Log Entry 45:
I’ve been watching him for some time, thinking he might be the one.
Attempting to learn all that I can about him.
Results are thus far inconclusive, though quite hopeful.
Despite everything that he has gone through, the beatings, the back-breaking work and the pain of losing loved ones, he has remained compassionate, brave, loyal…
Loving.
I’ve seen the way he looks at her. The faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He is good at hiding his emotions, perhaps too good. I doubt she’s ever noticed the way he feels.
She cares about him, but not the way he hopes. Where he sees her as a possible lover, she sees him only as a friend, possibly a brother.
He’s spent his years of torment and pain pining for her. She is his shining beacon of hope. Hope for a life of his own. With her. But the one for her -the object of her affection- died so many years ago. She hasn’t opened herself up to other possibilities. She likely never will. Were he to learn the truth, it would crush him.
There is another, though she is completely oblivious to her feelings. She is… well, quite honestly, terrible at expressing her emotions. Her infatuation is obvious to many of her colleagues, and she is often the butt of their jokes when she is not around. It is possible she doesn’t understand her feelings for him. She doesn’t have much experience with feelings of the heart after all.
He is nearly ready.
I’ll have to keep observing and wait for the perfect time.

“Move your lazy ass, slave!” the yellow unicorn mare bellowed as she cracked her whip across my flank. My eyes slammed shut and I bit down hard on the handle of my shovel to remain silent as my flesh split apart and blood flowed from the wound.

Don’t scream… Screaming is what she wants....

“Hurry up! Or I swear to the Goddesses I’ll make you wish you were dead!” she roared as the whip drew back for another blow. I jabbed the shovel into the parched earth and moved a load of dirt to the growing pile next to me. The whip cracked again and I froze as pain threatened to overwhelm me once more. I could feel my blood running down my side and the throbbing sting of the nerves suddenly exposed to the moist air. It took a moment before I could focus enough to jab the shovel into the ground again. The mare snarled and trotted forward to stand beside me.

“Damn you,” she hissed through grit teeth. “You worthless piece of shit. I’ll break you of that defiance yet. You just fucking wait.” With that she spun and trotted angrily away. “You! Get your ass in gear!” she roared at somepony behind me. I heard her whip crack followed quickly by a pained screaming. When I was sure she was suitably distracted with her new target, I lowered myself to my knees and let out the deep breath I’d been holding.

“Hey,” a gruff voice called. “Yer Free, ain’t’cha?”

I looked up. A stallion stood over the hole I’d been digging. A mean looking rifle was rigged to his harness and a gnarled scar that marred the right side of his face receded to be hidden by a distinctly ratty cap. I slowly pushed myself back to my hooves and lowered my head.

“S-sorry. I’ll get back to work,” I said. The stallion rolled his eyes and circled the shallow hole, staring down at me as I bit the shovel and started digging once more. I felt his eyes fall over the deep gashes in my back and heard as he sucked on his teeth.

“Lash do that?” he asked.

I said nothing and continued to move dirt from the hole to the pile. The stallion smirked and sat down. He doffed his filthy cap and ran a hoof through his patchy mane before replacing it.

“It’s fine. Ya don’t need to say nothin’,” the stallion said as he deftly retrieved a rolled smoke from his breast pocket. “But ya should know ya don’t have ta keep diggin’. She just wanted an excuse ta whip ya.” This time, I hesitated. That did sound like something Lash would do. She wasn’t the embodiment of the element of kindness after all. I glanced around nervous and the stallion chuckled and waved me down.

“S’ fine. Take a minute to compose yerself,” he said. I stabbed the shovel into the dirt and lowered myself back down as I allowed myself to react to the pain radiating across my back.

“Th-thanks,” I said through gritted teeth. After a moment I glanced up at the stallion. “I… I haven’t seen you around before.”

“Yeah. ‘Fraid I’m new,” he responded laconically. “But you. Heh, they tell alla us ‘bout you.”

My ears perked up.

“Th-they do?” I asked. The stallion nodded.

“Yeah. Nothin’ good though,” he said with a shrug. My ears fell and I looked down.

“It’s my name. Isn’t it,” I muttered. The stallion’s smile widened and he nodded.

“Oh yeah. It’s their favorite runnin’ joke. Never would’a figgered slavers for fans of irony,” he said as she scratched a hoof across his chin. “Or fer knowin’ what irony is fer that matter…” He glanced down at me and took a moment to thoroughly stare at the leaking gashes in my hide.

“Glad I’m the...” I started, but a pained grunt choke off my sentence. It took a long moment to regain my composure. “...l-life of the party…”

“Uhh… ya need a hoof gettin’ ta that robot to take care of that?” he asked. I shook my head and shakily stood up.

“C-can’t. If I do… sh-she whips the others worse…” I muttered. I could practically feel his eyes tracing along the jagged curves of pink flesh that peeked out of my grey coat.

“I’m guessing she does this to ya a lot,” he muttered.

“It’s as you said,” I said quietly, “I’m the f-favorite joke here.” I seized the shovel in my teeth and jabbed it into the dirt before stamping a hoof down on the blade to drive it in further. I did my best not to pay any mind to the pain that coursed through me with each movement I made. The stallion watched for a moment before lowering his head. He retrieved a match with the unoccupied portion of his mouth. With a deftness that most unicorns would be jealous of he struck it on his hoof and then angled it into his cigarette until it took flame, took a few puffs and then spat out the match just before it singed him.

“Ha! Didja see that?!” he shouted excitedly. “Finally did that without burnin’ myself or spitting out the cigarette!” he said proudly as he puffed. If I had rolled my eyes any harder they’d surely have twisted themselves free of my skull.

“Yes. Very impressive,” I droned. If the stallion noticed, he said nothing as he puffed on his cigarette. He was quiet for several long minutes as I painfully dug the worthless hole deeper.

“So,” he said, breaking the moment of quiet. “‘Bout that mare friend o’ yours?” I jabbed the shovel into the dirt and then looked at him.

“Lash isn’t a friend!” I spat. The stallion chuckled and shook his head.

“Lash ain’t no one’s friend. Nah, I was talkin’ ‘bout that other mare. The one you was brought in wit.” The stallion rubbed a hoof against his chin as he thought. “Wha’s her name? Ya know, the one wit’ the red mane.”

Despite myself I smiled.

“Jerry,” I said.

“Ya! Tha’s her! I have a question fer ya ‘bout her,” he said.

“Can’t really stop you,” I muttered as I eyed the shovel carefully. If I swung it right I could stave in his skull or cut his throat, at the very least it could crush his windpipe. Then I could bury him in this worthless hole I’d been made to dig. He wouldn’t be the first slaver to approach me about Jerry, but I’d be damned if I let anything happen to her.

“Whoa… easy there, fella.” the stallion said as he held up his hooves. “I didn’t have any untoward plans. Just an honest question.”

I took a slow, deep breath. I must have given him some clue. Normally I was so good at hiding my emotions. Maybe I was too drained from my injuries to bother with hiding it.

“What’s your question?” I snapped, growing weary of his presence. He smiled and turned his head to look at me sidelong.

“Why ain’t ya told her?” he asked.

“Told her what?” I narrowed my eyes and looked at the slaver closely.

“How ya feel ‘bout her,” he said. My jaw tensed and I felt my stomach begin to tie itself into knots as he continued, “I’ve seen the way ya look at’er. Why ain’t ya told her how ya feel?”

“Really?” I said, dumbfounded, “Now isn’t exactly a good time.” I said, gesturing with a hoof at our surroundings. All around us ponies labored, sweated and screamed. The pony Lash had gone to torment after I proved to be too stubborn lay curled up in the dirt, bleeding from a half dozen gashed across her hide while Lash barked at her to get back to work. The slaves closest to her deliberately looked away and continued to work despite her screams for forgiveness and help. I took a step closer to the slaver and spoke in hushed tones. “This place doesn’t breed love or happiness, or anything good. It destroys it. When we’re out of here, and we WILL get out, then I will tell her. But not before. Not here…”

The stallion regarded me coolly. It took me a full minute to realize I had told a slaver I planned on escaping.

Shit… now I’ll definitely have to kill him…

Slowly a smile spread across his face. My eyebrow arched.

Okay… not the reaction I was expecting...

“Well alright,” he said. He stood with a grunt and tipped his hat to me. “See ya ‘round, Free. Best o’ luck with yer plans. I’ll be rootin’ fer ya.”

I watched him go, unsure as to whether he was playing me. Was he heading off to turn me in to Zero?

I bit down on the shovel and resumed my pointless task as my mind mulled over the strange stallion. Was he going to rat me out? Was he genuinely friendly? Was I setting myself up for something? My mind mulled over the possibilities until the evening whistle sounded and tore me from my reverie. The hole had swollen to twice its original size as I had blindly dug, too distracted by my own thoughts to notice.

“Free?” a soft voice called. I glanced up and shielded my eyes from the work lamps that hung from the guard gantries. “Come on ya big lug, it's time to let the evening crew work.”

A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth and I spat out the shovel.

“Yeah… okay Jerry.”

“Aw jeeze, Free…” she muttered as I climbed out of the hole. “Lash again?”

I glanced back at the dirt caked wounds on my flank and sighed.

“What can I say? She lives up to her name.” I responded. “Never mind that. Let’s head back before the rations are handed out. I need something to eat.” I strode towards the road now bustling with the slaves as they trudged back up the corkscrew road. Jerry followed, chastising me for taking Lash’s punishment. I just offered a faint smile and enjoyed her company.

This was definitely not the place to tell her. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy one of the few good things here.

Log Entry 45 Cont’d:
Despite official protocol I made direct contact with my subject.
It was… enlightening, to say the least.
His emotions are tightly bottled, more so than any of the others around here.
And where the others are all various expressions of fear, hatred and sorrow; His are decidedly more… stoic… and dare-I-say hopeful.
There is a drive in him that has been lost to many of the others, if it was even there to begin with.
I won’t risk further contact for now. I need to maintain my cover. But… today’s encounter was promising.

S.I.O. M

Author's Notes:

This Side Chapter is the result of my February Collab submission. It takes place a few years before Chapter 1 will. Hope you all enjoy.