Drizzling in a clammy mist, the rain left the young mare chilled to the marrow of her bones. She did everything she could to try to keep herself from shaking from the cold, afraid that even that bit of noise might reveal her hiding spot, curled inside the rusted opening of an old sewer line that had been exposed by the elements probably decades ago. Her once shiny yellow coat was coated with so much mud she might as well have had a brown coat instead, and her curly cyan mane wasn’t faring much better.

Puddle closed her green eyes tightly, doing something she hadn’t done in her entire nineteen years of life; pray to the Goddesses of old Equestria. She prayed that the Raiders that had attacked her merchant caravan, slaughtering most of her friends and family, wouldn’t find her hiding place. She’d heard all the stories of what Raiders did to those they took captive, a death sounded like the better option, though Puddle was terrified of the idea of dying as well. She might have lived her whole life knowing that the world was dangerous and that death could lurk around any corner… but there was a world of difference between knowing that you could possibly die, and having that death suddenly be a reality starring you in the face.

She knew, sadly, that if it came down to it she wouldn’t be able to take her own life, even if the Raider’s caught her. Her gun, a rather flimsily looking 9mm pistol, was already nearly out of ammo, wasted in wild shots as she’d fled the scene of the attack. Even as she looked at it, knowing that as a unicorn it’d only take a second to use her magic to levitate it up, press the barrel against the side of her head, and squeeze off one of the last rounds, she just couldn’t fathom doing it.

She wanted to live too badly. She was scared of… it all ending. So instead she just huddled into herself and prayed silently to the ancient alicorn Princesses of old Equestria, who some still believed looked over their little ponies even in this blasted Wasteland the world had become, that she’d be safe. That the Raiders would stop looking for her and that as long as she stayed hidden here until nightfall she would be able to sneak away… and keep living another day.

“Why hello there cutie,” said a raspy voice in front of her and Puddle snapped her eyes open to see a dirty, scar covered blue stallion with crazed yellow eyes and a messy red mane grinning at her. He was an earth pony, big and bulky, and he was wearing hide-like armor that, by the occasional faded cutie mark on it, wasn’t made from animal hide.

Puddle screamed, and tried to back deeper into the pipe, but the interior deeper in had collapsed some time ago, leaving her nowhere to go. As soon as her rump hit the dirt wall behind her she panicked and tried to levitate her pistol, but the Raider stallion scoffed and stamped his hoof down solidly on the gun before it could lift more than a few inches.

“Now now now, that’s no way to treat a nice stallion like me,” he said, his fetid breath filling Puddle’s nostrils as he leered at her, licking his lips, “If you give me too much guff I’ll have to break some bones, maybe cut some parts off you.”

He reached in, wrapping a hoof around Puddles head and pulling her forcibly from the sewer pipe with so much force that it slammed her snout into the dirt hard enough to cause her nose to start bleeding. Before she could clear her dazed head she felt the raider’s body on her back, his hooves pushing her further into the mud.

“But if you’re nice and still,” the monstrous pony said as he bit her neck hard enough to draw blood, “I’ll keep you around for awhile and maybe keep the others from eating you. Only if you don’t squirm, heh, unless it’s in a I way I tell you-“

Suddenly there was a deep, guttural growl from somewhere to the side, followed by the raider stallion crying out as something knocked him from Puddle’s back. Puddle heard tearing, like wet paper bags being torn apart, followed by a screaming gurgle. For many long seconds Puddle was too scared even to raise her head, and when she did she almost wished she hadn’t.

A massive dog, its fur a snowy gray-white, with perky ears and a large busy tail, was savaging the raider that had been about to force himself on Puddle. The stallion, despite his size and bulk, had been taken completely off guard by the hound. He still flailed his hooves, trying to knock the dog off of him, but the dog’s jaws were firmly gripped around the raider’s throat and was shaking the raider’s neck like it was a chew toy. Blood was spurting from open arteries and quickly the raider’s struggles ebbed away and he lay still.

And still the dog kept growling and tearing at the raider’s neck, until a voice spoke, a deep, strong male voice.

“Winter, put that thing down. You don’t know where it’s been.”

The dog instantly let the dead raider go and perked its head up, looking towards the speaker with bright, happy blue eyes as it let out a friendly bark.

“Shh, down Winter, there are more of those… ponies about and I’d like to avoid alerting them if I may.”

The speaker was another stallion, also an earth pony. Puddle stood on shaky legs as she looked between him and the dog he seemingly commanded, fear still gripping her heart The stallion smiled at her, a warm and open smile, and his blue eyes looked at her kindly. His coat was a deep red, almost pure crimson, and his straight mane and tail were both black as jet. He wore a strange blue jumpsuit the likes of which Puddle had never seen before. It was a tad faded with travel wear, but it still seemed to be in good repair, almost as if it wasn’t salvaged from hundreds of years ago. He also had an odd device on his right foreleg, like a little miniature terminal. Puddle noticed, as he walked down the small hill of debris he’d appeared atop of, that on the back of his jumpsuit the stallion had the big yellow numbers ‘101’.

The dog, Winter, made a small whining noise and trotted to his apparent master’s side, panting with his blood stained tongue lolling out. The stallion laughed lightly and pet the dog on the head, “Yes, yes, you’re a good boy. I’m not mad at you. You did the right thing. Now, Winter, guard.”

The dog instantly obeyed, going to pad off a few dozen paces, its ears perked to listen. Somehow Puddle knew the dog would immediately alert them if the dead raider’s fellows got close. Meanwhile the red stallion had approached her, stopping a few paces away as he held a hoof up, almost as if to show he was unarmed. Which Puddle realized he was.

“I apologize miss, if Winter scared you,” he said, his deep voice somehow reassuring, “I can’t imagine what horrors that… pony, there, was trying to subject you to. Are you alright? You’re not injured?”

“N…no,” Puddle said, finding her voice at last. She was shivering, and felt sick to her stomach as she thought about what might have just happened if this stallion hadn’t come along, but she managed a small smile, “Thank you. For saving me.”

“Not at all. Winter did all the work. I just happened to be walking by,” the stallion said, glancing at the screen of the device on his foreleg, “Can I assume you were part of the caravan I saw a little ways back?”

Puddle’s eyes shot wide, “Y-yes! I am. I’m, I’m Puddle, and the mare that ran that caravan was my big sister. You saw it? What happened? Is anypony still alive back there?”

The stallion’s kind blue eyes turned saddened as he grimly shook his head, “I’m sorry, Miss Puddle.”

Puddle didn’t ask for further details, knowing she didn’t want to know. Instead she just let the pain flow freely from her heart as she sat down on her haunches, hung her head, and let the tears out. Her big sister Hard Bargain was… had been so much stronger than she had been. A good mare, who’d kept the caravan together for all the years since their parents had died. Puddle had always wished she could be half the merchant and toughened Wastelander her sister was. Now she was gone, and Puddle was alone.

She felt a hoof on her shoulder and she looked up to see the red stallion looking at her with a compassionate look of understanding.

“I truly am sorry for your loss, but staying here is not wise. I am still figuring out the lay of the land. Is there a settlement anywhere nearby?”

Puddle wiped at her eyes to clear the tears and tried to get her brain working. She nodded.

“Yeah, we were heading for New Appleoosa, then from there Tenpony, finally to Friendship City, all while doing our best keep clear of Fillydelphia.”

Her savior looked at her quizzically, “I apologize for my ignorance, but why avoid this… Fillydelphia, was it?”

She frowned, wondering how this pony didn’t know about this. Had had spent his life stuck in a hole in the ground?

“Fillydelphia is a slaver city,” she said, “Nopony without some kind of deal cut with one of the slaver lords there dares get too close. They got patrols always trying to nab more ponies to work to death there and unless you know the right ponies and can fly the pendant of one of those slaver lords they’ll snatch you too.”

The stallion’s eyes narrowed slightly, and for a second Puddle saw something in them that she couldn’t place, but left her feeling a chill. But it was gone in an instant and his eyes were kind once more.

“I see. The world is truly an unpleasant place, isn’t it? I’m amazed ponies can survive it while maintaining any level of decency,” he glanced at the raider’s corpse, the blood from its torn out throat forming red rivers in the muddy ground, “It seems many don’t.”

At that point Winter gave a quick, low bark, and the red stallion glanced over to where the dog was. He then seemed to Puddle to look off at nothing, as if he were seeing things beyond his actual line of sight. He sighed as he turned back to her.

“We need to go. If you’ll be kind enough to lead me to this New Appleloosa I’d be most appreciative.”

Puddle couldn’t nod her head fast enough, “Of course! You saved me, so it’s the least I can do.”

She looked around rapidly, trying to think of the best route from where they were. It’d take a bit to find the road again, but then she wasn’t certain the road would be the safest place with a new raider gang in the area. But she did know of at least one or two back trails they could take. In a second she was quickly leading the red stallion and his dog away.

She only paused for a moment to turn her head around to look at the red stallion with the strangely kind but intense eyes, “Oh, um, what’s your name anyway, mister…?”

He smiled at her, a coltish smile that revealed his actual rather youthful age.

“My name is Red Eye.”

----------

Puddle was proud of herself for having only cried a few more times during the hours of walking from the site of her caravan and sister’s deaths. She was still deathly afraid the Raiders might be coming after them, but Red Eye assured her that his dog Winter was more than able to smell trouble coming and they would have plenty of warning if something dangerous came towards them.

Despite the pain that still clenched her chest whenever she thought of what she’d lost, she at least found some comfort in the presence of the somewhat mysterious young stallion. So far he’d deflected most of the questions she’d asked of him.

“So, where are you from, Red Eye?”

“Nowhere of consequence. An inglorious hole in the ground filled with closed minds that no longer bear mentioning or remembering.”

“Do… do you have any friends or family?”

“Sadly I cannot claim any still living family. As for friends,” he smiled warmly, “Besides Winter I suppose I can only count you as a friend currently, Miss Puddle.”

She couldn’t help but return the smile, despite all that had happened to her that day, “Just Puddle is fine.”

She wondered about his strange blue jumpsuit and the device on his foreleg, but asking about those had just gotten cryptic responses. She thought it odd that he wasn’t armed or seemed really all that… Wasteland weathered. Could he be… a Stable pony? She’d only heard rumors of Stables, the ancient old-world bunkers that supposedly held all sorts of secrets and treasures from the Equestria that existed before the Great War destroyed it. Red Eye certainly seemed like a pony from a different world and time than the Wasteland Puddle knew.

He clearly didn’t want to talk about it, so she let her questions lay to rest after a time, instead enjoying the pleasant silence.

New Appleoosa was a day away, and the pair enjoyed a quiet night camped in the hollowed out shell of what had once been a house, but now was no more than a pair of mostly crumbled corner walls. Red Eye had asked her a few questions about the region, and about herself, and Puddle was happy enough to answer them, though a part of her had been tempted to be cryptic right back at him. But something in his eyes just… elicited honest from her, as if she couldn’t bring herself to be anything but open. There hadn’t been much to tell, really. She knew a fair bit about the Wasteland between the deadly ruin that was Canterlot, the broken remains of Manehattan, and the bastion of civilization that was Friendship City. He seemed pretty curious about Fillydelpha as well, but she knew only enough to understand that horrible place was to be avoided at all costs. Only the most foalhearty pony would risk taking a route near that place.

“There’s not much to say about me, really,” she’d told him when Red Eye inquired about her background, “I’ve lived in the caravan my whole life, just going from place to place, helping with trading cargo that we buy off of scavengers.”

“You were born on the road then,” Red Eye said, more statement than question, “Never known a sedentary life. Always with danger and death awaiting somewhere around the next bend in the road.”

“I…guess…” Puddle said softly, looking at the ground and wrapping her forelegs around the knees of her hindlegs, “We always knew the dangers of what we did. I guess we also always figured we’d make it. Maybe lose a guard now and again, but we don’t really try to think about how it might end. We can’t. That’s…”

“You’d lose heart if you let the fear penetrate fully,” Red Eye said, nodding his head, “Yes, ponies are a resilient species. We can endure all manner of hardships as long as we don’t let it penetrate our hearts. Especially if it s for the good of the ‘herd’. Hmm…”

He went silent, something Puddle had noticed he tended to do often. Red Eye always seemed to be thinking. She wondered what was going on behind those eyes of his, which started off, seemingly at nothing, but held such intensity that it both enamored her… and frightened her a little.

The next day they were walking cross country, avoiding the clearer roads, still. Puddle knew that New Appleoosa was near, probably no more than a couple more hours walking. It was a pleasant little place, nowhere near as large or cosmopolitan as Friendship City, but a honest community of good ponies. Her caravan rarely did a lot of business there but it was a good spot to rest and resupply. She looked forward to reaching it, though what she was going to do once she did Puddle had no idea. The caravan being gone she no longer had a place, or purpose. She had no caps, and nothing to use for trade besides her simple pistol, which wouldn’t nab her much. Certainly not enough to get the caravan rebuilt from scratch. Perhaps she’d see if there was any work in New Appleoosa? She didn’t have a wide number of skills. Besides bartering she only knew a bit of repair work to help with keeping the wagon in good shape. She’d just have to see what happened when they got there…

Winter’s growl was so low and fierce it froze Puddle in place in terror not because of the warning it was meant to portend but rather for fear the dog might leap upon her.

Red Eye’s voice cut through her fear like a light in darkness, “Steady. Don’t move. One of them has a sniper rifle.”

‘Them’ referred to a group of ponies that had come over the rise of a ride to their left, about a hundred paces off. Puddle could see that Red Eye was right, one of the ponies was clearly a unicorn and was levitating what looked to be a rifle with a large scope on it. The ponies were approaching, and one of them was hitched to a wagon. That might have been a relief, suggesting this was another merchant caravan, if not for the fact that the wagon had upon it a metal cage and inside that cage Puddle could see ponies.

Slavers.

Slavers near New Appleoosa.

She’d never heard of slavers daring to come this far out from Fillydelphia, but there was no time to think about it as the slavers were approaching quickly. She counted six of them, all armed, and she began to take a step to turn and run, but Red Eye was there instantly, holding her with one foreleg.

“I said, don’t move,” he said, his voice carrying a hard note of command that haltered her in her tracks.

“But, we have to,” she said, “They’ll catch us!”

“If we run, we’ll be shot,” he said simply, his voice turning softer, calmer, reassuring as his eyes met hers and she could feel a sense of calm also coming over her, “I don’t want to see you hurt. Please, just stay put. Winter can’t fight them all, and you only have a single weapon. We can’t fight, and running would get us killed at worst, badly injured at best. Our only choice is to stay, wait, and see what happens.”

“They’re slavers,” Puddle said, “They’ll capture us and take us to Fillydelphia!”

“Even so, any other action than allowing ourselves to be captured will result in death,” Red Eye said, tightening the grip of his hoof on her shoulder, “Puddle, as long as we live, there is a chance. If we die, all chances become zero.”

“i… I understand,” she said, pushing down her fear and trusting in what Red Eye was telling her.

“No matter how this proceeds, I give you my word I’ll find a way to protect you,” he told her, and she found she completely trusted him. Again it was his eyes, those blue, kind eyes, that shone with equal amounts of sincerity and intensity it was impossible not to believe in them.

Puddle found that she felt oddly relaxed and calm by the time the slavers got to them. There were seven ponies, five earth ponies and two unicorns. All were armed to one degree or another, and armored either in leather or worked metal plates. Not a one of them had anything resembling good hygiene, though the leader, a clay gray unicorn with a gruff black mane and gruffer beard, seemed the cleanest of the bunch. Puddle could tell he was the leader because of the cocky manner of his stride, and the fact that he was the one with the sniper rifle, the strongest and best repaired weapon among the group.

This leader sauntered forward, his gun trained on them. Winter growled but Red Eye quieted him with a simple flick of his tail that the dog seemed to instantly understand was a command.

“Well isn’t this a pleasant surprise?” said the slaver leader with in a voice that was high and edged by a slight twang, “Not often we get ponies that just happily sit on their asses for us to snatch them up. World’s turning into a politer place, ain’t it fellas?”

There was a general round of laughter from the other slavers, one particular pony, an slim earth pony mare whose rose pink coat contrasted sharply with her pale green mane that hung long past her shoulders, laughing louder than the others.

“Maybe they think we’re friendly little merchants, looking to trade?” the mare suggested, stepping forward and looking at Puddle and Red Eye with a lick of her lips that made Puddle shudder, “Either way they look healthy. Both prime cuts, I’d say. Big Ma pays the most caps these days for the fresh ones.”

“Yeah, but Chainlink pays the most on average,” said another pony, the other unicorn, this one also a white mare with an equally white mane tied up in a plain bun. She had a stocky build and a pair of glasses perched on her nose, one side of the glasses broken.

“Fuck averages,” said one of the other earth ponies, a stallion whose face kept giving little ticks and twitches and whose blue body was twig thin, “I don’t like Chanlink fuckin’ Shackles. Never know when that guy is gonna make you a slave.”

“All of you pipe down!” barked the leader, who went back to eyeing Puddle and Red Eye, though his look rested slowly on Winter, “Whoever we sell ‘em all to, we don’t need the dog.”

He lowered the sniper rifle, but Red Eye stepped in front of the barrel, causing Puddle to let out a small gasp of fear. Red Eye met the slaver leader’s eyes with his own stare.

“You’ll find the dog to be quite valuable as well,” said Red Eye, “More than worth keeping-“

The slaver’s rifle snapped out, swinging around and cracking Red Eye across the face with the stock. Red Eye staggered, but barely managed to keep on his hooves as the slaver said, “Don’t fucking talk unless spoken to, meat. First rule of your new life as a slave.”

Red Eye grunted, but didn’t fall, and resumed staring at the leader, “An understandable policy, yet I must make my point that the dog is worth-“ the rifle cracked him across the face again, and Red Eye’s lower lip began to bleed profusely from where it’d been split… yet he didn’t’ fall, and kept talking as if the hit hadn’t happened, “-worth more to you alive than dead. He is quiet obedient to any who use his name of Winter, and skilled as a guard, scout, and hunter.”

Puddle could see the blows had rocked Red Eye, his legs trembling, but he simply steadied himself and kept standing as the slaver leader glared at him.

“Boy, you’re some special kind of stupid, aren’t you? Ain’t hearing me clearly, maybe?”

“Not at all. I like my dog. I know he’s useful, so in order to see him continue to live I don’t mind him serving another master, which he will,” Red Eye said with simple conviction, “All one needs is his name. Winter. Call him by name, and he’ll obey nearly any command. He’s quite smart and utterly obedient. Try it yourself. He’ll serve you, or anypony you choose to sell him too. I trust profit is the purpose of your endeavors is it not?”

“Cute buck’s got a point, Dirt Mound,” said the slim pink earth pony mare, “Might be we can find a buyer for the mutt. More caps for all of us.”

“Shut your hole Echidna,” snapped Dirt Mound, throwing a sharp glance at her, “When I want your opinion I’ll do absolutely fucking nothing because I’m not asking you for it! You’re here to keep the boys from getting randy with the mares we capture, and to do that you don’t need to speak none, just lift your fucking tail outta the way when you’re told.”

For a moment Puddle was convinced that this Echidna mare was going to pull her own gun, a duct tape covered pump shotgun, and blast Dirt Mound then and there. Her eyes were throwing pure venom at Dirt Mound, though the look soon turned to a simmer as she looked away, scowling, as she muttered, “Prickless bastard…”

One of the earth pony stallions, perhaps the bulkiest of the bunch, stepped forward. His orange coat was complemented by a short cut, if still messy mane of red. He was one of the ones in metal armor, and carried a belt fed machine gun mounted on a battle saddle strapped around his burly form. He stepped up beside Dirt Mound, who gave him a hard look.

“What, Brasshoof? You agreeing with her?”

When the stallion, Brasshoof, spoke, it was with a terse, mumbling tone, as if he wasn’t all that used to speaking, “Yeah. Need the caps. Bad haul this time. Hurts everypony in the group if we don’t make enough to eat. Keep the dog.”

“You ordering me around, now, big shot?” asked Dirt Mound, inching his sniper rifle towards Brasshoof, who didn’t react besides to let out a small grunt.

“No. You’re the boss. Just saying, is all. Need caps.”

“We are short on funds to begin with,” said the white unicorn mare, sliding out from her saddle bag a odd little device that consisted of a rack with many tiny beads on it that she used her magic to shuffle about, “If we add these two to the three we’ve already caught, I still can only see us breaking slightly above even. If we find a good buyer for a trained guard dog that puts us more in the green.”

Dirt Mound rubbed a hoof over his face, “You too, Tally? For fuck’s sake, fine! We’ll keep the damned dog!”

Without even glancing back at Red Eye, Dirt Mound swung his rifle around and smashed the butt of it into the red stallion’s chest, finally causing Red Eye to fall to his knees, coughing. Dirt Mound glanced down at him then, smiling thinly, “So, let’s see how well you’re mutt obeys. Winter, come.”

Puddle almost didn’t catch it, and she didn’t think any of the slavers did, but Red Eye flicked his tail ever so slightly, and Winter’s ears perked at the gesture. Though the dog made a slight whine, he obeyed Dirt Mound and went to the slaver’s side. Dirt Mound grinned, seemingly pleased, “Well, shit, guess he does listen to anypony who uses his name. Ha! Glad I decided to keep him. He’ll earn us some good caps. I amaze myself sometimes with my forethought. Brass, get chains on these two and get them into the cage. Winter, follow master.”

Dirt Mound strode back to towards the wagon with the cage as Brasshoof reached to his own saddlebags to pull out a set of iron manacles which he started to stoically place around Puddle’s legs. Puddle wasn’t really paying attention, however, unable to keep from noting that not only did Winter only obey Dirt Mound after giving Red Eye a look and seeing another tail flick from the prone stallion, but she also noticed Red Eye was wearing a small, satisfied smile on his face.

----------

There were three other ponies in the cage with Red Eye and Puddle, making it rather cramped, but the wagon was large enough that she still had leg room. Two of the ponies were a married couple, a young earth pony stallion and unicorn mare from a tiny settlement called Arbu. They didn’t say why they’d left, only that they hadn’t wanted to stay in the settlement any longer and were looking for a better life. Mostly because the mare, Firelight, was pregnant. Apparently both her and her husband Charcoal didn’t think Arbu was a safe place to raise a foal. Again, they avoided any clear answer as to why. Puddle felt sorry for the pair. They didn’t look much older than her, and with Firelight having a little one on the way Puddle could only imagine how hard it was for them to now be captives of slavers. To seek a better life for one’s unborn child, only to fall into a situation that’d condemn that foal to a lifetime of slavery… it amazed Puddle that the pair were staying so strong.

The third captive was and old earth pony stallion, a scavenger named Nuts n’ Bolts. He didn’t say much and seemed to just want to keep to himself, giving the slavers a surly glare whenever one got close to the wagon, usually taking a smack for his display of defiance.

They were traveling cross country, away from the roads, much the same way she and Red Eye had been when trying to get to New Appleoosa. The slavers walked with caution, chatting among themselves but always alert and tense. Besides the ones Puddle had already learned the names of there were two other earth ponies. One was a exceedingly dirty mauve stallion with a ratty yellow mane, whose name appeared to be Itchy Tasty. He was constantly biting his own hide as scratching at himself with his hooves. His wild eyed look only added to the sense Puddle got that this stallion had at least spent some time among Raiders. He kept hanging near the twitchy blue stallion who was apparently named Jitters. Puddle was certain she’d seen the two at least once so far pass a Dash inhaler between the pair of them, the nasty drug likely doing nothing for either’s mental stability.

The last pony was another earth pony mare, one whose size matched Brasshoof’s. Her own coat was a simple mustard yellow and she had a tied back brown mane. All of the slavers had their cutie marks obscured by their armor, except this mare, who had her flanks exposed and only wore a simple wool vest. Her cutie mark, Puddle noted, was a heart made out of cracked concrete. Cinderblock was that mare’s name, and Puddle found herself watching the mare the most. Not only because Cinderblock pulled the wagon they rode in, but because out of all the slavers Cinderblock seemed the least… aggressive. She barely spoke, and seemed to avoid eye contact with anypony.

“Keep sharp,” said Brasshoof as he walked alongside Cinderblock, “Remember rumors. Pegasus around. Shoots at slavers and Raiders.”

“I…I, uh, y-yeah…” said Cinderblock, looking up at the sky, “Sorry, I’ll pay more attention.”

“No problem,” said Brasshoof, “Just reminding you.”

He trotted back towards the side of the wagons where he studiously resumed watching the countryside and the sky, and Puddle noticed Cinderblock watched him go for a second longer than what probably was needed.

“Hmm,” Red Eye hummed next to her. He’d been very quiet during the trip so far, his eyes barely blinking as he watched the slavers. Puddle leaned close to him.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

He didn’t look her way. Instead his eyes were on Cinderblock as he said, “Ahead. Always thinking ahead. I think it’s time to start creating a little goodwill.”

Goodwill? Puddle wasn’t certain what he meant, but Red Eye didn’t bother explaining. He just kept observing with his critical eyes. Eventually the slavers paused to eat and rest. When that happened most of them set up a little ways from the wagon, leaving one nearby to guard. This one happened to be Echidna, the pink mare cracking open a tin of some preserved pre-war food that she ate with a grimace. Red Eye scooted over to the side of the cage closest to her, and Puddle watched with a wondering expression as Red Eye struck up a conversation.

“Forgive the intrusion but may I ask a few questions?”

“Keep quiet, or I’ll have to whip you, meat,” Echidna said without doing more than giving him a sidelong look, which also left her with a smirk, “Not that I’d mind whipping you. You look like you can take a bit of pain, way you soaked Dirt’s hits.”

Red Eye returned her smile with a friendly one of his own, rubbing his jaw, “He has a certain way of expression, doesn’t he? Blunt as it is.”

Despite her warning, Echidna didn’t do more than just huff out a laugh, “Yeah, fucker’s blunt. Quick shot too. Never lasts more than thirty seconds.”

“Ah, yes, I surmise that you perform an important service for the group in… mitigating certain urges among the stallions. So that they don’t take it out on the mares captured, yes?”

“Basically,” said Echidna, shrugging, “I usually work one of the flank houses in Filly, but Dirt offered me double my normal rate if I came along and did a little ‘fieldwork’. I don’t mind it so much. Jitters and Itchy only want a go every other day or so, and Tally’s actually pretty sweet with her tongue. Brass and Cinder won’t touch me for some reason, as for Dirt, well, I already said all there’s to say about him. Overall easier work than doing my dozen quota a day back home, and the pay’s about as good.”

“Sounds like a decent living, if one’s boss was perhaps more respectful,” sad Red Eye.

“Heh, Dirt wouldn’t know respect if it sucked him off,” said Echidna bitterly, then frowned and smacked her hoof on the bars of the cage, “Hey, I said keep quiet. Hells, you want to run your mouth I can think of a butter spot for you to do it than there.”

Red Eye smiled again, nodding his head and making a ‘zipping it’ gesture across his lips as he scooted back from the bars. Echidna went back to her food, but Puddle noticed the mare was smiling still and seemed far more relaxed than she had a minute ago.

When Red Eye settled back next to Puddle it was Charcoal, sitting across from them, who gave him a strange look.

“What was that about?” the dark coated stallion asked.

Red Eye merely looked at him with a calm confidence, “Goodwill.”

----------

Goodwill. It seemed to Puddle that Red Eye had some manner of plan, but what it was she couldn’t quite grasp. As the days passed Red Eye continued to latch onto any chance to talk to the slavers. Well, all of them except Dirt Mound. The slaver leader took every chance he could get to make Red Eye’s attempts at speaking to the others difficult, yelling and threatening, hitting with his rifle, taking away rations, not that they were fed much to begin with anyway.

It got to the point where Dirt Mound cut Red Eye off from food and water entirely, and Puddle gladly shared of her own meager rations to help him, though he only took a tiny amount and refused any more. And still he continued to sneak chances to talk to the slavers, always kindly, always pleasantly.

“I see, so you were a part of these… Steel Rangers, was it?” asked Red Eye.

“A Scribe, once,” said Tally as she walked alongside the wagon, her eyes briefly looking away with a hint of pain, “Exiled, after disagreeing with a superior and trying to warn a Stable of an impending attack by my Chapter.”

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories,” said Red Eye.

“No, its fine. It was a long time ago. When I thought the world could be made better by ideals alone,” Tally said, gesturing around her, “I’ve long since learned that the world will not change and all I can do is just… survive in it.”

“Perhaps,” said Red Eye, “Yet I’ve always believed that change is a matter of long term planning more than short term heroics. It takes many ponies, working together towards a common goal, to affect anything on a large scale. Logistics, as it happens, is a key element of such planning that rarely gets the praise such work deserves.”

Tally smiled and laughed, something Puddle had noticed Red Eye was good at getting others to do, “True enough. I never got much thanks for my work as a Scribe. Most praise went to the Knights. But still, I don’t think any long term planning can do much about this world.”

“Why is that?” Red Eye asked.

“I don’t know, just… look at it?” Tally sad, giving Red Eye a sidelong, quizzical look, “What could fix it? Where would the industry to repair the damage and control the populace come from?”

Red Eye seemed to think about it, stroking his chin, “Good questions. Tell me, you have made this Fillydelphia your home, and are a mare of logistical skill and talent. Would such a place have a base of industry to work with?”

“It… might. Most of the factories are in poor repair, or utterly inoperable. The slavers there only build enough to keep their own loyal guards armed, really. They certainly aren’t using the place to its full potential. I’ve even made a few idle calculations about how much it would take to make Fillydelphia as productive as it may have once been before the war, and it could be done if you had enough-”

“Tally!” Dirt Mound’s voice snarled from the head of the group, “Stop talking to that shitstain! I told all of you how many times now!? Do I got to cut you’re pay!?”

Tally’s face briefly winced in fear before she seemed to force it to a normal, steady appearance as she said, “Not at all, sir, I apologize. He was merely making some interesting points about-“

“I don’t care what he was talking about! Stop talking back, you dumb bitch,” was Dirt Mound’s heated reply. Tally sighed, her ears flattening as she trotted away from the cage wagon, but Puddle noticed that the slaver mare did cast a not unfriendly look back towards Red Eye, and that Red Eye simply returned it with a knowing smile.

That night it was Cinderblock on guard duty, set to watch the prisoners as the other’s slept, and though Puddle was eager to get some rest she forced herself to stay awake. She wanted to watch what Red Eye would do. He didn’t immediately do anything, his eyes occasionally flicking towards the other slavers as they settled in to sleep.

An hour after sundown Red Eye scooted to the side of the cage where Cinder Block was standing at rigid attention, watching the surrounding Wasteland countryside. At the sound of Red Eye’s movements her head sharply turned to look at him, Cinderblock’s eyes narrowing.

“You should be asleep,” she said, not harshly but certainly firmly. Again Puddle was reminded of the notion that this mare didn’t seem to her like she belonged as a slaver. Though Cinderblock had the intimidating size and rough look of one used to violence, her manner seemed just too soft for this kind of work. She reminded Puddle too much of some of the caravan guards that’d worked for her sister over the years.

Red Eye, in his easy, calm manner, simply nodded in acknowledgement of Cinderblock, his voice just above a whisper as he said, “I find sleep difficult these days. The state of the world does not lend towards a restful state of mind.”

To that Cinderblock just grunted, then said, “Well, you should sleep. You won’t get a lot of chances to do that once we get you to Fillydelphia.”

“I’ve heard it is a unkind place, yes. I am curious how a gentle seeming mare such as yourself have come to call it home.”

Puddle saw Cinderblock’s jaw tighten and a heated anger entering her eyes that left Puddle feeling afraid for Red Eye. Cinderblock’s tone was tight and marked by a unpleasant steadiness, like the calm before a storm.

“You don’t need to know anything about me. And I’m not that gentle. Fillydelphia isn’t my home, either.”

“Oh? You and your friends do not rest there after a profitable venture into the Wasteland?” asked Red Eye, seemingly either not noticing or not caring about Cinderblock’s rising ire.

Something in his words seemed to unsettle Cinderblock, because she glanced at the other slavers, who were mostly asleep (except for one of the bedrolls that seemed to be moving rhythmically with the shapes of two ponies… not sleeping). Cinderblock looked back at Red Eye, her expression showing just a bit of pain.

“No such thing as friends in Fillydelphia. At least not real ones. I hate that city and don’t consider it anypony’s home, least of all the ones who live there.”

“Then, if you don’t mind my asking, why this particular line of work?”

Cinderblock now gained a suspicious look in her eyes, “Why you so curious? Don’t think I haven’t been seeing you talking to the others.”

Puddle felt a spike of fear. Whatever Red Eye was trying to accomplish was he about to be found out? But Red Eye seemed unconcerned, just smiling kindly as he said, “I must admit that curiosity is one of two of my fatal flaws. I can’t help but want to know more about the ponies around me.”

Cinderblock quirked an eyebrow, “One of two, huh? What’s the other flaw?”

“I care about the ponies around me,” Red Eye said with such intense seriousness it was hard not to look at him and feel every ounce of sincerity in those words.

Cinderblock just stared at him for a moment, seemingly at a loss for words, before she grunted again, looked away, and spoke in a softer tone, “You want to know why I’m here, doing this? I was born to it. Mom and pop ran the chain gangs for one of the slave bosses for years before they got too old for it, then the job fell to me. Hated the whip, so took the job with Dirt Mound as a guard. End of story.”

“Is it? I can’t imagine Dirt Mound alone is a good enough leader to keep you working for him when you could just as easily strike out on your own,” said Red Eye, “In fact is that not why you took the guard job with him? Knowing that once you were far enough away from Fillydelphia you could easily slip away and start a new life elsewhere?”

Cinderblock’s eyes widened slightly, then narrowed, “How you figure all that…? Ugh, never mind. Doesn’t matter, because I’m not leaving Dirt Mound’s crew, even if doing so would be pretty easy, like you say.”

“Why?” Red Eye asked, and for the first time Puddle noticed a note of doubt and unease in his tone, a lack of assurance that was at odds with the confidence he always seemed to project. Rather that bother her she found the faint pensiveness of his face to be oddly… cute.

That aside, Puddle felt she had the answer to Red Eye’s question, and the look of ire returning to Cinderblock’s face combined with a small trace of redness to her cheeks that was hard to see in the dark only reinforced what Puddle was thinking. She’d been watching as well, after all, taking after Red Eye to observe her captors, and had noticed something about Cinderblock in particular.

Scooting over next to Red Eye she looked at Cinderblock with a earnest look, “It’s Brasshoof, isn’t it?”

Cinderblock’s head turned to her and Puddle almost shrank back from that look, but she wanted to help Red Eye so she met the slaver’s gaze and went on, “I’ve… I’ve seen the way you look at him. You like him, right?”

For a moment she thought she’d made a terrible mistake, because Cinderblock looked ready to explode, but after Cinderblock’s eyes stayed fixed on Puddle’s and Puddle just tried to take a page out of Red Eye’s book and stay calm and friendly, the anger drained out of the slaver mare and she self-consciously scuffed the ground with a hoof.

“So what if I do? He isn’t interested.”

“Are you certain of that?” asked Red Eye.

“He’s barely said two sentences to me on any one time,” said Cinderblock.

“No offense intended to Brasshoof, but that statement applies to essentially anypony he talks to,” pointed out Red Eye.

“Why don’t you try just talking to him? Maybe let him know you’re interested?” put in Puddle.

Cinderblock snorted, “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Red Eye asked.

“I… well, I’m… why would he want me? I’m near as big as he is, and look pretty plain…” Cinderblock said, her tone getting less and less confident with each word, “Stallions don’t like big mares.”

“Nonesense,” said Red Eye, “You couldn’t possibly know his preferences unless you asked him.”

“Don’t try to hoof me that brahmin shit. Stallions go for the slim, sleek, sexy types. Like Echidna. That’s the whole reason boss Dirt Mound hired her, so she could shake her tight little non-muscle bound flank and keep the stallions in line. Including Brasshoof.”

“I will point out that Brasshoof has not, in fact, slept with Echidna from what I’ve observed,” said Red Eye, giving Cinderblock a frank look, “Have you seen him with her at all?”

Cinderblock frowned, brow creasing in thought. After a near minute she said, “Well… no, no I guess I haven’t.”

“Well then,” said Red Eye, “Perhaps his interest isn’t in mares of her particular type.”

“That or he’s a colt cuddler,” said Puddle, then blinked and quickly added, “But he could also just be shy.”

Red Eye gave her a sidelong look, then cleared his throat, returning his gaze to Cinderblock, “Regardless, what have you to lose by simply talking to Brasshoof and seeing if he’s interested?”

“My dignity and the last few scraps of pride I have left,” muttered Cinderblock.

“Are those worth more to you than Brasshoof?” Red Eye asked plainly.

Cinderblock got that thinking frown on her face once more, reminding Puddle of some of the ancient pre-war terminals she’d seen her sister try to get working when the caravan came across them, as if all the internal gears and bits were laboriously trying to calculate a solution to even a simple command. Finally Cinderblock said, “Know what? I think you’re right. Whole reason I’m sticking with Dirt Mound’s crew was him, so what’s the point of hiding it? If he rejects me… well, shit, I can just find another crew I guess.”

She glanced at Red Eye and Puddle, her frown still there, but joined now by a small smile, “Thanks. Too bad you two are slaves otherwise I’d owe you a drink or something.”

Red Eye just smiled, “I am merely helping where I can.”

Helping, and as Puddle was starting to realize, creating the kind of good will that affected the ponies around him.

----------

Over the next day changes started to occur in Dirt Mound’s slaver crew, an Dirt Mound did not seem to like it one bit from what Puddle could tell. His crew responded more slowly to his commands, and there were more and more grumbles amongst them whenever Dirt Mound wasn’t looking.

Puddle noticed that Brasshoof and Cinderblock were walking together now, sharing quiet little bits of conversation, and smiling at each other. She hadn’t seen when Cinderblock had opened up to Brasshoof, but from the looks of things they pair were certainly hitting it off, and it seemed Brasshoof knew that Red Eye was responsible for Cinderblock admitting her feelings because whenever Brasshoof passed close to the slave cage he gave the red stallion a thankful look.

The rest also seemed to look more towards Red Eye than Dirt Mound. Even Twitch and Itchy, neither of whom Puddle had seen Red Eye talk to, but then again she’d slept a few times while Red Eye rarely rested. She could imagine Red Eye had talked to those two as well at one point or another during the journey towards Fillydelphia.

Tally would walk by and briefly talk to Red Eye about logistical issues and ideas she had. Echidna would share a bit of her own rations and share raunchy jokes while bitching about Dirt Mound. With each infraction Dirt Mound got more and more agitated to Puddle’s eyes, the unicorn becoming like a shouldering gray thundercloud with each step. He ordered around Winter more and more, the dog ranging ahead or fetching useless junk at the slaver boss’s behest… yet each time Dirt Mound gave Winter an order Puddle noticed the dog paused just long enough to flick a glance at Red Eye and for the red stallion to twitch his tail in one pattern or another, a hidden signal for the dog to obey.

Charcoal, sitting next to Puddle on the morning of the day they finally saw the distant dark clouds of Fillydelpha, grumbled, “What is that slimy bastard doing, trying to buddy up to these slavers? He thinks he’ll get treated better by playing at being friends?”

Puddle didn’t respond. She didn’t think it was just Red Eye hoping for special treatment. No, there was more to it than that. When Dirt Mound would pause to try and decide on a path to take, Puddle noticed Red Eye would gesture for either Tally or Brasshoof, and while Dirt Mound was distracted Red Eye would whisper to one of the other slavers. Soon enough Tally or Brasshoof would offer a suggestion to Dirt Mound, who’d pretend the idea was his own, and soon the slaver group would get moving again…

…As if under Red Eye’s orders and not Dirt Mound’s.

It was mid-afternoon. A few miles ahead was the dark, brooding walls of concrete and rusted metal that was Fillydelphia’s dreaded Wall, the impenetrable barrier that kept slaves in and made the wretched city all but unassailable from the outside. Black thick clouds clung to the horizon above the city and while Puddle wasn’t certain it seemed to her a hellish red glow emanated from the twisted buildings that could be seen reaching like gnarled fingers above the Wall’s skyline. She couldn’t help but feel fear at the sight. Soon, that horrible place would be her new home. A slave for the rest of her life.

She tried to push aside that fear. She trusted Red Eye. He’d figure something out.

They’d come to a bridge across a small, debris strewn ravine. The bridge was recent, post-war construction, a rickety affair of welded sheet metal and rebar. The ravine was scorched black, perhaps the result of a stream of balefire from long ago, or some seismic activity from when the bombs fell. Either way the only way to pass was the bridge unless the slavers wanted to waste another day going north or south to get around it.

“Alright,” said Dirt Mound, “Brass, you go across first, make sure it’s safe. Then we’ll take the wagon across.”

“Hold on a moment,” said Red Eye, “I don’t think the bridge is stable. Looking at the center of it you can see blast marks from a fight, probably within the past day or two. Blood as well. I do believe somepony used grenades or dynamite around here and cracked parts of the bridge.”

A casual glance could show that Red Eye was right about the blast marks, though the tears in the sheet metal were harder to spot. Puddle hadn’t seen them until Red Eye had pointed them out.

Dirt Mound growled, “Didn’t ask your fucking opinion slave. I’m sending Brasshoof across because it might be a weak bridge now. So shut your trap!”

Cinderblock stepped forward, “Boss, maybe we should just go around.”

“We ain’t going around nothing!” snapped Dirt Mound, “Wasted enough time already. Brass, get across. Now.”

“Winter,” Red Eye sad, “Run the bridge boy, be careful.”

“What!? Hey!” Dirt Mound shouted as Winter immediately obeyed Red Eye and rushed the bridge, “Fucking dog, get back here! Winter, heel!”

But the dog ignored the slaver and dashed across the bridge with a swiftness that took Puddle’s breath away to see, the animal’s long, graceful strides taking him across the bridge in seconds. And along with the dog’s passage was the squeal of weak metal and the whole bridge shook and tilted. Winter was fast and agile enough to easily be across before it was too late, but by the time he was across the bridge itself fell to the side and came apart entirely.

If Brasshoof had crossed, being around twice Winter’s weight and with none of the dog’s swift speed and grace, he’d have been dumped down the debris covered ravine and at the very least badly injured if not outright killed. The slavers all starred at the scene for a few stunned seconds, Winter sitting on the road on the opposite side of the ravine with a wagging tail and a happy bark now that his real master was giving him commands again.

“Well,” said Red Eye, “I do hope I’ve made my point. You’re welcome, Dirt Mound.”

Dirt Mound turned slowly, with jerky little movements, and when his eyes fixed on Red Eye they were nearly red themselves with pure, undiluted rage. The gray unicorn’s magic wreathed his horn and his sniper rifle snapped up, aimed right at Red Eye’s head.

“Oh, I’m welcome, am I? Think you’re fucking smart, do you? Smarter than a bullet through the skull?”

Red Eye met the dark stare of the rifle’s barrel with a deep breath and an aura of supreme calm, mixed now with something else Puddle hadn’t seen before. He held himself taller, head high, shoulder’s squared. He looked, suddenly, every inch the pony in command of the situation, while Dirt Mound was all but trembling with uncontrolled anger… and though Red Eye wore the manacles and was in a cage he seemed like the imperious one looking down on a lowly creature in his domain as he stared down Dirt Mound.

“I take it you intend to kill me?” Red Eye asked calmly.

“Fuck yes I do, you’re not worth the caps!” snarled Dirt Mound, though he was sweating, seeming nervous as he tried, and failed, to meet Red Eyes unrelenting stare.

Red Eye nodded, “I see. Tally, how much do you calculate a stallion like Dirt Mound would be worth?”

Suddenly Tally was by the side of the cage, as if she’d been ready there the whole time, with her little bead-device clicking with her own magic, “Hmm, unicorns are worth quite a bit, even if he’s a bit past his prime. I know a few bosses in Filly who aren’t fond of him, though, and would pay top caps for a chance to have him for some payback. Three hundred caps, maybe three fifty at the outside.”

Dirt Mound’s eyes were twitching now, the aim of his rifle wavering between Tally and Red Eye, “The fuck is this!? The fuck you mean ‘how much I’m worth’!?”

“Do any of you have any interest in his rifle?” asked Red Eye, “I don’t use firearms, myself, so it’d be of no use to me.”

“Nah, too big for me,” said Echidna, who appeared at the other side of the cage, smiling wickedly at Dirt Mound.

“I prefer lighter weapons myself,” said Tally.

Brasshoof grunted, “Melee.”

Twitch and Itchy exchanged looks and both shrugged.

Cinderblock glared at Dirt Mound, “Not my style of weapon either. I say sell it.”

Red Eye nodded, “Sell it then. That should compensate for the loss of myself, at least.”

Dirt Mound finally lost his cool, roaring, “The fuck is wrong with you idiots!?” as he fired, but his shaky aim sent the bullet high to bounce off the top of the cage.

Instantly Brasshoof and Echidna surged forward, the later pulling a sleek combat knife as they charged Dirt Mound. He only got off one more hastily and poorly aimed shot that went far wide of the mark before Brasshoof smashed into him with his sizable body. Dirt Mound hit the ground, and in seconds Echidna was on him.

“Treat me like just a piece of meat will you, bastard!” she screamed, stabbing his leg and all but pinning it to the ground as Dirt Mound screamed, “Who’s the meat now!?”

“Ahem, Miss Echidna, we do want him alive,” said Red Eye, and Echidna looked up, smiling.

“Sorry boss, just been wanting to stick a knife in this son of a bitch for a long time.”

While all this had been happening Puddle and the other slaves had just been sitting there, watching in mute shock. Puddle didn’t have any notion what to think of what she was seeing. Red Eye had just… taken control of the slaver crew, with just a few words. Winter, with incredibly dexterity, had climbed down the ravine and then back up the other side, the dog padding over to the cage and sat before his master, barking.

“Ah, yes, somepony do be good an open the cage,” said Red Eye, and Cinder Block obeyed, coming up an unlocking the cage and swinging it open.

Red Eye hopped out and smiled at Cinderblock, “Thank you.”

“No problem... boss?” she said the last in a questioning tone.

Red Eye simply continued smiling, “We shall see, won’t we?”

Puddle approached the edge of the cage cautiously, as did the others. Cinderblock looked at her, shrugged, and motioned for them to hop out. By the time the slaves got out of the cage Brasshoof and Echidna had Dirt Mound locked up in manacles and were dragging him to the cage. His gun was firmly in Brasshoof’s grip, unloaded, and any glow of magic on Dirt Mound’s horn earned a quick smack to his face.

“You’re dead… you’re all fucking dead…” Dirt Mound was saying, “They won’t stand for this. Turning on your boss-“

“Is fairly common if what Echidna’s told me is any indication,” said Red Eye simply, “Fillydelphia is a city that respects strength. Those that cannot hold onto their power lose any respect they may have had. It is doubtful there will be any seeking to avenge you, especially since it sounds as if you’ve made a number of enemies among your fellow bosses.”

Dirt Mound was still glaring around at his former crew, “And you pissants are willing to follow him!? This soft little bitch? You going to let all these slaves go?”

“No caps is better than no life,” said Brasshoof, frowning, “Bridge was a deathtrap. A few escaped slaves, small price to keep living.”

Echidna shrugged, “I’m paid to have sex anyway.”

“W-we do need caps,” said Twitch, “Can’t buy Dash without caps…”

Red Eye spoke up, his voice strong and confident, “Dirt Mound will earn us some caps by himself, and his sniper rifle can be sold for additional funds. I’ll ensure all of you receive an equal share. More than the percentages Dirt Mound was paying you, yes?”

“Correct,” said Tally, “With equal shares, we’ll come out better than if we sold all these other ponies off at the measly ten percent Dirt Mound gave us.”

“Very well then,” said Red Eye, “I do believe we have some manacles to remove, and a ravine to get around.”

In short order the manacles were removed from everypony except Dirt Mound and he was tossed into the cage, after Brasshoof knocked the unicorn unconscious with a well placed haymaker. Soon Puddle found herself and the other ponies who’d nearly been slaves being lead back down the road by Red Eye, the slavers staying behind.

Puddle paused. Charcoal and his wife Firelight didn’t stick around, continuing onward, as did the old salvager, and she couldn’t blame them. They were near Fillydelphia and this was dangerous country, so the further and faster they could get away the better. But she noticed Red Eye had only followed them about thirty paces from the slavers and had stopped, so she did as well.

“Red Eye?” she asked, “Come on! What are you waiting for?”

He looked at her, and in an instant she saw it in his eyes. Those kind eyes. She saw he wasn’t coming. She turned, and he shook his head.

“Red Eye… why?” she asked, “Why are you going to stay with them?”

It was then that she saw something in the flicker of his blue eyes, like a red tint, a hint of a storm. Perhaps it was just the glow of Fillydelphia itself that reflected in his eyes like a single ember, or maybe it was something else, but it was there behind his kind eyes. A hardness. An intensity. A… darkness?

“I’m not coming,” he told her, voice firm, but holding an unmistakable note of regret, “Out there I cannot do what I have to.”

She shook her head, “I don’t understand. You’re not a bad pony, so why would you want to have anything to do with these slavers, or that city?.”

For just a moment he seemed to almost hesitate, but the flicker of doubt was gone as fast as it had appeared and the intensity was back as he said, “One pony can only do so much, out there in the Wasteland. But in there,” he gestured back at Fillydelphia, “In there is the potential to rebuild Equestria. All its waiting for is the right pony, with the right words, and will, to step in and grasp hold of that power... the power to right all wrongs and fix what is now broken.”

Puddle was quiet for a long few seconds, then took a step towards him, but he spoke again, now with hard, iron command, “Stop.”

She looked at him, and he shook his head, “No. You’re not following my road. Go, Puddle. Find somewhere far away from here, and live for as long as you can. Maybe, just maybe you’ll see the change I intend to bring. If I succeed. If I can succeed.”

He turned away from her then, the red pony with the kind eyes, and walked back to the slavers who were awaiting him. Waiting for their new leader.

And Puddle, somehow knowing she’d never see those kind eyes again, turned away.

----------

Stern was just about fed up with Fillydelphia. While she enjoyed the power, the control, the discipline that came with working for slavers, the infighting and general chaos of the city was wearing thin on her. It seemed every other week it was a new turf war between the slaver bosses, often over completely petty bullshit.

As a merc it was her job to kill for her employers, but as fun as it was to pop ganger’s heads with her trusty anti-machine rifle and she could earn all the caps she wanted for good food and booze, the situation was just… depressing.

She was a warrior, but with nothing to fight for besides caps. Stern had nothing but disgust for the undisciplined, dirty mops of worthless ponies who fought and killed and screwed like animals. The world had always been a diseased place, and she never felt an inch of sympathy for those she killed, or the slaves that died for the pleasure of their masters. Those ponies were even more pathetic than the gangers.

For so long Stern had been complacent with the status quo, but now there wasn’t even much fun to be had in tracking down escaped slaves or brawling it out in the local drinking holes.

“Might be high time I left this shithole,” she muttered to herself, only drawing a few glances from her fellow griffin mercenaries who were standing guard on the wall.

At that point she spotted a wagon approaching the gate and with a bored sigh she said, “Incoming. Keep guns trained on them. I’ll go check who it is.”

From the looks of things it was Dirt Mound’s crew. She recognized the colors of the ponies, her sharp griffin eyes spotting the familiar ponies even at a long distance. Except… Stern’s eyes narrowed. Something wasn’t right. There was a different pony leading the group besides Dirt Mound’s gray ass. It was a red pony, one she hadn’t seen before.

Her interest only partially piqued she began to fly down to meet the incoming ponies. She unslung her anti-machine rifle, just in case. She doubted there’d be any trouble. The local slavers were smart enough not to mess with the Talons, toughest griffin mercs in the Wasteland. That’s why the slaver bosses hired them, after all.

Reaching the ground and landing lightly, she got a closer look at the ponies coming towards her. Dirt Mound, she saw, was in the cage, and she couldn’t help but squawk out a small laugh. She’d never liked the whiny bastard, and it looked like his crew had finally gotten fed up with his shit. The question was, who was the red pony?

As she got close, Stern raised an eyebrow. A blue jumpsuit? Pip-Buck? The hell was a Stable pony doing at the head of Dirt Mound’s slaver crew?

This pony carried himself with a strength and confidence that Stern immediately took note of. He didn’t even slow when he saw her and her rather giant rifle pointed at him. He halted a few paces from her and raised his hoof. The other ponies in the crew halted immediately, and didn’t speak, as if they were respectfully waiting for their leader to speak.

“Good afternoon,” the red pony said, his tone strong, smooth, and masculine, “I and my associates are seeking entry to Fillydelphia to sell merchandise and take on supplies.”

“That right?” asked Stern, “Dirt Mound not in charge anymore?”

“No, he’s not,” said the red pony in a tone so final and casual that even Stern didn’t think she felt any need to argue it.

“Fine, no feather’s off my wings. If you’re new here, open markets down the center lane. Can’t miss it. Watch your ass. The bosses don’t normally take kindly to new blood shaking things up.”

The red pony smiled, and his eyes seemed to flash, and Stern found herself blinking. She hadn’t seen a look of simple intensity like that in any face except her own when she’d looked in the mirror. Suddenly she was very curious about this stallion.

“I suppose I’ll just have to make some friends then, won’t I?” the red pony said.

“I guess you will,” Stern said, slinging her rifle back over her shoulder and gesturing up at the wall for her fellow mercs to open up the gate, which began to grind open with loud metallic groans. She glanced back at the red pony, peering at him sidelong with one eye as griffin’s were known to do when they wanted to get a good look at something.

“Welcome to Fillydelphia. What do I call you?”

The stallion inclined his head slightly as he began to lead his crew towards the gates, “Red Eye.”