All Paths Lead Home

by Mystic

Chapter 7: Broken Harmony

The light struggled so hard. The mare knew this. She saw the clouds, how thick and angry they were. She also saw how the light, despite everything, fought its way through the ashen blanket in the sky to reach the cold earth beyond. It wasn’t much, but it was enough, and so the mare was thankful. She had to be thankful, for what else was there to be thankful for?

It was near midday, and the light was shining weakly onto the mare’s back. Well, it would have, if not for the filly who was clinging to the mare’s neck. She had walked by herself last night when they had left the house, but after a restless night’s sleep, the mare found the small pony unable to walk further than a few hundred metres before having to stop to catch her breath.

The filly’s coat was covered in a light, yet seemingly permanent, sheen of sweat. She trembled on her mother’s back, and her grip was weak. The mare could tell she was trying to hold on, but was barely succeeding. She could feel the heat radiating off of her small body.

It was an extra burden for the mare, but one she wore with grim determination as she focused on each one of her steps forward. She knew what she needed to do, and the fire to complete just that forced her onwards. Even home didn’t seem as important now.

They were walking through the foothills of the Equestrian mountains, heading pointedly east. The land was steep and broken regularly by steep gullies. The mare even had to avoid a few canyons, dotted by dark caves hidden amongst the ashen rock. She knew the valley leading into the Canterlot plain had to be close. After all, she could see the Dragon’s Tooth sticking high into the sky, signalling the eastern border of the pass.

Dragon’s Tooth was one of the taller mountains in this range. It spiralled into the sky, ending in an almost perfect point. The top was covered in grey snow and clouds swirled chaotically around the peak. The mare had heard the stories growing up, that once upon a time a dragon had slept there, covering Equestria in smoke and ash. The mares of harmony had gone up and bravely faced the dragon, and he had left, saving the land. Or so the story went.

On their right, the rest of the mountains reached toward the cloud. They formed a continuous ridge of bulging rock and snow, broken occasionally by spires that soared above the rest, puncturing the ashen blanket above with their sharpened points. Trees ran up the walls of these mountains until the snow started.

“Mama,” the filly murmured weakly from her back.

“Yes, little one?” she replied quickly.

“Are we nearly there?”

“I don’t know. Hopefully yes.”

“Oh. Ok.”

“Why?” the mare pressed, cautious. “Are you ok?”

“Oh… it’s nothing,” the filly whispered, letting her head rest on the mare’s shoulder.

The mare picked up the pace, gritting her teeth slightly. The pass was nearby. It had to be.

It took another hour, a slow, painful and agonizing hour. But eventually, the mountains on their right fell steeply into the ground and did not rise back up for several miles further east. They had reached the pass.

The land within the valley was gently wooded with thin trees whose ashen bark almost looked bleached. A small stream passed through the centre of the depression, its contents having rushed down from the peaks of Dragon’s Tooth. Next to the stream was a road, its black surface cracked and faded. Ponies had once travelled along it frequently. Now there was nopony but the mare and the filly. Small pieces of junk and scrap lay next to the path, discarded by travellers over the years. There was even an upturned cart lying in the stream at one point.

The mare couldn’t see it, but she knew that through this valley was her prize. Ponyville was waiting for her on the other side in the middle of the Canterlot plain. Without hesitation, the mare plunged into the valley, weaving a path through the trees.

The mare followed the stream as it wound its way down to the plain. The water bubbled as it flowed, its contents swirling with pollution. The mare was tempted to stop to refill water bottles, but didn’t. She didn’t have the time to purify the water properly to make it fit for drinking.

On both sides of the mare, the mountain peaks flew up into the sky, framing the horizon with masses of rock and snow. Dragon’s Tooth seemed to watch her as she moved - its spire lost to a sea of cloud. The mare wondered where the dragon would have been, if it had even been real.

As the afternoon dragged on, the mare and the filly pushed their way through the valley. The trees were starting to thin now, growing sparser as the mare neared settled patches of land.

The mare stepped out from behind a small thicket and looked up into the sky. Her heart froze. There it was. She could see it. Home. It was obscured by cloud and ash, but the mare could just make out the gigantic construct hanging onto the mountain like a snail would to a rock. The towers and spires of the castle were almost indistinguishable against the haze, but the mare could still tell they were there. It was home…

In front of the mare, the road suddenly forked into two directions. She stopped, blinking at the sign. The lettering was barely legible against the scorched indicator, but the mare could still read it. To her right was the road that would take her Ponyville. To her left was the path heading towards the city on the mountain. To her left was home.

“Mama?”

“Hmm?”

“Why… why have we stopped?”

“Nothing…” the mare said slowly. “No reason.” The mare felt the filly shift on her back. “Just thinking, that’s all,” she added.

“Thinking about what?” the filly murmured.

“Nothing important,” she replied before turning and heading along the path that went right. She didn’t look back up the mountain, at least not yet.

The mare climbed a small rise, following the path as it began to leave the valley behind them. The limp trees that stood around the two ponies were thinly spaced now. The hill was gentle but steep enough to stop the mare from being able to see beyond it. She made her way up the road, watching the top of the hill with equal parts trepidation and anticipation.

As the mare pushed herself over the edge, the Canterlot plain flew out to the horizon. In front of her, the wide open space of the once-fertile land reached out towards the mountains. A river flowed through the centre, lightly twisting on itself as it flowed away from the city and toward the small town of Ponyville.

The town itself was shrouded by a low-lying haze. It was not wet enough to be mist, and so the mare eyed it carefully. She struggled to make out much detail, but from her vantage point, the collection of buildings placed in a haphazard fashion seemed dead enough. That was until she saw the barricades.

All of the main roads into Ponyville were blocked by checkpoints - collections of metal and wooden junk fashioned into palisades and crude spears that loomed out into the gloom. Old travel carts had been used to strengthen the rough defences, and behind the walls balconies had been attached to the sides of various buildings to act as impromptu lookouts.

While the mare was too far away to see any kind of movement, she finally found the source of the haze. Small pillars of smoke emanated from various points near the town centre, converging to form a singular cloud of ash and debris that sulked near the earth. The mare couldn’t see the flames, which could mean only one thing: the fires were being controlled.

The mare felt her stomach sink to her hooves as she realised just what lay waiting inside the town.

She paused, one hoof off the ground, unsure.

“Mama?” the filly asked. “What’s that?”

“That’s Ponyville,” the mare replied, her stomach turning.

“Oh,” she said, almost more brightly. “And that’s where the medicine is?”

“Hopefully.”

“Good,” the filly said, before falling back into silence. Her grip tightened subtly on the mare’s neck.

The mare took a deep breath. She had to keep going. She had to. Reaching out with a hoof, the mare headed down the hill.

Down the hill, resting on the flats before the town, the mare could see a large farmhouse with a row of small coops standing wearily nearby. She eyed them carefully, watching for any movement. On one side of the house were large open plains, swirling with loose ash. The other side featured acres upon acres of rows of dead trees. They were arranged in sections, appearing to be ordered from a distance. However, on closer inspection, the mare could see that they were planted in rough clumps. All of the trees were dead. Their naked and burned branches reached skyward in a perfect silhouette of the picturesque trees that were drawn in picture books.

It was an orchard of some sort, there was no debating that. What fruit the trees were designed to bear, the mare was less sure.

The old farmhouse appeared to be at least two or possibly three stories high. It seemed to be divided into two sections; a larger portion was designed to act as a barn with wide double doors that had been broken down, revealing a hollow interior beyond. The wall facing the opposite direction from the mare had collapsed, leaving the structural integrity of the building questionable at best. The second half of the building looked like it had been residential with a small alcove breaking off the side sporting another, smaller, broken door. The glass in the windows along the top of the structure was all gone.

In the distance behind this farmhouse sat the ruins of another one. It appeared to have been a tall tower, yet one half had collapsed in on itself, leaving the centre caved in as a pile of rubble. The mare wondered to herself why that one had collapsed, yet the one in front of her still stood. Luck? She didn’t think so. Luck was entirely different from coincidence.

The mare approached the still intact farmhouse cautiously. There wasn’t any sign of habitation, and the fact that it was still a small way away from town meant that there probably wouldn’t be anypony here. It was too close for an opposing side, yet too far away for anypony aligned with the ponies in control of the town.

Drawing closer to the building, the mare could see that it would have been a deep, bright red. Now it was faded, almost beyond recognition. The colour of the building now blurred into the ashen fields surrounding it.

The mare walked along the path to the remains of a small wooden arch that would have once been covered in flowering vines. It was now laced in weed-like black tendrils that had stopped growing a long time ago. Attached to this arch was a dirty picket fence that formed a homely border around the farm. Lying just beyond the arch was a small well and the remains of a chicken coop.

The mare stopped as her hoof hit something hard lying in the ash. She dug around, finding the edges of the object, before she flipped it over, revealing a small wooden sign, two chains hanging off of the top. Carved into the sign was an apple shaped hole. At least now the mare knew what had once grown here.

Walking up the ashen path, the mare eyed the building with curiosity. She had already convinced herself that there wouldn’t be anypony in here, so now she was consumed by the idea that there might be something worthwhile inside. Perhaps even medicine, even as unlikely as that would be. Medicine was not something to be abandoned.

With the filly still clinging to her back, the mare walked up to the front door. It was broken but still attached to its hinges. As the mare pushed it open gently, it stuck halfway, forcing the mare to have to kick it open. With the door now stuck against the wall, the mare entered a small room devoid of any furniture. The walls were bare as well, the only embellishments being the faint outlines of a single red apple flanked by golden vines on every wall panel. The window on the mare’s left was shattered, leaving glass fragments lying all over the floor. Framing the window were tattered blue curtains, stained from age and pollution.

The mare crossed the room and moved into a large kitchen. A work bench filled the centre of the room, its surface stained and dirty. A sink and other various cooking appliances were on the wall against a window, surrounded by shelves and drawers, all of which were open. Unsurprisingly, they were all empty.

A fridge sat against a wall, and a dark stain seeped out from the slightly open door. The mare chose to avoid the grim container and instead moved into a large living room with a flight of steps rising up against the wall. The room itself was empty except for an old wooden rocking chair and a green rug that was stained and covered with ash. The mare could smell the scent of rot in the air. The staircase itself was narrow, and the wood creaked as the mare placed her weight on each step. Empty and damaged picture frames hung from the walls, now nothing but hollow shells were happy memories once had been.

At the top of the staircase, the mare found herself in a long hallway. Rooms broke off on either side to which she immediately guessed to be bedrooms or bathrooms. A quick inspection proved that she was right. The bedrooms were all simple enough, a single wooden frame carved from solid wood, all featuring the reoccurring motif of an apple. All of the mattresses were gone, leaving empty outlines in their place. A few shelves still rested in these rooms, but anything worth anything had long since been taken.

The mare saved the bathroom for last. Here was where she would most likely find medicine, and a niggling superstition kept her from rushing straight for it.

Leave the best till last, her mother had always said. Somehow, despite everything, that still lingered with her. If she was searching for something in particular, she searched every place else first, that way she would always be more focused on searching, the anticipation acting as a nice incentive. If she waited until after searching the most obvious place and whatever she wanted wasn’t there, then disappointment clouded her judgement. Or at least, that’s how the mare saw it.

The bathroom was dirty and stained, much like every other bathroom in Equestria. Several of the once-white tiles were cracked, the fissures between them caked in a thick layer of grime. The bathtub was cracked and was slowly leaking a brown liquid onto the floor which was seeping into the drain drip by drip. A broken mirror sat over an open cabinet. The shelves were splintered, lying in shards at the bottom. A few empty bottles lay scattered around the floor, their labels long having since faded into nothing.

The mare stood in the middle of this mess staring at the broken cabinet. She closed her eyes briefly.

“Mama?” the filly asked from her back.

“Yes?”

“You were looking for medicine here, weren’t you?”

“There’s nothing here,” the mare replied quietly.

The filly was silent for a moment. “I know, but you tried. Don’t worry, yo-” She stopped suddenly, coughing. “Y-you’ll find some.”

The mare didn’t reply and instead turned on the spot, leaving the bathroom behind her.

Walking back down the corridor, the mare looked out one of the windows. Outside, the sun was already touching the horizon. Twilight had crept up on the two ponies while they were indoors. The shadows from the orchard stretched out like long shadowy fingers across the ash, reaching for something that the mare couldn’t see.

“I think we’re going to have to stay here tonight,” the mare said slowly.

“How come?” the filly replied. Her voice was slightly higher pitched than normal.

“It’s about to be dark outside. We won’t be able to see a thing.” She still hadn’t told the filly about the signs of habitation.

“Oh,” the filly said softly. “Ok.”

“Is that ok? Are you feeling alright?”

The mare felt the filly’s head knock against her shoulder weakly several times. She was nodding. Despite her agreement, the fierce inferno that was radiating off her coat said otherwise. She felt the filly shudder slightly.

“Alright,” the mare began as she walked into one of the bedrooms, “get off my back. You need to rest.”

The filly did as she told, landing shakily on her feet. Her eyes appeared unfocused and confused. The mare gently pressed her to sit, and so the filly laid down on the wooden floor, sending up a small puff of ash and dust as she did. The mare then took off their saddlebags and sat them up against the bed. She pulled out all of their blankets and began to build a small nest on the empty bed. It wasn’t much, but it would do.

When she was finished, she called the filly back over. “Come, you have to rest. I’ll cook some dinner while you sleep.”

“But where will you sleep, Mama?” the small pony asked weakly, pausing as she got up.

“Right next to you,” the mare replied. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” She smiled at her daughter reassuringly.

The filly frowned, but soon relented, wearily accepting the mare’s helpful push to get her into the bed. She quickly curled up into a small ball, nestling into the rough patchwork of blankets, wrapping her tail tightly around her body as she did. She yawned quietly before closing her eyes.

“I don’t feel well, Mama,” she said softly, her eyes still closed.

“I know,” the mare replied. “But you will get better, don’t worry.”

“You will find medicine, won’t you?”

“Yes, I will.”

“Promise?” the filly said, opening her eyes slightly to stare pleadingly at her mother. “Promise?” she said again.

The mare watched her daughter silently for a long time. “Promise,” she said eventually.

“Thank you, Mama…” the filly whispered, her eyes closing again.

“You’re welcome,” the mare replied softly, but the filly was already asleep.

The mare walked over to the broken window, making sure to avoid the broken glass on the floor. She looked up at the sky, staring to the west where the top of the light was just visible above the mountains.

She opened her mouth to speak, but paused. On the horizon, the light slipped below the mountains, disappearing altogether, leaving the land covered in an intense shroud of darkness. Lowering her head, the mare walked back into the room.

The mare sits in absolute darkness. She can hear her own heartbeat thud remorselessly in her chest. Soft pieces of fabric drape over her head and shoulders, reminding her of just how small her impromptu hiding spot is. She shudders slightly as she exhales as quietly as she can. She has to be quiet, absolutely silent. If she isn’t, he will find her.

She can hear his muffled hoof-steps as he moves around outside the mare’s hidden location. Occasionally, he would draw near, pause, and then retreat back into obscurity further away. Sometimes, when he gets really close, she can hear his breathing. How long has she stayed here for? She isn’t sure. Fifteen minutes? Maybe even half-an-hour? Not that it matters.

“Where are you?” he whispers. The mare shudders a little at the sound of his voice.

Her movements cause her coat to rustle softly against the small wooden enclosure she was hiding in. She catches her breath in the middle of an inhalation, trying to stay absolutely silent. Outside, his hoof-steps have gone quiet. He has paused.

The mare sits silently, her heart the only sound in the darkness. Did he hear her? Is he coming to get her now?! Her eyes dance lightly in the shadow, desperately trying to think of an escape route.

Suddenly, she can hear hoof-steps again. They are moving toward her. Each step echoes through the air with a loud thud. She can almost feel the ground beneath her shake as he moves closer.

Trying not to hyperventilate, the mare shrinks back into the deepest corner of her sanctuary. She presses her small body up against the back wall, willing her skin to blend into her darkened surroundings. She is going to be found! He is coming! She can’t be found! She can’t lo-

Suddenly, the hoof-steps stop again, the last one echoing directly in front of her. The mare tries desperately not to whimper. She has to be strong. She has to be brave. Outside, the mare can hear his breathing now. It is slow and even – deliberate, almost.

The door starts to creak open and a harsh shaft of light strikes the mare’s face, causing her to blink rapidly against the assault. Trying to see through her eyelids, the mare squints up past the now rapidly opening door. His shadow looms up in front of her, tall and imposing, signalling her imminent demise. She had hid for so long; she knew she was silly to think she could hide forever.

Her face scrunches up in resignation, and the mare sticks her head out of the clothes hanging around her. She stares pointedly at the floor, stubborn in defeat. She takes a deep breath, trying to tell herself that it will be ok.

“Hello Spades,” she whispers, still not looking at the pony.

“Finally!” the small colt exclaims exasperatedly, despite the huge smile on his face. “You are like… the best at hide and seek! It took me ages to find you!”

The mare allows herself a small smile at her friend’s praise. “Yeah, but you still found me.”

“So? It still took forever,” he replies, stressing the last word.

“Huh. I was in there a long time, wasn’t I?”

The small colt doesn’t reply, his expression already neatly explaining the ‘you think?!’ to the mare. She smiles again, this time more brightly.

“This was really fun,” the mare says. “I love hide and seek!”

“Yeah… if you’re the one doing the hiding, maybe.”

The mare can’t help but think that Spades would be very bored if he had to hide, but she removes the thought. She wants a turn to find him now!

“So, do you wanna turn?” she says excitedly.

“What, a turn to hide?”

“Yeah!” she exclaims. “It’s fair that way. After all, I got a chance to hide and now so should you!”

“Yeah… you’re right!” Spades replies, comprehension dawning on his face.

“And plus,” the mare adds. “It’s really, really scary, and that makes it even more fun!”

“Ok then, you gotta close your eyes and count to one-hundred!”

“Really? One-hundred?!”

“Well, that’s what I counted to…” the colt replies, rubbing the back of his head with a hoof.

“Alright then, one-hundred it is.” Without further complaint, the mare shuts her eyes as tight as she can, and begins to count. “One… two… three…”

She hears Spades splutter slightly before turning on his hooves and running off. The mare smiles to herself as she counts. She can hear his hoof-steps as they pound up the stairs. At least that’s half of the house she doesn’t have to worry about. That leaves the bathroom cabinet, the wardrobes in the grownups room, or the bottom of the grandfather clock. This will be easy… She smiles again.

“Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred!” the mare yells. She opens her eyes quickly, a confident smirk on her face. Keeping her body low to the ground to minimise the sound she makes, the mare starts the hunt.

Poor Spades never stood a chance.

It was dawn. Or near-about anyway. As the mare left the abandoned apple farmhouse, she realised that it never really did get as dark here as out in the rest of Equestria. There was a faint, but constant glow coming from Ponyville itself, a mixture of camp and watch fires. There was no denying it now; the town was inhabited.

With the filly’s legs wrapped tightly around her neck, the mare set out. The small pony’s condition hadn’t necessarily diminished over the night, but it had by no means improved; it was still visibly sucking the strength from her small body. The mare had no idea just how much longer the filly could take such punishment. Before the end, such a matter would have been trivial. Now… well now she had to find medicine. And fast.

“Mama?” the filly murmured softly from the mare’s back. Something in her tone put the mare on alert.

“Yes?” she replied.

“The town’s glowing.”

“Yes… it is.”

“There are ponies in there, aren’t there?”

The mare took a moment to reply. “Yes. There are.”

“Will they be nice ponies?” the filly whispered, her voice choked.

“I… probably not,” the mare admitted, remembering the defences she had seen from the day before. She had seen walls like those in the past and each time things had not gone well.

“Oh…” the filly said softly, her voice barely audible. “We… we don’t have to go in… if you don’t want. I will be fine.”

“Hush now,” the mare replied carefully. “Of course we are going in. I promised to make you better, remember?”

“But, Mama… I’m scared.”

The mare was about to say, ‘me too’, but stopped herself. “Don’t be,” she said. “Don’t be.”

“Why not?”

“Because I won’t let anything happen to you. We will be ok. You’ll see.”

“Will we?”

“Yes. Everything will be ok. I promise.”

“Promise?” the filly pressed quietly.

“Promise,” the mare repeated. Saying ‘promise’ was easier than the truth, anyway. There was no security. There were no promises. There was only hope and her own decisions. If they weren’t enough, then there wasn’t any other outcome.

“Thank you, Mama,” the filly whispered.

“I… you’re welcome.” There was no time for guilt. The town was approaching.

The soft light of dawn was breaking out from behind the mountains in the east. It lit up the land before the town with a cold glow, revealing the haphazardness of the town’s layout for the mare to examine again. In the distance, several hills framed the town. They were picturesque bell-curves covered in ash and the stumps of dead trees. It was on one of these that the mare was climbing. She moved around from the shadow of the hill and laid down into the ash, minimising the amount of herself she was exposing to any watch-ponies.
 
Scooting forward on her stomach, the mare peered out from the edge of the hill and onto the town below her. In the light of the new day, nothing appeared to have changed. The haze still lingered in the air, a little thinner than yesterday but growing thicker as small pillars of smoke coiled out of numerous buildings. The town was still ringed by a series of makeshift walls, the metal and wooden pieces hammered or drilled together in a cruel, ugly fashion.

It was in the morning, however, that the mare saw her first living pony within the town. He was standing on one of the balconies crudely attached to the side of a building on the town’s exterior. The pony was dressed in rags very similar to the mare’s own, but he had strips of barding over his chest and sides as a gesture of protection. Next to him was a small collection of medium-sized wooden spears, the metal points failing to catch the sun’s light.

The mare frowned. From the sentry’s position, any approach from the road would be easily visible. She assumed there would be similar guards on all of the other main entrances as well. However, while that did limit her options, the town was clearly not impregnable. In some places entire sections of wall were missing, lined instead by thick strands of barbed-wire. It was an illusion of protection at best, probably meant to slow down any attackers rather than stop them completely. For a single pony like the mare, sneaking in would be easy.

Of course, that still left the issue of where on earth she was actually headed when she was inside the town. Wishing she hadn’t lost her binoculars back in the north, the mare peered through the gloom, trying to see if there was a building that somewhat resembled a hospital. Her gaze rested on a small tower near the middle of the town, but she soon rejected that idea. That looked more like a town hall or something.

To the mare’s relief, it did not take long to find what she was looking for. On the other side of the town centre to the mare, with its back to the river, cutting it off from access by the short way, was a large rectangular building with a faded cross on its roof. While its colour was no longer discernible, the mare assumed it was a hospital. Very few buildings have crosses on them.

She had her goal. Now she had to get there. She made note of as many locations of the smoke pillars as she could, as well as any signs of significant construction work, and set out.

The mare crept quietly down the hill, watching the guard intently. She knew her clothing would help her to blend into the ashen surroundings, but she couldn’t be too careful. At the bottom of the hill there was a short flat before the first layer of wire. The mare took a deep breath.

“Stay very quiet and hold on to me as tight as you can, ok?” she whispered to her daughter.

“Ok,” she whispered back, squeezing the mare’s neck gently while burying her head into the mare’s shoulder.

“Good,” the mare replied before starting to run. She kept her head low to the ground, wishing her hooves to be silent as they hit the ash in rapid succession. The mare used the trees that dotted the flatlands as cover, dancing into their meagre shadows to break up her body’s form. It wasn’t much, but anything was better than nothing.

The mare made it to the line of barbed wire just as her breath began to tighten. She paused in the shadow of one of the piles of junk that the wire was wrapped around in support to catch her breath. The filly had barely moved throughout the whole sprint.

After her heart rate had begun to return to normal, the mare turned to the wire. The fence was constructed by two strands of rusted metal running parallel to each other about thirty centimetres apart. Every so often cruel barbs broke off, sticking out into the cold air, waiting to snag on a pony’s clothes or flesh. On one spike, the mare was certain she could see a patch of clothing still caught to it, fluttering gently in the breeze.

“Can you reach up with a hoof and push the wire above our heads while I crawl under?”

“Yes,” the filly murmured, shifting her body to press her hoof carefully against the bottom wire.

“Watch out for the spikes.”

The mare felt the filly nod and so she crawled under, inching her body through the ash, keeping as low as possible. On the other side, she stood up quickly and raced over to the shadow of a nearby building. She was inside, so now she had to get through to the hospital.

Making sure she kept to the shadows cast by the eaves of the buildings, the mare crept through the town. Most of the buildings in Ponyville were next to identical: two or three story cubes gilded by natural-looking curves and terraces built into the walls as decoration. The majority of them looked to have been a cream colour, though occasionally some would be a bright pink, yellow or red.

Almost all of the structures had thatched roofing. At least, it had been thatched in the past. Now most of the roofs were gone, burnt or aged away into nothing. Some buildings had wooden planks nailed crudely to the support beams, forming impromptu roofs. All of the windows were broken, and like the roofs, some were boarded up.

It was deathly silent within the town, and so the mare eyed her surroundings suspiciously. Piles of junk and refuse lined the ashen streets, left there by inhabitants when they had outlasted their normal lifetimes.

A muffled scream cut its way through the morning air. The mare couldn’t tell where it came from, but it sounded close enough. She hated this place.

The mare made her way carefully through the empty streets. She watched every window she saw; waiting for the movement she believed to be inevitable. Scattered around her, small pillars of smoke coiled into the sky. If the mare strained her ears hard enough, she could swear she could hear voices travelling on the non-existent wind. They were quiet but harsh. They were the voices of ponies beaten by the world, ponies who had lost themselves.

Like her? The mare winced as the unbidden thought carried itself around her mind. Was that what her voice sounded like? Did her voice sound like that to the stallion? Did other ponies’ stomachs freeze in fear when they heard her words hang in the air, barely audible, but definitely near?

“Are you ok?” she whispered, peering out along the corner, looking for any sign of movement along the long street.

“I’m ok,” the small pony whispered back after a pregnant pause. “We should be quiet,” she added in a weak tone.

“I know,” the mare replied. “I just wanted to make sure.”

The filly didn’t reply this time, letting her weight rest heavily on her mother’s back. She did, however, tighten her grip on the older pony’s neck, giving it a gentle squeeze.

The mare dashed out from behind the corner and made her way up the street. She walked right in front of the buildings, pausing for a moment when she reached a side street. As always, her eyes darted in every direction and her ears strained in an attempt to hear any sound at all. Her heart shuddered violently in her chest.

A soft crash in a house nearby caused the mare to freeze. A string of curses floated out from the cracks of a boarded up window to her right, causing the mare to duck down a side street on the left. She hid behind a pile of rubbish, trying to ignore the smell. The filly’s breaths came in quickly on her back, and the mare could feel the small pony’s heart beat, even through both of their clothes.

“Scum!” shouted a voice. It was male, hard and rough. It grated against the mare’s eardrums.

A small cry called out into the cold morning air, followed soon after by another crash.

“You’re not worth the food’ I waste on you!” the voice yelled again.

“Please!” shouted another voice, this one female, weak and shaking. There was fear laced into the one word, and the mare tensed at the sound of it.

“Please! I’m sorry! Ple-” The voice fell silent. The mare stayed frozen, listening to the sound of silence.

Suddenly, a dark shape was flung out of one of the windows on the second floor. It fell quickly to the ground, hitting with a soft thwack. The mare winced as the body of the pony did not move, a dark puddle quickly forming around her head. The pony was dressed in rags, almost identical to the ones she had seen on the ponies being driven southward before the mountains. This was a slave.

The mare wanted to cry.

Instead, she turned and ran down the alleyway, choosing to go the long way round this street.

“I’m not like them,” she whispered as she ran, tears forming in her burning eyes. “I’m not like them.”

She paused at the end of the alley, casting her gaze left and right. The street was empty, and all of the buildings were safely un-boarded. The mare shuddered slightly and the filly hugged her weakly.

Raising her head to the sky, the mare looked up through the haze of smoke to the ashen clouds beyond.

“I’m not like them,” she whispered skyward. “That’s not who I am.”

“I know that, Mama,” said a small voice from her back. The mare tried to look around at the pony who spoke. “You’re a good pony, Mama. You’re not like them.”

“I am?” the mare whispered.

“Yes,” the filly said with as much strength as she could muster.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

The mare took a deep breath. She had to keep moving. She was losing the initiative of the morning. She needed to be strong. For her.

For her.

She had been moving through one of the more open spaces in the town when she had heard them. Their voices echoed down the empty streets, and their hoof-steps thumped loudly on the grey roads.

There was nowhere where the mare could hide except for a large tree that had been converted into a house. The tree itself was dead, the wood burnt, the ashen bark bleached and bare. Graffiti was scrawled across the trunk, illegible scribbles by the frustrated and the angry. The door was already open, ushering the mare into its gloomy entrance room as she sprinted in.

She could hear the ponies enter the clearing around the tree. She pushed herself up against a wall in the corner of what felt like a series of shelves. Silent, she was silence. Silent except for her and the filly’s short, yet sharp breaths.

“-again yesterday.” The mare heard the voice speak in mid-sentence as the group of bandits moved closer.

“How many?”

“Five.”

There was a spitting sound.

“It’s not all bad,” said the original voice. “Rasher said he got him one. Nothing serious, but it caused him to sprint away with his tail between his legs.”

“It’s still five,” the other pony replied, his voice hissing with menace. “And how many was it last time? And how many the time before that?”

The other pony mumbled something incoherently. They were moving away from the tree now, towards the edge of town.

“We have to le…” was all the mare heard before his voice also faded into nothing.

And then there was silence. Silence except for three sets of ragged breathing.

The mare froze. There was a third set of breathing in the room.

As her stomach turned to ice and adrenalin coursed through her veins, the mare spun around in the gloom, desperately trying to locate the sound of the breathing.

The room was dark and unbelievably messy. As to how the mare didn’t hit anything on the way in, she had no idea. On every inch of wall space bookshelves reached high up to the ceiling. A flight of stairs broke the walls of shelves briefly before it curled its way along the wall to a higher alcove.

The floor was covered in debris and refuse. Loose scraps of paper, books and indistinguishable objects lay scattered on the floor. Sitting to one side, near a door that the mare believed lead to the kitchen, were several cages. The bars of their metal ribcages stood over a metre from the ground, and the bases were solid. It was hard to tell in the perpetual gloom, but the mare thought that they were all empty.

That was until a bundle of rags lying cramped up in the middle of one of the cages near the corner moved.

“W… who are you?” whispered a voice, faint as death itself. The pony from which it came was almost invisible in the shadow. She couldn’t even tell if it was male or female.

The mare froze. The voice was scared. Even heavy with sorrow, defeat and resignation, the mare could hear the fear. It was just like the voice of the slave earlier. Just like the voice before it, the mare could hear the understanding and terror that came when faced with an inevitable fate.

The filly nudged her gently from her back. “Mama…” she began, trailing off expectantly.

“We’re… we’re friends,” the mare finally said.

“Friends?” the voice croaked back, its voice thick with disbelief.

“Yes. We’re friends. Can we help you?” She wasn’t sure what she was asking, or what she could even do, but it felt right to say, so she said it.

The pony chuckled slightly, their voice breaking upon invisible walls of resistance. “You can’t help me.”

“Yes we can. How do we get you out?” the mare asked, already walking over to the trapped pony.

“The cage isn’t locked,” the pony said quietly.

The mare stopped in her tracks. She noticed she had stepped in something wet. “But…”

“My legs,” the voice explained. “They don’t work anymore.”

The mare tried to step closer but stopped when her hoof splashed on the ground. Looking down, the mare’s eyes widened. She was standing in blood. The whole floor was covered in blood that was slowly seeping out from the captive pony’s cage. Judging by smell, blood wasn’t the only fluid in the mix.

“See?” the pony said, macabre amusement colouring its voice. “I can’t move. I can never move.”

“But… we can…”

“No,” the voice said firmly, even if it was faint and growing fainter with every passing moment. “You can’t. You can’t save me.”

“How long have you been here for?”

“In the cage? About a week. Like this? About twenty minutes.”

“Why?”

“Because I messed up, and they can’t afford to feed ponies who mess up. They can’t afford to feed ponies at all, really.”

“I… I am sorry,” was all the mare could say in reply.

“Don’t be,” the other pony replied. “I’m not. Maybe now I can sleep.”

The mare didn’t say anything. Met with silence, the other pony continued, “Peace, you know? Get away from all this ash and this death. Away from all these scum who aren’t fit to call themselves ponies.”

“You… you really want that?” the mare whispered.

“Of course… How can you not…? How… how is any of this better than that?” The pony’s voice was fading now, a dull numbness creeping into its words.

“I… how can you know?”

“I… don’t. I just hope. W… what more can we do?”

The mare was silent. Neither of them said anything for a few minutes. The silence rested heavily in the air. The mare wanted to cry.

“Sleep?” she said eventually.

“The best kind…” the pony replied, the voice almost faded into nothing. The pool of blood was wider now, touching the bookshelves around the cages.

“I bet it’ll be nice.” The mare was crying now. Softly, but crying nonetheless.

“I hope so…” The pony sounded tired. Almost as if they were just drifting off to sleep, after all.

“I bet it will be just like the old days. Just like when everything was bright and colourful. Back when we were happy.”

There was no reply.

“Just like before…”

The silence echoed in the shadow. There was no sound except for the mare’s soft tears. Why? Why, please oh why? Where was the hope in this? Where was the harmony? Where was the beauty in this moment? The mare wanted to scream, but she couldn’t. All she could do was cry.

“Mama…” the filly whispered. “It’s ok, Mama. It will be ok.”

“Will it? Will it be ok?” She had whispered this more to herself than the filly. The words came unbidden, drawn up from deep inside her.

“Of course it will, Mama. It will be ok. Remember, as long as we have each other.” Her voice was strong. It still wavered slightly from exhaustion, but the mare could almost picture the look of determination on her daughter’s face.

The mare’s sobs slowed. As long as we have each other… as long as we have each other… Was that enough? Enough to hold back the flood of death and soul-decaying fear? Was that enough to survive?

“And we’ll always have each other, Mama. Always.”

It has to be. It has to be enough. There was nothing else.

“I love you,” the mare whispered, having finally stopped her tears.

“I love you too, Mama.”

The mare turned and walked towards the door of the tree. She couldn’t bring herself to look back.

In the doorway, just before she checked to make sure the coast was clear, the mare whispered to her daughter one last thing, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” was the gentle reply.

The hospital was so close. The mare could see it, lying in an open field, surrounded on all sides by the buildings she had become familiar with. The single rectangle stood several stories high with multiple boarded up windows. It was so close, but yet so far.

Surrounding the hospital were tents. They were set up in rows, rough pieces of canvas stained and falling to pieces that had been stretched taught over broken support poles. Filling these tents were ponies or what was left of them.

They were the products of abuse, and they lay forlornly on the ground, their naked coats hanging pathetically on frames that poked through their flesh. Chains hung uselessly from their limbs; preventing them from doing something the mare wasn’t sure they could even imagine. None of them moved, and none of them even made even the slightest noise. The mare wasn’t even sure if they were still breathing.

The mess of tents was surrounded by a small fence constructed from a combination of junk and barbed wire. Two checkpoints had been erected in front of the hospital door and on the other side leading into the town. Nopony was stationed there, though. The mare was pretty sure that was because they just didn’t need to. These ponies weren’t going anywhere.

“Mama…” the filly whispered, both equally sad and fearful.

“Shh…” the mare intoned quietly. She was thinking.

The front door of the hospital sat on the other side of this forest of tents. She could go through, but she knew that would be a terrible idea. She couldn’t allow these ponies to see her. Even if they were still… normal… she couldn’t afford the noise. She couldn’t afford the risk of the commotion that they would cause.

The mare winced as a wave of disgust struck her. She would have to go around… avoid these ponies… She couldn’t help them. She couldn’t…

“Mama?” the filly asked again.

“We’re going round,” the mare replied slowly.

“Oh.”

The mare winced again.

The mare turned and crept underneath the balcony attached to the building next to which she was standing. A lot of the buildings around here had been boarded up windows, and the mare knew that this meant that the area was probably crawling with bandits. She moved in short bursts, pausing frequently in whatever shadow or cover she could find. While she waited, she would watch the streets and the buildings carefully. Occasionally, she would catch voices in the distance. Some of them were loud and angry, others quieter… normal, even.

The mare made her way slowly around the flank of the hospital. The buildings provided plenty of cover, and she didn’t see a single living thing. The filly clung to her back like a saddlebag. The small pony hadn’t said a word since they had seen the tents for the slaves.  The mare didn’t say anything, either. There was nothing she felt she could say.

When she reached the side of the hospital, the mare peered out from a darkened alleyway onto her prey. The back of the hospital was pressed up a lot closer to the buildings, so to compensate, strong barriers constructed from furniture or old vehicles had been erected in a small perimeter, joining with the barbed wire fence in the front. A single gate gave access, only, like the front, nopony was watching it.

The point where the mare was interested in, however, was where the stronger barriers met with the barbed wire fence. It was here the mare planned to sneak in.

“Are you ready?” the mare asked quietly.

The filly shifted on her back, her response altogether unknown. The mare assumed she had said yes.

After throwing last look around at the buildings around her, the mare covered the distance between her hiding spot and the fence in a short sprint. When she reached the fence, she stopped, quickly dropping to her stomach. Praying that nopony was watching, the mare began to crawl underneath the wire. She pressed her body into the ground to give the filly as much clearance as possible.

On the other side, the mare hid in the shadow of an old sales-cart, letting her pulse slow. The back of the hospital would have once been a nice place. The remains of a garden were still visible despite the piles of junk and ash that littered the old lawns. Several old and wasted trees stood solemnly in a loose rectangle, surrounding what would have once been perhaps a flower bed or a pool of water. It was now covered in scrap and rubbish. A few old campfires dotted the courtyard, the piles of charcoal difficult to make out against the ash.

Having slowed her nerves, the mare picked herself up from the ash and dashed through the courtyard. For the time being, it was utterly silent. The windows of the hospital glared down at the mare, their boarded entrances hiding away terrible and wonderful things.

The mare soon reached the back door to the hospital. The original structure had long since been removed, now replaced by a single sheet of what looked to be plywood, drilled crudely into the frame of the original. It was here where the mare’s plan descended into guesswork. She had absolutely no idea what was waiting for her on the other side.

Whatever it was, though, the heat she could feel radiating off of the filly’s body urged her to continue. She had no idea what kind of time-frame she was running along, but she didn’t want to test their luck. She had to act quickly.

The mare inhaled deeply, letting the air fill her lungs. She fought against the instant gag-reflex that came with inhaling too much in the poor air and managed to keep her reaction to a mere splutter.

Slowly, the mare reached out with a hoof and pushed the door open.

The inside of the hospital was dark. A dirty linoleum floor stretched in front of the mare to all of the walls. Desks ran along one wall, behind which was a small room filled with cabinets. All of the cabinets were open, and loose paper was scattered all throughout the foyer.

The walls were devoid of any pictures other than stark plaques offering directions that were surrounded by suspicious stains. Several doors offered potential locations for exploration, but the mare ignored these. She instead headed straight towards the corridor that ran off a t-junction at the end of the lobby. The plaque on the right stated that in that direction was the nursery and other infant care. The left was for general patients. On both plaques was a small picture of stairs.

The mare chose the corridor heading left. To her, general patients seemed to hold a greater promise of storing any medicine. She made her way down the corridor, poking her head into any rooms they encountered. Most of the rooms were empty save for a few benches, chairs or tables. A few had stains over the floors, and others had soiled medical equipment. None of them had any kind of medicine.

In a few of the more intact rooms, the mare would enter quickly to look behind desks or pry behind cabinets. She was looking for secret or overlooked storage compartments. It was a long shot, but anything was better than nothing. She refrained from knocking on the walls, though. She had to be quiet. She had to be alert.

A soft thump caused the mare to freeze in place. It had come from a floor or so above her, somewhere to her right as well. She strained her ears, listening. There were no more sounds. All was silent again within the hospital.

With her heart pounding ferociously in her chest, the mare left the room she was in, walking further down the corridor.

At the end of the hallway, the path ended with a ninety degree right-hoof turn and a staircase. The mare paused at the foot of the stairs, considering her options. She hadn’t seen anypony down stairs, or any signs of recent activity. Of course, she had only explored one quarter of the back, but she had no reason to assume the rest was any different.

But if there were sounds upstairs, that meant ponies were probably there. And if there were ponies, then there were probably places where they stored any meagre supplies that they would have.

Her mouth set in a grim line, the mare walked up the stairs. At the top of the stairwell, she was met with a very similar layout to the first floor. Only here, the corridors were a lot smaller, and more individual rooms broke off on either side.

Another difference, was that the here, the mare could hear voices. There was what the mare guessed to be four of them, all dipping in and out of audible conversation. The conversation was coming somewhere on the mare’s left now, towards the front of the hospital.

The filly let out a small whimper on her back.

“Hush now,” she whispered quickly. “We have to be completely silent.”

She felt the small pony nod weakly against her shoulder.

The mare followed the corridor, poking her head into any rooms she encountered. The rooms here were a mixture of observation rooms and overnight rooms for patients. Three or four beds would be in a single room, empty curtain frames standing between them. All of the mattresses and pillows had been taken, leaving nothing but the metal frames.

The voices continued to mumble incoherently, echoing down the empty hallways. The mare was beginning to feel sick, a headache combined with an upset stomach. She hoped it was just the nerves or the fear. Those she could live with.

After almost half an hour of silent and fearful searching, the mare had found absolutely nothing of value. The only rooms she was yet to check were the ones immediately surrounding the vicinity of the voices.

Where there were ponies, there were probably storage spaces. It was straightforward enough, but the mare knew that ponies kept everything important to them close at all times. It was a simple mantra of survival and one that she rigorously followed herself. Every time she had ignored that creed, she could visibly remember - or feel - the consequences. She hated to check, but she knew it would be her best bet.

The mare pressed herself low to the floor, and began to shuffle forward toward the voices. They were coming from a room along the front wall, one of the rooms with a window. It would have been an old observation room, and part of the wall facing the corridor was the empty framework of a glass observation panel. Despite the lack of glass, the door was closed, but this didn’t stop their voices carrying out into the hallway.

“But where, Bleach? Where do we go if Manehatten is still in flames?” asked a deep voice filled with anger.

“Then we go back north and follow the coast,” another replied bluntly.

“Back north? You do realise that even going as far north as Manehatten is unbelievably stupid, right? It’s too cold,” a third said. His voice was higher pitched and proud, the kind of accent that the mare had heard the upper-class citizenry use in Canterlot.

“Well then, where else?”

“We can’t go east,” said the first voice. The deep one.

“Why not?” said the high class voice.

“Because there are groups out there that would eat us alive. You have heard the rumours. It’s not safe for ponies like us out there.”

“Go south then? Toward the outlying settlements?” the second voice offered.

“Too far and not enough resources on the way.”

“We’re already leaving the slaves to die… what more do you want?”

The first voice was silent for a moment. “You think it’s bad here? Do you? You think it’s hard to find food here? Out there, there is nothing. Absolutely nothing. And while here it’s frozen, down there, it gets so hot the air itself will boil you alive.”

The high class voice scoffed, and there was a small scuffling sound. The mare was crawling along the floor. To her right was a small room with a window overlooking the town. This window was unique in the sense that it wasn’t boarded up. Cold and dusty sunlight floated through, throwing the empty room into a sharp relief. It was empty except for an upturned metal container and a small table filled with a large number of rusty surgical apparatus. There was even a set of scales.

“Stop.” This voice was harsh. It wasn’t deep, but it wasn’t high pitched, either. It was cold, cold as death itself, cold as the snows in the mountains. The mare had to suppress a shiver. “We cannot go south,” the voice commanded. “We cannot go east. We cannot go far, and no matter what we do, the slaves are already as good as dead. We cannot afford to feed them. You know this. I know this. So do not waste my time repeating yourselves. Think! Where do we go?!”

The mare was almost at their room now, just outside the door. The voices were so close. If any of them decided to even look into the corridor, she would be spotted. She gingerly lifted herself up to the door and stuck her eye up to the broken lock.

Inside, she could just make out the shapes of four ponies, all of them armed and protected by barding, standing around a single table. They were all staring down at it, frowns covering their faces. Perhaps they were looking at a map. If so, that was a treasured document. The mare had lost hers to the elements a long time ago.

Resting up on the right hoof wall was a small collection of weapons - mainly old knives and axes. They all looked to be in reasonable condition, something that the mare was not surprised about. The strongest often fought the least themselves.

But what the mare was really interested in was the old wooden cabinet set against the far wall. On it was a faded red cross, a beacon for the mare’s eyes. A rusty lock connected the doors together, protecting whatever was inside.

The mare’s eyes lit up. There it was: her treasure box, her miracle. It was a medicine cabinet that was yet to be looted, pillaged or destroyed.

She stopped suddenly. She had a problem. Those ponies stood between her and her prize, and she needed them gone. As quietly as she could, the mare crawled along the floor to the room next door - the room with the open window.

As soon as she was inside, the mare picked up the metal container and set it gently by the window. It was thin and thus not too heavy, making it perfect for what the mare needed it for. She then started to move every single solid object she could find in the room and put it inside the container. The mare noted with satisfaction that practically every item she found was made primarily of metal.

The mare winced every time she placed an object inside too hard, causing a faint clink to resonate through the air. However, the conversation next door hadn’t slowed, now focusing on something completely different.

“But the Discord groups and the Manehatten ponies don’t seem to want to let up any time soon,” the high pitched voice said.

“That was only a rumour, mind you,” rebutted the high class voice. “One lone pony half-mad with starvation cannot be taken too seriously… particularly as he was pleading for his life.”

The mare grit her teeth at the tone the pony had spoken that last sentence with. Monsters…

“He did mention something about the Discord cult falling,” the deep voice rumbled. “We shouldn’t complain if that’s true. Maybe those Manehatten ponies are good for something, after all. Princesses know it took them long enough.”

The mare winced. Hearing these… bandits talk about the Princesses seemed wrong to her. So very wrong, like the mere act of them saying the name out loud made it less special. Tainted it.

She had collected everything she could find now. It all sat inside the container, a collection of the dirty, broken and the useless. As quietly as she could, the mare lifted the container with her mouth and let it rest on the window sill. Below her were several piles of scrap metal built around what looked like the bed of a train carriage. It was perfect for what the mare wanted.

Beyond that, though, the mess of the slave pony tents sat pathetically in the cold morning air. The mare could see that one of the stronger looking ponies had gotten up and was now walking slowly around to his comrades, bending down to speak with each one of them.

Where is the harmony? Where is the beauty? It hurt so much. The mare wanted nothing more than to run down and hold that pony, hold him and then help him talk to the slaves. Whisper to them that things would be better soon. That believe it or not, some good ponies still lived.

“We could just kill the slaves now. Put them out of their misery.”

Without a second thought, the mare kicked the container off the ledge, sending it spiralling down to the metal scrap below. It hit with an almighty crash as the metal container filled with smaller metal objects echoed loudly in the air.

The pony in the campsite froze, his gaze fixated on the scrap pile. Next to the mare, the voices had stopped. Briefly.

“What was that?!”

“I don’t know!”

“It came from outside, where the slaves are!”

“The slaves? What are they-”

“Get out there! Go!”

The mare heard the door burst open, and she threw herself up into a corner, praying that they didn’t check inside. Even despite her fear, the mare’s body was trembling. She was furious. She wanted punishment. She wanted retribution for the sins that those ponies had made against themselves. She wanted to make things right in the world. To restore some balance, some harmony.

Those ponies had to pay, yet she didn’t have the means. She couldn’t fight. She could just whimper in the corner until they left so she could commit petty theft - petty theft in a hospital.

The mare could hear their hoof-steps fade into the corridor outside. They were still shouting, urging each other onwards. The mare counted to three, before getting up and sprinting outside and into the other room. It was empty, empty save for a table in the middle with a map spread open on it and the lone medicine cabinet. The mare quickly got the filly to get off her back. The small pony nearly fell off, and as soon as her hooves hit the dirty floor, she sat down. Not missing a beat, the mare spun on her front hooves, and lashed out with her legs. The wooden door of the medicine cabinet splinted with a satisfying crunch. The mare turned, examining her efforts. The door was completely smashed in, swinging limply on one of its hinges, the lock hanging uselessly off it.

Inside was everything the mare could dream of. There were several shelves, though one had been knocked out, throwing bottles all over the floor. The rest of the shelves had a small collection of bottles, all with faded labels.

‘Antibiotics’ read one. ‘Viral Preventatives’ read another. Also inside were several magical antidotes. They were the traditional methods combined with the latest breakthroughs in medical magic. Though still in their early development, they had been incredibly popular before the end. Some ponies even claimed they would remove disease and sickness forever from Equestria. The world didn’t last much longer.

The mare didn’t stop. She pulled off the saddlebags, opening them quickly. First, she grabbed an assortment of bottles. She couldn’t bring all of them; they would’ve been far too bulky. Next, she grabbed some bandages and pre-packaged sanitary wipes. As soon as she was satisfied she had a wide enough selection, the mare ran over to the table and quickly folded up the map. It was old and severely creased along lines of constant use, but it was in one piece. That, too, went into her bags.

Outside, the mare could hear distant cries, shouts and curses. A soft scream punctured the air, too weak to sound properly in pain or fear.

She closed the saddlebags and threw them back onto her back and tightened them as fast as she could.

“Get on,” the mare said, a strap in her mouth. She lowered herself down to the ground as she spoke, making it easier for the filly to climb up.

The filly stood shakily, unsteady on her hooves. Her eyes appeared distant and unfocused.

“Hurry!” the mare urged. “Hurry!”

The filly lurched her way over before throwing herself onto her mother’s back. She wrapped her legs around the mare’s neck, and the mare stood up. She had to leave. Now.

Her hooves hit the cold, sparse floor with a sense of urgency as she pushed her body through the corridors back toward the stairs. The stark walls flew by her, with open doors gaping like hideous scars.

There was another scream, this one louder.

The mare sprinted down the stairs, heedless of anything or anyone coming back up. At the bottom, she ran down the corridor.

She found herself in the same foyer she had entered. Her hooves skidded slightly on the loose paper, and she scrambled to regain her balance. The filly moaned softly at the sudden lurch.

Regaining her balance, the mare sprinted towards the doors. She burst them open, sprinting out into the courtyard. It was empty, and the mare couldn’t see anypony around. She could, however, hear the distant shouts and cries coming from the other side of the hospital. She winced before pushing her thoughts out of her head. She had to get out. She had to…

The mare dug her hooves into the ash to slow her momentum. She had reached the fence. She practically threw her body forward, sliding forward on her stomach.

“The wire,” she pressed. “Lift the wire.”

She felt the filly oblige, albeit slowly. The mare grit her teeth. The cries coming from the front had changed now. They were angry, directive. They were orders. She was running out of time.

As soon as she was out on the other side, the mare got up and ran towards the shelter of the buildings. Both boarded and empty windows leered down at the mare, just waiting to reveal a pony beyond.

The sun was high in the sky, now. The day had passed considerably. That meant there were hardly any shadows, forcing the mare to abandon a stealthy approach in favour of speed. She had to get out of town.

She turned a corner, sprinting down a new street. The buildings were all tall here, looming up into the sky, framed by damaged roofs. The mare threw her gaze around the windows.

A pair of eyes stared back at her.

The mare froze, her muscles locking up. The pony was in the window of a building further down the street. She was peering out of the opening, looking confused. She stared down at the mare, her eyes drawn to the small pony clinging to her back. The mare gazed back, breathing heavily. Neither of them moved, neither of them said a word. The mare watched as the mare in the window moved, almost looking as if she was about to turn around. Her face was resigned, but most importantly, she was silent.

Suddenly, another pony appeared within the window. It was a stallion, his dark-brown coat fading into the gloom behind him. He stared down at the mare for a second, his eyes wide.

“Intruders!” he yelled, his voice echoing into the air. “Intruders!”

The mare’s heart stopped. Behind her, the cries had stopped.

“Ponies! Fresh Ponies!” the stallion screamed, not moving from the window. The mare next to him hadn’t moved either, and her face appeared torn.

The cries from the ponies by the hospital had started up again. They were moving now, the echoes getting closer.

The mare started to run. She pushed her legs as fast as she could, feeling her hooves hit the ash in a panicked rhythm.

“Mama…?” the filly whispered, her voice barely audible above the mare’s heavy breathing.

The mare didn’t reply. She just ran faster. The buildings flashed by on her left and right, barely noticed. She wasn’t at all sure where she was headed. She just had to get away from the voices. She had to get out of this town.

The cries behind the mare were gaining now. There were lots of them. The stallion she had seen was still shouting, though his voice was beginning to fade into the cacophony of cries that filled the air.

Other voices were springing up around the town. They were coming from all sides now, not just behind her. The mare shifted direction, ducking down a side street. She was vaguely aware that she was shifting away from a direction that put her facing home, but at the moment, that was irrelevant.

Escape. Run. Fear. The mare ran.

The first pony she had seen since the ones in the window was just a blur. He was trying to intersect the mare’s path by running down a side alley into the road she was on. She responded by changing direction herself, down another street. The pony was slower than she was, and she quickly heard his hoof-steps fade away.

Another jumped out to meet her, his mouth occupied by a long spear. His body was low to the ground and his legs were bent. He lowered the spear in the mare’s direction. His eyes narrowed into pin-pricks.

Rather than face him, the mare shifted direction again. The buildings were starting to grow smaller now. She was nearing the edge of the town.

The cries were close, so very close. The mare could make out words now.

“Catch them!”

“Kill!”

“Spread out!”

Faster. Faster. She had to run faster. Oh Celestia, she had to run faster. She told herself again and again, but her limbs struggled to respond. She was growing tired, her muscles aching against the strain. The filly clung limply to her neck. The small pony’s weight shifted uncomfortably as she sprinted.

The mare burst out onto a wide road. She angled her body, forcing her momentum to change direction, taking herself down this new path. Looking up, she could see it. The exit. The road raced away from the buildings toward a large grey mass. It was a forest. It was an escape.

Blocking her escape were two ponies, a mare and a stallion standing guard at the blockade’s checkpoint. Both were armed and both looked ready to attack. The mare refused to change her direction. She barrelled towards them, her mind racing. The ponies looked at each other, before lowering their stances.

The mare charged forward. About fifty feet out, the stallion broke ranks. He snorted and ran towards the mare, lowering the knife he held within his mouth. The mare with the stallion quickly ran after him, chasing his tail.

As the two ponies closed in, the mare changed direction. She jumped sideways; changing the angle she faced the oncoming pony. He tried to match her shift, but instead threw his balance off, stumbling as he ran. Using her forward momentum, the mare spun and bucked the stallion in the side as hard as she could. There was crack, and the mare felt her hooves sink an inch deeper than they should have. The stallion flew backwards, knocked off his hooves. His body struck the pony behind him, hammering her to the ground like a rag doll.

The mare didn’t lose a beat, lowering herself onto all four hooves before sprinting out the town. She threw a quick glance over her shoulder and saw that the ponies chasing her had almost caught up. They were coming out of the side-streets in ones and twos, all running and yelling wildly.

The mare pushed herself onwards. Her breathing was coming in ragged gasps, but she was so close to the forest. There she would be able to lose them.

“Catch them before she gets into the Everfree!” shouted a voice behind her.

Everfree? That name sounded familiar. The forest was racing up to her, the trees growing impossibly close together. Their branches were so thick and numerous that despite having not a single leaf on their wasted trunks, they formed a solid canopy of thin skeletal limbs.

The mare looked back again. Some of the ponies had stopped, looking unwilling to go any further. Others were slowing, apprehension visible on their faces.

Without warning, the mare was in shadow. She was inside the forest, the bleached trunks ushering her inside. A thick coat of ash on the forest floor seemed to appear from nowhere as soon as soon as her hooves crossed the threshold of trees, muting her hoof-steps.

She looked back once more. Almost all of the ponies had stopped. The last few skidded to a stop as soon as they reached the trees, completely unwilling to go any further. One of the larger ponies, a unicorn, screamed in frustration.

The mare looked back, focusing her attention on the trees. She ducked and weaved between them, watching for gnarled roots that seemed to be desperate to trip her up. A low-lying branch reached out to snag the mare’s clothing, but she moved to the side, hearing the sharp crack as the branch splintered.

The ground began to rise, gently at first, but it steadily became steeper. The mare felt her pace slow. It was utterly silent now except for her gasping breaths and the occasional puff of wind. For how long she had been running, she wasn’t sure. The sun seemed low now, much lower than it had been in Ponyville.

At the top of the hill, the mare looked back. The forest stretched out around her as far as she could see in either direction. In the distance to the north, east and west stood the mountains - the mountains of home. The forest seemed to go on forever, forming a semi-circle from the east to the west, forming a natural wall for Ponyville’s southern entrance.

The trees were all dead. They were all bleached and exhausted, devoid of any foliage. It was a forest of the dead, its only inhabitants their own tombstones and the mare and her daughter – only inhabitants that she could see, that is.

Often breaking the wall of burned and wasted trees were jagged gashes in the earth. Series’ of canyons and gullies lay scattered throughout the forest, becoming more frequent and steeper the closer they were to the mountains. To the mare, they were the perfect places to camp. Taking one last look around, the mare headed down the hill, angling her trajectory so it would take her home.

The filly shifted on her back. “Mama,” she said. “I think I’m hungry.”

The mare stopped. She was standing in the base of a small depression in the earth. Small rises flanked both of her sides, the trees blocking her view of the sky. The shadows were long, signalling that night was approaching.

“We’ll camp here,” the mare said softly. “I’ll get you some food.” She lowered her body to the ashen forest floor, and the filly dismounted, quickly lying down.

The mare took off the saddlebags, letting them rest up against a tree. She looked at her daughter. She was shaking. Whether it was the sickness, hunger or fear, the mare didn’t know. But she had to act assuming it was all of them.

She opened the bags, quickly poking her head inside, searching. She pulled out their water bottle and some blankets. She gave both to the filly, letting her get comfortable. She then pulled out her medicine bottles and examined the faded labels carefully, trying to find something that would make her better.

The filly’s condition was too vague for the mare to properly guess what she needed with her limited medical knowledge, so after settling on magically-imbued antivirals and some antibiotics, she unscrewed the bottle and poured two tablets onto a plate. She passed it to the filly.

“Take this,” she said. “Drink it with some water. It will make you feel better.”

The filly eyed the medicine doubtfully, but took it without a word. She reached down and licked the tablets up into her mouth. The mare took the unscrewed water bottle and offered it to the filly who took a mouthful. She swallowed, her face scrunched up in concentration. The small pony coughed loudly as the pills went down. After she had quietened, the mare smiled at her daughter.

“There, that should make you feel better.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You’ll see.”

The filly was silent for a moment before, “Mama?”

“Yes?”

The small pony’s stomach rumbled. “I’m hungry.”

The mare laughed. Her muscles ached, her head was pounding, but at the sound of the small pony’s hunger, it all seemed to wash away. “I’ll get dinner,” she said between chuckles.

The filly smiled.

After dinner, the mare read the filly the story of the mares of harmony. The sun was disappearing, so she had to rely on memory more than any ability to see the pages. She thought about lighting the candle, but honestly, she wanted to sleep. She was utterly exhausted.

“And harmony existed throughout all of Equestria, forever and always,” the mare said softly, closing the book.

The filly snuggled into her blankets, her eyes struggling to stay open.

The mare reached down and kissed her daughter softly on the forehead. She wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination, but she could almost have sworn that the filly’s temperature had dropped. It wasn’t much, and it could mean nothing at all, but it gave the mare some hope. “Sweet dreams,” she whispered.

The filly smiled softly, her expression peaceful. “Mama?” she asked.

“Yes?”

“Thank you, Mama.”

The mare looked at her daughter carefully. She allowed a smile to bloom on her face, a small one, but a smile nonetheless.

“You’re welcome,” she said after a pause. “You’re welcome.”

It was a small victory, but to the mare, it made all the difference.

A/N: A massive thank you to Sessalisk for editing, and an equally big thank you to everyone for reading. Questions? Comments? I appreciate feedback of any kind, so please let me know how you are finding it! I shall see you for chapter 8!