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// III - Laying Low 
// Story: Half-Hoof: Dire Circumstances 
// by Alfoals Trottenbauer 
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The three fugitives had made it to an ocean that had dried up long ago. The ocean floor was dried up and cracked.

Two equine stood in the distance. They galloped in their direction. They too had spotted them. They had resistance uniforms on.

"Finally, somepony's here!" One said as he galloped toward them.

"Wait, Dusty, don't-!" The mare shouted.

It was too late. A gigantic spire shot out from the ground, penetrating his whole body. Blood dripped from the wound. The spire slowly sank into the ground with the body.

"I tried to warn him about the Sand barnacles..." The mare lamented, "Leave me. There's something I must do..."

There wasn't any help Sven could give. The trio trotted away from her.

A gunshot echoed behind them.

Sven looked back and saw the mare was dead.

They treaded lightly on the sun-baked ocean floor. Smokestacks towered in the distance.

They had arrived at the industrial area.