Bulletproof Heart

by PaulAsaran


Episode 03: Southward Bound

18th of Falling Heat, 1005 BA

The wagon train moved slowly south, as it had for seven-and-a-half weeks straight. Now, at long last, it had come within sight of the mountain range known as the Dragon’s Teeth, a collection of tall crags. They jutted into the clear blue sky in a manner that made Rarity think of… well, dragon’s teeth. She didn’t have to guess about the origin of their name.

But the foothills of the mountains were still several hours away. The sun beat down on the train with ruthless consistency, making every pony not fortunate enough to be in the covered wagons sweat terribly. Rarity had given up complaining about such things six weeks ago, particularly when she realized there was nothing to be done about it.

But by Luna’s stars, she felt filthy. No, she was filthy, the grime and dirt and dried sweat squeezed into her every crevice. She’d give anything for a bath, or even a simple dip in a lake. Sadly, the wagon train had spent the entire journey in the western foothills of the Eerie Cliffs, where there were no bodies of water to take advantage of. More than half the caravan’s stores consisted of water. How their minotaur leader, one Long Horn, could refuse to travel along the less demanding east side of the Eeries boggled the mind.

Then again, that was why she’d paid to join this train, wasn’t it? It wasn’t that it was cheaper, but that it was harder. Unpleasant. Unexpected. Only a season had passed since her departure from Spurhoof, and she had every reason to think the Apples were watching for her. The more dangerous route meant fewer equally dangerous ponies looking to cash in on her formerly pretty head.

Wiping sweat from her brow, she wondered if the sheer discomfort was worth it. All around her, there was nothing but reddish-yellow sand and rock. A more barren sight she doubted she’d ever see again. This was the area known as the Great Salt Plains, a desert that seemed nothing short of endless. Of course, they were only bridging the southeastern corner between the Eerie Cliffs and the Dragon’s Teeth, a journey that would only require two days of travel. But going northwest?

It was said a pony could travel whole seasons and never see anything but sand and rock. After this little trek, the thought filled Rarity with a subtle but profound horror. The heat out here was merciless, the silence grating on the nerves. At least they had the mountains visible in the distance ahead. What would it be like to have no landmarks at all, nothing to tell the traveler they were nearing their destination? It struck her as the height of despair.

Such were her thoughts these days. Depressing, truly, but better than thinking about the lives she’d taken back in Spurhoof. At least none of her fellow travelers had asked about such things. She had money, so they let her join. Never had Rarity been so happy to work with simple-minded folk.

There were about twenty in the caravan. They took turns guiding the sand lizards, which were the bulky and slow variety known as Thick Scales. The massive beasts, each as wide as the wagons they pulled, were perfectly suited to the task, able to plod along for days on end without pause. Weeks, if given a steady supply of food and water while they were moving. And of course, it was Rarity’s turn to lead one. She wouldn’t be out in the burning sun coated in her own sweat otherwise. She held the reins of her Thick Scale, named Gentle Giant, in her left hand and walked alongside the lumbering behemoth. He was easily three times the size Piecazzo had been.

Oh, Sisters, why’d she have to think about him? She kept her eyes open, not wanting to see his pained gaze on the back of her eyelids. Instead, she focused on the three wagons ahead of the one she’d been charged with. Each one was pulled by a Thick Scale guided by a lone pony. Each also had a second pony walking nearby, lookouts focused more on detecting problems around and ahead of the wagons. Rarity’s lookout was a young colt she liked to call Troublemaker. Not his real name, but hers suited him more and made his mother smirk. It was good to know he was on the other side of the wagon, where his incessant chatter couldn’t annoy her.

Heavy footsteps alerted her to the approach of Long Horn. She looked over her shoulder to find him approaching on the back of a trotting yellow Dust Devil, sporting jeans and a Stetson but shirtless. His muscular body shined with sweat, and a few weeks ago the sight may have given Rarity some unladylike ideas. Today she merely watched his approach with mild disinterest.

“You doing alright?” he asked as he approached, voice a deep rumble.

She nodded, turning her head to follow his path as he moved ahead of her. “Well enough under the circumstances.”

He returned the nod and continued ahead. “Good to see you’re getting acclimated. We’ll be switching teams in a couple hours.”

Rarity should have been proud of what she’d just heard. His comment about her acclimating was the minotaur’s way of complimenting her. And he was right, she had grown accustomed to the travel. She’d barely been able to go more than two or three hours between breaks in the first few days, and that had been pushing herself to near heatstroke. Today she could last her entire shift at the same pace as the others, even if she’d be a lot more worn out than any of them.

But the knowledge of this progress did little to cheer her up. On the contrary, it only served to remind her that this was going to be the new norm. No more work over a sewing machine in a magically cooled room, no more teatimes, no more comfy beds. Just the burning sun, tired legs and a body encrusted with dirt and sweat. She’d stopped crying over it some time ago, but that didn’t mean she’d grown to like it any more.

She heaved a sigh. All she seemed to do nowadays was sulk. If only she had some means of cheering herself up.


They were in the northern foothills of the Dragon’s Teeth, and the caravan had come to a stop. One of the wagons up ahead had broken a wheel on the rough terrain, halting the entire operation until it could be repaired. According to Knobby Knuckle, the one doing said repairs, it wouldn’t take more than an hour.

That was plenty of time for Rarity to practice her least favorite hobby. She stood a few hundred feet from the wagons, carefully setting down the last of the empty tin cans. They were, to use Long Horn’s terminology, junk, having been dented or crushed or faced some other crises that made them useless for the train’s purposes. With the three settled in a neat row, she walked until she was a few dozen feet away. Troublemaker and his father, an earth pony named Swing Set, stood nearby to watch with curiosity.

Facing the cans, Rarity grit her teeth and forced herself to grab Silver Lining. Holding it with both hands, she took aim. No matter how many times she did this, holding the gun only made her feel dirtier than she already was. And when she looked down the sights at the targets, all she could see was Piles’ head erupting in a splash of blood.

Don’t think about it that way, Rarity. It’s just some useless cans.

But they might be skulls next time. Her stomach roiled and her hands shook, but she adamantly refused to back down. Seconds passed…

Silver Lining fired, and Rarity felt that familiar moment of disgust and pride that she didn’t blink from the bang. The can on the left bounced. It never ceased to amaze her how strangely accurate she was, even when her hands shook as they so often did.

“She shoots real slow, Pops.”

She saw Swing Set squeeze on Troublemaker’s ear, making the colt wince. “Hush up an’ let her practice.”

Rarity’s lips twitched upwards at Troublemaker’s scowl, but made sure the smile was hidden behind her hair. It faded quickly anyway once she settled into taking aim at the next can. Her throat dried as she stared into the angry eyes of Double Diamond. Double Diamond… would she ever forget that name?

Did she really want to?

Another shot. Dirt kicked up to the left of the can she’d been targeting. Rarity grimaced and tried to settle her thoughts. No ghosts of the past, no waves of guilt. All she had to do was focus and…

The gun kicked, and the can jumped, falling on its side. This time she saw the scales of a Dust Devil as holes burst into being on its face.

Rarity closed her eyes and cursed under her breath. “Don’t think about it, Rarity. It was a season ago. Get over it.”

“And now she’s talking to herself. Seriously, Pops, I think she’s crazy. Ow!”

A retort danced on the tip of her tongue, but Rarity held back and brought the gun up once more. She gave herself a few seconds to steady her breathing and empty her mind of anything but the can in front of her. Once her hands had mostly stopped shaking, she held her breath and squeezed the trigger.

She didn’t see a can rip open. She saw Piecazzo’s head.

Silver Lining hit the ground. Rarity stared at hands that trembled. Her pulse pounded in her ears and her throat constricted. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe! She began to double over, clutching at her chest.

Swing Set was at her side. He was saying something. He held her by the shoulders, preventing her from falling. His lips moved in a single word. What word? She strained her ears but could hear nothing. She tried closing her eyes and had to open them again to not see Piecazzo’s… what was left of Piecazzo.

“Breathe. Breathe, Miss Belle!”

Air entered her lungs at last. Rarity sucked it in greedily. The pounding in her skull gradually faded to a mere background noise. She wobbled for a few more seconds, but finally managed to stand up straight. She looked up to find no bodies, only three fallen cans. It took her a moment to register just what had happened. Slowly, she bent down and reached for Silver Lining. Her hand paused inches away.

Swing Set, one hand still on her shoulder, knelt to take the gun. “They were good shots.”

For a fraction of a moment, she wondered if he might use Silver Lining on her. The thought didn’t come with any fear, but rather numbness. Sighing, she stood up straight once more. “I’m s-sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm you.”

He hummed, examining Silver Lining from several angles as he did. “This is a strange gun. Never seen anything like it.”

Rarity couldn’t bring herself to turn to him. She just kept staring at the targets. Her voice sounded dull even to her ears. “It was a gift.”

He whistled. “One heck of a gift. Double action. That kind of machining don’t come cheap.”

The words gradually seeped into her mind, dragging her out of her daze enough to finally let her look to him. “Double action?”

His studious eye shifted to her. After a moment, he offered Silver Lining to her. Rarity briefly considered not taking it, but the logical side reminded her that she’d be dead without it. When she grabbed the handle, however, he didn’t let go. She looked up to find him watching her with eyebrows lowered and lips set in a thin line.

“You did something bad, didn’t you?”

Rarity stared at him, mouth hanging open, then recoiled. Her heart returned to its frantic pounding and suddenly all she wanted was to bury herself in the sands and hide forever. “I… I m-mean…”

He raised his hand to silence her. “It’s okay. Won’t tell a soul. But I need to know: you gotta bounty? That why you were so eager to get outta the Bowl?”

Her eyes widened as one thought ricocheted around in her brain: He has my gun. She risked glancing around. There was nothing out here but rocks. If he wanted to kill her…

“That’s what I thought.” He sighed and offered her the gun once more, this time holding it by the barrel. “Again, I’m not telling anypony.”

She glanced at Silver Lining, then at him. Was this some kind of trick? Hesitantly, she reached out and took the gun. He relinquished it this time, and she hurried to put it in her holster. “Thank you?”

He nodded, but the hard look didn’t leave his eyes. “I won’t ask what you did, but know this: if this caravan gets attacked ‘cause of you, I’m protecting my family.”

Rubbing her hands together as if to wash them, Rarity nodded timidly. “I-I understand.”

“I got the water, Pops!” Troublemaker hurried to them, waving a canteen high above his head. He paused a few feet away and gave Rarity a disappointed look. “Oh, you’re not hurt no more?”

Swing Set rolled his eyes and snatched the canteen from his son. “Go back to your mother and let her know everything’s alright here.” He waited until the slouching colt had walked a few dozen feet away before giving the canteen to Rarity. Her hands shook so much she almost dropped it.

Seeing this, he heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry. You don’t seem at all that dangerous to me, amazing gun aside. You look more like a scared city filly who’s way outta her league.”

“You have no idea.” Rarity hurried to take a swig of the canteen, the cool water soothing her throat. Her hands, still trembling, struggled to screw the lid back on.

Swing Set watched her efforts at first, but finally took the canteen and closed it himself. “We’re almost to the Scorched Plains. I hope ya find whatever you’re looking for, Miss Belle.” He gave her another nod before heading back to the caravan.

She watched him go, shoulders slumped and heart heavy. Seeing his back make her feel so… alone. She hadn’t expected anything more, so why did it hit her so strongly?

Groaning, she looked to the mountains rising high in the south. Two more days and they’d be there. The Scorched Plains. Home of the Buffalo Tribes. Any further south than that and she’d be in the Burning Lands, and no sane pony went there. Perhaps out there, in the vast and empty plains, she’d be able to make a new life without fearing the Apples.

But what kind of life would she lead?


Rarity awoke with a start, sitting up and slapping a hand over her mouth to muffle a scream that didn’t come. She’d gotten much better at that in the ensuing weeks. Her heart throbbed as fresh images of a nude, brutalized Coco lingered in her vision. Those wide, empty eyes haunted worse than any real ghost ever could.

Hurriedly, she grabbed her backpack and digged into it, extracting the golden necklace Coco had given her. As soon as she hugged it to her chest, her anxiety melted away. Her pulse slowed, her breathing eased and the terrible vision faded. Heaving a deep sigh, she leaned against the wall of the wagon and tried to relax.

“Nightmares, again?”

Rarity glanced over to her – wagon mate? – lying on a bedroll near the front of the ever-rocking wagon. She was an older, silver unicorn named Saltwater. The mare easily outpaced Rarity all day in spite of her advanced years.

Nodding, Rarity relaxed her hold on the necklace to study the pale stone on it yet again. “They’ve gotten better. A little.”

Saltwater raised an eyebrow. “That fancy neckwear always seems to clear your head.”

A rare smile graced Rarity’s lips. “It was a gift from a dear friend.” The smile faded as she puzzled over the necklace, turning it about in her hands to examine the unadorned backside. “But that doesn’t explain how it works so well to calm me down.”

“Maybe it’s magic.” Saltwater rested her head on her roll and yawned. “Special gear like that could have some sort of enchantment on it. Where’d your friend get it?”

“From her mother.” Rarity shrugged and started to put the necklace away, but stopped herself. She’d not wanted to wear it because it would attract undue attention. Yet if it really was magical, then perhaps it would be better to keep it close? Still, she couldn’t waltz around with something so fabulous around her neck. It’d be like painting a target on her back.

“So was her mother a unicorn?”

“I have no idea.” Looking around, Rarity spotted some cotton cloth. Crawling across the wagon, she retrieved it along with the needle and thread she knew was in a repair kit in the corner. “Would you mind terribly if I used these?”

Saltwater cracked open an eye to peer at her. “You sew?”

A knowing smile wormed its way onto Rarity’s lips. “Now and then.”

With a snort, Saltwater rolled to face the corner. “Got plenty of stuff for it. Just put it back where ya found it. And keep quiet, I’m trying to sleep.”

With a soft “Thank you”, Rarity settled back onto her bedroll and got to work, starting by unbuttoning her blouse. She grimaced; it used to be white. Now it was just plain ugly. As she folded it into a more usable form, she wondered with a heavy heart if she’d ever wear clean clothes again. Her displeasure faded, however, once she got started with the needle and thread.

Neither skill nor speed had been impeded by time away from the shop, and within only a few minutes she’d crafted a large pocket within her shirt. Once certain that her stitching would do the job, she put the garment back on. The pocket settled just beneath her bra on the right side. A couple new buttons on the interior let her extend the pocket to the left side of the shirt as well, thereby having it cover her whole front. With that done, she carefully placed the necklace in the pocket before buttoning up her shirt the rest of the way.

Sitting up straight, Rarity turned and twisted in place, testing the weight of the necklace. It felt secure, at least. She’d placed it just beneath her breasts in the mild hope that the shape of them would conceal the necklace’s presence, but she had no way to know for certain. At least, not by looking down.

Well, sleep wouldn’t be coming to her anytime soon. Why not test the design out? With this in mind, she moved as quietly as she could to the back of the wagon and climbed out.

The waxing moon shone brilliantly upon the caravan, which continued its rumbling way south over the Dragon’s Teeth. The landscape consisted of nothing save sharp-looking rocks and stone rising above the wagons on either side of a long, winding pass. Rarity waved to the driver of the wagon behind hers and walked on ahead.

The passage continued to rise high above them. Rarity’s legs protested the climb, but only a little. She was up to the second wagon from the lead when Long Horn rode up to her from behind, bringing his Dust Devil to a casual gait at her side. He looked down at her with the same hard face she’d come to expect from him. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” She raised an eyebrow at the minotaur. “Do you ever?”

“Sleep is for the weak,” he replied with just a hint of sarcasm. “I suggest you try. Your next shift is going to be a hard one.”

“I will in a moment. Might I ask how long it should be before we reach the top of the pass?”

Long Horn grunted and eyed the area ahead of the caravan. “Probably right around the time you start your shift in the afternoon.”

“Thank you, sir.” She gave him a nod, and he moved on ahead. Rarity paused to let the wagons roll by, crossing her arms as a wave of satisfaction came over her. He surely would have said something if the necklace had been obvious, or at least given her a funny look. Her experiment, it seemed, had been a success. With any luck she’d have less troublesome dreams with the necklace so close, although she questioned how comfortable it would be.

Keeping her arms crossed kept her from giving in to the temptation to toy with the necklace. As hidden as it was it still felt odd to have the weight where it was. She distracted herself by studying the peaks on either side of the pass. They were tall, jagged things, far from welcoming to the weary traveler. Rarity couldn’t help wondering who would want to live in such a dreadful place. Hopefully the Scorched Plains would at least be a little more aesthetically pleasing.

She blinked. Was something up there? She peered at the ridge to the caravan’s right side, but nothing moved despite her scrutiny. She shrugged; who knew what sort of animals might live out here? She was sure Long Horn was prepared for such things, not that she anticipated any threats. Certainly not from wild animals, at least. And bandits? How would they ever get down to the wagons from up there without seriously hurting themselves?

Her wagon rolled past, so Rarity climbed back inside. Saltwater’s faint snoring prompted her to move quietly as she returned to her bedroll. Lying down, she idly rubbed the necklace beneath her shirt and wondered about Coco. If she’d gone to Moosiville as she’d promised, then she would have arrived three weeks ago at latest.

How had her parents taken the news? Perhaps they were angry. Terrified? She could see her father wanting to travel clear across Equestria to find and bring his ‘little princess’ home. All the better she’d not bothered to tell Coco exactly where she’d gone. Her mother and sister would hold him back, and maybe in a few months she could write to them from one of the towns in the foothills. But not yet, not until they’d had the time they needed to calm down. They might assume her dead if she waited too long, though. Could she live with the guilt such a thing would bring?

She snorted and rolled to her side. If she could handle the guilt of murdering three ponies, she could handle this.

But had she been handling it? The nightmares, the shaking in her hands every time she held Silver Lining… which was currently jabbing into her waist. Taking the holster off crossed her mind, but she rejected the idea as she always did. So long as she had a bounty on her head, Silver Lining would remain on her hip.

Grumbling under her breath, she turned over onto her left side.


The wagons had stopped. Rarity placed a hand over her eyes and peered towards the front of the train. It looked as though Long Horn was having a discussion with his second in command, Cork Dry.

“What’s going on?” Troublemaker asked, ducking under Gentle Giant’s head as he approached.

“I’m not sure.” Rarity glanced at her wagon, then at the colt. Curiosity and responsibility waged war with her. She shouldn’t really leave Troublemaker to handle this alone, especially considering the way this entire situation made her nervous. She didn’t even know why it made her nervous. Long Horn and Cork Dry could be discussing just about anything.

Despite all that, curiosity finally won out, and she offered the reins to the colt. “Can you handle this?”

Troublemaker raised an eyebrow her way. “You want me to hold on to Gentle Giant?”

“Oh.” She sighed and turned away. “You’re right, you probably can’t handle it.”

“I didn’t say that!” He snatched the reins from her hand and glared up at her with puffed up cheeks. “You watch, I’ll keep him under control!”

“Well, then, I guess I better leave you to it.” Rarity managed to keep her smirk hidden until she’d put some distance between them. She could only hope the boy’s mother and father were okay with him handling a Thick Scale on his own. Not that it would be hard in this case. He wasn’t called ‘Gentle Giant’ for nothing.

A small crowd of half a dozen ponies had formed around Long Horn and Cork Dry. Rarity touched the arm of the nearest to catch her attention. “What’s going on?”

The mare, an earth pony named Amber Horizon, shook her head. “Looks like something weird’s going on with the town.”

The town? Rarity moved around the crowd to the ridge. She breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of a tiny village, its buildings nestled at the exit of the pass. It looked like it might even be smaller than Spurhoof. The area seemed no more inviting than the rest of the Dragon’s Teeth, but at least there was shelter. Then again, she couldn’t expect to find an inn, but just the hint of being back in something resembling civilization managed to lift the dark cloud that had been settled over her mind lately.

The hamlet was named Firestone if she recalled correctly, and was a geode farming outpost. Rubies, mostly. The foothills around the town were visibly divided into fields of assorted rocks in various states of growth. The north and south edges of the town each had a small barn, presumably for storing equipment and gems. The town must have been fairly successful if it needed two barns for a product that literally took decades to produce.

Rarity peered at the town, abruptly realizing just how still it was. Where were the farmhands working the fields, the citizens going about their daily activities, the foals playing? Firestone looked like a ghost town. The image left her with a deep sense of unease, and Rarity found herself absent-mindedly rubbing Silver Lining’s grip. Her thumb found that small nub in the wood and couldn’t stop circling it.

Somepony tapped her shoulder. She turned to find Long Horn standing behind her. He pointed with his thumb to the caravan. “We’re headed in. Better get back to your wagon.”

Rarity was tempted to object, but held her tongue. Surely an experienced trader such as he would know what was best. Even so, she kept a hand against the necklace under her blouse the whole way to her wagon. At least she wasn’t panicking, despite the undercurrent of alarm filling her.

“What’s going on?” Troublemaker asked as he offered her Gentle Giant’s reins.

She accepted them and, giving them a light tug, spurred the lumbering creature into motion. “We’ve reached the town. I want you to get in your wagon.”

He gasped and jumped back. “And wake up Mom before it’s her turn? No way, lady! I like my head on my neck where it belongs.”

Swing Set’s voice rose from behind her. “Do as she says, Justice.”

Troublemaker’s face paled. “B-but, Pops…”

“No buts. Keep your mouth shut and try not to aggravate the dragon.”

The colt slinked towards his wagon, slouching so much it was a wonder his chin didn’t touch the ground. He looked prepared to meet his maker.

Rarity turned to Swing Set. “You’re worried too?”

“Have to be off my rocker not to be,” he replied, puffing on a half-used extract stick. “Be ready. Long Horn smells trouble, and his instincts are usually on point.”

Well, that was certainly encouraging. Rarity scowled at his back as he walked to his wagon. What kind of trouble could lead to an entire town going quiet like that? Were the citizens hiding from something? Ponies going missing while traveling was one thing, but all the citizens in the town? No, she couldn’t believe that. They’d get down there and find some logical excuse. They just couldn’t think of one, that was all.

Despite her self-reprimands, her fingers continued to toy with Silver Lining’s grip.


Nothing happened. That didn’t alleviate Rarity’s fears. If anything, they were now heightened, and she constantly scoured her surroundings.

Firestone, it seemed, really was a ghost town. Every building was abandoned, some left wide open for anypony to just walk in and do what they pleased. One of the stallions reported finding a table still set up for dinner, and recently. The fields still had their geodes, as did the barns. After nearly an hour of scouring the town and local countryside, the sun had touched the horizon. Long Horn called the travelers together in the town square, where the wagons had been stopped.

“I don’t like this, Horny.” Saltwater peered at the buildings around them, her brow furrowed and lips set in a thin line. The expression matched many of the others. “It’s downright creepy. I say we move on.” Most of the ponies present murmured their agreement.

“Whoa now, hold on.” Love Melody, a unicorn mare, raised her hand high. “Yeah, it’s creepy, but what about us? This entire trade route survives because of this one stop! If we don’t at least get what we came for, we’ll never be able to afford the return trip from Mareami.”

“Not to mention all of us wind up broke,” Cork Dry added. “All our fortunes are riding on this.”

Rarity tactfully chose not to mention that this wasn’t true for her. She thanked six years of hard work for giving her enough bits in the banks to last a long while, especially given how little she’d been spending since leaving Spurhoof.

“We’ll find other ways to make money,” somepony behind Rarity shouted. “It’s not worth it!”

“Whatever happened to this town, it’s over,” Love Melody said. “I say we stay the night and stock up on geodes. We dump the goods we would have lost anyway to make room.”

Saltwater waved her hands at her in a denying motion. “Nuh-uh. Whatever did whatever to this town might come back!”

Rarity walked away from the group, moving for the nearest building. They’d make a decision without her input. It wasn’t like she had any experience to back up whatever she might say, after all. She leaned against the stone wall and crossed her arms to keep from grabbing Silver Lining or rubbing her necklace. Personally, she was more than willing to move on and escape this dreadful place, but it wasn’t her livelihood on the line.

The best thing for now was to distract herself, but how to do that? She wasn’t in the mood to practice with Silver Lining, mostly because she didn’t want to attract undue attention to herself. Plus the bullets Cranky had given her hadn’t been as bottomless as they’d seemed at the time, and she would need to be a bit more conservative about practicing for a while. What might she be doing if she were back in Spurhoof? It was nearing, or perhaps was, the Falling Heat season, and that meant…

She blinked. “My birthday.” She tried to count the days since she’d left home. Were they in the Falling Heat season yet? Yes, it had to be. Her birthday would be coming in a few weeks, if her guess on the date was accurate. She found herself pondering what she might do to celebrate when it came by, if she even noticed. She’d usually treated herself to cookies, a true rarity in little places like Spurhoof. Or here, perhaps.

Alas, this year she’d be doing nothing at all, except trudging through rough terrain and hoping there was nopony chasing her tail. Her first birthday in her new life.

How… charming.

“I ain’t scared.”

Rarity’s ears twitched at the new voice. Blinking out of her daze, she looked up to find Troublemaker glaring up at her with his hands balled into fists. They shook… a little. “Oh?”

He nodded, cheeks puffed up and eyes hard. “I’ll stay up all night keeping watch. That’s what a brave stallion’d do!”

“And you’re a brave stallion, are you?” Rarity glanced towards the others, who were still having their debate. “It’s good of you to volunteer, but are you sure you need to? You’ve been up all day helping me with the wagon, after all.”

This only prompted him to spread his hooves and set his hands to his hips. “I ain’t tired! And I’m brave enough! You watch, I’ll teach ‘em not to mess with us.”

She cocked her head. “Teach who?”

He opened his mouth, paused, closed it again. His face scrunched up in thought for a few seconds. “You know. ‘Them.’ Who took the ponies here.”

“And do you know who ‘they’ are?”

He hesitated. “No… b-but I’ll know ‘em when I see ‘em!”

He was putting on a decent show, though there was still a bit of a wobble in his knees. Despite her worries, Rarity found it within herself to smile for the colt. “I know you’ll do a good job, Justice.”

Justice stopped in the middle of some unknown rebuttal, his eyes bulging at her tone. “Y-you do?”

“Of course!” She gave him her best pouty face. “We’ll need somepony strong and brave like you to keep us safe. You will keep us safe, won’t you?”

Pink blossomed across his face. His bravado disappeared in favor of shuffling and rubbing the back of his head. “Er… yeah. ‘Course I will.” He recovered quickly, sticking out his chest and grinning. “You watch, nothing’ll get past me!” He turned and ran for the wagons, which Rarity noticed were being moved into a circle by the traders. Swing Set gave him a smile as they passed one another going opposite directions.

Once he got within a few feet he asked, “You know he thinks you’re a gunfighter?”

Rarity jerked up from the wall. “A what? Wherever did he get that notion?”

“Not a big jump.” He began counting on his fingers. “You’re moody. You’re a loner. Mysterious past. Oh,” he pointed at Silver Lining. “And you practice your shooting almost daily. Honestly, he’s not the only one suspects ya.”

“Wonderful.” She pressed a hand to her temple and groaned. “That’s all I need, ponies thinking I’m some brute of a drifter!”

“Brute? Nah. Drifter? Yep.” He glanced back at the others, then leaned a little closer and lowered his voice. “Just don’t tell him otherwise, okay? He won’t say it, but he admires you. Colts need that kind of thing, y’know?”

“No, I don’t know.” She sighed and raised her hands in defeat. “But very well. I won’t be with you for much longer anyway.”

His eyes widened. “You’re leaving us?”

“The deal I made with Long Horn was to go with you as far as the Scorched Plains.” She gestured to the hills in the south. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but they’re just a little farther that way, and the wagons are going to be headed east now. I’ll stay with all of you tonight, but then I have to make my own way.” She didn’t dare mention how she had no idea what to do afterwards, despite having been thinking about it ever since Spurhoof.

So of course he immediately asked, “Why are you going out there? Got some deal with the buffalo?”

Wincing, she looked away and tried to feign confidence. “It’s my own business, I’m afraid.”

He raised his hands as if to calm her down. “Now, now, I didn’t mean to pry.” With a sigh, he flicked the ashes off his extract stick. “Damn shame, though. Justice won’t be happy about it.”

As much as the colt annoyed her at times, Rarity couldn’t help feeling a small pang in her chest at the thought. She crushed that sensation quickly. “I suppose it’s best not to give him any ideas. I don’t want to be the pony responsible for him thinking of drifters as ‘cool’.”

Swing Set raised an eyebrow. “Miss Belle, we are drifters. It’s part of the job description.” He grinned at her sputtered fumbling for a response. “Ah, don’t worry about it, I know what you meant.”

After a long drag from his extract stick, he said, “It was good having you on the team. Most temps like you spend the entire trip whining and making Long Horn wanna rip their tails off. You did good, Miss Belle.”

Her ears perked. “Really? I thought I did pretty poorly for a while there, and I never did get up to the same level as even the least of the traders.”

“No,” he acknowledged. “But you adapted quick and worked hard. Can’t ask for more than that. Long Horn ain’t said much, but I know he’s appreciative of a temp who knows how to pull her weight for a change.”

Rarity smiled at the praise, but shook her head. “You won’t convince me to join the caravan as a regular.”

“I’m not trying to.” He took one last drag and flicked the butt of his extract stick away. His brow furrowed in apparent thought. “What I’m saying is… I know you’re not used to this kind of life. Anypony watching you when we left the Bowl could see that. But you got better, and quick. I mean… I’m saying…”

Groaning, he rubbed a hand over his face. “I ain’t so good at words. Point is, if you’re really gonna be a drifter – whatever your reasons – I think you’ve got the right head for it. You’ll be fine out here, is what I’m saying.”

She studied him in silence, her heart gradually sinking further into her chest. Did he think he might cheer her up with this? The last thing she wanted to hear was that she might actually have been born to be a drifter. It granted a hideous sense of permanency to the whole lifestyle, a permanency she was not keen on encouraging.

But she bit down on her retort and gave herself a moment to breathe. Swing Set was trying to help. The polite thing to do would be to acknowledge that. If she could only pretend to feel better…

It proved beyond her. Rarity bowed her and head shuddered. “I… Th-thank you, Swing, but I never wanted to be… be…”

“Hey, woah!” Swing Set took a step closer. “Crud, I knew I should have gotten Knocks to do this.”

She raised a trembling hand. “It’s alright. It’s… alright.” Raising her head, she blinked the tears away before they could escape. “I’ll just have to take whatever encouragement I can.” Her gaze fell upon the hills to the south. “I… appreciate what you’re trying to do, b-but I never wanted to develop survival skills. Frankly, Mr. Set, I’m currently living in my own personal definition of Tartarus.”

Swing Set stared at her for a few seconds, expression blank. Then he sighed and nodded. “That bad, huh?”

Only a need to recover her image after that slight breakdown kept Rarity from slumping back against the wall. “Yes, it is most certainly ‘that bad.’” She rubbed Silver Lining absent-mindedly, her thumb finding that small nub on the side yet again. “But at least I have somepony’s endorsement. Perhaps I’ll be miserable, but better miserable than dead, am I correct?” She hoped she was.

She really did.


Rarity had been sleeping well for a change, but not so well that the loud thump didn’t startle her awake. Blinking and rubbing the grit from her eyes, she rolled over to check on Saltwater—

Who was currently kicking and clawing and snarling at a person on top of her! It took Rarity precious seconds to realize that her companion was under attack. Once she did, instincts kicked in and she was on her knees. Weeks of practice brought Silver Lining out of its holster in a blink, but Rarity hesitated. Could she do this again? Her hands shook, but her mind remained calm. To save Saltwater, she took aim…

The sharp points of claws touched her throat, making her freeze.

“Drop it or I rip your throat out. You’ve got three seconds.”

The gun fell from her hands in less than one. An arm reached around her shoulders and pulled her back into her captor. The claws didn’t move from her neck.

Had the Bad Apples caught up to her? Through the blood pounding like a drum in Rarity’s ears, she struggled to come to terms with her situation. Saltwater was still struggling, but her attacker was bigger and quickly getting the upper hand. Rarity trembled as she watched, silently cursing herself for being unable to help. Where were the ponies who were supposed to be keeping watch tonight? Why was nopony coming?

Through shaky lips, Rarity spoke. “I-if it’s me you’re after, I’ll come quietly. Please let the others—”

The claw tensed, and Rarity was sure she felt blood trickling down her neck. “Shut up.”

Rarity squeezed her eyes closed. It was the shop all over again! Except this time she was Coco, and her only salvation was actually fighting. And if she didn’t think of something soon—

An ear-splitting crack filled the air, making her gasp. She opened her eyes just in time to see Saltwater slump to the floor, her neck twisted at an impossible angle and her eyes bulged out. Rarity could only gape as the pony spasmed, a hideous, hollow sound rattling out of her throat. Everything else faded out as she watched, her horrified mind recording every twitchy flop.

And then she was being dragged out the back of the wagon. She was pushed out and landed roughly on her knees, and only then did the sob pierce the blockage in her throat. With it came a sharp intake of air, but then she was being dragged across the ground by her arm. She looked back to see the other one climb out, Silver Lining in his claws.

Claws. Through the shock and confusion, Rarity’s mind centered on them. She took in the forms of her assailants: tall, legs covered in fur, unclad feline paws instead of hooves, big wings, beaks. Griffons. They were griffons.

As they shoved her onto her stomach and began tying her hands behind her back, her eyes took in her surroundings. The entire nightwatch was before her, all on their bellies and tied up. No, not all. Two or three were missing. A glance towards the wagons revealed more griffons going through them and rounding up ponies. Swing Set’s wife, Hard Knocks, was shoved down next to her. A griffon began tying her up too.

It was only after a few seconds of watching this that it dawned upon Rarity how… calm she was. Her breath came out ragged, tears threatened to escape her eyes, and a little voice in the back of her mind was screaming frantically for her to do something. Despite all that, her thoughts were strangely clear. She shifted positions, trying to move her arms, and felt Coco’s necklace jut against her ribs.

Perhaps it was magical after all.

Okay, Rarity. You can handle this. Just try not to think about… Saltwater. There was that knife through her heart, so terribly familiar. She did what little she could to muscle past it and focus on the situation at hand. She glanced around and saw that there were no griffons nearby, and so turned her head towards Knocks. With voice low, she asked, “Where are Swing Set and Justice?”

Knocks’ eyes shined with fear, but she appeared as calm as Rarity felt. “Swing was on watch. I saw him on the other side. He’s okay… I think.” She closed her eyes and let her chin drop to the ground. “Justice ran. I don’t know where he is.”

By the Night Mother, the mare must have been terrified! Rarity couldn’t fathom how she was keeping control of her senses. But Troublemaker had gotten away, or so it seemed. Rarity took some hope in this. If a colt could escape, surely others could too. If she was just patient and looked for an opportunity, perhaps…

She closed her eyes and groaned. Escape? Was that the only thing she could think of? After she’d just seen Saltwater murdered, she would leave these ponies to die at the claws of these bandits?

Griffon bandits. Griffons… Rarity didn’t know a thing about griffons. She knew there was a Roost in the Eerie Cliffs. Was there another in the south? She seemed to remember as much, but not in the Dragon’s Teeth. What were they doing here? The obvious answer was that they were here for her bounty, but that made no sense. Attacking an entire caravan just to capture one pony seemed like a waste. Then again, Rarity couldn’t claim to understand the minds of bandits or griffons.

A griffon marched into the center of the ponies. She was shorter than the others, her skin a reddish brown to compliment her black legs and hair. She turned a circle, and Rarity made sure not to meet her gaze when it passed over her. When the griffon spoke, it was in a hurried tone. “Is that all of them?”

A griffon Rarity couldn’t see answered. “The majority. We had to put a few fighters down in the wagons, and I know at least one kid ran off.”

Another one stepped up. “We’ll catch him. It won’t take long.”

The apparent leader swiped her hand through the air in a cutting motion. “No, leave him. The Flaming Vermillion’s in the area and I want to be gone before she catches our scent.”

Rarity’s ears perked. The Flaming Vermillion? If the last active member of the Rainbow Gang was somewhere in these hills, Rarity couldn’t blame them for wanting to move as fast as possible. She didn’t want to place her hopes in a legendary drifter, however. She refocused her attention on the bandit leader just as she began to speak in a loud voice.

“Attention, ponies!” She paced a circle, her glare defying anypony to dare interrupt. “As of right now, you are all property of the Apex Roost. We are going to work you, and in return for that work, you will get food, shelter, and safety. Obey, work hard, and know your proper place in griffon society. Anything less, and you’ll be cooked up for supper. That’s not an exaggeration.

“We’re marching out to meet another party, and then we’re bringing all your sorry tails back to the Eerie Cliffs. You will come quietly, or you will die. Death is the only way out. The only choice you are offered is how to die.” She stopped before a young stallion and bent over him, her talons grazing his muzzle. “Old and accomplished, or young and painful. I trust you’ll all make the right choice.”

She stood up once more and snapped out orders. “Get these worthless horses up! We’re moving out.”

Slavers. They’d been captured by griffon slavers. Rarity’s veins were as cold as ice with the prospect. She’d always heard the rumors, but had never really believed them. Ponies at the tavern in Spurhoof talking about caravans disappearing, tales of griffons swooping in on unsuspecting towns unable to defend themselves. And what were the griffons making them do?

“Alright, you heard the Captain! Up, all of you!” Griffons marched around the ponies, forcing to their hooves anypony not fast enough to do so on their own. Grunting from the effort of standing without the help of her arms, Rarity climbed up and allowed herself to be corralled into the group of ponies. It was only a few minutes before they were herded forward as a unit, the griffons forming two circles around them.

Rarity was willing to put up with a great many things. Being a slave was not one of them. But how to deal with the problem? There had to be a way. All her fears and doubts had faded to a mere background noise now that she was truly aware of the situation, and she set all her mental faculties to escape. That started with analyzing their captors.

This provided no comfort. The griffons marched as a unit, the inner circle keeping an eye on the ponies and the outer circle watching everything else. Only a handful of them were armed, and those were in the outside circle with rifles. Of course, they all had their claws and beaks, and she didn’t need the demonstration with Saltwater to know that they were willing to use them. All in all, she was given the impression of a seasoned group of trained fighters, and none of the ponies had their weapons.

And what of the ponies? Rarity took a look at her immediate surroundings and, in this case, felt a little more reassured. The ponies might not be armed, but they were far from broken. Many, such as Knocks and Cork Dry, were eyeing the griffons as if looking for weaknesses. Others had their heads together, mumbling to themselves with darting, hard eyes. Rarity realized she’d been traveling with ponies who were far from pushovers, but the griffons seemed to think they’d already been cowed.

But there was one conspicuous absence. Rarity leaned towards Knocks, whom she’d made a point of staying near. “What happened to Long Horn?”

“Dead.” The mare said the word with little emotion. “Rock Lounge said they stabbed him in the back first thing.” She didn’t take her eyes off the nearest griffon. “We’ll make them pay for that.”

Her calm manner belied a certain fierceness barely perceptible in her tone. That voice bolstered Rarity’s hope. “Good to know I’m not the only one with little interest in being pressganged. If you decide to try something, do be kind enough to warn me ahead of time.”

Knocks studied her for a moment, nodded, and went back to her scrutiny.


The griffons surprised Rarity. She’d been expecting them to take the ponies back through the mountain pass and into the Great Salt Plains. Instead, they marched south, into the Scorched Plains. They commandeered three of the caravan’s wagons, loaded them up with as much as they could carry and left the rest to rot. Rarity wondered if they’d left Silver Lining back there. The thought soured her spirits considerably.

The march was grueling. Their captors set a hard pace that went nonstop through sunrise and into the morning, their bare paws seemingly unbothered by the hot landscape. The ponies were given a fifteen-minute break around noon to eat and take care of other necessities, and then they were on the move once more. Rarity’s legs ached horribly and sweat poured off her in waves, but she didn’t dare complain or slow down. One pony tried to and was feeding buzzards somewhere behind them.

The Scorched Plains weren’t as hot as the Great Salt Plains, but they still lived up to their name. A sun unhindered by clouds beat upon their backs and water was passed among griffon and pony alike to stave off heatstroke. The landscape was mostly flat save for a few low hills. Greenery consisted of low shrubs, scattered trees and, on a few rare occasions, spots of vibrant growth. Rarity likened them to miniature forests. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to spend five minutes in their inviting shade!

It would have been nice to have learned more about the griffons. Questions buzzed through her mind constantly: why did griffons need slaves, why were they hunting for slaves so far from home, why did the major cities like Hoofington or Manehattan permit their actions, how did they know where they were going? So many things worth knowing! But the constant jogging across the hot plains made every breath vital, too vital to expend on mere words. Besides that, the griffon captain had decided to start punishing ponies for talking, and she didn’t want to be on the receiving end of her whip. What kind of barbarians used whips anyway?

The same kind that kidnapped and enslaved ponies, it seemed.

After one of the longest, hardest days of Rarity’s life, the party came to a stop at a patch of trees large enough for all griffons and ponies to fit easily inside. The sun was still an hour or two over the horizon when the griffons called the halt and let the ponies rest. Rarity collapsed beside a fallen tree and willed her poor legs to stop aching. There had been a time in the last hour or so that she’d started to wonder if she wouldn’t collapse and be left for dead in this horrid place. Would tomorrow be more of the same?

Her lungs felt as if she’d been breathing needles, she had two different cramps, and her throat was drier than the Great Salt Plains. Her entire body burned from overexertion. How would she feel at this time tomorrow? This situation needed to be rectified now, otherwise she might not last another day.

Swing Set approached, settled down at her side. He offered her a waterskin, from which she happily drank. Not too much, of course. Her travelling companions had beaten basic survival requirements into her head some time ago, which included not drinking too much at times like this. As she drank, she cast her eyes about the camp being made up by the ponies under griffon orders. Although confident they wouldn’t be overheard, she still kept a wary eye on their captors. “Has anypony got a plan yet?”

He kept his head bowed, as if his attention were on the waterskin as she handed it back to him. “Honestly, I was hoping you had one by now.”

Rarity barely held back her groan. “I am not a hero. Coming up with daring escape plans isn’t exactly on my resume.”

Glancing around the camp, he muttered, “Nopony could talk during the run, you know that. There was no opportunity to get together and plan.” He thumbed his nose and made a show of tying the waterskin to his belt. “Ponies are getting anxious. If somepony doesn’t come up with a reasonable idea soon, they may try the more direct route.”

“You mean like a riot?” Rarity stomach caved as her mind drifted along the road of possibility. She could see Swing Set having his throat ripped out by griffon claws. The image made her shudder. “It would never work. Even if it did, we’d lose a lot of ponies. We can’t let them do that.”

“If a plan doesn’t come up soon, I doubt we’ll be able to do anything about it.” He climbed to his hooves with a groan, rubbed his knees, then left Rarity to brood.

A prisoner revolt. A suicidal move performed by the desperate. As Rarity examined her fellow ponies, she soon saw just what Swing Set had been referring to. While none of them would meet the griffons’ gazes, she saw more than a few scalding glances cast when they thought their captors weren’t watching. These ponies were used to freedom and fighting for what they wanted. They wouldn’t take to slavery just because the griffons threatened them with their lives. The entire camp gave her the impression of a powderkeg waiting to explode. All it needed as a spark.

Rarity suspected she’d never be able to stop what was coming, and the thought made her squirm. Were it not for the necklace – By the Night Mother, I’m actually starting to believe it’s magical, aren’t I? – she might have panicked. Instead, she began wondering if she couldn’t find a way to channel the explosion. If she could funnel the traders’ aggression in the right way, perhaps the situation could be salvaged. But how?

She noted the griffon captain having a conversation with her subordinates. They didn’t appear to be trying to conceal anything, and the captain’s face held a grimace. Curious and hopeful, Rarity forced her tired body off the ground and moved closer. She tried to keep other ponies between her and the talking griffons, hoping she wasn’t too obvious.

She caught the tail end of the captain’s sentence. “—has anything to do with her.”

“But Senior Lieutenant Yellow Wing should have been here, sir.” The griffon speaking appeared younger than most of the others by virtue of a smaller build and brighter plumage, although Rarity could hardly be called an expert in such matters. “It’s not like him to be late for anything.”

Another griffon muttered something before asking, “What about the buffalo? We did get reports of a tribe stampeding through this area.”

The captain rubbed her chin as she considered this. “It could be nothing. It could be something. Regardless, we can’t push these ponies any further, not without risking serious harm. Workhorses are no good when they can’t do the work. We’ll rest here, and if Yellow Wing hasn’t shown up by dawn we move on without him. His team knows how to get home on their own if they have to.”

Rarity retreated to think on what had been said. It sounded like whoever they were supposed to rendezvous with here hadn’t shown up. And the griffons seemed perturbed by the idea of the buffalo being in the area. Perhaps they were fighting the buffalo for some reason?

“What are you doing?”

Everypony looked up at the griffon’s sharp tone. She descended upon an older mare who had been trying to coax a pile of wood and leaves into flame. The mare met the griffon’s gaze with a glare, standing to her full height. “What? I like to cook my food. Is that a problem?”

“Yeah, it is.” The griffon kicked the pile, scattering the sticks like so much debris. “No fires. They’re veggies, they work just as good raw. Better, even.”

The mare puffed up, hands on her hips and a sneer on her lips. “Listen, bird brain, just because you—”

The claw flashed almost too fast for Rarity to see, and the mare fell back with a face covered in blood. She held her hands up to the wound with a cry, and suddenly every pony and griffon was up and watching.

The young griffon flexed her claws and snapped her beak. “Workhorses never talk back to their superiors. You will speak when told to and no sooner, is that understood?” She noticed two ponies hurrying to the mare and brandished her talons at them. “Stay back!”

The two ponies froze, eyes wide. They looked between the griffon and the mare uncertainly.

Slowly, the mare lowered her hands and stood tall once more. Rarity covered her mouth at the sight of the three scratches that crossed her cheek and over her muzzle. She would need stitches at least. And yet, while her eyes betrayed pain, the mare met the griffon’s gaze and refused to back down.

The claw rose up to her throat. “I said, is that clear?”

Rarity quickly backed away from the scene. Something told her that a mistake on either the mare’s or the griffon’s part could lead to a brawl, and that was one thing she wasn’t prepared to be part of. She looked towards the captain, who watched the scene with an intense focus. Would she punish her subordinate for harming the pony, or let this continue?

Rarity’s ear twitched to the sound of a hiss. She blinked, looked around, but saw nothing. Everypony’s attention was on the ongoing incident.

The hiss came again, and this time Rarity followed it to some low bushes near the edge of the camp. She was startled to see a pair of eyes peering at her from within. Checking to make sure nopony or griffon would notice, she walked around the bushes and crouched down, effectively hidden from the others.

Brushing some branches aside, she gasped at a familiar sight. “Troublemaker! What are you doing here?”

The colt’s eyes darted about frantically. “I h-hid in the last wagon. They never noticed.”

Rarity sighed, glad to have at least one worry off her mind. “Your parents will be thrilled to know you’re not dead. Still, I don’t think your situation has gotten any better by coming with us.”

Troublemaker’s lips shifted into an uneasy smile. “Wanna bet?” He picked something off the ground with both hands: Silver Lining. With holster and ammunition bag.

Pulse quickening, Rarity’s felt a confusing wave of excitement and horror. She could do something! But then, she’d have to kill again, wouldn’t she? And for that matter… “It’s a grand thing you’ve done, and I appreciate it, but I don’t think I can save all the traders by myself.”

“You don’t have to.” He hurried to put the gun down and gestured in the general direction of the wagons. “I got others. I couldn’t get all the guns before we left, but I got most. We just gotta get them to the ponies.”

Humming, Rarity took a moment to glance around the bush. It appeared as though the incident had passed without further bloodshed. The griffon had gone off to talk to the others and the mare was getting treated for her injuries. How long before any of them noticed she was missing? She needed to get back and relay this information, but first…

She reached into the bush to hold the colt’s hand in one of her own. “Listen to me, Justice. You’ve been a very brave young stallion so far, but I need you to be brave for a little while longer. Do you think you can do that?”

He stared up at her with big eyes. His lip trembled. “I saw what they did to Saltwater. W-will they do that to anypony else? Will they h-hurt Ma and Pops?”

“No.” She reached her other hand in to rub his cheek. “No, they won’t. If you help me, then we can make sure they’ll never hurt another pony. But I need you to help me, okay?”

He hesitated, but met her gaze all the same. “You’re gonna make them pay, right?”

The question lanced through her. She stiffened, pursing her lips and fighting to keep her face neutral against the horror building within. He was asking for revenge. He expected her to exact that revenge. What could she possibly say that could encourage his morale while discouraging such unhealthy, violent ideas? She fought for some inspiration and prayed what she said next would sound wiser than she was feeling just then.

“Justice… I promise, we will free everypony. We will stop the griffons. We will beat them.” That didn’t encourage vengeance… right? “You help me, and we’ll get it done.” Oh, that sounded far more confident than she felt! She took a quick look around the bush.

Her breath hitched at the sight of the griffons forming a perimeter. She had maybe a minute before they were discovered. She squeezed Justice’s hand as she hurried to say, “I need an answer. Will you help me?”

He looked around as if expecting the griffons to be standing right behind him, and his voice shook, but he still said what she had hoped to hear.

“What do you need?”