//------------------------------// // Chapter 79 // Story: Unshaken // by The 24th Pegasus //------------------------------// Scale things back: 12 Votes “We do need to course correct a little,” Kestrel admitted, bobbing her head. “We ain’t gonna be able to keep up what we’re doin’ with the Pinks all over. It’s too dangerous to be headin’ into Hoofston all willy-nilly.” “We’ll hurt from not bein’ able to keep track of changes,” Tumbleweed said, the cigar shorting ever so slightly. “But we’ll hurt more if the Pinks get ahold of one of us. We should consider ourselves lucky they didn’t take in Kessie today.” “They’re after the grand prize, not one little fish,” Roughshod said with a snort. “That’s a point in our favor, I suppose.” “Then we have to keep that advantage as long as we can.” Tumbleweed pulled a match out of his vest and lit the end of his cigar now that the question on his mind had been answered. The acrid stench of cigar smoke made Kestrel’s nose itch, and she took out one of her own cigarettes to unwind a bit. “We’ll stop sendin’ folks to Hoofston until we can talk to Starlight two days from now. When we do, Kessie, you and Silvie will have to go in and do it.” Kestrel blinked in surprise. “You ain’t comin’ in?” “My point is that the illusions won’t help us much anymore,” Tumbleweed said. “The Pinks sniffed out Trixie’s magic immediately, by your own admission. At this point, I think gettin’ in and outta Hoofston as fast as possible is our best bet to avoid their attention, rather than walkin’ in on hoof under a disguise. You and Silvie can fly into town, meet with Starlight, and then fly back out when you’re done. It’ll be a safer bet than walkin’ through the streets and crossin’ paths with the cops.” “I suppose. Just hope Silvie’s feelin’ up for it by then. She’s still hurtin’.” Roughshod shook his head. “That filly’s fast and lively, but she ain’t tough enough to take a hit.” “She took more than her fair share during that shit that went down with the Vipers,” Tumbleweed said. “She was on death’s door not too long ago. Cut her some slack. And if she ain’t healed up by the time Wednesday comes around, then I’ll have Wanderer accompany Kessie into town.” “I’ll try not to leave him behind,” Kestrel said, an amused smirk on her muzzle. “I think his best flyin’ days are behind him.” “Don’t tell him that; he’ll beat you over the head with his guitar.” The three ponies returned to the camp, where the rest of the Gang had started a fire and had gathered around to listen to Wanderer tell one of his many tales from his long and storied life. Kestrel went over to the chuck wagon and set the bucket just under it, where hopefully nopony would knock it over and spill the water and catfish inside. She grabbed a tin bowl to grab some of the stew still cooking over the campfire, considering she hadn’t had a chance to get a good dinner while dealing with the Pinks in Hoofston, and also nabbed a bottle of whiskey out of the crate with her other wing. A dinner without a drink was hardly much of a meal, after all. When she returned to the campfire, she found Tumbleweed in the middle of addressing the rest of the Gang about the change in plans. Judging by the expressions on her friends’ faces, they hadn’t taken the news about the Pinks much better than Tumbleweed or Roughshod had when she’d first told the two of them at the lake. “We will remain vigilant around our camp,” Tumbleweed was saying, gesturing vaguely off into the trees surrounding the campsite as if he was standing at a podium giving a campaign speech. “So long as we keep our eyes open and remain cautious, we will be safe. We have the advantage as of now; the Pinks don’t know where we are. I intend to keep it that way for as long as possible, but I must warn you, there will come a time, perhaps sooner rather than later, that we are found out. Keep that in mind.” Kestrel took some stew out of the pot and sat down next to Trixie, who seemed the most alarmed out of everypony gathered around. “Don’t worry ‘bout it none,” she said to the magician as Tumbleweed and Roughshod walked away to deposit their fishing rods someplace safe. “It just comes with the job.” Trixie stared almost blankly into the fire and swallowed hard. “Trixie did not think that she’d be hunted by professional bounty hunters this year.” “Bah, they’re hardly bounty hunters,” Kestrel said, waving a hoof. “They’re professional security and enforcement, though. A whole private company dedicated to bringin’ the worst Equestria has to offer to heel.” The magician blinked as she tried to parse that. “How is that different from bounty hunters?” “Because the Pinks ain’t in it for the cash,” Kestrel said, fitting a spoonful of stew into her mouth. “They’re just a bunch of morons who think they’re makin’ the world a better place by tryin’ to wipe us out. They’re paid a salary, they got all sorts of equipment, they got direction and resources. But they ain’t got experience or passion.” “And that helps… how?” “Bounty hunters—the ones that live long enough to become famous, at least—they know how to fight dirty with ponies like us. They know how to fight us; they know what it’s like. They’re also desperate for that bounty. It is their livelihood after all.” Another bite of stew. “The Pinks, they don’t fight dirty. Well… they’ll fight dirtier than the Law, that’s for sure, but they still have codes. But they’re more like to back off if things get rough and come again later if it’s their lives on the line. Make enough of a racket, put up enough of a fight, and you’ll buy yourself some time. Not a whole lot… but some.” Trixie seemed to mull that over. “And how much time do you think we can buy from the Pinks now that they’re here in Hoofston?” “I don’t know,” Kestrel admitted. “We put up enough of a fight on the other side of the San Palomino to buy some time to slip across the desert and lose them. But now they’re here in Hoofston, and we ain’t gonna lose them by goin’ back across the desert again. Not that we’d even survive another trip anyway…” She finished off her bowl of stew and chucked it aside for the time being. “There ain’t a lot of places left to run to in the Southwest,” she said, her eyes drifting toward the fire. “We need a couple of big takes, and we need to get ‘em quickly. That’s why I’m hopin’ this Hoofston job’s gonna be big. The longer it takes us to get the money to get out of Equestria for good, the less chance we’ll have of doin’ it. Eventually we’ll be boxed in, and once they got us cornered, the Pinks ain’t gonna lay off ‘til we’re dead.” “Oh…” “I wouldn’t worry ‘bout it too much,” Kestrel said, popping the cork out of the bottle of whiskey and taking a sip. “We’re more than a match for a few Pinks. So long as we stay a step ahead of ‘em, we ain’t got nothin’ to worry ‘bout.” She let her gaze wander over the camp as ponies began to move to different areas to do their own things for the night. Tonight would be a calm one, if a bit tense, she figured, and tomorrow would be boring. She had plenty of time to relax and get some things out of the way before they reassessed the situation in Hoofston on Wednesday after speaking with Starlight. 1.     Listen to stories with Wanderer, Miss Irons, and Trixie 2.     Play drinking games with Silver and Roughshod 3.     Walk the perimeter of the lake with Tumbleweed and Snapshot 4.     Drink and sleep