//------------------------------// // DAY TWENTY-SEVEN // Story: This War of Ours // by Swan Song //------------------------------// Scootaloo poked the rainwater collector—it responded with a resounding warble. “Any luck?” asked Apple Bloom, carefully walking up the stairs with a bundle of wood slung over her back. “Nothing.” Scootaloo sighed, growling at the thing. “No rainfall at all last night.” She banged again on the tank again—as before, it rang hollow and empty. Her stomach growled loudly, almost in concert with the tank. “Not the only thing hollow and empty,” she grumbled. “Figures. Now I’m wonderin’ if we’ll even get snow with this kinda weather— ow!” There was a loud bang as Apple Bloom tripped on a step coming up the stairs, some of the wood slipping off her back. “Jeez!” Scootaloo rushed over to Apple Bloom. “Here, lemme help with that.” Together they brought the planks upstairs. “Thanks, Scoots,” replied Apple Bloom with a weary sigh. “Sorry ‘bout that. Stayin’ up keepin’ guard last night’s made me a lil’… geh.” She rubbed her bloodshot eyes. “All good, AB. Hopefully once we get all this boarded up, we can sleep in proper beds tonight.” “Yeah, fer sure.” They approached the shattered upstairs window, from which a cold wind was blowing. Scootaloo shivered—even as a cold-resistant pegasus, she still felt the chill in her bones. As the two fillies began boarding up the window, Scootaloo couldn’t help but stare longingly towards the desolace of her hometown. After nearly a month of fighting, Ponyville was in ruins, battered houses as far as the eye could see. While the shelling had mostly stopped, gunfire still rang out occasionally in the far distance, at pretty much all times of the day. That being said, they had been lucky. While the fighting had come much, much closer to the Library, ponies had realized that the vast clearing that surrounded it was a death trap, being watched by snipers at pretty much all times. Hay, Scootaloo could even see one of them, right now. The mare, who sat on the upper floor of a building just across the clearing, was scoping out the area in front of the treehouse, just waiting for anypony to cross into her vision. She was well-concealed, but Scootaloo had spotted her days ago. Suddenly, the sniper turned her rifle on the filly. A red beam appeared, landing squarely on Scootaloo’s forehead, just above her eyes. Scootaloo raised a hoof and waved enthusiastically. The laser pointer made an arcing motion just above her head—which she had long come to interpret as a reply wave from the sniper—before it winked out of existence once again. “Scootaloo… yer crazy, you know that?” Scootaloo giggled, but said nothing in return. She took comfort in the fact that, even in this absolutely chaotic environment, there were still ponies out there who just wanted to be friends. They all needed friends right now. Scootaloo turned her gaze to the rainwater collector, which the trader had helped them build on one of his return visits. Although he had become a regular visitor, after about a week he simply stopped visiting. Scootaloo couldn’t help but wonder if he was still alive. She didn’t stew on the thought for long, gazing back out towards the clearing around the library, where a half dozen corpses were within their line of sight. Death was such a common thing these days that it almost didn’t register in Scootaloo’s mind anymore, at least not since they had received confirmation from the trader that Granny Smith and Big Mac had almost certainly lost their lives when the invasion happened. That had been worth one more good cry… and then, after that, nothing since. The bodies continued to pile up in their mind, and… it just didn’t mean anything anymore. Scootaloo’s thoughts wandered to her godmother, and a sharp visual of the gray mare lying in a pool of her own blood formed in the filly’s mind. She closed her eyes, expecting to feel a pang of sorrow at the mental image. But instead, there was just a void. …It made things easier, at least. “Bit fer yer thoughts?” asked Apple Bloom, apparently noticing Scootaloo’s sudden mood shift. “Nothing.” Scootaloo gave a heavy sigh. “I guess I’m kinda still blown away that we’re alive.” “…Yeah. Me too.” She chuckled grimly. “Well, we will be until we actually get blown away, a’course.” “Heh. Yeah.” Scootaloo stared back out towards the town. It was weird how morbid their humor had gotten lately… “Uh-oh,” said Apple Bloom suddenly. “Hm?” “Look.” She pointed out the window. Scootaloo blinked, then noticed the flakes of white that were beginning to sprinkle down upon the town. “Oh.” Scootaloo blinked again. “Shit.” – — T H I S W A R O F O U R S — – A single pill tumbled out of the plastic bottle. “That’s the last one?” asked Sweetie Belle. “…Looks like it,” said Scootaloo glumly. She turned to the filly and handed it to her. “Here.” “Thanks, Scootaloo.” Sweetie took the pill and swallowed it with a big gulp, along with a tiny bit of water from the last bottle they had. “We can’t go on like this,” Scootaloo muttered, staring at the near-empty water bottle. “The trader hasn’t been here for days, and we barely have enough supplies to last. How are you supposed to get better?” “Well… I feel like I’m getting better,” replied Sweetie in a cracked voice, her low tone having lost all of the squeak that had defined her so well. “You sure don’t sound like it,” said Scootaloo with a chuckle. “Hehe—” Sweetie Belle broke into a fit of coughs. “Whoa, hey. Don’t over-exert yourself.” Scootaloo pushed her back down on the bed. “Yeah. I’m sorry I’m so useless right now,” muttered Sweetie Belle. “I hope I can make it up to you soon.” “You can make it up to us by getting better, yeah?” Scootaloo gave her a hug. “Careful… I might pass on the fever.” “I’d take it off your hooves if it meant you’d be better.” There was a moment of silence. “…That was really cheesy, Scootaloo.” “Just shut up and sleep.” Scootaloo hugged Sweetie Belle tighter. “…Okay.” A few minutes later, Sweetie Belle was dozing softly. “Aw, she asleep already?” Scootaloo glanced at Apple Bloom, who had come out of the kitchen with three bowls, which she set down on the floor beside Sweetie’s mattress. “Yeah, out like a lamp.” Apple Bloom stared at the third bowl. “…Well, I guess on the bright side, that means we still have one more meal after this.” “What do you mean?” “Whaddaya think?” “…Oh. Shit.” “Yep.” Silence returned once more. As Scootaloo slowly emptied her bowl, the frustration at their circumstances began to rise, and she felt her body heat up slightly… …only to have that be pushed back by a sudden drop in temperature. “Horseapples.” Apple Bloom shivered—apparently she had noticed it too. “I’ll go throw some more books in the furnace.” “Do we have anything left?” “Not much. Think I’m gonna have to toss in the Daring Do book yer on right now.” “Aw mare, seriously?” “Yep, s’either that or I start on Twilight’s stuff upstairs. Kinda wanna save those, yanno?” She walked over to the shelf, pulling off one of the few books that remained. “Yeah, I gotcha.” Scootaloo stewed in her frustration. “Damn, I was just getting to the good part.” “Heh. Sorry, Scoots. Guess you’ll have ta wait ‘til after the war.” “What if we die before then?” Apple Bloom shrugged. “Then it won’t matter.” Scootaloo blinked. “…Point.” As Apple Bloom disappeared into the utility room, Scootaloo began mentally checking off their supplies. That it took less than five seconds to do so was not a good sign. “Books for days,” she thought aloud. “But no medicine, no water, no food. Maybe two dozen revolver rounds.” “One dozen,” said Apple Bloom, re-emerging. The room felt considerably warmer. “Remember the bandits we had to scare off the other night?” “Oh. Right.” Scootaloo sighed heavily. “And no sign of the trader, either.” She gazed back out towards the town, noting the bodies scattered around the library. Maybe the trader’s was out there, as lifeless as the rest of them? She blinked, then squinted. Next to some of the corpses, there were scattered objects, dropped by the ponies that had fallen in the crossfire. A shotgun. Some pistols. A few rounds of ammo. Mechanical parts. A half-full bottle of water. She stared back out at the town, the battered roofs extending for miles. Certain buildings started to stand out. Barnyard Bargains. The hospital. The Town Guard barracks. Somehow, in her mind, she had always known that there was an entire town’s worth of resources just sitting out there, ripe for the picking. But only now had she really considered venturing forth to harvest. She glanced at the table. An array of supplies remained there, including a suit of armor that Scarlet had been wearing and a switchblade she had hidden in one of the pockets. Making up her mind, Scootaloo stood up. “I’m heading out tonight.” “Wait, what?!” yelped Apple Bloom. Sweetie Belle stirred under the blankets. “Shh.” Scootaloo leaned closer to Apple Bloom. “Face it. We won’t last another day at this rate. We need medicine, water, food, ammo, and Sun knows what else. It sure as hay isn’t coming to us, so I need to go out there and get it myself.” “But what about the snipers?” “Meh. If they get me, that’ll at least be one less mouth for you to feed.” Apple Bloom stepped back, aghast. Scootaloo shrugged nonchalantly, then trotted over to the table and began suiting up. She felt a hoof on her shoulder. “Scootaloo, c’mon, that’s stupid… why don't we just wait for—” “Sorry, AB, but I’m done waiting.” “But… I can’t…” Apple Bloom sat down in the middle of the floor. “If ya… I can’t… Scootaloo, please…” Scootaloo paused. She stared at the despondent filly, who had agony written all over her face. “I’ve… I’ve lost so much… Granny, Big Mac, maybe even Applejack…” Tears began streaming down her face. “I can’t bear to lose you too. I just can’t.” An ache bubbled to the surface in Scootaloo’s chest. Despite all that happened, despite how numb she had become to all the death and destruction that now formed the foundation of their day-to-day lives… there were stirrings in her heart that nearly made her sick. Scootaloo slowly walked up to Apple Bloom and took her into a hug. “I can’t bear to lose you or Sweetie Belle either. The thought… it hurts. It hurts so much, and after everything that’s happened, I didn’t even know I could hurt like this anymore.” Apple Bloom didn’t respond. So Scootaloo kept talking. “Sorry, Apple Bloom. But I’m gonna have to be a little selfish here. I’d rather get killed out there than watch you girls die in front of me.” Apple Bloom sniffed. Scootaloo wiped a tear from her face, then patted her on the shoulder. “Keep Sweetie Belle safe, okay? I’m counting on you.” She turned around and trotted towards the door, opening it and staring out into the darkness beyond. “Scoots…” She turned around to the yellow filly, who had approached the door. “Yeah?” “…Just be safe, ya hear?” She gave her one more hug. “Don’t do anythin’ stupid.” Scootaloo gripped her friend closely, basking in the warmth of her friend for what could be the very last time. “Don’tcha know? Stupid is my middle name.” There was a silence. “…Scoots.” “Yeah?” “Ya can’t have a middle name without a family name.” Scootaloo grinned, and let go. “My point exactly.” And she turned around, stepping forth into the dark night of Ponyville.