Fallout: Equestria - Rolling Bones

by Honey Mead

Chapter 4-1: Leaving Home

Fallout Equestria: Rolling Bones
Chapter 4-1: Leaving Home

The streets of Dise were empty, save the dark lumps that may or may not have been ponies stuffed into alleys. With the sun just on the other side of the horizon, the night owls had crashed, what energy they’d gained from their choice drug spent on their choice entertainment, and the early birds had yet to awaken, only different from their counterparts for the ‘a’ instead of a ‘p’. It was the only time of day when Dise paused, as though to take a breath, before barreling headlong back into the whirlwind of activity that was its normal state of being.

The hushed atmosphere was broken only by the clatter of Oracle’s hooves and those of his cadre. Five and one-half ponies and two zebras trailed behind him in a mixed state of discipline.

Only two of the ponies besides himself had any formal military training—only one of which acted like it. Whether Cross had had any military training before joining was not something Oracle had ever bothered to ask, but he would be surprised to learn that she hadn’t. Of the twins, Stock made an effort to appear every bit the soldier, unfortunately for him, Locke didn’t share his mindset. The resulting gait was one of awkward stops and starts as they wrestled for control. Carrot was… somewhere, likely tailing them, regardless, when he was needed he would be there—no matter how much Oracle would have prefered otherwise. The zebras where another matter altogether. Zefira Tandara kept pace well enough despite her age worn limp, while her companion, Knives, stayed vigilant at her side.

Nearing the Watcher’s fort, they were greeted by the muffled clatter of activity through the walls. Somepony was shouting orders, a mare by the timbre, with an almost constant murmur of grunts from those on the receiving end. It wasn’t until Oracle opened the personal door to one side that they were confronted with the true volume of the proceedings.

Outwardly, Oracle didn’t pay it much mind, his eyes moving smoothly over everything as he entered. Inwardly, however, he noted everything.

The wagons were impressive to a scale he’d not seen before. Built from a chassis of old boxcars, they were the largest mobile structures he’d seen put to use—most of the pre-war vehicles that came close being too far gone to be useable. Spots of steel glinted where the ancient red paint and rust had been stripped off with bits and pieces showing welding scars where whole sections had been transposed from other cars. Where once the original railroad wheels had sat, now four leg-width steel axles supported sixteen half-a-pony wide wheels. Easily four ponies tall, they seemed like wheeled monoliths towering over the workers scurrying about in their shadow. Four-pony leather and wood harnesses had been tacked to the front of each.

The commotion, while incorporating the wagons, was centered around a white coated unicorn mare standing atop a step ladder with a mane and tail of orange and purple, the former done up in a tight bun, the latter in a braid. A cloud of clipboards and swarmed about her head. Three quills zipped in and out on their way from one to the next. The mare afforded the show of impressive skill not a whit of notice, as though any pony could manage so many different objects in constant motion if they only bothered to try.

A small enchantment shimmered along her throat and carried her voice over the noise made by the herd of ponies working to her instruction. Beneath her gaze, boxes and crates were filled, labeled, and sealed before being whisked away to be stowed in one of three wagons, the majority going to the last.

Oracle trotted straight up to her and made his presence known by clearing his throat. Whether through pre-occupation or wanton disregard, the mare continued with her work and paid him no mind. Oracle frowned and stepped closer. He tried three more times to get the mare’s attention, only succeeding when he tapped her fetlock.

The mare glared down like a griffon perched over a field mouse, deciding how long to play with it before going for the kill. “Well?”

Oracle’s frown deepened. Cold annoyance settled in behind his eyes. He’d been on the receiving end of similar stares many times in his life, whether from griffons, minotaurs, or other ponies. His continued survival spoke volumes of how each of those encounters had turned out.

His face slackened, washed clean as his muscles relaxed and his eyelids drooped. “I was promised half a wagon to stow our gear.”

“Second wagon, back half.” With that, she turned back to her task, resuming as if there had been no disruption.

Oracle likewise dismissed her as he led the way to their new destination. He had not the time nor the energy to care. All that mattered was to get underway.

Ten paces later, he stopped, frozen by the sight before him. He’d been briefed on the water-wagons and their importance, but seeing them in first-hoof was a whole different experience.

Never before had he seen so much copper in one place. The giant cylindrical tank, easily three lengths long and two high, was strapped on its side to a steel chassis of four axles and eight wheels. The last half-length was a series of copper pipes and contraptions that lead to a single, lever operated spigot. What caught him the most, however, was the short, two-pony harness attached to the front. Water, contrary to what someponies believed, was not light, and the volume contained in that tank… he seriously questioned whether two earth ponies, no matter their bulk, could haul one of those for more than an hour, much less continuously for weeks on end.

Letting the thoughts slide to the back of his mind, Oracle continue forward. When the second water-wagon came into view he ignored it, instead hooking behind the indicated boxcar before he turned to face his employees.

Each of them already wore most of their gear, none managing anything that even approached a unified theme. That still left quite a bit of gear and ammunition loaded into a wagon being pulled by Appletosser—Carrot’s appearance on the brown stallion’s back failing to elicit any reaction.

“Irons, Locke, Stock, and Cross, get everything stowed and secured. Spoon, you pulled the short straw.”

Appletosser rolled his eyes before kicking the harness release and stepping away from the wagon. “Come on, Carrot, let’s go wrangle us a pegasus.”

The colt jumped forward and planted his forehooves in Spoon’s dark brown mane. “Can we use a lasso?”

Spoon chuckled as he started to walk away. “Do you have a lasso?”

“No.” Carrot’s disappointment only lasted a heartbeat. “What about…”

I hate waking up. Everything about it just sucks. First there’s the confusion while transitioning out of a dream. Nothing’s worse than that moment when you realize that, no, you’re not actually an alicorn and, no, that pain in your forehead has nothing to do with the sudden addition of a horn. Then there’s the sudden temperature drop like your body refuses to produce any heat while you’re awake. And let’s not forget the light, because buck my eyes.

But the worst part, the worst part is how that hoof poking you in the side is never the newest member of your non-existant harem wanting your attention.

“Wakey, wakey.”

I groaned and rolled away, covering my face with a wing, desperate to reclaim my fading dream.

“Come on, stud, it’s time to get up.”

“Go buck yourself.”

“Whelp, I tried. Carrot?”

Every bit as big as Hurdles, the stallion wore a pleased grin on his light-brown snout, like he’d just won a bet. He was covered from neck to dock in dull steel plates, the overlapping segments giving it the appearance of scales. A much smaller orange colt laughed uproariously, rolling across the armour plating with an empty bucket held in his out stretched hoof.

“That was not funny!”

“‘Course it was. Never done it to a pegasus before. Do all of you jump that high when you’re scared?”

“I wasn’t scared. It was cold… and wet… and shut up!” I landed and began wiping the water from my face and mane. “What do you want?” He made no response, and when I looked up he was standing stock still with his lips pressed into a tight line. The colt on his back, however, was nearly vibrating. “Well?”

“You… you told him to… to shut up,” the colt managed before rolling back and nearly falling off to the floor.

I glared at the pair. “Oh, for the love of— that’s— really? Really?”

Finally, the brown mountain let out a bass chuckle and shrugged. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t resist. You’re Lucky right?”

Shrugging, I said, “Maybe.”

“Right, well I’m Spoon, and this little imp,” he said, shrugging with his cannon to pop the colt into the air, “is Carrot.”

I stared at him with a blank look. “Spoon?”

“Yup.”

“S-P-O-O-N, Spoon?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Like the utensil?”

“Nope. Well, that’s enough of ‘Twenty Questions’. Time to pack your shit, Feathers. Hop to it.”

I almost tried to keep forcing the issue, but dropped and started picking up my stuff. There wasn’t all that much to grab. I still had Dash and I’d apparently fallen asleep with the Tracker’s pistol still strapped to my barrel. Everything else amounted to the few hundred caps I’d managed to save and some extra medical supplies that had found their way into my hooves over the years. It all fit nicely into a small bag that sat opposite the holster.

I paused halfway out of the tent and looked back. For a moment, I expected to feel something, like a sense of loss or maybe early nostalgia for all the memories that I’d made there. When nothing came, I shrugged and left.

Tracker studied the mercenaries as they loaded their gear. He was too far away to pick out their voices amid the background noise, but that didn’t bother him; words were just the wind passing over a tongue.

More interesting to him were their dynamics. The short teal one with the fiery mane stood out immediately as the leader of the group. Like every good commander Tracker had known, he made himself the epicenter all the activity right from the get go, but it only lasted as long as was necessary, until he could pass responsibility to his lieutenant. At which point he stood aside and left to attend other matters.

In this case, the lieutenant was another unicorn, mint-green from mane to tail. Despite being a more average height for a unicorn stallion, the lieutenant lacked the weighty presence of his commander. Either the rest of the group respected him, or their commander, enough to follow without much trouble, Tracker wasn’t sure which. More important to him was the lieutenant’s own lack of certainty. It wouldn’t have been fair to say his movements were hesitant, but there was a lack of assuredness that spoke of little real-world command experience.

Most of the others he ignored as unimportant—even the conjoined twins. It was the zebra that stole most of his attention. He had no great love for the striped equines. Even after two hundred years, it proved difficult not to hold a grudge.

Thickly built, the zebra moved with a fluid grace that Tracker had rarely seen. He slipped easily between and around the others despite the weight of gear he carried. What truly stood out, however, was the way that none of them interacted with him. He might as well have been a ghost for all they seemed to notice him. He wasn’t the only one to go unengaged, but where he was a ghost, the red mare was a caged lion, everypony actively giving her more than enough space.

His ears perked at the unmistakable clop of approaching hooves. Whom ever it was, they were not trying to be stealthy. Even with so much advanced warning, he was still caught off guard when she spoke. That tone and timbre of her voice, that unmistakable accent, he knew what she was at the first syllable, and he wasn’t thrilled about it.

“Soldier of the Old War, I greet you most humbly.”

Something about her voice struck him, the last two hundred years weighing down on his joints like never before. Turning to face her became a choir, as though he were trudging through the swamps of southern Zebrica once again.

His ears proved true. Standing before him was another one of the Stripes. She was old. Wrinkles creased her muzzle like canyons in the Badlands. Her stripes had lost their color, fading away to a dark grey. Stiff dreadlocks hung about her face, decorated with numerous beads and baubles that shimmered and glinted in the light.

Tracker focused on her golden eyes. “Who are ya, and what do ya want?”

The zebress wore a small smile that showed the barest hint of white teeth and somehow managed to make her wrinkles that much deeper. “I am called Zefira Tandara and I wish only to speak of Lucky Sevens. I am informed that you and he share a relationship most close.”

“An’ what business of yers is it?”

Zefira’s demeanor didn’t change despite Tracker’s hostile tone and deepening frown. “Of your relationship? None. My concerns are of Lucky alone. Ponies are not to be trusted to provide information on themselves. Far more reliable are their close relations. Mrs. Gray has proven troublesome to locate and I have only so much time before we must depart.”

When Tracker didn’t respond, she continued, “Your trepidation is understandable, but unwarranted. As part of the contract between Colonel Farsight and myself, I am responsible for the health of any under his employ. There is knowledge I must obtain if I am to perform my duties.”

Tracker continued to glare at her. She shifted her weight, lifting the weight off her left side. He recognized the signs of arthritis in her movements, rotating hooves and flexing joints every few seconds, never keeping her weight on any one hoof for too long in the hopes of releaving the constant pain. An odd pang of sympathy resonated inside his rotted heart.

No matter how… inconvenient his own predicament was, the ravages of age were forever beyond him. Waking up as less-than equine had been a traumatic experience, but it had been quick and done, life marching on. Once he acquainted himself to it, it had become just another aspect of his life—granted, one that lasted far longer than he’d ever expected. A far more terrible fate awaited her. To wake up everyday with a little less control, joints refusing to move as they once had, muscles weak and shaking where they’d once been strong and sure. He could not even begin to imagine the horror.

But a pang was all it was, and shortly forgotten. “Be that as it may, y’all got plenty of doctors with ya and they’ll be able ta take care of the colt jus’ fine without yer help.”

He expected her to be annoyed, and would not have been surprised by offended. He got neither. “While I treat all manner of wound, it is his spirit which concerns me most. Ailments of the body are easy to find, far more difficult afflictions of the mind.” She paused there, a faint smile ghosting across her lips. “Leave your worries with me and cared for he will be. Or do not, and let the dice fall as they may.”

Tracker did not lose his glare. His expression, such as it was, remained rigged even as he spoke. “Ask yer questions.”

“Lucky!”

I froze. My eyes closed, and I grimaced. I’d really, really wanted to skip this part. Slipping away without a word would have been so much easier. It wasn’t to be, and running away would only have caused problems.

Spoon stopped a few paces ahead when he noticed I wasn’t following. He turned to look at me, then at the pony who’d called my name. His expression begged for some kind of explanation. Instead I braced myself with a deep breath. Summoning a confident smirk from nowhere, I gave Spoon a ‘what can you do’ shrug.

With that, I turned and let every bit of warmth out of my expression. It was going to be hard enough without starting with any emotion. With everything locked behind a steel cage, my face betrayed nothing: a blank slate.

Gray saw it and flinched. Whatever she’d hoped for or expected, this was not it. Her hesitation was just that. Barely missing a step, her own face stiffening as she closed the distance between us.

She tried to force an intimate nuzzle. But I was having none of it. Pulling away, I contorted my wing to push her away before our cheeks could touch.

Gray’s hurt expression didn’t last and when she spoke it sounded more concerned than anything else. “Love, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” I said, keeping my voice as neutral as I could. “For the first time, everything is right.”

She frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I’ve figured it out.” Knowing what she was going to ask, I just kept talking. “I’ve never been happy here. Not with my mother, not with the Watchers, not anywhere in Dise. This place, this whole trash heap of a city makes me miserable. Why would I ever want to say here?”

Gray stepped back in surprise, with just a hint of fear around the edges. “What? What are you saying?”

“Nothing you don’t already know.” I pinched my brow and put on a frown of my own. “Nothing that you haven’t known for weeks.”

Previously alert ears wilted and her head dropped a few degrees as her surprise ebbed into hurt. “That’s not fair—”

“Fair?” I nearly screamed. That wasn’t part of the plan, but it should have been. “Fair! Don’t talk to me about fair! How can you claim to know anything about fair? Please tell me Gray, what have you lost that grants you any insight into what is and isn’t fair!”

And with that little triad, her ears swept back and her lips curled into the beginnings of a snarl. That was good, anger I could work with. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” I asked, lifting off and hovering to gain a few extra inches of height. “Cause from my vantage point, I’m the only one here who does. You still have a family. You still have friends and a home. I have nothing! My father was a rapist. My mother spent the short time I knew her higher than the moon and just when she starting to get better she died! Aloe and Hurdles both hate me and Tracker threw me under the wagon, and you didn’t stop him!” She started to say something, but I knew I couldn’t let her. “I have no friends. I have no family. I have no home. I have nothing!” Landing again, I stepped forward aggressively and she retreated the same. “I’m leaving. There is nothing to hold me her, so I’m leaving, and I won’t be coming back. Fuck Dise. Fuck the Watchers. And—”

I’d been slapped before. It happens when you let your mouth fly ahead of your brain. This was different. Gray put her body weight into it. My head snapped to the side, popping a kinck in my neck and cutting my cheek over my teeth.

“Bastard.”

I brought my head back around with a wide, predatory grin, blood collecting between my teeth. “Exactly.”

Gray fell back, her shocked eyes locked on my smile. I couldn’t read her expression, there was too much there. Horror stood out pretty clearly, though I wasn’t sure if it was from me or her own actions. Those few seconds lasted far too long before she turned and left, not quite fleeing, but not really storming off either.

Taking a deep breath, I wiped the blood off my lip with a wing and swallowed what was in my mouth. That cut was going to be really annoying for a while.

I rejoined Spoon, only dimly aware that the colt was no where to be seen. He shot me a questioning look, to which I rolled my eyes. “Mares. Am I right?”

He didn’t give me the humored response I’d hoped for, instead shrugging before continuing to lead me onward. Neither of us spoke. I’m not sure why he suddenly seemed so somber, but I can’t say I wasn’t glad for it. It was better than him asking any questions.

The wagons were nothing new to me, I’d seen them during every stage of their production. Nearly everypony in the compound seemed to be there, gathered around the central wagon, looking up at the ponies standing on its roof. There were two unicorns up there that I didn’t recognize along with Caps Worth and… Echo?

What the Tar was he doing up there? He wasn’t going with us, that’s for sure. Maybe it was just for show. It would be just like him to do that too, attention whorse that he was.

Spoon deviated, skirting the edge of the crowd and leading us around to the opposite side of the wagons. We approached the middle wagon just as Caps Worth was getting started on some speech or another. Fortunately, whatever magic he was using to project his voice drowned it for anypony behind him. I really didn’t care to hear anything he had to say at that moment.

That’s when I met the third and fourth mercenary—if you count Carrot. They were backing out of the wagon’s rear door as we neared. It was only once they turned around that my brain slipped a gear and came to a grinding halt.

“Locke, Stock, this is Lucky. Lucky, meet Locke and Stock.”

“Hello, Lucky,” the mare said with a voice that could only be described as ‘peppy’. She wore a smile that fairly radiated innocences from her sparkling green eyes. Her light pink mane, parted down the middle to frame her muzzle, only served enhance the perception that she was a filly in a mare’s body. “I’m Locke, and that bump on my shoulder is Stock.”

His coloration was the same as hers, just in dark shades. Navy to her sky, purple to her pink. Though his long mane lacked the styling of hers, the largest difference was in their eyes. Where hers were filled with a youthful exuberance, his were callous amber orbs that found nothing worth smiling over. Indeed, as she introduced him, all he managed in the way of a response was a strange mix between a grimace and sneer.

They wore a set of light armour that looked to be made of tanned leather and steel plates painted to blend into the browns and tans of the open plains. Over top that, their battle-saddle supported a long rifle on their right side with a saddlebag on the left.

“Don’t mind him,” she added in a stage whisper, “he’s just a grouch in the mornings… and the afternoons… and the evenings… well, most of the time I guess. But whatcha gonna do?”

All of that had to take a number and wait it’s turn as I struggled to process what my eyes were saying they saw. Everytime the single was sent up, my brain rejected it and demanded that I try again.

“You’re… you’re…”

Locke giggled. “Siamese twins.”

My eyes started at her horn. “But you’re a unicorn.”

“Uh-hu.”

Then moved to his only wing. “And he’s a pegasus.”

“Yup.”

Shifting then to her muzzle. “And you’re a mare.”

“Last time I checked.”

And ending on his. “But he’s a stallion.”

She giggled again. “That’s debatable.”

“Hey!”

“That’s not possible,” I said, ignoring Stock’s indigent shout. “You’re not possible.”

She blinked in confusion. “I’m not?”

Stock rolled his eyes. “You’re right, we’re just figments of your overactive imagination. Can we move on now?”

“But, how?”

“The magic of birth, colt.”

“That doesn’t explain anything. You can’t be conjoined fraternal twins. It doesn’t work that way.”

Stock sniffed at the air. “Does anypony else smell smoke?”

“Don’t be mean. I think it’s cute.”

“Of course you do. You also thought Carmine was cute.”

Stock’s teeth clicked shut a half second too late to stop himself, his expression morphing into one that I recognized very well: the grimace of somepony who just bucked up big time. Locke bit her lip as her eyes fluttered, a hint of moisture shining through.

“If you’ll excuse us,” she said, with an impressive stability given her expression. “I need a moment to myself.”

They turned away without waiting for a reply, trotting out of sight in silence.

I turned to Spoon as I watched them leave. “Did I miss something?”

Spoon shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, colt. It’s got nothing to do with you.”

“Stock, you still…” The head of a mint-green unicorn—with a matching mane—poked out of the wagon’s door. “Oh. Hello there. You must be Lucky. Well, come in, come in. I don’t bite,” he said, ducking back inside.

Spoon nudged me toward the door. “Go on, he’ll get your gear all straightened out.”

I was about to protest, but realized that it would have been stupid; it wasn’t like I had anything better to do. Shaking my head, I did as I was told and trotted up the short steps into the wagon.

Empty, the wagon’s interior was wide enough for five ponies inside, six if they got friendly. This was not the case, however. Vertical and horizontal lockers lined every wall, save for the work bench shoved up against the back wall. That threw me off for a second. The back wall seemed to be far too close. Only once I looked closer did I realize that it was a divider, splitting the wagon into two separate compartments. Vents up near the ceiling let in a bit of natural light, though most came from the magelamps hung from the ceiling.

The ming-green unicorn stood in the middle of the ‘armory’ with a small grin. A suit of generic desert-pattern combat armour covered most of his body with a revolver holstered on either cannon. “Hi. I’m Solder Iron, but everypony just calls me Irons.” His eyes traced over me like he was checking me out. Despite everything, I couldn’t keep myself from smirking, maybe this trip wasn’t going to be so bad after all. A tingle of magic tugged on my wing, urging it out to full span. “Hmmmm... what are you, about a six? Seven?”

My confidence slipped a little, along with my smirk. “Huh?”

“Your size. Do you wear a six or seven? I’d guess six, but that might be a little tight. A seven will work, but the straps would have to be tightened all the way or it will be loose. You don’t want loose armor. Chafes something awful. Do you prefer light or heavy armor? No, don’t answer that, stupid question for a pegasus.

“Hmmm... If you take a seven then you can wear our old scouts armour. He seemed to like it well enough.” He pulled out an odd looking suit made out of a dark green, almost brown, scales. I’d never seen anything like it before. The different sections were held together with a large number of buckles and straps. “Let me just...” Magic touched my fur again, this time encasing Tracker’s holster and pistol, slipping them off and setting them aside. Then I felt a small weight lift from around my neck.

Everything went slightly out of focus, like looking through a fog. My ears folded back and a growl rumbled deep inside my throat. I glared at the unicorn, pulling my lips back to show teeth. My wings flared up, slicing the air and making me look as large as possible. His eyes widened in equal parts shock and confusion. Widening my stance, I crouched low, prepared to pounce.

Before I could do anything regrettable, a metal circle pressed hard against my temple, and I caught sight of a shotgun with its barrel touching my head just at the edge of my vision. “Calm down there buck, we’re all friends here.” I didn’t move, unwilling to let my guard down. The hammer clicked back. “Just simmer down now.” His voice was perfectly calm and steady, the moment of fear in his eyes all but gone. “I’d prefer not having to redecorate this place with your brains.”

I allowed myself to relax enough to show compliance without sacrificing readiness, my wings slowly sliding back to my sides.

“Drop. Her,” I growled through still grit teeth, my voice hard and ragged.

Confusion flitted across his brown eyes until they shifted to the figurine still gripped in his field. The aura around her faded, dropping her back into place against my barrel. My entire body slumped as my muscles went slack, tired from the short confrontation. My haunches hit the steel floor when my back legs gave out. I didn’t even care that the shotgun was still pressed against my head.

“Heheh... So, um, barding?” I tried with a nervous smile.

There is an awkward pause before he spoke. “Yeah...” he nodded slowly and moved the shotgun back to the rack it had been propped in, “barding.” The barding split apart in his magic and before I could protest it started flying around and attaching itself to me. A single piece strapped itself across my back and flanks, the chest piece slipping under Dash and attaching to the first. The rest were individual plates that cinched around my legs but left my joints free and unhindered. The whole process took less than a minute and ended with the unicorn looking between a shin guard and my pipbuck. With a shrug he tossed it back into the hooflocker.

“What is this?” I asked, stretching and shifting to let it settle.

“It’s Radgator hide. It’ll stop small arms fire and not much else.” His tone and the way he kept glancing at Dash told me that my little fit was not going to be swept under the rug. Without another word, he slung my holster back in place, sliding the straps through loops on the armour. “There you go. All suited up and ready to take on the Wastes.”

On a good day, I wouldn’t have been sure how to respond to that; his forced grin wasn’t helping either. I nodded and took a step back, but said nothing. The silence grew to an uncomfortable volume, only to be broken by muffled applause from outside.

“Looks like things are about to get underway. You should go meet up with the Commander before we roll out. I’m sure he has some things he needs to tell you.”

Nodding mutely again, I took the hint and left.

Hurdles tried to listen to Caps Worth’s speech. Not because it would be interesting or because he cared, but because it seemed like the right thing to do. Once they left Dise, Caps Worth would be his boss, more-or-less, and ignoring the boss was not a great way to start.

Tonka groaned just loud enough for Hurdles to hear. “He really likes to hear himself talk doesn’t he?”

Hurdles ignored her.

“I mean, I get it. Big, important trip. First of its kind. Yadda yadda yadda. Let’s get going already. Am I right?” He couldn’t keep from glancing at the daisy-yellow mare. An earth pony like himself, her black mane was cropped short for a mare, any movement swept her forelock out from behind her ear to dangle between her eyes. She brushed it back. Noticing that she had his attention, she bobbed her hoof as though it were a puppet, silently mouthing Caps Worth’s speech as she bounced her head back and forth, sweeping the forelock across her eyes with each rebound.

“Shhh. I’m trying to listen.”

She stopped and gave him a look like he was the weird one. “Why? It’s not like he has anything worthwhile to say.”

“Because…” He trailed off as he realized that he didn’t have any particularly good reason beyond being polite, and he said as much.

“Polite? Hah! Polite would be not making us stand out here for his own vanity and ego.”

Hurdles didn’t respond, not because he couldn’t think of anything, but because it was that moment that he spotted Lucky walking behind a stallion that might have been as big as himself—it was hard to tell under that much armour. He snorted.

“Ah, your erstwhile best friend finally got out of bed.”

Opening his mouth to respond, Hurdles realized that he had no idea what erstwhile meant and wisely chose to remain silent, grunting instead.

“You don’t know what erstwhile means, do you?”

“Shut up, Tonka.”

She huffed and was quiet. For about two minutes, then she was back to whispering her nonsense. Hurdles could do little else but groan and bear it, waiting for it all to be over. To his relief, it only lasted a few more minutes. Caps Worth ended his little speech by thanking everypony who volunteered, with a special mention of Echo for stepping in to replace the recently bed ridden Humors, wishing the latter a speedy recovery.

With the speech done, everypony began to make their final goodbyes and to find their places for the march out of Dise. Before he could even start to head toward the last wagon to hitch up, a hoof tapped his flank.

Aloe stared up at him with a weak smile on her muzzle. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Tonka rolled her eyes, letting out an audible sigh that neither of them noticed. Rolling her eyes and sighing again for good measure, she excused herself because that was the polite thing to do even if nopony noticed.

“So… this is it.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to miss you.”

“Me too.”

“Take care of yourself.”

“I will.”

Aloe bit her lower lip. Her hoof kicked a pebbled as she pawed at the ground.

“Well, I better go.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

Three seconds passed in silence before Hurdles finally turned and started walking away. Five paces later he stopped and looked over his withers, but Aloe was already lost in the crowd.

His head hung below his withers as he hitched himself to the wagon. Tonka was beside him, already hitched. She didn’t try to engage him, whether because she recognized his mood for once or felt too awkward, he was thankful for the peace.

The cheering farewells broke Hurdles from his thoughts long enough to start pulling. The first few steps were the worst, all four ponies digging their hooves into the dirt to break the inertia. Once the wagon started rolling, the momentum did most of the work, allowing them to fall into a steady, thoughtless gait.

The two unicorns that had been standing next to Caps Worth were talking with Spoon, their backs to me, as I left the wagon. Both of them were wearing what looked to be modified combat armour, not too dissimilar to what Irons wore. The mare’s was dyed a vibrant red that matched her coat, two long barreled guns strapped across her back. Her mane and tail were golden braids with some odd device tied into her tail.

I took a wild guess that the shortish stallion with the fiery mane and teal coat was Oracle. The armour strapped across his back was nearly identical to Irons’, save for the equipment strapped to his back. The plating looked to have been removed, replaced by a series of small black boxes running from his withers to his dock. Dials, switches, toggles, and gauges adorned the sides with a number of antenna folded down on top. A black wire snaked up the side of his neck, connecting to the base of his horn like a nerve ending.

Before I could say anything, Spoon motioned to me and both unicorns turned around. I was struck dumb. Something about that mare was off and not a little bit. Scars criss-crossed her muzzle, twisting the red hairs to grow at odd angles that made looking anywhere but her eyes uncomfortable. Not that her eyes were any better. Blue and intense, they were emotionless pits of apathy, callus and empty. When my eyes dropped, they were snagged right back to her throat. She was wearing a silver collar like I’d never seen before, half a hoof wide with a glowing red light at her hollow. More than anything else, her Cutie Mark, silver collar on a gold leash, sent shivers down my spine.

Her mouth twisted into something that was neither a frown nor a smile. I took an involuntary step back.

“Lucky Sevens,” Oracle commanded more than said, snapping my attention off the mare at his side. “I am Oracle, and this is Cross.” She snorted. “It would be nice to train you properly, but we don’t have the time, so you’ll just have to learn as we go. For now, that means doing what you are told. Is that going to be a problem?”

“I… uh… No, sir?” I said, not quite recovering.

He frowned at that, but didn’t comment, instead saying, “For now, stay with Spoon.” Looking back at the aforementioned stallion—who wasn’t looking all that happy about the last bit—he said, “Bring him up to speed. Where did Locke and Stock go?”

Spoon nodded then shrugged, pointing off in the direction they’d gone. Oracle’s expression didn’t change as he glanced back at me once more, nodded sharply, then turned to leave. Cross eyed me for a moment with the disapproving expression she’d been wearing the entire time. With another hard snort, she followed after Oracle, keeping a half stride back at his side.

My gaze hadn’t left the retreating mare when Spoon’s hoof patted my withers like a falling tree. “Well, it looks like you’re stuck with me, Colt.”

Stuck was definitely an appropriate term. For the next few minutes, while everypony else was busy making the final preparations, Spoon droned on about how everything worked. Chain-of-command: Oracle, Irons, Zefira, and himself. He told me about the other two that I hadn’t met yet, both zebras. Zefira the witch-doctor/shaman/mystical-healer/whatever, and her companion Knives. When I asked where they were, he made a noncommittal gesture, brushing it off as unimportant.

Then we started moving.

I remember being told once that the first step of a journey is the most difficult, but I barely noticed it. There was a cheer from the crowd, grunts from the pull teams, and Spoon and I started to walk.

My eyes stayed front and down, save for the occasional glance to the sides. I couldn’t help it. I was still mad and hurt, but that didn’t stop that tiny voice in the back of my head. Even with everything that had happened in the past few days, they were still as much of a family as I’d ever had.

My furtive peeks at the crowd proved futile. None of them were there.

I searched and found so many familiar faces. Faces I had seen just about everyday for the past two decades, part time friends and longtime acquaintances. I looked between the wagons to the other side. More familiar faces rolled past as we continued on. A blur of yellow brought me to a halt and sent my heart up into my throat. As I opened my mouth to call out she pushed her orange mane out of her eyes and the wagon moved between us.

Spoon’s tail whipped my cannon and started me moving again. The open gates to the compound loomed before us. We walked on and I searched until I stepped through the threshold.

I turned my head, looking back over my withers at the gate. I walked and watched as the opening shrunk before me. The finality of this crashed down on me when the gate hit the ground. I knew that this would only last a few months, then I would be back with a saddlebag full of stories. And yet there was a sense that I was never coming back, that I would never see the inside of those walls again. I wouldn’t be the same pony. Even if nothing happened, if everything went perfectly and I returned unscathed…

This should have been a profound moment. I should have uncovered some truth that had been hiding just beyond my sight, but if there was some epiphany to be had it was lost on me. All I felt was confusion.

I didn’t want to leave, but I couldn’t stay, not anymore. It was my home; everything I knew was inside those walls.

I wasn’t some colt bursting at the seams to have an adventure; only idiots want to be heroes. I wasn’t a wimp who needed to prove his worth; my worth was written in the flesh of the ponies I’d saved. I wasn’t some egghead looking to ‘find myself’; I knew who I was. I was Lucky Sevens: part time doctor, full time lay about. I was a confirmed bachelor and mare’s stallion all wrapped into one.

For the first time, I realized how much I didn’t belong, didn’t want to belong behind those walls. I hated that place, but it had been my home. I’d never fit in, but I’d been accepted.

Then we turned a corner.

And I felt nothing.

*************************
Footnote:
Chapter 4 Progress: 50%

Equipment:
        Rad-Gator Armour (light): Made from the tanned hide of a rad-gator, this armour is lightweight and flexible, perfect for pegasi and griffons.