Antecedence Arc
Wilka and Orni, as they did in many things, woke up together a few minutes before lunch preparations were to start.
Wilka was too apprehensive to speak, swimming in her own juices.
Orni, not any better off, stared up into the dimness of the cave, “Wilka…?”
Zyra had woken up from her nap, close to the two young mares, “Cap! Everypony! They’re awake!”
Within seconds, Essenta, Loress, Ama, and Delia were there.
Ama wondered, “Are we whole again?”
Zyra shook her head, “It’s Orni and Wilka…”
It was better than three asleep.
“Thank goodness,” Loress exhaled.
Wilka found words, most uncomfortable in her soiled tunic, “Where are we?”
The little Pegasus was dazed, having been out of it for days.
Essenta hoofed her shoulder, “You’re safe, Wilka… We’re all safe.”
“What happened?” Orni whimpered.
Ama nuzzled her, “Relax.”
The young mares were confused but at least they weren’t dead.
Ama cradled Orni while Delia gave her a sip of water.
Essenta and Loress did the same for Wilka.
Loress eased Wilka along, holding the canteen, “Nice and easy…”
Zyra was almost overcome but managed to hold up, watching their two friends come to. She was glad to see the two were at least able to get their hooves under them after a few minutes. Soon after they were able to walk, leaning on another.
Essenta, feeling a great relief, ordered Delia, “Take Wilka and Orni to the water… Take Ama too.”
Delia and Ama stood, nodding; they knew what to do. Just moments earlier, Essenta, Zyra, Loress, and Delia had bathed in the nearby water source. After a few days of nothing but sand-baths to combat the stink and nastiness of soiling themselves in their near-comas, a proper bath was to die for. Ama hadn’t had a bath, watching over the others, so it was most welcome.
“Gladly, Essenta,” Ama gently guided Orni to her hooves.
Delia steered Wilka, “Easy does it…”
Essenta reasoned cleaning them up and letting them wake up properly first would be better than springing on them the enormity of all that had happened.
Loress agreed with the idea seeing the four leave, “It’s better this way…”
Zyra choked and let out a sob, almost collapsing.
Essenta and Loress didn’t need to ask why; Zyra had been afraid for her friends.
Essenta, having caught Zyra, hugged her, “It’ll be alright, Zyra…”
“I know, Cap…” Zyra sniffled.
It took Zyra a moment, her two friends comforting her.
Loress kneaded Zyra’s back, “Yeah… it’s okay… Wanna help me with lunch?”
Zyra was already doing dinner but wasn’t opposed to keeping busy; it kept her mind off Dechaa, “Sure…”
Essenta clapped Zyra’s back, “I’m going to get fresh clothes out for the girls. Don’t burn our chow, now, you hear?”
Zyra almost guffawed, buffeting Essenta’s shoulder, “You asshole…”
Loress giggled; they hadn’t even lit a fire to cook, as there was no wood to be found.
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Tessa knew there was a dead stallion not far from their backdoor. She didn’t see him and had no desire to do so. She’d known her father was a soldier, but…
The three ponies—Retha, her daughter, and Tessa—pulled their cloaks tight and inched the house’s backdoor open.
Stepping outside, the rain was still falling but the worst of the storm had moved on. The town was burning impressively, and Tessa could feel the heat from quite a distance. Had it not been for the very recent downpour, soaking everything, Gitano would’ve gone up like a tinderbox.
Retha led Tessa and Berhane closer to the flame, their best bet—unless something had blocked the path—at escaping the town with their lives.
Tessa felt the uncomfortable warmth on her eyes; the heat was like that of the fireplace at home. As close as they were to the blaze the noise of the crackling flames rivaled that of the commotion in the city.
The panicked cries of the citizens mingled with the yells of the invading pirates. 100 pirates could certainly make noise. Any attempt at stealth had been long abandoned, their numbers leaving little need for secrecy when they’d already overtaken Gitano.
Retha pushed the fillies behind a stone planter.
From behind the planter, Tessa got her first image of the pirates. A couple stallions—unicorns—were chasing after an Earth pony family, firing stunning-spells. It was the Kjellfrid family, among the wealthiest of families to summer in Gitano… And Tessa saw her friend—Runa the filly—struck down, skidding to a halt. It was all she saw for Retha nudged her along before she could focus on it.
They’d reached the garden path. The stone lane was wide, dark and shadowed, and full of sculptures. A natural firebreak, the flames stopped short of it.
Tessa knew the path well. It led through one of the town’s gardens and into the hills west of town. It looked clear.
“C’mon…” Retha whispered to the little ones.
Tessa wasn’t thinking of much; she was just trying to follow. She was afraid, no doubt, but had otherwise blanked out. Any thoughts of her parents, friends, town, or what she’d left behind took a bow to the current situation.
We have to get away, we have to get away, we have to get away… and little else drove the tiny Pegasus.
The sounds of the collapsing town began to fade out as they slowly moved between features, towards the forest and a higher elevation. The vegetation thickened up as they crossed the city-limits.
Tessa almost jumped, her wings tensed to bolt, upon hearing the voices.
“We got another few…”
“Mares! Finally!”
Berhane shrieked, running under her mother. Tessa spun around, her rump bumping into Retha.
A burly Pegasus with a net and a number of other stallions—all Earth ponies—appeared from the bushes and from behind the statue of Gitano’s founder welcoming visitors into town.
One, two, three, four, five, six…! There were six of them!
Tessa let a frightened sob escape while Berhane squealed into her mother’s cloak.
One of the Earth ponies chuckled, tossing his mane, “Well, well, well… A mother and her lil’ fillies… How nice…!”
Nasty laughter wormed its way from the other five.
Retha put a hoof over Tessa’s back and pulled her in slightly; she narrowed her eyes and peered around. As she looked about, her horn came uncovered. Berhane stayed in obscurity but Tessa was seen to have wings.
The pirates were unworried; one of the Earth ponies moved in, “Hey, boys… Mommy’s a unicorn… but one of the fillies is a Pegasus.”
“Good thing we have a net,” laughed another.
Tessa and Berhane cried out, huddling all the closer to Retha.
The Pegasus stallion leered at Retha, the rest of the stallions chortling nastily, “Now… why don’t you just give up easy-like. We might even spare you the fun we’ll have with some of the other mares we find.”
The stallions were sure this mare would fold.
Retha was no soldier… but she was no pushover either and didn’t hesitate to do what she needed to keep herself and her two charges alive a while longer.
As casually as one might magically light a candle, she shot a beam of energy from her horn, blowing the Pegasus’s brains against the bust of the stallion that founded the town. She had pretty good aim, having used her magic in circus-performing of all sorts her whole life.
Never knowing what hit him the Pegasus keeled over like a rotten log.
Before the other stallions even registered what happened she got another two of them.
By this time, those with their brains still confined to their skulls realized they weren’t going to be taking this one—or her fillies—quietly.
“Shit!” one of them cried.
“Run!” howled another.
Without even retaliating they fled up the trail towards the hills.
Retha shot a few more bolts in their direction, blowing off the back leg of one of them. Ol’ “Tripod” screamed, crawling into the darkness behind his wholly intact companions.
It happened so fast the fillies only saw the aftermath… the stallion skittering away, leaving behind one of his limbs. More upsetting were the stallions with their minds blown… in every direction.
Berhane had never seen a dead body, much less the evidence of such a violent death.
The little unicorn geared up to scream, her eyes wide, “Eee-!”
Retha magically sealed her lips, “No… Shh…”
Tessa had seen a few bodies in her day, including that whipped colt—though most were at funerals for the town’s old folks. Tessa didn’t scream but seeing more death wasn’t any easier. She felt her legs turn to jelly and her mind swam.
“Tessa!” Retha whispered, jostling the Pegasus. “Move!”
Retha knew the stallions were up the trail. She also felt the path into the hills was still their best bet; one glance back towards Gitano told her turning back was suicidal. But the fiery, visibly overrun town was no worse than what they came to face.
“Get ‘em!” cried a stallion’s voice up ahead.
Zap! Zap! Zap!
Bolts of energy blasted among the three.
Retha had known there might be more stallions—and unfortunately there seemed to be at least one unicorn—up the trail but a maybe was a better bet than the definitely back in town. She meant to stick to the path and turning around wasn’t a promising option.
“Damn!” exclaimed the unicorn mare; she barked at the fillies. “Into the brush!”
Tessa didn’t hesitate and made to cut into the increasingly woody surroundings. She’d just about made-
Zap!
The little Pegasus felt a jolt and nothing else as she tumbled to the ground, unconscious.
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The mares’ duties had been tossed up. While Essenta and Ama had taken to preparing their lunch, Zyra and Delia, With Loress’s assistance, had to deal with the final sleepyhead of their party alongside the wagon; it was the best elevated surface they had for their purpose.
Zyra searched for a good vein on Dechaa’s leg, “Piss up a rope…! For as toned as she is her veins sure suck. I can’t find a good spot to stick in.”
Even with a length of cloth tied around Dechaa’s upper leg, which would normally cause the veins to pop like cords, she was having little luck.
Delia had a makeshift line wrapped around her hooves, one end attached to a corked intravenous needle, dangling, and the other to a bag of nutritive solution Zyra had concocted; she reasoned, “Seems she’s a little more dehydrated than we thought.”
Zyra nodded, “No real surprise, there… Desert…”
“I can’t believe we’re doing this…” Loress bewailed, looking ill and holding the solution in its bag.
Wilka and Orni were also less than comfortable with this, looking on from the side. The two were shaky on their hooves but improving. They’d both received an abbreviated “de-briefing” on the last few days, which they’d naturally been unaware of. They were still confused but they had promise of a proper explanation later… and Dechaa’s plight served as quite the distraction at the moment.
In the middle with her hooves full Delia wasn’t in the mood for Loress’s squeamishness, “Just hold that bag… Zyra needs to concentrate.”
“I hate needles…” Loress squirmed.
Neither Zyra nor Delia paid the Terran any mind; they had more important things to worry about.
Dechaa was still exceptionally insensible and showed no real sign of waking up at any time in the near future. It could be said she was fine, and her vitals were sound, but she just wasn’t waking up. After a little deliberation the two mares most in the know—besides Dechaa—regarding medicine decided they needed to rehydrate Dechaa.
After a little encouragement of Dechaa’s leg, Zyra found a point; she gleamed, “Pay dirt!”
Delia exhaled, “Good.”
Magicking the corked-needle end of their contraption, Zyra popped the cork, primed the line, and went in.
“Eep…!” Loress squeaked.
Delia frowned at the Terran, “Don’t look… and don’t dare drop that bag!”
Loress held up well enough and Zyra managed to hit the vein. Wilka and Orni winced, having to look away at the last second.
Delia allowed herself a feral grin, eyeing the young ones as she situated the line, “Another few hours and we would’ve done the same to you.”
A small whine escaped Wilka’s throat and Orni looked a little green behind the gills at the notion.
The Earth pony chuckled at the further discomfort caused; she knew she could either laugh or cry about their current situation.
“It’s times like this I’m glad I have a horn,” Zyra magicked a long bandage around Dechaa’s leg, securing the insertion.
With everything else in place, Delia took the bag from Loress and asked of Zyra, “How high?”
“That hook at your eye level would be good,” Zyra pointed to a peg on the wagon’s side.
Delia hung the bag over the hook specified and sat down; she admired Zyra’s work, “Good job…”
Zyra shrugged, “It should work. We don’t have to do anything. She’s lost enough fluid she should suck it right up.”
Indeed, the bag was already beginning to slowly drain.
Essenta and Ama paddled in from outside, where they’d been preparing food.
“Did it work?” Essenta asked.
Zyra said, “It appears to be. Boy, I’m glad I was paying attention when Dechaa showed me this trick.”
Essenta was confused, “Not in the jugular?”
Zyra knew Essenta’s meaning, “For a quick dose of something, sure, but I don’t want all this going straight to her head. It’s not much, but the bit of salt and sugar should tide her over until she finally wakes up.”
Essenta felt a great relief; she’d been concerned for her best friend, “Good.”
Ama pointed a hoof outside, “We have a meal ready.”
Other than Zyra, who’d elected to stay with Dechaa and keep an eye on her progress, they filed out.
Ama turned and said, “Give me a moment and I will bring you something to eat.”
Zyra was quite hungry, now that she wasn’t so worried, “Thanks so much, Ama.”
“Of course, Zyra.”
Zyra watched as Ama and the rest exited. Magically cooling a damp rag, she applied it to Dechaa’s forehead. She was glad Essenta was feeling better; the princess had been more out of sorts than she was showing.
But Essenta, Zyra’s old Captain, had watched her best and oldest friend vegetate for a good two days, nearly a week after their nightmare had begun; it was understandable she’d be on pins and needles.
It hurt Zyra a little, knowing she wasn’t Essenta’s best best friend but there was no butting in on that. If Ama had been in the same straits as Dechaa… the little mage couldn’t imagine how she’d be feeling; it was hard to even picture the mighty Ama, struck down in such a way… but that was just naivety. They had some tough mares among them but in the end, they were all just sacks of meat and bones with maidens’ hearts.
But things could be worse—far worse—and they were possibly safely on their way back to a less hazardous place. She had to keep drilling that idea into her head. And they were tough…If one of them could reduce a dragon to pudd’nhead status on top of the other things they could do they’d likely be okay. She constantly reminded herself of that and other things.
Zyra laid back and waited for Ama to bring her something to eat.
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Clang…
The filly registered something that seemed far away, Hmm?
Something was making noise.
Clang…!
The filly was between asleep and awake, What?
What was it?
Clang…!!
The air smelled… unfamiliar… and it was dry… and smoky.
Alarm grew in the filly, What is this?!
CLANG…!!
Tessa’s eyes shot open and she tried to jump up, “Mom?! Dad?!”
Well, she’d tried to speak; as she managed to get up something heavy choked off her speech. Blinding morning light was plainly felt through her eyelids.
Clink… Clank…
The abrupt surprise and weight of it pulled her down and she fell backwards. Lying there a few seconds she coughed, tears of exertion leaking from her closed eyes. Opening her eyes again she found it was just past dawn and a collar was around her neck… a choker.
A violent sinking feeling rose up inside Tessa; she tried to scream but nothing came out. She’d woken up to a nightmare… It took her a moment to get her wits about her as she was scared right out of them.
But calm down she did, enough at least to function, loosening the choker to the point she could breathe. Something else had happened to her… She was very sore, as if she’d been zapped by a lightning bolt; it had happened to her before when she flew too close to bad weather. It was hard to remember...
Tessa noticed activity around her and huddled down; looking around wildly she took in where she was.
She was on a sandy steppe, patched with bunched-up grasses and the occasional weed… surrounded by ponies similarly collared. Her townsfolk… about 20. They appeared to be asleep. And around them were stallions… The pirates… and their ilk, guarding them, apparently. It was easy enough to recognize they weren’t at all far from the coast; she’d picnicked with her parents near that very spot.
Her parents... Last night...
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Dad… Mom…
Tessa felt a powerful feeling similar to the sinking sensation she’d had a moment earlier but now, rather, she felt like puking.
Looking around her parents were not to be seen. But there had been others the night before.
Berhane! Retha! Tessa’s awareness was rising. Where are they?!
Tessa glanced here and there, and it occurred to her Retha’s husband—Tessa’s father—had been left behind with her mother… and her father had created a distraction, running away from the house.
It was too much to process! She couldn’t even remember the name of her new friend’s father! Feeling overwhelmed she desperately yet tactfully peered about, looking for something…
…And she saw Berhane, asleep! Deciding to chance it, it seemed nopony had noticed her noisily waking up or her current activity, she moved towards her friend.
Hope, hope, hope, hope, hope, hope… Tessa prayed urgently.
“Berhane…!” Tessa hissed, creeping as close as her tether allowed, and it didn’t let her get far but she got a look at Berhane.
Berhane was just out of Tessa’s reach but the curled-up filly was still facing towards her, her mane hiding her face.
“Berhane!” Tessa stretched a little and managed to reach her friend.
The nudge Tessa gave the little unicorn resulted in Berhane’s mane being brushed back…
No… Tessa lamented.
The little Pegasus knew what a magic-canceling device was, and one was securely fixed to Berhane’s horn. Looking to the next unicorn, Tessa saw another such device.
The enlightened Tessa didn’t notice the shadow behind her.
“Well, well, well…” a gruff voice said.
Tessa yipped; it was a voice she recognized. She turned and came face-to-face with the “boss” she’d heard outside their door the night before.
He stared down at the filly, leering, “You’re the one whose mother gave us such trouble…”
Tessa knew he wasn’t talking about her mother; he was talking about Retha. Was she alive?
She must have been as he smiled nastily, “Don’t worry, little one… We’ll find her yet. We’re still cleaning up.”
Tessa had another thought occur and she shot a glance behind her. And she was faced with a pillar of black smoke, rising from what must have been Gitano. They were still next to the ocean, after all. The familiar, salty smell was dulled by the stench of smoke. She hadn’t noticed earlier but there was a pile of charred bodies, stacked near the edge of their formation. Her townsfolk… There were at least 10 of them.
Among them, unmistakably, was Runa, her rich friend from inland, burnt to a crisp, her back legs stiffly pointed up. Tessa had seen her go down, zapped, but something else must have happened after that.
Tessa screamed at the sight of this, propelling herself backwards where she tripped over a sleeping neighbor, who grunted at her, still half-asleep.
The “boss” laughed at the filly, “We’ll find her… and if she’s alive, she’ll wish she wasn’t.”
Tessa felt a numbness work its way up her body, casting her eyes on the pile again. Were her parents there?
The “boss” turned away, “I’d sleep a while if I was you… Otherwise you may never sleep again… until you’re dead.”
He left Tessa, who’d checked out from reality, still staring at the pile. She wouldn’t be sleeping another wink that morning, her mind blank save a hint of despair.
And that which the “boss” said was no empty statement. Two hours later the 20 or so ponies were roused and forced to gallop, flanked by almost 100 pirates guarding them.
Without so much as a drink of water or allowing them to properly wake up the pirates, still 90-some strong, brought out the whips. They lashed in and around and upon the huddled ponies until they were on their hooves. Cries of pain, confusion, sadness, and fear went unheeded; they were whipped until they were running. Mostly mares, they were in two lines of about 10 and forced into single file.
Tessa had no time for talking to her neighbors—ponies she’d known just about all her life… her friends… or Berhane. All she saw were their tears as they were driven along, stumbling and choking as their collars threatened to strangle them. Tessa shed plenty of her own tears, jerked between two ponies much larger than her, a chain connecting their collective necks. There was little time for thinking about Mom… or Dad… or home… Tessa had to concentrate on staying upright, lest she suffocate or be trampled.
The pirates had a desperation of their own and they did all they could to put distance between themselves and their crimes. A few whips and zaps kept the new slaves moving.
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For three days and nights they ran, stopping only several hours in the day to rest and eat a thin soup slapped together from whatever grew nearby. Tessa’s purpose for being was simply to move… and about all she wanted was a drop of that soup and sleep. The little Pegasus thought of little else… not her mother or father… or home… or even her friends and neighbors. She’d never known true hunger… or thirst… or exhaustion…
The drive was nearly relentless, the slavers desperate to get out of the influence of Alba and its military. A number died on the run, mostly those unfit for such a journey; most of them survived, being relatively healthy in the first place. Those that died were simply cut from the line and discarded where they landed.
And Tessa thought of nothing but food, water, and rest.
Finally, on the fourth day, they were properly fed and rested. The chained ponies ate, drank, and slept as they never had before.
And the next day they didn’t run; they sat.
Tessa hadn’t talked with anypony in four days. And nopony seemed interested in talking—or even able—numbed from the journey. Tessa sure wasn’t in any condition to talk; it never occurred to her it was something to do.
The pirates milled nearby, mostly leaving their charges to their own devices as they ate, drank, and slept in much happier conditions.
But on the fifth day things were different. Most of the ponies had rested enough to better grasp their situation. And they mourned. Even if Tessa had the wits about her to figure out what happened nopony else seemed up to it. They just mourned. Berhane was on the other length of chain and all the little unicorn had done was vegetate in a puddle of her own making, being not inclined to do anything other than eat, drink, sleep, and void herself when nature called.
The sixth day might have seen clearer minds—able to reason what had happened, rather than just lament it—but they wouldn’t have the time. Tessa, still somewhat numb, had cried about all she could and about all she looked forward to was mealtime. But what occurred next got her attention.
They had been waiting for something, it turned out.
Their little caravan—its overseers outnumbering its “subjects” five-to-one—was visited by a much larger caravan, over 400 slaves strong with a much smaller contingency of ponies holding the reigns.
Most of the pirates left, only a hoofful remaining. But there was little need for any great number of regulators as everypony not in the know would soon learn.
Tessa hadn’t gotten a good look at their new overseers… but they looked mean… and far more proficient than the sloppy pirates had been.
But they wouldn’t be meeting their new drivers right away.
Tessa knew what slave brands looked like. She’d seen a hoof-brand only once, on the bottom of some poor filly’s hoof and was aware of its meaning. But most slaves were branded on the leg; it was easy to see with most clothing.
And here they met their “trustee”.
Tessa never learned his name. He was a grizzled old stallion stallion—a slave with his own magic-cancelling device screwed to his horn—they simply called “Trustee”. It was what he was, a prisoner whose purpose was to keep order among his fellow slaves; for this he was granted some slack, but he still had a collar.
He stood before them, “You’re with my line, you 10. See those stallions over there? Those are your masters for now. When they ask you a question or give you a command you answer with ‘sir’ and you’ll do it!”
Nopony had a thing to say to this. They only listened.
The trustee pointed to a nearby wagon, surrounded by a group of slaves; on top was a box, “See that box up there? That’s your life, what it contains. There’s a magic orb in there. It’s under every kind of lock, key, and magic you could imagine. If you keep within its influence, you live. You run outside of the orb’s barrier… you die. That’s your only warning… Stay close to your wagon… You may also hear ‘wagon’ referred to as ‘section’.”
Another trustee, apparently lower on the “chain-of-command” no trustee was actually on, moved along the line, fitting Tessa and the others with a collar just like he was wearing… that Trustee was wearing… that all the slaves were wearing.
Tessa hadn’t noticed before but looking to the 30 or so slaves assigned to their apparent wagon, she saw they were untethered. Before she was able to dwell on this—not paying much attention—she felt a jerk to the neck.
“Eep,” she uttered.
Trustee was working on her collar, “Hold still, girl…”
Clank!
The collar that had confined her, ass-to-face, with one of her neighbors was on the ground. She felt her neck, free of the weight. The new collar wasn’t comfortable, but it was light. She was also fitted with a harness, disallowing her wings to move much; she’d be powerless to fly. Unable to dwell long on this either, she heard an order given them.
“Stallions there! Mares here! Colts over there! Fillies there!”
The section driver—the stallion overseeing their wagon—had called to them.
Without even thinking about it, Tessa trotted with the other nine towards the wagon, where the other slaves were divided into the four groups by sex and age.
“Stay put,” Trustee stated.
The ponies listened but they needed little warning. In addition to their driver, their wagon had a group of stallions enforcing discipline that made the pirates look friendly. They sat. Tessa didn’t even dare approach the reeking Berhane, not more than a few feet away. Berhane was looking more than broken but was sitting up.
Tessa looked around, seeing at least 12 wagons in a line. Each wagon had a driver, several enforcers, a few trustees, and about 40 slaves.
A racket came from a neighboring section interrupted Tessa’s thinking.
It interrupted everypony’s thinking, whatever they may have been thinking about. A Pegasus stallion, just freed from his line’s collar, was struggling for all he was worth. It was another of Tessa’s neighbors, Josep. She hadn’t realized another Pegasus had been captured.
“No!” Josep bellowed.
All the trustees and two enforcers from that section were trying to wrestle a harness on him, trying to disable his wings.
But Josep was desperate and he escaped their grasp. He took off as Tessa had never seen a Pegasus take off, making a beeline towards the ocean.
“Stop him!” somepony cried. “Somepony magic his ass back down here!”
If the slavers had had a ready unicorn of theirs immediately on hoof, they’d have been able to halt Josep and would have maintained another slave.
All eyes were on the escapee, about 50 feet off the ground and about as far away.
Bang!
Tessa saw it happen, clear enough, and understood the warning they’d received from the trustee.
The collars exploded outside of the orb’s influence.
The stallion’s wings managed three or four more flaps past the body losing the head, blasted to bits.
Josep’s corpse fell back to the Earth.
Thump! went his body on the dusty ground. Blood and guts spurted out, plainly visible on impact.
Everypony was silent a moment.
Tessa’s section’s driver hollered, “Fuck! Not again…!”
One driver screamed at another, “That one was your responsibility!”
“Hey, fuck you!” cried the other. “I can’t be everywhere at once! It ain’t my job to harness them!”
The two continued to bicker and the slaves were too floored to really notice.
Trustee shook his head, barely whispering, “That fool…!”
Berhane quivered, unable to take her eyes from the bloody mess, not a short run away from the caravan’s line. Many of her other concerns—not that her mind was working all that well—took a powder; she felt numbed, devastated beyond mere inconsolability.
Tessa shook, a whimper building in her throat as she voided her bowels. The smell of her just-soiled tunic mixed with the heat—not to mention the horror she’d just witnessed—caused her to vomit. She almost fainted.
And Tessa wasn’t the only one. Some did actually faint.
Tessa was too overwhelmed to think about it and certainly didn’t recognize it until later in life, but she’d already begun to change.
Recently—and memorably, as often as it comes up—she’d seen that colt in Alba die under a whip. And she’d hated herself for not stopping it. Despite her parents’ sadness and reassuring Tessa that it was entirely out of her control—they had been young and once felt the same way—the filly couldn’t help herself.
Just prior to this she’d heard a pony she knew—that her father had been friends with—gutted on their doorstep. How Tessa felt about it… She was horrified to say the least, though it would take some time to sort out. She may have felt sorry over it, had she been able to situate her mind.
She'd even seen a few of her neighbors die on the trip thus far but hadn't given it much thought, too preoccupied.
At this moment she was horrified, sure, but Tessa didn’t feel sorry for anypony at that moment, other than possibly herself. She was just glad it wasn’t her whose head had popped. She was glad it was somepony else.
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