Sunlight flooded over me as the door opened.

My jaw dropped as I saw the sight in front of me. The entire front wall of the lobby was blown out, chunks of concrete and rebar littering the ground. Farther beyond, a view of Canterlot could be seen. Before the catastrophe, I could only see across the street, another building blocking my view.

Now, I could see for almost a mile. Charred and broken buildings stuck out of the ground like bones. Small pillars of smoke rose up, blocking out the sun's rising rays. A cold breeze was in the air, whistling lonely as it passed through the last vestiges of Canterlot.

Most buildings were now no higher than 20 feet, the rest taken out by the explosion. Few were hardly intact enough to even support those two stories, many caving in or even toppling over into the street or other buildings. Even the royal castle, it's usual grandeur a symbol of Equestrian power and wealth, was now reduced to rubble. The only thing worth noting about the ruin was that somewhere, deep within, Celestia's own bunker lay.

Far away, on the other side of the city, was where the power plant was. I couldn't see it, but I knew where it was. I hoped we wouldn't have to go anywhere near it, who knew what surprises lay there.

Cambridge brushed passed me as he stepped out into the lobby. “Coming?” He asked, stepping over chunks of rubble along the cracked marble floor.

I didn't reply, but simply followed him out the door. My hoofsteps, I realized, besides my friend's was one of the loudest sounds I could hear. Slowly, I began to feel creeped out. Canterlot, previously the capitol of a nation, was now completely silent. Something was off.

I felt the abrupt change from smooth marble to rocky, hard, debris filled dirt as we moved outside the gaping hole in the lobby. From the small hill the Albedo was on, we could see a majority of the city ruins. My stomach only sunk lower into my body, the sight was horrifying.

Canterlot's plant wasn't nearly as big as some other cities, and let's leave Manehattan's super-plant out of the question. My spine shivered as my imagination conjured up nightmares of Hoofington and Haliflanks, their cities black and twisted shells of what they once were.

“Oh, good.” A voice came over my EDA's headset. I looked over surprisedly at Cambridge, and by his same reaction, it seemed like he heard it too. “You both made it outside. Let me patch in Hoofreath's location in your helmet's navigation.” Oh, right. Princess Luna, just covered with static.

Seconds later, an arrow popped up along the top of my visor, right in the middle of it's upper border. “There you go!” She said, oddly happy. I began to feel a little anxious. She had seemed so composed before, and now as she's giving us directions in the wasteland, she's happy?

“Umm, Princess, is everything alright?” I asked.

“Oh, yes,” She cleared her throat, her happy tone dying back to it's unreadable state. “Learning these new electronic functions... It sometimes lets my emotions overtake me.” Oh really?I wonder if she'll squeak in joy when she learns about how ponies used to do video-conferencing...

“Anyways, my patrols have made sure your path is mostly clear up until the Whitetail Wood. Once you hit there, you'll be on your own.”

“Okay, thanks.” Cambridge replied in my stead. I sighed, happy that we'd be getting an easy ride through creepytown central. I looked over and nodded to Cambridge, who began to trot down the hill and follow the arrow on our helmets.

I took off after him, falling in line beside him. “So, Cam...” I began to say, still looking forward into the desolate skeleton of buildings. “Are you alright? You seemed kinda quiet back there.”

“Yeah...” He replied in a low voice. “It's just... This is a little tough to take in.”

I gasped lightly, too quiet for Cam to hear me. He really was taking this hard. Before, even in the bunker, he'd been so full of life, so energetic, such a outgoing pony and a bit of a goof mixed in... He was so Cambridge. But now... He was hardly a shell of himself.

“Hey...” I stopped abruptly, waiting for Cambridge to turn around. He didn't. He kept trotting down the cracked, broken road as if I wasn't there.

“Cambridge!” I galloped to catch him. Somepony definitely did not want to talk. Unfortunately for him, sitting back and letting him mope around was not my style.

“Hey! Wait up!” I reached him finally, panting a bit. “What's wrong with you!?” I found myself yelling. Why was I yelling? What could possibly h- Oh... Then I felt it, rising in my chest. It was a feeling I did not like, at all. Despair.

Despair and it's cohorts of fear and loneliness were my ultimate enemies as a filly. A fillyhood with few friends, and fewer good ones, bred an almost irrational fear of losing all hope, especially in the goodness of ponykind. And now, seeing Cambridge just like this... I suddenly realized how easy it was for my emotions to run without me consciously knowing.

Cambridge slowed to a walk, and then finally to a stop, turning around at me. Tears were welling in his eyes. I assumed he had kept on moving to stop me from seeing him like this.

Ouch. I had forgotten that Cambridge had lived in Canterlot his entire life... Looking at the home he once had, now seeing it in shambles, a burnt out image of it’s former self, I didn’t envy him.

“Oh... Cam... I'm so so-” I was almost halfway over to him when he picked up a small chunk of pavement in his magic, hurling it at a nearby wall, breaking into pieces and dust. Then he start to sob lightly, ripping off his mask so he could breathe easier.

I recoiled in shock, hopping back a full few feet. This... This was horrible to watch, and I had to do something to comfort him. Regardless of his unrequited crush on me, he was still my best friend.

Trotting quickly to cover the score of feet between us, I managed to hug Cambridge before he had a chance to respond. He tensed for a second, my forelegs wrapped around his shoulders. Then he relaxed slightly, but now more uncomfortable than anything.

“Cam, it's...” My voice came out raspy due to the mask I was still wearing. I took it off, letting it fall to the ground. According to my EDA, it's not like we needed it anyways. Nothing dangerous was detected in the air. “Cam, it's gonna be okay.” I said, looking up at him.

His frown slowly began to warp into a smile, his words coming out weakly. “Thanks, Jade-”

“No, don't thank me.” I sighed and looked away, beginning to ramble out confessions, “This was all my fault for dragging you out here and not being considerate of your feelings and just assuming that my best friend would just be fine and like himself-”

I was interrupted as I felt a quick, lightly moist feeling on my cheek. The soft touch of lips was almost enjoyable for a second, before realizing who it came from.

“Cambridge!” I hopped back, in both surprise and embarrassment. The other pony just looked away bashfully, not about to admit he just kissed me. My thoughts began to race. This, this is not what I wanted to come between us. I didn't want to give him any ideas that we'd be more than friends. He didn’t know that I was solely interested in other mares, which was also I conversation I’d been avoiding.

I forced myself to take a few deep breaths, noticing now how cool the air felt without my mask on. It felt like my mind was in a flurry of indecision and panic. I always knew this was going to happen, but it didn't feel any less awkward.

Cambridge finally looked back, before pointing quickly with his hoof at me. “Jade...”

“No, it's alright... I guess it was just a spur of the moment, right?” I tried my best to put a smile on.

“Jade!” Cambridge's voice was tainted with a more hurried voice, his eyes wide. His pointing hoof began to tremble.

“Oh, what?” I sighed, thinking it was one of Cambridge's jokes. It was often his way of blowing off stress or any other feelings he didn't like. “Fine...” I chuckled turning around.

I wish I hadn't.

Nearly ten feet away was a charred and broken pony, it's coat completely black as if it had been burnt off. Scratch that, it probably was. It's body glowed faintly purple, especially it's head, eyes, and root-like patterns along it's body. Even daylight, those areas shone like a corrupted glow stick.

I stood there, stupefied, my mouth hanging open. This... This couldn't have once been a happy pony, living it's carefree life in Canterlot, only to become this monster. My mind refused to believe it, and my muscles protested any movement to run.

This thing, this perversion of nature, it slowly took a stumbling step forward. It's mouth hung open, revealing broken, black teeth. It's purple eyes were fixated on me, as if it could sense my fear. It seemed like hours had passed as it attempted to take another step, slowly bridging the gap between it and myself.

“Jade, watch out!” Cambridge called. I hardly heard him over the rapid beating of my heart, ringing through my ears. All I could do was stand there and stare, paralyzed by the horror in front of me. There was little I could do. I had never seen something like this before, never seen something so gruesome, so detached from my visions of what a pony could truly become.

The psuedo-zombie took another step forward, now close enough that I could hear it's shallow, labored breathing. It sounded almost like it was goi-

The deformed pony's head exploded, bits and pieces of it's body showering me, my helmet luckily shielding most of my face. I lowered my head, my body snapping back into action as the body fell to ground.

The echoes of a gunshot rippled through the air, and I ignored the splotches of purple-ish gore on my visor as I looked around for the shooter. All around, rubble and destroyed buildings littered the landscape, and a few were tall enough to provide a good vantage point for whoever took the shot.

Cambridge grabbed my hoof unexpectedly, dragging me with him. “Come on, Jade! We gotta get out of here!”

Within seconds, I found myself galloping down the streets of Canterlot. Cambridge was right in front of me, his personal knowledge of the city, even after it had been leveled, getting us out as quickly as possible.

After minutes of hard running, I finally stopped and rested against a brick wall, panting heavily. “Cam!... They're not shooting anymore!”

He stopped, turning around and trotting back to me. “A-Are you sure?” He wasn't breathing nearly as hard as me, his body in much better shape. “What if he's just waiting for us to stop?” His eyes darted around nervously.

I managed to let out a nervous chuckle, “If he wanted to shoot me, there was plenty of chances to do so earlier.” My breaths were slowly returning to normal, the aches in my legs slowly dying away. I was never much of an athlete.

Cambridge sat down net to me. “I guess you're right.” He pulled out a canteen of water from his own saddlebags, taking a sip. “Why don't we take a breather for a bit?”

I suddenly realized how good a break sounded. Nodding, I pulled out my own canteen and indulged in a long swill. The water tasted a little funky and was barely lukewarm, but that hardly crossed my mind as I felt the water almost recharge my muscles, quenching their screams for rest.

Sighing in relief, I set my canteen down and pulled out my sketchbook and a sketch pen, flipping it open to the first page. Before I left, I intended on taking my art with me. Unfortunately, I couldn't fit my easel and canvas into my saddlebags, so a sketchbook provided by the Princess would have to do.

I focused my attention on the scene in front of me, a destroyed building with it's roof caved in. It looked like it used to be a family-owned store, it's small design and it's practical construction a testament to my thoughts. The windows were blown out, the door was off one of it's hinges, leaning back dangerously, and the sign that once was hefted high and proud above the doorway, now was on the sidewalk, splintered and in pieces.

It all looked so sullen, so defeated. It equally reflected the entire shape of what was once Canterlot, it's proud and optimistic attitude reduced to one of darkness and depression. What had once been the shining beacon of prosperity was no longer. Instead, it was like the store in front of me. Shattered, broken, and hardly recognizable.

I began to work on the shape of the building, and as usual, my thoughts began to wander as I worked.

Where had that shot even come from? It's not likely that the pony could have gotten too close without me seeing. My time spent studying art itself had led to a more perceptive vision, and picking out odd details was my specialty. If I had to take a guess, he was probably far away, a sniper of some sorts.

But, why even save me? As far as I knew, a rifle that powerful was not in the hands of the Princesses' guards. If that was the case, then why would some random pony go out of his way to save me? I was nothing special, just somepony who managed to escape the apocalypse and return months later, with no real fighting ability whatsoever?

In fact, I had no clue about what would've happened if nopony took a shot and I had to defend myself. Shuddering, I realized I probably wouldn't have done anything. The fear had paralyzed me, wrapping me in a tight cocoon and not letting me out, keeping me shrouded in horror. It felt like all my energy had been sucked out in the blink of an eye, locking my joints together and keeping me as a statue.

My thoughts began to subside as I realized I was done filling in the shadows of the small store. I looked over my work, oddly not finding many qualms about it. Everything seemed well proportioned, and the damage to the walls and door was well recorded. Shrugging, I closed my sketchbook, accepting the decent sketch.

Standing up, I stretched and placed both my canteen and my book away into my saddlebags. I looked over at Cambridge, who was slowly getting up. “Are you ready to go?” I asked.

“Yeah, I'm good.” He nodded. “With any luck, we can get out of the heart of the city within a few hours or so.”

“Good.” I said, beginning to trot down the street with Cambridge. “No offense, but I'm not liking Canterlot right now.”

“None taken.” My sky-blue friend sighed, “It's not like it matters much.” His voice became lower, darker, and filled with conviction, “This is not my home.”

-~-

The burnt, hallowed-out corporate buildings and stores were slowly replaced by more residential areas as we moved into the outskirts of Canterlot, which were located further down the mountain. The carnage was still wretched and strewn across the ground, but at least the buildings were spaced out more, and visibility was better than before.

The downside was that this area was further from the blast, and therefore had more ponies that survived and were thereafter “neurologically deformed,” as Princess Luna had put it. However, this consequence had only revealed itself seconds earlier.

Meanwhile, Cambridge weakly raised his pistol in front of him, trying his best to line up a shot on one of the charred ponies in our way. A trio of them had stumbled out into the street, their eternal gaze locking onto us in an instant.

I was fumbling with taking my own pistol out of it's holster, when I heard Cambridge fire twice. “Dammit,” he muttered. I looked up, noticing that the shots had knocked it down, but it was slowly regaining it's footing.

I finally managed to levitate the pistol out in front of me, shaking wildly. The three glowing monsters slowly inched forward, their mouths wide open, yet no noise was coming out. The aspect of their silent expressions creeped me out almost as much as their glowing head, eyes and neural pathways. It all accumulated into something out of a nightmare.

Cambridge fired again, hitting one squarely in the chest and through it's heart, killing it. “H-Hey Jade!” He called out to me, “I know you don't want to, but could you help please?!”

I gulped, knowing he was right. I pointed my pistol at the one closest to me, and pulled the trigger, blinking as I felt the recoil push up against my levitation magic. The shot missed completely, kicking up dirt yards behind it.

Gathering myself, I dared to fire again, this time ready for the recoil action. I lined up another shot, and with a little less delay, pulled the trigger once more. The bullet screamed through the air and through sheer luck, struck the horror in the head, it's body crumpling immediately. It fell to the ground, a purple ichor leaking from the bullet hole in it's forehead.

I stared in disbelief... I couldn't believe it. I had actually taken a life. Granted, it was a twisted, blackened, warped life that no longer cared for anypony. However, it was still a life.

And what scared me the most, is that I felt almost no remorse.

Suddenly, I began to fume with anger. These... These things were once good, were once kind and caring ponies, now to be consumed into these mindless monsters. They were an abomination to ponykind, and deserved no pity from me.

My disbelieving expression quickly changed to one of determination and stone-cold conviction. I raised my pistol again with my telekinesis, and held it evenly at the remaining one's head, firing three times in rapid succession.

The first one missed, and the second grazed it's cheek, but the third struck home through it's right eye, dropping it to the ground.

Within seconds, our three assailants had been reduced to heaps of dark skin and bones on the road. Their corpses slowly lost their signature glow, as more and more purple liquid seeped from their wounds.

I turned over to look at Cambridge as I slowly put my pistol back in it's holster. His eyes were wide in astonishment, but he only nodded to me in support. Apparently, he had no quarrel with my prejudice towards these beings.

“Hello?” A static-filled, crackling voice sounded in my helmet. “Jade, Cambridge? Are you there?”

“Yes we are, Princess.” Cambridge replied, “Is anything wrong?”

“I should be asking you the same thing.” She countered, “From your recent audio logs, I could hear gunfire, and lots of it. Are you sure you're okay? Did you run into any of the Feren?”

“Feren?” I echoed her. “What's that?”

“The Feren are what we at the lab call those who have been re-wired by an overload of Ferenial Energy.” Her voice remained with a constant background of annoying static. “Did you come across any?”

“Twice.” Cambridge told her. “One within the heart of the city, and three just now in the residential area.” His voice became aggressive, “And I mean no disrespect, but I didn't know you meant 'clearing the way for us' through the use of obscure snipers that almost shot Jade.”

I sighed. Cambridge was right to be mad, he was just targeting the wrong pony. The sniper probably wasn't a guard.

“Princess Luna, what he means to-” I tried to interject, before being interrupted.

“Cambridge, what sniper? I'll have you know that none of my guards nor my sister's carry that sort of weapon on patrols within the city. So, if you wish to accuse me of something, you better know your facts first.” Even through the static, I could almost feel the displeasure in her voice. Way to go Cambridge, piss off a goddess who controls the moon and the stars. I wouldn't be surprised if he woke up one night to have a shooting star fall on him.

I tried again. “Princess Luna, I think I know what-”

“Princess, I don't need to know,” Cambridge hit back, and once again my words went unheard. “It doesn't make sense, who else could be that deep into the city? I've thought this over until now, and there is no other logical explanation.”

The Princess lashed out at him, her words clearly overpowering the lingering static, “Did it ever occur to you that there might just be more ponies out there than just the ones here in the bunkers? Or, even more, that some of them aren't good ones either?” It was very apparent in her voice that she was putting some serious effort in self-control. “You'll find out here, that the Feren aren't the only ones to be wary of.”

The communications line was cut immediately afterwards, the background of static broken with a quick hiss. Great. Now, due to our little “misunderstanding”, we'd be unable to report back to the Princess.

“Cam!” I looked over at him, “What the hell was that for?” I walked up to him, fixing him a stare. To say I was unhappy would have been an understatement.

“What do you mean?” He looked utterly dumbfounded, “I stood up for you there!”

I facehooved. “No, I didn't need standing up for. First, that shooter didn't even aim for me, he probably saved my life.” I sighed. Stallions could be so dense sometimes. “And second, he wasn't a guard. I'm sure of it.”

Cambridge shrugged, his voice sounding dejected, “Fine, whatever you say.” He looked ahead, the first few trees of Whitetail Wood now visible in the distance, “Come on, it'll be getting dark soon. We should probably find somewhere near the woods to hunker down for the night.”

Anxiety and apprehensiveness swept over my body. Right, sleep. Sleeping, within the vicinity of Cambridge. The day just keeps getting better and better. Yay.

“Good idea” I lied through my teeth, “Let's go.”

-~-

I opened the door of a small house on the fringes of what was considered Canterlot, now along the base of the mountain. The last hues of the sun entered into the door way, flooding a bit of the largely-intact house with light.

Flipping on the light in my EDA, I began to examine deeper into the house. It clearly was more of a cabin than anything, it's spartan look reinforced by only a rough table, low cabinet and a few chairs in the main room. Further down, two closed doors were against the back wall.

I floated out my pistol, turning back to Cambridge, “Hey, you check out the left door, and I'll take the right, okay?”

He nodded, coming in through the door and flipping on his helmet-mounted flashlight, a second beam of white light sweeping across the small room. Taking out his own pistol, he took a few running steps and tried to shoulder his way through the door.

It was locked, very well at that.

Cambridge rebounded off the door, falling to the ground. I tried my best to stifle a laugh as I walked over to help him up. Giving him a helping hoof, he got up and dusted himself off.

“I did that on purpose.” He huffed.

I chuckled as I walked over to the other closed door. “Oh really? Why would you purposely run into a door?”

He stood behind me as I tried the knob on the other door. Luckily, it was unlocked and opened with ease. “I was trying to make enough noise to wake up any of those comatose ponies that were in the house. That way, we could hear them if they were anywhere.”

I looked in the room, making sure my light went over every corner and shadow. From what I could tell, it looked like the bedroom. A bit of the ceiling was caved in, a few planks of wood fallen to the floor in the corner.
“In case you haven't noticed,” I stepped into the room, pointing the pistol around wildly as I'd seen in action movies, “These things are silent.”

While Cambridge took a second to digest my logic, I took a few more steps into the room, peering curiously at the room. There was a small bed, it's rough blanket the only thing over the bare mattress. Across the room was a small chest, made of tarnished wood and bronze, the metal rusted with splotches of blue.

Walking over to it, I looked it up and down. It was maybe only two feet tall, and a few feet wide. I looked for a lock, but it either was never there, or removed by it's previous owner. I wanted to open it up, but something was holding me back.

This used to be somepony's home, and this chest was probably where his or her valuables were kept. It felt like opening it would be a desecration. But at the same time, the pony who lived here was probably long gone. Whatever was inside would probably just rot away, so it made sense to try and find something useful.

Slowly opening the lid with care, I shone my light inside. I was surprised to find not much in there. A pair of boots, a blanket, and underneath that lay a crowbar and a framed picture.

I took everything out. The boots looked solid enough to wear, but they were meant for somepony with bigger hooves. Maybe I'd ask give them to Cambridge. They were actually pretty sturdy, made from rough leather and thick rubber soles.

The blanket wasn't much, just a plain, forest green color, made from cheap cotton. But, I figured it would be good for nights when we didn't have somewhere to sleep inside.

The crowbar was hefty, made from solid steel and in good condition. It showed a few signs of wear on it's hook, scrapes and minor scratches, but overall it was still highly usable. Actually, it gave me an idea, but first, something else had to be taken care of.

I picked up the small framed picture, sitting down and shining my light on it. It was an older stallion, his mane graying and a stubble beard that showed flecks of white. Beside him was another, although much younger. Probably his son, although fully grown. Both had a pale brown coat, so they probably were related.

What saddened me the most, was that both of them were smiling. The older equine had one foreleg wrapped around the other's shoulders, standing in front of a beautiful lake. It made me depressed, to see how happy a world we had left behind.

I'm beginning to think I was turning a bit too nostalgic, too wrapped up in how life once was. But, that wasn't bad, right? The world right now is in shambles, the morning sun bringing not a message of hope, but the cold realization that this chaos and pain is still lingering for another day. So, if there was anything to be missing, anything to desire and dream about, wouldn't “the way things used to be” top the chart?

Aside from my own dilemma, this picture, this memory deserved better. Like the millions of ponies who died, it deserved more than to just rot away and become forgotten. It needed to be respected, remembered, and put to rest, peacefully.

I slipped the framed picture into the remaining space in my saddlebags. Standing up slowly, I floated the other three items out into the main room where I found Cambridge, pilfering through the room's sole cabinet.

He lifted his head up, floating an object out. “Look what I found,” He set the object on the table and pressed it. Within a flash, an incandescent light filled room, emanating from a battery-powered lantern. “Neat, huh?”

“Yeah, nice.” I tossed him the pair of boots, “Here, try these on. They might just be your size.” I turned to the other door, holding out the crowbar in front of me and walking up to it.

Sizing up the door, I jammed the flat end into the side near the doorknob, and began to push. My horn flared as I put more energy into it, the door beginning to creak dangerously. I placed my hooves on the tool, pushing on it more with my admittedly small muscles.

With one last creak, the force against my crowbar vanished and I plowed right into the wall as it fell to the ground.

Cambridge barked out in laughter. “Oh, and you made fun of me for running into stuff!” He snorted. “You did some real work on the door, too.”

I got up, rubbing by muzzle in pain. It throbbed ruefully, like somepony had just slapped it. Looking up, I saw that only a small chunk of the door had been ripped off, stopping right above the lock.

Screw this door.

Picking my crowbar back up in anger, I took a few swings with the curved end, bluntly smashing in the thin wooden boards. After a few enraged blows, the door cracked and finally busted, wood splintering in a gaping hole towards the center.

Placing my blows a bit more accurately, I managed to smash in a decent entrance. Taking a step back to look at my handiwork, I suddenly realized I had forgotten that this used to be somepony's house. Dammit. I hoped that whoever lived here didn't smite me from heaven.

Sighing, I faced the reality that this was survival, and what was done is done. The door is now open, in a sense, and there was a chance that something back there was usable.

“Hey, not bad...” Cambridge whistled. “Maybe you should have been a burglar instead of an intern?” He said cheekily.

“Hah, well you can keep on trying to smash through doors with your head.” I retorted, “Celestia only knows what good it's doing for that thick skull of yours.”

I stepped in through the door, my flashlight cutting through the darkness. Luckily, nopony was there. I looked around, the room only big enough for a pony or two. A rack lined one side of the quasi-closet room, with a few wire hangers on it.

Luckily, a couple of heavy coats were hanging from them. They smelled musty and had a few moth-bitten holes in them, but they were warm. The antibacterial barding we had was also warm, but highly uncomfortable and unnecessary. So far, our EDA's hadn't picked up any contagions in the air.

Taking the two most intact coats, complete with a heavy hood and thick insulation. Okay, maybe not a jacket, more like a parka. Either way, they'd be useful in the next few months. Winter was steadily approaching, now in November. I'd also need boots of my own for the coming snow, but we had time. For now, I could manage bare-hooved.

Looking to the other side of the closet-room, I spotted a single bag leaned up against the wall. Taking a step over, I unzipped it. A slim barrel protruded from the bag as I pulled out its contents. It was a simple rifle, probably used for self-defense or sponsored hunting. I assumed the latter.

In years before the apocalypse, ponies from Canterlot had begun living closer and closer to the Whitetail Wood, which was home to many wolves and deer. The wolves became a problem for those living near the woods, often scaring, injuring and even killed one pony (Whose death spread like wildfire across the news). Soon, the government took act and tried to remove as many wolves as possible to less-populated forested regions.

With the wolves gone, the deer populations boomed, and threatened to disrupt the entire ecosystem. Once again forced to act, the government actually paid certain ponies to bring down the number of deer in the forest. It was frowned upon, but many ponies realized that if they let the populations rise, it would ultimately lead to overgrazing and affect many more animals than just the deer. A “necessary evil” that had to be done, and many employed to do it were paid sufficiently enough for their troubles.

I added the carry bag to my train of levitated items, and found a small box of ammunition beneath the bag, adding that too.

Climbing out through the gaping hole in the door, I carefully guided the coats, rifle bag and the small munitions behind me. Trotting over to the table Cambridge was at, I placed my new found items on it.

“Hey!” He complained, “My dinner was on there!” He dug his hoof underneath the parkas, pulling out a half-eaten bag of dried apples. He munched on a shriveled slice, looking over my find.

“Hmm, nice... It seems that your “precision work” on the door was well rewarded.” He snickered, casting a glance at the smashed in door.

I snorted in defiance, ignoring his joking remark. “Take the rifle. You're a better shot than me.” I floated the carry bag and the box of ammunition over to him, before taking one of the parkas.

“Oh, sure.” His humored tone died, “Good thinking.”

I grunted affirmatively as I worked on getting my antibacterial barding off. I was a little sweaty underneath it, and it stuck to my coat annoyingly. Half a minute later though, I felt liberated as it finally came off, the chilly air feeling amazing on my skin.

Floating over the coat, I tried it on and zipped it up. Surprisingly, it fit well, the sleeves coming down to just above my fetlocks. The hood fit nicely over my head, even if propped up slightly by my horn. I could always cut a hole in it if I had to.

But, the overwhelming aspect I noticed was how warm it was. And not just warm, but a nice, comfortable sort of warm. Sort of like being under a soft blanket on a cold night. And with that sensation, I finally felt exhaustion and tiredness wash over me. Today had been hell.

“Hey Cam,” I turned to him, taking the coat off, “Since I gave you the rifle, I'm taking the bed.”

He shrugged, “Fine, fair deal. I'll just use that blanket you found, okay?”

I looked back at him as I walked into the bedroom, “Sure, it should be out there somewhere.”

Closing the door behind me, I stepped into the room with my EDA's light as the only source illuminating the darkness. I slipped off my saddlebags, letting them fall to the floor. I hadn't eaten since the morning, but I was too tired to think of food. For now, I let the saddlebags and the supplies inside stay on the ground.

Climbing onto the bed, I took off my EDA, unsnapping the chin strap. The LED-powered light flicked off, and the room was submerged in darkness. I carefully floated it to the ground, my eyes slowly adjusting to the dark environment. Not like it mattered much, since I could feel my eyelids starting to droop.

Setting my head down on the bare mattress, I pulled the blanket over my body and curled up as tight as I could; I realized the room was chillier than the main room, probably due to a lack of insulation and the caved-in ceiling.

With my body and mind greedily asking for rest, I closed my eyes, letting time and space become irrelevant as I began to slip into a much needed slumber.

If one day could drain a pony this much, how could I ever hope to survive for months on end? How long would I be living like this, perhaps for the rest of my life?

I never found an answer, as my senses failed and I succumbed to sleep.