//------------------------------//
// Chapter 4 (End?) 
// Story: A New Road 
// by Sipioc 
//------------------------------//

Chapter 4

“Ah don't care what she said, Glory!”  I say exasperated to the indignant filly to my side.  “Yah don't solve your problems by taking a swing at anypony who makes things hard on yah.”  

“Even if she deserved it?” Said filly mumbles, gruffly kicking the dust as we continue up the path toward home.

“Especially if she deserved it.” I say looking down on her sour expression.  “It ain't proper tah go round pickin’ fights.”

“You and uncle Cross fight all the time!”  She said stamping a hoof to punctuate her point.

“That-that's different.” I say with a slight falter, but I need to power through this.

“How?”  She questions back sharply.

Dangit.  “You're still grounded.”  

Her mouth hangs open for a bit before she grunts and returns looking forward, her brow knitted, her expression fixed in an angry pout.  

It's going on five o’clock in the evening.  That little side step to pick Glory up from an after school detention has put me behind in my work on the ranch.  

‘Extra chores tah be doled out tomorrow to a fiery lil’ pony for causin’ such a ruckus.’  I resolve to myself as I further regard my daughter.

Still, I can't help but feel for her.  Getting made fun of for not having a cutie mark was far from unheard of.  So much so that it was an unfortunate part of growing up. I’d been there, but being told that it was ‘alright’ didn't make it feel any easier.

Slowly, I reach for my little pony.  She stiffens up to my hoof, makes no effort to pull away, but neither does she face me either.

“Darlin’, ah..”

“...Momma...”  Her voice comes out barely louder than a whisper. She remains rigid and her eyes are fixed on the road ahead, her eyes looking like she has seen a ghost.

I turn, and I am sure my expression is the same.

A stone's throw in front of us is the body of a large earth stallion.  He lays on his side his muzzle buried in the dirt and his body unmoving.  I've lived out in the Appleloosan expanse near all my life,  I've seen what the heat and near endless desolation can do to a pony.  Heck, had my own wayward trek into the wastes when I was a lot younger and more than a might stupider.  Simply put; it ain't a pretty sight.

But this sorry sod before us now even turns my stomach.

His lips were cracked, dried blood patches stained his face.  That wasn't the disturbing part though.

His eyes were equally blistered and red from however long he was out their.  Still that wasn't the worst part.

I can see a grizzly trail of blood behind him where he seemed to have dragged himself on the desert floor for quite a ways.  His fetlocks and hooves have thistles and cuts and are bleeding out.  Bits of dirt and gravel imbedded in his skin prevented his wounds from clotting.  Nope, that wasn't the worst of it.

The worst of it was he was completely bare.  By that, I don't mean he weren't wearing a hat or vest, which he weren't.  No, I mean, he didn't have a speck of hair on him.  From nose to the tip of his tail, he was simply devoid of anything resembling hair.  Instead, his hide was exposed and with that came the merciless burning from sweet Celestia’s namesake.

“...Oh sweet Faust…” I whisper under my breath, removing my hat out of condolence for the sight I know will haunt me for the rest of my days.  I pull Glory to me and turn her about so that she won't see this anymore than she already has, for whatever good that will do at this point.  Rather than fight me, she nuzzles closer, wrapping her forelegs around my own.  Prairie life has made her a tough filly, but no amount of grit and spit can prepare somepony to see something like this.

With a sigh,  I give her a nuzzle.

“You okay, baby?”

She silently nods her eyes are obscured from me by her bangs, It's not hard to tell she is pretty shook up.

I wrap my wings around her, and pull her close.  “S’ok, the desert is a harsh place, sadly,this can happen from time to time.”  Once again she nods a bit. “Come on.”  I say ushering her past the body, and closer to home.  “Run on ahead, tell your uncle to bring the wagon and a blanket.  We can at least see to it that he gets a proper send off.”  I look down and brush the hair from her eyes and see tears lingering in the corners.  “When your done go find Grandma, tell her what happened.”

With a foreleg she wipes her muzzle, recomposing herself. “What about you, Momma?”  She says her eyes wandering over to the stallion reluctantly.

“Ah'm gonna stay with him.” Motioning over my wither. “Make sure he’s left in peace till the wagon gits here.”  I say reverently,  before using a wing to once again block the view from Glory.  

“O-okay.”  She says with a solemn nod.  I give her a peck on the forehead and send her off. The top of the Ranch is just visible over the next ridge, won't take her but five minutes to get their.

With Glory gone,  I get to the gritty part of looking over the body. He is a big one, or was I suppose.  Must of stood a good head and a half over me. His sun ravaged skin was blistered all over his neck, back, and face.  Though oddly only on his left side.  

Looking where he came out of the west, I reasoned he must of been walking for a good few hours and the exposure eventually caught up with him.  

“Probably got lost, from a caravan or something.”  I muse aloud to my silent friend.  Immediately, my mind went to a bandit attack.  Those rats had been causing trouble in the area for years, and sad to say here was yet another victim.  

The lack of a coat made trying to identify him by a cutie mark pointless.  It was that oddity that bothered me the most.  Not only was it exceptionally cruel, but the job that had been done was absolutely perfect. On closer inspection I saw he did even have eyelashes.

Sitting on my haunches next to the large stallion, I tipped my hat back and felt a swell of pity.  “Nopony should die like this.”  I pull out my trusty tin canteen and take a swig, feeling particularly parched.  Looking to the north I could see the outline of the newly christened town of Appleloosa.  It's wooden structures; many still under construction, standing a beacon, or maybe a flicker, of civilization. Closer still was our ranch.  

“Poor colt was so close.” 

I take another pull off the canteen, before feeling oddly selfish.  “Well,” I casually say as I approach with the canteen, “better late than never, right partner?”  I grimly quip as a let a stream of water pour on his face.

“-KOFF-KAFF-!”

I must of near jumped clean out of my skin as the stallion started to sputter and wheeze, his eyes bloodshot and wide as he desperately went after the droplets of water that ran off his face.

“SAINTS ALIVE!” I say staggering back trembling like bit on a railroad track.  “You're ….A-live!”  I exclaimed ever so eloquently.

Whether the stallion heard me or not I’ll never know because he was currently trying to pull himself toward my canteen that I had dropped on to the equally parched sand.  I watched, frozen as he made to grab the discarded item, clumsily trying to pick it up with his hooves, but seeming to be unable to do so.  With raspy growl he then attempted to use his mouth but was met with equal trouble, spilling some precious water on the sand below eliciting a whimper from the frantic stallion, as his weak body falls to the ground in a heap.

Not willing to watch this go on, I snatch up the canteen in a hoof and walk up to him.

“Let me help yah.”  I say coming closer, garnering a huff and a growl from him, as he tries to shuffle away.  Despite his to Tataurus and back appearance, his eyes convey a sense of uncertainty and mistrust.  He cautiously looks at me, as if I am some sort of alien.  I can't help but notice though that his eyes dart from me to the canteen in my hoof, as if he is deciding how he can get it away from me even in his weakened state.

“Now just take it easy mister, ah ain't gonna hurt yah.”  I say closing the gap. In a surprising but vain attempt he launches himself at the canteen once more, apparently set on just taking what he needs.  I am ready, however, with a quick flap, I have back peddled out of reach, causing him to come crashing back down on his side, sending him into a fit of dry coughing.

“You done?” I say looking down at the sorry looking fella.   He simply glares at me and rolls to his side trying to get his wheezing under control.

Now, I was raised to be generous, to gladly lend a hoof to anypony in need,  and this situation weren't any different.  Still this old colt’s gruff attitude weren't exactly glossing my coat, lowly he may be.  I look once more at him,  he is no longer coughing, but by his pained expression, that was the least of his problems.  ‘Where in wide world of Equestria is Cross with that flippin’ wagon!’ I grumble to myself.  My eyes glance over his sun blistered shorned body.  ‘Celestia blast it, Ah hope he don't have the mange or nothin’.’

Canteen in hoof, wings spread for courage,  I stomp over to him. I lean down to him and bring my face about an inch from his.  “Looky here, sunshine.”  I say through gritted teeth.  “You NEED mah help, so stop flailin’ about like fish in a mud hole,” I narrow my eyes at him, “and let me!” 

Once again he doesn't answer, instead  he simply eyes me, with as much indignation a dying pony can muster, and then with rattley huff, he relaxes.

“That's better,”  I sit down next to him “now c’mere.”  His eyes go wide as I bring his head toward my forelegs and cradle it their.  Using a fore leg I prop up his head and with the other I begin to give him a thin stream of water from my canteen.  His shock at the awkward action subsides quickly as the life giving liquid hit his parched tongue.  To garner more he tries to grab at the canteen to increase the flow.  With fwick of a wing I push his hoof back,  “None of that!” I scold him “Lil’ sips. It won't due tah drown y’urself.”  His hoof freezes mid air in contemplation, before it returns to the earth.  “Glad we understand one another, now take a breather.”

I tip the canteen back and allow him a moment.  Another coughing fit seizes him and I help him turn once again to his side to quelch it. He turns back, his breathing labored but noticeably less haggard.

Once again, I meet his eyes.  This time around I notice that the redness belies a gentle shade of jade green.  I searched in those eyes, and I could see they searched me back…

That's how it all started, I suppose...