The light was just starting to fade as I crept up to the ridge of a low hill to peer out at the farmstead, only a quarter mile away. I lifted my binoculars, scanning over the remains of buildings. To my sides, Dusty and Starlight did the same.

The barn had collapsed, and many of its boards were blackened and charred. The house itself, a small, single-story affair, showed some fire damage along one side, and the door was broken down, but the building was still standing. An old, decaying fence surrounded the buildings. Only the outhouse appeared undamaged.

The fields themselves had been torched.

“Doesn’t look good,” Dusty murmured, lowering his binoculars.

I nodded, lowering mine as well. “It looks vacant,” I said. “I can’t imagine the farmers would have stayed with everything destroyed, and it seems like the raiders would have to be incredibly persistent to wait in hiding for so long.”

“Yep,” Dusty said with a nod, then looked back over his shoulder. “Okay, we’re going straight in. Keep your spacing wide, and your eyes out. There might be friendly ponies in there. If you’re absolutely certain you see a raider, lay on the fire while everypony else gets to ground. Otherwise, return fire only as a last resort. Got it?”

There were nods all around, followed by Sickle’s voice. “Sure thing, Dirt. I won’t shoot anypony.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dusty said as he rose to his hooves. “Like you’d listen to what I say, anyway. Let’s move.”

We all stood, following after him. After a couple short commands, we spread out on either side of him. Dusty walked with a relaxed pose, and while he held the bit of his rifle in his mouth, he kept the barrel low. I tried to emulate him, loosening up my stance and holding my rifle lightly. I imagine the idea was to look as nonthreatening as possible, while ready for a fight at a moment’s notice. Those two goals worked against each other quite thoroughly, even without Sickle’s armored bulk clattering along beside us.

Striding across the barren earth and ashen fields, we were greeted only by silence.

When we reached the fence, Dusty came to a halt and crouched. The rest of us took up places along the fence spread out on either side.

Sickle remained standing, staring down at Dusty. “Seriously? What now?”

He ignored her, looking back and gesturing to Emerald. When she came up to him, he said, “Go ahead and call out, see if they’re in there.”

She looked over the house and stood tall, calling out in a clear voice. “Quartz? Flint? It’s Emerald.” She hesitated, chewing on her lip for a moment before adding, “Are you there?”

Only silence answered, and her ears drooped.

“Okay, we’re sweeping the house,” Dusty said. “Stick together, check every room, and stay alert until we’re sure we’ve cleared it all.”

Sickle immediately walked past him, stepping over a broken section of fence. We followed. Dusty held his gun up, tracking the nearest window. I raised my own rifle, seating the stock firmly against my shoulder, despite the awkwardness of doing so while walking.

Dusty had fallen into a slow, careful walk, keeping the window covered, while Sickle trotted casually up to the door.

I was just starting to pick up my pace when Sickle stepped into the doorway.

During the war, I had come up with a certain theory in regards to ponies, weapon development, and the psychological processes involved in such. The simple version was that ponies’ driving mentality during the war was emotion rather than logic. It explained the rapid rise of xenophobia in a culture that had always been so open to outsiders. It explained the fear and anger that arose in people unfamiliar with war. And it explained why some weapon designer had made a weapon that would warn its target, as if to avoid feeling guilt over making an “unfair” surprise attack.

But as the mine chirped below Sickle, my experience with raiders immediately produced a new theory: that whoever had designed the standard Equestrian anti-personnel land-mine had been a sadist, a sick and twisted individual who took immense pleasure from that one moment where you look upon her creation and realize there is absolutely nothing you can do to prevent what is about to happen.

I remember Sickle had raised her hoof right before it went off. Whether she intended to shield her face or was merely trying to stomp the device that had just announced itself, I’m not sure, but it may well have saved her life. The entire world immediately turned into an incoherent daze, choked with dust and abruptly twisted beyond any attempt at comprehension. When reality started to congeal again, I found myself on my side, blinking against the dust-filled air as bits of dirt and debris fell to earth all around me. My chest felt tight, and the world reeled even as I lay there. It only occurred to me later that I didn’t hear anything.

I turned my head, and the whole world spun around me. Despite lying on the ground, my legs kicked out, instinct insisting that I was falling over. My brain still hadn’t processed the events leading up to that moment, leaving me confused as to why I was lying there.

Then I saw Starlight. Her movement had drawn my muddled brain’s attention. She had just rolled onto her back. Her hooves were at her neck, her mouth open. My mind immediately focused on the thick spurt of blood that surged out between her hooves.

I leaped to my hooves, or tried to. My hoof caught on the edge of my cloak, jerking me back down to the ground. I rolled to the side to disentangle myself, and tried again. The world lurched under me as I rose, sending me staggering one way, and when I tried to rebalance, my right foreleg simply gave out from under me. I collapsed to my side, and looked down at the limb that had betrayed me. I was met with the sight of blood and bone. My lower leg was bent where it had no business bending, and the bone that was supposed to remain on the inside of a pony was protruding out through the skin, joined by a jagged piece of metal.

But it didn’t hurt, so my attention immediately went back to Starlight. In just that brief moment of distraction, she was drenched from chin to chest in blood, her mouth flapping as if she were drowning.

I tried to get to her, but my body continued to betray me, always moving in any direction but the way I intended.

Then a hoof fell in front of my vision, and another gripped my side. A head moved over me. With my view of Starlight obstructed, I instead found my world focused on this other pony. It took a moment to recognize Dusty’s worried expression. His nose was bleeding, but he was otherwise well. He might have said something, but I’m really not sure. All I know was that he was the happiest sight in the world at that moment.

Then he moved past me, and I saw Starlight choking on her own blood again, and my world came crashing down.

Another set of hooves grabbed me, but I kept struggling to reach Starlight--which I’m sure consisted mostly of flailing my hooves in her general direction--until Emerald appeared before me. I know she tried to say something to me, as I remember her mouth moving, but I didn’t hear any of it. I wasn’t paying that much attention. I knew there was something important, something that I needed to do, but as she gently shifted me to lie flat, I couldn’t for the life of me remember what it was.

It was around then that the pain started to truly sink in. The tightness in my chest started to grow worse and worse, but what really set it off was when Emerald shifted my broken leg. It was bad enough to feel it twist and turn in ways it never should have, but I think what really did it was the sight of the bone slipping back inside the mangled wound, like some alien entity tucking itself away inside my body. Every instinctual fear and revulsion surged forward at once, and I screamed and kicked against the horror that was hiding inside me. Only Emerald’s firm grip and steady stroking of my side brought my panic under control, and I’m thankful that, in my struggles, I hadn’t thought to transform to a form without a theoretically internal skeleton; I have no desire to discover what a compound fracture of an internal bone would become for an exoskeleton.

The following moments were a blur. I squirmed and grit my teeth as Emerald tended to me. Every movement of my leg was like the stab of a knife, and every flinch and jerk I made in response merely worsened the pain. I choked back a scream as she pulled a shard of metal out of my leg, as sharp as a blade but twisted and jagged. Her hooves were smeared with my blood. My own leg was coated in it.

A healing potion was shoved into my mouth. I tilted my head back, trying to grasp at it, but she kept my leg pinned down. The attempt sent another jolt of pain through me, and I nearly choked on the potion, but coughing and sputtering, I managed to down it.

Within moments, the pain receded and the world reoriented, becoming more real. It felt as if my ears popped, and distant, muffled sounds soon drew closer until I could hear Emerald moving over me.

I also heard Starlight’s wet, sobbing coughs.

“Starlight!” I again attempted to get to her, only for a spike of pain to flare up from the leg Emerald was still keeping pinned down. Despite how much better I felt for having the healing potion, it seemed I was still injured.

“She’s okay,” Emerald reassured me. “She’s stable. Right now, we need to care for you. Where are your healing potions?”

I laid my head down again, finding myself increasingly tired. “Medical box,” I mumbled. “Left bag.”

She kept her hooves on my leg as she leaned in, opening my bags with her mouth and pulling out the misshapen medical box. She retrieved another healing potion and fed it to me. The remaining pain rapidly diminished. After a few more seconds, she slowly relaxed her grip on my leg. She gave it a few careful prods, asking me how it felt.

“Sore,” I answered, slowly relaxing. The pain had finally receded into a deep ache throughout my body, but my head felt relatively clear once more.

Emerald prodded a few more times to be sure. I did my best to minimize the tremble as the squishy flesh mushed against the hard bone that had, moments earlier, been stabbed through the very same flesh. I think she mistook my disturbed reaction as one of pain, but I assured her it was merely an ache.

“All the same,” she said, “you should go gentle on it. I’d prefer to immobilize your lower leg.”

She eventually produced a splint from her own medical supplies, a good one produced during the war, and went through the process of fixing my leg in place.

As Emerald worked, I got a good view of Starlight. She was lying on the ground, facing away from me, with her side rapidly rising and falling. Even facing away from me, her neck and shoulder were completely caked in blood and dirt. Dusty had rolled her to her side, facing away from the large puddle that was slowly seeping into the dry earth. It was a truly shocking amount of blood, enough to make me wonder how it could all come from one pony.

Dusty came over to us, snatching up the other healing potion. He returned to Starlight, cradling her head as he tilted her face upwards and carefully fed her another healing potion. She weakly grasped at it, and after a few gasps for air she started to relax, her rapid breathing slowing, but only a little.

I lay there as Emerald worked, feeling so utterly useless.

Sickle was sitting on the opposite side of Starlight, with a few empty healing potion bottles lying between them. Sickle’s muzzle hung open, but it and her face were dripping with blood. She just sat there, panting and occasionally spitting out a bit of blood.

As soon as the splint was in place, I struggled up to my hooves. The world wobbled and contracted around me, my heartbeat rushing in my ears, but it smoothed out as I took a few deep breaths. I was able to stand long enough to move over to Starlight. She looked up to me, still panting softly. Her cheeks were wet with tears.

I lay down with her, slipping my good foreleg around her to hug, ignoring the blood. She snuffled against my neck and held me tight, trembling.

“Watch over them,” Dusty said to Emerald, then turned to speak across us. “Sickle, you good to move?”

I heard a spit in reply, followed by a grunted and weary, “Yeah.”

They moved up to where the doorway had once been, now just a ragged gap in the wall. What floorboards remained were shattered and thrown about, and the roof sagged. They passed through the gap, slow and wary, while we waited outside.

A minute later, Sickle strolled out again, walking a few paces past us before flopping onto her side with a clatter of metal and a weary grunt. Dusty emerged after her, though he stopped to sit on the porch. He looked exhausted and downcast, eyes unfocused even as he pulled out and lit a cigarette.

Emerald stood. “...Are they in there?”

Dusty took a long drag of his cigarette, followed by a deep sigh. “Just the foals,” he said. “A colt and… I think it was a filly.”

Emerald’s ears drooped. I’m sure she had expected such bad news, but that hardly made it any better. She shook her head, then walked toward the door.

“Don’t,” Dusty said, holding up a hoof. “You… you don’t want to see that.”

She stopped, but slowly shook her head. “I can’t just leave them in there. They deserve a burial.”

“They’ll get one,” Dusty said. “Just… you don’t need to see what’s in there. At least let us get them down, first.”

Emerald’s expression wilted, and she sat again. Her eyes watered as she nodded.

We sat in silence until Dusty had finished his cigarette, dropping it to the dirt and grinding it under-hoof. “Okay,” he said, standing and walking up to Starlight and myself. He produced a water bottle and held it out. “Here, Star. You’re going to need plenty of fluids, so drink up. Try to eat something, if you can. It’ll help you recover.”

Starlight’s grip slowly relaxed around me, and she pulled her head away to look up at the bottle. Her eyes were red and puffy. Her horn eventually lit up, wrapping the bottle in her magic.

“Now let’s get you sitting up,” Dusty said, crouching down to wedge his muzzle in against her side. Between the two of us, we got her sitting upright, though she leaned heavily against me. She sniffled and wiped at her cheeks, only to stop and stare at her blood-covered hooves. A tremor passed through her, and she shut her eyes, taking a long drink from the bottle.

With that settled, Dusty took a step back. “Hey, Sickle. Help me out with… the stuff inside.”

“Why?” Sickle rumbled, not even moving. “Ain’t like they’re getting any less dead.”

I sighed and looked up to Dusty. “I’ll help.”

He frowned, contemplating me for a moment. I imagine he was thinking on whether I should be exposed to whatever was waiting inside, but he finally nodded.

Emerald sat beside Starlight, giving her another shoulder to lean on. “I’ll be right back,” I promised, and Starlight looked up to me with a weary, almost hopeless look. I gave a smile back, trying to be reassuring. She meekly nodded, her eyes closing again.

I stood and, forgetting about my own injury, winced as I put too much weight on my injured leg. A quick shuffle solved that, and I followed Dusty. He paused for a moment, casting a glance at my leg, but said nothing.

We went inside. The house had once been nice enough, but it had come across hard times lately. The mine had done a terrifying amount of damage to the old structure, completely obliterating most of the flooring in what had once been the entryway, and all the walls we could see were torn up, with holes ranging from barely visible to several inches wide. A few pieces of furniture lay nearby, upturned and scarred by the blast. The stench of smoke filled the air, but as we moved further into the house, another, fouler smell began to emerge.

The raiders had ransacked the place, overturning and smashing furniture as they rummaged through the place for loot. The kitchen was badly charred, but the fire hadn’t spread further. And then there was the final room we entered, one which looked to have once been a pleasant place for a family to relax, now turned into a showcase of brutality.

The room itself was wrecked, but it was the colt that I first focused on, or at least, what remained of him. He was hung from the rafters by a rope tied around his rear hooves. His head was missing, and his upper chest was so torn up that one of his forelegs had been severed and was lying on the ground several feet away. Between the carnage and a couple days of decay, it was hard to guess at his age. Ten, maybe twelve at the most.

The couch he was hanging beside was torn apart, and bits of debris covered the floor. In the dim light of the room, I first thought the debris was pieces of the cushions or other furniture. It was a couple of seconds before I focused on the pale, curved fragment of a skull. His head wasn’t missing; it was all right there, scattered about the room.

Another foal hung opposite him, suspended by a pair of ropes tied to their forehooves. I think it was a filly. She was at that age where it can be hard to tell from just the face, even before decay. More reliable methods of identification were impossible. Her body ended where her hips should have been, while much of what had once been her insides now lay in a shredded mess beneath her. Her hind-legs lay on the floor, with the curved shards of a destroyed pelvis still attached.

All of that was enough to make me feel a little queasy, but the worst was her face. Her head was lolled forward, mouth hanging agape and eyes open. The expression on what remained of her decaying face seemed one of dull shock and distress. It was disturbingly macabre, as if she were still aware of the horrors done there.

After that unnamed army depot and Paradise Beach, I had thought--hoped, at least--that I would never be surprised by the vileness that one pony could inflict upon another, but raiders continued to find new ways to horrify.

I nearly jumped when Dusty’s hoof gently patted my shoulder. “Take your time,” he said, his voice quiet. I focused on him as he looked around the room. His eyes lingered on details, giving the impression of an immense sadness. But I saw a little deeper. I could see the bit of hardness in his eyes as he looked over the scene.

We couldn’t save these ponies, but we could damn well make sure the ponies responsible could never do this again.

I steeled myself, standing tall and firm, and gave Dusty a nod. “Okay. I’m ready.”

Getting them down was a gruesome affair. Fortunately, Dusty had a knife, which we used to cut through the ropes. It was a far better alternative to untying them with our mouths. If not for the knife, I would have been tempted to transform and use my magic, even if it risked Emerald discovering what I was. She seemed like a reasonable mare; explaining my situation to her seemed preferable to putting my mouth on those ropes.

Plus, it seemed she was good at keeping secrets. Sadly, I had a more important task at hoof than to ponder that fact.

Dusty found a pair of blankets in the bedrooms. We bundled the foals up in them and brought them outside.

The burial was a brief affair, without ceremony. We managed to find a pair of shovels amidst the heap of farming tools the raiders had ignored, and we dug a pair of tiny graves. I’ll admit, the digging went much quicker when Sickle got tired of waiting, shoved me out of the way, and took up the shovel herself. Emerald claimed a couple of pieces of the broken fence to form simple grave markers, and borrowed Dusty’s knife to carve a name into each one: Sage and Pebble.

Starlight spent most of the time leaned back against the building, looking groggy as she alternated between downing a second bottle of water and eating a pack of crackers. With the burial done, Emerald drew some water from the hoof-pumped well and returned to Starlight’s side, dunking a washcloth in the old bucket. “Let’s get you cleaned up a little, hmm?”

Starlight grunted quietly, setting her food and water down to let Emerald work. Slowly, the worst of the blood was cleaned away.

I ended up doing the same thing Dusty was: keeping an eye out, in case the explosion had drawn any attention. Thankfully, it was quiet.

Starlight was mostly cleaned up when Sickle stepped up to her. “Let me see,” Sickle rumbled, shoving Emerald’s hoof out of the way, then nudging Starlight’s chin back. Sickle frowned, then pushed Starlight’s head to the side to look at the other side of her neck before releasing her again. “Well, shit. That sucks. Don’t even get a cool scar out of it or anything.”

Starlight huffed out a breath that might have been faintly amused, and I think the corner of her mouth might have twitched upwards.

Emerald resumed the cleaning, though she watched Sickle and her blood-stained snout. “You might want to clean up, too.”

“Right,” Sickle said, chuckling. “You ain’t seen me fight. Ain’t any point in me cleaning up yet.”

Rather than argue, Emerald merely shook her head and shrugged. “Suit yourself,” she said, returning to cleaning Starlight.

Some ten minutes later, we gathered around, with Starlight sat against the side of the house, as Dusty appraised the situation.

“Between the potions we’ve already used and the bottles that broke from the explosion, this is all we have for arcane medical supplies.”

Set between us was a single healing potion and three magic-laced bandages.

“Got plenty of painkillers,” Sickle said with an armor-rattling shrug.

“Useful, sure,” Dusty said. “But they don’t stop bleeding like a potion does. The bandages are useful, but not nearly as good. Somepony takes a nasty hit, a potion might be the only way to keep them alive. Two someponies take a nasty hit, and one of them might not be making it home.”

“Right,” Sickle said. “Stop getting hurt, got it.”

“If only it were that simple,” Dusty muttered. “We haven’t even seen these raiders yet, and we’ve already gone through most of our medical supplies.”

I stared down at the small collection, feeling distinctly uncomfortable about the situation. I’d just downed two healing potions, and my leg still ached. “Are you suggesting that we go back?”

“We can’t go back,” Emerald said. “Quartz and Flint might still be out there! And besides, it isn’t as if more potions are going to magically appear in my store overnight. You cleaned out my stock already.”

“I’m not saying we have to turn around,” Dusty said. “Like you said, going back to Gemstone won’t do us any good. Maybe if a caravan comes in, but how often do you see healing potions turn up?”

Emerald thought a moment, then slowly shook her head. “Maybe a dozen or so over a whole year. Sometimes more. Ponies tend to hang onto them.”

“Maybe another settlement?” I asked.

“Like where?” Dusty asked. “We might luck out and find a couple in Rust, but that’s, what, a day or two there? Same back. Mareford would have plenty, but that’s out of the question.”

“Raiders will have some,” Sickle said, grinning. “Funny how many dead ponies you find with perfectly good healing potions on ‘em.”

“Got to live long enough to use them,” Dusty noted. “Anyway, this isn’t about some quick fall-back to refit and try again. There is no quick resupply. Right now, the question is whether we continue on with the mission, or we abort and spend the weeks or months we need to get adequate supplies for a second attempt.”

“Quartz and Flint won’t have weeks or months,” Emerald said, her ears hanging low. “They might still be alive.” She turned a desperate look toward Sickle. “Right?”

Sickle scowled, but her expression eventually mellowed as she shrugged. “Maybe. Depends on why they took ‘em. If they brought ‘em back to have fun torturing or putting on a show, they’re already dead. If they brought ‘em back to be fucktoys, they might still be alive. Probably not. Depends on how rough they like to play.” She followed that with a dry chuckle. “And from what they did to those foals, I’m guessing they like to play plenty rough.”

With a shiver, Emerald turned back to Dusty. “W-we can’t turn back. Those ponies are depending on us.”

“I’m not saying we’re turning back,” Dusty replied, a bit of an edge creeping into his voice. “I’m saying the situation just got more dangerous, and every one of you needs to consider that before we move on.”

We stared at the supplies in silence for a minute before Starlight spoke up, her voice quiet and tired. “I’m still going,” she said. “Least we can do is scout things out. Find the raiders. See if those ponies are alive. Heck, maybe Whisper could do her thing and sneak in, take a look…” She blinked, casting a glance my way, then shook her head. “No, bad idea. But we can still look.”

“Are you going to be able to make it?” Dusty asked.

“Of course I can make it,” Starlight said, her voice rising, though a moment later she sagged against the wall. “Shit, Dusty. I almost died. I-I…” She swallowed and took a deep breath. “Yeah, I can make it. I’m going.”

Dusty nodded solemnly, and looked to me.

I gave a wry smile in reply. “As if you have to ask?” I said, gesturing a hoof toward Starlight.

He looked to Sickle, who gave an exaggerated roll of her head. “Oh no, I might get hurt.” She drew in a deep snort and spit out a disgusting glob of mucus and blood. “Of course I’m going. Fuck, I ain’t killed a pony in weeks, and I need to murder the shit out of some motherfucker for that sneaky fucking trick.”

With a sigh, Dusty looked back at the supplies. “Okay. Emerald, you’ll be carrying those medical supplies. Keep them safe.” He looked back to Starlight. “Are you going to be able to travel?”

“Yeah,” she said, though I caught the hesitant tone to her voice. “I’ll manage.”

“Here,” Sickle rumbled, and something small and pale sailed through the air. Starlight yelped weakly as it bounced off her chest, then fumbled with her forehooves in a failed attempt to catch it.

Sickle glowered at her as Starlight bent over and picked up the object, blowing off the dirt, and looked at the thick, white tablet. “What’s this?”

“It’s Buck,” Sickle rumbled. “Should keep you going for an hour or two.”

Dusty’s mouth opened to protest, but he hesitated, and eventually shook his head. “Well, I can’t say it’s the worst idea I’ve heard.” To me, the statement seemed to have an implied “but it’s close.”

Starlight was frowning down at the tablet. “Uh… maybe I’ll just hold onto it. I can use it later if I need it.”

“Whatever,” Sickle said with a snort.

Starlight tucked the pill inside her bags. “...Thanks.”

We set out shortly after that. I expect we made for a rather pitiful sight. I was limping, not from pain, but from a desire to be gentle with my injured leg. Starlight tended to lag behind and weave a little, but every time, her head would snap back up, and she’d push on. Even Sickle seemed a little more lethargic than usual.

To everyone’s relief, we only traveled for an hour before Dusty decided we were far enough from the farmstead to be relatively safe. We took up a spot in a small recess of a rocky hill, sheltered by the rocks rising to either side, and settled in for the night.

After a quick meal, Starlight laid out her bedding right next to mine. We all settled in, except Dusty, who took the first watch.

It was hardly a minute before Starlight slipped over, pressing close against my side. She was trembling. I shifted more to my side, slipping my splinted foreleg over her and tucking the blanket over both of us. She, in turn, buried her muzzle against my neck, muffling the faint sobs that accompanied her shaking.

I held her close and tight, tucking my head in against hers, until she slowly relaxed.

When morning came and ponies started to wake, I stayed close beside Starlight. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she murmured, looking away as she rummaged through her bags. “I’m just really hungry.”

I kept my voice low, so the others were less likely to overhear us. “Are you sure?”

She paused, holding a package of mixed vegetables in her magic. “...I almost died last night,” she said, her voice quiet, and shook her head. “It’s… I don’t know. I almost died, and I couldn’t even do anything about it. I didn’t even try, just…”

I slipped a foreleg around her shoulders, and she sighed. “I just panicked.”

“I tried to run on a compound fracture,” I said. “I think we might have both been a little concussed.”

She gave a weak snort. “Yeah, sure. Still, I was just… useless.”

“You’re not useless,” I said, giving a squeeze, but she just rolled her eyes.

“I mean I felt useless,” she said. She opened her mouth to continue, then shut it. I waited as she tried a few more times before speaking again. “It reminded me of when my mom died.”

I gave another squeeze, but held it, and leaned my head against hers. She sat there, still for a few moments, before giving another huff and shrugging her shoulders, pushing me back just a bit. “Hey, I’m better now,” she said, giving a weak smile that was only partially convincing. “The sleep helped a lot.” Her smile slowly faded away, and after a moment of silence she added, “It just freaked me out is all. It’s the only time I’ve felt so… scared and helpless.”

She glanced warily my way. “...You know what I mean?”

I slowly nodded. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

“Yeah.” She sighed, then tore open the bag of veggies and tipped the bag back, dumping several bite-size pieces of various vegetables into her mouth. “Ehhee huhhgy,” she said around the mouthful as she chewed. While I speculated at what she had intended to say--”Really hungry,” I think--she started scratching at her neck. “And my neck is itching like mad,” she said, once she had swallowed the mouthful.

I’m not surprised. Despite Emerald’s effort to clean her, Starlight’s scratching dislodged several flecks of red, blood that had dried under her coat. She eventually stopped, looking down at her hooves, speckled in dried blood, and blearily declared, “I need a shower.”

I looked down at my own hooves. I’d cleaned thoroughly with the well water, but I was sure I’d be imagining the feeling of dried blood under my coat until I’d had the chance to clean up in my natural form. “I think I could use one, too.”

She gave a dry chuckle, tipping back the bag of veggies again.

Soon everypony was gathering up their bedding and eating a quick breakfast. Starlight ate ravenously, and downed the entire package and a can of beans before washing it down with a bottle of water. Afterwards, she lay out with a groan, waiting for everypony else.

Dusty laid out a brief plan for the day: head toward the area Emerald had indicated, scout out any raider presence, and attempt to locate their base of operations. “And above all else,” he said, “stay alert. Keep an eye out for ambushes, booby traps, stuff like that. We already know they like to use mines, and we can’t afford to get surprised like that again.”

As we donned our packs and gear, I saw Starlight staring off toward the horizon and taking a few slow, deep breaths. On the final exhale, she murmured, “Okay.” This was followed by a grimace as she noticed I was watching her. “...Okay, so I’m a little nervous,” she said with a frown, “but I’m not going to let that stop me.”

I cautiously nodded, uncertain of what to say.

Since Sickle had merely flopped down in the dirt to sleep, she had no bedding to pack or equipment to re-don, and was ready to go as soon as she got up. As a result, she waited as impatiently as ever while we got ready, occasionally waving a spiked-and-bladed hoof at one of the flies buzzing around her head.

Emerald slung her magical energy weapon across her back and paused, looking over to Sickle. “You know, if you cleaned up that blood, you probably wouldn’t have all those flies bothering you.”

Sickle growled. “Oh, hey, yeah, keep poking at me, bitch.” She swatted at another fly. “Then in a couple minutes I can tell you how if you just kept your cunt mouth shut, you wouldn’t have a broken jaw. How’s that sound?”

I sighed quietly. Not that I was surprised by Sickle’s behavior. Just, maybe a little disappointed.

Emerald looked disappointed as well. “I’m sorry,” she said, her ears drooping. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just trying to offer some help.”

“Well don’t,” Sickle replied with a snort, and looked away.

Despite my hopes that Emerald would just leave things be, she spoke again. “You really don’t like me, do you?”

I started walking closer to the pair, hoping to intervene if Sickle replied too aggressively.

Sickle gave a short, dry chuckle. “‘Course not. You’re a fucking idiot.”

Emerald glanced over to me as I approached, giving a questioning look. When I shrugged, she looked back to Sickle. “I have to wonder why you think that.”

“Because you think you’re actually helping,” Sickle said, her head turning to fix on Emerald. “You’re not. You just hide behind your walls and your guns. It’s like you’re living in some fucking fantasy land, where you think happy thoughts and smile, and everything’s okay. ‘Cept right on the other side of those walls, you got a bunch of ponies getting raped to death by raiders. But hey, maybe if you think they’re actually good ponies for long enough, they’ll all stop with the raping and murdering and join in singing some happy song about friendship and rainbows and shit. Any decade now, right?”

Emerald’s ears hung low. “...The world isn’t going to get any better if we just keep killing ourselves,” she said, her voice quiet, but growing stronger with every word. “I know, some ponies need to be stopped, sometimes even killed, but we have to work towards something better, instead of just keeping what we have. You can kill off every single raider in existence, but it won’t make a difference if we don’t deal with the reason they exist.”

Sickle laughed, sharp, bitter, and without humor. “Like you know why raiders exist.”

“And anyway,” Emerald said, her head rising as she took up a more firm posture, “I’m not hiding behind those walls now. I’m out here, trying to do what’s right.”

“Brahminshit!” Sickle growled, rising to her hooves. “You’re out here because you’re a fucking coward and a liar.”

“Hey!” Dusty shouted, trotting in our direction, while adrenaline started to tease at my senses.

“Fuck off, Dirt!” Sickle took a step toward Emerald--I took a step in, as well--and snarled in her face. “You talk a lot of shit, but as soon as push came to shove, you pussied out and ran away. Don’t play like you’re out here to make the world a better place. You lied to everypony, pretending everything was good and happy, right before you turn around and abandon them. You’re nothing but a fucking coward that thinks she’s better than everypony else.”

The pained look on Emerald’s face was too much. I stepped in. “That’s enough, Sickle. She already explained why she needs to leave.”

Sickle turned her glare to me, staring for several seconds before finally snorting and turning away. “Yeah, sure. We going, yet?”

Dusty was glaring at Sickle, but slowly nodded. “Yeah, we’re going.”

I looked to Emerald. She stood still, eyes shimmering with tears. Her expression was like a hoof to the gut.

I stepped forward, gently placing a hoof on her shoulder. “It’s okay.”

She looked to me, her eyes full of sadness, and sighed. “No, it’s not.”

She slipped away from my hoof, slowly walking along behind Dusty, who cast a concerned look back our way before returning to keeping an eye on Sickle.

“I’ve helped a lot of ponies,” Emerald quietly said, her head hanging low as she walked. “I know I have. I’ve done what I can to make life better for as many as I can, but… I’m not a fighter.” She cast a quick glance Sickle’s way. “I’m not a coward, either. I’m a pony who’s willing to give up everything she has for a cause she believes in. I’m just not a fighter. And yeah, sometimes we need fighters. Sometimes, we need ponies who will stop the monsters that try to kill us. Heck, even the ponies who embodied the Elements themselves fought to protect Equestria.”

She paused, and a flicker of a smile crossed her face. “Well, maybe not Fluttershy, but she still helped those who did.” The faint smile faded away a moment later. “But I’m still not a fighter.”

The ground crunched quietly under-hoof as we continued on in silence. Eventually, I nodded. “I know what you mean.”

Emerald cast a glance my way. “Is that so?”

“Yeah.” I looked down at the rifle slung at my chest, which now felt so familiar there. “I had never fired a weapon in anger before a month ago. I had never been in a real fight before then, much less a firefight. Heck, it still seems weird when ponies see me as someone who can fight.”

Emerald considered me for a few long moments. “From the stories Dazzle told, I would have never guessed.”

I gave a wry smile. “Adversity seems to be a very efficient teacher.”

“For some things,” Emerald said.

“For some things,” I echoed with a nod.

She nodded thoughtfully, but that eventually ended with a slow shake of her head. “I hope you’re not trying to convince me to stay and fight.”

I considered my reply for a few seconds before speaking. “No, I’m just offering sympathy. If I were to make comment on the situation at hoof, it would be that there are fighters out there, sometimes in places you don’t expect it.”

“...Thanks.” She looked down at her hooves as she continued walking. “Except right now, they don’t even know they’re needed.”

I nodded. “All the more reason to share that information.”

“Yeah,” Emerald said, heaving a deep sigh. “And I will. It’s just… hoo. You have no idea how hard it is. You seem like good ponies, but I’m still not sure how you’ll take it. I’m not even sure if you’ll believe me.”

I had to smile at that. “And that’s something I can definitely sympathize with.”

She turned a questioning look my way. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” I smiled at her, looking at her expression of curiosity. I thought of all the things she had said and done, all the good she had tried to accomplish, all that she gave without expecting anything in return, and I came to a decision. “How about this: I’m pretty sure I can top whatever story you’ve got. These are some very understanding ponies we’re traveling with. And you, you seem like a good pony, and one who is very good at keeping secrets when they’re for a good reason. So, how about a deal?”

She blinked, her ears perking up. “What’s that?”

I inclined my head in the direction we were traveling. “We go out there, play the heroes, maybe save some ponies. Then, when that’s all done, you and I swap stories of our dark and mysterious pasts.”

Starlight’s ears had shot up in alarm, and she cast a concerned look my way, as if to say, “Are you sure?” I could certainly understand. She understood exactly what I was offering. Even I felt a little uncomfortable about sharing. A few weeks earlier, and I would have never considered it, but I had shared my secret with three of the ponies I was traveling with, even if it hadn’t been entirely by choice. Instead of leaving me more vulnerable, as I had feared, that shared secret left us all better off.

Emerald had caught Starlight’s look, and watched her curiously before looking back to me. I simply smiled back, and after a moment of wary hesitation, she smiled as well, slowly and cautiously. “Okay, then. It’s a deal.”

In hindsight, I could have pressed her right then. I was reluctant to share my own secrets, but I was convinced that she was a pony they would be safe with. What she had already shared was enough for that. I’m sure that revealing my own past, not to mention my hidden nature, would have been enough to convince her to share her own story, but I didn’t press the matter.

Maybe I should have.

Neither Starlight nor Emerald’s PipBucks had a name for the tiny ghost town we found. The settlement had once had about twenty buildings, mostly simple two-story houses. Now more than half of them lay in ruins, whether collapsed from the wear and tear of two centuries or torn down by scavengers for material. The ones that remained were in poor repair. Roofs sagged, walls had holes where boards had fallen away, and all of them were caked in two centuries of dust and dirt. Stretches of broken-down wire fence marked out several large patches of land between the surrounding low hills. Once, they might have been fields for crops. Now they were nothing but desolate patches of dry earth.

The center of the tiny town was a cluster of four buildings. One was still identifiable as a saloon, though one of the side walls had partially buckled. For the others, I could only make vague guesses as to their original purpose.

Between the buildings stood a tall pole, and lashed to that pole were the dry bones of a pony.

“They’ve certainly been here,” Dusty said as he peered through his binoculars. “Don’t see any sign of them right now.”

“Unless they’re inside,” I noted, slowly sweeping my own binoculars over the scene. Even in mid-day, the ever-present cloud-cover turned several windows into dark pits.

“Naturally,” Dusty said with a slow nod. He lowered his binoculars, though his eyes remained fixed on the town, just a quarter mile away. His hoof idly tapped the ground in front of where he lay, as he mulled over the scene.

“Wish we had broadcasters,” he muttered. “Could be a lot more flexible that way.” He shook his head, as if chasing away the thought, then spoke up. “Okay, plan of action. Left side of town, closest to us. You see that single-story building with the wide windows and stone foundation?”

As one, our heads turned to look at the building he had pointed out.

“Our first move is going to be toward there. It looks unoccupied, and if we do run into trouble, it should give better cover than one of the wood buildings. Stay spread out when we’re crossing the open, just like before. If we take fire, I want you all to lay on the return fire. Suppress the shit out of them and fight your way to that building. Move when your buddy is shooting, then stop and shoot so they can move. Once we’re enlodged there, we can move on to sweep the rest of the town. Got it?”

Nods and affirmations went around.

“Good,” he said with an authoritative nod, and stood. “Let’s move quick.”

He took his rifle’s bit in his mouth and led us out in a slow trot, and we spread out on either side.

We crossed over the fallen remains of a wire fence and into one of the old fields. Nothing but dust remained, kicked up by our hooves in tiny clouds to drift away in the gentle breeze.

My heart was beating a bit too hard for the mild pace, my breathing a bit too fast. I watched the slowly approaching windows, and checked once more that my safety was disengaged.

The distance steadily diminished. There were no signs of movements in the town, save for a few tattered scraps of cloth caught up in the displayed skeleton, fluttering gently.

We were less than a hundred yards from our destination when Starlight called out. “Hey! Uh…” Her head dipped down, then looked up at the saloon, directly across the street from where we were going. “I’ve got red marks over there.”

Dusty’s rifle was already swinging up and over before she had finished; I saw the puff from his muzzle an instant before the roar of incoming gunfire shattered the silence all around. I jumped, putting a round into the dirt in front of me, then quickly swung my weapon up in the direction Dusty was firing. My sights fell over the saloon. Muzzle-flashes blazed within the upper-story windows of the saloon, and I mashed the trigger as fast as I could. Puffs of dust and fragments of wood flew from the face of the building, followed by the brilliant flash and crack of Starlight’s Lancer putting a new hole in the wall. Snaps and cracks sounded all around me, but I only distantly recognized that the tiny puffs of dirt kicked up around us were incoming bullets.

My weapon jerked as I pulled the trigger on an empty chamber, my magazine already spent in what felt like a single instant. I glanced to to my left. Dusty had galloped ahead and had just thrown himself to the ground, his hooves moving swiftly as he reloaded his rifle. I followed his lead, breaking into a gallop, moving while he put out more fire, kicking up clouds of dust with every shot. A quick glance further to the left caught sight of Starlight and Emerald scrambling along, with the former helping the latter. The concern that stirred up had to wait; I had more pressing matters to attend to.

I had just passed Dusty when his rifle fell silent. I threw myself down in the dirt, sending up a small cloud of dust, and let my empty magazine fall to the ground as I fumbled a fresh one into place. Dusty was already galloping past behind me by the time I pulled the charging handle to chamber a round.

Flashes lit up the upstairs window again, matched with a frighteningly rapid chatter of gunfire. I swung my sights over the window and mashed the trigger again, answering it with my own shots. Dust flew up around me with each shot, obscuring my view, and more sprays of dust and wood fragments flew from the building as I put round after round into it. The incoming fire stopped almost immediately, but I didn’t stop until my weapon ran empty again.

I leaped up to my hooves, turned, and galloped again. Dusty had already halted, standing just a dozen yards from the safety of our destination, and started to steadily fire toward the building. Another burst of fire, slower and deeper, answered back, but fell silent almost immediately under Dusty’s steady, accurate fire.

As I galloped past Dusty, I saw the others had already made it inside. I dove in through the wide window, tumbling to a halt on the debris-strewn floor. I immediately saw Sickle, sitting there half exposed, her muzzle hanging to the side to reveal an enthusiastic grin.

I righted myself, disentangled from my cloak, and kicked out the empty magazine to reload again.

Dusty leaped across me and dropped neatly behind the edge of the window as he started to reload. “Star! Get on line, I need you shooting. Emerald! How bad is it?”

As I chambered another round, I glanced back. Starlight scrambled up to the edge of the window beside us, but I looked at Emerald, who was lying on her side and panting. She had pressed a hoof to her chest, and lifted it away, looking at it as if expecting blood.

“I’m okay,” she called back. “The barding stopped it!”

Dusty’s shout jerked me back to attention. “Whisper, get shooting!”

I snapped my head around, tugged on the bit to seat the stock against my body, and rose up. I saw flashes of white around the upper floor of the saloon, but in that frantic moment, I couldn’t be sure if they were the flashes of muzzles or the results of bullets striking the building. I simply pointed at wherever I saw movement and kept firing.

Then I saw a flicker of something dark arc from one of the windows.

Starlight’s Lancer swung upwards, and its near-blinding light was answered with a flash and the sharp blast of the grenade detonating in mid-air. I cringed, ducking down for an instant. I think Starlight laughed. S.A.T.S. is pretty amazing stuff.

I forced myself to rise again and resume shooting. I only got two more rounds out before I dropped down again, ejecting another spent magazine.

I was halfway through reloading when Sickle threw a pair of Dash inhalers to the ground. “Yeah, this is more like it!” she roared, slapping her muzzle back in place and latching it. She turned her manic grin our way. “Okay, you cunts! Let’s get this fucking party started!”

Then she leaped out the window, bellowing out an incoherent battle-cry of rage as she charged right across the open ground between the two buildings.

Dusty cursed, quickly snapping off several rounds into the upstairs windows, and as soon as I had finished reloading, I did the same. I heard only a short chatter of return fire, but saw no impacts; I assumed our suppressing fire had worked.

Sickle barreled straight through the half-broken doors of the saloon, disappearing into the darkness.

The windows flashed with light for an instant before the hammer-fall of an explosion hit me in the chest, throwing a billowing cloud of dust and fragments out of the lower-story windows. Everypony ducked. I heard debris striking the building, and kept my head down until the sound had stopped.

Dusty was already up and covering the upstairs windows by the time I had risen again. My heart was hammering. There was no sign of life within the building, even as the cloud of dust started to thin. Then I heard Sickle’s furious roar. I couldn’t make out what she yelled for sure, but if I had to guess, it would be, “You cheap-ass motherfuckers!”

Gunfire erupted from inside the upper floor of the saloon, that rapid chatter and slow boom mixing into a wild cacophony. Flashes of light lit up the windows, but they weren’t shooting at us.

Emerald moved up behind me. “Is everypony--”

A sharp crack interrupted her as she let out a pained yelp. My head snapped around to see her fall to the ground. I turned back to look for a shooter, only to have my vision filled by the suppressor of Dusty’s rifle as he swung it around to a new threat. I cringed back as an ejected casing slapped against my side, but the suppressor turned the rifle’s ear-shattering muzzle blast to sharp, echoing cracks. I recovered quickly, backing up and bringing my own weapon around.

I saw the flicker of bits of wood flying from the upper levels of a distant two-story house, probably two hundred yards away. I settled my sights over it and started to fire.

After a couple shots, Dusty yelled out. “Star! Far right, end of the road, two-story house. Follow my shots.” He fired off a couple more rounds, while Starlight scrambled over, sliding into place beside me and leveling her Lancer out the window.

“I see it!”

Dusty fired off a couple more rounds before shouting again. “Single upstairs window. There’s a shooter in there. He pops his head up again, you take it off!”

“Got it!” Starlight said, focusing down her scope.

My gun clicked, and I dropped down to reload again. I kicked out the magazine, which fell to the ground with a deep thunk. There were still rounds in it, but I didn’t take the time to contemplate that as I slid a fresh magazine in. I had to rack the bolt a few times to get it to finally close all the way.

As soon as I had, I brought my weapon up again, just in time to see the upstairs wall of the saloon explode outwards as Sickle plowed straight through it. She fell to the street, streaming dust and shattered boards like a descending meteor, her forelegs wrapped around a flailing pony.

It only occurred to me upon retelling the encounter that I had fired more than one hundred rounds of ammunition by then, and this was the first time I had directly seen one of the ponies we were fighting.

They crashed to the street with such an impact that I’m sure I felt it through the ground. Somehow, the other pony, a mare clad in metal barding and sporting a neon green mane, had survived Sickle tackling her through a wall and landing on her. Sickle solved that by bringing her head back and smashing her armored muzzle down on the pony’s head. I’m sure the first impact had finished the job, but I watched in morbid fascination and horror as Sickle repeated the action twice more, finally pulling her head back with blood and bits of brain dripping from the bars of her muzzle.

I tore my eyes away from the scene and focused on the distant house. Dusty had just finished off a magazine, dropping down a bit to reload once more. I carefully lined my sights up on the distant window, and as I started to put out carefully aimed shots into that dark void, Dusty spoke up.

“Emerald? You up? Can you shoot?”

I wanted to look back, but I kept focused on the building. Aim, squeeze, breath. Aim, squeeze, breath.

Emerald’s groan came as a welcome relief. “Yeah, I can do that.” She slid herself up beside me, and I saw she was holding a foreleg tight against her chest. She was clearly in pain, but I saw no blood, so I assumed her barding had again stopped the bullet.

Dusty slapped in the magazine. “I’m going to need you giving us covering fire. As soon as we move, I need you putting steady shots into that upstairs window. Star, you nail that shooter if he shows himself. The moment we get inside there, you two hold fire. I don’t want you shooting us on accident, got it?”

While they nodded, I had a sinking feeling as to who “we” were.

Dusty turned to call out toward the saloon. “Sickle!”

Sickle had risen to her hooves, and was limping in our direction, though she didn’t respond. She was giggling, interrupted as she staggered drunkenly. I could see now that blood was dripping heavily from her belly and running down her hind legs.

“Damnit,” Dusty muttered when he got no response from her, and he turned to me. “Whisper, you’re with me. Whatever happens, keep up!”

Despite my concerns, I gave a quick nod.

Dusty took a deep breath, then called out to Emerald. “Suppressing fire!”

Emerald had propped herself up enough to see out the window, and the gem of her rifle flashed as thin lines of light snapped in the air, sending out small clouds of cinders from the distant house. Dusty popped off several rounds, and then went up and over the windowsill, galloping away. My heart hammered with a fresh surge of adrenaline as I leaped after him, leaving the relative safety of the building behind.

We galloped across the street, my lungs already protesting at the dust-choked air. We passed the remains of the mare and her heavy, raider-styled armor, and moved to the wall of the saloon. Dusty led us down along the line of buildings, most of which were merely collapsed ruins. Rather than focusing on the house ahead of us, his attention was focused to our left, on the buildings we were passing. The ruins seemed to offer few places to hide, but he wasn’t taking chances. I mimicked him, looking for additional threats.

When the snaps of Emerald’s magical energy rifle fell silent, Dusty dropped down to a trot, firing off a couple rounds towards the house. I slowed and did the same. I was sure I had no chance of hitting anything like that, between the trotting and my panting. I just wanted to keep that pony’s head down.

A thin line of light flashed between the two buildings, and Dusty broke into a gallop once more. I followed, becoming increasingly aware of the weight of equipment bouncing and jostling around me. My leg was aching again, despite the magic I had spent in subtly altering and reinforcing the bone and muscles there.

We hooked around to the side of the house, closing the final gap from the side, where that upstairs window couldn’t see us. I nearly collapsed when we halted beside the house. I struggled to control my breathing. Dusty merely looked a little winded, his chest steadily expanding and contracting as he kept his rifle leveled, unwavering, at the corner before us.

He gave me about ten seconds before stepping back to crouch beside me. He lifted a forehoof to hold his rifle in place as he released the bit, and quietly spoke to me. “Load a fresh mag. When we go in, I want you to stay right on my tail. Just don’t shoot me in the flank, got it?”

“Yeah,” I said in what I hoped didn’t sound too much like a gasp. I swapped the magazine in my weapon with one from my pouch, which had grown considerably lighter than it had been just a few short minutes earlier.

Dusty reloaded as well, his motions slow and deliberate. He gave me a few more seconds, then he rose up and prowled forward like a predator, his body staying perfectly level as he moved.

I followed.

The snaps of Emerald’s rifle fell silent by the time we rounded the corner of the house. Dusty slowed as he approached a window, stepping up close to it, his rifle held low. Then he surged forward, his rifle coming up to point inside. He moved to the side, sweeping his view around, then moved past it, his rifle pointing toward the door we were approaching.

The whole way, I kept glancing down at the ground. I was certain that, at any moment, we would find another mine.

Inside the house, I could hear a stallion’s voice, muffled through the walls, but fast and urgent.

When we reached the door, Dusty paused, then surged forward again, his gun tracking the inside of the house as he moved from one side of the door to the other. The muzzle swept over everywhere he looked, including, I was thankful to see, the ground. Satisfied that we weren’t walking straight into a mine, he moved quickly and smoothly through the door. I followed right on his tail, rather less smoothly.

The stairs up were just inside the door, and Dusty led the way up, his rifle focused on the doorway at their top. The voice was coming from upstairs, and was much clearer.

“...fucking dumbass, they killed Chatter!” There was a pause as Dusty continued up, halting just below the level of the upper floor. “‘Cause she’s got a fucking army with her, that’s why! One of ‘em’s got power armor or some shit. We ain’t got nothin’ to deal with fucking power armor!”

Dusty glanced at me as I came to a halt beside him, my rifle leveled at the doorway. He gave a quick nod, and dipped his head down to one of the pouches on his barding.

“Yeah, no shit!” the voice angrily shouted. “I shot her in the head! It didn’t do a goddess-fucking thing except piss them all off, and they’re turning this building into fucking swiss cheese! ...Yes, the one with the fucking holes you retarded shit-for-brains!”

Dusty’s head rose up, a grenade clutched in his teeth. He gripped it with his hooves, looking to the doorway, and pulled the pin.

I stared at it with mounting tension as he just held onto it. I wanted him to throw it. I willed him to throw it, for all the good it did.

“Brahminshit!” the stallion in the next room shouted; his was still the only voice we had heard. “What kind of shopkeeper runs around with a small army and a fucking Steel Ranger?”

Dusty’s ears pinned back, and he swung his hoof around, arcing the grenade through the door.

“Well you fucking tell Boomer if she wants that green bitch dead, she needs to get the whole fucking gang and every fucking bomb we’ve got before they kill every one of--FUCK--”

The building shook with the explosion, pounding at my head and chest, and sending a cascade of dust and grit falling over us. I realized Dusty was already moving, and I scrambled after him.

I passed through the doorway just in time to see Dusty put two rounds into the sprawled and dust-caked raider lying on the floor. The clack of his rifle echoed sharply in the small space, even over the sharp hum in my ears. The raider didn’t even twitch, and Dusty was already moving past him to another doorway. We swept through the room without pause, then another, before returning to the first.

“We’re clear up here,” Dusty said, returning to the downed raider. The floorboards just a couple feet away were shattered; the grenade had punched a small hole down to the floor below, and torn up everything around it, raider included.

The raider himself was clad in heavy metal armor that was wrapped in ragged bits of cloth, and sporting a good number of pouches. He was missing most of his face thanks to the bullets Dusty had put into his skull, but I could see goggles and a face-wrap tangled up in the remains. A banged-up bolt-action rifle lay beside him.

“Watch the stairs,” Dusty said as he stepped over the raider, staring down at him. I turned my attention back the way we came, pulling the stock of my rifle in tight again.

Several seconds passed before Dusty suddenly spoke. “There you are.” He dipped down, retrieving something, though I kept my attention focused on the stairs. In the corner of my vision, I saw him fiddling with whatever it was he had found. That lasted for several seconds before he grumbled. “Damn it.” He shoved the object into a pouch, then spoke up. “Let’s get back to the others.”

He led us down the stairs and out, heading across the open field at a steady trot.

As we were returning, I could see Sickle had made it back to our building, though she now lay on her side. Starlight was at her side, and looked to be speaking to her, though Sickle showed no sign of replying. As we drew nearer, I saw her reach out to shake Sickle’s shoulders, or at least try to. Still no response.

Emerald was staring down at the healing potion she held in her hooves, her expression sad. After several seconds, she caught Starlight’s attention, and held out the bottle. Starlight took it and managed to unlatch Sickle’s muzzle, shoving the bottle into her mouth.

I was climbing in through the window after Dusty when Sickle groaned, rolling onto her back. Emerald retrieved some of the magic-laced bandages and offered them to Starlight, who grabbed them in her magic and hurried to Sickle’s rear.

“You’re still bleeding,” Starlight noted as she went to work. Given the amount of blood coating her belly, legs, and groin, and the amount pooled on the floor, I had to wonder how much she had left to lose.

Sickle grunted, her head rolling drowsily to the side. Her words were slow and slurred. “Yeah. Had a mine go off under my ass. Cheap fucking trick…”

Dusty approached, quickly appraising the scene before stepping in. “Let me handle that,” he said, stepping in to take one of the bandages. “You’re the salvage expert, right? Think you can get this thing working?”

He’d fished out the object he had retrieved from the sniper-raider, and I immediately recognized it.

Starlight took it in her magic, peering at it. “A broadcaster? With… what, they wired a spark battery directly into it? What the hell did they do to this thing?”

“I don’t know,” Dusty said as he pressed the bandages into place; Sickle’s bare groin and rear were a mess of gashes, and while the healing potion had stopped most of the bleeding, some of the larger cuts were still leaking. “Just see if you can get it working. The raider who had it was talking to somepony. I want to listen in if they say anything else.”

“Oh, good idea,” Starlight said, sitting down and pulling out tools. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Dusty packed the magical bandages over the worst wounds, then used some mundane bandages to hold them in place. As he was tying the first one off, he noticed my attention. “Eyes out, Whisper. You’re our lookout right now.”

I nodded and turned away, scanning over the view outside those windows, while trying to ignore what was happening right behind me.

My concern was alleviated to a degree when Sickle started to giggle, and eventually mumbled, “You’re just looking for any excuse to get between my legs, ain’t ‘cha, Dusty?”

“Just keep telling yourself that,” Dusty quietly replied, earning a chuckle from both Sickle and Starlight.

There was a rattle of armor as Sickle moved, then the sound of her armored saddle-bags opening, followed by Dusty’s sigh. “Just don’t overdo it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sickle weakly replied over the sound of pills rattling in their bottles. A few seconds later there was a louder rattle as she struggled up to a sitting position. I saw Dusty was helping her.

“You okay?” he asked, once she was upright.

She groaned, leaning heavily on the window sill. “The buck and painkillers say yes. Woo…” I glanced over as she chuckled faintly, licking over her lips. A few bits of former-raider were still stuck to her snout.

While she giggled quietly to herself, Dusty moved up to the window as well. With a second set of eyes, I took a momentary break to look back to Emerald. She was lying down with her foreleg held against her chest. Her brows were furrowed as she panted shallowly, though her expression softened when she saw me looking. She coughed, swallowed, and spoke up. “I think I’ve changed my mind.”

Dusty looked back. “What’s that?”

“About going with you,” she said, then shook her head. “I mean, to fight the raiders. I… I think this was enough fighting for me.”

Dusty frowned, but nodded. “I understand. Afraid you’re kind of in the middle of it, though. If those two ponies are still alive, we don’t have time to head back and make another try at it.”

“Oh, no, no,” Emerald said, raising a hoof to wave off the comment, then wincing and tucking her leg back against her side. “You all go on without me, those ponies need you. I’ll just wait behind for you.”

“Can’t do that,” Dusty said. “We’re in raider territory.”

“I’ll go back to the farm,” she quickly said. “I can wait for you there.”

“You’re not safe anywhere outside of town,” Dusty said, then pointed to Starlight and the broadcaster she was working on. “Those raiders were gunning for you. Boomer wants you dead, and we’re not leaving you unguarded.”

Emerald’s expression went slack. “Me? But… why?”

“Don’t know,” Dusty said. “I intend to find out, but until we deal with them, they’re going to be looking for you, and I don’t intend to leave you unprotected.”

“Amber,” Emerald muttered. “She must have…” She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. Look, I… I’ll go back to town and wait for you where we made the, uh, second deal. If the raiders come looking for me, I’ll run for the gates. I’ll probably be safer there than I will getting into another fight.”

Sickle rumbled quietly. “Chickenshit.”

“Yeah, I am,” Emerald quickly replied. “And I’m not going, but you all need to if you’re going to save those ponies.”

Her eyes glanced to me, and I realized I was frowning as I tried to piece together her reasoning. I had one thing absolutely correct: this was not a sudden bout of cowardice.

Dusty was shaking his head. “You’re talking about a day-long trip through raider territory, even if you weren’t cradling your leg like that.”

“This is nothing,” she said, giving a pained smile, and wiggled her PipBuck-clad hoof. “Just a bruised rib. I’ll be fine as soon as I catch my breath.”

Dusty’s frown deepened as he mulled it over, and I looked to him. While I didn’t like it, I was willing to go with whatever he decided.

Emerald continued to hold her smile.

Then she twitched, and Dusty’s ears perked up, his brows furrowing as he looked at her.

“I’m fine,” she reassured him. She swallowed, then twitched again, the faint, full-body convulsion of somepony trying to hide a cough.

Dusty stepped forward, his expression abruptly business-like. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Emerald said, though I could hear the rising fear in her voice. “Just really sore from--”

Her words were cut off as she clenched again, her body shaking several times before she couldn’t hold it back any more and let out a couple of coughs. They were short, weak, and wet.

Dusty moved to her side, fixing her with a stare. “Okay, now it’s an order. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing,” she repeated, choking back a couple more coughs. Tears were forming in the corners of her eyes. “Just go.”

“Damnit,” Dusty muttered as he sat in front of her, his hooves reaching for her side. “We had a deal, Emerald.”

“No!” Emerald’s legs kicked out, trying to swat his hooves away as he grabbed at the strap of her saddlebags. “I’ll be fine, just go without me! Stop!”

I wavered; hearing Emerald’s pained cries of protests as she struggled wildly against Dusty’s grip was deeply disconcerting, enough that I started to question what Dusty was doing.

Then he froze for a moment, his eyes widening. He tugged at the strap across her belly, working past her struggles, and as she cried out, pulled away the saddlebag with its tiny, overlooked bullet hole. The underside was soaked with blood.

“Shit!” Dusty snapped, and threw the bags out of the way to grab at the straps of her barding. “Damnit, Emerald, you don’t hide shit like this!”

“Please, don’t,” she sobbed, her panting growing ever faster, mixing with increasingly wet coughs. Her struggles had fallen off to weak gestures. “Just go. Leave me. Save Quartz and Flint.”

Dusty ignored her, and I found myself moving in to help him undo the buckles of her barding. A final strap came undone, and Dusty pulled back the side of her barding. It peeled away from her side.

The barding had done a good job of containing the blood. Her entire side was soaked in it, from shoulder to flank. She sobbed softly, and each cough produced a little surge of blood from the tiny hole in her side.

“Fuck,” Dusty blurted, then grabbed my hoof, pressing it over the hole, I almost drew back from the surge of warm blood that met me, but Dusty barked, “Pressure!”

While I pressed on the wound, trying fruitlessly to stem the flow of blood, he grabbed at her foreleg and the PipBuck clasped to it. “Let me see,” he said, his voice much softer, though his grip was firm when she tried to pull it away. “Easy,” he said, his other hoof moving to her neck. “We’ll take care of this.”

She whined and coughed under my hooves. “Please… just go…”

Dusty ignored her, except to give a reassuring stroke along her neck. His other hoof poked at the PipBuck, switching to its medical display. I was a bit too far away to make out what it said, but still close enough to see the several flashing warnings it was giving.

“It’s okay,” Emerald said, giving a weak smile. “You can’t save me. I know.” A short fit of coughing interrupted her. “But you can still save Quartz and Flint. Please, just go.”

Dusty ignored her. He stared at the PipBuck screen for a few more seconds, then turned to push my hoof away, taking my place. “Starlight! Sniper house. Whisper! Street and saloon. Search those raiders for medical supplies. Go!”

I turned and ran, leaving bloody hoof-prints in the dirt. I slid to a halt at the raider Sickle had killed, ignoring the pulped remains of what had once been her head to rifle through the few pockets and pouches her crude armor had. I found water, dried meat, and ammunition, but the closest she had to medical supplies was a bottle of mixed pills.

Leaving her, I ran to the saloon. I didn’t pause to take in the devastation of the ruined main room. I bound and scrambled up the torn-up stairs, having to haul myself up the last bit to the top floor, and made my way to the room the raiders had been shooting at us from.

The third raider was half embedded in the floor, in what I presume was a result of Sickle stomping him. He wore remarkably thick metal barding with spikes protruding from the back, for all the good it had done him. I searched through his pouches, and then the saddlebags I spotted near the window. The only medical supplies I found was a single magic-laced bandage. I grabbed it my my teeth, turned, and ran.

I vaulted down the stairs, ignoring the flash of pain in my leg upon landing, and burst out the front doors. I was panting hard when I finally got back inside, sliding to a halt in the loose grit scattered on the floor.

Dusty had our final magical bandage pressed against her side, but it was already completely soaked through. Sickle sat nearby, watching silently. The containers at her side were open, and a variety of drugs were set on the floor before her.

The moment Dusty saw the bandage in my mouth, he snatched it, pressing it to the wound.

“Don’t,” Emerald protested, tensing up for a moment before laying her head down again. She was still panting hard, but increasingly shallowly. “Save… save it. It’s not… it’s not going to work.”

She trailed off, and ten seconds later, the new bandage was just as soaked as the old one.

There was a clatter of hooves as Starlight returned, Dusty and I looked up, only to be met with her worried look and a quick shake of her head.

I sat beside Emerald’s head as Dusty tried to stem the bleeding. I could hear the wet, raspy sounds of her breath as she gasped for air, and I gently placed my hoof on the side of her neck to offer what meager comfort I could give. She blinked a few times, lifting her head, then coughing and setting it down again. It took her a few blinks to finally focus on me, and once she had, tears started to well up in her eyes. Tiny flecks of blood dotted her lips.

“Please,” she gasped, weakly lifting a hoof in my direction. “...Leave me. Leave me…”

It wasn’t until later that I realized I had misheard her. At the time, looking down on that expression of pain and fear, I had thought she was afraid we would leave her to die alone. The alternative made no sense. Not yet.

So I took the hoof she had raised in my own, giving it a squeeze, and attempted to reassure her. “We’re here,” I said, soothing. “We’re not going to leave you.”

The tears started to flow, her ears pinning back as she stared up at me. The look of pain in her eyes was far more than just physical. She looked terrified, sobbing to me, “Don’t… don’t tell them--”

She was interrupted by another fit of coughing, and ended with her head slumped to the ground, eyes half-lidded. “...Don’t tell them…”

I leaned in, stroking at her neck as I squeezed her hoof again. I wanted to keep her talking. “Don’t tell who what?”

She coughed again, only weakly. “A-about me,” she gasped. Another cough. “D-don’t… don’t tell…”

She trailed off, giving a few incoherent mumbles as her eyes shut. As she fell silent, the pace of her breathing changed. It was weak, and so shallow that her chest barely moved.

“What about you?” I asked, but she didn’t answer. Her hoof had gone limp in my grasp. I released it, my hooves cradling her head to angle her face up. My heart was hammering again. “Emerald, stay with me. Don’t tell them what about you?”

“Keep her talking,” Dusty called out.

“I’m trying!” I gripped her head, leaning in close. “Emerald? Emerald! Wake up. Don’t tell them what about you?”

“Shit,” Dusty muttered beside me. As I tried to get her to wake up, he looked over the PipBuck screen again. “Damnit… Whisper! Give her a hit of Dash.”

I set her head down, immediately following his order and snatching up one of the inhalers laid out before Sickle. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I asked, even as I popped off the cap and pressed the nozzle into her mouth.

“It’s a terrible idea,” Dusty said, glaring down at the PipBuck. “But it’s all we’ve got.”

I pressed down on the inhaler, sending a spray of the drug into her mouth. She twitched, then gave a phlegmy cough as her body jerked in response to the powerful stimulant. Her eyes fluttered open, but they didn’t focus. “N-no,” she wheezed. Her gaze weaved around, her eyes unseeing. “It w-was real… all… all real…”

Already, her eyes were closing again, her body going limp.

“See if you can get her to take some Buck,” Dusty said.

Though I figured it was said out of desperation, I turned back to the assortment of chems. I searched for a moment before Sickle lifted a hoof to indicate a bottle. Snatching it up, I retrieved one of the thick tablets.

Sickle spoke quietly. “She’s done.”

“No she’s not!” I reflexively replied, lifting Emerald’s head a bit to open her mouth and slid the tablet in. “Emerald, I need you to swallow this. It’ll help.”

Of course, she didn’t respond. She was completely limp again, her eyes half-shut and unresponsive. I glanced at the screen of her PipBuck. More warnings had shown up, and the vital signs were steadily diminishing.

I gave her a gentle shake. “Come on, Emerald. Talk to me.”

Nothing.

I looked back to Dusty. “What do we do?”

He just stared down at the PipBuck and slowly shook his head. His hooves lifted from the sodden bandages, and rested on softly on her side.

My ears fell. I wanted to protest, to do something, but I couldn’t. There wasn’t anything to be done. So I sat there, watching the PipBuck screen, knowing what was coming.

Time passed slowly, agonizingly. Numbers I didn’t quite understand slowly changed on the medical display; mostly, they marched steadily downward. Several words, mostly starting with hypo- or tachy-, flashed red on the screen.

Then a larger warning flashed, clear and dominant on the screen: respiratory arrest. Just a few seconds later, another warning joined the first: cardiac arrest. The eyes of the cute little cartoon pony on the medical screen turned to Xs.

Dusty’s lowered his head. Starlight sniffled.

Myself, I stared down at Emerald, my ears hanging low. I just sat there, watching, and waiting, and dreading.

And seconds later, the green flames flashed across her form, revealing the glossy black beneath.