That looks like a promising spot, I think to myself as I crest the hill. There's a large building jutting up from the next hill over. It looks pristine, its roof hasn't caved in, and the second floor is easily accessible. Looks like Mr. Shovel gets to stay on my pack for now.
It takes me a while to get the sled off my back, but once I get it on the ground, it's a smooth ride down. I feel a momentary scrape, a yipe of bark on metal as I slide over what must have been a tree once. I cringe, but the wind is blowing hard today. The sound won't put me in danger.
I come to a slow, gradual stop. It takes a moment to wiggle into my shoes, but it's not long before I step off the sled and sling it across my neck once more. Then it's time to hike up the hill.
As I place one hoof in front of the other, patting carefully before leaning my full weight into each step (sinkholes are no joke, folks,) I wonder what's buried beneath me. I'm approaching the building from the side, from the looks of it. There might be a road buried underneath me, but more likely, it's coming from the building's front. Does it lead somewhere?
I pause for a moment and turn, craning my neck. It takes a little while to spot with all the gray-on-gray and I need to wipe my goggles a few times, but I can make out a collection of rooftops poking out from the landscape, just far enough to resist fading into the dust. A lot of them look tall enough to enter, and better yet, not too many of them are caved in. A town! My next stop.
Once I reach the building, it's an easy task to get inside. Because of the wind, I don't think I have to worry about the sound; I send my hoof through a window and open the latch, letting myself in, thank you very much, and shutting it behind me.
Even with the hole in the pane, the air is much more motionless in here. I look around the room as the wind whistles through the smashed-in glass. There are three identical beds, bent in the middle and lined up against the wall among an army of racks and long-dead machines. I'm in a hospital. Score!
I stow my shoes and let myself into the pitch-black hallway, lighting the lamp on my helmet with the flick of a hoof. First off, before I start looking for goodies, I need to figure out where I am. I'm not sure it's a good idea to go downstairs just yet, but I follow the hallway to a small common room that's pressed up against the front of the building. The far wall has two huge windows that offer a view of the landscape outside... however much there is to look at, anyway.
I blink. Was that what I think it was? I freeze and listen extremely carefully, my ears twitching and turning. There it is again. A voice! Oh, no. Did they hear me break that glass?
I rush to the window, looking for their gangly, spindly forms, and see something else: a perfectly normal pegasus mare, calling out and struggling to trudge through the ash. With her chromatic mane and that trademark jacket of hers, it doesn't even take a second to recognize the famous Rainbow Dash.