There were a lot of things in life that Dim just did not understand, and Blackbird’s reasons for letting him travel with her was one of them. He was a mistrustful sort, paranoid, suspicious, and being this kind of creature, he found it rather difficult to relate to those who were not. The flying vardo was drifting now, and the batteries were full, much to Dim’s relief. There was nothing quite like a ship that was constantly sinking to excite one’s senses.

She was surprisingly equine, given that she was so catlike. But she wasn’t like a housecat, no. Dim’s only reference that he had to go on were the descriptions of big cats that he had read in books, and she fit them. Sure, she had hooves in the back, and talons in the front, but there was just something about her. She lacked whiskers, but had slitted eyes, meaning that her genetics had been a random crapshoot. Worst of all, she seemed as though she was easy to distract, though perhaps she was acting. It was possible that she was acting.

“I find it odd that you didn’t seem all too bothered about me setting Grenadine on fire.” Dim, who had been silent for a while, felt strange for having shattered the amicable silence. “I mean, it bothered you, I think, but your reaction… was lacking.” While he spoke, he saw her expression darken.

“I’ve seen some stuff since leaving home,” she replied.

“I too, have seen stuff.” For now, Dim decided to keep his interactions honest and direct.

“No,” Blackbird replied, shaking her head, “you, you do the stuff that other ponies, other creatures see. I’ve shot a few creatures, and each time, I hesitate, because I don’t want to do it. But you… you just set him on fire. You’re like my mother.”

Scowling, Dim could not tell if this was a good thing, or a bad thing. His eyes narrowed, and his stomach gurgled, having not yet decided if it wanted to keep the food he had eaten down. The half finished bottle of rum was right beside him, but he felt no need to partake of it at the moment. His companion was an enigma, and drinking her in was far more satisfying than rum.

“Why did you let me come with you?” Dim asked. “I’m clearly crazy. I’m not dumb, I know what I am like. I don’t understand. If you’ve been at this for a while now, long enough that you’ve seen stuff, surely you must know that you shouldn’t trust ponies like me. I’m dangerous. You don’t strike me as being stupid.”

“I have to trust that there is still good in the world,” Blackbird replied. “My father… every night he slept next to a hippogriff that had tried to eat him. He loved her… he really loved her, and every single day, he helped her face the reality that was her life… living… being the sort of creature that she was. It was hard for her to come around, and she had to work hard to be good, when it comes naturally to so many. I’ve had a few companions already that haven’t worked out. Some had trouble understanding that no means no. One I had to drop into the ocean. I might have to drop you into the ocean… but I’d rather take the risk and reap the rewards, should they come.”

“Fair enough.” Dim nodded, taking relief that he could be sincere right now, and not have to be sarcastic.

“I have to trust somepony.” Blackbird’s voice dropped to a near-whisper. “My mother had to trust that somepony could love her, and my father had to trust that my mother wouldn’t change her mind and eat him. The entire community I was raised in had to learn to trust her, and she had to learn how to trust them. My entire life was spent hearing stories about the importance of trust.”

This was… intriguing. Dim had no reason to trust anything; indeed, he had grown up in an environment that, in hindsight, trust had proven to be a weakness. He had trusted his mother—because a foal should trust his mother—and Darling had trusted him. Each of them had violated one another in some way, though his mother had gone beyond the pale with her monstrous actions, leaving both him and his half-sister Darling wrecked as ponies.

A downright chilly breeze blew through the open windows, and Dim wondered about the altitude. It was a curious thought, given the other subjects that his mind dwelled upon, and it served as a distraction. As he sat there, shivering, he realised that he wanted to be trusted again, and that he wanted to trust, even though such an act was folly.

Then, in a fit of extreme paranoia, he wondered if the pink voice had something to do with this strange feeling of longing, manipulating him somehow. A part of her, whomever she was, was lodged in his mind, that is what the Sea Witch had told him. Perhaps a better question was, why did he trust the Sea Witch? He didn’t know, and couldn’t answer.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I am going to turn off the light, and go to bed.” Blackbird reached for the rather dim electric lamp, never once taking her eyes off of Dim. “Good night. You should try to get some sleep.”

“I am going to sit in the dark,” Dim replied, and he thought about climbing up onto the roof. He had ways, the means to do so, and not go falling to his death in the ocean below. He could also get himself into the top bunk, should the need arise. Of all the options he had, there was one thing that stood out in his mind, and that was keeping an eye on the batteries.

He didn’t trust this scrapheap to remain in the air.

The morning broke to reveal a glorious coastline horizon, which Dim studied through his goggles. This was no island, ‘twas rather the mainland, or so he thought, but he didn’t quite know where he was. Through the night, they had drifted north and east. Now, with a steady wind and the rather clever sail below them deployed, they rushed towards the distant land, soaring about five hundred feet or so above the blue-green water.

Dim had never seen a sail beneath a vessel before.

It had been awhile, since being on the mainland—being around civilised ponies—and there was a growing nervousness as the land grew closer. The continued silence of the pink voice threatened to unhinge him, to be his undoing. A part of him needed to be scolded, to be chastised, because his moral compass had broken at some point and he no longer knew moral magnetic north.

There was only the living and the dead; with Dim still among the living.

Even in the balmy updrafts, the warm, pleasant currents that rose from the ocean below, Dim was shivering, suffering from the withdrawals that plagued him. He had quit in the worst place imaginable, in a pirates’ den, and somehow he had remained true to himself, purging himself of his addiction to opium and coca. The hashish was fine, it didn’t present the glaring weakness that the heavy narcotics did, but he was starting to suspect that the alcohol would need to go as well, now having met Blackbird.

She was sitting on the roof of the flying vardo with him, repairing a small fishing net with a netting needle. Blackbird was a fascinating creature, self reliant, and as evidenced, smart enough for a disgusting primitive. The fact that he was attracted to her filled him with self-loathing, and he was repulsed by his own burning curiousity about her felinoid female form. Even worse, this curious sense of lust only highlighted the fact that he had been celibate since fleeing his home, and the knowledge of his own sexual dysfunction left him overwhelmed with shame.

While he could, in fact, get an erection, they came at inopportune times, and never when he wanted them to happen. The suggestion of sex, of stimulation, the very notion caused him to go flaccid, and even manual gratification had proven impossible. But Blackbird, this chimera, this creature-salad, she awoke something within him, something that he wished had remained in slumber.

“I would like to be sane again someday,” Dim blurted out, unable to bear the silence a moment longer, and he was quite shocked by the sudden betrayal of his mouth. He sat there, blinking, the brim of his hat wobbling in the stiff wind, wondering what had just possessed him to say what he had just said. Sanity was a loaded concept, for Dim, as it meant so much more than just mental health. He realised, he knew, being sane again meant having a sexual outlet.

The netting needle never paused, never faltered, never ceased to move, but Blackbird did lift her head. No sign of teasing could be seen in her face, no mocking expression, just a patient thoughtfulness while she sat there, nodding as she continued weaving. The lack of reaction was almost maddening, Dim expected something other than serenity, he needed something else, something like flint striking steel, or some other charged metaphor to take place.

“So, what have you learned about your mother so far?” Dim asked, trying to alleviate the awkwardness that had settled over him and Blackbird like a flock of unwanted, incontinent seagulls with irritable bowels. Anything was better than this, anything.

“She left to track them down,” Blackbird replied, and there was pain in her voice, a pain that Dim understood all too well. “She found their number, their names, and she went to track them down. Killing was her business, she took to it like a duck takes to water. My dad, he said that she didn’t have that little twang of conscience that made her pause before doing something bad.”

Pausing, Blackbird shook her head for a moment, and the wind rippled her wing feathers. “No, my mother had to work at being good, and it was hard for her. She had grown up alone, she had been left to fend for herself, and the world made for a poor parent.” Her tone of voice hardened and the netting needle picked up speed in her deft, dexterous talons. “She was a good mother, though, my dad was always telling her that, I guess he was trying to reassure her.”

In silence, Dim clutched the half full rum bottle, unsure if he wanted a drink.

“The first bandit she caught up to was a diamond dog named Gris Gris. I found out about him in a little fishing and pearl village about a hundred miles away from where I was born. He had settled down there, found a nice bitch for himself, and was running a protection racket on the fishers and the pearl divers.” Blackbird began to shake her head, and it was obvious that she had some trouble continuing. “I found out the story from the residents of the village, and it ain’t a nice one.”

“I have no interest in nice stories,” Dim remarked.

“No, I suppose you don’t. I’d imagine that you and my mother would swap stories and get along just fine.” The netting needle stopped, and she squeezed the net in her twitching talon-fingers. “I don’t know how much of the story is true, but the villagers said that she ambushed him. She blasted out both of his knees, then went around his homestead, doing what she did best. Killed his bitch, and then one by one, she butchered his pups right in front of him. The accounts vary a bit, but one part remains consistent… after she got done killing his pups, she cooked them up and served Gris Gris his last meal. She made him eat every bite, and then she killed him by gut-shotting him and leaving him to bleed out. The townsfolk said they could hear his howls of pain for days before he finally expired. Not a one came to help him.”

“It is a fitting end, I suppose.” When Blackbird’s eyes narrowed into thin slits, Dim regretted his words, or at least he thought he did. He couldn’t tell what she was feeling, with his experiences in empathy being woeful and inadequate. “I might have done worse… look, Blackbird, you might not understand what I am about to say, but your mother was right to do what she did. These disgusting primitives… they are slow to learn… slothful, wilful, ignorant… they are insolent. Teaching him a lesson would have done no good. No, revenge had to be taken and a point had to be made. I do not think that made your mother a bad pony… uh, creature. She cared enough to make a point, and the world was left a better place because of her instruction.”

“I don’t even know how to respond.” She blinked, shook her head, and then sat in silence.

“You can’t reconcile with stupid.” Dim found the words waiting on his tongue, though he feared saying them. “But there is a cure. Those who have come looking for me, to claim me, to take me, to try and subdue me or kill me, they were stupid. They were foolish, they were weak… and one by one, I cured them. Even somepony I loved a great deal… I had to cure her of her disease, this sickness of her mind. Your mother, she was a healer that cured with lead pills, while I cleanse disease with fire and magic.”

Blackbird snorted, but said nothing.

“I didn’t ask to be this way,” Dim said, feeling the need to defend himself, to explain his actions. “I didn’t want to be this way. I didn’t want these things to happen, and a lot of bad things happened. Just as your mother was raised by a cold, indifferent world, and suckled from an existential teat—”

“My mother had a beak,” Blackbird interjected.

“—my own mother shaped me like clay, raising me from birth to be a monster. In time, you will understand the width and the depth of my words, and you will no doubt flee from me. You would be right to do so. I am damned, and have gone beyond the reach of redemption.”

“Bullshit.” Blackbird tossed her head from side to side, and her green eyes flashed with anger. “My mother… she could have been redeemed… she did awful things… terrible things. She still settled down and lived a life of decency, a life of goodness. If my father hadn’t been murdered, she’d be at home right now, singing, laughing, and loving, and I’d be right there with her. She’d still be the good creature she struggled to be.”

Sighing, Dim dreaded his own response. “But life had to go and bring out the worst in her, didn’t it? Murderers, madponies, killers and the like… they don’t get happy endings. Life has a way of stealing serenity away from them. So it will be with me. That’s why I can’t go home. I can’t make right what I’ve done. The best I can hope for is to finally lose.”

“I don’t agree.” A dark scowl robbed Blackbird’s face of beauty. “I don’t agree at all. My father… he put too much hard work into saving my mother, into redeeming her, in bringing out the best in her… that means something! I’ll not have that meaning stolen away!”

“My apologies.” Dim bowed his head, staving off the desire to say more, realising that this was not an argument that he wanted to win. “It was not my intention to upset you, and I feel bad for having done so.”

Blackbird gave him a dark look. “I won’t hold it against you…”

Author's Notes:

Alright, I'm coming out! Any man I see out there, I'm gonna kill him! Any sonofabitch takes a shot at me... I'm not only gonna kill him, I'm gonna kill his wife, all his friends, and burn his damn house down!

—William Munny.