Author's Notes:

Well fillies and gentlecolts, it's back and better than ever!

“If everybody does their job, then maybe—just maybe—we’ll all pull through...”

“That’s just the way that it is,” Strap said, gesturing for two burly pullers to move the last casualty into the medical wagon, “Dead ponies are dead weight, plus a health hazard. If we can, we bury or burn them when they pass, but we’ve got no time for that now. Gauge needs us up and running ASAP.”

The calm, almost nonchalant, tone she spoke with about the dead seemed too cruel to my folded ears. These were loved ones! Friends and family alike! Yet the way she spoke they were a nuisance...little more than garbage! Left out for buzzards and...I derailed that train of thought, not wanting any of the mental images it might bring.

“But it...it’s just-just so wrong!” I retorted, cold sorrow nestled firmly in my throat, “How can we j-just leave their bodies out like that?!”

Strap gave me an ugly look, “You really are an idiot, you know that?” she grumbled, “Is it wrong? Yes, yes it probably is on some moral level, but you know what?” she paused, but not long enough for me to get a word in, “Life’s not about doing everything the right way, it’s not about getting what you want,” she jabbed me in the chest with a hoof, “It’s about doing what needs to be done so you and your own survive,” she gave a snort, glancing pointedly at my belly, “Figured you’d at least understand that sentiment a little.”

Sorrow paved way for anger as she hopped into the medical cart, “You’re a real bitch, you know that?”

“I’m not wrong, though,” Strap replied, sticking her head out with horn aglow, “Now hold still for a second.”

Flapping just off the ground, I was about to ask what for when a bucket dashed out from the wagon, blasting me with warm water.

“What the hell!?” I sputtered, startled and snarling as a rag soon followed in her magic.

“You’re covered in ghoul blood,” Strap replied before I could kick her naggy face in. She scrubbed at my head and neck with the rag—not very gently—before drawing it away and showing me. A blackish goo now soiled the rag, “You get bit at all?”

‘That was in my mane!?’ I worried, reaching up and feeling more of the crusty ichor with a hint of nausea, “N-not that I remember,” I answered as I thought back, wincing as I saw Brass again overrun by the monsters, “But…‘ghouls?’ That’s what you call them?”

“It’s what they are,” Strap replied, dunking the rag in a new bucket and scrubbing at my head again. A whistle sounded off from up ahead and the wagons all started to move. I kept pace with the wagon as the pullers started off again, “Long story short: a lot of magical radiation plus an unlucky pony turns you into a half-rotten piece of meat for a long, long time.”

A new bucket came out of the wagon as Strap gave me a rinse. I flinched, but this time she poured it over me more gently, “You didn’t have to throw the water in my face the first time,” I stated as she finished.

“You called me a bitch,” Strap replied simply, “Now shake off and hop in here, you might’ve gotten a few RADs from that blood.”

“RADs!?” I exclaimed, heart skyrocketing in my chest as I felt a twinge from my womb, “What...but, my foal—”

“Is probably fine!” Strap interjected with annoyance, “Goddesses, I should’ve known you’d overreact! You foal’s fine; just a few RADs at the worse and it’s fixable with some radaway. So shake off and get your stupid flank in here,” she finished, grumbling something unintelligible and disappearing into the wagon.

“Told you, just a few,” Strap replied as her horn died, “Nothing a quarter-dose of radaway won’t fix,” she tapped the orange-filled IV bag to make sure it was going, “While I’ve got you here, might as well check the foal, lie down on your side, belly to me.”

My unease towards the request was cured when, instead of grabbing a probe, she just ignited her horn and dropped it to my belly. Certainly there was nothing wrong with the mundane approach, I just wasn’t the happiest of ponies when it came to inserting things that didn’t belong to Cloud Poker into my body. Pressing her horn lightly to my coat, she probed from my lower belly down.

“So...is this like an ultrasound or something?” I asked, trying to be still.

“What? Yeah, sure, just stick a plug up my ass and you can see the feed on a screen,” Strap snorted, “Has it been a month yet?”

I shook that rather colorful image from my head before replying, “A-almost...I think. I only found out a few days ago, but, well, it was a few weeks before that I figure I got pregnant,” a hint of worry tainting my voice, I dared to ask, “What...what do you—”

“You’re coming along just fine, it’s early so obviously there’s not a whole lot to show,” Strap commented, straightening up and checking the bag. Seeing I’d gotten my dose, she undid the IV and closed the wound with a touch of magic, “You’re good to go,” she said, waving me off and turning to the many injured within, “But stay within shouting distance, I don’t wanna have to send a runner to find you. Everypony might be stable now, but we’ve got a long ways ahead of us down a bumpy dirt track.”

I swooped along in lazy arcs, doing as Strap told and staying near the main medical wagon. The casualties had flowed over into a few of the merchandise wagons, two of which had been converted into temporary medical wagons.

A weight hung over the caravan as we continued onwards. The attack had taken more than one life, and some of the others were forced to pick up the slack. Ponies that had been armed to the teeth as defenders now pulled wagons as pullers. With the added weight of the injured, it wasn’t nearly as fast as we were going before.

Dual Gauge had taken the wagons on a detour through some hilly dunes. The caravan remained in defilade, taking a winding path that kept us beneath the crests of the surrounding dunes. It would add time to our trip, but it would also keep us out of sight for now. I had been instructed to keep my flight path low, so as not to give away our position by flying too high.

The highlight of the morning came when Strap finally called me to get breakfast for the wounded. Fortunately, it came with help from a few of the other medical and cook ponies.

I was starting to really crave the food filling the bowls, the smell taunting me as I carried it away for other ponies to consume. When we finished I was ravenous, craving the taste of wastelander food as I started to make my way over to get some breakfast of my own.

My quest for food was interrupted by a crunch of dirt-under-boots as Red Mist came in to land next to me. Startled at his sudden appearance, I opened my mouth to ask where he’d been, but he beat me to it.

“Skies, can you come with me for a sec?” Mist asked, taking off without giving me a chance to reply.

“Sure, why?” I asked, following as he took us away from the caravan. I began to worry as we moved off, but the caravan was a large and slow moving target. Even if we did lose sight of it, it wouldn’t be hard to find again.

“I just wanna talk...alone,” he cast a glance back towards the caravan.

We flew in silence for a few moments longer—the dust trail and wagons much smaller now—before settling down. Mist landed with a crunch of dirt, while I opted to stay at my usual hover, hooves clear of the grimy, gritty ground.

“Why didn’t you run?” Red Mist asked, suddenly sounding like his new, angry self again.

I replied with a look of surprise; this is what he’d dragged me out here to talk about?

“What!?” I exclaimed, glancing back towards the caravan. But they were out of earshot, as had been Mist’s intent, “What the hell do you mean?”

“I mean: ‘why didn’t you escape during the attack?’” Mist growled in reply, “Didn’t I say it was a bad idea to burn the bodies, to send up a signal saying: ‘Hey, assholes, come and find us!’ And didn’t I say that we needed to be out of here when it happened?”

“We couldn’t just leave them! They were in trouble and we…” I began, only to trail off as the cold truth slowly dawned on me. “You ran away!” I gasped, staring at him in disbelief.

“My E.F.S. went off, I went to investigate it, saw the ghouls, and decided to bug out,” Red Mist answered, “I came back to wake you, but you were gone. I figured you’d be smart enough to escape when the ghouls came knocking. Guess I was wrong there.”

“How could you do that!?” I cried, the weight of what he’d just admitted doing crushing my heart. He’d deserted us, the caravan, in our greatest time of need! “We needed you! You could’ve helped drive back the attack! To help...to help save High Brass from dying!”

“What? ‘We?’” Red Mist countered, giving me a look under that helmet of his, “Skies, ‘We’ are not part of the caravan, remember? Or did that supposed scuffle between you and those two dirt-fuckers never happen? Those ponies,” he gestured off with a hoof, “don’t give a bird’s ballsack about us. They nearly killed us in that chapel, and took a bunch of your medical stuff just so we could tag along with them!”

“It was a fair trade,” I replied, struggling for words for a moment while trying—and failing—to keep my growing rage in check, “and we’re both still here because of these ponies! They fed us, protected us! Who knows how long we would’ve lasted out here on our own!?”

He grumbled something under his breath, tail giving an agitated snap.

“What!?” I snapped.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have!” he spat out, “Maybe we never should’ve left the clouds!”

“What the hell is wrong with you, Red Mist?” I demanded, my anger making me ignore his greater size and strength as I got in his face, “You didn’t used to be like this! You used to not be such...such an utter asshole!”

Red Mist stared at me, giving a mirthless chuckle as he shook his head slowly with disbelief, “You still don’t get it? Do you?” he said, “You still don’t fucking get it…”

“Oh, I don’t get it!?” I snapped back, not quite liking his attitude, “Well if I don’t ‘fucking get it’ then how about you fucking explain it to me, huh!? What exactly do I not ‘fucking get’!?”

Red Mist stared at me for a few seconds, jaw clamped tight as his helmet’s bug eyes blazed into mine. I was about to repeat myself when his lips parted.

“He saw me…” Red Mist said, his wrathful tone subdued, almost sounding fearful of the words he spoke.

The sudden tone flip startled me, confusion leaking into my burning tank of anger, “What? Who saw you? What the hell is that supposed to mean!?”

“Cloud Poker saw me…” Mist said again, snout contorting for a second before returning to its steely set, “He saw my face, Skies...I can’t go back…”

“Mist, you’re still not making any sense!” I snapped, flinching as my womb gave a twinge, “Ever since we joined the caravan, even before, you—”

“Before we joined the caravan!” Mist cut me off with a snarl, jaw set and body posed to strike. Startled, I took a quick step back, but the blow never fell, “we were back above the clouds! A-and now...and now...” he hung his head, rage making way for sorrow, “I can’t go back…” he mumbled, so quiet I almost didn’t catch it.

I said nothing, remaining where I was with my wings flapping tense and ready to fly in case he really did snap.

“I can’t go back! I can’t go back!” he suddenly yelled again, anger filling his voice as his wings and tail snapped with agitation, “I had it all planned out. It was so fucking simple! I’d take you down, show you how miserable it was, you’d cave in and we’d go back!”

‘What!?’ I mentally recoiled, nearly losing my hover as the words fried by my brain like a lightning bolt.

“Nobody would miss me, nobody would know I was gone! I was on leave, they’d...they’d never think twice if I went off the radar for a bit, but no!” he continued his tirade, “No!” a hoof smashed into the dirt as his bug-eyed goggles locked onto me, “Don’t you get it? Don’t you fucking get it!?”

He stared at me, wanting a reply...but I couldn’t possibly grant him one. He’d been my only hope of having a foal, my only chance at escape and salvation...and his plan was to have me abort the foal all along!? He’d given me so much hope by taking me down here! But it had all been part of some ruse to convince me to get an abortion!?

“I. Can’t. Go. Back!” he spelled it out for me, turning away and marching off a few steps, talking to himself more than me now. Something had ignited inside him, and like a set of dominoes there was no stopping it now, “I spent my entire worthless life fucking around! I got overweight! Fat! I wasted away my life jerking around with useless, petty, bullshit until I joined the military! They were setting me right! I mean, look at me! I was going to be someone! Somepony who fucking mattered instead of some fat, fucking slob sitting around with his dick in his hooves all day! My life was going somewhere good for once! And now...now…” his restless hooves came to a stop, head tilting up towards the sky above. The inequine goggles of his helmet remained impassive as he seemed to choke for a moment, streaks of wetness flowing out from beneath his helmet.

In a sudden fit of rage he tore off his helmet and threw it away with a yell. The sudden movement made me jump, “He saw me…he fucking saw me!” he turned back towards me and for once in a long time I could actually see his face. It was contorted with rage, fear, and sorrow, tears running streaks through a thin layer of grime.

“Don’t you get it?! I can’t return! Your fucking buckfriend saw me, my face, he knows I helped you…” he finally seemed to cave in, collapsing to his knees in a weeping mess, “I’m a traitor, a deserter…they oughta set me up against a wall and vape me with a firing squad!”

I hovered over him, not sure what to say, not sure what to do. Anger, sorrow, and the feeling of betrayal all wrestled for dominion over my head. He had planned on betraying me, bringing me down here just to convince me to abort my foal. And I had considered it a few brief moments, but ultimately it was him that had reassured me that everything would be okay. Maybe not so much with his words, but with his familiar presence there assuring me that I would survive. Him telling me that all that had been a hoax, a lie, an attempt to get me to just abort the foal made me want to cry, rage, and run all at the same time.

But here he was, lying broken before me—my supposed knight in carapace armor—collapsed and choking his sobs into the dirt. All because I had destroyed him, his career, his life. I’d gone to him and convinced him to help me by breaking the law, and the very ideals that he stood for. Pokerface had seen him, and would report him when the authorities came looking. He’d be called a deserter, stripped of his rank and title, maybe even executed for his insubordination, and all for what? So I could give birth to a foal that would never see the sky?

My anger at the realization of his betrayal told me to spit on him. He’d gotten what he deserved for lying to me about wanting to help me find somewhere to give birth. He deserved to be stripped of rank, title, and life!

My sorrow argued that he didn’t; I’d manipulated him—whether intentional or not—to violate his beliefs for a foal that wasn’t even his own! I was the only pony to blame for this debacle. I should’ve just obeyed the law, listened to Cloud Poker, and gone into that clinic.

And so I just hovered there, flapping as I stared off at nothing, not knowing how to react as the chemical synapses in my brain struggled to determine the best course of action. I was at an utter loss, nothing like this had ever happened before, there was nothing that could’ve prepared me to react to such a damning realization. I’d destroyed Red Mist’s life! Yet he’d planned on betraying me from the start! But did that really mean he deserved to have his very way of life, his ideals, torn apart in front of him? But of course it did, the bastard had wanted to ruin my life, to have me see my foal torn apart before my own eyes!

A brief cramp from my belly eventually drew me back away from my spiraling thoughts. Hate remained on my tongue, and sorrow in my heart, but my head was clearer and I realized that all the time spent here was time for the caravan to get further away. Mist remained where he’d collapsed, still sniveling slightly, his green eyes puffy and red.

After a final and brief internal debate, I let out a sigh. There was just nothing I could think to say, nothing I could do but turn around and start flapping after the caravan. We’d hurt each other, and whether that made us even or not I didn’t know.

For a time, I just wandered, swooping about over the heads of the caravaners, alone with my mind numb to everything around it. I didn’t want to think about Red Mist or the caravan, or my future down here, or anything at all, really. For the first time in a long time, I just wanted to be alone. Of course, a twinge from my belly reminded me that for the next ten or so months I would never really be alone...unless—

No! I gave my head a sharp shake, no there was no thinking about that. I was going to have this foal with Red Mist’s support or not. Hay, I had a doctor who, even if she was a bitch, knew her stuff and I had a small number of ponies who supported me. I was a healthy, young mare and nothing was going to happen to make me lose this foal!

Yet for how much longer would I even have these ponies? I’d made a deal with Dual Gauge and that only accounted for transport to their next stop. After that, I was back to square one...unless.

Drawing myself from my thoughts, I cast my eyes to the ground just below as I searched for the old unicorn. Flapping to and fro, it didn’t take me long to spot him and home in on his position.

“Dual Gauge! Hey, I hate to complain, but we’ve been at this for hours without any breaks. We really need—” one of two pullers strapped to a wagon complained as Dual Gauge passed him by.

“I know, Crusher,” Dual Gauge butted in with a sharp tone, “But after that attack we can’t afford to have everypony on rotation. Talk to Dynamite or Rock Runner if you want a swap, just know you probably won’t get it.” Then he was continuing his rounds without leaving room for a reply.

I hesitated in the air for a brief moment, his sharp tone making me doubt whether now was the best time. Debating in my head for a moment, I steeled myself and dropped down; Dual Gauge was a fair pony, angry or no.

“H-hey,” I started with a crack, getting a sidelong look as Gauge continued his trot.

“Skies,” Gauge replied, “Did Strap send you? What is it?”

“What? No, I…” I trailed off, following him, already regretting my asking. Yet I’d stuck my hoof in it, there was no turning back now, “I just...I wanted to ask…” I bit my lip, cursing myself before spitting it out, “I want to sign on permanently...with this caravan. You lost good ponies this morning,” High Brass juked and dodged through my head before the ghoul latched onto his throat, I shook my head to dislodge the memory, “You’ve got a good thing going here, and I think it’s my best chance of survival.”

Dual Gauge eyed me for a moment, thinking as he cast his gray eyes briefly away.

“I assume that Red Mist will want to join up as well?” Gauge inquired.

“He…” I began, my eyes dropping away from his, ‘...ran away at the first sign of the attack...was going to betray me and my unborn foal from the start...saw his way of life ripped apart before his very eyes…’ So many different things ran through my head in the brief instant before I answered, “...well, I actually haven’t run this by him.”

“Oh?” Dual Gauge squinted one eye up at me, sensing my hesitance. Yet I said nothing more, “Well, it’s not just up to me whether we take on a pony or not,” I finally got my answer, “Any time we get a new applicant I run it by my divisional leaders and we take a vote.”

“Oh…” I trailed off, feeling my odds flutter and fade. Dynamite, Leather Strap, and Cookie already didn’t like me and I didn’t even know who the head of the pullers or fixers were. Maybe that Rock Runner pony I’d just heard Gauge mention was the pullers’ leader?

“Hey, look,” Gauge spoke up, hearing my dejected tone, “We’ve still got a ways to go, and I…” he hesitated and a shadow broke through a sudden crack in Dual Gauge’s otherwise stalwart facade. A flash in the eyes, a turn of the lip, and then he sealed it up and stored it away, “I know what you did for...for High Brass. You might be a pegasus way out of her depth, but you’ve got my support, and I’m sure the others will come around.”

My outlook immediately brightened, and I almost hugged him, “Oh, thank you! Thank you!” I said, “I promise I won’t let you down.”

“I’m sure you won’t,” Dual Gauge replied, though his small smile faded fast, “Just know, though. I don’t hold Red Mist in as high a regard, and neither do the others. Each pony is evaluated as an individual, and I wouldn’t hold high hopes for him getting in, powered armor or not.”

“I...I understand,” I gave a sober nod, ‘That might not be so bad…’ a part of me thought.

“Just keep up the good work,” Dual Gauge said, starting to end the conversation, “Good doctors are hard to come by, I’m sure—”

The sudden shout jerked both of our heads towards the left flank of the caravan. Just over the lip of one of the hills a pony disappeared, a trio of defenders charging up after the figure.

“What was—” I began.

“Go find a cloak for those wings, get Red Mist hidden, now!” Gauge snapped back, drawing one of his revolvers, “Keep us on the move!” he shouted to the caravan at large, “Eyes to the hills!”

Growing tension filled the air around me as I moved to follow Dual Gauge’s command. Pullers sped up their pace as defenders aimed their weapons up across the hills around us. I prayed to the winds it was nothing, that the pony on the hill was just some nobody, hoping against hope that it wasn’t—

“A flare!” a mare cried from somewhere off to my left, “Up ahead, it’s a flare!”

Oh no...I turned about, spying the soft white light sparkling as it fell slowly. A cacophony of horrible images entered my sight as I remembered what had happened last time. Yet I shoved them away as a sudden idea sprouted in my brain, spinning about as my wings began to pump. It was only a hunch, but maybe if I got to it fast enough…

The flare had popped into existence a ways up ahead of the caravan, almost as if to signal a waypoint in our path. I skimmed the defiladed trail as I zipped forth, eventually popping up over a hill as I approached the falling ball of fire.

Changing course suddenly, I arced up and bit down on the small parachute that the burning light was attached to. The small, glowing gemstone burned bright and hot, making me squint as I dropped down, taking the flare with me and…

I screamed as something cracked sharply in my left ear, a gunshot erupting from below. Rolling to the right, I dove and, scanning the ground past the burning glare, I spotted something that made my heart nearly stop.

A whole new horde of galloping ghouls, all of them with their heads tilted upwards towards me. Yet they were the least of my worries as another two bullets snapped past me, forcing me to juke back left and dive back towards the ground...towards the horde of rotting dead.

My guts turned to ice and my heart hammered hard as I pulled up over their heads, their maws biting and snapping up at me. Yet I was a good yard or two above them, and there was nothing they could do, but follow me...follow me away from the caravan’s path!

My eyes widened as a sudden elation coursed through my veins. I could help! I was helping! Leading the horde away from the caravan!

I nearly lost the flare as I cried out again, more shots ringing out from behind me. My elation died as I felt something snap through my tail, taking a few strands of hair with it. Pumping my wings, I went back to evasive maneuvers before any more shots could strike me, looking back to try and spot my attackers. Yet the first thing I spotted was another flare as it burst into existence.

Then a very strange thing happened. Here and there within the horde the ghouls began to turn their heads to this new source of light, some of them slowing along the edges and turning away. Slowly but surely, the entire horde began to turn and chase this new source of light.

“No, no, no!” I cried out, dropping my flare and turning to try and get the horde’s attention again, “Follow me! Follow me!”

Yet only a sparse few were chasing after me now, wild eyes gleaming with the desire to maim. The rest...it was almost as if they were being corralled like in some grainy old cowpony flick. No, not almost, I came to realize. They were being corralled, as ludicrous as that sounded!

A new burst of gunfire flared up, but not at me. Scanning with open ears, I spied a group of defenders blasting at what could only be the raiders corralling the ghouls. Ignoring them, I took the opening to fly straight up and nab the second flare from the air, watching as the ghouls turned with me, away from the caravan.

‘Take that you raider scum!’ I thought cockily to myself.

My joy was short lived as third flare popped into my peripherals, only this one was further back, a ways behind the caravan. There was no way the horde I was leading could possibly see it, so what, then?

I looked down to the horde beneath me, then out towards the new flare.

There’d already been two hordes...what if there were more!?

Pumping my wings harder, I sprinted through the air, leaving the horde behind me and tossing the flare with my gained speed. Turning away, I heaved a sigh of relief as the ghouls continued to chase the fluttering flare. They’d been taken care of...but if there was another horde then we weren’t done here yet!

“Hey!” I called as I approached the defenders on the hill. They were in the midst of looting three dead ponies, one of whom still clutched a flaregun in her maw. Turning my eyes from the bodies, I set them on the defenders, “They’re corralling the ghouls with the flares! I think there’s another horde!”

“What? What do you mean another horde?” one of the defenders asked, eyeing me with scorn.

“Those flares were meant to lead a group of ghouls into our path,” I replied, trying my best to keep my tone calm. I cast my eyes briefly to where the third flare was still falling, “There’s another horde over the hills that way,” I gestured back the way I’d come, “and I think there’s a third one now.”

“Really?” the buck asked, testing my patience, “Because if you ask me—”

“Hey, shut-up, shit-for-brains!” a mare with a patchwork coat interrupted as she approached. My eyes widened as I realized it was Flower, the mare with radiation sickness that Strap had had me diagnose. She still didn’t look a hundred percent, but was clearly doing much better, “The only reason that I’m still alive is because of that medical stuff she gave us, so cut the crap,” she turned to me, wasting no time, “Think you. Can get keep snagging flares?” I nodded, “Good, I’ll tell Dynamite.”

With that, thankfully, settled I was flapping my wings hard again.

Sensing danger, more defenders had spread out across the hilltops to find whoever had lit off the new flare. Skimming low, I kept an eye out for the third possible horde, eyeing the dips between hills where the other one had been kept hidden.

Only this time I spotted the raider team first as a sudden glint coming from an old wagon wreck caught my eye. Like with before there appeared to be three of them, and—I screamed as something struck me in the side through my saddlebags, a loud report telling me just what it was.

A bullet.

My heart nearly burst as I hit the deck, wings pounding as more shots rang out at me. Yet I barely noticed them as a sudden wetness began to coat my side where I’d felt the hit.

‘No, no, no!’ I worried, forcing myself to glance down to my side where blood was...was…

But there was no blood.

Checking myself, I noticed a dark stain growing through my saddlebags. Taking a quick moment to peek inside, I found the canteen Red Mist had given me leaking water fast through a hole in its side. I nearly cried at the sight, joy at not having been shot coursing through my very soul.

Yet I still had bigger problems to deal with, so I stuffed my elation away for later and changed course. The third flare was nearly on the ground now and with a suddenness that sent my heart rate soaring again, a third horde charged up a hilltop and came into view.

Gunfire still spasmed up from where the defenders and raiders were battling it out, but with the horde now plainly in view the defenders had new targets. And so did the horde…

“No, no, no!” I cried out as the horde immediately locked onto the defenders. The ponies cried out and ran at the overwhelming sight of the ghouls cresting the hill. They were leading the monsters straight towards the caravan!

I tucked my wings and dove down, skimming through the canyon towards the caravan.

“Dual Gauge!” I cried out, zipping over the wagons and looking for the familiar, old unicorn, “Dual Gauge!”

“I’m down here!” I got a return cry.

Pivoting with ears cocked, I spotted him waving up at me with a concerned scowl.

“I thought I told you to get a cloak and hide—” he began, yet I had no time to let him finish.

“There’s another horde coming this way, it’ll be here in minutes!” Ponies around us gasped in concern, seeds of growing terror filling the ranks around me.

“Now, hey!” Dual Gauge cried out, “Everybody stay calm and mount up!” he turned back to me, “We’ve no time to set up a perimeter, get to Leather Strap and have the medical ponies start distributing dash and buck to the pullers. We’ll outrun them. Go!” he shouted, and I was off as ponies everywhere began hopping into wagons.

I worried at the sound of sporadic gunfire, not wanting to think of what was going to happen to the defenders we were leaving behind. On quick wings, I was at the medical wagon, spotting Leather Strap with a great number of inhalers and pill bottles already clutched in her magic.

“Take these, start distributing, I know the contingency plan!” she snapped at me, her and the other medical ponies rushing off. I flew to the far end of the caravan, hoofing out the inhalers and pills to wary looking pullers. The ethics of using addicting drugs made my skin crawl, but in this situation I didn’t see any other option.

The rumbling stampede of the horde was audible as I finished hoofing out the drugs.

Up ahead, a whistle sounded off and the caravan took off like never before, the pullers’ drug-induced highs igniting like rocket fuel. I hovered near the end of the caravan, hopping atop one of the last wagons.

“Okay, go now!” the pony riding at the reins called as all the wagons ahead took off. The two pullers initiated their inhalers and sprinted with newfound energy, making me stumble atop my perch.

“Whoa! I...I think...I’m not…” I heard one of the pullers say before there was a sudden lurch and the wagon pulled to a stop.

“Oh, shit! Shit, shit, shit!” the reins-riding pony exclaimed.

“What? What happened?” I cried out, peeking over the front and spotting one of the pullers, the pony who I’d heard complaining before, Crusher, collapsed in his harness. The other puller looked jittery, inhaler still strapped to his lips as he trotted in place.

“Crusher! Crusher!” the pony at the reins hopped down and I followed, igniting her horn, “C’mon, stay with us, dude!” Yet Crusher refused to respond, body spasming as his breath came in short gasps, froth bubbling out past his lips.

Any basic buck-scout with a medical merit badge could tell you Crusher was suffering from a drug overdose. Whether because he’d been overworked or not wasn’t a great concern now with the horde of ghouls nearing our tail.

“He’s ODing!” I cried out.

“Yeah, no shit!” the unicorn spat back, pulling at the straps holding him in place, “We need to get him unstrapped, now!”

“What’s going on!? Why aren’t we moving?” One of the few ponies riding in the wagon called down.

Ignoring him, and with my help, the unicorn got Crusher untied and grunted as she magically shoved him into the caravan. I hopped in after him, going into diagnostic mode over Crusher’s twitching body.

“All right, go!” the unicorn hopped back to the reins, snapping them quickly. Back behind us, around a bend, the defenders from the hills galloped after us.

“I don’t know how long I can do this alone—” the lone puller began.

“Just do it!” the unicorn snapped the reins again and we were moving, albeit only about as fast as a pony on their own. Not nearly fast enough to elude the horde for long.

Crusher continued to twitch and squirm, eyes fluttering rapidly under their lids. His pulse was skyrocketing, dangerously high and his breathing remained quick and short. I quickly got the other three ponies in the wagon to hold him down on his side, shoving the random assortments of merchandise aside.

“What do we do?” a buck asked me, looking from me to Crusher with worried eyes.

‘Drug overdose, drug overdose!’ I thought, running through my brain. The drugs that I’d put most of my study into were the ones commonly found inside of a hospital like morphine and epinephrine. Illegal meds like buck and dash were as alien to me as a wiring diagram; at most I knew the basics of what each drug did. But how to treat an overdose?

If he’d been conscious, I might try giving him charcoal tablets and a healthy dose of water, but he looked like he was about to go into cardiac arrest. If I had a stomach pump I might’ve tried pumping his stomach, but I didn’t and dash was inhaled, not ingested. Snarling out a curse, I threw off my saddlebags and rifled through my medical supplies as Crusher writhed on the floor. Then, suddenly, his writhing stopped...and so did his breathing.

“No, no, no…” I mumbled, checking his pulse and finding nothing, “Crap, get him on his back!” I yelled, flipping him over and starting compressions. Briefly, images of High Brass flashed through my mind as I thrust my hooves into his unmoving chest, but with a growl I cast them aside and switched to rescue breaths, “C’mon…”

Gunfire erupted around us, and briefly I noted weapons poking out of the backs of wagons further ahead. Behind us the defenders still on hoof, realizing their doom, opened up against the horde in a valiant last stand. I tried not to think about their screams.

“They’re gaining on us, they’re gaining on us!” one of the other ponies in the wagon wailed.

“C’mon, we need more speed!” the mare at the reins called out. The lone puller up front just gave a growl.

The snarling, stomping stampede of undead behind us only drew closer inch by inch in our mad dash towards safety. Here and there a ghoul dropped to a lucky shot, but shooting from the back of a wagon rolling quickly over bumpy terrain was just as hard as it sounded. I nearly jumped, folding my ears as one of the other ponies in our wagon—an old unicorn buck—began putting out slow shots with a rusty repeating rifle. My ears rang at each report, but I ignored it as I tried to get Crusher’s vitals back.

I swapped back to rescue breaths, pressing my lips to Crusher’s as I forced air down his throat. My hope of saving him was fading fast when, as I shifted back to pumping his chest he gave a sudden gasp and jolted awake with a yell. His eyes shot wide as he cried out in pain, writhing and gagging. Sensing what was about to come, I shoved him on his side a second before he vomited painfully.

“Shit, he puked on me!” the unlucky buck opposite me cried, dancing away from the growing puddle of vomit.

“Holy shit, he’s alive!” another cried out as Crusher shivered and retched.

“Goddesses,” Crusher hacked, spitting miserably, “Goddesses, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

“Try to lay still!” I ordered over the steady gunshots, digging through my saddlebags and pressing two charcoal tabs to his lips with a wing, “Take these!” I added, requisitioning a canteen as I remembered mine was destroyed and letting him drink, “Just keep breathing!”

Behind us, the old unicorn began to reload his weapon, “I don’t have many more rounds!” he called back.

“Crusher’s back!” the mare at the reins glanced back, “Think he’s up for another run?”

“Are you kidding!?” I demanded, looking from her to Crusher’s shaking form.

“We need another puller if we’re gonna survive this!” the mare spat back.

Casting my eyes back inwards, I didn’t like what I found. Two of the others were unicorns. The one with the repeating rifle was far too old, the one next to him—wiping puke off his foreleg sleeve—was gangly-legged and young. The last was an earth pony, but he was short and stout with a set of tools attached to his armor. We needed somepony strong of leg and limb.

“Can’t they send somepony from up front?” I asked, flinching as the old unicorn began firing again. Some of the faster ghouls were breaking out from the rest, rotten legs pummeling the ground as they raced forwards. He was targeting these ones, picking them off as they got so close you could see their rabid, glowing eyes.

“Nopony to spare!” the mare called back at me.

Glancing about the wagon, a growing sense of worry seeped in under the canvas. The two ponies not shooting began ditching merchandise, tossing the heavy stuff out. Morbidly, I noticed as one eyed Crusher’s prone form as if he would be next. Removing the merchandise helped, but the horde still drew nearer and nearer, and I bit my lip as I looked at my wings. At the very least, I’d be able to escape a death by ghoul horde, but the others in the wagon…no! There had to be a way! I couldn’t fly everypony to safety, we couldn’t fight off or outrun the horde, we needed another puller! But as the mare had said, we had nopony to spare. Everyone else was up ahead, pulling a wagon or…

But there was one pony, I came to realize as a knot of regrets twisted itself like a dagger into my guts. But what chance did I have in convincing him? Was he even still around?

“What are you doing?” the mare growled as I pushed myself up beside her, “There’s no way you can pull—”

“Not me,” I replied, scanning the skies around the caravan...and spotting a black speck low over the hills to our right. Haltingly, I stepped back into the wagon and leapt out the back with a flap of my wings, “Red Mist.”

A growing sense of worry niggled its way into the forefront of my mind, conflicting emotions rising like bile in my throat. There was no time for petty bullshit, lives were on the line! I flapped harder, glancing back to remind myself why I needed him.

“Mist!” I forced myself to say as I approached. I stopped short at the burning emotions that filled me as his head turned to me. I didn’t know if I wanted to punch him and scream or hug him and cry, ‘Not now, damnit!’ I snarled at myself, forcefully shoving my emotions away as gunfire echoed below, “I...we need your help! One of the pullers ODed and now—”

“Why the hell should I care?” Red Mist growled. His coat was still a little damp under the eyes, but his helmet was back on and the rest of his face was hidden from me.

“Drafts-damnit, Mist! Because they’re ponies in need! They’ll die—”

“We’re all ponies in need!” he snapped back, not changing course as he flew low over the hills parallel to the caravan.

“We can help each other—” I tried again.

“Oh, sure, try that one out. Because they’re so accepting—”

“Stop cutting me off, you asshole!” I snapped back at him, anger coming to the forefront of my mind as I flitted up into his face. He tried to say something else, but I cut him to it again, “You’re going to listen to me and you’re going to help me! If you want to mope around and cry then fine, you can do it on your own time! But you’re the only pony who can help and by the winds you’re going to help pull that wagon!”

“Like hell I am!” he snarled at me.

“Like hell you are!” I snapped back, all stupid rage and spitting fury.

“Give me a reason!” he shouted back.

“Because I’ll rat your cowardly ass out to Dual Gauge and have him drop you from the caravan!” I met his cry, hooves shaking as I held them back, “You’re damned lucky I haven’t already!”

In the back of my mind, where reason still lingered, a part of me noticed a sudden chink of trepidation in his otherwise stalwart emotions. Yet he covered it quickly and responded with a sneer.

“Why the hell do you think that’ll faze me!” he growled.

“Because you’re still following the caravan!” I replied with a venomous, knowing, grin as some part of me enjoyed watching him squirm. Egged on by his sudden silence, that dark, predatory part of me pushed at the chink in his armor, “You would’ve flown off to some greener pasture if you didn’t give a crap about staying with the caravan! You don’t owe me anything any longer, you never owed the caravan a damned thing to begin with, but you’re still here,” I emphasized the last three words with jabs to his chestpiece, “So now you’re going to pull your weight and save those ponies or so help me, I’ll—”

“Fine!” Red Mist snapped back at me, shoving past me with a mutter.

“You’re gonna need this,” the mare said as Mist strapped himself in, offering a spare dash inhaler.

“Rerouting suit power to my wings!” Mist bit back as he started flapping, “Don’t need it!”

And true to his word he didn’t as the wagon gained some much needed speed, slowly pulling away from the rotting maws of the horde. Yard by yard we put distance between us and them, the ghouls disappearing around a bend and out of view.

And by the yard, as I felt my emotions settle, a great void was left in place of the burning rage that had filled me. With the confrontation over, and with me as the victor, it was hard to hold onto the anger. So like an invasive species, sorrow took its place as I came to realize that once more I’d manipulated Red Mist into doing what I wanted.

I couldn’t help but feel a little emptier inside as I watched the armored pegasus flapping furiously at the reins.

“No,” I muttered, quiet enough that nopony else could hear, “it was different this time. Lives were on the line...and there was nopony to spare.”

Footnote: Level Up!

Skills increased:
+Speech
+Medicine

Perk attained: Horse Sense – You always were swift on the uptake! You now gain experience points faster!

Pregnancy Perk Attained: Emotional Maelstrom – your hormones make you an emotionally-unstable mare, but that’s not always a bad thing! During confrontations, you now have a chance of gaining an emotionally-charged boost to charisma! Sociopaths and non-sapient creatures are immune.