“I don’t rightly see how you have a choice in the matter...”

“Answer the fucking question before I stop being civil about it,” Brass’ father gave a stomp, floating pistols pointed right at Mist’s face. His glaring eyes took turns driving into each of us, though remained mostly on Mist. For good reason too: he wasn’t the one trembling with fear. “What’re you two doing here? Some part of a fucking scouting party!? What’s the Enclave want with this place?”

“Nothing. We’re just two ponies trying to survive,” Mist growled back, standing tense, wings outstretched to cover me. I did my best to keep them between me and the floating weapons, trying not to think about how thin the armor on them actually looked, “we’re here on our own, not part of any Enclave business.”

Brass’ father glanced between us, the ponies flanking him looking tense, ready to open fire at the slightest provocation. They were far better dressed than the ponies that had attacked us earlier, the smell of them not nearly as bad...though they still looked like they could each use at least a bath and a half.

A quick glance behind me showed that Brass had backed off a few steps. His eyes darted to mine, jaw set and horn ignited in a threatening manner. I gave a gulp and moved a step closer to Mist, ‘Please don’t let them kill us, please don’t let them kill us, please don’t let them kill us...’ I chanted in my head.

“Hm? Is that so?” Brass’ father spoke up again, doubt lacing his voice, “Well, we’ve got ways of figuring that kinda stuff out,” he threw a glance to one of the ponies flanking him, “Dynamite, go grab their bags, bring ‘em here.”

“Sure thing, Gauge,” Dynamite replied, trotting off towards the corner. Mist gave a low growl, tail twitching behind him.

“High Brass,” Gauge called, tilting his head to look past us, “pick up that old Hoofberg and get over here,” he chastised, adding, “And try not to lose it so easily again.”

“Didn’t try to in the first place, dad,” Brass mumbled, properly scolded as he did as told. He began looking through the pews, searching for his lost firearm.

“And just so we’ve got things straight,” Gauge glanced between Mist and me, grey eyes glaring, “now’s the time to let us know about any booby traps you’ve got on those bags. If something goes off,” he flicked his eyes to one of his pistols, “one of these goes off, too.”

“None of our stuff is trapped!” Mist snapped back. I winced at his tone, hoping they wouldn't shoot us for him being rude, “We’re just a couple ponies trying to survive out here. Just like you. If you let us go we’ll be on our way, no harm done. I promise you.”

“If only I could take your word for it,” Gauge growled in reply, eyes full of mistrust. A quick glance to the others told me the other ponies shared his sentiment. A low whimper escaped me, heart hammering in my chest.

Why were these ponies so hostile!? We hadn’t even done anything and they were treating us worse than common criminals! Sure, they were better than the first three we’d run into—a vision of the wild mare charged me through a flashback, hurling her weapon at my face—I shuddered, biting my lip and trying to focus on the current situation.

Dynamite returned quickly with our saddlebags, held high and away from him in his red magic. He set them down off to the side and began probing them with hoof and horn; first Mist’s, then mine. After a moment, he straightened up, glancing our way before setting his gaze on Gauge.

“Not detecting any explosives,” he reported, “nor any tripwires or other triggers. Stuff seems clean.”

“Open ‘em. We’ll see what our two friends here are really up to,” Gauge returned Mist’s glare with a knowing, hostile smile, “you can always tell a pony by the contents of their saddlebags.”

A flicker in my peripherals drew my eyes to the door. A small gathering of ponies were silhouetted in the doorframe, peeking in at the odd sight. Hushed whispers and murmurs brushed at my ears, unintelligible from where I stood. With shotgun once again held aloft in his magic, Brass stepped up next to his father and trained his weapon on Mist.

Zipping our bags open carefully, Dynamite unceremoniously dumped them out on the floor. Canned goods and tools clattered out in a mismatched pile on the dusty boards, making an echoing racket within the chapel.

“H-hey, be careful!” I cried, getting a silencing glare from Gauge, finding myself suddenly staring down the barrel of one of his pistols. My limbs shook quietly beneath me, giving away my fear. Growling, Mist took a step to the side, between the weapon and me.

Dynamite sifted through our supplies, pale yellow eyes darting back and forth as he noted off items. Food, water, rope, a multi-tool, a few hygiene products, firestarting and navigational tools, and various other things in Mist’s bag. More food and water in my own, my preening kit, taser, his eyes widened as he opened my lunchbag, a low whistle escaping his lips.

“What?” Gauge asked, sparing the pony a quick glance. My breath caught, were they going to steal our medical supplies!?

“Medical supplies, and a whole lot of ‘em,” Dynamite poked through with a grey hoof, “all top-of-the-line shit, too! Like, this epi pen isn’t even expired!” he continued, holding up one of the yellow pens in his magic.

Gauge enveloped the item in his own green magic, examining it briefly. His scowl deepened as he glared over the epi pen at Mist again, “How’d you come by all this fancy medical stuff?”

Mist threw a quick glance back at me, looking uncertain as he replied, “Doesn’t matter, it belongs to us!”

Gauge’s eyes narrowed. “Sounds like something a thief might say,” he replied with venom in his voice. His magic seemed to tighten around the floating pistols, the weapons pulling closer to him, “know what we do to thieves around these parts?”

The air in the room thickened, the tenseness palpable. Mist bristled as the four ponies glared at us, the two with saddle mounted weapons chewing at their bits. The silhouettes at the door pulled back, fearing what would come if everything went to hell.

‘Oh, no! No, no, no! This is bad!’ I mentally panicked, struggling to find my voice, before crying out: “N-no, please! Wait! We-we’re not thieves!” Gauge’s glare shifted to me, demanding I elaborate before he perforated me. I withered under the look, but continued, “I-I’m a...a doctor,” I stuttered out the half-lie, turning and pointing to my cutie mark as an afterthought, “I...they belong to me, I took...I brought them with me when we came down here…” my eyes darted to the bag and I added: “p-please don’t take them!”

Gauge tossed the epi pen back in my lunchbag, “What do you take me for, a thief?!” he grumbled, looking from my flank to my face. A cutie mark couldn’t lie—as far as I knew—and there weren’t that many things a bandaged heart could mean. He seemed to swallow it, “So why are you down here?” he demanded, glancing at Mist and, when he got no reply, turned back to me, “What’s a couple of high-and-mighty Enclave pegasi doing down here with the rest of us ‘earthbound scum’?”

I held my tongue. What would they do if I told them I was pregnant? Would they even believe me? And, if they did, what would they do? My womb cramped lightly beneath me.

“I...we...” I fumbled with my words, ‘What do I say?!’ A glance to Mist gave me no help as he bared his teeth at them, “We’re just—”

“Gauge,” Dynamite spoke up, looking surprised as he tore me from my thoughts. He glanced at me as I looked to him, spotting something held aloft in his magic. My eyes widened at the sight of it, wings giving an agitated twitch. I wanted to dart forwards and grab it, but their wall of firepower kept me in check.

Gauge’s brown-orange brow furrowed as he looked over my pregnancy tester, then to me, then to Mist. A variety of looks crossed his features, settling like a spinning casino machine on surprised, confused, and angry, “The hell you doing, bringing a pregnant mare down here to this hellhole?” he snarled, pistols lowering a tad.

“She convinced me to,” Mist growled back through gritted teeth, “so she can stay pregnant.”

“The fuck kinda answer…” Gauge turned to me again, gaze assessing, “the hell you come down here for? This is yours, right?” he held the tester up with his magic, the small smiley face grinning cheekily at me. It looked like I was about to find out what they were going to do after all, “you’re pregnant,” it was more of a statement than a question.

There was no point in lying with the evidence laid bare. I nodded, “They’d have...they would’ve forced me to abort the foal if I didn’t...if I stayed up there,” I explained, womb twinging at me, I pressed a hoof to it, “this is the only place I could come to have it. P-please don’t kill us, we’re not lying! We’re just trying to survive!”

Gauge chewed my words over for a moment, looking between the two of us. The others with him shot him occasional glances, uncertainty cracking their hardened faces. Gauge’s judging look remained on me for a time, silence reigning in the old building.

“Dad?” Brass asked suddenly, awaiting an answer as he turned to Gauge. The younger pony’s glare had faded, his look uncertain now, though his shotgun remained pointed firmly in Mist’s direction.

“They got anything else in those bags, Dynamite?” Gauge grumbled, turning to the other unicorn, “Anything incriminating?”

Dynamite shook his head, holding both of our empty bags aloft in his magic. Gauge turned his look back on us, judging us for a moment before speaking again.

“Why would they have taken the foal from you?” he asked, posture relaxing only a little bit, “You do something? Break some sorta law? Got some weird disease?”

‘Ew, no!’ I mentally shuddered despite myself, “I didn’t have a birth card,” I admitted with a quiet sigh, giving a simple explanation: “if you don’t have a birth card, you can’t have a child. I...I...” I stumbled over my words, an acute cramp in my gut making me press a hoof to the spot, “I just c-couldn’t let them take it from me!”

“So, what?” Gauge asked, pausing as he chose his words. His voice had a condescending edge as he spoke them, “You’re some kinda fugitive, then?”

The application of the word made me wither a little on the inside...but as stinging as it was, the word fit. I’d broken the law and fled from the consequences, it was a fair choice of words.

“Yes,” I admitted, gaze dropping to the floorboards.

“Well, at the very least you’re an honest fugitive,” Gauge said, stance relaxing, “so far as I can tell.” His weapons, however, remained trained on Mist, “but what’s that make you? A deserter?”

Mist let loose a quiet growl, armored hooves grinding into the floor beneath him. I gave my friend a worried glance, biting at my lip, but he refrained from retaliating.

Gauge gave a quiet snort, eyeing the display with a knowing sneer, “Hardly matters to me, Enclave can choke on its own shit up there for all I care,” he cast his eyes briefly to the ceiling, “well, if you two’re who you say you are then I suppose I can’t rightly kill or keep you for the authorities.” He jerked his head towards our saddlebags, “Pack up and get out of my chapel. Brass, Dynamite, keep an eye on them and make sure they leave.”

And with that, he holstered his pistols and turned to go, the other armed pony with him following. I gave a relieved breath. He wasn’t going to kill us! He wasn’t going to kill us! Though my relief flickered as his last words repeated in my head.

“Hey, wait!” I called after him, “you-you can’t just kick us out!” I sputtered as he halted and turned back to me.

“Um…” he said, tapping the mouthgrip of one of his holstered pistols with a hoof, “yes I can.”

“But...but why?!” I exclaimed, gesturing with a wing, “th-there’s more than enough space here! W-we need the shelter just as much as you do!”

An annoyed look crossed the unicorn’s face, “One: you’re pegasi. Nothing personal, but hardly a pony here likes you feathered fuckers; it’s for your own safety more than anything else. Two, and this one is personal: I don’t trust you. You’re pegasi, and criminals at that. You broke some abortion law or whatever,” he gestured from me to Mist, “and you deserted helping her escape.”

“Screw you,” Mist spat back.

Gauge gave a derisive snort, “You know, all things considered, I’m being very generous here. I could name quite a few associates of mine who’d gladly spend a couple bullets to get their hooves on your stuff here, petty as it is,” he gestured to our bags, “lucky for you, I’m a more decent pony. Now if you’ll excuse—”

“Dual Gauge! Dual Gauge!” a vanilla mare armed with a double barreled shotgun rushed in. She halted as she spotted us, a glare taking her eyes, “the fuck is this?”

“Don’t bother with them, they’ll be out of here soon enough,” Gauge grumbled, turning to go and gesturing for her to follow, “C’mon, Break Action, what is it? Somepony bust something?”

“N-no: bodies,” she replied, tearing her glare from us as she trotted after him, “three, out back, fresh. Somepony was in the middle of burying them. I came across them—”

Gauge halted midstep, turning slowly with a glare to us. Break Action halted as well, looking confused as she paused with a hoof raised. Oh no.

“Gauge?” she asked.

Gauge’s eyes narrowed as they moved between us, “Either of you happen to know anything about three bodies out back?” Gauge inquired, voice deadly again. His magic wrapped around his pistols, though they remained holstered for the time being.

“Raiders, they came in and attacked us,” Mist replied gruffly.

“Raiders? Out here?” his eyes narrowed as he trotted slowly back in, “Bullshit.” With a gesture, every gun was trained on us again, my heart seemed to explode out of my chest as I cringed back. Not again! “Why would raiders come here? We’re in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere, been looted out ages ago,” he pulled one of his pistols out with his magic, taking a menacing step forwards, “You’re lying to me, colt,” the hammer came back with an audible click, cylinder rotating into position.

“No! No he’s not, th-they attacked us! I-I swear!” I pleaded, wincing as the image of the raider mare charging and dying before me flashed across my vision. I gave my head a quick shake to clear it, choking back the taste of bile to speak, “w-we tried to talk them down but they-they wouldn’t listen!”

Gauge glared between us, eyes narrowed as he decided our fate. I looked about to the other ponies, hoping for some sign of belief. The one thus far unnamed stallion armed with a saddle-mounted gun glared back, ready to shoot on command. Dynamite, too, glared cooly between us. He let out a snort when my eyes met his. The new mare, Break Action, glared down her sights with one eye closed, tongue tasting the trigger of her weapon.

My eyes landed on High Brass, finding him the only pony of the lot who didn’t look ready to shoot us. Even if his weapon remained trained on Mist, his skewed features flickered with uncertainty.

Finally Gauge spoke. A sigh of relief escaped me as his first words weren’t ‘shoot them.’

“Brass, Dynamite, stay here and watch her. You,” he gestured to Mist with a hoof, “we’ll go see these ‘raiders’. You try anything funny and you’re a dead buzzard, now move,” he jerked his head back towards the door. Mist exchanged a careful glance with me, then followed.

In the silence that followed Mist and Gauge’s exit I shut my eyes to the world, trying to hide the tears growing from them. My heart was still pounding up into my throat despite the defusing of the situation, breath coming in short, rapid breaths. Quivering, my wings stuck to my sides; I doubted I could have pried them away even with a crowbar.

‘C-calm down,’ I told myself, taking in the reins of my breathing to slow my racing heart, ‘everything’s going to be fine. Those ponies we-we—’ the machete flew through the air as I ducked, ‘—dealt with were...they must’ve been criminals or-or something,’ I opened my eyes and focused on an old stain on the floor, pressing a hoof to my jaw, checking my lowering pulse, ‘what did Mist call them? Raiders? We only acted in self defense, we—’

“What’s he gonna find out there?” Dynamite growled at me, drawing my eyes to him and ending my train of thought. I felt naked with only the air between his rifle and me, staring down the weapon’s barrel, “because if it turns out you and your friend are lying—”

“I’m telling you, we’re not lying!” I repeated, ears flattening even as I butted in. “They just came in here an-and attacked us! Mist...he tried to warn them off, but they didn’t listen! We had...had to to k-kill them...”

“Huh,” Dynamite replied, sounding unconvinced, “We’ll see soon enough.” He jerked his head towards our bags, “Any case, start packing. Gauge’s right about you two not being welcome here.”

“Please!” my stomach twisted as I turned to him, trying to ignore the weapon pointed at my face, “There’s more than enough room in here! We’ll stay out of your way! We’ve got our own supp—”

“I don’t give a good goddamn!” Dynamite butted in with a stomp that made me skitter back a pace. “Gauge said you go. That means you go! I don’t make the rules, I just follow them.”

“Shit, you weren’t freaking kidding!” Brass commented, earning both our attentions as he peeked into my medically-filled lunchbag. My stomach tied itself in knots as he pawed through our supplies, hoping he wasn’t planning on taking anything.

“Please…” I mumbled, trailing off.

Brass looked up to me, his previous scowl replaced with an uncertain frown, “I’m not gonna take anything. Dad already said: we’re not thieves.” He said, looking down into the bag of supplies he closed it after a moment, “Just…sorry,” he finished, tossing it into my saddlebag, following it with the scattered contents from my preening kit.

“The hell you doing, Brass?” Dynamite grumbled, eyeing him oddly. His rifle remained trained in my general direction.

“Helping her pack,” he replied, staring curiously at a pegasus guzzling beans on the front of one can, “get her outta here faster.” He gave me a look and I moved over to help him.

Dynamite harrumphed and remained where he was, watching me with a sour look.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, scooping up some of Mist’s scattered items and putting them into his own bag.

“No problem,” Brass replied.

Without his shotgun pointed in my face, I got a better look at the brass-coated pony. He was scrawny and young, barely a stallion, maybe thirteen or fourteen years old at most. Dread filled me as I finished packing, a cold bowling ball of ice that squirmed through my innards. We’d only just got here and these ponies were kicking us out! It wasn’t right! We had every right to be here, just as they did. We even had our own supplies, it wasn’t fair!

“Please,” I turned to Brass, getting a surprised look, “We’re not bad ponies...and I don’t think you are either. We can help each other!”

“Oh, shut-up already,” Dynamite grumbled past his grim features. Brass, however, seemed to give my words some thought, chewing them over.

There was a shout from outside, and I tensed up at a growing bustle of activity that sounded from out the door. What was going on!? Dynamite and Brass tensed as more shouts came from outside, ponies running to and fro as they repacked previously removed items from the wagons.

My view out the doorless frame was obstructed as Gauge, with Mist thankfully in tow, stepped inside.

“Dynamite, Brass!” Gauge stopped at the frame as a now helmetless Mist continued inside with a semi-sour look, “We’re leaving, c’mon.”

“What!?” both ponies exclaimed in unison.

“Clean the shit outta your ears, we’re leaving! Get out here and help us pack up,” and with that he headed back into the growing activity outside.

The two ground-bound ponies exchanged confused looks before cantering past Mist. He trotted up to me, looking calmer than before, if still a little stressed.

“Mist, what did you do?” I whispered, throwing the doorframe a glance as more ponies rushed past it. More shouts to hurry up and load up echoed in through the chapel.

“Nothing,” he grumbled, glaring briefly out the door, “I just showed him the bodies. When he asked, I showed him this,” he gestured to the bandage around his head, “and the stuff I looted off them after you fainted,” he frowned, “one of them had a flaregun, that seemed to really freak him out.”

“A flaregun?” I wondered, almost to myself, ‘Why would that...unless—’ that sudden icy feeling slipped back into my guts, ‘what if they were just scouts...’ “We should go with them,” I stated suddenly.

“What?” Mist asked, surprised. He scowled, “No. Fuck them.”

“Mist, think for a second! What if those ponies…raiders,” I corrected myself, “were sent here to signal some attack!? Why else would he be so spooked?” I exclaimed. Mist looked startled for a moment, turning and throwing a glance back outside, “Mist, these ponies could protect us! Take us somewhere safe, even!”

“I...suppose,” he admitted slowly, turning back to me, amending, “but I still don’t like them. They almost fucking shot you, held us up like we were some sort of griffon scum...” he trailed off with a growl.

“Be that as it may, they might be able to help us,” I retorted, cantering outside, “You said finding other ponies was our best course of survival. Well, here’s other ponies,” I hopped into the air, scanning for Gauge.

Loose soil twisted on the soft winds, kicked up by so many hurried hooves. Passing ponies gave us looks ranging from hostile to curious, but none stopped as they ran about their business. Hovering above it all, I spotted Gauge and, after one too many hostile looks, dropped back to the ground, hoping it’d make me less conspicuous.

“Hurry it up, Axle Grease!” Gauge was ordering a mare covered in black splotches as she worked beneath one of the many wagons.

“The more you yak, the longer it’s gonna take!” the mare spat back before biting down on a wrench and getting back to work, “Fing won’ fiff isself!” she muttered through the tool.

“Mr. Gauge!” I called, approaching, gritting my teeth at the feel of the earth beneath my hooves. He sent a glare back over his withers at me, tail giving an annoyed flick, “w-we were wondering if we might join you?” I gave him a hopeful smile. He shot it down almost immediately.

“No,” Gauge replied, covering his surprise with a sour look, “you fucking stupid? If I didn’t want you in my chapel, I certainly don’t want you in my caravan,” he sent a glare at Mist, “you folks are on your own. Go back to the chapel for all I care, it’s yours.”

‘No, he’s got to take us!’ I didn’t give up as he began to trot away, “We’ve got our own supplies!” he kept trotting. I tried again, “I’m a doctor, I can help you! Mist...Mist’s a soldier, I’m sure he could help too, please! All we’re asking is for you to take us till you reach the nearest town! That’s all!”

“No,” Gauge repeated, turning and trotting off. He let out a quiet curse as he noticed me follow him, not giving up, “I said no!” he growled again, turning, “You’re new here, so here’s the basics of it: nobody likes your fucking kind!” he sent a glare to my wings, “Me, personally? I’m not so judgemental, I’ll just spit in your direction. But most ponies would shoot you buzzards in a heartbeat.”

“But...but why!?” I demanded, my own anger surprising me.

“Why do you think!?” he snorted, throwing a hoof to the skies. With a huff he drew a hoof across the red streak in his brown mane, then turned back around and continued at a trot. For once I didn’t follow, his words stinging as I stared up at the patchless grey above. A flicker of something shot through my heart, making it speed up a few notches.

“Skies,” Mist grumbled, placing an armored hoof on my withers, “Fuck them, let’s go.”

But I wasn’t quite done yet as I shrugged off his gesture, stomping after Gauge, “We’re going to die if you don’t help us!” I found myself yelling, “You’ve got the means! You’ve got the know-how! You can help us!”

“Oh, for the love of!” Gauge grumbled, face sour as he turned from a wagon. I barely noticed Brass standing nearby, using his magic to stuff some tarps and poles away, “You want help? Fine. Here’s a tip: go back to the fucking Enclave and abort that fucking foal!”

A painful nip from my womb made me freeze, his words sharper than a scalpel as they cut me. My anger choked back in my throat, Gauge’s angry face blurring as his words brought tears to my eyes. He huffed out another sharp snort and turned, trotting over to Brass. The younger pony, glancing at me with a look lost to me in my tears, began to speak with his father.

“Let’s go,” Mist said again, turning me away, “We’ll find a way. See which way they’re going. They’ve got to be headed somewhere inhabitable.”

“Yeah,” I whimpered, wings brushing at the crumbly earth, defeat pulling them down. The chapel was worthless if Gauge was leaving it behind. Sure, we could follow them, but if the next town gave us the same treatment we were getting from Gauge then what point was there? My eyes found the sky, my wings itching with a sudden desire for flight...maybe...maybe he was right...

“Hey, pegasus!”

I wiped away my tears, halting as I looked back over my withers. Mist mirrored me as I spotted Gauge, glaring at us. He opened his mouth, then closed it, opened it again and glanced back at Brass, who looked a tad worried. What did he...

“Your medical supplies,” he finally forced himself to growl.

“What!?” I exclaimed. A startled look took me, Mist tensing at my side. Had he decided to rob us after all!?

“You give us a portion—let’s say a quarter—of your medical supplies and you can come with us...that’s your ticket,” his eyes darted briefly to Brass, again, “but if you can’t keep up, you’re getting left behind, don’t think I’ll be easy on either of you.”

My brain farted a moment as I processed his words. Was he really offering us a chance to tag along? Imitating a fish as I tried to come up with a coherent response, I turned to Mist. His lips were pinched as he stared back at Gauge, eyes meeting mine for a brief moment. It was my decision to make. But did I dare make it? Could I afford not to?

Yet still...a quarter of what I’d brought just to take us to the next town. A part of me felt kinda cheated.

“Take it or leave it,” Gauge said, looking as if he’d bitten into something foul.

I turned back to Gauge, “How about a sixth?” I tried to barter, “It’s still a lot—”

“I’m not here to barter with you. You want my help, you’ve got my price: a quarter,” Gauge cut in. The look on his face told me that that was the end of it. As he’d said: ‘take it or leave it.’

Biting my lip and glancing down at my saddlebags briefly, I let out a sigh.

“Deal,” I said, trotting up to him as I fished into a saddlebag with a wing. Frowning, he waved me off.

“We’ll sort it out later,” he grumbled, still looking annoyed. He let out a sigh, turning back to the wagon and gesturing for us to follow. Most of the chaos of repacking had settled by now, the wagons getting rolled into a loose formation that stretched a decent length across the ground, “Stick by me for now. Hopefully you’ll live longer,” he growled.

“Thank you,” I said, trotting after him.

“Don’t thank me,” he grumbled, still a sourpuss as he trotted up the length of the caravan. Different ponies called that they were either ready or would be shortly, most of them giving Mist and I wary looks as we passed, “Still don’t like doing it.”

Numerous ponies, most of whom were armed in one way or another, waited or patrolled about the waiting caravan as we headed back down towards the rear. This time, everypony gave the ready and as we came to the last one, Gauge turned and gave a shrill whistle, waving a forehoof.

The order was passed up the chain, the different wagons rumbling and rolling forwards, pulled by the larger ponies in the group. They remained in a semi-loose formation, a staggered column with ponies scattered about the sides like a living and mostly armed buffer.

“If you want to stick with my caravan, there’s a few things you should know,” Gauge began to speak as we trotted forwards. He gave me an odd look as I lifted off to a ground-skimming hover, glad to shake the dust from my hooves, “Firstly: this is my caravan, my group, my team, and my word is the law,” he let that sink in for a second, giving us each a stern look, “you do what I tell you, when I tell you, how I tell you and that’s final. I say jump, you jump. I say fight, you fight. I stick you with midwatch I don’t care how much you bitch and complain, you’re still gonna do it.

“Second: we’re not a pack of raiders. I don’t tolerate thieves, rapists, murderers, or any other kind of ne’er-do-well in my caravan. And that counts for shit outside the caravan as well. If I or anypony else catches you stealing from some town or harassing the locals, I’m hoofing you over to them and their law,” he took a moment to look around, picking up the pace to start moving towards the front of the procession.

“Third: the caravan stops for nopony. Only three times this caravan stops outside trading is in case of an emergency, an attack, or for rest or repairs. You gotta take a shit then you’d best learn to take it on the move or play catch up.

“Fourth: if you can’t carry it, you can’t keep it; the carriages are for goods and ponies with special needs only,” he glared over at me, grey eyes boring into mine, “that meaning: the sick, the infirm,” his eyes darted to my belly, “and those in the later stages of pregnancy,” he stressed the key words, eyes returning to my face, as if daring me to challenge him.

‘Fair enough,’ I thought, ‘less weight for the wagons means faster traveling.’

When it was apparent I wasn’t going to challenge him or ask for clarification his eyes turned to Mist, who’d donned his helmet again, looking impassive as he trotted beside the unicorn.

“Doesn’t really matter for right now since we’re in the middle of nowhere, but I can’t have you running about in that armor all the time,” Mist’s previously emotionless scowl tightened at the words, “It’d raise too many questions if I run into a fellow trader with a fucking Enclave pony tagging along. I’ll let you store it in our armory wagon,” he gestured up the train to a wagon with metal plates riveted to the sides. The ponies sitting at the reins were both heavily armed and armored, “Same thing goes for wings, I’ll lend,” he stressed the word, “you a couple cloaks if anypony comes near. No doubt word’ll leak out when we reach town and my folks start getting drunk, but you’ll be outta my mane then.

“Speaking of which, don’t think that just because I’m so accepting of you that others will be,” Gauge said, “I’ll make sure the word’s spread around that you’re with us and you’re paying for it,” he gestured to my saddlebags, “but be aware that hated for your kind runs deep in most ponies, including some of mine.”

“If you’re telling me that some of your own aren’t going to stick to rule number two…” Mist trailed off, a challenge in his voice.

“I’m telling you what you signed up for.” Gauge shot back, “None of my own will harm either of you, but don’t expect a warm welcome or nice words. Don’t expect to find an easy spot to sleep once we set up for the night,” a gurgle from my stomach reminded me that I’d puked up everything I’d eaten, getting a glance from Gauge as well, “or decent portion sizes when dinner comes along.”

“We have our own supplies,” Mist commented.

“Always an option,” Gauge shrugged, “but you’ll be eating them cold,” he considered something for a moment, “If you’re smart, you could trade them for a couple extra portions. No doubt Cookie’d be interested in some unexpired canned goods for once.”

For once? Was he trying to tell me they ate expired canned goods? I felt a little sick to my stomach at that, “Expired? Isn’t that a little...unsafe?” I asked.

Gauge gave me an angry look, “Oh, I’m sorry, why don’t I just try to grow some decent fucking vegetables without proper sunlight,” he gave my wings a deliberate glare, “be happy we’ve got anything to eat at all. There’s been times where we’ve run out and had to go days without a proper meal. You don’t want a portion, that’s more for the rest of us.”

“Hardly our fault,” Mist growled back, “maybe if you lot of ground pounders were a little more civilized the Enclave would have a reason to integrate back in.” He punctuated his statement with an annoyed snort.

Gauge sent him a glare, but changed the subject instead of arguing back, “So you’re a doctor?” He directed the question to me, continuing after my nod, “What kind? What’d you specialize in up there?”

The question caught me off guard. Did I tell him I was only a nurse, a medical student and hope he’d be forgiving of my earlier half-lie? I decided to go with another half-truth, “I hadn’t gotten a chance to specialize in any field yet,” I said, adding, “I mean, I can diagnose common illnesses, treat most wounds, maybe do minor surgery if I had the right tools—”

“Good enough. You’ll be you on medical duty,” he said, catching my confused look, “Well you’re gonna pull your fair share of the work while you’re under my authority.” He grumbled, “Unless you think you’d make a better cook.”

“No, that’s fine,” I said.

He turned to Mist, “You’re a soldier. Same thing: what’d you specialize in?”

At first I thought Mist wasn’t going to reply, a light glare crossing his features as he looked to Gauge. Yet after a moment he broke the glare and spoke.

“I’m an FC, fire controlpony. I help maintain missile and counter-missile systems. T-LAMs, harpoons, our BaWS CIWS systems—”

“Do you know how to fight?” Gauge butted in, no doubt as ignorant as I was to the things he was listing, “Or is that thing just for show?” he waved a hoof at his bladed tail.

The end of his tail gave a twitch at the statement, “I told you how I killed those raiders.”

“Killing a couple of under-armed raider scouts like you did’s hardly a fair fight,” Gauge eyed Mist’s armor over briefly, “not with that high-tech piece you got there. You know how to shoot a gun? You gonna shit yourself and run the first time you run into a real raider attack?”

“I know how to shoot a gun,” Mist growled back, “and no, I’m not gonna run just because I see a few fucking raiders.”

“We’ll see about that.” Gauge said, “You’ll be with the defender’s shift. Defend the caravan and go out on scouting missions ahead of us. I don’t trust you with a gun...yet, but I’m sure you can stand a proper watch with that high tech gear of yours.

“Anyways, enough chit-chatting. You missed lunch, but dinner’ll be in a few hours. We’ll stop at sunset and set up camp for the night.”

I kept close to Mist as the day passed on. The pace set by the caravan was hardly rough, but my wings were growing steadily more fatigued as I kept just above the ground.

Very little changed scenery-wise. Here a shrub, there a shrub, everywhere a desolate landscape. Mountains rose in the distance, far larger than the rolling hills that drifted across the barren planes. Twisted trees with gnarled, black limbs jutted from the earth here and there at odd angles, occasional patches of sickly yellow-green grasses standing at a stiff attention as they ignored the breeze.

A scene of tenseness sprung up when a herd of ‘radelopes’ (as Gauge called them) was spotted in the distance. The armed ponies who I assumed were part of Gauge’s ‘defender shift’ became more animated before the viciously-horned, double-jawed creatures turned and fled.

Different streams of conversation drifted on the soft winds, coinciding with the rumble of the wagon train. The ponies about us threw occasional looks towards the duo of pegasi that had joined their troupe, and I had a sneaking suspicion what many of their more hushed conversations were about.

Speaking of conversation…

I turned my gaze to Mist as he marched onwards with jaw set and face hidden beneath his helmet. The few times I’d tried to engage him with some conversation were met with brevity and that same detached tone he’d become so fond of. It didn’t take a shrink to tell me something was wrong, though considering that that wrong thing was our current situation the cure was undoubtedly not in my medical lunchbag.

It was only three quarters as heavy as it had been earlier today now that Gauge had collected his toll, introducing me to his own medical staff. I almost felt as if I should’ve given them more, seeing how under-stocked with medical supplies they were as it was...almost.

I’d probably have felt more generous if their head doctor, a mare by the name of Leather Strap, had been a little nicer. Sure, letting her know that she was getting medical supplies in addition to the ‘fucking buzzard cunt’ had made her put away the bone saw, but she still threw me nasty looks as I trotted away.

A sigh escaped me, eyes drifting towards the cloud layer above. It wasn’t as if the cloud cover was my fault personally! I was merely a citizen with little to no say about what was done on a political level outside the ballot boxes. I was sure the government had good reasons for keeping us separated, they were the government! It was their job!

Being a scapegoat for my race, I concluded, sucked.

I sniffed at the air suddenly, an aroma rising above the scent of unwashed bodies and loose dust. It floated about, pungent and aromatic, almost indescribable in its unique complexity. It was powerfully tantalizing, tugging me forwards on its invisible, chemical strings.

“What...what is that?” I wondered aloud. It smelled so...so…good.

“Dunno,” Mist replied, roused from his silence as he too smelled it.

A small trail of smoke was wafting up from the wagon Gauge had pointed out as being the cook’s. This—in conjunction with the numerous ponies drifting towards said wagon—led me to believe that it was just about dinner time as Gauge had mentioned earlier.

But what in all the sky could smell so good!? I swooped in to find out.

Just as Gauge had said, the caravan stopped for nothing outside of a few listed circumstances. Eating, as it turned out, wasn’t one of them. The cook’s wagon rolled on as a loose line formed behind it.

I dropped down into a sea of glares and stares, trotting up to the back of the line. An oily earth pony buck bumped past me, followed by the shotgun-toting mare...Break Action, as I recalled. Both ignored me as they cut ahead. An annoyed grumble escaped me, but I said nothing.

Then a unicorn mare cut ahead of me, followed by another earth pony buck, then a unicorn buck. This was getting a little ridiculous!

“Hey, I’m in line here!” I grumbled.

“Back of the line, buzzard!” he growled back, the venom in his tone making me shy away.

Then Mist landed next to me with a solid crunch of gravel-under-boot, “Excuse me, goat?” he growled, tail slowly extending forwards with blade held menacingly above him.

The unicorn covered his startlement with a glare and a wad of spit, before turning back towards the wagon. He was the last one to cut in front of me.

“Thanks,” I whispered to Mist. He grunted once in reply.

A brown-coated stallion with white spots and a greasy-looking chocolate mane frowned at the sight of Mist and me as it became our turn for a portion. I was practically salivating at the delightful aroma wafting from a large pot set near the back of the wagon. Hadn’t Gauge mentioned expired food? How could this possibly be expired with a smell like that?

“Howdy,” he said neutrally. Despite the slight edge of frost it was still one of the warmest greetings I’d received since touching down in the wasteland.

“Hi,” I replied, eyes darting to the pot, “What is that? It smells amazing!”

“Just stew,” the pony, Cookie, I assumed, said simply, ladling a scoop of the stew into a bowl and levitating it over to me, “...but thanks.”

I took the bowl in my mouth, the smell of the stew filling my nostrils with its magical aroma.

“S’hot,” he added, ladling Mist a bowl as I trotted from the line, “let ‘er cool a bit.”

Turning my head, I took the bowl in my wings, holding it carefully between them to free up my mouth, “Thanks,” I replied.

Fanning at the bowl with the tips of my wings, I trotted off to the side, away from most of the other eaters. Mist joined me, though kept his own bowl in his mouth.

“S’not wadiated,” he mumbled though the bowl.

“I don’t know that I’d care if it was!” I exclaimed, inhaling deeply as the smell of it wafted from my back, “How does this smell so good!?”

Mist gave a shrug with his wings, balancing the bowl with a hoof as he shifted to a three-legged trot, “Let’s find out,” he said, tipping it back for a sip. He gagged immediately, head jerking back as if he’d been struck. My cheer dropped a few notches as he halted, stunned for a few moments.

“Mist?” I inquired, giving my bowl a fearful glance.

“Fuck me, that’s...it’s...!” he exclaimed, tipping back the bowl and chugging it down in one long series of gulps, “wow!”

Clutching the bowl in a wing, I brought my own helping forth as well. Sipping at it.

Mist wasn’t kidding.

Flavor, glorious flavor exploded across my tastebuds. A gasp escaped me, the taste of spices I doubt I’d ever comprehended of ringing through my mouth. It was so refreshing, so alive compared to all the tasteless cuisine I’d grown accustomed to above the clouds.

I didn’t question it, gulping it down and savoring the different tastes and textures that it consisted of.

When I was done, I gasped at the orgasm that ran down my throat. I met Mist’s bug-eyed helmet, exchanging looks.

“More?” he asked.

“More,” I agreed.

The line was less hostile with Mist at my side, but we did have to wait longer now that more ponies had come to get a helping. Cookie had run through another few pots by the time we got back up to the front again.

“Howdy,” he greeted again, eyeing my wide grin oddly.

“Hi! I don’t know how you did it, but that was really, really good! Probably the best thing I’d ever tasted!” I exclaimed with gusto, “Could we maybe get another helping?”

“You...y’all’re pullin’ mah horn,” he said, looking confused between us, “best thing ya ever tasted?” he looked between us, as if expecting some sort of trick. But whatever he saw in my face, probably drool, he seemed to take the compliment, giving a small smile in return, “Well...Gauge said y’all had some nice-lookin canned goodies what weren't even expired. Give ya a servin’ fer a can,” he offered.

“Deal!” I exclaimed, digging into my saddlebags.

“I should’ve seen this coming,” I mumbled, holding my forehooves to my aching belly, “Rapid change in diet is not good for your digestive system.”

“Mmm,” Mist grumbled from beside me.

Two cans of beans for Cookie and two more bowls for me had made me too full to swallow another gulp. It made sense, really. Expired or no, earth-bound ponies would work with earth-grown food. Soil was far more fertile than any cloud was and more nutrients would definitely lead to more tasty foods. No wonder cloud-grown cuisine was so tasteless!

Maybe eating three bowls had taken it a little too far...at least the bismuth subsalicylate was helping take the edge off.

“Sunset’s not far off,” Mist grunted, jaw tight with the pain of his own gutache, “won’t have to trot much further.”

Luckily, Mist was right and we didn’t have to wait for much longer before a shrill whistle sounded and the wagon train began to grind to a halt. My wings were more than a little sore as I was finally able to swoop down, thankful of the stop.

Gauge appeared, shouting orders that were passed on. Sleep light, no major unpacking, only one major fire tonight. The wagons shifted about, forming a loose circle around a spot of earth as other ponies started preparing a fire.

Spots were quickly taken up by a motley collection of sleeping bags and cobbled quilts and blankets as ponies claimed ground for sleeping. Noting the glares of those closest, I decided it’d be wisest to keep away from the larger throngs of ponies.

Mist and I had tossed down our saddlebags and I’d dug out my sleeping bag when Gauge passed by. He zeroed in on Mist immediately.

“You, Mist, follow me,” he said, “defenders are mustering up for the night shift and I guarantee that you’re on it.”

“Roger that,” Mist grumbled, trotting after the unicorn without complaint.

“I’ll be here!” I called after him, nibbling at my lip as a hint of worry crawled across my belly.

By now most other ponies had taken up spots around the bonfire being built up in the center of the encampment. No doubt for warmth. Turning, I sighed at the lonely sight of my isolated sleeping bag, flanked on one side by our saddlebags.

Could I really find a way to live down here for the next eleven months? I’d only made it a day and already I’d had a run-in with death and...and—her body jerked and spasmed, the fur around the twin electrodes charring.

I whimpered, collapsing limply atop my sleeping bag as my stomach ached with protest. A trembling cramp drove into my gut, forcing me to roll over as I massaged the spot away.

‘It’ll be okay,’ I told myself, zipping myself into the sleeping bag and forcing my teary eyes shut, ‘I’ll find a way...I’ve got to!’

‘I’ve got to.’

Footnote: Level progress 15%