A hero was only as good as his weapon, she heard a long, long time ago in a galaxy far away. What measure was a wastelander. An assassin. Or a human. What was the measure of her life in actions, in minutes, in cider cola, in hits of psycho? What did she mean. Her own two feet were walking the wastes and nopony could swoop in and save her then. The enclave officer pony stayed by her side. Featherlite or whatever her name was definitely lacked fighting spirit. She was an officer. An older officer who was used to a whole squad, not some two-bit loony like her. It didn't matter then. They used Featherlite's wristbelle to navigate to Sauk Conserva Pak. There, they'd spend time riding a ferry of sorts. It was more like a steamboat than anything. The two were driven by an old Legion ferryman called 'Long Strait.' His demeanor was eccentric at best, from the way he always kissed the ship columns, to the constant polishing of the floors on the hurricane deck, to how Long Strait never let anyone near the texas deck. The texas deck was the level of the boat where the texas resided. A texas was a stretch of cabin designed to house the pilothouse and the crew quarters. Though Lilith never saw anypony but Narrow Strait enter or exit the general area.

It's windows were painted black and sometimes the girl heard low and unintelligible voices from inside. The easiest way to encounter them was traversing the boiler deck. Just below the area of the texas was where it festered most. Nothing was certain, but something hollow and noiseless guided her there every night. Every night, near midnight, she would shuffle over on her roman sandles, narry a noise slipping through her steps. It was almost nerve-wracking sneaking out at night. Only her book and her mitts kept her lax. The book was a gentle guide, as it spoke to her with Father's voice. One night, she slipped away to smoke at the ship's stem piece, admiring the wasteland moonlight.

For some reason, the pale, pearl form of her celestial lover always shined ahead. Ahead to where she'd go, and ahead to a wasteland she needed to build. It was hard to contain her satisfaction. The awe she felt just studying the moon, gazing into it as ripples distorted it's crystalline reflection, was an inmate iridescence. It started when she lit a cigarette, noticing the flame unusually long and sickly, burning in blue and green hues.

'You've been idle for quite sometime... When are you going to offer more to Father? There's one right on this ship. Two if you cast aside your petty convictions to moral and code.'

Buddy. It was Buddy speaking to her on that most beautiful night. For a moment, her lips pursed and her nose twitched. That passed when she took her first breathe of nicotine and let the tar vapor kiss her lungs.

"You're still going on about how dedicated you are to Daddy? I'm dedicated too. But you don't see me sacrificing my friends 24/7. If you want a sacrifice to a temple, you find a dumb animal to cower in the water, first. We aren't in a temple of death. And I'm all out animals." The girl replied, unsure of how to handle the fog rolling in.

It was still snowing. Why would fog roll in at such an odd and inopportune time. The next few seconds were spent listening to Buddy. His laugh was raspy and immediate, always lingering about her ear in lingering whispers. If she ever had a brother, particularly an older and more indulgent one, he'd be a lot like Buddy.

'He has more skeletons than you think, you know. So does she. Whatever you're hanging up on tonight, I'd leave it alone tomorrow. You'll reach the Snapdrake Seed Mill in approximately three days and six hours. And when you do, Long Strait will be in the boiler room. Sneak upstairs to the hurricane deck and stick to the shadows till you reach the texas. Open it and look inside. You won't be disappointed, haha...'

The promise of spilled secrets tugged away at her. If it was true, she had to stay awake when Featherlite was actually asleep. The next morning was an arduous one. They switched shifts immediately and only one of them seemed to feel, however minute and trivial, a sense of distraction. Any amount of delegation from someone's path could lead them astray. And that one, minor nuisance, of watching Long Strait precariously switch from hurricane deck to boiler deck, Lilith kept her trigger finger half-ready. Over the course of her physical metamorphosis, she'd bought a few things from Sauk Conserva Pak.

Lilith purchased a simple dress shirt, which Sweetie's Legion raided from the New Canines, a kevlar vest from a police station in Yew Haul and some first aid supplies for crippled limbs. She'd found nothing else really and had to work a pair of equine panties onto herself. They were lace. Why lace? Because Sweetie's Legion preferred to raid fashionable loot. Featherlite called her down from the main deck and guards. A soft, jingling shake followed her every step. Lilith's boots had spurs on them. She wore snakeskin boots with tiny cat faces on the spurs themselves. Walking back to Featherlite made her comfortable again. Being alone was... absolute torture.

"Miss Lilith, sir. We've reached the Snapdrake Seed Mill. It's right over the dock. Careful, though. There are gaps you can fall in through." Reported Featherlite, nodding in agreement when she was asked to wait on the dock itself.

Constant, washing river noise brushed along her ears. They weren't nearly as perceptive anymore. And most of her immediate hearing was lost with the change. But all their proprioception and precognition stayed the same. That was why, amidst the sailing tide pacing back and forth between the boat and the shore it clung to, she sensed Long Strait on the boiler deck. Despite the spurs on her boots, her droning, muffled footsteps were hard to detect. She was a human. She weighed much less than the regular pony. Lilith marched up the boiler deck and straight up to the hurricane deck, sparing nothing for Long Strait.

The door to the structure came undone as she clicked it open.

Inside lay a group of foals in chains. He had three of them in captivity, all malnourished and skeletal, laying naked. A filly of not more than six crawled toward her, clawing at the floorboards with hooves that were bruised at the wrists. Dry, white stains layered her lips as she clung to Lilith's leg and hung her mouth wide open. The same substance lay in a doggybowl just across her, neighboring a broomhandle wrapped in barbed wire and a leather belt fixed with nails in the buckle slots. The other two were sleeping. They were both sleeping away from a world that swallowed them whole and ate them alive.

Approaching hoofsteps forced her to slide out of the child's grip and behind the space by the door.

"Sweetheart? Did you open the door again...?" He whispered, trotting over and petting his captive, even pressing against her flank, where all the scars were.

A rich red oozed out her wounds. They were numerous and incomprehensible. On her flank. At her hips. On her rear. Even long, shallow blade marks streaked her sunken stomach. Long Strait dug his hoof into her scars and watched her legs buck weakly. Her eyed went wide and the filly protested in raspy, choking coughs and pleas of 'stop- it hurts.' A stray creaking noise forced his eyes away from her. His face was a pale, pale white. Standing before him was a woman with the skin of a foal over her face. Her eyes were glowing and pink. And in her hand was a short, rotten limb. It was a foal's leg.

"Warum da zuka morde,  mortar menn...?" The ghost whispered.

She marched toward him. The spirit of the child in pale death came to him. He begged her to leave him be. He begged her to spare him, groping along the ship as he staggered backwards. A tightness took his chest and Long Strait collapsed to the ground. He spent his last moments clutching the left side of his body and drowning in gasoline he'd stored for corpse disposal.

Lilith Grins scooped his eyes out and set him on fire.

She smiled and worked into a grin, cocking her head at the wonders of fire. Her new child, the only survivor of three others, cuddled up nice and snug and nuzzled her neck.

They sat quietly and watched the world burn. Next Chapter: Tribe Estimated time remaining: 14 Minutes