//------------------------------//
// Weathering 
// Story: Sunset: Stranded 
// by Viking ZX 
//------------------------------//


Chapter 20 - Weathering


It rained the next day, the air hot, wet, and muggy.

Sunset didn’t mind. It gave her an excuse to cut her travel short and collect rainwater. Her body still ached from the mad dash out of Tanover, and part of her was still worried that at any moment more of the flying beasts would drop from the sky, surround her small camp … and that would be the end of her story.

But they didn’t. Either the scant concealment offered by the scraggly, almost dead tree she’d taken shelter under was enough, or the Locust simply didn’t care about the fates of the two dead soldiers.

Neither thought was comforting.

She was bruised, too. Along her arms and wrist both. The first from her impact with the lobby door, the second from her twisted firing of the shotgun. Her wrist had been an ugly shade of ochre when she’d awoken, swollen and stiff, but nothing about it had felt broken. Some of the painkillers she’d brought with her had helped ease the sting, but she’d still found herself babying the hand by the time she’d called the day early and set up camp. Adding a wrap to it had helped, but now the bandage was wet, an extra weight she didn’t want to deal with but had to.

What a mess. The ground around her, bare and barren probably since whatever the hammer strike had done to it, had turned to sticky mud under the rain, leaving her with little place to sit but atop her own wagons. Hopefully the mud wouldn’t stick too badly to the tires when the time came to move on.

In a few hours, she thought, rain drumming down on her face as she looked up. Just a short rest, then we can move again. Every mile mattered.

She checked her collector, a sense of pride flaring in her chest as she eyed the small, carefully folded tarp. The Guard who taught me how to do that would be proud. What was his name? Eh, it doesn’t matter. What mattered was that even without magic she’d managed to use two of the wagons, some rain-cleaned rocks, rope, and a tarp to make a rain collector that was busily feeding water into her filter. Which was then slowly filtering that rain into one of her empty jugs. It wasn’t quite quick enough at it to avoid overspill, but she’d accounted for that too, making sure that none of it or any of the rain entered the neck of the jug. Rain it might be, but the condition of the land around her was enough to make her think twice about simply drinking it.

As for getting rained on myself … There wasn’t much she could do about that. The downpour was omnipresent enough that there was no hope of staying dry without having found or set up shelter within moments of it arriving. She’d just have to hope that whatever toxins had killed the soil for dozens of miles around the city had rained themselves out long ago.

Or that they won’t kill me from skin contact. Or that my filter can catch them. She leaned back, resting atop her backpack and shifting slightly to find a more comfortable position. Too much to worry about considering I have no control over it.

Her wrist let out a pang as she shifted on it without thinking, a spike of pain that almost drew out a hiss of discomfort. Definitely a sprain at the very least. One more thing to worry about as she journeyed onward. At least she could still write with her other hand.

She shifted, the faint drumming of the rain filling her mind as she closed her eyes, an organic, soothing rhythm. There was a warm bubble deep inside her, its gentle heat leaking out ...

A few minutes later she was asleep.


*	*	*


Day Thirty. Tyran Croplands.

It’s actually called that.

The wrist is feeling better, I’m relieved to be able to say. I don’t know if it was the medication or something else, but it seemed to heal quite quickly compared to what I would have expected from my pony body. Suspiciously quickly, actually. I should have paid more attention to it, but at the time all I wanted to do was get away from Tanover.

Nothing has come after me, thankfully. I’ve seen no sign of any Locust. I suppose they really don’t care about two of their comrades. That they could be so callous about their own … But it does seem in line with this world. I only hope the serans I encounter aren’t as cold.

Serans? Humans? I found the second entry in my dictionary. Apparently they are interchangeable. When I meet some at last I’ll need to watch what I say until I hear which term they use. I’m already going to be strange enough. The less suspicious I appear, the better.

Rain’s slacked off. Not much else to say, but at least it let me rest and refilled most of one of my water jugs.

Food’s starting to get low, though. I’ve decided to stop at the next estate or farmhouse I see and check it for supplies. I’ve still got enough for a good week or more, but I’d rather be prepared.


*	*	*


Day Thirty-three. Still in the Croplands.

As near as I can tell, the Croplands are a counterpart to the Golden Plains west of Canterlot. A breadbasket several hundred miles across.

It looks like the Locust knew this too. Earlier today I found a dairy farm of some kind—non sapient, if my books are to be believed—and it had clearly been hit by the horde. I know that destroying supplies in war is a valid tactic, but … It made me sick. I don’t think those that worked there had any idea what was happening. Or maybe they did. Either way, I don’t think they lived, and that’s all I want to write about that.

I did find some stored food that was still good, however. Nothing special, just dried pasta. It’ll work, though, even if it means it takes a bit longer to cook at night. It’s light and compact, so I’ll keep it. I’ll just wait to eat it. I still might find another stash of the boxed meals. They’re tasteless, but they’re easy.

I have a choice coming up. Her pen paused, tapping at the page.

If I keep on the road I’m on, I’ll reach a small city soon: Bendal. I’m guessing, based on its position in the middle of the Croplands and the number of roads leading to it, that it was a central agricultural site.

Specifically, it’s the railway lines that make me think this. Several lines intersect in the city. Including a few that go directly to the Jacinto Plateau.

The back roads go there too. And I don’t know how the wagons would handle the railways. I don’t actually know what the railway lines here look like up close.

But in Equestria, we had smaller train platforms—I think they were called pump cars, which now that I write it, could explain the seran road “car”—that one or two ponies could use to travel less-used railways when the trains weren’t running. On the edges of the network, or on old lines.

It’s a lot faster than walking. I could load up my wagons and supplies and use the rail line to travel a hundred miles in a day if they have that, rather than the ten to thirty I’ve been doing.

Again Sunset tapped her pen against the pages of her journal, pausing for a moment to think before writing more. This assumes such a thing exists, and that I can find one. And that I won’t attract Locust attention if they’re in the city. Though after Tanover—

Her pen slipped, leaving a long line up across the page and through some of the earlier text. “Feathers.” She rubbed at the ink, but it had already dried. Unsurprising, considering that her own hand hadn’t left a streak in the characters as it had passed over them while she’d been writing.

What was that? She glared at her hand, but it didn’t divulge the cause of her sudden twitch. She rolled her fingers, eyeing them anyway, then picked the pen back up and began writing once more.

—I’d rather avoid Locust if I can help it. I came very close to— Her whole arm seemed to stutter as she forced the next word out, and she took a deep breath to steady herself.

—dying there.

I got lucky. Yes, my smarts helped, but I got lucky.

When had she started shaking?

I’d rather not go through that again if I can help it. Not, at least, without better preparations.

She set the pen down before her writing could become too jittery, staring at her hands and forcing herself to slow her breathing. The seconds ticked past, the tremors fading, the pounding of her heart slowing back to something more normal.

What is wrong with me!? Already it almost felt as if nothing had happened, except ... Is that … because of what happened in Tanover?

This time the shaking didn’t come, nor the sudden shortness of breath. Just a sickly feeling of unease.

That’s not good. Her throat felt dry. That’s not good at all. She sat for a moment, carefully breathing in and out, before picking the pen back up.

As much as I don’t wish to admit it, that’s the truth. I was very lucky. If I ran into more—

Again she set the pen down as her body began to shake. The tremors passed quickly yet again, but they were not a good sign.

—it would be bad, she finished. Especially if the shaking panic I’m now experiencing whenever I think about it persists.

This time the trembling didn’t come. She wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.

Immediate point being that I’ll have to decide when I reach the city. Assuming it wasn’t entirely wiped out by hammer strikes.

I hope not. I got very tired of all that grey. Sunset looked up, away from her journal and toward the more alive bits greenery around her. Wild and untamed as it was, it was far preferable to the dead grey of ash.

If I can’t follow the railway, then I’ll need to keep walking. Or find another mode of transport. I’d estimate that by now, I’ve walked almost three hundred miles, but not in a straight line. Plus a hundred of that was from Holton to Passtil, which was northerly.

I’m still a long way from the plateau. And when I think about how many close calls I’ve had already—

A shudder worked its way through her, rolling from the top of her head all the way down to the tips of her toes, but it didn’t persist. A single, understandable, acceptable reaction, then. Unlike her earlier response.

—the sooner I stop having them, the better.

It only takes one mistake.

Tomorrow I’ll see what Bendal looks like.


*	*	*


That’s … smaller than I thought it would be, Sunset thought as she peered through her binoculars at the distant smudge on the horizon. But it’s definitely Bendal. The railway that the road she was following had passed over definitely had confirmed that. As did the faint, straight-lined gaps in the forest that converged on the city like the arms of a starfish.

Nothing’s really that tall, either. In fact, a lot of the city looked wide and spread out. Save a bunch of decently tall, squarish structures near the center. She gave them another look, though it was hard with the sun being so near to their backs. Grain towers, maybe? Impressive that they’re still standing after so long. I think?

Then again, the Cog do build things to last. The oft-echoed observation rang true once again. Or did, I guess. She lowered the binoculars, buildings turning into little but distant, far off smudges surrounded by greenery, then looked down.

At the ground. A good thirty or so feet below, which had seemed much smaller of a distance on the way up her current perch in the treetops.

“Okay Sunset. Now comes the fun part. Getting down.” Without taking the obvious quick and painful way. Slowly, with one hand still gripping the nearest branch, she placed the binoculars back into her pack, then wiggled that back around onto her shoulders.

“Can’t be too hard, right?” She eyed the nearest thick, heavy branch, a nervous flutter coming from somewhere inside her stomach. “After all, I got up here.” Thanks to some low-hanging but thick boughs. “I just do that in reverse to get down.”

Right? She poked out with one foot, probing for the next branch down while still holding tightly to the one behind her for balance. Was it really that far away when I climbed up? Her toes swept through empty air, infuriatingly far from their target.

I’ve climbed trees before. How did I get down—? “Oh.” Right. Teleport. And before I could do that … She felt her face flush. One of the Guard. It had been a game then, hiding and seeing how long it would take some of the Guard to look up. At which point they’d retrieved her with magic or wingpower.

Which isn’t going to help me now. She stared down at the distant branch. Wish I’d remembered that before I’d climbed up here.

I’m not going to drop, so … how to get down? She stared at the next branch down, trying to recall how she’d climbed from it.

I leaned into this branch that I’m on now, then swung my legs up. Which means ...  She let out a groan. Great. Slowly, an inch at a time, Sunset lowered herself into a crouch, one hand held firmly against the trunk of the tree, the other tightly grasping the branch she was balanced on.

Carefully, and with a faint rasp against the bark, she let her feet slip off of the branch, dangling in the air until she was sitting on her hindquarters.

Sore hindquarters, not that she’d noticed until the curve of the branch was digging into them. One more reason to get down as swiftly—But safely!—as possible. She swung both her feet, but neither could reach the next branch down. Which meant …

Sunset grimaced, then twisted her body, her backside sliding over the bark much as her boots had. There was a moment of brief panic as she started to slide … and then her outstretched toes hit the next branch down, bringing her slide to a sudden halt.

So far, so good. With one foot on the branch, it was easy to bring the other over, followed by the rest of her body and her center of balance. Then it was just a matter of repeating the process with each successive branch along the trunk. Though it was easier when the branches were closer together.

She had almost reached the bottom when her foot slipped. There was a sudden lurch in her stomach as she clawed for anything to hang on too … and then she was plummeting down toward the ground, bouncing off of what felt like every branch in her path with successive yelps of pain. She still managed to land on her feet, if only by luck and briefly, as her balance was completely gone and a moment later crashed down atop her backpack, the impact painful but doing little more than driving the breath from her lungs and maybe adding a few new bruises in hard to reach places.

Still, she let out a groan as she rolled off of her pack and onto her side, the moss and grass tickling her face. “Ow.”

Well, I’m down.

“Shut up, me.” She let out another groan before rolling onto her stomach and pushing herself up, getting her feet under her.

But it could have been worse. That I’ll admit. She glanced back up at the towering branches above her, swaying gently as if they hadn’t just shaken her off.

“Let’s not climb a tree again anytime soon.” She swung her pack around to check for any signs of damage, finding nothing more than a bit of grass stuck in the tape she’d used to cover up the bullet hole the pack had gained in Tanover. Finding that had been alarming. Thankfully, the protective spells on Starswirl’s books had held, blocking the bullet fragments with the covers suffering only a minor dent.

Yay magic. The books would have survived the fall, but her binoculars … Had as well, and she let out a sigh of relief as she examined the glass lenses. Not even a scratch.

Okay. As scary as that last bit was, I think this was worth it. She stepped away from the base of the tree, swinging her pack back across her back as she retraced the path she’d beaten in the brush from the road. Much of the plant-life had already sprung back up, but it wasn’t hard at all to find the edge of the road, marked as it was by a clear break in both the brush and the trees. A moment later she was by her wagon train again, heat shimmering up at her from the aged pavement.

I’m going to need to stop at the next creek I find and filter some more water, Sunset thought as she hooked her harness back up. Or raid another store somewhere in Bendal. If there are any.

Of course there will be. The sound of her footsteps settled into a gentle rhythm as she followed the road through the woods, the path winding back and forth but almost never up and down. The wind picked up, rising and falling, a constant presence at her back. Another similarity to the Golden Plains, though there were weather crews to modulate and control the wind there, lest less desirable outcomes such as tornadoes occured.

Wait a minute. She’d nervously noted a scar on the land the day before, a long trench in the earth that at the time had made her suspect a hammer strike or something similar, though there hadn’t been any damage to the road where it had passed over it.

Maybe that’s what that was. I should have thought of that sooner.

Maybe it hadn’t been, however. There was no way for her to say for certain. The road wound on, heat baking at her from above and below regardless of the stiffness of the breeze at her back. A sign on the side of the road neared, weathered and tilted to one side at a steep angle. Bendal - Three miles. I’m close. Not long after she passed an overgrown driveway, the first she’d seen that day. She peered down it, but couldn’t make out anything through the trees. Soon she passed another, this one rockier and slightly less overgrown.

Shadows began to stretch across the pavement as the sun sank lower in the sky. I should stop soon. Another drive passed by, its destination somewhere deep within the forest and out of sight.

The next drive, however, did not wind out of sight, but stopped in front of a decent-sized cabin a few dozen feet back from the road. Sunset slowed, sizing the structure up through the trees and noting the intact windows.

Good enough. It might even have some water. There did appear to be a tank of some kind along one side. Fuel or water, it was likely something she could make use of. And it’s getting dark.

I can get to Bendal tomorrow. Rolling her shoulders, she turned off the road, ready to make camp.


*	*	*


She awoke early the next morning, the sun just barely rising over the horizon as she set out, ready to reach Bendal at last. The cabin had been sparser than she’d expected on the inside; either already the target of other scavengers like herself or initially owned by people that had taken most of their furniture with them when they’d evacuated. Thankfully they’d left a few beds with bare mattresses, but neither of them had been comfortable. She’d ended up spreading her camping mat on the floor and sleeping there instead.

Now she was nearing Bendal, anticipation building within her with every passing minute. Already she’d caught sight of the towering grain elevators through the trees. There were more and more residences on either side of the road, each closer and closer together. The trees were starting to thin as well, growing smaller and showing signs of having once been cultivated.

Then the road curved, and Bendal itself came into sight.

It actually didn’t appear to be much. Smaller even then Passtil, though in fairness that city had been crammed into a small valley. Here there was plenty of space. And with their carriages, why not spread out? The road she was following ran in a straight line through what looked like the middle of the town, dropping slightly before rising a bit near the town center. The buildings were more spread out as well, the intersections wide and each building standing apart from the others. A few were clearly homes or simple storefronts, while another was—to guess based on a large sign out front that rose high above the surroundings—some sort of restaurant.

She followed the road, listening as the wind whistled around her and through empty windows in the structures ahead. Brush and creeping vines—same as the ones she’d seen in Holton—grew over storefronts and wound around railings, or jutted from cracks in the pavement. There was one thing she didn’t see, however.

There’s no signs of damage. Not from combat, anyway. She neared the restaurant on the edge of the city. A massive sign sat opposite it, across the road and half-covered in leafy greens.

“Welcome to Bendal,” Sunset read as soon as she could pick out the letters through the carpet of cover. “From our heart and hands to your stomach.” A faded, cartoonish figure smiled and waved from the corner of the sign, and she smiled back. “Friendly.”

Early morning sunlight glinted off the glass windows of a few cars still left in front of the restaurant. Sunset slowed, for a moment. Why leave cars there? A home was one thing … But in front of a restaurant?

Actually … She peered up the street, noting the number of cars sitting on either side of its wide expanse. There are a lot of cars. More flashes of light glinted from a wide space between two buildings. A parking lot, full of cars and trucks in all shapes and sizes, from small to large.

Fencing too, though not like any kind she’d seen before, made of long horizontal bars. She walked faster, wagons rolling behind her as more of the lot came into view.

Oh! The answer came with sudden clarity, her mind stripping away the grass and occasional vines from what was clearly a chute of some kind.

Granted, the massive shape of a cog military vehicle sitting behind it, towering over the other vehicles, didn’t exactly make it hard. Nor did the direction the chute was heading in hurt, since it was clearly moving in the direction of the center of Bendal, where presumably the railway station was located.

Evacuation. It made sense. Why bother choking the roads when a major railway line—several, in fact—ran right through the middle of the town?

Looks pretty orderly, too, she thought as she followed the street. They must have left early, in advance.

Here and there she could see signs that things hadn’t been perfectly clean. A stray bit of cloth that might have once been a shirt, wrapped around a porch railing. A muddy stuffed animal of some kind, caked in mud.

Clumps of … dirt? Sunset frowned. Ahead of her the street—and, she noticed, the roofs of some of the cars—featured dozens of large clumps of dried dirt, marking a path from one open field between a tailor’s shop and some sort of sporting goods store across the road to another matching open field on the other side.

The hairs on the back of her neck rose as she eyed the clumps. What would leave clumps like that but something from underground?

Then again … they were old and dry looking. Whatever had done it had probably been gone for some time. Right?

Still, there was something strange about the clods of dirt. She began moving forward again, wagons rolling after her.

From nearby there was a loud snort. Sunset bit back a scream, instead spinning and yanking the gnasher from its holster. She had a round chambered in moments, the safety off and the weapon held up at the ready. Her heart was pounding, each breath already coming in short, quick gasps. Another snort sounded from somewhere off to her left, and the brush in the overgrown lot began to move, shaking back and forth.

Wretches? She lifted the gnasher. Could a wretch sound like that? This had sounded louder, deeper. Larger, though there was a chance that was just the fear talking.

Branches cracked and shifted, covering another chuffing sound. Whatever it was, it was getting closer. Through the brush a massive shape emerged, nearing with every second. She sighted down the gnasher, aimed at whatever it was as it drew closer.

Then with a rush of parting branches, a horse pranced out of the brush, and Sunset almost dropped her gnasher out of shock.

At least, it was sort of a horse. It reminded her of the delegates she’d met from Saddle Arabia, at least in general shape. But where they had been thin and graceful, this horse looked like … like …

Well, it looks like everything else on this planet, she thought as she lowered the gnasher. Like it could knock a wall down by walking into it. The thing was massive, rippling with thick layers of muscle. Even its neck looked thicker than her entire body. It was as if someone had taken the shape of a horse and then simply piled more and more muscle atop it until it resembled something more akin to a machine.

The muzzle was long and flat, eyes widely spaced. But the most arresting feature to her eyes were its horns. Two of them, jutting out of the creature’s muzzle about halfway down its long length and branching out to either side, coming to four wicked-looking points.

She was suddenly aware of how fixed the creature’s eyes were on her, and how all it would need to do is lower its head and charge …

Except it didn’t. The massive beast let out a loud snort and tossed its head back before stepping fully out onto the pavement. Sunset’s eyes slipped to its hooves, widening slightly as she saw that they were made up of three segments, almost like paws rather than horse or pony hooves. Like a kirin, maybe, she thought, though she’d never met any examples of the reclusive species. But with three rather than—And it’s very close!

The “horse” was closing on her, head held back, and she was acutely aware that the top of her head barely came up to its forward shoulders. A long, thick tail whipped back and forth in the air behind it, tipped by a tuft of fur.

It was too late to run—the thing looked fast, and she was still attached to her wagons. She tensed as the massive animal walked right up to her, stopping just a foot or so away … And then with another snort its head bent down, hot air brushing her shoulders as it gave her a quick sniff.

“Uh … hello?” The horse’s ears, similar in shape to the ones she’d once had, twitched, and it turned its head slightly to look at her. “Are you … sapient? Can you speak?”

The horse blew a sudden breath out, lips flapping under the blast forceful enough to make her mane whip around her shoulders.

“Is that a no?”

Instead of snorting again, the horse tossed its head, then nudged her shoulder with its large nose. Lightly, but still with force.

Less the behavior of a sapient being, and more the actions of—

A pet! She thumbed the safety on the gnasher back as the “horse” stared at her, letting the weapon hang in one hand while she held her other palm out toward the animal.

The reaction was immediate. The horse shoved its nose into her hand, lips tickling the middle of her palm. She’d seen the exact same behavior from some of the animals in the Canterlot gardens.

It was looking for a treat.

Sunset let out a nervous laugh. “Hey there, uh—” She glanced at the animal’s underside, feeling slightly dirty as she did so. “Girl?” The horse pulled back, snorting through its lips and looking at her. “Hungry?”

Before the word had even finished leaving her mouth the horse took a step forward, snorting and shoving its lips into her palm again. When no treat appeared, its head moved toward her other hand, sniffing along Sunset’s arm and the length of the gnasher before letting out a disappointed snort, staring at her again. The animal was, Sunset noticed, surprisingly conscious of its horns.

Still, while the massive creature was a little unnerving, it didn’t appear hostile. Just … Hungry. What do I have that a horse could—Nuts!

“Hang on girl,” she said, turning slowly as not to alarm the large animal and slipping the gnasher back into its holster on the side of the wagon. Then she disconnected the harness, leaving the lead wagon handle standing upright in the air.

The horse stepped after Sunset as she moved around the side of the wagon, either glad to have found someone that looked like her old owners after so long or clearly understanding the term “food,” watching and letting out another snort of heavy warm breath as Sunset peeled the cover back from her food supply.

“Ah, here we go,” she said, grabbing one of the last tins of nut mixtures she’d found. The horse reacted immediately, tossing its head and letting out a bizarre whinny. “Hungry huh?” The horse watched as Sunset peeled the lid back from the container, but thankfully didn’t lunge or try to stick her nose in it, like some animals from the gardens.

“Let’s see …” Sunset peered down into the tin, her eyes settling on several of the larger, more circular nuts. “How about these?” She plucked three of them up—fingers were, she had to admit, almost as useful as a horn at times—and held them out toward the horse.

Again the animal stuck its nose and lips into her palm, sniffing and then greedily slurping the nuts out of her hand. She heard them crunch, the horse chewing loudly, and a few seconds later it swallowed and let out another whiny, shaking its head.

“Good, huh?” It seemed happy, with its tail lashing back and forth and the tossing of its—her—head, but it was … weird … trying to read the horse’s body language.

The horse’s nose and lips coming back to her palm to slurp excess salt, however, followed by its thick tongue sliding over her palm as it licked her, was a fairly clear indication of its interest.

“Okay okay,” she said, laughing as the horse lifted its head up and looked at her, as if asking why there weren’t already more nuts on display. “I can give you a bit more.” Not wanting to stick her freshly-licked hand into the can, she settled for tilting the container on its side and shaking an assortment of the salty treats into her hand, offering an array instead.

The horse devoured them with gusto, thick lips pulling them up and into its teeth. “You know,” Sunset said, watching as the horse chowed down. “I’ll bet with how orderly this evacuation was, there could be some stores around here with snacks like this.” I could restock my supply. And maybe find some more treats for this hungry girl.

Another whinny echoed from nearby, and the horse before her turned, responding with a nicker that, like the other noises it made, both sounded and felt strange. Which … Really shouldn’t surprise me. I guess I should just be glad the mirror didn’t give me one of these bodies. I’d be able to run away faster … but that’s about it.

The brush on the side of the road was moving again, what sounded like multiple figures passing through it, and Sunset tensed almost out of reflex. Only for several more of the horses to appear, moving out of the brush and into the street.

A herd. Her throat suddenly felt tight. There were five in total stepping out of the brush, all of them smaller than the one she was feeding.

Those three are male, she noted with a faint sense of embarrassment. And … smaller? Hmm … Interesting sexual dimorphism. I wonder if that holds true across other species on Sera? The last two were smaller still, clearly juveniles of some kind, their horns little more than nubs.

None of the new arrivals seemed as keen to get close to her as the leader of the herd, however, holding their distance and looking at her with wide, wild eyes. Some of them might have been born after everyone left, she thought. Maybe … She stepped to one side, not moving toward the herd but moving away from her wagon, and found a clear spot on the street, away from what she now understood were dried droppings.

“Here,” she said, selecting a clear spot on the street and tipping the can up, sprinkling an array of nuts out onto the pavement and spreading them. “You can all have some.”

She stepped back, watching the lead mare to see what would happen. Unsurprisingly, the other horses didn’t seem too enthused about her offering, but the lead mare stepped right up to them, sniffing the unfamiliar nuts and then digging in. One of the stallions stepped forward—slowly, with quick glances at Sunset—and then gave the spread a quick nibble before digging in. The rest of the herd, foals included, moved forward, though not without nervous looks in her direction.

It was both gratifying and strange to watch the herd devour her meager offering, but the warm feeling in her chest felt far better and stronger than the sense of unease she got from seeing something so close to her old form. Though it definitely was strange. The herd’s tails whipped back and forth as they munched down, quickly chewing through the little pile. As the last nut vanished, the lead mare once again looked up at her.

“Sorry,” Sunset said, slipping the lid back into place with a faint pop. “But unless I can find more food, I need to keep what I have.” The mare let out a soft nicker, still staring.

Sunset turned away, placing the tin back in the wagon and pulling the cover over it once more. The faint clop of hooves sounded on the pavement behind her, followed by a warm whumf of air on the back of her neck, and suddenly her chest felt tight.

I’ve gone far too long without real contact. She knew it, but the thought came all the same. She ignored the begging horse, instead stepping forward and clipping her harness to her train. “You wouldn’t happen to know where a small market might be around here, would you?” she asked, looking at the mare. It stared back at her before again looking at the cover over the tin of nuts and letting out a snort.

“Didn’t think so.” One of the juvenile horses was examining the rear wagon, sniffing at the covering. She watched it nibble before shaking its head and letting out a snort of its own, apparently disgusted. “Well, I need to keep moving, so …” She adjusted the straps of her harness, then began to move forward, pulling the wagons.

A moment later, the sound of clopping hooves joined the thump of her boots and the rolling rattle of her wagons. The mare was matching Sunset’s pace, walking alongside her.

“Guess you’re coming along for a bit, huh?” Her mind ran through several possible interpretations of the action in quick succession, discarding all of them. “I guess you’re welcome to tag along. I won’t be sticking around though.” The only response was another gentle whumf of breath.

“Lonely, huh? I get that. You miss your owner? How long has it been?” The horse didn’t respond, but it felt good to talk to someone, anyone, aside from herself. Even if they were a non-sapient.

“Yeah, I miss— I miss some of the ponies I used to know too. Different, but the same.” The horse continued to follow her down the street, the rest of its herd trotting along behind—though still keeping their distance from her wagons, she noticed. One of them lifted its tail to add to the clumps in the road, and she felt a momentary sense of embarrassment, her face flushing as she looked away.

“Believe me,” she said, staring ahead and giving the lead mare a sideways glance. “This is really weird for me. It’d probably be just as weird for you if I were still in my original form.” A chuckle slipped out of her throat trying to imagine her pony self looking up at the herd of horses, and the equally perplexed herd looking down at her.

“Then again, you’ve got those horns,” she said, giving the mare another sideways glance. “Maybe I’d have just had to run.” The mare snorted but, as before, didn’t speak. Nor was there any sign that it really understood much of what Sunset was saying past general noise.

Sunset let out a sigh. “Still, it’s nice to know something’s still alive out here. I wonder if you’ve had to run from the Locust. She could see a few lighter marks on the mare’s coat that looked like scars. I’ve got a few of those now myself. Her arm had healed cleanly—and quickly—but she could still see where the cuts had been.

Then again, that Locust that I blasted the other day seemed to be healing quickly too. She could still see its furious, angry gaze looking up at her as it had reached for its rifle. Well, not healing, but recovering? Closing off?

Life here is tough I guess. She was getting closer to the center of the city, closer to the massive grain silos and towers that had to be adjacent to, if not at, the railway station at the heart of Bendal. The cars on both sides of the road were getting parked tighter and closer together, and she could see ahead that the street itself had been turned into a parking zone, right in front of what looked like another military barricade.

She could make out a large block letter painted on an aged sign above the checkpoint. The letter “A,” straightforward and basic. “Looks like they had multiple checkpoints and probably assigned everyone from the region one to go to,” she said to the mare. “Canterlot has a similar system for disasters. Your owner go to one of these?”

The horse, of course, said nothing, but did take a sniff of Sunset’s mane.

“Well, it’s going to make finding the railway easy. And unlike Holton, it looks like no one here panicked. Though, to be fair, Holton got attacked during its evacuation.” She still hadn’t seen a single sign of that here. 

Which seems to have worked out for them. As tightly packed as the cars appeared up ahead, there was still a clear gap down the middle of the street, leading right up to the barricade wall. The barricade itself was made from what looked like stacked metal containers and concrete barriers. Repurposed, likely, from a farm. Sunset gave the mare another sideways glance. “Are you going to follow me all the … Hey!”

She slowed, the horse giving her a curious look. Off to the side of the road, past the massive body of the horse, was a familiar looking storefront consisting of empty, sloped, wooden tables.

A market. And better yet, the door was closed.

Food. And water. The front glass was dusty, and with the sun at the angle it was, she couldn’t see past it. But it was intact.

“Hang on there girl,” Sunset said as she unclipped her harness once more. The rear of the herd stopped by her wagon, one of them bending down and nipping the cover in its teeth. “And you stop that,” she said, waving a hand at the offending member of the herd. It snorted and stepped back, eyes wide. The mare, however, seemed indifferent to Sunset’s scolding. She’s probably seen it before.

“It’s not even the right wagon,” Sunset said, tapping the top of the foremost unit. “It’s this one. But if there’s food in that store, you can have it.”

She stepped around the mare, crossing the street and ducking between two of the parked vehicles to step onto the sidewalk. Up close there were even more signs that the place had once been a market. Likely a local one, if the basket-like setup of the front tables was anything to go by.

They were still in decent shape, though the covering at the bottom was coated by a thick layer of dirt that had probably initially been dust. The front windows and door were covered in more of the same, with cobwebs clustered around the eves, but up close she could still make out shelving inside.

Clunk. The door rattled as she gave it a quick tug. Locked.

But it’s all glass, Sunset thought, pulling her hatchet from her sheath. And since there’s no one else here but the horses …

The massive pane of glass shattered with a sharp crack as she drove the edge of the hatchet into it, breaking into dozens of pieces that dropped out of the frame and smashed atop the sidewalk or the interior’s linoleum floor. Two of the horses let out whinnies of shock and surprise, dancing back, and even the lead mare jumped slightly. More crashes filled the street as Sunset swept the hatchet around the upper frame, knocking loose bits of glass that hadn’t given way, then kicked those that were still stuck in the bottom free as well.

With the glass gone she could easily make out the interior of the shop, and as she’d guessed, it had the look of a small local market, though half of the shelves looked empty.

That was fine. What she had noticed was that the shelving that was occupied was laden with small boxes, tins, and cans.

“Jackpot.” She brushed glass to either side with her boot, shoving it away from the doorway and under the nearby tables in case any of the horses tried to follow her. Stepping through the now empty doorframe, she repeated the process on the far side, then turned her attention to the shelves.

A smile swelled on her face as she saw what was at the end of the closest row. “Perfect!” Plastic crinkled as she picked up several granola bars, and she turned toward the door.

“Here,” she said, shucking the plastic off and holding the small honey-granola bar out toward the lead mare.

No further urging was needed. Either the mare recognized the treat or the scent of it alone was enough to draw her in, but the mare darted past the cars onto the sidewalk, lips almost yanking the waiting bar from Sunset’s fingers and into its maw.

“You like these, huh?” Sunset reached out and gave the horse a quick pet along the side of her muzzle. It didn’t seem to mind the attention … though it also was busily crunching down the bar she’d given it. She peeled another bar open, holding the treat up as the other horses looked at her. “Any of you want one?”

The bar broke in half with a faint crunch beneath her fingers, and she tossed both halves over the roofs of the nearby cars. The horses shied back, but almost immediately stepped forward to nudge one of the bits. A second later it was gone, snapped up into eager jaws. The other half followed in quick succession.

“That’s what I thought.” She opened the rest of the bars and broke them apart before tossing them across as well. The mare nudged Sunset’s shoulder with a snort, and Sunset gave her the last bar.

“There you go, girl.” The mare let out a nicker of contentment. Her hands empty save for wrappers, Sunset stepped back into the store and took a closer look at the rest of the stock.

Well, she thought a minute later. Not all of this is useful … but the cans look good, and I can take the granola bars. There was a whole section of canned nuts as well, plus some jerky, though both offerings were light, as if they hadn’t been stocked in a while.

Which they probably weren’t. I’m lucky someone from the evacuation crowd didn’t clear this place out.

The real prize, however, was in the very back. Four large, dusty jugs of water, nearly identical to the ones in her wagon, sitting waiting on a lower shelf.

“Water and food! Even if I don’t find a fast way out of here, this stop was worth it!” She rummaged around through the rest of the shelves, but found little if interest past a few things of batteries, which she already had plenty of, and assorted knicknacks.

When she stepped back out of the store the horses were milling around in the street, not seeming overly concerned with what she was doing, but at the same time clearly not keen on wandering away, either. The lead mare in particular watched as Sunset loaded up the extra food, nudging her when she spotted the tins of nuts and earning another small scattering of what was left of the already empty can from the wagon to make room. She took all four jugs of water as well, loading them into the rear wagons. It would increase her load slightly, but she was doing fairly well so far, and the extra, empty jugs could be dumped later if she felt like it. Though having six might be a good idea.

Her work didn’t take long. She made a final check of the store to make sure she hadn’t missed anything useful, then stepped out into the sunshine once more, adjusted one of the covers where one of the younger horses had nipped at it, then clipped herself in and started forward.

“Oof.” With a clopping of hooves, the lead mare was next to her once more, the nudge of her nose suggesting that she wanted another granola bar. “Maybe seven full jugs is too many.”

The mare’s only answer was to blow a breath through her lips, making a raspberry.

“Well, if I get too tired, I can just drink more.” Sunset pulled one of her canteens up and shook it. “I should have filled these while I was stopped anyway. But I was too busy feeding you.”

Her tone had to have clued the mare in, because she let out another snort.

“You’re not sapient,” Sunset said. “But you’re not unintelligent, either, are you? You’d have to be to have survived out here on your own. Well, without serans, I mean.” She was nearing the packed cars, and to her surprise she noted faint lines drawn around the base of each one. Very organized. The gap that had been left in the middle was wide enough for her to get her wagons through, but …

If there’s a block later on, I’d have no room to maneuver and turn things around. Unless it opens up after that opening in the checkpoint. Unfortunately, a wall of sandbags, along with another of the large military vehicles, blocked her view of what lay past the barrier. She could still see buildings, however, including a large one that was either the town hall, the railway station, or—Maybe both.

“Well,” she said, looking at the mare. “You’re welcome to follow me, but I think I’ll be leaving my wagons here for a bit.” She glanced at the rest of the herd. “Hopefully your friends don’t try to eat them again.”

She disconnected the harness, but grabbed the gnasher just in case. The horses looked calm … But they can run faster than I can.

She was close enough to the grain elevators—That’s what they’re called! Not silos!—to see that they were less pristine than the distance had suggested. Green-leafed vines had wrapped around their lower portions, climbing towards the sun, and some of the catwalks that ran along the sides or top of the structures were sagging slightly. Which was probably something that would have been fixed if someone had been around to care.

But she was close enough to pick out details. Which means I have to be close to the station The mare was following her as she moved down the line of cars toward the checkpoint, the steady clop of her hooves almost soothing despite not being Sunset’s own.

“No signs of gunfire,” Sunset said as she neared the barricade wall. She glanced back at the horse. “Things here really did go well, didn’t they?” The horse didn’t answer, simply staring at Sunset over her horns.

“Wish I could have come out of the portal here,” Sunset said quietly as she began moving forward once again. Then again, that might have been worse in the long run. As terrible as Holton was, it put me on edge. This place wouldn’t have.

The barricade, as it turned out, was blocking off a village square that had been turned into a sort of processing station by more of the long, horizontal bars. Probably from the nearby farms, Sunset guessed as she stepped around the heavy, six-wheeled military machine that had been serving as a block to the rest of the square. Temporary tents had been set up on one side of the green and then abandoned before the weather had had its way with them, leaving two of them twisted, bent wrecks while the others simply had their tarps in tatters. There were tables scattered around as well, some still upright and others toppled.

The plaza itself showed clear signs of abandonment. Unlike the road, the square was made of brick and what looked like cobblestone rather than pavement, and as result there were tufts of waist-high grass almost everywhere Sunset looked. A statue in the middle of the square looked out over the checkpoint, a relief of a smiling woman with her arms folded across her chest. A founder of the town, maybe?

It wasn’t hard to locate the train station. One simply had to follow the flow of the “paths” that had been set up across the square. Her point of entry hadn’t been the only one, all the lines heading toward the left side of the plaza and into the tents. Tents that stretched across a massive lot probably meant parking before becoming part of the evacuation center.

Why the space had been given up wasn’t hard to make out. The building beyond it was clearly a public train station, similar in design and layout to some of the train stations in Canterlot—if a little less extravagant and more solid-looking—but definitely too small to hold the entirety of the town and its surrounding population.

And all their stuff, she noted, turning her focus toward a massive pile of abandoned baggage behind one of the tents. A number of the cases had split, spilling clothes across the rest of the pile, or in one case something that glittered almost like gold. Restrictions so that they could fit more people on the trains. The pile was old enough that not only had some of the creeping vines grown over it, but some of the clothes had grass growing out of them.

She could picture the scene in her head, despite the years. How many thousands of serans walked through these lanes? There would have been cog administrators or soldiers at the tables, instructing everyone to prepare to enter the station and board the train. The train itself had probably been longer than normal, using extra passenger or even cargo cars to fit people aboard. And everything had probably run on a strict schedule. This couldn’t have been the only place people were evacuating via trains from.

Or maybe it was. Maybe they’d had a train and simply decided to make the most of it.

She wound her way back and forth across the plaza, the gentle clop of her follower’s hooves still behind her as she followed the path. There’s the city hall, I guess. Don’t know what that building is.

But no Locust. Nor did she see any sign of cratered ground anywhere. I wonder why they didn’t bother. Was the town just too small? By the time it would have been worth it everyone was gone? She didn’t have an answer.

However, she could already see that there wasn’t really room for her wagon train to make each turn in the back-and-forth path laid out by the fencing. I’m going to have to take it all apart or find another way to reach the railway. If there even is anything there.

That’d be nice. I’m tired of walking.

She was moving through the tents when she saw the bodies. Four of them, all peacefully laid out on the pavement by the mound of baggage, little more than bones and scraps of cloth.

What—? Oh. “Accidents,” she said, looking back at the mare. The rest of the herd, she noticed, had finally followed, moving through the rows just as the mare had but pausing to graze at the tufts of grass. She turned back toward the bodies. “Most likely. It happens in Equestria too.” Though we’ve got ponies on hoof to deal with it. “You evacuate a city for safety reasons and somepony gets hurt. Or has a panic attack. Forgets a medicine they need. The same must have happened here.”

And they just laid them down in a row. A shiver rolled through her, fighting back against the heat of the plaza. I hope all of them were deceased when that happened.

Or that they didn’t make any of them deceased first. Another shiver followed the first, and she hurried past the remains. They wouldn’t do that, right?

Except that they used their own weapons on their own cities with their own people still in them.

Yup, not thinking about that anymore. She picked up the pace, moving out of the slim shade provided by the tents and back into the heat of the mid-morning sun. The parking lot was large, further divided by more barred fences into back-and-forth switchbacks. Sunset slipped through the bars at the end, skipping the roundabout path and stepping onto the station steps. Everything was dirty, covered in layers of dust and grime from years of abandonment, but without any damage it wasn’t hard to imagine what the place might have looked like in its prime as she made her way up toward the front doors.

Dozens, maybe hundreds of serans bustling around with things to do. What, she wasn’t certain. Jobs of some kind, probably. A tattered, faded banner hung above the open front doors of the station. Likely they had been instructions of some kind before the weather and sun had done their work. Someone had painted lines on the floor inside the station as well, dividing everything into colored lanes that moved through its small interior and toward the distant platform. And beyond that …

“Whoa, wait a minute.” She picked up speed, ignoring the clopping from behind her as her tag-along entered the station lobby. Past heavy, smooth-looking seats for waiting passengers, past the somewhat open and dirty doors to the platform itself was what had to be the railway … but it wasn’t anything like the railways on Equestria.

“That’s …” Sunset stepped out onto the platform, eyeing the gap between the deck she was standing on and the other side. The horse stepped up next to her, looking at the same gap and then turning to look at her as if asking what they were going to do next.

“That’s huge,” Sunset said, gesturing at the railway. “That’s … way wider than any trains we made in Equestria. How big were the trains here?”

As customary, the horse offered no answer, instead nickering and nudging Sunset’s hand with its nose once again, hunting for a treat.

‘I mean, we built some big trains back home,” Sunset continued, stepping toward the edge of the platform and eyeing the wide gap past it. “But they were still bound by the tracks. You could almost fit two of our railways between the tracks there!”

Maybe a little more, she thought as she looked out over the wide, heavy tracks. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Everything else here is built like it needed to last a thousand years. Why would the trains be any different?

And … She let out a sigh. “This probably means there isn’t something I can operate to ride along the rails,” she admitted. “It’d be huge, much bigger than what I was picturing.” She glanced down the tracks in both directions. To the east and her left, the tracks cut through the city, moving with a gentle curve until they bent out of sight. And to her right …

There’s the rail yard. Or what’s left of it. Was that a locust strike, or—? No. That looks self inflicted. The tracks were warped and twisted, what had been a turntable sitting at an odd angle and partially melted.

Again something she’d read about in history books back home. The Cog had denied the railway station, and likely any nearby junctions, by damaging them. Probably with explosives of some kind. Better than removing parts. Damaging them so that they’d have to be replaced if the Locust wanted to use them, making it a lot more work.

Which means even if there is something I could use at that train station, I probably couldn’t get it onto the tracks.

Great. She let out a sigh, only for a snort to throw hot air across the back of her neck.

“Well, at least this wasn’t entirely worthless,” she said, reaching up to pat the side of the horse’s neck. “I found some food. You got treats.” The mare tossed her head at the word treat, and Sunset laughed. “It’s too bad I can’t get you to pull my wagons, but I’m not sure you’d like that. Besides, it’d feel … weird. Don’t ask.”

The mare just snorted again, then nibbled at Sunset’s mane.

“Hey!” She batted her hair away from the mare’s teasing teeth. “I know it’s dirty, but it’s not that dirty.” The mare gave Sunset’s shoulder another nudge, clearly still caught on the word “treat” that had been uttered earlier.

“Fine,” she said, staring at the mare. “I’ll give you and your herd a little more when I get back to my wagons. But you can eat grass, and I can’t anymore. So just a little bit, all right?”

The mare tossed her head, and Sunset turned, retracing her path through the station and out onto the steps. The rest of the herd was milling around at the base, the older stallions nibbling on grass while the two younger members jumped in and out of the lane bars.

“The question now,” Sunset said as the animals looked up at her. “Is whether or not I want to check the rest of this place and see what I can find, or just get moving already.”

The mare nudged Sunset again, a gentle push with her nose between Sunset’s shoulders—and Sunset jerked, her body locking up. The mare let out a whinny of surprise, dancing back at the sudden movement.

“Sorry!” Sunset held up a hand to try and sooth the jumpy horse. “Sorry. I just …” Why did I do that? “You surprised me. It’s okay. It’s fine.” The rest of the herd was looking at the pair of them. “You just caught me off guard, and I didn’t want to fall down the steps.”

That’s it. Sure.

The mare was giving her an almost curious look, but after a moment’s urging stepped forward and sniffed Sunset’s palm once more.

“Right. I know. Treat.” She moved down the steps before the mare could start looking for the promised food. “Follow me.”

The herd parted as she neared, backing away and keeping their distance as she crossed the parking lot, returning to the tents and then heading back to the main plaza. A minute later she was back at her wagons, the herd clustering around her as she divided up three more granola bars for them to munch on. There were signs that the younger horses had nibbled at the coverings, but outside of a little stretching they didn’t appear to have done any damage.

Well, I guess if I go north and cut around the town center, I can follow the roads west and out of Bendal. There’s usually a road that runs parallel to the tracks for a little while, so that would be a nice straight line out of here. 

Better than nothing. She checked the straps of her harness and then began to pull, turning and retracing her steps down the street until she reached another intersection.

Again the herd followed, the clatter of their hooves against the pavement almost relaxing. None but the lead mare dared get too close, but the juveniles almost appeared to make a game out of darting up at the tires and then ducking away. Around them Bendal appeared almost tranquil, asleep. As if the act of scrubbing away the dust and grime and trimming back the out of control plant life would be enough for citizens to appear and start living in it once more.

Though … not entirely. Here and there were signs of time and weather having done their job more than most. A broken window, the cause unknown, opening the inside of a small business to the elements. A bent signpost that, in fairness, could have been from before the evacuation. Two vehicles abandoned on the side of the street in what clearly had been a collision, though a minor one, doors left open as the occupants had clearly decided to go the last bit of distance on foot.

She passed by a fuel station, clearly designed for the cars and trucks to refuel their internal storage of imulsion gas. Did they pump that out too, she wondered. Or did they leave it to sit in those tanks?

She slowed. And if they did … couldn’t I just put that fuel in one of the abandoned cars around here and … pilot it?

A look at a nearby truck parked on the side of the street was enough to make her question the idea. I have no idea how to operate one of those things, but certainly it’s more difficult than it looks.

It would save a lot of time. If I didn’t end up wrecking the thing.

She slowed, her eyes flicking back to the fuel station. I could try it, couldn’t I? Except …

“I think,” she said, looking at the mare walking nearby, “I probably should try either try something tougher, or smaller. On second thought, a lot smaller. Anything big is going to make larger vibrations—especially with an engine—and that means more chance of attracting the Locust. What do you think?”

The mare let out a whinny, tossing her head as if to draw attention to the fact that Sunset hadn’t said the word treat.

“Yeah,” Sunset replied, as if the answer had been the one she’d wanted. “I agree. It’s a good idea. But … not something that big. Though I am really tired of walking.”

The buildings around her began to thin out as she neared the edge of Bendel, giving her glimpses of the massive railway off to her left, and before long the road she was following joining with it, flanking the heavy tracks and held back only by a heavy concrete barrier topped with a wire fence. A thick-wired fence.

She’d almost gone a mile when she noticed that the clopping had slowed. She slowed as well, and a second later the echo at her back stopped. The lead mare was no longer at Sunset’s side, instead hanging back and looking at her.

“What?” Her hand dropped to her hatchet. “Is something wrong? Did you hear something?” But the mare’s ears weren’t back. Or even whipping around wildly. It wasn’t something threatening, then. Probably.

“Is it something ahead?” She took a few steps forward, wagons rolling easily along behind her. None of the horses moved. “Is it something bad? Or …?”

Her smile faded. “Is this as far as you want to go outside of the city?” Or maybe they’ve had enough time hanging around the only seran today.

The mare snorted. I don’t want to go ahead if it’s dangerous. But I could check to see if it is. She reached into her pack and pulled out a granola bar, the whole herd perking as they heard the sound of the plastic crinkling. She peeled the granola bar out of its packing, held it up so the herd could see … and then spun and hurtled it down the road as hard as she could.

It didn’t go very far, but it didn’t seem to matter to the herd, each of them taking off with a rudeness that made her yelp, galloping past her to be the first to the treat. One of the stallions reached the bar fragments first, slowing and snapping them up as quickly as it could.

The mare’s nose bumped Sunset’s elbow before sniffing at her hand.

“I get it,” Sunset said, offering the other half of the bar she’d palmed. “You’ll follow me as long as I feed you, but that’s what you’re here for.”

The mare snorted, and Sunset let out a laugh. “Fine. Well, at least with you around I know the Locust aren’t nearby.” Another snort, and Sunset showed the mare her empty palms. “Nope, no more. Time to move again.”

The road followed the tracks out of the city, the woods growing thick around them once more before giving way to more open fields of estates. The younger horses began to run back and forth, jumping stone walls into overgrown fields and playing with one another. Midday came and went, Sunset eating more of her newfound supply of nuts and sharing some with her escort. A few hours later, however, the horses came to a stop once more, the lead mare tossing its head as Sunset turned to look at them.

“I know,” Sunset said. “I’m not exactly giving you a full meal. You can’t stick with me.” She left the wagons for a moment, the rest of the herd stepping back as she approached. “But it was nice to have somepony else to talk to for a little bit, even if you couldn’t talk back.” The mare blew into Sunset’s palm, her breath moist and warm, then pushed her nose in, giving Sunset’s hand a small nuzzle. “I get why you don’t want to leave, though, so … Good luck. May the sun smile fortune upon you, and the moon light your path at night.” It was an old, formal goodbye, but it felt right to say it considering the herd were equines.

The mare and the rest of her herd stayed in place while Sunset walked back over to her wagons and clipped herself back into place. When she began walking none of them moved to follow. Not long later, there was the sound of hooves striking the ground like thunder, and Sunset turned to see the whole herd leave the road, galloping into the trees.

A minute later they were gone, leaving her alone once more.

Well, it was nice while it lasted. The inside of her chest panged slightly as she began to walk once more, but there was little she could do for it.

I’m so lonely I’m missing a group of alien horses that would have given me nightmares a few months ago.

Still, I could hardly call that a waste, she mused as the miles began to pass. The road stayed alongside the railway, occasionally rising above or below it, but generally following the same course. I found some more water, and some more food, even if most of it is made up of snacks. At least they’re high-density.

Plus, it was nice to see that not everywhere was a disaster. Some people made it out, nice and orderly. They didn’t even get … Wait, what’s that?

There was a distant shadow across the road ahead of her, crossing both it and the railway. She slowed, reaching into her pack and pulling out her binoculars for a closer look. A few seconds later, she almost dropped them in shock, ice spilling through her veins.

“No …” The word came out like a mutter. “Please no!”

It was a train. Or what was left of one. Somehow it had jumped the rails, the cars pressed up against one another like the folds of an accordion. Huge scrapes and gouges had been marred in the pavement, the fence between the road and the tracks mangled and crushed.

She broke into a jog, picking up speed as the wreck grew closer and closer. Maybe it was just a rearguard action or whatever the Guard called it. Another delaying tactic to make the railway unusable.

Like the other devastation she’d seen, it had clearly happened long ago. Step by step she neared the wreck, the pieces of what had transpired becoming clear. The rear car was twisted and lying at an angle atop the road, almost on its side. It was massive compared to an Equestrian train car, almost a mobile building. She kept her distance from its shattered windows, moving all the way to the edge of the highway to get past it. Debris was everywhere, much of it rubble or broken glass. The rest of the train came into view as she rounded the rear car, a wreck that stretched for hundreds of yards down the road and alongside it.

No bodies. Just debris. The sudden fear in her chest began to abate. Given everything else that the Cog had clearly sacrificed to stop the Locust, a train was almost small potatoes, and they’d wrecked the tracks anyway.

They would do it, she thought as she moved down the road, stepping over aged bits of shattered glass. In a heartbeat.

But that’s all it is. Just an empty—

Dusty white protruded through a nearby broken window, and her heart froze, dread filling her like a cold, deathly fog. With a click that rang across the still wreck like the bang of a judge’s hoof, Sunset detached the harness and walked over to the nearby window, praying that she was wrong.

A single glance inside the window was all it took, and she jerked back with a cry. The inside of the train was full of bones.

None of the evacuees from Bendal had made it to the plateau.