//------------------------------// // Chapter 36 // Story: Unshaken // by The 24th Pegasus //------------------------------// Flee the area: 41% “This is just like Appleloosa all over again… or almost it,” Kestrel mused as she gazed into the flames. After a moment, Tumbleweed sighed and bowed his head. “The similarities are there,” he admitted. “We’re in the San Palomino because we got too cocky,” Wanderer said. “We hit that train, then tried to go and rob that hotel, except the Pinks were waiting for us. We got away once, but who’s to say we can do it again?” “Right.” Kestrel closed her eyes and leaned back, the stitches in her gut tugging at her flesh. “And we were at a hundred percent then. No offense to the rest of y’all, but behind Snapshot, I’m our best gun, and I ain’t feelin’ ready for another robbery.” “Then perhaps it’s best that we move on.” Tumbleweed turned his head to look out into the blackness of the night, where the moonlight turned the desert sands into vast fields of eerie snow. Beyond those modest dunes, the lights of Rock Ridge twinkled in the distance, a few candles in windows to stave off the advances of the night. “We’ll need to think about where. We ain’t gonna go runnin’ off without a plan. Wherever we go, it’s gotta be safe from the law, and it’s gotta have money. We’re well short of what we need to get outta Equestria. Leavin’ behind bits we know for sure are here in Rock Ridge ain’t gonna be easy.” “It’ll be easier when the rest of them hear that Pinks started crawling through town right after we leave,” Wanderer said. He chuckled lightly at that. “Funny that a bunch of hardened outlaws like us are willing to take on the Army but a bunch of ‘detectives’ in pink suits scare us witless.” “Because the Pinks’ll fight dirty, just like us.” Kestrel leaned back and closed her eyes for a moment; she’d spent most of the day sleeping, but she already felt tired once more. “That and their boss has got some otherworldly sixth sense about her. She knows what we’re like to do ‘fore we even do it.” “But not even she predicted we’d strike off into the middle of the desert and survive.” “Guess some things is beyond her power to predict.” The three ponies sat in silence around the fire, each consumed with their own thoughts on what lay ahead of them. Rather than broach that topic now, Kestrel turned her attention to the desert below them, where the body of a traitor lay cooling in the sand. “What’re we gonna do ‘bout Sienna?” she asked. “Get the coward’s body as far away from us as we can,” Tumbleweed said. “We don’t want nopony to find that near our camp. That’s a dead giveaway that somethin’s up with us. I’ve a mind to send Silvie to carry the scrawny thing out to the canyon and dump her there. Least that’s far enough away from us she won’t be a problem no more.” “Best thing we can do with her,” Wanderer agreed. “Not going to be able to dig much of a grave out in this sand and bone-dry dirt.” “I suppose. Just… I dunno.” Kestrel sighed and rubbed her feathers against the back of her neck. “She had a horrid life. Shame for her to end up as vulture food.” “If she wanted us to respect her body after she was done with it, she shoulda thought about that before tryin’ to run,” Tumbleweed retorted with a dismissive wave of his hoof. Some part of Kestrel wanted to fight over the issue, but the more rational part of her decided to drop it. It wasn’t worth getting worked up over, and she’d only recently repaired her strained relations with Tumbleweed. Instead, she grunted and leaned to the side, pulling a beer out of a crate popping the cap off with a steel shoe. Two big gulps of the gods’ gift to ponies slaked her thirst, and she held the beer in her lap between the feathers of her wings. “Fair enough, then.” Wanderer began to nod, though that ended in a wide yawn after a bob of his head. Blinking a few times into the fire, the old stallion stretched his wings and glanced at his tent. “I should probably retire for the night. Old ponies like me and Miss Irons can’t stay up as late as you young’uns can. And after everything we’ve been through today, I think some rest is in my future.” “I’ll have to let Miss Irons know you think she’s old,” Tumbleweed said, the corners of his lips turning upwards in a grin. The ruddy red pegasus turned his eyes to the stars like he was praying to the heavens. “You tell her that, you might have to have Silvie fly my corpse to the canyon as well tomorrow.” Then he waved his wing and walked away from the fire. “Goodnight, you two.” “G’night,” Kestrel said, touching the brim of her hat. She yawned as well, vigorously shaking her head back and forth to get some life back into her. Tumbleweed snickered at that. “You can’t go passin’ out yet, Kessie. You just opened that beer.” “I know, I know. Probably shouldn’t have, but it’s too late now.” She nodded toward the one by Tumbleweed’s side. “You ain’t finished yet, either.” Pale magic wrapped around the bottle and levitated it up to the stallion’s lips. He tilted his head back and his throat bobbed as he took several gulps from it, and when he was finished, he chucked it off into the darkness of the night. “All done,” he said, a sly smile taking root on his muzzle a few seconds before glass shattered somewhere far away. “I drink too fast and it’s like to come outta my stitches,” Kestrel said, taking another sip of her beer. “I’d sip on whiskey, but I already had enough fire in my gut for one day.” “You better take care not to aggravate that wound,” Tumbleweed warned her as he stood up. “We need you in tip top shape as fast as you’re able.” “Don’t you worry ‘bout me,” Kestrel assured him. “Ain’t the first time I been shot.” “Oh, do I know that,” Tumbleweed said, winking at her. “Too bad we ain’t sharing a hospital room this time.” “Oh, stuff it.” Kestrel took another swig and shook her head. “Go get your sleep, I likely ain’t gonna be too far behind.” “Yeah, yeah.” Tumbleweed made to turn away, but stopped and tapped his hoof on the ground. “I just remembered, Highball was on that train you stopped.” Kestrel blinked in surprise. “He… was?” Now that she thought about it, the engineer did seem familiar, though she’d been too preoccupied with stopping the train and getting shot in the gut to really get a good look. “You ain’t lyin’, now?” “I swear it’s true,” he said. “Go talk to Silvie about it. She worked with him to get you patched up, remember?” “I… maybe.” Kestrel shrugged. “Was tryin’ real hard not to pass out at the time.” “Any rate, he said he’d be in Rock Ridge for a few days. Since we’re gonna be leavin’ soon… figured maybe you’d want to stop by and say a few words.” “Don’t know how likely that’ll be,” Kestrel said. “Law’ll stop me real quick.” “We can have Wanderer arrange somethin’,” Tumbleweed assured her. “Nopony expects an old stallion to be an outlaw.” “The Pinks know,” Kestrel said. “Once they come to town, they’ll have all our faces on pretty little posters everywhere.” “Until then, he’s our eyes and ears, and maybe he can pass a message along.” Tumbleweed yawned and nodded toward her. “Might be good for the two of you to catch up… I know you have more history with him than the rest of us.” He was gonna be my husband, Kestrel thought, though she kept those words to herself. Instead, she only quietly dipped her head. “I’ll think about it.” “Just don’t want you to leave Rock Ridge with any regrets,” Tumbleweed said in a concerned voice. When Kestrel didn’t respond, he slowly shook his head and left for his tent. “Goodnight, Kessie.” “G’night,” Kestrel murmured back. Her eyes remained focused on her half-full beer, but her mind wandered elsewhere as the moon began to set. 1.     Drink with Silver Wings. I wonder what Silvie’s up to? Need somepony to finish my drink with. 2.     Check on Trixie. Don’t know how the other new recruit’s takin’ the news of Sienna’s death. Perhaps I should check on her. 3.     Get some rest. No need to stay up any later. Gotta get some sleep and prepare for the day ahead. Camp’s probably gonna be real busy then. (Confidence Required: 40 Votes)