Chapter 11 - Danger
Sunset let out a relieved groan as she at last sank down into one of the apartment’s chairs, her body’s aches and pains lessening as she let herself relax. Resting with her chin tucked almost to the top of her chest, she let her eyes scan around the now-packed space, filled with boxes and items she’d liberated from the camping shop.
She smiled. Finally. It had been a busy three days, and she still wasn’t certain she was done with the shop. But for the moment … Everything I need is right here.
Her head dropped back, bouncing slightly against the chair’s padding as she let out a sigh. “Done,” she said to no one, her voice just barely filling the small apartment. “I got it all.”
Her body certainly felt like it. Despite the impressive physical qualities of her new form, and the fact that she’d never been what one would have considered out of shape back in Equestria, the work she’d done over the last few days had pushed her beyond what she’d expected.
Tough. That had been her driving motivation the morning after discovering the camp store, when she’d awoken to discover her back, sides, and arms were stiff and sore. Sore from bending and crouching, from lifting and rising, and just about everything else she’d done cataloguing every possibly helpful thing she could find by the beam of her flashlight. Which had turned out to be far, far more than she’d expected once she’d gotten started.
Though at least the discovery of a whole rack of portable lanterns had saved her from needing to use the flashlight. The batteries in the lanterns had been drained of their power, but like in the gardening store she was using as her base, she’d been able to find a whole selection of batteries nearby and get some of them going.
The ones that ran off of those, at least. There were others that ran off of fuel of some kind, something she had later found in the store. But there had been a smaller selection of lanterns claimed to draw power from the sun itself, which at first had seemed pointless until she’d reread the text and realized that what the device was meant to do was store the power of the sun for later. There were ways to do that with magic, of course, but nothing about the device had felt magical. Curious and more than a little skeptical, even though she doubted they would have been on shelves if they hadn’t been telling the truth, she’d unboxed a few and set them up in the lot outside to gather what light they could through the rain.
She’d wondered about the rain too, but according to the symbols on the packaging, the devices were protected against it. So she’d let them sit the whole of the day before bringing them back with her to her base that evening.
To her surprise they had worked, filling her apartment with a warm glow that did a far better job of illuminating things than her flashlights and whatever sunlight could slip through the windows.
And then that night was late, Sunset thought with a wry smile as she looked over at the windows. First because I could actually stay up past dark and read, and second when I realized that all that light was visible from the outside. The memory of her momentary slip did drive the smile from her face for just a moment. Shining against a whole city of dark.
After that realization, she’d spent a panicked minute dousing all the lights and then quietly shutting all the curtains as tightly as possible. With tape, in a few cases. And in a few places that didn’t have curtains or where they weren’t thick enough for her taste, making sure there was either a spare towel hung over the window or something else keeping any light from getting to it.
A panicked, late night, she noted, her smile returning. And then I forgot to take any of the curtains down before I went to sleep … Which meant that the next morning she’d woken well after sunrise, in the dark, feeling sore and achy … but also well-rested and more than a little confused.
But also well-fed and refreshed. In addition to the lanterns she’d brought back the first day, she’d filled both of her wagons with the two things that couldn’t wait: Food and water. Even cold—she hadn’t bothered with a campstove—the first can of soup she’d cracked open had been one of the best-tasting things she’d eaten in a week.
More than a week now. Another five days, and I’ll have been here for two. Assuming their weeks are made of seven like they are in Equestria.
Huh. And I’ve seen a few calendars, too. Just never bothered to check. Another thing she could put on the list.
And finding just about everything I need made that list all the longer, Sunset thought as she shifted slightly, sinking further into her seat. Even the allure of what was waiting for her in neat piles on the nearby kitchen table wasn’t quite enough of a temptation to pull her out of her comfort, however temporary that comfort was.
She closed her eyes, resting the back of her head against the cushioned chair once more as she ran over the last few days. After the late morning, the majority of her second day had been spent further categorizing and working to figure out what she’d set aside the first day. Thank the Creator I got those books at the school. Trying to figure out what everything was or how it worked from only pictures would have been maddening. At least a quarter of the items she’d set aside hadn’t been at all what she’d expected, the pictures betrayed by lettering that was far more benign. On the other hoof—hand—another quarter of the items had been so straightforward and to the point that she’d barely needed to check the text before determining that they were exactly what she wanted.
Of course, when it comes to pots and pans, that kind of thing is straightforward. Mostly. There had still been some reading. Mostly to check for durability and intended function. Something she’d had to repeat with a lot of the stock.
Dumb sleeping bags. One discovery she’d been less than thrilled to find was that there was more than one type—and the same went for the tents. Which in hindsight, made sense. There were, after all, more than a few kinds of blankets.
But discovering that sleeping bags and tents weren’t quite as simple as “grab one and go camping” had been a somewhat frustrating discovery. But then back when she would take me camping, everything was always picked out for us. I never had to worry about it.
Which meant that surviving now was just in one more way what pegasi would call a “crash course.” Except if I mess this up, I might freeze to death when winter hits. Or find myself either too hot or too cold in the summer. Or soaking wet when my tent isn’t waterproof …
Though why anyone even bothered making tents that weren’t waterproof felt like a valid question. Isn’t the whole point of camping to be outside? In nature? Where it rains? I guess our tents didn’t have to be in Equestria, but we controlled the weather. They didn’t do that here.
No, part of her brain suggested. They were much more concerned with figuring out how to build giant beams of death that could fire from space.
The thought sent a shiver through her, her comfortable seat suddenly not quite so comforting. Your destiny is here somewhere, Sunset, she reminded herself. You just need to find it.
At least her other discovery, in addition to everything else the shop had held, had more than made up for her inability to determine what sleeping bag or tent to take.
Books.
Just thinking about them made her smile. Not just because they’d been in near-perfect condition, covered only in a little dust and with some stale pages, but because of what they’d all been about. In retrospect, it made sense. Of course a store that specialized in all things camping would have books on hand teaching survival, campcraft, woodcraft or forestry, and just as important, detailing some of the best places to hike and camp across the whole country, complete with maps.
The only reasons she hadn’t piled her wagon high with books on the first day was twofold: Her hunger had been a more important issue at the moment, and that the rain hadn’t let up at all during her time in the shop. And while boxes and cans of food were somewhat water resistant, books were more susceptible without the right preservation spells … none of which she suspected were in place on anything in the store, given the total lack of magic she’d found so far.
She’d settled for securing a few of the most informative titles into her backpack instead. Which led to the late-night reading binge, and the late morning …
Alright, Sunset, you’ve been sitting here long enough. She pushed herself up, wincing slightly as her tired muscles made their presence felt. Quiet, all of you. I haven’t even had you long enough to know how to take care of you. Or even what I’d do.
Thankfully, there’d been a book about that too. It was currently sitting with the others over on the table. She’d definitely be giving it a look, since there was a tender spot on one foot after spending all day walking. At a guess, it was something to do with her trekking back and forth across the city for the last two days, but she wanted to be sure.
Also, if it was an injury, she wanted to know how to take care of it.
Set stepped past the table, over to the open, uncovered window. The breeze coming in through it felt refreshing, bringing with it a hint of the day’s sunny heat as well as the smell of thousands of flowers that had sprouted from the vines in the wake of two days of rain.
Even as a ruin, this city is kind of pretty. She took a deep sniff, wincing slightly as her own less-than-aromatic scent entered her nose. And I need to clean myself up.
At least I made a detour for that. During the day prior she’d spotted a glass-walled establishment that had turned out to be a laundromat. While none of the machines had been functional, there had been a number of machines selling soap to clean clothes with, and with a few applications of her trusty pry-bar …
The only problem is taking the time to clean everything, Sunset thought, leaning on the windowsill. But then as busy as I’ve been the last few days … She glanced back at the neat stacks of boxes and piles of material she’d filled the apartment with. I need a break. Equestria had a weekend, and I’ve spent nine days here now without stopping. I’ve been stressed, hungry, thirsty, lost … And while my destiny is out there somewhere, I just need a day to let everything relax.
“Plus,” she said aloud, looking out over the rooftops in the direction of the nearly-setting sun. “I can afford to take a break now.” And I’d spend it reading, so it’s not like it would be wasted.
And I do feel tired. Sunset turned away from the window, smiling slightly as the breeze passing through it played against her mane and the back of her neck. Maybe tonight … I wonder …
She stepped across the room toward one of the piles she’d collected, eyes hunting for a single image and finding it about halfway up the stack. Camping shower. Carefully, and ignoring the protest from her arms, she extricated the box from its place in the pile. The picture on the front of a very large male seran standing behind a barrier of some kind, clearly bereft of clothing from what it showed of his chest, but being showered by a hose hanging in the tree above him. Let’s see what kind of work you take to get functioning. “After nine days of wiping myself off with a wet, cold rag, I am ready for some real comforts.”
Provided it worked, she was taking the shower when she left Holton. Even if it meant leaving behind food.
* * *
Half an hour later, her abode still faintly lit by the setting sun, Sunset clasped her arms across her shivering, damp form. Well, it works, she thought. And I feel clean. Even smell a little better. But … She glanced down, making sure that the fluffy towel she’d wrapped around her body was still in place. Next time, I’m heating up that reservoir before I use it! In her excitement at setting the shower up and discovering how it worked—via a small but ingenious hoof-pump to push the water up and out over her—she’d neglected to consider exactly what effect pure, plain, unrestrained water would have on her hairless flesh. The slight shriek of surprise as the first spray of cool water had hit her face had been matched only by her determination to see her first shower she’d had since she’d arrived through to the end.
She shivered again, stepping over to the nearest window and ignoring the drips her mane was leaving on the dusty carpet. The distant low sun was beginning to paint the sky with swaths of pink and orange, but still high enough that she could feel the warmth of its rays on her face and neck. At least until another errant breeze swept by, and she shivered a little more.
Stupid lousy furless body! No coat. No coat at all. I’d better … She turned partway toward the chair she’d left her clothing on when she’d disrobed and paused.
I only have the one set of clothing. Which is dirty. She glanced down at her towel-wrapped form, past her still-strange legs and to her stranger-still feet, its odd toes kneading the dirty carpet.
I didn’t think this through at all. A groan slipped out of her mouth. “How could I be so foalish?”
She didn’t need to search for an answer. It came easily enough. You’re tired. It’s been a long nine days, nine days in which you’ve only done the most basic of washing and cleaned yourself with a wet rag while your clothes dried from being rinsed. And a shower sounded so nice …
She could wash her clothes. While naked. And then wait for them to dry. Overnight. And I couldn’t just lay them out somewhere inside. Well, I suppose I could leave them in the bathroom. Hanging over the tub. That might work. There were clothes in the dresser by the bed … something in there should fit. I just don’t want to be naked. What examination of her new body she’d made had made it quite clear that for its physical capabilities, the clothing worn by statues around the city and seen in images wasn’t just for show, like it usually was in Equestria. It was as much a requirement as safety equipment for a risky job.
She let out another sigh. I really didn’t think this through all the way. But now that she was clean, there was definitely something about putting on her dirty, sweaty, dust-caked clothing that made her hairless-skin crawl. Or maybe that was just the chill of the wind.
Either way, I’m stuck now. She sighed. I’ve got more water in the buckets by the backdoor. I can haul it up into the tub--the plumbing works still, at least so far. Odds were it ended up in a sinkhole somewhere under the city, but that wasn’t going to be her problem before she left. I can set up a lantern for light, scrub and rinse my clothes by hoo--hand. She looked down at her body. In a towel. Eugh. Not my best moment.
“But not that large of a mistake in the grand scheme of things,” she said aloud as a reminder. “And if my clothes aren’t dry by tomorrow, I can lay them out on the roof while I’m taking the day off. Reading.” And figuring out how that water filter I found works. And the camp stove, which I was going to do tonight, but …
Her stomach grumbled. Oh well. Granola bars are better than nuts.
Now clothes, and then laundry. One step at a time.
Turning, she walked out of the living room and toward her bed.
* * *
Day Ten - Holton
Today I took the day off. Sort of.
In fairness, I needed it. I’ve spent over a week here scavenging and not sure if the next day would be the one I died, whether from hunger, thirst, monsters, or something else.
Still haven’t run into any other monsters, though. Just the one. What I have been doing—
Sunset let out a yawn and set the pen aside for a moment, looking out the nearby window and watching faint lines of heat shimmer from the nearby ruined rooftops.
Reading, today, she thought with a smile. Real reading. The kind of thing that brings me closer to my destiny.
She thought about it for a moment, then picked up the pen once more.
—is getting ready. My expedition to the camping store was successful, moreso than I would have thought. I have food now, lots of it. More than I’ll be able to take with me. Equipment too, all of which I’ll need. I’ve already brought some of the most useful items back to the shop I’ve been staying in and added them to my supplies. Last night I had a shower. A real, honest to sunlight shower. It felt fantastic—if a little cold. And I didn’t even think about what I was going to wear afterwards. Starswirl’s spell was thorough, but I’m not so comfortable with being in this body that I’m ready to work on things without any protective covering. Thankfully, I was able to find some things that fit from the prior owner of this home, but I think in the next few days I’ll need to make a specific trip to find clothing that I can take with me when I leave Holton.
At that a scowl slipped across her face. This would be a lot easier if this species had a more sensible form. Even minotaurs have a good, tough coat. Thankfully, one of the books I found at the camp store is all about proper clothing and equipment for hiking and camping, including long-term journeys.
Which I know I’ll need to take. Thanks to a few other books, I now know more about what a mile is. Holton is several miles across. Four-point-three, to be exact, at least what would count as the “core” of the city on a map. Which I’ve crossed the inner part of several times now. So I have a rough idea of how long that is, now.
And Jacinto Plateau, where I need to be? Eleven-hundred miles away. West.
There’s a lot of ground between me and that plateau. And I’m going to have to walk it. Unless I can figure out how to get one of those carriages cars to work. I spotted what looked like a yard for working on them on one my trips to the camp store, so I should probably check that—
Sunset set the pen down, staring at what she’d written and then crossing the last sentence out. No rambling, she reminded herself in her mind. The diary isn’t the place for it.
I’ll check that out in a few days, she wrote instead. But there’s a more important stop I need to make first. She stared down at the ink-filled scratches she’d just left on the paper, letting out a long, slow breath before continuing. Somehow, even the anticipation of what she was about to write filled her with a measure of dread, a crawling shiver that slipped down her shoulders and back like a creeping, cloying miasma.
I’ve noticed something about Holton, she wrote, reflexively chewing on her lower lip before she caught herself. Something off. The books have pictures of rats and mice. Small, wild creatures. Except I’ve only seen birds here. Which means— She paused, suddenly feeling like she needed to wipe her face off. —there might be more things like the one that attacked me. Or something like it. Something is keeping the small creatures away. I haven’t even seen a squirrel in the city, and the books I got from the camp store claim they’re plentiful here. If a little weird.
Weird was right. Squirrels in Equestria hadn’t had saber-like fangs, just buck teeth. Though according to the wildlife guide, both accomplished the same thing, and the squirrels weren’t predators.
However, it didn’t account for the fact that she’d not seen any over the last ten days. The realization had been unsettling.
She turned back to her writing. Or maybe even preying on them, like that creature did with me. Which means— Another faint shiver crawled down her back. I need a better weapon than my hatchet.
I need a firearm.
She stared down at the text, the words seeming to echo and resonate in her head, producing an uncomfortable pang deep inside her chest. She was no stranger to the idea of violence. The Guard back in Equestria, as well as her own knowledge of history and even a few tussles as a filly, had given her an acknowledgement that such violence did exist. The Guard carried spears designed with the capacity to kill because it sometimes had been necessary, even if in Equestria’s past more than in the modern day. And outside Equestria there were definitely much more violent lands where it was kill or be killed, such as the Ocean of Endless Ice to the north.
I just never thought I’d be a pony that would need to have anything like that. She stared down at the words, unsure as to why she’d written them, and not even certain of what it was she’d said. Again she crossed the line out—there were a number of those in her current entry now—and rewrote it.
When I arrived here, I wouldn’t have thought that learning to defend myself in such a manner would have been part of my destiny. But this world— Again her thoughts drifted, and she glanced over at the stack of books she’d been poring through for the last few nights.
—is different, she finished. Here, they had a war that lasted generations. More wars than that. Only to be beaten back by something even tougher than they were. They used those weapons, and I’ve found the remains of their dead all over the Holton. They were still pushed back.
I’ve thought it over. A lot. If I don’t learn how to use them, I could die before I ever find my destiny.
There. She’d written it. The words stared up at her from the page. Almost like they were mocking her and her inability to harness her magic.
No destiny is set in stone, I think, she followed, ignoring the momentary flash of discontent. That’s why—She stumbled for a moment, pen sliding as her chest ached—she tried to stop me. She told me once that a destiny is just impressions, vague visions of what could be. Kind of like her a prophecy, in a way. Only more nebulous.
I need a firearm. I’m certain of it. So tomorrow—She glanced out the window, guessing from the location of the sun and shadows how much time she still had. —or maybe today, I’m going to get one. The camp store has a few, and ammunition. One of the books I grabbed is all about firearm safety and use. I’ve been reading it.
I’ll have to find someplace to practice with them. And work out how much ammunition I can carry with me, since I don’t know how much I’ll find out there.
It’s a lot to figure out. But I’ll do it. After all …
She stared down at the page, pushing back against the cascade of emotions moving through her, drowning them out.
It’s my destiny.
* * *
The walk to the clothing shop felt longer than it should have been, given the distance. Maybe it was the blister on her foot—which thankfully she’d been able to cover with some medical gauze, following the instructions in one of her books.
Or maybe, Sunset thought as she peered at another cracked and weathered stone barrier. It’s just that now that I know there’s supposed to be wildlife around, I keep looking for them. Every errant flutter of a nearby leaf, every twitch of a shadow, all had her jumping, jerking her head to the side with her free hand going to the hatchet at her waist.
At least her jumps were becoming smoother and less shaky. She was getting used to moving on two legs. Behind her one of the wagons clattered quietly as it bounced over a crack in the pavement, the fat tires not quite enough to soak up the drop from such a gap.
The street looked even worse ahead of her, and Sunset slowed, her eyes slipping over small chasms and rifts in the paving stones. Ahead the ground had buckled, whole sections of the street lifted up or sunken downward, creating a mixed tableau of rises and falls, now easily visible past the carriages that still littered the street.
As well as, she guessed based on the position, being the cause for a lot of the cars positioning. Though some were atop some of the cracks and ledges, and one larger one even had its forward half dangling over the edge. It wasn’t hard to work out that whatever had struck the underside of the road had caught the traffic by surprise, the vehicles coming close behind quickly piling up in a jam.
Something she definitely would have to lift the wagon over. And … that’s not worth it. Not when she would have to do it at least half a dozen times to make it through the mess, both forward and on the return trip.
The tip of her boot caught on a ridge in the pavement and she stumbled, catching herself on one of the nearby cars. The impact made her palm sting, but better it was better than landing on her knees.
“Right …” she said, her voice quiet against the stagnant air of the street. She wiped a film of sweat away from her forehead with one hand, tucking an errant bit of her mane back behind her ear as she did so. “This way’s out.” Once more the map came out of her pocket, spreading easily over the front surface of the carriage she’d caught herself on.
“Let’s see …” Her finger retraced her path across the map. “I left the square with the dead soldiers here and went north.” Or at least toward the top of the map. “Then I turned … here. Which means this street is …” She found the street she was on, a veritable canyon of three-story living spaces and scattered storefronts. “Here.” The marker came out, striking a black slash across the street that mirrored the many others she’d added over the last few days, marking off yet another barrier—natural or otherwise.
It didn’t take her long to find a detouring path. The buildings on either side of her were tightly packed, but as she’d learned the day before most of them had a small gap between them and the buildings from the next street over, usually a park or plaza or in one case a canal of some kind, all designed to give the occupants a little more space and light on the back of their homes. An opening appeared to her right, narrow but wide enough for her wagon to pass through. Or at least, wide enough that she could have passed through save for the small gate that blocked her path, held in place by a heavyset lock. She’d been thwarted by a few similar gates around the city when she’d tried to find a shorter path back from the camp store.
Which was why she now had a very specific tool sitting in the wagon. She slipped into the shadowed alley, out from the burning heat of the sun. The coolness swept over her like a blanket, the sweat on her skin suddenly cold and clammy. The metal of the padlock felt colder still beneath her fingers as she checked it from a few angles, deciding on the best angle to make her cut.
The sharp clink the lock made as her bolt cutters sheared through the metal brought a grin to her face. There, she thought as she tossed the now mangled lock aside. Now I can—
The gate let out an ear-piercing metal-on-metal squeal as she tugged at it, and she froze, her breath catching in her throat. She held perfectly still for several seconds, counting the time down in her head. One … two … three … Her ears strained for any sounds of shifting rubble, debris, or the tell-tale uneven pat of anything like the creature that had attacked her a few days ago.
Nothing.
She swallowed, tilting her head slightly and missing her old ears that could twist and turn in multiple directions. Her new ears felt lame by comparison, though she hadn’t given them a conclusive test. Not that they could be any better, right?
The seconds ticked past, and she let her breath out slowly, still straining to hear any sort of response to the sudden out-of-place shriek.
Nothing. Not even birdsong. Not that she blamed what few birds were in the city after that display. But she still needed to pass through the alley, and the gate wasn’t entirely all the way open yet, so …
She swung the gate the rest of the way open, clenching her teeth as the sharp shriek seemed to dig into her skull. Thankfully, the hinges seemed rusted enough that when she let go the gate stayed in place, not even quivering as she stepped back.
Well at least I don’t have to worry about opening or closing it again. She kept quiet as she placed the bolt cutters back into her wagon, still listening for any signs of life other than her moving through the city.
A birdsong echoed from nearby, and she relaxed slightly. If the birds were singing again then she was probably fine.
Probably. One hand had slipped to her hatchet in the silence, and she let it slide off as she grabbed the wagon handle, pulling once more.
A faint spasm ran up her arm, a reminder of the stiffness and soreness that had plagued her after her first day at the camp store. The alleyway was narrow enough that the wagon had to be directly behind her, forcing her arm to be at an angle that wasn’t quite comfortable. She couldn’t blame it on her body either, as it would have been uncomfortable enough for a pony as well.
A harness would fix that. Another thing she needed to get done before she left. The climbing harnesses she’d seen at the camp store would probably work, and would put the load across the whole of her upper body, rather than just one arm.
Thankfully, the alleyway was ending—at least for a moment, opening up ahead of her into a small, debris-filled plaza. She slowed, eyes picking at the deep shadows that obscured benches and low stone planter boxes. The green flowering plants that had crawled over so many of the buildings in the city were present here too, though not nearly so numerous. Despite the stillness of the air on the street outside, she could feel a faint breeze moving through the plaza, stirring the leaves ever so slightly and making the sheen of sweat on her skin feel that much cooler.
There were bodies too. Bones, really, shrouded in weathered scraps of cloth sitting atop one of the stone benches. One’s skull had slipped free, resting on the ground half-covered in leaves and grime. It’s empty sockets seemed to stare up at her as if questioning why she’d violated the sanctity of its final resting place.
What killed them? The two sets of bones had their arms draping over one another in a way that didn’t look violent. A weapon of some kind, another firearm, leaned against the bench by their boots, the dusty barrel pointing toward the sky, but it looked as if it had been placed there, rather than dropped after a moment of violence.
Regardless, the plaza was the pair’s final resting place. A faint shudder worked its way down her back, and she pulled her eyes away.
This is a city of corpses. Of the dead. For all you know, Jacinto is t—No!
She shook her head, pulling her wagon into the plaza and trying not to glance back at the skull as she passed it by. There was an old fountain to her right, and she fixed her eyes on it, noting the stagnant pool of water left by the recent rains inside it, slowly vanishing by evaporation.
Jacinto can’t be dead. If there’s no serans left on this planet, then what would my destiny be? To be a queen of dirt and decay?
She shook her head, ending with a toss to get her mane to fall behind her shoulders once more. No. There are people still in Jacinto, or somewhere, and I’m going to find them. She shoved the niggling doubts aside, pushing them into the back of her mind and compressing them until they quieted without a whimper. I will become what she saw and tried to deny me.
Better, even.
There was a matching gate to the one she’d passed through to gain entry to the plaza in the alleyway on the far side, along with a matching padlock through the latch. It took a bit more work to maneuver the jaws of the cutter through the gaps in the wrought iron to close around the lock, but in the end the metal clasp parted just as easily as its sibling had. Though I suppose I could have just cut the latch on this side, Sunset noted as she pulled the cutters back, one hand already attempting to free the lock from its place. It clattered across the dusty brick, and she shoved the gate open. The squeal it let out was less voluminous than the one its counterpart had let out, but still Sunset gritted her teeth as the sound echoed down the street, silencing the birdsong for several seconds.
As before however, the calls returned a few seconds later, and Sunset pulled her wagon past the gate, one side just grazing the post and tugging slightly.
She could see debris in the next street even before she left the alley, rubble left from a collapsed building that had spilled over the sidewalk and down across the street, not quite making it to the other side and exposing its interior to the elements. One of the cars had been crushed beneath the debris, its back end just poking out from beneath an avalanche of masonry.
I hope no one was inside that when it happened. The building or the carriage. Above tatters of carpet dangled, hanging in the air and swaying back and forth with a gentle, almost intangible breeze. The rest of the street wasn’t much better, the stones broken in long seams that crisscrossed the whole of it. Water ran across one of the cracks, a tiny creek coming out of the rubble of one building and vanishing into a gutter that somehow hadn’t been clogged over the years. Where the water came from she wasn’t sure, but the wagon splashed through the tiny barrier without slowing, and she pressed on.
She passed by the next intersection, the street down to her right still showing heavy signs of damage and fighting. One of the large armored carriages used by the soldiers had smashed through a shop of some kind on the corner, the building partially collapsing behind it, before slamming into the buildings further on, burying its forward half into what looked like a row of apartments.
There could be weapons there. She considered the possibility before discarding it. There are weapons at the camping store. Weapons she’d be more familiar with, thanks to the manuals she’d taken.
The next intersection was clear, and she turned to her right, getting herself back on course. The buildings around her were shrinking now, falling lower to the ground and spacing out. Empty windows—some gaping or cracked, but most not—stared down at her from second stories. A bird flitted through an opening, which did ease the faint fear that something was staring down at her from above.
The clothing store came into view ahead of her, its sign poking out over the sidewalk but hanging by only one of its two tethers, resting at an angle. She knew enough of the seran symbols to match the letters with her own knowledge of language now, though working out some of them through the years of weathering still took a bit of work. “Holton Outdoor Outfitters.” A quick look at the rest of the small shops on the street showed that it was by far the largest, and the only one that had anything to do with clothes.
The entryway was raised slightly above the sidewalk, a step up or a sideways slide up a small ramp, but the space in front of the door was far from wide enough for her wagon. She left it by the front step instead as she checked the front door, grasping the handle and tugging. It rattled, locked.
Figures. The door itself was mostly dirty glass, like many of the doors for businesses around the city, and for a moment she considered simply using her prybar or hatchet to shatter the bottom pane. Or a window, she thought with a glance to either side. But that would be pretty noisy. That, and there was probably a simpler way. She stepped off to the side of the building, checking for an employee entrance.
Or … not? The alley on one side was narrow and ended in a dead end, apparently little more than a storage for a bunch of garbage bins that had long since toppled. The other side of the building didn’t even have that, nearly flush against the building next to it with a gap so narrow Sunset doubted she’d fit into it sideways.
Which left the back of the building, wherever that was … Or breaking the door. Rather, the glass. There’s probably a latch or something on the inside I can undo, like on the door at the garden shop, so if I break the glass, I can reach it. And her boots were tough enough to make it across the broken glass without issue.
And even though the inside of the shop was somewhat dark, she could make out the shadows of rows and racks of clothing, all on display and ready for her to use. And I can finally get out of these clothes long enough to wash them, she thought as she looked down at her dirty, sweat-stained shirt. Maybe right now.
The prybar was right where she’d set it inside the wagon, next to two of the solar-powered lamps. She picked it up and hefted it a few times, feeling a faint burn run up and down her arms with each movement.
She swung the bar, driving the point at its tip into the corner of the upper pane. The glass fractured, breaking apart into dozens then hundreds of tiny shards, sunlight splintering and sparkling as the glass broke free. Sunset danced back as it cascaded down, crashing to the ground in a cascade of crystalline cracks.
Not all of it had landed before a new sound rose above it: A shrill, pulsing shriek, like a sound spell that had gone horribly wrong. Or—
An alarm spell! Well not spell, but—! There was a pulsing light coming from inside the store, faint but barely visible, flashing behind what had to be the front counter. Feathers! She darted forward, awkwardly juggling the prybar as she leaned through the opening she’d just made. Glass crunched under her boots, a sensation with no sound thanks to the shrill scream of the alarm. Her fingers found a latch, just like the one on the garden shop door, and with a click the door unlocked.
She swept it to the side in a rush, ignoring the glass the abrupt motion scattered all across the steps. The alarm was still shrieking, a cadence that rose and fell with each passing second. Sunset rushed through the entryway, heading for the small box on the wall behind the counter with its flashing red light. The alarm began to drop in pitch as she struggled over the counter, knocking small knickknacks to the floor and slamming her shin on the countertop. She slid off the other side, almost falling, lifted the prybar into the air as the pitch of the alarm got lower and slower …
Only to stop before she could smash the small box, the alarm cutting out with a faint pop like a spell gone bad. The red light stayed on, glowing steady for a few seconds before fading away.
Sunset let out a nervous laugh as she lowered her arms, staring at the small plastic box. “Okay, I guess that makes sense. A back-up.” She watched as the last glimmer of red light faded completely. “And now half of Holton knows something’s here.”
“Fine. Just going to have to do this fast. Great.” Just in case there is something out there.
There probably wasn’t. But just in case there was.
The door had stayed open, stuck either on bits of glass or rusted hinges, she really didn’t care. She rolled over the counter again, taking care not to slam her already throbbing shin against the countertop and muttering a faint curse over the placement of her body’s teats. A few quick strides to the door and she was outside once more, glancing up and down the street as she swapped her prybar for one of the lanterns.
Nothing. No movement. No strange, alien creatures. No birdsong either, though that wasn’t too surprising considering the shrill scream of the alarm. Anything that had been making any noise was probably winging its way well away from the store.
Or coming right for it. The thought sent a prickle of fear down her back, a cold claw atop the still-pounding near panic the alarm had elicited.
Maybe not, she countered. But she still found herself hurrying as she ducked back into the store.
Okay. The lantern blazed with light, spilling into the shop interior and making the shadows that much darker. Women’s clothing. Tough stuff. The flyer had made it sound like the shop had catered to those who wanted to be in the outdoors, the sign had backed it up, and now her first glimpse of heavy pants and boots confirmed it.
Sizes … Sizes … There’d been numbers on some of the clothing she’d “borrowed,” as well as on the clothes the spell had made for her when she’d appeared. How Starswirl had made that work was a mystery, though possibly some sort of adaptive—
There! She pushed her curiosity about the spell-matrix away as she spotted the image of a seran female similarly proportioned to herself hanging by a shelf of plastic-wrapped clothing. The transparent material crinkled as she grabbed it, still holding together despite the years spent inside the store. Dust rose into the light cast by her lamp, making the air smell even more musty than it already had and contributing to an itch inside her nose. Numbers … numbers … there! Too small.
She glanced to her left and then to her right, waving away dust as she checked the numbers on the clothing around her. Same numbers … different colors. And that’s different clothing. Up and down then? She moved down first, only for the numbers to grow smaller. Up then. There!
Shirts. Simple, plain. Like the one she was already wearing. Five to a bag. She grabbed three of them: One of the same size, and one higher and one lower. No one else is going to mind if I try a range. She could leave the ones she didn’t want behind when she left Holton.
Tucking the shirts into the crook of her arm, she moved down the aisle. More shirts, ones that buttoned up the front. She eyed them then moved on. Without her magic buttons had proven an exercise in frustration.
Pants. I need pants. Or … The aisle ended, stopping at a back wall of footwear. Yes.
There were sizes there too, though from what she’d gathered, like hoofshoes back in Equestria it was less “one-size-fits-all” and far more individual. She added four boxes to her load, then left the lantern as she turned to take her gains back to the wagon.
A minute later she was back, her arms empty once more, and she scooped four more boxes of the shoes into her arms, returning again to the wagon. “Pants …” she muttered as she returned. “Plus socks.” A spare coat would be good too, but the camp store had heavy weather gear, so that was covered. I just need the regular stuff.
Retrieving the lantern, she ducked around the back of the aisle to the other side of the shelves. The clothing on that side was different, but some of it she recognized, even if it was dusty and dry. Underthings.
Bleh. Why did my destiny have to be on a world with so much clothing? She ran through the numbers and sizes, then grabbed a whole row of the teat harnesses when half of the notations didn’t make sense. She tore open one of the shirt bags from the other aisle, dumping the shirts out on the floor, then stuffed the collection of underthings into the empty plastic. Further up the aisle, she noticed, the underthings became softer. More frilly. Covered in lace.
Eugh … It lined up with what she’d slowly been piecing together about the species. None of the books she’d gathered had much nudity save in the most clinical fashion, if at all. But even when a member of the species was naked, such as in the display picture for the shower, specific regions were covered.
What a weird place. Equestria had its sexualization, but it was different. Sort of. She turned away. I still need pants. At least one pair, anyway. She retraced her steps, going to the other side of the aisle she’d been on and spotting clothing almost identical to what she was wearing on her lower half.
Those are shorter, but still rugged, she thought, eyeing some of the display models. It took her a moment to find a few that were the right size, but then she grabbed several and took her load back to the wagon.
Okay, now just socks, she thought as she tossed the load into the wagon. It landed with a faint thump as she turned back toward the storefront. Just pants, then the camp store, and then—
Another thump sounded, and she froze.
What was that!?
The birdsong had gone. Had it ever come back? She swallowed, a nervous knot of fear working its way through her as she strained, listening. Another thump echoed from somewhere nearby, followed by a familiar, off-beat cadence. Something moving in a sideways lurch.
Where is it? Sunset spun, one hand yanking her hatchet free of its holster and holding the weapon at the ready. She glanced up and down the street, eyes hunting for any sign of movement, jumping to shadows or the occasional ripple of plant life.
The irregular pat of the thing’s steps stopped. Where is it!? she wondered again, turning and keeping her feet locked in place so she wouldn’t disturb the glass.
A low, rhythmic rumble echoed from somewhere nearby, not quite a growl, but almost like something clearing its throat. She let out a silent curse as the sound rolled down the street. But from where?
Then there was a snarl, loud enough to make her flinch, and her eyes slid upward. It’s on the rooftop!
That was why she couldn’t see it. Another faint rumble sounded, followed by a quiet but wet whisper. It’s sniffing. Slowly, moving as carefully as she dared—and thankful she’d knocked most of the glass off the entryway with the door—she took a step backwards, lifting her leg and balancing as she looked for a clear spot to set it down.
If it’s up above, and I can get inside, maybe I can keep it from realizing I’m here! She took another step back, freezing as the thing somewhere above her let out something halfway between a gurgle and a wet growl. She could almost picture the drool slipping out of its needle-like teeth as it sniffed the air for h—
No. Stay calm. Remember what the Guard taught you to do if a dangerous animal was around. Except that most of that had amounted to “let the Guard handle it” and the Guard had never allowed her to get too close to anything truly dangerous without her around.
Still, she remembered the basics. Keep out of sight. Keep downwind. Keep quiet. The first she could do, and she took another step back, ignoring more of the faint shuffling sounds coming from somewhere above her. Wind I can’t handle. Is there any wind? There had been a gentle breeze in the street, but she couldn’t feel one in the store. Unless … She slipped a finger into her mouth, wetting it, and held it up into the air.
Air’s moving into the store somehow, she thought as she felt the faint breeze. From outside the store there was another faint growl. Maybe there was a back door? She took another step back, carefully nestling her boot amid the shards of glass.
Step by silent step, she moved back into the shadows, out of the sunlight and deeper into the store. She moved with purpose, keeping as quiet as possible as the faint pat of the thing’s steps sounded again, alongside a familiar huffing noise that was chilling no matter how distant it was.
The lantern’s switch let out a faint click as she turned it off, and she sucked in a breath, her gaze turning upward. But the quiet thump of the thing’s movement didn’t change. I’m out of sight. I’m downwind. And I’m quiet. Still, she kept her hand on the hatchet.
She could tell where the thing was by the sound of its steps. The “wretch” was above her now, on the roof of the shop, moving from right to left across whatever surface was up there. She followed its vague path with her eyes. Hey. Socks. Her eyes fell on the shadowed stacks. She picked up the lantern, taking silent steps over to the aisle.
Above her the wretch let out a rough screech, almost like a keening cough, and she froze, staring up the at the roof of the store with its ducts and dust. Then the thing started moving again, the dull thumps of its weird walk moving toward one side.
Sunset toggled the beam on the lantern, bringing out a soft, directed glow rather than the blast that had lit the shelves earlier. The beam lit a row of soft, dust-covered, folded cloths. Socks, open to the elements but otherwise fine..
That was good. They’d be quieter without plastic. Get the socks, wait for that thing to leave, and get out of here! She could just make out the faint sizing marked on what looked like stickers, but they were the wrong letters. Too big.
Her own breath felt loud in her ears as she moved up the aisle, even though she knew she was making each rise and fall of her chest as smooth and silent as it could possibly be. A loud clang echoed throughout the store, and she jerked, looking up once more as something clattered across the roof.
A few seconds later there was a loud thud from above, much closer and louder than any of the sounds had been previously. Sunset froze, lifting her hatchet once more. What is that thing doing up—
One of the ducts rattled, dust drifting down as a familiar cadence of footsteps sounded inside it.
Oh Sunspots. Ducts. Air currents.
It can smell me.
A loud bang echoed from above, the whole of the ductwork shaking as the wretch jumped somewhere inside it. Dust fell as the patter of its steps started up again, each impact now producing an echoing bang that reverberated around the shop.
I can’t tell where it is, Sunset thought as she watched the whole duct assembly shake and rattle. The wet huff of the thing’s breath seemed to be coming from everywhere all at once—at least until she saw the shadows around a section of ductwork move, the thin metal bulging outward with another loud pop as the wretch moved through it.
Socks! She’d outrun the last one. And with the noise it was making there was no possible way it could hear her. She darted forward, running her eyes up and down the shelves.
There! Sunset reached out, grabbing several pairs that matched the sizing she had, tugging them off of the shelves and into the crook of one arm. Now just move for the door and—
With a bang, one of the duct vents broke free and crashed down to the ground, a large, shadowy shape riding atop it. It was out of sight almost immediately, landing somewhere several aisles over, but Sunset didn’t miss the sudden animalistic snarl that came with it.
It was in the store. A sudden chill rushed over her as she heard the thing sniff the air again. It knows I’m here.
And it was hunting her.
Faint scuffles sounded as the thing took a few steps, metal rattling as it stepped off of the vent cover. There was a pause as it sniffed the air again, followed by a loud grunt.
Lantern off. Her own breath was coming quick and fast now, slower only than the pounding of her heart as she deactivated the device. I have to get to the door. The thing moved again, not bothering to keep its motions quiet, and let out a snort.
She crept forward, one boot in front of the other on the thin carpet. The wretch was letting out faint low growls. Did that mean it knew she was nearby? Or was it just how the creature sounded when it was breathing?
The forward end of the aisle was closer, but there were still several trees of clothing past that before she could reach the exit. Another growl sounded, followed by a short grunt that reminder her of an angry timberwolf.
Come on … The thing was moving, but in which direction? She was almost at the end of the aisle, and she could hear the wretch moving back and forth, but which way was it going?
Go to the back, she thought, wishing she could will the thing toward the rear of the shop. Just go to the back.
The wretch let out a sudden gargling growl, the sound more toward the front than the rear. The exact opposite of what she wanted.
Come on … It had to only be a few aisles over. She glanced at the front door once more, trying to gauge how quickly she could move compared to the wretch and which of them would reach the door first. It isn’t that fast, but if it would just go toward the back of the store, that would give me a …
Her thoughts trailed off as her eyes alighted on the shelving next to her face. Or I could just give it a reason to go to the back. She slipped her hatchet back into its sheath as the wretch let out another growl. The clothing next to her was quite heavy, a vest or jacket of some kind made of the same material her pants were made of, a thick denim that was clearly designed to weather plenty of wear.
The extra weight would work perfectly for what she needed. Checking the top of the aisle to make sure no part of her would be above them—and perhaps visible—she turned, pulled her arm back, and threw the vest toward the back wall.
To her surprise it actually made it, hitting the back wall and knocking several of the shoeboxes on display over. They tumbled to the ground with a chorus of heavy thumps, the wretch letting out a shrill screech as the boxes continued to fall. Her first instinct was to bolt, but she waited, listening as the faint huff of the creature’s wet breaths worked its way back deeper into the store. Her throat felt dry, like she’d not drunk any water all morning though her canteen was half-empty.
A little more … A little more … The wretch let out another screech—
Sunset bolted, the screech behind her rising and going loud as her boots pounded across the carpet. The lantern slipped from her fingers, bouncing off her knee and skittering across the carpet, but she didn’t turn or change her course. She glanced back just in time to see her pursuer leap atop the shelving, scattering boxes with a low, growling roar as it rushed after her.
Her boots met the concrete of the steps, scattering glass as she whirled and slammed the door to the store shut. The wretch leapt down from the shelving onto the floor and into the sunlight, and Sunset’s throat seemed to seize up as she got her first clear look at it. Unlike the wretch she had faced in the school, this one seemed healthy and hale, its armor fitting tightly rather than loose, its skin tight. Two beady orange eyes fixed on her, needle-like teeth parting as it opened its jaws.
Then it screamed, throwing its arms back as it turned its head to the sky, emitting a shrill, piercing cry like a dying, wounded creature. The scream echoed all around her, so sharp she wanted to fold her ears back against her skull. She stumbled backward, almost tripping down the steps as she backed away.
The cry cut off, and again its eyes fixed on her, boring into her. It wasn’t the stare of a predator or a scavenger, or even of a creature that felt threatened. There was malice behind the gaze, a silent fury and rage that sent a shiver down her spine. It wasn’t hunting her because it was hungry or because she was on its territory.
It just wanted her dead.
With a howl the wretch launched itself forward, rushing toward her with its strange, sideways gait. Sunset spun, throwing the last of her load into the wagon and sweeping the handle up in one smooth motion. A split-second decision was all she needed to begin running back the way she had come, choosing the path she knew was clear over one she’d never traveled. Behind her she heard the door explode outward as the wretch threw its body against it. Was it smart enough to know how a door worked? Or had it thought the glass was an opening it could use?
There was no way to know. The thing let out another long, echoing screech, the sound painfully shrill to her ears as it refracted up and down the street. The wagon bounced, its contents jostling as she rolled it over cracks in the road, but there was no time to see if anything had fallen out.
There was only time to run. Maybe find someplace she could block the thing off or deter it. Except it had gotten atop the store somehow, and she’d seen it jump onto the shelves. Her mind was moving at high speed, galloping as quick as she was running, even as her subconscious screamed at her not to stumble.
The camp store. There were guns there. That would be an effective deterrent. It was that or take the thing on with her hatchet.
I did that once before. But she’d gotten lucky, and that wretch had been sick and tired. This one looked healthy and hale.
Where did it come from? Ahead was the turn that would lead her to the alley, and she risked a glance to the side as she turned. The wretch was still coming, leaping over the tops of the carriages and rushing toward her in a straight line.
Then another shrill scream echoed across the rooftops, and she almost tripped as her body nearly froze up.
The scream hadn’t come from the wretch following her.
It had come from others. There were more of them.
The alley. It was narrow and defensible. She could kill the one chasing her, then hope the rest couldn’t track her scent and make a break for the camp store. Her legs were burning now, molten flames licking at her calves, but she didn’t dare stop. She could still hear the wretch’s gurgling, slobbering growl over the sound of her own boots slapping the road. She turned again, the wagon bouncing and almost going up on two wheels. Careful! If she toppled it, everything in it was as good as gone.
She splashed through the small stream, nearing the entrance to the alley as the wagon bounced and jerked against her hand. Almost there!
The wagon leapt as she dragged the wagon up onto the sidewalk, jerking as she risked another look back. The wretch launched itself over the stream, landing on all fours and scrabbling after her, claws scratching at the pavement.
She bolted down the alley, letting out a grunt of pain as the wagon clipped the post by the gate, jerking her shoulder to one side.
Gate! Maybe she could slow it down. She spun, pivoting on one boot as she rushed into the plaza, letting the wagon roll past her to slam into the fountain with a bang, and darted back down the alley … Just as the wretch appeared around the corner, jaws open. It let out a snarl as it saw her, both of them rushing forward.
She reached the gate first, grabbing the bars and yanking it shut just as the wretch leaped. It’s body slammed into the bars, helping push it shut with a loud clang. A flash of pain tore down her forearm as the thing swiped, its claws leaving red tracks, and Sunset let out a gasp of pain, staggering back. The wretch swung again, its red-tipped claws groping for her and its armor rattling against the metal bars. But it didn’t press past them.
Okay, she thought, trying to ignore the pain in her arm as the wretch threw itself against the bars again and again, slathering. Not smart enough to open a gate. She backed away, back into the plaza. That’s good to—
Something slammed into her from the side, pain raking across her back as she crashed to the ground with a cry. Movement flashed in the corner of her eyes and she lashed out with one foot. A heavy thump sounded alongside a shrill cry as she knocked something back.
It was another wretch, almost identical to the first save that its armor was sporting a dent from where she’d kicked it. It threw its head back with a scream, and Sunset added a cry of her own as the sound seemed to pierce right through her skull. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she scrambled back on her hands and feet, trying to get away.
Her head slammed into something unyielding and she let out another cry of pain, slumping as her body went weak. What …? Empty eye sockets staring up at her from the dirt as her head lolled to one side.
The stone bench where the couple had been resting. She’d backed into it.
The wretch finished its scream. The world inside her head felt slippery, like her thoughts had been covered in oil. There had been something else by the bench, something important, but she couldn’t quite grasp what it was. She felt strangely detached at the sight of her own blood running down her right arm, as well as of the second wretch looking at her with its beady eyes. With another growl it lurched forward.
Hatchet. But she was on her side, the weapon pinned beneath her.
Weapon. Weapon!
Firearm.
Pain lanced up Sunset’s arm as she forced it out to the side, grasping blindly. There was the sensation of cool metal beneath her fingers, and she wrapped her hand around the coolness, pulling it close.
That end toward the target. She couldn’t remember what the end of the weapon was called, but she remembered the minotaur’s lecture. Back end against your shoulder. Aim at what you want to hit.
She shoved herself up, letting out another cry of pain as something dug into her back. The firearm felt like it weighed several tons, but she lifted it anyway, pointing the end at the oncoming wretch. It was almost upon her.
A sound like a thunderclap filled the plaza as she pulled the trigger, a burst that hit her already splitting head like a physical slap. The butt of the gun slammed into her gut as it tore itself free of her fingers, the impact knocking the wind out of her with a sudden gasp. The world was ringing like a bell … or maybe that was just her ears reeling from the blows.
The wretch let out a scream audible even above the ringing, falling back as blood appeared across its face and one arm. It howled, shaking like an animal trying to cast off fleas.
Again. She lifted the weapon, bracing the stock against her shoulder, and pulled the trigger. It refused to budge, stuck fast.
Wait. There was a foregrip running parallel to the weapon’s barrel, mounted on what looked like a slide. A mechanical process. The thoughts slipped through the haze of her mind like drops of wax through honey. Back. Then forward. With a click the front of the weapon snapped back, something spitting out of the side and bouncing across the ground.
Forward. It protested at first, but then gave—just as the wretch rushed for her, leaping into the air.
The thunderclap filled the plaza again as she fired, the blast from the weapon reducing the creature’s left arm to mist and throwing it to one side. Still it rose, shrieking with pain but trying to crawl toward her with its remaining limb, eyes burning with fury.
How dare it? Sunset snarled as she snapped the foregrip back once more, reloading the weapon. Fury bubbled up within her, overpowering her fear and pain as the thing continued to crawl toward her.
This time she braced herself properly, the kick pressing her back but not slamming her down. The wretch’s head evaporated into pulp and mush, and it dropped to the ground several feet from her, dead.
For a moment she laid there, the rage abating as quickly as it had come. I killed it.
Then another scream echoed from nearby, and she pushed herself to her feet, trying not to gasp as fresh waves of pain rolled across her back. The world was swimming, twisting from side to side, but after a second or too it seemed to stabilize. Event the ringing in her ears began to fade.
She couldn’t wait. The screams meant there were more coming. She needed to move.
“Thank you,” she half muttered, glancing down at the bones on the stone bench. They didn’t reply. She hefted the firearm, then stumbled over to her wagon, almost dropping the gun inside it. More screams sounded, the first wretch throwing itself against the gate once more with a crash of metal.
The camp store. It was her best bet. Grabbing the wagon handle in one hand, she began to run.