The Winding Northward Road

by Rambling Writer

Day 62

[Editor’s note: much of the original text of the following contains obscenities. At Hayfever’s request, these have been edited out.]

I’ve been [expletive deleted] mugged. I feel like [ex. del.], all my [ex. del.] gear is gone, and I’m stuck in some [ex. del.] town in the middle of [ex. del.] nowhere.

[ex. del.].

It was just after noon. I can’t really remember what the [ex. del.] happened. I was walking along a ridge, some [ex. del.] jumped me from behind, and the next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground, feeling like I’d been crushed by a [ex. del.] boulder, with all of my [ex. del.] missing. Completely [ex. del.] gone.

It hurt so [ex. del.] much, I could barely move; my legs would just [ex. del.] give out beneath me. It even hurt to breathe. But some deputies out on patrol from a nearby town noticed me, picked me up, and took me to the hospital there. Not complaining; it’s cool in here, and I REALLY [ex. del.] needed someplace soft to lie down. They dropped me into bed, and I pretty much passed out.

Woke up an hour later; at least, that’s what they say. The sheriff, a mare named Savannah, was sitting by my bed, wanted to know if I was feeling well enough to answer a few questions. I still felt like [ex. del.], but sure, I could do that. Told her what I knew. Apparently, I was mugged by some [ex. del.] gang that’s been harassing travelers out here. They jump random ponies on the road, steal their [ex. del.], and leave them for dead. Been a hassle to ponies all around this town for a while now, and she can’t do a [ex. del.] thing about them.

But this time, apparently, they got a bit sloppy. Those [ex. del.]s recognized me as inexperienced out here and didn’t bother covering their tracks as well as they should have. Now she can hopefully follow those back to whatever [ex. del.] they’re hiding in and take them down for good. Maybe I’ll even get my stuff back.

Don’t know how long I’ll be here. The doctor says nothing’s broken or sprained, but I still feel like [ex. del.], and even if I didn’t, I don’t have anything like a tent or a canteen or what have you, and I don’t think I’d last long in the desert like that. I couldn’t even buy those things; those [ex. del.]s took all my money. I don’t know what town I’m in, where it is in relation to anything else, what I’ll feel like over the next few days, or even what kind of [ex. del.] I’ll have access to once I’m able to leave.

So I have no [ex. del.] idea what I’m going to do tomorrow.

Not writing a limerick tonight. Too sore.

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