Desolate Places Arc
The shocked mares looked off to the northwest where Hagano the pirate had flown away four hours earlier with five days’ worth of food… for all of them. He’d stolen their food-bag.
“Is there any way to catch him?!” Dechaa’s voice was ragged.
Zyra was sure this was impossible, “He could’ve gone 60 miles by now, even if he was feeling tired!”
“Does the tracker work?! Can you find him…? Stop him…?” Orni fretted.
Zyra stamped about angrily, “It doesn’t work that way! He’s too far to track; I set that up in case he came near us again. And what, did you think I could light up my horn and blow him up?! I could kill him—turn him to fuckin’ ash—in an instant, sure, but it’s kind of hard when he’s four hours away. And flying no less!”
“And there’s no way even Wilka could catch up to him in a day. Even if she could… send her after him?! Alone?!” Loress didn’t want to give in to panic, but she was close.
Zyra paced about, possibly the angriest of them all, “He fucked us, girls… He fucked us all and whose fault is it?!”
Loress shrank at that; she had been the one to prepare his food… and leave it close enough he could reach their supplies with a wing.
Ama put up with none of it, “Zyra, it is nopony’s fault but his! He tricked us, and he did so well… We have not dealt with his sort…”
The mares began to chatter, their panic rising.
All the mares were feeling pretty defeated… other than Essenta and Delia. They were fuming mad, sure, and wishing they’d blown Hagano’s brains against the wall to which they’d tied him, but they were thinking.
Essenta murmured to Delia, “Could you please get them to shut up? I’m thinking here…”
Delia stood, facing the group, and barked, “Everypony… shut the fuck up!”
They shut the fuck up, alright, faces masks of tragedy. For a brief moment, they stood mute, noticing Essenta’s demeanor.
The princess stood up; she turned to her friends, “Everypony… calm down… Ama’s right: this is nopony’s fault but Hagano’s. I don’t think there’s anything else we could’ve done…”
The group hung their heads. They’d already batted around the idea—very briefly—that if they’d been kinder to him he may never have done what he did, but it didn’t hold water. They all knew it; Hagano was simply an evil fellow and he’d screwed them royally—possibly in the frame of a few seconds—when they had their backs turned.
Essenta breathed deeply and exhaled, “We can’t catch him; it’s impossible. By morning light, he’ll be halfway to the oasis.”
Things were lousy, definitely, but the mares felt a modicum of comfort with Essenta keeping a cool head.
“Loress… how much food do we have left? How much water?” Essenta sat down.
The Terran knew the answer; she’d been bewailing their loss for some time, “We have what we meant to give Hagano for food. He was meant to take four days of food for one pony. He only took three gallons of water instead of six… and that leaves us with just over 50 gallons; water isn’t our issue. Food’s the issue… 16 meals’ worth, give or take, is what we have… It’s all we have.”
The numbers had the mares’ stomachs clenching, in addition to their hearts and throats. They were 300 miles from the oasis and 100 miles from the jungle.
The mares didn’t have to hear it; they had little choice—other than starve in the desert—but to continue south to find food.
The things they’d heard from Hagano were frightening. There was no plague at a “dangerous” level, but something was very, very wrong in the land of Salvatrix. They’d managed to sluff away their concerns, regarding these things, when they knew they were heading back towards “Last Chance”.
That relief died, then and there, in the middle of the night in the autumn in the Great Southern Desert.
Essenta looked to the wagon, “Girls… check our supplies. Make sure we’re not leaving anything behind.”
Those closest did so.
Essenta turned her gaze south, “Delia… take point. We’re going south.”
The girls felt a great, sick feeling rise up in their throats; they managed to swallow it back down. Their journey would continue for another reason: just staying alive a little longer.
So, not knowing what would happen or where they’d wind up, they headed south.
It was a great relief to reach the savanna. Their food had just about run out, other than a few biscuits and some dried mango. Falling upon the first patch of decent grass they’d seen since the oasis, they ate all they could find.
A day-and-a-half of hard journeying had taken them the roughly 90 miles they’d known had separated them from certain death and bleak hope. There’d been no merriment, no songs or jokes, and barely any talking.
But there wasn’t much to eat in the savanna, other than grass, and it was sparse. They needed to reach the jungle and find fruit.
A couple miles of walking on the grassland was strange; they’d been used to a couple weeks of shifting sand, so solid ground was unfamiliar.
“My joints hurt…” was a complaint each of them uttered.
Dechaa knew medicine but Delia probably understood the body better; the former maid encouraged them on, “Everypony just watch your step. We had a lot more cushion on the sand but a lot less support; we’re all stretched out so it’s funny walking on something less yielding. It’d be easy to turn a knee, or something so be very careful.”
It was a mere 10 miles from the desert to the edge of the rainforest, rising abruptly from the savanna, so it wasn’t terrible.
The girls reached the jungle’s border mid-afternoon.
Most of the girls had never seen monkeys before and none of them saw any but they surely heard them chattering. The jungle was teaming with life and the brash birdsong alone was murder on the ears.
The noise from higher lifeforms they could tolerate but one noise was quite intolerable.
Bzzzzzzzz…
Bzzzzzzzzzzzz…
Bzzzzzzzbzzzzzzz…
“Oh, these fuckin’ mosquitoes!” Essenta griped, swatting at a bunch with her tail.
The rest were having similar difficulties; the air on the border between the savanna and the rainforest was rife with biting insects. In the forest itself… it was certainly worse.
Dechaa called to Delia, “A moment, Delia?”
Delia saw Dechaa was eyeing the forest; she broke out in a grin, “Oh, yeah…”
Wondering why their two “medical experts” weren’t so down, the girls saw them poking around the forest’s floor, just a couple dozen yards away.
The two came back quickly; Dechaa dumped a load of grass while Delia pulled a tiny cauldron from Dechaa’s bag.
Essenta was annoyed, “It ain’t dinnertime, yet…”
They ignored her, continuing their work.
“Girls,” Dechaa said proudly. “This will answer at least one of our problems down here.”
Delia looked around their gear, “Somepony find me a long rag we won’t miss…”
They dug and Orni produced a long, cut-up piece of blanket; they’d had a couple makeshift bandages lying around.
“Gather round, girls,” Delia held up a load of the grass. “This is citronella grass.”
“The stuff they use to make those nice-smelling candles?” Loress asked.
“The same,” Dechaa magicked the cauldron to the ground. “But it has other uses.”
Before the assembly, Dechaa magically macerated the grass mid-air; it soon liquified.
“Separate the ‘wheat’ from the ‘chaff’ and… there,” Dechaa directed the grass sap into the cauldron.
Delia began to swish her tail over the cauldron, “Give it a moment… Okay. What do you girls notice… other than the lovely smell?”
Notice? Notice nothing; they’d been enthralled by the show… so enthralled that—
“Hey…” Wilka looked around. “No mosquitoes.”
The rest noticed too; they fell about the place in relief.
“Yes, girls,” Dechaa began to soak the rag—now cut into eight pieces—in the cauldron. “Citronella can deter mosquitoes as is… but the extract will keep them well off us.”
The mares each received a new accessory for the neck.
Delia put in casually, “And it keeps away other insects too… like fleas.”
A couple of them didn’t understand.
Orni cocked her head, “Fleas?”
Loress smiled, not teasing Orni for her ignorance on the matter, “Fleas carry the plague, Orni.”
Orni’s face lit up, “Oh… that will be helpful.”
“Indeed,” Dechaa cleaned her cauldron. “The grass is everywhere, so we can make as much as is needed.”
Zyra wondered, “With a miracle like this, how is it the plague’s such a problem?”
Delia answered for Dechaa, “Well, most aren’t as skilled as Dechaa… and it can spring up so quickly. Even if a couple ponies have the plague if a bunch of hungry fleas find their way into a village one night… Whammo! Half the town has the plague by morning.”
Dechaa finished with her “chemistry set”, as Essenta liked to call it, “Some ponies are more proactive and use such repellents; it’s how there’s never been a catastrophic outbreak in the last 100 years.”
“Plus, all we heard about the plague was… well, calling them ‘lies’ is yet to be known as accurate, but we didn’t know the truth. The plague’s likely at a low strength now, if there are indeed a bunch of ponies around, scared of who-knows-what…”
Essenta tied her rag strip in a loose knot around her throat, “Enough talk! Everypony get a good drink of water. We need to forage. We can decide later if we want to venture in and do some trading (probably a stupid idea) but for now we find dinner.
“Dechaa, Delia, each of you will lead a foraging group; you know best what’s safe and what’s not. We don’t want to get the trots, or worse. I’ll go with Dechaa and bring Wilka. Delia, you take Loress and Zyra. Each group needs a unicorn, after all. Ama, Orni, you stay out here and guard the supplies.”
Everypony nodded.
Essenta looked to the foragers, “Be mindful. There are some animals here we’ve never seen, and Heaven knows what else; they can’t be any worse than those stupid wolves made of wood, but there are snakes and tigers and shit. If you happen to find a farm… stay away; note its location and we can talk later. Everypony grab an empty sack and stay close with your groups.”
And it was so.
In their little makeshift campsite, a good stretch from the forest’s edge, the girls went through the fruits of their labor. Delia, their de facto botanist, was checking everything for safety; there were many poisonous plants in the jungle.
“Okay…” Delia upended one of the bag’s Dechaa’s group had gathered. “Bananas… soursop… ooh, sugarcane… and persimmons. Good!”
Dechaa showed the other two bags, “Just more of the same… I have no idea what half the plants down here are. But I know these are safe and Wilka was good to have.”
Delia smiled, “Wings or a horn, I’d settle for either. Loress, Zyra, let’s go.”
Out of the bags came a much larger assortment of edibles; Delia grinned, “I think we’ll be alright girls. Does anypony know what this is?”
The former maid held up some tuberous root; Dechaa’s eyes widened, “A yam?!”
Delia chuckled, “Oh, yes… There are quite a few of them out there; I’ll show you how to identify them later. Other than eating them fresh, you know what else we can do?”
Nopony knew, other than the two that had gone with Delia; the little half-assed botanist patted the pile of yams happily, “We can dry these out when we cut them up… and if we grind them up we can make flour.”
Loress was happy as can be, “Yes, actual flour! Delia says it doesn’t work quite as well but we can make enough flatbreads and biscuits to get us back north. We’ll need to dig up a lot and do a lot of baking, but we have the ability to make breads.”
The girls were about as glad as they could be, considering they’d been damned to die in the southern continent by some stallion who was at best amoral and at worst pure evil.
“Not only yams, we have these around,” Delia hoofed around more of the foodstuffs. “Cassava… and taro can both be made into flour as well. We found a creek a couple hundred yards in. We’ll want to boil and otherwise sterilize the water, but we have a water source too; there’s stuff living in the water around here would give you nightmares.”
Loress presented another specimen, “I spotted these.”
Orni’s eyes lit up, “Cashews?! You found cashews?! Those are mine and Wilka’s favorite!”
There was much ascent; cashews kicked ass, according to the general consensus.
Zyra was tickled pink, almost forgetting how angry she was about their situation, “Yes, cashews… We’ll be eating like kings tonight.”
Essenta smiled to her girls, “Okay. Let’s gather some wood for a fire. I know lighting a fire isn’t ideal, not knowing what’s out there, but we keep it low or nonexistent at night.”
They’d discussed the matter, knowing a lot of things were better cooked or processed; they’d need fire to cook. Some stuff could be eaten raw—mainly fruit—but they’d get the trots from too much fruit.
“Loress, Delia… I think a proper feast is in order,” Essenta beamed.
Nopony argued the thought and they set out for wood.
“Just a nip, girls…” Delia advised. “You haven’t had alcohol in a while and we don’t need any of you getting drunk or sick.”
Essenta—with a little envy and from a distance—watched the others sample the whiskey they’d managed to not touch the whole while they’d been in the desert; Pallo had been good enough to send a few bottles of some very decent stuff along.
“Don’t fret, Essenta,” Delia sat next to Essenta, munching on a baked yam. “They need to enjoy themselves a little.”
Essenta had liked her dinner very much. She’d sampled and enjoyed all the fruit they’d found, had a few baked yams, and they’d made a porridge of cassava with cashews. They’d begun to dry out the starchy foods to make flour and all was looking good enough.
She just missed having whiskey.
Delia had to ask, “How long have you been off the bottle, Essenta?”
Essenta hated admitting she had a problem, but booze was a problem for her; she hated the thought of having any dependency on it. Delia’s choice of words—not inaccurate at all—stung.
“I haven’t had a drink since… I met a knight…” Essenta shook her head, “Wow, that’s just about seven weeks…”
“A knight?” Delia asked.
“Yes, a knight…” Essenta said. “I’m afraid I… don’t remember it.”
“You don’t remember meeting a knight?” Delia smirked.
“I was drunk, Delia,” Essenta admitted. “I was really drunk. Dechaa and I had a fight and… we said some things… True things, both of us, but it hurt. He found me in some pub and watched out for me; once I’d passed out, he brought me back to the girls, safe and sound.”
“Wow…” Delia was impressed with such chivalry.
“Yeah… and he was from Albin of all places!” Essenta turned to Delia, looking incredulous. “A decade ago he’d have probably held me for ransom!”
The former maid giggled at the thought and Essenta joined her. But Delia had more to ask.
“You and Dechaa… what were you two fighting about?” Delia figured she shouldn’t ask but couldn’t resist.
“Something I’d done the night before,” the princess watched the girls pass around the bottle. “I’d been clean a whole month, after falling apart for a week—ask me another time about that—and I started a fight in some ass-fuck, nowhere town-pub. We had to run… 50 miles that night.”
Delia cringed, “Sounds like you had it coming.”
Essenta snorked, “Yeah, a little… With the running… that was the worst hangover I’ve ever had, though not the longest. You’ve heard about Prince Fulco from the girls? That one lasted a couple days, after the night we had.”
“He does sound like a sweetheart, Essenta,” Delia chuckled.
“Sometimes I wish I’d just behaved myself, Delia…” Essenta looked sad. “It’s not often somepony like him comes in, and his parents and your parents want you both to make little colts and fillies.”
“You behave yourself?” Delia joked. “He must’ve been special.”
“Oh, don’t you start,” Essenta buffeted Delia’s shoulder.
Delia switched gears, “So what do you think?”
“About what?” Essenta munched on a peeled soursop, spitting out its toxic seeds.
“Getting back.”
“Oh, that,” Essenta looked up to the dimming sky; night was coming. “I think we’ll be fine, Delia. I mean, we have to hoof it 700 miles going back the same fucking way we came, some pirate stole our food, and I chickened out… but we’ll be able to make it once we bake enough bread and dry enough fruit.”
“You didn’t chicken out, Essenta…” Delia reassured her. “It was a suicide mission to begin with, plague or no. And smart mares don’t get themselves killed for no good reason.”
“Going to the Dale and giving my asshole father a reason not to kill all of you and lock me up seems like a pretty good reason to me,” Essenta joked bitterly.
Delia simpered, “From what I hear, he’d best be the one to worry about getting killed. You’ve managed to pick up quite a crew of your own.”
Essenta spat a seed as far as she could, watching it bounce off a rock, “Don’t use the word ‘crew’… Just hearing the word has me wishing we’d fed that motherfucker to the buzzards…”
Delia laughed, “That kind of thinking isn’t overly healthy, but… yeah… If I ever see him again I’m making a rug out of his hide.”
Essenta shuddered. Making a rug out of the skin of your enemy? Well, she’d heard of ponies drinking wine out of the skulls of their enemies.
Delia’s laugh turned into a yawn, “I tell you, I’m exhausted; I’m turning in.”
“Sure, Delia,” Essenta watched her stand. “You’re on fifth watch tonight… dawn patrol…”
“And I’ll make sure you all have a nice breakfast when you wake up.”
Essenta watched Delia paddle to the wagon; she’d set up a nest underneath.
She turned back towards the fire where her little company was reveling; she giggled. It was hard to believe just two nights before they’d nearly fallen to despair.
Perhaps she’d doze a while; she’d drawn first watch. Listening to the happy chatter of her friends she did just that.
A few days near the edge of the jungle had the company’s supplies swelling. They’d made enough flour to start baking hard biscuits and their fruit was drying nicely. As humid as it was, shockingly different than it was only 10 or 15 miles away, they’d surely been drinking a lot of water; water was a lesser worry, with the nearby creek. Staying awake next to the jungle took more water and energy than traveling at night in the desert.
Things were looking up and once they’d made enough food to last them three weeks—for safe measure—they’d make the journey back to “Last Chance” City. They’d sure have a tale to tell Clovis and Pallo.
What they did after making it back to the city was up in the air. At the current time it wasn’t even on most of their minds; they just wanted to get back to the relative safety of the big city. Melchior was dead, nopony that knew who they were or wished them harm was there (hopefully), and they had quite a bit of money.
Hell, they might even stay there a while and enjoy not trekking through the desert or desperately trying to find the food they needed just to make the journey.
Their spirits were so good, in fact, they chose to do something they hadn’t in several weeks.
“Okay, girls,” Ama was giddy. “Let us all draw lots to determine who faces whom!”
While their lunch cooked over the fire, they did so. The results were as follows:
Ama vs. Orni
Loress vs. Zyra
Wilka vs. Dechaa
Essenta vs. Delia
“We are having a spar, girls!” Ama was close to squealing; she’d found Orni was her favorite mare to spar with, ever since their enjoyable first fight in Renata, “Yes! I have another chance!”
Orni was a better fighter and everypony knew it but even she was afraid of Ama’s gung-ho manner; the Mazan could really brawl, “Great…”
Delia grinned, “A Mazan vs. a Knollwing; this should be fun!”
Ama jostled the little Knollwing, “Oh, my! You would love to have borne witness to her defeating me! I relish the memory.”
Orni was squished by Ama’s rough embrace, “Please let go…”
Loress and Zyra rarely sparred, Loress being a juggernaut and Zyra being a fire-mage, but they’d take a whack at it; the two giggled nervously, not entirely pleased about having to clash. They had yet to decide if magic was allowed.
Dechaa was unexpectedly excited to have another try at Wilka. She was no more agile or skilled with the twin swords, but her teleportation had improved greatly, to where she could move to any location she could physically see. Even if magic wasn’t allowed, they could still have a good scrap.
Delia had been curious about the crazy princess six other mares had seen fit to call their leader and Essenta was just as curious about some former maid that had moonlighted as a spy.
The two faced one another; Essenta was smirking, “I’ve wanted to do this ever since Clovis ‘convinced’ you to help us with that foolish mission.”
Delia felt similarly, “I hear you fought Wilka and Orni to a draw, even with their skills; can’t say I haven’t been looking forward to this, myself.”
Essenta beamed, “If you’re interested, I have something special we could try. We—”
Dechaa bonked her best friend’s head, “No cesti, Sen. If you two want to beat the fuck out of each other, wait for a more civilized setting; we can’t afford getting hurt down here.”
Essenta laughed, “What do you think sparring is?!”
Dechaa wasn’t amused, “You know what I mean.”
Ama didn’t like when sparring got bogged down, “Come now, let us begin!”
“Alright, girls,” Zyra would be presiding over the first fight. “You’ve agreed on a single staff. No tricks, Ama!”
Ama opened her tunic; the girls recalled her hiding a rope and using it as she would a ball-and-chain, “Only the single staff, yes.”
Delia wasn’t sure what this meant; she asked Essenta, “‘Tricks’?”
Essenta said back, “You see the ball-and-chain in Ama’s trunk?"
"No... I've seen that slab of steel of hers, though... I bet that could've killed Loress's dragon..."
Essenta went on, "Right... Well, she fastens the ball-and-chain to her back leg; she’s quite accurate with it. When we first fought Orni, Ama concealed a heavy rope and used it as such. It was incredible.”
“Oh, that…” Delia’s eyes showed clarity. “One of you mentioned it.”
Essenta couldn’t help but smile at Ama’s happiness, “Ama lost to Wilka and then Orni a week later but I don’t think she could be less satisfied with either of those matches. Ama really loves to spar.”
“I can tell,” Delia didn’t envy Orni having to fight the powerful mare. “Have you fought Ama?”
Essenta shuffled, “Not seriously, no…”
Delia was interested, “Think you’d match her?”
Essenta stood a moment; she shrugged, “I don’t know.”
Delia took the answer. She knew Essenta had fought both Wilka and Orni to draws, but the girls had each time wanted the fight to go on as long as either could stand; that’s surely what it sounded like. Something told the messy-maned mare Ama wasn’t the type of girl for that kind of play; Delia was sure Ama wouldn’t hold back, win or lose.
Delia almost missed the beginning of the fight, wound up in her own thoughts.
“Fight!” Zyra cried, safely off to the side… a good place for anypony to be.
Delia knew Orni was fast; it was still difficult to believe. And Ama was fast, remarkably so given her size and appearance, but took longer to get there.
Delia saw it… studied it… the two clashes it turned out to be. Ama had barely managed to counter the first blow when Orni turned around and sunk the butt of the staff into Ama’s gut.
“Whooof!” Ama cried, shuddering, almost concealing the tiny Orni with her bulk.
Orni jumped back, the staff in the crook of her front leg.
Delia winced; Ama wasn’t looking too good.
But Ama grinned a little grin, which looked painful, beaming at Orni, “You got my wind, Orni…”
The Mazan passed out, falling over backwards.
Orni looked a little sad, as if she was reluctant to take part in such things; Ama’s speed and skill with the staff were no match for Orni’s.
Delia gathered, by the girls’ mixture of cheering and amusement/horror at Ama’s defeat, that this was normal enough. The little company could be a real rough-and-tumble bunch.
Loress motioned Essenta over and they helped the Mazan to her hooves.
Immediately Ama began to cough, regaining consciousness; she smiled at the mortified Orni, “Well, friend, that brings us to seven matches—all in your favor—and the third time you got my wind. Well done!”
Orni weakly nodded, never understanding Ama’s love of being clobbered.
Ama sat down, still coughing back her wind, “That was splendid! I will be fine for lunch at least! I wish to preside over the next!”
Wilka hoofed Ama’s shoulder, “You up for it?”
Ama put on a child-like smile, “For my strongest rival and our formidable mage? It is a pleasure to preside.”
The mage and the Terran had agreed on no weapons or magic; they’d wrestle. With grappling, Zyra’s chance without magic went from that of a snowball in Hell to a snowball in the desert.
Delia already knew how it would end but was most absorbed.
Ama called out, “Begin!”
Delia had heard Zyra, about as physically strong as Dechaa and Wilka, had managed to defeat the skillful Wilka by forcing her into a hold. She’d tried and failed doing the same against Orni.
And she failed again, trying it on Loress.
“Yield! Yield! Yield!” Zyra howled, tapping Loress’s back.
Loress let her up at once and the two shook hooves, Zyra a little sore.
“Well done, Zyra!” Ama winked. “You almost had her.”
Zyra guffawed, kneading her best friend’s shoulder, “Sure I did…”
Delia had been watching, of course. Zyra was good at grappling but when faced with an opponent, whether twice or twenty times her strength, her competence meant less than it might. She looked forward to the next.
Dechaa and Wilka had agreed to not use magic but were to choose any weapon they liked. Dechaa took a wooden dirk (one of Wilka’s trainers), clamped between her teeth, while Wilka took a staff.
Unlike the rest of the girls, Delia had seen neither of them fight but had certainly heard about what they could do when they went in full-strength. Dechaa had beaten Loress, using her own immovability and “inferior” magic (compared to a unicorn’s ability to better manipulate) against her. Wilka could heal herself. She couldn’t do everything but could help herself and others if she fully understood the condition.
And, something else struck Delia about Dechaa. Dechaa, to Delia, seemed a fretful mare. She was nervous, didn’t like danger much, and hated the tropical wilderness with its hazards and insects and what-have-you. But she took a blow to the head—apparently not even thinking about the fact it might’ve killed her—from Orni in the town of Renata, allowing her to break Orni’s ribs and force a tie.
Dechaa was truly unpredictable. Without the use of her magic, Delia was just as doubtful as she was positive that Dechaa would do something most ponies would classify as insane.
This one would be good, too. Dechaa had already begun to pace around; she didn’t stand still as the others had. Wilka looked… less than enthusiastic.
Loress presided over this one, “Okay, girls, let’s have a good, clean fight. Dechaa… don’t do anything desperate this time; take your own advice and let’s try not to kill each other.”
Loress said this with a reluctant smile but Delia saw the worry. And she saw the worry in the others, including Wilka. Dechaa’s “inconsistency of character” when it came to danger was nothing to sneeze at.
It was as if she teetered on the edge between being a lover and a fighter… Delia couldn’t come up with anything nicer than that. She didn’t want to refer to Dechaa as being “caught in the middle of being a basket case and having a most ferocious nature”, which was still what she really thought.
Dechaa had grown up in the shadow of her best friend, the princess, and had been expected to behave as a refined daughter of the Dale’s leadership her whole life. Regardless, the former maid knew the healer to be unstable; she could see it.
There had to be a breaking point somewhere.
Delia could feel a tension in the air.
“Uh, girls…?” Dechaa dropped the dirk from between her teeth. “I’m… sorry.”
Loress blinked, “Sorry for what?”
Dechaa's eyes were rather bleak, “I don’t want to fight today.”
Delia noted the air, still tense, relax a modicum.
“Are you okay?” Wilka looked to her friend, concerned.
Dechaa muttered, “Uh…. Yeah! Yeah, I think so…”
The healer turned and paddled to sit on the side, leaving the dirk behind. Everypony looked worried, but were still more relaxed than they had been, seeing Dechaa stalk about.
Wilka picked up the dirk, “Well… okay, then.”
The air had calmed but something else had gone out of it too.
Essenta hoofed her neck, “Uh, Delia?”
“Yes, Essenta?”
“I… don’t wanna fight,” the princess looked embarrassed.
The strange thing is, Delia didn’t want to either, “I understand… It’s fine.”
Delia had half expected Dechaa to say “don’t quit on my account” but she didn’t. Dechaa lounged against one of the wagon’s wheels, staring at nothing.
Oh, boy… Delia worried.
The others seemed put off by the last match being called off, but something just didn’t seem right.
Lunch was a quiet affair. Loress and Delia had put together a stew of mixed roots and tubers; it was rather bland—their spices were dwindling—but tasty enough alongside the makeshift biscuits they’d baked. A bit of fresh fruit and they had a fine meal.
But the joy was gone.
After lunch, Essenta sort of wandered off into the savanna; the girls had agreed to stay in pairs, at the very least, even during the day. Delia, seeing the others had noticed, motioned she’d follow.
It seemed predictable they were going to talk about Dechaa, but with Dechaa and her 1,000-yard-stare by the wagon they weren’t worried Dechaa would care.
Delia waited a moment and about 200 yards before calling out, “Essenta!”
Essenta slowed down, her back to Delia.
Delia, knowing Essenta was upset, tested the waters, “I can’t just let you go off on your own, you know. Come back to camp.”
At that, Essenta collapsed and began to sob.
Delia, not entirely shocked, bolted up, “Essenta!”
The princess, sniffling, looked up into Delia’s eyes; she looked weak, “Delia… I don’t know what’s wrong…”
“‘Wrong’?” Delia wished she’d had something better to say.
“All of it,” Essenta gasped. “Dechaa… and everypony else... something’s wrong!”
The former maid couldn’t argue that everypony was a little funny but Essenta was likely overthinking matters.
Delia didn’t want to describe the princess as hysterical but tried to find something better; she sat next to and put a hoof over the princess’s shoulders, “Essenta… stop this. Everypony’s feeling a little off. I mean, we’re stuck on the edge of a rainforest because we got fucked in the ass by some pirate. Relax… Relax and try to worry less. We haven't had any trouble down here and hopefully it stays that way. In a few days we’ll have enough supplies built up we can cross the desert again. And don’t worry about what we do after that; focus on us getting back across.”
Sometimes Essenta just needed to hear somepony with a clearer head than hers; encouraged by Delia, she stood, “I’m sorry, Delia…”
Delia sighed, “It’s fine, Essenta. Don’t keep this stuff in; your friends love you and they’ll listen.”
Essenta wiped at her nose, a sad smile showing, “You say that like you’re not one of my friends.”
Delia was unfazed, “Rest assured, I am your friend, as you are mine. You know what I mean.”
Essenta relaxed as Delia put a hoof over her shoulder and pulled her in for a brief hug, “Okay… let’s go back.
“Okay, girls,” Delia addressed the small assembly of mares. “We’ve been at this for more than a week and our supplies are looking a lot stouter. It won’t be long until we have enough flour to bake enough to make the trip, but we want some actual flour for when we reach the oasis. We have wood, water, and shelter there, so we can definitely bake.”
“If that cocksucker Hagano didn’t poison the water hole on us,” Zyra grumbled.
Delia knew this was a half-joke, as did the rest; it was nasty, but not entirely serious, “He’d have to shit an awful lot to contaminate the water, Zyra; don’t worry.”
The girls, all feeling better than they had the day they’d sparred, cracked up. They’d searched Hagano, and knew he had nothing on him that could harm their water source halfway to the city. And there was certainly nothing in the food bag with which he could poison much of anything.
It still pissed them off, though, thinking of him pigging out on enough rations to see the whole party an entire five days.
Delia joined in the laughter, but soon got back to the matter at hoof, “You’ve all gotten pretty good at identifying some of the plants around here, especially the yams and cassava. But we’re finding less in our normal foraging grounds; it’s gotten scarce, all of us picking it. We need more flour—and fruit—and we need to spread out more.”
This was met with some nervousness; the jungle was scary enough within sight of the savanna. Wilka had seen a tiger a couple days before, certainly aware some four-legged meals were hanging out in its hunting grounds.
“I know it isn’t ideal, girls, but we don’t have enough material. We could spend another four or five days scraping around where we’ve been or spread out further and have what we need in an afternoon or two.”
Delia’s words were true enough.
Essenta stood up, “Alright, then. Orni, you and I will stay with the camp. Delia, take Zyra and Wilka. Dechaa, take Ama and Loress. I don’t want you going out more than 100 yards farther without communicating.”
Dechaa put up a hoof, “Sen! I tried again and got it to work.”
Essenta and the others beamed.
For the last couple days, Dechaa had been trying to enchant a few rocks to use in communication. She’d managed with orbs before but not rocks with no inherent magical conductivity.
“I got them to work this morning,” Dechaa presented Essenta and Delia with one and kept one for herself.
Dechaa teleported to about 100 paces away and waved to the others; they saw her levitate the rock close.
“Can you girls hear me?” her voice sounded from each of the stones.
The girls whooped and hollered in celebration.
Essenta smiled, always impressed with her best friend, “We hear you, Dechaa. Good work.”
Dechaa teleported back and received many a buffet from her friends.
“Dechaa,” Delia could hardly believe it. “You could make a fortune off this! Do you know how expensive those little crystal balls are?!”
Essenta broke up the merriment, “Okay, girls… The goal is finding good material for flour and some fruit we could easily dry. Let’s communicate every 15 minutes or so and try to come back in an hour. Everypony’s citronella rag doing alright?”
The girls murmured ascent; they’d just freshened them up that morning.
“Great,” Essenta answered. “Orni and I will get started on preparing lunch. Be careful out there.”
The girls were treated to more of the landscape they were familiar with, but Delia’s group had found a new water source.
Zyra eyed it dubiously, “I don’t think we want to even bother with this, Delia…”
Wilka couldn’t tell what was wrong but Delia sniffed the water.
The former maid wrinkled her nose, “Yuck… It’s tainted. Could just be bacterial but don’t be surprised if you find a dead carcass nearby… its fluids might’ve seeped into the water.”
The girls didn’t find any dead carcass but found a lot of nice yams and some kind of melon. They’d seen monkeys eating the melon, so they figured it was safe. They’d never trust what only birds ate but would take a chance on something other mammals ate.
Not dissatisfied with their findings, they ventured into the jungle a little further.
“Whoa!” Zyra jumped backwards.
Delia startled, “What is it?”
Zyra looked confused, “I’m… not sure.”
The mage paced forward again and met the same sensation; she backed up, uncomfortable.
Delia approached; nervously she put out a hoof… and felt nothing.
“There’s nothing, Zyra… Are you okay?” Wilka had poked around herself.
Zyra shook her head, “No… there’s something… I can feel it.”
Delia stared into the jungle, “I don’t see anything.”
Zyra appeared to get an idea, “Stand back.”
Wilka and Delia backed away, seeing Zyra light up her horn.
Zyra let out a bolt—nothing big—and Wilka and Delia were shocked to see it ricochet off what appeared to be thin air.
The mage looked all sorts of worried and confused, “Well, it’s no wonder you can’t feel it…”
Delia’s eyes were glued to the point at which the bolt had been deflected, “Well… what’s going on?”
Zyra was unused to hearing distress in Delia’s voice; she turned to Wilka and Delia, her nervousness reflecting theirs, “It’s a magical barrier, girls…”