“What is it like to see your dreams within your grasp?”

A feeling like no other.

In my last attempt, born of desperation, I had launched myself into an impossible situation out of sheer panic and fear of what would happen had I stayed. It was little more than a mad rush into the unknown. It had failed because I had been too hopeful, too blinded by dreams and wishes of what I was going to do once out of Fillydelphia to have the presence of mind to actually do it.

I had been doomed to failure before I had even started, becoming nothing more than a game to the griffon guards wanting to check the sentries' capabilities. In the moment of believing that freedom would be mine, Ragini's bullet had torn my hopes apart. Rougher than ever, I was hurled back into the pits of Fillydelphia, my confidence shattered and spirit almost broken.

For me, a slave only used to obeying others, the idea that my strength would come from others willing to follow me or lead me through choice was bewildering. Sure, I'd taken inspiration from ponies such as Littlepip, Sundial, and the mare, but to have ponies willing to stay with me every step of the way? That was new.

Amidst Stable Ninety Three, I had been made to realise that the events of the past were not truly that which defined us. Memory held power, both to harm us and to help uplift ourselves. The Ministry scientists had sought to use memories to aid ponies in becoming better through skills and learning, even if it had been mired in the living memories of tragedy. Glimmerlight had shown me that the correct memory at the right time had the power to simply inspire. To remind us that we shouldn't frown because it was lost, but to smile because it had happened.

To show us that our dreams were still out there, waiting for us to go and claim them.

Protégé had once told me that I didn't understand what freedom was. That I could never hope to have the strength to escape Fillydelphia until I knew what it felt like to think and make every choice for myself. From The Master through the Mall, the crater, Hearts and Hooves hospital, and the nightmares of a dead Stable, I had been pushing myself further and further to gain what confidence I could for the attempt I knew was about to happen. I had allies aiding me, pushing me along, sharing our dreams into one unceasing and unflinching need to escape.

A chance like no other. We were outside the walls. Steel Rangers had Red Eye's forces distracted. The cover of an entire city nearby with both the strength of Brimstone Blitz and the resourceful intelligence of Glimmerlight. I could feel it, everything I had ever truly wanted surging in my heart, telling me that we could do it.

We could.

But at that point, there was no way to know the truth.

To know that after this one chaotic rush, I would be homeward bound.

...sounds...just the noise of chaos around me, assaulting my ears...

“Shit! Down! Get down! Where did they come from?!”

“Griffons! They're hiding on the rooftops, oh Goddesses!”

“Murky, just watch the road, they've been dropping mines! They're still following us!”

Small pings of metal, each sharp and tinny.

“What was that!?”

“I said they dropping mi— WATCH OUT!”

An explosion, so very violent and sudden, rolling off buildings again and again amongst falling debris.

“...urgh...Glimmer, you—”

“I'm...I think, just shrapnel...hrk...Murky...Murky you alright?”

“I...I...”

“Hold on, we'll get out of here, we'll all get out of here. Just a little further!”

“Where's Brimstone!?”

“I don't know! He must be up ahead at the bank or got separated or something, we need to keep going! Find something to help you and me...urgh—”

Heavy sounds. Metal hooves, crashing through rubble and cranked tarmac.

“The Rangers are still in the same street, keep going! KEEP GOING!”

“My-my leg—”

“I know, but we need to go now! Get to me! Inside, Murky! We're almost there!”

And from the distance, a shrieking whistle of something approaching rapidly, rocketing into a solid wall with a deafening roar of a warhead’s detonation.

“Watch the building! I-it's coming down!”

Finally, the slow creaking of foundations and rebar starting to bend and give way, crashing down like an avalanche of wood and stone.

“Oh, no...Murky! MURKY! No! Get off me! Get off! My friend, he's still in— ARGH!”

Past the chaos of battle and danger, it slowly drifted away, being replaced by a gentle warmth. It was soft and comforting, draped over me...

Before, I might not have known, but the feeling of somepony else holding me closely was unmistakable after that one life changing embrace Glimmerlight had given me. The first I had ever known as a grown pony. I lay amongst the quiet bliss of another, a sense of serenity and simply taking comfort in somepony else's presence calming my nerves. Felt my hooves against their soft, thick mane, and heard another's heartbeat.

A dream, so obviously a dream. I knew who I wanted it to be, but was it her? Was it my Saviour? My Lightbringer? Coming back to rescue me from the searing pain left in me from an hour solid of galloping under fire and taking wounds? I'd like that. To hold her close. I felt myself squeeze a little tighter in need. Soothing delight tinting my every sense as I felt them return the favour.

My eyes wouldn't open; wouldn't see. I simply rested, hearing her voice. Five words. Five words that made my spirit stir and my heart steel against all adversary, but only one of which I could identify.

“Together...”

Light stabbed into my eyes. Dizzy, tangled, and weighed down, I wanted to kick and struggle, but an overwhelming tiredness overtook me. My vision was nothing but white, a bright illumination that slowly began to fade just as much as a creeping agony began to settle in on my skull. I was under something heavy and rugged...a coarse blanket? Something was moving above me in a circle, whirling like the threshing machine, softly wup wup wuping away.

Every limb felt heavy when I tried to lift them, to roll and try to stand. I could hear trotting nearby, somepony whistling and getting closer. Wanting to try to cry out for Glimmerlight, I instead felt my throat dry up and turn raspy. How long had it been since I'd last taken RadAway?

“Well how 'bout that...”

An older stallion, his voice drawling and tinged with an accent I'd only heard every so often. Movement began to fade into my sight, and my centre of balance finally detected that I was looking upwards. The splitting headache only became worse as I shifted uncomfortably to try and see who it was. Blinking, (ow...even that hurt) I saw the silhouette gradually fade into a pony trotting up to sit beside me. I tried to shift, before stifling back a high pitched cry. My head flared and fired a lance of pain from left to right between the ears. Falling back, I panted on the...the couch or something?

“Woah, woah, easy there. Easy, just relax a second; get your bearings.”

I felt a hoof rest on my side, ever so gently pressing me back against the couch until I stopped wriggling. Blinking rapidly, finally things were coming into focus. A musty old room, filled with antique furniture and lit by a hazy yellow drifting through closed blinds over the windows. The old stallion was right before me. Setting my vision on him, struggling to keep my eyes open, I saw a rust coloured earth pony sitting upon an old cushion. A calm smile rested on his face, his eyes meeting mine.

“You've been out a couple a' hours now, had to give you something to keep you sleeping till the worst was over. Take it slow, and let’s see what the damage is.”

“I...I— argh!”

Moving my head elicited another sharp pain as though somepony had just hit me over the head with a wooden stick. Something about why I knew what that precisely felt like said a lot about a particular old master of mine.

With slow effort, I finally got my hooves beneath me, unsteadily beginning to settle down on all fours. With my size I could sit right across the couch fairly easily to face my...helper? I hoped so.

“Something, I don't quite know...”

“Let's just keep it simple, there. How 'bout your name?”

He sat back again once I had risen from my side, smoothing out the tough leather claddings he wore and adjusting the red neckerchief. I noticed he did that a lot, like it never quite sat comfortably.

“Murky Number Seven.”

“Heh, can't say it's anything I'd have picked, but if that's your name, it's your name. I'm Doc Minstrel. Welcome to my quaint little home. Now, I had to do a little bit of work keeping you alive back there. You were pretty beat up when we found ya.”

Slowly, moving on seemingly creaky old limbs, Minstrel leant down and retrieved a cracked, dusty mirror between his front hooves. Blowing over it enough to raise a little cloud of stagnant dust, he set it down before me, allowing me to gaze down. The dust remained still in the thick interior air before dispersing and disappearing within the beams of light in through the windows.

“Now I did the best I could, but can't say I could make it perfect again.”

Closing my eyes, I felt my hooves touch the mirror. The cool burnished brass around it felt all too similar to the feeling in my gut. My imagination running riot. My head was hurting so much. He said it wasn't perfect again. What had happened to me?

I didn't want to open my eyes

Dreading the moment, the dull aching in my forehead matching the weak beating of my heart, I slid my eyes open and looked down upon myself.

I gasped sharply, turning to a sharp yelp.

First in shock, then in pain as the sudden motion of trying to throw the mirror away set every aching wound alight. My head, shoulder, back legs, and even one I hadn't felt on my front right hoof seared as I collapsed down shivering. Minstrel moved quickly, his strong, firm hooves holding me in place to prevent further injury. Already my eyes were shedding tears. I had seen...

...him.

Above those matching horrific eyes, I now bore the same scar running from behind my left ear to just above my eye. Red and welted against my muddy green coat, it stood out as a swollen line of both pain and unpleasant memory. The knowledge of my head being permanently marked paled in comparison to that I looked like him.

“Whoa there, just stay still! You ain't ready to go all thrashin' around like that just yet, young buck, it’ll probably fade in time when your coat grows back a little and the skin heals. But that there wasn't just any reaction to a pretty nasty scar now, was it?”

I shook my head, wincing as that baleful line linking me to him throbbed, shaking tears across the couch beneath me.

“Well, you rest here for now, Murky Number Seven. I get the feeling there's issues here I'm not seein'. But don' worry; you're safe here.”

A thousand questions were vying for attention. One after the other, they wanted to explode forth, but through all the pain, through the mental scarring and above all else, there was only one.

“W-where am I? Am-am I free? Did I get out?”

Doc Minstrel raised an eyebrow, letting me go.

“Hmm, I did have a thought you was a slave. You runnin' from Red Eye?”

“Am I free!? Please! It's taken all my life!”

It was a beg to more than just this stallion. It was to everypony. To my life. To the Goddesses on their stars above and to every bit of fate I had ever been through. Doc Minstrel settled forward, resting his hoof on my back once again. For a second, every worry in my mind rose up. What if...what if I had been dragged back inside Filly? What if this was just Protégé's personal physician he mentioned?

The answer felt like it took a thousand years to arrive. My heart in my mouth as I saw him take a breath.

“We're miles from ol' Filly here, little buck. Don't you worry; you made it just far enough.”

He paused, a smile slowly coming across his face as he rubbed my back and got up.

“You're free at last, little slave.”

Doc Minstrel wasn't gone long, just enough to fetch a small tray bearing a mug of water and a wet flannel. Trotting in, carefully balancing the tray on his back, he set it down in front of me.

I was quite simply too flabbergasted to even notice.

Free? I was free? My mind struggled to comprehend it, just the sheer scale of being told, well, that! Even as I felt him lift the wet flannel onto my head, I barely even registered the sharp pains at first. I just sat and stared without a sound.

Alright, perhaps I squeaked at the cold shock. No more than a yelp. Maybe a wince too. But no squealing. I was getting better.

“Now, I imagine you've got yourself a fine lot to think about. Lifelong slave to this? Big shift to go it into the wasteland, y'know? So tell me, how'd you even get here? Escaping Fillydelphia isn't exactly easy.”

I had been dreading this. While he had fetched water and a cloth, I had simply sat feeling stunned. Minstrel had left my saddlebag near the couch, and after a few false starts, I had dragged my journal across. It was safe; it was still with me. Small marks from where shrapnel had dug into the cover littered the front. It might have felt violating, seeing such a treasured belonging marked like that, but it had always been frayed and well worn, and for all I knew it could have just saved my life by stopping them.

Sitting sadly and quietly, flicking through the pages, I struggled to really come to terms.

Free...

Year after year in servitude. Master after Master. One torture to the next. Scars, whips, and broken wings. Tears, blood, and sweat every unceasing day.

Free.

Less than a week ago I had been shown the truth by the Stable Dweller. I had gone against my masters, launched a failed attempt to escape that almost claimed my life, and been through a multitude of horrors that grew every time into that one last moment.

Could it really be? I scarcely wanted to believe it.

One last rush. Glimmerlight and Brimstone by my side only...only...

“Hey, kid?”

I blinked back to the present, seeing Minstrel's old face looking at me.

“You alright there?”

“I...”

“Take it as slow as you want, that kinda injury isn't gonna leave you too capable for a while. Now just settle back, Tell me what happened. How did you escape? Mighty impressive that you managed it.”

Sighing, I rubbed my sore temples and glanced at the window, into the fuzzy light that revealed nothing outside.

“I don't know if I remember too well It's just all one big blur, like time running too fast. Sound...my friends...oh Goddesses! I don't know what happened to my friends!”

Panic was gripping me. I had fallen, but Glimmer and Brim, Where were they? Why hadn't Minstrel mentioned them? Had they...

“Well, when my assistant Sunny found ya, you was the only one in the area. She was out takin' a look around the Fillydelphia ruins to try and get me a new spark generator battery when she saw you poking out of the rubble. Weren't no one else there...”

Shivering, I tried to remember. Any little detail, anything to help! Maybe I could retrace my steps, find them again! Maybe they had just gotten away, thinking I was dead—oh no...

“I don't remember very much at all, sir.”

“Now don't you go 'sir' on me, I go by Minstrel. And I hear you using ‘Goddess’ there? Mighty long time since I heard anypony talking about that stuff, do wonder where you got that from. Now look, I wouldn't say you've quite got amnesia, you remember enough. You remember their names?”

I slowly nodded.

“Good, I think you've just been shaken by the whole experience, takin' time to digest it. We'll get it out of you, bit by bit. That's what the good doc does. What was the last thing you remember, little Murk?”

Drawing breath slowly, I closed my eyes, but it wouldn't appear. Just blurred images and some memories that were much too far back. Eventually, I began flicking through my journal, memory by memory. From Littlepip soaring above me, to Brimstone standing guard over Glimmerlight. One by one, memories formed, solidified and began to return.

Picking up my charcoal stick, I knew how I would remember better. Lowering my head, I began to draw. Allowing my subconscious to take over, lines sweeping back and forth, ignoring the pains it caused my head.

Shapes formed without even meaning to, I felt it flow from me, the emotion that no injury could ever take away erupting into my work. A great circular doorway, beaming with light before three ponies.

“We were in a Stable...the Steel Rangers attacked Red Eye's army, so we were going to take the chance...”

The three ponies were galloping, charging into the light, toward the...

...wasteland outside. As one, Brimstone, Glimmerlight, and myself hopped over the metal rung of the door and charged toward freedom.

We should have known they'd be watching the entrance.

Our gallop was brought to an almost immediate halt by the scene ahead of us. The slavers were, for the most part, utterly devastated. The ground was littered with the wreckage of exploded wagons, their steel bars bent and warped around flipped running bases. The stronger winds kicking up were sweeping loose cloth, torn barding, and indeed, even the bloody specks of dust into a small, but foul dust storm across the plains around the hillside. Equipment was strewn around the corpses of any who had resisted or what was left of them. Steel Ranger weaponry left little in its wake.

Worse, there were three Steel Rangers standing directly before us. The dark metal of power armour towered amidst the swirling dust above every one of the prisoners they had taken. I saw a very angry looking Mosin lying against a rock, shrapnel wounds preventing him moving. Each Steel Ranger bore massive weaponry. The first with dual long rifles similar to what I had seen griffons carrying, the next a combination of gatling cannon and seemingly a box of missiles, while the third had what seemed to be a small, portable piece of artillery across his or her back. Gender was impossible to tell; all three wore identical types of suits.

“Halt! All looters will remain where they are!”

The voice, male, held authority and force, booming from the external speakers in the helmet. I felt my hooves lock and stop on the spot, falling to the ground beside Glimmerlight. Brimstone started grimly at them, snarling deeply as his hooves scraped the ground. I saw the two lighter armed Rangers brace themselves, their weapons swinging to face him. Behind me I could still hear their comrades inside battling with Barb's raiders, but it seemed out here the Rangers had won, and had the entrance completely in their favour. Nopony could come out of such a thin exit into this firepower.

“We're slaves, Paladins!” Glimmerlight's voice rung true over the wind, albeit tired and shaky. “We mean no harm, and we own no loot! Just let us past and you'll never hear from us!”

Apparently, she did not find this a good time to mention her own past allegiances.

I began to feel my muscles clench in fear as the leader, bearing the huge cannon, looked away from her and curiously turned his head directly to me.

“‘Tis a lie! The little one will step forward and relieve himself of the PipBuck fragment!”

What? Sundial's PipBuck?! I had just begun to finally feel like it was truly mine now; his life and the meanings he was giving, they weren't for being stored away! He wanted them told and known to somepony who found it!

“It's just a non-functioning fragment, Paladin! It's no use; I checked it myself. Just a piece of old scrap now.”

“Not for you to decide, slave. We have trained scribes who would restore it to glory and take its place among the records we guard. Now pass it over immediately!”

Glimmerlight scowled, muttering quietly out of the side of her mouth, “Fillydelphian Scribes couldn't tell a working PipBuck from the rods shoved up their asses...”

“What was that!?”

“Look, it's a hunk of scrap! Argh, I'm gonna regret this. I am of the Bucklynn Cross Steel Rangers! Initiate Glimmerlight, daughter of Paladin Candy Floss! You have my word that the PipBuck will be returned to our records when we get out of here; I'm repairing it myself. I can quote the regs if you really want me to!”

Standing beside her, I never realised how much I was shivering. Brimstone looked ready to charge them, however pointlessly, any second. Meanwhile, the Rangers had every gun trained on us with an intensity I hadn't even seen in the most loyal griffons of Red Eye's army. This could go very bad, very quickly, and we didn't have much time if Barb's raiders won out inside and surged from behind us.

Much to my surprise, however, the leader raised his weapons away and trotted forward, sliding the helmet from his head. A dark orange stallion of rough face and weathered eyes glared at Glimmerlight.

“I know Candy Floss. She is a strong Paladin. But the word of the Rangers matters little these days between brothers and sisters of the chapters. Traitor Steelhooves has declared his independence of us and taken many of the Rangers with him. The Orders are in uproar, Bucklynn Cross included. Our own Order has left for Stable Two in Sweet Apple Acres, Initiate Glimmerlight. After we have extradited all remaining technology from here worth taking, we shall join them. I am afraid that I cannot trust such a...rogue element as you to your word. However, as a matter of respect for your mother, I will permit you to leave peacefully if you hand over the PipBuck. The mission is above all, Initiate, you know this!”

“Steelhooves went rogue?”

Glimmerlight barely did more than whisper it, a look of odd longing and wishful nature in her eyes, before shaking it free. The Paladin ahead narrowed his eyes, stomping a rock so hard it cracked beneath him.

“That is our only offer! Give up the PipBuck!”

The last command was shouted at me. Offended that I even felt my limbs twitch to obey, I just staggered backwards, holding it closely while I trotted on three legs.

“Now, slave! I will not ask again!” The weapons lowered, pointed directly at me.

“Please, don't...” My mouth barely staggered the words out, shaking my head and trying to work out how to just run away. I didn't want to give it up.

The two Rangers flanking their leader advanced, thudding their hooves on the ground as their large weight began moving towards me. Swerving, Brimstone leapt before them, growling and scraping the ground with his front hoof. I'd seen that look before when he had murdered an innocent slave. This was too close to kicking off. I’d have to give it over, it meant so much, but what we were after was worth so much more to risk a confrontation over Sundial’s—

The lead Paladin's head exploded.

Droplets of blood sprayed in all directions, coating his armour, his comrades' armour, and mixed with the spilt blood of the slavers below.

With that, hell was unleashed. Sniper shots rained down from above, high calibre rounds sparking off armour and cracking off rocks. The Steel Rangers reacted with speed that defied their weight and size, swinging their weaponry to the skies, to where I saw the griffons loyal to Red Eye divebomb from the clouds above. The sky in between quickly became a death zone, as the Rangers unloaded their weapons indiscriminately. Rockets roared, cannons whirled and screamed amidst the thick booms of the huge rifles. A criss cross of heavy firepower that sent griffons whirling through the barrage on their rocketing descent. Screaming, I fell to the side, my ears assaulted and stinging under the overwhelming noise. Bullets pinged off rocks around me, kicking up plumes of the earth or loose gravel mere feet away as the rounds ricocheted off Ranger armour towards us.

“—urk! Follow—”

I’d only heard a fragment, but that was Brimstone's voice! Scrambling, I scampered from rock to rock, staying as low as possible. I saw the Rangers thundering away as little blue tinged grenades tumbled from the sky above. I hastily shielded my eyes from the magical blast. A dull thump rocked the ground, a rocket whooshed, and an explosion lit the sky among the 'flying V' of griffons. Spotting Brimstone and Glimmerlight running for the flanks of the battle, I saw Glimmer look back and scream for me to get out of the area. She must have thought I was behind her! I put my head down and ran, before skidding to a halt in shock.

With a wet splatter, a shredded griffon corpse collapsed ahead of me. The blood erupted from his chest on impact, spraying across the front of my body and face. Crying out loud, I turned and galloped directly away to the side, into the smoke to avoid the remaining rounds that pulverised the fallen body.

“Murky! This way! Follow my voice! I know you'll hear me!”

The gunfire, downwash from griffon wings and the furious stomping of Steel Rangers were kicking up so much dust that I couldn't see anything. Corpses littered the ground around me. I passed the Paladin that had been shot in the head, realising I’d somehow wandered back toward the middle. Red Eye's slavers the Rangers had taken prisoner crouched behind rocks screaming to the skies. Doubling back, I again headed for where I’d last seen my friends through the dust.

“Yeah! You go get em, Stern!”

“Kill those metal fuckers!”

A huge female griffon swooped low, a large anti-machine rifle in her talons, and landed behind the rifle wielding Ranger. I had seen her before. This was Red Eye's second-in-command, Stern. Possibly the most lethal griffon in Fillydelphia. Whipping that rifle around with almost freakish speed, she planted it right against the Ranger and pulled the trigger.

At that range, the armour stood no chance, even on Steel Rangers. I witnessed a small hole punched in one side, and half of a pony disgustingly blown out of the other. Propelled by the blast, the Ranger’s armour collapsed. Before it had hit the ground, Stern was gone again, taking to the skies with a powerful stroke of her wings before the remaining Ranger could bring its weapons to bear. Banking into the wind, she rejoined the head of the griffon formation.

Ponies and griffons died on all sides around me. Caught in the middle, I only now saw the truth of the wasteland.

I had once believed that slaves suffered and slavers prospered. That was how it worked.

But here, as I felt a wet crunch, my hoof recoiled as it landed atop the chest cavity of a dead slave, eyes lidless and staring upwards. He lay torn wide open by Steel Ranger weaponry, presumably as he had tried to run from the Stable.

Slaves killed by Rangers, slavers around me falling from the skies as they were torn from the skies by even one remaining Paladin. Nearby lay one of the proud warriors, Stern's work. Behind me, I knew there would be more coming after either the raiders or Rangers survived. Then it would all begin again with whoever won out here.

Nopony on anypony's side, just one huge circle of violence and distrust.

Barb hadn’t been wrong.

Staggering over the sharp rocks to the side of the road leading up to the Stable door, I fell against one of the large boulders dotted around. I’d made it out of the melee itself, but I was still only metres away from it, crawling through clouds and keeping below rounds punching through the air. I could only hear snaps, gunshots, and screams, and more Rangers charge from the Stable, followed by the howl of raiders chasing them. This had just escalated. I had no sense of setting, no concept of clear lines of battle or which side was winning. Just one huge mess of confused sensory overload.

I galloped for all I was worth, passing slavers trying to grab weapons around me, only to be torn apart while fighting back desperately. I saw raiders leaping on them, biting throats and feverishly bucking. Rudimentry knives and gifted weaponry for the job was used on their masters. One raider with blood pouring down one side of his face saw me, screamed and gave chase.

“Come 'ere little buck! Gonna get ya!”

Screaming, I ran, hearing his hooves clatter on the rocks behind as he grabbed a discarded dagger and gave chase. I couldn't see anything! Where was I going?

“Murky! MURKY!”

Wait...left. Or was that right? I couldn't tell! I hadn't known battles would be this confusing! What if something just hit me? What if—

“Got ya!”

Screaming in terror, I felt the raider leap on me from behind. His long strides had caught me far faster than I'd imagined without seeing anything in the dust. I bucked with my right hoof, catching nothing. Briefly, I felt us struggle as I tried to get away, his mangy hide rubbing hideously against me while we fell, rolling one over the other down the shallow slope. With a wing aching thud, he landed atop me. Looking behind me, I screamed again and I saw the knife in his mouth descend and land clean.

I had been shot before. The sheer shock had immobilised me. But this...I cried out, throwing my head backwards and howling into the air in agony when I felt the four inches of cold metal penetrate my left shoulder...

...and twist.

My ears picked up the sucking wet sound as the wound opened.

My scream didn't stop. I howled, begged, and cried out as the weapon yanked out, leaving me to bleed. Thrashing on the floor, I tried to hold a hoof over the wound, crying in pain as I registered the feeling of a new, wet hole in my shoulder. The raider reared up, ducked as a griffon whipped overhead and licked the knife clean with a delightful giggle, watching me squirm and scream. Suddenly, he glanced around.

“Ah, shit. You bleed out! Blood flows in the wasteland, little pony. Blood flows. I'll be back for you!”

Without warning, he left. The reasoning only became clear as I felt the passing minor earthquake (to me) of a Steel Ranger galloping past into better cover. I simply lay there, flailing among the rocks, bleeding amidst it all, screaming for anyone, from Glimmerlight to Littlepip, even my mother. I wasn't alone. A griffon was trying to clutch her lower body nearby, after shrapnel had sliced across her belly. My throat was becoming hoarse from shouting, rough and sore. Already I was feeling light headed...

“Rangers! Gallop to the city! We shall bring them low in urban warfare!”

“Griffons! They're trying to retreat! Hound them!”

It occurred to me that my hypersensitive hearing was picking up both sides' commands. The fears of being left alone to bleed out amongst the dead and dying began to filter in. I don't want it to be slow, by all the Goddesses I didn’t want to be left here for that! It hurt so much...

Then I was being pulled, roughly and without care. Whimpering and clutching my shoulder, I saw the trail of blood behind me on the rocks. The sight made me want to throw up, it wasn't a small amount either. Ahead of me, I saw a Steel Ranger firing in indiscriminate circles at a shadow that seemed to bounce around him. With sudden jerks, I saw the Ranger flinch as the shadow passed by him again and again...

Barb.

Feeling myself being dumped, I saw shapes around me. Whimpering pathetically, I tried to fight them off with my good hoof, to get up. The raiders had pulled me behind the rocks to gut me with that knife or execute me with that pistol or—

“Murky! It's me! Stop it! What are you—”

Glimmer's voice stopped as I felt more than saw her pay attention to my shoulder. Blood was flowing freely. I tried to reach for her...

“Oh...oh fuck. BRIM! He's hurt! They got him!”

“It won't kill him immediately, get him in the wagon now!”

Finally, my vision focussed as I saw Glimmerlight bent over me, shielding me with herself, lifting me towards something...wait, Mosin's armoury wagon! The thick metal plated wagon lay on its side. I could see the huge figure of Brimstone, unmistakable by silhouette even through thick vision obscuring conditions, heaving and lifting the massive wagon by his own strength. Creaking, the old FunFarm circus trailer finally lurched back onto its wheels.

Behind Brimstone, a figure began running directly for him, a bayoneted rifle held in mouth.

“Ngh, Brim! Behind you!”

My scream, pitching to the point my voice broke, caught even Glimmerlight off guard, twisting off me as she too saw the furious charging figure of a slaver trying to prevent our escape, his gas mask fallen to dangle from his neck. Slipping his assault rifle from his back, Brim flipped it into the air, caught the barrel in his mouth and swung it hard. The butt connected solidly with the slaver's own gun, knocking it clean from his filthy mouth, along with a few yellowed teeth. The return stroke snapped his head around far too quickly to be healthy, landing the slaver face down at an awkward angle, quite dead.

Brimstone looked at the rifle in his mouth, now snapped in two from the impact, before spitting it away.

“'Unbreakable'...aye right, ye vodka heaving old bastard...”

Crying out in pain as Glimmerlight pulled me into the wagon, I flopped onto the floor. I could feel her jump in behind me while Brimstone hooked himself to the front. I saw puncture marks kick through the metal sides of the wagon. Some penetrated, missing us by scant inches. Glimmerlight yanked me backwards away from it and toward the back. I tried to do it myself, but my hooves were like lead, barely able to function from the exertion. Brimstone bellowed back from the front.

“Hold on! They're going to gun for us as much as any Ranger. So we'll use the scraps as armed cover!”

“Brim, the Rangers will—”

“They have bigger problems than some escaping slaves! But if we're near them, then they are a bigger threat! Hold on!”

Stuck in the back, I screamed again as I tried and failed to hold the blood in. Why couldn't I stop it? I didn't want to lose my blood! How would I get it back? I felt dizzy, thinking stupid thoughts.

“Glimmer...Glimmer...”

“Hush, Murky, lemme have a look around here.”

With a jerk, the entire wagon began moving at a rate far faster than it was ever designed for. Items fell from shelves as Brimstone dragged it over the rough terrain. Doing her best, Glimmerlight pulled the shutters with her magic and dragged over a box bearing the same symbols as my saddlebag.

“Drink up...oh Murky, I'm so sorry...”

As I felt the purple liquid held to my mouth, the entire battle seemed to drain away into the background. Replaced only with occasional snap shots of griffons on the retreating of the Rangers. Evidently their armour let them keep pace as I felt them gallop all around us. But I couldn't concentrate on much for long. It hurt so much...please stop it hurting...

Glimmerlight simply held me as we put our trust in Brimstone Blitz's determination. Even as I felt the healing potion aid the pain and begin to stem the bleeding, I just still cried at the memory of the raider attack.

I hadn't even properly realised how afraid I was. The things that happened out here in the wasteland...

In many ways, although I felt ashamed at how I looked like this, I kept thinking how much safer I was with them. Sniffling, I pushed my head towards Glimmerlight's shoulder, crying it out....

...into her shoulder. I finished the last sketchy lines of her own front legs curled around me. Sniffling, I sat back from my sketch, seeing Doc Minstrel cast a glance down. The couch now held a few drawings that had helped me remember. Minstrel had been a good listener.

“Well, that'd explain the wound you had on your shoulder there, Murk.” His voice was slow, watching me glance at the bandages on my shoulder. There were still red marks of blood seeping through them.

Remembering the feeling of the weapon puncturing my flesh, I shivered.

“That Glim-girl probably saved your life with that healing potion to stem the bleeding. Kill off infection too. Them raiders have filthy weapons, as good as any poison, really, if untreated. Still, brave move you folks did to make your escape. Stealing their wagon? Hehe, reminds me of my younger days in the wastes.”

I listened to him only slightly, sighing as I glanced back at Glimmerlight and myself in my sketch. Where were my friends? I hadn't properly felt like I missed anypony since my mother. But now they were out there somewhere without me. Did they escape? Were they taken back? Brimstone had...had he disappeared and—urgh!

Wincing, my hoof gently went to my head. With a groan I settled back down, apparently furrowing my brow in concern was enough to hurt that...that scar. Doc Minstrel patted my shoulder, getting up.

“You've had a rough time, but don't try and force it. A little memory fuzziness isn't entirely uncommon with traumatic head injuries. Really, aside from a little scarring, give yourself a bit longer for the healing potions to work and stay safe for a while and you should be right as rain.”

If only I shared that. The mirror sat across the couch now, but every glance, every half hearted look only reminded me of the horrible shared features...

I wasn't going to be his...no. No matter what he said or what happened.

“Now look, that's only one of your problems. You're badly malnourished. How much have you had to eat in the last week?”

“Half a can of beans, a small apple stew and some bits of oatmeal...”

Minstrel seemed to stop, his mouth hanging open as if expecting me to go on. Eventually, I saw his eyes glance down to my stomach, before tutting and shaking his head.

“We better get somethin' in ya. Healing process works better on a stomach that isn't eating itself out of hunger. No wonder you're so small if you didn't get those nutrients while growing up. Let’s get you up and over to the table.”

He moved alongside me, wrapping hooves across my torso and nodding ready. Taking a few breaths, I edged off the side, dropping my two left hooves to the ground and—

“Ooohhh...”

The light seemed to blur in the air, my vision becoming blurry and indistinct. The scar ached, feeling like my skull was shifting as my body took responsibility for my balance once again. Falling against Doc Minstrel, I let him support my weight until the moment passed. I saw him pick up my journal for me.

“That's it. Won't be easy for a few minutes. Just trot it off, gently does it...”

Step after hesitant, limping step, I moved across the room. Little sound emerged from outside, just the wind and the banging of shutters on his home. Every window was covered for warmth. The ten foot journey to a cushion on the floor felt like I had run for the Wall all over again, and I gratefully sat back on my haunches to lean on the table to breathe.

“I...I don't feel well...”

“Cause you got nuthin' in you to sustain activity, lil' Murk! Your stomach's tryin' to digest stuff that ain't there. Just sit there a second.”

He left towards a musty old kitchen down the corridor of the house. Left alone, I pondered, looking around. Doc Minstrel was fairly well off; the home was cosy, seemingly secure, and somewhat comfortable. Probably why I hadn't yet properly grasped my freedom was the lack of a view outside. My thoughts drifted to Glimmer and Brim again, but no answers could come of it. Maybe when I began to remember more of what happened...

I heard Minstrel approaching again. A plate of dry looking biscuits beside stale fruit was laid before me. I hadn't expected much; the wasteland was never going to be easy for food. But at least it was better than the vomit inducing slimy oatmeal Whiplash had fed me. Sitting opposite me, Minstrel smiled gently. I sat and stared back, glancing back at the food every so often.

“Is something wrong, Murk?”

“I...” My voice faltered, I realised I'd been waiting for him to permit me to eat. Treating him as a master. It took me some effort to bite down the wave of upsetting feelings that caused and get to the food before me. “No, nothing's wrong...”

“Hm.” Minstrel didn't sound convinced, nodding after a few seconds. Clearly, he was rather perceptive of mental states. “You have to learn to be your own buck, Murk. Out here, nopony's gonna tell you what you need to do to survive all the time.”

“It's hard. I don't know how! Even with my friends, I just followed, usually. All my life, master and slave. Command and follow. But now I don't know what I should do. I thought it'd all come to me.”

“Don't worry for now, we'll come back to that. Just eat.”

Without much hesitation, I dug in. I felt my shrunken stomach bulge a little with the amount (still less than a normal pony would feel sated with, I imagined) while listening to Minstrel telling me of himself. Apparently he made a living by selling things he found in the ruins of Fillydelphia, using battles between Red Eye and the Rangers as cover to sneak in and out. These days, his assistant Sunny did the job far more often. Between the two of them, they could fix things up to sell for a higher price. The goal, however, was to eventually sell enough to relocate off towards the central wastes where it was much safer. Apparently, that wouldn't be too long from now, he seemed hopeful.

To tell the truth, though, I only barely listened. My eyes were focussed either on the food or on the windows that I kept trying to imagine the expansive wasteland behind. What would be the first thing I would see? The great valleys that led towards Manehattan? An old town safe to wander around in?

But really, it was fear that drove me to think and worry to distraction. The Master could be spreading out to hunt for me, those shackles and collars of his clinking at his side ready to—

I needed to get going.

“I can't wait around here too long. Red Eye might come to look for me, or my Master.”

Minstrel sighed, reaching across to my good shoulder again.

“You don't have a master now, Murk. I think you're going to have to take time to get used to that. Where do you think you'll go?”

My mouth opened, but no words came out. I didn't know. Where was I supposed to go? Which direction? What was my goal? Sickeningly, I felt part of my mind wish somepony would tell me what to do. Fighting the revulsion, I just screwed my eyes shut, lowering my head.

“Well, gather your thoughts. Whether it's to hunt for your friends or whatever, but you're safe here. Red Eye's cronies never come here, too off the beaten track if you get me. Let's just take our time, get you ready to move and help you remember just what happened before good ol' Sunny found you, alright? Best wait till Sunny is back anyways. She might know something about your friends.”

Briefly, my mind rebelled that I was only nodding because he had told me what to do. Sniffling, I pulled across my journal from where he had left it.

“I—hnk—I don't want to be a slave. But I can't stop thinking it...”

“Just take your time and draw, Murk. There's no rush now. I'm not going to whip you for not doing something immediately.”

His voice was calming, allowing me to sniff sharply and open a new page.

“We...we were escaping in the wagon.”

Thick black lines appeared, the outline of the wagon hurtling under Brimstone's power. The steely look of determination tinged with fury on his face. Moving aside, I began drawing other shapes around us...in the air, Rangers and griffons...

“The Rangers ignored us but the griffons started dropping bombs and mines.”

With strong sudden draws of charcoal, the explosion filled the ground in front of the wagon, casting...

...dirt up into the air that pelted the top of Mosin's mobile armoury. Ducking at the painful sound, I peeked through my hooves to see Glimmerlight opening fire with every rifle and pistol she could find within the wagon. Either through one of the slit windows or by leaning out the door, she tried to force off the griffons before they could line up their throws. She was trained, aimed properly, and seemed pretty cool under fire, but the wagon was being hurled every which way under Brimstone's steam that ruined her aim. We hit a bump so large I felt all four of my hooves leave the floor before clattering down. My shoulder ached, but the wound had clotted over for now after two healing potions and a thick wad of bandage.

“Hey, Brim! Can you get off the main road? They might leave us alone if we disappear now!”

There was no reply, the cacophony of sound was beginning to give me a headache. Rangers thundering down the road around us were stopping every few seconds to dissuade the griffons with their heavy weaponry. The run from the Stable had cost them one more armoured warrior, but now that we were within the ruins of Fillydelphia, the urban environment was beginning to give them a chance. Already, the crowd of them around us had gradually passed away to take up positions inside ruined homes or warehouses.

Glimmerlight fell back suddenly with a cry of shock. Gasping, I threw myself to her, searching for the wound. What was I meant to do for gunshots? She gently pushed me away, struggling to keep her balance in the madly bucking trailer.

“It's alright! Murky, I'm fine! Just had a round next to me—bit of a surprise. Got any alcohol?”

“Ah...huh?”

“None of Mosin's vodka around? Ah shit, I usually aim better with a shot or two in me. Brim! I said, could we—WOAH!”

Echoing her sentiment, I clung to the workbench as the wagon turned sharp to the right, reeled up on two wheels and struck a wall with a metallic crash that stripped some plates of armour entirely off. We were flung around, the world twisting up before it all landed again with a bone shaking slam. Various empty firearms scattered out of the open door behind us to tumble on the road. The little thief inside me couldn't help but feel a wince of pain at such a waste of potential items to acquire once we got away.

Through the windows, I saw nothing but brickwork and shadows. We were in an alleyway. Slipping my goggles over my eyes (I felt safer from bullets and wasn't about to argue the harsher rules of reality) I dared to poke my head up to a slit window, seeing no griffons above us. Just the two thin walls of the alleyway between a pair of huge buildings.

“I-I think they're gone.”

Popping her head out of the front window, I saw Glimmer lean down to Brimstone's torn ear.

“Next time, you gonna warn me before you decide to throw us around like that?”

Brimstone's voice seemed all the more deadpan amidst his clear concentration and focus.

“Figured you were used to being bucked about hard.”

“I...what!? Why...you...ARGH!”

She slammed the slit window shut and turned back to me, fuming for a few seconds with crossed legs, before shaking her head and uttering a small laugh.

“I swear, someday if I ever grow up, I'll look back and cringe. You promise to remind me to never become an old cynical bastard like him, Murky?”

At the moment, I was still shivering and holding on to the workbench leg as though it would protect me from every horrible thing in Equestria. Chuckling, she gently eased me from it. Well, perhaps she had a little difficulty. That table leg felt safe.

“I...I promise? I think...” Stammering, I found myself fighting all the emotions in my head. Why couldn't I handle emotions like anypony else? Fear of being caught or dying mixed with an elation at our escape attempt and that we were outside the Wall! My eyes felt like they had run dry minutes ago while I had been lying wounded. My shoulder still gave me a sickening feeling every time I moved it. I had seen ponies receive so much worse, but one stab had broken my determination into a blubbering wreck. I didn’t feel brave like those who could take an injury and keep going, like Brimstone.

Hhow would I ever manage out here?

My thoughts were pushed away when I felt a rusty old revolver and what looked like a cut down combat rifle thrust at me by Glimmer.

“Here, keep yourself occupied. We'll need these before this is out. Get them loaded up for me, I'll see if we can find something for you too.”

Her voice was calmer, more stoic than before. Looking at her pulling the same bolt action she had in the Stable apart to check something, I saw every inch the grim training that Ranger Initiates must have had to go through. Every motion mechanical, like their suits, even when not in them or not intended to ever wear them. Still fighting for balance, and occasionally feeling the wagon grind against a wall, I began to pick up the guns to load. (And in the process, discovering precisely why I had only ever seen unicorns carry revolvers.)

We had a straight run. This alleyway was almost fully protected from aerial strikes, and once we were past the exit into the next road, we'd be gone! It was the only way out of the alley, so no ambushes!

“Here, Murky, try this out.”

Her magic floated across a small pistol (I had long since checked for battle saddles) that I bit into. The grip felt small enough for my mouth, the trigger thick and easy to find. The, uh, thing that held bullets seemed to be full already.

“You've got seven rounds in there, Murky, tongue back for safety, forward to fire. Recoil should be low, I think.”

“You think?” I muttered around the weapon. Only a small chance of knocking one of my teeth out then? I spat it out to hang around my neck on its cord before going back to my work on her guns.

“Personally I think I'd just prefer—”

“A battle saddle. We know.”

Nonplussed, I continued. “No no! I mean, like, mines. I like to...um...run away, you see. I could drop them behind me or-or put them places where I knew somepony was going to come out of!”

Glimmerlight stopped where she was, staring at me as though I had just shot her by accident.

“Somewhere you knew somepony was going to come out...shit!”

Dropping, the long barrelled pistol at her hooves, she leapt to the slit window at the front.

“Brim! The alleyway is mi—”

She was seconds too late. Brimstone must have leapt over it by sheer chance. But we had not.

Never had my world accelerated so fast. I lost all hearing, blasted into a ringing oblivion, as I felt the armoured floor of the wagon catapult up underneath me amidst a roaring explosion that flared through every window. Briefly, I became weightless within a wagon that had been blown vertically up and over, rolling end over end. I felt my mouth open, screaming as I impacted from wall to wall, unknowing of which way was up or down. The workbench collided with my ribs before a final crunch hurled me away, I impacted on something, tumbling over or through it.. Everything turned red. Pain flooded every joint and every muscle when I landed in a heap, rolling multiple times to a halt on...dirt?

Groaning, I opened my eyes onto a scene of devastation. The red was not my vision being lost, it was Fillydelphia in general. The wagon had been thrown so hard I had been sent flying out of the door. The armoured transport's underside was bent and shattered around an odd V-shape of design welded on. I tried to move, before finding just why that was such a mistake. Nothing seemed badly hurt, but I felt bruised all over and shivery. My shoulder bandage was turning red again. I could feel the blood trickling under it.

Gradually, sound returned like the roaring of hard rain, and I tried to crawl back towards the wagon. I could see Brimstone, thrown with the wagon, bucking the harness off himself. His hide bore several red spots below the dirt, and I saw him pull a small shard of metal from his torso with a grunt. Glimmerlight was flopped over the door, holding her head. Her nose was bleeding, but she seemed unharmed.

“Murky! Get into cover! Quickly!”

Doing the best I could, I dragged myself towards the burning wagon. Brimstone pulled Glimmerlight down behind it while she tried to regain her senses. Around me I saw little plumes of dirt kick up.

A flutter...many flutters...

Griffons! There were half a dozen above us, circling and leaping roof to roof into firing positions. Finding strength born of lethal danger, I limped and staggered to fall into cover beside Brimstone and Glimmerlight. The big raider had grabbed a combat rifle and was letting rattling shots off from his mouth to dissuade the griffons from coming any closer. They didn't know he likely couldn't hit them even at ten feet.

I cowered behind the wagon, feeling the heat of the flames on the side of my face. What was I meant to do? I didn't know and—

“Get this in your mouth and keep their heads down!”

Brimstone shoved the small pistol from around my neck almost directly into my mouth. Shivering, I tried, I really did, but every impact on our hiding spot from the griffon snipers made me want to cry and curl up under the nearest object. I couldn't do this!

Closing my eyes, I heard Brimstone curse as he saw me fall down and cover my ears, simply crying away instead of helping like I should. I tried to blank my mind, imagine everything as nice again. Around me, I saw this warehouse estate as bustling. There were ponies laughing as they worked, knowing they were safe! Yes, safe! I'd go and find the ponies I liked and be safe! Like...like that ice cream cart over there that totally wasn't a ruined shell now! Or that café that didn't have a pegasus sky chariot crashed through the front door!

I just wanted things to be better, not stuck in the middle of a failing escape attempt about to be shot! I didn't want to be shot again! Every part of my mind was focussed on trying to fool myself into thinking I wasn't really where I was, that I was back on the rock farm! Or back in even Old Equestria to just get away from it! The slave in my mind was screaming, cursing, and slapping my face to get back in line. If I ran out and gave up, they'd take me back! They only shot at Brim and Glimmer because they were fighting back!

Gunfights were too much. I just wanted—

“...to be better!”

The voice louder than any sound of my messed up subconscious. The great DJ. I checked my PipBuck, but I couldn't be sure. Was I hearing his voice at the wonderful right time, or just remembering?

“The obstacles in our path can be overcome if we just work together. So don't abandon those you care about y'hear?”

Beside me, I saw Glimmer reel back as a ricochet skiffed her neck, replacing the cuts she had healed from the fight in the Stable. I saw the blood running from Brimstone's shrapnel wound. I was abandoning them to fight on my behalf.

“Only by sticking together can we truly save lives and make ourselves better...no matter what horrors we all must share along the way.”

That we must share.

Protégé had told me that I didn't have the mindset or determination to escape Fillydelphia. I'd found others to help me replace it with their own strength. But now I was taking that for granted, hiding while they risked danger. How many times had I drawn myself succeeding at escaping now?

Time to make it a reality.

I picked up the pistol again...clambering up and throwing my goggles onto my head after they had steamed up from my tears. I was still crying, but I didn't care. That wouldn't ever stop. Pulling my weight up on my good hoof, I cast a glance around at the buildings that were opening fire on us. Celestia, give me the great strength to do this!

Aiming at the first one I saw, my tongue pulled the trigger.

In the space of that single shot, past the concussive pain in my ears, I felt the fear fade. A strand of concrete exploded into pieces three feet to the right of the griffon, but I saw her duck because of it. I could do this! Turning my head, I aimed for where I heard the sizzle of an energy weapon and followed the contrail of red to the source. Two squeezes, two loud bangs that hurt my head. They both missed, but I saw Glimmerlight given a chance to think, aim, and fire the long bolt action rifle accurately enough to snap the griffon back from her perch. Whether by injury or just armour impact was unknown.

Together, I fought with them. I fought to defend them. To help them. I fought for our freedom, with friends, and I felt stronger than I ever had for aiding in that moment.

“Cover me!” The voice wasn't Brimstone or Glimmerlight, it was a griffon! I screamed for them to get down before the griffons unleashed everything they had at us. My ears, through the noise, picked up a flutter of wings...they were on the move to outflank us and—

“Yargh!”

A bullet pinged in from the side of the wagon, rebounding just in front of my eyes. Brimstone shoved me below the wreckage, firing a burst at the griffon who had snuck around under their cover. Behind us, I could hear three more flying for the alleyway to get behind us. Soon, my help or not, we'd be overwhelmed.

“Fucking chickens not wanting to come down and tussle hooves with me...I hate griffons.” Brimstone complained as he dumped his last rounds at them and dropped the rifle with a snarl.

“To be fair, they don't have hooves, Brim.” Glimmerlight's humour was forced through clenched teeth, the last round sprung from her rifle. There were others on the ground somewhere. But in the wreckage, it was all too dirt covered and scattered to identify what rounds were for which gun in time. I had a few shots left, but my participation was hardly stellar, as spirited as I felt.

“We're going to die, aren't we?” I felt myself asking through my wet eyes to Glimmer, surprising myself with how steady my voice was.

She sighed, looking around the rooftops, before grinning and pulling an apple shaped grenade from the armoury wagon. Brimstone shook his head disapprovingly.

“Grenades aren't known for taking care of flying enemies too well, Glim.”

Glimmerlight's grin only widened and turned almost crazed as she raised the Want-It-Need-It spell orb up alongside the grenade.

Brimstone's eyebrows raised.

“Well now, that's just playing dirty.”

The spell orb flickered...

...toward her horn, drawn in shades by rubbing my hoof over it, creating the look of magic as best I could. She had saved us, my sketch showing her originality in putting two elements together. My charcoal curved around her almost gleeful eyes as the nearly wicked plan entered her mind. Minstrel watched from beside me, carefully listening as I recounted what I could. How we had averted our eyes and galloped onward into the buildings to seek cover from above. Stopping, I just looked down at her face. Already, I was missing that casually crazed mindset of hers.

“She mean a lot to you, kid?”

Sniffling, I sat back and nodded. “I only met her less than a day ago. Glimmerlight was the first pony to ever hug me that wasn't my mother. She just cares so much. Even if she is quite...um...”

Blushing, I looked away, prompting Minstrel to chuckle and pick up my empty plate between his hooves and settle it on an old tray.

“Yes, I quite got the impression she isn't a mare who intends to think 'long term' very much from how you spoke. In all senses of the words. Me? I think I'm happier to settle. Or at least, I hope to soon.”

My head was lowered, as it often naturally fell to, while turning to watch him place the tray on a nearby table out of the way.

“You're settling with Sunny?”

Minstrel laughed. “Sunny? Hah! Oh no, my friend. She's my number one assistant, protector, and friend. But she's also a good twenty years younger. No, I refer to my blessed wife, Chorale Sonata.”

He smiled wistfully towards a dresser as he spoke, sighing happily. I found myself grinning slightly. Her name was beautiful. Following his gaze, I saw a picture frame atop the polish wood. Fighting tired limbs, determined to prove that I had some ability to push myself, I staggered and limped over to it alongside him.

It was an old and sepia toned picture showing an older mare, standing at this very same windowside dresser and nervously trying to hide her face, to little avail. The photo had caught that loving smirk perfectly. Something about her reminded me about the mysterious mare, if she had been a lot older, that same rounded face and oddly fragile expression remained. Her cutie mark was hidden under the plain white dress, which even in sepia seemed to light up the room around her, reflecting the sun over the farming fields behind and—

Wait...

“Minstrel?”

“Yeah, Murk?”

“This, um, this is a pre-war picture.”

Minstrel picked up the frame between his front hooves. Looking deep into the image, he lightly chuckled, setting it back down.

“Show me a camera that works and I'll find one of her, Murk. I miss her...I'd do anything to get Sunny and myself enough caps to relocate back to her. But this mare's eyes reminded me of mah dearest. In this world? Sometimes that's all you get when you don't know if you'll see them again.”

His eyes followed mine when I looked back at it, turning the picture to again look at her.

“It's partly why I envy you, Murk. You can create your own memories. That's a rare talent, y'know? Many might draw but you seem to do it from the heart. Keep up with that. Memories matter. They have great power to affect us, y'know?”

Images of the mare and I, etched in charcoal came to mind. I flicked the journal back to her, allowing Minstrel to see. I remembered Glimmerlight's special talent to show her own past, those happy times that kept her going. Even the remnants of memory left in the dark Stable.

“Yeah, I do know.”

Gently placing my hoof upon my first ever image of the mare, I silently promised myself that the moment I was properly safe and free, my promise to her would be fulfilled. One picture to remember her. Even if it wasn't perfect, it would be enough.

Gradually, my shock from waking outside of Fillydelphia was beginning to lessen. True, the element of 'freedom' in my mind wouldn't hit proper until I could look back and not see the baleful slave city in my field of view. (Using binoculars, just to be sure. Possibly a telescope.)

Doc Minstrel had instructed me to stay put and just rest until I felt better. In the meantime, I had taken to checking over all of my belongings his assistant had brought back with her. My PipBuck, to my great pleasure, was with me still, as was my fleece and saddlebag, along with, obviously, my journal. Within my saddlebag, I found my goggles and various items taken from the Stable. My newly acquired pistol was gone. A reasonable precaution, I guessed. Unfolding it, I intended to put my fleece back on, but shuddered to a stop when I noticed the thick bloodstains coating the wool right through around the shoulder. The pain still lingered. If I let my thoughts wander, I could see fleeting images of a frothing, raged, and bloodthirsty raider holding me down to sink the knife into me. During the escape, I'd had too much on my mind to think about it, even while running injured or fighting for my life. But now in the downtime, it all just came back.

It wasn't my only injury, apparently. I had been half buried in the rubble of a house, after all. I could feel another wad of bandage around my torso, and my front right leg held a dressing where my PipBuck was normally tied around. With a glance, I saw the PipBuck bore new scars, making it even more like a hunk of scrap metal than it had already been. Yet with a tap to one of the chunky buttons to turn on the radio, I was surprised to find it still worked. Stable-Tec knew how to build them, that was for sure. Nervous of offending Minstrel with noise, I immediately turned it off, cutting the DJ's broadcast short.

“...who's to say the Stable Dweller won't help all them slaves when she gets back—”

Apologising internally, I set it down, even if the words did lift my spirits. Littlepip was coming back? Perhaps I could meet her on the road and we could go find my friends together! Yes! Already my mind was trawling what I should draw in advance as a gift to her. If I could make her like me...

I had to fight the urge to bat my head to purge those distracting thoughts. (Telling myself, ‘Crush later, Murky, recovery now!’) Sitting back on my haunches and holding my hoof up, I tried to shift the bandages a little. Before any travel on my newly decided objective, I needed to know what had happened to my leg.

“Wouldn't say that there's too advisable. Shrapnel, usually the kind you'd find from mines, got embedded there. Pretty sure I got rid of it, but it's an open wound. Removing the dressing before it's healed would just hurt a hell of a lot and expose it to every bit of infection in the air.”

Snapping my other hoof away like a foal caught near the cookie jar, I glanced over at Minstrel entering the room.

“I took a little look from up top of the house. Looks like Sunny will be back within the hour if my eyes work right these days.”

“Could I see?”

“No, no. Too many particles in the air, fallout and dirt on the wind, for someone injured like you are. Just you stay down here. Now, I thought I might get to know you a little. That slave mindset is awfully worrying to somepony about to go out into the wastes to find his friends. You picked up a gun once, yeah, but as much as I hate to admit it, such a thing is all too common a requirement out here. There comes a time when even myself, a physician, had to fight to protect the ones he loved. Never woulda thought I'd have to do that back in the Stable.”

Briefly, my mind stopped and focussed entirely on him.

“You came from a Stable?”

Minstrel beckoned me to follow. Unsteadily, I trotted after him into the corridor of the house. Ahead of me, I could see the front door, thick and wooden. I was led through beige carpets and exquisite woodwork furniture to a back room. There was a mirror on my left side, and with one glance, I whimpered and moved on with my eyes firmly shut.

Within there was an odd mixture of belongings, ranging from scrap items in disrepair to fully functional tools that I had seen in the Stable. In the corner sat an old instrument I'd once heard called a 'lute.' Hanging across a mannequin I saw a bright blue and yellow jumpsuit, a number I couldn't identify written on the lapels. Armoured plates were sewn into it or strapped on the torso and shoulders. Hung around the neck on a small chain lay a PipBuck that chimed in a pale orange.

“I'm an old stallion now, Murk. Stables ain't as common as they used to be. I came out mine when I was just sixteen. Only just got this little beauty.”

He tapped the PipBuck with a hoof, setting it swinging on a chain.

“I don't need this stuff too much anymore, always figured I'd give it to somepony who needed it. But I see you've already got yer own. Perhaps I'll sell it to the next trader, help pay for the supplies to take me home. Hell, I'd sell anythin' to get back to her again.”

“How long will that take?”

Wandering amongst the inventory of his house, Minstrel glanced back at me, that fading mane shifting in the thick air of the home. An eyebrow raised as he leaned on the mannequin.

“Hopefully, not long at all. Why'd ya ask?”

“We could travel together! More is better than one, right? And we could...oh...”

Minstrel had held up his hoof, shaking his head before just staring at me. “Don't think so, we're gonna be taking a lightweight run. Besides, you'll have other things to do.”

He was right. My friends, Littlepip, my mother even! I had so much of my own to do.

My thoughts were broken as a tickling started in my throat. Panicking, I tried to reach for the nearest piece of furniture, a chair! I almost made it. The tickling became a burning as the great retching cough burst from my mouth, followed by an anguished cry as my head seared with pain, dizzying me and knocking me over. The chair toppled, collapsing on the ground beside me as I clutched my chest, quaking and trying to hold more in. Minstrel was beside me quickly, a hoof on my breast as he lowered his ear to my neck.

“You're wheezing bad, internally. I'm pretty good at patching up folks, but I'm no proper physician. Asthma?”

Weeping from the pain, feeling ragged and thin breathing from hot lungs, I lay my head on a hoof and whispered instead. “Rads in my lungs. Please, I need RadAway soon...”

“Hmm, 'fraid I don't have any of that. Pretty valuable stuff that most folks need. But I could mix a hot drink for that throat and—”

“Please! I need RadAway, I—”

Another cough interrupted me just as I tried to rise, making me retch and stay hunched over, fighting the urge to scream as the patched would in my skull pounded and seemed to grind the pain into me.

“Sorry, Murk. Don't have any. Best bet is to get you on your hooves and out there soon enough. Once Sunny's back, I'll see if she can't take a quick trip to the traders and round some up.”

Helping me back up, my breathing became heavy as the episode died down. Breathing became a little easier inside, with apparently less rads in the air.

“I...I'm sorry, Minstrel. I haven't even thanked you for what you have done with me yet. I'm not sure what I can offer in return to match...well, all this.”

Hoisting my hoof over his neck, he held on to me to lead me back through, shaking his head as he went.

“Think nought of it. Sometimes, a good act can return itself much better in the long term. Now, come on. Time we continued helping you, keep your mind off this illness. Feeling up to it?”

Nodding, I made my way back through with his help. Yet as we passed by the door to his storage room, I cast a glance back at the mannequin. So that's what Stable Dwellers wore to protect themselves...

Battle barding...she had a scoped revolver too, according to Glimmerlight. What had she called it again? My memory failed me, but remembering her form from the pit (contrary to what Glimmer might claim, I did remember more than just certain bits of said form) I mentally dressed her up. Finally, a little image of what my beloved legend looked like.

I'd have to draw it later. But for now, taking a new page in the main room, I sat and struggled to remember.

“We...we...”

“Don't strain yourself there, just let it flow. That's how you draw, ain't it?”

“Like it all just comes from my soul itself.”

“How very poetic. You're a little more intelligent than you look.”

Ceasing my thoughts, I glanced sideways with narrowed eyes to catch him chuckling.

“No offence meant, of course. What I mean is, you can't read or write, you've not been taught any real math or a lot of standard life skills, but you aren't stupid. You just...weren't ever told how. Free from slavery, you could be somepony better than you are, y'know?”

Somehow, some way...that reassured a large part of my ever-worrying mind to finally settle and smoothly think back.

“We were on the run, on hooves. That I remember, but they spotted us a lot of times, chasing us.”

Shaking, I lowered the charcoal, letting it almost control itself. Bold lines crushing everything into a thin...thin...alleyway! It was an alleyway! Spurred by my subconscious drawing, I began to fill in the details. A side on shot of all three of us, galloping forwards. Brimstone at the lead, grim and determined with a huge muscular stride to his gallop. Behind him, Glimmerlight with her short mane blowing in the wind...

...that tore down the thin corridor, directly into our faces. I was lagging, my shoulder flaring in pain with every step and my short gait failing to keep up with my larger friends. Above us, I heard another pop in the air as another shining star burst into a red glare that lit the streets amongst the fading light of day. More than ever, Fillydelphia was a crimson hell, even outside the walls in the remainder of the city. Around us, I could hear teams of slavers moving in groups, trying to locate or head us off along with hunt down the remaining Steel Rangers that had gone to ground. Occasionally, a burst of intense violence broke the evening air as one was found and, more often than not, slaughtered their hunters in return.

With Brimstone, I felt safe. He could take on any small group of slavers no problem, so long as his wounds didn't get too bad. In the past half hour, he'd been stabbed, shot, and bucked more times than I could count, all while defending us from the groups of slavers that infested the city on their escape prevention patrols. I'd been forced to loot through their corpses with Glimmer to try and find healing potions to keep Brimstone Blitz at his height.

My mind felt ready to snap. The tension was unbearable. Intense lengths of fear and hiding punctuated with brief moments of heart-pounding terror when those klaxon calls sounded our detection. Already, I could hear griffons in the air: reinforcements from Stern to watch the rooftops and wider open streets. The efficiency of Red Eye's army was downright scary in its ability to work as one, bound by his charismatic will. Was this the Unity he often spoke of?

I was not doing well. Already I was having to round corners only to see Brimstone turning the next one, Glimmerlight attempting to do her best to keep sight of both of us. I knew Brimstone wouldn't leave me, but my condition was worrying me. My throat was feeling raspy again, the more time we spent in these thin, contaminated urban areas that had been exposed to the balefire, the more my disease was starting to make itself known. Running was causing my breathing to spasm on burning coughs. It wasn't lethal yet, only bad due to the exertion, but I'd need RadAway within a day or so...

“Come on, Murky! Just keep—phew—going. We're all tired...” Glimmerlight was clearly digging deeply herself, but my own body just felt unable to push much further. The last time I'd actually rested that wasn't recovering from some injury or illness was long out of my memory. Many times I'd worked for days at a time, pushing or lifting heavy cargo. But out here all that obedient endurance just seemed to fade.

Could I even operate properly as a free pony?

Rounding the next corner, I found Brimstone halted at the end. (Oh thank you!) Dropping my pace, I fell on the ground beside them, trying my best to get any air possible into my clogged lungs.

“Murk?” Brimstone glanced back from the corner. “Get those lugs of yours working and listen. Where are they?”

Even nodding felt like an effort. Closing my eyes, I tried to shut out everything else and just concentrate on listening. Around us I could hear crumbling, sizzling, hissing of broken industry, and half faulty spark batteries. Fillydelphia, even outside the Wall, was nothing short of an industrial powerhouse of a city, ruined or not. In the distance, shouts and orders—some from down low—I could hear the echoes off charred walls and metal containers. Others didn't echo. They were louder sounds, probably griffons above us. We couldn't risk the main roads still. The smoke deadened sound, and the concrete maze that was the industrial park in this location made it incredibly difficult to pinpoint the sounds by distance, but...

“They're that way, and that way.” I pointed with my hoof, behind us and off to the right.

Glimmerlight peered around. “Well, we can't go left, the gates out of this park is still locked shut. Guess we just stay the course. You sure there aren't any others?”

“I...I don't know—”

“Come on, listen!” Brimstone was not in one of his friendlier moods. I imagined being wounded and healed so often in a short space of time would do that to a raider's attitude.

“I'm trying!” Concentrating, I blocked out everything but sounds. I tried to tune out the ambience. The wind was irregular, but easy to ignore. A beeping from some old control room in the factories was persistent, but clearly not to do with slavers. I tuned it out. What else?’

A thick stomping underground not far away, a Ranger in a cellar? Flutters in the air ahead of us, oh dear...

“There are griffons up ahead, and I think there's a small trio of slavers about to move into this area and—”

A sound entered my ears that I knew all too well. It wasn't a living being. It was the sound of metal scraping and grinding along scrap-constructed gears and pivots. Fillydelphia was opening its gates. Even this far out, I could hear the clunk-clunk-clunk of the massive gears sliding from tooth to tooth. Moments after, the trundle of wagons and the clatter of many hooves on the ground followed. Even Glimmer seemed to pick up the far off sounds, nodding.

“Guess Stern wasn't kidding about reinforcements. They'll be reaching us in five or ten minutes if they stick to the main road. Remember, they know what section we're in.”

“Why are they trying so hard to get us? We're only three slaves! Why can't they just let us go?”

My protests sounded like whines. They somewhat were, but it was born of nothing but frustration at this endless run.

Glimmerlight sighed, rubbing my mane lightly. “Red Eye doesn't like losing workers, hun. Especially not when it includes two of his biggest prizes, a Raider Warlord and one of the few—”

“Steel Rangers, right?”

Her face narrowed, almost looking as though she wanted to disagree like I'd been wrong, before stroking my mane again and even quickly hugging me. Tightly.

“Yes...yes, Brim and I, Murky. We're the ones he wants back.”

What had that hesitation been? No matter, we needed to get moving, any longer and they'd—

I heard a flutter.

I knew that sound.

“Get down!” I screamed, throwing myself behind the nearest large bin in the alleyway. Glimmerlight and Brimstone dived to the side as rapid fire streaks of magical energy tore up the length of the alley from above. Dirt was fused to a goopy green that pulsated and stunk of fried air in little chunks, as was portions of my cover.

“MOVE!” Brimstone roared, grabbing and swinging me onto his back before galloping off. Gripping his mane as tightly as I could, I found that the wagon had been nothing in comparison to the rough ride here. We took off, galloping out of the alleyway into a storage yard, long stripped bare by Red Eye's slaves, leaving things too heavy to carry. Empty pallet trucks and deserted train carriages made it a metallic maze surrounding the central cargo-rail building. Above it, I could see a cartoonesque pony riding a tiny train filled with smiling workers. If only...

More griffons dove from the clouds, their scout having spotted us by sheer luck. Brimstone turned down between two lengths of train to avoid most of the incoming fire, sticking to the right as rounds pinged and ricocheted between the carriages. I felt my mane whip, whether from the wind or a passing bullet I didn't know. Glimmerlight followed us, breathing heavily but determination lending her the strength to keep pushing. At the end of the two trains lay a third mounted on the same rail we were galloping down, its back carriage open to a passenger compartment. Hearing the platform creak under the weight, I held on as Brimstone launched himself into it. With windows exploding and melting on either side in a cascade of bright colours, Brimstone hurtled down between two lines of seats. The train had to have been partially armoured against zebra ambushes, for few holes were made but for the small windows, and their weapons didn’t penetrate the main chassis.

I heard the thunk of taloned feet landing above us, on the roof. Brimstone stopped short, knowing that to burst out between the carriages would be little more than running right into their line of fire. I could see him thinking, glancing to and fro.

Stern's griffons weren't going to give us that time to think. With the sharp sound of impacts on glass, I saw small metal apples held down and tossed through the broken windows. Rolling to a halt before us, thin bands pinged off them...grenades!

Glimmerlight was the first to act. Almost screaming, she pushed the boundaries of her stamina into her magic, and hurled the lethal orbs as far down the carriage as she could. Unable to lift them, they just skittered along the floor while we ducked behind the seats. Shielded by Brimstone, I covered my ears.

There was little point. The noise was so intense that I felt my ears pop and replace all sound with a keening whine. I didn't even hear the sound they made, just a dull whump. The shockwave made my stomach churn and my head ache. Again and again, grenade after grenade, painful shots in my ears and spikes of pain through the middle of my skull. The entire train lurched and shook again and again as each explosive set itself off or detonated others early. Dizzied, I opened my eyes to find Glimmerlight almost collapsed on the floor. Worry overrode my own pains, and I pulled myself over to her, trying to help her to stand. Her hoof was tapping me, her mouth moving with no sound emerging. Holding my face up, she nodded through hazed eyes.

Sound gradually returned.

“—m okay! Just tired. I...I think I've burned out. Too much in the Stable, and now all this.”

The sounds of falling train parts and popping flame surrounded us. My thoughts turned to the griffons. They had to have retreated to let their detonation go off, but did they think us dead? Brimstone made the decision for us, bellowing for us to move before they decided to come and check amidst the smoke that now shielded us. Yet as we lagged, he shook his head.

“You two won't last in a run with flyers. Move through the smoke, get inside the station, and lay low!”

Glimmer shook her head, staggering to her hooves. “We need to keep moving and—”

“No arguments, Glim! Get in the fucking station!”

Both Glimmer and I stood in virtual shock. Brimstone had been firm, but he had never spoken to her in that tone. Ever. I felt Glimmer begin pulling me with a hoof. Staring into Brimstone's eyes, I saw the authority that has destroyed entire settlements for that second, reflected in the fire and smoke of battle. Even as Glimmerlight tugged me down the train, that glare bored into my eyes. Not for the first time, but certainly more than ever, I was beginning to see the beast inside that began emerging in the middle of such chaos and violence. In some manner, I felt like I was running away from him.

Hearing his thick stride behind us, I followed Glimmer through the train. Three carriages later, we heard the griffons landing behind us, obscured still in the smoke of their own grenades. Screeching and shouting when they found no corpses, I heard their talons making a rampaging charge across the tin floors.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit...” Glimmerlight was muttering to herself as we limped and pulled one another as fast as two tired ponies could. I ceased to hear Brimstone behind me; had he stopped? My legs felt like dead weight, exhausted beyond compare. Stumbling over all the wreckage, we were only moving one carriage for every three the griffons were bounding through to catch up. I didn't want to look back! All I might see would be those razor sharp claws waiting to rip me apart! Memories of outrunning the thresher machine began to re-emerge, prompting mewling whinnying. We couldn't leave the train! If we did, we'd be gunned down. It was a simple race to—

“Contacts spotted ahead! Two slaves!”

“Engage and eliminate!”

Against all my fear, my head turned. Two griffons, a male and female, black and white, were launching between chairs and leaping over wreckage through the carriage behind us. Equipped for close quarters, both had knives drawn, one with a pistol in his off hand. Where was—

Brimstone Blitz exploded from behind the door. Having purposefully stopped to wait on them, his full titanic weight bore down on the two griffons from the side. Frenzied, I saw him actually bite the arm carrying the pistol, snapping and snarling enough to draw blood and make the griffon drop his firearm. Screeching at a pitch that dizzied me, the griffon spun, raking the knife at Brimstone. Normally, griffons were considered bigger and stronger than a pony, but even they seemed small compared to Brimstone in such tight quarters. Tearing a chunk of flesh away with his teeth, he roared with bloodlust, one mighty hoof slapping away the knife as his forehead collided with the griffon's own. A sharp thok barely registered before he stamped down hard with a front hoof on his stunned opponent's hind leg.

Legs were not supposed to bend that way. The griffon squealed, falling to the ground.

Caught unaware, the female griffon whirled to face the unexpected foe, only to find her companion hurled into her hard enough to drop them both into a seat. Brimstone reared up, dropping both hooves down on the pair hard enough to snap ribs on the male and wind the female beneath him. Using the time, I saw him go for the knife with his mouth, a mad glint in his eye, and—

I felt Glimmerlight pull my head away as he lunged. The screaming started.

Even holding my ears covered, I could still hear it, like ripping cloth apart, accompanied by long wailing cries that finally stopped after far too long a time. Hidden by the chairs that obscured the corpses, I could still see the draining blood and dirtied feathers dropping onto the floor and slowly spreading. With a sudden jolt, his smeared face turned to us.

“Why...are you still here?”

We didn't need any encouragement, turning, we galloped as fast as we could, little more than a determined canter. Both our heads were drooping, and I could see Glimmer’s legs beginning to wobble under her. I could feel my lungs having to work almost as hard as my limbs to get air. Hopping off the train, we found ourselves in the warehouse shop floor. Chains and hooks surrounded us, all of them hanging from giant ceiling-borne cranes. Already, I could hear griffons on the roof trying to shout to their comrades. Single shots whipped into the hard ground as skylights smashed and dropped razor edges either side of us. Glimmer galloped into a group of offices nearby to the edge of the yard, spurring herself to dive into and through the open doors even as the ground chewed up behind her. I was still twenty feet out, way too far to—

A griffon landed atop a train beside me, the short barrelled weapon pointed directly at me.

Acting before thinking, I ducked and rolled under the train, only realising why this was a horrible idea as I felt my bandages yank and tear. I clutched at my shoulder and screamed at both the sucking wound's pain and the clatter of fully automatic fire mere feet above me. Clawing, pulling, and struggling, I pushed myself to keep crawling under the train towards the offices Glimmer had moved into. The train only moved parallel to the doorway though; I'd have to leave and make a run for it sometime, but I couldn't run!

I had to try.

Three legs only. It'd look silly, but I had to keep going. Drawing my head out from under the train, I saw the griffon stalking along on top of it, head lowered. She hadn't spotted me yet and—

Yes she had! Her head jerked around, the barrel following even as I begged her not to shoot.

“Please! I'll come back! I'll go back to my Master!”

“Too late, pipsqueak. Stern says you die, you die.”

Her talon clenched on the trigger, until the entire train lurched, shaking the griffon's balance until it threw her off and sent a shot wildly into the air. Swearing colourfully, she twisted in the air and landed on her hind legs directly atop me, one hind leg snapping down on my neck and pushing me into the concrete. My squeal of agony from my shoulder being under my body drowned out into a rasping sound as her weight pressed down on my weak lungs. Her weapon was pointed around, before spraying through the train itself. Why? What was she—

A two foot wide train wheel hurtled in from over the carriage like a child's throwing disc, slamming directly into her chest and pinning the mercenary to the ground. A crisp snap told of broken ribs. Following it, Brimstone Blitz launched himself through the middle of the carriage's cargo doors and bounded over to the fallen griffon. Stamping on the gun, bending the barrel, he barely even hesitated before another ferocious stamp cracked her skull off the ground. If she had remained that way, she may have lived. But groaning in pain only attracted the grim raider's attention, leading him to stamp again and again...over and over until her groaning stopped.

Pulling myself up, I felt him bend over and pull out one of the last small healing potions we had liberated from slaver corpses, before carefully dragging me towards where Glimmer hid. Already, I could hear other griffons taking to the air to close in on the screams. The moment Brimstone got us behind the doorway he closed it, throwing cabinets and desks against it like playthings until he had bought us at least a little time with the makeshift blockade.

My shoulder was stinging as the healing potion took effect, the bleeding coagulating again into a thick hardened mass. The potion wouldn't get rid of it, but it would stop me bleeding out a while longer and let me walk. Skittering on the slick concrete floor, I cast a glance around. We needed a hiding spot, this was my area of things. Rooms...too obvious and natural. Vents...Glimmer and Brim wouldn't fit. Storage cupboards...only one way out. Damn! The entire building was big enough to survive a nearby balefire detonation, but held no safe rooms? I pathetically bucked a small sign on the wall in frustration before tripping over my own hooves. What idiot designed this place to not have any safe rooms in a major industrial city?

“Uh, Murky, what's wrong?” Glimmer glanced sideways at me.

“I'm trying to find an underground bomb shelter!” I ranted, staggering in a small circle. “It'd be the best place to hide in, I used to get crammed in one back in Manehattan, so I know big wartime buildings have them and they always have an exit in case the building came down. We can hide in it and escape to the outside. But nopony left any stupid directions!”

“Um, that way?” Glimmerlight pointed a hoof toward some side offices.

Wait...how...but...what! Ah wait, I knew why!

“I see...you're a Steel Ranger, you know all about pre-war buildings!”

“Actually, I just read the sign you kicked.” Despite her exhaustion, she managed a thin smile. Turning, I saw the green and white sign filled with indecipherable words, still legible amongst the seared interior. Not for the first time in my life, I sighed and lowered my head. Illiteracy really wasn't fun. Without Glimmer, I'd likely be running around in circles trying to find it.

“Hey, hey, Murky! Positive thoughts now! Big nasty griffons about to drop in! Let's go!”

I heard Brimstone batter down the door into the offices, revealing the easy access safe-room slope at the far end, where a huge steel door lay open. My stomach clenched when I saw multiple charred skeletons nearby to it, where they had just pulled it open before the fires had surged through the blackened building. My hooves crunched in the ash of light furniture and papers, all that seemed left was the bare structure and what bones survived. They had been so close...

Behind us, I heard the surging of wings and wisps of air as griffons leapt in from the skylights. They were accompanied by a thumping, as other slavers tried to batter down the door Brimstone had blocked. They had us surrounded.

“Get in!” Brimstone arrived, grabbed my jerkin, and virtually hurled me down the stairs. Painfully bouncing and rolling, I barely managed to get back to my feet and glance back up to see Glimmer jump over the ledge and onto the dark stairwell. Brimstone glanced back, before snorting and pushing the door closed...from the outside. Her own hooves moving quickly, Glimmerlight tried to stop him, pushing futile against his strength.

“Wait, what are you doing? Get in here, Brim!”

The old raider didn't even stop scraping his hooves through ash as the great door began to slide shut. Tangentially, it occurred to me that if those ponies two-hundred years ago hadn't gotten it open for us, we'd have been caught with how long it took even him to move it.

“Those feather brained bampots are going to surround the place! They'll be happy to wait, they know slaves are in here. They need a lure. Something to get them off your tails while you rest.”

Almost all sound seemed to deaden as the ramifications of his plan started to weigh upon my mind, I found myself galloping back up the stairs to beside Glimmerlight. Words just wouldn't come to me. Her mouth was just open, shaking her head.

“Look, we'll find a way; you don't need to do this!”

Brimstone Blitz looked back at us, gore dripping still from his muzzle and bloodshot eyes quivering with the adrenaline of battle. Then he smiled.

“Won't happen; griffons are patient. More than I am. Besides, I put slaves into this trade all my life, killed ponies, and...just so much else.”

I felt my eyes well up, this was too rushed. I didn't have time to prepare anything to say, or how to react! My tears were not alone, Glimmerlight pressed her hoof against his chest.

“Now you want to save at least some...”

“Aye...”

“Well...” She narrowed her eyes. “You come back. I am not accepting that the Great Warlord you've rumbled on in my ear about so much is going to be beaten by a bunch of flying chickens. On my way here, I saw an old bank outside Fillydelphia's main centres. You know it?”

Brimstone merely nodded.

“Then we'll meet there.” She stepped back. I saw Brimstone's gaze turn to me. Not expecting it, I wracked my brain for what to say, but hearing hooves and talons clattering closer, I just shook my head. Theirs was a story I shared, the raider and the runaway, but this was his moment to shine. Only two words really came from my mouth as I trotted forwards to hop up and lay my head against the side of his shoulder.

“Thank you...”

I knew I was crying. For once, the pony locking me away was doing it to save me.

“Goddesses be with ye both.” Brimstone rumbled the words, his hoof briefly arcing around to hold me, before gently pressing me back towards Glimmerlight. “Gallop safely. We'll meet again.”

With that, the light died as Brimstone slammed the great door shut. His great stride sounded immediately, galloping away into the building. He had told me that he was always a raider, that there was no way to appear as anything else, but right now I could not help but feel inspired by his determination to protect the ponies who he felt deserved it. He may not agree, but in that moment he was as far from the raider as I could ever believe.

Glimmerlight and I stayed on the staircase for some time, listening to the gunfire, screams and blood curdling warcries mixed with dull impacts and tearing metal. Gradually they moved further and further away, before eventually ceasing completely. By then, I felt Glimmerlight holding me tightly against her with one hoof.

“He got away. They didn't get him.”

“How do you know?”

“Not anywhere near enough gunfire to bring that big lout down. Besides, he still owes me ten caps and a beer.”

Her smile in my PipBuck's pale light seemed small as she turned and led me down into the emergency lights of the safe room. Remaining for just a second with one hoof pressed against the door, I could not begin to fully grasp the emotion. What was it? Sadness? Loss? Somepony had just thrown themselves into the grinder for me...and amidst my torn mindset, I just didn't know what to feel.

The safe room had lived up to its name. Lit by amber lamps, we found multiple stale and hard beds surrounded by infuriatingly locked doors that, by Glimmer's reading, led to an armoury and a food locker. After the canteen in the Stable, I was considering it unlikely that such food would still be edible anyways.

Trotting ahead of me, Glimmerlight flopped herself down atop one of the bunks, sending a small shockwave of stored dust flapping in all directions. Finally off her hooves, I heard her sigh deeply, looking for all the world that she might fall asleep on the spot. Nervously, I trotted onward, checking the far side of the room for...yes...the exit tunnel that would lead us to the outside once things quieted down. Not to mention give us a moment to catch our breath.

“Here, Murky, lie down, rest a minute.” Glimmerlight tapped the bunk beside her, which I obediently hopped up onto and settled upon. Feeling my back muscles and whip marks ache and sting, I slid off my saddlebag and pulled the goggles from my face. Brimstone had been a topic avoided. Glimmerlight was insistent about his safety while I simply didn't know what to even say. This was all so alien to me. Ponies caring for me, fighting for me...being so far outside the Wall and hunted during an escape attempt? When I had run for the Wall, I never imagined this sort of reality. In my mind, it was me running and running forever and outstripping the chains that bound me. But the reality was...harsh, unromantic, and full of twisting turns that bounced me from encounter to encounter without any downtime or chance to properly think. No long planning, no idea that survived the actual execution. It was just instinct and reaction mixed with cold unrelenting luck and chance. The idea that I had once sat in Whiplash's storage room planning my eventual grand escape felt childlike and far away. This was real.

Real was more tiring than I'd ever dreamt.

Glimmerlight seemed to doze for a few minutes at a time, her breathing finally steadying. She had thrown her robes off in the heat of exhaustion once arriving, leaving them crumbled in a heap below her. I lay upon my side, gently easing my sore wing under me and just watched her. The pony who ruffled my mane, who hugged and smiled at me. Who reassured me and cared...who had fought to save my life. Others had done some of those, but more and more I was feeling a connection to Glimmerlight like...like a friend.

But not all my mind accepted it. Slaves didn't have friends. My very presence here was a slight against my place in life if I listened to the deeper, darker areas of my own thoughts. The Wall and my orders were my boundaries, but now I was across them. Upon my flank, I felt my cutie mark almost tingle in an effort to remind me. Instructing me to wander off and leave her that I might return to the safekeeping of those who would guide me and tell me what to do, rather than face the uncompromising wastes. If I apologised enough to Protégé, maybe he...maybe...

Shaking my head violently, almost butting my forehead against the pillows, I fought them down. That was just fear talking. The fear of being caught and killed before I could do anything I wanted with life. My life. The one I'd been denied for...for how long? Oh Goddesses, I wished I knew how old I actually was. I didn't even know my birthday. I'd once been ordered to clear out of the barn and sleep with the brahmin on the rock farm because they'd wanted to use it for a party in my master's honour. His birthday. I'd snuck out and crept up to one of the windows, glancing in at him and his family that owned me getting drunk and laughing a lot. Maybe when I got out and found my mother, she could tell me when mine was.

I did kinda really want to have a birthday someday...

Just once, I wished I could feel the same urge for freedom that Littlepip no doubt had felt. Something to boost me along to finish this and finally—finally—escape the bonds that were imprinted upon my very side. My eyes turned back to Glimmerlight. She wore a small smile as she settled, not sleeping, but eyes closed all the same. What kept her so free and willing? What drove her?

Perhaps Protégé had answered for me long ago. She knew freedom. That wasn't all though: slaves in Fillydelphia bullied me, stomped on me, stole my food and called me things like 'runt.' Mocking noises of them screaming how I would die in the Pit still disturbed my slumbers. But she had remained nice and caring. Even the best ponies had been broken by Fillydelphia. Flippy Bit had his prejudices made all the more intense by the ignorance of slavery under Red Eye. Even I had almost stooped to stealing from a sick mare. But not Glimmer. Staring at her cutie mark of the three memory orbs; each of them glinting even through the muck and old wounds any slave carried after time in Fillydelphia, I began to see why. They were her key, being able to revisit your free days, the good times...that must certainly help.

“Uh, Murky. Not to knock you down, but I think I'm a little old for you.”

Blinking, I snapped back to reality. Blushing, I drew my eyes away from her flank (No, cutie mark! Her cutie mark!) and bit my lip while seeing her snorting with laughter. Was she just winding me up?

“Oh, I...uh, your cutie mark, it-it just makes me wish I could, y'know...”

Reaching between the two bunks, she (again) ruffled my mane with a hoof and giggled.

“I know, I know. And there are so many ways I could twist that sentence, but I don't think you have it in you. Well, until you get some charcoal in your mouth anyways.”

She winked. I blushed.

“Which reminds me, I've not had a chance to really get a glance at that book of yours. Mind if I take a look with you? It'll give us something to take our minds off, y'know...”

Well, she hadn't ever done anything but support me before. Groaning as stiff and painful joints cracked and ached, I pulled over my saddlebag and yanked out my treasured journal. Glimmerlight rolled off her bunk to sit beside mine as I placed it beside me and opened to some of my pictures from a few days ago. I saw her frown as she saw me lying dead in the Pit, the last image I ever drew before the mare gave me the idea to set my mind free. Flicking from page to page, Glimmerlight reminded me of that mare with the way she just accepted everything. Even down to the little snicker and sideways glance at, um, some of my pictures...

“Careful what you draw, Murky. You're making me want to grab a mare the moment we get out of here.”

Chuckling, she winked and continued. I didn't know if she was just being nice or genuinely did like them, but I felt settled enough to leave her to read through it. Shifting off my bed, I began to trot around the little saferoom. It was cramped; nothing was there without an express purpose. In an appreciative nod, I rather enjoyed the concept of a bin that doubled as a chair when its lid was down. Only Glimmerlight's confused glance was enough to make me stop flipping it up and down by pressing my hoof on the pedal. (What? It was good!)

Seeing her settle down and stare more longingly at the drawing I'd done of her being watched over by Brimstone, I gave her some space by moving into the bathroom.

Barely four feet by four feet, it was tiny. I didn't need to use it, really, but it was the only separate room. Nosing around, I cracked open the butterfly case within, finding little but bandages that fell apart in my hooves and a small needle. Memory flickered, I'd seen this before! What was it called...Med-Yes? I pulled it carefully into a leg pocket and turned to…

...a mirror.

Throughout my life, mirrors had been nothing but a reminder and crushing visual sight of myself. But it had always been tempered. I knew I was a dirty, weak, and sick little slave. Now, when I could think clearer...

...oh Goddesses...what had my life done to me?

Before me, just above the low sink, I saw a scrawny, scarred little buck, his coat so coated in rubbish, mud, blood, and rotten juices from the Stable orchard that it barely resembled any singular colour anymore. My mane and tail had bits in them. Stained in a dozen different ways just like the, by now ripped and bloodstained, fleece and filthy dark red bandages around my shoulder. But it was the health of my body...drawn, almost skeletal and covered in rad-sores on my muzzle and hind legs.

The eyes that stared back were not the eyes of the free pony I felt I should be. They looked terrified, out of place, and showed the image of a pony about to crack and run for the nearest thing that would tell him what to do or how to live. Sunken into dark sockets and red with tiredness, I could see my own pupils shaking, see the edges tearing up as he saw his own cutie mark in the mirror that...

I had to look away. Quivering and sobbing, I tried the sink and got a paltry trickle of brown water. Splashing it into my face, I scrubbed as best I could. Maybe if I scrubbed hard enough I could wipe away the slave, show the real pony I was supposed to be.

The water was tepid, stinging my rad-sores and small cuts I hadn't even realised I had. Time lost all meaning as I just sat and kept trying. Every time I looked up at my soaked and dripping face, I only saw myself looking more desperate and more pathetic than before. I knew I’d have to try really hard now to get it all off. Get rid of all the blood. Get rid of all the dirt of the place that hurt me. Get rid of all of it. I wanted rid of it all. Coughing, spluttering, I finally leaned over the bowl of the sink, not sure which was the water and which was my own tears. That's all I could do. Cry. I couldn't help anypony. I wasn't a hero like Littlepip, strong like Brimstone, smart like Protégé, or as resourceful as Glimmerlight. Somehow, every time I did anything good, it all twisted in on itself within minutes.

“I just want to do something right...”

“You have.”

Glancing back up, I saw Glimmerlight in the mirror behind me at the door.

“You got out here. You saved my life, and Brimstone's life many times. Heh, more than he'd admit. You are a pony that matters, Murky. Now c'mere.”

Her horn sparked, flared, and immediately failed. Straining, it popped back into life just enough to pull a small towel from the top shelf into her hoof before spluttering and imploding the spell with a brief shot of light. Dampening the towel, she sat and wiped my tears.

“You ever have any siblings, Murky?”

“I don't know. Six of them, maybe, if my name says anything, but I don't remember any of them. My mom never mentioned any, so I assumed they'd been sold...or maybe there wasn’t any. I don’t know.”

The towel was coming off filthy on each rub. I felt her firmly wipe it around my eyes, avoiding all my sores. Her voice was quiet and comforting.

“I never had any, but there was one little initiate back at Bucklynn Cross. He used to hang out with me because the others kept picking on him. They called him Safety Catch because he had a habit of leaving his on while in the range. Eventually, it got so bad he started forgetting who he was, started using the name himself. Forgot all the good things he could do, like strip an energy weapon faster than I could strip somepony’s robes if we got some alone time.”

I couldn't help it, I lightly chuckled. She was just so carefree, overriding my sadness with sheer audacity. Yet her voice turned poignant.

“Thought he was useless, you see? He used to get so worked up, saying he didn’t matter. Didn't even remember that he'd scored top marks in the tests my pops set for us. But the day he actually became a scribe and got the badge? Well, he remembered, saw what he was as soon as he looked in the mirror. That he was a smart pony.”

The towel dabbed under the water again, before it seemed to die entirely and spluttered out. Pulling tightly on my cheeks, she kept cleaning before almost too firmly rubbing my forehead with it, biting her own lip as she did so. I winced as I felt her pull on my mane with it, as through wringing it out.

“So I guess what I'm saying is. We can forget ourselves as it all piles up. But if somepony can just show us what still lies beneath it, perhaps it'll help a little.”

Dropping the towel, she held her hooves on either side of my face.

“He was like a little brother for a while, really. Probably the only reason I wasn't known as simply 'that mare who drinks far too much at ceremonies.' My sense of humour does exaggerate myself a little sometimes.”

Almost hypnotized, my head was turned as I looked back in the mirror again.

Green and blonde.

My coat's colour. A gentle green, lighter than I'd ever expected it to be. My mane...I'd come to think of it as a light brown, but it actually was blonde under it all...all light and fluffy. The line between the dirt and what she had cleaned was as sudden as a fence. In reality, it looked a little silly, the front of my face clean for once with some strands of my mane free of debris and dirt, but it gradually spread in my imagination. The artistic side of my mind filled in the blanks, and let those borders expand. To look at—

—a colt, standing with innocent little wide eyes filled with tears, my two stubby little wings flapping...

Gasping, I could see nothing but what the mirror in the FunFarm had shown me. I had almost forgotten the Mirror House and the strange sight. The little slave, yet to acquire a life's worth of dirt and grime that would mar his appearance as much as it would mar his dreams...

Not seconds later, I was wrenched out by merely blinking, breaking my daydream. Tears dripped from my face, but landed upon a small smile as I turned back to Glimmerlight.

“...Glim?”

“Yeah, Murky?”

“You keep helping me. Making me see the right things. I don't think I'd have made it this far without you.”

“We all help each other.”

I shook my head.

“No, no. I mean, with me being...me. Trying to work out what I am. Who I am. What kind of pony I am beneath the years of being nothing but a slave. You keep guiding me, always being there for me. I...I know it's only been a little while we've known each other but...”

Leaning down, she wiped away my wet mane from my face.

“But what?”

“Well, a mare once told me we shouldn't forget or ignore the good when it comes, no matter how short a time it takes. You said you saw that buck like a little brother, right? I, um, wanted to ask...”

Biting my lip, I looked away, feeling unfathomably embarrassed.

“...could-could you ever see me like that? Because I think I, uh, sort of see you like the big sister I wished I always had around...”

A brief period of silence reigned as Glimmerlight just looked down at me, before, gently, she pulled me close. Her impetuous embrace stopped only by concern for my wound, but her head leaned against mine.

And in that moment, I felt relief beyond words.

“Tell the truth? I was kind of hoping you'd say that, because that's how I was beginning to think of you too. We can't take time for granted, days could be years to slaves, Murky. We take who and what we can get. So yes.”

Within the underground room, amidst an escape attempt that could or could not succeed still, there was at least one life defining moment to remember. Family need not be by blood.

“Yes. Yes I will be. Your big sister best friend forever.”

“I'd like that.”

There was a brief moment, just allowing me to smile and hold onto the best pony I'd ever met. For about a minute, we simply sat within the saferoom, between the bathroom and main room, just permitting the moment. Eventually, she snickered, leaning back, her eyebrows narrowed and lowered.

“But...you do know what little brothers get, don't you?”

She grinned. I just raised an eyebrow. I hadn't even had a sibling nearby to know. What did little brothers ge—

“Noogies!”

“Noo—what, what are—wait, no! Haha!” Before I could react, she had me in a virtual headlock, rubbing her hoof on my mane vigorously. I squirmed as best I could while injured, laughing and squealing in equal amounts to try and get her to stop. Waving my front legs to try..

...and make her let go. The smile I drew across my face seeming almost alien as I softly added more width with the end of the charcoal stick. Then a little more...and a little more. Before I knew it, I'd drawn one of the most wide smiles I ever had. Almost as much as when I'd drawn myself on my own on that page so long ago. Now where was that one?

Flicking back, I hunted it out. The one I had drawn just after gaining the ability to think for myself...even a little. Back in the FunFarm. Eventually, I found it, the one that had me on my own, grinning widely with my wings flared to either side beautifully. It still made me chuckle to think I could ever actually make a smile like that without being around Littlepip's escape. But there it was, just in the middle left of the page on my own and—

I wasn't alone anymore. There had been something else drawn on it.

At some point during the rest period, I had added somepony else. Now, Glimmerlight stood just to the right of me, about one pony's width away. Clean, as though she wasn't a slave, her initiate robes well kept and draped tidily about her. But she still had that playful energy about her posture. And on her face, wow. That look, the sparkling cheeky grin and alluringly casual eyebrows. One expression that comforted her friends and caught the attention of stallions all in one fell swoop. Feeling my hooves shake, I fought to urge to try and hug the journal itself. I knew finally why I had drawn myself to one side like that.

I had been waiting for the friends I could add in later all along.

“So that's the mare herself, huh?” Minstrel smiled thinly as he watched over my shoulder. “Although I have to question. Regarding yourselves siblings within forty eight hours of meeting? That seems a little...preemptive, don't you think?”

“I thought so too. But back inside Filly, time didn't feel right. Shifts could come anytime, you could be underground in the pits working away and not knowing how long for. You lived day to day, anything that survived was a blessing. Death was so easy. I saw ponies burned alive, shot, or simply dying of sickness. Just so random and unforgiving. I only barely survived...”

Part of me wished I'd drawn her closer on the piece of paper, nearer to me.

“But it works the other way too. If somepony feels trustworthy and close to you, then I discovered just how amazing you could feel in a few scant hours. I'm a pegasus, Doc, ponies hate me...”

“I don't.”

“But almost all of them did! Slaves are...are ignorant! They don't know how to think about situations like ponies outside do. Even I didn't realise that until they opened my eyes.”

“They?”

“All of them: Littlepip, the mare, the DJ, Brimstone, Glimmerlight, even Protégé in some weird way. I don't understand! Some of them I only saw for less than a few seconds, but it matters when you're a slave like me. It's all I have! All I had...”

I sniffed, wiping my eyes with a hoof, still flinching from my forehead throbbing at the motion.

“That's why I think we...we were able to just, know, that we would be so close no matter what. We'd saved each other's lives already. Slaves like we are—I mean, were? That counts for everything.”

A period of silence began as Minstrel carefully mulled this over, leaning on his front hooves and staring almost unflinching at me. The only noise was the occasional sniffle from me and a wind banging upon the window shutters every few seconds. Eventually, Minstrel got to his hooves.

“Well, I suppose you need to get her back. That much is obvious, 'fraid I can't help too much, but well, wait and have a chat with Sunny. She knows the area and the ponies you can trust. Might even give you a few tips on how to fire that pistol she carried in with you. I'll see what I can cook up to maybe give you a hand when you head out the door. Just take it easy. I can see in your eyes how much you wanna just gun it and find Glimmerlight. But you're badly wounded and recovering still, not to mention your memory ain't quite there yet.”

He shrugged, wandering toward the corridor and tapping the sofa on the way.

“Lie down, and get some rest. Goodness knows you need it. I'll wake ya up when Sunny's back. Who knows, maybe you'll remember somethin' yourself.”

Nodding silently, I wandered up the sofa and rolled onto it. The soft cushions allowed me to lie on my side without the worry of wing-ache (oh I had a name for it now?) and just flick through my journal. Perhaps if I went far enough back I could find something to—

No. I couldn't do that. Not now, definitely not. If I wouldn't dare look at my slave past before, doing it now would just...it would be too much to handle. No, the years of my life would remain indistinct and behind me. I had no wish to see imagery of me being abused.

Time passed, just lying and thinking, not thinking, and being confused. Freedom didn't feel quite so monumental as I thought it would at this stage. My heart didn't feel like jumping for joy. The shackles on my flank still stung every time I looked at them. I felt out of place. Searching through my saddlebag to distract myself didn't help, I came across the elements of loot I'd taken from Stable Ninety Three. Mostly just odds and ends I'd carried for Brimstone and Glimmerlight. A spanner, small hammer, screwdriver, nuts, bolts, and some little bobby pins. But striving, I pulled the largest item, a thick book, one I had liberated from the Memorial Room. Or...was it? I couldn't precisely remember, the haunting passage through the bowels of the Stable had left my memory indistinct and blurry...or maybe that was the blow to the head. Time would only tell if everything would reassemble like it should.

Weighing the book in my hooves, feeling the heavy weight, it dawned on me how long I'd been pushed by adrenaline and fear. How I'd been able to keep going even with a sick body and the injuries every slave carries. Typical. When I wanted to be heroic, I was weak, but when terrified I could push myself. If only it were the other way around like proper heroes...

But this book. I'd picked it up to give to Protégé. But I was free of that conniving and 'caring' master forever. Helping and saying he wanted to be kind to me one minute then sending me into Stables the next. Holding the coverless book in my hooves, my eyes fell hopelessly on the words I could never read. I would be glad to never have to wrack my brains just talking to him ever again.

So why did I feel like I was going to miss handing him the book?

Gritting my teeth, I dropped it back into my saddlebag. With some degree of revulsion, I set about pulling my fleece back on. As much as Minstrel seemed fine with my wings, I didn't like feeling naked and exposed like this. Whimpering as I squeezed my head through, even wool pulling across my skull feeling like industrial sandpaper, I finally flopped down, breathing hard and switched on my PipBuck's radio.

“—ck and roooooll!”

The music ceased. Celestia damn it! I'd missed one of Velvet's songs!

Immediately, my mind realised what it had thought and sent approximately eight prayers towards the sky in forgiveness. One for each letter of Her name. Just to be sure.

“Y'know, I really don't think I'll ever tire of that stuff, year after year of the same sounds wear on any good DJ's ears. We've got the main daily news comin' up in a few hours, but for now I got a little tidbit that just can't wait. From over across the plains I've been getting reports of a large scale confrontation between Red Ass and the Steel Rangers. Seems even with all the problems out in the main wasteland, those two groups still want to clobber one another. But that's not the best part, through the network it seems that the slaves of Fillydelphia took the Stable Dweller's actions to heart. There's a colossal search going on and it's clearly not just for Rangers. You don't go hunting for ponies in power armour with whips and shackles, do you?”

My heart leapt. This...this was—

“Oh my!”

“So I say to those of you out there. Good work! Now get out safe, they don't let anypony go easy. Indeed, the Walls are only the first obstacle in their network to catch runaways. Be. Careful. ‘Cause ain't nuthin' gonna hurt more than being dragged back through those gates in chains. I thought of saying what roads might be less crowded, but I'd be one pretty big idiot to think they aren't listening in too. Now we've not had any reports of actual escapees yet, but by all the great goodness left in the wastelands I sure hope there is. Anypony out there gets a whiff of a slave that escapes? Let ol'Pon-Three know, will ya?”

Find my friends.

Find Littlepip.

Find my mother.

Now I had another one to add to the list.

Proudly trot into the DJ's very studio as 'the one who got away' and say ‘I did it!’.

Giggling so happily to myself at the thought that my throat threatened to spasm and cough, I squirmed and curled up on the sofa, clutching the half destroyed PipBuck tightly enough I feared it might bend. The DJ clearly knew Littlepip, maybe he could put in a good word too?

I might be weak, deathly sick, and, for now, without allies nearby, but at least I knew there were others out there rooting for me. Wishing my dreams to succeed as much as I did.

Hours of the day faded by...at least I thought they were day. Inside, behind shut windows, and with the cloud cover outside there was little way to tell. I dozed while tired and ate when provided for. Minstrel checked over my wounds a few times, replacing the dressing on my shoulder as well as giving my fleece a scrub down with some old cleaning fluid. The one he didn't touch was the bandages around my lower right leg, citing that it would be far too painful to change them for at least a few days until the anti-infection fluid soaking into it killed off the infection in the wound.

“Sunny should be back soon, Murk, don't you worry...”

“You've said that a few times, don't you know?”

Looking up from where he was testing the joints on my legs for any concussive damage, Minstrel just faintly smiled.

“She's got some zipline up on one of the nearby old buildings that lets her get down the hill quick to go scavenging. Problem is, getting back up is still a trot and a half. Depending on how much she fished out, it could be anything from half a day to a couple hours. Apparently you weren't much of a weight, so I see...”

My own eyes followed his to my stomach, shrivelled and still showing ribs if I were to pull up my fleece. Indeed, just ahead of my hind legs, I was fairly sure a griffon could fit their hands together around my waist.

Wasn't that a wonderful thought.

“Just calm down, lil' Murk. It's big an' scary comin' out into the wastes. I used to be in a Stable, I know how it feels. You got the problem that you don't right know how to be free, either. It'll come, just wait for Sunny. She'll see ya right.”

Perking up, I heard something. Hooves. Immediately I wanted to gallop, to flee. What if it were Red Eye's slavers? Spotting my tentativeness, Minstrel listened carefully before smiling as his own older ears caught up with my finer hearing.

“Well...I reckon that's her right there.”

Scrunching gravel gave way to the front door opening and shutting quickly.

“Hey, Doc? You around?”

“Front room, my dear. Just checking on our little newcomer, he’s up and about.”

Sharp clip-clopping in the front hall came from a confident and springy step, until I saw the sandy coloured Sunny wander in. An earth pony, a little shorter than most, wearing leather fittings similar to Minstrel's (I assumed one of them stitched for both), and carrying a small bolt action in a side holster. Her mane was a deep brown streaked with bright red, surrounding a focused but rather bright face. Across her back were at least four saddlebags packed full of, well, junk.

I had to admit, though. I kind of wanted that big wide-brimmed hat she had on her head. Even if I knew it would just fall down over my eyes.

Something wasn't right, though. Before she even spoke or properly saw me, my ears twitched. Somepony was sneaking behind her. I could hear padded stepping very clearly. Somepony light and soft on their feet...and...panting?

While Sunny trotted farther into the room, the second presence wandered in. Dirty and dark haired, I saw something much smaller than I had been expecting. It wasn't a pony. It was a dog.

Barking loudly enough to make me wince and sweat in fear, it immediately bounded across the room, heedless of Sunny's shouted command. Shrieking, I fell backwards off the couch, painfully scrambling backwards away from it. The table overturned, knocking my journal onto the floor and making Minstrel stagger backwards. Memories flared in my head, horrible and twisted. Guard dogs growling and barking in my face or just waiting for me to try and escape to find food so they could bite me...again.

“Cayenne!”

Whimpering, I closed my eyes, trying to ward off the attacker with my front hooves. I felt the furry head push right past them, going right for my neck and—

...licking me?

“Cayenne, heel girl! Leave the poor buck be! Come on!”

Slowly, shivering, I opened my eyes and had to wince immediately. I felt rough, warm and wet slobbering licks over my left cheek. The dog seemed to grin at me while panting. ‘Gotcha’. I could see it written all over 'Cayenne's' face. Behind the sofa, Sunny dumped her things before wandering toward the dog and I. Relieved of her cargo, I could see a bright smiley face shaped like the sun on her flanks. Despite the apparently friendly nature of this...this mutt, I could still feel the fear and tension ripple through me. I didn't like dogs.

“Come on, heel!” Sunny snapped the last word with a little more sternness, leading Cayenne to bark and run back over to Sunny, padding around her hooves and under her belly before sitting obediently beside her and looking up, awaiting the next command.

“You alright, buck? Sorry, she gets a little excited around new ponies she meets. She won't bite...usually not even when I tell her to.” Sunny winked at me, before giving Cayenne a disgruntled, but loving look. She held nowhere even close to the sheer casual grace of Glimmerlight, but her expression was friendly and warm...if clearly weathered.

“I...I just...”

Minstrel coughed lightly.

“I imagine Murk here has encountered a few dogs before of less spicy comedic mindset than Cayenne,” spoke Minstrel, trotting back over after righting the table and setting my open journal upon it, “Murk, this is Sunny. Cayenne was the one who sniffed you out in the rubble for Sunny to rescue.”

Shakily getting to my hooves, favouring my shoulder, I nodded, trying to find the words.

“Um...I...uh...thanks, I guess?”

Somehow, I had a feeling I'd never make it as a Tenpony Tower ambassador in my new life. Shaking my head, I tried again.

“I mean, sorry. Just still a bit confused. Thank you.”

I leaned down, lowering my head as I would to any master. Really, it was the only way I knew to show respect and loyalty as thanks or apology. After a brief, awkward, and silent moment, I heard Doc Minstrel cough into a hoof.

“So...Sunny, aside from enough junk to start our very own scrapyard, any news? Particularly, anypony else get out from that big mess earlier? Our friend here has lost his companions, his protector, and his sister.”

I saw his sly wink at me. My heart warmed to him...remembering that little point so well. Sunny settled on the sofa, lying on her side and ruffling Cayenne's rapidly panting and moving head.

“Yeah, met a few ponies, actually. Even got stopped by a few of Red Eye's lot. They're certainly comin' farther out than normal. Somepony with big authority drivin' em onward to reclaim somethin'.”

My entire body began shivering. I felt the scar on my skull twitch and stab pain. I direly wished for him to, just let me go and think I was gone.

“Never got a look at him, but the cronies seemed content to leave anypony not an escaped slave or a Ranger be for now. The rest seem to still understand the agreement. They don't come out and bother us, we leave some good alcohol for them near the old school once in a while. Good to know that no amount of discipline and fear from Red Eye can beat a little beverage persuasion.” She grinned at me, no doubt having explained for my benefit. “Honestly? Red Eye's not so bad a neighbour if you know how to stay on their side. We leave a little loot for them here and there, and he's content to have the griffons not come after us. Not like we'll be around here soon enough. Soon as we got enough caps to make the journey, we're out of here, right Doc?”

Minstrel nodded, smiling thinly. I could swear I saw him glance at the picture nearby.

“But I saw one pony, down near the old bank on the outskirts. Almost shot 'em on sight. Big...one heck of a nasty old brute. Coulda sworn I knew him from somewhere a while back. Looked way too dangerous to approach, a raider for sure. Never any sense in tangling with those types, I tell ya. All pumped up on drugs till they don't care if you put one in their body. Not often you see them out this close to Fillydelphia.”

Straightening up fast enough to make Cayenne leap to her feet, I gasped and stammered incoherent words, trying to figure out how to put it. Eventually, I found my tongue.

“That's my friend!”

The look on Sunny's face could have been a painting for the ages. Her glance flickered from me to Minstrel and back a great many times.

“...the big red stallion?”

“Yes!”

“...huge muscles, scars, war tattoos?”

“Yes, yes!”

“...covered in gore and bucking every lamppost in sight out of apparent sheer anger and uncontrollable rage?”

“That's him!”

Sunny resumed that slightly open-mouthed look of bewilderment between myself and the lightly nodding Minstrel. A good ten seconds of sheer silence passed with little movement other than Sunny's face attempting to smile as it looked back and forth between us.

“...I am very confused right now.”

This could take some explaining.

“Woof!” agreed Cayenne.

Eventually, along with a lot of coercing from Minstrel, Sunny began to actually believe that a Grand Raider Warlord whom she had known to devastate entire areas of the wastes was actually protecting a scared little pegasus and an ex-initiate of the Steel Rangers. Not until I had explained all this did I realise how simply mad my life had been over the past...week? No, it had to have been shorter...few days?

“Right, so your friend is down there. Well, let's get moving!” Sunny seemed insistent to make tracks. Seeing her master pick up the rifle, Cayenne began bounding around the sofa and waiting impatiently near the door. Minstrel held his hooves up, shaking his head.

“No...no. Murk is still far too injured to make such a journey. Didn't you see the balloons go down near that place a few days ago? It's dangerous still. No place for walking wounded. Remain here, Sunny, help him, teach him. If this raider is as insistent as he sounds, he'll wait. Now, I gotta go fetch some stuff from the stash, give em a hand. You stay with 'em, Sunny.”

Speaking even as he drew on a leather longcoat, Minstrel trotted toward the front door, shouting his goodbyes as he left. Sighing at my seemingly eternal time to “wait and see” when my entire will wanted to surge through the door, I trotted over and sat in front of my journal instead. Minstrel had explained how I was using it to help remember the events of the escape, so at least I could distract myself using it. Now just to—

It felt like my mind had stopped moving. When I had knocked my journal off the table in my rush to get away from Cayenne, it had fallen open at an earlier page.

A much earlier page.

Sunny, hearing my audible gasp, shifted over to peer across my shoulder.

“Huh...now why'd ya go and draw one of them things, now?”

Before me, upon the page, lay a charcoal sketch of a foal's toy. A stupid little frayed and oft-repaired stuffed pony with mismatching eye shapes. In my younger days, the scaling was all messed up, but I felt myself shiver.

“Nothing...nothing big.” The memory was beginning to filter back in. I'd never forgotten it per se, just it had passed out of my mind down the years of being told to ignore everything else. Of a strange little emotion I'd briefly felt once long ago.

Struggling, putting the bits and pieces back together, I tried to remember all the details. It was nothing. Other than that it was from my foalhood, a time when usually, I had felt nothing but loneliness.

“I...I didn't think much of it, just once, as a foal in slavery? We were being taken down to the riverbed to scavenge, all of us in chains. But there was this wagon passing by and I saw this stuffed toy fall off. I ran out of line to grab it, probably just me being a stupid foal. I wasn't too intelligent.”

Sunny leaned closer, looking more curious than caring.

“So, this toy used to belong to you?”

“No! That's the thing, I could have done what I normally do, just take what I can. But when I picked it up in my mouth I saw this little filly on the back of the wagon crying and trying to get her parents to stop. I...I think they didn't want to stop near slavers, so they kept going. I galloped up and threw it back to her.”

Sunny drew out her words slowly. “How...generous. You could have just taken it.”

Gently, I shook my head. “I guess I just couldn't while I saw her looking. It was hers. She caught it when I threw it. I got lashed with a cane a dozen times for stepping out of line and...and that was it r-really...”

It was a real fight to not burst into tears as the memory of being forced across a nearby rock, held down by my hooves, and caned flooded back. How he hadn't let up even as my shrill young voice had shrieked and echoed in the dusty valley. This was why I didn't look back in my journal, exactly the reason everything before I was made free in my mind was off-limits to me.

Nope. There wasn't any helping it. I could already see the drips on the paper. Sunny remained quiet, before reaching across and flicking through my journal until it was on a blank page. She didn't seem to have much soft emotion, but had just enough social perception to spot the memory was a little unsettling.

“Well...uh, I'm sure she'd be pretty thankful for what you did. I'm sure? Come on, try something new, get your head out of the clouds and into escaping, eh?”

Beside me, I felt Cayenne pad across and lay her head across my hind legs, whining slightly and rubbing her soft hair against me. Even my fears couldn't stop me feeling a little comforted by the animal's empathy.

Taking a deep breath, I wiped my eyes and took up the charcoal. Yes...yes, just ignoring things, that'd work. It always had. Forget it and get on with the work.

“We spent a lot of time in that safe room till things quietened down and we'd gotten our breath back. However we didn't have any medical supplies left bar one syringe. I...I think my shoulder was getting worse. But we had to move soon.”

Leaning down, a dark, metal flapping door was drawn with Glimmer's head...

...pressed against it, listening to the dull sounds outside as she sighed at the distant gunshots. I sat nearby, nursing the growing agony in my shoulder and trying not to whimper. The bleeding had stopped, but the horrid motion of galloping so much on it had generated a burning pain that was affecting my ability to even trot.

“I...don't think I can move quickly. Should we wait until night?”

“No. Not enough time. Eventually they'll get word of how many slaves are still out here and start searching every door they can find. You still got that Med-X?”

Nodding, I dug it out of my saddlebag, only briefly wondering why I was still carrying that book alongside my journal. All that weight in one saddlebag was unbalancing me. Glimmer closed her eyes, concentrated hard, and sparked her horn to lift the syringe from my mouth. She had spent the last half-hour nursing her magic back into being. Apparently, she had been lucky, it was just a lack of stamina, not a 'true' burnout as she'd called them. Those could knock a unicorn out for days, allegedly.

“Have you used any of these recently?” Her voice was stern, serious as she pulled the cap off and tested the plunger lightly.

“One, I think. Maybe a few days ago? I don't know how long it's been, really.”

Glimmerlight's face became deadly serious for a minute, as though trying to decide on the risks herself rather than telling me. Eventually, with a light sigh, she motioned me to hold out the hoof with my shoulder on that side. The intent was obvious, we had to take the risk if I was going to go anywhere.

Wincing as I felt the needle poke in, the cool rush of liquid entering my bloodstream made me shiver and nipped at the injection point terribly. Sitting back, I let out a raspy breath. The last one had taken a little while to kick in, so we wandered back down the stairs into the saferoom for a minute until it— wooooah boy!

Staggering, my hooves went dead under me and every line of definition in the room whirled and danced. I keeled to one side and fell face first into the spare rugs piled in one corner. I ended up lying on my chest with my hind legs and rump in the air. Attempting to move only led to me falling to the side, not even feeling my own body drop to the ground. Oooh, these things were comfy when I didn't feel pain, maybe sleep would be nice right about-

“Hey! Hey, Murky!”

My eyes were closed, smiling, I felt all the pain and weariness flush out of me. The feeling was slow to come back after the initial surge of painless numbing. I just wanted to hug that pile of rugs and snuggle up under it.

“Murky! Come on, there, stop sleeping. No time to rest!”

Dully, I felt her hooves lifting me up onto mine. I swayed from side to side and fell back on my rump instead. Looking up, I grinned widely at her. See how happy I am, Glimmerlight? All because of you! She just had a half-grin on her face as I flopped around in her hooves. Eventually, remembering to not try shaking my head this time, I looked at her more directly.

“You alright there?”

“...your eyes are really sparkly...” My speech felt slurred around a mouth that was trying to grin wider than my face. Why couldn't I always feel like this?

Glimmerlight blinked, rolled her eyes and chuckled.

“You're a regular Casanova, Murky. I think the Med-X dosage was a little high for somepony of your size and weight. You're only getting half doses in future, mister.”

“Aww...” I giggled and tested my hooves on the ground. Gradually, after at least a few more embarrassing comments (“It's a bin and a seat, Glimmer! Look!”), it began to wind down and settled into a slight dulling of my sense of touch all over. Satisfied I wasn't about to start referring to gunfire as ‘pretty fireworks,’ we began moving back to the door.

“Right, chances are that we will be spotted at least once, but if we can get to the old bank, I'm fairly sure we stand a good chance if Brimstone carries you the rest of the way. We can make good tracks ahead of pursuers, then. You ready for round two?”

Would I ever be? All the same, I nodded gently, before we both shoved the door at the same time to enter the home stretch.

Home. I was going home. To wherever that ended up being, it would be mine!

Dry Fillydelphian air washed across us after we emerged into the outside world once again. Not willing to stay near to the large open doors, we both hopped out and cantered into the cover of a chainlink fence, its wire shielded with flakboard, and hunkered beside a gate. Glancing through it, I saw open ground, one of the huge roads that led into the centre of Fillydelphia. I knew this one led straight back to the gates themselves. At Glimmer's prompting, I listened as best I could.

Slavers were laughing as they boasted about a Ranger they'd killed. They were up ahead, a short distance from the trainyard, and as such there was no going back there. The road might be our only—

No! I heard a wagon approaching. We hid back behind the fence as it tore past us, pulled by muscular earth ponies and chewing up the broken ground under its metal wheels. No doubt carting supplies to a unit in the wastes. Listening again, there were other, farther off sounds and even a few shrieks of griffons in the sky above, camouflaged against the red haze.

“I...I think we have to make a break over the road. There's loads of slavers inside the trainyard. Some griffons above it, too...I think. Sorry...”

“No, no...you're doing fine. I certainly couldn't hear any of that. Come on, while it's quiet and before any more supply wagons rip past.”

Breaking cover, we cantered as fast as we dared on the hard tarmac. I felt vulnerable, if I looked to the left I could see the expanse of the wastes...to the right I could see all the way down the road to the gates of Fillydelphia in the distance. No doubt why Red Eye had chosen such a location as to have access to a trade route that ran directly to his fortress. The sight of that open, gaping maw into hell almost made me trip from fear.

“Down!”

Surprised, I felt Glimmer force me to the ground, her eyes skyward. Above us, a single griffon was swooping silently in arcs, about three hundred metres or so away and fifty metres up.

“Let's get to the other side, into cover!” I made to move forward, before feeling Glimmer hold me tightly down.

“Don't move! From the sky, motion shows more than shape. Mother taught me that. Stay still. It'll leave...hopefully.”

Whimpering, I remained still. We were dead in the middle of the road, ten metres from the other side. Feeling horribly exposed, I tried to think of why she was right. I was dark and dirty, wearing a black (and blood red...) fleece while Glimmer's dark crimson robes seemed to gel into the very atmosphere and smog of Fillydelphia, even this far out.

My discomfort only grew when I heard the last sound I wanted to. Wagon wheels. Trundling, bobbing, and sparking on the ground, my ears heard them breaking into a fast speed upon the tarmac. Slowly tilting my head, praying with all my might the griffon wouldn't see me, I looked toward the gate and had to fight the urge to scream.

Over a dozen wagons, packed full of Red Eye's army, were barrelling down upon us.

“Glimmer...” I whispered back toward her ear, her eyes concrete and held skyward. The griffon was, oh Goddesses, it was even closer! We were...we were trapped. I had to run—

“Don't...move...Murky...”

A squeak escaped my mouth. Every muscle was willing me to run. This sort of hiding went against every instinct I had.

“There's smog and dust clouds around us. The griffon can't see us.”

“The wagons-”

“Stay...still...”

The griffon stopped, head craned toward the wagons. Hovering, I could swear his (or her...too far to tell) eyes looked directly at us, before their gaze swept away down behind the buildings.

Immediately, we moved. I went first, crawling and staying low. Inch by painfully slow inch, we raced the speeding wagons. They were a few hundred metres away, and only billowing dust had to be hiding us. I dared not cry for leaving a trail of tears, however silly it seemed. Only when we reached the edge and rolled down into the lower level behind a ruined safety barrier did we get to our hooves and gallop madly into the nearest building. No sooner had I ducked into the doorway did the clattering sound of a military convoy hurtle past. Wagon after wagon...headed out to ruin somepony's day in the wastes. Silently, I prayed the Stable Dweller would be evading them.

We waited for an extra minute, breathing hard on either side of the double doors...or rather the doorway. The glass doors themselves had long shattered across the floor. Stepping aside, I flinched as I felt a stab of pain. In my haste, I hadn't even noticed my back left fetlock had been cut on the glass.

“Promise me, Murky. We are never doing that again...”

“Cross my heart, hope to fly...”

She looked at me weirdly. I just raised one hoof and shrugged.

“Pinkie Pie said it all the time over the speakers back at the FunFarm.”

“The Ministry Mare? Of course...well,” she chuckled and continued, stroking my side briefly where my wings were, “very appropriate for you.”

I wasn't so sure. Anything from that weird pony freaked me out enough without being reminded of my inabilities. But that said, it was right. Brimstone had told me not to deny who I was. Did that mean I should have that hope? I'd never even considered it.

Following Glimmerlight farther in, we found ourselves inside a normal train station for ponies, not the industrial one across the road. The ditch outside had been the area for wagons to pull into, apparently. Open plan interiors with empty cash desks lay barren and trashed across one wall, the booths set below a giant board filled with letters and numbers. Benches and small tug-carts littered the main areas over the smooth marble floor. Massive archways made up the support of the building. Had it not been ruined by balefire, it would have been beautiful. This had to be pre-war, the architecture was very different to the blocky factories.

Movement caught my eye. From behind a stairwell trundled a rusty old machine shaped like a pony. Each leg moved so slow that it made me impatient just to watch the bulbous and creaking robot stumble toward us. A card slot on the front flashed a red light, while its speaker
bleeped and blooped lightly, breaking into a grinding, but polite sounding, electronic tone.

“Tickets...please...”

“Uh...maybe later?” Glimmer shrugged to me and resumed looking at the odd remaining robot.

“Tickets...please...”

Without speaking further, we ignored it and cantered through it toward the main stairway. There was no sense in aggravating the machine or causing noise by taking it out. We needed to get our bearings, possibly from the top floor rather than the roof. Old luggage sat unattended around us, strewn open where it had been left and thrown by the blast. Where were the remains? As much as I hated it...it seemed off. Even without bones, the seared clothing and warped utensils and tools seemed utterly bizarre. Nothing was just 'normal.'

Glimmerlight wandered to the platform doors, glancing her head through where I could see a train still sitting, bucked off the rails by the force of the bomb. Even as I watched, I saw her shudder and step back. Confused, I went to poke my head around and—

“No.” Her hoof stopped me. Looking up at her face, even on her dirtied white coat...she seemed pale and drawn as she slowly shook her head. “You don't want to.”

I needed no further convincing. Stepping back, shaking at the mere thought of what might be found farther in that way, I reflected on the obvious path anypony hearing an evacuation would take...where they might all be. Passing backward, we trotted up the stairs, passing the machine once again. It had completed its excruciatingly slow turn and had been winding forward to meet us again.

“Tickets...please...”

Surprisingly even myself, I scouted ahead to each corner as we ascended floor after floor. There was little to see that anypony who had lived in the wastes hadn't encountered, but it was always a constant fight to keep my imagination in check. Listening for griffons was my only real distraction as I passed blocked doorways that no doubt held my greatest fears and worst images. We trotted through an old passenger VIP lounge, the plush couches and chairs ruined and charred into blackened piles. A huge panoramic window, ran from the floor to the ceiling, over fifteen feet wide and curved around the corner of the building. Its astonishing view overlooked Fillydelphia, blown in the side facing the crater and outward on the other side. Lowering myself to the ground, I led Glimmer around the drinks bar, avoiding shards of glass before we settled behind the cabinets to remain hidden.

I saw our freedom.

Out ahead of us, stretching as far as I could see...the wastes. Dull and barren, broken by wrecked highways and curious towers, it was at once a grand vista of wonder and scale, and a sight telling the shattering tragedy of a lost world. Fillydelphia lay wrecked below us while the highways, wagon trails, and outer bodies of buildings formed the skeletal structure of the greater plains beyond. A thousand places one could visit...each no doubt with its own story. An endless source of discovery...

Very quickly, I began to realise just how small I really was.

“Every pair of wings...” I muttered.

“...in the wasteland.” Glimmerlight finished, before winking at me. “Yeah, I've heard that one too. Good saying, but really, everypony has their own little tale. We're just one more on top of dozens...maybe hundreds, that are out there. The grand history of the wasteland goes on.”

She pointed with a hoof.

“There. The bank, down on the skirts. If we head down this row of houses, it shouldn't be too far. It's all side roads. I don't wanna say we're home free, but the chances look good. All the griffons in the sky are off to the east.”

We should have left then, but really...faced with this sight, facing the expanse we were about to head to, who could simply move without a moment to think? I gulped, looking at the world now, and remembered the art in the Stable.

“Glimmer? Do you think this will ever, y'know, be good again?”

“The city?”

“No...Equestria. We never got to see it for real. Do you think we can save it? Ponies, I mean...”

Glimmerlight watched the shifting clouds that blocked the sun for a few seconds, before hooking a leg around me and pulling me in.

“I honestly don't know, Murky. I think everypony out there has taken at least one moment to look to the skies above and just ask...'Why us? Why in our time?' What I would give to live in a world where we were truly safe again, Murky...but the truth is, history always goes on. Maybe ponies descended from us will finally see the light of day.”

Out there, I saw little rays of brighter sunlight breaking through the muddy sky, casting small portions of the wasteland into brighter relief. Glimmer pointed at it, making sure I saw it and smiling broadly at the accidental timing. We saw a little shred of beauty out there, one that expanded, and let others through as a thinner portion of cloud passed over, lighting the colours of homes, bush and field briefly. It wasn’t much, but even that dash of colour, that one little effort, made me feel closer to what this land once was, and maybe someday could be.

Glimmerlight’s watched it, before looking down at me.

“There’s still good to be had in Equestria; the good fight, to trust and love in one another. We've been given a bad draw from the hand of fate, I know. But if there's one thing ponies have learned over the years, Murky, it's that there's one thing that always stays the same, no matter what hardships come to pass. One thing that never changes.”

Gazing into the distant and faded plains, and watching those bright spots shift and move with the clouds, I couldn't even turn to speak directly to her.

“What's that?”

She squeezed me close, talking with a bright, hopeful smile.

“Friendship. And someday I know, it’ll be friendship that sees us through all this in the end. All it takes is us all to do what we each can.”

Hearing the way she said that, I felt very warm inside.

“I think I’d like to believe that too.”

Leaning my head on her shoulder, I felt her ruffle my mane as we rested with that view, watching every little ray of sunlight as they danced across the wastela-

No.

Across Equestria.

Beep!

I almost screamed with shock, looking for the nearest door to escape through before it closed on me. Only the light pouring in through the windows kept my mind intact to remain still by reminding me I that was still above ground. I should have known, coming upstairs like this would set off the PipBuck's height detection mechanism. (I could do fancy terms too!)

Beep!

“Huh, seems that thing's elevation and geographical positioning sensor is going off again.”

Oh come on. Couldn't I be the fanciest speaker for once? Glimmer smiled, stopping us by the doorway leading back downstairs. Better to let Sundial say his piece when we were still relatively safe.

Beep!

Click.

“Hey, this is Sundial!”

“And this is Skydanceeeer!”

My eyebrows shot up. A young mare's voice breaking through the speakers was not what I had come to expect. Wasn't this just meant to be me and Sundial's thing? All the same, she sounded nice, light spoken, and joyful.

“Heh, yeah, Skydancer's staying over tonight and...well...you just wouldn't let me be to do this on my own, would you?”

“Not a chance. Have you told that thing about us then?”

“About what?”

“That we're a thing, silly! What kind of buck doesn't tell his diary that he got a marefriend a few days ago?”

“Oh...oh I did! On the last one, honest!”

“Suuuuuure.”

“I did! I'll replay it afterwards and prove it to you.”

“Fine, fine...I'll believe you this time. Well, you go chat to your Pippy-thingy, I'll be back once I've changed.”

“Thanks.”

There was a brief pause. I felt a little warm in the face. Their interactions and simple fun was heartwarming to hear after such a series of harsh events and the darker memories of the Stable.

“Well, what can I say that she doesn't portray herself? I still can't believe my luck. Who woulda thought that one little chance meeting would lead to this after just a few weeks? My pops says to be careful, not to get too ahead of myself, but he was always a bit of a cranky old stallion. Skydancer is amazing. Honestly, it almost makes it bearable, all the problems these days, knowing she's there to meet up with every few days when her job brings her back to Fillydelphia. Cos honestly, things are getting a bit darker. We had a drill the other day, to get to the Stable in time. Everypony thought it was the real thing. Three ponies...well...the crowds were running mad and...and they’ll get better but...”

I understood panic and terror better than many ponies. My heart went out to how they must have felt then.

“That aside, they've got us in some pretty secret stuff down at the Wartime Ministry. Some new armour we're designing in tandem with the Arcane lot. Only reason I tell you here is...well...not like this thing comes off very often. But it's amazing technology, really incredible to work with. It worries me though, escalation keeps happening. There are reports the Zebras are using dragons now. How long before somepony sets the bigger things in motion?”

Another silence. I could hear him shuffling abou, and a door clicking shut.

“I can't let her hear this, but I'm setting aside most of my income to try and get her a ticket into the Stable, too. Just in case, y'know? But at this rate it'll take me a year...if the prices don't go up again. Since my Dad got one for me they've doubled. I need more income. I don't know how, but I know I want to manage. For her. If anything so I feel safe with her. That drill took me away from her. I can't have that happen for real. How would it feel to have to leave somepony behind? To escape into safety and know they're still out there? I've started looking out what I can sell, and even enlisted in the Fillydelphia Night Watch, but it's still not enough to catch up now. I'm just a normal buck! How can I get the funds to—”

He stopped. I heard trotting in the background.

“Still talking?”

“Heh...yeah, sorry, I tend to ramble in this thing.”

“Well, don't take too long. If I wanted to hear you talking about yourself, I'd listen to you in bed.”

Glimmer exploded in laughter, covering her mouth with her hooves, falling backwards. I held the PipBuck with an open mouth and my cheeks red.

“Ah...wha...I...”

“Oh, I'm joking you silly thing. C'mere.”

There was a soft sound, like a quick, short suck. Was that a kiss? Then there was another...and...well...another...

“I...um...Sky, I need to turn off the-”

He got cut off after a short giggle. Some fumbling sounds mixed with muffled chuckles later and the sound ceased. Glimmerlight was still snorting on the floor, almost spasming. Clearly, that type of joke was right up her street. I just felt embarrassed for Sundial.

“Oooh, that's so cute.” Glimmerlight finally regained the power of speech, lying on her back. For a second, I could almost forget we were in the middle of a death defying escape from the harshest slave pit in the wastes. “We better get going, snrk! Let...hehe...let's go.”

She stood, fighting giggles while we trotted toward the stairs. I kept glancing at my PipBuck all the way, that single piece of scrap metal containing such memories. My mind kept flicking through the happy banter, through the relaxed and casual ease with which they enjoyed each other. The caring; such a level that I'd never heard before. A different sort to the friends I knew.

In fact, it seemed closest to the mare but still, different. To have a...a special somepony? I wish I knew what that felt like...

Our route took us through the staff offices to a fire escape at the back. We’d spotted a fallen chimney that had bridged between the station and the building directly next to it, and quickly decided it would be best to cross it, avoiding the street level entirely. Inside the offices, I carefully listened...nothing. Silent enough to risk talking.

“Glimmer, can I ask you...um...something?”

“Sure, Murky.” Her head was scanning around each corner and office in the grey corridor. Musky dust fell from the cracked ceilings while we trotted through, slowly drifting in air currents that almost unnoticeably weaved their way through the ruined station.

“How...how do you make somepony like you?” My voice felt squeaky and pathetic, but I forced the line out. “Like, I mean...like that?”

“Got somepony in mind?” She grinned down at me, clearly knowing the answer. “Perhaps you know where she 'dwells?'”

My cheeks flushed, looking away quickly. Was I that obvious? Well, she had seen my journal. Oh dear...embarrassment time.

“Don't worry about it, Murky. When it happens, it happens. Just be your charming usual self. I think you'd be surprised how many mares want a buck who isn't in their face all the time talking their ears off.”

I bit my lip.

“What if I had...well...somepony in mind that I didn't really know too well?”

Glimmerlight paused, I knew how ridiculous what I was thinking was. But she just reached out and ruffled my mane again.

“Don't think too hard on it. Nothing wrong with a sweet little crush to dream about in lonely times. I'm sure there's a mare waiting out there for you. That is, if you still don't consider bucks a likely route.”

My flustered response of incomprehensible jabbering was met only with a sly grin from her, before I shut up entirely; and not because of embarrassment.

My ears twitched, a stomping, metallic noise had entered the train station ground floor, unmistakable. Seconds later, voices, audible only to me, drifted up.

“E.F.S. spotted two signatures inside this building, up high. Likely Red Eye observers, Star Paladin.”

“Engage and negate. If we clear them, we clear a route out toward the bank. Hopefully. It's still a ways out.”

The stomping began moving forward again, faster. They were trying to be quiet. Perhaps to others they may have been. But to me it was like someone sticking my head inside a bell. Motioning to Glimmer, we quickly cantered downstairs, aiming to reach the room with the fallen chimney before they caught up. Heavy power armour likely couldn't follow us over such a rickety makeshift bridge.

Glimmerlight whispered to me, “Rangers?”

I nodded, and she just shook her head.

“Then don't worry about sound, Murky, just go for it. They know where we are with those suits.”

I still tried to set us a pace that made it look like we were just 'moving fast' and not 'galloping away.' Just because they knew where we were didn't mean they knew I'd heard them. On our way, much to my amazement, the ticket robot had followed us, as though aiming to get up to the VIP lounge to ask us again.

“Tickets...please...”

We galloped around it, hearing the machine methodically and patiently begin turning once again to follow us once more. Potentially the most determined ticket collector in history. One floor above the Rangers’ heads, we quickly knocked aside the fractured wooden door and moved inside the office where the chimney’s broken top was located.

A blast of wind whipped at my mane, flowing in through a colossal hole in the brickwork wall. The brickwork chimney had collided through it, scattering tiny red shards of brick everywhere and smashing the room asunder. Jammed horizontally, it acted as a small gap to the old housing next door. Being only ten feet wide, it didn't seem so bad.

Yet the moment my hoof touched it, the chimney lurched and a few bricks dropped from it. Alright, pretty bad…

“Didn't think you had a problem with heights.” Glimmer stepped up onto it, carefully shifting her way out. I followed, trying to take comfort in the thought that if the balefire hadn't brought it completely down, my own tiny weight wouldn't.

“I don't mind heights. I do mind feeling like I'll fall...”

Concentrating while we shifted across, carefully judging every balance, I listened behind us.

“Targets are due east, moving slowly.”

“Moving between buildings...damn, must be that chimney we spotted outside. Circle around, back downstairs.”

Breathing a sigh of relief that we had bought ourselves some time, I hopped the last few feet, taking Glimmer's hoof. In one horrifying moment, my hoof skiffed off the edge of the wall, prompting an ever increasing crumbling sound. Glimmer gasped, yanking me forward.

“Get off of it!”

We dove further into the strangely identical office within the opposite building (had they copied one another through the windows?) and ducked behind a desk. Behind us, the crumbling turned to a cracking, grinding sound and...

...stopped.

Ten seconds or so later, popping our heads back up above the desk to look back, the chimney was still in place, albeit a few inches lower on this side. Very hesitantly, we chuckled out of sheer relief.

“Tickets...please...”

My chuckled slowly died and quietened. Twisting to look, I saw the four legged ticket robot begin trundling out onto the chimney in its endless quest to acquire non-existent tickets from the first passengers in centuries.

Then the chimney collapsed.

It grew from a smattering of grinding stone, the entire support curving to the side, and then giving way to an avalanche, the roar of a thousand bricks slamming into the ground at different times echoing across the block. So much weight dropping tore the creaky walls from both buildings completely apart. In a moment of horror, I felt the floor beneath us dropping out, tilting with cracks forming like forked lightning toward us. We turned, but there was no chance. The entire floor gave way, dropping us to slide down it toward the gap where the makeshift bridge had fallen. Screaming, sliding toward the hole, I found myself flung out into the air.

The wreck of the chimney below shortened the drop, but not by much. The impact on my four hooves felt like I’d fallen a mile. Even dropping and rolling the moment I hit a thankfully flat section of fallen wall, I yelped in pain and rolled down the rest of the pile, end over end, before crumbling into a heap amongst the rubble in the alleyway with a bone jarring impact. Bricks rained down around me, pinging and sending small fragments everywhere like shrapnel. Glimmerlight had somehow kept her feet beneath her, landing and rolling in a more controlled manner before being pitched to the side by a brick striking her on the back like a hammer. I heard her yell out. The dust cloud kicked up blew out of both sides of the train station’s back alley.

“Murky...urgh, you there?”

“Tickets...please...”

“Not you! Murky!”

“I...yes...”

The robot was half buried beside me, damaged and sparking as it futilely strove to move. I felt Glimmer pulling me up, dragging me desperately away. The train station's wall collapsed where we had lain. A boxy machine with a screen fell from the station’s room, exploding as it hit the ground and blasting an entire stockpile of old tickets across the entire area like confetti.

Screeching filled the skies, Steel Rangers pounded on the ground toward the noise, and all a manner of shouting went up from nearby.

“Murky, run!”

Clearly, my ears had been somewhat wrong. I'd only heard the noisy hunters, but we were more surrounded than I'd ever thought. The griffons must have lain silent on clouds or rooftops just waiting for us...using their patrols to trick us into thinking it was clear. Galloping as best we could, we ran out into the street, taking the quickest route toward the cover of more housing while the skies slowly filled with griffons.

Behind us, ten thousand tickets fluttered slowly to the ground, resting all over the wreckage, and burying everything in a sea of white paper.

“Thank...you...”

A high velocity round whipped past us, tearing a six inch hole in a home's wooden pillars. Yelping, I fell back and felt Glimmer trying to yank me behind the low wall surrounding the rotten garden.

“Shit! Down! Get down! Where did they come from?!”

“Griffons! They're hiding on the rooftops. Oh Goddesses!”

We had to move, half crawling, half galloping we fled along the gardens as best we could. The griffons were moving all over the place, not just after us. I could only assume it was for the Rangers behind us. They had run out of the train station, shouting to stop us before we ‘alerted Red Eye’ to their presence. Reaching the end of the gardens, Glimmer glanced and saw the griffons either moving to cover the Rangers' approach, or reloading. Spurred on, we took the chance and ran into the open to reach what looked like a subway entrance.

“Murky, just watch the road. They've been dropping mines! They're still following us!”

Indeed they were. Even while reloading, they flapped between chimneys and over rooftop gardens.

Then I heard a soft ping of metal hitting the ground.

“What was that?”

“I said they’re dropping mi— WATCH OUT!”

It leapt up from the asphalt, a curious stick of metal and plastic. Glimmer dragged me to the ground, flattening us down as much as she could, her body laying over me. The small stick bounced again, before detonating right above us.

My ears were searing with pain, my entire body felt like I had just belly flopped into a river and my vision was hazy. Crying with a headache, sound returned only gradually. My front right hoof was bleeding badly. I could see a small shard of metal stuck in it. I clutched it close, whimpering and crying out.

Behind me, the battle started proper as the Rangers engaged. Clenching my teeth to try and bite down the pain, I rolled up. Only now I noticed that Glimmer was struggling to even stand up about ten feet away.

Her flank and torso bore multiple small wounds, her blood was oddly hard to see along her red robes. Limping, I tried to move over to her.

“Urgh...Glimmer, you-”

“I'm...I think, just shrapnel...hrk. Murky...Murky you alright?”

“I...I...”

“Hold on, we'll get out of here. We'll all get out of here. Just a little further...”

We tried to move, but avoiding other mines and our injuries reduced our speed to a crawl. The subway entrance was only perhaps twenty metres ahead; the bank not more than half a mile. We were so close, but at this rate, it might as well be in Appleloosa.

“Where's Brimstone!?”

“I don't know! He must be up ahead at the bank...or got separated or something, we need to keep going. Find something to help you...and me...urgh...”

Behind us, the battle moved closer, the priority of the Rangers being the only thing keeping us from being sniped off by griffons. Bullets not meant for us still whipped through the air above our heads while we crawled down the pavement. Missiles streaked in the air after missing griffons, exploding roofs and towers that crashed down to either side. Looking behind us, Glimmer seethed and gritted her teeth. Shuffle...after shuffle...

We stayed apart, so we became less of a target, one of us roughly on either side of the street. Only as we reached an area blocked by fallen sky wagons did I realise I was on the wrong side. Ducking back, I retreated into the veranda of stone walled and wooden roofed home, cowering just behind the inner fence of the suburban building next to a table still bearing abandoned plates. Between her and I lay mines and a lot of gunfire.

“The Rangers are still in the same street, keep going! KEEP GOING!”

“My...my leg...”

“I know, but we need to go now! Get to me! Inside, Murky! We're almost there!”

Please, Celestia give me the courage to cross that road to get into the metro station with her. Feeling woozy, probably from blood loss, I tried to push myself to-

Without warning, a stray missile from the raging battle down the street rocketed past a very lucky griffon. Exploding above me, I screamed as wood and chunks of stone fell on all sides. Glancing upward, I saw almost every supporting beam on the veranda and the upper floor had been knocked out.

It began to creak ominously

“Watch the building!” Glimmerlight screamed from across the street. “It's...it's coming down!”

I wanted to move. But my limbs had locked up in fear. Just staring upwards, I felt unwilling to run into a mined area behind me, but staying here meant…

What...what was I meant to do?

The last thought through my head as the building began to crumble was a quick thought that any of the others. Glimmer, Brimstone, Littlepip...they would have known what to do when caught between all of this. But I didn't...I didn’t…

The most I brought myself to do was to dive under the strong looking table sitting on the veranda.

There wasn't even any pain. Just a crushing envelopment and a dulling of all my senses. The table bend out, before dropping down on one side and banging my forehead from above. And with that, I felt my consciousness mercifully give out amongst the crashing tide of wood falling atop me.

What must have been only seconds later, I groggily opened my eyes again, feeling like I’d been woken far too soon. Hearing as though I was beneath water, and seeing through misted eyes, I realised the wreckage had almost entire buried me. Everything felt hazy, and a splitting pain pierced through my skull. Like a pink and white blur, I saw Glimmerlight trying to crawl over the street under fire.

“Oh...no...Murky! MURKY!”

Griffons swept in, huge brown shapes as I began to drift off again.

“No! Get off me! Get off! My friend, he's still in...ARGH!”

Finally, the darkness won out. The pain in my skull flared and built, leaving me alone...

...covered by rubble. Just my head and one hoof sticking out from under the wood. I had been lucky...if it had been anything heavier than the table sheltering me that had struck my head, well...that would have been it. Sitting back from the frankly haunting image of my own crushed body, I simply tried to prevent myself from breathing too quickly again.

Sunny glanced from behind me on the sofa, where she had watched me draw the numerous pictures and listened to my scattered thoughts and memories. Over the course of the exercise, I had slowly began to feel a little less nervous about Cayenne sitting softly against me. The canine didn't seem to be dangerous, even if I did still shiver each time she moved. Wiping my eyes, I felt her dig into me and curl up around my back hooves.

“She's glad you're up. Really, Cayenne's the one who saved your life. You may not like dogs, but I can tell ya...she don't do that for just anypony. Most folks are too filled with harsh thoughts and anger. Dogs can sense that.”

“Whereas I'm just a weak, sick, and hated pegasus...” I muttered quietly.

Sunny tutted. “Alright. Can that rubbish. Not everypony hates pegasi. Sure, the vast majority of slaves might after Red Eye used ‘em for a scapegoat to keep common ground in there, but look at how many ponies don't judge you for it that you've met. Besides, if a dog thinks you're great, don't ask for a second opinion. Now come on.”

“Huh?” I twisted, seeing Sunny get up and grab her rifle. Donning her hat, she shook herself out after being hunched up so long.

“Well, we gotta get you ready to go find that gal, don't we? Can't have you wandering back around Filly's outskirts, raider friend or no, without you being able to shoot back. They are still out searching, so they've likely got her in a wagon or something still. That stallion leading them hasn't let anypony go back to Filly yet, so your friend must still be out there. We'll go get, what was it...Brimstone? We'll get him, then the four of us will go hunting. I'm tired of sitting around on the sidelines if there’s ponies out there...”

Cayenne was with her master immediately, bounding around her hooves rapidly, impatiently even.

Rather to my own surprise, I felt a little hope begin to filter in. The escape was still on...we could still all get out! Gathering my things into my saddlebag, I adjusted my fleece and began limping after her. PipBuck and goggles went in the saddlebag, my hoof and forehead still being far too painful right now to wear them. We headed towards the door and—

Doc Minstrel arrived home. The moment we had left to go to the door, I heard it open. So much for that moment of dramatic striding onward,I hadn't even got to see the door itself.

“Sunny?”

“Just heading out to get our new friend taught, Doc.”

Minstrel wandered into the room, looking at me standing ready.

“We're not going out. Sunny, put your rifle down and lock Cayenne in the kitchen.”

Her face just seemed puzzled, but Minstrel's voice was quieter, slightly pleading with her to just do as he said.

“Doc?”

“Now, Sunny! Just head into the kitchen. I've already made arrangements. We're going home soon, back to the others we know.”

“Doc, what are you talking about?” Sunny looked about ready to burst of indignation. Cayenne stood by her side, eyes fixed before barking suddenly toward the corridor as I heard multiple heavy treads enter.

“What the good doctor means...”

My forehead seared in pain, making me squeal suddenly until the throbbing subsided, pleading internally. ‘No...please no...don't let me open my eyes and this be true...no...no no no…’

He was here. Impossible as it seemed, he was standing right before me. Two slavers flanked him with weapons drawn.

“...is that he understands when property should be returned to its rightful...heh...Master.”

Striding into the room, his filthy hooves from hours of trekking around Fillydelphia left a trail behind them, and his rotten teeth showed through his grin when he saw me backing into a corner. A stubby shotgun hung by his side, his hard leather whip at the other. Segmented plate armour creaked as he rounded past the sofa.

Sunny hopped to the side, between me and him, rifle drawn. Immediately, The Master's two attendants pulled their own pistols and aimed for her. Cayenne pawed at the floor, growling incessantly at The Master, baring her teeth. He just cackled, reaching a hoof to pet her and pulling it with a laugh when she snapped at it.

“Doc...what is this? What have you done!?”

Minstrel stood at the back, near the corridor, with sad eyes.

“I've always said it. I need to get back to my love. I even told him, I'd sell anything to finally achieve that. Well, pegasi are a valued asset to Red Eye; I sought them out and made a deal. Seven hundred caps, he's willing to pay, along with a guarantee of safe passage out of Red Eye's territory.”

Sunny growled, hunching down as she bit back at him.

“You healed him! Saved his life! How could you betray every dream of his like this? You always took care of ponies!”

“He's not worth anything dead! Come on, Sunny, you know he'd be dead in a day out there! The stupid buck doesn't even know how to think for himself! Not to mention he was travelling with the Warlord that killed my hometown back in Ponyville years ago! He's safer with Red Eye, where he at least gets fed and directed.”

He sounded only partially convinced, but Sunny broke the back of a chair with her enraged hoof slamming down on it.

“I spent years with you, just for this!?”

The Master stared into the barrel of her gun without fear, just grinning at their exchange. Yet his eyes never left mine. Boring silently into my mind as Minstrel and Sunny argued, I could feel the sensation of those chains that held me in slavery tightening again.

“Come on home, Number Seven. You know it's where you belong. Now let's just have you trot outside, we'll even give you a lift in the wagon, won't that be nice, heh heh...”

No...

“Step forward, Number Seven.”

No...

He narrowed his eyes, stomping the floor hard enough to make Cayenne bark in offence and every ornament on every shelf clatter and shake. One hoof pulled the whip toward his mouth.

“Step forward, Number Seven!”

I tried. I honestly tried to force my mind so far in I might wake up from some nightmare or...or forget everything again. The lash struck me right on my face, on top of my newly healed skull. Pain greater than any single blow before ripped through my head, drawing me right back to his world. Collapsing on the floor before him, staggering forward on instinct, I whimpered and lowered my head. A huge hoof of his flipped me over, letting him glare directly down at me. Spittle from his foaming rage dripped and landed around my neck, but the furious expression calmed, laughing instead. I saw his cronies back Sunny into the corner.

“Heh...you and I, Number Seven. We're meant to be together. Here's more proof than ever...”

The cracked and filthy hoof traced the scar. I could see his almost identical one, running from left ear to above his left eye. Leaning down, he brought his face close enough that I could feel his very breath upon me.

“But don't think for one second you're not going to be punished for this, you despicable little worm. Trying to escape me, eh? Thought you could escape me, eh? You won't ever get away, little runt...you're mine. No matter how far you scamper, the chains will always pull you back. I'd hunt you to the ends of the world if I had to.”

“P-please...I...I'm...”

“I didn't say you could speak, slave!”

The hoof rose, aiming to slam down upon my chest. I curled up a d screamed, yet instead, a dark brown blur hurled itself at his neck, growling and biting deeply.

Roaring in anger, The Master backed off, shaking and tossing Cayenne as she sunk her teeth hard into his front leg. Distracted, his slavers found their guns knocked aside. Sunny's small rifle made a disproportionately loud bang, sending one slaver reeling and screaming, holding his bleeding neck. Bucking the other aside, Sunny grabbed me, pulling me to my hooves.

“Get downstairs, Murky! Go!”

Shoving me, I staggered and almost fell as The Master slammed into me. His bulk knocked me clean across the room into the kitchen while he fought with the grimly thrashing dog that had locked onto him. Cayenne was rotating her bite, trying to find purchase under his armour, staying away from his hooves.

Turning, I saw a fallen kitchen knife and grabbed it in my mouth. He was distracted...I could just—

I couldn't...he was My Master. You didn't attack your Master. What might he do if I didn't get away and I'd stabbed him?

I ran instead. Sunny ushered me along, her rifle booming a second time in the enclosed space, missing the second slaver when he ducked behind the sofa I'd woken up on. Half pulled, half galloping, I found myself directed to a small door that opened up to the cellar.

“Get down, they'll have somepony at the door, I'd bet. Cayenne! Heel, girl!”

Taking aim with her rifle, she made sure the other slaver kept his head down. I could see Minstrel lying on the floor, looking shocked and bewildered beyond words. Glancing across, he tried to mouth something, but just looked away.

Cayenne ripped once more, sending a spurt of blood across the table and making The Master bellow in pain. His hooves lashed out, slapping the dog away from him. Falling on her side, Cayenne furiously thrashed her legs to get up.

One of Sunny's shots smacked into The Master's side, I saw the round ricochet off of one of the heavy metal plates. He didn't even look staggered, instead snarling and drawing the small shotgun.

“Back!”

Sunny pushed us both into the cellar staircase as the deafening brutal boom sent a dozen pieces of buckshot tearing into the wrinkled wallpaper beside the door, blowing it back open again.

“You can't run, slave! You can't escape me!”

Sunny fired blind around the corner, before swearing and trying to dig out more ammunition. I realised her saddlebag was still in the sitting room.

“Cayenne, heel!”

I heard the dog launch herself at The Master again, attacking in a frenzy. I couldn't see into the room from the stairway, but I heard snapping and a skittering of paws.

“Pathetic animal, down!”

I didn't see the shotgun's blast, but I just heard it roar; punctuated by the one short, sharp whine that died out as a small weight hit the ground. Freezing solid, I glanced back upward. Sunny's eyes were wet, before a blinding rage overtook her. Screaming in incoherent fury, she slammed the door shut and slid a heavy metal bar across it.

“That...I...I am going to kill him, Murk.”

The Master was still stomping around, before the door bent inward with a dull thud.

“Go, downstairs! He isn't getting you. He isn't.”

We galloped down, finding a small living area with a single bed and a dog basket. Presumably this was Sunny's own space. It was spartan, but cosy below ground, occupied by old books, magazines and maps; with a cleaning kit spread on the desk. An old spark lantern swung on each brutal impact from behind us on the door.

“You hear me, Number Seven!?”

His harsh blow on the door sounded like it snapped a piece of wood on the frame. Dust fell from the roof in trickles, shaken loose by the savage impacts.

“You belong to me!”

Every time I heard that, my body wanted to rush to obey. Without Sunny, I might have simply stood waiting. She swept possessions into her saddlebag, slung a waterskin around her from where it lay on the post of her bed, before opening a drawer and grabbing more ammunition. Already I could see a storm door that opened upwards into the backyard of the house.

“I keep that thing covered from the outside, they shouldn't have it guarded. There's a zipline on the nearest tall building to the south I use to move into the suburbs near the bank quicker, should support both of us. We're getting out. Now or later, I don't care, but he will die.”

Testing the door, I found it easy to open, before resting against it to wait for Sunny to grab her things. My heart was beating and my head throbbed on every crunch of the door upstairs.

“I'm sorry. I've ruined everything for you...”

“Shut up. The Doc ruined it for himself, the stupid bastard! Argh!”

She bucked the desk's chair in sheer frustration, splintering it against the wall. Throwing her saddlebag over her back, she picked up her rifle and began reloading.

“Sunny, why are you helping me?”

It was a stupid question. A stupid time to ask it. But I needed conversation. Anything to keep my mind off of-

“I am your Master, slave! Come out!”

—that. If I listened too much, I might believe it.

“Few reasons, really. One, nopony deserves to be a slave, way I see it.”

Two rounds fed into her rifle.

“Two, Doc betrayed me as much as you in doing this.”

Two more rounds slotted in, each with a satisfying click.

“Three...”

She hesitated, before opening a nearby drawer and lifting something else out. I couldn't quite see, but she opened her saddlebags, stopping with it in sight just before adding it in . Half gasping, I just pointed my hoof disbelievingly. She didn’t smile, but spoke with resolution.

“...let's just say there's a little filly who still owes you one for this.”

In her hoof, she held a foal's stuffed toy, weathered all the more with age, before gently setting it in her travel bag.

“Y-you...”

“I heard your screaming when they punished you, Murk. Tried to tell my folks to turn back, buy ya or somethin' so you could live with us. But nuthin'. Look, I don't believe a lot in all the magic of friendship stuff they talk about, but life's thrown me a bone here. I guess I see this as a chance to finally do somethin' about it.”

Part of me felt offended, how could I not have more time to talk about this? To get to know her properly before we galloped out together? Why couldn't I ever have time to properly meet anypony? This was too fast, too sudden!

“...thank you, Sunny.”

“Well, we'll talk later, on the road. But now?”

As though dropping the subject, she slid the final two rounds into her rifle.

“Gonna give that big bastard something to sting before I go, at least.”

Trotting over, she took aim at the door from the bottom of the stairs. The Master was bucking it hard enough to make the entire room vibrate. Wood splintered, her lantern fell from the ceiling, giving everything a strange look of being lit from below when it smashed open and revealed the glowing element within.

“This is for Cayenne you son of a...heh, bitch.”

Even before she could depress the trigger, the shotgun's buckshot tore through the wood from above. It flew downstairs in a swarm of hot metal, taking Sunny clean off her feet. My mouth dropped, screaming her name as I saw the blood fly from her side, and heard the painfully slow sound of her rifle dropping to the ground.

Creaking, straining, the stairs barely supported The Master's weight as he descended, step by slow step. Even with Sunny lying groaning at the bottom, his eyes were fixed on me the entire way. My muscles felt frozen. The way out was right behind me. I could just go.

“Stand still, slave...”

And I did.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, his gaze averted for just enough to glance at Sunny and press a huge hoof down on her leg stretching to her rifle. Exerting his huge bulk and weight, I heard her groan in pain as her leg was held down by the joint.

“You shot at me. You defied me. Yet you lived within my reach, you weren't free. You weren't ever free. Minstrel has been on our payroll to hand over any escaping slaves for years. You were just his little toy, even if he was a soft one; just as I've come to reclaim mine. Isn't that right, Number Seven?”

I just squeaked, trying to find the willpower to shake my head. Even ten feet away across a room he held an air of authority. That everlasting and unbroken chain on his flanks, the chainlinks identical to my own, it felt tighter than ever around some unreal part of my mind. It felt like his ownership by right of fate.

He looked down at Sunny again, relishing as she gasped in pain under his massive hoof pressing down upon one of the buckshot wounds.

“F-fuck...you...”

“Cute. You're going to die, mare. Unless of course, the slave can save your life. Tell me, Number Seven,” he turned back to me, “what is one good reason to spare her?”

My mind was racing, not thinking straight. I wanted to run or cower, or beg and plead...or just...I didn't know and—

“Too slow!”

The shotgun arced out, planting it in her mouth and holding it upright with a hoof.

“Try again!”

“I...I'll...”

“Too slow, slave! Again! You know how this works. Now, do as you're instructed.”

His game was simple. He wanted to force me to obey. The threat of that shotgun pressing painfully into Sunny's mouth was too much. I had no choice.

“I'll come back!” I screamed it, pain welling in my heart as I felt everything I had worked toward and fought for come crashing down ever since we ran from that Stable. “I'll come with you back...back h-h-home. You don't want our deaths. Y-you want our lives.”

The Master grinned. Oh, that grin. Those cracked and rotting teeth smiling right at me as the barrel lifted from her mouth. With a bellow, he called the slaver watching Minstrel down behind him and threw the subordinate a set of shackles.

“Put them on her, she's my stock now, not the upstart's. I'm sure she'll fit in well”

His eyes focussed on me. A sick lick of his lips accompanied a leering small glance to the side at the shaking, but stern mare below him.

He opened a pouch and dumped a second set of shackles and collar upon the floor, the latter linked to the leather harness on his armour by a thick chain. The slaver was already fitting the shackles to Sunny. I could see her struggling to move, to resist, but blood loss and shock was setting in fast. Her eyes were glazed over.

She couldn't do anything. Cayenne was dead. I was alone.

Under My Master's watchful gaze, I dutifully trotted forward. Of course he had come for me, I had no say in anything. I was just his slave. His ever loyal—

My eyes fell upon Sunny once more. Her blood was leaking from a dozen holes. I didn't think it anything fatal, but it was utterly crippling from pain and injury. It was just like The Master to use such a weapon. She had tried to help me; to save me! Yet, I couldn't help her now as she was dragged toward the stairs to be The Master's slave. Condemned from her free life into a world of poisoned air, scorching industry and backbreaking abuse.

I was no hero to stop them. I couldn't rescue her. I was just one little pony.

“Rules of Fillydelphia, Number Seven. You bring a slave in or recover an escaped one, you keep 'em for your stock. The upstart got you that way. But both you are mine now. Put them on.”

Against all willpower, I trotted forward. Reaching for the shackles, I lifted the collar and held it ready to slip around my head. My Master commanded. I had to obey.

Lying on the floor. My eyes spotted the stuffed toy lying from Sunny's spilled bag. The slaver had carted her away, but this was still lying here.

She wouldn't want me to give up. She'd risked herself just to stay true to her belief of freedom being the rightful virtue of all ponies.

I felt my hooves begin to back off.

“Stay where you are!”

Now! I had to go now before the terror clenched my heart. He had killed or enslaved those who tried to save me, what would he do to me? I felt so sorry for Sunny in my heart. As though she could hear my thoughts, I promised her that if I could find Brimstone, we would try to save both her and Glimmer before they got into that city!

“Stay still, SLAVE!”

I heard him canter toward me, thumping across the floor and drawing the whip. No time to think, no time to grieve or worry or plan or falter and worry.

I just had to dare.

Spinning, I galloped toward the door, hurling myself up and through it even as I heard The Master gallop after me. Hopping up, I tried to pull myself from the vertical doorway and out into the wastes. The whip lashed out, striking across my rump. Screaming, I rolled out, fighting to push myself onwards. Behind me, the doors exploded open as The Master began pulling his more considerable weight through the small space. I had time. I had time to run to-

No, oh no.

I was not ‘many miles from Fillydelphia’ as Minstrel had claimed. He had lied about that too.

The red haze in the clouds, surrounded by the housing areas wrecked by the balefire and crumbling around me, Minstrel's house was little more a couple miles from Fillydelphia's walls. I could still see them, even if we were far outside of Red Eye's domain. The window covers had hid it! Suddenly I understood the insistence that I stay inside; he had me played from the very start.

Without thinking, I simply galloped forward. Around me I could hear slavers trotting to and fro. The Master behind me, after struggling with the small opening, had retreated back inside, I could hear him screaming to his subordinates to get hunting to catch me. Hidden in swathes of smoke and smog, I could see wagons full of slavers spreading out. Shouts as some saw me grew into a mad dash of a dozen slavers from the front of the house.

I was surrounded.

No, wait, what had Sunny said? She had a zipline on the highest building that led to near the bank! That was where Brimstone was waiting, he could destroy these ponies and then we'd get Glimmer and Sunny back! I glanced around, panicking, pacing from hoof to hoof on the spot and whining as I looked for the tallest nearby building.

“Get him! That little slave's life is mine, you hear? He's south, go!”

Storming out the front of the house, I saw The Master turn and see me. A dozen slavers looked around or piled out behind him. Shrieking, I fled across Minstrel's garden, winding around random junk before hopping on to and over an old bench to have enough height to jump the fence. Scampering, I headed into the thin lanes between houses as I made for what looked like an old mill that towered above every other nearby building. That had to be it! No zipline was visible in the hazy air of Fillydelphia, but there was no other choice. Behind me, slavers thrashing and ripping at the fences to tear them apart lit a panic in my heart. Others were pulling up in towed wagons a street over...or two streets? I couldn't think, just run!

“There he is! Come on! Shackles will have our flanks if we don't get him! Stop there, you little runt!”

Shrieking, I saw more slavers, clad in ragged cloth, come galloping down a side alley. How many were there? Why did he want me so much? I kept going, hearing them skittering around the corner behind me. Kicking dustbins and trying to weave around obstacles, I dared not even look as I heard their hooves become irregular amidst a barrage of swearing whenever they tried to catch up. They weren't even armed with guns...they didn't need to be for me. Oh, Brimstone...please be waiting. Don't go wrong...please don't go wrong...

Ducking around a corner, I stopped just long enough to get my bearings. The mill was a hundred metres away, down the street. I could see a tiny hole in the perimeter wall that I might be able to fit through...but slavers lined the roadside, searching houses and galloping to and fro.

It would all come down to how fast I could gallop with a tiny head start.

Steeling myself, I went for it. One second free...two seconds...three, four...five, I could do this if I just got a couple more without them—

“Right there! Go, go!”

“Grab that runt!”

No! I wasn't even half way and already I heard the dozens of hooves clattering behind me. They screamed and hollering, threatening me with unspoken consequences if I didn't stop. Fixing my view on the small hole, I concentrated only on that. The hole. Freedom. Escape. If I could get through that, I'd be home free in a big complex and cramped place I could sneak about, get to the roof and fly-

...a zipline. I'd fly away.

Spurred on, ignoring my front right hoof and my shoulder screaming in pain, I dove for the hole faster than I ever thought I could run. It was tight fit, I got my head through, hind legs kicking hard as my front hooves popped through too. Scrambling, squeezing and turning, I began to panic, why couldn't I fit?

“He's stuck! Grab his legs!”

They galloped up, I felt hooves grasp my legs and pull. Wailing, I held myself through the hole with my front hooves, trying to push forward. I bucked madly, kicking, thrashing and scraping. With a grinding pull, I felt my saddlebag scrape all of its decoration off, stripping the butterflies away.

“PULL!”

Squealing, I felt myself pulled back into the hole by my hind legs. Whips lashed them, hooves stomped and tugged. Again and again, stuck in the hole I screamed and begged, desperately trying to avoid being yanked through into the rowdy gang of slavers just waiting to punish me. I wanted to go! To escape! To...to fly—

-without wings.

Gritting my teeth, my thoughts firmly on her waiting for me, she had shown me the virtue of freedom. The determination you had to have! I tugged my hind legs back in and bucked for all I was worth. The sickening crunch of teeth shattering mixed with a high pitched shriek as I felt my hind legs come free. Pushing through, I felt my heart sink as I saw them covered in lash marks that bled and welted. Adrenaline was all I had left. Adrenaline and faith.

I ran into the mill. Around me, I heard the gates being thrown or broken open. This was a one way ticket now. I either escaped or fell to them. I could already hear some inside the facility, but there was no way for them to know I was headed up there. Bucking in a back door, I made for the emergency stairs. They'd go to the top, right? Clattering on the stone steps, I climbed flight after flight...

Three floors...five...

My stamina began to flag; below me I heard some of them rush into the staircase. Whimpering, I forced my body to keep plodding through step after step, thoughts of freedom racing in my mind. If I could just get on that zipline...I'd feel it, I knew it. So even as my legs turned wobbly, even as my lungs were crying out to stop, I kept pushing.

They were on every level now, I could hear a voice of authority ordering them to head back down. I didn't pay it attention to listen too closely...it was just good for me if they thought I was lower.

Then, finally, the roof access door. It was unlocked, oh thank Goddesses. Throwing it open, I almost fell through it onto the vent ridden roof of the mill. Ahead of me, I could see the pole with the zipline on it, it was just a race to get myself tied onto it now before they got up here! Such thoughts immediately got thrown from my mind. If I had to, I’d throw myself out and just hold on for dear life rather than delay.

Cantering, unable to even gallop, I staggered and meandered toward it. Thirty feet...twenty feet. I could see the line heading off so far into the outskirts of the city. Past barriers and fallen buildings. There was no way anypony could follow in time!

Hooves clattering on stairs echoed up...from somewhere...closer. Push on, push on!

A door flew open. My heart sunk as I saw it ahead of me, from the other end of the building. Wanting to scream in frustration, I was about to throw myself into a gallop until finally, my teary eyes focussed on the figure.

“Stop right there, Murk!”

With his glinting eyepiece, floating revolver held solid and true before him, and clad in his red and black battle barding, Protégé galloped out onto the roof, blocking my path to the zipline. He skidded to a halt, catching his breath before shouting desperately.

“You've got half the slavers in the southern quadrant after you, Murk. Come with me, I'll get you back safely!”

My breath was rasping, and my lungs wheezing. I coughed hard as I staggered onward. I couldn't stop. I was too close. Blood fell to the ground; from my cough or wounds, I didn't know.

“NO!” I shrieked, expelling a life of frustration and hatred. “I...I can't! Please, don't do this to me again...just let me go!”

Protégé trotted to the side, blocking my approach, but his head never turned away from me.

“You know I can't do that, Murk...Master Red Eye demands—”

“I want to be free!”

He matched every movement I made, the revolver pointed directly at me.

“I can make you free, Murk! If you do this, you'll be nothing but dead meat to the wastes. Look at what's happened! You aren't even out of Fillydelphia and already you're almost running dead! If you take this into the wastes, I promise you, you will die!”

“I don't care! She made me see it! She made me!” I was crying harder than I ever had, no pride in my voice but a horrid rasping beg. “Just step to the side, let me go, Protégé, please! You...you're kind! You've helped me...but just let me go!”

Around us, the wind picked up, swirling a red cloud of soot filled smoke out of the way, revealing to one side of us the red hazed slave city in all it's terrible glory...and on the other the dusty expanse of the wastes. Atop the building, at the border of my dreams, I felt my entire future hang in the balance. But he just shook his head sadly.

“Freedom isn't just not being in Fillydelphia, Murk. I have been trying to explain that to you. There's more to it than that! Let me help you earn it!”

“Slaving away isn't any way to be free! Not to me! Just to have one day, even an hour, where no-one is controlling me...I...I could die happily...”

He lost his composure, raising his voice.

“I don't want you to die, Murk! Master Red Eye and I can help you! Like he helped me! Murk, I know how you feel! I understand what it's like to—”

I cut him off, tears streaming down my cheeks. “No! You're just another master like any other! I...I was born a slave, you have hundreds of others in there, I’m just one! Please, can't you let me go? Just one? Why can't you understand that!?”

Protégé did not yield his position blocking me from the zipline. It waved in the wind behind him, taunting with its proximity. Below us, I could hear The Master bellowing for slavers to head back upstairs. I had to go now!

“Mas...Protégé! Just...just please...I-”

A gust of wind swept smog across the roof, choking me. Both our manes and clothes were whipping in the wind toward the wastes, away from Fillydelphia.

Protégé tried to keep his voice measured, but the wind was forcing him to shout.

“Stand down, Murk! I know you feel you have to, but I refuse to let you kill yourself on the wastes! Stick with me, I can make you free and a better pony, Master Red Eye is trying to help the wastes and those in it! Work with me!”

“Are you insane!?” My voice shrieked. “Look at what he's made!”

I swept my injured hoof towards Fillydelphia, indicating the giant factories where hundreds...perhaps thousands, of slaves were now toiling and dying slowly within.

“Red Eye is a monster! I'm sick, Protégé! I'm dying because of his city! I've been tortured, shot, beaten...The Master’s hurt and killed those trying to help me! I got put in a Pit to die! I know you're intelligent, why can't you see this is wrong!?”

“Because it is! Do you think Master Red Eye likes all this!? No! But how else can the wastes be saved? You think Littlepip is going to shoot every monster there is? What about Brimstone? Would she shoot him? She is not your path in life, Murk!”

Shutting my eyes, I shook my head frantically.

“STOP IT! She made me free! Opened my eyes! SHE'S EVERYTHING TO ME!”

His voice broke into a desperate cry. “Damn it, Murk, I'm trying to protect you! You're hurt! Not just physically, but inside! Bear it a while longer, I will show you what freedom means!”

“You're just lying! I can be free NOW! I...I'll manage, I have friends!”

“You know I'm right, Murk! I plead of you, stand down and come with me, I can still get you back inside safely, but we must move now!”

I could hear heavy tread on the staircase behind me. The Master's shouts. I turned to look back, knowing he and the slavers would be here any minute.

“Murk, please!”

Turning back, sniffing, I looked beyond Protégé, seeing the land of possibility. All the freedom and dreams I had wished for my entire life...even if I hadn't realised it. One daring rush away...

“I can't let you go, Murk! I cannot disobey Master Red Eye! If you run...I...I will have to stop you. Don't make me do it, don’t make me, Murk, please!”

The world seemed to quiet down, every flap of the fabric over the building or our clothing became lethargic and dulled. Only the shining sunset through the distant clouds seemed clear.

“You don't understand at all, Protégé. Somepony like you never could...”

Finally, my tears dried. But he just shook his head.

“I do, Murk. I do. Don't force it, I can help you. Put the work in, I will make you a better pony by the end of it. You can help save Equestria, but more importantly save yourself more than going with her ever will! Let me try.”

He was wrong. He had to be. A slaver could never feel what I felt.

I began to gallop.

“Murk! Stop! Don't force me! Let me be the pony who helps you, not the slaver who stops you! I can't disobey him and let you go! I can't!”

Gritting my teeth, I gunned for the zipline, arcing to go around him. I could see his revolver wavering as he screamed again for me to stop. Ten feet...seven...

“Murk! Don’t!!”

Five…

“MURK!”

Four...

A single gunshot rung out across the rooftop.

I felt nothing, just a rocking impact that stopped me dead in my tracks a few feet from Protégé. He was sweating hard, looking as shocked as I felt behind the fading flare of his revolver. Slowly, hesitantly and shaking, I looked down and saw the trickle of blood from the hole in my chest. It grew, spreading and staining my fleece, dripping to the floor in thick clods. No pain...but a fast numbness.

I looked back up to Protégé and felt tears drip from my eyes.

“P-please...”

The revolver clattered to the ground. I felt him move forward, catching me as I fell to the side. Once again, the darkness began to overtake me, creeping in at the side of my vision. Ahead of me, behind Protégé, I could still see the wastes beckoning to me. The open world...

“Please...I...”

His hooves held me tightly against him, one pressed over my chest as he screamed over the edge for somepony to bring potions immediately. I could feel him shaking terribly.

“I'm sorry, Murk...I want you to be free...”

I felt my head limply fall into his hooves. Unconsciousness finally claiming me.

“But it can't be today...I'm so sorry...”

Light...a thin ray of orange light...

Pain, wounds barely healing...my mouth tasted of the potions, how many had...urgh...the ground was moving, why was...

My eyes creaked open. Too tired to even move my head, I realised I was on a small flatbed wagon. I could see the sunset at the end of the long highway out of Fillydelphia. My chest moved so little that I could barely believe I was breathing. Yet even so, I stretched a hoof out. I had to...to crawl, get to the sunset...see where it escaped to so easily...every night...

“Stay still, Murk. You'll be alright, I promise.” Protégé's voice sounded from beside me, strained and weak, a far cry from his usual self. I could hear other ponies around me, trotting quietly.

“Hehe...homeward bound, little Number Seven...”

“Be silent, Shackles. I'm not in the mood.”

Straining my head, I turned and felt my heart clench ever tighter. The gates of Fillydelphia were open and waiting as I was carted up to them them. The pits...the sounds...smells and heat...no...no not again...I'd been outside! Turning back to the sunset, I felt a strained whimper arise from my throat, trying to claw my way back. I could...could still make...it...

The wagon stopped, I groaned as I felt somepony touch me, checking me. Magic flared, a raspy, ghoulish deep voice speaking.

“Pretty fucking good aim if you wanted to keep the poor bastard alive, kid.”

Doctor Weathervane...yet for all the compliment, I could hear the distaste in his voice.

Protégé did not rise to it, speaking quietly. “Will he survive?”

“Yeah...shit, not without a lot of rest, but yeah, he will.”

Behind me, ponies finished coming back into Fillydelphia. I saw The Master stomp in, eyes locked on me, looking ferociously annoyed when he saw Protégé standing almost like a guard beside me. Finally...I saw one little figure standing in the doorway.

“I believe that will be seven hundred caps, then?”

Protégé turned, glancing back at Minstrel. Slowly, he trotted toward him.

“You were the one who healed him?”

“Yes, not to mention the one who watched your ruffians take my assistant!”

Protégé's head tilted down, eyeing Minstrel very carefully. His voice turned stern and cold, a tone I had never heard from him before. He didn't need to shout.

“You did this to Sunny Days, Doctor Minstrel. You abused her trust to land her here, and to have her dog shot down. You did. You and your selfish mentality.”

“Then I guess that's where we differ, I'll take my caps and go if it's all the same to you. I've lost enough.”

Protégé hesitated for a second, before reaching toward his side and igniting his magic. He did not throw caps, he drew his revolver.

“There are few things that will drive me to anger, Doctor.”

Minstrel was already backing up, looking around for help which was never going to come.

“But I hold myself to a certain set of values, highest among them is that of loyalty. That if you aim to help ponies...you do. Not fix them up, only to dissuade them and lead them astray with their trust in you! You have corrupted the idea of loyalty at the very highest!”

He wasn't shouting, but Protégé's voice did rise in strength, a small tinge of carefully controlled rage.

“That buck there wanted more than anything to be free, and you gave him that belief, only to take it all away! I may have stopped him. I bear that guilt. But you didn't just hurt his life, you crushed his dreams by making him believe! You are an atrocity not befitting of the title 'Doctor.' Nor did you deserve Sunny's friendship. You betrayed her as much as you betrayed Murk! You likely cost Sunny her life from who has taken her! You bring a wisp of fury to my heart, ‘Doctor’ Minstrel.”

I heard a rasping, colourful agreement nearby to me.

Minstrel raised a hoof, his face turning white.

“Look...I think...perhaps I should just leave and—”

“Yes. You will.”

The single shot echoed off the giant gates, and one of the soft, slowly fading shapes in my vision slowly pitched over. I didn't feel any justice, even as I saw the vague black shape of Protégé turn and slowly trot back to me.

Behind him, the colossal gates slowly closed. No matter how hard I wished for it, they would not stop. For one horrible moment I had felt all my dreams within my grasp. But the great sunset was separated from me as the giant gates finally slammed shut...just as I passed once more into a painful, tearful sleep.

“Hello wastelanders, this is your true, unknown if actually blue, and spellbindingly true of his word DJ! Well folks, it seems that amidst all of the chaos around Fillydelphia we reported yesterday, there is actually a little ray of hope! It seems that one slave got out! Actually escaped! The word got passed down the line by a merchant who met one on the highway out of Fillydelphia. Apparently the slave took on a Hellhound attacking his caravan! Was filled with all sorts of murderous rage and tore the thing apart with his bare hooves!

Unfortunately though, turns out said slave is one mean raider. I'm afraid so, my little ponies...the big nasty warlord is back on the maps. Red Eye did us all a service taking him in five years ago, but I'm afraid that big guy is out once again. Already I'm hearing of a bounty going out before he can get a band together. Only weird thing is though...the merchant said, after riding away very fast, that Warlord Brimstone wasn't interested in him. Just kept hammering on the hellhound corpse before, and I choose this wording carefully, 'screaming in anger.' Not a warcry, apparently.

Well...I dunno what to make of it. But just to be on the safe side, keep an eye out, ponies. Although the merchant did say one curious thing, that Brimstone started heading back to Fillydelphia...”

Footnote: Perk Attained!

Skittish at the Bit – It may not be the fabled Pinkie Sense, but if you really concentrate, you have your own ways of identifying where others might be around you, whether through paranoia or a greater sensory ability. Add +2 to your perception while still and in no immediate danger.

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