It was morning when Fear and Crate set out for the last leg of their journey, and noon by the time they made it to the little village. The air was muggy and heavy, a stagnant moisture hanging in the atmosphere that fogged the lungs and made everything feel too thick to breathe. To top it all off, if things didn't shape up it was going to be unbearably warm later that day. The price to pay for living under the cloud cover, for blasting the world to Tartarus with balefire bombs, for ponies; zebras; and every other creature who was at the mercy of this new world.

Crate knocked on the door to his and his wife's home, rapping swiftly three times on the eroded wood to the beat of the jazz tunes playing in the background, the reverberations carrying through the little home. Eventually, there was a click from the harried lock being undone, and it pulled open in somepony's crimson magical aura. On the other side stood a slender unicorn with a short, lancing horn, her coat a warm yellow that looked like the hidden sun, and her long wavy mane and tail were a sugary bubble gum pink. On her flanks was a symbol: a blanket; a comforting foal swaddle. It looked incredibly cozy – as cozy as her brilliant ruby eyes. They were the eyes of a determined survivor; passionate and honest.

“Honey! You're back!” The mare lunged for her husband, her snout wrinkling up in joy as she wrapped her forelegs around his neck and held him tight. Her voice was full of relief.

The stallion draped a foreleg over her shoulders and pulled her in close with one strong yank, nuzzling his muzzle into the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent. “I'm just as happy to see you.”

They stayed like that for a long moment, each embracing each other as Fear watched on in curiosity, giving his flanks a little bounce in order to readjust everything on his back. Fear eventually coughed into his hoof, causing Crate to let her go.

“Oh, right, sweetie. This is Fearei Shatter. He helped tip the tides in our favor when we were confronted by muggers.” He gestured to the colt behind him, stepping to the side so the mare could get a better gander at him. Then swept his forehoof to point at the mare. “And Fear, this is my wife: Angel Swaddle.” He leaned toward Angel's ear and whispered. “Please excuse some of his behavior, he's a little crazy.”

Fear's ears flattened against his skull as he shot Crate a withering glare, but then was immediately startled when Angel moved toward him and swept him up in a giant hug, sitting on her haunches and pulling him up into her forelegs, squeezing him against her chest. Fear's stuff nearly fell off of him as he hung in the air vertically. “I, uh, hey! Stop!” He could smell her aroma. He barely registered how it wasn't the cleanest thing ever. What really hit him though was the very faint scent of lavender surrounding her. He sniffed a second time just to be sure, not knowing the name for it but enjoying it nonetheless.

Then Angel smiled while eyeing the pendant and the stuffed cadaver. “Dear, you've done me a grand favor by helping my husband. Welcome to our home.” Her voice was sweet and sincere. It hung on the air just like the mugginess. There was a light weariness to it from an unknown past, but it hardly showed due to the strength laying in it.

Fear grinned. He tried to push off of her, finally being let go so he could stand on all fours. “Uh, no problem, I guess.” He brushed each of his forelegs with the other. “It was kind of him to invite me.” Fear had a wild, untamed, psychotic glint in his eyes, but he seemed... Sane.

Angel twisted around and moved for the door and beckoned the two to come inside. “Come on in, make yourself comfortable!”

Fear realized a moment later, probably a little late, that this mare was a unicorn. He was... Surprised to say the least. He cocked his head to the side, staring at her as she made her way in, and following after her behind Crate. He whispered to his mother, within earshot of both ponies. “Wow, can you believe it Mom? He married a unicorn! I wonder why?” Fear's voice full of awe and suspicion while Angel's ears flicked in response and Crate rolled his eyes.

The living room was interesting, with a couch, a wobbly card table, some old rickety wooden chairs, a couple end tables with various odds, ends, and trinkets. Ancient coffee coasters, a cup with a few aged pens. A bookshelf full of ratty pre-war books. It looked well lived-in, with a carpet curling at the corners and paint peeling from the walls. Clearly an unkempt house.

However, it was oddly clean. No dust anywhere around.

Fear admired it for a long moment, having seen a few houses while with his mother. This one felt the most... Homey though, if he had to prescribe a word. While Fear had been inspecting every little nook and cranny, Crate had been elaborating on their whole escapade together to his wife. Before Fear knew what hit him he was being cradled in another hug, his eyebrows raising in surprise. His telekinetic grip held his gear on his body as much as was possible.

“Thank you so much for all your help! Our livelihood was in my honey's bags! If you hadn't turned the tables on those muggers or had tried to run off, we wouldn't have supplies to sell.”

Fear was confused; it hadn't even occurred to him to run away. There'd been too much pressure to kill them, both to teach them a lesson and also to save their hides, but now that he thought about it, what he'd done was very dangerous and had little chance for success, even if any unicorn could have pulled it off. He turned to his mother as he was set down. “Wow, you were right Mom, I am reckless!” It was like some kind of startling revelation.

Angel continued, brushing off the fact Fear was speaking to a corpse rather easily. However, her eyes continued lingering on the beautiful taxidermy, familiarity in her gaze. “We'll make you a proper meal tonight, maybe play some games. Treat you like a guest of honor for the night. Sound good?”

Fear smiled brightly, pulling his forelegs together and tilting his head to the side, cheeks rising up over closed eyes. “Sure! Sounds great!”

The whole gesture clicked something in Angel's mind. A motherly, disarming grin spread across her muzzle. “You're a cutie, you know that? You take after your mother more than you can probably imagine.”

Fear's gaze bolted to her, looking at her in surprise. “Wait what?”

Angel affirmed with a singular nod. “I knew that pony on your back looked familiar to me. And that pretty, even if unpolished necklace. I've seen it someplace else before.”

Fear was speechless, his jaw hanging open.

“Your mother was from a stable, right?” She seemed to be making sure.

Fear nodded dumbly. “Y... Yeah. Stable 47. How'd you know?”

“That's right. I remember clearly now. Your mother saved me in Chicoltgo. You see, I was a slave there when that whole terrible situation was going down.” Angel pressed a hoof against her cheek, looking up at the ceiling and thinking back on it. “But your mother and a darling, dazzling stallion came to my rescue, and the rescue of quite a number of others slaves. Your mother taught a group of us basic math and how to read and write all the way back then. It was a shame that I didn't come out of that unscarred. I was rendered infertile by radiation poisoning.”

Fear tried to wrap his mind around this new information; trying to reboot his brain.

“Mh, yes. It was a long time ago but I remember it like it was yesterday now. The memory is a strange thing. I admired your mother so strongly, dear. She was a miracle worker, even if she did get caught once by the ponies she was fighting.”

The colt's eyes started to sparkle as Crate came up to Angel and pulled her in against his side with a foreleg.

“I'm sorry you lost your mother. She was an amazing mare.”

Fear felt numb. “I... I'm sorry too. About your. Uh. Infertile thing. That sucks.”

Angel pulled the colt in for a hug, squeezing him tight. “It'll be a pleasure to host the son of my savior for a night. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it?”

There was a stupid grin plastered across Fear's face. Rather doofy. He ran a hoof through his mane, shaking his head, feeling a little off kilter and fuzzy. “I... I guess not? I've never actually seen an apple before. I know they grow them in stables.”

The unicorn mare grinned. “Mh. Yes. Your mother was far from her stable when I met her. Speaking of which, you should put a little thought into putting her body to rest. If you can bring yourself to do it.”

Fear shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable, looking off to the side. “But then I might not... Hear her voice anymore.”

Angel giggled. “I truly doubt that, little Fear. She will always be with you.”

Fear looked up at her, straight in the eyes, contemplating it. “M... Maybe.”

Jazz tunes punctuated the silence.

Crate motioned toward the radio holstered in the saddlebags on the ground. “By the way, any reason you keep that thing on all the time kid?”

There was a moment of hesitation, before Fear shook his head and spoke up with a reluctant smile, eyebrows leaning outward. “Well. Mom used to always let me go to sleep with it on, and ever since she died I haven't been able to bare having it off. Whenever I do, I eventually get really hot and panicky. My body feels like it's burning up or freezing cold, my heart pounds in my chest, and my breathing gets weak. I start sweating and my legs tingle.”

Angel leaned her head to one side, frowning deeply. “Oh, you poor thing. Feel free to keep it on all night. But I hope you're prepared for when the spark battery eventually dies.”

Fear's lips tugged downward, ears flopping. “Y-yeah. I know it's going to happen eventually. I don't know what I'll do when it does. But I'll get through it. Even if she feels more gone than ever.”

Crate and Angel stared at him with pity, with the latter lighting up her magic and closing the door gently, the slab of wood creaking shut, the lock clicking into place a second later.

The couple made their way over to the couch and beckoned Fear to join them, which he did, sitting on the farthest side of the couch next to Angel, resting on his haunches as he tapped his chin with a forehoof. Crate was on the other end. “What do you all do anyway? You mentioned supplies were in those bags that Crate was bringing home.”

Angel smiled. It was a light in the dark and it stole Fear's breath away. “I help with the foals in the neighborhood, assisting with cooking and other small jobs. Crate goes from town to town cramming things into tight spaces and using his bartering skills, always brings back supplies for us, and sometimes for the village.”

Fear nodded a little in understanding, thinking about it. “That's pretty neat. I've never thought of what it'd be like to have an actual job.” He rolled his jaw around in circles.

“What would you do if you could live in a town, city, or village, Fear?” Crate queried.

The colt thought about it. “Well... I'd probably help upkeep guns or use my empathy for bartering or something.”

Angel was curious. “Sixth sense?”

“Mhm. I can feel emotions and souls and stuff. I can... Sometimes feel when ponies are trying to deceive me or intend to hurt me.” There was a pause. “I kind of hate it to be honest.” Fear rubbed his scalp with a hoof, frowning lopsidedly. “I can feel the emotions flowing around Equus. All the residual pain and suffering. All of its despair.”

Angel brought her forehooves together in front of her chest, tilting her head to the side and cooing. “Oh honey, no wonder you're hurting so much.”

Fear pursed his lips together, eyes darting from side to side. Blushing slightly. Something about that felt really off. “I don't know if I deserve that sympathy to be honest.”

Angel prodded. “Hm? Why?”

Fear swallowed heavily. “Well... I don't wanna talk about it.”

Angel sighed, and Crate piped up. “Oh, speaking of which, I should go get those en-bloc rounds you asked for.” He stood up from the couch and headed down a hallway behind them.

Fear stared at Crate, watching him go with a faint glare. “Speaking of which?”

Crate smiled and called back humorously. “Yeah. I remember you telling your mom you were glad you didn't kill me!”

Angel didn't know what to make of that, covering her mouth with a hoof and looking askance.

Fear felt the hope tremble within Angel, and it tugged at his heartstrings. “I... I... I wouldn't... Do that. I don't do that.”

Angel shook her head. “You live in the wasteland sweetie. I'm disappointed you didn't learn better from your mother, but a lot of foals like you end up on the wrong end of the gun. If they don't get enslaved. You should try heading to Friendship City though, they have some programs there for foals like you.”

Fear rubbed roughly at his head, feeling awkward. “I... I'll think about it.” He squeaked out. “I feel so uncomfortable right now.” Ever the open colt.

Crate came back, chuckling. “You should. Self-consciousness is a good trait to have in this situation. You've got problems, kid. But you can overcome them. We believe in you.”

Angel nodded. “Crate's right, sweetie. You have a lot of potential. You can beat this.”

Fear blushed a little more intensely under his fur, his cheeks puffing out and teeth gritting. He took the box of bullets Crate hoofed over, and levitated them over to his bags, opening up one side and looking across the room for space between a weapon care kit, a first aid kit, and some cans of food. Deciding instead to slip them into the other side next to the knife, a novel, and a health potion he took off a raider. There was also a little pouch sewn onto the fabric wall for a pre-war coin. The bit engraved with an intricate sun on one side and an equally detailed crescent moon on the other. “Thanks.” He huffed out.

Crate grinned. “No problem kid. Use them well. And not all in one place. Be the colt we know you can be.”

Fear gazed away from the two of them, feeling too weird to look them in the eyes.

Angel spoke up. “How old are you, anyway sweetie?”

Fear's eyes rolled into the back of his head, as if trying to grab the information from inside his brain. “I uh... Probably eight or so? It's hard to keep track of now that Mom's gone. She used to always keep track of that stuff. Always seemed to know how many days had passed, or at least she acted like she did. Just like she taught me math, reading, and writing by counting rocks and scribbling on the dirt with sticks.

Angel and Crate locked eyes with each other. “We should get you cleaned up for dinner. There's an old well in the village we can use.”

Crate stood up after Angel. “And I can go and borrow a deck of cards from one of our neighbors for tonight's game. It'll be fun. You could use a load off anyway, kid.”

Fear looked to them with a weary smile. “Sure. And so long as it's not irradiated. I once fell into a puddle that was so tainted I got sick and nearly died. It was a miserable couple days. I still don't know how Mom found that pack of Rad-away. As bad as it tasted, it wasn't nearly as horrible as the sickness was though.”

Crate whistled, impressed.

Angel held a hoof up to her mouth. “Wow. Close call. I'm glad you survived.”

Fear shrugged. “That's the thing. Mom was so in control. As if she'd accepted I'd died already, even though she was trying to find a way to help me.”

Angel put a hoof on Fear's shoulder as he sat on the couch. “We should get going.”

Crate unlocked the door and headed out. “I'll be back in an hour or so. I'm glad you lived too, kid.”

Fear managed a smile and rose from his haunches. “Yeah, sure. Let's do it.” He grabbed his mother and strapped her to his back, setting his saddlebags on his flanks. “Come on Mom. Maybe I can wipe some dirt off you while we're at it.”

That'd be sweet of you, my little Nightlight. I love you.

Fear beamed. “I love you too, Mom.”

Crate had already left and Angel looked concerned, but accepted it. Even an unhinged pony could be a good one, she was certain.

=================================================================================

As the orphan and caretaker trot toward the well, Fear spoke up. “So what is this village's name anyway?”

Angel was in front of Fear, twisting her head back to look at him. “Refuge.”

Fear felt the name tumble around along his maw as he tasted it on his tongue and felt it on his lips, coming to a decision as to whether or not he liked it. “Short. Simple. Comfy. I like it.”

There was a gentle, cool breeze on the air that combated the stagnant mugginess present in the atmosphere. Everything felt a little brighter and more airy. Less weighty.

“Mhm.”

There was a long silence aside from the smooth jazz tunes emitting from his radio as they neared the well. Protruding out from the land with a stone barrier protecting the hole and keeping things cool and others from falling in. There was a bucket next to it along with a long coil of rope tied securely to the handle.

“So. What's it like being married to an earth pony?” Fear inquired nonchalantly.

Angel took on a knowing gaze, grinning slightly, her eyes lidded. “I'm sorry, what was that?” She was giving him a chance to change what he'd asked.

Fear felt restless, clearing his throat, hoof against his lips. “Earth ponies. What's it like living with one?”

Angel sighed deeply. “You should know good and well, Fear. Your mother was one.”

Fear blushed and looked off to the side as they stood next to the well. “Well, yeah. But Mom died.”

Angel nodded. “Even the best of the best die. Her race had nothing to do with it. We both know you know that deep down. Besides, you should know. Earth ponies are physically powerful, grand innovators, and brilliant farmers. Their special brand of passive magic and necessities nurture those qualities. Many of Equestria's finest inventors and chefs long ago were earth ponies.” She was busy levitating the bucket deep down into the well, scooping up a large batch of water.

Fear felt ashamed of himself, and it showed in his stance. The way he leaned from side to side as if he couldn't relax and wouldn't look her in the eye. “I... I guess. I mean I would probably lose in a fair fight against one. I'm small and weak. I can't compete so I guess I have to use what little I have.”

Angel just nodded. “Yes, you better nip that sense of superiority in the bud, before it gets you killed or worse.”

Fear ran a hoof through his mane nervously. “I suppose.”

Things quieted down between them for a bit as Angel pulled the bucket out of the well and Fear set his mother and saddlebags off to the side.

“So how exactly did you stop that gun from firing?”

Fear grinned slightly, his eyebrows leaning away from his snout and eyes full of remorse, or at least mild discomfort. “Mom taught me how weapons operate. Any unicorn could do it given the same time and knowledge. I just happened to come up with the idea spur of the moment. I'm glad it worked out the way it did, because I didn't have a plan in case it failed.”

Angel set the bucket down on the ground and started gathering up an orb of water in her crimson telekinesis from what was sloshing around, floating it over to Fear and lightly smearing it across his fur, rubbing out smudges of dust and brushing it through his mane and tail, making it slick and slippery. Pulling out bits of detritus and, while it was still incredibly curly, allowing it to untangle a little. “What else did your mother teach you?”

The colt was busying himself with taking a similar clump of water and dabbing bits of it against his mother, washing the coat without letting it soak in. He didn't want to have to reinforce the stitching after making her soggy and heavy. It took a lot of supplies. “She taught me how unicorn magic works. For a non-unicorn she was very knowledgeable about it.”

Angel's eyebrows raised slightly as she continued taking bits of water and splashing it onto Fear's coat and hair, lathering him up and rinsing him off. Running it down his legs and smattering it across his neck. Leaving his coat black instead of dark gray and his purple mane a shade darker. “Oh? Like what?”

Fear thought about it as he finished with his mother. “Hmm... Well, like... How the brain emits emotions, and those are absorbed by the thaumic gland and converted into magical energy.” He paused, recalling the information. “How will directs the energy through the horn and body, and how concentration maintains it. That the scientific name for the horn is the cusp nerve. How the horn acts like an antennae because magic will not only be output by it, but thaumic energy can also be pushed into the horn and the leylines. It's the basis behind some spells.”

Angel tilted her head to the side as she finished cleaning Fear off, having used everything that was in the bucket effectively and efficiently. “Huh, I didn't know that. That's very interesting. It makes sense she'd know all that though, she did come from a Stable after all, they have a proper education system in those places. Kind of like Friendship City. However, we should get back now while you're all freshened up like a proper colt.”

Fear smiled bashfully, lifting a curled hoof up to his mouth, giving a little nod. “Sure. And... thanks.”

“Any time little Fear.”

==================================================================================

Fear was sitting on his haunches on the couch, leaning his spine back against the cushions as he held the novel his mother had scavenged for him so long ago and used as an assist for teaching him to read. It was a robin's egg blue cardboard cover that had withstood the test of time with no more than curled corners; sinewy oriental snakes and blossoming holly plants adorning it in a royal blue. On the front, in fancy black lettering, was “The Tormented,” and along the spine, “By: Orphynx.” It must've been a pseudonym because it didn't sound like any pony name Fear'd ever heard. The inside back cover regaled it as a story for teens that would leave their jaws dropped, and that once you picked it up you couldn't put it down, and near the back was a page with a music sheet and lyrics. Fear cracked open the front as he levitated it within a warm vanilla aura, his horn coated in the same chromatic ether.

“So why do you like this book anyway?” Crate asked curiously while sitting next to him, lazing back and enjoying what was about to happen. He knew how to read, but it would be a pleasure to hear a story and just have to imagine the words. Angel was in the kitchen cooking during all this, listening intently. The smells wafted from the room and filled the house. The scent of boiling potatoes and carrots, as well as interesting spices that were almost certainly saved for special occasions.

Fear thought on it for a while, running a hoof along his chin. “Hmm... Well, the main character Reiki really wants to see her husband one more time. To speak with him once more. It's horror and romance mashed together and it's really interesting. It makes me care about the characters, and her plight. And I just can't help but relate to it. Wanting to talk with Mom one more time too, even if it's just in my dreams. Even if I have to fight my way through nightmares and monsters just to get that opportunity. You know?”

Crate nodded. “It's a tale of loss and desire then. A tale of one mare fighting to gain something. Sounds like an adventure story.”

Fear grinned. “In a way, I guess it is. She's facing against a whole world of ghosts just to try and see her husband one more time. Anyways, time to get reading.”

The reading was a little slow going and sluggish, but it was rather clear and concise despite that. Fear made hardly any mistakes, even if it was a process. The story started off simple enough. It was about a unicorn mare named Reiki with an eponymous cutie mark, clad in multitonal hues – blue, teal, and emerald – who was attending her first day at the Ministry of Image hub in Fillydelphia. Going about her day and learning the ropes of her role as a photographer, and what that entailed. Reiki's first job was to interview an up and coming soldier by the name of Distant Sunrise (with titular cutie mark) who was fresh out of recruit training, and to take appealing photographs. Her test was to write an article about life in bootcamp and to make it sound appealing to the public so more ponies would be willing to join the military and to uplift public opinion. The pegasus stallion had a coat of fuscia, with wine and grape mane. Bright and vibrant colors that had not seen the light of day in what felt like forever for most of the ponies in the wasteland. Distant was an upstart with lofty ambitions of being a lieutenant. They learned a lot about each other, and by the end of the interview Reiki had slipped the stallion her address to come and visit her after work. The rest of the chapter was about Reiki's days getting settled in at her new job and getting to know the main characters. Reiki being a humorous, flexible mare with intelligence and an artist's eye, and Distant being a rigid, normally no-nonsense stallion with a flair for the dramatic and with intriguing interests in superstitions and the supernatural. There was a gradual representation of Reiki's faith in the system, and how pleasant it was to finally have a coltfriend, and how happy she was becoming with her new life away from her home in Manehattan. Eventually she gained an assistant by the name of Caramel Frame and became good friends with her. Caramel was portrayed as a shy, easy-going earth pony mare of milky browns and tans with a strong knowledge of aesthetic and who always enjoyed Reiki's comedy.

Crate had a faraway look in his eyes. “It sounds so peaceful in the book. I can only imagine things are going to go horribly wrong really soon.”

Fear nodded. “Yeah, things go south really fast. Only takes a couple chapters. What do you think so far?”

“I like it, kid. It has a ring to it. And I can't help but want to know where their relationship is going to go from here. Suprising that it made its way onto shelves back in war time Equestria though. It's very explicit about the Ministry of Image.”

“Yeah, it's really weird. Mom said that too. She also said that's probably why the author used a pseudonym. Partly so they wouldn't get, as she put it, rounded up by the propaganda machine of the time.”

Angel's voice rang out between the two of them. “Dinner's ready you two! Come and get some.” As she spoke she was pulling down three ancient, discolored porcelain bowls from the cupboards. One was chipped and another had a short crack on one side. They weren't very fancy, probably scavenged from somewhere, or they had been in the house since the beginning Fear assumed as he came in to look, the book put back in his saddlebags. Crate was right behind him as Angel used a stained, yet oddly not rusty, ladle to pour some of the stew into each of the three bowls. Diced carrots and sliced potatoes floating about on the surface and getting stirred up all over. There was small billowing clouds of steam rising off the surface.

Crate was the first to speak up, given Fear was in a little too much shock to speak properly. It felt like forever since he'd had a proper meal. A meal that was cooked, be it over a fire or some form of stove. “Thank you honey.” The stallion leaned in and pressed a kiss against Angel's cheek, before grabbing a bowl and holding it in the frog of his hoof, bringing it over to the card table and sitting down with it.

Fear took his own bowl within telekinesis, glancing from it to Angel and back again, his lips mouthing words but nothing quite coming out, his eyes wide as if paralyzed from the neck down. He swayed a bit, as if it was a little too much for him, before giving a shake of his head and taking a deep breath, slapping a hoof against his cheek.

“Everything alright dear?” Angel asked with lidded eyes and a bemused smile.

Fear gave a nod. “Mh. Yes. Thank you for dinner, miss. I appreciate it.” Fear trotted over to his stuffed mother with the dish in his grasp and held it in front of her as if she might be able to get something out of it. “Look Mom. It's real... Real cooked food. Stew. We haven't had this in ages.” He was still deeply impressed and couldn't quite comprehend what was going on. It was just so foreign, having known kindness only from his mother. Be it because he was too shy to approach anypony else or he just had not met the right equines.

Angel stared at Fear with a calm smile, watching him with kind eyes, a hoof pressed against her muzzle as she held her own bowl in a crimson aura. A second later she was floating a trio of spoons out and setting them on the table without really even thinking about it. Crate was busy staring at Fear while sitting on his haunches in one of the chairs. Angel made her way over to join him, and Fear did eventually too.

“Mom says thank you too. She's glad you're taking care of me.”

Angel giggled. “It's no problem at all, sweetie. Now, time to dig in.”

Without further ado, the group started eating, with Crate using sticky hooves to hold onto his own spoon and placing a combination of broth and veggies in his maw, pulling the food off with his lips. Angel was equally sedate in her eating habits.

Fear on the other hand was voracious, biting down on the spoon, causing his teeth to clack against the simply molded metal. It sounded rather cringey all things considered, like it hurt. But Fear seemed completely fine with it. Mashing the veggies up in his mouth and slurping down the liquid. He had been thinking about telling a story during dinner, but found himself enjoying the uncomplicated yet savory flavor, the hint of saltiness, and other faint spices littered in. The carrots were smooth and soft, with the potatoes being extra squishy and a little soggy, making it easy to nom on; nearly melting in the mouth like the fat of meat. It was... exquisite. “Mmhf nngh nh ngh gh.” Clearly, the colt was a vocal eater, showing his satisfaction openly, which caused Angel to blush and Crate to grin.

“Enjoying it that much, sweetie?” Angel asked after swallowing.

Fear nodded emphatically, gulping down a clump of food before speaking. “Yeah, Angel, it's super good!” His face was the incarnation of joy and pleasure. Food was the easiest way to his heart right now.

Dinner continued in that fashion for... Not very long at all, with Fear finishing first and leaning back against the chair to pat his engorged tummy, relaxing.

Crate finished last, wiping his mouth with a hoof after mimicking the other two by drinking down the broth, tilting the bowl back against his lips and draining it. He plopped the bowl down, spoon in it. “I'll get the table cleared off while you get the cards shuffled and dealt, honey.”

Angel simpered toward her husband and nodded. “Sure thing cutie. Thanks.”

Fear looked between the two of them as they parted ways, with Crate bringing the dishes into the kitchen one bowl at a time to be extra careful, and Angel moving to the end table and pulling out the pack of cards from its dilapidated box.

Angel started explaining. “So, little Fear. The rules of BS are simple. I'm sure you're already familiar with how to count. In this game aces come first, followed by the cards up to ten, and then jacks, queens, and finally kings. Each player takes turns putting a card face down in that order until we get up to kings, and then we start over again. You always state the alleged value of the card, even if you're lying. Whoever runs out of cards first, wins. The gimmick of the game is that at any time you may challenge another player by calling BS...” Angel was busy using telekinesis to riffle shuffle the cards above the table they'd eaten on, the ends smacking and flapping together on contact, then mixing them into each other by lifting them up and forming a bridge. It was continuous, effortless, and flawless. “...When they think another player has lied about the value of the card they've placed down in the middle. If somepony is right in their challenge, the pony who placed the misvalued card takes the pile. If the pony is wrong about their call, then they're the ones who take the pile.”

The colt was busy staring at Angel's expertise in shuffling, cocking his head to the side. “That's incredible. How did you learn to do that?”

Angel giggled and rolled her eyes, giving a little snort as her muzzle scrunched up, starting to distribute the cards in three different piles. One for her, one for Crate, and one for Fear. “Practice and observing others, little Fear. Did you get the rules?”

Fear nodded. “Y-yeah, sounds simple enough.” His jaw was drooping a bit as picked up his cards and made the amateur mistake of reorganizing them in order of value.

“Good. Now we'll just wait for Crate and we can get started,” the mare chirped.

Crate was back soon enough, sitting down in front of the other two and pulling up his hoof full of cards, latent magic flowing through his hooves and extending to the cards, gripping them tight through pure will. Fear and Angel held theirs in an actual field of magic.

“So who starts?” Fear asked as he looked to Angel and then Crate.

The two adults looked between each other before grinning and glancing back to Fear. Angel spoke up. “You go first, sweetie. Guest of honor and all that. Then we'll move left around the circle. Usually the one with the ace of spades starts though.”

Fear blushed deeply beneath his fur, his muzzle tilting down and eyes raising up, widening a bit. He felt incredibly embarrassed! Why were they treating him so nicely?! “I don't... Don't deserve all this kindness. We should just go with the original rules.”

Crate responded first. “Kid. There is rarely a pony in the wasteland who deserves kindness. Be it because of the sins of their forefathers or their own atrocities. Be it in the name of good, a skewed mind, or the name of boredom.”

The colt was curious. That sounded oddly philosophical and like something he'd need to contemplate.

Crate continued. “But without kindness nothing will ever improve. And ponies will just remain miserable.”

Angel gave a firm nod. “Indeed. Even when we're at our worst we have to try to be good. Endure. Remain steadfast in your beliefs even as everything tries to tear you down.”

“And kid, we believe in you.” He paused. “Besides, there's strategy in not using your aces right at the start.”

Aside from the radio, silence reigned over the room.

Fear rubbed his head with a hoof, not looking them in the eyes. “I don't deser-”

Crate chuckled, Angel snickered. “Kid. Just accept it and pay it forward when it matters.”

Fear considered that, boring holes into their eyes with his gaze. It was piercing and violent. But he eventually responded. “Mh. S-sure. In that case...” Fear selected a card from the far left of what he'd been dealt and slid it face down in the middle. “Ace.”

“Two,” Angel stated simply as she slid a card into the center.

Crate went next. “Three.”

The game was quickly underway, with each of the three doing their best in the game. Fear was usually able to tell when one of the others was lying, which was a little unfair, but it was easily made up for with the fact that he couldn't lie to save his life, having a variety of tells when he was being dishonest. Ranging from twitching, to a faint aghast expression crossing his face, all the way to hesitating before placing down his card. Leaving him to either get better or face a loss. The game went on for a couple hours, switching between who was in the lead many times, with Fear never miscalling a lie, but sometimes failing to catch Angel or Crate in one. They found it interesting and amusing, even if a little troublesome. It just incited them into finding out how to be more discrete and show less traits of deception. Overall, a very well-rounded game.

Crate spoke up first when it was done, while Angel picked up all the cards and put them away in the box, having been the one to win. “You did really well for your first time kid. Keep practicing and it'll make you even better at bartering.”

Fear was smiling by the end, his tail whipping back and forth behind him excitedly. He'd lost, but he felt good. It'd been a close game, with Crate having most of the cards. “Thanks. You two are really experienced too!”

Angel stood up. “Well, I think it's time for bed. We'll see you tomorrow, Fear.”

Crate was next, moving over to Fear and pulling him into a giant bear hug, surprising the colt into blue screening. One could almost hear the dial up as he tried to regain connection with the rest of his body. “Sweet dreams, kid. We'll see you in the morning.”

Fear gave a single, sharp nod. Speaking with uncertainty. “Yeah. Sure. I can't believe how much I've enjoyed this. It must be really nice living in an actual home instead of just traveling every day.”

Angel gave a wide smile. “You have no idea, Fear.” She wrapped Fear up in a hug as well once Crate had let him go and nuzzled her muzzle into his mane, caressing him and dragging a hoof down along his spine, giving him as much attention as he could handle. “We're happy to have met you, and we know you'll want to leave eventually,” she said with a sigh, clearly disappointed. “But we know you won't stay here forever. Even I can tell you're looking for something out there.”

Fear frowned. “I don't know if I am or not. Or if I am I'll ever find it. Something about the road just appeals to me.” He shrugged, winding his forelegs around Angel and hugging her close, his eyes tearing up. His voice stifling a little. “I think I'm just looking for my mother. Somehow... She's just not there. Even though she is.”

Angel pat him on the back. “I can't say I understand. But you've been through something traumatic. It's affected you deeply, and there might never be any coming back from it. But we both know you can be a good colt, and help others the way your parents helped me.”

A tear fell down Fear's cheek as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to cry, his muzzle wrinkling up, gritting his teeth and grinding them together. “Th-thanks... I'll try.”

“Good night Fear.”

“Good night kid.”

“Good night you two. I'll see you in the morning,” he squeaked out with a melancholic voice. A little more confident this time.

Fear watched the two of them leave the room, heading to theirs. Before he blinked once and hopped up onto the couch. He floated his mother over to him, settling her on top of his body and wrapping her legs around his form so that it felt like she was cuddling him. She was larger than his body by quite a bit. A warmth webbed out in his chest, nearly melting from the sensation of having her against him. She wasn't cold either. The stuffing had absorbed heat, so it didn't feel uncomfortable. It didn't feel like a dead body. But it didn't feel like her, either. Still, it was enough. The colt wondered why he couldn't fully imagine his mother being there with him, even though talking to her felt so real, and he heard her voice so clearly.

Angel came in a moment later, standing in front of Fear and laying a blanket over him and his mother, and fitting an old, stained throw pillow under his head. With a teasing intonation, she spoke. “Sweet dreams, you little troublemaker.” She gave him a little wink as Fear rested his head against the cushion.

Fear smiled, his eyes glassy and tired. “Good night again.” He watched her leave, feeling most of her presence leave his field of awareness.

Minutes passed and Fear really needed to get some things off his chest, so he whispered quietly to his mother when he was sure the others couldn't hear him. His thoughts were raging in his head, battering against his skull.

“They've shown me so much kindness Mom,” he choked out. “I owe them a lot. More than I've ever given anypony.” He paused. “I've been way too shy. Way too silent. Even if you were right and those early years weren't my fault. I still have to make up for them.” He lifted his head up and pressed it into the pillow again. Squeezing his eyes shut, he continued. “I just wanted to kill. Vent my hurt.” He shook his head, giving a shuddering sigh from the gut. “I almost love Angel like a mother, and that's not fair to you. I almost love Crate like a Dad. I don't want to betray you Mom.”

It's not a betrayal honey. It's reasonable to move on.

“I don't know if I want to move on.”

You have to, sweetie. You have to become big and strong. Like a proper stallion. Just like you always told me you would.

Fear grinned. “Stop it... Hush.” A few tears spilled down his face. “I am big and strong. And I'll prove it.”

Other than Fear's radio, silence filled the room.

Fear spoke up again. “You know those two I killed. I... I wish I hadn't. Maybe they would have shown me kindness too?” He asked in a coltish, hopeful voice. “But even if they hadn't. I shouldn't have. It wasn't their fault, even though I desperately want to believe it was. That it was everypony's fault for not helping.”

It's natural to feel that way. You're just angry my little Nightlight. It's okay to be angry. And sad. It's okay to be depressed and hurt.

Fear's eyes screwed up tight. “No it's not.” His heart ached. “I can't accept this. This isn't who I am.”

It's who everypony is. You'll understand in time.

“No.” Fear enforced, bullheadedly. “I don't want to understand. I just want to be me. I want to be good. And even if it hurts. I'm gonna be good. I'm gonna make up for what I did...” He was getting tired.

You cannot overcome without first accepting, my little Nightlight.

Fear felt his eyes growing heavy, frowning deeply. “I'm not... Not gonna. You can't make me.” In his mind's eye his mother's gentle smile permeated as he drifted off to sleep. Full of regrets. Full of anger at himself.

The colt's pendant glimmered and shimmered.

==========================================================================================

Waking up late was a pleasure Fear was not familiar with. Usually he woke up in the middle of the night from a vivid nightmare that dissolved quickly even as he tried to grasp what had terrified him so badly. Sometimes screaming, sometimes sobbing, and other times he woke up gulping down air as if he'd been starved of it. But for once he'd had a peaceful night's rest. Of course everything felt a little hazy and sluggish. It was a bit difficult to move and he had to put actual effort into it, but eventually he pushed his mother up and off of him and sat up on the couch, rubbing his eyes clear of sleepy crust. A moment later he noticed something. He gave a few sniffs at the air, perking up.

Crate was sitting at the card table reading a book. He paused and set it down to glance back at his guest. “Oh, kid, you're awake. Welcome back to the land of the living. Angel's making breakfast. Just some leftovers. Nothing major.”

Fear was in awe. “Oh, no... No problem. It's been a long time since I had breakfast.”

Crate grinned. “Well you're in luck then, kid.”

Fear got up off the couch and moved into the run-down kitchen, walking up to Angel and sitting down next to her.

Angel spoke up first. “How'd you sleep sweetie?”

“Better than I have in awhile. Though it's strange. It's really hard to move and talk. Feels like I'm moving through mud.”

The mare looked at him in curiosity. “Hm? That's strange. Maybe you're just groggy, honey.”

Fear affirmed. “Yeah, maybe.”

The door slammed open with a loud crack when it hit the wall.

Fear turned around, seeing Crate already moving to confront the pony that had nearly caved it in. “What on Equus are you doing?” Crate was barely finished speaking before his jaw dropped and he found himself with a number of new holes in his chest. He looked down at himself. He'd barely felt the knife slice through. He looked up, blood leaking out of his wounds and filling up his innards. He gave a little cough, spittle and crimson flying. His eyes rolled back into his skull and he fell over onto his side, his heart pierced. “What...?” He croaked out before his eyes dimmed.

Angel's face paled and she screamed. It was blood curdling. It sent shivers through the nerves.

Fear was just staring in horror, his face gaunt and terrified as he stared at the pony in the doorway. He didn't understand what was going on. Just a second ago everything had been fun and good and warm and kind. But now... Who was this pony?

A charcoal black unicorn with dust coating everything stood in the frame, looking down at his kill with a sinister smile, chuckling to himself. He had a frizzy lapis blue mane and tail, with a red bandanna tied around his head. The stallion's cutie mark was a wibbly wobbly clock. His eyes were a pure, lifeless onyx, yet charged with a yellow glimmer that was not lost on the colt. Fear took a step back.

“Hmm... I didn't expect an entire family.”

Fear's ears flattened against his skull. No, this had to be a nightmare. There was no way.

Angel pushed Fear behind her and threw a rusted knife through the air with telekinesis propelling it at the stallion. “GET AWAY!” She yelled out, horror in her voice. “GET AWAY FROM US!” She screamed.

The unicorn didn't even hesitate. As if he'd seen it coming before it even happened the stallion's knife, stained with multiple sources of old blood, was in the way of the projectile and deflecting it away. “Yes, yes. Fight me. Exciting.” His voice sounded deranged and rapid. The unicorn rushed forward.

Fear didn't even know what was happening. He was in too much shock, his mind and body paralyzed. It didn't help it was hard to do anything in his... Groggy? State. One moment Angel was reared back on her hind legs in surprise, letting out a frightened whinny, the next she was collapsing to the floor in a heap like her bones had melted under her weight and now she was just... Nothing. But. Flesh.

Fear took a step back. He looked up at the unicorn. “Who... Who are you?”

The unicorn licked the blood off his knife with a broad, flat tongue as he encroached on Fear. “Hm. I suppose I can tell you that. You're going to die anyway.”

Fear's pupils were dilated as far as they'd go. Expanded until they were infringing on the boundaries of his eyes. His irises almost non-existent. He was cowering.

The unicorn smiled. “Chrono Corona, kid. I'm not natural.”

Fear was confused for a moment. Not natural? The mystery cut through the terror like a blade through hot butter. But before he knew what was going on, the knife was impaling him, shanking into his body ceaselessly, leaving wound after wound. He could feel the warm blood flowing through his body. Leaving his circulatory system. He felt heavy. And light all at the same time. It burned. He blinked a few times as he fell to the ground. Bleeding out. He gasped for air. Or at least he tried. His lungs had been punctured. He couldn't breathe. He was dying.

This was it.

This was the end.

Everything started to go black.

Fear wasn't ready to say goodbye.

The colt bolted up on the couch in the darkness, his mother falling away from him as he gasped loudly for air, his eyes as wide as dinner plates. His chest heaving. He nearly fell backwards. What was that? What had that been? That was more vivid than anything he'd ever experienced. And the memories weren't leaving him. They were clear as day. More traumatizing than anything he'd ever experienced. The next thing he felt was anger. So much rage. He wanted to hit something. He could feel Crate's and Angel's souls. They were still alive. Unlike in the dream.

That was another thing. Looking back on it. He'd felt their souls. He'd felt them become extinguished. It'd been like a light going out. He was sweating profusely. So much perspiration. The couch under him was a little moist. He shook his head from side to side. Trying to figure things out, clenching the blanket in his hooves and pulling it and his mother against him. Then he winced, eyes crossing. There was a sudden flood of... Something. He nearly fell off the couch as he swayed from side to side, feeling nauseous. Everything was dizzy. And his perspective had shifted. He felt like he was up in the air looking down at his body. It was incredibly disorienting. He closed his eyes and tried to ride it out. Hoping it'd leave soon. He knew he had a lofty imagination but this was so much more... Lucid.

As he waited he started describing his dream to his mother, in detail.

I don't know what to tell you, my little Nightlight. Maybe you should leave?

Fear nodded. “Y... Yeah. It's dangerous here. That was way too real.” Fear looked around for a long time and decided on a course of action. “I can't leave them without letting them know,” he hissed out worriedly. He went to the bookshelf and pulled out a book at random, flipping to the back cover and tearing out a page. He fiddled it with his magic as he held it in front of him

What would he say?

The colt thought about it for awhile, before moving over to the card table and hopping up into the chair, floating one of the pens over to him and pulling off the cap. He tried it out and... Thankfully, it worked. Just took a little scribbling before it started writing. He almost panicked for a moment!

Thank you, Angel, Crate, for all your kindness. I will never forget it.

Fear realized something. It had been nagging at him for awhile but...

I realize now that the world doesn't revolve around my feelings. And I shouldn't always act on them.

He paused. Then continued writing, staring at the page.

I wanted to tell you in person that I'm going to try my best to be a better equine. That I'm going to change. But I think danger's coming here and

Fear hesitated. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, the air flowing into his lungs and hilting there. He held it for a long time. It felt good to have oxygen again after his... Dream? He proceeded to write more. It was all rather sloppy, but he was trying his best.

I'm going to head it off at the pass. I don't know where it's coming from, but I'm confident I'll find it. You might want to take everypony and leave Refuge for a day. Just in case.

The colt frowned deeply, cocking his head to the side.

Also I love you two. A lot. I'll miss you both. Take care.

Fear felt satisfied with that. He left the otherwise blank sheaf of paper on the table and started gathering up his things. Setting his saddlebags on his back and curling his mother's hooves under her before strapping her around his barrel along with his Garand. “I hope you're ready for a fight Mom.” He whispered determinedly. “Because we're going straight into one.” He had no idea if he'd be able to win or not. But he had to try his best. “The world doesn't revolve around my feelings.” He repeated. “And it's not going to wait for me to stop being scared. Besides, I've killed a few raiders. I can take on this pony.” His voice cracked as he said that. He was going to do his best, and if he died then that was okay. He was ready. As ready as a colt could be.

Fear stepped outside and looked to the right, then the left. Where was he supposed to go? Which way was the stallion coming from? He grimaced and came up with an idea, noticing things were beginning to get misty. Vision was becoming more and more difficult. Hopefully it'd clear up by the morning. Otherwise there was no way he was going to be able to snipe Corona. If he was real that is.

The colt hoped the stallion wasn't real and he was just having an overactive imagination.

Fear slipped his pre-war coin out of his saddlebags and held it in front of him. As his mother had said, if he ever had trouble making a decision, the best bet was to flip a coin and trust in fate to guide him right. It was all he had. It was all he could do. He'd already told them to leave the village. Fear put force into one side of the coin and snapped it into the air. He watched it tumble around in the sky before coming back down. Sun, the way out of town. Moon, the way he came. He caught it in his magic and looked at the result. It was a sun. He was unsure, but he accepted it and started on his way. Loading his rifle all the while.

DJ-P0N3's voice blared from his radio. “Late night broadcast for all you nocturnal ponies out there! Make sure to take care of yourselves, even when the wasteland says you shouldn't. You're no use to anypony dead! Now tonight I'm going to regale you all with one of the old stories of Daring Herb Dashwood and Argyle Patch. Strap in children, it's going to be a long one!”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w2reDX2V1Z4