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// Chapter One: Blame 
// Story: Taking Strides 
// by Gloominosity 
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Melon’s hooves stumbled with every step she took further away from the safety and security of the Stable. Every panicked thought swirling around in her head screamed at her to turn back, to knock on the door until somepony heard her, and beg to be let back in. And yet, how could she do that? She couldn’t abandon her sister to this cruel world.

It had been hours; she could feel her strength slipping away. Her vision blurred and one of her hooves caught on a loose rock on the path. A scream tore out of her throat as she was sent sprawling in the dirt. She coughed and sniffled, eyes welling with tears.

The sky was beginning to grow dark. It had been early morning when she had been locked out of the Stable, but now night was coming. There had been no sun like described  in the history texts, and Melon doubted there would be a moon. There was only the limitless, gray expanse of clouds, casting a shadow of hopelessness on the world below.

The Stable had always been well-lit, even in the dead of night. There were no electric lights out here, and soon the world would be overtaken by darkness.

Beside the path, only barely standing, was a small hut made of rotting wood. Melon gritted her teeth and dragged herself over to the shelter, curling up under it. She was exhausted, too weak to stand, but she couldn’t let herself sleep. Who knew what monsters waited in the darkness to eat her as soon as she closed her eyes!

She was alone, so terribly alone, and so terribly unprepared. How could everything have gone this wrong? Yesterday, she was tending to the field with her siblings, happy with their perfect lives. Today, she was stranded in the wasteland outside of the Stable, starving and terrified out of her mind.

How could Blossom do this? Wasn’t she happy in the Stable? Why would she open the door to let those awful ponies in? Melon didn’t understand. Everything was perfect. Her herd, small as it was, was perfect. So why would Blossom want to leave? Melon was out here because of her.

The only feeling stronger than the blame was the guilt. How could Melon turn on her herd so quickly? Even if it was Blossom’s fault, that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was saving Blossom and returning to the Stable.

Melon must have fallen asleep at some point in the night. She found herself blinking her heavy eyelids and rubbing the crust from her eyes. The world around her was lighter than it had been - still not as bright as the lights in the Stable, but she could tell it was daytime.

Her empty stomach growled unhappily as she stood on her trembling legs. She stepped out from under the shelter and returned to the dusty path, looking left and right. Right would eventually bring her back  to the Stable, but also to the ponies she was running away from. They had taken her sister, and tried to take her too. If she hadn’t outrun them, who knew what would have happened to her?

Melon took a deep breath and settled on the left. Eventually, she would save Blossom from the big stallion with the scar, but she couldn’t do it alone. Maybe there was someone up ahead who would help her, someone strong enough to fight off an angry stampede of evil ponies.

She forced one hoof in front of the other, not allowing herself to stumble or rest. If she stopped now, she would never get back up again.

Melon kept her eyes down as she trotted, afraid of looking up at the expanse of gray clouds. Walls had surrounded her throughout her entire life. She didn’t like the idea of something seeming to have no end.

The clock on her PipBuck told her it was almost noon. If she were back home, she would be sitting with her siblings and eating lunch, maybe sipping sweet honey tea together. Oh, how she missed the taste of sweet honey tea.

She lifted her chin slightly and rubbed her eyes with a hoof, peering around for any sign of life. Her eyes widened. Off the path, just a silhouette in the distance, she could see three pony shapes. 

Renewed energy filled her shaking limbs and she took off at a gallop. She kicked up dust as she thundered through the dirt, getting closer and closer to the far-off ponies. She could see them a little better now. They had grey coats, no manes, and they were very, very thin.

“Hello!” she called out to them. “My name is Melon! I came from a-”

The three ponies turned to look at her galloping towards them, pinning her in their shining yellow eyes simultaneously.

Melon’s legs froze and she skidded to a halt. Now that she was close enough to see them in detail, she realized that these...things were far from being pony.

Their coats  hung loose on their bodies, and their eyes were sunken into their skulls. They moved slowly towards her, wheezing and moaning, showing off their missing teeth and rotting gums.

She screamed and whirled around, galloping in the opposite direction.

Heavy hoofsteps from behind alerted her that they were following her.

Melon glanced over her shoulder and screamed again. They really were following her, and fast too. “Leave me alone!” she screeched, absolute terror giving her the energy to keep going.

They were gaining on her, their horrible moans growing louder and more desperate.

There was nowhere for her to run to, nowhere to hide. As soon as she ran out of energy, they’d be on top of her. She was certain these terrible pony-like creatures wouldn’t hesitate to eat her.

Three loud cracks rang out across the wasteland and the hoofsteps following her halted immediately. 

Melon looked over her shoulder to see the creatures collapse to the ground. She slowed to a trot, then stopped, gasping for breath. She recognized that sound. It was the same sound as the one that had sent Blossom falling onto the ground, unable to stand up. What could it be and where had it come from?

“Hey!” a voice shouted.

Melon screamed in fright, thinking one of the slumped over creatures was talking to her.

“Over here!” called the voice, louder this time.

She turned around to see a pony galloping towards her. A real pony, this time. 

The stranger was smaller than Melon, and couldn't be older than a teenager. Her stringy mane was a warm brown and she had sandy freckles on her cheeks. She wore baggy clothing and a strange tool was slung over her shoulder. But the strangest thing was the small, pointed appendage sprouting from her mane. It looked like a tooth, right on her forehead.

“Who...are you?” Melon asked, backing away from the stranger.

“Verity,” the filly answered, slowing to a stop. “Who are you?”

“I’m Melon,” she answered, staring at the stranger cautiously. “H-how did you...what was that sound?”

Verity raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side. “You mean the gunshots?”

“Gunshots?” Melon repeated, wrinkling her muzzle in confusion.

The stranger looked her over and nodded in recognition. “You came from a stable, didn’t you?”

Melon stared at her with wide eyes.

“It’s not often we see that uniform,” the filly gestured to her jumpsuit. “We’re out in the open here. Follow me. We should talk somewhere more safe.”

“Somewhere safe?” Melon whispered, hardly daring to believe a place like that existed out here in this terror-filled wasteland. She looked back at the crumpled forms of the creatures that had tried to attack her. “What did you do to them?”

“Uh, I shot them,” Verity said blankly, as if that were common sense. “You’re lucky I was here.”

“I…” Melon looked up at her savior. “You’re young.”

The filly curled her lip unhappily. “Yeah, so I’m told. It’s never too early to learn basic survival skills. Now let’s move before more ghouls show up.”

“Ghouls?”

Verity rolled her eyes. “I knew stable ponies weren’t that bright, but sheesh. I expected a bit more than this. Follow me, now. Unless you’d rather spend the night out here with them?”

Melon quickly shook her head and followed the filly.

Verity set off at a quick pace, trotting along the path for a while before veering off towards a rocky hill. She led Melon around until they stood in front of a large opening in the rocks.

The word cave came to her mind, but she wasn’t sure where it had come from. She eyed the cave cautiously. “It looks dark.”

“Well, we can’t exactly light a fire and lead half the wasteland to our position with our smoke signals, now can we?” Verity huffed and trotted into the shadows.

Melon followed her quietly. It was dark at first, but her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light.

Suddenly, a light flared to life in front of her.

She almost fell back onto her haunches, startled.

Verity snorted in amusement and set the lantern down in the dirt. “You’re jumpy,” she remarked.

Melon sat down beside the lantern, her heart still racing from the scare.

The filly gestured a hoof around the cave. “This is one of our many hiding places scattered throughout the wasteland.”

“Our?”

“Our,” stated a different voice. 

Melon jolted and looked to her left to see another pony standing there. This one was a stallion, clearly older than Verity, and probably a little older than Melon as well. He, too, had a warm brown mane. Instead of the freckles, he had a pale stripe on his tan nose. There was a strange tooth coming out of his forehead as well.

“A stable-dweller,” the stallion remarked, taking a seat beside the filly. “Why’d you bring her here, Ver?”

Now that they were sitting next to each other, Melon could see striking similarities between them. They were siblings, most likely, or perhaps cousins. Was their herd only two strong, or were there more of them hiding in the darkness?

“She was being chased by ghouls,” Verity explained, focusing her attention on the strange tool that was slung over her shoulder. It was long a narrow, except at the base where it grew wider. The filly pulled a stained cloth from her pocket and cleaned the tool with it. “Fresh out of a stable.”

The stallion regarded Melon, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “First time out in the wasteland?”

Melon nodded. Her stomach gave a very loud, unhappy growl. She looked down at her hooves in embarrassment.

Verity snorted and tossed a canvas bag towards Melon. A few dented cans rolled out. “Help yourself.”

Melon tilted her head at the cans. There was a faded picture of a peach on the side of one. Did they contain food? All of the produce in her stable was either eaten fresh or packed away in small jars. She doubted there were any cans like this in her stable at all. She picked up the can uncertainly. “How do I open it?”

“Honestly,” the filly muttered. She took the can from Melon, pried the lid open with her teeth, then passed it back. “Eat.”

Melon stuck her muzzle into the can and slurped up the mushy fruit. It tasted much worse than the fresh peaches they grew in the orchard, but she was much too hungry to care right now.

When she had finished up the contents of the can, she regarded the ponies in front of her. “Where is the rest of your herd?”

Verity and the stallion shared a confused look before he replied, “Our what?”

“Your herd,” Melon repeated. “Siblings and cousins.”

“You mean like...a family?” Verity wondered. “We don’t have one. Just us.”

“I see.” Melon picked at a frayed string on the sleeve of her jumpsuit. It wasn’t all that rare for a herd to only have two ponies in it, but they were considered the lowest of the low by the rest of the Stable. The smaller a herd was, the more they were looked down upon. As a member of a herd only three strong, she was used to the hurtful comments.

“Not to be insensitive,” the stallion spoke up again, “but what was wrong with your stable?”

She looked up at him, forehead wrinkled in confusion. “What?”

“Every stable has something wrong with it,” he pressed, “you know, a social experiment. So what was wrong with yours?”

“Nothing is wrong with my stable!” Melon protested. “We’re perfectly happy! I mean...we were happy, I thought we were. My herd...my sister...”

“Melon,” Verity leaned forward to make eye contact with her. “You keep saying herd, and I get the feeling it means more to you than it does to us. What’s a herd?”

Melon’s head snapped up and she stared at the filly. “What do you mean? Don’t you have herds out here?”


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