof.

“What if you can’t?” Rock Runner queried.

“You…” my hoof paused a moment in the slow circles it was making, “You can apply for an extension, but ultimately they take your foal...abort it…” Cloud Poker’s hurt gaze flashed behind my eyes and I continued speaking to get the image out of my head, “You’re expected to do a self test if you think you’re at risk after your cycle and if you...you’re expected to abort it if you are pregnant without a birth card. Accidents are one thing, maybe a condom broke, it happens. But for repeat offenders or those who try to hide it there’s a fine or jail time. If it keeps happening, well, they can sterilize you...”

“Ponies just let them do all that to you?” Her scowl and tone told me she didn’t think very highly of what must seem like an overbearing government. But it all made sense when you thought about it!

“I mean, there’s always one or two mares every year who resist,” And I was one of them now, I realized. But I still felt the urge to defend my people, “We’ve gotta keep control of the population…” but coming from my mouth the words reeked of hypocrisy. I didn’t have a birth card and I’d promised Cloud Poker I’d do what had to be done if he got me pregnant. But now here I was...

“Nopony ever thought about just opening up the cloud layer and spreading yourselves out wide?” I wasn’t sure if that last part was supposed to be some sort of vague double entendre, but I assumed not as I replied.

“Well...some ponies, sure, but they’re either in the minority political parties or they’re dashites,” I couldn’t help the quiet tremble in my voice, seeing the glaring, misshapen faces of “Deadshot” Calamity and “Radioactive” Radar on posters here and there above the clouds, “The government tells us it’s all for the best, that we can’t live down here, the radiation and the beasts would kill us all.”

“What do you think now that you know that’s all horseapples?” Rock Runner asked.

“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s all horseapples,” I countered, a little more defensive that I wanted to be, “I mean, there’s still radiation and monsters and raiders and ghouls and—”

“Hey, not trying to be pushy, just making conversation,” she stopped my rising tone with a placating gesture of her hoof, “About all I’m good for now.”

“That’s not all you’re good for,” I quickly reassured her, hesitating a moment before taking her hoof in my own.

She looked like she was about to protest, maybe ask me what else I thought she was good for (which I would have struggled greatly to answer), but then she swallowed the thought.

“Thanks,” she said, managing a sad smile.

Darkness descended, hushing the general hubbub of civilization.

Dr. Holiday showed up at ten PM and was pleasantly surprised with my early arrival, promising me an extra stamp in the morning. The clipboard the Workforce buck had used to confirm my name was passed over to me and then I was alone with the wounded.

It was almost like working at the hospital again, except smaller, more cramped, no patients with wings, and now I was working as a fully fledged doctor instead of a simple nurse. That last part gave me pause, guilt filling my mind as I cast a worried look to all the injured ponies around me. Was it wrong that I had professed to be a doctor when, in fact, I was only a nurse? I was working towards a doctorate above the clouds, sure, but if I pretended to be a doctor up there I could be fined and even jailed or sued for practicing without credentials.

But as Day Pacer had said the night before, they didn’t have medical schools down here. So maybe a piece of paper telling someone you were a licensed physician was good for nothing other than toilet paper when it came to the wasteland. If that was the case, then maybe I was a doctor in the wasteland sense. I might not be as skilled as Strap was, but I knew my way around a wound, and perhaps that was better than any cloud-based document.

‘Dr. Healthy Skies, Wasteland M.D.’ I mused in my mind, a small smile brightening my face.

“Skies!” I jumped out of my reverie at Dr. Holiday’s call, turning about frantically as he rushed into the tent, “Go grab your gun and get to the wall!”

My panicked brain tried to make the command make sense. What had I done wrong? Why was he making me a defender again? A plea formed in my head to be given another chance, that healing ponies was my calling! But his eyes set with worry, not anger, I realized, and he was dressed in light armored barding with a pistol and spare magazines strapped to his side. Something else was going on.

“I’ll take over here,” already the tall buck was moving away, his magic sweeping through lockers as he checked over medical supplies, “Find Leather Strap at the main gate, hurry!”

The order cut through the growing fright that was swamping my mind. If they’d woken up Strap, maybe that meant they’d found another injured pony from the caravan. Somepony could be dying out there like Rock Runner had been!

My wings lifted and I was off, flying over the buildings thankful for the low light of the street lamps guiding my way. Something dark flashed past in my peripherals and I let out a startled whinny, but when I turned my head whatever it was was gone. Fearing some avian wasteland creature, I lowered my altitude so I was skimming the tops of the street lamps.

I arrived at the mare’s tent without incident, finding it empty and vacated in a hurry. My shotgun was where I’d left it, the magazine tube loaded when I flipped it over. I threw a heavy bandolier of shotgun shells over my withers and rushed back out towards the gate.

A great many whispers rose to an orchestra of uncertainty as I galloped closer, spotting Leather Strap, Marrowbone, and a few other ponies with medical cutie marks and bags around her.

“Skies!” she barked my name when she saw me, waving me over with her injured foreleg.

“Strap! What’s going on!?” I didn’t care that my voice was trembling.

“Not entirely sure. Somepony thought they saw something out there and raised the alarm. Then someone started shooting, not sure who.” The mystery of the situation didn’t help my trembling hooves as I ground them into the earth, trying to hide my shakiness. My mind immediately dredged up shadowy equine figures, illuminated only by the flashes of their weapons as they shot us off our walls. “Nopony was injured, but we’re on high alert now.”

“Probably some dipshit bandit taking potshots,” a buck I didn’t know grumbled, casting an annoyed glance to the wall as he let out a yawn.

Strap ignored him, her eyes finding my weapon, “Gimme that for a sec,” she gestured with her hoof, “Go fly up there, see what you can see. Just a quick peek, stay in the darkness. Probably won’t see anything, but I’m tired of waiting for them to send runners down here to keep us updated.”

I hesitated a moment, not sure that I wanted to go up there and take a peek, but I was the best pony for the job. Strap checked that my shotgun was loaded as I hoofed it over, nodding for me to take flight. I had to force my wings from my sides before I finally managed to flap them, Strap giving me a reassuring look before I started rising up, the lip of the wall slowly approaching.

Taking a quick peek before darting back down a bit got me nothing but an annoyed look from one of the defenders crouching on the wall. I took a longer peek again, seeing nothing but darkness. I couldn’t decide on whether that was reassuring or not.

Then they came.

Three blood-red flares flashed silently into the sky, their pulsating light illuminating a liquid mass of movement laid across the wasteland below. It almost looked like a great flood of blood flowing across the low plains, but I knew better.

It was a massive swarm of ghouls.

Footnote: Level progress 60%

Skills increased:

+Medicine

+Speech

Author's Notes:

The caravan arc is finally coming to a close...

Since I mention Doughy's age as being 14 but her still being a fully mature mare I'll post again that I subscribe to the idea of a pony ageing system not equivalent to humans, because that's just boring. Her human-equivalent age is 18-19ish, and estrous cycles start around the age of 8, which is about 16 for humans.