//------------------------------// // Chapter 92 // Story: Unshaken // by The 24th Pegasus //------------------------------// The rest of the evening passed quite quickly; Kestrel didn’t remember much of it after watching Trixie’s magic show. The gunslinger woke up on her side down by the lake, cheek caked with drying mud, and an empty bottle sticking out of the gently lapping water in front of her. Her head hurt, but it wasn’t anything she wasn’t used to. Putting away an entire bottle of whiskey by herself at least once a week had built up her tolerance to the point that the hangover only bothered her until after lunch, though she still felt tired and slow the rest of the day. But at least today was Thursday, and she’d done her drinking last night. She doubted she’d have anything tonight other than a couple of sips before bed. She needed her mind sharp for the job tomorrow. Groaning, Kestrel slowly forced herself onto her back, and then dragged herself into a sitting position. The camp was quiet and dead, save for Miss Irons and Wanderer sitting by a wagon and enjoying the day; everypony else was still sleeping off their alcohol, by the looks of things. That suited Kestrel just fine for the moment; the less she had to talk and listen, the better for her aching head. Hopefully she could avoid any conversation until after lunch. The gunslinger grimaced and turned around, dunking her muzzle into the lake and taking several gulps of water straight from the source. It wasn’t the healthiest, she knew, but if she got cholera, at least it wouldn’t hit her until after the conference tomorrow. Besides, whatever residual alcohol was left in her system had to be enough to go kill any disease that got inside. That was how disease worked, right? She could have sworn she’d heard Wanderer or Tumbleweed talking about disease being caused by tiny little creatures getting into the body and causing a mess, or something like that… She shook her head and turned away from the lake. Maybe she was still drunk, with thoughts like that. She could probably use another hour or two to sleep off the booze, but she was up now, so she might as well get the day started. An omelet or two would wake her right up, she was sure. Venturing over to the chuck wagon, Kestrel dug through the back until she found a cast iron pan and a bundle of eggs tucked away in the shade inside. She tucked the pan under one wing and the eggs in the other, as well as some cheese and vegetables to make something simple, and trotted back toward the fire. Wanderer looked up and nodded to her as she passed, an amused smile on his face. “I was wondering if you were going to drown down there,” he teased her. “I woke up this morning and found you awfully close to the water. Too much to drink last night?” “Somethin’ of the sort,” Kestrel mumbled with a shake of her head. “Figured I’d enjoy myself one last time ‘fore the Pinks gun us all down tomorrow.” “Oh, don’t be a defeatist,” Miss Irons chastised her. “It doesn’t become you, Kestrel.” “Whatever you say.” Kestrel left the two old lovebirds to their morning seclusion and made her way down to the fire pit. At least Wanderer had made a fire this morning, likely to brew the coffee he loved so much, even if it was dying down. Kestrel set the pan aside and grabbed a stick to stoke the flames, and once the orange tongues leapt up once more, snapping and crackling, she mixed together the ingredients for her omelet and set to work. The smell made her mouth water, and her stomach growled in anticipation of something that wasn’t alcohol. The smell also seemed to draw out the flies—or at least Roughshod, who staggered over from the other end of the camp, his eyelids half-closed and his eyes bloodshot from the late night and alcohol. He grunted and sat down across from Kestrel, taking a big whiff of the smell of cooking eggs. “Makin’ breakfast for us, Kessie?” he asked her. “Make sure to put extra peppers in mine. Gotta have peppers.” “Fuck off, Rough,” Kestrel growled. “You can make your own when I’m done with the damn thing. I ain’t your momma.” “That’s a relief,” Roughshod said. “I ain’t sure I could stand bein’ related to you, Kessie.” “The feelin’s mutual, big guy.” Kestrel grabbed a fork in her feathers and scraped her omelet off onto a tin plate, then tossed the scalding iron pan at Roughshod, who barely managed to leap out of the way before it touched him. “There. Go make your own.” “Dumb broad,” Roughshod grumbled, walking away to grab his own ingredients from the chuck wagon. “You coulda burned me!” “Just checkin’ to see if you were awake or not.” Kestrel said, and the gunslinger dug into her fresh breakfast once she gave it a minute to cool down. She already started feeling better with some food in her. Maybe she wasn’t half as bad a cook as she thought she was after all. Little by little, the Gang started to wake up and the camp came to life, as the sleeping drunkards slowly roused themselves from wherever they’d passed out. Silver Wings wandered into the middle of the camp, her mane amess with little bits of twigs and leaves sticking out of it, and immediately went to go make herself some coffee, while Snapshot took a seat by the fire and immediately started cleaning his rifle, looking none the worse for wear. Kestrel didn’t know if the unicorn ever drank enough to get drunk or simply was immune to alcohol, because she could have sworn she’d seen him drinking at some point last night. One of these days, she really needed to pin the stallion down over a few drinks and get him to talk. Maybe she’d learn something interesting about the quiet unicorn. Tumbleweed was one of the last to join the Gang by the fire, save for Trixie, who liked to sleep in normally, and probably wouldn’t be awake until lunch after drinking last night. The stallion grunted and tugged on the straps of his suspenders as he sat down near Kestrel, a hoof rubbing at his eyes. “That was somethin’ last night,” he said, chuckling lightly. “Good way to spend our last carefree night for the foreseeable future.” “Hopefully there’ll be many more after the job,” Kestrel said. “Once we’re safe with the money, it’ll be time to go wild again.” “And I’m lookin’ forward to such a time,” Tumbleweed agreed. “We just gotta get through things tomorrow. Now, Starlight said she and her friends would be ‘round tonight once they get the uniforms we need after the convention closes for the day. Guess that means we got some time to relax, get ready, do whatever you want ‘fore then. Last chance to enjoy some quiet time ‘fore the shootin’ starts tomorrow.” “Don’t make it sound so final, boss,” Roughshod said. “We’re gonna stomp them Pinks and Apples. We’ll hit ‘em so hard they ain’t ever gonna be able to get after us, not for a good long while.” “We can only hope so,” Tumbleweed said. “As for myself, I think I’ll spend the day doin’ some fishin’ down by the lake. Always was a good way to calm my nerves.” “Might find somethin’ to beat my hooves into,” Roughshod said. “Unless somepony wants to come sparrin’ with me for a few rounds. I promise I won’t rough you up too much.” Silver held up her hooves and shook her head. “That ain’t for me, Rough,” she said. “Think I’m just gonna fly ‘round some. Be the best way to get my thoughts in order and just enjoy the skies ‘fore the chaos tomorrow.” “Aww, don’t be a foal,” Roughshod teased her. “You look like you need a few lessons in good ol’ fashioned brawlin’.” When Silver shook her head some more, Roughshod looked at Kestrel. “Well, Kessie? What ‘bout you?” 1.     Focus on recovering from the hangover. 2.     Practice target shooting with Snapshot. 3.     Spar with Roughshod. 4.     Help Miss Irons clean things up around the camp. 5.     Go for a walk with Wanderer. 6.     Take a flight and hunt for thermals with Silver. 7.     Go fishing with Tumbleweed.