Rarity had neglected one minor fact when she left Elysium Oasis: she’d lost all her navigational tools in the sandstorm. This brought a bout of panic until she remembered that the Dragon’s Teeth had to be to the south, and determining the cartesian coordinates was as easy as checking the position of the sun and moon.

She also remembered her last calculation before she’d lost everything belonging to herself and Yearling, and was thoroughly pleased when she saw the mountains in the distance after a journey of almost three weeks. Would Yearling have been proud?

You really mustn’t think of her in the past tense, Rarity. Yearling had to be alive. It was against all odds, but Rarity forced herself to believe it. After all, if an amateur like her could get out of the Great Salt Plains safe and sound, surely an expert explorer could too.

Seeing the Dragon’s Teeth was not the same as reaching them. The sand seemed endless even when the end was clearly in sight. She marched for another three days, the jagged slopes growing taller and taller on the horizon. Every day, she gave thanks to the Sisters for introducing her to Fluttershy. Without that pegasus’s invaluable assistance in procuring supplies she’d have surely been stuck at the oasis forever. She had a custom-made bag, a fur-and-hide sleeping roll (which took a lot of getting used to in the first week of travel seeing as it lacked her last one’s lightweight enchantment), and still two weeks’ worth of food and water.

Good food, she reminded herself while chewing on a slice of melon. She doubly thanked the discoverer of preservation enchantments. It was basically a modified freezing spell, and while Rarity had never tried it before Elysium, she’d seen it enough times on the road already to be able to replicate it easily. It helped that it kept the melon’s pulpy insides nice and chilly, a distinct relief in the endless heat of the desert.

She’d had to teach herself a basic fire spell in order to cook anything, a process that took almost a full week, and then she was limited to levitating the food in question over the flame she constantly kept going in the absence of burnable materials. It served decently enough, and gave her some better control over her magic, but she had no intention of doing it beyond this little trip. Too tiring.

It was afternoon of the fourth day since she’d spotted the mountains. Rarity was just packing up from her midday break, a true necessity if one wanted to avoid heatstroke, when she noticed something rising in the distance. It took some time for her to realize it was smoke. The sight filled her with curiosity. Perhaps it was a trade caravan. A fortuitous discovery, for certain. She had no idea where she was, at least in terms of along the Dragon’s Teeth, and it would be good to know how far away Rockstead was.

Yes, Rockstead. She’d concluded some time ago that Las Pegasus was no longer an option. Anypony who might have been following her trail would assume she was there now, and would likely be well on their way to the frontier town. After being gone in the desert for almost half the Falling Heat season without any way for somepony to know it, she could easily lose her trackers for a while by going back the way she came.

Where to go from there, however, was a mystery.

But where there was smoke, there were probably ponies, and Rarity would very much like to meet a pony or two. After weeks of traveling solo through such abysmal terrain, meeting anypony would be a delight. This in mind, she changed her course due southeast, straight for the dark column. The idea of making new friends almost made her giddy.

Her high spirits made the rest of the day an easy one, and by nightfall the burning sand and salt finally receded in favor of hard rock. It was a moonless night as she set up her bedroll among the foothills, her eyes ever searching the southeast. The smoke blotted out the stars, keeping hope alive that she might see a friendly face soon. Or if not friendly, at least one kind enough to not turn her away. She went to sleep thinking of Yearling and hoping they had half her caliber.

Then morning came, and with it a fresh unease. When the doldrums of sleep faded enough for her to crawl like the undead from her bedroll, she found that the smoke remained to stain the early morning light. Right where it had been yesterday.

It finally dawned upon her how strange this was.

If they were traders, why hadn’t they moved on? Could they have merely left the fire behind, still blazing? It had lessened in severity, suggesting it was no longer being tended to. But, as a traveler herself, Rarity had come to learn that such was not the practice of ponies on the go. Burnable materials were precious out here. The ponies would have doused the flames and gathered what remained for use later. Maybe these ponies were inexperienced? No, if they were in a convoy, they’d have at least one EverFlame Log. Even amateurs wouldn’t part with one of those.

Rarity continued her journey, but with every step her enthusiasm waned. The ponies wouldn’t be there, surely. They must have abandoned the fire, it was the only explanation that made sense. And with no way to determine which way they’d gone, the one thing Rarity could be confident in was that she’d not get a chance to meet them. It had been silly of her, getting her hopes up like that.

She resigned herself to being alone for a while longer. She’d run into a town before her supplies ran out, so there was no threat.

If only she didn’t have to be alone. As boring as it had been, she missed riding on Little Lightning, holding on to Yearling as they traversed the Great Salt Plains together. Or the pleasant talks she’d shared with Fluttershy once the young mare had finally warmed up to her, like the homemade tea brew they’d shared over a small fire. She still had a few pouches of the stuff. Best not forget the charming Spike, or the excitable Troublemaker, or the cranky Cranky. Coco’s endearingly soft voice would be so nice right about now.

“Oh, Mother Night, I’m getting lonely,” Rarity muttered, shielding her eyes against the sun. She stood atop a hill, gazing east at the column of smoke. Except now it was several columns, all thin and fading swiftly into the warming morning sky. She guessed she had another hour before she reached the site.

Why was she still headed for it, anyway? Perhaps it simply served as a checkpoint, a visible target to be reached. Or maybe, deep down, Rarity held a faint hope that somepony would still be there.

The closer she came, the greater became the mystery. Why multiple columns of smoke? Multiple fires, certainly, but what would warrant such a thing? She knew from experience that large wagon trains required several cooking fires, but she was counting at least a dozen smoke clouds. That would have to have been a significant caravan to require so many. Perhaps military in nature?

What would a small army be doing way out here? Who would it belong to? The nearest major city state with an armed force would be Hoofington, but that was at least a long season’s march away from here, and that assumed a direct path over the Great Salt Plains. Cloudsdale might be an alternative, but Rarity found it unlikely. Everypony knew the cloud city moved with the seasons for resource gathering purposes, but even in the cooler seasons it wouldn’t be found in this territory. No, this time of year it’d be over the Sunpeaks in the far northwest, trading for minerals.

So no, she could definitely rule out military force. What did that leave?

Rarity, now perhaps only a couple hilltops away from the site, froze as only one answer came to her: a raid. The caravan could have been attacked by bandits. Would she get there just to find smoldering wagons and dead bodies, all looted by heartless villains? The bandits might still be there. And if not…

Her hand dropped to Silver Lining, swiftly unbuttoning the safety strap. Her other reached up to touch Ruby Heart through her vest. Its weighty presence offered only a little comfort, but it was a comfort she welcomed. When she moved again, Rarity did so with a greater eye for her surroundings. If a posse of ne’er-do-wells appeared over the next hill, she’d be ready for them. Of course, it’d be better to avoid a confrontation, but she doubted she’d have such good fortune. She never did.

To think, this time yesterday she’d been so happy to see that smoke. Now the sight filled her with dread. But she kept going; at least if she found the place devoid of ruffians she could be assured they wouldn’t come back. Probably. But in the meantime, they could be anywhere, and so caution was the order of the day.

The last few hills passed slowly, Rarity not daring to move with any real speed lest she draw attention from unnoticed eyes. At last, she crested a hill and came upon the source of the smoke.

It was everything she feared.

A dozen heaps, the torched remains of wagons, smoldered in a semicircle at the foot of the hill. Rarity understood the purpose of circling the wagons, but it appeared these ponies only managed half that. Along with the smoking wrecks were two other piles, though what they consisted of Rarity couldn’t tell at this distance. At least there weren’t any bodies. Perhaps they’d been the victims of griffon slavers. The memory of how close she came to such a fate sent a tremble down her spine.

The place appeared to be abandoned. Breathing a sigh of relief, she descended the hill, confident that the responsible party would be long gone by now. The semicircle of wagons opened to the north. Did that mean the raiders had come from the south, and the wagons had been made into a barrier of sorts? She guessed that was how such things worked. It wouldn’t have been effective against a highly mobile attacker, though, so why not form the full circle?

She approached the first wagon. It had collapsed, three wheels akimbo and one having rolled several feet away. The main body of the wagon was mostly intact, but the center had been burned out such that it appeared more like four walls with a conspicuously missing floor. Bits of burned fabric around blackened metal supports clarified that it had been a covered wagon, and the ruined remains of boxes indicated it had probably been used for cargo. It took only a glance through the opening in the bottom to see that the axles had been destroyed.

Rarity found the entire thing mystifying, and promptly went to the next wagon to check her suspicions. This one had more severe damage, at least half of it burned to ash and the other half laying on its side. Even so, Rarity found what she was looking for: more cargo. Perhaps because of how some parts fell away from the blaze, some of it even remained intact.

It consisted mostly of dried up apples. There were so many, in fact, that Rarity couldn’t help wondering if this caravan belonged to the Apple Family. The idea brought out the tiniest mote of pleasure at the family’s misfortune, which promptly turned to guilt. Why should she wish such pain upon a group of hired hooves that had done her no wrong?

They were probably slaves now, on their way to the Apex Roost’s… wherever. She’d never learned where they took their slaves. Still, the fact that the raiders had left something so valuable as produce behind could only mean that they hadn’t been there for the goods. Not bandits, then. Slavers were the only other possibility.

And now Rarity faced a moral conundrum. If the attackers hadn’t bothered to take anything but the traders themselves, that meant that there may be some non-perishable items around. Canned foods, perhaps, or maybe even some ammunition. Given the fires, that seemed a long shot, but any opportunity to load Ruby Heart with less expensive bullets would be welcome.

Was it okay to take from these wagons? Was it okay to even search them? This was still Apple Family property… or at least, property of somepony, and Rarity wasn’t reduced to thieving, not yet. Besides, it felt almost like grave-robbing. No. The benefits just weren’t good enough to warrant soiling her good name like that, even if there’d be nopony around to notice.

Decision made, Rarity turned from the wagons to take a look at the two smoking piles. What was this, then? Had the griffons decided to burn what supplies they couldn’t take with them? She couldn’t imagine what purpose that would serve. She approached the nearest one, hoping for some clues. The contents were strange. They didn’t look like wood for boxes, nor did she see anything that might be produce or maintenance supplies. Just a lot of lumps piled on top of one another, giving off a foul stench she’d never smelled before.

Really, the smell was hideous. Enough to make her stomach roil. And the shapes were… almost… like…

Now a mere five feet away, awareness came upon her. Her eyes settled upon one of the lumps. Long, heavy-looking, charred and wrinkled, radiating the foulest odor imaginable. With four long pieces attached, and… colors. So many colors. Each lump, a different color beneath the black. And there, that was hair and those were hooves, and over there, fingers, and…

Bodies. Pony bodies. An entire pile of burning corpses.

Rarity staggered back, one hand on her necklace and the other covering her lips. “Oh… Oh, Luna…” She turned away, stumbled, fell to her hands and knees. Deep breaths fought against the rebellion of her stomach. Who would do such a thing?

It couldn’t be slavers. Slavers didn’t want to kill, they wanted to capture. Bandits? This seemed extreme even for them. ‘S-Sisters, preserve me…”

It took time, but gradually the churning of her stomach settled. The ever-present aroma of burning flesh made that a hard fight to win, and Rarity never fully won it, but she at least managed to stand up. A cautious, split-second glance at the other pile told her everything she needed to know. She didn’t want to guess at how many ponies had died here.

On wobbly legs, she walked away from the burning piles of equine flesh to one of the less damaged wagons. Partnered with her unparalleled revulsion was a powerful need to know, to understand. Something had done this. Something had done this on purpose. She had to know why, and she had to offer a warning. Spread the news. This kind of evil had to be stopped.

As her quaking dropped to a mere trembling, she leaned against the largely intact wagon, its covering burnt away but its body merely charred. Her brain sprinted through possibilities once more. Bandits would have taken the supplies. Slavers wouldn’t have killed so many ponies. It might have been an Apple Family convoy, in which case maybe a rival Family decided to strike the caravan. Was the fire intended to burn evidence? If so, it was an amateur job considering so much material remained behind.

Nothing made sense.

Nothing.

A light wind kicked up, bringing the foul stench of the body piles to her. Her stomach turned traitor once more. She bent over, hands to her knees, and closed her eyes. It’s alright, Rarity. The perpetrators are long gone. Just walk away, report this to the proper authorities in Rockstead. Maybe they can do something.

As her insides settled, she dared to open her eyes once more. She paused upon realizing that something was beneath her boot. Using her magic, she lifted it up to get a closer look.

A feather. Orange, not quite yellow. Too small to belong to a griffon. Rarity hadn’t met many pegasi in her life, but she’d seen enough to know for sure that this feather belonged to one. Griffon feathers were coarse things, and this appeared delicate. Her eyes went, briefly, to the burning piles. Had there been any pegasi in there? She had no way to know, and she certainly wasn’t about to go digging through the cooked remains to find out.

Cooked. Had she really just thought of them in such a way? Hideous.

As farfetched as it was, Rarity couldn’t help but hope that this feather meant somepony had gotten out alive. As for herself, there was nothing to keep her here. Even acknowledging the probable safety of remaining where the villains responsible for this travesty wouldn’t go, Rarity couldn’t justify staying in this place for a minute longer. Dropping the feather, she adjusted her backpack and started around the wagon. Her eyes went up to check her direction.

A bright light, like the sun reflecting off metal. Five figures on sand lizards, approaching at a trot. The glint again… and it was all Rarity needed as warning.

She dove back behind the wagon as the shot rang out. No pain, no impact. Thanking Luna’s stars for the mercy, she scrambled to a crouch behind the wagon and whipped out Silver Lining and Ruby Heart without so much as a thought. Had the villains come back? They’d shot at her without any provocation at all!

Then again, she was standing amongst the evidence. No witnesses?

“For fuck’s sake, hold your fire!”

Her ears twitched. That voice. A mare’s voice. Where had she heard it before? She wasn’t sure, but it sent a twisting dread through her insides.

The mare called again, her voice commanding. “Rarity Belle! Come out here and take what’s coming to you!”

They knew her? She cursed under her breath.

Bounty hunters.

She turned her head towards the corner. “I have no intention of being shot for acting in self-defense.”

“Well, that’s just too bad, ain’t it?” Some of the hunters chuckled at that, the heathens. “Look, you show that pretty face that lured my Brady to his death, and I’ll make it quick.”

Brady? She must mean Braeburn. And if she’s speaking of him so familiarly…

She thought back to that frantic first night, riding atop Piecazzo with three angry Gang members at her back. One of those ponies had survived, right? Yes… the mare. Pink coat. Two-toned red mane. She’d never learned her name, but the voice was unmistakable now.

Rarity could feel the little pony in the back of her head burning like an ember. “You! I spared your life, and this is how you repay me?”

“He~ey, she remembers me! The name’s Cayenne, bitch, and it was your stupid mistake not doing me in when you had the chance.”

Not bounty hunters, then. Members of the Bad Apple Gang itself. Did that make it worse? “Look, I’m sorry about Braeburn, okay? What was I supposed to do, let him rape me?”

“Yeah, that would have been a good plan.”

Rarity choked on her fury, stunned by the serious, no-nonsense tone of the response.

While she was recovering, one of the other gang members spoke up. “Uh, Cayenne? Boss? We really wanna fight the Bulletproof Heart? I mean, look at what she did to our boys.”

Boys? Rarity felt her heart sink somewhere into her boots. This really had been an Apple-owned caravan! And they thought she’d done this? A quick glance at the smoldering pile of equine corpses made her stomach lurch.

“Don’t give me that,” Cayenne snapped. “The Bulletproof Heart’s some stupid rumor she cooked up to scare us off.”

“But, boss, look at our hunting party!”

Cayenne shouted at the stallion. “I am looking! We gotta take this bitch down before she murders anymore of the Gang. What the hay do you think Blackjack and Velvet will do to us if they find out we didn’t try to take her out?”

Knowing it was pointless, Rarity shouted from around the wagon once more. “Wait, I didn’t do this!”

“Likely story, ‘Bulletproof Heart,’” Cayenne snapped with no small amount of sarcasm. “Bricks, pop her.”

“One pretty popped pony coming right up!”

Popped pony? Oh, that didn’t sound good at all. Rarity braced, her grip on her guns tightening, and waited for them to start shooting. And yet no shots came. In fact, there wasn’t any sound at all. What were they…?

Something ‘thunked’ to the ground nearby. She turned and sucked in a sharp breath at a stick of dynamite not a foot away, fuse lit. She braced for the explosion—

—then fought back a laugh. And here I thought I was the amateur. She put her boot atop the overlong fuse, snuffing it, then used her magic to pull it out of the stick altogether. She levitated the tube in front of her muzzle and smirked. Well, far be it for me not to capitalize on their generosity.

“Uh, Bricks?” one of the other hunters said. “It ain’t blowin.”

“I can see it ain’t blowin, dumbass.”

Cayenne’s snarl must have been pretty loud if Rarity could hear it from behind the wagon. “You made the fuse too long. Do it again.”

“But if I make it any shorter, I might blow me up too!”

“Do it or I’ll—”

“Uh, Boss?”

Four ponies turned to the one, then all looked to the wagons. Rarity stood, Silver Lining aimed at the ready as she sent the dynamite flying at them with her magic. Two weeks of practice with Yearling came to her aid as she watched for the stick’s apex and planned her shot.

“Shit!” Cayenne cracked her reins, eyes popping wide as she realized too late what was coming. “Scatter!”

As the stick fell, Rarity had a moment of clarity. She knew, with sudden horror, exactly what she was about to do.

Can I?

There’s five of them. You can’t win those odds.

And it’s me or them.

She pulled the trigger, even as she reflected on how horrifyingly simple it could be to justify something like this. The bullet struck true, and the stick of dynamite unleashed its explosive force right in the face of the stallion holding a second stick.

Apparently he’d had other sticks of dynamite on him, because the resulting blast was far more than what Rarity had anticipated. Engulfing the three ponies and their mounts in the middle of the formation, it knocked her off her hooves and threw her to the ground. It hurt, but it hardly mattered as much as the bomber’s shocked expression burned into her retinas an instant before the blast. She rolled to a sitting position and looked to see that he and his sand lizard were nothing more than a crater. The stallions on either side of him…

Her breakfast didn’t taste half as good coming out as it had going in. She was just finishing up – hopefully – when a shriek pierced her ears. Knowing she had seconds at best, she snatched her guns from where they had fallen and ran for a different wagon, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she went. It dawned upon her that she wasn’t panicking. Or rather, she was, but it felt distant, like the shadow of panic. Not that such a description made any sense to her, but it still seemed appropriate.

No time to count blessings. She slid behind the wagon, sand and dust kicking up in her wake as bullets flew over her head. Twisting onto her stomach, she fired twice with Silver Lining, prompting a dismounted Cayenne to jump behind a wagon. She pressed her ears against her head when the mare shrieked once more.

“I’m gonna shoot your face off, you ugly whorse!”

Where was the other one? If Cayenne survived that blast then he probably did, too. Getting into a crouch and only slightly flinching at the gunshots cutting into the wagon, Rarity went to the opposite corner and looked around it. She was right on time to see the last remaining stallion appear around the far side of the wagon, still on his sand lizard. The poor beast’s scales were black and sizzling on one side, and its rider didn’t look much better.

But he was still alive and very much angry. He spotted Rarity and took aim with a short-barreled rifle, prompting her to duck back behind the wagon or lose her head.

“We got the bitch cornered, Boss!”

“Oh, no,” Rarity snarled. She whipped around the wagon corner towards Cayenne, firing another two rounds with Silver Lining, then swung back to fire with Ruby Heart at the stallion. Cayenne ducked back behind her own cover. The stallion wasn’t so lucky, the shot piercing the scales of his lizard and making the creature rear back and hiss in pain. Rarity switched Silver Lining’s cylinder while he was busy trying to regain control.

Her blood pounded in her ears and she frantically thought for a solution. It was, in truth, a fairly simple thing: if she could take out either one, her odds would be vastly improved. Cayenne was playing it smart, sticking to cover. Her companion? Easy prey. She raised both guns to the level of her face and grimaced at her own foul thought. Then she was out of cover, Silver Lining and Ruby Heart letting lose their deadly firepower.

He never stood a chance. A hit to his shoulder made him turn in his saddle, and then three holes bloomed red in his exposed side. His cry turned to a gurgle before he slid off his mount like a sack of apples. He hit the dirt and curled into a ball, out of the fight, and his lizard bolted to the hills. Rarity was tempted to hurry over and… and what? Apologize? For defending herself?

For killing again.

The thought made her pause, but only for an instant. She didn’t have time for more. Cayenne needed to be dealt with.

Dear Luna, that sounded cold. Ignoring the thought as best she could, Rarity snapped a fresh cylinder into Silver Lining. She hurried to the opposite side of the wagon from where she’d been waiting before. If she could catch Cayenne moving from her old location…

Her opponent had had the same idea, appearing at a sprint from behind the next wagon. The two slid to a stop some forty paces apart from one another, both in the open and gaping. Clearly, Cayenne hadn’t expected this encounter either.

Recovering quickly, they glared at one another. The world seemed to grow quiet as they sized one another up, weapons at their sides and aimed at the ground. Cayenne could have been pretty, Rarity realized, were she not coated in dirt and sweat, and paid any attention at all to her mane. Despite being an earth pony she wasn’t very big, even by unicorn standards, but she had more muscle than Rarity could boast.

“I thought you were supposed to be a seamstress,” Cayenne said, her words calm and focused. “When did you get so good?”

“I’ve had lots of practice since we last met,” Rarity admitted. She kept her arms loose, just like Cranky had taught her. It wasn’t so easy when she knew her life was on the line. “Seemed prudent. Lots of creatures want me dead for some reason.”

Her foe smirked, but it was a dark thing. “You have made a name for yourself, haven’t you, Bulletproof Heart?”

She gritted her teeth at the name, but fought down her anger. Anger wouldn’t get her through this. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Because Braeburn was my friend.” Cayenne’s grip on her revolver visibly tightened. “You killed him. With his own gun.”

Rarity snorted. “And that justifies his attempt to rape and murder my friend and I?”

The dark smile slipped back onto Cayenne’s face. “Life’s not fair, Princess. In this world, you take what you want and don’t give a fuck about who it hurts.”

What a hideous viewpoint. Rarity might have shivered were she not so intensely focused on her enemy. “So there’s no way for me to convince you to walk away.”

“Seems we’ve figured one another out, Princess.”

“No,” Rarity said quietly. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand you.”

And so they stood, weapons lowered, bodies at the ready. Celestia’s sun pressed upon their shoulders. Rarity felt sweat beading on her brow, but didn’t dare move to wipe it away. A warm wind blew, sending smoke and the scent of burning flesh into them. Still, neither moved. It dawned upon Rarity that she’d just entered a traditional duel, something she never imagined she’d have to take part of. Oh, how life toys with us.

Her hand itched. She ignored it. She could feel that bubbling panic just beneath the surface, a tiny Rarity running circles and screaming about how she was about to die. That voice seemed so far away, blocked and quieted by the steady warmth in her chest. For all her worry, Rarity felt so little actual fear. Only anticipation. Readiness. A tension that fought against everything she’d trained herself to do with Yearling’s and Cranky’s help.

But the warmth was there. It kept everything in check. She could keep her focus on the villain before her, ignore the itching and the heat and the sweat rolling down her cheek. Focus. Breathe. Stay loose.

Focus.

Ruby Heart moved first. Silver Lining was faster. Cayenne’s revolver moved so quickly, and yet so slowly. Two shots rang out.

Cayenne twisted as her shoulder took a hit. Her revolver came up, the occupied hand reaching instinctively for the wound. The motion was likely the only thing that saved her life, for the Ruby Heart’s powerful ruby-tipped bullet struck Cayenne’s revolver instead of her chest. The weapon jerked from the blow, but still she tried to fire at Rarity. She was rewarded with the gun exploding.

With a pained cry, she dropped the ruined weapon and cradled her burnt hand. Tears in her eyes, she took a few seemingly random steps while cursing. Rarity didn’t move, and when the mare finally opened her eyes she found Silver Lining and Ruby Heart still aimed at her. Cayenne let out a frustrated scream before stomping in small circles.

“No! No, no, no! How could I lose to a… to a fucking prissy pony princess?” She tried to fling her arms around, only to cry out and grab her bleeding shoulder. Unbalanced, she stumbled to her knees and moaned. “This can’t be happening.”

The fight was over, and with it went Rarity’s focus. Her hands shook violently. Legs now made of rubber, she collapsed to a sitting position and let the trembles take over. “Luna’s Stars, I n-never want to do that again.”

Cayenne glared at her, speaking between hissing breaths. “What are you complaining for? You won.”

Holstering Ruby Heart, Rarity used her vibrating hand to wipe the sweat from her brow. “I am not a killer. I’m not meant for this kind of life.”

“Could have fooled me.” Cayenne chuckled bitterly. Her eyes went to her ruined weapon and she sobered. “His gun. You wrecked his gun.”

His gun? Rarity glanced at the mangled revolver. Was that the one Braeburn had used back in Spurhoof? Then it was also the one she’d killed him with. Perhaps Cayenne had been looking for some sort of irony in her victory. “Sorry about that.”

“Sorry? You’re sorry?” Cayenne snarled, but it was cut short by a pained wince. She held her injured hand to her shoulder, but then looked at Rarity. Really looked, with brow furrowed and lips pursed. “You really mean it, don’t you?”

Though her legs hardly seemed able, Rarity managed to stand up once more. “Yes, I do. Not a day goes by I don’t wish I hadn’t killed your friends.”

“And yet you’re gonna kill me.”

Rarity blinked. Cayenne met her eyes with a resigned but defiant stare. “Is that what you think?”

“Yeah.” Groaning, the mare turned so she was properly facing Rarity, though she remained kneeling. “These wounds ain’t fatal. You let me live? I’m gonna come after you.” Her eyes narrowed. “I promise.”

They stared at one another for a long time. Silver Lining felt hot in Rarity’s hand, hotter than even the sun pressing down on her head. Logic told her in plain, simple Equish that she should do as Cayenne said. It wouldn’t be hard. Just point and pull the trigger. One shot was all it would take, and this headache would be gone.

But the little pony in the back of her mind took all those arguments in and countered with one simple, patient declaration.

I am not a killer.

“I believe you.” Rarity holstered Silver Lining and turned west. She took out a waterskin and drank as she began to walk away.

Five steps in, she finally heard Cayenne’s shout. “You think this means I owe you? You’re an idiot. You hear me? An idiot! You’re my enemy as long as we’re both breathing. I’ll hunt you down and pump you full of so much lead they’ll be able to smelt you down and make bullets out of you! You’re gonna eat dirt, Bulletproof! Remember that! I’m gonna kill you dead!”

Rarity let the screams fade to background noise. She rubbed at her necklace, noting its pleasant glow and the warmth it provided. She knew Cayenne would honor her words. Someday, they’d meet again, and they’d probably start shooting in an instant. One for revenge, the other for survival. Rarity knew she might not survive the next encounter.

Despite that, she smiled.

I am not a killer.

Going west had been a ruse. An obvious one, true, but perhaps Cayenne would buy it. Besides, the mare had a hole in her left shoulder and serious burns on her right hand. Rarity doubted she’d be a threat, at least for the next few weeks. Once out of sight, she’d walked a circle to avoid the smouldering caravan and resumed her march east. She didn’t see Cayenne again, which was an immense relief.

Four more ponies had died. It was justified, of course, but that didn’t make the fact sit well in her stomach. She’d been so pleased with her innovation regarding the dynamite at the time, but now she felt nothing but revulsion. After all, it had been an innovative way to kill more ponies. Not much to be proud of there.

But that wasn’t the worst of it, not by a long shot. No, the worst part in all of this was that it had been so much easier. She remembered her fear when she’d had Braeburn’s gun. Back then, the very idea of killing another pony left her petrified. But when Cayenne and her posse showed up? Rarity had barely hesitated. No matter how often she told herself she wasn’t a killer, she couldn’t help but fear that she was becoming one.

The Bulletproof Heart. Even her enemies were calling her that. And since she’d left Cayenne alive, the stories would spread, this time with a legitimate witness. And they thought she’d slaughtered that caravan! Could a single pony even do that?

Rarity was coming to hate that title. What if the Bulletproof Heart proved to be some sort of hideous alter ego? The ‘evil’ Rarity. When ponies said the name, would they associate it with corruption, violence and cruelty? That wasn’t her by any stretch of the imagination, but after what Cayenne just accused her of…

Rarity was supposed to be sophisticated. Intellectual. Refined. Those were the things she wanted associated with her name, not an executioner of caravans. She could just feel the title like a slick of oil upon her body, ruining her reputation and bringing fear wherever it went. Rarity wasn’t meant to be feared! Respected, okay, but not feared.

She entered Rockstead in a miserable state a week-and-a-half later, just after dawn. Her first act was to visit the Howler’s Bank and withdraw from her account. She’d lost all her bits and gems in the sandstorm, and wouldn’t be able to purchase temporary lodgings otherwise. She also made sure to send Spike a message apologizing for not coming to visit him when she had the chance. She made no attempt to explain her situation, merely informing him that she’d have been a terrible guest at this time.

She didn’t wait up for a response. The guilt was too much at the moment.

But while going to visit Spike had been out of the question, Rarity still felt the need to see a friendly face. So it was she found herself before a familiar door at a familiar geode farm, ashamed and tired and hoping they wouldn’t mind accommodating her again. She knocked quietly, not wanting to catch the attention of any of the field workers, and waited.

It took another two knocks to get an answer, but at last the door opened a crack to reveal half a face, the rest hiding behind a straight mane. Upon seeing Rarity, Marble Pie raised her head and allowed a small smile to show. “M-Miss Belle?”

Rarity tried to smile. By the way Marble’s faded, she probably hadn’t done a good job. “Good morning, Darling. I was hoping I might have the benefit of your hospitality again, if that’s alright?”

The smile came back, albeit smaller this time. Marble nodded with a barely discernible “Mmm.” She opened the door fully and stepped back, inviting Rarity in with a wave of her hand.

Trodding into the room on leaden legs, Rarity managed a better smile for her this time. “Thank you, Miss Pie, most sincerely. Fifteen bits a night, right?” She levitated the exact coinage from a pocket of her near-empty backpack.

Marble stared at the bits as if not sure what they were for. After some consideration, she reached up and plucked the ten-bit coin out of the air.

Blinking, Rarity waited for her to take the rest. When the young mare only closed the door and proceeded inside, she grabbed the coins herself. “I’m sorry, I’m a little confused. You only took the ten. Was I mistaken?” She was sure she wasn’t.

Her host shook her head, a motion so slight she almost missed it. “We didn’t trust you last time.”

Trust? She looked at the bits in her hand. So they charged her higher because she’d been a stranger? But now… Marble trusted her. Not Maud, she wasn’t here to get a say apparently, but Marble. The thought brought a fresh warmth and a genuine smile for the first time in what seemed like ages.

Walking over to Marble, she caught her hand and put the remaining bits into it, keeping their eyes locked the entire time. “I appreciate your trust.”

Marble looked as if she wanted to object. Perhaps her shyness prevented it, but for whatever reason she eventually pocketed the coins. “You d-didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted to.” Glancing away, Rarity added, “Consider it part of my apology for never getting a chance to write to you these last few weeks. I did promise, after all.”

Marble cocked her head, ears perking. It seemed as if she had no idea of the promise Rarity had made to Maud. Was it supposed to be some sort of surprise? Regardless, Marble had nothing to add to the topic.

Perhaps it was best not to press the matter. Instead, she took a look at the familiar dining room and kitchen. “Where’s Maud? In town?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Ah, that soft little voice. Rarity found it curiously endearing. “I guess she’ll be back later today?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Nodding, she turned back to Marble. “Very well, I’ll greet her when she comes in. If it’s alright by you, I want nothing more than to spend the rest of the day off my hooves. You wouldn’t believe the things I had to put up with in the last half-season.” She pinched at her shirt, grimacing at the stains of sweat and other things she probably didn’t want to think about. “Or the things I got near. I need a shower more than a buffalo.”

“Mm-hmm.” Then, miraculously, Marble added to the conversation. “I was going to make marble salads for supper. Would you like some?”

An image of lettuce mixed with tiny rocks came to mind. Rarity’s jaw hurt just thinking about trying to eat such a thing. “Am I to assume that it’s a personal recipe, and that it involves actual marbles?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Rarity didn’t grimace, but she came close. “I would love to enjoy your cooking again, Darling, but… maybe… without the rocks?”

The disappointed frown never came. Instead, Marble appeared thrilled by the request, nodding with a surprising amount of eagerness.

Well, one bullet dodged. Rarity smiled and allowed her body to relax, exhaling slowly. “Wonderful. I think I’ll go wash the ick off my luscious body now.” She punctuated the sentence with a smirk that made the young mare giggle, but then she frowned at her clothes once more. “And... if it’s not too much of an imposition, perhaps you can let me borrow a change of clothes so I can get these washed?”

Marble paused, a hand going to her lips as she looked Rarity up and down thoughtfully. After a few seconds of study, she smiled and nodded. “Check Limestone’s closet. I think you’re her size.”

The suggestion brought Rarity’s pleasure to a halt. The dead sister. Who had died ages ago. They still had her clothes. Would it be proper at all for her to wear them? In what condition would they be in? She was divided between rejecting the clothes for fear of them falling to pieces at a touch or for the likely emotional attachment the surviving Pies would undoubtedly have towards them.

But Marble appeared… pleased. Rarity kept her mouth shut and nodded, though she still couldn’t be certain if she liked this idea.

A hot shower, Rarity decided, was the single greatest feat of ponydom. Nothing could be more satisfying than watching the grime and muck of a half-season wash down the drain, literally turning the water black. It took nearly an hour and almost a whole bar of soap (she’d have to pay the Pies back for that later) to get it all out. Now clad in only a towel, she stood staring at Limestone’s room. Her room, for the time being. It felt so good to be able to look at a bedroom and think of it as familiar.

Ignoring her bags by the old brown wardrobe, Rarity decided to investigate the closet. She’d left it alone before, feeling any investigation would have been an invasion of privacy. Yet Marble had insisted this time, so…

Opening the folding door, Rarity was relieved to discover that Limestone did have a decent collection of clothes. Compared to the plain frocks and dresses her siblings wore, the closet consisted largely of travelling attire. Mostly simple pants, jeans and blouses, although a proper dress or a traveling skirt could be seen here and there. The clothes were all threadbare, but they’d do in a pinch, and Rarity certainly felt ‘pinched’ at the moment.

There was a time when she would have been picky about her selection. Just a season ago she’d likely have spent an hour or more perusing her options for the best choice. For appearances. For flattery, if necessary. For charm and sophistication. For fabulosity. Under different circumstances, she still would.

But she had to be ready at a moment’s notice. Practical clothes were the order of the day, clothes that would let her move, protect her from the elements, not get in the way of her hands if she needed to reach one of her guns quickly. Simple clothes. Limestone’s closet had those in abundance, and Rarity didn’t intend to wear them for more than a day. Maybe just a few hours, if she could get her own clothes washed in decent time. Not likely, considering how long it had taken to clean herself.

She plucked a pale orange shirt that looked comparatively newer than the others – which didn’t mean much – and looked for a proper pair of jeans, as they’d likely be in better shape than the cotton pants and skirts. Sadly, Limestone seemed to favor darker colors, and nearly all of her jeans were black. How did the mare not suffer from sunstroke in those things? She selected the most sun bleached pair available and hoped for the best.

Marble had a better eye for form and shape than Rarity expected, for Limestone’s clothes fit her surprisingly well. A touch too big, but nowhere near enough to be uncomfortable, and the extra size made it easy for her to hide her necklace. Limestone had a number of vests available, but Rarity elected to go for a larger coat. Perhaps because it reminded her, vaguely, of Cranky’s, but she told herself it was for the big inside pockets that could hold her guns. How was that old donkey, anyway? Perhaps she could write him a letter, just to let him know she was still alive.

Standing before the mirror over the wardrobe, she decided that big jackets were certainly not her style. Still, it would suit her needs for the time being. Taking it off and letting it rest on the back of the wardrobe’s chair, she took another look. Orange wasn’t her color, but she had no interest in being picky.

Odd. Whenever had she lost that perfectionism? The thought sobered her up quite a bit. How much more of her would change before this drifter’s life was behind her? Maybe in another year she’d be unrecognizable, even to herself. A frightening concept. No, terrifying. She stared at her reflection, at her unkempt mane and long face. No blush adorned her cheeks, no lipstick, no eyeshadow. Just Rarity, a forlorn creature that was slowly dying, being turned into something new. Her face remained as soft as ever, and she’d always been a small mare, but now there was a new size to her muscles that the shirt couldn’t hide. Rarity was leaner, stronger, more toned. When she touched her arm, she felt not the softness of a seamstress but the hardness of muscle.

Was that Rarity she was looking at… or the Bulletproof Heart?

“Stop it, Rarity,” she grumbled, turning away from her own image and grabbing a brush. “That’s not who you are, and you are not going to go down that road. It only leads to misery.” Easy enough to say, but grabbing hold of her confidence? Not so much. She needed something to help her out of this morale slump. Something to help her get over Cayenne and that caravan and the Bulletproof Heart. Something… reassuring. As she worked out the tangles in her mane, she scanned the room. She doubted there would be anything that might help.

Her eyes passed over an object on the wall just above the window. They snapped back, and Rarity felt weak in the knees. It was a stone carving of the crescent moon transposed over the sun, the traditional sigil of the Church of Mother Night. The sight of it filled her with guilt considering some of the things she’d said and thought about the Sisters, but… maybe there was some hope there. After all, who else did she have to turn to? Certainly not Marble. Dumping her frightening and dark worries upon that sweet young mare? No, absolutely not.

Her mind made up, Rarity turned to the bed where she’d set down her holsters. Except, now that she really looked at them, she noticed something missing. Namely, Silver Lining and Ruby Heart. Curious. I was sure I left them right here.

A chill ran down her spine and her hackles rose. She tossed the brush onto the bed and, with ears perked and mind on full alert, moved cautiously to the door. A quick peek revealed nothing in the hallway. Bathroom was empty. There was the master bedroom at the end of the hall, and Rarity weighed her options. Maud had been very clear the last time that she wasn’t to go in there.

But her guns were gone. Somepony had taken them, there could be no other explanation. And Maud had made it even more clear that Marble was scared to death of the things, so it couldn’t be her. Somepony else had to be in the house, and the master bedroom would be the perfect hiding place. She reached for the doorknob, gripped it tightly. If somepony was in there, would she have a chance?

No, wait. The bedroom made no sense. She’d only be putting herself in a corner, barring jumping out a window. If the villain was here, they would…

They would probably use Marble as a hostage. A ragged breath burst from Rarity’s lungs at the idea, images of Coco being carried to the stairs of the shop flitting past her vision. Under no circumstances could she let that happen, not to Marble. She had to end this, and end it quickly. But how?

Another look around. Nopony in sight. They weren’t coming for Rarity yet, it seemed. Waiting for her to make a move? They might be in the master bedroom, expecting her to take a look or waiting for an opportunity to catch her from behind. If so, then why give them the opportunity? She could leave, run to the nearest house and get help. If she was fast, they wouldn’t have any time to harm Marble.

And if they were waiting for her in the dining room?

She’d be able to face the problem head on. At the very least going that way wouldn’t end up with her backed into a corner so easily. She quickly conjured up a mental image of the bottom floor as she knew it, coming up with strategies and tricks. Approaching the dining room, she began discarding potential plans. Talking them out of it? No chance of success. Charge in, use the element of surprise? Strong chance of getting shot for her trouble. Try to slip past undetected? Risky. Unlikely. And none of those plans saved Marble.

Give herself up? She cringed, but had to acknowledge that it was probably the best chance Marble would get. It hadn’t worked for Coco, but maybe this time would be different. A last resort, then. She snuck along the wall, keeping as quiet as she could, and scanned the room.

No gang members holding a pony hostage. No nothing. The room was as it had been the last she’d seen it. A relief… unless they were in the kitchen, which she couldn’t see, or upstairs. Rarity would have no choice but to expose herself to the empty dining room. Not good if some crook chose the opportune moment to come downstairs. But to get a safe look at the kitchen…

All Rarity’s plans and schemes collapsed at what she saw. Marble Pie sat at the kitchen table, her chin propped up in one hand. Rarity’s guns lay on the table before her. She was staring at them thoughtfully, brow furrowed as though she were trying to solve a puzzle.

“Marble Pie!” Rarity stomped into the room, her sudden appearance making the young mare practically fall out of her seat. “You scared me half to death! I thought some outlaw had stolen my guns and might be doing horrible things to you.”

Recovering from the outburst, Marble straightened in her seat with a hand over her heart, taking slow, calming breaths. “M-Miss Belle. You startled me.”

“Startled you?” Hands on hips, breath erratic, Rarity glared at the wide-eyed mare. “I almost had a heart attack when I found my guns missing.”

“I only wanted to—”

“I don’t want to be stuck in another hostage situation!” Her exclamation snuffed out the fire of Rarity’s wrath. She wobbled on rubbery knees, grasping the back of a chair with one hand to steady herself. The other shook violently as she rubbed at the necklace beneath her shirt. Only now did she recognize the familiar emptiness and cold that filled her to the core.

“I’m s-sorry, I…” She lowered her gaze and fought back tears. “I can’t go through that again. I can’t. I don’t want another Braeburn.”

Only her intense breathing and the frantic drumbeat of her heart in her ears broke the silence. She clenched her eyes closed and willed the memories away. No more Cocos screaming. No more hands groping her. No more dark stains on the shop’s wall.

No more Braeburn.

She never heard Marble stand, and it took some time for her to realize the young mare was supporting her weight. Rarity allowed herself to be guided into one of the chairs, her legs giving out just before she landed. Taking a haggard breath, she wiped away the not-quite escaped tears from her eyes and looked up at Marble. “Thank you. I’m sorry for… for this.”

“Mm-hmm.” Marble offered a frail smile. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

Leaning over the table, trembling fingers rubbing just beneath her horn, Rarity closed her eyes. “And to think, I was just about to ask where the nearest church was. Guess it’s t-too late to ask Them for help getting over things.”

She heard Marble walk away, and then the faucet of the kitchen sink. When she next opened her eyes, she found a tall glass of water on the table before her. She snatched it up and drank. The cool liquid was like a balm to the mind, and already she could feel her shaking fade, if not completely going away. She set the half-empty glass down with a gasp. “Thank you, Darling. I needed that.”

Her eyes landed on Silver Lining and Ruby Heart. A new, more subdued worry came to her. “Oh. Maud told me not to let you see my guns.”

Marble sat opposite her, smile fading to a neutral expression as she eyed the weapons. “I’m not afraid of guns. Maud just thinks I am.”

Rarity nodded, glad for the change in conversation. “Will she be upset if she sees them out?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Marble pulled them out of Rarity’s reach before she could reclaim them. “Let me worry about that.”

“And if she kicks me out because of this?”

“She won’t.” The young’s mare’s face turned hard as stone. “I won’t let her. It’s not just her house.”

The image of the Pie siblings in an argument was… well, it was strange, considering she had trouble imagining either of them raising their voices for any reason. “Still, I’d rather not be the cause of a fight between you two.”

Marble’s eyes went back to the guns. Her thoughtful frown returned. She ran her fingers along Ruby Heart’s barrel, tracing the rough edges of the embedded rubies. “What is it like to kill somepony?”

Rarity’s ears perked. She ignored the needle poking her heart to cautiously ask, “Why do you want to know?”

She didn’t get a response. Instead, Marble just stared at her, face neutral and eyes pleading. Considering her situation, Rarity wondered about the potential reasons behind such a query. But then, given her answer, maybe it didn’t matter.

“Killing somepony is the worst feeling in the world,” she whispered. “Every time I hurt somepony, I feel less… ‘me’. It’s like I’m killing a little bit of myself at the same time.”

Marble’s eyes widened, but only slightly. “And you’ve killed with these?”

Rarity couldn’t meet her eyes. “Recently.”

“But if it hurts so much, why do it?”

“Isn’t that the question?” Rarity rested her cheek in her palm and traced the edge of her glass with a finger. “I don’t know what drives most ponies to do it, but for me, it’s because my fear of death trumps the pain it inflicts. I’m always so scared, I can’t just let them kill me. So I fight back.”

“And hurt yourself in the process,” Marble muttered, studying the guns once more. She was silent for a time, her fingers still roaming the two guns as if touching their every surface would make her understand them better. Gradually, her shoulders began to slump and the hardness of her eyes faded.

“I wonder if the ponies who killed Papa, Mama, and Limestone felt that pain.”

Rarity’s ears folded back. Once again, she wished Marble hadn’t found her guns. The truth was that she didn’t think most of the ponies running in gangs and raider posses gave a damn about who they killed. Surely that wasn’t what Marble wanted to hear. “I…” Her mouth closed quick when Marble met her gaze. What was she supposed to say?

Something fell onto the table between them with a loud slap. Rarity’s head jerked up, her hand instinctively reaching for Silver Lining, except she went for her unadorned hip rather than the tabletop. She froze upon finding Maud looming over both of them. Though her face remained as expressionless as ever, there was a twitch in her right eye.

Maud’s gaze drifted to the guns. “I said not to let her see them.” No fire in her voice, but it still made Rarity shrink back.

Except she wasn’t responsible for this, now was she? Trying not to think about how Maud had all but crushed her hand in their first meeting, Rarity sat up a little straighter and turned fully to the mare. “I’ll have you know they were in my room.” She flinched as those hard eyes locked on her, but didn’t back down. “Marble did this on her own.”

Turning her head in a sharp motion, Maud peered at her little sister. Marble’s face was half hidden behind her mane, but she still met that stony stare with a nod. She didn’t look half as worried as Rarity felt. In fact… the look in her narrowed eye frightened more than Maud’s placidity.

A long, deep breath later, Maud turned away. “Upstairs. Now.”

It took Rarity a moment to realize the command was not aimed at her. She watched as the sisters disappeared to the second floor, Maud stiff as stone, but Marble’s movements fluid and sure. Something about it told Rarity that Maud wasn’t going to be taking as much of a lead in the coming discussion as she probably expected. Then again, Rarity hadn’t known either of them long enough to make a proper judgement call.

Either way, guilt ran its laps around her brain. This might not have been entirely her fault, but even so…

She turned to grab her guns, determined to bring them back to her room, but paused. The object Maud had slapped onto the table was a newspaper, and a local one. Rarity’s eyebrows shot up at this discovery. The nearest source of paper had to be up in the Bowl north of Hoofington. High quality paper would have to come from the region around Manehattan or Mooisville. This far south, the import costs for the materials necessary to run a newspaper had to be prohibitive. She wondered about the subscription fees.

Curiosity got the better of her. She flipped the paper, glanced at the date, then did a double take. It was the 96th of Falling Heat. Considering the last few weeks, she ran the numbers in her head and determined that her birthday had occurred while she’d been in Elysium. Or perhaps right before, when she’d been starving in the desert. She’d entirely missed it. To think, there’d come a time when she’d miss her own birthday. Twenty-five years old.

Well, at least she still felt young. Sighing, she took a look at the headline. Then she sighed again.

Bulletproof Heart: Enemy of the Apple Family?

Beneath the headline was a low quality image of one of the wagons from the caravan she’d discovered a scant few days ago. This brought a fresh wave of nausea, and Rarity swore she could smell the burning flesh of a pile of pony corpses. She skimmed the article, teeth grinding more and more. It seemed that Cayenne had somehow managed to spread the idea that she was responsible for that travesty. At least, she assumed it was Cayenne. The paper didn’t name its source. Wanting nothing more to do with that infernal moniker ponies were attributing to her vastly exaggerated recent history, she opened the paper in search of something less distasteful to read.

Equestria was a busy place, and the Rockstead paper was full of stories. Rumors for where the Flaming Vermillion had gone off to. The Apple Family matriarch disappearing from Sweet Apple Acres. A wealthy recluse in Hoofington sponsoring an orphanage. Manehattan’s chief archmage dead. A town on the edge of the Sunpeaks that had its wells dry up. Theories regarding the Bulletproof Heart’s identity (“Killed an ex-lover in a jealous rage? Where are they getting these ideas?”). Some of the stories were weeks old, a reminder of the slow rate of communication between the city states.

Rarity reached the classifieds near the back, which didn’t interest her any. She almost put the paper away, but paused. There was a picture in the corner, a family? What was that doing in—

The air left her. Her hands shook so much she had to grasp the paper with her magic to see properly. It can’t be. They didn’t. Tell me they didn’t!

But they did. To her horror, they did. The picture was of a happy family standing before a familiar home. It was an old image, faded, but that didn’t make it any harder for her to make out. The stallion with his tacky floral shirt and straw hat, the mare with her hideous white pants and terribly poofy ponytail. She held an infant in her arms, the baby looking up at her in curiosity as she sucked on a pacifier.

And there, with the stallion’s hands on her shoulders, was a Rarity of no more than twelve years old. She had a good smile, but Rarity remembered how forced it had been. They’d dragged her from her sewing for a dumb family photo, and all she wanted was to get back to her newest couture. She’d put up with it and smiled for the camera, because as annoyed as she was, she loved her family and wasn’t going to disappoint them.

The image, so familiar, so old, made something swell in her chest. It bubbled up and threatened to burst out through her eyes. But she ignored it, because there was something far more important than a moment underappreciated. Beneath the image were six simple words, words that filled her with a fresh terror:

Deal made. All forgiven. Come home.

Teardrops smudged the words. “You… Y-you fools…” Her magic flickered. She took the page in trembling hands that crumpled the paper in their grip. All her struggles had been for nothing. The Apples had found her family. Or her family had found the Apples. Either way, she had no doubt as to the reality of things. They thought they’d made some sort of bargain for her life and freedom. She could see her mother making lunch, her father at work. Sweetie Belle all excited because her big sister was surely on the way.

And somewhere nearby, the Bad Apples were waiting.

“Bastards,” she hissed, wiping the tears from her face. “You just c-couldn’t leave them alone, could you?”

It was a trap. There was no way it couldn’t be. They had her unwitting family hostage, and they would come for her the moment she strolled into Mooisville.

She would go. What kind of daughter would she be if she didn’t?

She flipped to the front page and glared at the headline, as if she might set it alight with the heat of her rage.

Bulletproof Heart: Enemy of the Apple Family?

“All right, you cretins. You want an enemy?

“You’ve got one.”

Once unified, Equestria is now divided up into a collection of independent city states. The major ones include, in no particular order: Hoofington, Manehattan, Seaddle, Mooisville, and Cloudsdale. Of the smaller ones, the most important are Rockstead, Mareami, Las Pegasus, and Denfur. Each city state has its own system of governance as decided upon by the locals.

However, in a world where arable land is at a premium, the majority of the power falls with the agricultural elite, which means that earth ponies rule the roost. This political strength resides in the major Families spread through the land, such as the Apples, and major conflicts are usually due to family feuds.

There are exceptions. Seaddle, for example, still utilizes a monarchical rule with a unicorn royal family. Agriculture, however, dominates all important elements of politics. In Cloudsdale the public is led to believe a Military Council rules, but in reality that Council is controlled by the Weather Service thanks to its direct influence over agriculture.

With all this in mind, it should be pointed out that the vast majority of Equestria's population is indeed earth pony, which takes up roughly three-fourths of the citizenry. Unicorns come in second and pegasi are by far the least common. So uncommon, in fact, that in many areas of Equestria there are earth ponies and unicorns who go their entire lives without seeing a pegasus. Another factor in this is that the pegasi tend to prefer to stay in their cloud cities and towns, most avoiding going to the ground altogether.

For those wondering, geode farming does not qualify towards this agricultural elite. Although, as the Pie Family prove, it can still lead to one having significant influence.

Thestrals also play a significant role in agriculture. Their nocturnal nature allows them to work in the cool of night, thus avoiding the risks of doing the job in the heat of a much closer, more dangerous sun. Despite this, thestrals rarely enjoy a place of power as the farms are almost always owned by earth ponies. Thestrals are thus typically limited to being field hands. Only in rare instances (see the Squash Family in Spurhoof) do thestrals manage to rise above their traditional roles and own their own farmland.