The tribe was ready to move by noon.

They accepted Seroon’s decision with surprisingly little resistance. A few voiced concerns or hesitation, but a few gentle words and a little reasoning from him was all it took to unify them.

With that, the tribe set to gathering up all of their possessions and preparing for the journey. Starlight and I remained on watch while the tribe worked. Bloodbeak joined us a few minutes later, climbing up to the tower with her thin bags. She and Starlight immediately fell into chatting again. Mostly, they talked about food. Every now and then, Bloodbeak would cast a glance my way.

It took less than two hours for the village to pack. Even the most heavily laden zebra carried less than I did.

“The land provides,” a younger zebra said as she strapped on her bags, a spear resting across her back.

“Most of the plants here are poison,” Seroon added, “but not all. Our ancestors learned which are safe to eat. It is not food that concerns me.”

We gathered in the center of the town. The faces around us were full of concern. We were heading out into no-mare’s land, where monsters lurked. Most of the zebras had nothing more than a sharp stick to defend themselves with. Children huddled close to parents; there were a half-dozen of them, most of whom didn’t appear to understand what was going on, only that their parents were worried. Those parents tried to put on a brave face, but it only did so much. This was the second time they had to leave their homes, and the children were quick to pick up on what was happening.

“Stay close,” Dusty said. “Sickle and I will be in the lead. Starlight, Whisper, you’ll be near the middle, covering the flanks. I want that Lancer ready to respond to a threat in any direction. Seroon, I’d like you and any other skilled fighters or hunters watching the back. Everyone else, especially the children, stay in the middle. No matter what happens, nobody wanders off alone or gets isolated. Okay?”

There were nods and grunts of agreement, and Dusty turned to Sickle. “Let’s get going.”

“‘Bout fucking time,” Sickle muttered under her breath, and began plodding along.

We slowly streamed out through the gate. Many of the zebras paused there, whispering a few words and touching the gate one last time before leaving it behind.

As we departed, Dusty slipped back to the middle of the group. “Hey, Whisper.” He glanced back, motioning to Bloodbeak. “You too.”

The griffon trotted up to join us with a curious tilt of her head. Once she was walking alongside Dusty, he continued. “I want us to keep moving as much as possible. Hopefully without more than a couple short breaks each day. I’d like to have one of you up in the air, scouting ahead for paths and wildlife.”

I winced; Dusty had evidently not noticed that Bloodbeak had been using a ladder, or at least not made the same realization I had.

To my surprise, she chuckled. “Oh, I can’t fly,” she said, and lifted her right wing. Her expression tightened as she stretched it as far as it would go, which ended up being hardly at all. While it looked intact enough lying against her side, the wing was a useless knot of muscles and feathers. “Legion bullet got me in the wing, and it healed up all wrong.”

“Oh,” Dusty said, his expression ashen despite her apparent cheer. “Sorry, I hadn’t realized.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Bloodbeak said, relaxing her damaged wing. “I got used to it years ago.” She glanced my way. “Not to say I don’t miss flying! But hey, could have been a lot worse. At least I crashed where these guys found me. It’s how we met!”

Starlight cut in. “They couldn’t fix it? I thought zebras were really good with alchemy and healing and stuff?”

Bloodbeak chuckled awkwardly. “Eh, turns out, not so much.”

“Zebras in general, perhaps,” Seroon chimed in from behind us; he was with a few other armed zebras at the rear of our column, including one carrying the new rifle we had brought back. “But our ancestors were soldiers, not shaman. The skills they brought with them were of a very different sort.”

“Mareford has some good doctors, even a surgeon,” Dusty said. “I don’t want to get your hopes up too much, but they might be able to help.”

“Woah, wait,” Starlight said. “We’re going to Mareford? Aren’t we kinda, uh… you know…?”

“Is there something wrong?” Seroon asked.

Dusty shook his head. “Nothing wrong, no. It’s the largest settlement in the area, and they’re generally good sorts. They’ll take care of you just fine. Just, we’re not welcome there right now, thanks to a certain pony.”

“Why not Gemstone?” Starlight asked.

“Too small,” Dusty said. “I’m sure they’d want to help, but a group this size would probably strain them to the limits. Same for Rust or any other place. Mareford’s the only settlement that can take on a group this size.” He turned to me. “Anyway, we need that scouting.”

I sighed and shrugged off my bags. Bloodbeak immediately snatched them up, smiling. “I can’t help with the scouting, but at least I can carry your bags while you’re out!”

“Thanks,” I said, offering a smile in return, and took to the air.

The first attack came barely an hour after leaving Dawn.

The swampclaw lurked in the overgrown shallows just ahead, unaware that I had seen it on my E.F.S. as I flew overhead. When it charged, Starlight was waiting. A S.A.T.S.-aimed shot to its face sent it into a limp tumble, ending in a twitching heap at Sickle’s hooves. The pair in the shallows further to our side remained still, watching.

A small flight of mutated parasprites came across the group later in the afternoon. In the evening, a young zebra mare was barely able to warn Sickle before she wandered into the reach of a carnivorous plant. Naturally, Sickle continued on anyway, and when the vines grabbed at her, she tore the plant apart. The zebra that had attempted to warn her looked on in awe.

As dusk approached, Dusty found a patch of dry and relatively clear ground. We spent some time clearing out some more of the brush, opening up sightlines, and preparing for the night.

The roaring started just after dark. The swampclaws kept their distance, calling out. Trees rustled and cracked. Red marks would show on our E.F.S., circling around, and rarely, indistinct forms would move just beyond the reach of our lights. We alternated guard shifts, with one of our group and two zebras at a time, keeping a keen eye out for encroaching threats. When not on watch, we tried to sleep.

Every time I started to drift off, another roar bellowed out across the swamps. My heart lurched, adrenaline pounding as I jerked to life, only to find the situation completely unchanged. Then I would lie down again, trying to force myself to sleep, only for the scenario to repeat itself.

I don’t think I ever properly got to sleep.

I was surprised at how calmly the zebras took it, particularly the children. They’d wake up to the sounds, eyes peering out in the darkness for a few seconds before closing again. The only sound made was a young infant who would cry when woken until his mother gently calmed him.

There was a miasma of lethargy over the group when we set out that morning. I forced my way through it, focusing on my scouting. As I wearily circled around and skimmed over the tree-tops, I could see the swampclaws still lurking, moving with our group. Only a tiny bit of their head and the occasional jagged back-plate broke the surface, leaving thin wakes in the water. Every now and then, one would rise up, scurrying over a patch of dry land to plunge into the water on the opposite side. While our group slowly picked their way through dense vegetation and wound their way through patches of dry ground, they lazily floated along nearby.

A sharp crack and dazzling line of red light sent a spray of mud and steam flying as one of the swampclaws darted across another patch of ground. Down below, I could see Starlight silently curse as she reloaded. Her ears sagged, her eyes as tired as mine were.

The swamp noticed our passage. It seemed every bit of hostile wildlife in the region was drawn to us, as if we had led a buffet out to meet them.

While the swampclaws hung back, hardly an hour went by without running into some kind of danger. Most were the mutated bugs that were so easy to deal with.

As I flew ahead of the group, a trio of mutated bats, which Dusty later identified as bloodwings, darted up at me from the treetops. My tired wings barely responded in time, banking sharply to the side to avoid their initial attack, then wheeling around and beating hard for the rest of the group. Warned by a quick call over the broadcasters, my companions were ready when I flew overhead, trailing the three vicious little beasts. Two fell in the first pass, one to Dusty’s bullets and another to the spectacular overkill of Starlight’s Lancer. The third was too dimwitted to not follow me on a second pass.

Worse was the pair of timberwolves, their wooden bodies charred and smoldering with balefire. I was banking over the group as the beasts charged into the rear. Several rifles snapped and cracked, and with the aid of S.A.T.S., I was able to wheel around and put a few rounds into one before it closed. The rifle fire seemed to do nothing to the magical creatures. Starlight’s Lancer was significantly more effective. The line of angry light struck the lead timberwolf low in the chest, blasting several pieces of charred wood to splinters, and the rest of the beast fell to pieces in a tumble. Then she was reloading, and the second one lunged at the zebras in the rear.

Seroon stumbled back, as did the other rifle-armed guards, while a pair of spear-armed zebras met the timberwolf’s charge. The impact was tremendous, as hundreds of pounds of charred wood slammed into their tiny spears. One zebra fell, his spear snapping in half, while the other desperately jammed her own spear into the beast’s chest, staggering with the impact but holding the beast back for a single crucial moment.

The timberwolf bit the spear, the haft igniting as it tore it from her grip, but that moment of delay had been enough for Sickle to cover the distance. She met the beast head-first, smashing her armor’s horn into its chest--and then bellowing in pain as the green flame enveloped her head. She jerked and tore away, ripping away several pieces of the timberwolf as she staggered back.

The creature lashed out and writhed for a moment, and was just getting its claws under itself again when Starlight finished reloading. A moment later, all that was left was a heap of smoldering, shattered wood.

Sickle tore off her helmet and plunged her face into the shallow water nearby. I swooped in to hover over her, leveling my rifle and putting a single shot into the water some twenty yards away. The pair of eyes ducked beneath the surface again, the water rippling as the swampclaw turned around and backed off from its potential meal.

“Fuck off,” Sickle snapped when Dusty spoke with her, but he was insistent.

“Drink it,” he said, holding the healing potion out. “Burns are bad enough for infection even in clean conditions, and this is as far from clean conditions as we can get.”

She grumbled a bit more, but eventually relented. I didn’t get a good look at the wounds while I kept watch. The best look I got was that evening, when we stopped to eat. Even after the healing potion, her muzzle was a knot of scarred and inflamed tissue, without even a trace of hair.

By the time night fell, I was exhausted. As we made camp, the swampclaws resumed their taunting. Roaring, splashing, tearing at vegetation. This time, I fell dead asleep.

I woke to the ear-pounding sound of gunfire. I lurched upright, grabbing at my rifle as the hammering blasts of Bloodbeak’s rifle lit the area around me like snapshots, the flash overpowering the flickering light of the low fire. There were shouts all around. I scrambled to my hooves in a maelstrom of chaos, with just enough clarity of mind to keep my rifle pointed at the ground until I had made sense of the situation.

A shout drew my attention, and I spun around. A light swung over, illuminating the hulking grey-green hide of a swampclaw as it barreled into a pair of dazed zebras. The towering beast reared back, raising its massive claws to strike, only to flinch back as Dusty’s rifle hammered at it. By then, I had brought my own rifle up. I switched straight to automatic and keyed up S.A.T.S. before tonguing the trigger. My rifle chattered, and I held the front sight over the creature’s chest as well as I could. The suppressor did little to quiet the weapon, but I later realized that it was the reason I had no muzzle-flash obscuring my view.

The beast was already loping away by the time my magazine ran empty. In the gloom and confusion, I couldn’t even tell if it was hurt.

A crack and red flash lit up the area for a split instant, followed by the agonized howl of a wounded swampclaw. I spun back around to see the scattering embers of Starlight’s shot as the swampclaw she had shot floundered at the edge of the light.

More screams sounded to my side, and my head snapped around. There was a third swampclaw! It had made use of the distraction to dart in, and I watched in horror as its jaws snapped down around a stumbling zebra’s flank. I fumbled through reloading as it reared back, the zebra giving a cry of pain as he was hauled off his hooves. Another zebra bravely charged forward, trying to sink her spear into the beast’s belly. It snapped the spear with a swing of its claws, sending the would-be rescuer staggering back.

Then it turned and ran into the darkness.

Several zebras were yelling and snatching up weapons, but Dusty bolted forward.

“Stop!” he shouted, stepping in front of the zebra with the broken half-spear. “Stay in the camp, or they’ll pick us off one-by-one! Form a perimeter!”

To their credit, the zebras stopped. Even in that emotional moment, they recognized the needs of survival. Dusty was completely right; the only way they would survive was to be practical and consolidate.

That was little comfort when the agonized scream echoed through the foliage. Tears glistened in the firelight, but the zebras held their ground.

I spread my wings, darting up into the air. “Starlight!” I called out as I swung over, coming to a quick hover beside her. “Lancer!”

She immediately levitated it up. I dropped my rifle at her hooves and snatched the Lancer’s bit in my teeth, then turned and bolted towards the treeline.

Past the edge of the camp, the world was almost pitch black. I turned up my PipBuck screen as bright as I could as I flew after the pair of marks on my E.F.S. I didn’t have far to go. The swampclaw had thrown the zebra down on a patch of dry ground. As my PipBuck lit up the scene, it revealed the beast towering over its prey. Even in the monochrome light, I could see the blood glistening on the zebra’s mauled body, and could hear his pained groans as he twisted in on himself.

The swampclaw backed away as I came to a hover, skulking back several steps from its catch, as if trying to lure me in.

I wasn’t playing that game. I leveled the Lancer, my eye lining up on the telescopic sight. S.A.T.S. had recharged, and I hit it again.

Trying to line up a telescopic sight on a target some twenty yards away was more difficult than I had expected. It was probably only a few seconds, but even with the aid of S.A.T.S. it felt like an eternity before I lined the crosshairs over the dim green image of the swampclaw’s face.

I tongued the trigger. A sharp hum discharged beside my head, followed by a blinding flash and powerful crack as the weapon blasted its way through the atmosphere to reach its target.

The muzzle jerked down as I fired; despite conceptually understanding how such weapons work, witnessing the Lancer at work had established the fact that it was exceptionally powerful, and my mind had instinctively decided that exceptionally powerful weapons must have exceptionally powerful recoil. Still, despite my best efforts to throw the world’s easiest shot, my vision cleared to show the swampclaw spasming on the muddy ground. The entire front of its head, from the eyes forward, was missing.

I quickly looked around as I slung the now-useless Lancer. Seeing no other hostile contacts, I dropped down.

The zebra was in horrible shape. His flank had been torn open to the bone, and his entire underside was covered in blood. The green light made it hard to make out the details, but I could still see the pair of deep gashes along his chest and belly, dark holes in the stark lighting. The silhouette of his belly was all wrong. He twitched slightly, making a weak groan through clenched teeth.

I wrapped my hooves around him, wings pumping as I lifted off and flew back to camp as quickly as I could. He hung limply beneath me, giving only a couple more weak groans.

The entire camp was awake when I returned, with the armed adults forming a circle around those who couldn’t fight. A few scooted to the side, making a clearing for me to land. I set the wounded zebra down and landed beside him.

He was completely still. Another zebra, an older mare with tears in her eyes, sat by his head, cradling it.

“He was just breathing,” I said, moving as if to treat his wounds, until realizing I had no idea what to do. I could see his ribs laying bare and bits that should be inside hanging on the outside. The wounds were beyond my limited ability to treat. They were beyond even the power of our remaining healing potions.

I still fumbled about, trying to do something, anything. My hooves went to his wounds, as if trying to stop the bleeding. “He was just breathing,” I quietly repeated. The zebra at his head made no move to help. Instead, she stroked along his muzzle. He was completely still. Even the bleeding had ceased.

My hooves slid away as I sat back.

A hoof gently touched my shoulder. I looked back to see Seroon’s face. His face held firm, but I could see the sadness in his eyes.

He gave a tiny nod. “Thank you for bringing him back to us.”

I swallowed. “I’m… sorry.”

He simply shook his head and turned to the mare opposite me. They shared a brief, silent exchange of looks, and then he was walking away, returning to the circle of guards. With that, the mare turned and called on a few of the other zebras forward. They were arranging a funeral.

Feeling a little out-of-place, I slipped away. It was only as I left that I saw the children looking on. There was sadness there, but not the fear or anguish I would have expected. This was not the first time they had seen such a thing.

Starlight took one look at the blood staining my coat and led me to a shallow patch of water just outside the camp. While I watched with flashlight and E.F.S., she cleaned the blood from me.

Somewhere behind me, I heard Dusty’s voice. “I’m sorry.”

He was speaking to Seroon, who softly replied, “You do not need to apologize. Only a fool would expect this journey to be without danger. I am saddened by Zeren’s loss, but that is not on you. If we had stayed, he would have died just the same, and many more would join him. You have given us the opportunity for a better future.”

Dusty was quiet for a moment before replying. “That’s a very practical outlook.”

“We may strive for peace,” Seroon said, “but we are descended from warriors. We understand. As do you, I expect.”

They fell into silence again, and my attention returned to Starlight’s hooves, scrubbing the blood from my coat. A few minutes later, I was clean, though wet and cold. I just sat there for a while until Starlight spoke.

“Are you okay?”

I sighed. It took a few seconds to articulate my thoughts. “I’m becoming far too familiar with death for my comfort.”

Starlight didn’t say anything. She just slipped her foreleg around my shoulder, giving a comforting squeeze.

The swampclaws still followed us the next morning, but they kept their distance. Starlight took pot-shots at any eyes she saw peeking out from the water, but the aquatic environment protected them well. Only a single shot scored a solid hit, vaporizing the top of a beast’s head. Most shots just sent up sprays of water and a cloud of steam.

By mid-day, we’d had enough. As the group paused for a quick break, Starlight passed me her Lancer and the charging pack for its crystals. I flew around the perimeter, hunting down red marks. I’d fly in over lurking swampclaws, hover, and send a blast straight down at them. Shooting accurately while in a hover is much harder than it sounds, but I managed to kill at least one and wounded another. The rest scattered.

I returned Starlight’s weapon when we set out again, but kept up my patrols. The swampclaws tried to draw near the group a couple more times. The sight of me swooping over them was enough to send them under again.

There were no more attacks. That night, we rested in silence. We never saw the swampclaws again.

The rest of the wildlife wasn’t quite so considerate, but were also much less of a threat. One zebra managed to get herself bit by a mutated parasprite, but the laceration was easily treated. Another zebra was wounded after a slippery bloodwing darted in and attacked him. It was only on him for a few seconds before Sickle tore it away and slammed it to the ground, but that was enough to leave the young stallion weakened and semi-conscious.

While Dusty fed the zebra a healing potion, Sickle tore the wings off the squealing bloodwing, letting it squirm for a while before tossing it out into the nearby shallows.

Still, while we handled the threats, it was tiring. I think Starlight handled it the worst. She was constantly alert, looking for new threats, until the physical and mental fatigue left her exhausted. Dusty handled it the best, naturally. I suspect a career as a soldier had left him well-equipped in that regard, even better than my own experiences as an Infiltrator. I had to struggle a little, mentally connecting the similarities of being hunted in the wilderness with living a hidden life among ponies. Dusty, meanwhile, seemed to just “switch off” and relax as soon as he was no longer on watch. I don’t think I’ve ever been so jealous of a pony being able to go to sleep at the drop of a hat.

Though I suppose Sickle handled it just as well, if only because she didn’t seem to care about anything.

Not that she was exactly relaxed and casual. She was gruff and snippy, and more than one zebra got shoved aside when they unwittingly got in her way. “Shit, we’re saving these dumb cunts,” she grumbled as she tore into a meal that, I silently noted, the zebras had prepared for us. “They got like ten stallions, too. You’d think these fuckers could give a mare a good rutting as thanks.” She muttered obscenities under her breath as she slapped back a couple of pills and downed an entire bottle of beer. None of us were surprised to see the bottles included in her “essential” traveling supplies.

“Or, shit,” she continued, “that little bitch I saved. Got half my face burned off doing it, too. Least she could do is show some thanks.”

Starlight grumbled quietly, and after a moment of chewing, decided to speak more clearly. “You ever try, I dunno, not being a horrible pony? I mean, hell, I saw some of ‘em looking at you like you were Luna herself until you started treating ‘em like shit. Seriously, if you’d stop acting like a giant bitch all the time, they’d probably love you.”

Sickle snorted. “I don’t give a shit what they think of me.”

“What?” Starlight raiser her head from her food, cocking her head to the side and leveling an unbelieving look her way. “But you… you literally just--”

Sickle sneered, made extra grotesque by how the bare skin of her muzzle bunched up. “I want ‘em to fuck me, not write me a love letter.”

Starlight stared for a second before shaking her head. “You know, ponies--zebras too, I imagine--are a lot more likely to… have sex with someone they don’t hate.”

I raised a hoof as I contributed my share. “Speaking as someone experienced in manipulation and applied psychology, Starlight is correct.”

Sickle gave a dry chuckle as she turned back to her food. “And that’s why I’ve had more sex than all of you cunts combined.”

I decided to not argue that point. She was probably correct, if by a more narrow margin than she imagined.

Starlight turned back to her food as well, though I caught the forming smirk. “...Yeah, but we’ve had better sex.”

I wanted to sigh, but instead snickered.

“That’s brahminshit,” Sickle said matter-of-factly. “‘Cause I know Whisper ain’t done the hellhound thing.”

Starlight’s expression tightened, and for a moment I thought she was embarrassed, until she hissed, “Hey, quiet about that!”

I appreciated her concern, but with how the conversation had turned, I couldn’t help adding a little fuel to the fire. “Yes. You know that because I told you so.” I smiled. “And we all know that a pony such as myself would never tell a lie.”

Sickle stared at me for several seconds, the thin glint of her eyes narrowing inside her helmet. Finally, she snorted, turning back to her food. “Nah. No way the runt’s going for that.”

I knew even at the time that I probably shouldn’t taunt her like that, especially when she was already expressing frustration, but it was too entertaining at the time. It was somewhat less entertaining later that night; while she had no partners, she also had no shame, and thus no problem about relieving a little of that tension right in the middle of that night’s camp.

Our progress through the swamps was slower with an entire group in tow. I wouldn’t say it was uneventful, as there were plenty of animal attacks. I might, however, say it was relatively uninteresting. After the twentieth time Sickle smashed some over-enthusiastic wildlife, it began to lose its life-or-death response. At least it gave her some outlet that didn’t involve alternately leering at or threatening our traveling companions.

Finally, as I took one of my regular scouting flights, my eyes caught the edge of the swamps.

It was just after dark when we left the dense vegetation behind. Our PipBucks had led us unerringly right back where we started, and there was a feeling of resolution as Dusty pulled back the dirty tarp, revealing our motorwagon. There were a few impressed murmurs from the Dawnbringer zebras, and particularly from Bloodbeak. Myself, I just felt relieved at the return of normalcy it signaled. It was, in retrospect, a little strange to feel so attached to a vehicle we had only owned for a few days prior to leaving it.

Though I have to admit, it was also quite relieving to be able to shed some of the supplies I had been carrying, while also replenishing my half-depleted ammunition.

The next morning, the zebras looked to the east, murmuring quietly about the lack of sun. We prepared to set off.

“We don’t have room for everyone to ride,” Dusty said, “but we can load all the supplies into it and travel light. We’ve still got a good distance to travel, probably most of a week on hoof.”

Seroon had turned to look west, into the increasingly sparse ground of the Wasteland. “Is the entire land bare?”

“Mostly, ‘fraid so,” Dusty said. “There’s enough for folks to get by on, but proper farms are few and far between. Don’t worry, Mareford has plenty.”

“But I assume there will be little along the way.” He frowned a little, looking back to the motorwagon. “Most of a week, you say? Our supplies should be sufficient.”

“We’ve got plenty to spare if they’re not,” Dusty said. “Still, we’ll want to travel fast. Starlight, Whisper? You two take the motorwagon. You’ll be on scout duty.”

Starlight looked up from her PipBuck. “I don’t think we’ve got the charge to keep her running circles around the group.”

“Don’t need circles,” Dusty said. “You just hop from one bit of high-ground to the next along our route. Get good eyes out, and fall back immediately if you find any hostiles. I just want to make sure no raiders see a group walking the wastes and decide to pay a visit.”

Seroon spoke up, once again reminding us of how isolated the Baltimare area must have been. “What are raiders?”

“Ponies like me,” Sickle said with a cruel grin. “Only without all the charm and etiquette.”

Dusty grimaced. “And it’s sad that she’s pretty much right.”

“I’m surprised she even knows that word,” Starlight said.

“Yeah, see?” Sickle said, looping a very unwelcome hoof around Seroon’s shoulder, and flicking her head in Starlight’s direction. “If I were still a raider, I’d be over there stomping her face in for being disrespectful. Then, I dunno, maybe see how much of her gun would fit up her uptight ass before pulling the trigger.”

Dusty glared icily at her. “Sickle, knock it off, right now.”

“Oh, fuck off, Dirt,” she said, though she released Seroon, who eyed her warily. “They need to know this shit if they’re going to survive.”

“And they’ll get it,” Dusty replied, “but not from you, and not like this. Knock it off.”

Sickle’s head lowered, and she practically growled in reply. “You know, I’m getting really fucking tired of you telling me what to do.”

“You’re a big mare,” Dusty said, unflinching. “Deal with it.”

She leaned forward, and they stared into each other’s faces for several long, tense seconds. Then Sickle cracked a smile. “Well, shit, look who finally grew some balls.” She reached up, giving him a body-jarring but otherwise friendly slap on the shoulder before turning and strolling away. “Just don’t baby ‘em, Dusty.” He waited until she had walked off before rolling his shoulder, wincing slightly.

We got moving shortly afterwards. After more than two weeks of tromping through overgrown foliage and flying endless patrols, it was a wonderful luxury to kick back in the worn seat of the creaking, jostling motorwagon. Even the blast of dusty air as we rolled across the valley was a welcome relief.

When we reached the top of a hill, Starlight and I would crawl out and climb onto the vehicle’s roof. I sat against the gun, sweeping my binoculars around, while Starlight peered through the scope of her Lancer. Down in the shallow valley, the narrow line of zebras, ponies, and a single griffon made their way across the land. When they drew even with us again, we crawled in through the motorwagon’s windows and rolled off for the next ridge, bouncing and rattling across the uneven terrain.

After a week of unrelenting tension, it was more than just relaxing. It was fun. I’d have gladly driven around those hills and valleys all day long, not to get somewhere, but just to enjoy myself.

Even the increasingly barren terrain didn’t dampen the mood. Instead, it made things easier. From the top of a hill, we could see everything for miles. After weeks of stress, we no longer had to worry about something sneaking up on us with no warning.

Suffice to say, we had the easy job. While we still kept an eye out, we relaxed and talked. When the conversation ran out, we fell into a comfortable silence, leaning gently against each other. I even eventually got to doing more recordings, after the long hiatus of our journey through the swamp. I’ll admit, I was a little self-conscious of doing so with someone listening in, and especially so when that someone was one of the key players in the events I was documenting, but I’d made a point of honesty with my companions. Especially Starlight.

“‘Sneaky little Whisper’ indeed,” she said in echo of my dictation, and shot a smirk my way. “So you were really trying to steer me around, there?”

“Yes,” I said, with a somewhat guilty smile. “I know Dusty was a bit rough and quick to leap to judgment, but you have to admit, you did antagonize him.”

“Yeah, because he was being a jerk!”

“Yes, because he was being a jerk,” I agreed, then added, “but he also had good reason to be suspicious. I just wanted you to go a little easy on him until he finally accepted us. I’ll note it worked, too. He’s much more welcoming, now.”

Her smirk had turned into a thoughtful frown as she considered my words. “Well… yeah, but, you know, you could have just said that at the time.”

I gestured to my PipBuck, as if pointing to the recording I had just made. “I did.”

“You… well, I mean, I guess, but…” She stopped, cocking her head to the side as she tried to find the right words.

I filled them in for her. “But it’s probably a little different hearing the precise logical reasoning behind a conversation, especially where one party is trying to convince the other party of something. When you get to a fine enough level, the difference between ‘convincing’ and ‘manipulating’ is essentially all semantics.” I gave a wry smile. “The joys of an Infiltrator’s training.”

“Weird bug things,” she said, with a weak snort of amusement. Then, more seriously, she asked, “So, you’re always thinking like that?”

“To some degree, I suppose. Even if I’m not intentionally doing so, I’m aware of the mechanics in action during any social interaction. It’s not something I can just forget.” Not exactly the most reassuring thing I could say, I suppose. I added, “If it’s any better, those mechanics are like tools to assist with one’s intent, and I do have good intentions.”

“So… you’re manipulative and sneaky and sometimes weird, but you do it with good intentions.”

I couldn’t help chuckling. “And right there, you’ve pretty much summed up an Infiltrator’s profession.”

“Urg,” she said, sticking out her tongue for a moment before concluding, “I think I’d go insane trying to think like that all the time.”

“Handling of stress is one of the big selectors for Infiltrator training,” I said. “It can be an extremely restricting life, at times. I don’t think you’d enjoy it. You are… much too free and open in your emotions.” I smiled, leaning over to nuzzle her. “Speaking as our resident emotional gourmet, I mean that as a compliment.”

Starlight shook as she quietly snickered, ending with her elbowing me in the side. “You really know how to be incredibly creepy, you know?”

“I can’t help it,” I said, leaning back against the gun-mount, and feeling her weight shift against my side. “It’s fun. Most of the time I have to hide myself away and play a role. I may be good at it, but you know, there’s always something so relieving in being able to relax and be honest and myself for a while.”

Starlight gave a soft, thoughtful hum at my side. A moment later, she snuggled in closer, resting her head against me. She opened her mouth to say something, but seemed to think better of it. Instead, she gave me a gentle nuzzle. The warmth of her affection flowed freely.

Much of our trip was spent in such a way, quiet and relaxing. Bloodbeak begged to go with us after our lunch break, and we allowed her, unable to say no to the enthusiastic griffon. She perched on the back of the motorwagon as we drove, laughing and cheering, her wings spread as much as she could manage with her injury. Her enthusiasm continued even after we stopped.

“That thing is awesome!” she said as she hopped down to join us. “It’s so fast! Like flying on the ground! Are there more of these things? Does Mareford have them? Where can I get one? Where did you get this one?”

“We found it,” Starlight quickly replied, and shot me a glance. I nodded in reply.

“Cool!” Bloodbeak said, grinning as wide as a griffon could. “Where could I find one?”

We had to explain the rarity of the vehicles to her, which left her disappointed for merely a moment before she enthusiastically launched into exclamations and questions about other interesting machines the motorwagon carried, such as the minigun and two sets of damaged power armor. Soon she had changed gears again, branching into other subjects and prying for information about our adventures. I’m afraid I can’t really recount all of it, as it rapidly turned into a blur of words and topics ranging all over the place, and I quickly lost track of it all. Considering my field of expertise, I think that says a lot.

I hope it doesn’t sound unkind, but I’m glad she only asked to come with us a couple of times. Her exuberance was a little exhausting, and I liked having the time alone, with just Starlight and my recording. Still, there was something uplifting about watching her perched atop the speeding motorwagon, grinning and carefree. There was a simple joy to it, which seemed to shine all the brighter against the bleak backdrop of the Wasteland.

It was on our third day when our scouting paid off.

While I was still idly scanning the horizon, my attention was mostly on my recording. I was trying to work out how to describe our “recruitment” of Sickle when Starlight’s ears pinned back.

“Shit,” she said, loud and clear, still peering through her Lancer’s scope.

I hit the button to stop recording. “What?” I asked as I brought up my binoculars, trying to find what had caught her attention.

“That alicorn,” she said, her voice tight. “It’s back.”

The distant flicker of motion caught my eye from across the valley below, looking almost black at that distance. It was only as I finally got my binoculars in place that I could make out the purple coloration. Her wings beat a couple more times as she flared and landed, then folded neatly at her side. Her ethereal mane continued to flow behind her.

I dropped my binoculars to their strap, raising my PipBuck and depressing the button on the broadcaster. “Dusty! The alicorn is back.”

There was a moment of silence before my earbud crackled. Dusty’s voice was firm, almost taunt. “Say again.”

“The alicorn is back,” I repeated. “To your… southwest, she just landed on a ridge.”

Another pause. “Shit. Eyes on. Mount up and get back here. Make it quick.”

“On it,” I said. Starlight was already slipping in through the vacant front window, while I dropped into the cargo bay. “Go!” I called out, rapping a hoof against the roof for emphasis.

The vehicle thrummed with arcane energy as the spark-driven motor engaged. The vehicle lurched and shot forward, the wheels grinding in the dry ground and sending a spray of pebbles and dry dirt out behind us. Moments later, we were careening down the slope of the hill, bouncing and rattling like mad. I clutched the grip of the machine gun with one hoof and the edge of the bay with another. It felt dangerously precarious as the vehicle rocked under me, but the big gun was oddly comforting.

If the alicorn hadn’t seen the rag-tag group we were escorting, she needed only to follow the cloud of dust we left in our wake.

We skidded to a halt near the group, the vehicle shuddering and sliding beneath me before coming to a halt so abruptly that I fell back atop our supplies. I was already upright when Dusty hopped onto the side of the motorwagon. “Starlight, keep pace beside the group, between them and the alicorn. Whisper, you’re on the gun. Keep it ready, but don’t fire unless she tries to attack us.”

“Understood,” I said as I resumed my position, with a bit too much adrenaline pumping through my veins to feel embarrassed at my fall.

He slid forward to be more even with Starlight. “Keep track of how much juice this thing uses keeping pace with us. Every hour or so. I want to make sure we’re not going to run her dry.”

“You got it,” she said.

As soon as he hopped down, Starlight had us moving again, circling around the rear of the line to position us between the line of zebras and the distant alicorn.

She simply stood there, unmoving, watching us slowly pass through the valley below.

“What is she?” Seroon asked us that evening, when we had stopped for the night. The sun had set somewhere behind the clouds. The fading light left only a subtle difference between the ground and the sky beyond, as the silhouette of the distant alicorn steadily faded into the growing darkness.

“They’re called alicorns,” Dusty said with a shrug. He was more focused on his food, though his eyes regularly rose to scan around. “Like the princesses of old, only… not. Beyond that, I couldn’t tell you. Radio said they used to be the… servants, I think, of some so-called goddess. Sounded like monsters.”

“It said some of them were nice,” I said, thinking back to the radio broadcast we had heard in Mareford. The alicorns had been a minor element of the transmission, especially when contrasted with the news of Celestia’s survival, but our own passing encounters with this alicorn had led to it sticking in my memory. “I’m not sure what she’s doing, or why she’s following us.”

“It’s been following us for a few weeks,” Dusty said to Seroon. “I guess we lost it going through the swamps. Was hoping it wouldn’t find us again so soon. Damn thing creeps me out.”

Seroon slowly nodded, staring out into the night. “So you do not know what her intentions are?”

“I watched that alicorn turn a pony inside out,” Dusty said, following up with a snort. “I don’t plan on taking chances.”

Starlight grunted before swallowing a bite of food. “Ugh, don’t remind me of that, I’m eating.”

“Blood and guts everywhere,” Sickle said gleefully. “Just tore their chest right open, ripped everything out, made the guts dance around in her magic!” Then she leaned over to Starlight, grinning. “You going to finish that?”

Starlight muttered and hunched over her food, eating with renewed determination. Sickle snickered, returning to her own meal.

“To be clear,” I said, “the pony was already dead. Not that it makes it any less gruesome, but it is ever so slightly less concerning than if she had done that to a living individual.”

“Assuming that alicorn even sees the distinction,” Dusty said. “Only ponies I’ve ever seen do anything like that are raiders.”

Sickle gave a laugh. “Nah, raiders ain’t anything like that. They’ll cut you up and laugh when they do it, ‘cause it’s fucking fun. It’s all violent and messy, and all like, I’m alive and you ain’t, hah hah! You know, enjoying the moment.” She chuckled, gesturing with the blades on her legs before setting her hoof down again. “That big bitch, though? She wasn’t having any fun with it. It was like…”

She stopped for a moment, trying to find the wording, then suddenly pointed at me. “It was like how Whisper talks. Was all thinky like and shit.” She lowered her hoof, returning to her food. “Not like a raider at all.”

I frowned, while Dusty very succinctly summed up my own concerns. “So it calmly and deliberately butchered a dead pony,” he said, frowning as well. “That doesn’t much reassure me, Sickle.”

“Hey, at least you don’t have to worry about her making you play jump-rope with your own intestines,” Sickle said with a shrug.

Dusty snorted. “I don’t plan on giving it that chance. I’d rather go down fighting.”

“Yeah,” Sickle said, grinning again. “Lots of ponies talked tough like that.”

Seroon had remained silent, still staring out into the darkness. When our conversation died off, he finally spoke again. “It is hard to believe anything could survive in this desolate land,” he said, his voice quiet. “So empty and lifeless, and yet, there seem so many determined to make it even more lifeless.”

“Mareford is a safe place,” Dusty said, looking up from his meal. “You don’t need to worry about any of this stuff, there. No raiders or--”

“I’m sorry,” Seroon said, holding up a hoof. “I do not mean to sound as if I doubt your words. You seem an honest stallion, and you have put much effort into helping us. I am sure this Mareford is as you say. My concern is more… general. The state of the world as a whole, rather than our small part in it.”

“Ah,” Dusty said, leaving it at that.

“It’s not that bad,” Starlight said, then quickly amended herself. “Well, I mean, it kinda is, but there’s plenty of good parts, too. More than there are bad parts, at least.”

Seroon considered her words for a moment, and slowly nodded. “I assume you’ve seen a good deal of those ‘bad parts,’ then?”

“More than I’d like,” Starlight replied, and shrugged her shoulder, her Lancer shifting against her back. “But that’s why I have this, so I can help ponies.”

“Same reason I joined the Militia,” Dusty said. “And why I left it.”

It seemed like a good time to chime in. “My life has always been about helping others, even if it put my own life in danger. There are lot of horrors out there, but there are good people, too. I know how far the world has fallen, but I honestly think things are improving. It’s certainly better than I once thought it was.”

I know, I’d planned on using the same “isolated farmer” backstory, but a good act requires flexibility, and given the mood, this bit of optimistic honesty felt far more appropriate. Besides, Seroon already thought I was an assassin, or something close to it, and given the zebra history of assassins, I expected he might understand better than most ponies.

Sickle had paused to look around at us, then grinned at Seroon. “Fuck, I’m just here ‘cause I get to have fun killing ponies, and I get paid for it. I mean, sure, being a raider had its perks, but I think this wins out.”

“Don’t mind her,” I said. “She enjoys provoking people.”

“I enjoy fighting and fucking more,” Sickle replied, kicking back with yet another bottle of beer. “But since I ain’t getting any of that right now…”

I smiled a little. “She also complains more than anypony in our group.”

“Oh!” Sickle started laughing. “You mouthy little cunt. Don’t forget that I can stomp your whole fucking head in!” Despite the suggestion of violence, there was no anger to her voice.

So I turned my smile to her. “You can try.”

Sickle froze. For a moment, I worried I had pushed the “playful banter” too far. Then her laughter returned, and she flicked her empty bottle at me. Despite my best effort, and the fact that the bottle was actually aimed at the ground by my side, I still flinched. That just made Sickle laugh more. “Oh, yeah. So scary!” She fell into snickering as she returned to the final scraps of her meal.

I relaxed again, satisfied in my reading of Sickle. Seroon was still watching her, as if still trying to decide what to make of her. I offered an observation.

“She could go wherever she wants, do whatever she wants, and pretty much nobody could stop her. Out of all the things she could be doing, she fights raiders and travels with us.”

Seroon considered that for a moment longer before offering me a small smile and a nod, as if to say, “I trust your judgment.”

Sickle, meanwhile, turned to leer at a couple of the other zebras. “So, hey, speaking of fucking…”

Traveling at a walking pace truly highlighted just how much faster a motorwagon was for long distance travel. Days passed to cover the same distance we had covered in one.

Starlight and I had it easy, her driving while I stood by the gun. Everyone else walked, and the toll was starting to show. Everyone looked worn down and tired, except for myself, Starlight, and Dusty.

The alicorn was persistent. She remained at a distance, standing atop a hill alongside our course. She stood like a statue, her hair flowing in the breeze as if it were weightless. The only time she moved was for the short flight to the next hill.

Once or twice a day, she flew off in a different direction, away from us. At first, we thought she had lost interest, but she always returned, less than an hour after leaving.

The first day was tense, images of a rapidly dissected pony dancing in my memories, as we waited to see if she was going to attack.

By the third day, she was simply a feature of the terrain. We still kept a wary eye on her, but the nerves and adrenaline had gone. She seemed no more interested in closing the distance than we were.

Sickle kept up her crude behavior, and it was with only a little surprise that one night’s rest was interrupted by the sounds of her aggressive copulation. It turns out that one of the younger stallions lacked a mate and had no significant prospects, and Sickle had discovered this. I’m not sure what methods she had used to seduce him, though knowing her, I’m sure they were fairly direct. I worried for a bit that they might have been too direct, given her past, but I doubt he would have tried to hush her if that were the case. Not that his efforts were terribly effective.

He walked with his head low and ears pinned back the next day, while a few of his peers lightheartedly teased him. His embarrassment was broken only by the occasional smile or chuckle, though he mostly kept quiet and tried to avoid attention. He also seemed to make a point of staying away from Sickle.

Sickle, of course, strutted along quite happily. I wouldn’t say she mellowed out, as I’m not sure she ever would, but she was at least less obnoxious in her behavior.

We continued on through the dusty, empty land, until the jagged line of ruined skyscrapers peeked out over the hills.

We came to a halt on a low hill overlooking the wide, flat valley. A few farms dotted the land wherever a small patch of fertile land could be found. Beyond them lay the high walls of Mareford. We were just two miles away; close enough for Seroon and his company to easily finish their journey, far enough that we wouldn’t be seen and identified.

“Hardwood can probably help get you settled,” Dusty was saying as he helped unload the last of the zebra’s belongings from our motorwagon. “I don’t know if he’s in charge of anything, now, but he’s always been a good sort, willing to help ponies out. Cinder Block might, too. Most ponies should know where to find them. If nothing else, you can always go to the town hall. I have no idea who’s in charge now, but there’ll probably be some pony there that’ll help.”

While he helped unload, I sat on the roof beside the gun. Mostly, I watched the final preparations for our departure. Every now and then, I’d look back, away from Mareford. The alicorn stood on a hill a good mile away from us, watching.

“Thank you again for this,” Seroon said, smiling softly as a younger stallion helped him strap on a pair of packs. “This is an unfamiliar journey we find ourselves upon, but you have started us off better than we could have hoped for.”

“Heck,” Dusty said with a quiet chuckle. “We were going this way, anyhow.”

“And we are better off for our paths having crossed,” Seroon said, offering a hoof. “I hope our paths cross again, someday.”

“So do I,” Dusty replied, giving a friendly shake. When they were done, Seroon turned to help another of his tribe, and Dusty quickly spoke up again, reaching into his bags. “Just one--well, two more things, I guess.”

Seroon turned back to him with a curious raise of an eyebrow, and Dusty pulled out a small sack, which looked to weigh a few pounds. It clinked and rattled as Dusty passed it over to Seroon. “This should help out some. At the very least, it should help keep you on your hooves for a while as you get settled.”

Seroon’s eyes widened in surprise at the generous gift, and a couple other zebras murmured happily. Then Seroon peered inside the bag, and his expression changed to one of confusion. “Are these… bottlecaps?”

Dusty blinked. “Oh. Right.” He glanced my way, cracking a smile as he caught my eyes, then looked back to Seroon. “Ponies use them as money around here.”

Seroon had followed his gaze to me, and I shrugged. “I thought it was weird, too.”

He smiled, closing the sack again. “That is very generous of you. I hope there is some way we can repay this gift in the future.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dusty said, and Seroon nodded.

“And the second thing?”

Dusty hesitated, his smile slipping away. “Yeah. It’s… probably best if you don’t mention our names.” He glanced awkwardly our way. “Most of the ponies there are good folks, but we’ve had some misunderstandings. I don’t even know if it’s still an issue, but I wouldn’t want you to get caught up in that just because somepony heard our names.”

Seroon fell silent for a long moment, his head tilting ever so slightly as he considered Dusty’s statement. Finally, a small smile creased his lips. “Our tribe has always been willing to endure hardships in order to do what is right. You have given our tribe a chance to survive, and for that, we are in your debt. The least we can do to repay that is to be honest about how you have helped us.”

“I just don’t want--”

Dusty halted as Seroon raised a hoof to silence him. “I understand,” the older zebra said. “I appreciate it, as well, but it is as you said.” He glanced my way, his smile growing just a hair. “Kindness brings kindness.”

Dusty shut his mouth, still for a second. Finally, he smiled, giving Seroon a nod.

Minutes later, the small tribe started the final stretch of their journey. Most of them passed by us and our motorwagon, taking one last opportunity to thank us. Bloodbeak was practically bouncing as she called back to us. “Come visit! I want to hang out and hear more stories! And maybe get another ride! Bye!” Then she hustled to the front of the line, her eyes turned to the tall walls ahead with just as much eagerness.

We watched them set out, while Dusty leaned against the side of the motorwagon, smiling silently. Starlight balanced atop one of the armor plates as she walked up to sit on the hood beside him. After a moment of silence, she tilted her head toward him. “You know, for someone who can be such a dick, you’re a big softie, ain’t you?”

Sickle snorted, then started laughing, managing to slip in something about a “soft dick” between laughs.

“Oh, grow up,” Starlight said, although she didn’t quite suppress her own snicker.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sickle said between chuckles, the dry ground crunching under her spiked hooves as she walked off behind us.

Dusty shook his head, giving a short huff of amusement before switching to business. “How are our supplies?”

I lazily kicked one of my hind legs, dangling over the cargo bay. “We’ve still got a full drum of water. We won’t have to worry about that for a good long while. I’d guess a month or so. Food’s getting low. Hard to say precisely how long it’ll last. A week, maybe a little more.”

“With our ride, we’re only a couple days from pretty much anywhere,” Dusty noted. “Speaking of, how are we doing for power?”

“Enough to top off the wagon’s charge,” Starlight said, tapping her hoof on the hood. “Might have a few spark batteries spare after. He’s kind of a hungry thing.”

Dusty nodded. “We’ll have to look into getting more spark batteries when we get food, but nothing’s critical just yet. We can take care of other things, first.” He looked back to me. “That Gamma site is maybe an hour or two away. You ready for this?”

My heart lurched. I nodded. Only a couple of hours, now.

Somewhere behind us, Sickle bellowed out a shout. “Hey, purple bitch! Why don’t you bring your giant cunt ass over here instead of just staring all the time!”

“Damnit!” Dusty shouted as he spun around, trotting over to her. “Don’t provoke the damn alicorn! We don’t even know what it can do!”

Sickle wasn’t listening, however. She simply grinned. “Oh, hey, it worked.”

“What?” Dusty’s head snapped around as I looked out past them. Sure enough, the alicorn was rising up from where she had stood, her broad wings pumping as she lifted up into the sky. She was flying straight for us.

“Shit!” Dusty spat, then spun. “In the wagon, now!”

“Oh, come on,” Sickle said, still grinning as she lazily followed after us. “It’s been boring since we left the swamps. This could be fun!”

Starlight slid nimbly through the window, already starting up the motorwagon as Dusty scrambled in through the side. He shouted back at Sickle. “Get in or we’re leaving you behind!”

“You can’t leave me. Some of that shit in there’s mine.”

Despite her protest, she still climbed in, the vehicle rocking under her weight. The whole thing shook as she sat heavily behind me, but she seemed content to leave me with the gun, as cramped as the arrangement was.

The moment the vehicle settled, the motor hummed loudly, and with a lurch, we shot off down the hill, leaving a rising cloud of dust in our wake.

I leaned to the side, tracking the alicorn’s flight to see if she was following us, or if she had diverted to follow the Dawnbringers. Either would have been bad.

Instead, she descended in a slow glide, eventually back-winging to touch down on the hill we had just abandoned. She remained there as the distance rapidly grew.

We continued on, the motorwagon bouncing and rattling as we tore across the dry landscape, until she was finally out of sight.