Chapter 19: Many Contrasts

“Alright guys, here’s the thing...”

Green spoke with a droning preparation for explaining the city’s current events as she sat down on a rather well maintained chaise, one that was decorated with strangely tribalistic styled talismans, and she eased into the somewhat soft and cushy seat with a sigh. She looked over at an intact coffee mug of sorts, the once bright colors robbed of their splendor yet the white ceramic beneath the worn insignia still gleamed as if it was freshly washed, andclopped her hooves together before raising the cup.

“Drinks please!”

One of the tribals bowed his head and left the room with haste after prattling off some strange sort of speech, a weird mash of ponish but different just enough to be distinct. After he returned with a wooden platter on his back another of them removed the mugs and set them down before Green, Sparks, and Eagle. She nodded her head in thanks, to which all but one of the tribals left the room giving them privacy.

Green took a sip of the drink, with a little reaction from what was presumably a vile taste, but she smacked her lips all the same like it was palatable. “Eh... they try but that damn still needs fixing. Don’t worry guys, this poison isn’t actually poison; just some weird tribe liquor.” She chuckled a little as she grinned, and emended her statement. “Bathtub gin more like it, but please, sit down and rest a spell.”

“I’d prefer to be dry for this visit,” Eagle said, but nodded his head “but thanks all the same.”

“No, please take a drink. This lot gets easily offended if yah don’t, even just a sip if yah can’t stomach it.”

Eagle grumbled as he rolled his eyes; tribal customs and superstitions among the weirdest and most aggravating to deal or cope with. He nodded his head and approached one of the chairs, gesturing to Sparks to take the seat next to him. They eased into them, both immensely pleased to be off their legs, and both of them reluctantly lifted the mugs up. Eagle gave it a sniff, and the strong alcoholic burn in his nostrils told him that Green was right.Sparks did the same with her magic, but with a recoiling disgust as it smelled nearly exactly of paint thinner, yet with an odd, pungently sweet aroma.

Sparks was the first to speak, and her speech was nasally from the intrusion. “Are you sure...?”

Green chuckled, and shrugged as she took another sip of the drink. “Yeah, unfortunately they get real antsy about it; might be a religious thing or something. You’re about to drink some real shit tonight girl; I hope you’ve got strong guts.”

Sparks looked back to the drink with apprehension in her eyes as Eagle took a reluctant sip, and the immediate vileness of the liquor caused him to shake his head slowly and groan a little. “The hell’s in this shit? Fuck...”

“I think it’s just a really soured mash of some herb they use; you know how Tribals are.” Green said to Eagle as she took another sip, now opting to set the drink down as her body shivered from the taste. “Some of them find holiness in the weirdest shit.” She eyed over to Sparks as her entire body seemed to force her not to take even a sip, and she shook her head as she spoke to her. “Come on Sparks; don’t make me look bad here.”

Sparks gulped with a look of dread on her face, and as she took a sip, her magic clenching her nose shut, her eyes shot wide as her mouth was robbed of all its moisture almost instantaneously. She gagged, managing to get the drink down before she coughed with full body revulsion. Spittle inched its way down her chin, and she wiped her mouth as her eyes watered from the overwhelming disgust of the liquor.

“Holy...” She said, choking on her words from the sheer alcoholic power it had. “Oh my Goddesses... that’s nasty...”

“I know right?” Green said, chortling. “I’d rather shoot some good ole fashion whiskeymyself, maybe some of that fancy Palominan tequila, but this ain’t too bad. Had worse I suppose.”

She sat upright in her chaise as she cleared her throat, remembering the reason she had dragged them there in the first place. “Anyways, as I was saying. The thing is guys that Good Neighbor is locked up; borderline permanently it looks like. Whatever yah did has them scared Eagle, scared thorough.” Eagle had to suppress a scoff as he heard it; he figured the city would blow the event out of proportion, but it was absurd to him to think they would lock down the gates. She continued though after a breath.

“When I showed up maybe six or seven days ago I wound up trudging around with another gang. They were happy with me just pulling my weight as I worked my way into their trusts, but the city itself cut that shit short. Good Neighbor opens up on anything that reaches within twenty yards of their entrances. The gang didn’t know that, wanting to go to the market to spend our collected caps on food and other shit like that -not important to the problem- and I barely got away with little more than damaged pride. Here I am after giving this gang’s chief a dirt nap.

“Yah see,” she said, sighing as she seemed to be calculating different things in her head “the big problem is yah ain’t gonna find anything here of value; not until the city opens up. I know yah aren’t here on a social call Eagle, it ain’t like yah for one, but if you’re after food and ammo the city’s got it all unless you feel like hunting other gangs for their vittles and peashooters.”

Eagle sighed, nodding as he spoke lowly. “Yeah, Green, I’m not here for pleasantries. I’m here to restock and move on. I was hoping you could help out with that.”

“I might be able to. And with my own little gang of miscreants I got a plan you could help with.” She said, and as Eagle rolled his eyes at being implicated into another pony’s problems she continued accusingly. “Look Eagle, I can’t help yah without digging into our own rations. What we’ve gotten had to be bought or stolen from some ignorant caravans who came out this way for trade, and even then we barely got enough to survive maybe a week.

“Speaking of those traders though, it didn’t work out too well for them since the other gangs killed them before they reached Good Neighbor’s doors, and I don’t even wanna know if Good Neighbor would have let them in. If yah want to resupply it’s coming out of Good Neighbor’s pockets.” She shook her head as she stretched a little in her seat; the liquor had started affecting her. “My plan is to blow that casket open wide, grab what we need to not starve to death, and with that I’ll be able to supply you two generously for your contributions; a raid if you will.”

Sparks’ eyes shot wide at her words; the prospect of being a raider set her heart aflame, and she turned to Eagle as his expression remained flat. Some small part of her wanted to regret having saved Green from the chem fiends now, but she snuffed out that feeling out quickly as she shook her head with disbelief. “You mean... you want us to raid them? When did raiding become a good thing to do?”

“I never said it was, but when you’re starving the idea gets far more appealing. Welcome to the real world Stable girl.” Green said, eyeing over to Eagle as he hung his head, just barely and shaking his head subtly.

He sat up straighter, glaring with a level expression, and spoke. “Or maybe I can just take what we need for the road, enough for us to get beyond the mountains, and I’ll call your debt square.” Eagle bargained bluntly, yet flatly without inflexion with little desire to get embroiled in Good Neighbor’s problems. He tilted his head, however and continued with the same tone. “Besides, assaulting the main gate of an entire town isn’t going to go smoothly no matter how you plan it. I’m not interested -we- are not interested in a street fight with a few dozen ponies over scraps.”

His expression was blank, void of much of anything besides an even, blank stare, yet Green nodded her head as his threat was recognized. “Sorry Eagle, I can’t. Help me win this fight on our terms and I’d give you a Goddess damned airship if I could; not scraps. Seriously, I need all the help I can get, and as far as I’m concerned, you’re an asset that will get an even bargain.” She smiled wryly, and shrugged as she lifted her cup of alcohol again. “Consider it a job, I suppose.”

Eagle grumbled under his breath as he racked his head over their options, but as a minute went by of silence he looked at Green dead in the eye and spoke dangerously. “As long as the plan isn’t a crock of shit, we haven’t got much of a choice. The payment better be level though, and generous if you want to be square.”

“But we’re still talking about raiding someponies here...!” Sparks retorted, now truly amazed that Eagle even considered it. “Are you seriously thinking about going through with that!?”

“If you haven’t noticed girl, we’re about half a week from starving and no amount of foraging or hunting is going to hold us to the coast. At least, not in health it will. If you want to chew on irradiated grass and mutant fruit out in the wild, be my guest, but you won’t survive past the Unicorn Mountains before you die of starvation or radiation poisoning.” The accusing tones in his voice were plainly spoken, and his narrowed eyes locked with Sparks’. “Otherwise, you’ll follow my lead and I’ll get us out of this alive; remember?”

Sparks huffed a scoff, and shook her head as she realized he was indeed going with Green’s suggestion. She hung her head in silence, and Eagle took it as a sign of acceptance; albeit with severe reluctance. He didn’t like the prospect either, but, as he repeated to himself, what other choices were there?

None, quite simply: the open deserts they’d cross through would barely support animals, and the sheer distance was too much of a gamble to rely on landscape living. The only thing he could hope for was this deal, this ‘job’, would pay out for them.

He locked eyes with Green, his narrowed eyes measuring his trust of her, or, more importantly, the sudden reveal of character as both her cutie mark and short story of her short time in Good Neighbor. She was apparently talented with this sort of thing, control and plans, and he stretched out in his armor as he prepared for the worst possibly to come. “As I said, so long the plan is solid, I’ll consider it.”

“Excellent,” Green said, a small smirk growing on her pale green cheeks “for that phase, we’ll need to go into the ‘war room’; as best as these bucks got anyways. A map and a good plan oughta make short work of this. Hopefully we’ll be eatin’ tomorrow night.”

Eagle laughed mutely once, and shook his head slowly as he picked up the rancid drink before him, raising it in a mock toast. “If I’m judging right, more than that.”

His smile was somewhat disarming as Green returned the toast with a nod, and she grinned wryly as she took a sip. “If the Goddesses are kind, food’s all that will be missing.”

As they took shots from the atrociously flavored drinks they both had mirrored reactions of disgust edging into a subtle pleasure that only heavy liquor drinkers could share, but Sparks sat there in conflicting ruminations as she found herself in a terrifying position. Self defense was bad enough for her to endure, but wholesale raiding for resources was something that Eagle himself had spoken ill of, and she had seen firsthoof the effects of it less than a few days ago.

She feared that, after the fight, she would have helped orchestrate a far more personally involved atrocity than ever she had enabled before. Only now it was done in the necessity of something as seemingly silly as food; not patriotic duty or contributions to her Stable’s usefulness. Something that for all her life was plentiful and taken for granted.

She rubbed her stomach, the aches of rationing beginning to take their toll as she hadn’t had a solid meal in perhaps a week. Green saw her do this, and she turned her head to the tribal guard and clopped her hooves together again speaking with command. “Food, please; for our guests. They’re hungry, and no guests of mine will go without.”

The gesture had startled Sparks, and she looked up teary eyed as she could bring herself to speak. Between the fatigue of their travels and her breaking spirit she barely had the strength to refuse the food, now wary of the food’s procurement, and she barely had the strength to argue with Eagle for them to find another way; a cleaner way. Raiding was wrong, but against her own conscience she began to slowly accept it, not out of sympathy, but of necessity. It gave her no comfort as she chewed the nearly flavorless food brought to them, and her full stomach barely gave any as they were given a room for rest, little more than a corner in some relatively intact room on the third floor of a long abandoned building.

Most of all, her mind gave her little peace as sleep came to her late into the night, despite being within the shelter of proper walls and a roof, and a little barrel fire to boot warming them against the outside chills. She wished for it, yes, but now she swore she’d trade all the comfort in a heartbeat for the open world around her in The Wastes, now with a solid guess at how the comforts were gained.

*** *** ***

Sparks awoke, deadened to the world as her lethargic eyes drones about the somewhat brightly illuminated room. She slowly forced herself up, and she wrapped her woolen blanket tighter on her as she squinted about; her mind chasing thought after wordless thought in waking. She looked out one of the windows on the wall, and a curtain, patchy and torn in spots, filtered the sunlight through the clouds above, and a pale sheen of its radiance basked the room’s interior. Across the room were Eagle’s things, his blanket and pack pressed to the wall, and the barrel in the room’s center had fallen to embers; the heat gone from it as she had a sudden shiver of cold.

She threw the blanket off of her, out of reflex of her established morning rituals, and she stiffly made her way to the hallway outside the room that ran the length of the building’s interior. It was substantially darker, with leaking light from the outside making its way into the length of the ruined and dilapidated passage, creating a bizarre clash of light and darkness. It was empty, save for scattered objects and trash, relics of the past that formed the voiceless story the building held, and she tripped on some and kicked others in her passing as her hooves fell heavily on the tiles that spanned the floor’s surface.

She neared one of the intact doors that held muffled speech behind it, and as she closed in with it the words were like a bucket of ice water being dumped on her; Eagle and Green, amongst others, planning the attack that she now remembered would happen later that day.

She thought about entering, and with a little spit of rebellion she proceeded ahead, eyelids heavy from both her grogginess and the reminder of the day’s planned events. Her mind, now racing, thought of idea after idea of how to be rid of the entire dilemma altogether, but failing that she just kept walking forward; the subtle clopping of her hooves on the tiles echoing slightly in the near silence.

She huffed a sigh, blowing her messy dust matted mane out of her eyes, and grumbled under her breath; loathing in her voice. “I can’t believe it...”

Even after Eagle’s whole spiel on raiding some weeks ago, he was going through with it, it seemed. Maybe he had some plan or otherwise to wrestle them out of it and get what they needed, but in the end no matter how much she tried to make up excuses for him or imagine some reason behind this she couldn’t stomach it. It turned her guts slowly, and knotting up into a mess of spite in her.

She kept walking forward, now halfway through the hallway with a hung head of shame as her mind fought with confliction. She tore herself apart in self depreciation, and her heavy brows furrowed as she thought of some way to stop this atrocity from happening in the first place. She stopped in place some moments later, and with a sudden surge of hope, however small as it was, she tried to hold her head up as she had an epiphany.

“Eagle’s not the only one of us...” she said lowly, her eyes narrowed “maybe I can help out...?”

She tilted her head in wonder, if it was possible that she, a ‘fresh faced Stable dweller’, could be of greater use than merely some nearly useless fifth hoof to slow Eagle down. Specifically, she amended herself, without such heinous means.

“Alright...” She said to herself, breathing deeply as she spanned the rest of the hallway’s length and entered the stairwell. Down it went into the bleak below, to ground level, where the rest of the city lay. “If I were a stockpile of rations and medicine... where would I be?”

She now trotted her way down the stairwell, a strange newfound vigor in her step that gave her a certain boldness. She remembered one of her father’s characters from Ogres and Oubliettes -- a wise and enigmatic wizard, who always knew the answers to problems with his cunning and intellect. She wondered how he would solve such a mystery, and first decided to try and tap into her own cleverness. As she was mumbling to herself, however, the comparatively bright sky above ripped her from her ruminations and she found herself in the courtyard where she, Eagle, and Green made their way to the gang’s hideout, and half startled by the strange narrowed glare of one of the tribal ponies who roosted there.

The war-painted, polished scrap adorned stallion was one of the larger individuals of the group, made taller by his strangely dazzling headdress and stoutly masculine frame, and he spoke in that strange language they all seemed to speak; broken ponish with random inserts of their own language. His own voice, however, carried the words with a deep, baritone harshness. “Little Mare oughtn’t tread far -- Para Loose -- it is dangerous, as say you.”

Sparks looked up to him, quite literally as she had to back up a step to actually see him without straining her neck, and she spoke timidly, with a hint of aggravation and a head tilt. “Yeah... I’ve been getting that a lot, actually...”

“It is truth, Little Mare...” Sparks looked back to him as he spoke, and his seemingly blank eyes droned as he continued. “World beyond, it is of the Blodlek -- bleeding wound that never closes. Little Mare should be reminded.”

“My name’s Sparks, if you would. Ahem.” She interrupted, irked; the sensation of being looked down upon beginning to drive her crazy. She cleared her throat of phlegm and continued. “I’ve had enough of being called ‘girl’ and ‘Little Pony’...”

“To earn name...?” The tribal said, some surprise in his tones. “Ah, rare to see outlander desire such. We of the Fleet-Hoof have such tradition. You may say... ‘Name Ing Birth’.”

“Naming birth?” She asked, somewhat confused by the odd mixture of throaty speech the tribal had. “Like... being named when you’re born?”

“Perhaps not...” He said with a sigh, and an odd flourish of his hoof. “Ponish tongue not first. Not know of... Idioms or...” His cheeks seemed to grow blushes beneath the paintings on his coat, and she wondered if he was embarrassed by the lack of skill in ponish. He continued anyways, after a cough. “No matter, all of matter is... If you desire name, then Earning Ritual is required.”

“Honestly...” She said, cautiously as some part of her demanded she stay put, but she felt deep within herself she needed to follow her conscious. “I don’t care much at this point, I just want to help; in a way with minimum bloodshed.”

“Hmph...” He said, nodding his head as he tried to understand. “So... in such place you desire light out of darkness? Odd...”

“Huh?” Sparks interjected, confused by his remark. “Odd? How is wanting peace odd?”

“Odd in way Little Mare is so different from rest of your... ‘tribe’. Most ponies of steel and stone want naught more than Blodlek. To desire more is... mark of virtue, you say.”

“Well, I... I guess I’m not like other ponies. Not by far.” She huffed a sigh, sitting down as her hooves began to throb slightly from standing. Her expression was sad, yet happy in an odd way. “I came from a Stable, up in the clouds. Back there, nopony had to... well, kill each other for simple things. Things like...”

“Even food?” The tribal asked; his eyes widened only just. She nodded, and he gave a short little laugh as he shook his head. “Oh... Contant’Min -- the joys of soft life. We spurn such notions... but is beautiful dream.”

“Soft life or not, nopony deserves to die over something as stupidly simple as food. Ahem.” She sat up straighter after she coughed as she looked about the camp, and several of the other tribals, and even a few of the gang members who didn’t bear the bizarre markings, where eyeing her with peculiarity as she felt a sudden surge of sadness. “Food is something that should be shared, given to those who need it to survive this... this hellish world. Ponies used to be -- ahem -- compassionate and caring beings who always cared for one another... All I’ve found out here is death and pain.”

A few in the crowd gave snickering laughs, mostly from the gangers, but the tribals kept their eyes on her. The stallion beside her spoke, solemnly and deeply as he seemed to channel some otherworldly force of peace. “It is truth of The Land. Blood spills and life flourishes. To deny it is foalish, and foolish.”

“Then I am a fool.” Sparks announced clearly as she picked herself up and marched off into the alleyway’s entrance; ignoring her pains. “And I’ll prove that you can be feeling in this world!”

“Hmph...” The tribal murmured something in his own tongue, all but unintelligible to her as she marched off. He stood up slowly, and gave a shake of his body as he followed. She looked back at him, not saying a word as he easily caught up with her with his long stride. He spoke solemnly again, yet with a smirk. “First step to Name Ing, Little Mare... boldness.”

“You don’t have to follow along you know.” She said, her mind churning with glaring hate of the world’s state and all that went with it. She was determined to prove her own beliefs to herself, and Eagle perhaps, but most of all just for her own benefit. “I can do this on my own.”

“‘Many hooves lighten burden’...” he said, enunciating each word clearly, as if in a practiced manner. “Besides... presence of... of ‘Shaman’ needed for The Name Ing.”

Sparks scoffed a little, her taxed mind struggling somewhat with the alien culture of his tribe, yet refused to speak more as she wandered deeper into the city’s bowels. As they exited the winding and mazelike alleyways of the city they were dumped out into the open boulevards of Good Neighbor’s corpse, and Sparks looked both ways before sighing deeply to herself; deep in thought.

“So...” She said, focused on the task at hoof as she dug through the different possibilities for success. “If you insist on tagging along, then tell me where I could find some... ahem... food and medicine.”

“Sick?” He said flatly, looking at her bandaged leg. She nodded hesitantly, a sparing glance given to her leg, and the tribal began to fish something out from his numerous and small hide pouches that lined his belt. “Then drink; should help with spirits... In Fek Shun...”

She eyed the filthy muck matted bottle vessel, about the size of an average Sparkle~Cola bottle, with peculiarity, unsure if it was another of that horrendous drink she had the night before; but his strained speech caught her attention. “Infections? What is it...?”

“You call it medicine. Bitter, brewed of venoms and herbs. Not... of great flavor, but heals spirits; drives away the bad.”

Sparks took the offered bottle with hesitance as she unscrewed the top with her magic and gave its contents a deep sniff. It smelled somewhat revolting, but with a subtle aroma she could describe as pleasant. She shrugged, and gave it a test sip as he had said it was indeed medicinal, and the flavor was more of an odd bitter-sour combination she didn’t expect. It was palatable though, different and odd, but not overly bad in flavor.

She downed the rest of it in gulps and smacked her lips as she appraised the flavor more, and shrugged. “Doesn’t taste too bad I suppose; thanks.”

The tribal chuckled deeply, and smirked as he turned about and looked out into the city. “It is my Impar’Tiv; Shamanic Duty. Little Gift of life’s course, so Sun may shine brighter in passing.” He shook his head, and murmured a little under his breath before speaking again. “Food... yet be more of Dye’Coard; tricky, and draped in veils. Ob Cured like sky.”

Sparks had a hard time discerning his words to actual meaning, but she nodded as she thought she knew what he meant. She started walking in a random direction, hoping it would bear fruit as she sighed again. “So finding food will be... problematic?”

“Small vittles for stew, not so much. I know you and Sky-Bird are seeking... the food of length; time protected. Not so easy for times.”

“Well...” Sparks paused as she tilted her head, her lips pursed. “Who would have decent food stockpiles around here? The town?”

“Easiest guess, worst Tar’jey; target.” He nodded his head in agreement, despite his soured tones. “But they may have what is being seeked. Place of iron and stone bred ponies; Past-Sleepers, we call them.”

“Alright...” She said, trying to build a plan as they went. “No point in scouring the ruins I guess, that could take days, and the attack’s today. Maybe I could...” She stopped in place, head up to the sky as she wondered if she could indeed do what she just thought of. Tilting her head, she gave a short chuckle and continued walking. “Maybe we could even stop this entire attack from happening? Get whoever’s in charge with Good Neighbor to negotiate with you guys.”

“Would be blessing, Mir Ankel; Miracle.” He kept pace with Sparks as he shook his head with doubt. “Maker of Ash, leader of iron-stone ponies always iron hoofed. Not one for speech, but gun.”

Sparks recognized the name he tried to say; Ashmaker. Eagle had told her of him, known to be a huge earth pony stallion and the leader of the Gunponies gang in the town. The mention of his aggressive tendencies didn’t set her mind at ease, but she resolved herself to try at the least. She shrugged in stride, and spoke uneasily. “One way to find out I suppose.”

“Hmph.”

*** *** ***

It took Sparks and the Tribal nearly twenty minutes to get across the ruins and near the border wall of Good Neighbor’s effective fortress. As they wound around the walls, made of little more than buildings stitched together by chariots and steel plates welded together that blocked the alleyways, they searched for holes or other means of bypassing the defenses of the town. It availed little more than aggravation, yet the sounds of nearby hooves on asphalt kept Sparks’ outcries in check. She poured over her short little lessons in stealth from Eagle, and hoped that she would be able to do more than simply get shot for stumbling over rubble.

She was surprised though, as Green had said the day before, that the town was supposedly opening fire with snipers on any who approached the wall. She wondered if she was indeed managing to slip past the scopes and prying eyes of their sentries, who she knew they must have had several within the buildings, or that simply they weren’t doing such a thing at all.

The former meant she was better than she thought at the whole ‘stealth’ thing, yet the latter’s possibility doused her moments of subtle pride. If either of them had been seen yet she wondered if they were marked as mere travelers, or that Green had blatantly lied about the state of things. Part of her wished it was the former, but it merely threw her into disarray as to what was going on exactly. The main gate was locked up and guarded, as she had seen for herself, yet she wondered if they would have shot on sight if they had walked up to it asking for entrance.

She had to shelve the entire debacle and focus, however, as she tried to keep her eyes peeled, looking for hostiles or holes in Good Neighbor’s walls. Both seemed nonexistent for the stretch so far, and it was starting to drive her a little batty.

“Oh come on...!” She exclaimed quietly. “There has to be something here...”

“Hmm...” The tribal finally spoke after the entire walk, and tilted his head. “Often the young forget; no hole, make hole.”

Sparks looked back to him, at first with aggravation as she once again felt the pang of an elder’s glare, but she merely shook her head and thought on his words aloud. “Would it be that easy though? There might be somepony inside to notice us cutting a hole in a wall.”

“Not if done in right place.” He said, yet he conceded her point. “But Little Mare learning, yes; easier to climb over.”

“Climb?” She looked around the surface of the wall before them and she felt defeat when they were all at least two stories high. She remembered with a pang of embarrassment at her climbing skills not but a few days ago against the ‘mole rats’, as Eagle called them, and doubted she’d be able to climb a sheer wall. She did notice, however, that where the walls met the building sides that, if she could get inside them, she might be able to go up to the second or third floors to get over the walls themselves.

She pursed her lips in thought, then nodded thinking that was probably her best bet. “That might work, actually. If we can get inside one of these buildings, we could get over the walls.” She chuckled a little, feeling devious at the idea, yet she sighed as she realized another aspect of it. “Provided we can get past any guards inside. I doubt we’ll have a straight shot anywhere in there.”

“Mhm.” Was all the tribal said, and as Sparks marched off down another street they both looked around for their new objective. Sparks kept her eyes peeled, for both wandering ponies who may have been exploring and spots she could pull off plates of metal to gain entrance simultaneously. She normally could keep track of several different details, but the anxiety of potentially getting shot at rendered the entire experience taxing as she tried to focus.

After around ten minutes, Sparks found a shoddily barricaded window on the ground floor of one of the buildings to the northeast of the town. She looked at it, touched it with a hoof and noticed its flexing; the rusty metal all but tearing at her touch. She smirked, wreathed a section of it with her magic, and with a strong pull of her horn the metal did just that.

She only wished it was quieter than the seemingly cantankerous racket it produced as the entire plate half disintegrated and ripped away from the wall it was attached to, clattering down to the ground with a mighty thud of metal on asphalt. She grimaced when the relative silence was broken, and she shushed it reflexively. “Argh... no no no...!” She turned around, looking for others who could have heard the noise as the tribal seemed content enough to simply stand there. She fixed him with an apologetic expression and chuckled nervously. “Erm... made a hole...!”

“Hmph.”

She turned around and clambered her way into the hole, and once inside, the darkness of powerless light fixtures filling her vision, she kept her ears up as she listened intently for noises within. The tribal seemed quieter than anything, perhaps even Eagle, as he seemed to merely materialize beside her. Half startled she turned to him glowering, but she shook her head and breathed deep of the musty air of the building.

“Alright...” She whispered, her mind now racing as she wondered if the town would place guards in such a place. “You think there might be guards here?”

“Only if ponies believe this to be of Vel’Yew; worth attention.” He looked about, and despite his own ignorance of non tribal pony ways he merely grunted as he spied out trash and debris of the Old World. “This place... not so much of value, little more than hut of stone; maybe home to Skua’Ters.”

“Skewa... what?” She asked, a brow raised at the term. He rolled his eyes, but sighed as he thought hard at what might be understood.

“Mm... you may call them... ‘those without home’, ponies who make ruins home for lack of other place of rest.”

“Oh...!” She whispered in understanding. “You mean squatters, like... Not guards, but just ponies holing up in here.”

“Yes,” he said, nodding with a blank face. “they may not fight, but we are not of this place. I know not of how these ponies are.”

She screwed her face up as she wondered that herself; would anypony they meet sell them out? Guards especially would, but squatters or regular townsponies might not. She sighed though, figuring that the entire situation might have everypony within on edge, and she knew it would be best not to risk it at all. “Well, either way it’s best not to test it, I suppose.”

“Good.” He said, nodding. “Good student learns fast, bad ones die young.”

Sparks picked herself up and delved deeper into the building, ears and eyes peeled for sudden intrusions as she tried to navigate the shadow shrouded interiors. She almost stumbled a few times on the random scattered debris, but she kept herself quiet quite effectively. As she neared the other side of the building she sidled up to a window, small slivers of light leaking from the edges of attached metal plates, and she looked through it trying to see inside Good Neighbor itself.

She didn’t see much; nopony or nothing in particular that piqued her interest. It seemed little more than just another alleyway, and she sniffled as she turned about to look for the stairwell of the building. The tribal followed, and eventually she found something akin to a fire escape. They proceeded, going up and up the half wrecked, but intact flights of stairs ascending into darkness, until they reached the third level.

Sparks wreathed the lever knob on the door before them in her magic, and as she slowly creaked the door open the tribal gave a short, startling exclamation. “Wait, Little Mare...!” He held a hoof on her shoulder, her body tense from his sudden words, and he gestured with his hoof down to the floor. “Traps... See the wire?”

She looked down, a bead of sweat inching its way down to her brow, and she saw the barest little sliver of a silvery glint that hovered in the air like a spider web’s sheen. She breathed deeply, her horn’s magic dimming as the wire’s reflection disappeared, and she stepped back slowly with her eyes fixed on the spot she saw it. It was barely up to her hoof’s fetlock, but there all the same.

“Whoa...!” She exclaimed with barely a whisper, and she turned to him with a nervous grin. “Th... Thanks...”

“Focus, Little Mare...” he said keenly “follow wire, trap still there.”

Sparks turned to look at the wire, yet the darkness veiled its form quite well. She used her horn to activate her PipBuck’s lamp, its pale greenish light flooding the stairwell, and like a flare the wire shone brightly in their eyes. She followed the wire’s length, and found it connected to some odd makeshift trap of sorts. What made her fold her ears in fear, however, was possibly the world’s worst idea of a bouquet.

“Grenades...” She said, recognizing the three smooth, pear-like shapes that hung before her. “Whose sick idea of a trap is this?”

The tribal’s eyes narrowed, recognizing the danger but the term and true danger alien to him. “Gren... gren aids?”

Sparks shook her head, and sighed as she rubbed a temple with her hoof. “They’re grenades... explosives, pull the pin and they explode, like... like a gun, sort of, but they affect entire areas.” She inhaled slowly and deeply, but looked to him with a cautious stare. “Wouldn’t happen to have a knife on you I could borrow?”

“Yes.” He said, and with a turn of his head he drew a rather primitive, but well maintained curved blade that seemed to have been carved from some metal plate. It had similar tribal markings to the ones he wore, but the sharp edge was obviously the part he slaved over.

Sparks nodded, and took the blade in her magic. The levitating blade made its way up to the bouquet of explosives, and with a focused stare she held her breath. She grasped the wire, holding it tightly and she used the knife to cut the wire, keeping pressure off the grenades themselves. With the wire cut, she slowly lowered the grenades down to eye level and inspected them.

“Yeah...” She said, grimacing as she couldn’t tell one way or another if she could disarm them or otherwise. Her skills with traps, or bombs in general, weren’t so sharp as for her to know. “We’re just gonna set these down ever so gently...”

Surprisingly without any retribution from the explosives, they nestled down without a single one of them detonating, and pleased with herself she returned the knife to him; turning off her PipBuck’s lamp in the process. Again she tried the doorknob, and keeping her eyes peeled for other traps she creaked the door open wide enough for both of them to cross.

The placement of the trap got Sparks paranoid of others, and she watched each hoof fall with intense care. The lighting of the building left little room for mistakes, and every instinct in her demanded that she keep her PipBuck’s light off for fear of unseen onlookers, and so they stumbled their way through the dark recesses with little more than the high noon daylight from the outside leaking through cracks in the walls and covered windows.

They inched their way through the building, finding a few more wires that made her heart flutter every time she realized. They repeated the process of cutting the wires and letting down the bombs, over and over, and she eventually wondered if they were merely a deterrent for trespassers, or a defense mechanism for something valuable in the building. Either way, she thought, it didn’t much matter. A trap like that, or the possible several that could lay within, would decimate both her and the stallion without a second for regretting their life choices regardless.

After five of those traps were disarmed they finally made their way to the other end of the building. She peered out a window, trying to make out subtle details that the outside could give, and she finally saw with acuity a few ponies traipsing about outside. They wore pinstripe suits of various hues that were armored, and a few even had battle saddles strapped to their sides that bore small but menacing weapons.

“Uh oh...” she said, nervously “I think I see some guards...”

“Wearing?” The tribal asked in a single word, and she described their apparel to him as she was locked gazing out the crack.

“Suits, it looks like. Some kind of armor on them, and a few have weapons.”

“Hmph...” he grumbled a little, but nodded. “Gunponies, chief tribe among Good Neighbor; organized and worthy fighters...”

Sparks turned to him, his decorated face half lit up by the light from the outside, and she saw his uneasiness. “I heard of them before... some gang who controls the city, right?”

He nodded, and spoke again with some measure of respect in his voice. “Yes, they have repelled dozens of other tribes. They have controlled the city for... long time; stretch of years... Attacking them proves fruitless, most times.”

Sparks looked back through the crack and followed one of them, their movements. The comparatively well kempt stallion seemed to be doing little more than a patrol in her eyes, a sweeping pattern before disappearing from view. Another stood still, close to a wall as their eyes droned about in boredom.

She nodded, and sighed deeply as she thought of what to do next. “Alright, the guards down there will likely shoot us if they see us, and we aren’t looking for a... a bloodbath. Are you good at sneaking past them?”

“Asked as if I was a colt on his first hunt.”

She recoiled a little from his seemingly insulted tone, and she nodded with a nervous smile. “I’ll take that as a yes...”

*** *** ***

Several minutes had passed as Sparks and the tribal made their way through the building, found an exit they could use to get to the ground level behind the walls, and proceed to slink their way past the guards below. Sparks felt more nervous than she ever had been before, and even as her hooves fell silently on the pavement she felt like her heart rate made more noise than she ever could with a thudding in her ears.

She had looked up between the buildings, hoping there were some kinds of walkways spanning them they could use to bypass the guards out in the open, but alas none were found leaving no other option. She kept from even breathing loud as she tried her best to calm her heart, but the nervous sweat she had continued to plague her as she subtly shook like a leaf.

Eventually, they managed to find holes in the rotations and paths, openings in their sights that allowed the both of them to get past the prying eyes of onlookers. Mostly she felt as if she was simply following the tribal’s path, much like she followed Eagle around, but eventually her eyes picked out details she could make use of. Her small body permitted access to small holes and dives in the terrain, little shortcuts beneath the corpses of chariots and other large industrial wreckages as Eagle had pointed out. Such paths required her to separate from the stallion, but she told him to catch up with her later on. His nod and disappearance did little for her nerves, but she soldiered on regardless.

Only once did she snag on the barbed and jagged environment, and the experience of poking out like a sore hoof was the only description she had for the terrifying event. The guard had seemingly just barely missed her, and as she delved deeper into the piles of mechanical junk she had to take a moment to reassert control over herself. Breathing deeply she was glad to have some hole to hide in for a moment, and for a moment she was surprised to realize she wasn’t coughing anymore. She silently thanked the tribal, who was off in some other part of the courtyard’s enclosure sure to appear again, and his medicine.

The momentary distraction did little good though as her nerves felt fried from anxiety, but she managed in the end enough to continue. She cursed under her breath, and calmed her shaking hooves as she pressed on.

As time passed, they had snuck their ways past one courtyard, and another, and a final one that seemed downright teeming with both regular townsponies and guards. The last one seemed to be close to some central hub of activity of the town, but the still dilapidated forms of the environs left Sparks wondering if it was still merely a back alley to the town itself. With so many ponies wandering about, however, got her thinking on the town itself.

The sheer amount of ponies there needed to eat, that much she was surprised to think, and her mission being just that subject she knew they had to have some stockpile of food to sustain themselves. They all may have exhibited various levels of malnourishment and general hunger, but she wondered if that was merely wastelandic life at work. The twenty or thirty different ponies she had seen already needed to eat, so somewhere in the city was her goal. It gave her strength to press on, but as she kept slinking past different sets of eyes behind rubble and passages a question arose; ‘how exactly would she solve their food problem?’

The first guess she had turned her stomach somewhat; theft. Stealing the food would be the easiest way to get the supplies, but that still meant sneaking back out past all the guards they had seen thus far. No mean feat the first time around, but going back through she and her tag along would have to carry enough food for both her and Eagle, nevermind the fact the tribal might wish to haul more back with him for his own tribe. Sneaking past the guards with saddlebags brimming with rations and other foods seemed impossible to her, and she screwed her face up as she thought of other means.

One came to her that she genuinely felt would work -- as foolish as it sounded in her head. Negotiation with Ashmaker, talk him into giving them food or bartering something he would trade the supplies for. She wondered what exactly would work in that regard, but she came up blank with anything she currently had on hoof in hard trade value. She thought hard for a while, past one sentry and past another, until she had one idea of what she could trade.

Information; the attack that was going to happen later that day. It was perhaps the only thing she wielded as ‘valuable’, but she felt a pang in her chest as she fought with herself and her desires. She wanted to prevent the attack altogether, but no matter how she turned it about in her mind she found few plausible ways to do so. Aside from setting Green and Ashmaker down in a room to talk out their differences and negotiate, which felt like a doomed plan to begin with, there was no way for her to prevent it she felt.

She wondered if the information on the attack would allow Ashmaker some awareness of the volatile situation, but she doubted her reflexive expectations would happen; that he would realize his mistakes and seek peace between the gangs. The world had shown her one angered retaliation after another, but some small part of her wanted her to try at the least.

So, it was then her hoofsteps were charged with some amount of vigor again. She had a plan, and she would see it through to fruition -- Goddesses willing. She still had to get close to Ashmaker and speak with him, however; it was the only way to find out if it would work.

She smiled nervously, and hoped against sense that it would.

Footnote: Red Eagle level 22

Sparks level 5 +21 skill points!