Chapter 38: The Desert
Desolate Places Arc
Delia’s normally laid-back expression was twisted with concentration, “I think I got one: ‘bearded clam’!”
“No dice, floor-scrubber!” Zyra crowed. “We’ve used that one, too.”
Delia wasn’t deterred, “Alright… ‘hair-pie’!”
Most of the girls laughed at that; Loress shook her head, “No, I’m afraid we used that one up a long while back…”
Delia looked back to Loress, herself trailing behind Orni, taking point, “Well, it’s not like I was around for all that. Can’t we screw that rule this time?”
It was Delia’s first time playing “Come up with a Funny Name for ‘Vagina’” with the other mares and so far, she’d been pulling mud. The others had declared only new terms they hadn’t batted around previously could be used.
Loress had suggested the rule, thinking getting their creative juices flowing would be more fun than reliving past glories and failures, “We want to keep things interesting; just try for now.”
Delia tried again, “Okay… ‘rosebud’.”
Essenta, walking in front of Loress but behind Delia, commented, “Well, we haven’t used that one… but it lacks… character.”
Dechaa was holding up the rear that day, “What the Hell’s that even mean, Sen?! We’re talking about ‘pussy’, not art…”
The remark took them by surprise, it being Dechaa, but she’d been getting rather grumpy come late-morning; she hated the hot weather and the sun was already baking them. The desert was about as unpleasant as they’d imagined it might be.
Delia defended her assertion, “Nah… It’s funny because it looks like a ‘rosebud’ before sex but winds up looking like a ‘dog eating pudding’ after.”
The mares cringed; that was a nasty vision.
Wilka grumbled, “I really don’t like the ‘dog’ thing…”
Delia got the message, “Fine… it’s not very good.”
The girls had been in the desert four days. They traveled from dusk until mid-morning and dug in during the day; it was the only way to conserve energy and water.
Things had been rather glum for a day or so, having watched Zyra try to put a very painful thing behind her and doing so winningly. Along with that it was high time to discuss a few aspects of Zyra’s past, if only to clue in the others. Ama helped Zyra through it; there were some things shared and some things not. Zyra still felt very sad but also felt better, knowing her friends were with her.
But even Zyra’s melancholy soon gave way to joy with a new friend and old friends with which to journey along. Life moves on, always.
The silly game they now played was just one of the many ways they’d been passing the time; otherwise there was nothing much to see but sand and other mares’ asses. Even the mares that were hesitant to take part in such filth gave in and tried to enjoy it.
Zyra thought hard, “Uh… how about ‘whisker-biscuit’?”
“No, Zyra,” Ama shook her head. “You suggested that one last month, upon finding a hair in your breakfast.”
The girls laughed, recalling the mage’s outright disgust.
Zyra remembered, “Oh, yeah… Well, I keep finding hairs in the bread Delia brought us… It’s simply inspirational!”
Delia cringed, “Sorry about that… the old mare that was on baking duty that day refuses to wear her hairnet…”
Zyra grimaced and was not alone in the feeling; they’d met the crusty old mare and had concerns regarding her hygiene.
Orni, whose forte was not conjuring filthy concepts, sometimes struck it rich, “How about ‘peachy-pie’?”
Delia snorked; it wasn’t the worst one they’d come up with, “‘Peachy-pie’?”
The others giggled; it was rather harmless, considering.
The Knollwing contended, “I know it doesn’t sound all that funny by itself, but picture this…”
She halted; as she was on point the others had to stop.
Orni took on a most suggestive look and strutted back and forth gracefully, “Picture a mare approaching a stallion and propositioning him, ‘Wanna take a look at my ‘peachy-pie’?’”
“Not if you put it like that, I don’t,” Zyra quipped.
Orni’s strut—and the obnoxious, unidentifiable accent she used—and Zyra’s fast comeback made it a contender; the girls all cracked up.
Orni gave a stiff bow before continuing walking, “Thank you, thank you…”
The mares happily chatted a moment, bickering about the best synonym thus far.
Essenta cackled, “Here’s one: ‘yogurt factory’!”
They groaned as one; that was foul.
Ama guffawed, “I believe we have a victor!”
Loress chided, “We still have to decide which ones to vote on… Does anypony have another to add?”
The collective of mares shook their heads; they’d just about run out of ideas.
Loress called back to Ama, “You’ve kept track?”
The Mazan smiled, “Of course. Those up for approval include the following: Essenta’s ‘yogurt factory’…”
Whether Ama knew how that sounded or not, it was hilarious to the girls, her referring to it belonging to the princess.
Ama continued, “Loress’s ‘honey-pot’…”
The mares snorked.
“Orni has two: her ‘hot-pocket’ and her ‘peachy-pie’. Well done, I must say…”
The mares couldn’t hold back their laughter but just managed to keep quiet.
“And finally, we have my ‘shame-cave’.”
They all roared, falling all over themselves.
Ama stopped and looked around, apparently not understanding, “Is it that funny?”
Essenta caught her breath, tears in her eyes, “Oh, it is, Ama…”
Loress had such a laughing fit she was reduced to coughing, “O-o-o-o-kay… So, we have ‘yogurt factory’, ‘honey-pot’, ‘hot-pocket’, ‘peachy-pie’, and ‘shame-cave’. I wish to withdraw ‘honey-pot’; it simply isn’t as good as the rest.”
Zyra considered, “You don’t have to…”
Loress insisted, “It’s simply not that funny.”
“Okay,” the mage figured. “Since there are eight of us now we may wind up having a tie in the vote. If that happens... I guess we can flip a coin or draw lots. Agreeable?”
This was met with ascent. It wasn't ideal, seeing something so lovingly created thwarted by a mere game of chance, but it was fair.
“Fine, then,” Essenta stated. “Which two get the ‘axe-wound’?”
Delia cocked her head, “‘Axe-wound’?”
Dechaa responded with a chuckle, “It lost out to ‘baby-cannon’ the last time we did this; she’s still sore about it.”
“Because it’s way funnier!” Essenta smiled, showing her teeth.
Delia disagreed; she was an authority on things profane, “It’s good, but ‘baby-cannon’ just flies off the tongue better; the absurdity is a boon as well.”
“Fine, fine,” Essenta admitted defeat. “Which two are out?”
Zyra lamented, “That’s hard… they’re all pretty good.”
Wilka put in unexpectedly, “I thought ‘peachy-pie’ was really funny but it’s more… cute than outrageous… Maybe we could play a game some other time looking for cute names…”
This made sense to the girls; Orni admitted, “You’re right… we’re looking for crazy. I really like my other one though; it’s pretty nasty.”
“Hot-pocket” was pretty nasty but it couldn’t quite hold up to the repellant “yogurt factory” and the off-beat “shame-cave”, those being the runaway pair.
Loress called for the vote, “Okay… All in favor of ‘yogurt factory’?”
Essenta was both happy and touched to see Ama raise her hoof. She’d been the only one to agree with her on “axe-wound”
"You're not voting for your own?!" Essenta couldn't believe it.
Ama grinned, "But yours is quite hilarious; it conjures awful visions!"
"Well... Thanks," Essenta voted for her own, smiling at her friend.
Zyra raised hers too, this time, giggling stupidly at Ama's statement.
The three were the only ones.
Loress called for the next, "For 'shame-cave'?"
The other five put up hooves, Loress included.
Loress smiled, “Sorry, Princess… Skunked again. Congratulations, Ama!”
The girls buffeted Ama, howling with laughter. Essenta had to admit her “yogurt factory” was inferior to Ama’s “shame-cave”… It better caught one off-guard with a touch of ludicrousness as opposed to outright grossness.
Dechaa was the first to break the merriment, being less than fully merry in the rapidly rising heat, “Okay, enough of that shit… Let’s hunker down and get some lunch…”
There was a singular lack of dispute and the girls dug in, content to rest under tarps until dusk. Beneath the tarps, nestled a few feet below the desert’s surface, it was 15 to 20° cooler; this was a literal lifesaver when the daytime temperatures soared to 115°.
Zyra shuddered as she split up fruit and biscuits among the girls, “Fuck me, I’m never gonna be able to look at yogurt the same way again…”
The desert was 700 miles across at their point of crossing. Never before had they been so glad to have a magical, lightweight wagon for their gear. In five days, they’d made it just over 200 miles; it was slow going in the sand, but their water, food, and supplies were fine. They’d even managed to find water deep underground in an abandoned well, Zyra and Dechaa able to pull it up with their magic.
Delia had stated many years earlier stallions had laid out a path across the desert using wooden poles driven deep into the ground; it offered a clear path in the shifting sands, but they’d long since weathered away. But several of the mares could navigate by the stars so it was still smooth sailing. In the vast darkness of the desert at night the stars shown in ways most of them had never seen.
Keeping to the course and barring any terrain worse than sand dunes they expected to be across in less than two weeks, not including those already tallied.
On the evening of the sixth day the mares climbed from under their tarps, experiencing the rapid drop in temperature with which they’d become familiar.
“Shit…” Essenta pondered. “It’s hot enough to cook an egg on a rock during the day and cold enough to brew a nice lager at night.”
Delia chuckled, “Yeah… and this is just Autumn. Another month and it’ll be cold enough at night to keep milk fresh.”
The princess shivered, rolling up one of the tarps, “Sounds fun…”
One might think cold air would be welcome after cooking in the sand all day, but it wasn’t entirely pleasant; it chilled to the bone until they got moving.
Delia took point, knowing how best to navigate the desert, “Okay, girls… it might sound like a lot, but I want to get us 50 miles tonight. We have the wind to our backs tonight and the dunes are much more level than before. If all goes well, we’ll be around 310 miles in; we can likely hit the halfway point tomorrow night. Our goal before lunch is this rock formation… It’s supposed to look like a chair, I hear. Though resting a day at the formation may be a good idea; a true oasis occurs near there.”
Loress loaded one of their food-bags into the wagon, “How’s the terrain after this ‘chair’ thing?”
Delia shrugged, “It depends on the time of the year… A lot of shifting winds can create some crazy dunes but I’m not sure. Back in the city we only hear about that side of the desert from those traveling north.”
Ama joined Loress, dropping another tarp into the wagon, “And because of the plague down south, you have heard nothing…”
Delia didn’t like thinking about it, but it was true, “Yes. It’s true what we heard: nopony that’s gone down there since late winter has been heard from again.”
Dechaa complained, “And why are we going there again?”
Zyra cuffed the other unicorn, “For the Hell of it, of course.”
All the girls but Dechaa laughed. They’d agreed to go but not just for the Hell of it; they’d made a promise to go and even Dechaa had agreed. The thought of dying in some fucking jungle was pretty scary but they were young, full of beans, and still just overconfident enough to think following the pioneering spirit was an okay idea.
Plus, they had something to do back in the Dale. This was another thing upon which they’d agreed and without something to show for the journey, their reception at the Dale would be less than welcoming. King Dale said he wanted the Dragon Lance, housed in the temple at Salvatrix, and that’s what they’d try to find. Taking the lance though, if they even elected to enter the ancient temple, was still up for debate.
Even at this point the girls were just having a joyous time traveling together, despite a few grumblings with the desert climate. Still, if they didn’t think about an end-goal soon they may wind up with nothing material to show the world what they’d done.
After traveling for a time, Ama called up to Delia, “What type of place is Salvatrix? I have heard many things about it but know little.”
Delia knew enough about the place; it was about the only pony settlement worth talking about south of “Last Chance” City, “It’s an ancient city nestled in the jungle. It was built about 800 years ago by ponies looking to expand south. The plague is ubiquitous down there but its influence ebbs and flows overtime. Around 500 years ago they had an epidemic bad enough it drove away the ponies it didn’t kill. The only reasons it never becomes a pandemic is the desert isolating it and the disease’s tropical needs.
“About 100 years ago ponies began to move back there, and they started a new colony. There are plenty of resources down there and a lot of ponies are interested in sending them north; most of our sugar came from there. They even established a monarchy in the old city! But just this spring, we realized the plague blew up again and news has been slim to none…”
Most of the girls knew this well but one had special knowledge; Loress inputted, “The Dragon Lance, though… that’s another matter; it has an interesting history. It’s Terran-made and it’s more of a ceremonial piece than anything. It was forged 700 years ago as thanks to the old Kingdom of Salvatrix. When Terrow needed help against Albin in the east, the ponies of Salvatrix, allied with Terrow, sent a legion.
“But, naturally, when Salvatrix fell to the plague all those years ago, ponies did what we’re doing now: they trekked there to find treasure. The lance wound up being passed around the land, but it wound up in Fulco, up near the Dale.”
The Dragon Lance was no mere trinket but among the many treasures of Salvatrix it was minor; not everypony knew much about it.
Loress looked to the Dale mares, “Does one of you want to explain?”
They didn’t; they were still dwelling on the fact Essenta’s father had sicced Radulf’s erstwhile assassins on them and the nastiness of the war with Joeh.
But Essenta sighed; she knew best of anypony, “For the last couple centuries the lance was in Fulco. But during the war with Joeh—and by extension, Albin—the father of the King Fulco we know used it as a standard in battle. He had it in mind it was symbolic or something, ‘fighting the evils of Albin’, he said.
“But after the fighting was done—the condoned actions, that is—the representatives of Albin attending the peace-treaty signing had a stipulation for their full support: they wanted the lance returned to its proper place.”
Ama was nonplussed, “Why would they care? Salvatrix was an old enemy, though some centuries removed…”
Dechaa took over, “It didn’t make much sense to the Confederation of the Valley, either… But the representatives said it was to honor the ponies of Salvatrix for their bravery in the war with Terrow. They were enemies, yes, but the ponies from the south were said to have fought like warrior-poets. The lance was theirs, bound by honor, and even if the old Kingdom of Salvatrix was long gone, it could still reside in the temple it was meant to be in. In fact, over the last few decades, many efforts have been made by several countries to restore the treasures of Old Salvatrix to their rightful places, under the guise of international cooperation.”
Essenta took it back, “But my father complained about it constantly. He thought they made the demand out of spite and little else. I tell you… until after he ‘saddled’ me with this fucking ‘task’ I thought it was just a myth, that the lance never did exist. I thought he was just full of shit all these years, upset about nothing and crazy.”
Loress smiled, “But it’s very real and it’s quite a sight, I hear. The reason it was taken so many years ago was a lack of protection over it; the plague hit so quickly the country and its treasures were never fully safeguarded. But a decade ago when the lance was returned, the mages of New Salvatrix figured out how to activate the old temple’s defenses. It was a ruin the new society never utilized but its defenses are said to be as fearsome as the day the temple was first constructed.”
Ama considered all this, “So your father, the asshole he is, demanded you to go on this quest, make it to this temple, find this artifact, and bring it back to him?”
Essenta giggled; it was always amusing when Ama used foul language, “Yes, indeedy.”
It seemed strange Essenta could laugh at all over her father, but sometimes the only choices are to laugh or cry. And King Dale wasn’t worth the tears.
Ama was perplexed, “Why?”
Essenta turned with an ironic grin, “Why are we thinking about defiling the correct and proper residence of the Dragon Lance or why does my father, the asshole that he is, want the lance?”
Ama answered, “The latter.”
Zyra had a cynical idea, “Since King Dale lost the chance to sell off Essenta for the prince of Fulco, perhaps he thought he might be able to peddle the lance to his old friend; that scheming bastard in Fulco would likely do anything to see it back in his kingdom’s possession.”
Dechaa piped up, not much happier with the chill of the night over the heat of the day, “He never thought anything of getting anything from Sen… He figured she’d run back to him or die…”
Essenta shook her head at her friend’s surliness, trying not to laugh, “Dechaa’s got it.”
Ama beamed, “Oh, Essenta! Prince Fulco was the one with whom you did those naughty things, is he not?”
The girls that knew about that tittered.
Essenta, still occasionally thinking fondly of Prince Asklepiades Fulco, blushed, “We got drunk… and I tried to kiss him… That’s all that happened.”
This was true enough, but she’d also danced with him.
Zyra smirked to the assemblage, “But if the guards hadn’t found the two, I bet they’d have been married the next day, if you catch my drift! That woulda been something.”
Essenta gave a self-deprecating snork, “You’re right… Sometimes I do wish I’d just dragged him off to a hay-barn somewhere…”
It was just after breakfast that the rock formation came into sight. The night hadn’t been bad; the company’s cheer had been good and the walking tolerable. Still, the girls were good and ready for a rest.
Zyra asked Delia, “I’ve heard tell about the jungle natives from the old-timers at my magic guild. Do you know much about them?”
Wilka was near the rear, pulling the wagon; it was still no chore with its enchantments, “The natives of Salvatrix? I thought they died off with Old Salvatrix.”
Dechaa grumbled to nopony in particular, “I thought they were a myth.”
Ama considered, “Some of the old mares of Mazan speak of creatures in the southern jungles… But they are not ponies.”
Delia reflected, “I’ve never seen or met one, certainly, but we hear stories. And Ama’s right; they’re not ponies. And they haven’t died off, as far as we know.”
Loress had heard something about the jungle natives; she was from a “crossroads of the continent”, after all, “They’re not ponies? I heard they were unicorns.”
Delia chuckled, “They have an interesting magic but they’re definitely not unicorns. Anypony heard of the qilin? Sometimes they’re called kirins? They’ve lived in the jungles since, well, forever—at least a Hell-of-a lot longer than ponies ever did.”
“Sure,” Essenta responded. “I think so.”
Delia lectured, “Qilin are chimerical creatures: they resemble unicorns, in that they have a single horn and a pony’s shape, but they have the qualities of dragons too, like scales. And they have cloven-hooves.”
Zyra questioned, “So they’re more closely related to sheep and goats and cows and stuff?”
Delia shrugged, “Dunno. But they apparently haven’t come north of the jungles in a few hundred years, leading many to think they’ve died off… but some coming through ‘Last Chance’ say otherwise. Their numbers have always been on the low side and there just aren’t that many of them anyway; they tend to stay isolated in clans.”
Dechaa was curious, knowing of medicine, “How’d they avoid the plague? Did they just stay away from the ponies and the cities?”
Delia shook her head, “The qilin kept minimal contact with ponies… but that’s not what saved them. Remember the plague is everywhere down there. They’re unaffected by it; it’s likely that they adapted alongside it, which is more than we can say of ponies.”
Loress knew her history well enough, “I know the continent had better knowledge of the south when this was all steppe.”
Orni wondered, “The desert we’re in now used to be steppe?”
Loress nodded, “It was 400 years ago the Fourth Great Famine hit down here. The land became the desert we know and that’s what caused the famine. It only took a few decades for the savannah to become this.”
Delia kept paddling along, “Oh, yes… and that is the main reason ponies didn’t try to resettle the jungle earlier. Hundreds of miles of desert with some jungle waiting on the other side… Yeah…”
Zyra chortled, “Already regretting your choice of coming along?”
Delia grinned ferally at the mage, “Not yet… this still beats the ever-loving fuck out of scrubbing out shithouses…”
The fact Delia actually did such things made the observation all the grosser; many a good groan and laugh was had.
Ama hooted buoyantly, “Oh, my… So, what else do they say about the place?”
Delia’s mouth worked, as if she were chewing, “Welp… Legend tells the qilin were once much more numerous. They built a city, deep in the jungle… it’s said they built this huge pyramid to house the ashes of all their deceased… and it’s all made of gold.”
It was obvious, looking at Delia, she was putting on a show; but the story wasn’t something she just pulled out of her ass.
The others halted, wowed by such an idea… all but one.
Ama laughed, “Such a place would not be structurally sound! And to think there would be enough of such a rare metal to build a city… It is folly!”
It could be said the others sometimes envied Ama’s innocence in so many matters.
Delia guffawed, “Ama, you aren’t just pissing in the wind; it is folly! That’s why it’s just a legend.”
Ama smiled, “Oh, what fun stories can be… But imagine! A city of gold… That would certainly be something to tell my queen of; I will still have quite the tale to tell someday, when I finally return home.”
Delia saw Ama’s cheeks pinken very slightly at her musings; it at once slighted and warmed her heart knowing there were ponies like Ama in the world. The former maid liked to think Ama was able to see the very best in ponies, no matter what else they showed… and she was likely correct.
Delia, the only one to see Ama’s blush, could’ve teased her… but she didn’t want to, “Yes, Ama… Quite a thing it would be.”
The chair-like rock formation was certainly a sight, dwarfing the nothingness around it; but that was not their goal, they knew filing past it. Over the next set of sand dunes was the oasis. The mid-morning sun had already scorched the Earth and the mares craved shade.
Delia sniffed the air, again taking point, “Smell that, girls?”
The others halted, sniffing the air; Orni recognized it at once, “Fresh water.”
Delia turned to the girls, her face beaming, “And it’s not just some tiny oasis or well in the ground… I didn’t want to get your hopes up, but it seems the oasis is at its zenith.”
Ama tilted her head, “‘Zenith’?”
Dechaa clarified, “It means ‘peak’ or ‘at its greatest’.”
“Oh,” the Mazan said.
“Yes,” Delia looked as if she’d burst. “Everypony over the last dune!”
Whooping and hollering, the former maid barreled up the dune. By the time the others thought to do the same, Delia was already near the top.
Delia came to the top of the dune and looked down, wonder crossing her features, “Oh, my… Get up here!”
Not 10 seconds later the rest made it to the top; their jaws collectively dropped.
This was no mere oasis; it was a lake!
“Holy shit!” Zyra exclaimed.
“Where the fuck did all this water come from?!” Essenta was amazed.
The mares cheered at the sight. Around the lake, trees and grasses sprouted. They could hear birds chirping and insects humming happily.
Loress was so happy to see that much water she could’ve cried; but being the “responsible” one, she tried to calm the girls, “Alright… let’s set up camp… Then we can—”
Her words were lost on the light breeze as five of the mares galloped down the dune; Wilka even left the wagon behind. Ama, Loress, and Delia all watched as the rest of them began to strip down to their fur coats; by the time they hit the bottom they were in their horsey birthday-suits, storming into the water. Their tunics and other clothing littered the side of the dune.
Loress sighed, “Oh, those girls…”
Delia guffawed at the sight.
Ama grinned, “I will tend to the wagon.”
As the Mazan harnessed up, Loress looked worriedly to Delia; she asked, “Uh, Delia… do oases have alligators and stuff?”
Delia began to trot down the dune, “Doubtful. We’re pretty isolated out here, pal. Plus, there’s not much of a food supply out here for a large predator; too cold at night, too…”
This gave still little reassurance to Loress as she helped guide the wagon down to the lakeside.
An hour later it was clear there were no large predators around and the girls had a merry time in the late-morning sun, going hog-wild in the water. Hastily having set up camp in and around a patch of palm trees, the remaining three had joined their friends in the lake. Normally at this time they’d be huddled in a hole, stifled with heat and dozing; that day they would barely even sleep.
Loress and Dechaa made lunch and even that was hard to get some of the girls to sit down for; normally food took precedence even over fun.
They played hard but knowing they had to get some rest they figured on tiring themselves out and sleeping until the early evening. As tempting as it was to stay overnight and enjoy another day at the oasis they decided against it; the faster they crossed the desert, the better.
Still, they were perfectly content playing for a time after lunch. Their freshly done laundry was drying, they didn’t have to go searching for water, and things couldn’t be much better.
Essenta cheerfully floated on her back, buffeted by the rippling effect of Zyra and Ama’s roughhousing.
Glancing to the side, she saw Loress and Wilka perched on a rock; the little Pegasus was trying to get Loress to jump. Essenta snickered; Loress punched a dragon but was afraid of a 10-ft drop into water. But in the end, fear is fear; Essenta was afraid of mice and rats, despite their relative harmlessness. Maybe Loress was just bad with heights…
Dechaa had already worn herself out and Orni was presently snoozing on a flat rock in the middle of the pond.
That left—
Bonk.
“Sorry, Essenta,” Delia murmured. “Just going where the waves take me…”
Like Essenta, Delia was floating on her back; they’d bumped heads, but it didn’t hurt.
Essenta splashed a little, better situating herself for a chat, “It’s alright, Delia. This place… I never imagined we’d see such a thing out here.”
“Like I said, we got lucky,” Delia bobbed a bit in the water. “Depending on the overall cycle, I hear this place can dry up into a puddle.”
“That explains the lack of fish… but I saw a few frogs,” Essenta paddled to stay in place. “It’s amazing anything could stay alive here…”
“They burrow in the mud when the lake recedes; in essence, they hibernate.”
The princess smiled, closing her eyes, “You sure do know a lot…”
Delia snorted, “Other than cleaning up about all there was to do on the job was keep my ears open. I’ve heard things that could sink ships, countries, relationships… It’s all about keeping the ears open, Essenta.”
Essenta, seeing the sun red behind her eyelids, thought a moment, “Delia…”
“Yeah?”
“Really… You and Clovis weren’t a thing?” Essenta asked demurely; she didn’t mean to tease.
Delia snorted, “Really, this again? What’s with you girls? You’re all like a bunch of convent fillies, or something… Never been with stallions, I bet…”
The former maid didn’t mean to be unkind, but she’d been pestered regarding her relationship with Clovis repeatedly by the other mares. But she understood to a degree; she and Clovis had a most interesting relationship, with all its twists and turns and the love/hate.
Essenta flustered, “Well, I, uh…”
Delia reached over a hoof and poked the princess, “Hey, I’m sorry. Not everypony’s like me… I gotta remember that I was a… well, a…”
Essenta stopped her, “You don’t have to say it, Delia.”
Delia sighed, hooves behind her head, “Thanks for that… Let’s just say it paints a whole new picture.”
They drifted a moment, silent.
“But… you’re right. Only one of us has ever been with a stallion, as far as I know,” Essenta admitted.
Delia suspected this already but was surprised the princess knew; she was sure Essenta had given her no indication of such a thing and neither had the rest, “And it’s a most unpleasant tale, I can tell…”
“It was pretty bad,” Essenta acknowledged. “It… caused some trouble between Dechaa and me.”
What? Things weren’t adding up in Delia’s head. Essenta and Dechaa?
“Yeah?” Delia wasn’t seeing it.
Essenta blushed, looking to the sky, “A prince that visited the Dale last year… I liked him… and Dechaa, she…”
Delia realized something: they weren’t talking about the same mare; she covered herself, “Oh, yeah, that… I guess I heard something about it once when the girls were talking.”
It was a gamble, but girls talked; Delia felt it was a safe bet… and if it wasn’t… hopefully Essenta wouldn’t be upset with the other mares.
Essenta soured, “It comes up, sometimes.”
“I suppose…” Delia was relieved; of course, the other girls talked about it—it was normal for young mares.
The former maid found it hard to believe a mare like Dechaa was capable of hooking a prince, but she’d seen a lot of crazy shit the last couple weeks… It was the kind of shit that had other ponies questioning God or abandoning reason. But for Essenta’s company, said shit seemed like their bread and butter. Dechaa getting some wasn’t beyond the pale and she found herself curious as to what she’d gotten up to…
Loress, who’d summoned the courage to jump after much heckling, was trotting in the shallows; she called out to the girls, “Everypony! Come ashore! We need to get some rest.”
Essenta groaned, “Already?!”
Loress called back; she was a little shaken from the jump, “Suck it, Princess, and get ashore!”
Zyra guffawed at the statement and went ashore with no hesitation; nopony else complained.
Delia, disappointed to leave the water but very glad she wouldn’t be digging any deeper regarding the sex-capades of the company, paddled to shore.
Loress addressed them all, Essenta coming up last, “Unless somepony else wants first watch, I’ll do it.”
Nopony else volunteered and that was fine. They had six hours to rest and only four or five would have to actually wake up. Divvying up the responsibility, Zyra, Ama, and Wilka were to be undisturbed that day; they’d take another day when they all had a short rest.
Taking a little water and not bothering to dry off, they settled into their shelters; the lack of humidity sapped the moisture from their coats and for the first time in days, they’d have a cool sleep.
Loress yawned, electing to sit up in a tree that gave her a view; she looked forward to her own nap in about an hour.
The sun was already setting by the time the girls began preparing to get back to walking. Delia, having last watch, had spent time preparing their dinner. With the oasis came plenty of dried wood so she elected to make a meal cooked over a fire for the first time in nearly a week.
The smell of spicy cress soup was most welcome upon waking; they fell upon it, with loaves of crusty bread on the side. Delia enjoyed a little heat and savory quality to her dishes, so the abundance of water—doing little to soothe their tingly lips, tongues, and throats—pacified the saltiness. Still, after playing half the day they needed a little salt.
“Oh, I’m gonna miss this place…” Dechaa magicked an orb of water from the lake, dousing the fire. “I haven’t had that much fun since Renata…”
The girls that had been in Renata concurred; Delia had to take their word on the matter.
And it had been fun, but it was time to go. They hastily packed the wagon and stocked up on water.
Zyra giggled, asking the assemblage, “If we don’t die, can we visit on the way back?”
A few laughed but not many; they still had a lot of desert to cover. They eyed each other nervously.
Ama bonked the mage on the head, “Do not jest on such matters. We will be fine, I hope. Though I would not be against coming back.”
Delia recognized Zyra’s front but didn’t call her out, “Okay, enough silliness, Zyra. We did good last night and made the 50 miles. The terrain’s the same but the wind’s died, so we don’t have to worry much one way or the other. Considering we’re 40 miles to halfway across I don’t think it’s happening tonight; we all had a little too much fun today, so we may just have to settle on 30.”
Nopony argued; other than Loress and Wilka, with their notable—in Wilka’s case, magical—resilience, their limbs felt a little heavy from all the swimming they’d done.
Essenta was wobblier than she liked, “Okay. Let’s go.”
With clean clothes, clean bodies, and a hot meal resting in their stomachs Essenta’s little company, feeling refreshed and happy, if a little tired from their day of fun, left the oasis behind them.
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Well wasn't that just a warm chapter? And the chaosmares even got to swim around and wash up. I have the feeling they really needed that bit of fun, after all, now they have the rest of the desert and a plague ahaed of them.
Thank you for your hard work and this nice, new chapter.
Have a fresh Chocolate cake, three rings Baumkuchen, the usual Coffee, hot cocoa, tea and of course plenty of mead and rum!
9226577
Yeah, there's something less than pleasant to greet them once they make it down there.
That one is pretty funny never heard that one before.
Funny chapter but get back to the action.
I think your mares get more and more vulgar the longer they're away from civilized living.
9235053
And they'll just get worse. Wait until they go back to "civilization"; will be fun when Queen Dale hears her daughter's sailor mouth.
Felt like there was a little too much narration here, especially at the start. Mixing vulgar games with plot is interesting, but I think it went on too long and the too were too separated.
9286751
I guess I could've abbreviated their game. The chapter was meant to be mostly for fun with a few story and world-building elements. I think it worked well enough for these purposes.
I'm trying to make heads or tails of your comment that the playfulness and the plot "were too separated". Maybe I'm overthinking it (a common thing for me) but I'm not sure exactly what you meant. Please explain if you would, just to clarify.
Believe it or not, I do think about your comments (with the few others that actually critique my work; I have seen a handful of reviews on the stuff) when I edit or rewrite portions. I find the input helpful, even if I don't take everything to heart.