Fallout Equestria: Treasure Hunting

by Hnetu

Chapter 18: What Lies Beyond

Chapter Eighteen: What Lies Beyond
“War ravages more than the land and the soldiers, it hurts the morale of those at home. Sometimes a pony just needs a little break from reality. What’s wrong with escapism?”

“Hidden?”

“Huh, wha?” I muttered, snapping to attention.

“You’ve been staring a hole in the table ever since you got back from the gravesite. Are you okay?” asked Lost. She sat across from me at the atrium table, her hooves crossed in front of her. She stared at me over the rims of her glasses, both eyebrows raised.

“Just thinking, I guess. Something up?” I asked. I hadn’t been paying attention to the time, really. I’d been thinking about this whole trip and what the other side of the mountains might look like. I hadn’t left Blackhoof in as long as I could remember, and the thought of going so far from home scared me. Even if it was just a short trip through the mountain pass for a day or two, it felt like I’d be leaving everything I ever knew behind.

“The Wasteland wasn’t really meant for travel, not in a world where unfamiliar terrain could mean a hostile pony ready to gun down one of us without hesitation,” I said quietly. My mind switched gears, and I started to ramble, “I wonder if this is how the Steel Rangers felt, leaving their Stable. It was everything they’d ever known, and no matter how boring that was, it must have been a constant sense of familiarity. Knowing where everything is, all the safe spots and shortcuts? That had to make it feel like home. Leaving, even for a short ‘vacation’ of sorts... How could a pony just flee everything they knew?”

“They left as a family, together. We’re going to be together too, so we’re not leaving everything we’ve ever known,” said Lost. She poked my shoulder with a hoof. When I didn’t respond, she tilted my head up by pushing my chin with her hoof. “It’ll be fine, I promise.”

“I’ve just never been outside Blackhoof, and leaving is scary,” I admitted. I shuffled my hooves underneath the table, though the loud clanking of steel on steel gave it away.

“Actually, the Stable we were born in is on the other side of the mountains,” Lost said. She shrugged and lowered her hoof from my chin. “I guess you were too young to remember. Either way, it’s only a short trip. We won’t be gone more than a day.”

“Really?” I said, mulling that over. I guessed it made sense. The only Stables I knew about in Blackhoof were the ones we’d already seen. Given how big Equestria was supposed to be, even sixty Stables must have been spread far and wide.

“Mmhmm. I don’t remember exactly where it is, but I know we had to go through the mountains to get here,” she explained. She slumped down in the seat and rested her head against the table. “I’m a bit scared too. This is all just... so damn stressful. We’re on a time limit and I don’t think we can make it. Then there’s helping Xeno with everything with her tribe, and that could take who knows how long. I just wish there was a way we could handle Rose and be done with it.”

“We really aren’t cut out for this, are we?” I asked with a laugh.

“I think we can do it, but yeah... I miss the days when the biggest issue was finding a good place to dig for treasure,” she answered. “I’ve been thinking though.” She leaned in close and motioned for me to lean in too. When I did she whispered, “I don’t think we need to worry about slavers coming after the Steel Rangers. Look at where we are. We’re in a Stable, inside a cave. It’s easy to defend and there’s a good choke point for anypony who might come after them.”

“I know, I’ve been thinking about that too,” I said. I raised a hoof and gently patted her on the head. It felt weird, tapping the steel against the bandana around her mane. I hoped it wouldn’t hurt her. “We’re in a good place, and Lamington has the missile launcher, plus all the others have big guns. They could easily stop any attack.” I lowered myself down and pressed my muzzle against my sisters while resting on the table. I stared her in the eyes. “But what about everypony else? The mares we left in Idle?”

She looked away. “Four mares versus us, and all the Steel Rangers and everypony here?”

“Is that what the ponies of Equestria would have done?” I asked. “Lamington gave me a crash course in what it was like for those ponies who lived in Equestria before the War, from the books they had in the Stable. I’m pretty sure they’d have done anything they could have to save anypony they considered a friend, since friendship mattered most to them. They wouldn’t have left anypony, even one they might not have liked, to such a fate.” I smiled, feeling a little better about the situation. “You just said yourself that they’ll be safe here, if slavers come to try and take them away.”

She sighed. “I know but-”

“Before we leave we’ll tell them what to expect so they can defend the place,” I assured her. “Lamington and the others fought off Scifresh and Jazz, remember? And they were in power armor and using gatling guns with magical lasers! The family can defend themselves again a ragtag group of slavers.” I raised my hoof again and offered it to my sister. “I have faith in Drop Scone’s family. They can handle themselves against anything the Wasteland throws at them, especially with a little time to prepare.”

Lost pressed her hoof against my steel, and closed her eyes. “I still worry,” she whispered. “But you’re right.” She nuzzled me and pulled herself to sit upright. “I need to have a chat with Crème Brûlée before we leave, to clear the air.”

“Nip Chaser?” I asked, sitting up as well. I pulled my hoof back and stared down at it.

“Yeah. I’m going...” she said, stopping to gulp. “Going to go do that now.” Standing up, she turned and trotted off. “See you when we’re ready to go.”

“Good luck, sis,” I called after her. With that conversation out of the way, I got up and headed toward the Overmare’s office.

* * *

I still didn’t feel right in a Stable. Having spent the majority of my life outside under the cloud cover with miles of ruins in every direction, I just couldn’t understand how a pony could live in such confined spaces. It was just gray steel in every direction, the echo of hooves on metal... Everything wanted to just crush a soul inward. Ponies needed to be outside, to run free, not be cooped up and breathing in recycled air.

At least I wasn’t over in Stable Twelve. That would be so much worse, with the dark and the dank. The memories of what happened over there, and the ghouls that waited for a century to be put out of their misery...

I stopped in my tracks.

The Glowing One still had her mind. She hadn’t been lost to the insanity of the feral zombies. I’d met other undead ponies too, who still had their minds intact. So, what if some of those ponies I’d dropped the roof on were still sane, and hadn’t become mindless killing machines? Was it possible to keep their sanity, and just have gotten locked in, unable to open the door. What if they were just waiting for rescue?

Had I committed mass murder?

I took a deep breath and shook my head. I’d done worse, really. My intentions had been good, but I knew I’d find myself before the Goddesses to explain one day. Hopefully they’d understand. The best way to make everything right was to help as many ponies as I could, especially the ones I cared about. My hooves moved on their own, and I kept walking toward the Overmare’s office.

When I got there, I knocked on the flower-designed door. The steel on my hoof clanked against the door, echoing down the hallway again.

“Enter,” said the kind voice of the Steel Rangers’ Elder.

I opened the door and walked inside. Elder Drop Scone had transformed the office quite a bit, turning the desk and terminal displays into her own personalized workspace. The terminals showed various cameras that were still active, while a few displayed documents. The map of the Stable was replaced by one of Blackhoof, crudely drawn and covered in notes. It covered everything from Leathers to Pommel Falls, to the Stables. One of the Steel Rangers must have updated it as they traveled, but it matched fairly closely to what I’d seen on the PipBuck’s map screen.

“Good morning, Hidden Fortune,” said the Elder. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon. Come, have a seat.” She waved a hoof, offering one of the two chairs that had been moved into the office.

“Thanks, but I’d rather stand,” I answered. I walked over and looked out the Overmare’s window to the Atrium the floor below. A few ponies sat at one of the tables, talking about something I couldn’t hear. They looked so calm and peaceful.

“Alright then. Is there something you wanted to talk about?” she asked. She shuffled a group of papers into a pile and set them off to the side of the desk, out of the way.

I took a deep breath. “A warning, actually,” I answered. “I didn’t want to tell the others, but we’ve gotten ourselves into a little bit of trouble.”

“The slavers?” she asked calmly. Drop Scone pushed herself back from the desk, stood, and walked around to shut the door, then joined me next to the window. She looked out over the Atrium and nodded a few times. “Lamington told me what he heard from you, and I managed to get hold of Praline to question her.”

“Quick work,” I said, impressed.

“I know my foals well,” she answered. She looked over and smiled, obviously proud of the children she’d raised. “They’d already worked out what happened, as best they could. I had to issue a direct order to keep them from running off to play hero without any idea where they were actually going.” She laughed and placed a hoof on the window. “They’re good ponies, and their hearts are in the right place. It’s a shame they don’t take the time to think about what they’re doing before they do it.”

That sounded familiar. I felt myself blush and turned away. “I didn’t tell them the details on purpose,” I admitted. “Lost and I wanted to make sure they were safe, and that all of you couldn’t be put in a position where slavers, or anypony, could hurt you.”

“You know we see you as family, right?” asked the Elder. She didn’t look away from the Atrium. “We’d have come no matter what, if we knew exactly where you were. The Star Paladin is quite skilled with his missile launchers, and any group of slavers that hurt one of mine would be dead right now.”

“It’s different, here in the Wasteland. I’ve already caused the death of one of your-”

The glare from the Elder stopped me mid-sentence.

“I just wanted to say I was sorry for what happened,” I said sheepishly.

“Chocolate Éclair did what he thought was right and died in battle,” she said. Lowering her gaze from the window, she turned and walked to the desk again. Groaning, she sat down and shifted to get comfortable. “Sorry, these old bones are getting a bit stiff.” With another groan and a wince, she pulled her chair closer and leaned against the desk. “He’d have accepted the apology without hesitation. That was just the kind of stallion he was. But that’s neither here nor there, now. I have foals who are still alive and have a bright future ahead of them. Now, tell me exactly what’s going on so I can help. Please.”

“The pink mare with us isn’t a friend,” I explained. Finally feeling comfortable, I sat down in the chair Drop Scone had offered earlier. “We’re heading across the mountain for a day to drop Xeno’s brothers off at their home so they can have a proper burial. While there-”

The Elder gasped. Her hooves shot up to cover her mouth, and her eyes grew to the size of saucers. “That poor zebra lost her family as well? Oh you poor dears...”

“It happened before we met you, actually. There was a misunderstanding and Lost and I each killed one of her brothers,” I said. “It was a mistake, but we’re trying to make up for it.”

“That’s quite a heavy burden,” said the Elder, finally letting her hooves drop. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, but thank you. This is something we need to do ourselves,” I said, declining whatever offer she might have. My eyes drifted down to my forehooves. The Steel Rangers had already done enough for us, both in terms of help they’d offered and lives they’d given. We were big ponies and we could handle it. “Anyway. The other reason we’re going across is because Rose, the pink mare, is blackmailing us into getting a supply of Med-X, Buck, and several other drugs to take back to the town of Idle. She’s holding four mares hostage, ready to put them right back into the slavery we freed them from, and has threatened to tell the slavers that captured us where you’re located, too, if we don’t do what she says.”

“We won’t need to worry about that,” said Drop Scone dismissively. “This Stable system is very easily defendable.”

“That’s what Lost and I thought too,” I agreed, smiling. “But I felt that the more you knew, the better you could prepare yourself.”

“Well, I appreciate the thought and the early warning. I’ll make sure to post a guard at the entrance to the caves at all times in the event of an emergency,” she said. “In fact...” She spun her chair around and pressed a button on the terminal control panel. “Tim Tam, I have an assignment for you. Please come to my office immediately.”

“I’m really sorry,” I muttered.

“Don’t worry about it. You’re actually helping quite a bit,” she corrected. She looked at the terminal screens and then spun back around to face me. “He’s been looking for something to do anyway, and the early warning is the best thing we could hope for.”

“Anything to help,” I said.

A knock at the door interrupted our conversation. That was fast.

“Come in,” yelled the Elder.

The door slid open and a dark orange earth pony stallion walked in. “You called for me, ma’am?” he asked. The stallion had freckles on his cheeks and a brown mane, with eyes that reminded me of Broker back in Pommel Falls. Maybe this pony was a part of his family?

“I’d like you to get a pair of binoculars from Black Bun in the storage room and stand guard at the entrance,” the Elder ordered. “If you see anypony coming who looks like trouble, I want you to raise the alarm. We might be having some guests coming that we’ll need to deal with.”

“Yes ma’am, thank you,” said the stallion with a salute. He turned on his hooves and trotted down the halls.

“Do you think that’ll take care of everything?” I asked. I didn’t want these ponies in danger.

“It’s the best thing we can do in the meantime,” answered Drop Scone. “Now let’s go down and get some of Marshmallow’s cooking. You look like a skeleton.” She hopped down from the chair, moving surprisingly quickly for a mare of her age who’d just been complaining about her aching bones. A quick trot around the desk and she grabbed me by the side.

Together we walked from her office, apparently to give me an early lunch.

* * *

“You get to steer, Hidden,” said Lost. She lifted the PipBuck from her foreleg and strapped it to mine. As it clicked into place, she hopped up onto the motorwagon and settled into the left rear seat. The second she sat down, she let out a groan and closed her eyes. She’d been up all night steering and powering the motorwagon, so I couldn’t blame her for being tired.

“Here you go,” said Lamington, lifting up a large crate on his back. He and Marshmallow Sundae had stuffed it full of extra food the Stable didn’t need, to help us over the next few days.

Really, it was the best present they could have given us. Not needing to survive on what we found in the Wasteland was a gift from the Goddesses, especially since we’d be going through the mountains. I didn’t expect many ponies had decided to live up in what had been the middle of the woods, and the thought we not be able to find supplies worried me. Marshmallow Sundae’s cooking was the best I’d ever had, so I was quite excited for any chance to eat more of her delicious food, rather than any scraps we could find anyway.

It seemed like this was swiftly becoming the tradition for the Steel Rangers to give us food whenever we parted.

“Thanks Lamington,” I said, grabbing the crate on either side with my hooves and pulling it onto the deck.

The Star Paladin shifted and helped me to push until we’d gotten the food situated safely between the two seats in front of the engine. “My pleasure,” he said through a burst of static. “Are you quite sure that departure needs to come so soon?”

“Unfortunately,” I muttered. “We promised Xeno we’d get to her tribe as soon as possible for a burial for her brothers.” I pointed to the two wrapped corpses on the wagon. “The sooner we get there, the better.” I wanted to be quick both out of obligation, and to be rid of the rotting corpses. I’d been around the Wasteland long enough, and the less time I had to deal with the smell, the better.

“Yes, I understand,” the stallion admitted. “Be safe. Let me go gather the others for a real sendoff.” He saluted and walked off toward the cave. As he passed the guardspony, the two saluted one another.

I flicked the PipBuck’s display over to green and turned the E.F.S. on. When the little notifications and markers popped up in the corner of my vision, I did a quick scan all around us just in case. A few green markers, one red one. Steeling myself, I grabbed Persistence and held her close. I’d never bothered to reattach her to my battle saddle, but if I was going to be steering, I wouldn’t be able to stop to shoot anyway. Whatever the hostile marker was, it wasn’t close or I’d have seen it already. It was better to be prepared though, so I pulled my barding on, then my jacket, and finally reattached Persistence to the battle saddle. I set it on the seat next to Lost.

Just in case.

“So!” yelled a voice right next to me.

“Ahh!” I screamed, falling on my rump.

Praline stood next to me, head tilted to the side and a confused look on her face. “Did I scare you?” she asked.

“You just startled me,” I lied as I stood up. I dusted myself off and stared at her. “Where’d you come from anyway?”

She tapped her chin with a hoof and stared up at the cloud cover. “Hmmm. Well,” she said, “when a stallion and a mare love each other very much-”

“Please stop,” I said, cutting her off. “I know where foals come from. I meant just now. I just looked around and you weren’t here. So where’d you come from?”

“Oh!” she yelled. Bouncing into the air, she jumped off the edge of the wagon’s deck and stuck her head up underneath between the wheels. “I was tightening this axle.” She pulled herself from underneath and held up a wrench in her teeth. “Schee?”

Well, at least she hadn’t popped up from inside the engine.

“Performing a tune up?” I asked. I looked back at the engine. It really could use a looking over, to get it going faster. We’d taken most of the night to make it across Blackhoof, and time was short. “Mind looking at the engine?”

“Well, that’s a lot different than building parts for a pony, but I can try,” she agreed, a mischievous twinkle sparkling in her eyes. Bouncing again, she hopped to the far side of the wagon and crawled up the back portion of the deck. Reaching down underneath, she grabbed a toolbox that I didn’t even know she owned, and set it next to her. A second later, she’d opened a hatch on the back of the engine and dived into the housing. Only her rear hooves and tail stuck out the back, all of which wiggled about excitedly.

I rolled my eyes and ignored the sound of metal hitting metal, and the smoke that suddenly started to billow out the top of the engine housing. I was far from mechanically inclined, and I didn’t need to be in there breaking anything. As silly as Praline could be, I trusted her to have the engine in working order, or better than it’d been before, even if she somehow ripped everything out. That mare was weird like that.

Xeno trotted from the cave with a satchel in her mouth. Without a word she hopped up onto the deck and looked at me.

“Uhh?” I asked.

She set the satchel next to her brothers’ bodies and sat on the seat across from Lost. “Ingredients,” she explained. “The bugpony and I were gathering this morning. Itis surprisingly easy to collect what I needed with winged help.” She kicked her rear hooves and smiled. “Itwill be a good offering for the pyre.”

“Pyre?” I asked, squinting. “What do you mean pyre?”

“Itis what my kind does, when the dead are sent off,” she answered. “The leader of the tribe will perform the rites and those that have died in battle will be sent off with a hero's burial.” Holding her hooves up to her muzzle, she cleared her throat. “I simply hope Zoan will accept the offering. She is quite strict with the old ways.”

“Who’s Zoan?” I asked. We had to wait for Fine Tune, Rose, and the others to come out, so I had time for some clarification about Xeno’s tribe. I sat down in the seat behind the steering wheel.

“Zoan was the tribal leader when I left, several years ago,” Xeno explained. “An old zebra wise in the ways of our people and our ancestors. She is kind, but strict, and has a daughter whom I was good friends with.” The idea of Xeno, as strange as she made herself out to be, having other friends who were zebra startled me. Hadn’t she always said she had no place to go back to?

Before I could ask about that, Star Paladin Lamington exited the cave with Elder Drop Scone, Scribe Crème Brûlée, Fine Tune and Rose. The five walked to the motorwagon, only stopping to offer a salute to Tim Tam.

“It’s a shame to see you leave so soon,” said the Elder. She walked around the front of the wagon and laughed. “At least you’re going in style this time. Where do we get one?”

Her children laughed, and I laughed with them. I’d never noticed how many wagons there were in the Wasteland, but now that I had one of my own, I realized I’d seen a few around the city. If I ever saw another one in somewhat workable condition, I knew who I’d call to give it to.

“A shame indeed. I only wish I could accompany you on the journey. It is unfortunate that my duties require me to stay here,” said the Star Paladin. He held a hoof up to assist Rose onto the deck, which she took gracefully.

The bitch had been on her best behavior. For some reason, that rubbed me the wrong way, but it meant there wasn’t any real suspicion among the Steel Rangers about what might be going on aside from what I’d told Drop Scone. The less they worried about us, the better.

Crème Brûlée hopped up right after her and walked up between the two rear seats. She nuzzled Lost and held a hoof up to her face. “Isn’t she just darling, asleep already?” she cooed. “I must’ve tired her out.” Her silken voice sounded innocent, and only I could see the mischievous smile across her lips. She turned and looked at me, looking completely innocent. “Hidden, I must ask a favor of you.”

“What do you want, Crème Brûlée?” I asked, not bothering to pretend to be nice to the mare. Really, it was petty of me to act like that, considering Lost having slept around on her and everything else. If I lost my sister, it wouldn’t be to Crème, I knew that. I still felt a little pang of resentment.

She wasn’t a bad mare though. I tried not to hold it against her.

“Keep her safe and out of trouble, please?” the mare asked. She stepped forward and whispered into my ear, “Don’t let her go fucking every mare she finds.” Crème Brûlée pulled herself back and hopped off the deck. “Have a safe trip, all of you,” she said in the most sickeningly sweet voice I’d ever heard.

I felt my eyelid twitch all on its own. “Will do,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Wonderful! Good. Bye!” said the mare. She turned and trotted off. A second later, she disappeared into the cave.

“I wonder what’s gotten her all worked up?” asked Lamington to nopony in particular.

“Haven’t the slightest,” I lied.

“Let’s just go,” said Rose. Her horn lit up with an aquamarine haze and the engine roared to life.

“No! Wait, Pra-”

The engine sputtered and grinded, drowning out my pleas for her to stop. Instead of stopping, her horn glowed brighter and forced the engine to rev loudly. A horrible clank echoed from the housing, and it shook violently, before sputtering once more and falling into a normal running pattern.

“Oh Goddesses,” I whispered, holding my hooves in front of my face.

The others all looked at me with confused looks on their faces. Xeno and Fine Tune exchanged looks as he stepped up onto the deck. Lamington turned to look at the engine block, his speaker live and crackling static.

“What’s got you so worked up?” asked Praline. She looked at Drop Scone, who she was standing next to, and then back to me.

“Wait, when did... And how... What!” I stammered.

Better to just not think about it.

* * *

The goodbyes went all too quickly.

I steered the motorwagon around a tree and checked the PipBuck. We’d almost made it to the pass through the mountains, but still had a few minutes. I looked back at the others, who all sat in silence. Lost still had her eyes closed, but I’d long since realized she was faking being asleep. Fine Tune and Xeno rested against one another, while Rose powered the engine at the rear of the deck.

“Gonna stop pretending?” I asked Lost. I turned and paid attention to the path. The worst thing that could happen was hitting a tree or a hole and breaking the wagon itself. We only had a few hours to get across the mountain pass and through to Xeno’s tribe. Even then, I had no idea if we’d make it there and back with enough time to save ourselves and the mares we’d left in Idle.

“No,” she answered.

“Why not?” I asked, once again steering around a tree. Whatever Praline had done to the engine, it helped a lot. We moved much faster than before, even faster than any of us could move at a full gallop. And since the motorwagon never got tired, it meant good time for our trip.

“Don’t wanna talk ‘bout it,” she muttered.

“Letting it stew inside you isn’t going to help anything, sis,” I said. I could see the pass up ahead. We were making good time indeed. I turned the wheel slightly and aimed for the opening between the two mountains.

“Crème’s upset about what happened in Idle,” she answered. Somepony shuffled about, but I didn’t take my eyes off the path.

“Can you blame her?” I asked.

“It’s just sex, Hidden,” she shot back. “I told you that.”

“And I take it she doesn’t think the same thing?” I asked, hoping to keep her talking. I wanted to turn around and glare at her, but that wasn’t a luxury I had. Maybe I could get Fine Tune to steer again?

“No. It ended badly and I don’t want to talk about it,” she muttered.

Relenting, I turned around to find her wedged up at the far end of the seat with her forelegs crossed in front of her. The scowl on her face perfectly matched the way she sounded.

“Umm, I’m a bit lost as to what’s going on here,” said Fine Tune. He looked back and forth between my sister and I.

“I,” I started, but paused to cough. I had no idea how to broach this subject, especially not with a changeling. “Err, how does a changeling queen make more changelings?” I asked, dodging the need to give him a talk about how foals were made.

“I was too young to see exactly how it worked,” he admitted. “There are drones and queens and, and then eggs happen!” He said, forcing a smile. He tapped his forehooves together and blushed.

I glared at my sister, continuing, “You come from eggs? Well, imagine that! It’s different for ponies, apparently often there’s a lot of drama because somepony sle-”

The wagon hit something and lurched to the side.

“Whoa!” I yelled, turning back to face the front of the motorwagon. I grabbed the wheel with both forehooves and spun it to the side as hard as I could. Pain shot up my legs as the old familiar ache reared its ugly head. I answered the groans and mumblings of the others, saying, “Sorry, sorry!” I jerked the wheel back and we landed on even ground. Righting the wagon back on track, I settled into the driver’s seat. “I’m just gonna turn on the radio and we’re going to not talk for a while.”

“Yay!” yelled the changeling.

Xeno chuckled.

Lost let out a little ‘hmph’ sound.

Rolling my eyes, I glanced over the E.F.S. to check for dangers, then clicked on the radio. No sound came out. Apparently Lost had taken the broadcaster out. “Lost, do you have the broadcaster?” I asked.

“Yeah, one sec,” she answered. The sound of shuffling came from behind me, and then silence.

“Iwill give it to her, then,” said Xeno. A second later she tapped on my shoulder and held the broadcaster out for me.

“Thanks,” I whispered. I snatched the add-on from her and snapped it into the PipBuck. When I did, music streamed out and filled the air. I adjusted the volume slightly, so it was just loud enough to drown out the engine but not alert everything around us any more than we already were.

“Oh, I love this song!” yelled Rose from behind the engine. I heard the clopping of hooves on the wooden deck as she trotted to our side of the engine. Then the clanking of metal hit my ears.

“Hey! Be careful with that,” I yelled, catching her tossing my battle saddle onto the floor.

“Sorry,” she said, her ears drooping to the side. Had... had she just apologized for something? Maybe she had a heart, even if it was a cloned one.

I turned the music up another few notches. Jerking the wheel to the side, I angled us right into the mountain pass. One quick trip over the mountains, and we’d be heading for Xeno’s homeland.

The engine groaned and revved up, making the motorwagon lurch forward. It steadied itself to a new speed at the incline, and we crawled up the well-worn path into a place I hadn’t been since before I could remember. Even after two centuries, the ground was still packed down as if ponies had just been traveling yesterday. I could see the remains of what might have been a road. Maybe a project that never got finished before the world ended?

“How long do you think it’ll take us to get there, Xeno?” I asked. I couldn’t be bothered to turn around now, since the path we were taking seemed to disappear just up ahead. I didn’t feel particularly good about trying to drive the wagon through mountains... I could see where I was going on flat land, but I had a feeling that the hills would hold more trouble.

“Itis a long winding path, Hiddenpony,” she said. “I feel a few hours will pass, at this speed.”

Well, a few hours of holding onto the wheel for dear life while going down a ‘winding’ path couldn’t be too bad. At least I didn’t have to walk, so I could ignore my legs yelling at me to stop and sleep. I had the radio on, too, and that helped most of all.

I looked down at it, hearing the song change. A song I hadn’t heard before started, with a quick tempo and instruments I couldn’t even begin to imagine. It was repetitive, but I couldn’t help but start to dance a little in my seat. I thumped my hooves on the steering wheel, bobbing my head slightly in time with the music.

Fine Tune seemed to enjoy it, given the shrill chirping sounds he made. A flash of green fire erupted and he let out another chirp. A flash of black flew past as the beat changed, the music getting heavier. The changeling danced in the air, flitting back and forth between parts of the song whenever the tempo adjusted and a new instrument took over.

Rose let out a cheer. Apparently this was another song she recognized. The clopping of hooves hitting each other sounded over the music, and I caught her bobbing her head and keeping time just like I was.

Even Lost smiled, while still pretending to be asleep. Despite how much I could tell she was resisting, one of her hooves kicked in time with the song.

Xeno was the only one not enjoying herself, instead staring at the corpses of her brothers. When she finally turned away and looked at me, she only shook her head. “Not my style,” she said over the music.

Well, maybe it wasn’t the music a zebra liked, but the rest of us were enjoying it. I turned back to focus on steering, a smile across my lips and still keeping the beat with my hooves. We drove over the crest of the hill and started downward, and I got my first view of the other side of the mountains.

As far as I could see stretched more hills and mountains. They were covered in thick brush, the brown of the dead trees so thick I couldn’t see the actual ground through them. On every side were more, with peaks even further showing through the gaps between the closer mountains. I could only see one indication of civilization through the snow-covered tops of the Unicorn range, a massive white spike that shot up between two peaks. The only reason I could tell it wasn’t natural was how it reflected what little light broke through the cloud cover. My jaw dropped and I forgot about the music. If only I’d been able to see this before the world ended...

I turned the wheel to stay on the pathway, catching view of some construction equipment up ahead. The remains of a road they’d been building was past that, and I followed it with my eyes, looking at the winding path that went from our side across the hills and mountains far enough to become so tiny I couldn’t follow it.

At least I knew which way to go.

The song died down and the voice of the DJ took over the airwaves. I flicked the volume up, hoping for a news update.

“Good afternoon, everypony! DJ Pon3 here, and I still cannot get over how great it is to finally have some new music for my show. It sends a shiver up my spine every time that music hits my ears,” said the radio host. He laughed. “I really hope it livens up your lives out there, because that’s the only thing keeping me playing. I’ve been getting reports in about some action going on out there, and I thought I’d switch things up today after what I’ve heard. A lot of buildings have been going down as a result of firefights in some cities.”

I groaned. Given what happened yesterday, and how fast the DJ found out about what happened in U Cig, I could only imagine I was about to get a lecture on destroying property in Idle.

“So I’m bringing you another of DJ Pon3’s survival tips! Today’s tip: ‘Property damage and you.’ I know you all know the Wasteland isn’t the safest of places, especially when dealing with buildings on the verge of collapsing. If you have a run-in with raiders, explosives, or just any time you’re out scavenging, be safe. Nopony’s been out there doing upkeep on Equestria’s old cities and towns, and the last thing we need is to lose a good pony by going somewhere that isn’t safe. Buildings are dangerous and could collapse at any moment. So no blowing them up and no shooting them. You never know who’s inside or what direction they could fall.”

Well, that wasn’t the lecture I was expecting, even if the stallion was right. Rose laughed at the word of warning.

“I’ll be back with more news and survival tips later, but for now, here’s more of the first new music I’ve had in as long as I can remember! Keep your eyes peeled and ears to the ground, and stay safe out there!”

The DJ’s voice cut out and another song started to play. It sounded much like the last one, with a fast heavy beat and a cut together of several instruments blaring at the same time. Less catchy, but I still found myself tapping along with it. I had to give it up to the radio, I completely expected the broadcast to get cut thanks to driving through the mountains.

I turned the wheel and headed down to the old road’s remains. This would be a long trip.

* * *

An hour of driving hadn’t gotten me any more accustomed to steering the motorwagon. On straightaways I could hold onto the wheel to keep it steady or tap along with the music with one hoof while steering. But problems arose whenever we needed to change direction. I held on for dear life whenever we took more than a gentle turn to either side. I felt my stomach being pulled in the opposite direction, and I could have sworn we would flip, every single time. Ponies just weren’t meant to fly around corners at such speeds.

Lost kept us at maximum output, powering the now-fixed engine with her magic while Rose took a rest. Idly, I wondered if Fine Tune’s magic could power the motorwagon as well, or if it took something special that only unicorns had. While they were all using cheater magic, there might be too many differences between the two kinds to switch.

Funny, we had healing magic and attack magic. Lost knew how to fix things with her magic, and we’d met a changeling with transformation magic. Yet, I ended up being an earth pony, the only species of pony I’d ever heard of without any magic.

I was actually grateful I didn’t have any magic of my own. I didn’t need to worry about how to channel energies and make spells. That was the trade-off for not being able to hold things in the air with telekinesis, or heal wounds, or any of the other tricks they could do.

I groaned and stared back at the road. Really, I just wanted a distraction. Driving, turns aside, was excessively boring. Even the music wasn’t keeping me occupied anymore. I stared at the same spot in front of me and all I had to do was make sure I didn’t hit anything. Whatever ponies were doing building this road through the mountains, they had built it to last. There wasn’t so much as a single hole in the road, and with the lack of wind blowing through the valleys, I hadn’t run across a single fallen log that blocked the path.

It felt too easy.

I’d spent weeks dealing with everything the Wasteland threw at me, from raiders to slavers, invincible alicorns to regenerating blob-ponies, drug addicts to radscorpions. When nothing was going wrong, I felt... I felt weird. I wanted to thank the Goddesses, but I knew the minute I did, something terrible would happen.

Griffons would fly from the sky and attack. An avalanche would bring the side of the mountain down on us. The wagon would break and the engine would explode, killing us all. Or maybe a dragon would swoop out of nowhere and snatch us up.

I needed to stop thinking! I cracked myself in the head with a steel hoof, and winced. My head pounded and my leg screamed in protest. Perfect, pain would take my mind off all the little terrible things I could make go wrong.

I slammed my forehead into the steering wheel a few times, then spun around to face the others. Conversation, that’d do the trick.

“So, Xeno? Tell me about your tribe, please,” I begged. Anything. I spun back around and put my eyes back on the road.

I heard the zebra hop down from her seat, by the sound of her hooves hitting the wooden deck. She walked up and sat down next to me. She’d taken off the slaver helmet she wore, though it had left her with quite a mess of a mane, which was somewhat amusing since it was the first time I’d ever seen it not in a perfect mohawk.

“What would you like to know, Hiddenpony?” she asked, squinting at me.

“Tell me about the tribe? Your parents? Anything really. I’m falling asleep here,” I muttered. I turned the wheel slightly, easing into a gentle turn around one of the smaller hills.

“Of course,” she whispered. Breathing in deeply, she let out a long sigh and faced me. “My tribe now goes by the name,” she said something in her language, which I couldn’t quite understand. It sounded like ‘Imani.’ “Itis a name that was chosen after the War ended, by those who survived. They were superstitious.” She said something else in zebra, with a not-very-pleasant tone to it.

“What does it mean?” I asked. I couldn’t speak her language, and suddenly realized I’d be completely confused when we got to Xeno's home village. I cringed at how many conversations I would miss. Why couldn’t I be bilingual?

“I donot know exactly in your language,” she answered. Lifting a hoof to her chin, she looked to the sky. “Itis Faith. Itis Belief. The tribe was created by many who had lived in pony lands for much of their lives, and were loyal to their home, not their birth.”

“And what do you think about that?” I asked. We’d seen xenophobia back in Idle, and I knew those weren’t the only ponies that had a problem with zebras. Wartime hatred, unfortunately, was still strong in some parts. The zebras had destroyed our world, even if we were just as guilty. Not everypony cared to make the logical jump that it took two to fight a war.

She looked at me for nearly a minute, then finally nodded. “Itis what I believe. Youare a good pony, your sister is a good pony. Iam proud to fight with you, against any enemy.” She switched over and said something in the zebra language while putting a hoof on my shoulder. A few pats later and she lowered her hoof.

“So, you mentioned that you don’t share their beliefs, a long time ago... What’d you mean by that?” I asked. It was something that had bothered me when I heard it, but after all that happened, it’d slipped my mind.

“Ah, yes. While the tribe was created by those loyal to their home, they still held the old beliefs of our ancestors,” she explained. Her hoof went to her flank and she pointed at the not-cutie mark emblazoned across her haunch. “It means ever-expanding, I once told you, I am able to accept truth beyond what little the myths and legends tell. I donot believe the old ways, that the stars wish for direct influence in the ways of the Wasteland, or Equestria, or the tribes around Roam.” She shifted and got comfortable again. “The tribe believes in this, but the original Imani did not believe your Princess Luna to be the harbinger of the stars.”

“Goddess Luna,” I corrected her.

She raised an eyebrow and rolled her eyes.

“Hey! I can’t hear the music, can you turn it up?” yelled Fine Tune from above. She was once again in the pegasus form, zipping back and forth exploring. After the DJ’s broadcast, I’d tried to calm the changeling down, but given up and let her do whatever she wanted. As long as we weren’t in danger, there wasn’t any harm in a little looking around.

“Yeah, sure, but fly closer okay?” I said, hoping she’d heed my plea. I looked down at the broadcaster and turned it up a few clicks, then looked back at Xeno. “Continue?”

She blew a puff of smoke from her nostrils and took the lit cigarette from her lips. “While itis true that your Goddess Luna was once marked by the stars, my kind lived in Equestria long enough to see it wasnot still the case. There are stories of our tribe fighting in battles alongside pony and other zebra soldiers, their stripes dyed to show their allegiances.”

“Hey, give me a cigarette, would ya?” asked Rose. She held a hoof out and wiggled it at Xeno. “I haven’t had a real smoke in a decade.”

Xeno nodded and pulled a pack from her satchel. She passed it to the unicorn and turned back to me. “We need more, Iam running low.”

“That’s what you get for chain smoking back in Idle,” I chided.

Both Xeno and Rose just laughed.

“There is a pony saying, I think,” she said, “Donot knock it until you try it.” She offered me one of the cigarettes.

“Yeah, sure. Later,” I said, grabbing it in a fetlock. The cigarette bent when the steel wrapped around it, and I slid it up behind my ear. It’d be there for later if I ever found a lighter or a match. “But, finish your story?”

“Many of our tribe are like the merchantpony’s wife, Cherry Chalk,” she said, taking another drag. “Our kind used alchemical concoctions to dye our stripes, to show allegiance. Over generations, the magic hasnot faded. Many in the tribe are like her, with stripes that shine green or purple if the light hits in the correct way.”

I started to ask her about her own stripes, but stopped as we came upon another turn in the road. “Hold on!” I yelled and spinning the wheel.

The wagon lurched to the side and the entire deck tilted as we sped around the corner. Once again I felt sick to my stomach as my innards were dragged off to one side. I actually missed walking. As we righted ourselves, I spun the wheel back and we started straight again, down a dead tree-shrouded stretch of road.

“Sorry. So is that why you’re colored the way you are?” I asked. Since I’d met her, I’d had to rethink my opinion on the designs of zebras, and now was a perfect time to get that nagging little question taken care of.

“I donot know. Our kind’s alchemy mixes strangely when added to one not affected by it. My mother is Imani, for generations. My father is- he is,” she said, stopping to think. She said several things in her native language and scrunched her muzzle up. “I donot know the word. We call it ‘bedui,’ one who has no home.”

“A nomad?” I asked. I’d heard mom call us that once before. “Ponies with no place to return to, who go where food and safety is.”

“Yes, thatis it,” she answered, nodding and blowing another puff of smoke. “Heis not Imani. Mother tells the story, how they met. He joined the tribe later, moved from zebra lands to...” She paused again and said something I couldn’t understand. “He left Roam to find himself. Instead, he found my mother.”

“Aww, that’s sweet,” I muttered.

“Yeah, saccharine maybe!” said Rose sarcastically.

Xeno shot her a look, but continued her story, “The tribe worries about the stars, and fears the day they might return. I donot accept that, thereis no proof.” She stomped her hoof and glared at the headlight she sat behind.

“We don’t have any beliefs about the stars, except some old mares’ tales,” I said. “If you ever find proof, we’ll be there to help you with it.” I nudged her shoulder and looked back at the road.

She laughed and nudged me back. “Thank you, Hiddenpony.”

“For?”

“Bringing me home,” she answered. “It has been many years. I believe the tribe will have changed in my absence.”

“They’re still your family and your home,” I said. “They’re still something you would fight and die for.” I leaned against her. “Something we would fight and die for with you.” She’d been there for us, through thick and thin, and we’d be there for her whether she liked it or not.

“You do know you’re still on a time limit. No starting a war,” quipped Rose.

I glared at the pink mare. “Spoilsport,” I snapped, then turned back to the road. The wind blew, rustling the leaves on the trees. Even with the death of Equestria, it seemed something managed to survive.

* * *

Something felt wrong, but I couldn’t put my hoof on it. We’d traveled far enough to lose the signal from the radio and gotten to a point where the road started to crumble underneath our wheels. I still couldn’t see the end of the mountains, and now I couldn’t even see where we’d entered from. The way the road kept twisting and turning, hugging stone that had been cut away to make a flat path, I couldn’t even tell what direction we were going anymore.

My saving grace was the fact that, no matter what, we only had one road to travel on. I almost feared I’d taken a wrong turn, but that couldn’t be. There wasn’t anywhere to turn. Unless one of the small gaps between the dead trees was the right direction to turn. I wanted to ask Xeno, but she’d decided to take a nap, and nopony else would know what direction to go. Fine Tune himself said he’d never been this far out, and Lost and I couldn’t know exactly where we were going.

So I just kept following the road. A cool wind blew through the mountain pass again, shaking the trees. I heard something in the distance, a creature calling out or howling. I thanked the Goddesses it was distant, because I wasn’t anywhere near ready to fight and steer at the same time.

“So, Lost, any idea where we are?” I asked. Chit-chat would keep my mind from playing tricks on me. I didn’t need to hear any strange animal cries and think they were getting closer.

“The mountains,” she answered. She turned a page on a book held in her magic. Sitting on the seat next to her was an open tin of Mint-als.

“Where’d you get that book, and why are you eating those again?” I asked.

“Borrowed it from one of the bedrooms. None of the others claimed it, so I figured I could learn something from it,” she answered, holding the front of the book toward me. The cover read Intermediate Spellcraft: A Reference Guide. She closed the tin and turned back to her book. “This is tough stuff, and they’re helping me wrap my brain around it.”

“Mmm, alright. Sorry to bother you,” I said, scowling. I turned back to the road to focus on steering. I caught sight of something bright green and moving in the corner of my eye. When I looked back, all I saw was dead trees. I skewed my ears forward and checked the other side of the road. Was I seeing things or what?

“Hey, Fine Tune?” I asked. Worrying I might be losing my mind, again, I needed a bit of confirmation. I gripped the wheel tighter with my steel hooves.

“Yes, Miss Hidden?” he asked, trotting up to stand next to me.

“Can you do a pass and tell me if you see anything dangerous? Something that doesn’t belong in the woods maybe?” I requested. As I asked, I pointed up toward the cloud cover and swung my hoof in a circle all around us.

“Of course,” the unicorn-disguised changeling answered. He saluted. Green fire flashed around him and he transformed into the green pegasus mare. With a flap of her wings, she rocketed into the air and off into the distance.

The sound of rustling hit my ears, and I twisted them toward where it came from. I didn’t want to look, but I had to. Something moved in the distance, but I couldn’t make out what it was. It moved too fast to be a radscorpion and wasn’t big enough to be a Manticore. I’d never known a feral ghoul to be agile, so, maybe... I had no idea what it could be. Bloodwings didn’t need to touch the ground to kill, and they were usually out at night.

“Sis?” I called back to her.

“What’s up?” she asked, setting the book down.

“I have the strange feeling that something’s following us,” I said. Once again I looked around, trying to spot whatever kept moving in the corner of my vision. “Just keep an eye out, please?”

“Yeah, sure,” she said. With her telekinesis, she slid the book back into her saddle back and turned to the engine. “Rose! Keep an eye out back there. We might have company!”

“Roger!” yelled the clone’s voice back. The engine revved and the motorwagon jumped forward as she put more power into the ancient machine.

I held the wheel tight, wanting to avoid a fight if at all possible. Anything that could stalk this stealthily wasn’t anything I wanted to deal with on the move. If I had Persistence and my battle saddle, maybe, but... I pulled my tattered jacket tighter over my armor, just in case, and looked at my E.F.S. Little markers darted back and forth, several of them. None were red, but since I didn’t know what the criteria were for ‘hostile’ I couldn’t trust it. What if stalking wasn’t hostile to the spell, and it wouldn't turn red until something leapt at me?

Another howl cut through the air, louder and longer than before.

“Xeno, wake up,” said Lost. She shook the zebra, who groaned in response.

“What is it?” she asked, cracking an eye open and looking around. Her ear twitched and spun around to face where the sound was coming from. “Splinterwolves.” She sat up straight and her hoof dove for her bag. With a flick of her fetlock, she pulled the striped combat knife from it and turned to the edge of the motorwagon’s deck.

“What’s a splinterwolf?” I asked, turning back to steer.

A pile of wood lay in the center of the road, black and dead. It looked like a pony had tripped while carrying firewood and left it there unattended. A pair of the still-green leaves sat atop it, and the whole thing smoked slightly. In the pit of my stomach, I had a feeling I’d just discovered what a splinterwolf was.

The sticks and twigs in the pile began to glow a deathly green and lifted into the air. One by one they pieced together, forming a set of four legs, before the biggest piece, a thick, charred tree-stump floated into the air and attached. More wood rose from the ground and attached, forming a tail and a head. As if taunting us, the last parts to attach were the claws and teeth, made of wood that looked sharpened to a point finer than even Xeno’s knife. As the last tooth attached, the two leaves lifted, revealing eyes that glowed red.

Well, it couldn’t catch us if we were moving. “Faster!” I yelled.

The engine revved as Lost added her magic to it, and the wagon jumped forward. I held onto the wheel and aimed directly for the splinterwolf. I’d send it right back to where it came from. We slammed into the magical beast, smashing pieces all over and sending the trunk of its body flying. One of the lights shattered, and several hunks of wood landed on the deck around me.

Another one howled in the distance, closer than the others had been.

“Hiddenpony, stop the wag-”

“I’ll try,” I said. I jerked the wheel to the right, cutting Xeno off and sending the wagon around another sharp turn. I held on as tight as I could, ignoring the feeling of dread as my stomach was pulled in the opposite direction. I could hear things around us, moving through the woods. I dug through my mind, trying to remember anything I could about Splinterwolves or any other wolf I’d ever heard about. Weren’t they pack hunters or...

I should have paid more attention to mom’s lessons.

The wagon shuddered and I felt the deck drop out from under me. Green fire flared, and I knew it was Fine Tune. A weight lifted off my back, since at least it wasn’t another of those things. “Bad news,” he said, back in his unicorn form.

“Let me guess, we’re surrounded,” guessed L.A. She lifted Loyalty up in her telekinesis and aimed it toward the woods across from her.

“And then some,” he answered.

“We need to stop,” said Xeno. She waved her knife before her.

I hit a huge crack in the pavement, and the wagon jumped into the air. Holding on for dear life, I searched for a way to stop fast. Turning I could do easily, but I hadn’t figured out how to stop on a bottlecap just yet. The best I could do was slowly roll until we stopped moving, which was not going to work on this steep downward grade.

She said something in her native language and pointed the knife at me.

Behind the engine, I heard the sound of Rose firing her grenade launcher. “That company you mentioned,” she yelled, “they’re here.” Her grenade exploded, sending more chunks of blackened wood all over, with much of it showering the four of us sitting at the front of the wagon.

“Keep them back, then,” Lost ordered. “Cut the engine, now!” The aura around her horn dimmed as she yelled, and the revving of the engine slowed considerably.

Beside us, more of them started to appear in the woods. I saw dozens of sets of red eyes through the dead trees running with us alongside the wagon, easily keeping pace with our speed. Whatever the eyes belonged to howled and barked at one another, moving erratically. Was it an ambush?

The engine suddenly died, as Rose stopped adding her magic to power it. Now rolling near silently, we careened toward a sharp corner, with a drop-off past it.

“Of course,” I muttered. I spun the wheel again, as hard as I could to take us around the corner. Two of the wheels of the motorwagon lifted as we rolled past, teetering over much further than I was comfortable with. When we slammed back down onto all four wheels, I could feel something picking and scratching in the back of my mind, like that little nagging sensation clawing at me. It was different somehow, to the normal feeling of something digging at me. It started lower, and shot a jolt of pain shot up my back. Then something- somethings, pulled at my mane. I felt like the nervous feeling I sometimes got had somehow become real and was digging into the back of my head.

FNACK!

“What the fuck?” I yelled, hearing something go off right behind my ear. The sensation of clawing disappeared in an instant, followed by the whoosh of air passing right next to me. Chunks of wood fell to the side and clattered off the deck of the wagon.

Fine Tune just winked at me and swung his silenced pistol around away from my head.

“Now you see why they are called splinterwolves, Hiddenpony?” snapped Xeno.

“Yes!” I answered, jerking the wheel back around to put us straight again. The wagon jerked to the side, going up on two wheels for a split second. As we slammed down, I fell forward. “They reform instantly, and even splinters can attack, right?”

She said something in her language, but it sounded like a ‘yes’ to me. Well, fuck.

Lost fired Loyalty, causing a deafening B-KEW to echo around the mountains. A howl followed, as the splinterwolf she shot fell apart, and its entire front half liquified into a glowing green goo. The legs clattered onto the road and rolled after us, left in the dust by the speeding wagon. At least he wouldn’t be getting back up after that.

“Hiddenpony, you need to stop,” said Xeno. She glared at us. “They will chase, and they willnot stop.” Holding her knife tight, she looked back around the engine housing at the remains of the splinterwolf Lost had blown away. She whispered something in her native tongue.

“I’m trying! I’m just not good at the stopping part yet,” I said. I turned away from her just in time to see three of them run across the road. Hitting them just got parts onto the wagon and that could get us killed if enough started attacking. I spun the wheel the opposite way.

The last splinterwolf stopped in its tracks and looked at us, just in time for the left front wheel to smash over it. Everypony in the wagon yelped as they were thrown into the air, twice.

“Watch it!” yelled Rose from the back. She fired again, a fwump echoing as she sent another grenade to the ones we’d just passed. It exploded, causing the splinterwolves to howl in pain as they were sent flying away in pieces.

“Noise brings more,” said Xeno, her voice low. She grabbed Loyalty from Lost in her hoof and pushed the barrel to the deck. “Be quiet.”

“When we stop, how do we keep them from attacking?” I asked. I twisted the steering wheel back and forth, dodging side to side as more made their way onto the road. She was right. I could see nearly two dozen markers on the E.F.S. now, all strangely still green.

What the fuck was wrong with the PipBuck? They were obviously trying to kill us!

“Wewill stand our ground,” answered the zebra. She turned to face Lost and pinned her ears back.

“Understood,” said Lost.

“Grab onto something, stop coming fast!” I yelled, as all of the splinterwolves ahead of me split into pieces. Each one moved on its own, as if it didn’t need a central body or a brain to connect to. The parts lifted into a wall taller than the height of our wagon’s deck, from dead tree to dead tree across the road. The sharpened teeth and claws from each of them lined up behind it, ready to splinter and crack the wooden wheels we rolled on.

Biting back against the pain in my legs, I jerked the wheel hard to the side and sent the wagon into a skid. From the corner of my eye, I caught Lost and Xeno grabbing onto the rear seats and bracing themselves.

Fine Tune transformed with another flash of fire and took to the air, saving himself from the crash I knew was coming.

We slid sideways, the wheels dragging along the now-fractured chunks of road, threatening to send us into a spin, end over end. I righted the wheel the other way, praying to the Goddesses it would work. We spun back forward, but didn’t flip. The deck of the wagon tilted to the side suddenly.

One of the splinterwolves jumped on from the side and howled. Before any of us could turn and shoot it, it swung a wooden paw and slashed across Xeno, taking chunks out of the side of her face. I saw a flash of my mother, with lines scarred into the side of her face and the tip of her ear missing.

Xeno screamed in pain and jabbed the knife upward, stabbing the beast through the bottom of its leg and pulling. The leg split off and slashed again, missing.

Lost’s horn lit up and she cast the arcane blast she’d picked up in U Cig. It hit the splinterwolf square in the face, and it yelped in pain. A second blast slammed into its log body and sent it off the edge of the wagon’s deck.

We slowed as the ground leveled out, but not fast enough. The wagon rumbled, hitting what felt like every tooth and every claw as it went past the makeshift wall that splinterwolf parts made. Celestia, Luna. Please let it not destroy our ride or kill us. With the last of our momentum, we slammed into the wall. The wagon lurched up and the front wheels went over it. Slamming back down, we ended with the front wheels lifted into the air. The others groaned in pain, having been thrown from the seats to the deck by the sudden stop. The wall sunk under us, dropping the wagon back to the ground and shaking the entire vehicle.

“Not the kind of stop I wanted,” I said to nopony in particular.

“What now?” asked Rose. She came around the housing for the engine and stood with her back to us, her grenade rifle at the ready.

Xeno wiped the blood from her face with her free hoof and shot me a glare. “We wait,” she said.

“Let me heal that,” Lost offered.

“We. Wait,” said the zebra. Without another word, she turned around and faced opposite Rose. With her knife held up, she stared down one of the red-eyed severed heads.

“We wait,” I agreed. I took my hooves from the wheel and got up off the seat. “Rose has left, and Xeno has right. I’ll face forward.” I looked at my sister and nodded. She took the hint and faced rear.

Fine Tune landed between all of us, his pistol clutched between his teeth, even in his changeling form. He chirped quietly, in a tone that was undeniably a question.

The parts all around began to glow at once, and slid from underneath the wagon. Pieces lifted and rearranged, reforming the pack of splinterwolves all around us. Several snarled, while a few barked. They came in all sizes, from one massive splinterwolf made of a tree bigger around than my head, to one that looked like it was still an infant, made of twigs.

“What now?” I asked through gritted teeth. I looked back at Persistence, sitting on the deck next to Lost.

“They will attack, or they will leave,” answered Xeno. She spit blood off the wagon and waited, standing on her hind legs. She held onto her striped knife in her fetlock, pulled back and ready to strike.

“And if they attack?” asked Rose.

She answered in her native tongue, saying something that sounded like ‘bahati nzuri’ to me. Hopefully it didn’t mean ‘we die.’

I looked down at the steel at the end of my forelegs. It’d hurt, but I’d beaten down tougher things than wood. Were it not for the fact I was staring down a deadly enemy, I’d have facehoofed at how dirty that sounded in my head.

The biggest of the splinterwolves lifted its head toward the cloud cover above us and howled.

“Donot use guns. Noise will bring more,” said Xeno. “To kill them, we need-”

The wolves leapt, from all around us, at once.

I smashed the nearest one away with my right forehoof, cracking it in the head with the prosthetic and sending pieces back to the ground. I could hear the others doing similar. The swoosh of a knife cutting through air, the sound of Lost’s arcane blasts shattering another. The crack of wood against wood when Rose smashed one with the butt of her grenade rifle.

The moment the first wave fell, another set jumped in. I lost track of what happened with the others, as I fought to keep from being overwhelmed. Their claws cut through flesh with ease, and only by the grace of steel did I keep from losing my front legs to their attacks. Feeling a lack of space to move, I jumped at one, slamming myself into its maw in mid-air.

We toppled to the ground and rolled over several times, bowling two others away and smashing their wooden bodies to splinters. I groaned, my body reminding me I still wasn’t in the best shape for a fight. The splinterwolf didn’t go down easy. I grabbed its head with both forehooves and ripped up, tearing it away from the log-body and throwing it away. As it sailed through the air, its eyes never dimmed and it kept biting at me. With only its legs left, it kept attacking, clawing my sides and tearing new holes through my jacket.

Silently, I thanked the Steel Rangers for the barding.

Behind me I heard the sounds of the others fighting. Yells, grinds, and cries of pain. The sound of magic being cast and the howl of wounded animals crashing down. I tried to look back, only to be tackled by another monster.

It slashed at my face, tearing a single line up my muzzle. I screamed and headbutted it, snapping its jaw shut and making it yelp. I pulled my hind legs up underneath it and kicked as hard as I could. The body and head sections flew away, leaving just the legs on the ground. They lifted into the air and slashed at me again, impotently hitting the steel protecting my chest.

“How do we kill them?” I yelled as I hit another, knocking a leg away from a body. “I can’t do this all day,” I groaned, more to myself than the others. Already I could feel the exertion getting to me. If only I had a second to grab some Buck from my bags...

Past the fray I saw the splinterwolves reforming, with heads and bodies floating through the air and glowing slightly, only to reconnect with legs and tails. Once whole, they ran right back to the fight.

“Flame!” yelled Xeno, before letting out a battlecry and stabbing another through the head. She’d managed to get herself covered in blood, and gasped for every breath.

I swore under my breath. The last thing I wanted was fire. My face and flank ached, reminded of the pain fire had caused me.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Lost flinch. She looked at the mare and yelled, “Why the fuck didn’t you say that in the first-”

The half-second she took to yell at Xeno gave a splinterwolf time to sink its teeth into her throat. She screamed, but before it could tear her throat out, Rose slammed her grenade rifle into it. With a yelp, the splinterwolf let go. Its teeth, on the other hoof, stayed imbedded in her skin.

“Always my fucking throat!” Lost screamed. She lifted her head and clenched her eyes shut. Her horn sparked, crackling and glowing. A second layer of glowing aura formed atop of the first and she rose several inches into the air. Her eyes opened, shining completely white. She screamed, and flame erupted in the air around her.

A wave of fire, so bright I had to look away, blossomed from my sister. The wolves howled in unison, as their bodies started to glow as well. When the flames hit them, each burst, their wooden bodies and limbs cracking and fire erupting from their insides.

In an instant the flames faded, blown out in a ring around us, and leaving none of us burnt. The remains of the splinterwolves fell to the ground, the magic animating them burnt away by whatever in the Goddesses’ names my sister had just done.

Lost fell and collapsed onto the deck, her horn charred black.

Not one to question when I didn’t have the time, I ignored the blood on me, on my sister, and on my friends, and limped to the wagon. “Start it, now!” I yelled to Rose, who nodded and hit the engine with everything she had. Groaning, I jumped up and grabbed the wheel.

The engine revved, sputtering once and starting clean. “Thank you, Praline,” I whispered, glad that she’d looked at it. We sped off, trampling over the remains of the splinterwolves. I took a second to look back, just in case.

One splinterwolf remained, the smallest one I’d seen before the fight started. It whimpered, the wood of its ears hanging in defeat. Nothing else moved.

* * *

“It’s not closing,” I said. Tossing the still-full bottle to Xeno, I tapped my other forehoof at the line cut up the side of my muzzle. “I can’t take those until my leg sets, remember? And why isn’t it closing?”

“They arenot normal wounds, Hiddenpony,” she answered, catching the vial. She gently placed it into her bag and placed a hoof over the bandages covering her cheek. “Mine havenot closed either. I told you to stop, you didnot. Why?”

“I didn’t have my gun and I wanted to get through as fast as possible, okay?” I shot back at her. I grabbed the wheel with my free hoof and turned us around another corner, at a much slower, more agreeable pace.

“Stop fighting,” said Fine Tune. He sat next to the seat Lost laid upon, staring at her. “The Queen hasn’t woken yet.” He placed a hoof on her side, and closed his eyes.

“She’s alive, she’ll be okay. Once she gets up she can heal all this,” I lied. After that display of magic, I figured she’d be out a few days. She said she’d been burnt out in U Cig by being forced to overdo it with her casting, and cheater magic or not, that was far too much to be within her normal tolerance.

“I hope so,” said the changeling. He leaned down and rested his head over her side.

“She’d better,” said Rose. “That was a major setback.” Rose took less damage in the fight, and being a former M.O.P. pony, she’d managed to heal what little damage she’d taken right after we fled the scene.

“Why didn’t your clones come to the rescue to help us?” I asked her accusingly. “I thought you had them everywhere.”

“My guess...” she said, tapping her chin with her forehoof. “Splinterwolves got them!” She looked down at my sister and shook her head. “More will probably follow, to keep a communication network up, but it won’t be immediate.”

“Wonderful, tell that fat slob of a pony you came from that we need more time,” I spat at her. “There’s no way we can make it back in a day and a half like this.” I pointed to the slash down my muzzle with one hoof, and over to Xeno’s bandaged face with the other. Something clicked in my brain. She worked for the Ministry of Peace, what did they do during the War? “Can you heal this?” I asked, pointing once again to the wound.

“First take back what you said about my creator,” she snapped. “I’ll heal you if you ask nicely,” she said smugly.

“Fine, I take it back. Will you please heal my face, and my friend’s face?” I asked, smiling as fakely as I could.

“Sure! Why didn’t you just ask?” she said. With an equally fake smile, she trotted forward and lowered her horn to my face. It lit up aquamarine, but the sensation of knitting flesh didn’t start.

“Okay, prank’s over, heal me for real,” I said.

“I am,” she answered. “But really, despite the shit situation that we’re all in, I’ve done nothing bad to any of you.” She pulled back and looked me up and down. “Do you really need to treat me like such shit all the time? Here I am healing you, helping you through all of this. There’s more going on than you know, so why don’t you just calm down and work with me for once?”

The blood stopped leaking from the open wound, but when I looked down at it, I could still see the red line where my skin was split. I looked at the pink mare, then at the wagon’s deck. “Sorry...”

“Itis no use, Hiddenpony,” said Xeno, one hoof pressing against her bandage. “Splinterwolves are magic, ponykind cannot heal what their claws and teeth do. Weare lucky to have healed what we did.”

“What about your potions and elixirs?” I asked her. I chewed on my lip and let my tail droop. I didn’t want another scar, especially not one right on my face. All my other aches and pains were hidden under my skin, and I wanted them to stay that way.

“Itis possible, but I donot know if there are ingredients left,” she answered.

“Oh, stop worrying about it. Mares love scars,” said Rose with a laugh.

I felt my cheeks turn as red as the slash on my face. “Not funny!” I screamed as I turned away. I put both hooves on the wheel and glared at the cracked road in front of me. “No-good, drug-pushing, bitch-ass unicorn,” I mumbled under my breath.

Xeno laughed. “They will like me then, three times as much.”

I tried to stop it. I tried. But I couldn’t. I laughed.

Rose did too. Even Fine Tune chuckled.

Scarred or not, I felt immortal. I’d just gotten through a melee fight with splinterwolves. Creatures that kept fighting even without brains attached to their limbs. How many ponies could say that? I just got something to show for my troubles. We all did. Only Fine Tune managed to get out without a scar, though I didn’t know if that happened because his chitin was his natural armor or what.

I clicked the radio back on to test it, and was met with another song by Sapphire Shores. With a happy sigh, I turned the music up and focused on the road. “Any idea how long she’ll be out?” I asked Rose.

“Well, it’s been hundreds of years since I did any work healing another pony, but my professional opinion as a member of the Ministry of Peace?” she answered. “I have no idea.” She rested her fetlock across Lost’s forehead, then pressed it against her neck. “Probably another hour of rest and she’ll be awake. Maybe?”

“She’ll wake up though, right?” asked Fine Tune. He sulked and scooted as close as he could to the seat L.A. rested on.

“Yes, but don’t expect her to cast anything for a few days. I haven’t seen a pony put out something like that in, in, hold on,” she answered. Lifting both forehooves, she started to count. “One hundred and seven years.”

“That’s oddly specific. Have you been around that long, or do you share memories?” I asked. The road ahead was quite boring, with easier turns as far as I could see through the dead trees. No splinterwolves in sight, but nothing else to keep my mind busy. I rested my chin on the steering wheel.

“Are you actually trying to learn more about me, or are you being a bitch?” Rose asked back, the snarky tone returning to her voice. She hopped back up on the seat across from Lost and lit her horn up. The engine revved under her magic and we sped up.

“Well, I was learning about Xeno’s tribe earlier,” I answered, “Why not learn about you? We are stuck together.”

Xeno pulled out another pair of cigarettes and offered one to Rose. “I have traveled far, from Buckatello to Blackhoof, and the mountains between. Itis good to learn of your companions,” she said as she put the cigarette into her mouth. She said something I couldn’t understand in her native tongue. “Builds trust.”

Rose snatched up the cigarette and lit it with a spark from her magic. “Fine, fine. What do you want to know?” she asked, before taking a deep drag of the cigarette.

“Well, I can’t view memory orbs,” I said. I tapped where my horn would have been if I’d been like mom and Lost. “So, maybe your past? How you were created?”

The pink mare yawned, blowing smoke out the entire time. “Yeah, sure. I’m always up for a stroll down memory lane,” she answered.

“Story?” Fine Tune asked, his attention suddenly ripped from the unconscious Lost. He spun around in an instant and chirped loudly. Green fire flashed around him, and he was replaced by a colt without a cutie mark. In a foal’s voice, he said, “Bedtimes stories are the best, momma!” Finishing the sentence, he flashed the fire once again and returned to his normal stallion form.

That was weird, and several shades of creepy.

“Like I told you last time, I was born years before the war, in Manehatten. I got a job working in the postal service as a mailmare and moved to Blackhoof for a job,” she said, leaning back against the engine housing. “I got swapped up to research and development after a few months, a year? I forget. Rose can make as many of us clones as she wants, so long as she has the energy.” She reached down and tapped the mark on her flank. “Once she developed the special talent, she got good at it. As for me...”

“Yes, what about you?” I goaded. I didn’t need a repeat of the lesson from last time, I wanted to know what made her, as a clone, tick. I turned back to the road and steered around another turn. We skidded slightly, the wheels bumping over uneven terrain.

“Right, I’ve been around for over a century,” she answered. She took another drag of the cigarette, then crushed it between her forehooves. With a flick of her fetlock, she’d tossed it off the wagon. “I remember everything that happened before I was made, through Rose. I know all her secrets and everything she’s ever done. I remember the weight gain and starting to use us copies to do everything...” She laughed. “So many good memories, and quite a few bad ones.”

“So what happens after that?” asked Fine Tune. He fidgeted and twitched, obviously trying to contain himself. Did all changelings have that sort of energy?

“Well, I’m my own me, now,” she answered, blowing the last bit of cigarette smoke at the changeling. As he scrunched his muzzle up, she continued. “I don’t get any new memories unless she tells me, and then I only remember her telling me. We don’t have a hive mind or anything like that.” She scowled. “Not like those damn alicorns.”

“What do you know about them?” I asked.

“Not enough,” she answered. “One popped up a while back and tried to recruit us. We told her to piss off. So she killed a few dozen clones before leaving.” She laughed. “Stupid bitch.” That left quite a few questions, but we had the entire trip back to figure those out.

“Anyway, she’s made hundreds of copies, here and there for various things,” continued the pink mare. “Most spend their time waiting on her, making food and running errands. I haven’t ever seen her get up from that bed. My first ‘me’ memory is seeing her lying there, much lighter than she is now, and ever since...” She trailed off and looked back at the engine. “I like being made in her image in her prime, and moving. I might be a servant and bodyguard, but at least I can see the city.”

“Are you the first? Or the oldest?” Xeno asked. She pulled her bag up and started to dig through it. One ear flicked against the wind.

“Not by a long shot,” Rose answered, laughing. “I’ve been around a long time, but there are others from before the bombs fell. Magical radiation doesn’t do much to us, since we’re not technically real ponies.”

“If only that were true for all of us,” I said, looking at Xeno from the corner of my eye. I needed to ask her about the way she ignored radiation.

Lost groaned and shifted, interrupting the conversation. She raised a hoof and covered her eyes. “Ugh, why does it feel like my head’s full of radroaches?” she asked through another groan.

I pulled the motorwagon to the side of the ancient road and waved at Rose to cut the engine. I really needed to figure out how to brake, especially after the rolling stop that nearly killed us. “Lost, you okay?” I asked as we slowed down.

“No, stop talking,” she said. Pushing Fine Tune away with her other forehoof, she curled up into a little ball and draped her tail over her face. “Ugh...”

“We’ll take a break until she feels better,” I whispered. “Maybe, umm… Snack break?”

Everyone answered yes, so I hopped from my seat and walked to the crate we had the food stored in. I opened it, and I stared at the bounty inside. Trying to keep from drooling, I pulled out a snack for Xeno and passed it to her, then grabbed one for myself. “Here Xeno,” I said, then looked at Rose. “You eat?”

“Not in a century,” she answered, looking away.

“Well, you can have some if you need food,” I said. I looked over to Fine Tune. “What about you? Emotions only, or can you digest real food?”

He shook his head and turned to face Lost. Closing his eyes, he rested his head on her side and placed a hoof overtop of hers.

“Mint-al,” groaned L.A.

“No, no more of those for you,” I argued. Rather than give her another one, I grabbed a sandwich from the crate and set it in front of her nose. “Eat when you feel okay.”

* * *

Long after the snacks were finished and Lost fell back asleep, we started up again. Fine Tune took over steering. I just couldn’t force myself to stare at the empty road anymore. We passed a few other motorwagons in terrible shape, but when we stopped to dig through them, we found nothing useful or valuable. Since they were out in the open, I figured somepony had gone through them already and taken everything that might have brought even a single cap.

I rested my head on Lost’s side, much like Fine Tune had done while I drove. It was nice, to just feel the gentle rise and fall of her body as she breathed. I closed my eyes and sighed. Really, it hadn’t been a bad day so far. A gigantic breakfast, a chance to see Lamington, and I got my hoof fixed. And now a chance to rest against my sister and just rest my eyes.

I cracked one open and looked at her neck. We hadn’t removed the teeth left in her skin. Luckily, they hadn’t started moving or attacking. Lost would know what to do when she got up, and she’d fix it.

“Weare almost there,” said Xeno behind me. She pointed a hoof at the road. “Thatis the last pass.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. I didn’t want to disturb my sister if I could avoid it.

She nodded and pulled her knife out. “Youare welcome, Hiddenpony,” she said. With the knife, she started to pick at her other forehoof.

I nudged my sister, hoping to wake her.

She kicked a hoof at me and clenched her eyes tighter. “No, stop,” she groaned. Her hooves went to her head and she rolled over. “It still hurts.”

“Lost, we’re almost there. If you get up we can help?” I offered, trying to coax her awake. I nudged her again with a hoof, gently rocking her back and forth.

“The light hurts and my horn is killing me,” she argued. “Let me sleep.”

“Don’t you want to see the other side of the mountains?” I asked. I stopped rocking her and got up. “You’ll miss quite a sight.” Really, I had no idea what Buckatello would look like when it finally came into view, but I could imagine the view would be nice after being stuck in all these mountains.

“Fine, but I’m keeping my eyes closed until we’re there,” she said. With another groan, she rolled over and fell from the seat onto her hooves.

“I’ll take over, Fine Tune,” I offered, resting a hoof on the changeling.

“Of course, Miss Hidden,” he answered, and slid from the driver’s seat. As I took over, he walked over to Lost and gave her a hug. “I’m glad you’re awake, my Queen. I was worried.” He chirped loudly, but quieted instantly when Lost glared at him.

I steered us around the last of the curves in the road, and spun the wheel back in the opposite direction. We rolled around the mountain and, through the dead trees, I could see flat land.

“This it?” I asked Xeno.

“Yes,” she answered, still digging at a hoof with her knife.

Lost walked up behind me and rested her head next to mine. “I hate you for getting me up,” she whispered.

“I love you too, sis,” I whispered back.

The wagon passed the tree line, giving us a view of the land past the mountains. I didn’t remember a thing about it, but seeing it, I was glad. The city was a wasteland, decrepit and largely destroyed, but the scale of it was beautiful. I suddenly felt unimaginably small, compared to everything I could see. Before us lay another world, with markers all over for parts of the city that Gunbuck had once been to. It was a valley, surrounded on all sides with mountains, as far as I could see.

The massive white spire pierced the sky and the clouds, shooting up from another peak off to my right, with a large black military-looking building at the base of it, carved into the face of the mountain. For the second time in my life, I saw living, green plants, at the opposite end of the valley. They looked overgrown and untended, and even from such a great distance, I could see them moving around. Little houses and larger buildings dotted the landscape, built in little groups and surrounded by destruction. A large lake took up a majority of the valley, near the overgrown vegetation.

A flashy building lit up the far end of the valley, with lights atop it shining so bright I had to shield my eyes and look away. I couldn’t make out what the building was, aside from the large lopsided ‘C’ at one end of the name. It was surrounded by taller buildings, one with a gigantic ‘H’ sitting in front of it, smashed partway into the ground. Nearby was a blank patch, where I could see nothing but barren earth. Butting up against the mountains were no trees, no houses or buildings, just a massive half-circle of- of nothing, as if the ground had simply swallowed anything that once stood there.

“Wow,” whispered Lost. “That’s quite a view...” She leaned against me and nuzzled my cheek.

I nuzzled back. “It is,” I whispered. “I wonder where Xeno’s from?”

We passed a sign, still in good condition despite its age. “Welcome to Buckatello!” it said, in large blue letters, with a drawing of a zebra and a buffalo underneath. Both of the drawings had several bullet holes shot through them. The remains of other signs hung below that one, with chunks of metal shredded and piled up on the ground underneath the sign post. Somepony obviously didn’t like anything but the city name.

I turned around and looked at Xeno, who had put her knife away and was staring past us. “Which way?” I asked.

“A right at the fork,” she answered. She said something in her native language. With a sad smile, she looked to the corpses of her brothers and then turned toward the engine housing.

I didn’t press. I could see the tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Wow,” whispered Fine Tune, his face suddenly pressed against my cheek on the opposite side from Lost. “Is this where we’ve been headed?” he asked.

“Yeah, it is,” I answered. “Fancy, isn’t it?” I looked back and forth, from the spire to the plants. This city felt so different from Blackhoof, even from this distance. “Know what, you take the wheel.” I pulled back from between the two and let them fight over who would steer.

Resting a hoof on Xeno, I nodded my head and said, “C’mon. Let’s talk.” I walked around the back of the wagon and took a seat next to Rose. “Hey, you mind giving me a few minutes back here?” I asked.

“Yeah, whatever,” she said. Levitating her grenade rifle up and away, she walked off the same way I’d just come.

A moment later, Xeno walked around, her head held low and dragging her hooves. She slumped down next to me unceremoniously and leaned against me. “You wished to see me, Hiddenpony?”

I wrapped a hoof around her and squeezed. “I think we need to talk,” I said quietly. This would be between us, unless she wanted to include the others. “Are you going to be okay?”

“No, Iam not,” she said. Taking her helmet off, she sniffled hard and looked up at me. “Iam not ready to return home.”

“Why not, what’s wrong?” I asked. I gently ran my hoof through her mane and held her.

“It wasnot my mother’s idea for me to leave,” she said. “I left with my brothers at the suggestion of my father. We didnot tell my mother we were leaving. Now, for me to return with her sons dead... I donot feel I can face her.”

“Well, you don’t have to do it alone, we’re here for you,” I said, trying to console her. I squeezed again, hoping to stop her from shivering.

“Itis not that,” she said between sniffles. “Sheis very... there is a word in my tongue, I donot know the translation.” She said a few things in zebra, still shivering. Her hooves curled and twitched. “Sheis very forward, and has never met one of your kind that she likes. During times of trade, she would speak threats to them in our language.”

“And?” I asked, wondering where she was heading with her warnings.

“You willnot be by my side, for this,” she answered. “She will say you should be put to death for your murders.”

“I won’t let that happen,” I said in my most reassuring voice.

“Youare my friend,” she whispered, looking up at me. Tears rolled down her muzzle. “I donot want to lose another who is close to me.”

I hugged her as tight as I could. She’d been there through everything, not because of obligation, but because she saw us as close to her as we saw her to us.

“I’ll make it work, and if I don’t, Lost will,” I said, resting my head atop hers.

“I hope you are correct, Hiddenpony,” she whispered back. She said something in her language, a long string of words that sounded like gibberish to me. The second she finished, she hugged me tight. “Iam not like the others, I donot fit there.”

“Is that why you said you have no home to return to?” I asked.

“Yes and no,” she admitted. “There is more. The deaths of my brothers is a black mark upon me, as is my bringing home their killers.” She looked away from me and sulked. “Zoan willnot be happy, neither will my mother.”

“What’s her name?” I asked, trying to change the subject just a little. Hugging and reassuring only went so far if all we did was go in circles.

“Zorana,” she said through her teeth.

“Zorana, Zoan, Zahi and Zaki, Xeno...” I thought out loud. I looked down at her. “You like that ‘za’ sound don’t you?”

“Itis tradition,” she answered. She laughed as the wagon pulled to the side, going down a turn. It must be the one she’d pointed out earlier. “Yes, itis a sound we do like.”

“It’ll be okay, Xeno,” I repeated. “We love you like family. Nothing bad’ll happen.”

I really hoped I wasn’t lying.

* * *

“How much further?” I asked.

“Weare almost there,” answered the zebra. She looked up at me, her dark blue eyes hollow and emotionless. I knew she was asking me not to repeat what she’d told me. I nodded, and she looked away.

“Anything specific to look for?” asked Lost, sounding somewhat annoyed. She looked back from steering, looking marginally better than she had before. Her horn was still charred and blackened, and the bags under her eyes were almost as bad as when we’d gotten free from U Cig. She looked absolutely miserable, and the fact it was an improvement worried me.

I almost wanted to stuff a mint-al into her mouth just to get her to lighten up, but after everything I’d seen in Idle, I didn’t trust the damn things.

“Thereis a town nearby,” Xeno said as she stood up. She walked to the front of the wagon and stood next to Lost. “Itis where we lived, there.” She pointed her hoof past Lost and off to the side of the motorwagon. “Itis here.”

I looked around as we rolled around the corner she mentioned, but I saw nothing. Not a single sign of life.

“It’s empty,” said Rose. She lifted her grenade rifle and panned it from front to back while squinting. “I don’t like it.”

An empty fountain lay in ruin at the end of the road we were on. We circled the wagon around it and Lost braked us to a stop. Wait, how had she figured out how to do that? I shook my head and focused on what really mattered. I’d learn where the brakes were later.

Where was everyone?

“Zoan?” Xeno called. She placed a hoof to the side of her mouth and changed directions. “Mother?”

I twisted my ears back and forth, looking around as well. “Hello?” I yelled, hoping.

“This isnot right,” whispered the zebra. She moved back to the center of the wagon and sat on one of the seats. She placed her head in her hooves, but recoiled when she hit the slashes on her cheek. “This was a town, my tribe was here as long as I could remember. Have they been wiped out in my absence?”

“I doubt, there’s no signs of a fight. No blood, no corpses or bones,” Lost said as she looked around. “Fine Tune, can you check from the air?”

The changeling saluted and green fire flashed around him. When it faded, the blonde pegasus mare remained. She dropped the salute, flapped her wings once, and disappeared into the air.

A voice began to talk, echoing in the wastes, saying words I couldn’t hope to understand. I heard a few I recognized just from hearing Xeno say them often. Among the ones I recognized was ‘Imani,’ followed by words that, even through the language barrier, dripped with hate.

I could feel my mane raise at the back of my head, and shot a look to my sister. I let out a silent prayer to the Goddesses that whoever was speaking was one of Xeno’s friends.

Lost looked back at me, her eyes wide.

Only Rose seemed unfazed by it, as she still stood perfectly still holding her grenade rifle. Only the fact that one of her ears was twisted back gave away that she’d heard the voice too.

Xeno responded in kind, staring at the fountain. She whispered something under her breath, then laughed.

Sitting on the top of the fountain was a pony- no, a zebra. She had a green coat, with dark markings criss-crossing over her sides and face, and black lines running down her legs. A mohawk that matched her coat colors sprouted from her head, but bore obvious signs of having been inexpertly hacked to its short length. Her eyes looked identical to Xeno’s, from their exotic shape to the color. She threw her head back and laughed, making the black vest she wore jump with the movement of her chest.

“I wondered when you would return home,” she said. She grabbed a cloak from the fountain’s rubble in her teeth and jumped from it. Landing silently, she trotted over and offered a hoof to the zebra beside me.

Xeno said something in her native tongue and grabbed the hoof. She yanked hard, and pulled the green mare up onto the deck of the wagon. Tears already forming in the corners of her eyes, she hugged her tight. “Itis good to be back,” she whispered.

* * *

Xylia, the green-coated zebra mare, stared at the covered corpses. She held a hoof over her mouth and shook her head in disbelief. She said something in her language and looked over to Xeno, who could only nod in response. Her jaw dropped and she grabbed onto the other zebra, then buried her face against her neck. She cried and shook, barely able to stand.

Neither Lost nor I bothered them, we simply sat at the fountain and watched. This was something for zebra to handle, and the less we were involved in their grieving process, the better. I worried for the moment when it was revealed that Lost and I had each taken the life of one of the two stallions, and left Xeno an only child.

“What do you think will happen?” I asked Lost.

“Nothing good, I think,” she answered, while staring at the ground. “I just want to get this over with.” She shuffled a hoof and kicked a piece of the fountain’s rubble across the road. “We shouldn’t be involved at all. This feels wrong, it’s not our place.”

“I know,” I said with a sigh. I looked back at the two zebras, who held each other for comfort. “Hopefully whatever Rose wants here will be easy to get, then we can leave.” Something hit me, and I turned to my sister. “What if Xeno decides to stay?”

“Then she decides to stay,” she answered solemnly. “In the end it’s her choice, and hers alone. I hope she comes back to Blackhoof with us, but if she wants to stay here, then she stays here with her tribe.”

I just groaned in response. This whole thing was a fiasco, but we needed closure, for all of us.

Fine Tune flittered back to the fountain with something hooked in his hooves. He let out a quiet chirp and landed beside Lost. With another of his fire-flashes, he transformed from changeling to unicorn. “I found some things while I was out,” he said, offering the fruits of his search. He’d found all sorts of little odds and ends, from several different colorful flowers that were actually in bloom, to the discarded parts of what looked like a manticore.

That was creepy and raised a ton of questions. “Where’d you find that?” I asked, worrying that he’d been battling manticores all on his own.

“There was a corpse a short ways that way,” he answered, pointing toward the spire in the distance. “I snatched up what looked useful for Xeno’s alchemy.”

“Good job,” L.A. said, with a pat on the changeling’s head.

“My Queen,” he answered, bowing down.

“How long until we find this tribe of hers?” asked Rose. She tapped one hoof on the opposite fetlock, as if to indicate the PipBuck’s clock.

“Give them time to mourn,” snapped my sister. She winced and grabbed her head with a hoof. “Still hurts.”

Xeno yelled in her native language, while waving her hoof for us to approach. When we got closer, she raised her hoof and pointed at me. “This is Hiddenpony,” she said.

Xylia said something only the two of them could understand and they both laughed.

“What’d she say?” I asked, suddenly horrified.

“She said that you are not Hidden, she can see you easily,” Xeno answered. She looked back at Xylia and then at the rest of us. She said something else privately to Xylia, then continued by pointing at Lost. “That is Lostpony.” Her hoof moved to Rose. “Rosepony.” Finally she pointed at Fine Tune. “Bugpony.” She then lapsed back into her language.

Xylia nodded and squinted at Fine Tune. Snorting, she nodded and waved a hoof. “Hello, ponies,” she said. She turned away from us and said something to Xeno, and the two began to talk in their own language faster than I could follow. Finally, the green-coated mare pointed past us.

We all turned around to see where she’d pointed, only to see a large crooked sign between two buildings, off in the distance. It read ‘Buckatello Towne Mall’ in faded letters, with a distance marker underneath. The minute I looked at it, another location marker appeared in the E.F.S. in the corner of my vision. Unlike many of the others, this one was hollow. Maybe the PipBuck knew about it, but since we hadn’t been there it wasn’t filled in?

With a destination set, the four of us on the ground hopped onto the motorwagon and Rose got the engine up and running at its full power. Fine Tune lit his horn up in an attempt to help, but even with his magic, the engine didn’t change from its normal course. Lost sat on the seat and propped her hooves up on the food crate from the Stables, and I sat across from her. Xeno took the wheel, and under Xylia’s directions, steered us away from the fountain and toward the road that lead to the Buckatello Towne Mall.

The two zebras kept taking in their own language, their tone changing from sorrowful to happy over the course of whatever they were saying, until the two were laughing. Xylia ran a hoof through her short-cut mane and rolled her eyes, then said something to Xeno. Both laughed again.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” I asked nopony in particular.

“Miss Xeno asked why she cut her mane off,” said Fine Tune. He took a seat next to Lost and stretched.

“You can speak her language?” L.A. asked, looking a bit shocked.

“No, no... I just know a few words,” he answered, shaking his head. “It helps to pick up on key things when you can change your appearance. I recognized ‘cut’ and ‘mane’ and put the rest together.” I was impressed. That was really neat.

I felt a pang of jealousy. It was as if everypony else on the cart could speak their own special language, with the zebras and their native language, Fine Tune and his connection to the hive and his chirping. Even Lost spoke above my head half the time when she or Rose started talking in technical magic-y terms that made my eyes start to spin. Maybe if I paid attention I could learn one of those languages too.

It wasn’t worth it to stress about that. Instead I looked from Xylia and Xeno to the corpses on the wagon. There were bigger things to worry about.

We continued on, driving in relative silence, with ears to the outside and guns at the ready, just in case. Xylia reassured us that the location was safe, as the path had been traveled by zebra since their migration from the home Xeno remembered to their new location. Rather than spend the entire time on edge, I instead looked into the map of the area. Quite a few locations had names and markers on them, but all were near the far end of the valley from Xeno’s home town. The only one even relatively close to us was the Buckatello Reservoir.

By the time I looked back up from the map, we had arrived. The mall seemed to be in decent shape, with the entrance barricaded both inside and out. The sign had long since fallen to pieces, leaving it saying ‘kat own all.’ The tribe had been resourceful, using the frames of the sign to block the entrance on the outside as a part of their barricade.

Xylia said something in her language and pointed to the right side of the wagon. When we turned that way, she looked back and yelled, “Stop!” The engine cut off in an instant and the zebra said something else in her tongue.

Xeno nodded and braked, bringing us to a crawl just off the main road. We ended up in a parking lot with a series of mangled machines sprouting up from the cracked pavement, all so worn-down whatever they once said or did was lost to the ages. The sign on the door read Solaris Energy, but gave no clue what it might be. With one last jerk of the wheel, Xeno parked between two motorwagons of similar design, but without the armoring on them.

To anypony who didn’t know better, our wagon suddenly looked just like the others. We blended in, like another broken down wreck that had been sitting in the same spot for two centuries. A few skywagons sat at the far end of the lot, and above all of us stretched an awning meant to keep everything dry. Were it not leaning so terribly to the side, it might have made a great resting spot for us.

“Donot bother, itis empty,” Xeno said when she caught me eyeing the main building. “Come, Xylia will show us inside.” She waved a hoof and hopped from the wagon. “Lostpony, your assistance please?” She pointed to the corpses of her brothers.

“One second, Xeno,” she said. With a groan, she hopped down.

“I’ll do it this time,” offered Rose. “You, changeling. Help me here, alright?” She beckoned to Fine Tune, and together the two lifted Zahi and Zaki’s corpses from the wagon and onto the zebras back.

“Thanks,” Lost muttered. “This headache is killing me.” The only answer she got was a positive sounding grunt from the clone.

With our charges ready and our gear on our backs, we started toward the ancient mall.

I pulled my jacket tight, checked Persistence at my side, and looked around the city, wondering where the Stable we were born in was.

* * *

The walls inside the mall were covered in peeling and chipped paint, with garbage and debris littering the floor of the maintenance hall we entered through. Xylia led us through, to the old shopping areas, in the flickering light. For two centuries of rot and neglect, the building held up surprisingly well. They still, somehow, had electricity running and the skylights built into the roof kept it very light inside.

As we walked out into the main walkways, I couldn’t help but notice how massive the place was. Two stories tall, with walkways and shops above us, it must have been magnificent in its day. The floor was made of tile, with several missing or chipped away from years alone, before being taken over by the tribe. The glass windows of the storefronts survived the destruction of Equestria, more than likely due to being inside. No signs or markings adorned any of the shops, though the shadows and dust of names still remained, unable to be ripped away. I read a few but had to stop myself, as several names were quite offensive to zebra and buffalo, to the point that I was appalled.

I suddenly wondered about the sign into town, and the large ‘C’ building at the far end of the valley.

Several zebras walked through the halls, most of them the standard white or light grey with darker stripes that I’d expected of zebras before I met Xeno and her distinct markings. When the light hit just right, the local zebras’ stripes would shine, some green, some purple, instead of the black they looked when not standing in a bright spot. A few spotted us, but the moment they saw the bodies resting on the backs of Xeno and Xylia, covered their mouths and began to talk in their tongue. Several ran from sight, off to tell others the news most likely.

Xylia pointed to them as we walked past, saying words I couldn’t understand. Other zebras returned them in kind, probably in greeting. Some walked with us, staying near the zebras and avoiding the rest of us. They rarely looked at us, and never switched to speaking in a language I could understand, as if we were invisible or cursed.

“I don’t like this,” I whispered to my sister.

“Nothing we can do about it,” she said. “This isn’t our place, after all. We’re the guests here.”

I muttered, not bothering to think up words for whatever I wanted to use as a response. Instead, I just paid attention to where I was walking and taking in the sights. I’d never been into an actual mall, much less one with so many actual living people wandering around. Every now and then I would see a zebra with pony colors, a stallion with a blue coat and black stripes, or a mare with stripes in bright orange instead of black. Occasionally a zebra would pass by with what I felt were the traditional colors, black and white stripes adorning their coats. It led me to re-evaluate what I thought of their cultures, and just how closely related we actually were.

At Xylia’s behest, we were led to a large open area where two hallways intersected one another. In the center was a small building separated from everything else, rather than being inlaid in the hallway’s walls like the other stores. With a few words in their tongue, Xeno and Xylia took the bodies into the small building and returned without them. The green-coated mare said something to Xeno, then turned to us. “Go well,” she whispered. Without another word, she turned and walked away, only to disappear into a crowd of other zebras without a trace.

“Does she always do that?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Itis a talent of hers, yes,” Xeno answered. She waved a hoof and beckoned us to follow as she turned away. “Come, wewill meet my father.” With a slight pause, she reached up and took the slaver helmet from her head. Her mohawk sproinked back up into the air as she put the helmet in her satchel. Suddenly we looked out of place, trotting down the halls in barding and armed to fight, unlike the casual locals.

We followed her as she turned down another hallway, this one looking to be in far better condition than the previous. Not a single tile was missing, though several had lost corners over the years. The stores still held a few letters each for their signs, and the windows had been blacked out for privacy. The thing that stood out the most was the coffee shop, a place with the sign completely in place, and reading ‘Starbucked Coffee’. An advertisement of two pretty mares tangled amongst one another, with their tails wrapped around a coffee cup survived in its spot on the glass storefront.

Xeno merely shook her head and said something in her language as we approached.

Lost, on the other hoof, turned bright red the moment she saw the ancient advert. I, myself, had to look away, lest I get another ribbing from Rose about my preferences. She saw it and laughed. I wondered if she were making a mental picture to tell her original about later.

Fine Tune, seeing it, cocked his head to the side and transformed with a flash of fire. First he reappeared as one of the two mares, then with another bout of his flames, reappeared as the other. With a giggle, she transformed once more to return to the unicorn stallion I knew so well.

Screams came from behind us, as a mare saw his transformation and fled. The sound of her hooves echoed against the cavernous walls and ceiling, but when none came to question us, we continued into the store.

The store was simple, with several tables and chairs along one wall, with a few extras spaced around the room. Two chairs in the back had been pushed together, and by the look of their cushions, had been used as a bed. Behind the counter sat several polished machines, all surrounded with bottles and vials. More machines and bottles covered the counter, giving very little space to actually do anything while back there.

A massive stallion, bigger even than Lamington, rested on the counter inside the store, snoring loudly. He had his head buried between his forehooves, and had coloration much like my classic understanding of what a zebra looked like, with a white coat and black stripes covering his back and legs. On his flank rested a mark I couldn’t understand; it looked like a short squat bottle with roots growing from the bottom, with two lines atop it. If this was Xeno’s father, his mark had nowhere near the same hypnotic quality as her spiral design.

“This is my father, Zolera,” Xeno said quietly to us. “I would like a minute.” Without waiting for an answer, she walked over to him and nuzzled the stallion’s forehead. With a kiss between his eyes, his snoring stopped.

He awoke and one eye cracked open just a sliver. Blue eyes, barely a shade lighter than Xeno’s own, suddenly shot open wide. The stallion said something in his language and grabbed his daughter in his hooves. Dragging her over the counter, he stood up on his hind legs and squeezed her so tight against his chest that she squeaked and began to kick her hind legs back and forth.

She said something in her language, and repeated it several times, before hugging him back. Her hooves barely made it halfway around him, given the size difference between the two. When he finally released her, he had to pry her from his body to set her on the counter. His hoof raised to the bandages on her cheek. Only when she finally let go did the two begin to talk in earnest, both talking so fast in their language that I had to pin my ears back to block out the sound. It was quite adorable, as, given the height difference, they were at eye level when she stood on the counter.

“Someone’s happy to be home,” said Rose. “We should get down to business, now.”

“Let them have their moment,” I said, glaring at her.

Suddenly the conversation in another language went silent. Zolera looked at us, then back at Xeno. He said something and pointed to our group at the doorway. Several more things were said, and his voice raised. Tears welled in his eyes, and he smashed one of the bottles near him to the ground. When it shattered, he grabbed another and held it up. Finding it full, he downed the entire bottle in a single chug.

“Iam sorry,” Xeno said to us.

Each of us dismissed it in our own way, and we just watched. I focused on the little similarities between the two. He had an opposite color scheme to Xeno, though their coat colors matched almost perfectly. Their manes looked similar, with his having the same long tapered point at the front that hers did. The way they pronounced things in their language was identical, and it was obvious he’d been the one to teach her to talk when she was little, though whenever she said something in my language, he’d suddenly gain a confused look before she translated.

After several long, extremely awkward minutes, she turned to us. “Come, rest and drink with us,” she said.

Her father grabbed several bottles and passed them to her. With bottles at the ready, she hopped from the counter and placed them on one of the tables. Once we’d all sat around it, she joined us.

Zolera jumped over the counter, and landed so forcefully that the table and chairs, with us in them, literally jumped from the floor. He walked over and took the final seat, which bent under his massive size. Slowly, he looked us over, from Rose to me, and smiled. In a deep voice he asked, “You drink?”

“I do,” said Lost.

“Yeah, I could use a drink,” answered Rose.

“No, sir,” I said, shying away from him.

“Today, you do,” he said, clopping a giant hoof onto my back. Still in shock that he could speak the same language as me, I couldn’t help but note the change in his face when he noticed the armor I had on. “Be comfortable. Is time for celebrate.” He slid a bottle in front of me, then pushed the extras in front of the rest of us.

“I told him what happened,” explained Xeno. She sulked and grabbed the bottle before her. With a heavy sigh, she took a deep swig and slammed the bottle down.

“Death in battle,” he said, holding up his own bottle in his fetlock. “Reason for celebrate. We drink.” He waited for us to raise our bottles.

As one, we each drank deep of his booze.

It burned down my throat, but for his family and his pride, I gladly took the pain.

* * *

“Your father’s very nice, Xeno,” I said, sipping down the last of the burning brandy.

“Thank you, Hiddenpony,” she said, smiling wide. She hiccuped, then took another drink of hers.

We’d sat around the table in Zolera’s coffee shop, telling him the stories of what had happened since we met with Xeno. Everything from the moment we killed her brothers to the ways Lost and I stared wide-eyed at the ‘town’ the zebras had set up inside the once abandoned mall. The stories helped to relax all of us as we drank, while the booze itself took the edge off my aches and pains. What started as a sad story swiftly became a daring tale of rescue and mystery, as we moved on from telling how we’d met Xeno again on the way to Leathers and saved our little group from Wirepony, to the questions of what happened with the Stable underneath, the Steel Rangers, and beyond.

Zolera laughed and cheered, acting far friendlier than I had initially thought. Given Xeno’s comments about being unable to return, I’d feared her parents were overbearing or abusive. After having met the stallion though, I wondered why she would ever leave. He made a wonderful host and provided us with anything we asked for that he could get from his shop. When Lost asked for a second drink, he mixed her a special one on the spot. Suddenly the mark on his flank made perfect sense, a bottle of booze he made with the love of his surroundings.

When the stories continued, he focused on every detail, listening so intently I thought his ears might pop off his head and attach to his daughter. She translated everything we said for him, which made for the strangest conversation. When we got to the part about U Cig, his demeanor changed completely, and even though I couldn’t understand anything he said, it was obvious he hated slavers just as much as we did. His tone snapped to its complete opposite when we told him that Xeno had been the one to save us, by putting herself in danger of being caught herself.

He grabbed her and hugged her so tight her coat began to turn a shade of blue, before he finally dropped her. A toast was raised, one Xeno told us was to honor her being a true warrior and his pride and joy.

She pulled her striped knife from her satchel and offered it to him.

He took it and examined. With an approving nod, he threw it.

“Eep!” I yelped as the blade passed by my face.

Rose laughed, and Lost latched onto me. Fine Tune chirped and ducked underneath the table.

“Sorry, little one,” said the stallion, his deep voice sending a shiver down my spine. He pointed past me, to the knife that stuck perfectly in the wall, to the hilt.

“He taught me,” Xeno explained. “Heis proud I put his lessons to good work.”

“Yes!” he roared, grabbing her hoof and holding it. “She best student. Brothers shoot. Very good. Not enough, better way. Knife. Always better!” He reached across the table, his long legs and giant hooves easily passing by us and to the knife. With ease, he hooked it in his fetlock and pulled it free. Tossing it into the air, he caught the tip on his hoof, and with amazing balance, offered it to his daughter.

“Goddesses,” Lost whispered.

“Teach me to do that,” I heard myself say.

“I’ll keep my rifle, but that’s a neat trick,” said Rose dismissively.

Xeno translated what we’d said, and the stallion laughed.

“Gun need bullet. Not always have. Knife?” he asked, pointing to the knife in his daughter’s hoof. “Always have. Best tool.” Tilting his head, he looked off into the distance. “Ah!” he suddenly said, slamming his hoof down. He said something to Xeno, and she passed him the knife again.

“What? What’s happening?” I asked.

“He said hewill sharpen it. Make it mine,” she answered, her tone indicating he had something special planned for the knife. With a smile, she looked up at her father and nuzzled his side.

I wish I’d been able to see this side of Xeno before. She always kept herself so locked up, never showing any real emotion. Since we’d started over the mountains, the distant, aloof ice queen disappeared almost entirely, leaving the raw person in front of me. She laughed, she cried, she loved her family. There was just so much more to this mare than she let on, while she hid behind a veil of cigarette smoke, quietly helping from the background.

Xeno said a few more things in her language, each time receiving a nod from her father. She talked faster and faster, moving her hooves around in the most animated fashion I’d seen since I met her. I heard a few words, ‘motorwagon,’ ‘Steel Ranger,’ and a few others that probably didn’t have a direct translation. When she finished, she leaned against him and once again hugged his leg.

“Xylia good scout. Brings home lots,” he said. It made some sense? Xylia was a scout for the village and brought home a good amount of supplies? The language barrier hurt, but he seemed so happy to try and speak in words we could understand. Just seeing the sparkle in his eyes whenever he said something in my language.

“Alright,” said Rose, tapping her bottle with a hoof. “Stories are caught up, and while it’s been wonderful to learn more about each of you...” She looked around the table, then pinned her ears back. “It’s time for business.”

“No,” said Zolera. “Family first. Business after.”

Rose’s horn lit up, and her grenade rifle lifted from her back. She swung it around with lightning speed and aimed it at the giant stallion. “We’re on a strict time limit here,” she hissed. “I have no time for games.”

Zolera slammed his hoof down on the barrel of her gun. It hit the table so hard the table cracked and the barrel flattened with a pathetic little ‘crink’ sound. “After,” he repeated.

Rose blanched and sat back in her seat. Gulping, she picked her bottle up and hid her snout behind it. “Yes sir,” she whispered.

For half a second, I thought I might love this stallion.

Lost, Fine Tune and I just laughed. Finally, someone had the balls to put the bitch in her place.

“In that case, what’s next? You’re our host now, so...” Lost asked, trailing off as Xeno translated the question to her father.

The stallion mulled it over for a moment, then said something to Xeno in his native language. The two talked for a moment, back and forth.

Our friend turned to us. “Wewill have a funeral for my brothers. Then, we meet with my mother to set up trade with Rosepony,” she explained. Shooting the pink mare a smug look, she collected the now-empty bottles for her father and trotted over to the counter. Once they were put away, she trotted back. “Let us go now.”

Zolera stood first, and backed away from the table. He bowed his head and motioned for the rest of us to exit first with a wave of his hoof.

I stood and moved to stand next to my sister. Along with the surprisingly quiet Fine Tune, and the still-petrified Rose, we followed Xeno through the halls back the way we’d come. The stallion brought up the rear, walking slowly with his eyes focused on his only remaining foal.

“What type of burial does your tribe perform?” I asked, trying to make the walk less solemn.

“The bodies will be cleansed in fire, re-wrapped, and given traditional rites of passage by the tribal leader, Zoan,” Xeno explained without looking back. “Afterward, we will feast. There will be stories told of their life and triumphs. Then we will discuss business. My mother will be there. All will be well.” She said something in her native tongue after her explanation.

Zolera said something back, then groaned.

Xeno turned back, her eyes wide. “Blind?” she asked.

The stallion nodded his head.

“What?” Lost asked.

“Zoan has gone blind. A shame...” answered Xeno.

We fell silent after that, the six of us walking down the halls in a makeshift funeral procession. When we arrived back at the intersection of the hallways, Zolera trotted off. With every step he made, the ground shook and the windowed storefronts seemed to jump about on their frames.

“We wait,” said Xeno. She took a seat at one end of the intersection and hung her head. “It is time for reflection, as the tribe will bring the necessary items.”

We took our seats behind her, and as she did, we hung our heads and focused on memories.

* * *

As time passed, more and more zebras joined us in sitting in the clearing between the hallways. Some stared at us as they approached, with comments slung back and forth in their language. Many focused more on the funeral than who the guests were. Throughout the arrival of the others, Xeno never lifted her head or opened her eyes. She stayed in her own world.

The others of her tribe varied in their looks as much as I expected. Each had a different design to their stripes, and while most were white, or similarly light of coat, the stripe colors varied drastically. Most were so dark the stripes looked black, unless they walked under the open skylight in the center of the intersection. Only one mare, a young pony with her mane and tail in dreadlocks had bright stripes, in a lovely purple. I caught a few stallions and mares with less than expected traits, a small hoofful with unicorn horns, and a single stallion with a pair of poorly concealed wings. Surprisingly, not a single colt or filly joined us.

After a long break between the arrival of zebras, Xylia reappeared. She walked down the hallway we’d come from, with an elderly mare leaning against her. The other mare was very obviously blind, her eyes having clouded over, and their color faded. Her stripes stood out, similar to the purple-striped mare, in that even in the shadows they had a noticeable green tint to them, almost matching the color of Xylia’s coat. Given what I’d heard, I guessed that to be Zoan, the tribal leader.

She sat with the group, at the very front.

I looked at what they’d brought. Every zebra who arrived came with something to be placed in the center of the hallways’ intersection. Wood and personal items were piled in the center, creating a massive stand beside the small building the bodies were stored in. They’d pieced it together as a group, forming layers as if it were to become a house. Watching was fascinating, before I realized exactly what they were doing.

It wasn’t until they’d finished that I realized what Xeno meant when she explained ‘cleansing by fire.’ The others in the tribe had all brought together parts to build a funeral pyre, to burn the corpses of her brothers. The fact that the entire tribe worked together to create it, rather than just the family who’d felt loss warmed my heart in the most morbid way. To see them brought together by tragedy, and knowing that they were supporting a family who had lost so much. I only wished ponies could still work together so well, to have that sense of community.

More than that, I wished that I’d never have to see such a thing again. After what happened with the Steel Rangers, and watching Elder Drop Scone break down and cry over the body of her son after his death in battle. I never wanted to attend another funeral.

And yet, here I was, once again sitting at the sidelines while those I cared about put the souls of their dead to rest.

When we got back, I was going to find the house mom had died in, and give her a proper send off. She deserved as much, now that I was old enough to know it. Even if all that were left were her bones, I would make sure her soul was sent to the Goddesses, where she belonged.

Zolera walked to us and placed his hoof on Xeno’s shoulder. He held her from behind and consoled her in quiet murmurs.

Xeno responded in kind, and stood up. The two walked off, heading to where we’d left her brothers when we arrived. Together, they brought the corpses out and rested them atop the pile of wood and community gifts for the ceremony.

Once the two bodies were placed, Zolera patted his daughter, and sent her away. After adding her items to the pyre, she left his side. The stallion spoke to the zebras, his deep voice echoing off the hallways in strange words I wished I could understand.

Xeno returned to sit next to us. Her muzzle was stained with tears, and she tried to hide it with a hoof. “Itis time,” she whispered.

The stallion continued to talk, and lifted a bottle filled with the same alcohol we’d been drinking just an hour earlier. He stepped back a few paces from the pyre, and threw the bottle. It shattered between the bodies of Zahi and Zaki, and in an instant, the entirety of their resting place lit with blue flame. Finally, I knew where his daughter had picked up the trick of lighting something without fire.

We all sat in silence as the fire burned, the blue dimming to orange after what felt like an eternity. Not a single zebra present so much as coughed, as they all stared at the burning of the two sons.

A mare walked from the far end of the hallway, opposite where we sat. As she approached, every single zebra said something that sounded like ‘sifa,’ but the meaning was lost on me.

The mare was tall, with long legs and a shapely figure, even to my eyes. She was astonishingly beautiful, with her long mane hanging down and framing her gorgeous face. Her green eyes were striking, and seemed to pierce directly to my soul even when she wasn’t looking directly at me. She walked with the stride of someone who knew she was important, slow and with careful, purposeful steps. Her stripes were almost invisible, so faint their grey color that they nearly bended in with her immaculate white coat.

The mark on her flank reminded me of a sunrise, with a horizontal line over three dots, and a half-circle of shorter lines rising from the ‘horizon.’ It stood out in stark contrast, being pitch black. The only other color on her were sigils painted over her coat with red paint or dye. They were intricate and intertwined with one another, forming a design that led my eyes from her legs to her side and back to her eyes.

Whoever she was, it was very obvious she was in charge, and given the reverence the tribe showed her, I could only imagine she was their spiritual leader. I could think of no other reason for one to paint themselves with such complex and winding designs. She greeted them with the same phrase they’d said to her, then took her place next to Zolera in front of the fire.

Xeno stared, her jaw nearly on the floor.

“Mother...”
_________________________________________________________________________________________
Footnote: Level Up!

Hidden Fortune:
New Perk: Steel Hoof (Rank 3) – Finally putting that cyberpony hoof to good use? When attacking with the metal attachments to your body, you do extra damage equivalent to just how much steel you throw around.

Lost Art:
New Perk: Momma’s Filly (Rank 3) – Being taught how to survive, you can even coach others in what to do, +10 to Medicine and Science skills.
Quest Per: Energy Conversion – Booklearning has done you some good. With the basics of intermediate spellcrafting under your belt, you can now cast offensive spells in multiple energy types, including but not limited to Arcane and Fire. Conversion of energy from one form to another is exhausting, and until the new energy type is mastered completely, casting a spell in anything other than Arcane energy will leave your magic weakened and can potentially cause full burnout.

“Life on the other side of the mountains sure is weird.”
“We’ve really only just met the zebras, and you’re calling them weird?”
“What, no. That would be offensive. I just...”
“Just what, Hiddenpony?”
“Errr, your dad is really nice!”
“Crii!”
“We don’t have time for this, get to the next chapter so we can get back to Idle!”
“Who let Rose out here?”

Author's Note:

(A massive thank you to Kkat for creating, and everyone else who has helped to flesh out the universe of Fallout Equestria. And to everyone who has/will help with with editing and making this more palatable... Big hearts to Dimestream, Sabsy, SugarCube, Moth, and everypony else who helped with ideas, editing, and brushies. And of course everything is copyright their respective owners. ~Hnetu)

[Sorry for the delay on this one, folks. Hnetu was nice enough to give me the month of November off to work on my own novel, which I failed miserably at. But hey! We’re back, and she outwrote me something like 4:1, so I’ll be editing until my fingers fall off, and you’ll have a bunch of chapters ready in short order. Sigh. +Dimestream ]

Comments

[Third Wind]

Caught up with 16 and 17 chapters after a break for "normal" literature.
Though Umberto Eco can be awesome, I found myself waiting to finish it, so I could read some more pony stuff

I wasn't actually able to follow all the run-n-shoot stuff they did in 16, but that's primarily because I usually skip shooty moments. They tend not to do anything for a plot and quite resemble a gameplay. Not that it was unexpected, just saying.

The chapter with Steel Rangers was really nice and refreshing. I actually liked that finally Hidden and Lamington start.. slowly.. just maybe... saying,,, that just maybe,, oh no, too embarrassing.

Thanks, Hnetu!

[Deathpony]

That's Xeno's Mom? She sounds and looks like Celestia, also I still hope they find a way to kill Rose and her clones. Good chapter

[serPomiz]

When we got back, I was going to find the house mom had died in, and give her a proper send off. She deserved as much, now that I was old enough to know it. Even if all that were left were her bones, I would make sure her soul was sent to the Goddesses, where she belonged.

why this sound menacing to me?

[Hnetu]

3586535
Probably because she died in an abandoned house, in a bedroom where some hapless pony kept a potted poison joke, which grew and grew, until its vines covered the floor, only hidden by the mess of papers knocked from desks and shelves, and having mutated into killing joke... Walking into that room to get her corpse is dangerous...

[ChaosDX1]

“So, Lost, any idea where we are?”
I chucked at the unintended irony of her name in this context.

[serPomiz]

3586619

room... wow, you really are an optiminst!

[RevelRomp]

I like the "“Err, how does a changeling queen make more changelings?”" part. Tune is kinda adorable in his explanation.

Everything from "It felt too easy." to "Could make go wrong" reminds me of Blackjackesque behavior in PH. In particular, in the early-to-mid-most chapters before her self-destructive tendency is explained in exposition (Even though it's kinda already being hinted at plenty of times by then).

Ever-expanding? Insert inflationiists joke here.

And now for Terraria.

[S3rb4n]

Imani and Bedui... I see what you did there. Not bad, adding that arabic feel to the colorful, colorful zeebas!

Also, I liked that ending part... It felt strangely soothing and noble.

[Doctor Ham]

Chapter 18 at long last!

A lot of good stuff to be had here that I can't decide where to start. So, chronological order! Is it bad that I sympathize more with Creme Brulee than with Lost in their relationship tension? I recognize that it was good of L.A. to admit to her cheating, but when they were leaving, L.A. didn't seem at all apologetic, just upset. The "It's just sex" line doesn't do her any favors in my book. Then again, it's a scene we weren't privy to, and I'm possibly being unnecessarily harsh to her. Creme and L.A. were raised in entirely different circumstances with different worldviews, but Lost has been a note of concern for me since U Cig, and the Mint-Als aren't helping. It doesn't feel out of character, just this slow slide that she needs to be yanked back from, and yanked hard.

Speaking of yanking, I shake my fist in impotent disgruntlement at your fake-out of Praline getting caught in the engine. Y'hear me? Impotent. Disgruntlement.

The splinterwolves were pretty awesome baddies, too, though I am astonished they got out as well as they did. I suppose it's a good thing none of them got caught in the wagon or broke any of it. Also yay PipBuck weirdness!

Though of course the heart of this chapter was Xeno, and I really liked seeing this depth to her. I'm somewhat relieved that she isn't caught between her family and her friends (yet, we'll see what her mother has to say), but I was fearing the worst when Xeno was explaining the situation to Hidden. Even if they are friends now, she's right, bringing home her brothers and accompanied by their killers cannot possibly end well. It's an engaging conflict, and I'm dreading how it irons out. At the very least, it seems her father is on their side. And her father brought some levity to balance out the funeral later. Rose seems to not have a great handle on when it's an appropriate time to negotiate. I get that they're on a deadline, but uh... one does not point a gun at a grieving father and expect things to go well. I'm frankly amazed they're still willing to talk to Rose after that, but my assumption is that Xeno explained the situation to him. The best part I like about this chapter is I feel like I'm finally getting to see the real mare. Xeno seems to have always hidden herself behind some kind of facade or distraction or another, and it feels like she's now having to confront what's she's been distracting herself from, and so anything obscuring the real Xeno falls away.

Lastly I really like the funeral rites. The community-built pyre is a great idea, and my only issue with the chapter as a whole, is the off-handed line about Zolera lighting the alcohol without a fire. It didn't seem wholly appropriate for the scene, but also didn't detract from it.

Bar that single hiccup, I had a great time with the chapter. Xeno having her moment to let all this sink in, that maybe she can't face going home after all, it was heartfelt and excellently done, and I loved every moment that Zolera had. The reactions to the Starbucked coffee signs and "She is not hidden very well," both got big grins out of me. Fine Tune continues to be an adorable little bugpony and I just wanna hug him tight. In short, another great chapter, and I'll have to read 19 pronto.