There is often a turmoil between one’s heart and one’s head. That clash can create greater confusion, but when you follow your heart then you can only be guided to the light. Even if the results look even more troublesome by doing so, you still follow the light within yourself to find the brighter lights of your closest and dearest friends.

Entry 016 - The Whirlwind Romance of Garden Path (Part One)

“Good morning, Tee-Totallers,” DJ Dreamer’s usually eager voice took on a dour tone the next day, as she brought the news to Stable T-Thirty.

“Today marks a new day of mourning for our Stable. As you are all no doubt aware, an active state of emergency was announced last night after creatures broke into the Western Sector Maintenance Hub. We now know that twenty-four souls were lost in the unprovoked attack and two more gravely injured. This comes just days after the incident in the Stable-Tec Museum, although it is known that the two occurrences are not linked.

“The creatures have been nicknamed ‘Glowing Hounds’ by the security clean up and defense crews. They have advised that whilst they believe the threat was contained, citizens should still be vigilant. If you see anything strange, report it. If you come face to face with the creatures, do not engage with them, instead get out of the vicinity slowly and calmly, isolate the area as safely as you can, then raise the alarm and inform your local Security officer. The creatures have been described as pitch black, with glowing green ulcers along their body, as well as irradiated eyes. Listen to your PipBuck – if you are close to one, your Radiation meter will begin to click.

“Here to speak to us about this news is Overstallion Overlook. Good afternoon, Overstallion; can you give us any update into this investigation?” Dreamer’s voice on the radio was replaced by the softly spoken leader of the Stable.

“Thank you, I believe I can,” the Overstallion’s voice came over the radio, “the alarm was first raised when the beings were seen coming up from Maintenance tunnel two, where mineral mining had been taking place. We believe the drilling disturbed the creature’s nest and they were then given reason to retaliate. We know that these Glowing Hounds were born of the ground, and are not a product of the Gardens of Equestria. They had burrowed this deep due to their banishment by Princess Celestia.”

“Overstallion,” DJ Dreamer asked, “our listeners understand the new Guardians of T-Thirty were on the scene, and that one of them was critically injured. Could you tell us any more about this?”

“Yes, I can confirm that once more three of Stable Fifty-Four’s residences leaped to action in order to protect our good ponies.” Overlook sighed, “Whilst I do not condone this vigilante act, I do appreciate their noble sacrifice. However, I ask everypony, from our Stable and abroad, not to follow these heroic actions. It has cost one her health and quite possibly her life.” Dreamer gasped uneasily at this announcement.

“You do not believe the victims will recover?”

“At this time, their future is uncertain.” He didn’t sound hopeful. “The venom they were poisoned with is not being cured by the antidotes that we have to hoof. It seems the Glowing Hounds held a disease we have never encountered before. This was only discovered after the carcasses of the deceased creatures were incinerated, in a terrible case of missed hindsight. All we can ask is that you send your thoughts to Princess Celestia to help guide our physicians and scientists towards a cure for our friends.”

“Thank you, Overstallion,” DJ Dreamer returned to her listeners, “Tee-Totallers, you heard him. If ever we needed the Princess’ kindness to shine on us, it’s now-“ I turned the radio off after that, giving a bitter sigh and resting the front of my bandana on the edge of the silver shelf.

“Tough stuff to listen to, huh?” The similar voice had me assuming that I had not turned the wireless off properly, and I spent a few extra dumb seconds trying to fiddle with the power and volume knobs before I realized the voice was there in the infirmary bay with Mole and myself.

I turned my head against the shelf to look to the only other conscious pony with us, a mare unknown to me sat hooked up to machine taking some of her blood via a tube and transferred it to a polythene bag. She had a glossy black coat, her mostly similar straight mane wore lanes of actual gold, and her eyes were like silver moons in a night-time sky. Her cutie marks matched the satellite theme, a white crescent with a musical half-note hovering in the mouth of it. She was unlike any mare I had ever seen before and I was transfixed for a moment until she giggled at my staring.

“Sorry, it’s just that… It’s going to sound silly, you sounded just like-” I began, and she raised an eyebrow without losing the cheerful smile.

“Good Morning Tee-Totallers, and thank you for the fanservice!” DJ Dreamer! My jaw clattered on the floor. It was her! Okay, I’d only ever heard a few of her broadcasts, but the Tee-Totallers had been so besotted by her that she was still a celebrity and not the kind of pony I expected to be popping in to help my friend (or filly-friend, whichever she was at that point).

“It is you! But how..?” I gestured to the radio.

“Pre-recorded show. What, you think I repeat the same stories the same way over and over? That’s insanity!” She laughed joyfully to herself and I found myself giggling with her. Of course, she did, and I was a silly bird for thinking differently.

“Still, wow, you’re her!”

“I get that a lot,” she chuckled behind her unfastened foreleg, the other laying still for the pipes to do their work, “that’s why I usually tell ponies to call me Midnight. I’m not shy, it’s just fun to see the bit drop for most ponies.” That was right; when the doctors had brought her in originally, they had told me that Midnight had come to donate blood to replace the diseased fluids in the passed out pony.

“I get that,” I let my head bounce automatically, “but, you’re famous down here. What’s a famous pony doing donating blood for…” My voice caught in my throat as I looked to Mole, and I clucked.

I’d felt the weight of the little brown unicorn go limp on my back just as I was reaching Procrustean’s men. The swarming guards had burst through the main doors to the maintenance wing and their weapons were making short work of the mole rats. Private Joke and Big Lum were nowhere to be seen. Elmwood had already joined them and was making his own orders for Gypsy to receive immediate care, I avoided his evil eye and made my own arrangements to ensure Mole was safe. I’d cared less for myself but somehow I only came out of the fight with minor cuts.

She’d never reawoken since that moment, laying like a sleeping doll with bandages around her head, somehow managing to hide those huge ears. Enchanted quick-recovery band-aids covered her other scratches, whilst a breathable gauze covered the infected bite on her foreleg. For my part, I’d been her lonely bodyguard, staying by her side and willing her to suddenly wake up and be her skippy, silly-sweet self again.

Midnight risked moving her pinned foreleg close enough to hold Mole’s floppy hoof.

“A couple of reasons. It’s what the Guardian Griffon would do,” she told me softly. I took another deep breath and pulled the comfy chair around carefully to her side of the bed, hopping into it.

“Not feeling much like a guardian, lass,” I confessed, “less so, today. There were a lot of dead ponies down there.” The reflection on what the fiends had done to the horses who had been so innocently working away in the Western Sector brought out a brief horror in Dreamer’s face, but she instilled it remarkably quickly.

“You can’t blame yourself for who you couldn’t save, you have to look at the fact you saved somepony at all and got out alive.” She patted my talon with her free hoof, to which I shrugged.

“I wish ponies here wouldn’t call me their “Guardian Griffon,” I lamented, “if they knew what I’d done to get here-”

“You could tell them,” Midnight interrupted with good intentions, “You could explain how you got from Stable Fifty-Four to here and tell your side of the story on my show. My listeners are dying to hear from the legendary Just Crow… bad analogy, sorry,” she quickly added when she saw me wince, but the reason for my frown was not her poor word choice.

“It’s just Crow, I mean, it’s Crow. Without the ‘Just.’ My name is Crow, Crowella MacRural really but, I like to stick to Crow.”

“Oh, I see,” she threw her untied hoof to her forehead and groaned at her mistake, “that’s why he said ‘Just Crow,’ so many times, I thought he was just making sure I was saying it right. I figured it was a, um, Trottish thing? Am I saying that right?”

“Aye, before the Stable, my family hailed from Trotland. And, don’t worry. Elmwood has a habit of…” I tailed off as my thoughts wandered uncomfortably into Deadwood’s territory. I’d seen something different in him last night, something that scared me. I’d seen him feel something.

Dreamer must have noticed, as her patting hoof became more insistent.

“He’s a strange pony. Fun but, kinda weird.”

“You don’t know the half of it, hen,” I grimaced, then let out a strangled laugh, “one time, he--” I stopped, realizing I couldn’t tell that story, but the DJ was now expecting one and I was on the spot to provide. I continued carefully, making sure I exchanged the details that might make her suspicious of me.

“He was the acting Drill Sergeant for the guards in our Stable, and this one time he was escorting the new recruits through the mess hall with me.

“After everypony had made it through the chow line, he sits them down and barks at them, "There are three rules in this mess hall: Shut up! Eat up! Get up!"

“Then he wants to check and see that they ken his instructions, so he walks up to this one recruit and commands him up onto his hooves. This guy’s already sweating as he ‘sir, yes, sir’s’ and salutes, so Elm demands him to repeat his first order.

“The recruit salutes again, all panicky, and then says, ‘Shut up, Drill Sergeant!’ The rest of the recruits and me are struggling not to laugh but Elm, he just holds this look of absolute fury and asks how he dares tell him to shut up. The recruit whimpers that it was the first rule, but then Elm tells him, ‘I did not order you to speak further,’ and points to the next recruit, ‘remind your comrade what the first rule is again?’

“Of course, they salute, stand and say ‘Shut up, Drill Sergeant,’ too. As does the next, and the next. By the end of it, he has the whole party of recruits doing PT for contempt, until the Sergeant-General realizes what Elmwood did and dismisses them. He got a bollocking, (that means a telling off) as did I for not stopping him do it. It was the funniest thing in the whole of Equestria at the time, though.” I rounded up my story with an impish grin, but Dreamer was only frowning.

“Those poor kids, to want to protect their Stable and get treated like that.” I gave an embarrassed chuckle and a shrug.

“Never really thought about it that way,” I muttered, “I should leave the storytelling to Elmwood. He has a way of telling them better somehow.”

“You’re not wrong there,” Midnight agreed, “he promised me a good story and, filly, he delivered. He put you in a real good light, he seems to really think a lot of you.” My wings plumped out of my sides slightly, indicating my surprise at the suggestion.

“He does?” I couldn’t imagine he held the same mood for compliments on my behalf after last night. The radio host nodded as she stroked Mole’s warm but still cheek with a hoof, before deciding the movement was too risky for the needle in her leg and relenting.

“He told me you have some real good stories about your own heroics out beyond the door that never opens. Like I said, my listeners would love to hear them sometime.” The idea made me frown. I had no noble tales to tell about my life. They were all tarred with regret, self-pity or unethical reasoning.

“I cannot call myself a hero, Dreamer,” I said, shaking my head. The DJ held up her good hoof.

“No honorable pony does,” she advised politely, “that’s not for them to decide, that decision is left to their peers and friends.” It was sound logic, and although I couldn’t deny it, I couldn't forgive myself either.

“The real hero right now is you,” I moved the subject back to Mole, “thanks for donating some of your blood for her.”

“No problem, I only wish I could be doing more.” I was nodding with her, my heart aching. “She is going to get better. I have a feeling about ponies, and she feels like a fighter.”

“I hope so, Midnight,” I mumbled, trying not to dismiss her reassurance and let hopelessness slip in. As though on cue, the teal curtains around us crinkled open. In stepped the nurse, advising us that should be enough of Dreamer’s blood for now.

“Do you feel like you’ll float off yet?” I joked, and she shook her head, smiling. The needle was removed, the blood speck cleaned and a fresh band-aid placed over it. Then she was promised cola and biscuits in the next room, and I was asked if I wanted to join, but that meant leaving Mole. I politely refused and we exchanged goodbyes.

“I own the music shop up at the back end of the Songbird Sector. It’s where I do all my… other performances,” she grinned, winked, “come visit me sometime.” She turned, flapping her tail. “And get well soon, Molasses Candy.”

She left, and I returned to my vigil, praying to Celestia for a miracle.

I stayed with Mole throughout the day, whilst the doctors and nurses kept Mole comfortable and in a stable condition. The doctor in charge wasn’t Dr. Moon Ache, and when I enquired where he was, I was abruptly told that his department dealt with cuts, lacerations and (recently) gunshot wounds, whilst this department was focused on toxins and poisons and was led by Dr. Wolfsbane. She had far less patience for me than Moony did, and I was often shooed out for her to administer tests, attempt antidotes and have her nurses sponge clean my mare.

What I’d discovered during feigning sleep when the doctors and nurses were around, was that mole rats were a new thing to this Stable, they’d never had a plague like this before so bites and venom were not something they’d expected to need remedies or learn magic healing spells for. On top of that, the old medicines and curatives that they did have were not advanced enough to do more than calm the illness.

I must have dozed off properly when they finally stopped pestering us, slumped over the spare space of bedside with Molasses’ hoof held delicately in my talon. It was the first ounce of sleep I had got for a while, and it was interrupted.

A violent shove, as opposed to a gentle shake, woke me from my slumber. I shot my head up and looked around, the lights having been dimmed for the night. Regardless of the low glow, I could still distinguish those scarred eyes anywhere.

“You’re going down,” he muttered to me, leaving me to believe I was being threatened.

“The only one going down is you, pal. You lost yer mind? I will beat your head so far up yer flank that you’ll be kissin’ last night’s dinner!”

“What? No, no, no, no, no, Crow, I didn’t come here to fight. I mean you’re going down. With me.” This time I chose confusion and disgust as my expression.

“Yuck. Elmwood, I’m the wrong griffon to be proposing that to…”

“No! Agh, dammit,” he tried one last time, sensibly, “I’m going back into the Western Maintenance sector with you. We need to go catch that mole rat.” I stared at him like he was the stable idiot who had just swanned into the room with a chicken on his head and buckets on his hooves, declaring it was Hearth-Warming night. But I knew that Elm would not have merely said it without checking his facts, so instead, I asked him how a living mole rat had not yet been seen or caught.

“It has been driven into the mineral mine of the area. Rather than looking for it, the guards have just shut the doors to that area and locked it up. You haven’t been watching on your PipBuck?” He asked curiously, peeping into my personal bubble to look at my PipBuck. He barged in to manhandle it, causing a warning growl from me.

“There, see?” After releasing my leg, I took a good look at it. My PipBuck was displaying the map once more, showing a deeper area of the Sector and the yellow spots of the guards. Behind the closed doors, a red dot was bouncing between the green lines that indicated the walls of the cavern. I breathed in deeply.

“Why isn’t Crusty’s men going after it? They can see the same thing as us, right?” Elmwood confirmed it.

“But going after that little puppy suggests they give two bucks about us outsiders, which they don’t. They want us to die so that this place can run the same way it always has.”

“Mole’s not one of us,” I muttered, front legs crossed as I glanced to her.

“She’s still an outsider though, or do you forget how pissy your big handsome Commander of the Stable Guards got at poor Mouse when she was assigned to you?” I corrected him on Mole’s name, but I had forgotten he’d been there watching. Proc had no love for my mare, was that enough of a motive for him to want her dead?

“Then go get it, I’m not stopping you.” I shrugged, frustrated at Elm’s tactics, and began returning to Mole. He tsked softly.

“Yeah, no can do, Captain,” he clopped after me. “Mr. ‘Big and Angry’ has posted his guard everywhere in that area. No pony is getting through the main gate, so I need to find another way. I need to know how you got in; the doors were still locked when I got there.”

Pensively, I stared at Mole. There she was, the most innocent creature I knew, in a state of pain and sickness that she did not deserve to be in. At that moment, I hated Elmwood for blaming me for Gypsy, and for pushing Gypsy towards me, but I loved Mole more. After Periwinkle and Gypsy, I never thought I’d open my heart to someone ever again, and yet right then and there I was ready to suffer for the unconscious, uncorrupted creature.

First, I crouched down and stuck my claw into the shadows below Molasses Candy’s bed. I quickly felt what I had hidden there since the doctors had left us, and pulled it out. My bow and quiver; it had been a difficult job getting them here under my wing, but I had not wanted the misfortune to be without a weapon again. With this collected, I shifted away from Candy’s bedside and started walking. I didn’t speak to the ass following silent behind me, not even to confirm I was joining his party. I knew where to go and how to get there, he was just a clause in my personal contract from this point onward.

Despite the sounds of our feet and hooves on the cold floors, the casualty was otherwise silent. There was a light on in the doctor’s office as we passed it, but I couldn’t spot anypony inside. There was a nurse on duty tending to another patient at the other end of the hall, but they didn’t stop to look at us. I froze on the spot, realizing who it was they must be visiting.

“Keep moving, Crow,” Elm directed, giving my rump a push.

“I need to see her,” I said, disobeying the order not to head for Gypsy’s ward. I felt guilty for having focused so heavily on Mole, been so scared of losing her, that I’d forgotten to check in on Gypsy. The stallion stepped into my path and blocked it.

“You can, when the missions over. deviate at all and you’ll never see her again,” he told me harshly, his head raised in a vain attempt to be above mine. Sometimes, I believe he forgot we no longer wore ranks, and he didn’t rule over me the way he once had, back in the Rangers.

“If she dies-” I started.

“We won’t let her,” Elm overruled. His eyes bore into mine, attempting to mind control me into doing things his way. I broke contact first, looking one last time to the place I knew Gypsy Breeze was resting and said a quiet prayer to the eggs of the old and great griffons to look over and protect her. Then it was out of the exit and into the main drum of the sleeping city once more.

The journey started uneventfully, finding that I was just walking with my thoughts swimming and my eyes focused ahead. I didn’t want to look at the despicable pony walking beside me. He’d made assumptions about my morals with no regard for how long he’d known me and how much I cared for Gypsy. What really chewed at me inside, though, was my own choice to discard Gypsy so easily. She’d come with me on my appointment. She had struggled through sickness and exhaustion to fight by my side to save the rival for my heart. She had never questioned it, and yet I let her fall without any help or aid.

Seeing the fountain ahead felt like waking up from a sleepwalk. There were still citizens up and about, and the majority seemed to be gathered at the fountain, although there weren’t any there that I recognized. It soon dawned on me what they were doing when I saw the flowers, photos, and notes laid down by the base of the round centerpiece of the stable. I took a long deep breath in an made my way towards it.

“...And they don’t know how to deal with this,” I heard when I finally realized Deadwood was talking, “they’ve never had to deal with actual death before. They’ve only known ascension.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, “whilst for us, it’s just another Sunday.” I reached the fountain and stopped, expecting Wood to be urging me not to stop once again. To my surprise, he stopped with me, crouching to read the notes and look at the photos. The other gathered ponies assumed that he was showing respect and reverence to the departed, so much so that they started to gather with him and attempt to comfort him as well.

The photos I could see were all paying respects to the guards who’d lost their lives in the museum fight. Having not been down here since then, this was my first time seeing all of this. I expected the photos of the Western Maintenance deceased to be on the other side, but before I could look, Elmwood startled me.

All of a sudden, he yelped out and jumped up, sending the closest to him sprawling back. He became a hound looking for a clue, hurrying around and around the fountain with his head bowed and his eyes scanning each picture.

“Elm,” I hissed, angered at his disrespect of the honored dead, “Elm!” He did stop, and he flopped again at a photo around the other side of the basin. With a grunt and a roll of my eyes, I started walking around towards him. A second taller, heavier-set stallion was beating me to it, which made me wonder and yet not worry about whether they were going to hit him. To my disappointment, he didn’t. He dropped down beside Deadwood instead and stared at the same picture. There were tears in the stranger’s eyes.

“You knew her too, didn’t ya?” I heard him ask as I neared them. I wondered who and panicked for a moment as I thought of Gypsy. However, even Deadwood couldn’t be cruel enough to pretend my friend was alive just to send me on a wild goose chase.

“I did. She stood beside me and my friend when her friends threatened us. She was a big damn hero,” he said, with a deep, sad gasp. It took me the rest of the short walk to realize who they meant. I arrived beside the sniveling T-Thirty citizen to see a picture of a mare, the same mare who had stood up to Rose Bed all those days ago at the main gate.

“Crow, look. It’s Terrace Lane.”

“Garden Path,” both I and the upset pony corrected Elm, who nodded hastily.

“That’s who I meant, sorry, grief and all that. She was in the Western Maintenance sector when the mole rats came up?” The stallion nodded hurriedly, rubbing his eyes, but not answering vocally. Elmwood rubbed tears of his own, nodding as well with him and rubbing him between the shoulder blades.

“You-you worked with her?” A sniffle, a sob, and a moan.

“I worked with her, sponsored her, and we-” Deadwood spoke over him.

“Why aren’t there more pictures up of the ponies who passed into Celestia’s welcoming embrace yesterday?” He must have known his mask had slipped. “W-Wasn’t there more ponies down there?” That encouraged an answer, and as the other horse explained what he knew, I looked over the other pictures. Elmwood was right, I could only find two glossy images and a polaroid of the ponies who had been in the West Section when the mole rats stuck, but I had definitely seen more dead than that.

“She, Party Ring and Dunker were the only ones of us left,” the worker replied sorrowfully, “the rest were all newbies from your Stable. They got brought in on some ‘rehabilitation’ course, all the other workers were told it would be just them, so they could learn the ropes.” Elm gasped at the exposure in shock.

“What? Nopony else remained to train them?”

“We were told we were getting an early night. We didn’t even know anything odd was gonna happen, we had no warning…” Deadwood was back on his feet, his sadness slipping away like an invisible cloak as he marched ahead again.

“Come Crow,” he ordered and I frowned, quickly apologising to the sorry state of a stallion. My leg barely moved a step before it was grabbed.

“Hold on,” he said, looking to me, “G-Guardian Griffon, she was your friend, right? She talked a lot about you.” This threw me. I only met the girl once when we both had the barrel of a gun aimed directly at us, and yet this pony, who knew her far better than I, was saying that she’d spoken of me. I worried just what might have been said.

“A little?” My reply was cagey, but he didn’t seem bothered by it. He lifted my PipBuck leg and clicked something on it, opening up a panel above the display, then slipped a rectangular item into the slot, and closed it.

“I got this off of her PipBuck after she-” he whimpered, but brought himself to heel, “I can’t make sense of them, but if you can, could ya come tell me what she means? I’m worried she got up to some bad stuff.” Bucky appeared on my screen, the animated colt clumsily stumbling from one side to the other with a heap of envelopes in his forelegs, struggling to walk on his hind ones before he toppled over and lost them across the monitor. He gave a pair of dazed blinks then disappeared, my screen replaced with a list of five entries. I looked to him curiously.

“Please?” He asked, hope splashed over his mourning face.

“If I can figure ‘em out, lad, you’ll be the first to know,” I confided to him, and squawked at the hug that earned me. I patted him and turned, flapping off to catch up with Wood.

“If you figure them out, come find me,” he yelled after, “just ask for Gizmo, anyone’ll know who ya mean.” I gave him an okay symbol with two talons and gained my ground back with my dead eyed partner.

“What the buck was that about?” I asked him furiously, “not content to ruin the living’s lives, you wanna disturb the dead too?”

“Somepony went an awful long way to minimize the casualties of the Western Wing,” he answered sedately.

I stopped, my brain changing track so quickly that I think I felt the snap in my cranium, “holy quivering mare-lips.”

“Exactly,” advised the stallion, “which way now?”

“Err, um, up,” I offered dumbly, pointing to the level Gypsy and I had been on when we met PJ. As I led the way, I considered the gift that the worker pony had provided me. He’d wanted me to listen to it and had hoped I would understand. Had Garden given too much away? Had she told her PipBuck who I really was and why it was not a good idea to trust me, or my friends? I was hoping things would be resolved quickly so that I could listen to it in private and find out.

“What did he give you?” Elm asked on the way up the cobbled lane, as I flew slightly ahead of him.

“Some tape thing, put it into my PipBuck,” I waved it at him. He frowned.

“A holotape? Listen to it,” he told me, and I scoffed, raised a complacent eyebrow at him.

“During a stealth mission? Good idea genius.” He picked up the pace to line himself up beside me and told me to stop. Then, he took my PipBuck, pressed a small lever I hadn’t seen, and pushed it up to reveal a new, oddly shaped gadget from the corner of the cuff.

“What is that?”

“Earbloom,” he tugged it out with his lips and stood up on his hind legs. “Right, now, you just hook this around your… ah,” as he lifted it towards my head, I saw the problem. What he wanted to put on me was made to clip on the ear of a pony, not sit in the auricular of a griffon. A few seconds later he figured out a solution and attached it to my bandana, tucking it under the cloth so that the item was close to my ‘ear’.

“There, let’s give that a test,” he suggested, pressing a few more buttons on my PipBuck. “Is that working?” I went to answer, but was immediately surprised by a female voice talking into the same ear as the earbloom. I looked around but there was nopony else beside us, so it had to be coming from the accessory he had given me. Elm smiled and nodded, gesturing that I kept going. A few more wingbeats, I spun back to him.

“IT’S GARDEN PATH!” I realized, causing Elmwood to wave off my epiphany.

“Cool it with the Canterlot Voice, Luna, I’m right here,” he teased, then told me seriously to just keep my voice down and listen as I showed him how I got into the Maintenance wing. I agreed, and as we went I restarted Garden’s first entry again. Along the way, I let the mare’s final week’s worth of ‘dear diaries’ tell me what had befallen her.

I guess I made it.

I mean, by rights, I should be dead. I was born in the Wastelands, in somepony’s garden. I mean, they were a long time dead, but it still belonged to somepony at some point, right?

Anyway, being born in a place with scarce water, where you have to hunt every day for food not rotten enough to eat, should have killed me as a foal. Not only that, there’s the Raiders, the Slavers, heck even the Scavengers are dangerous enough. And then! And then there was the building that got dropped on us! And then… And then there was Rose Bed! She should have shot me. She should have killed me! Instead, she’s the one that is a pile of ash outside the main door, whilst I’m inside it, safe.

I’m the only member of my congregation that’s free. All of the others were arrested for what Rose Bed did, or what she was made to do because of that Deadwood. The way he looked at her when he knew we were being rescued; I think he knew what was coming. I don’t think he had ever been scared at all, that it was just an act.

I should feel sorry and angry for my brothers and sisters who are now locked away in some cell here in this… place. I mean, they looked after me when my mother died, then they gave me a job, a purpose, taught me all the teaching of Grand Master Snips, but… They were willing to watch me die, get shot by Rose Bed with Deadwood and the griffon. I dunno, you cannot come back and forgive ponies after that, can you?

Now I’m down here, in this… is it a Stable? It feels like it in some places, but then there’s this big city in the middle of it! It’s like a town that sunk into the ground to hide when the bombs fell a hundred years ago. It feels like I was meant to be down here, like this was my destiny. I’m not going to mess this up, I’m going to play my part and pretend to be one of the new Stable Dwellers.

What else… Oh! I’ve already made a friend! His name is Gizmo and he’s my sponsor here. That means that he has to show me around, teach me things that I don’t know and help me feel at home. He does a very good job of it too… Oh! And speaking of job, he’s taking me to start at my new one tomorrow. It’s in man-erm… main-tain-ance? But he said not to worry, I’ll learn on the job with him. He’s so sweet…

I can’t think of much else to tell you tonight, but I’m going to make it my mission to do one of these every night. I mean, it’s helping me make sense of all of this, and that’s a good thing, right?

“I’m listening to a dead pony’s diary,” I thought out aloud as we took the turn into the alley with the hidden doorway. “There’s something really wrong about that.”

“Ponies listen to other ponies holotapes all the time, Flaps,” Deadwood reminded me, crudely, “if anything, you’re doing her a disservice if you do not listen to the last words she had to tell anypony.” He stopped before I had as I reached the end of the path and studied the wall. I looked back to him.

“It’s not a dead end,” I stated, “It’s a-”

“It’s a steel door with a silent sealing lock, a sliding false wall panel and -ooh! Enchanted holographic projectors that display a secondary fake wall,” he informed me, blowing my explanation out of the water with a well-aimed cannon. I lowered my eyebrows.

“It’s a hidden door, aye, what you said,” and I shot him a name that Mole would have gasped, maybe even fainted at, if she’d been there. I went to push my hand through the wall, only to find my talon bang painfully into the metal. Hissing another expletive, I patted more tentatively at the false wall.

“It’s, uh, not open,” I advised, but even as I was saying the words, the pretend bricks hissed and slid out of the way. I caught a brief sight of the polished grey of the bolted door before the holograms fired up, leaving me with my claw half way inside cement and stone, then felt my fingers scratch on the gate as it opened behind the mirage. I pulled back to look at Deadwood, who’s hooves were pressed on a sunken pair of stoneworks.

“Sorry, forgot to knock,” he added cheekily, and pulled back so that the buttons he’d pushed returned to their normal form. I shook my head, clicked my beak, and headed cautiously into the corridor. It was the same as before, the crimson-lit hallway devoid of life, including Lum and PJ this time. I let Elm slip in and close the door behind us, then started up Garden’s second recording whilst we made our way back to last night’s battlegrounds.

I LOVE THIS PLACE!

This is how today began; first I woke up and had a piece of toast, and was munching it in the dining square when Gizmo came over and sat next to me. He’d done something with his mane and he smelled nice and, oh fillies, I liked it. As we sat eating, he just… gasps! And I’m like what, and he’s like “look!” So I look and it’s the griffon, but she’s having to walk about naked with the chief of security. I waved but, she didn’t see me. Poor Gizmo was blushing, I had to explain that most ponies out in the Wasteland don’t have jumpsuits, and it’s kinda normie to be all naked out there. I don’t know if he believed me…

After breakfast, he took me to the Maintenance Section, explaining all about it on the way; there’s four of them and they all have several purposes, like storing the big engines and things that held the tal-sorry, hold on… tal-is-mens- talismans, sorry, had to write it down. Those power the Stable with magical energy, water, everything it needs. There’s also farming areas in the other sectors and even a lake, he was telling me. He said they’ve lit it up and that it’s kind of romantic, so he’s going to take me one day.

They got me working in the mineral mining area, taking readings and things from the machines. I made sure I listened to what Gizmo told me and I picked it up real fast. I mean, it wasn’t too hard, it was just numbers and stuff, but Giz said that I’m a natural! There was this other guy, Dunker, he was a bit of an ass. He had criticism for every single thing I did. Giz just told me to ignore him.

I didn’t mind having to work, it took my mind off of my brothers and sisters. I don’t even know where they are. When I asked a few of the guards if I could visit them they all said not until the Head of Security advised that I could. The other day there was a mare called Gypsy Breeze who had been comforting me through that, and I even tried to talk to Brittle Sticks about it, but then this other mare, Poxy I think, took him away as she had important stuff to talk to him about. It made me feel real lonely.

Gizmo took me out for lunch around midday, and this incredible thing happened! We were sung to by these strange green ghosties, Gizmo called them Minstrels. They’re like versions of you but they’re not. Um, you do this thing where you have to sing and then if you are picked, then you ascend to a nicer place than this… I don’t know if there is one! And Celestia is there, it’s really complicated to explain…

Hold on. What’s that? There’s some kind of siren and … okay, ponies are running. I have to go-

The recording ended abruptly there. I could hear the sirens over her voice and knew what was occurring at that moment in time. As she’d been recording, Elm, Gypsy and I were fighting for our lives in the museum. That wasn’t the immediate concern on my mind, however.

“Poxy spoke to Sticks the day before the fight,” I told Elm as we passed a few doors that I recognized, showing him towards a stairwell.

“I thought as much,” he mumbled back, skipping steps as he walked down them, with me following behind.

“Did you?”

“Yes. Well, when you said it just now, I did.” I rolled my eyes and hurriedly started the next log. He started talking again, but I just pointed to my bloom and shrugged, as though I could not hear him. I could, but I was happier knowing I could block out his voice with the spirit of Garden Path.

Brittle Sticks… He’s …

I mean, I understand why he’d be so upset, he lost his sister that night we first came here. Vanilla Sticks was a good friend of mine too, we used to go out scavenging together. One time we found this shop that was more or less intact with a bunch of old hats in, we had such a laugh trying them on and pretending we were pre-war ladies. I was pretty cut up about losing her too, but in the Wastelands, we got used to it. Being squashed by a building though, that was awful…

I thought Crow the griffon was helping him through it, I’d seen him following her into the museum and I thought to myself, ‘Great. She helped Brittle through the tunnels to get here and now they’re good friends, they’ll get through this.’ I didn’t realize it would all end so badly.

Why did they fight? Everypony is so confused about it, especially the ponies from this Stable. They’ve never known death in, like, forever. Not like we do. They’re already putting up memorials at the fountain for the guards who died…

Gizmo came over to the warehouse, where we are all sleeping. He was shocked, but he was glad I was alive. He’s cute. Did I say cute? I-I mean, handsome… sweet. Okay, I’ll level with you. I might have a small crush on him… We talked for hours and I felt bad because he had genuine stuff to tell me whilst I made up a bunch of stuff about living in a Stable. This is all going to bite us on the bum one day, isn’t it?

Anyway, I talked about Brittle, explained his sister to Gizmo, he was still upset but I think he understood in the end. We chatted for hours and he’s only just left. He’s… I think I’m…

I mean, I should probably get to sleep. Busy day tomorrow. Good night, PipBuck, see you in the morning...

“Here it is,” I explained, gesturing to the big, sealed steel archway. It wasn’t hard to miss; someone had done a bit of a cleanup job here but the marks and scores in the floors, door, and walls were distinctly recognizable. Elm looked over the gateway and found the release button for it. Something had taken a big gash out of it but it looked like it was still in working order.

“Hold on,” I muttered, remembering the seething bulk of bodies that piled through the door when Joke had opened it the day before. I prepared my bow with an arrow nocked on the string and gestured my readiness to him. He pressed the button and the entrance slipped open with the hush of a librarian urging for quiet in a studious space.

The maintenance hall was a very different place to the one we had entered the day before. Nothing rushed through the gaps towards us, nothing gnashed its teeth or snarled deathly promises at us, it was quiet, almost peaceful. In some ways, I could pretend that nothing had ever happened last night, that this huge darkened space was only empty temporarily. However, the blood stains and battle scars of multiple creatures on the walls and floors could not be denied, even if the bodies that had created them had all but disappeared in the space of a day.

The guards were patrolling the perimeter, and several more were up on the walkways, weapons levitated to their chests and beady eyes on the lookout for any stray mole rats, or anything else I imagined they wanted to be rid of. Thankfully, our cover currently seemed to be holding out, as nopony had reacted to a scarred stallion and a griffon that had just appeared in a hole in the wall. The holographic wall here had not been damaged either.

We couldn’t be seen, but we couldn’t stay there either. Elm looked out of the door then back to me.

“Alright, thanks. I should be able to make my own way from here,” He told me, arranging something in the saddlebag he’d brought with him.

“Uh huh?” I said, as though I wasn’t really listening. I was examining my PipBuck for the map, looking into the directions to reach the mineral mine section.

“So, you go back to the girls and I’ll bring a mad irradiated little fucker around in an hour or so, okay Squawk?” As Deadwood spoke, I checked the area to ensure there were no guards moving too close to our location. I spied a bulky machine not far away that I could duck behind easily, and several tall metal tanks and pipes not far from that. I just had to move quickly and quietly.

“That’s nice, I don’t give a buck,” I offered in a faux-friendly way. I ignored the suggestion that he was going out there alone, and made my own way out of the door, my wings making the journey swift and silent.

“Buck,” I heard him hiss, then he sped after me as softly as he could. I hurriedly glided over the factory floor, arriving behind the shelter I chose without being spotted. A few steps behind me, Deadwood slipped around the corner to join me.

“Go back,” he insisted, “with two of us, there’s a greater likelihood of us getting caught, and let’s face it, stealth isn’t your strong point.”

“Oh, and it’s yours?” I whispered back, checking our visuals on the guards. “Okay, ready? Three, two…” I picked myself back up with my feathered limbs and flew across to the silos, my claws clicking on the metal when I landed. I waited hesitantly to see if hoofsteps are coming for us after Deadwood reached me, but none came. I lowered the bow, with it’s arrow still in place, and looked to him.

“I care for Mole and Gypsy, I wanna get this creature as much as you do, so if you’re doing this, then we both are. You need me, fella.” I poked him hard in the chest for good measure, whilst he simply glared at me.

“Fine, but if you get caught, I’m carrying on regardless,” he promised me.

“Och, funny, that. I was gonna tell ye the same thing,” I raised my bow again, hoping up to move, sticking to the shadows as best as I could.

“What was that?” I dove into the cover of an open storeroom, looking for who had spotted or heard us without sticking my neck out to be shot.

“What was what?” One guard trotted across to the other peering over the walkway above us. Their eyes glinted in our direction.

“I saw movement down there, in that corner. Looked big,” the stallion pointed, the mare beside him searching thoughtfully.

“How big are we talking here?”

“Err, as big as a pony, but it had big… things coming out of its sides. Wavy things,” he nickered. I caught sight of the mare briefly, and gulped, pulling myself deeper into the dark with Deadwood whilst putting my arrow back into my quiver and slipping my bow over my shoulder. It was Officer Bones, lil’ cute butt herself. I knew she’d recognize my shape even if all she saw was a wing, and I told my partner in crime as much. Oddly, it only seemed to settle his nerves, and he moved closer to listen to the conversation.

“If it was a pony, they’d have heard you making a fuss about spotting them and be long gone by now, wouldn’t they?” Bones grumbled at the unnamed stallion. A moment of contemplation hung in the air before I heard the stallion whispering his agreement at that assessment. “Here’s what we do, you take the back stairway down, I’ll take the front. If there really was a pony down there, we’ll catch them.” I clucked in disappointment, knowing that in any moment we would be cornered and our chance of catching the mole rat would be forfeit. But Elm was undeterred.

Without warning, he dashed out of the storeroom, my urgent low cry for him to stop or he’ll get caught going unheeded. Resentful that he would throw us under the cart without a plan, I searched for another option.

Looking one way, I could see the stallion coming down the stairs. Looking the other, I could see Deadwood reaching the bottom of the steps that Bones was declining along. I cringed, waiting for her to sound the alarm…

And sat astonished when she didn’t. I froze for a moment, wondering whether he’d used a StealthBuck that I hadn’t seen on his person previously, but there was nothing hiding him and yet she walked past him like he was a ghost! He waved after me as she kept going and hesitantly I peered out.

Even in the dull light, there was no way the female guard could not have seen me and yet… and yet as she looked directly to me, she did not show any bemusement with me being there. My stiff form only shifted more when her eyes went wide and she gave a group of persuasive nods. I knew then that she had to be on Deadwood’s side somehow, and wanted me gone before her hapless colleague saw me as well.

Quickly reciting the Junior Speedster creed in my head, I threw myself forward, racing past her without another glance and twisting after Elm as he disappeared into the shadier side of the walkway once more. I’ll never know how a stallion with a coat of pure snow could hide so well, but he made it look effortless.

As we ducked into another room to avoid another sentry, I caught the sound of the conversation below.

“There’s nothing here, see?”

“But I swear, I saw…”

“You saw a giant white and blue hound with floaty things?” The stallion froze at the mare’s smug words.

“Don’t tell anypony,” he muttered nervously, and Bones promised it would be their little secret. As they separated to return to their stationed locations, I rounded back on Elm and gave him a small push.

“Cannae get in, ye said. Door’s locked, ye said. But you had a pony on the inside the whole time? You’re paying me in cats, you bastard!”

“Keep your voice down,” he prompted, without retaliating to my shove, “I didn’t lie. She’s on our side, yes, but she could not let me in, she couldn’t leave her post. I still needed you for that. I didn’t need you for this, but you’re lucky I know you well enough to know how bucking headstrong you are. I warned her I might have company she’d need to help me account for...” He grumpily lifted his PipBuck to look at it and sighed, shaking his head.

“We’re early. Go ahead and keep listening to your tape, let me know if there’s anything else important you gain from it.” I stared at him in disbelief as he nonchalantly tapped and fiddled with his leg-terminal. I really hated it when he predicted the future like that, and I really hated it when he involved me in his schemes without telling me all the details. Most of all, I really despised him. Grumbling about these facts, I lifted my leg and arranged for the next track to play, before starting to scavenge the area, whilst I could, for anything useful.

Author's Notes:

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Song for this chapter; You Want It Darker - Leonard Cohen

Thank you to Blazie, this is the second published chapter he's edited for me, really super appreciate his hard work. Aannnnd not forgetting Doomande, thanks for picking the nits <3.

Thank you again for reading up to this moment. Ask me anything.

If this is when you stop reading, goodbye and safe travels.

If you're still strapped in for the ride, see you in the next chapter.
"It's only when I'm cheating death on the battlefield. The only time I feel truly alive.” Solid Snake, Metal Gear Solid.

All good things,
Duskhoof