After marching about ten miles, Ash had placed her saddlebags in a pit nestled between a triangle-shaped boulder and a dead scrub. It was still dark but despite that she didn’t want to risk getting spotted if it there turned out to be Thestral law at this marker.
She’d belly crawled west for five minutes, hugging the terrain while stopping every once in a while to listen. Finally, she broke the summit of a mesa that overlooked a dried lake plateau. It was a village alright, barely. But something was happening. The village, if it could be called that, had five small huts around a larger central townhouse.
They had a tall metal wind pump and a few cables suspended on poles that led from the tower to each building. Whoever the inhabitants were, they appeared to be in trouble. Tables and chairs had been used to barricade the town and a pen outside the village had three dead cows inside.
A dozen raiders of some kind were whirling around waving torches, firing arrows and generally trying to break through to the village’s occupants. It was hard to understand from this distance, but it looked like twice as many ponies stood behind the barriers brandishing brooms, shovels and the occasional knife.
Ash had patrolled much of western Thestria with the Guard and it was always the same. If you had a trickle of water and some geothermal power, there was always some asshole who wanted to kill you for it. Ash was no hero in her mind. But if she could help turn the tide, maybe the ponies would be grateful. Maybe they’d chuck a little coin her way.
She watched for a time. Neither side gained an advantage. But then with a whooping cry from the raider’s leader, they turned and barrelled away toward Ash. Shit. If they spot me I’m as good as dead.
Ash backtracked, slipping into a crevice and pulling a scrub down to cover her. Hoof-falls beat the ground as the raiders passed by a few feet from her, torchlight casting wild shadows all-around before fading. Her heart hammered in her ears. The hoof-beats subsided and she chanced a look around. All clear. She noted.
She’d never be able to take them all out on her own and while the getting was good she moved on the town. The area around the village displayed evidence of fighting, there were dried blood pools, drag marks and hoofprints. The villagers tensed up as she charged across the open lakebed, emerging from the darkness to the perimeter. As she neared a harsh female voice called “That’s far enough!”
Ash stopped a few body lengths from the makeshift fence. A dusty white grimace emerged between two of the tables. Cast in shadows, her puffed-up blue eyes were framed with a bright scarlet fringe. “We don’t want whatever you’re here for missy. Y'all best turn around and head back the way ya came,” the red-headed pony said with a southern drawl.
Ash kept her hooves away from her weapon. “I need your help, and you need mine. Let me in before they come back and we can talk about it.”
The mare’s eyes narrowed shrewdly, “ah’ don’t reckon we will. We can talk plenty right here.”
Ash took a chance in drawing her sabre and the few eyes that looked on widened with fear. She tossed the blade to the ground by the tables. “I mean you no harm, honestly. Take my weapon and let me in.”
The grimace softened into consideration. She backed off and a few voices all whispered harshly.
“It could be a trap! What if she’s trying to lure us out?” one cautioned.
“I don’t think so, she’s not dressed like them.” another reasoned.
Silence for a few beats. “What’re you thinkin' Red?” the first voice asked.
There was stillness. Ash was starting to wonder if disarming herself had been wise. But then the red-head emerged more openly into view. She wore dark leather overalls and had a kitchen knife in one hoof. With care, she picked up the surrendered sabre. The mare rotated it around to appraise it before levelling it at Ash.
“Come on, git inside,” she offered reluctantly, with a flick of the sabre.
Ash moved slowly and deliberately, not wanting to startle anypony into doing something stupid. She passed the barricade into the village. A dozen weary and dirty faces greeted her. None of them offered any resistance, they weakly clutched their farming tools and cleaning equipment-turned weaponry. Once the red-head had entered the tables were drawn together. Ash was effectively sealed inside the village.
“Folks call me Red, who are you?” Red asked.
“Ash,” she said. Waiting before saying more to get a feel on their intentions.
“What do you want?” The first speaker, an older stallion with a pipe stuck in his mouth asked.
“To help you help yourselves.” Ash looked around. “I need medicine and I need to get to Mulico.”
“We haven’t got any medicine. None to share with strangers anyhow,” Red stated testily.
“And,” said the pipe smoker, “Mulico’s full of crime. What sort of bad stuff are you mixed up with, filly?”
Ash ignored the query, “how about a meal, some water and a bed for a day if I help you chase off these assholes?”
Red, the pipe smoker and another young mare with wide brown eyes all exchanged glances. Red nodded and looked curiously at Ash. “What do you suggest we do?” Red asked, returning the sabre back to Ash.
“Firstly,” she took the weapon, “tell me about the raiders.”
Red led Ash further into the village. There were ponies on watch positions around the barricade, armed only with a torch and hope. “It started a week ago,” Red began. “Couple fellers shows up, saying this was their turf and to pay them for protection.”
The brown-eyed mare was following behind Ash, and she hadn’t taken her eyes off of her the entire time. Ash tried to ignore it. “Then a few days later, a whole bunch of em come round threatening the place. So we gathered what we could to defend ourselves. But they cleared off once we stood up to em. Thought we wouldn’t see anymore of em.”
Red walked up the two steps into a raised shack on the eastern side of town. The lakebed stretched on seemingly to the infinite. The dark was swallowing anything a few feet past the shack’s lakeside exterior.
Ash walked in next closely followed by the brown-eyed mare. The room was basic, a few cots stacked on one side, a table with an oil lamp and another cot with an occupant. Two dirty young fillies sat on either side of the cot. The stallion inside had a cloth covering his head, redness staining the material. He also had a wound on his torso which looked to still be bleeding. His breath was slow and wheezy.
“Last night they came through. I had a couple of ponies on lookout. Now they’re buried around back. They took two of our mares, poor Gust here got his scalp taken, but we got some of them as well. Few hours ago they came and dragged theirs off and been harassing us since before you showed up.”
Ash watched as Red lit a rolled cigarette. She exhaled through her nose and lifted the bandage on the top of Gust's head, her eyebrows drooped and she let it drop back down.
“Can’t stop the bleeding, don’t suppose y’all know any medicine? Our doc was one of them mares that got took.”
Ash waited while she stared at Gust’s wheezing form. Brown eyes, Red and the children all looked at her with hopeful optimism. Ash had spent time near Vareville. The area was plagued with tribes and raider gangs and scalping was a signature tactic amongst the varied groups. Ashes medical knowledge wasn’t exceptional, yet she had watched intently as a doctor from the area had treated some of her unit.
He had claimed persistently that the two best treatment methods were magical regeneration and pegging, or boring small holes in the skull. And neither was painful until the new tissue attached to the uninjured scalp. Ash stepped close and lifted the bandage to take a sniff: coppery but not foul.
“Okay,” Ash said, “first things first, take any knives you have and tie them to the ends of broomsticks, hoes or shovel handles you have. Spread your ponies out evenly and set up lookout times. Make sure some of them are sleeping and eating, or you’ll run out of juice.”
Red turned to brown eyes, who was still intently watching Ash, “Lilly, go to Ol' Custer and tell him what she said.”
Lilly left after nodding eagerly, casting a waning glance back at Ash as she did so.
“She’s got a staring problem,” Ash said.
Red frowned, “and what are we doing?” She asked hotly.
Ash looked at the two children, “I need these two to get a pail of clean hot water, a couple bottles of whiskey and I’ll need some fine tools; tweezers, an awl or drill – anything. A sewing kit and a clean towel or two and clean bandages, or some bedsheets to wrap his head once I’m done.”
The kids looked to Red with wide eyes. Red simply swished her head for the door, “go on,” and they both scurried out.
Ash removed her harness, her water bladder, belt and leather vest. There was a dirty mirror with a crack in it and she got a good look at herself for the first time in a while.
She looked sordid. Her fur was clumped in some areas and patchy in others. Her wings looked god-awful, the feathers and fur around her back had been scorched black. They were fleshy and crusty at the moment. She wasn’t terribly worried, a good doctor and a few weeks Rest and Relaxation on a hot Mulico beach would set her right.
One of the fillies returned with the handle of a pail of steamy water in her mouth. She dropped it unceremoniously, water sloshed around and splattered on the dusty floor. Ash cleared herself some space as the child fled to fetch more items on Ashes list. She placed the two stools together and sat with her rear legs wide for balance.
She pulled the pail forward and began to clean off her hooves and gave her neck and face a good scrub as well. The water was quite hot but oh so nice. It hurt as it dribbled over her sensitive wings, so she was careful not to over expose them to the water. A few minutes passed as the two children gathered her specified items. She had an awl, a sewing kit, a few different sizes of tweezers, two bottles of whiskey and a pair of stained, yet clean smelling, pillowcases.
She took a shaky breath, “okay. Here we go...”
Ash started by removing the stained and dirty bandage and pouring some whiskey over the Pony’s scalp. They jerked as their pain receptors briefly fired off, but they didn’t stir out of unconsciousness. She began with the awl, using forceful little motions to bore small holes in the skull.
She was careful not to go all the way through, she had gathered how to do this simply from observations, so who knew what complications could arise. After close to an hour of carefully drilling holes, she sat back to appraise it. The skin from around the ears had been removed all the way to the forehead, and down to the base of the skull. The skull itself was showing, with the new holes seeping cloudy red liquid.
Ash used a pillowcase to dab at the seeping holes. Essentially this practise would cause the growth of new capillaries and form scar tissue thus providing the area with a rich blood supply. Ash adjusted herself so she could work more comfortably around the stallions midsection.
She lifted the padded material across his chest and had to shut her eyes to avoid physically recoiling. The stallion had suffered multiple machete wounds. She feared improper treatment might kill him. The gashes and cuts ran deep and crisscrossed between his front legs.
The overlapping nature of the wounds was preventing them from clotting very well. Ash unfolded the sewing kit, taking the single dull needle and holding it over the flame of an oil lamp for several seconds.
Once it had air-cooled she threaded the needle with some cotton thread and began stitching. She started by dousing the cuts in whiskey, then working with a large cluster of five crisscrossing injuries. It was very untidy, his flesh bulged between the stitches but she'd sealed the largest wound. Next, Ash spent several minutes working from under his leg pit and down his side to below his ribcage.
"I can't see shit," Ash said irritatedly.
Red helped by holding an oil lamp, while one of the fillies held a little mirror to reflect more of the light. It was hot and cramped and she was sweating profusely. Finally, she was finished. Ash was by no means a doctor and she had only been taught basic first aid. But she had to admit the work she'd done wasn't basic and internally she congratulated herself.
She handed the pillowcase to one of the fillies, “just keep a close eye on him. If he wakes up don’t let him touch his head.”
She spoke to Red directly, “over the next few months, as long as his head doesn’t get infected, he should grow new skin. And eventually, his mane might even grow back!”
Red looked critically at Ash’s work. The small holes were darkening as time went on. Surely it was a good sign if what the surgeon in Vareville said was to be believed. She used the remaining lukewarm water to re-clean her hooves and gave her neck and face another splash. Red followed Ash outside. The night air was cold, but soothing to her wings. Clouds were rising above them, and evermore frequently one might glimpse the star-studded sky. Looking as sugar spilt over black marble.
“We need to organise. They’ll be back, probably at sun-up,” Ash said suddenly.
“Well, the only ones who can fight is you an' me. Now granted Custer can handle himself I guess. But the rest of these guys are farmers and miners. Ain’t even held a sword before!”
Ash frowned, “alright, I’m thinking. Tell me what you’ve got here that we can use in a fight?”
Reds face twisted and her eyes rolled exaggeratedly, “ooh why don’t I take you by the armoury and y’all can pick out whatcha like? Dumbass, we barely have a pot to piss in!” Red spat to further display her frustration.
Ash hummed, “dynamite?” She asked.
“A few sticks,” Red replied nastily.
“Setting an ambush seems easiest.”
“With the two of us?” Red scoffed. “The other night when they came there must’ve been close to thirty of em. Not sure why they don’t just roll over us, it’s not like we can offer much of a fight.”
“No, it’s not,” ash allowed. “Let’s hope when they come back it’s all of them. That way we can take them out in one blow.”
“’Take them out?!’” Red parroted, “I just wanted you to scare em off!”
Ash leaned in close, “don’t be a fool! Only way stop em is to kill em all!”
Reds gaze was as sharp as daggers, “you’re gonna get us all killed!”
“No,” Ash said with vindication, “trust me, this will work.”
Reds gaze softened a fraction. From fatigue or frustration, Ash wasn’t certain.
“So you reckon the two of us and a few sticks o' dynamite can take these fellers down?”
"Oh," Ash grinned like a predator, "I reckon we can Red."