Rockhoof was still blinking in surprise from seeing the two mares appear on the lake’s surface when he felt a pair of hooves wrap around his chest, Starlight having practically thrown herself at him in a move that would have toppled any other stallion. For a pony of his bulk? He barely felt the impact, looking down at the pink unicorn mare hugging him in bemusement.

Starlight Glimmer, a mare he hadn’t seen in a few years after his… rather unfortunate stint at the School of Friendship. The memory and embarrassment attached to it brought a wince to his muzzle. He’d been a confused mess back then.

She didn’t notice the wince… or she didn’t care at least.

“Rockhoof!” She greeted (rather loudly, mind) raising her eyes to meet his. “It’s me, Starlight! We met a few years back, remember? What are you doing here?”

“Enjoying my retirement.” Loose term, he knew. With him winding up as castellan of Trecesson, it really wasn’t much of a retirement anymore. “I would think Flash Magnus passed on the information. This world, in its state, is just a better fit for the likes of me and Meadowbrook. So let me return the question: what are you doing here? Last I remember Princess Sparkle passed on her school to you.”

Starlight’s face fell and she separated the hug, dropping down to her hooves.

“She did. We… it was summer break OK? They were looking for volunteers to help the ponies on this planet.” She looked towards Trixie. “We’re not new to adventuring, so we felt like we would be fine helping around. And we were. The monsters weren’t such a big deal. We traveled around the British Isles. We helped relocate a colony after a sea serpent attack in Ireland. Taught lessons on ponykind and magic. Gathered survivors. Spread Harmony. Even with all the danger it went well.”

“Then you overstayed your welcome and got stuck.” Starswirl calmly guessed.

Starlight felt tempted to ask the walking piece of Equestrian myth why he was a ghost, but she just nodded sullenly, head held low. Trixie trotted over and took it upon herself to continue the explanation.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie is saddened to say we both overestimated our ability to power the spell back to Equestria and decided to continue helping colonies. We were just done with Ireland and starting with Britain. That was two months ago.”

“Add two weeks to that, and that’s about when we realized that wasn’t such a good id-” Starlight added.

She was interrupted by a small cough. Right next to Rockhoof, Paladin Catherine had stood up, her tall armored frame comparatively much larger than either Starlight or Trixie.

Still not quite as large as Rockhoof, but the stallion was on another scale entirely.

“I hate to interrupt, but we’re in France here. My country may not exist anymore but that doesn’t change most of us here don’t speak English.” She slowly said, throwing the visitors a look.

“Oh how rude of us. I’m terribly sorry Paladin.” Starswirl apologized. “Would you mind if I cast a quick translation spell?”

That earned him a curt nod from the heavily-armored paladin mare with the curved horn. The ghost focused his magic and released a flash of magic through his horn, ensuring all ponies on the lakeshore could understand each other before he sat back down.

“Understand now?”

Catherine nodded, satisfied.Starswirl turned back towards Starlight.

“I’m sorry Miss Glimmer, you were saying?”

“As you probably know, the energy requirements to go back and forth between Earth and Equestria have been increasing. What we didn’t expect was how quick it would happen since we thought ‘eh, we’re pretty good mages so what’s the worst that can happen if we stick around?’ Fast-forward to when we actually cast the ritual to go back and… the requirements were so high Trixie and I burned out and spent all our magically-charged gems in the attempt.” She explained, ending in a sigh. “Wasn’t even enough to send a call for help home an- and- Faust damn it, it’s all my fault!” Starlight burst out, falling down in the grass with her head between her hooves. “Twilight, Sunburst, the students, everypony! They needed me, and I just ran off on my responsibilities because I thought I could have my summer adventure!” She wailed.

Trixie hurried over to her marefriend, wrapping a hoof over her neck and dragging her into a tight hug.

“Shh, it’s alright Starlight. We’re both at fault here.” She comforted, brushing a hoof through her mane. “We found Rockhoof now, and you heard Lady Vivian earlier. We’re headed the right way.”

“That’s what I was wondering.” Rockhoof calmly said after sharing a look with Paladin Catherine. “I’m not exactly familiar with this world’s geography just yet, but if you were in Britain, why have you come here?”

“Because we were told to.” Starlight sniffed.

The inquisitive looks she got from both Starswirl and Rockhoof prodded her to go on. The pink mare threw Trixie a small smile before standing up, shakily. She still felt guilty. She was supposed to be in charge. She was supposed to be responsible. Yet her actions had caused not only her and her marefriend to wind up stranded on a foreign planet, but along with them was the crew of the entire airship. They had livelihoods too. Families. Jobs.

All put in jeopardy because of her and Trixie's hubris. She shook her head softly.

“When we first hit England there was this small group of survivors in Liverpool which we helped relocate to a castle in the countryside. It’s only after we were done with the usual relief effort, giving explanations and teaching about pony biology that we cast the ritual to return to Equestria and realized we were stuck.”

“You panicked.” Starswirl’s tone was flat.

“What kind of pony wouldn’t?” She threw him a look. “I’ll give the short story and say we wandered around for a while trying to look for solutions. Thing is, we had heard about some human magic and gods while we were in Ireland, and one of the ponies we helped in Liverpool suggested we try our luck in Wales with the ancient magic.

It sort of worked. After all, if we couldn’t get back home on our own means, maybe human magic could help us out? We took off, set a course for Wales and started looking around. We had to look through a few libraries before we gathered enough clues, which led usto a set of standing stones in Pembrokeshire.” She paused to take a breath. “That wasn’t quite the solution though. It was a gateway to the Otherworld guarded by a couple wights and the spirit of a dead druid. It...” She threw Trixie a look.

“In all her skills at bending light and befuddling minds, it still took the Great and Powerful Trixie all of two days to get the wights to calm down and obtain some answers from the druid. He didn’t let us through to the Otherworld though, instead he sent us further south saying maybe we’d have better luck in Glastonbury Tor at the Gates of Avalon.”

“The gates are still standing?” Starswirl raised an eyebrow. “I thought the island had been ravaged by a fire.”

“Must have been at some point.” Trixie stared at him flatly. “Because except for a chapel, the hilltop was barren. It’s also not an island anymore… however that’s supposed to happen.” She blew a strand of her mane out of her sight and tucked it under her mane with her telekinesis. The Prim and Proper Trixie never had bad mane days. “The magic was there however. So… we went through into the Otherworld and we saw the glass palace, the empty halls, the dead orchards, his tomb,it was...”

“Eerie? I’d be surprised if you found it normal. The Otherworld isn’t meant for mortals. It tends to leave its imprint on those who visit.” Starswirl calmly said.

“Talk about an understatement.” Starlight shuddered. “I’ve never felt anything like that. It was like… anywhere you put your hoof there was a magical echo, but the halls were cold and empty.”

“Aye. At one point Avalon was at the crossroads of the entire Otherworld. A link to many Celtic divinities’ realms. A place of knowledge and wonder for all practitioners of magic to behold, human or not. Camlann changed that, and it was never the same from that point on after Arthur’s burial. I never learned what happened to the place.”

“Vivian said it was sealed shortly after, but how do you know that?” Starlight inquired carefully. “Is there anything we should know? Is that why you’re...”

“A ghost?” He chuckled. “It’s tied to it, yes, but my nature is not something so easily discussed. We will get to it later. What happened then?”

“There was this cloaked figure.” Her mind flashed back to the moment. She and Trixie had been looking at the eldritch skies of the Otherworld in Avalon’s dead orchards when it had waltzed out from between two gnarly dead trees. Even by the realm’s standards, the shimmering and inconsistency of its shape… it hadn’t been quite right. “We think it was a god, but it didn’t give us a name or a title. It just appeared out of nowhere, asked us a few questions about our goals, and then told us it may have a friend in Broceliande with the magic to help us.” She finished her sentence with a pointed look towards Starswirl.

“It’s a real coin toss who that ‘friend’ may be, don’t you think?” The Lady of the Lake snarked in Latin as her form emerged from the lake’s water. She spread out her dragonfly wings and settled into a hover above the lakeshore.

Starswirl glowered at her for a couple seconds before he let out an annoyed sigh, pushing himself up on his hooves. Give it to Vivian to drive his annoyance to its limits in one sentence.

“You and I both know it’s not him, just a memory. No use dangling that hope in front of me.” He glared at her before turning towards Starlight.

“Miss Glimmer, Miss Lulamoon, I suggest we move off to that airship of yours and see whether or not I can actually help you out.”

“You know… I think I’ve made up my mind on this.” Dilip broke the silence.

He’d been awake for a good quarter of an hour now, quietly watching the sun rise through the skylight as Carmelita spooned him, the border collie keepin an arm wrapped around his chest as the two of them dozed in bed. The scent of sex still lingered in the air, as was the dull soreness in his muscles. It had been a while since he’d actually gotten any…

“Have you, now?” His partner of the previous night smiled, one paw brushing through the slightly paler fur on his chest. “I didn’t know you needed a whole night to figure out whether or not you liked sex. Was I that bad?”

“No. No. Definitely not.” He half-barked, half-laughed. “You were excellen-”

“So were you. Pretty decent for a first-timer.”

“I did say I was married before, right?”

“I was talking post-Event, dummy. Experience as a human doesn’t count.”

“Either way...” He rolled his eyes, nose twitching. “It’s still a bit… bizarre how different it is for us dogs. I don’t dislike it though. It’s… relaxing really. I’m always supposed to be in charge on my ship, and passing over the reins to someone, just for the night… it’s more relaxing than any blend of tea I’ve ever come across. And believe me when I say: I know my infusions.”

“You’re weirdly into tea for an Indian you know.”

He just snorted. The comments on him being ‘Briticized’, he could understand.But the tea? Really? His ancestors were drinking tea thousands of years before hot water as a concept reached the British Isles.

Just plain silly.

“Still...” She continued. “I’m glad you liked it in the end. You looked rather awkward at first.”

“Blame your methods. You’re not exactly ‘subtle’ about your intentions you know. What’s with that? You think I don’t have the self-control to see you dangling the metaphorical piece of meat in front of my eyes?”

Carmelita’s arm tightened around his chest.

“I’m sorry as to how that may have come across.” She slowly said, unsure of how to continue. “But… I told you yesterday I’d do anything to ensure Mexico would be set on the right path from now on. That includes… handing out incentives to the right pups.”

“You do know we’d have helped either way? I mean… that’s what the WSU does. We go around and set up colonies.” He craned his neck to look her in the face from the corner of his eye.

He yelped when she bit his ear playfully.

“Cut the cheek, I’m the one in charge here and you’re enough of a prize on your own.” She grinned. “You being on my side now, that’s just a bonus.”

“I just said I liked laying back and letting you take charge.” He stared at her flatly. “Not that I was turned into a complete sub. Out of curiosity...”

“I’ll just say I did sleep with my foreman. Samuel though? He had a bone to pick with the cartels, so he and his militia are on my side by default. Abyssinians don’t work the same way dogs do.”

Figures. The feline had a more… common sexual dimorphism. Pretty similar to humans actually, though their females tended to fall on the plain side when compared to say, the matronly build of female gargoyle or amazon-esque creatures such as minotaur cows or D-Dog bitches, one of which he was currently using the breasts of as a (pretty comfy) pillow.

“It’s gonna be a mess in the long run.” He muttered.

“I’m aware.” Carmelita confirmed, finally relenting her grip on his chest as she stood up to get dressed. Spooning was fine and dandy, but she needed to work on reactivating the refinery, among other things.

That didn’t detract from the fact they were keenly aware the planet as a whole was bound to face severe social issues in the future. There was already the fact gender norms were thrown asunder by the fact a solid third of the population was swapped around, but human norms didn’t necessarily carry over to newer species either.

Humans had dimorphism in that women were generally smaller and less suited for blue collar work than men. That didn’t carry over to Diamond Dogs at all to the point that Carmelita had to forcefully convince several bitches to get off their asses and go to work. Moreover, if primadonnas and machos persisted even after becoming dogs, she feared the future may yield cases of battered males because they kept thinking like humans.

A right mess with just the one species.

Given that most colonies including Coatzacoalcos were inhabited by more than one type of creatures? In their case, developing social norms would be a pain in the ass. Cats and dogs literally, with gender dimorphism that sat on opposite ends of the scale for either species.

Frankly given the complexity of the topic, Dilip wasn’t surprised to see the Mexicans had adopted an attitude he’d been seeing for a while among sailors: ignore it, leave it for someone else to deal with, and just keep working. Most folks already had too much on their plate to really worry about the topic, ensuring day-to-day logistics ran smoothly was hard enough as is.

And eventually, after rolling out of bed and gathering their discarded clothes, those were the logistics both D-Dogs headed back to. Social issues were fun food for thought while you were sharing breakfast after a night of wild sex, but colonial matters needed to be tended, trade deals hammered out, and overall handling the matters of stabilizing civilization.

By early afternoon, a trade deal between the WSU and the oil workers had been printed, signed and filed.

Per usual, the WSU would do its stuff of helping them stabilize their colony and set up various utilities, though to a lesser extent than most of their previous ports of call. Most of the cats and dogs (and the odd parrot) that called the refinery home were blue collar, and thus had the technical skills to set up a decent colony on their own.

Most of what the sailors needed to do was more about helping the locals and fill up work crews than actually set something up, barring lesser stuff like repairing and reactivating the clinic near the militia’s barracks, or the usual lessons like post-Event biology, monsters, the ten thousand years and whatnot.

More ideas might pop up later, but for now the oil workers mostly needed engineers to reactivate the refinery.

That left trade. Coatzacoalcos was able to put out one precious thing nearly every colony needed: fuel. The one key component needed to run generators, and unlike recycled fuels, theirs didn’t have a negative impact on oil filters and machinery in general. Plus, recycled fuel was by nature limited to the amount of spoiled oil you could locate in one place. The refinery on the other paw was connected to subsea templates and oil wells numbering in the billions of barrels. More if they seized abandoned platforms and repressurized the oil pockets.

And that was only the fuel. Not only could you make plenty of lubricants and polymers from one batch of crude in addition to the multiple kinds of fuel, but then came the fact that crude wasn’t the only thing to come out of a well. Natural gas was a thing too.

Its main purpose as it reached the petrochemical complex was to serve as the main source of power to keep the current running, but sections of the refinery were devoted to processing it into usable chemicals.

Among the outputs of the gas chain? Fertilizer.

What did the farming cooperative in Cuba say they needed? Talk about a coincidence.

Though of course, it wasn’t only about exports. The folks at the refinery needed stuff to keep it going, things like large machined parts that could be made in Belfast, which also supplied meat from the O’Connell farm near Antrim. Savannah could provide ammunition by the boatload. Havana was able to supply canned foods and liquor. Even Narvik might be an interesting addition, if the dwarves they were trading with could enchant critical refinery components to withstand harsher parameters.

As far as supply routes went it was far from perfect and could probably use a lot of improvement as they discovered more colonies… but Roberto’s earlier assumption that adding a refinery to the network would cement the feasibility of the project was all but confirmed at this point.

Coatzacoalcos’ strategic importance was paramount.

“And that is why we can’t just sit back and let them be conquered by those...” Roberto trailed off.

“Cartels?” Dilip calmly completed.

It was late in the afternoon now, and he was back inside his quarters having tea with his Intel Officer. A little indent in the thicker fur around his neck hid a little leather collar with a pendant. A discreet reminder of his night with Carmelita she had stuck on his neck before he left.

“I was going to say cultists given your description, but either fits it seems. Los Lobos.” The feline bobbed his head, dumping two sugars in his teacup. “I still have to visit that hacienda of theirs, but the constant commute from there to the refinery makes them incredibly vulnerable to attacks. Or so Samuel said. They can readily defend either facility, but the enemy presence is something else, and it’s been hampering their ability to develop.”

“I know that. Looks to me like we’re going to have to fight them…” Dilip took a sip of his tea and sighed. “It’s a dangerous situation.”

“Few things aren’t dangerous.” Roberto pointed out.

“Ex-cartel members turned cultists I believe are a cut above what we’ve met before, Roberto. Don’t underestimate them.” Dilip looked at the feline across from him. “Need I remind you we are not military? Overconfidence could just as easily lead to one of us getting killed and that’s about the last thing we want in this situation. People are precious, now more than ever.”

“Understood Captain. What shall we do then?”

Dilip stood up and moved over to the nearest porthole, small steaming teacup held in a large paw.

“Let’s follow the same principle that we did in Savannah. Prepare a list and ask for whoever is up for fighting Los Lobos… then I want you to pass it over to Artyom and tell him to get into contact with the militia’s commander… Samuel I mean. Good liaison with local forces will be important. Lorelei should be doing the same right about now. That way we should have an idea of the forces we can deploy to stamp out the threat.”

“Anything else?” His subordinate inquired, his own tea forgotten -not that he was too fond of it anyway- now that he’d pulled out a notepad.

“Yes. Double the guard detail on the ship. The locals have been fearing an assault for a while and I fear our arrival may force their hand and lead to an attack. I also want you to prepare expedition groups. Send out the recce team into town for stuff we could sell to the HPI, and prepare another expedition to salvage medical equipment. We need the stuff to reactivate the clinic. That is all for now, just make sure you spare the time to visit that hacienda of theirs for a colonial assessment. I’m sure Alejandro wouldn’t mind coming along, you two seem to get along well enough. That is all for now.

Behind him, Dilip heard the door open and close with a click, signalling the Intel Officer’s departure. He turned his gaze out the porthole and towards the jungle beyond the refinery. For a brief second, he swore he could see a hint of yellow fur disappear behind vegetation.

Enemy scouts most likely. Los Lobos wouldn’t stay quiet for much longer.

None in Skinner’s group slept in the span of time between Emily’s departure and her return just before dawn. The four of them were far too tense for that.

Instead, in hushed tones, they talked. Wondering what was going to happen, if their hippogriff savior would be found out by her peers whilst she retrieved their gear, if she failed and couldn’t make it in time, if she just gave up and decided to run for it…

If she was going to betray them. Then again, Skinner couldn’t see why she would do that. Their captors already had them in a cell.

Much as Skinner wanted to be cautious about her though, Emily kept her part of the bargain. As dawn neared and the guards outside started becoming more tired and less alert, there was some rustling outside their cave. The guard in front of their cell grunted in confusion, and then promptly collapsed, his body caught just in time before it could hit the ground and cause a ruckus.

A few seconds later, Emily’s beaked face peeked through the now open door frame as she deposited a large canvas bag between them with a metallic clatter.

“Your gear. Hurry up. The timberwolves are getting restless.” She told them quickly before she went back outside to keep an eye out.

They didn’t waste their time gearing up. Emily had done a good job of retrieving their stuff: everything was there. Sure, the guns’ optics were misaligned, the comms’ batteries were in the red and some of the mags had been emptied, but it was there.

Skinner racked his G36 and chambered a round before he slung the rifle across his back. Firing any shot right then was just begging to be captured… and likely killed on the spot.

Subordinates in tow, the hedgefog Captain slipped out of the cell and into the night. Emily eyed them up as she was finishing tying up the still unconscious guard. Whispering an apology, the hippogriff hen shoved a gag in his beak before she turned around to face the sailors.

“Ready?” She mouthed, to which Skinner replied with a confident nod.

Getting out of the village was… tense, obviously. Emily had managed to steal a blowgun and a set of sleep darts, but she’d only dealt with the one guard and caught him by surprise. There were more roaming around the primitive village, tired parrots and distracted hippogriffs that forced the five of them to scramble into the shadows every time they walked past lest they alerted the whole village.

Sneaking around as a group wasn’t easy. At all. Every step he took, every little plank that creaked or every time his gear rustled, Skinner could swear he was about to wake up everyone and get them tossed into a volcano. He would take cover in a dark nook, only for the one cloud that was blocking off the moon to drift off and light him up like a spotlight, prompting the hedgefog to quickly shift to fog form.

In fact the only one in the group not to experience any difficulties with all that sneaking around was Praveen, and he was pretty sure she had her feline grace to thank for it. The Abyssinian hardly made a sound as she padded from cover to cover, sometimes lowering herself to the ground to walk on all fours silently, effortlessly slipping between the tired guards that looked like they were just waiting for the end of their shift.

It still took them over an hour to make it to the log palisade that constituted the edge of the village, with several close calls that forced Emily to eat through her already limited supply of sleep darts. On the bright side, Skinner discovered how little sound his species made while in fog form, so he quickly developed a tactic of sneaking up on guards before quickly switching back to material form to deliver an electric burst to neutralize them.

Keyword being neutralize. They weren’t out to massacre the locals after all. That would only make it worse for them when the village woke up.

Which, going by the orange hues the sky had taken when they snuck past the palisade, wouldn’t be long from now. They quietly closed the gates behind them after taking care of the one parrot that had been watching the perimeter before they left in a mad dash towards the jungle, intent on putting as much distance between them and the villagers as possible before the alarm was raised. And it would, no doubt. It was just a coin toss as to what they’d find first: the unconscious guards, the empty cell, or the altar Emily had profaned to retrieve their gear.

Had they been a whole team of flyers, they might have been able to fly down the mountainside and back to the shore, but neither Praveen nor Skinner could fly, and Marcos, being an Ornithian, was admittedly terrible at it… so they were left with legging it through the jungle.

Emily led them to the lakeshore opposite the village where a tiny path wound its way along a narrow crest covered in ferns and saplings, one side sloped smoothly towards the lake, the other a near-cliff that dropped into a valley a few hundred meters below. She had them stop in a glade in view of the village just long enough for the hippogriff to drag a rucksack from underneath a rotten log.

“All there. Thank God they didn’t find it.” She said in relief as she opened it and began taking off what few tribal garments she was wearing. “I stashed this stuff here when the Bohiqua started seizing anything remotely modern. Couldn’t access it when they decided non-warriors had to stay inside the village.”

By which she was referring to the set of hastily refitted cargo shorts with a hole for her tail feathers along with a rough hiking shirt she had stuffed in there. A poor fit to her frame, something she must have done soon after reappearing, but a definite improvement over the primitive fashion she’d had forced upon her. She kept digging into the rucksack, pulling out various items like a map of the island, some waterproof bags containing her phone, laptop and journals – the batteries sadly empty-, going through the contents for a minute before she put them back in her rucksack, satisfied the jungle’s humidity hadn’t damaged her gear too much.

“Sorry, but I’d rather not stay dressed like a savage.” She apologized after she secured her rucksack’s straps. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?” Skinner inquired.

“Northeast.” Emily replied. “I know the area. If we go this way...” She pointed down a valley with her talons. “We can get some good distance between us and them and they’ll have difficulties flying down after us. That still leaves the timberwolves, but if we keep a good pace and watch our tracks maybe they won’t catch up too soon.”

Skinner didn’t really have a counter-argument to that, so they went with her decision. She was a local, and she actually had a topographic chart of the island, instead of Skinner’s own inaccurate satellite picture. So down the valley they went; through dense jungle as the sun slowly made its ascent above them and the temperature began to rise.

Emily’s plan took them towards the Atlantic side of the island, opposite Roseau where Fugro Symphony was anchored. It was far steeper, more densely forested and less developed than what Skinner’s team had experienced on the way in, which they quickly noticed when the trail they’d initially started on faded away and they had to force their way through an ever denser vegetation as swarms of insects started buzzing around them.

“Ugh...” Emily grunted. “Figures they wouldn’t maintain the trails that lead into Kalinago territory.”

“I’m sorry, what?!” Skinner exclaimed. “Did you just imply we’re headed towards the tribe they called bloodthirsty?”

“Not directly no.” She countered. “We’re skirting around their territory because that’s about the last direction they’d go looking. Once we’re past them it’s one stretch of jungle to the ruins of the airport. Just watch for totem poles. That’s how they mark their borders.”

“And they won’t attack if we stay out?”

“Unlikely.” Emily snorted. “I studied the Kalinagos for a while. Unlike the Tainos they haven’t been ‘revived’ by this whole mess, and they were pretty chill as far as I can tell, unlike what the Bohiqua would have you believe. Stay out of their affairs, they’ll stay out of yours.”

“Better hope you’re right about that.” Skinner mumbled.

As predicted, it didn’t take too long for Emily’s former compatriots to wake up and sound the alarm. Off in the distance, they heard it, the dull sound of a horn rolling down the mountainside, echoing off the many trunks around them and making it hard to pinpoint its origin. Soon, flights of hippogriffs and parrots started patrolling the skies above them, to little effect: the jungle was dense, and the canopy practically impossible to see through.

But it was also hard to traverse. On a level terrain, rainforests were already difficult to wade through with all the insects and vegetation, but here in Dominica? It paired with mountainous terrains, narrow gorges and crests, made all the more exhausting by the sheer heat and humidity that permeated the area. Yet even though Skinner could feel the strain building up in his muscle, even though the straps of his combat vest were starting to dig their weight into his shoulders and he started loathing his fur and quills, they didn’t slow down.

Crest after crest, valley after valley, they pushed on and continued on their way towards the airport, hacking their way through the jungle and hiding under the vegetation whenever a patrol passed overhead.

They had a goal. Earlier, Skinner had pulled out his sat phone and used what little battery remained in the device to warn the ship of the situation and to order his subordinates to relocate off the airport where they’d meet up. From what little information he gleaned during the conversation, Quinn (his Chief Officer) had sent a group after them when they went missing, only to be chased out of the jungle by timberwolf riders.

At least nobody had been added to the tally of prisoners. This whole operation was enough of a mess already, so Skinner would rather be done with it and get off the damned island so they could continue towards Brazil.

“This whole thing is such a mess anyway.” Praveen growled in the back of the group. “I thought Carribean people were supposed to be nice people. Not… that kind of anti-tech craziness.”

“No argument there.” Was Emily’s reply. “I grew up here. I’ve seen them act pretty damn retarded at times… but this...” The hippogriff let out an annoyed trill. “This takes the cake. Willingly getting brainwashed by a Taino goddess? Please.”

“I’m gonna play the devil’s advocate and say the main reason is that uh… goddess can bring back their loved ones.” Skinner said. “You said she could do that, right?”

For a second, she was silent.

“Y- yeah, she can. Only for those who serve her well though, so...”

“Meaning by coming with us you’re giving away your chance at seeing your family again.” Skinner stated simply. “You know… you could still change your mind. At this point we four can keep going to the airport and you’d still have a chance to surrender and see them again. I’d understand the decision.”

“No.” Emily shook her head vehemently. “They wouldn’t want it to be this way. This whole thing… it’s just wrong.”

“That’s your choice.” Skinner shrugged. “What I can say is that we’ve got plenty of room available on my ship and I could always use the extra personnel. You said you were an anthropologist? With the amount of freshly settled colonies we’re coming across, we could use someone like you. Worst case scenario, you leave if you find a colony you’d like to live in.”

“That’s a… a nice offer. You mind if we leave it for when we’re off this island?”

“Music to my ears.”

In reasonable terrain, the group of five would have traversed the distance that separated them from the airport in as little as three hours. Dominica was not reasonable terrain, and the valleys and gorges, coupled with frequent stops to avoid detection throughout the day caused severe delays. Having to backtrack a few times when they found pathways blocked off by landslides and having to skirt a wide circle around Kalinago territory only made it worse.

The delay was so bad that by the time they finally came down the hills and towards the narrow stretch of flat land along the shore that was the airport, night had already fallen and Skinner had received several alarmed calls from Fugro asking why in the blazes they were taking so long.

“Sorry Quinn, but the terrain is kinda shit around here. Over.” Skinner grumbled into his radio, managing to catch himself just in time before he could slide down a muddy slope.

Sat phones? The batteries were long dead. But now that they were entering more open terrain and that they were on the right side of the island relative to the ship, the walkie-talkies were working again. Somewhat. Static was a thing.

“Understood sir. We’re on standby with the navigation lights turned off. Fire a flare when you’re in position and we’ll pick you up. Out.” The reply came, garbled, but understandable.

Straightforward, just the way he liked it.

“Come on people, we’re on the last stretch.” Skinner spurred the group onward.

They had taken a brief pause just above the airport, next to the ruined foundations of what at some point must have been a quaint little cottage, now naught but fertile soil for the jungle to expand on. In a fashion, much like the airport beneath them.

What little stretch of land had been cleared to give planes a place to land was ever so slowly being crept upon by the vegetation, to the point where anything outside the wire had become a sort-of mire with gigantic ferns and young saplings sprouting out of it in an area turned into wetlands by the same rainfall that had caused the landslides found all over Dominica.

Inside the wire was marginally better. The asphalt was cracked and battered, but it and the passenger terminal had held on, windows shattered, extensive humidity damage and rotting beams all over, but still standing as they walked past the wrecks of the support vehicles that used to service the planes passing through. Sharp cries inside the ruins denoted of bats that had made it their home as flocks of them took off now that the sun had set, eager to feast on the many insects that inhabited the jungle and the mire surrounding the airport.

And as Emily had said… the locals had burned down what few planes had been in the hangars at the time of the Event. Charred husks littered the side of the airstrip, the concrete blackened by the raging fires of a people that decided to shun modernity. Only one black husk wasn’t parked on the side of the strip.

That one, the islanders hadn’t set ablaze, that much was clear as they approached the end of the airstrip where sea met land. It was a regional liner, with a pair of turboprop engines, probably large enough for some three dozen passengers.

Which was about the amount of crosses planted in the mud beside the wreck. Skinner looked at it solemnly.

“It was before folks went crazy.” Emily remarked. “I came to help dig the tombs. They said it must have been landing when the Event happened, and the pilots turned into ponies. Nothing they could have saved them.” She shook her head.

“Did anyone survive?”

“A couple. Some died of their injuries later on. The others… some ponies grabbed a boat to go back to their country. The rest were the right species so they integrated. You must have seen some of them back in the village.”

“Brainwashed as well?”

She nodded. They had been more reluctant when the frenzy took hold and they started forcing folks to convert, but unlike her they couldn’t fake it. One of them, a male parrot, she was pretty sure Atabey had deemed would be more useful as a hen.

With the brainwashing? She was one of the first to lay eggs.

“Can we get off this island then?” Marcos asked hurriedly, eyes flicking towards the mountains as though a swarm of tribesmen would burst out of the jungle any second from now. “’cause last I checked that was the fate they reserved for me.”

“You’re right. Best not tempt fate and linger.” Skinner concluded, solemnly turning his back to the carcass before he started walking the rest of the way, towards the beach at the end of the airstrip.

With nighttime, it was hard to make out the horizon. Was that shade in the darkness his ship? Or a zeebeast? He couldn’t tell. The shore was dark, a brownish muddy sand making out the shore, covered in rotting algae brought on by the tide, its pungent smell mixed with that of the salty breeze that rustled the hedgefog’s quills. He let his G36 hang off its strap, reaching for the pouch that held his flare gun.

With a loud bang, the flare flew up in the night sky, a red star that illuminated the beach.

“Alright. We see you Captain. Stand by, help’s coming. Out.”

And then she appeared. Igniting all of her deck lights at once, Fugro Symphony popped into existence in front of their eyes, a tall hulking form that had been lurking in the darkness just off the shore, and with her came the smaller shape of one of their boats. Skinner smiled tiredly.

When the tribals flew in to meet them, it was already too late. A few bursts of the ship’s .50 cals fired over their heads sent them scurrying back into the jungle. They had failed: the sailors had escaped, and with them, Emily, the hippogriff mare staring forlornly at her native island she was leaving behind.

Thousands of miles to the east, some events of a different kind were unfolding in the Pyrenees. The mountain range stood as a natural border between France and Spain, or used to, since neither country really existed anymore at this point except as a memory in the minds of the returnees that called them home. The sun was already rising to a clear sky, good weather, yet with a chilly wind that heralded the end of summer. The end of civilization had come with its own flavor there, as it did in many places. It really wasn’t destruction that drove local returnees to flee the area, but lack of support. Mountain folks were hardy folks. The weather and harsh winds they could withstand. The rampant wildlife and monsters they might have been able to deal with.

But when supplies ran out with no renewal in sight, water ran dry and the fuel for generators dwindled down to nothing, it quickly became clear the wiser choice was to seek out a more comfortable life down in the valleys or closer to the shore. And thus, those few returnees that popped into existence atop the mountains soon made their way down and left their villages deserted. Civilization would come back, eventually, but not for years. Sure the mountain passes could be used to go back and forth between France and Spain, but there were tunnels too, and dangerous as they were without reliable ventilation, they still were vastly better than the alternative.

The presence of a lone unicorn up in the mountains was, by that account, an oddity.

‘Bang-bang-bang-click’ “Coño!” He swore. His old battle rifle had jammed. Again.Damn mechanism kept having double feed issues.

The stallion dropped his telekinetic grasp on the weapon and squared up on his hooves. No time to unjam the sodding thing, that maulwurf was upon him. He unlatched two sheaths he kept on his makeshift armor and a pair of knives flew up in the air, the telltale green glow of his magic wrapped around them.

When the large purple monster poked its snout above the top of the cliff he was using as a firing position, the stallion plunged the two knives in its eye sockets in a spray of gore. It let out a blood-curdling scream, its claws flew up to its injured eyes, and in doing so it relented its grip on the cliff. With a telekinetic shove, the monster tipped back and hurtled down the mountainside.

There was a thud. The screaming stopped. Rodrigo sighed in relief. That was the fifth one since the beginning of his doom-driven ascent up the mountains. At least now he knew to face them on rocky ground and not on dirt. Bloody things were damn fast at burrowing.

And for their humongous side, they remained rather vulnerable to 7.62 rounds. Or well placed stabbing. In a motion that was becoming routine at this point, he retrieved his rifle, unjammed it, and dumped two rounds into the dead giant-mole-monster-thing’s head. The old CETME could pull that off without jamming at least. He wiped his knives against its carcass before returning them to their sheaths on either side of his armor.

He wasn’t ex-army. He wasn’t ex-police. He was just a pony who understood that with monsters, you learn fast, or you die fast.

The Spaniard was a bit of an oddity for a unicorn in that his body shape was closer to that of an Earth Pony than the relatively lean figure his kind was known for, itself made all the bulkier by the makeshift refitted K9 armor he wore, to which he had added several layers of pouches and extra protection, to the point that the only exposed part of his fur was his head. A light gray coat coupled itself with his short black mane and the odd goatee around his muzzle, a stern appearance that matched the steely look in his eyes.

If there was such a thing as draft unicorns, he’d be one, and that build was what made it possible for him to endure the harsh, monster-infested mountains.

Once he was reasonably certain no more maulwurf would jump him, he resumed his ascent of the mountain. He’d been having this dream for a while, the main reason why he left Madrid actually. A green glow, like a lighthouse to guide him onwards. He was needed somewhere, with this tugging on his soul that was leading him somewhere up in the mountains.

Towards Roncevaux Pass.

Unbeknownst to him, or most of the world actually, a new Bearer was soon to enter the fray.

Author's Notes:

There. Now I've inflicted my horrible dialogs and characterization upon two more characters.

If you remember back then, the expedition to Londonderry (July 2015 in-story, right now they're in early October) found hints of Trixie and Starlight's presence on Earth.

Too bad for them, they got stuck. Starlight may be powerful, but don't count on Trix to accurately gauge her own arcane skills. Pair that with ponies' seemingly innate will to help, a pair of confident mares seeking the relief of adventure over summer break...

Shoulda been more careful.

On another note: points for you if you guess where I'm going with the last scene. It's not even that obscure.