//------------------------------// // Start the Dirty Work // Story: Surviving Sand Island // by The 24th Pegasus //------------------------------// Black Flag took a moment to stand up straight and catch his breath. After some time to search the north end of the island, Ratchet and his crew had managed to find the remains of the long-lost ponies’ campsite, just as they’d been assured. But finding it was only the beginning, only the easy part. Now came actually searching it. Rainbow Dash had warned them that the camp had been abandoned for years by the time they all ended up on these islands, which meant that they had to be prepared to do some digging, some sifting through the sand before they’d maybe find something. But Black Flag hadn’t exactly thought about what maybe twenty years of storms and tides dragging sand up and down the island would look like. While pieces of an ancient fire weren’t that difficult to find, everything else remotely interesting was buried beneath the sand. And, stranded as they were in the middle of nowhere, there was nothing they could do except try to dig things out with their hooves. “We should have brought some fucking tools,” Flag said, shooting a dirty look at Ratchet, as if it was his fault that they were laboring in the hot sun with their bare hooves. After all, he was the leader of this expedition, so it was easier for Flag to pin his complaints on the mechanic than on himself. “We’re out here pawing through the sand like fucking animals.” “I don’t think Rainbow and Rarity left us a shovel,” Ratchet said. He too had stood up straight and arched his back in an attempt to work some of the stiffness and stress out of it. “About the only tools they made on their own were an axe and some knives, and they made those out of stone and shells.” “We brought some scrap back with us from the archipelago, didn’t we?” Flag asked. “Just get one of your hornheads to magic something together real fast.” “I don’t think my stage magic would be very helpful here,” Ruse said, but even as he did so, his horn sparkled to life. A patch of sand in front of him glowed, and the unicorn hefted the top six inches of sand into the air. His face twisted in concentration, and he adjusted his magic to let it stream through like a sifter. The sand slowly drained away, and when he was finished, his horn held aloft a few shells, a few pebbles, and a few sticks—nothing of importance. As the ventriloquist frowned and flung the rubbish away, Ratchet could only shake his head. “We’re making decent enough progress as it is,” he said. “It would likely take us longer to try and make a crude shovel than brute forcing our way through it on our own. The campsite can’t be that large; I sincerely doubt that the previous castaways spread their camp out much more than this general clearing.” “I’m surprised they didn’t take the clearing Rainbow and Rarity built their camp in,” Doctor Gauze said. “That seems to be the better of the two options. It’s closer to the pond and closer to the hill with all the fruit on it.” “There’s more cover here,” Ruse said. “The trees are thicker, and their canopies are much closer together. If they were only staying here in the short term, or at least thought they would be, then they probably chose here to keep the worst of the rain off of them.” “And they’re all dead,” Flag said. “Great fucking work. If they left us anything useful, it will be a fucking miracle.” “They left us that journal,” Ratchet said. “It’s at least been somewhat useful to us so far.” “But it doesn’t have any of the answers that will tell us how to get out of this shithole.” Flag sighed and sat down next to the dug-out remains of the old fire pit. “I doubt we’re going to find that just sitting under the sand, waiting for us to dig it out.” “Well, maybe, maybe not,” Ruse said. Once more, he flared his horn, and once more, he sifted through a patch of sand. But his lips turned into a surprised yet excited smile when a few scraps of paper appeared out of the sediment. “And I think we just found our first something.” Collecting the papers, Ruse brought them toward the center of the group of ponies, gingerly flicking sand off of the old parchment. He spun them this way and that in his magical grasp, his eyebrows pinching downward more and more with each passing second. As everypony stared down at them in confusion, Ruse fanned them out so he could look at all three pieces of paper… but to no avail. “What is it?” Flag asked, momentarily taking his eyes away from the papers to glance in confusion at the other three stallions around him. “Some kind of funky drawings?” “They’re not drawings, they’re rubbings,” Gauze said. “Rubbings?” Ruse asked. “Rubbings of what?” “Well, there are symbols on them,” Ratchet said, pointing to some of the strange lines on the faded charcoal rubbings. “They’re definitely not seashells or palm fronds.” Ruse nodded. “These must have come from the shrine beneath us,” he said. “But what do they mean?” “They could mean nothing for all we know,” Flag said. “Some pony decided they just wanted to copy the pretty pictures and look at them without the hassle of going down there.” “Which doesn’t help us all that much, in that case.” Ruse continued to shift through the papers, but he ultimately shrugged and gathered them back together. “Whatever it is, we can let Gyro figure it out. The poor mare is desperate for something to do to help out.” “I feel bad for her,” Ratchet admitted. “She’s spent so much time injured or trapped since we crashed here. She deserves better than what she’s got.” “She at least has her legs and will walk again,” Gauze said. “She will be good as new in no time.” “I can’t imagine not having my fucking legs,” Flag grunted. “It’s all we got as dumb dirt-eaters. The bitch is lucky she gets to keep hers.” “And she still needs something to keep her wits sharp,” Ruse said. After looking over the campsite some more, he shrugged and started walking away. “Well, I’ve done my part, I’d say, so I’m going to deliver these papers to Gyro and see if she can figure something out with them. The rest of you can have fun playing in the sand.” Flag scowled at the stallion as he disappeared into the undergrowth. “Yeah, fuck you, too.” Sighing, he stood up and started digging through the sand some more. “We ain’t gonna find anything more than that, I can already tell…”