//------------------------------//
// Chapter Three: Course Adjustment 
// Story: Fallout Equestria: Overture 
// by SoundOfImpact 
//------------------------------//


Chapter Three: Course Adjustment



"And so I make a brand new life, fashioned out of brand new strife."





When I was growing up in Trottingham, my dad always tried to put me off drinking. His father had problems with alcohol and it really made an impact on my dad when he was younger. He loathed drinking, and he went ballistic the first I came home late, tipsy. He really doubled down on the anti-drink thing for a while after that, but he got more lenient seeing that it didn't stop me anyway, and that I wasn't coming home next-level plastered every night.

From then on I enjoyed a drink every now and then. Maybe more often than 'every now and then', truth be told. I liked a drink with friends, with dinner, maybe one or two after work to unwind. Maybe more than one or two. Anyway, my point being that I was more used to waking up with a throbbing headache and feeling like the room was spinning more often than I was proud to admit.

This was one of those times.

As it turned out Make Do had a pretty extensive alcohol cabinet, and for the time being she was more than happy to ply me with whatever I felt like having. The end result was that yesterday I'd then spent the rest of the day attempting to drown my sorrows. I like to think I usually handle my drink well, but this was more than I'd had in a very, very long while.

Make Do had shown me where the bathroom in this place was after I stepped into a bucket that it turned out was the oil filled Slack Tub for metal forging. That made quite a mess.

As the day went on and it got darker outside, I'd ended up back in the 'bedroom' (I use the term loosely) I'd woken up in with a bottle of rum. I don't really remember too much of the day in all honesty.

So it came as no surprise when I woke up the next day feeling like absolute death. Not only did my head feel like it was about to implode, and my stomach was ready eject it's entire contents, but I was still a little bit drunk. Maybe more than a little bit, enough for the room to feel like it was rolling around when I turned my head away from the light coming through the doorway.

I groaned and burped up a little sick, pulling the sheets over my head. I was a little confused as to when my bed got so tatty before I remembered that it wasn't my bed. 

The radio was off this time. I could hear the wind rattling the plastic of the window. I could hear clanking from somewhere in the building, and Make Do's muffled voice. There was a second voice too, much deeper. There was a rhythmic dripping coming from outside the room. The whole building creaked and moaned. I wanted all of it to stop, it was all killing my head. 

I held my hooves over my ears as the screeching sound of a saw through metal started up, semi-regretting my actions almost immediately as the sudden movement flared my headache up even worse. 

I scrunched my else closed as tight as they could go, silently wishing away all the noise.

My mouth was dry. I don't think I'd had any water since I woke up in the Hub. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth with every movement, coarse and rough, which was a very unpleasant sensation. 

I cringed as a particularly loud clang rang through the building, ears pinning back. This morning had all ready been an all out assault on my senses, and I'd only been awake for a few minutes. To make matters worse I also really needed to use the bathroom. That meant getting up, which would be absolute murder in my current state. Honestly I wasn't even sure if I could get up and walk around right now, so I elected to just hold tight until the situation became desperate.

On a very slight upside, it had quietened down. I started to relax a little bit, hoping maybe I could fall back asleep for a while. 

That plan fell through the moment I heard the door swing open and somepony walk in.

"Hey Silver, you awake yet? You've moved around from earlier." Remarked Make Do, sounding far more chipper than I would deem allowable. I thought I'd just ignore her and pretend to be asleep, but the mare had the audacity to start proddin me!

"Nnf, go away." I gurgled in protest. "I feel sick."

"Yeah, I bet you do, you knocked back that whole bottle of vodka by yourself. And you kept going too!" She said, her raspy voice grating on me terribly. "Anyway, I figured you'd probably be needing some of this, I'll leave it next to the bed for you."

There was a glassy clank as something made contact with the floor. I begrudgingly rolled over to see what it was, making my vision spin as I poked my head out from under the cover. A couple of bottles of water were nestled next to bed frame. They looked old, but so did everything around here.

"Wow, you look terrible." Make Do said, practically dripping tact. I looked up at her, she was wearing a tatty pair of overalls, and was smeared with oil and metal filings.

"You're one to talk-hughhh!" I heaved, thankfully managing to keep my stomach contents down. This time.

"Well, looks like you're in for a fun day. Please try not to vomit on the floor, I don't really want to be cleaning it up." She said smugly, turning to leave the room again. "I'll be around if you need anything."

I lay back down and closed my eyes. My head was throbbing so badly it felt like some kind of worm was wriggling around in my skull. I cringed a little thinking of that. I didn't know of any creature out there that did that, but I'd already been introduced to a couple of hideous animals in this new world, so who knows.

'New World' probably wasn't the right term. It was the same world just, well, obliterated. Along with everything and everyone I ever knew. Nothing would ever be the same again.

Why was I even here? How did I come out of that spell? It didn't seem like anypony knew I was there, so how come I woke up? Who cancelled the spell? Why now? Why wake me up now of all times, and not when society has rebuilt itself? I didn't understand at all. Somehow I didn't think I'd get answers anytime soon.

I could feel myself slinking back into the depression I'd fought so hard yesterday to forget about. I needed something to take my mind off the soul crushing, devastating loss before it got it's claws back into me. I turned and reached down for a bottle of water, pain in my head once again making itself very known. That was good, it was something to think about. I took the lid off the bottle and had a long sip. Despite the appearance of the bottle it was cool and fresh, which was most welcome since I was absolutely parched.

I ended up chugging the whole bottle in one go, which may not have been good from the not-vomiting point of view, but I was just so thirsty. My mouth at least was feeling a little more normal now. I pressed the cold glass bottle to my forehead, the sensation soothing the pain. I was content to just be still for a while, to try and get my body to settle down.

That worked just fine for a short time. Up until my stomach rumbled, up until I realised that if I didn't go to the toilet now then I'd definitely wet the bed. And I did not need that on top of everything else. I groggily rolled myself upright, body protesting every movement. I was swaying a bit, still experiencing some leftover drunkenness from last night. I lowered myself off the bed and stumbled out the door, leaning on walls for support a lot of the way. Navigating a building was much harder when it felt like the place was tumbling around, especially so when you weren't very familiar with the layout.

It wasn't a long walk by any means, only down the hallway, but the state I was in meant it felt much longer. I stumbled through the door, kicking it closed behind me with a slam that was far louder than I'd anticipated. The bathroom was as grungy as the rest of the building, rust and decay built up all over. Saying that, it wasn't necessarily dirty, so much as it was worn. Everything here looked less than ideal, but at least it was a bathroom to use. I just hoped everything looked this way from age and not, ahem, usage.

I set about doing my business, and thankfully not throwing my guts up. To give the mare credit, Make Do had somehow managed to procure toilet paper from somewhere. Was it still being made? There had to be some kind of industry of some sort by now, right? I mean, according to what Make Do said it'd been almost 200 years since-

Nope! Not thinking about it. Too heavy, don't need that right now.

I finished up and went to wash my hooves in the sink. The water didn't look as clean as the bottle water from earlier. It smelled funny too, but I thought it'd be alright enough to wet my hooves, I wasn't planning on drinking it. I looked up as I turned the water off, catching my reflection in a wall mirror above the basin.

I did look terrible. My eyes were bloodshot, surrounded by dark bags. There were still flecks of blood on my face from yesterday. My mane was all messed up, sticking out in strange ways. And I was covered in dirt. I was certain I looked a few shades paler too, but that could've just been the dust on the mirror.

I quick sniff confirmed that I also stank, musty and sweaty. I needed a shower.

There was a shower in the bathroom. It looked like it'd been pieced together from scrap. Really it was little more than a nozzle over a washtub with a plastic tarp hung around it as a makeshift curtain and a hole in the bottom to drain the water. It was obviously improvised, but it was better than nothing. A good wash would probably help me feel more like a pony and less like a shambling zombie.

I clambered into the tub. I was very confused when I realised that the shower head was actually coming out of the ceiling. I looked around, but there were no obvious controls for it anywhere. I must've stood there looking around exasperated for a good few minutes. Poking around the nozzle itself did nothing. The pipe it was attached to just went straight up into the roof. I sighed and left the tub again, setting off to find Make Do.

I'd not had to ask anypony how to use a shower since I was, what, five? Not since I was a filly. It was embarrassing, it made me look like I didn't know how to take care of myself.

Make Do was in the workshop area, if the continued sounds of clanking and screeching were anything to go by. I could already tell based on the volume alone that going into the room wouldn't be a very pleasant experience in my condition. I'd already pinned my ears back before opening the door.

The room itself had become one big all-out sensory assault. The smell of burning and chemicals was thick in the air, the light was low, dimly orange from the furnace. It was uncomfortably warm. Sparks and wails filled the air from a workbench, as a masked Make Do set about cutting up a large piece of metal with a scary looking power saw. I didn't know how long I could stand it for, I just needed to be in and out as quickly as possible.

"HEY!" I shouted from the doorway, voice croaky and strained. As expected there was no response, though to be fair my voice was by no means a fearsome roar at the moment. I was going to have to get closer to get her attention. I grimaced and entered the room, hangover really not gelling with this environment.

"HEY!" I hoarsely yelled again, closer to the mare this time. Still no response from her, she was absolutely engrossed in her work. Or still couldn't hear me over the din, more likely. The dark visor of the mask probably didn't help either,  I'm pretty sure she wouldn't be able to see me through the dark visor. I wasn't convinced a welding mask was strictly necessary, but I was sure she'd know better than me. 

I cautiously trotted closer. I didn't want to be burned by any of the sparks or hot filings being thrown around by the saw. Those noise was like a constant drone by this point, obnoxiously loud and grating. I don't know how Make Do was managing to persist without any kind of ear protection. 

"MAKE DO!" I tapped her withers with a hoof and she jumped in surprise, which given the fact she was holding a power tool, was absolutely terrifying.

"Celestia above, Silver!" The mare said, lifting her mask, saw revving down. "You almost gave me a heart attack! You trying to get me to cut your leg off or something?!"

"I was shouting but you didn't hear me." I retorted meekly, frowning and rubbing my temples. "I can't work your shower."

"The shower? Oh, yeah, I guess I didn't really think about an Earth pony using it..." She trailed off, looking into the middle distance. "I'll come start it up."

I followed her back to the bathroom. She pushed the door open and her horn lit up, turning a small valve on the pipe and allowing water to flow. "It rained a lot yesterday so there should be plenty of water. Might be chilly, though." She said idly. "Hmm, probably not convenient to need my help every time you want a shower."

She sat on her haunches, seemingly contemplating the shower. She was right in the door frame, so I was just stuck awkwardly standing around behind her.

"Ahem." I deliberately coughed.

"Huh?" The mare turned to face me, and I nodded at the shower. "Oh, right, sorry."

She turned and walked back down the hallway, muttering to herself about pipes. I walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. The room was noisy now, the sound of the constant spray of water onto the sheet metal tub creating an oddly percussive, ringing drone that drowned out the sound of my hooves and the creaks of the building. It wasn't quite loud enough to mute the industrial sounds of metalwork that had roared back into life, but it helped.

Make Do was right. It was chilly. It was practically freezing, so cold that I flinched getting in, all the air leaving my lungs. I was already shivering, but I really did need a wash. This wasn't my first cold shower and at the moment I wasn't too picky. I could see all the grime flowing off of me and down into the drain. That at least felt good.

My teeth were chattering as I let the water flow through my mane, dislodging clumps of dirt and assorted crap that I was glad to do away with. I couldn't find any soap but there was at least a fairly clean looking sponge I could use to more thoroughly scrub my coat. It was awkward to try and clean my back, but I wasn't prepared to traipse through this building again, let alone dripping wet, and ask a mare I hardly knew to wash my back. I could manage. Kinda.

Maybe a cold shower was what I needed. It had at least snapped me more awake. Cleared my head. I was content, for a moment at least, to sit in the shower and let the frigid water run over me, now that I was more acclimatised to the temperature it was soothing, even.

Minutes passed. I'm not sure how long I was sat there but after a while the water stopped flowing, slowing to a weak trickle. I was vaguely aware that I'd need to warm myself up or risk getting a cold, but I couldn't really bring myself to move. I was still, not really thinking about anything particular, just being. Existing.

That was something I shouldn't be able to do right now. Exist, live. I could pretty much guarantee that nopony else I knew had managed to live through this. If all of Equestria was like Baltimare, then there wasn't all that much hope for anypony I knew. There was no reason that I should even be here, it was all chance. I made it when countless others didn't. That was a weight to carry, a huge weight. But still, logically there must have been survivors, the fact that Make Do was alive alone was proof that some ponies must have ridden out whatever happened and carried on living. That didn't change the fact that even if any of my friends or family did manage to cling on, I'd still never see them again. 180 years is a long time.

The building was quiet again. No metal work, no creaking. Only the last drops of water falling into the tub broke the silence.

I sniffled, tears bleeding onto my already sopping wet fur. It's a hard feeling to convey, to lose everything and everyone. It was a void, it was like you'd torn your own heart out and there was nothing to replace it. A sinking feeling that didn't go away.

I didn't weep or wail, or scream my loss from the top of my lungs, I just didn't have it in me. I just sat in the damp, quietly crying, staring off into empty space. The sinking feeling only got worse. I started shivering again, from emotion or cold I don't know, probably both. I needed to dry myself off. I needed to just do something, hopefully I could take my mind off of this mess.

Shaky, I managed to rather ungracefully tumble out of the shower. Lethargically pawing around the room revealed a total lack of towels, for better or worse. I did need to dry myself, but if the towels were anything like the sheets on the bed then I'm sure I'd just be rubbing dirt back into my coat. 

That would leave me dripping wet and cold for a while. I supposed I could go back and sit by the furnace again, but if Make Do was going to be working the whole day then that idea was less than appealing. I looked back in the mirror again. My coat and mane were much cleaner, free from the layer of dirt I was coated in. I was still pale though, and still very tired looking. Almost haggard. My mane being damp and plastered to my face certainly didn't help.

Once again the abrasive sound of metal work roared to life from the workshop, which ruled out drying off in there. It was more percussive than grinding this time. A hammer, maybe? Either way it would still be insufferable to listen to up close.

I wasn't going to get any warmer just standing around. I shook myself off as best as I could, leaving me damp rather than soaked, and left the bathroom to find something I could wrap myself up in. Stepping back out into the hallway, I turned to make my way back to the lobby/kitchen area, but stopped short after passing a door I realised I'd not opened yet. 

Figuring it was probably worth a look, I opened the door. It was some kind of large storage cupboard, nothing particularly remarkable. There were a few shelves lined with various objects, and metal boxes. It was dimly lit, but still just light enough to be able to rummage through. On a shelf, right at the back of the room, I spied a pile of folded up fabric. It looked to be a small bed sheet, much, much cleaner than the one I'd seen on the bed.

Since it wasn't being used, and it was better than nothing, I draped it over myself, willing to bet that it was as close to a towel as I was going to get. I sneezed as it settled on my back. I was feeling much chillier than I did yesterday, and I really hoped I wasn't about to catch a cold.

I needed a way to warm myself up. A way that didn't involve horrendous noise, or any strenuous activity.

I wondered if Make Do kept any Brandy in the drinks cabinet?

Deciding to stand by my experience at university that the best cure for a hangover was more alcohol, I made my way out of the cupboard and back to the cabinet to peruse it's contents.

Another sneeze and a shiver. I needed to find something fast, I really didn't need to fall ill on top of everything else. More Stalliongrad, some off-brand Whisky, some kind of pale liquid in a rocket shaped bottle. There were a lot of dingy, label-less mystery bottles, I had no idea what they contained, but I wasn't so much feeling like finding out.

Ah! Behind a couple of bottles of Gin was a single, squat bottle of five star Brandy, still sealed, though like everything else in here, it had seen better days. I slid it out of the cabinet and carried it in my teeth back into the bedroom, closing the door behind me.

I sat on the edge of the bed and broke the seal on the cap, twisting off the lid and taking a sip. The liquid warmed my throat on the way down, which was a welcome feeling. It reminded me of my student days, waking up after a party and downing the dorm's 'patented' hangover cure, we called it a Doctor's Order. Two parts vodka, one part lemon juice, one part carrot juice, hot sauce, orange zest and one egg. Frankly it was disgusting, but it seemed to work. A couple of those in the system and you were practically good as new. Minus the aftertaste. I wonder what Perfect Prescription would think knowing his idea had lived on this long?

The fondness of that memory quickly faded as I remembered that Perfect, along with everypony else I studied with, would be long gone by now. I was probably the only pony alive who even know what the cocktail was. I sniffled and took another swig of brandy. It had started raining again outside. I pulled the sheet I was wearing up over my head, almost like a kind of cloak, idly dangling my hooves off the bed frame, sipping at the brandy and feeling it warm my core. If everyone was gone, then I was alone. And that was scary.

The radio had somehow crackled back to life at some point, quietly playing an old Sweetie Belle tune. I never did get the hype around her myself, I'd much rather listen to a nice instrumental piece, but for the time being it was the best thing I had to try and stave off the feeling of isolation and loneliness. 

"Hello Baltimare! Glissando back again for your on-the-hour-every-hour news update!" Spoke the croaky voice of of the radio DJ. "Because here at Radio Bayside, we never sleep, ever!"

I took another sip and hoped that maybe the radio could be a pleasant distraction.

"I've been hearing reports that the lovely folks from Red Rein have seized control of even more of the downtown area. These aren't your everyday crazed raiders, colts and fillies, they're better equipped, better organised, and they're known to use prisoners as slaves. My advice is stay well away, and if you need to go downtown for any reason, be wary and stay safe."

It was certainly a distraction, though it was far from pleasant. It was bad enough that the world was in this state, let alone the possibility of being captured as a slave. That was enough to warrant another drink.

"And in lighter news, Merriweather Pavilion trading post have just announced the continuation of their recently re-routed caravan trade service north. If you've got anything that needs to make it to Hollow Shades, now's the time to do something about it."  

Trade was a good sign of a working society, so that at least was a welcome piece of information. Really though, I would have hoped some progress had been made back to normality after so long.

Another sip.

Normality. That was the key. A sense of normality. Nothing here was normal for me, but it was normal for everypony else. In a way I suppose that I was experiencing some twisted form of culture shock. Would I get used to it? Would everything be better then?

"That's about all for this hour, folks. Forecast is rain, rain, and just for a change, more rain. Coming up next the thrilling conclusion to The Beach Fillies And The Monster! Like you've not heard it a thousand times already."

With a crackle a radio play started up. I sort of blocked it out, I had no real desire to listen to it. Instead I was sat alone, with my thoughts. Which was probably worse. It was going to take a lot for me to accept that this was the new normal. What did ponies even do now? There had to be some kind of organised community. Do I have any skills that are useful now? I could only hope that silver was still a commodity that ponies wanted. Otherwise I'm left pretty much useless.

Maybe I was getting a bit ahead of myself. I needed to adjust, that would take time. I needed time to deal with the fact that, well, everything was gone. I didn't have any friends or family to turn to. That was still fresh, and still stung hard.

Another sip.

The warmth in my barrel was somewhat reassuring at least. Alcohol, it seemed, was a constant I could cling to. Some things never change. I took a big swig from the bottle, enjoying the familiarity. This at least was something I could treat as normal. 

I shifted on the bed and stared out the window, deep in thought. I was lost. It was still too much to process at the moment. It was going to be a while before I felt stable again, that much was certain.

I sighed and took another drink from the bottle. I had a hunch that the next few weeks might feel like the longest of my life.





"Hey Silver, I- Oh Luna's tits!"

With great effort, I managed to lift an eyelid to see what all the commotion was about. Make Do had entered the room, and I think she looked worried. I lazily listed my head to face her, just about managing to crack open my other eye. I found it quite difficult to keep my eyes on her though, everything looked kind of wobbly.

"Are you okay? Ugh, it stinks!" She said, now very close to my face for some reason. I didn't know what the big deal was about really. I felt good. Tired, but good. And maybe a little damp? And cold again? And actually quite uncomfortable. I was sat up on the bed, leant against the wall at an angle that my back didn't agree with. I tried to shuffle around and get more comfortable, only to put a hoof down on a wet patch. Looking down to investigate, I realised that I'd thrown up all over myself and the bed.

"Ohhh no!" I said, looking back up at Make Do. I'm not sure she heard me right though, she just looked more concerned. 

"Oh, it's all over the sheets!" She said, lifting me up with her magic, which now felt much more disorienting than it did before. I'm not sure why she was so concerned about the sheets, they were filthy anyway. I was stuck suspended in mid air while she fussed around with the bed, which was now starting to feel very strange, and I didn't like it one bit.

"I'm sorry." I tried to say, but it just came out as more of a groan. I think my brain started to catch on to my discomfort, and my stomach too. I heaved, but I don't think I had anything left in me to throw back up.

"No no no!" She exclaimed, quickly dashing out of the room and into the bathroom and bringing me along too, which did nothing but make the sensory disconnect worse, causing me to dry heave again.

I groaned as I was unceremoniously dumped back in the shower, which was actually a pretty nice feeling in comparison. It was cool and flat, much more comfortable than leaning by the bed or magical flying. My stomach settled down pretty immediately, which was also welcome. All in all I was back to feeling pretty good! Maybe I could try and get back to sleep.

"You're lucky it's been raining all night." Make Do said. I heard a squeak, and was suddenly assaulted by a blast of freezing cold water, causing me to gasp in shock.

I didn't need this! I just wanted to have a bit of sleep! I pushed myself up and rolled over the side of the tub, landing on the bathroom floor with a small thud.

"Ah, nope! You're staying in that shower 'til you're clean! Or at least until you don't smell." Make Do taunted, lifting me back into the tub with her magic. I looked back at her, only to find her occupied by the sheets again, which I guess she'd brought with her? I don't know. "Now what am I going to do about these?" She muttered to herself.

I tried to escape again, but the unicorn put a stop to it pretty quickly. Then she told me to stay put and that I was a hoofful when I'm drunk. I most certainly was not, and voiced my indigence to her, but she just told me to stop sulking. The nerve of the mare, I'm not a foal! But, in the interest of getting all this over with, I sat on my haunches and waited for whatever was happening to be over so I could go back to sleep.

I was actually getting sleepy again already, now that the initial shock of the cold water had worn off. Maybe I could just rest my head on the rim of the tub for a while.

I'll just rest my eyes for a few minutes.

Just a couple of minutes.





Tartarus is real and I am experiencing it.

This was a new level of pain, it brought new meaning to the word. It felt like my head was under a pile of bricks. Light stabbed at my eyes like daggers. My neck was killing me. My throat was dry enough that it felt like it was about to shatter. The taste in my mouth was disgusting, sickening. I was cold and damp again. I was in a heap in the shower tub, alone.

I've probably had worse hangovers, but I really couldn't remember when. I had vague recollections of yesterday. I woke up and had a shower, drank a bottle of brandy, finished off the rum from the day before, and I think some whisky may have become involved at some point. I don't think I ate anything, again. It all made for a bad combination, and I was paying for it now.

But why was I in the bathroom? I remember Make Do waking me up and bringing me here, and I must have fallen back asleep after that. I pushed myself up with a groan, head not appreciating the change in position, and stretched my back, popping and clicking as it did. A little better but still not right. A sharp pain when I tried to turn my head told me I'd definitely slept funny, not that I really needed any proof. The door was open, and dim light was streaming in from the hallway. Even that was enough to make me shield my eyes. I'm pretty sure I was still tipsy, and moving my anything too fast was met with great protest.

I hadn't had a morning like this since my graduation party.

First things first, as much as I didn't want to move at all, I didn't want to wet myself even more. I tentatively stood all the way up, and with a sway and my headache flaring up, shambled my way over to the toilet, being sure to close the door on the way. The total darkness was welcome, but made navigating the room more difficult than it strictly needed to be.

The second matter of business was water. It felt like I'd been chugging sandpaper all night, and it was a deeply unpleasant feeling. I still didn't much feel like drinking the water from the sink, it just didn't look right to me. Hopefully I'd be able to find more of the bottled water Make Do brought me yesterday.

Unfortunately that meant going out into the light. No amount of telling myself I needed it or I'd feel better for it afterwards made the adjustment any easier, nor did it help the pain in my head. My stomach grumbled, reminding me that I'd not had a proper meal in a very long time now, another thing to deal with. I managed to stagger down the hallway with squinted eyes, and quickly ended up in the kitchen.

I may have been a mess, but I was together enough to work out the bottled water likely lived in the fridge. I pulled the door open, probably with more force than I needed to, and scanned the inside.

There were a few more bottles of water, and to my relief, there was also a small supply of ready to eat food. Nothing special, but it'd do the job. I grabbed some water, a couple of carrots, and a box of Dandy Colt Apples that really looked in rough shape, but the actual apples seemed good enough. Thank Celestia for preservatives, I guess. There were some other bits and pieces in the fridge too, but to be honest I couldn't actually tell what any of it was, so I thought it'd be best to leave it.

I managed to tripod walk to the table and dump everything I was carrying. I sat down and unscrewed the cap of the bottle, downing the whole thing in one. It felt great, being able to swallow pain-free was severely underrated. I moved on to the carrots, greedily chomping through them both, stems and all. I tore open the box of apples and took a bite of one, only to burp up more carrot than I'd like. I needed to pace my self or be sick.

My eyes widened. I remembered why Make Do dragged me into the bathroom. I was sick everywhere last night. My ears folded back, burning, and I rested my head on the table, folding my forelegs over my face.

"I can't believe I did that." I muttered to myself, red with embarrassment.

"You know, most ponies ask before raiding someone's fridge." Came a raspy, now familiar voice. Lifting a hoof, I could see Make Do out of the corner of my eye, stood in the door frame to the workshop. She didn't look impressed.

"I'm sorry." I weakly offered.

"I don't mind much, maybe just like, ask me next time, okay?" She said, trotting over to the table and taking the seat opposite me. "Food doesn't grow on trees, y'know?" She stated, without a hint of irony, only seeming to cotton on to what she'd said after a few seconds.

We sat in silence for an awkward moment, her looking at me, and me peering back through the gap between my forelegs. Make Do broke into a smug looking smile, resting her head in her hooves and staring me in the eyes.

"Feeling shy, Silver?" She asked, floating an apple out of the box and taking a bite. "Why, whatever's brought this on? Something you want to tell me?" She continued, with the smarmiest look on her face.

"Don't mock me." I growled. I probably wasn't in the best condition to sound threatening, though. A second of silence and I rolled my eyes and sighed. "I'm sorry for making a mess." I mumbled.

"Atta' girl." The unicorn said, taking another bite from the apple. "Just try not to do it again. Please? You seem to throw up more than most ponies I've met, and do you know how hard it is to find soap? Cleaning stuff ain't easy."

Gee, I would never have guessed.

"Anyway," She said with a full mouth, spraying little bits of apple onto the table top. "I've got something for you."

She got up and quickly finished off the rest of the apple and threw it across the room into a small bin, which was admittedly a very impressive shot. She trotted out of sight for a moment, and reappeared carrying a pile of cloth in with her, putting it down on the table in front of me.

Interest piqued, I picked the item up. It was my jumpsuit from the hub, but it had clearly been altered. Metal plates had been attached to the shoulders and flank, and some parts looked to have been re-enforced. It was clearly done quickly by hoof, but it wasn't a messy job by any means. I looked up at Make Do, she was a better craftsmare than I had expected.

"It can get pretty hairy out there, Silver. Any protection is better than nothing. That should keep the worst off you, at least." She said, looking back at me as she turned to leave the room. "Won't do anything about the rain, though."

With that, she trotted off through a door I'd not explored yet, presumably her bedroom? The door closed behind her, and left me alone again.

What was I doing? Was I really going to be living in a world dangerous enough that I needed armour to go outside? That was just, for lack of a better word, wrong. The Equestria I grew up in was innocent and carefree. This new Equestria just seemed dead and decaying, the life had left it long ago now.

I put the armoured garment down on the table, I was in no hurry to go outside. I wasn't really in a hurry to go anywhere at the moment. I was more than happy to rest my head down on the clothing and close my eyes.

I didn't want to be part of a world so dangerous that even going outside was a risk. I guess I didn't have much choice, but that didn't mean I had to just accept it. Why was it still dangerous? Had so little changed after so long since the war? I didn't know what to make of anything, everything I found out went against something else. Those carrots were fresh, but the apples were scavenged, the radio worked fine, but the water from the sink didn't look drinkable.

It crossed my mind that the water from the shower was probably like the water from the sink. I didn't know for sure, but I'd make a mental note of it just in case.

My point was, nothing seemed to make sense anymore. I wasn't made for these times, and I really shouldn't be here to experience them. I was at a total loss, what was I meant to do in a situation like this? I needed somepony to tell me what to do, but I didn't have anyone.

I was under a lot of stress. This was probably the roughest time of my life so far. I didn't have the energy to cry, I just sat rested on the table.

I kept going around in circles. It'd only been a few days, but it felt like the same thing every time, with no solution in sight. I'd call it a rut, but it was different, I was here by circumstances, and kept in it by my own behaviour and, well, everything else. I just didn't know how to change that.

I was drawing a blank. I made no effort to think on it more, or get up and do something, because I know I'd only reach the same conclusion again and the cycle would continue anyway. I just stayed there, not moving, eyes closed and at least somewhat comfortable.

I could feel myself getting more tired, sleep growing closer. It was welcome, I didn't sleep well at all the night before, and I didn't have to worry about anything while I was asleep.

But no matter how much I wanted it to, sleep never fully came. I had bouts of sleep, only to wake up again a short time later. Rinse and repeat. It was better than nothing, but far from satisfactory, and in the end I just felt like I'd had a nap that was too long. It did help ease my hangover though, not all the way gone, but much better than it was.

I don't know how much time had passed, but after a while I heard a door open again.

"Oh, Silver! You're still here?" Said Make Do, surprised.

"Yes." I replied, not moving from the spot.

"Uh, okay then." I heard her trotting around, followed by the clicking of a stove and the sound of ignition. "Well, I was going to make some dinner, if you want any."

"Dinner? What time is it?" I asked, confused.

"About half 6, I think." She replied. I heard the fridge open and the clanking of pans. "So, do you want any food or not?"

"Um, what are you making?" I asked. It was later than I thought, and food was probably a good idea.

"Fried Lugworm." Make Do stated in a very matter-of-fact way.

"Lugworm? We're eating bugs?" I queried, hoping I'd misheard her.

"Yes, and I take it that 'we're eating' means 'yes please I would like some food, thank you very much Make Do'." She said, the sound of oil in a pan filling the room.

"I guess so." I finished.

Lugworm? Ew. Weren't they the little bugs that live in sandy beaches? Was this really the best thing going? Can an equine stomach even process bugs? I don't think I necessarily wanted to find out either way.

"On second thought, you'd wouldn't happen to have anything less, uh, alive?" I ever so subtly asked. 

"Hm? Oh, no, don't worry, it's been dead for a while." She replied, not missing a beat.

"Not what I meant." I deadpanned.

"Aw, come on, it's not that bad." She said, the sound of sizzling filling the room. "Besides, fresh veggies are hard work, Lugworm is cheap."

I didn't really have a case to argue against that, I really didn't know whether it was true or not. And I was far too polite to turn down a meal that had been made for me. I could only hope that it really wasn't 'that bad'. I have to say, the smell wasn't really doing a great job of convincing me otherwise.

Make Do hummed a tune as she cooked. A familiar melody, but I couldn't quite put a name to it. Sapphire Shores maybe? It was upbeat, at least.

Maybe I was being too dour about it. It'd probably taste just fine, and it had been a long time since anypony had cooked for me. I was hardly in a position to complain, and I was still hungry, after all. I was by no means the best cook around, and at a time like this it really was nice to not have to worry about making meals. 

I poked my head up and watched Make Do for a bit. She didn't seem to notice me, occupied with task of preparing the food. I think I had grown to trust this mare a bit more over the last couple of days. She was being very accommodating, and while I still found her to be a bit strange, she hadn't tried anything worrying. Also there had been a big reduction in the amount of times she'd pointed a gun at me, which was an improvement.

Was it a bad thing if I was getting used to the presence of lethal weapons?

"Aaaaand perfect!" The mare declared, switching off the stove and plating the meal up, dishes and utensils clattering. She made her way over to the table, plates floating behind her, and gently placed the meal on the table as I moved the jumpsuit out of the way.

To say it wasn't what I was expecting would be something of an understatement. I thought Lugworms were little earthworm like creatures that lived on the beach, or at least the ones in Trottingham were. This thing was different. Very different. It was big, about the size of a tin can. It was segmented like a worm, though. Was this only a section? Make Do had a very similar thing on her plate, and if I looked closely I could see where it had been cut. These Lugworms must be enormous!

It wasn't a very appetising looking, or smelling dish. Essentially looking like a ridged, beige cylinder dumped onto a chipped and discoloured plate. It smelled like sweaty clothes. Make Do was already digging in, apparently far too eager, if her attempts to fan her mouth were anything to go by.

I poked at the unfamiliar food with a fork. It jiggled a little, which put me off a little more. I wasn't sure what I was expecting it to do, but apparently it wasn't jiggle. 

This was foalish, I wasn't a filly anymore, I shouldn't be putting off new foods, especially when they'd been prepared for me. I cut a piece off and jabbed it with a fork, tentatively raising it to my mouth, blowing gently to cool it down. I took a small bite and chewed.

It tasted as much like sweaty clothes as it smelled. Not that I knew what sweaty clothes tasted like of course, I'm a mare with standards- but that's besides the point. It was unpleasant. This was a problem, as it'd be unforgivably rude to turn down a freshly prepared meal, in my opinion. But also I really, really didn't want to eat the whole thing.

"So, what's your plan?" Make Do asked from across the table, thankfully interrupting the meal.

"My plan?" I asked, a bit confused.

"Yeah, y'know, like, what are you going to do? Your life." She clarified, chewing another mouthful of worm.

"I-I don't know." I answered honestly. "I don't really know what I can do, or even what's out there. I'm lost, I guess. I don't belong here."

"I'm sure there's something for you out there. There's something for everypony, you just gotta find it." She replied. "Doesn't mean you have to know it now, but it's always good to have a plan."

"I guess. I think I just need time. I just- It's-" I sighed, looking for the right words. "For me, it's like waking up and nothing is the same. It felt like less than a week ago I was where I belonged, in my shop with my friends and my life. And now, this. I thought I knew what I was doing back then, but this has kind of thrown all that out the window for good." 

The conversation died for a minute, the lighthearted mood had disappeared.

"You had a shop?" The unicorn asked softly.

"A little jewelry shop on Cloven Street, just a little walk from the river." I answered glumly. "Silver Silver. I worked with silver, if it wasn't already obvious."

It wasn't just my shop, it was my home too. I missed it. Even though it had only been a few days, I missed sleeping in my own bed, I missed cooking in my own kitchen, I missed going to work. I didn't know if I'd ever get any of that back again. Quiet set in once again as I silently mourned the loss of my home.

"Sorry, I'm homesick, I guess." I offered. "Not feeling much like talking."

"I know how you feel." Make Do replied, stabbing at the final chunk of her dinner. "It gets better when you find a place to call your own again, believe me." She got up and dumped her plate presumably in the kitchen sink, before sitting back down at the table with a couple of bottles of beer, pushing one my way. "Anywhere can be home if you want it to be."

I took a sip from the bottle. It was warm and old, but I wasn't about to complain about having something to wash the taste of that worm away. There was a break in the conversation as Make Do lifted her drink to her lips too, taking a gulp.

"So tell me about yourself." The mare said, leaning back in her chair.

"What?"

"You've been here like, three days, and I still don't really know anything about you." She explained, taking another swig. "So y'know, fill me in. Who is Silver Sterling?"

"I'm, uh, I'm nopony, really. Nopony special, I'm from Trottingham and I like making jewelry." I paused, it was my turn to drink. "That's it, really."

"Trottingham huh? So that's what that accent is! A new one on me, never met anypony from there, what's it like?" Make Do said, now leaning forward in apparent enthusiasm.

"W-well, it's nice, I suppose. Quaint, a lot of open country, and you're never very far from the coast. I moved away to come to university here, I've not been back in a few years. My family all still live over there-" I hadn't gotten used to the idea that they would all be dead. Saying it out loud stung like nothing else, it was like it suddenly became real. "Lived. They all lived there."

I sighed and drank about half of the bottle down. Anything that could dull that sting was a good thing, even if it was only a little bit. 

How long had it been since I'd seen any of them? I hadn't seen Mum or Dad since I visited after graduation, and that was a while ago now. Mint had come to visit me a couple of years ago, but that was only for a few days. I hadn't seen any of them in ages, and I never would again. I finished the rest of the bottle and cradled my head in my hooves.

"I-I'm sorry, I don't think I want to talk about this anymore." I meekly managed to say.

I heard the chime of magic, and looked up to find a slice of the exceedingly delicious cake placed before me, fork and all.

"You look like you could use it." Make Do said, swigging from her bottle. I stabbed myself off a little corner of cake and brought it to my mouth. It was just as good as last time.

"What about you?" I said, trying to steer the conversation away. "I don't know anything about you, Make Do."

"Little ol' me? Well, what's there to say?" She started. "First, only my dad calls me Make Do, you can call me MD, everypony else does." She paused to sip her beer. "Well, like I said before, I scavenge things, fix things, sell stuff on. I'm like a treasure hunter, but instead of gems and relics I find scrap metal and old guns. Anything as long as someone is buying."

"Is that how you got your PipBuck?" I enquired, shoving a forkful of cake into my mouth. Not before I finished speaking, though. It's rude to talk with your mouth full.

"I used to live in a Stable, everypony got a PipBuck when they were old enough. I left pretty soon after that." She explained, tapping a hoof on the table.

"A Stable? So they worked?" I asked, genuinely curious. Thinking about it I had friends who'd managed to get spots in Stables. It wouldn't make everything alright, but knowing that at lease some of the ponies I knew manage to survive might ease my heart a little bit.

"Well, I'm here, aren't I? Must have done the job well enough." The unicorn said, looking away. 

"So, what was it like living in a stable?" I prodded, again, genuinely curious. I'd heard plenty about the Stables from all the ads, but I'd never actually seen one in the flesh. Or concrete.

"Safe, abundant food and water, everypony looked out for everypony else. It was an amazing place to live." She explained, taking another swig from her bottle. What she said left me a little confused though.

"Then why'd you leave?" 

She didn't respond at first. It looked like she was collecting her thoughts. I kept on eating the cake though, it was too good to leave.

"One day we started getting contact from the outside. Something about trading, I don't remember really, I was only a little filly. Some folks wanted to open the door, other's didn't. In the end the Overmare decided to open the Stable up to the outside, took the contact as a sign the land was livable." The mare explained, looking dour. "Turns out the contact had been from a group of raiders. I'm not sure what they wanted, but the second the door opened, they attacked. Security couldn't hold them back."

I paused, looking at her with wide eyes.

"A lot of folks died, the raiders shot anything that moved. I somehow managed to slip past them all and escape out the door into the wastes. I don't know if anypony else made it out okay, but I'd like to think so." She finished, leaving me borderline speechless.

"That's... that's horrible! T-t-t-that's sick!" I really was shocked, ponies should not kill ponies.

"Yeah, it is, but that's how it is in this bitch of a wasteland, sometimes. It's a harsh land and ponies can be savage. I'm over it, mostly. It was years ago now, and I'd never have met my Dad otherwise." She said, rolling a hoof.

"Wait, 'met' your Dad?"

"I don't know what happened to my biological parents after I ran. I ended up wondering the wastes alone for a couple of days after I escaped. I got trapped by a couple of bandits who thought they'd try and sell me to slavers. He must have heard me crying and came to the rescue. Saved me from the creeps and took me in, taught me everything I know, and the rest kinda explains itself." She finished with a small smile.

"T-that's quite a story." I said, trying to sound neutral. This new world was sounding more and more abhorrent by the minute. Ruins, feral creatures, and now 'raiders' who are happy to slaughter anypony they see fit, and slavers!? What ever happened to law and order?

"That's life." She proclaimed, standing up. I took it. "It has it's ups and downs, but it always carries on. It might take a while for you to adjust, but you'll get used to it eventually. Trust me, it's was as much of a shock for me leaving the Stable as it is for you."

She took her leave as I polished off the last of the cake slice. Maybe we weren't as different as I first thought, this mare and I. Very different personalities yes, but it seemed that we were both victims of circumstance to some degree. Everything I was dealing with was very depressing, but her account just sounded outright horrific. At least I didn't have to see my friends and family die. Perhaps by sticking with her for the time being I could more easily adapt to this 'wasteland', as she'd so aptly called it. At the very least she would have some idea of where I was coming from.

I wonder what her dad is like?

Part of me did actually feel better for that talk, in an odd way. I almost felt like if she could do it, then so could I. I was going to need time, time to adapt, and time to get over, well, everything, but I was a big mare. I'm sure I could do it. And this was a second chance. Maybe not the most ideal second chance, but it certainly beat the alternative.

I think. I hoped so, anyway.

I meandered my way back to the bedroom, flopping down onto the bed. I wasn't looking forward to finding out what other horrors I'd be facing in this wasteland, and I'd started to get the feeling there would be a lot of them. But I also felt that Make Do had earned my trust, and if I stayed in her company for a while then she'd certainly steer me right.

You could say I was feeling cautiously optimistic about the future. Still distraught about the past, but I couldn't do anything about that, it had already happened, and I couldn't change it no matter how much I wanted to. The future was something I could bend and shape and mold. If I got off on the right hoof, I could make things much easier for myself down the line.

It wasn't going to be easy, but if I took things one day at a time, I could hopefully manage.





It was starting to seem like waking up tired was becoming a habit of mine. Probably my own fault, I suppose, but that didn't mean I had to be happy about it. Still, at least this wasn't as bad as yesterday morning, not by a long shot. Still unpleasant enough to not want to get up, but I didn't feel like I'd spent the night being stomped all over this time.

What wasn't so usual however, was the relative quiet I found myself in. The radio wasn't cracking a dusty old play, I couldn't hear any sounds of metal work from the other room, and while it was drizzly outside, it was hardly enough to fill the place with noise. It was odd, I'd only been here a few days, but more often than not it was a cacophony of sound. The break was more than welcome, but still weird.

I decided I'd try and make the most of the quiet and see if I could doze off for a little longer. 

I should've expected by now that I'd have no such luck, and to even try was pushing it. No sooner had I rolled over and closed my eyes, the door creaked open.

"Mmph, please, I-" I started. Didn't finish.

Stood in the doorway was the single largest Griffon I'd ever seen. His head was a stark, snowy white, face marked with numerous scars and cuts. He had very broad shoulders and was mostly muscle, and looked to be wearing a very sturdy armoured vest, riddled with scrapes and dents from serious use. I'm pretty sure there were some bullet marks on there too. His talons looked razor sharp, as did his beak, and he was looking straight at me with cold, steely eyes.

I froze up. Quite frankly, he was terrifying. He clearly knew his way around a fight. I did not. Why was he here? Was he one of these 'raiders' Make Do had mentioned yesterday. Oh stars above, were we being attacked?

"Make Do, there's some kinda drunk vagrant in the spare room." He bellowed, turning his head out of the room-

Hang on, 'Drunk vagrant'? How very dare he?! I scoffed, flat out insulted. I am a mare of class and standards, not some filthy hobo! At least, I would have scoffed if I wasn't absolutely terrified by this hulking behemoth of a Griffon. I didn't dare make a sound right now.

"She's not a vagrant, dad, that's Silver, I told you about her, remember?" Came the voice of Make Do, poking her head around the corner. "She's had a rough few days, please try to be nice? Please?"

Dad? This was her dad? He looked like he could pull a tree out of the ground with his bare talons! I was under no illusion that if he wanted to he could throw me out the window with ease, but he didn't.

"Only for you." He muttered, rolling his eyes and dumping a heavy looking equipment bag in the room, landing with a thud and hitting the table, knocking the radio to life. After another quick glance back at me he left the room.

"Sorry about him, he's always grumpy when he gets back from work. He'll be fine later, I promise." Make Do said, coming into the room and tucking the bag away in a corner.

"T-T-T-That's your dad?!" I politely enquired.

"Well he's definitely not my mom." She replied with a flat stare.

"B-but he's huge! Gigantic!"

"Aaaaand? He's still my dad." Make Do said, perplexed. I took a breath and realised that him being the size of a bull didn't have anything to do with it at all.

"Sorry, I just didn't expect your dad to be a Griffon." I explained. This was true. I also didn't expect her dad to be so scary, but I thought it'd probably be rude to say that out loud.

"It's fine, nopony ever does. I mean, who would, right?" She giggled, heading back out the door. "Don't lie around too long now, we've got stuff to do!"

Having stuff to do was news to me. What stuff? How was I involved? 

Make Do didn't shut the door behind her, so I could kind of hear vague conversation coming from the kitchen. Her raspy, high voice contrasting with the rumbling baritone of her dad. I couldn't hear well enough to make out what exactly they were talking about though. The drizzle seemed to have become full on rain now, and the radio was buzzing and popping away. So much for the quiet.

I sighed and curled myself up into a semi-comfy position, no longer feeling like I'd be able to fall back asleep. I really didn't expect Make Do's dad to be quite so intimidating. Intimidating was the right word for him, his size, features, and demeanour, though I had only seen him very briefly, were all very, very intimidating. I hoped what the unicorn had said about him being fine later was right.

I shuffled around a few times on the bed, trying to get myself into a better position. I may not have been able to go back to sleep, but that didn't mean I wanted to get up yet either.

"Just your favorite DJ savior, it's Tremolo!" Crackled the radio, a new voice this time. A young mare, by the sounds of it. "Bringing you through the morning with all the best tunes, or at least the best we could find. Baltimare, to me you're all grand, so here's a classic from The Andravidas Sisters."

An ancient sounding song started to play. It sounded like something my grandmother would listen to. Not my cup of tea, and annoyingly for me, while it wasn't loud enough to be very obtrusive, it was just too loud to ignore outright.

I tried to get comfortable for a couple of minutes, but with my plan to lie in thoroughly ruined, I decided to get up. I poked around the bag Make Do's dad dropped in, but I wasn't one to invade another's privacy, so I left it at that and made my way into the bathroom. Peering in the mirror, I couldn't deny that I did have something of a vagrant look about me, though that didn't mean I resented the comment any less. I had a severe case of bedmane and my eyes were tired and sunken.

I turned to get in the shower, but remembered that I didn't really have any means to operate it. Grumbling that today was already off to a less than stellar start, I left to go and find Make Do to operate the shower for me. 

It was an oddly mundane feeling, that even in this post-war apocalypse, other ponies showers still seemed weird to operate.

Make Do and her dad were both sat at the table, talking about something or other. I quietly walked into the room, not wanting to interrupt them. She seemed to be hanging off his every word. He was talking about whatever it was he had been out doing, and she was more than happy to listen to him. Something about the look on his face said that he was genuinely happy to be here talking with her. As odd a pair as they were, I couldn't deny there was a bond between them.

"Oh, Silver, you're up!" The unicorn said, spotting me in the doorway. She beckoned me over to the table, and the griffon seemed to flip a switch, going from warm and talkative back to the cold and gruff character he'd been earlier. I took a seat between them, suddenly feeling very awkward.

I could feel his eyes on me, dissecting me. It was a very unnerving, uncomfortable experience. Make Do seemed totally unaware of this, happily munching away on the last bites of an apple.

"So!" She said, finishing her food and looking at me with a smile. "Dad's volunteered to-"

"Agreed to, not volunteered. You kept asking me." He cut in.

"Same thing. Anyway, dad's agreed to help teach you some survival basics today! I'll be around for some of it, but I've got some stuff to take care of in town, so he's gonna take over from me later." She finished.

I glanced at the hulk of a griffon and then back to the petite unicorn.

"S-survival basics?" I asked.

"Yeah, y'know, so you don't die. I don't know how much time you spent out in the wild before, but I can guarantee it's way different now than it was back then. Besides, even if you know about this kind of stuff, it can't hurt to have a reminder." She explained, leaning back in her chair. "Don't worry, it's only gonna be basic stuff, we're not gonna hurl you into badlands or anything. Just everyday stuff, fires, foraging, fighting, so on."

"F-f-fighting!?" I exclaimed. I don't think I wanted lessons in fighting from a predator an entire head taller than me. "I-I'm not planning on starting any fights!"

The griffon simply sighed and covered his face with his claws.

"Dad, please, I told you she'd be a complete newbie to all this, that's the whole reason we're doing it." Make Do piped up.

He just grumbled and motioned a claw to continue.

"Anyway, you best get ready, we're good to leave, we were only waiting for you." She said, getting up and slinging a saddlebag across her back.

"Right now?" I asked.

"Right now. I figured we'd leave before you had a chance to eat so we had an incentive to work on your foraging skills, heh." The unicorn said, trotting to the door and rifling through her bag. Her dad had gotten up and left the room. "Weather's not great so it's probably a good idea to get your jumpsuit on, it can get pretty chilly out in the rain."

I did as she said, and wandered back into the bedroom in search of the jumpsuit. The griffon was in there too, looking through his own bag. I stopped just shy of the door and saw him pulling out a very scary looking gun, counting out a few magazines before slipping them into pouches on his armour.

Nervously, I entered the room. He glanced up at me, but quickly went back to whatever he was doing. I quickly put the jumpsuit on, noting it's extra heft and stiffness from the metal plates Make Do had attached. It certainly felt sturdier, more protective, though I didn't really want to test that protectiveness out.

There was a clacking sound, and the griffon left the room with a big scary gun slung around his neck on a strap. I guessed that meant that it was time to go and followed him back out into the hallway and back to Make Do, who was now sporting a bag and jacket, and was fiddling around with some kind of plastic sheet.

"Here, you might want this." She said, floating over a patch of tarp. She had one herself and had fixed it around her head as a form of makeshift rain hood.

My own hood in place, she opened the door and we all stepped outside.

It was kind of chilly, but the rain wasn't really a downpour, it was more like a light shower. Make Do's dad set off, with the mare and me following behind him. We took a left turn out of the scrapyard, and I was now into unfamiliar territory.

"Foraging is the easy part, since a lot of the plants around here are safe to eat." Make Do said, turning back to face me as we trotted down the road. "You ever pick wild food before, Silver?"

"Um, not really. I was in the Filly Guides for a little bit when I was younger, I kinda did a little bit back then I guess." I replied, straining my memory to remember back that far.

"That's cool. Like I said, it's pretty easy, most things around here are fine to eat, just thought it'd be useful if you know what to look for in the first place!" She finished, smiling and facing forwards again.

When was the last time I ever spent any real time in the open country? Far too long, not since I'd moved to the mainland at least. Maybe this could be a nice escape from everything for a while? Nature was always relaxing.

The rolling plains and fields had begun to give way to to wooded areas, and we drew closer to a forest that looked like it had seen better days. Most of the trees were dead, but a few still clung to life. The underbrush was thick and dense, parted only by the crumbling remains of the tarmac that cut thought it.

"We should find a little bit of everything in here. Silver, I'll show you what's what." Make Do said as we reached the treeline. The griffon spread his wings, and with a powerful thrust pushed himself into the air, perching on a particularly thick branch up high and looking out back the way we'd come. Silver had wandered into the brush already leaving me to catch up. The ground was thick with long fallen leaves and soft moss, the earth itself soft and spongy from the rain.

Make Do was stood by a small, sad looking tree, with almost autumnal looking yellow leaves sprouting all over. On the ends of some of the branches were purplish looking lumpy bulbs, almost like a plum gone very, very wrong. The mare pulled one from the tree, floating it over to me before picking another one for herself.

"This is a Mutfruit. I've never seen it in any of the old recipes I've found, so I think it must be a post-megaspell kind of thing, probably new to you I guess." She explained, I nodded, I'd never seen anything like it before. "They're pretty common, the plants seem to grow all over the place. Fruit's not bad, got a kind of crunch to it, kinda like a mix of an apple and a cherry?"

I looked the thing over. It almost looked like a bunch of grapes, if all the grapes were comically overgrown and there were only a few of them.

I turned it around, inspecting it from all angles. It was very unfamiliar, that was certain. The colour seemed inconsistent, there were lighter patches all over and lumps on some bits. The thing apparently being the result of a world-ending event wasn't doing it any favours in my book either. I shot a skeptical look at Make Do. She'd already started eating.

"C'mon, it's not gonna bite you. It's a fruit." She said flatly, taking another bite.

I sighed and shook my head. She was right, I suppose, and seeing her eating one did make me more comfortable that it wasn't toxic or anything. I lifted the thing to my mouth, taking a bite out of it. It was not unpleasant, and quite juicy. Crunchy, as described, and it did indeed taste a little like the bastard offspring of an apple and a cherry. Something of a bitter aftertaste to it, though.

"Not bad, right? Better than nothing for breakfast, anyway." The mare said, throwing away the stem of her fruit. "Let's see what else we can find. Shouldn't take too long. To be honest most folks get their food from town, but it never hurts to know what to look for in a pinch."

We began to move deeper into the woods, the trees thickened even more, the undergrowth thinning out slightly. The ground was clearer, but despite looking around for what felt like at least half an hour, we found a few examples of other food, a few wild carrots (which I could identify anyway), the funkiest looking acorns I'd ever seen, some wild mushrooms, and some strange glowing fungus that I was adamant was going no where near my mouth.

"Shoot, guess somepony else must've passed through and harvested all the good stuff, sorry Silver. I'll show you around the market sometime, you'll see plenty of stuff you can forage for there." Make Do said, frustrated. We made our way back to the road, and back towards her dad.

A loud crack rang out, causing me to jump out of my skin. The griffon was still perched in the tree, but was now holding the big rifle, aiming down. We trotted over to see what was going on, on the road was a grotesque lump of a creature, spherical and covered in tumors, topped off with dirty looking gossamer wings, and pointed spines all over. The ground below it was stained with a puddle of nasty looking green blood.

"Ugh, I thought we'd cleared all these things out." Make Do said, kicking the body out of the road with a thump and wiping her hoof on her jacket.

"What is that?" I asked, covering my noise with a hoof. The thing smelled awful.

"Bloatsprite." Said the griffon, gravelly voice booming out. He glided down from the tree, the breeze he created washing over me, and landed in front of us. "They get everywhere."

"They're easy enough to take care of, but if they get the jump on you they can shoot some nasty stingers." Make Do elaborated. "Don't worry though, dad'll show you how to handle them!"

He grumbled and rolled his eyes.

"Speaking of which" The mare said, looking at her PipBuck. "I gotta go, Ms. Fowl's asked me if I could build her a new fence, keep the dogs out of the chicken coops and all!"

After everything I've seen so far, that sounded pleasantly normal.

"I'll leave you two to it, I should be back before sunset anyway. Catch you later!" She said cheerfully, turning and following the road further into the forest.

That left me alone with the imposing griffon. I looked at him and he looked at me. Neither of us spoke. It was intensely awkward. He huffed, and set started walking back out of the forest, down the road we'd come up.

"This way." He commanded. I didn't need to be told twice.

We silently ambled our way back towards the scrapyard. The ground was wet with puddles by now, the rain not getting any better or worse. I grimaced a little at the damp dirt building up around my fetlocks, but there wasn't really anything I could do about it.

The quiet was unnerving. Only the breeze, the drizzle, and my own rhythmic hoofalls coupled with the odd scratching sounds of talons on asphalt. I had my ears perked up for anything, on edge after the whole 'bloatsprite' thing. I didn't like that even the bugs were dangerous around here now, as if things weren't already bad enough. Was there anything out here that wasn't going to try and kill me?

A stiff breeze caused me to shiver. My jumpsuit had pretty much soaked through by this point. Being in the dry again would be most welcome.

Fortunately we weren't too far away from the scrapyard now, having reached the junction in the road. However, to my disappointment and confusion, the griffon carried on past the dirt path and further on down the road, towards the tunnel I'd passed through with Make Do the other day.

We walked past the old carts and signs I'd seen before, and back to the mouth of the tunnel. I was surprised to see that the body of the so called 'Radhog' was gone, thought the remaining puddle of congealed semi-washed away blood was enough to make me a little queasy.

We walked through the entrance and just past the piles of sandbags when the griffon stopped and fumbled around with something or other before the whole tunnel lit up in front of us, placing a very large industrial looking torch on the ground. I had a sinking feeling, I didn't know what would go into 'fighting' training, but it sounded like I was going to get hurt.

For the first time since we'd set off he turned back to look at me, emotionless and steely. I gulped.

"Alright, I don't know you, you don't know me. My daughter has very kindly asked if I could educate you on basic combat techniques, which she said you were obviously lacking." He said.

Was I really that bad? I hadn't had much time to prove myself one way or the other. I thought so, anyway.

"I'm going to assume that we're starting from scratch here, unless you prove otherwise." He continued, setting his gun down against the wall. "We've got a lot to cover, and my patience will only go so far. So unless you've got anything to say, I'd prefer to get started sooner rather than later."

"Um..." I said, wracking  my mind to try and think of a way to delay the training. "W-what do I call you? I-I mean, it'd be kinda awkward to just call you 'Make Do's Dad', right?"

He smirked at that, the first real emotion I'd seen from him, even if it was only slight.

"Most ponies call me Sir, but seeing as I'm not on duty right now, and you're a friend of my daughter's, my name is Gabek Goldwing. Mr. Goldwing to you." 

That was an odd name, didn't sound like any name I'd ever heard. But then again I hadn't really met any griffons before. And what did 'not on duty' mean anyway? 

"If that's all then let's get started, I'd like to get back to enjoying my time off." He finished.

Crap, now I was out of time and my mind was blank of any possible distractions I could throw in. It looked like I was about to learn combat techniques from a big scary griffon. Maybe I could just say I didn't want to do this and that'd be that, but something told me that Make Do would find a way to make sure I had this lesson one way or another. I resigned, I was going to have to do this. And to be fair, Make Do was probably right, if the world was as dangerous as it seemed.

Celestia, that was a depressing thought.

"Usually I'd start with strength training and unarmed combat, but since I'm condensing everything down, and Make Do seems to think you've never used a gun before, firearms are probably a better place to start. It's preferable to take care of a threat before it has a chance to get close." He said, pulling a pistol from one of the pouches attached to his armour. "We'll start with this. It's pretty basic, but ammo is pretty easy to find, and it's a breeze to maintain. You'd do well to get used to it."

He passed the weapon to me and I looked it over. It was very similar to the revolver I'd found in the hub, though it seemed a lot cleaner and better maintained. I still wasn't all that excited about it being in my mouth though, I didn't know where it had been!

"It's better than nothing, but I'd suggest finding a battle saddle or a holster if you want to talk and not be utterly defenceless. A lot of folk prefer to settle things without words, though. Take from that what you will." He gestured to the gun and then to me, I took the hint and grabbed the handle with my mouth.

"It's not loaded at the moment, just in case, but honestly it's pretty hard for a pony to hold one of those things wrong." He said, inspecting my hold and getting awkwardly close to my face in the process. "It's pretty simple, point where you want to shoot and pull the trigger with your tongue. Line the sights up on the top at what you're trying to hit, the one on the end of the barrel should be in the middle of the two closer to you. The recoil from firing is going to mess up your aim for the next shot, it's going to want to pull your head back and sideways, so try to counter it. You've got six chances to hit something before you need to reload. And on that subject-"

He pulled a damp and worn looking cardboard box from one of his pouches, opening the top and revealing that it was full of loose bullets. He pulled six out and grabbed the barrel of the pistol, I let go of it and he took it, flipping the spinny bit out.

I'm sure it probably has a technical name.

"Let's see what you can do."

He put six bullets into the gun and pointed at a barrel further down the tunnel, just about illuminated from the torchlight.

"Don't point at anything you don't want to shoot. Try and hit that barrel over there, you've got six tries. And remember what I said about recoil." He gave the gun back to me, I got it sitting comfortably in my mouth and looked down the sights, squinting to line everything up.

I was pretty confident I had the thing aimed pretty well at the barrel. I put my tongue to the trigger and-

BLAM!

Shitting crikey that was loud! My ears pinned back, but they were already ringing. The sound reverberated off the tunnel walls, and I was glad we were stood right by the mouth or I'd imagine it'd be much worse. The recoil wasn't actually as bad as I was expecting, but still came as something of a surprise.

"Not bad, but you only grazed it. Try again."

I missed? I was really sure I had everything lined up. I got myself ready to fire again, this time keeping my ears folded preemptively. This time I was definitely sure it'd be a direct hit. 

BLAM!

"You got it that time. Carry on." The griffon spoke. I was feeling a bit more confident now, it wasn't actually as bad as I had been expecting. I could even see the bullet hole I'd made on the surface of the target barrel.

I repeated my motions, firing off each shot quicker than the last as I adjusted and got used to the weapon. The whole thing ended with a click, I'd used up all my bullets. I took the gun out of my mouth and turned to Mr. Goldwing, who was inspecting the barrel.

"Well, color me impressed, you managed to get your shots closer together than most rookies. You've got a good eye, Silver, you might be a natural." He said, again with hints of a grin creeping in. I took the praise, but I still wasn't really sure if this was something I should be proud of being good at.

"That said, a barrel is a barrel, hitting something coming at you is a whole different can of worms. That, and being a crack shot means nothing if you're out of ammo." He passed me the box of bullets. "It can be tricky to reload with hooves. Pull back the little release tab there, the cylinder will open up."

I took the gun in my hooves and did as he said, and the spinny- cylinder, I guess, fell open.

"Now tip it back and tap the rod sticking out, that'll dislodge the old casings." 

I pushed down on the rod, and the empty bullet casings fell to the ground with a clatter. I went to pick them up again, but was met with a quizzical look from Mr. Goldwing, so I stopped. It felt weird to just leave them though. Was it littering? I guess no one out here would really care, everything was in a pretty bad state anyway, I doubt these loose casings would be anyponies biggest concern.

"Now you just replace the bullets. Revolvers aren't the quickest thing to reload without a speed loader, if you manage to find one out there, but they're sturdy and reliable." He explained as I fumbled around with the bullets, trying to slot them in to the cylinder. He was right, it was tricky. I did manage to get them all in, but it was a pretty clumsy experience. Bullets are very hard to grasp with hooves! I bet unicorns have a much easier time of this, and griffons. Mr. Goldwing made it look effortless with his talons.

Stupid catbirds and their weird claw-digit-things.

"Close the cylinder again and you're good to go." He finished.

It closed with a satisfying click. I have to say it felt good to give it a spin, like in those old detective films. Mr. Goldwing didn't really see the humour in it though.

"Well, that's pretty much the basics for a gun like this. I'm not much of a teacher, but hopefully you won't be totally defenceless now. I'll set up some other targets for you. Spend some time getting used to the gun, you'll probably end up using more than you think." He said, skulking of further into the tunnel to arrange some other things to shoot at.

I just hoped he was wrong about how often I'd have to use this thing.





It was starting to get dark by the time we called it quits. We'd spent a couple of hours in the tunnel, shooting. I have to admit, it was actually kind of fun, even with the very scary griffon correcting me all the time. My ears certainly appreciated the quiet, though, they'd be ringing for a while after that.

I'd gone to give Mr. Goldwing the gun back, but to my surprise he told me to keep it, saying I'd need it much more than he would. It was in my front pocket, as I didn't have a holster, nor did I feel like carrying it around in my mouth all day.

Much to my joy, we didn't go in to any up close, unarmed fighting, though Mr. Goldwing did say that that'd come later. Much later, if my luck held on, I wasn't really looking forward to fighting with this absolute unit of a griffon.

We walked back to the scrapyard in silence, again. Still awkward, but it felt a little less hostile, which was progress I suppose. We'd managed to make it back before Make Do did. I didn't really know what to do with myself, whereas Mr. Goldwing went straight for the storage room. A curious peep inside revealed that he'd set himself up in a makeshift hammock between two shelves and was reading something or other, gently swaying from side to side. The most Dad-ly thing I'd seen him do so far.

I didn't have anything to read, or really anything to do at all for that matter. I tried to find something to do, finding a stack of old and kinda moldy old magazines on a shelf by the kitchen. I flipped through them, it made me feel like a I was in the waiting room for the dentist.

It suddenly crossed my mind that I'd not brushed my teeth since this whole mess began. That must have been five or six days now? I cautiously checked my breath. It was not good.

Making a mental note to find a toothbrush somewhere, I picked up the cleanest looking magazine in the pile. It was an old issue of Gemfinder's Monthly, and it had certainly seen better days. But, it was at least legible, and I could probably kill an hour or so flicking through it, as dry as it might be. No idea what made Make Do want to keep these cruddy old magazines anyway.

I made my way back to the bedroom and sat down, literature in hoof. I'd never been one for hunting gems really, my talent lies with precious metals, but it was at least relevant to jewelry and the like. I imagine I'd have found 'Terminal Topical' a lot less engaging.

This thing must have been left out in the sun for ages. Everything was faded, colours were totally gone, and even dark tones had turned to light greys. It was a struggle to make out a lot of the cover, but luckily inside had fared a little better.

It was, as expected, very dry. Most of it was focused more on the magic side of gem usage, which for obvious reasons left me pretty uninterested. The paper had gotten pretty brittle over time, and little bits of it crumbled away every time I turned the page. 

The one thing I wasn't really counting on was me getting upset over adverts. I'd seen them all the time when I lived in town, in other magazines, billboards, all over. It was kind of a tangible thing. There was a full page spread for a new restaurant, La Scale, some kind of dragon-centric cuisine based around edible gems. I was vaguely familiar with it, I think I walked past it once or twice when the building was under construction. Very nicely presented and looking very fancy, and due to open next month. Er- was due to open the month after I became a statue. Years and years ago now, the place probably never even made it to it's opening day.

What month was it, anyway?

It was very odd to be nostalgic for a place I'd never even been to, a place that never even saw the light of day. I supposed it was probably odd to be nostalgic at all, everything I knew was still only a few days ago in my memory. But still, it was all gone, and by the nature of the total annihilation that had ravaged the country, I was no doubt going be constantly presented with relics from my own time, constant reminders of when things were good. Or at least much better than they are right now.

I scanned the advert taking everything in. It was all beautifully painted, the image of a resplendent looking stone building, a smiling family in the front, a team of dragons working in the kitchen. All worn with time, the paper damaged by years of neglect, everything left to rot. Much like the entire country, I supposed.

My mood was thoroughly ruined, and the worst part is that I knew that this would happen time and time again, any time I saw something I recognised.

Sighing, I flipped the page over and stared. I didn't really have it in me to read any of it anymore. It just sat on the floor, sadly looking up at me. I was probably the first pony to open it in a long, long time.

I got stuck in that strop for a few minutes, until the sound of the front door slamming open shook me out of it.

"'Mmm backh!" Came Make Do's muffled voice. I got up and trotted out of the room to meet her. She was in the doorway, closing a battered looking umbrella (that I'm very sure she didn't have when we left) with her magic, and carrying a basket in her mouth. She was also now sporting a rather large bandage on her right hind leg, and it was clear that she was limping a bit as she walked to the table.

"What happened?" I asked. She dumped the basket on the table before speaking.

"Those dogs we were trying to keep out turned up before I finished the fence, lots of them. They didn't go down without a fight, but we managed to keep them away from the chickens!" She explained, smiling.

"Are you okay? That's a big bandage." I pointed out.

"I'll be fine, only one of them got me, and it wasn't that bad. Ms. Fowl patched me up, even gave me that umbrella for the trouble, she's so sweet." She replied, waving off my concern and flicking on the stove. "I hope you like eggs, because I got a lot of them."

I poked at the lid of the basket, lifting it up slightly. She did have a lot of eggs. A lot of eggs.

"That, um, that is a lot of eggs."

"Yeah, we didn't know how to work out payment so we agreed on a gross. Did you know that's 144 eggs? I had no idea!" She replied, beaming and floating a few of the eggs over to the kitchen.

I was at a loss as to how she was going to keep this many eggs unless we were literally going to have eggs for every meal, which in all fairness wasn't beyond the realm of possibilities. Still, it was actually kind of nice to know that there were still ponies out there farming, there was still food to be produced, and trade to be had for it. That was a good sign for society getting back on it's hooves, I hoped.

I sat at the table, content to just watch her cook for a while. I'd have offered to help out, but my cooking skills were sub-par to say the least, and she seemed to have a handle on things anyway, injured or not. The sound of frying filled the room as egg after egg flew into the pan, leaving me with the distinct impression that dinner tonight was going to be a bit samey.

The sizzling eventually stopped and was replaced with the clattering of age old plates, the scraping of utensils, and the shimmer of magic. Make Do brought over three totally laden dishes, full to the point of spilling over with just fried eggs. A lot more than I'm sure most ponies could eat in one sitting. I internally sighed, I might as well get used to it because from the look of things, this was going to be all our meals for quite a while now. Still, I couldn't be too upset about free food, it was certainly a lot better than no food.

"Dad, dinner!" Shouted Make Do as she sat down at the table, already tearing into the meal.

The griffon sauntered into the room, taking his own place at the table, and with enthusiasm the likes of which I'd never seen before, practically demolished his meal. I was sat wide eyed, shocked at the voraciousness of this leviathan of a griffon. He looked back at me and smirked, the most expressive I'd seen him today.

"C'mon Silver, it's gonna get cold." Make Do prompted. I broke my gaze away and picked up a fork, eating at a steady pace, still unsure as to how that much food made it into that griffon that quickly. He was now reclined back in his chair, inspecting his talons.

I looked at Make Do, and while not as fast as her dad, she was certainly no slouch either, having already gotten through most of her dinner. Did either of them even taste any of it? I'd not seen Make Do eat like this before. She must just really like eggs, I guess.

While she wasn't as fast as her dad she was certainly a lot more messy, managing to get yolk all over her muzzle, and some of it even ending up in her forelock. I couldn't help but chuckle at the sight, she was eating like a foal.

"What's funny?" She asked.

"You, um-snnnrk- you got some on..." I gestured to her face, trying to hold back a full blown laugh. She wiped her face with a hoof, only managing to smear food all over her face. 

"Did I get it?"

I couldn't hold it in any more, it was such a feeble attempt, and she just looked ridiculous. I burst out laughing, cackling at the sight in front of me, struggling for breath and snorting. It was just too good, and Make Do still looked clueless. All those nights alone after work, and the time I'd spent here, it had been a while since I'd laughed this much.

It felt good to laugh.





Level up!
New Perk (Silver Sterling): Steady Aim - Stay on target! You accuracy is improved when using small guns.

New Perk (Make Do): Toughness - When you are tough, you take less damage. Each level of this Perk will add +10% to your general damage resistance.