Splinter tugged at the wooden handle of a hoe with her mouth, her teeth sinking into the oak. Sweat dripped down her brow and soaked her fur, dirt clung to her hooves as she tilled the dry, nearly dead, soil, and tended to the sparse and unhealthy plants. Splinter had been assigned gardening as her first shift of the day and her molars ached in protest. She missed the use of her E.U.D. Only now had she realized how much she relied on it. If she were to ever get her hooves on a gun, she didn't have the faintest idea how she would hold it. Perhaps she would need to get one of those gnarled hooks screwed into her hoof? She didn't know what they did to her E.U.D in the first place, the raiders may have broken it, it may never turn on again...
Shield was assigned to gardening as well, although he wasn't much for conversation. It seems he had exchanged his tendencies of rarely speaking with the tendency to not speaking at all, no matter what Splinter did. She tried starting conversation, but all she would get were small jerks of his head and more often than not all she would receive was silence. But that didn't stop her from speaking to him anyway. It had been several days since they were brutally attacked, knocked out, tied up and dragged to Blood Field, and this seemed to be the hottest day yet. Not a single cloud in the sky and the containment room in which Splinter and the rest of the slaves slept became an oven, seeing as the entire building was made of metal. The only metal in all of Blood Field as it seemed.
Out of all of the ponies in the containment room, Splinter was proud to say she smelled the best. But she, in no way, smelled anywhere near good, and no matter how long she spent in the metal gas chamber which was the containment room, she couldn't get used to the stench.
"So,” Splinter slobbered past the gardening tool in her mouth. “What do we do?" Shield worked merely a few feet away, a watering can held in his T.I.C. Splinter found it unfair that they hadn't disabled Shield's device. She stared jealously as he tilted the watering can, spilling brown tinted liquid over the soil, set the can down, and spread the dirt over seeds which had been planted previously. She didn't fully understand how the T.I.C worked but she knew it was connected to Shield's muscles somehow. She supposed in order to disable it they would need to clip his tendon which wouldn't be the best for a slave you expect to work, but that didn't dampen her jealousy.
Shield, didn't respond to Splinter's query. He simply continued to water the seeds and soil in silence. Splinter sighed resignedly.
"Listen," She continued, spitting the hoe out of her mouth and leaving it to rest on her shoulder as she pressed the cold metal of her E.U.D to her forehead. "We have to do something, we can't just stay slaves here." Shield continued his work. Splinter couldn't tell if he was listening or not. "We have to get out, get to iron City, and warn them."
"Hey!" A voice called from across the pitiful field. Splinter jumped and turned to see Sergeant Steel looking over the fence, his brow furrowed, his eyes set. “Enough talking! Get back to work!" He shouted. Splinter quickly lowered her gaze, grabbed the hoe once more, and began raking it through the dirt. She had avoided being beaten thus far and she wasn't in any hurry to be beaten now. The two worked in silence for hours more until the sound of a bell rang across the town, signaling their twenty minute break. In normal conditions this would be a generous amount of time, but when you have nearly a hundred slaves to feed, you're lucky if you get your food in time before the line disperses to begin their second shift.
Luckily, following in Shield's wake managed to assure Splinter her food. He swam expertly through the merging crowd of ponies rushing to get their food, and secured fifth in line, Splinter bringing up a close sixth, while Barter was nowhere to be seen. They were near the middle of the town where one of the many merchant stands had been re-purposed for dishing out brown water and stale bread to the slaves. Splinter got to the head of the line and held out her plate in her mouth. She winced as slop was thrown onto her plate, splashing onto her muzzle and into her eye. She quickly moved along and walked toward containment, following in Shield's wake. He had figured out exactly where to walk in order to avoid being shoved and beaten by the barbaric civilians of Blood Field. They had seen ponies attacking slaves for no reason, beating them mercilessly, and for the mares... Much worse.
Splinter shuddered at the thought and found a little more comfort in Shield's presence. They walked through the metal doorway of the containment room and moved to Shield's mattress where they sat and began to eat. Shield used his T.I.C to tear chunks off of the bread and stuff it beneath his makeshift bandanna, careful not to show what was beneath.
Splinter sighed through the crumbling bread in her muzzle. Shield looked up at the sound, his face emotionless as always. Splinter met his eyes, swallowed her bread with effort, and spoke.
"Why won't you tell me what's wrong with your voice?" She asked, much to Shield's dismay. He shook his head, almost as if he were disappointed she hadn't asked something better. But she persisted. "No, what could possibly be so bad that you can't tell me?" Shield continued eating, ignoring her. "I know you can speak, I've heard it. So what if it sounds weird? Just tell me why it's the way that it is?" Shield paused, bread halfway to his muzzle. Then he set the bread down and sighed heavily, looking Splinter in the eyes. "Please?" She added, batting her eyelashes. Shield rolled his eyes before standing up straight and focusing. His eyes resembled a child trying to learn to draw, much to the contrast of his muscular and scarred body.
His stomach shifted as he tried to speak, his neck reached forward like a cat about to vomit. Splinter saw his bandanna shift as his mouth opened, the blistered, twisted and hairless flesh becoming more visible as his jaw lowered. Then, he let out a noise that Splinter had never heard before, and never wanted to hear again. It was like sandpaper was being scraped as forcefully as possible across Shield’s vocal chords. A horrible, retching, gagging, gravelly sound like an empty, fleshy oil drum sliding down a shale slide. Splinter closed her eyes, wincing as the sound raked her skin with goosebumps, and when the sound had stopped, and she opened her eyes once more, she saw a pale, yellow and red stain spreading across the cloth over Shield’s mouth.
Splinter, simply did not know how to react. A majority of her body wanted to vomit, right there on her plate, part of her wanted to ask what in sweet Tartarus that noise was, but all she could say… Was nothing. She sat in silence, staring at the slowly spreading stain of pus and blood. Shield covered the bandanna with his hoof and began coughing. It was awful. His stomach contracted and twisted horribly, his eyes began to water and he closed them tight, hacking and gagging.
Splinter stood, her legs shaking, and rushed to Shield, knocking over her plate as she went.
“Sweet Celestia!” She exclaimed as Shield turned away from her, waving his hoof as if to say he was fine. Splinter looked around frantically for something that could help. She jumped slightly when her eyes came across Splinter’s cup of browning water. She reached forward and cursed as her E.U.D failed to activate. She squeezed the cup between her two hooves and lifted it. “Please! Drink something!” At the mention of water, Shield whipped around, clamped onto the cup with his T.I.C, turned away, pulled his cloth down past his chin and began to drink deeply.
Splinter simply stared at the back of his head as he swallowed mouthfuls of water, gagging every once and a while, sending droplets down to the metal floor. Splinter watched, wincing as Shield painfully downed the cup of water. She regretted asking him to try to speak. She felt sick, she felt horrible, and she felt like she had forced her friend do something terrible. Shield set the empty metal cup on the ground forcefully and he panted, his breathing raspy like the growling of some wounded and sick creature. He lifted his mask over his muzzle and turned back to Splinter, his eyes half closed, his face sweating like he had just run a marathon through the Badlands. His makeshift bandanna was stained with more yellow and red, only now, water was added to the mix.
Splinter stared at Shield, wide eyed and guilty. The white fabric covering Shield’s mouth was slightly transparent, revealing spots of gray, malformed and hairless flesh pressed against the cloth. She turned away quickly, fearing she might vomit if she looked any longer. She wanted to do something, something that would help. And that’s when the sea of mattresses caught her eye. She stood, slowly, her knees shaking beneath her weight, and walked to one of the many uncomfortable sleeping pads. She moved to the least stained spot of fabric she could find, and began to tug at it with her teeth. There was a rip and a sizeable chunk of fabric was now free from the mattress and held between her jaws.
“Here.” She said in a muffled voice, trying her best not to spit on the cloth. She moved back to Shield who reached out and clamped on with his T.I.C. Splinter sat back down with a thud and sighed as Shield reached to remove his bandanna.
“Um,” Splinter said loudly, making Shield stop in his tracks and look up at her questioningly. “Could you…” She felt terrible for asking, but she couldn’t take anymore. Shield seemed to understand. He turned around once more and pulled the stained fabric off of his face and shakily tied the new, clean bandanna around his neck. It seemed to fit well, but it was a bit too long. The spare cloth draped around his neck, resting against his mane.
“I’m uuuh…” Splinter poked the ground nervously as she spoke. “I’m sorry for asking you to… Do that.” Shield turned to her, she was delighted to see the bandanna was clean. He waved his hoof as if to say,
It happens all the time, before staggering slightly and quickly placing his hoof back on the ground for support. This did not soothe Splinter’s guilt.
Splinter’s second shift was assigned to picking up the many pieces of trash littering Bloodfield’s streets, as well as avoiding the many objects often thrown or swung in her direction, which she would then have to pick up as well. The large, leather satchel they had slung across her side grew heavier and heavier as the night went on. There really was, an exorbitant amount of garbage in Bloodfield, and even more if you counted the citizens themselves, which Splinter did.
She hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Barter since this morning, and she was a little nervous that he may be in some sort of trouble. Splinter shook off this thought, reassuring herself, that he was probably just gardening in a different section of the town. She greatly disliked the idea of seeing either of her friends beaten or killed, if you counted Shield as a friend, which Splinter did. The cleaning took hours, sweat dripped off of Splinter’s fur in the unrelenting downpour of the sun’s rays. She shielded her eyes every hour or so to look up toward the sky, get an idea of what time it was, and pray to the long dead Celestia that a cloud would happen to drift by on it’s own and give her just a few seconds of shade.
She was given a small tool to pick up trash with. They seemed like a rusty set of tongs which tasted strongly of iron and… Well, rust. The tool was rather small and needed to be held within her mouth, seeing as her E.U.D didn’t seem to be starting up any time soon. She would’ve much preferred a long hook with a wooden handle, with which to spear the trash instead. The handle didn’t even need to be clean, just a soft wood so her teeth could stop aching so much. But Splinter suspected the leaders of Bloodfield didn’t much like the idea of giving long, pointed, metal weapons to their slaves, so for now, the tongs would have to do.
After several more hours of getting her mouth uncomfortably close to rotting food, and receiving several extra bruises from a group of fillies and mares hurling stones at her, Splinter felt the cool shade of a small clump of clouds covering the sun, signifying the end of the day. Two Pegasi nudged clouds into place, one seemed significantly more bruised than the other. This was really the first sign of cooperation between slaves and Bloodfield guards. It was a strange sight, but Splinter got the feeling the poor slave Pegasus would be receiving a fresh set of bruises when this job was done.
Splinter stood for a moment, eyes closed and chin raised, letting the break from the sun’s heat wash over her body. The sweat, which had been a small comfort in the heat, was now a rush of ice in the shade which sent goosebumps up and down her back and neck. She let out a sigh of relief. At last, she could cool off. She didn’t know how long she stood there. Seconds, maybe a few minutes. Ten, perhaps twenty. Part of her mind told her that if she was late to the containment room, she would be beaten. But that voice was drowned by relief, and gratefulness for the remaining existence of Pegasi. She was in a sort of trance, she probably would’ve stayed there until somepony found her, but something caught her ear. It swiveled to face behind her, trying to locate the noises.
She heard voices. Hushed, careful voices. Voices that didn’t want to be heard, voices that didn’t think anyone was listening. They were calm, not in any sort of hurry, but wary of eavesdroppers nonetheless. And an eavesdropper, Splinter was. Albeit, an accidental eavesdropper. She couldn’t make out what they were saying. One of them was a male, she could make that out. One was female. The other was… Higher pitched. Either a female or an elderly male. Splinter was walking forward now, taking slow, silent steps toward the voices. She could understand them now.
“-need to find a better meeting place,” Said the male voice, “I swear, unless we write messages to each other, people will be able to hear us.”
“Relax,” Said a the higher pitched voice, “These walls are solid oak, as long as we stay quiet, nobody will hear anything.”
“Maybe you could just move a bit closer.” Said the female voice, “And talk a bit quieter, just to be sure.”
“Any closer and your ear will be in my mouth.” Said the male voice, “We’re fine, can you jus-”
There was a loud clinking sound. Splinter fumbled and took a few hurried steps backward. A glass bottle she had failed to pick up earlier, rolled and spun across the dirt road. The three voices shushed each other, and the street fell into silence. There was the sound of hoofsteps on wood, and the creak of a door. Splinter jumped and looked up and down the street frantically, looking for somewhere to hide. She eventually rushed toward an empty cart which laid in front of a small hut. She scrambled into the cart, making as little noise as she could, and hung the canvas across the car’s frame.
In the slight breeze, she could see only a sliver of the street as the tarp over her rippled slightly, revealing the dirt road and ramshackle huts in brief moments.
Silence, for a few moments. Splinter remained as still as possible. Every shifting sound she made seemed a hundred times louder. She held her breath, and in the silence she heard hoofsteps, the sound of gravel grinding against something metal, and the creaking of leather. Somepony stepped out into the darkened street. He was taller, well built, and had a brown coat of fur with a reddish brown mane. Steel didn’t look worried. He didn’t look anxious or rushed or nervous, he simply surveyed his surroundings with careful, calculating eyes. Splinter’s heartbeat grew steadily louder as Steel turned slowly toward the cart. How could he not hear her heartbeat? It pounded and thumped against her chest, but Steel didn’t seem to notice as his gaze slid right past the cart without a second glance. After a moment, he let out a sigh, and walked back out of Splinter’s field of view. She waited for a few minutes.
She didn’t dare move and she only dared to breath after her face had turned a sickening purple color and she could feel her heartbeat in her throat. The hushed voices resumed, too quiet and too far away for Splinter to hear, and she had no intention of attempting to move within earshot. For a moment, she was tempted to just fall asleep in the cart. It would certainly be easier than walking back to Containment, and though she lacked the comfort of a mattress, the warped wood was still warm from baking in the sun all day, and the tarp provided a sort of blanket over her. Overall, this was much more comfortable than Containment. Her eyelids grew heavy. They drifted up and down, her eyes crossing as they lowered, the warm arms of sleep beckoning her closer.
“What will happen if you get caught?” Echoed Shield’s voice from somewhere in her mind. Her sleepy mind through for a moment. She thought of the mistreatment of slaves. The undernourishment, the insults, the labor, the public beatings, the public rapings. “We can make it out of here, don’t end it like this.” His voice was back to normal in her mind, it popped and fizzed in a familiar and comfortable way. She felt safer with Shield. And just then, did Splinter realize how unsafe she was. This cart was used for something, it would be picked up and dragged around town in the morning. What if she was caught? Her eyes opened quickly and she decided then and there, she would not be caught tonight.
Splinter found the strength to poke her head out from under the tarp and look up and down the street. No guards, no citizens, no slaves, nopony whatsoever. She let out a quiet sigh, and stepped out of the cart as quietly as she could. The voices were still whispering from whichever building they were meeting in, but Splinter didn’t bother to try to overhear. She moved as silently as possible and, not knowing of the secrets and plans being exchanged by Sergeant Steel and whomever he was meeting with, Splinter snuck her way back to Containment.