//------------------------------// // 1. The Mare In The West // Story: Bounty On The Frontier // by MajorPaleFace //------------------------------// I guess I should have stayed in school. Ash wiped the sweat from her brow, her battle armour was unwieldy and heavy, made worse by the never-ending Southern Equestrian heat. They had been marching for hours, this the middle of the second day. Ash was a Thestral or 'bat pony'. Larger than their Equestrian cousins, she could never figure out why the Thestrian leadership allowed them to be used like expendable muscle. Ash had been in the Batican City Territorial Army Reserve for two years, stupidly signing up for six. Her platoon had been ordered to escort on-hoof a Crystal Empire Stallion by the name of Soft Shine, who sat inside a cushy four-wheeled carriage. He was the new money in the brewery business, Batican City itself had been built inside a cave network but above ground the arid landscape had been transformed into crop fields. Grapes for wine, barley for beer and sugarcane and maize for alcohol. The new money, and others like him, had seen plantations established all over, and as a Thestral you had three main types of employment: as a Guard, a fishermare or a farmer. On the approach to his southern-most and newest sugarcane field, the road had wound through a dried up riverbed. Up ahead the lead of the pack stopped. Soft Shine sighed loudly, “Guard! Why have we stopped?” Ash could hear from her spot behind the cart. He had an irritating hoity voice. “The roads blocked.” A gruff stallion replied. “Landslide.” “Well go around, what about that road there?” “Sir, I'm not sure about that, we can remove the –” “Nonsense,” Soft Shines interrupted, “I have an excellent sense of direction. I’m quite sure we can make it this way: all roads lead to the same destination, my father always used to say.” “As you like, sir.” The same gruff speaker allowed. The scenic route was just that, passing barrel cacti and the occasional rock. The path was narrow and uneven, and their already feeble pace was slowed to a crawl. “Oh laws it is hot, I do need a rest. Guard, stop the cart.” Soft Shines uppity voice called out. Their caravan ground to a halt, either side the two rows of dirty and tired Thestrals moved to rest positions. Ash puffed out a hot breath as Soft Shines backed his silk-covered self onto the path. “All this travelling is simply exhausting,” the noble complained. “Yes, sir,” Ash’s Sergeant said unenthusiastically. Their rest dragged into a few minutes, although she was supposed to remain in formation, Ash had to relieve herself. No sooner had she lifted her tunic and squatted behind some dead vegetation than an explosion shook the earth and made her lurch. Shouts and the clashing of weapons sounded and Ash stumbled over herself to get back to the column. Another wagon had pulled up on the road ahead, bandana-wearing, sword wielding bandits were rushing the Thestral Formation. A mix of ponies and Thestrals. Another Explosion flashed bright orange. After lowering to her belly, Ash scanned the left side. There was a Unicorn, she could hear them charging their horn for another attack. The first shot had hit the four-Thestral pulling team, turning them to chunks of flesh contained in plate armour and suspended in webs of their own skin. The second had landed right where Ash should have been, the crater turned to glass and the five Guards around her, Ash’s friends, blasted to pulp. A third flash heralded another explosion, this one missed the Carriage and blasted a huge crater in the sand behind. Soft Shines had scampered under the cart and was trembling and crying. Ash rushed left, running quickly through prickly brittle bushes and over thorny cacti. The Unicorn was standing between a taller species of Cactus and flung it at her telekinetically after seeing her. Ash dodged, using her wings to catapult her forward. The Unicorn, who was blood orange in colour with salt and pepper mane, drew a crappy looking blade. If you could afford it, or if you were an officer you got the good stuff. Sabres and wing-blades – lightweight and extremely sharp. Ash only had a basic-issue forged steel short sword, it didn’t have a guard over the handle, which she held in her mouth. Their weapons clashed, the speed and anger in the Unicorns movements meant he was probably using uppers. Uppers, or speed, was a name for methamphetamine. A favourite of the nasty drug-crazed criminals in this region, the ponies who used it felt no fear. The unicorn wasn’t giving up easily, on the main road a sharp scream was cut short wetly. She parried left and the Unicorn tried to zap her with a bolt of magic. Ash sidestepped, turned in and kicked the bandits' legs out. Dust and sand swirled as he fell, and she with him. Unicorns were especially dangerous because they could kill you in a multitude of ways and you wouldn’t see it coming. Ash head-butted the Unicorn, his face scrunched and his horn crackled, then they rolled several times. Hot sand was in her mouth and eyes, the Unicorn pressed down on her as she landed underneath. Her sword just barely preventing his blade from slashing her jugular. They rolled again, this time she applied pressure on the poor quality sword, while plucking out a small hunting knife. She nearly had it in the Pony’s eye, but a jerk of his head meant it only cut his cheek. He yelled and struck her with his foreleg, then began desperately trying to force her head away with his untangled hoof. It neared her mouth and she bit clean through the thick keratin covering. Hot blood rushed down the back of her throat and the Unicorn screamed, she unreleased the hoof from her teeth and drove the knife down with blows from her other leg. The tip kissed his neck and he wailed, thrashing around. The second dug deeper and a wet shriek escaped him, finally it sank deep into the Unicorns throat, a geyser of blood spurted out and covered her. Matting her grey fur. Ash breathed deeply, spitting up blood not her own, and stumbling to all four hooves. It was mostly quiet, dead lay all around, and smoke fluttered over three glassy craters. There was a sob from the cart, and then a grunt. She approached warily, repositioning her sword into her hoof so she could speak. “Hello?” She demanded. “Gahh!” A strained voice cried in pain. Ash carefully trod over the bodies, checking for survivors. They all lay motionless, covered in blood. Under the cart, Soft Shines lay while peeking out fearfully. Two Thestrals were on the ground as well. One was the gruff-voiced Sergeant – a makeshift knife jutted out from his chest between his armour plates. The other wore rags and saddlebags, and was still alive. A big gut wound was weeping steadily as the Thestral tried to paw it shut. Gut trauma hurt, but it bled you out slow. He could still live for another two hours. It seemed she was the only survivor. Ash watched him struggle, “you brought this on yourself.” The bandit croaked, pawing at his saddlebags and retrieving a scrap of paper. Ash took the offered material. It read: Banjo, take your crew down to the trail at the Shines new field, switch the route and ambush the convoy. Heavy security, so you’ll need to be careful. Bring Soft Shines to me, Alive at Rattlesnake Ranch. You’ll get your money. - Rattlesnake The bandit croaked, “th-thousand bits. Help me and,” he rasped, “I’ll split the reward.” Ash whistled low and slow. five hundred bits? That was more than she made in a year. Soft Shines stirred and removed himself from under the cart. “My goodness, what a disaster!” The irritating Shines crowed. “He’s offering me money to take you to some pony calling themselves rattlesnake,” Ash said. “Rattlesnake? That philistines been trying to scare me out of business for months. I’m rather starting to regret coming down here,” Shines volunteered while he adjusted his silken casualwear. “Where is Rattlesnake Ranch?” Ash asked. “Somewhere further south, near a lake.” As Shines stepped away, the dying bandit raised a hoof and coughed, desperation in his yolky eyes, “you can have more than half!” HIs eyes fluttered and he settled into the dirt. “Is that so!?” Shines asked incredulously. He spoke down to the bandit, “what a disgrace, get me out of here mare.” He started to climb back into the cart. Ash snorted, “he just offered me lots of coin to kidnap you, aren’t you even gonna offer to buy me out?” He turned, his light yellow face turning red with obvious anger, “you've already been bought. Now unhook those poor sods and drive me away from here!” She’d already decided what to do. There’d be no turning back. Ash disliked military service, she disliked her family and Batican City to boot. And she hated Ponies like Soft Shines. She dropped down to the bandit, turfing out his satchel. Tobacco, a water bladder, some crusty bread and some Equestrian bits. There were also a set of shackles. She took the cuffs, the bandit weakly grasped Ash’s foreleg and she slapped it off easily. “What are you doing?” Shines demanded. Ash didn't answer, instead, she thrust her sword though the bandits neck. He died with a sickening schlick sound. She tossed the shackles at Shines hooves, “put em on.” He gaped, “you’re crazy!” Ash took a menacing step forward, she was covered in blood. Soft Shines backed into the carriage, trying to put as much distance between him and Ash. “Put them on!” She shouted. He rattled around the inside of the cart, “Help! Somepony help me!” Shines screamed frantically. It felt good watching him squirm, “ain’t no use in hollering, ain’t nopony gonna hear you anyhow.”. She grit her teeth as she spoke, “now put em on, or I’ll come in there. And trust me mister Shines – you do not want that.” He shakily began locking his four legs in the chains and brackets. “You don’t know who your messing with! My family are very wealthy, you’ll be hunted like a diamond dog to the edge of the map!” She ignored him. Ash removed her armour. The heavy and mostly worthless for protection – as evidenced by all the dead Thestrals – plates clattered as she tossed the segments into the cart. Ash dragged the tied up Shines roughly, he fell into the dirt with a pathetic moan. She forced him along the track, ahead of the bodies and hauled him into the bandit carriage. It was a simple two-wheeler, sun-damaged rose paint peeled and flaked. The small cargo space had some rations and jugs of both water and liquor. There was some rope, and Ash used a complicated nautical knot to tie Shines down. “Don’t go nowhere now,” she said. He glared at her. She trotted back to Soft Shines expensive-looking carriage. Inside were a few sacks and designer glass bottles. The bags had fine clothes and a nice blanket. She emptied one sack and put the blanket inside, there was a lockbox under the seat, and that went in the sack too. Along with two bottles of Soft Shines liquor, a case of cigars and an expensive lighter. A small sack of fine food, cheeses, crackers, and fresh bread was inside. Both sacks went into the cart next to Shines. She began appropriating some gear from the deceased, a crisscrossed leather strap across her torso, and some very nice saddlebags. Their group Captian lay dead in a ditch nearby, he had an expensive Thestrian Sabre. The equally exquisite sheath looked good against her side. He had a nice pocket watch too, which she seized. Guardsmare De La Bourg lay dead a short distance from where Ash had nearly met her end, skewed through the back with a sharpened pole. Ash dragged her toward Shines Carriage, dumping her just underneath. The mare had been far too chatty, always trumpeting on about her home. Well, she’d gone and gotten herself dead, and Ash was going to ensure nopony would suspect her. Before when she’d thought about there only being three kinds of work for a Thestral, there was another way. If she did this deal with Rattlesnake, she’d be leaving her old life behind to find fortune by robbing fools. Can’t wait, she thought. She'd had enough of working for dickheads like Soft Shines. As far as she was concerned, being a soldier meant being a lackey for the rich. And why work for the rich, who coerced and stole from folks, when you can work for yourself? Ash took a bottle of Soft Shines expensive liquor and poured it across the cart and the corpse of De La Bourg, she wanted the body nice and unrecognisable. Once empty, Ash removed her identification tags and looked at them. She swapped them for the ones around Bourgs neck. She pocketed the tags and stepped back. Taking the expensive lighter out, she lit the flint and held it low to the ground. The flames took and quickly spread across the spilt liquor. Shines had started shouting again, so she stuck a bundle of cloth in his mouth and tied up his muzzle. The pompous pony silenced, Ash hooked up to her new cart and pulled it in the direction of Rattlesnake Ranch. She didn’t even look back as the flames spread to devastate most of the ambush site. After another day and night of travelling, Ash stumbled within the side of a body of water, off to her left she could see dim notes of light. Although cold and tired, Ash kept on for the white specks. The rough ground she had been carefully navigating blended into a well-travelled path, the journey from there on was faster, smoother and gentler on her hooves. The night was as dark as they came. Without moonlight and low level cloud cover, she could feel a rain coming on as thunder rumbled off of the far Sierra San-Pony mountain range. Despite the pitch darkness, Ash could see just fine. Her Thestral eyesight gave her an advantage nocturnally. The ranch emerged ahead, semi-hidden in a dusty bowl in the landscape. Tumbleweeds drifted at the edges of the ranch fence accompanied by a light breeze. She drifted through the entrance, two wooden posts either side covered in rattlesnake skins. There was a barn, a small field to the rear behind the main building, with a barely held-together outhouse. The front door opened on squeaky hinges and five dirty ponies emerged. They had weapons drawn and spread themselves out between her and the house. A short rat-faced blue stallion came out next, he wore dirty red pyjamas – the kind with the butt-flap – and had lit a rolled cigarette that was permanently sticking out of his stubble covered mouth. He stopped just behind what Ash thought of as his compadres. Ash had unhooked herself and was bringing the shackled and gagged Soft Shines down to present to rat face. “Eh, who are you and what are you doing here?” Rat faced asked in a quasi-Mexican accent. “I ran into your little raid on Soft Shines convoy. I met a Thestral called Banjo, he didn’t make it. Before he died he told me you’re paying one thousand bits for this here pony,” Ash said steadily. He sighed in a groaning manner, puffing his cigarette, “Banjos dead? Damn chica, bad mojo, no?” He spat out the butt, and lit another immediately, “so, you want me to pay one thousand for this Stallion?” “That’s what was written in the letter,” Ash said. Ratface stepped passed his compadres, “what if I said that was a deal for Banjo. And I think you killed him and stole his bounty. What would you say to that chica?” She placed one hand at the hilt of her new sabre, “I’d say that was pure speculation, with no evidence to back it up.” His face crinkled into a smile as he looked back at his fellows, “oh, I don’t know. I think he might’ve seen something.” Ratface stepped close, lowering to meet Soft Shines gaze, “did you see something, did you? Did this mare Rob you and tie you up?” Shines was screaming through his cloth, “yes! Yes! Help me! I have money, I have money – I’ll pay you!” “Oh-ho-ho, ha. Mira, he has money.” Rat-Face drew a blade far too quickly for Ash’s liking and pointed it as Shines, “I’ve got money too, amigo.” He turned to his Compadres, “hey mouse, go get it.” A small white Stallion slowly backed up to the main house and entered. “Oh chica,” rat face smiled with yellow teeth, “you’ve done a good thing for me.” Mouse returned with a satchel, it bulged. Rat Face took it from mouse and shook it lightly, making a jingling sound. His eyebrows raised in an expression of temptation, “now, ain’t that the best sound you ever heard, chica?” It did sound good, “hoof it over, and you get Shines. No funny business.” Ratface looked offended, “no problema. He put the money down halfway between Ash and the Compadres, then backed up with a foreleg held up non-threateningly. Ash gave Shines a shove, but he resisted and looked back fearfully. “They’ll kill me!” He muffled through his gag. “I don’t fucking care,” Ash said slowly, pushing him hard toward Rat Face. She kept pace with him, still ready to draw her weapon if anypony made a wrong move. At the halfway point she quickly picked up the satchel, wildly checking Rat Face and his compadres weren’t up to anything. Because Shines slowed the closer he got, Rat Face jumped forward and beat him around the head with his hoof and Ash backed away quickly. Shines lay on the ground, coughing through his gag as blood gushed from his nose. The pyjama wearing pony laughed cruelly, “ponlo en el granero.” Ash’s grasp of the southern Equestrian language was minimal, but she understood well enough as Shines was dragged toward the barn. She tossed her money into the cart and hooked herself up. “You ever need work this way, let me know!” Rat Face called after her. Ash nodded at him as she left, not intending to be anywhere near here again. She wasn’t stupid, as soon as Shines convoy hadn’t shown up yesterday, search teams would scour the area until they found the massacred escort. Guards would descend on the region, hopefully, discover De La Bourgs body with Ash’s identification tags and rule her out as the one to take Shines away. They’d probably also be able to trace her cart to Rattlesnake ranch, the tracks across the desert easily visible – something she’d made sure of. Once at the Ranch – she was gambling that Shines and Rat Faces' bad blood was well established, and if no evidence was found they’d probably accuse Rat Face outright. Either way, as she left she adhered to the roadway. The route would cover her a little and make it difficult for anypony to follow her. She knew there was a town a days travel from here, so she’d settle her affairs and then disappear southwest, looking for work. Ash was already tired but felt well enough to go on without rest, only stopping briefly to wash as much of the blood from herself as she could after crossing a stream. She could catch a breather once out of the frying pan – so to speak. Two weeks later. Somewhere in the Western sands. Ash and her cart were on the road to a town that she'd found on a map, the sign outside the town read 'saguaro'. This far west would be advantageous for Ash in that it was fairly lawless, not to mention most ponies viewed the west as an obstacle, not a destination. Fearing the rugged mountains, vast deserts and many native tribes. Perfect for a new start. After rattlesnake ranch, she had arrived at the next town along, traded the weapons to a merchant for a month's supplies, bought a fishing pole, a tent and fire-starting gems. Checking her pocket watch often as daybreak came and went, she had spent no more than an hour in the town. She had a meal and a whiskey at the tavern and moved on with directions to a town along the way with less law and work for a mare like Ash. Saguaro was down in a valley alongside a stream, it had a small windmill and a watermill. A few patchy sets of crops existed, as well as a pen for chickens. Masses of them, as she entered the sparsely populated township they roamed freely everywhere. This place should have been called chicken town. There was a sheriff’s office at the end of the towns main street, the wooden buildings were dirty and flimsy and the entire place was smokey, smelly and cramped. A saloon lay halfway down one side, the batwing doors clattered open and a brown Pegasi was tossed into the street. He rolled in the mud and groaned. She left her cart outside and entered, all of her valuables were stored inside her saddlebags, and she had pulled a sheet of canvas and tied it down tightly to cover the contents of her cart. The inside of the bar was smokey. Stallions in one corner played poker – expressions hidden behind wide-brimmed hats. Almost all the ponies inside were smoking pipes or cigarettes. A single stallion sat in the middle at a bench, eating some kind of stew off a tin plate. The bar was short, and a mare behind was busy wiping a dirty glass with an equally filthy rag. Ash made herself comfortable, only getting the barmaids attention after placing a few bits on the bar. “What’ll ya have?” The mare asked. “Whiskey,” Ash said, “and get one for yourself.” “Well, thank ya kindly, four bits,” she said. Ash paid while the barmaid poured, they raised their shot glasses, touched them together and drank after bouncing them off the bar top. “So,” Ash began, “I hear this place has some work for a mare who ain’t afraid of getting her hooves dirty.” The barmaid nodded, “well I ain’t got nothing – head down to the Sheriff’s office, he might have something for you.” Ash smiled thinly, “Is there somewhere I can leave my cart? Somewhere it ain’t gonna get stolen?” The barmaid shrugged, “bring it round back and I can keep an eye on it. Ten bits a night. Rooms usually 25 if'n you need one, you can have it for 5.” “You don’t get a lot of customers’ I’m guessing, with a discount like that,“ Ash noted breezily. The barmaid took off her apron, “it's too early in the season for prospectors. Getting to be fewer of em with each year, too. Mercs' and Bounty Hunters mostly. A couple came this way three days ago, the sheriff sent em off and they haven’t come back.” Ash did her best to absorb every word, “they cause any trouble?” The barmaid shook her head, “naw, nothing like that – he sent em off to handle some business. Some asshole came through last week, killed one of my mares and cut up another one real bad.” Ash frowned, “mares?” “Yeah you know, working fillies. Bout the only way a mare can make any money round these parts, less you know how to handle a weapon. “Well,” ash said, “that’s a real shame. Look, I’ll drop my wagon around back – I’ll give you ten bits to hold it, and be by later on.” The barmaid nodded as she came out to take a few dirty glasses off a table, “okay then.” Ash put ten bits down and left. She hooked up and brought the cart behind the saloon. The rear of it fed into a stable, and she reversed it inside. She closed the doors and started for the sheriff’s office. The office was really just a small one-level home with the word 'sheriff' scrawled on one wall. She knocked at the door, a bitter male voice shouted, “ it's open!” Inside was a stuffy and bare-bones living room, a single table with a single seat and a fireplace. She could see a small kitchen in a side room, a tub of water piled with dirty plates and clothes alike. The room smelled like body odour and tobacco smoke, tinted with mould and dust. A stocky Auburn coated stallion emerged from a bedroom at the rear of the home. He had frown lines all over his face. He wore a leather duster, leather hat and boots of all things. Ash thought only rich assholes wore boots. He tweaked his silver sheriff’s star pinned to his chest, “who are you, what are you doing in my town and what do you want?” “Names Ash, Sheriff,” she said, trying to seem polite. “I came looking for work, and I heard you had a job chasing some stallion?” He came forward, using a foreleg he dragged a metal pot near himself, sniffed and coughed – then spat a thick black wad into the tin. He sniffed again, saliva trailed down his chin and he looked at Ash with dull eyes. “Crazy thing, what that colt did. I already done sent three killers after him, but that was days ago.” He tossed her a piece of paper from his desk, “goes by Colter, he’s big and ugly, dark tan coat, shaved his mane off he did.” On the paper, a crude image of the Stallion showed him as having a fairly square face, with green eyes and a lip scar. “You go git em, dead or alive and the town can pay you 75 bits.” Ash moved closer to him, he stuck a ball of tobacco in his mouth and began chewing. “Alright Sheriff, you got a deal. Any idea where he might be?” He took out a map, “five days ago he was seen heading south toward hooters hollow. Three days ago I sent those mercs’ after em, yesterday a traveller coming from that'a way said he was attacked by a feller looked just like our Colter. Passed the three ponies I’d sent, and wound up here – then they left.” “Okay,” Ash said, her mind awash with pieces of a plan. “You got another map?” “Sure,” he said, “you can have this one. I got others,” he spat more tobacco. “I reckon I’ll be back by tomorrow. Or the day after.” The sheriff made an expression like he’d believe it when he saw it and returned to the bedroom to leave Ash to show herself out. Ash stopped by the saloon, telling the barmaid she could keep her stuff if she didn’t come back – and that she’d pay for any more days if she did. She returned outside, it was late in the afternoon and the scorching sun had finally started to lower. In a 26 hour day, the west got almost 18 hours of sunlight. She extended her leathery bat wings, giving them a good stretch and began warming up the joints with little circular motions. Once she felt comfortable, she conferred with the map, before taking off fast, the air rushed past her face – and she climbed high. Ash levelled out, the town of saguaro appearing to be miniature. Gliding on rising hot winds, ash allowed herself to drift, she could cover huge distances like this and would fly all night. Her eyesight allowing her to pinpoint this colt with ease. She just had to catch up first. The flight spanned over miles of never-ending desert. Occasional rocky formations and mountains broke up the sameness, her shadow trailing down to her left, tracing over dirt and cacti. She glided for hours, night-time approached but was still about four hours away. She was following the road, checking as far as she could see for any signs of life. There was smoke on the horizon, a tiny trail of white that led down into a small cluster of black tents. Ash started lowering down to get a better look, she circled the camp – seeing a dozen shapes moving around. Several ponies moved around, they hadn’t spotted her yet. She decided to chance talking to them. She dropped to ten meters and glided around the camp, a few of them spotted her and tracked her as she circled. Finally, she looped around and landed at the camp entrance, under a solitary tree that provided some much-needed relief from the harsh sun. Two ponies approached, a dark violet Pegasi and the other, actually a mule – a pony/donkey hybrid. Them stopping several body lengths away from her. “What do you want?” The mare asked in a sharp biting tone. Ash took a drink from her water bladder, “information. I’m looking for a stallion, he killed a prostitute down in Saguaro. He’s big and has no mane, dark tan coat.” The mare looked at the mule and spoke in a language Ash had never heard before. The mule, also a female, given her mature kindred voice, returned something back in the same language. “This is Nerja,” the Pegasus introduced the mule, pronouncing it Ner-ca. “She invites you to sit with us." Ash needed a lead, and so accepted – hoping to get anything on the pony called Colter. The camp was simple and looked to be only temporary. The three mares sat on some old well-worn mats, and Ash was given a little cloth-wrapped brick about the size of a spectacle case. “What’s this?” Ash asked, confused. The mule spoke in that same language, the Pegasus translating, “its who we are.” “Heroine,” the mule emphasised. Ash gave it back to Nerja, “so you’re drug smugglers.” The Pegasus translated, Nerja laughed, her translator speaking, “we’re business ponies. But unfortunately, we are having some problems moving our business through the county into Equestria." Ash leant back a little, “and why are you telling me? I might be the law.” More translating, “Nerja doesn’t believe you are, she has an offer for you, you are a mercenary, yes?” “I’m not anything. What’s the offer?” Nerja spoke, several sentences at once, the Pegasus speaking in Equestrian after, “we know where the pony you’re looking for went, if you take this sample to our buyer in Riverside, west of here, and return, we’ll tell you where he is.” Ash stood, “as long as I’m paid, you got it.” The Pegasus spoke to the mule, she never breaking eye contact with Ash. “She says you are being paid in information." “You’re asking me to detour quite a ways here,” Ash said, “I could probably find him without your help – his bounty is more worth my time,” it wasn’t, but they didn’t know that. Nerja and her Translator spoke, “she says if her offer is not worth your time, good luck." Ash smiled in a fake friendly way, “alright. Who’s the buyer?” “He calls himself Mister Hay. Find him in an abandoned warehouse on the west side of town, you’ll draw attention if you fly overhead, so go around, use the creek,” the Pegasus informed and advised. “And try not to dawdle, this buyer could mean big money for us.” Ash took the sample when Nerja offered it and took off after exiting the camp. Ash had been flying west for an hour, the sun still offering plenty of light. Around a small lumber mill, which looked abandoned, was the town of Riverside. It seemed from the air that the once large river had dried up, along with any interest in the town. She dropped down to ground level, masterfully skirting trees and boulders and hugging contours in the land. She overshot the creek and glided around to meet it again. Dipping her wings, and lowering into it. She continued gliding along the stream, using it as cover. On the right, there was an old wooden dock and boat storage, far away from where the trickling stream was today. Ash dashed up under one of the boardwalks and peered out at the town. It was similar to Saguaro, only bigger with a lot more residential looking buildings. The west side looked to be the old industrial sector, with abandoned buildings and warehouses overgrown with weeds and sparse desert grass. She didn’t see anypony, and so dashed over the ground and landed right by the first warehouse. Well, she didn’t think of it as the first, but more like the warehouse. The door rolled open, and she stepped through the crack. Closing it behind her. Sunset was fast approaching and she wanted to be out of here before nightfall. Ash inspected the property, rusty tins and marks in the wooden floor made her think the place had been filled with heavy machinery. Probably a canning factory. Ash gave the expansive place a look over, nothing of interest, seemed everything had been stripped. The roof had huge rafters, so she leapt into flight and landed on a beam near the middle. There was a partial wall, which offered some cover from below, as well as a gap in the rooftop, so she could watch the road. It wasn’t long before a pony passed on the other side of the street, he moved through an alleyway and she lost sight of them. Shortly after, she heard hoof steps outside and angled herself to see the long shadow of a pony right against the outside wall. Another door rolled open and shut again. Then silence. “I know you are here, reveal yourself.” She paused, checking outside again and listening for any other signs this might go bad. She dropped down quietly, landing with a flourish of her wings. The stallion was a white colour of thin yet muscular build, with an off white shirt and a black vest over it. He had a cherry red mane and tail that was well-groomed with a large handlebar moustache of the same colour. His cold brown eyes looked her up and down, “are you the mules' emissary?” He had the voice of a stallion who’d spent a lot of time at the theatre. “I am,” she said. “Do you have what we requested?” He asked. Ash feigned confusion, a thought suddenly coming to her, “where’s the payment?” He frowned, “I wasn’t informed there was to be an exchange on my part. What are you talking about?” Ash sank a hip impatiently, “my employers negotiated a small fee for this drop a short time ago.” His eyebrows rose, “I suppose such a thing is possible, I’ve been stuck in this town for a while now. Fine, this should cover you for your grievance.” He removed a small coin purse from his vest, counting out a couple dozen bits. He held it out, and Ash took the money, placing the heroine brick in his waiting hoof. “Ah,” he said, appraising the brick, “tell your superiors we shall be making contact with them shortly, and here is proof of our meeting.” With that, Mister Hay gave her a small band of copper, withdrew himself out of the door, opening it and then closing it behind him. She could hear his hoof falls gradually fade. She put the coins and copper ring in her saddlebags, shit, tricking ponies into handing over money is easier than I thought. And that gave her a dopey smile for the journey back. Once over the camp, only visible by the firelight as darkness had mostly enveloped the landscape. No moon, once again. She spiralled and touched down softly under the same tree as before. The dark violet Pegasus from earlier approached, stopped halfway, and gestured for Ash to approach. “You get on okay?” She asked Ash. “Sure, smooth as silk,” Ash showed her the copper ring. "Keep it. If you ever need work down in Mule City, come find us at North park station. Show the ring to the teller, and we’ll make contact.” She tossed a rolled map at Ashs' hooves. She tipped an imaginary hat at the Pegasus, “I’ll bear that in mind” As the violet mare left, Ash unfurled the map. It had both Riverside and Saguaro, and a red circle had been marked around a place the sheriff had told her of – hooters hollow. Ash stored the map and copper, then resumed the journey further south.