//------------------------------// // X. Shaken From the Wrath-Bearing Tree // Story: The Night is Passing // by Cynewulf //------------------------------// X. Shaken From the Wrath-Bearing Tree TWILIGHT As the clouds of troubled sleep faded, the morning came, announced by Pinkie’s snores and the hard feeling of sleeping on concrete. Twilight lay in the semidark of their tent, listening to the way the lapping waters of the bay broke in here and there between loud snoring. Bit by bit, she became more aware of her surroundings, of the feeling of the bedding wrapped around her and the warm of Applejack’s back against her own. Twilight sighed. Harvest had promised to walk them to the bridge. Twilight still hoped the map he’d mentioned having was good enough to be of use. Hopefully a real street map, one not drawn from faulty memory. It was time to get up. She squirmed out of her bedding and nuzzled Applejack first, receiving a guttural groan for her trouble. Twilight smiled, suppressing a yawn, and moved on to Pinkie. “Pinkie? You ready?” “Mrmf.” “Yeah, I figured so.Harvest is waiting.” Applejack was up by the time she turned back around. The two of them folded up the bedding while Pinkie stumbled out of the tent, murmuring to herself. Twilight smiled when she caught the scent of coffee in the air. Pinkie was the only pony who could give Twilight’s caffeine addiction a run for its money. “Somepony’s in a good mood this morning,” Applejack commented. “I’ve always enjoyed the morning.” “Really now? What’s a librarian do in the mornin’?” Applejack asked, stuffing a few personal odds and ends into her saddlebag. Twilight shrugged. “Not one anymore, remember? But I used to read with coffee in the mornings. You’d never believe it, but I used to sleep in on Sundays. Me, the one who plans every second of every day, slept in. Crazy, huh?” “A bit hard to imagine,” Applejack conceded with a chuckle. It occurred to Twilight that it had been a while on the road since they’d woken up to anything other than sullen silence. It was refreshing, like a bit of the old days had snuck in while nopony was looking. “Well, I would lie there, lazing in the sun. Just a crack of sun through the curtains, cutting across the bed… the promise of coffee downstairs…” She smiled, and they pushed the bags out of the tent ahead of them. “I used to love it.” Together, they dismantled their little tent and packed it away. Twilight was glad for the space enchantments on her bag at times like this. They’d taken her two days to get right, but they were proving to be worth it. Pinkie sat by her tiny fire, built in the ashes of the night before. She had wrapped a handkerchief around the handle of the coffee pot (why she had this Twilight did not bother to guess) and held it over the fire as it began to bubble. Twilight, as usual, offered to take it and make their shared fix herself and took the saucepan with Pinkie’s grumbly consent. Pinkie yawned and look at the fire. “Woulda never figured you could go ten minutes without movin’, sugarcube,” Applejack said. “Mornin’. Can’t talk. Coffee.” “I know, just thought it’d be polite to try,” Applejack replied and retrieved her hat from where it sat on top of their clustered saddlebags. “Anyhow. Twilight, where’s that Harvest fella? I forgot what he said ‘bout meetin’ him this morning.” “Nothing special,” Twilight said, looking out at the bridge and the morning view of Vanhoover’s heights. “We’re just waiting for him. We’re not in that much of a hurry, not yet. We have roughly eight hours left of sunlight if we’re unlucky. A whole ten if we’re not. You know how the days are, now.” “Right. Well then, cry your pardon,” Applejack said and dug around in her bag. She produced the old pipe and her little pouch of tobacco and sat up against her bag. “Light me?” she asked. Twilight did so, and Applejack and she watched across the water. Pinkie was first to have a large mug of coffee drifted over towards her, and she was on it like a starving animal. Twilight considered asking her where she had procured the sugar which she poured in greedily but decided the undoubtedly long-winded explanation was too much for this morning. Harvest’s arrival found them like this, Applejack blowing idle smoke rings and Twilight watching the sun’s reflection. Pinkie drifted this way and that but greeted the patriarch of Tall Tale warmly. The others made their own, slightly more subdued greetings, and they retrieved their belongings and followed him. In the good light, Twilight was beyond impressed by him. He was physically imposing in a way that left her looking up permanently. Musclebound, as if he were made of steel or red marble, with eyes that looked at her sharply. She had no doubts, now, about how he’d kept intruders and ne’er-do-wells out of the manes of his band of survivors. Harvest kept up idle chatter, telling them about the town before the griffons and Celestia’s disappearance. Twilight’s eyes wandered to and fro, cataloguing as they always did. Curiously, one would struggle to prove that these ponies were even here if it weren’t for the ashes of their fires and the physical evidence of their tents. There wasn’t even the barest hint of a whisper of activity on the docks. The concrete beneath her hooves was cold and unwalked. “Harvest?” “Hm?” He looked back at her, eyebrows raised. He had been midway through a rambling, gregarious story that honestly she’d found rather tiring. “I’m sorry, just a quick question while it’s on my mind. Where is everypony?” He blinked. “Come again, little miss?” “The ponies. Your ponies. It’s… at least seven thirty? Maybe almost eight in the morning. It’s not that late, but I’m surprised that none of them are up. It’s completely silent.” “Well, you see,” he shrugged and looked away from her eyes, “we don’t quite have those Canterlot timetables, y’know? Ponies wake up about when they want to and not before. Can’t be bothered to wake up when there’s not that much work to do, after all! I mean,” he continued, making a sweeping gesture, “wouldn’t you stay in bed in such a place?” Twilight did not answer, giving him a distracted nod. “But sleep is boring,” Pinkie cut in. “I mean, if I lived here, I would explore all the time!” “Hard to explore your own town,” Harvest pointed out. His voice was quieter as if suddenly remembering there were sleepers nearby. “Oh. Well, I guess, but I mean… it’s so big!” “Yeah, not sure I’d sleep in, either,” Applejack drawled, cracking her neck. “But, then again, that may just be me an’ the way I was raised.” “Shame,” Twilight said, sighing. “I had hoped to be able to talk to one of the survivors from Vanhoover… Are you sure you can’t wake one?” Harvest shakes his head. “No, Miss Twilight, no can do. Trust me, they’d be useless to ya. Now, you three have been nice to me and mine, but I’d rather not be dragging memories out of the dark for little reason.” He coughed, and they stopped at the street. “Now, I thought you might be of that mind… so last night after I left y’all, I talked to Old Stallion… ah, Jenkins. His little granddaughter helped me draw the routes on this map if you’ll let me show you.” She noticed the saddlebag he had, now, as he dug through it and came up with a rolled up map. Twilight took it with her magic and examined it. A smile blossomed on her face. “A street map! Excellent. A legitimate, civil engineer’s street map, zones and everything. I was worried it would be drawn from memory. Er, not to say… What I mean to say is thank you,” she finished lamely but allowing a little smile. His evasion seemed less troublesome now. There were even notes scrawled childishly. Perhaps a bit too childish… she struggled with some of the words, thinking to herself that it was perhaps some of the worst spelling she’d seen from any child, but in a world such as this, it was to be expected. But with this, Twilight was sure they’d be able to navigate no matter how badly the streets were damaged or blocked. Harvest’s tight-lippedness about the other city aside, his map was a boon. They walked the cracked streets in a clump, and Harvest made up for his absent eyewitnesses. “Now, I will tell ya again that I don’t know much ‘bout the city, but I do know a little.” “As it is? Or as it was?” Twilight asked. “Both,” he said. “Now, most of my knowledge of the city in the notes and map and such. But I do know that ‘fore all this mess, there was a steamboat in the harbor that was good for ocean journeyin’. Read about it in the papers; all of ‘em got busted for smuggling goods in from the Port Iver. I think it’s an island out there.” “So, you think it might still be there?” “Very possible. Since you’re lookin’ for ships, thought you might want to know. There might be others, but that one I know was there. There’s coal on the dock, so I’d be on the lookout. You’ll need quite a bit.” “So… these two factions,” began Twilight, but Applejack chimed in, and she stopped to listen. “I got a question, big fella,” she said, adjusting her hat. “How many folks came over the bridge? How many you think are still in there?” He shrugged. “I… I ain’t really sure,” he admitted. “I’d have to count, I suppose.” She blinked. “Huh. Apologies. Last night, you struck me as one of those types that keeps track meticulously. Like Twi,” she said, raising an eyebrow at Twilight, who rolled her eyes in response. “Actually, I was going to ask you something similar. The Blues and the Grays. Are there many left, would you say? Are they blowing things up regularly?” Harvest chuckled. “If there are lots left, ‘s only ‘cause there were so many of ‘em in the first place. Vanhoover, big cities in general, they’re all like ant beds. Too full, too crowded. Nuisances. But I don’t think there are that many left. We don’t get many explosions these days, but every now and again, I’ll walk by our barricade and hear a gunshot echo.” Twilight blinked, and as they turned down a wide street, she spoke. “Barricade?” “Eeyup. We put up a barricade up ‘bout a third of the way up the bridge to keep the riffraff out, keep the Vanhoover ponies on their side.” Twilight imagined it, built of carts, perhaps. A wall of debris, guns pointing over the top. “I’m assuming you had to use it at least once.” “More than just once,” Harvest said, and she noticed his pace was a little quicker than before. APPLEJACK The long bridge across the bay was cluttered with vehicles. No bodies, or at least not yet. She liked him, but Harvest’s refusal to do or say anything about the city across the bay rubbed Applejack the wrong way. She got protecting your own. It made a lot of sense—she’d be tight-lipped if it protected Applebloom or helped Big Macintosh. But the stallion was a stone wall. If it happened across the bay, he didn’t care. If it happened outside the city, he didn’t care. It just bothered her, how he would shrug. He didn’t care for any news they could give him. There was no interest in Canterlot or the fate of Equestria despite the silence Tall Tale had languished in. Twilight stopped them at the pile-up of carts. The cartsponies had all fled, she supposed, and abandoned their cargoes. Or they’d been moved. Applejack didn’t really want to know which, honestly. She peeked around it and found a hole bit out of the asphalt. She tsked and returned to Twilight, who watched her. “Can’t go that way,” Applejack said. “Though I guess I ain’t surprised. It bein’ a wall and all. I figured they woulda made a way to get through.” “I thought it might be impossible. They didn’t need it to be that useful.” Applejack’s ears pricked. “Come again, Twi?” “I have a hunch as to why, but… Well. Somepony piled up the detritus of war to shield themselves from bullets, and that takes more than one or two ponies, and yet Harvest just mentioned that he made it. You see the little holes? You could stick shoot sticks through there and brace them.” “The way you say that makes me think you’re gonna lay somethin’ heavy down ‘bout it. Seems natural to me. It’s a fortification…” Applejack said, frowning. She watched Pinkie wander around the wall, humming to herself. Pinkie avoided the body completely, and Applejack didn’t blame her. “Harvest an’ them didn’t want any fools comin’ across. Makes sense, you know?” “Of course.” Twilight’s horn lit up. “Which is why I’m going to put it back together after I dismantle it.” Applejack watched, ears twitching, as Twilight lifted the carts and put them away one by one, like a child with her toys. Applejack would be lying if she said it didn’t bother her a little, and it did in a way she couldn’t rightly describe without it seeming petty. It was easy. That was it, she thought, as Twilight finished. It was easy. All it took for anypony to do anything with magic was a whim and a horn. It had probably taken the earth ponies in Tall Tale an hour or more to build it. Two hours. She had no idea. They passed through. “I’m gonna guess on somethin’, Twilight,” she said quietly. “Go for it,” Twilight responded on the other side as she stood and put the barricade back as it had been. The carts flew through the air, cradled by a purple glow. “You don’t like Harvest so much.” Twilight set the cart down and glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. “What makes you think that?” “How you act. It’s not like you’re subtle, Twi. Sorry about that, but it’s true. Now, I ain’t sayin’ he’s a saint. You aren’t the only one with some misgivings.” She sighed. Twilight moved the next cart. From this side, the barricade seemed impassable, a true wall. She could almost imagine ponies trying to assault this place. And she had material all around to aid her. Bodies littered the bridge. Now that she looked, she saw foals or what had been foals a long time ago. Stallions and mares cradling broken weapons—and personal effects. She wandered, looking at them, feeling something trying to break through to the forefront of her mind. Some last connection trying to find a grip. “I think Harvest didn’t let refugees leave the city,” Twilight said presently. Applejack turned and looked at her silently. Twilight continued. “I’m not sure, Applejack, but the way he acts… the bodies here… I think the refugees he mentioned? I don’t think that we didn’t see them just because we were busy being with him. I think we didn’t see any because he wouldn’t let them past the barricade, and they were mowed down.” Applejack stared down at the ghoulish face of a foal, the skin rotten and mostly gone, the eyes pecked out by some vagrant bird. A filly. An earth pony, probably not that much different from Applebloom a few years ago, running for the wall with Tall Tale survivors on it, praying they would save her. Knowing they could. She would know that they could’ve saved her even as she died. Applejack saw the wound, now. Gut wound. Dying was slow. Applejack stared. “How do we tell?” she asked. “We can’t.” Applejack rounded on her. “Well, dammit, Twi, why not? Why not turn around right now and go ask that son of a bitch? Why didn’t you say nothin’ before, when we left him at the intersection?” Twilight stared down at her hooves. Pinkie approached and laid a hoof on her shoulders, and Twilight seemed to accept it without much trouble. Applejack continued. “Just… dammit. It ain’t right!”” she yelled, her voice carrying. The morning wind had died. The air was far too still. Far, far too still. “Twilight, you know you’re right.” “I can’t tell for sure—” “Don’t give me that bullshit, Twilight. I’m your friend. I love you like you’re another Apple, but don’t gimme none of that cautious bullshit. Cowardice ain’t becomin’. When did you start wondering?” “Twilight?” Pinkie broke in, voice soft. Applejack stopped short, blinking. The tone of her voice… frightened Applejack. She didn’t try to sugarcoat the feeling. It was unnatural, alien, frightening. “Pinkie?” “Will you tell us the truth? Did he… Did Mr. Harvest not help these ponies?” Twilight met her gaze only for an instant, and then she pulled away. “I… I can’t be certain, Pinkie.” “Why not?” Pinkie asked. Her voice did not change. “You’re good at puzzles, Twilight.” The former librarian flinched. “Pinkie…” It was like all the air had gone out of her, like a limp balloon. “Pinkie, please don’t ask me.” “I need to know.” “No, you don’t!” Applejack was mute. She simply stared at a shaking Twilight and Pinkie, who was still as a statue. “Twilight,” Pinkie implored, smiling. “Mr. Harvest was a nice pony. He’s a good pony.” Twilight whimpered. And then Applejack understood. The placement of bodies… It made sense. There had been none on one side of the wall and many on this side. She almost paused to count, but the thought made her feel sick. Harvest had sheltered them. The ponies in Tall Tale loved him. He fed others—he even fed strangers. Without him, the survivors by the docks would be scattered. He was their father. Maybe they knew. Maybe they didn’t. Maybe he had been protecting them all along from all of the outsiders. From Vanhoover and from Canterlot. He had kept them from talking to anypony to save them from hope and knowledge and so they didn’t start wondering why nopony had come over the bridge. To save himself. To save them. “Twilight…” she breathed, tears rolling down her cheek. “Twilight, we can’t say anythin’ to him, can we?” Twilight shook her head. “It ain’t right.” “What’s right?” Twilight barked. “But… he laughed,” Pinkie said. It was nonsensical. Applejack almost wanted to tell her that that didn’t mean anything. Applejack walked to the barricade, passing between Pinkie and Twilight. With a roar, she reared up and kicked the barricade with all of her strength, breaking the wood and sending shards everywhere. Stumbling back, she looked down to find small cuts up her legs, and she laughed, an unpleasant, awful laughter. “You know, Twilight, I’m beginning to wonder what’s gonna happen afterward. How we’re gonna convince anypony to keep goin’ after all this.” “What… do you mean?” “You noticed how little he cared ‘bout the rest of us. Guardin’ his own like a pa ought to but without a bit of attention for anypony outside of his damn little circle.” “It’s only natural…” Applejack looked at her legs. “Oh, I know. I know it is, Twilight, and that’s the problem. I ain’t no philosopher, like the ones that write the thick bricks. I went to the agricultural college up in Chadron same as my pa and Big Macintosh did. But lemme tell ya, Twi, I understand how somepony who’s got a family feels about the world.” She spat. “The outside—the whole thing, ponies and the Everfree, wolves, weather—everything outside of the three or four of you seems like the enemy. It’s how you survive in hostile territory. Everypony wants to take your farm or your life or your apples or… whatever you got. You know what, though? I been thinkin’ lately, after that village and Tall Tale, and I don’t think that even if Celestia comes back, we’ll be Equestrians again. It’s broken, Twilight. What’s it all for? Harvest did what he did, and ponies lived. You and I can’t make him pay for it. We can’t make it right, cause nothin’ is going to and nothin’ ever will. It’s all just… dammit, broken, I guess.” “If we find her, they’ll come back,” Twilight said, her voice cold. “We’ll show them they have to.” “But you see? Think about that. Go back to Harvest, and tell him he has to care about Canterlot, and let ‘im tell you what that sounds like. Like foolishness. There’s no Canterlot or Celestia to tell these ponies they have to care ‘bout anypony over in Vanhoover, Twilight, and so they don’t. Or at least, they let themselves not care.” “They don’t know any better!” Twilight insisted. “He isn’t… He won’t…” “An’ why should he?” Pinkie shook herself. “Because it’s right,” she said, and her voice was still changed. She started walking again. Applejack thought to answer, but didn’t. There was really nothing to say. The whole conversation was pointless. They had to find Celestia for it to even matter, didn’t they? And would they? Was it really possible? She was the one who said so. She hadn’t said it in a while. TWILIGHT The city of Vanhoover was a pockmarked, bruised, swollen face. A face that told Twilight approximately nothing beyond the obvious. There were signs of battle, yes, but no way to tell how recent. No ponies in the streets that were alive, or had been alive recently. There had been a brief and distant report of gunfire after they left the bridge behind, but it had been singular, unanswered, and as far as she could tell, useless. But she knew that she was not alone. It was obvious. A city this size? No brief and bloody civil war could rob it of its life. Not all of it. The bodies would pile, and the blood would be rivulets; in short, there were far more alive than Harvest insisted there were. Or wants to think about, she guessed as she navigated around a bus stop sign, nibbling on her lip. It was different from Ponyville and decidedly different from Manehattan. The streets were clogged with not only vehicles but debris from buildings that had been blotted out like little mistakes on the map that she had put away for now. To be frank, though she had been delighted to have it, the map’s effectiveness was not quite what she’d expected. Whether Harvest meant it to be a boon or not, the city was completely different. But so far, the city’s basic landmarks were still visible and existent. Mostly. Even if they had holes blown all in them, there was enough left to make shadows in the hot sunlight. More or less, the city was a pile of highrises surrounding the bay with a bit of urban sprawl continuing on lazily along the river a stretch before both curled around into Lake Ourous. In truth, everywhere there was city, there was water nearby, not all that dissimilar from Manehattan. Not that she appreciated the similarity, but it was hard to escape. She’d done her best to ignore the wine dark waters, keeping inland. If the docks were occupied, Twilight wanted to see the state of the city before she ventured into territory firmly in the control of militia ponies. So far, she was seeing mostly evidence of fight but not of flight. There were no slaughtered caravans or at least none that had been left where they’d been destroyed. No signs of official evacuation. It was Applejack who suggested that some had gone underground. Twilight was sure that she was right, but none of them had any desire to brave the dank sewers. Pinkie had been as puzzled as Twilight at the lack of life and had fallen back into silence. Until, of course, they came to the park. She’d seen a picture of Republic Park, once. The hill had a modest bronze monument to the Earth Republic that had officially elected to merge into Equestria during the reign of the first king, but the real attraction was the greenery. It was gorgeous. She remembered smiling at the brilliant colors of its gardens, thinking of Ponyville as she admired the path leading up to the hill, with trees on either side. Of course, she found herself unsurprised as they hid behind a charred barricade of tables staring out over the muddy Republic Park. The trees had been cut. She assumed for a clear line of sight. The hill was covered with makeshift fortifications, doors and furniture and what she thought might be metal from the hulls of at least two different ships had been erected hastily and then savaged. The grass had been eaten up by the trampling of hooves and the bite of artillery fire. “Looks like they lost,” Applejack said, scowling. “Twi, I’m voting it’s empty.” “I’d agree. I’m worried about somepony panicking and shooting from the walls if they see us. Pinkie?” “Whatcha need?” “This is going to be odd, but… Well, I guess it is odd, but you’re an odd pony, you know?” “Thanks!” “Welcome. You’re the one who notices ponies. If we’ve done nothing at all this trip, we’ve figured that out. I’m terrible at stealth, and Applejack is alright—” “A bit more than alright, there, sugar,” Applejack said without force. “—but you’re the best. I think. Can you slip around and look for signs of life?” Pinkie nodded with a little smile. “You got it. Pinkiespy has got your back, Twilight!” That got a chuckle. “Sure. Just be careful, alright?” Pinkie was already darting off, waving over her shoulder in a way that somehow managed to avoid being tripped, leaving Twilight still smiling but slightly more bewildered. Soon, she was out of sight. Twilight tried to track her, but she hadn’t been paying favors without cause. Pinkie was the stealthy one in the party. Twilight trusted her keen eyes and her love of prowling, playful or not, even if she sometimes doubted Pinkie’s abilities to maintain a serious conversation. Guess that’s a little unfair, she thought, leaning against the barricade. A table legged poked her in the back, and she shifted. “Kinda makes me wish I had wings like Rainbow,” Applejack said from beside her. Twilight glanced over at her. She could only stare at the same dead street so long. “Thought you were afraid of heights.” “Oh, I am.” When Twilight raised an eyebrow, she continued. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, Twi. I’d be scared as hell up there without nothin’ to catch me. But anything beats this.” She gestured at the street. Twilight looked at with her. What was there to describe? She could only say dead so many ways, communicate fallen with so many words. She could only think about it so much. Twilight sighed. “I’ve been having dreams.” Applejack didn’t look up. “I’ll take a guess. Manehattan?” “Yeah.” Applejack did look now, and her face was flat. “It’s not exactly the same.” “No.” “But I get it. It ain’t like I hadn’t thought of all that mess, Twi. I’m still glad not all of us went.” She adjusted the hat, blocking out the sun. “Glad it’s warmin’ up,” she commented, and Twilight did not answer. “I don’t know, honestly. I reckon it’s better not to forget, ‘cause it just feels wrong, but I’d rather not think much about it, you know?” Twilight shrugged. “We talked that night, but I’ve been thinking since then. I think that’s… I just left something back there, Applejack.” She waved a hoof. “Eh. Maybe I’m just sort of grasping at nothing, trying to catch smoke. My magic has declined since.” “Really?” “Inexplicably. I… I don’t talk about it much. It’s not like I’m losing it. I don’t know why. I don’t know how. I mean, of course I have theories. Mostly, the stress and the helping Luna and then… you know how I was for a while.” “Damn well stopped leaving the towers.” “Yeah,” Twilight said, like a balloon letting out its last bit of air. “Damn well stopped, indeed. Nicely put. Magic is strange, Applejack. I’m not as sure of it as I once was.” Applejack’s ears perked. “Wait, come again?” “I mean… there’s more to it than the numbers. More and more, I’m sure of it. Psychology… something mystic… Pinkie sense, I don’t know. I just know that the further I get from how I was, the less control I have. I almost lost it back in that village. The blanket? I pulled too much energy at once, and I was about ready to fry myself. Or somepony else without even meaning to.” Applejack stretched. “You know I ain’t a huge fan of magic.” “Earth ponies aren’t, sometimes. You’ve never said much outside of Winter Wrap Up.” “That’s ‘cause you’re my friend, Twi, and it means a lot to you. Which is why I wanna know why you ain’t been practicing.” “Practicing?” Twilight asked. “Practicing what?” “Twilight, maybe I’m all kinds of off base on this one, but when I’ve been injured, or Mac has, we gotta work back to apple bucking with baby steps. Today, I’m gonna walk to the store and back without stoppin’. Today, I’ll try to carry something on my back. But you can’t just rest and hope you get better. I mean, well, you can,” she faltered. “Just trust me.” “I suppose I could do something,” Twilight replied, looking back out at the street they’d come from. “I’m just sort of worried about…” “Manehattan.” “Right.” Time crawled. Twilight thought about moving up, if only to do something but sit, but decided against mentioning it. The silence was starting to get to her. With a dearth of sound, her mind began to supply its own, and with the surroundings provided, she once again returned to the Beachhead. It was Pinkie that brought her out from the past, crawling over the top of their barricade in an unceremonious and rather obvious manner. Twilight didn’t even realize it was happening until her field of vision was overtaken by a voluminous, bouncy, pink mane. She jumped, startled, only to find Pinkie already talking and tangled up with her. “Not empty!” Applejack pulled Pinkie off. “What? Fast, Pinks.” “Not empty! There’s two ponies in there! I think we sh—” Pinkie stopped mid-sentence, jumped off of Applejack, and then spun around. Her eyes were wide. Her gestures were wild, spinning arcs. “We need to go!” “Go where? Slow down—” Applejack began, but Pinkie shook her head violently. “Up there! Pris…” Pinkie took a deep breath. “There’s a pony trapped in a cage. He asked me to help him, so I climbed over the wall—” “Pinkie,” Twilight growled. “You could’ve been seen!” “—but that doesn’t matter because he needed my help,” Pinkie finished. “But there was another pony, and they’re going to kill him!” Applejack and Twilight looked at one another, and the old argument rose in an instant. Twilight opened her mouth to protest that they couldn’t help every single pony in the world, but then she stopped. No, no they couldn’t. “Twilight, we—” Applejack began, but Twilight cut her off. “I know. Let’s just hurry, alright?” There was no time for subtle maneuver or stealth. They ran now, across the war torn street into the mud-bowl park, Applejack leading. Her head was bowed, her ears flat, her hat hanging on only by a miracle and years of inertia. Twilight grasped at no magic. She would wait, wait until she saw whoever it was cresting the hill, and then she would let them have it. But they saw no ponies besides themselves. They came to the first barricades, at the base of the hill, and thought struggling in deep mud, Applejack turned and kicked at the cobbled-together wall, and it shattered inward. Pinkie was first through the gap, throwing herself like a missile, and Twilight began to think they could do it. They might find this pony before his foes could; there may be no fight at all. Pinkie led them up the hill, where patchy grass still dared to grow here and there. The path up to the only opening large enough for them, what Twilight guessed had been some attempt at a door, was worn by hundred of hooves, and Twilight felt a sense of déjà vu, of having done this many, many times, charging up this mountain over and over. But she could not dwell on it. They were to the gap. She heard somepony shouting, but it sounded distant. There was no way to continue. She stopped dead in the gateway of the makeshift fortification in an abject and complete horror. Yes, it was all familiar. The bodies were not missing here as they were in the torn streets. They were scattered everywhere, left haphazard without even the dignity of burning. The air smelled of acrid smoke and sweat and mud, and Twilight felt her stomach churn. No roof, no protection from above. They had created a barrel, and somepony had shot them in it at leisure. She imagined pegasi in the air, swooping down, hoofblades cutting from out of the sun. Applejack did not stop, and she and Pinkie pushed on ahead of Twilight. Twilight saw where they were going: a cage in the corner. An earth pony stallion pushed against the rusting bars. He looked up to see the three mares, and a wild grin blossomed on his face. “Oh, Lady preserve me, help! Lemme out!” Pinkie arrived first, resting her hooves on the bars. “I brought help, but I hear somepony coming,” she said to Applejack, who came beside her and examined the lock. “Not close, but if we’re not fast…” “Stand aside,” Twilight said, clearing her throat and focusing on the cage. Business. She couldn’t afford to be distracted now. Her friends obeyed, and the stallion edged back. Twilight summoned her magic to the tip of her horn, only drawing the tiniest modicum before releasing it as a tight, concentrated beam that burned through the lock. It fell into the dust, and the stallion pushed the door open with his shoulder. “Oh, stars, thank ye,” he groaned. “I thought I was not for the world, young miss. Can we go now?” “Pinkie, how close?” Twilight asked. Pinkie shook her head as she examined the stallion for any wounds. “I don’t know. Don’t you hear them?” She did. “What’s your name?” Twilight asked the stallion. “Main Sail,” he said and coughed. “Look, if ye’re worried ‘bout yon Blues, I can gladly offer you some safety below ground.” “Explain. Quickly,” Twilight added, and they began to slowly back away, towards the exit. “We need somewhere they won’t follow.” But as she finished, it was too late to avoid discovery. A pegasus soared over the shabby ramparts, and Twilight saw something glint on his body in the sunlight before she lost track of him for a moment. “Run!” She yelled, calling up another hooffull of magic, waiting for him to dive. But he did not. As her friends sprinted for the entrance, he came back into view and stopped in midair. Time slowed. She could see him in detail now, out of the blinding sunlight. He wore a workpony’s utility barding, a deep blue, and on his shoulders was something she’d never seen on a pony in the air before. The barrel was unmistakable, and she had to accept it. He’d fitted a saddle with a longbore rifle. It was insane. He would throw out that shoulder. She found herself absurdly offended at its stupidity even as she charged the magic that would end it. Twilight roared, drawing deeper into her reserves for something that would blow the pegasus out of the sky, but he had steadied himself. He fired just as she did, and though she heard the loud report, she felt no wound and knew he’d missed her. She did not miss. Her blast of purplish arcane energy hit him square in the chest, and he spasmed before careening down towards earth, trying weakly to correct himself with wings that were no longer obeying. That’s when she heard somepony close to her whimpering. “Pinkie! Damn it, that… Twilight, come hold ‘em off!” She looked back. Pinkie limped at the gate, her eyes wide, her flank red. Twilight gaped as Sails and Applejack tried to support her. But she heard shouts of alarm from over the barricades, and she knew more were coming to reclaim their old fort. Or their enemy’s old fort. She had no idea. It didn’t matter. “Who the hell are ya?” she heard Applejack shouting at the new pony, but Twilight could not hear his answer, as she was already looking back. Another pegasus over the barricade, this one echoing her earlier cry. She saw no ridiculous shoulder-mounted weapon, but the glint of the dragon-like claws were enough. She called up the magic, and it obeyed without question. The new pegasus came in, strafing, and she fired twice. It dodged the first, but the second clipped a leg and sent the attacker sprawling in the dust. Before she could hit him again, she paid for her lack of attention as a winged mare fell out of the sky, out of the sunlight, right on top of her. A hoof connected with her face, and Twilight hit the ground. The mare was laughing, and it was no crazed, dull Raider’s laugh but a clear one. Twilight hated it. She hated them. She hated everything. The magic sprang to her defense almost without her having to pull at it. An arcane fist crashed into the mare and sent her flying. Twilight rose and hobbled back, shaking her head. Her vision swam as her eyes watered, and the world righted itself. She felt warm wetness creeping down her brow. The first pegasus was up again and threw himself at her. He would just dodge a blast, so she coated herself with a layer of arcane energy, and when his shoulder hit her, he found himself reflected back into the air, body splayed out like a beautiful, perfect target in midair. Twilight took the invitation; repurposing the mage armor was easy. She rolled it into a ball, and it hit him like a stab in the ribs, a sucker punch by a giant, and she heard something break as she went limp and fall back to earth. The mare was on her, screeching incoherently, knocking her aside again. Twilight’s mane was in her eyes. She flailed, calling the magic up, panicking as she felt the mare bite her shoulder, her chest, just trying to hurt and bruise and beat. Hooves kicked her, and she felt the cold steel of a hoofblade on her flank. And then the mare was gone, and Twilight was staring up into the sun. She was up on her hooves. Sail had kicked the mare off and was behind Twilight, but without a follow-up, the Blue was still going to get up. Twilight channeled her panic into another bolt and put the pegasus down for good. As soon as the Blue’s face hit the dirt, Twilight turned heel and ran at full speed. Applejack and Pinkie were halfway down the hill. Sail was right on her flank, and she called out to him as they came up on the limping Pinkie. “You’d better lead the way, Sails. Pinkie’s hurt for you! You’d better be worth it!” “Just follow!” he shot back. They did, beating as quick a retreat as they could with an injured pony in tow. Twilight used her magic to alleviate the pressure of Pinkie’s leg on the ground and levitate her slightly so that two ponies could keep her moving relatively quickly. So they followed him through streets until they came to a subway station. Sails took no second look. He read the sign as he ran, turned, and disappeared into the darkness, and Twilight realized, as they followed, that they were going to be trapped with a pony they didn’t know in a city that had lost its mind.