//------------------------------// // Chapter 2 // Story: A New Road // by Sipioc //------------------------------// The Moojave Badlands is a desert that lies on the border between Equestria and Bovinia, home of the Oxen and Cow folk. Despite being close allies throughout history, the two nations are separated geographically by this gulf of sandy and rocky terrain. For the longest time the best way to travel between the two nations was by sea, even though it took nearly three times as long going the long way round the continent. Straight through the desert was much more direct, but quite more perilous to be sure. A part from the heat and size, other factors made traveling this particular bypass difficult. Not only was this a lawless place where bandits were known to take refuge from the law of either or both nations, but the creatures that had the will to survive out here weren't scared of much. Giant worms, two headed snakes, Flesh-eating Roks (those are birds, really big ones), and mix in an occasional Dragon, when the time of the migration came around. All of this and no doubt more, made this stretch downright dangerous. Though by far, the biggest problem was the meddlesome quakes this area had on a nearly weekly basis. Though usually nothing more that a bit of a rumble for a spell of two to five minutes, the resulting calamity led to various landslides and shifting of great rocks (talking about actual 'rocks' this time) constantly changing and reshaping the already rugged landscape. As you can imagine, this rendered maps of the area out of date rather quickly. Thus, the role of a 'Pathfinder' is crucial. The pathfinder's job is to oversee and record the changes in the land and alter maps on the move while finding a suitable route through them. Not surprisingly, simply stopping and trying to figure out where to go is more time spent in this Tartaurus hole. A Pathfinder needs to survey the paths that are before them and based on their condition choose the best, safest and quickest back to civilization. Which is where we aren't right now. For the last four days since leaving Cattlelina, nothing to see but sun, dirt, a few scraggly trees, and jagged outcroppings. We weren't lost; if anything, we were a bit ahead of schedule. 'That bum wagon might eat that time though.' I lamented to myself. Me, though? I'm a Look Out. It's my job to take to the air and provide a Pegasus eye view to the immediate area of the caravan. I've seen and adverted almost everything from Bandits to Tumble Wolves, even thrown down with the brutes if the situation asked for it. Still, it doesn't take a Look Out to spot the other two ponies in the company. Turns out that tree in the distance was more than just a good marker in my mind as I find the duo sitting under its branches, looking out at the desolate landscape before them. I come in for a smooth landing and approach on hoof. Already I can see the two are skimming over a map. I'm still a good distance away, but a cocked ear in my direction tells me Ranger is aware of my presence but he keeps focus on the chart, engrossed in what the younger pony is saying. As I approach I can't help but beam at my daughter. I watch her concentrate so hard on the map that's nearly half the size of her. She is a Pegasus, like me. Her wings, just recently became strong enough to get her airborne and fly with me (one of the happiest moments of my life). Her coat is a light brown, complimented nicely by her orange mane that is held back with a dark blue bandanna, a pair of her Pappy's flight goggles hang from her neck. Currently her eyes squint In focus, hiding her bright amber eyes. Her name is 'Glory Roads', ten years old, (though hard for me to believe) on her flank is a spyglass crossing a scroll, signifying the heart of a explorer that beats in her chest. I then slowly move my gaze to the tall, broad, glass of water sitting next to her. I try not to stare but... it's hard. He is a bit bigger than the average earth pony stallion, but still a hair or two shorter than cousin Macintosh. His body is thick with muscle sculpted from an apparent lifetime of hard work, but he moves like the wind through the prairie grass when the time comes for it. He was a soldier where he came from, and it shows in the way he carries himself, each step made firmly in a sort of rigid marching fashion. Despite this, their is always a sense of light heartedness about him, a calm gentleness that you can see in his dark green eyes. A top his head is a patch of shaggy lighter green hair that is stuffed into a well worn ball cap. His short cropped tail swishes lazily side to side as he continues to listen to the lecturing filly. His coat is a misty slate grey in color, a dark green scarf, or 'She-mog' as he calls it, wraps around his neck and withers. "Comes in handy in more ways the you would think." He would smile and say to anypony who would raise an eyebrow at his strange choice of attire. It really did too; from keeping sand and sun out of his face, to hauling water, even acting as sling and tourniquet when the time called for it. His fetlocks have a well worn look about them and I blush a little when I find my eyes lingering just a bit too long. I inadvertently move my gaze to his toned flanks where the image of a off centered compass sits. My blush only deepens when I realize that staring there is little better. Giving my head a shake to clear off the red in my cheeks, I come up to the pair and Ranger finally peers back and gives me a stoic nod, which I smile and return. Glory hasn't noticed me yet, and just continues with her spiel. "....We could take Moo Mesa Ravine," My little pony suggests a sense of pride and maturity in her voice. "This time of year the river bed should be dried up." "True," The stallion responds cooly with a smile, his voice deep and a little gravelly, "but..." "...it's fairly early in the season." Glory cuts in, jumping ahead. "Deeper parts might still have some water, if not mud in them." She returns to the map and compass on the earth before them. Ranger responds with a knowing smile and allows the filly to continue. Glory pours over the map with the focus of a scholar. "What if we start on the ravine and branch off before it gets deep?" she trails a hoof down the map, "Here. At Plows Pike?" "After that, it's just a matter of getting back on the main drag at Red Hoof Ridge, then straight on home to Appleloosa." She looks into Ranger's deep green orbs, seeking validation for her path. I stifle a giggle as the elder stallion purposely draws out his response. First he places a hoof to his chin, then follows it with a series of exaggerated faces: trepidation, worry, horror, reluctant acceptance, and uncertainty, all in a random looping fashion. "Oh come on!" The little pegasus pouts, clearly annoyed at his gibes at her all business heir. "Is it good, or not?" She presses her front hooves on his chest, pleading into his eyes. He refuses to meet her begging face. 'Smart,' I muse to myself, 'how many times I'd lost my desire to scold her by falling into those soulful pools of adorable?' Ranger turns his head to the side, looking up in further strained "contemplation", one eye squinted shut the other peering up into the aether of an imaginary thought bubble. Seeing them like this always gives me the urge to say to Tataurus with doubt and go full on Alpha Cave mare on him. Conk him over the head, drag him back to my cave and...erm..well, it was a very heart warming sight. Finally, he smiles and glances sideways at the little mare, "Looks like a good one, Scout." He grins a little wider as he uses the nickname he affectionately gave her not long after he began working for the company. The joy this simple acknowledgement brings my little filly just about put me over the edge with laughter. She begins to prance about the stallion, the biggest smile on her face, as she devolves into a giggle fit. All the while Ranger just smiles on, gathering up the map and compass with great care before depositing them in his saddle bags, which he then slides them over his haunches and onto his back. "Momma!" My presence is finally made known to her as Glory gallops toward me, pride swelling up her face as she beams up at me. "Ranger let me plot out the path! All by myself!" I smile as I look down at her gratified features. It still shakes me a little when I realize that she now tall enough to come up to my chin. 'How I miss the days she would be small enough to weave through my legs, nuzzling up against me with all the love her little heart could muster.' I think to myself a little solemnly, before smiling widely at her and nuzzling her cheek affectionately. 'Teen years are coming though, gotta enjoy the now.' I remind myself. "That's great, sweatheart!" I smile down at the youngest Road family member. "He says 'its a good one'!" She practically squeals out of glee. Pulling back to resume her happy dance. "It's a good 'plan', Scout." The grey pony comes from behind and messes up her mane with a hoof, to which she further shrieks with joy. "But we won't know how good till we actually walk it." He pauses for a moment before chuckling to himself, "Sort of a 'life' metaphor, there." He smirks, mentally composing his soliloquy as we three turn and begin to walk back toward the direction of the now stopped caravan. The white covered tops peaking over the distant rocky hills. "That's beautiful," I chuckle sarcastically at his accidental life-ism. "When does your book come out?" I add dryly. "Oh please," he says, in mock pompous tone "No book can contain all this wisdom." He says motioning with a foreleg to his whole being as if he's posing for a book jacket photo. The sight and thought makes me laugh. Glory contently bounds happily about at my side, her eyes going from me to the stallion. Every so often I can't help but feel her nudge me ever so closer to the other pony walking with us. I turn and raise an eyebrow to the little interloper, where I am met with the impish grin I distinctly remember being flashed to me before, by her grandmother. "Still," I eye her a bit firmer before turning back to Ranger, "Not too wise to teach her how to do your job, she'll be doing it better than you by the end of the week." I say jokingly, but I flinch a bit at my words. A wave of regret hits me for even suggesting he would have to leave, even in fun. Ranger doesn't seem to notice. "Oh well, I'm sure I could get a job in town." He says nonchalantly, walking a bit ahead of me and Glory. While this alleviates my regret, it replaces it with a spike of panic. "N-no no, I didn't mean..." "I believe Ms.Jubilee is always hiring." He says in an all too familiar teasing way at the mention of the 'Cherry Hag'. Cherry Jubilee; youngest board member of the town of Appleloosa, proprietor of the local cherry farm, and a personal thorn in my side since we were kids. Oh she was friendly enough, until she saw something she wanted, and all too often that was the strong ponies we hired for the wagon trains. No surprise that all of them were stallions. 'You ain't foolin' anypony, you cherry stompin' harpy!' I mentally huff, before turning back to Ranger, who is walking ahead, but I can tell he is grinning more than a bit at getting up my dander. She had tried to get her tentacles on Ranger. Not a week after he was well enough to walk again, she had sauntered up to him, (oh, I was their too, but Celestia knows she weren't looking at me.) She flashed 'those' eyes, practically gushed about how he was looking 'so much better' and how she would be 'happy to help in ANY way' she could. Despite his still slightly haggard appearance, she went and offered him a 'position' on her wagon team. To her surprise and my ever lasting pleasure, he turned her down, saying he "doesn't like the idea of being strapped to anything." She looked sad for a bit, looked him up and down one more time before mouthing the word 'Pity.' She then smiled and turned away, letting him know the offer was open anytime, flicking her tail as she went. I had made one mistake that day; I let Ranger know what, or rather who, gets under my skin, since then he would periodically jab at me over the subject. But Ranger made a mistake too,.....that was his third strike for the day. All is silent for a moment, before I calmly place my hat atop Glory's head and I launch myself at the offending stallion. Moving like a flash of lighting, he once again, ditches his saddle bags and faces me head on. We collide with enough force that I knock him to his back. But he manages to roll us both so he is on top and springs away. I get back on my hooves and face him once again, my wings flare sending a cloud of dirt into the air. Ranger just snorts with that smirk on his face that makes me wanna smack him and.....kiss him at the same time. "You make it too easy sometimes, Windy." He chuckles, arching his back like a cat, waiting to pounce, sidestepping occasionally as I began to circle "And it seems that you and my brother are strangely eager to get your teeth knocked out this mornin'." I grin menacingly as I lock eyes with my current nemesis. "It ain't even noon yet." I add, all the while I am calculating which move to make, what hold to use, and what word I'm gonna make him say when he howls for mercy. Meanwhile Glory tips back the slightly oversized hat, and shakes her head at the spectacle of two grown ponies, one of them her mother, acting like a bunch of foals. "Well, we were concerned." He says in mock sympathy, without breaking eye contact. "Pray tell, about what?" I arch an eyebrow skeptically, as I spot a nice opening. "We feel you've been moving kinda slow lately." "THAT TEARS IT!!" I am airborne once again, bearing down on the grey colt like a cannonball.