The rain lasted the rest of the day, and continued through the night, limiting how much the Gang was willing to spend outside getting familiar with their new surroundings. It didn’t bother Kestrel too much, though she was itching to get it done as soon as possible; the rain would likely keep any Pinks that may have been pursuing them hunkered down waiting for it to pass, so they weren’t losing any time. That opportunity afforded her plenty of time to get dry and warm, and try to rest and prepare for tomorrow’s tasks.
Once the wagons were tucked away and out of sight, the Gang set about staking claims to the various buildings in the abandoned compound. There were enough of them that everypony could have their own to stay out of the elements and have their privacy, a luxury they rarely owned when traveling around Equestria. Kestrel decided to take a shack closer to the water, where one of the blown-in windows looked out on the waters of the Maressissippi and the ships sailing by. It would give her something to look at if she ever found herself alone in her room, and gave her a good vantage point to observe the island in the middle of the river and the far shoreline, in case any threats happened to approach from that angle. Though the room itself was bare, Kestrel figured she could hang up a crude hammock using some of the old fishing net that Silver had found in one of the storehouses closer to the water’s edge. That was a tantalizing thought; she’d spent so much time sleeping on the ground that she couldn’t wait to give her back a little bit of a reprieve with the hammock.
But despite all that, Kestrel struggled to fall asleep that night. Whenever her tired and aching body dragged her to sleep, her mind would conjure up nightmares that would startle her awake again. In one, she watched Wanderer’s head snap back from a gunshot, only to realize that she was holding a smoking revolver in her wing. In another, she found herself dressed in a pink suit as she prowled through the bayou, rifle raised and ready as she slowly stalked closer and closer to a campfire and the happy chatter coming from it. In a third, she fought with that PPDA agent, Lyra, with her bare hooves, only for the mint green unicorn to seize her throat with her magic and dunk her head into the river, never letting go until Kestrel could do nothing except desperately gasp for air and inhale the murky waters of the Maressissippi.
After managing to scrape together some fitful sleep, Kestrel awoke right around dawn, though she could hardly tell it by the gray clouds still hanging low over the sky, coating the ground with a light drizzle of rain. She took a few minutes to herself to try and gather her wits and wake up fully before diving headfirst into the day ahead, and nearly fell back to sleep when she rested her eyes and let the gentle swaying of her makeshift hammock rock her back and forth like a foal in a cradle. Yet eventually, she managed to hop out of the hammock and stretch each of her six limbs in turn, donning her duster and hat to keep the rain off of her coat as she made her way to the central building where the Gang was likely preparing breakfast.
The tempting smell of eggs and haybacon wafted through the door as she opened it and made her way inside, and she licked her lips in anticipation. After several days spent on the road with no time for anything except for cold rations to start the day, a nice, hearty and hot breakfast was just the thing she needed.
Unfortunately, the atmosphere inside the building was still subdued from the events in Hoofston. Miss Irons, though the one who had originally prepared the meal, had taken her tin plate and sat off to the side at a wobbly table to eat her meal alone. Sitting in the common area were Tumbleweed, Roughshod, and Snapshot, though none shared any words with each other, each eating their meal in peace. And Silver was nowhere to be seen; Kestrel wondered if she’d gotten into another bottle last night, or if the young mare had merely gone to stretch her wings and take a flight around the camp. She hoped it was the latter.
After preparing her breakfast, Kestrel took her plate in her wing and dropped it at an unoccupied spot at the table before sliding into her seat. She took a few bites, savoring the hot food, before she looked around at the stallions sitting around her. “Well? Celestia’s sake, somepony say somethin’. Breakfast ain’t the same without some chatter.”
“Breakfast ain’t the same without an old stallion and his stories,” Tumbleweed muttered. But, putting his hooves on the table and rolling his neck, the Gang’s leader pushed aside any introspection and assumed a tough and straight face. “But we still gotta get on without him. I’ll miss him—we all will—but we can’t let it slow us down. It ain’t what he woulda wanted.”
Roughshod and Snapshot nodded in agreement, though only the former voiced his thoughts. “We ain’t gonna get caught in a trap like that again. Anypony who’s between us and freedom better step aside or be moved aside. I don’t care how many Pinks, police, and ponies I have to put in the ground to make it happen, but we ain’t gonna die here in New Oatleans. It ain’t gonna happen.”
“We gotta count on each other more than ever,” Kestrel agreed. “But most importantly, we gotta act fast. We gotta scope out the situation here and figure out what to hit, fast. We give the Pinks any more time to catch up to us, it’ll be our heads.” She looked around the room and frowned. “Silvie come in here yet?”
“Just to grab some eggs earlier,” Tumbleweed said. “She’s feelin’ a bit under the weather. Gonna try to sleep it off, she said.”
Kestrel frowned at that, and her wings fidgeted at her sides. It looked like the rain did manage to go stick Silver; that meant she was the Gang’s only flier for the time being, until she got better. It wasn’t the best solution, but hopefully Silver would have enough time to recover, and this wouldn’t be anything more than a little sniffle. They needed everypony at full strength in the days to come.
“Guess I’m our scout, then,” Kestrel said. She finished off the rest of her breakfast and stood up, stretching her wings in preparation for a flight. “I’ll see if I can find anythin’ promisin’ to hit ‘fore the Pinks figure us out. Ain’t got no time to waste.”
“Don’t get killed out there,” Roughshod said. “We need at least one good pair of wings in the Gang at all times.”
“I know how to handle myself.” Kestrel dug into the pocket of her duster and pulled out a cigarette and some matches. She set the cigarette in her lips and nodded at Tumbleweed. “Your plans for today, boss?”
“Keep everypony safe and maybe explore a bit more ‘round the camp,” Tumbleweed said. “Best to know the terrain right ‘round us in case we get any unexpected visitors. You’ll be the only one headin’ out today, so stay safe.”
Kestrel nodded and struck her match off her horseshoe, lighting her cigarette before turning away to head out the door. “Right. Be back ‘fore sunset, at the latest.”
She made her way outside and, after spending a few minutes to finish off her cigarette, tossed the butt away and took to the sky. She built up a little bit of altitude before looking outwards, where the great Maressissippi meandered north and south through the lush bayou surrounding New Oatleans. To the north, she saw the rise in the bayou that marked the hideout of the moonshiners, while to the south, the city of New Oatleans beckoned to her, a jewel at the mouth of the river. All she had to do was decide on a direction and fly, and see where the winds of fate took her.
1. Return to the moonshiners. Some new friends could be just the thing we need to make some headway here, and maybe they’ll know somethin’ we wouldn’t find out anyplace else. ‘Course, they could just shoot me; that wouldn’t get the Gang very far, now would it?
2. Head south to New Oatleans. We’re here to go and find what riches await us in the city, ain’t we? With all the ships and railroads comin’ through that city, there’ll be plenty of places to look around and find somethin’ promisin’ that’ll get us rich quick.