Episode 14: Mare on Fire
28th of Warm Season, 1005 BA
They came for her in the fields north of Hoofington, when the city was still taking up half the horizon. It was night and the thestrals were out and about, diligently tending to the farms. Had Rarity not been keeping a lookout, she might not have noticed the three dozen ponies converging on her from all directions. Most tried to cover their approach by pretending to be farmhands or keeping low in the fields.
But Rarity was no longer a mere rookie. She saw them coming when they were still several minutes away. A day or two ago, she might have started panicking. She might have acknowledged their overwhelming numbers and fretted over her impending doom. In any other circumstance the small army of ponies, be they Gang members or bounty hunters, might have had an easy time. There was only one problem: they caught her in a foul mood, and her trigger fingers were itching.
She turned off the path and into the wheat fields, moving fast and low. Her direction was by no means random. It took her almost ten minutes to reach her target, a chubby bounty hunter riding a sleek, midnight blue Dust Devil. She had no idea how close they were to his cohorts, but she’d have to chance it. He passed within a dozen feet, head swiveling about as he searched for her. By the smirk on his face, he no doubt thought they had her beat.
So when she rushed in and climbed on the sand lizard behind him, he didn’t even try to stop her. Before he could say anything, Rarity snatched his pistol from its holster and pressed it against the back of his head. “You have three seconds to get off.”
He turned to glare at her with one eye. “If you think I’m gonna—” The bullet burst out the other side of his head.
“Warned you.” She shoved him off with some difficulty, her ears picking up the startled, high-pitched screeches the thestrals were known for. They were flying away from the scene for all they were worth, and the large posse was converging on her, all pretense of stealth abandoned.
Snatching the reins with one hand, she bent low and hissed at her new mount, “If you die on me I will be very cross with you.” A snap and she was racing northwest. She spared a second to check the gun she’d appropriated from the stallion: revolver, five shots left, lighter than Ruby Heart. It would do for now. Next, a quick examination of her situation. Ignoring the obvious paths, she cut across the fields on her way to a bridge over the Hoofington River. The mass of hunters were trying to move in, but most would never get to her in time.
“Alright, you foul wretches,” she snarled, releasing the reins and pulling out Ruby Heart. “You want to treat me like a game animal? Let’s fucking play.”
Shots rang out. Three riders were at her back, forming an arrow formation as they struggled to make up lost ground. Rarity was patient with her aim, using her stolen revolver first. It took three shots to bring down the pack leader, and she suspected that was only by luck. The last two bullets achieved nothing, and she promptly threw the gun away and snatched up Silver Lining.
Others in the rapidly shrinking circle of hunters were opening fire now, but the lack of near impacts or zipping sounds told her they were either out of range or the worst shots in Equestria. Her attention went forward, where she spotted a group of five or six ponies attempting to head her off. She bared her teeth and readied her magic. They were still some ways distant, so she turned back to fire a couple more shots at her pursuers. She had no problems with accuracy this time, felling both of them with only three shots. The sight of them falling did nothing for her; no excitement, no pleasure, no guilt. Only a boiling fire that spurred her onwards to the next set of deaths.
They came willingly, forming a standing wall of firepower between her and the bridge.
The Yellow barrier, once just a construct in her mind, came into blue being with a flash of her horn the instant they opened fire. Shots ricocheted off of it, each hit a tiny hammer against her skull. She hissed, growled, grinned at the pain, barreling towards the defenders with both guns raised. Their shots useless, the ponies’ line wavered. The firing became sporadic.
She could see their faces. Surprise. Alarm. Fear. Panic.
“That’s right, you cretins,” she snarled under her breath. “How does it feel to be afraid, hmm? Tell me what it’s like to be the game. Tell me.
“Tell me!”
She smashed shrieking through their already shattered line, shield dropped and guns ablaze. The hunters screamed and fled in every direction. A blink later and they’d gone, nothing between her and the bridge. She twisted back to fire a few last shots, noting how very few of them got back up. Soon she was crossing the Hoofington River and headed offroad due north.
“You don’t get to fuck with me anymore.” Her eyes turned forward. A fresh cylinder, encased in her magic, snapped into Silver Lining. New 45 rounds levitated into Ruby Heart’s magazine.
“I’ve had enough of that.”
They came again only hours later. She’d been resting on a tall hill covered by dried up bushes, watching for their approach while her newly acquired mount rested. As such, she saw them coming well in advance. Clearly these hunters weren’t going to stop chasing her anytime soon, and she couldn’t face all of them. Nor could she hope to outpace them, not when she didn’t know the terrain and had the same mount they did.
She would have to play a running game. Pick them off a little at a time as she moved north. Sneak in attacks from advantageous positions, then get out while they were confused. This way she’d keep them in her sights and avoid being caught by surprise.
She started by making her way west. The hunters were traversing the terrain in a wide spacing, perhaps in an attempt to not bypass her. She found a place of thick bushes tall enough to conceal her mount and herself if the sand lizard crouched and she leaned forward. The ponies on the far western flank of the line approached at a steady pace, observing the land with little interest. Clearly, they didn’t expect her to be there.
The thought brought a grin to her lips.
A mare on hoof moved close to her hiding spot. She leaned towards the bushes, eyeing them with a bored expression. She paused, did a double take. “Uh, guys—”
Rarity burst forward, her sand lizard knocking the hunter sideways with one easy swing of its head. By the time the others had turned to investigate, she’d brought the two closest down with individual shots from Silver Lining and Ruby Heart. She’d already plowed through their flimsy line when they pulled their weapons out. Rarity wasted no time trying to finish the group off, instead spurring her steed north and through the hills. Her guns sprayed lead death until they ran empty, and then she was darting between valleys and out of sight.
Rarity guessed she’d killed five with that little stunt, assuming the mare had survived the hit from her Dust Devil. Their shouts and shots were already dying down, and when she looked back she saw no pursuers. Not that she trusted that with the terrain. She rode her Dust Devil hard through the winding landscape, determined to get as much of a lead as possible before slowing down.
As Silver Lining and Ruby Heart were reloaded, she hissed under her breath, “I won’t let you touch me again.”
The hunters were getting smarter, moving in tighter formations and keeping better watch of their surroundings. After getting bloodied five times by her little hit and runs, she wasn’t surprised. Rarity needed to change strategies too.
But tonight she had a far more important objective. Travelling alone was one thing, but now she had a Dust Devil for company. She’d taken to calling him Cerulean, and she needed to keep his needs in mind. On top of that list was food and water. Rarity had fed him a little from her own rations – what little was suitable for him – but would have to get something better if she didn’t want him to starve or, worse, go feral on her from hunger. Mooisville was still the better of two weeks away, after all.
And so she left him behind at a small stream, tied to a dead tree that would do nothing to stop him if he really wanted to escape, but would at least discourage it. Creeping through the rough, rocky hills, she made her way towards the hunters in the middle of their search line.
Rarity had learned things in her brief attacks. For one, they weren’t using any wagons. In all likelihood, they had expected to catch her outside of Hoofington. At least a third of their original number hadn’t bothered to continue the chase, likely because they weren’t properly equipped for a prolonged hunt. The rest had to be carrying their own gear, and only a quarter of those who remained rode sand lizards.
That meant they had to stop and rest periodically. Well, perhaps not had to, but they made no attempt to march all day and night. That would work in Rarity’s favor this evening.
She found the hunters’ camp after only an hour of walking. They’d come together for the night, unwilling to leave one another in isolated groups. Nestled among the boulders atop a hill, she eyed their campfires. She couldn’t see well enough in the darkness to make a proper count, but she guessed around sixteen were down there. If she was correct about her kill count, that left eight standing guard or patrolling.
They were learning, but not well enough, not yet. She spied their sand lizards in a small group on the eastern edge of the camp. That made things much easier. Staying low and keeping stones between her and the camp whenever possible, she circled around. For the first time in her life, she cursed her pearly white coat for making stealth that much more difficult.
Now due east of the camp, Rarity dared to creep closer. Moving slow, she went from rock to shrubs to rock. Her eyes rarely left the camp. Somehow, nopony seemed to notice her approach. For that she thanked Luna’s stars. If she was spotted now, she doubted she’d be able to escape at all, much less without injury. Still, she’d done crazier things than try to sneak up on a camp full of bloodthirsty bounty hunters.
Hadn’t she? She paused to consider the question, but tossed it aside just as quickly as it had come up. No time to think, only do.
At last, Rarity was as close as she could be under cover behind a particularly large boulder. She crept on her hands and knees to get a look at her target. The sand lizards were no more than forty feet away, dozing about or munching from feedbags attached to their muzzles. There were five of the creatures, all tied to a nearby manzanita tree that somehow defied the dryness and heat of its surroundings. She seriously doubted the plant’s ability to hold the creatures should they decide to bolt. She considered the possibility of making exactly that happen, but discounted it. Everypony in camp would notice a ruckus like that, and she still had to get back to Cerulean without being noticed.
A cursory glance revealed no guards roaming in her immediate vicinity. “Alright, Rarity,” she muttered under her breath. “This is it. Just… get across a wide, open space and hope nopony notices your brilliant white coat against the dark of night. Easy.” Another long study of the clearing ahead. If she kept low, she might be able to use the creatures themselves for cover. “Think of the situation. Go back empty handed and hope you can keep Cerulean fed and content for another day or two, or risk it all trying to steal him some proper food for a Dust Devil.”
Option number one was almost certainly the most appropriate. She’d get other opportunities, after all. And yet Rarity found herself bracing for option two instead. She was a drifter now. A cruel, mean, violent gunslinger. She had to learn to take risks.
And so she left the safety of the boulder and approached, bent at a crouch and moving at a light jog. She guessed that she’d be more noticeable if she ran outright, but the itching desire to be out of sight kept her from moving slowly.
A curious thought came to her as she slipped through the darkness: shouldn’t she be afraid? All it would take was one pair of eyes drifting in her direction at the right time and it would be over. Fear would be an appropriate response, most certainly. There was a certain anxiety, a rush of adrenaline that seeped into her veins and kept her moving. Perhaps fear was also in there somewhere, hidden just beneath the surface. That and incredulity of her own actions.
Yet, as she reached the sand lizards without so much as a shout from the ponies in the camp, Rarity could detect no fear. Her blood pumped, but was it from the brief jog or from some hidden, unclear dread in her subconsciousness? She couldn’t tell. Perhaps she should be disturbed. All she felt was a cool relief that, somehow, she’d made it here unnoticed.
A subject for another time. With a quick check to make absolutely sure none of the hunters had noticed her arrival, Rarity began looking through the panniers and bags still attached to the Dust Devils. For their part, the creatures paid her little mind beyond a bored glance or two. She found a curious range of things, from notebooks to what appeared to be an engagement ring, but mostly food. She left all of that alone. She had plenty of her own food and little interest in the other things.
At last, on the third lizard, she discovered a large bag filled with feed. It even had straps on the side so that she could attach it to Cerulean’s gear as a feedbag, although she doubted she’d want to do that. Now she faced the problem of getting the bag off the saddle. Thick ropes held it in place, and the bag’s weight made it impossible to untie the knots. After much fiddling and grumbling, she finally realized that she’d have to lift the bag and untie the rope at the same time.
Luckily, this would prove no challenge. Years of working in the shop made her adept at handling several objects at once in her magic. Unluckily, the significant weight of the bag would strain her magical prowess. Could she hold something so heavy in her magic and use it to untie the knots at the same time? A quick tug on the ropes told her she probably wouldn’t be able to get the tight knots undone the old-fashioned way.
She took an extra moment to examine the camp. Nopony was coming her way, but if anypony chose to then she’d have only seconds to clear forty feet and not get caught. Worse, she couldn’t even keep watch for their approach. All her attention would have to be on her work, and that would have to be done on her knees to ensure the glow of her horn wasn’t visible to the camp. A troublesome and undeniably dangerous situation as any she’d ever been involved in.
What choice do I have?
You could always head back empty handed.
After coming so far?
It’s the smart, safe thing to do and you know it.
Screw safety. Safety gave me up for dead a season ago.
Now you sound like a child.
Shut up. I’m doing this.
On hands and knees, she started by imagining a lovely Indigo, which she wrapped tightly about the bag. Channeling her magic, she saw the blue glow of her aura surround the object. To her frustration, it didn’t budge. Adjusting tactics, she began adding in her mind’s eye Blue to the Indigo. Not a blend, but more of a shell of Blue over Indigo. The addition of ‘energy’ to ‘force’ gradually built up the strength of the spell, until at last the bag began to levitate. The more Blue she added, the higher it rose.
Once the bag was up a few inches – enough to loosen the ropes that had been holding it – her attention went to the knots themselves. She considered using Red magic, but cast the thought aside; it would be best to have the ropes intact for her own uses. She wasn’t well versed in destructive magic anyway, and didn’t want to harm the sand lizard in the process. No, she stuck to her specialty, carefully coiling thin strings of Blue and Indigo about the ropes. It was delicate work, made all the harder by the fact she had to maintain her ratio of colors on the bag itself while doing so.
The left knot was gripped in all the right places, and when Rarity released the spell the thing untied itself with ease. Surprising ease, at that. With how heavy the bag was, she’d anticipated the rope to give some resistance from being locked in place for so long. No matter, the thing was half-free. Her attention went to the second knot, her mind’s eye already applying the magical grips.
The spell released. The knot shifted… and remained.
Peeling her lips back over her teeth, Rarity tried again. Same effect. Huffing, she checked that the colors on the feed bag were intact before applying thicker, denser Blue bands to the knot. This time it loosened, but not enough to break free. Still, it would probably be enough. Rarity reached in with both hands and attempted to loosen the knot. It obeyed, to her relief. Working carefully, she reduced the colors of the magic on the bag until it gently landed in the dirt.
Alright, Rarity. Step two of three complete. Now for the hard part.
She peered over the snoozing sand lizard. The coast remained clear. A glance left, then right showed no guards nearby. Lucky, that. Where they too lazy to walk the entire perimeter, or just incompetent? Either way, she knew she had to capitalize on the situation while she still could. Turning back to the feed bag, she made sure it was closed properly before grabbing the ropes and attempting to lift the bag. It was much heavier than it looked. Rarity might have a leaner figure with her new lifestyle, but her muscles being more visible wasn’t necessarily because she was stronger.
Magic was out of the question. Her white coat and pale shirt were obvious enough, she didn’t need the glow of her horn announcing her presence to anyone within a thousand feet. With no other options, she lifted the bag with a grunt and made her way back to the boulder some forty feet distant. She had to maintain a slow, loping walk, shifting her hips from side to side with every step. Every time she lifted a leg she hissed through clenched teeth. The ropes bit mercilessly into her palms, but she didn’t dare pause for a break. Not until she was hidden. Not until she was safe.
After what seemed to be an eternity, Rarity at last rounded the boulder. With a relieved groan, she set the feed bag down and stretched her legs. Her hands had become red and raw, and she opened and closed them several times to get the numb tingling to go away. Even as she did, she snuck to the edge of the boulder and checked the camp. No reaction whatsoever. With a heavy sigh, she finally relaxed. Looked like she’d gotten away with it.
Moving back to the feed bag, she opened it once more. Yes, this amount would likely last Cerulean long enough to get her to Mooisville. Maybe there she could get a proper saddle, one fitted to her size. That assumed she even wanted to keep him. Even in her emotionally numb state, she felt a haunting trepidation riding a Dust Devil again.
It was another hundred feet or so to the top of the next hill, and Rarity wasn’t eager to carry the bag that kind of distance. Still, she was far too close to the camp to dare light her horn. She was also too close to be considered safe from the patrols. She grimaced and bent down to grab the ropes. They bit hard against her palms, but she ground her teeth and lifted.
A sharp, cool edge touched the small of her back when she was only halfway out of her crouch. “Hello, Miss Heart.”
She tensed, not daring to rise any higher. Her position was extremely uncomfortable, but she knew the touch of a knife when she felt it. Her teeth let out a tiny squeak as she rubbed them together. Slowly, she started to lower—
“No. Hold still.”
Rarity groaned, knees wobbling from the weight of the feed bag and her poor posture. “Y-you’ve got to be kidding me.” Her arms were already aching, a gentle tingle of fire starting at her elbows.
“Kidding you?” He sounded young. “After the shit you put us through today, I’m enjoying this.”
The strain was threatening to topple her forward. She tilted her head slightly to the side, but couldn’t make out her captor. “So, what? You’ll k-kill me if I drop the bag? Because I’m going to soon, one way or another.”
“Y’know, that sounds good to me.” Young and immature. More likely to do something stupid. “So yeah. Drop the bag, you die. Let’s see how long you last.”
How to get out of this situation? She couldn’t move her legs in this position, and even if she could he’d probably stab her for trying. Her horn was right out. That left… Her eyes dropped to the bag in her hands. She thought about his position behind her and his terms. He hadn’t called to the others yet. Confident, then. And why not? He appeared to hold all the cards.
Her arms were trembling. She had to tighten her grip to keep the rope from slipping. Her breathing came in long, tense hisses. By now her entire body was aching from her uncomfortable position. But the beginnings of a plan were forming. The question was whether she could move fast enough.
She began preparing the spell. A little Indigo and a lot of Blue. The timing had to be right, the force had to be enough. She couldn’t be fully confident, but the burn in her arms made it clear she was out of time. Clenching her eyes tightly closed, she forced words through her shaking teeth. “W-wouldn’t I be m-more valuable to you alive?”
“Look, you stupid bi—”
Rarity stopped fighting the weight of the feed bag, even as she maintained her tense, hunched stance. It promptly dropped, and jerked her down as it did. She rolled forward, over the bag and away from the knife. She didn’t finish the roll, instead letting herself land hard on her back. Her horn was alight well before then, and her eyes locked with the snarling face of a young, blue-maned earth pony. Her hand snapped open the safety clip on her ammo bag an instant before she released the spell.
One of Silver Lining’s cylinders shot out, propelled by a touch of levitation and a lot of energy. Her aim was true: it smashed into his open mouth, stopping his shout before it could even begin. The stallion’s eyes boggled as he choked on the chunk of metal, his free hand going up to his mouth.
She was on him not a second later, vaulting the feed bag and slamming into his chest shoulder first. The two fell to the ground and began to grapple, Rarity slapping a hand over his muzzle to keep the cylinder in place while her other forced the knife back. He glared up at her even as he coughed around the improvised gag.
With the strength only an earth pony could possess, he grabbed her arm and started pulling it away from his mouth. But Rarity wasn’t so easily beaten: her horn lit up, encasing his muzzle in a blue glow and clamping it tightly closed. So tight, in fact, she even closed his nostrils. His eyes widened yet again as he recognized her intention, and this time there was a touch of fear mixed in with the alarm. He promptly changed tactics, using his free hand to punch her face.
It hurt, but she’d been hit far harder before. She caught his wrist and wrestled it, unable to hold back his strength but at least managing to soften the blows. She straddled his chest to get her face out of range.
Only then did she notice how dangerously close the knife was getting. The sharp tip barely cut into the side of her shirt, and she realized her new position was terrible for resisting it. Snarling, she grasped it in her aura and redirected it towards his chest, her magic struggling against his strength. He began to make strange, whining sounds through his closed muzzle.
Abruptly, he changed tactics, letting go of the knife entirely. Now caught in just her magic, it went swirling sideways and bounced against the boulder next to them. Caught off guard, Rarity was entirely unprepared for when he grabbed her by the waist and threw her over his head. Barely managing to keep from shouting, she landed hard on her elbows and knees with a grunt.
She scrambled away, but he caught her leg and pulled. She spun about, the motion coincidentally letting her face avoid his fist as it smashed the dirt. She raised her arms, protecting her head and horn from his next few blows. She could see panic in his eyes as her spell continued to hold his mouth and nose shut.
Don’t let go, she told herself forcefully. He’ll kill you if you let go. You or him, remember? Don’t let go!
He clawed at her arms, pulled them apart, but had to let go to strike at her horn. She refused to give him the opportunity to break her spell, no matter how much her arms stung from each blow. His whining increased in pace, almost sounding like a wordless plea, and tears formed in his eyes. Still, she didn’t let go. His trembling hands wrapped about her neck, lifted her up, shoved it down against the ground. But the force was weak. His legs collapsed from under him, and he lay atop her.
Rarity felt the air leave her lungs. He was on her. He was touching her. His eyes boring into hers, his fingers around her neck, his thighs weighing against her own—
She headbutted his nose and, with a strength she didn’t know she possessed, rolled his spasming body off her. Not wasting any time, she grabbed his head and slammed it against the boulder. He whined, rolled onto his back, stared up at her with pleading, watery eyes. His arms tried to rise, but did nothing to stop her from straddling his chest once more.
She punched.
And punched.
And punched some more. Every blow shot a hiss of air between her clenched teeth. She hardly noticed when he stopped moving, she just kept hitting. She could feel it, the burning between her legs, the fingers on her breasts, the tongue rolling with hers. Every blow was a salve, a hot, sticky tincture of amnesia to remind her that it did not happen.
She had no idea how long she’d been there. When she finally came to, her knuckles felt raw and wet. She stared down at the body, unable to recognize how it had come to be there. She felt so… numb. What was she doing here? Why was she straddling a corpse? This was wrong. This was… this wasn’t her.
The camp. The feed bag. She had a job to do.
On wobbly legs, she stood and walked to her prize. Grasping it with both hands, she lifted it up and began her trek to the hill. She had to shuffle to move with any sort of speed. She barely noticed the weight or the pain in her back or the sting of the rope in her hands.
She stared straight ahead.
Don’t think about it.
Don’t feel it.
It didn’t happen.
It happened, and the hunters were none too pleased. This explained why Rarity was riding at breakneck speed through the hills, ducking her head while bullets zipped over her shoulder. And here she’d thought skipping sleep for a few nights would give her an effective lead!
At least they were single-minded. Rarity noted a distinct lack of strategy other than ‘chase her and shoot’. And since only the ones riding on lizardback had caught up to her, that essentially left her only having to fight six ponies. Only. Taking a moment to grab the reins, Rarity guided Cerulean into a low valley. Temporarily protected from gunfire, she whipped her own weapons out. If she was right about the angle…
She turned in the saddle and aimed at the top of the hill to her left. A few seconds later, the first rider appeared. He hollered and rode back down when Rarity opened fire. She could only assume she’d missed. If only she’d allowed herself some sleep last night! But no, then she’d be dealing with the entire posse and not just a few—
She cursed as more shots rang through the air. Less thinking, more shooting, Rarity! She whirled about and fired on the pursuers, who swerved to evade. A few seconds later Cerulean turned on his own to climb a small hill. Moving with the efficiency of practice, Rarity swapped cylinders in Silver Lining. If only she hadn’t left that one behind!
No, don’t think about that. It didn’t happen.
Predicting their movements, Rarity used her magic to tug on the reins, encouraging Cerulean to go left when they were just under the opposite crest of the hill. The thudding of the beast’s claws echoed in her ears, intermixed with her own heartbeat. Little thought guided her actions beyond instinct and reaction, and the adrenaline masked the fear bubbling just beneath the surface. She welcomed the numbing effects, welcomed the threat, welcomed the ceaseless action of the fight.
Two riders appeared on the hill just ahead. They weren’t looking towards her, undoubtedly having not expected her aggressive rush. By the time they did notice, it was too late: Ruby Heart and Silver Lining put new holes in the closest one. The second rider cried out in alarm and tried to aim his rifle, but his shot went wide. Two more from Rarity landed a hit to his shoulder. Unable to raise his rifle, he retreated, but not without shouting her location for the others. She considered putting a bullet in his back for that.
Instead, she turned Cerulean back over the hill. If she could keep up this momentum—
Cerulean crashed into the shoulder of another sand lizard with enough force to slam Rarity forward in her saddle. She doubled over, barely managing to hold onto Silver Lining and Ruby Heart as the two lizards reared back and tried to separate from one another. Rarity and the unicorn mare riding the other lizard shared alarmed looks as their animals backed off.
Then Rarity rewarded the mare’s slowness with a bullet to the chest.
“Would somepony please kill her?”
Rarity’s shield came up just in time to avoid a few shots from the speaker, an older earth pony with a scar running down his cheek. Cerulean was in motion again, barreling straight for two ponies on the left. She fired on the older stallion as he was reloading, but he escaped over the hill. With him briefly out of mind, she turned her shield into a battering ram and rushed Cerulean through the small gap between the last two riders. The impact sent a bolt of fiery pain through her skull, but it disorganized and distracted the two for long enough that Rarity was able to make quick work of them and ride on past.
You’re getting far too good at this.
Ignoring the little whisper in the back of her head, Rarity pushed Cerulean to go faster. Shield dropped, she looked back. No sign of the old stallion. Slowing her pace with a magical tug on the reins, she examined her surroundings. The mare at the top of the hill, still alive but bleeding out fast. The two ponies on the hillside, nothing more than quiet heaps. Sand lizards fleeing the scene, aimless without their masters. Shouldn’t she feel something?
No. No time to feel. Only to fight.
Scarface at last appeared at the top of the hill. He didn’t raise his revolver. Instead, he copied Rarity’s behavior, scanning the valley and letting his eyes linger on the dead. Eventually, their eyes met. Rarity peered at him, her trigger fingers twitching. No confidence appeared in her opponent’s gaze. They said nothing, did nothing. But Rarity let her intentions be known. She channeled the fire burning deep within, the one that was threatening to burn everything, even her. The one she’d let sear her pursuers to keep from searing herself. The fire shown to him with her eyes and bared, gritted teeth and slow, heavy breaths.
By the wide-eyed expression on his face, he felt every licking flicker of it. He turned his sand lizard around and fled without a word. Rarity waited, ears perked and eyes roaming. She paid no mind to the bodies.
When sure that he wasn’t coming back, she turned Cerulean north once more.
Night had fallen yet again. Rarity kept moving north. Her pace was slow, her body slumped. Silver Lining remained in her hand, resting idly on her leg as she stared into the darkness. A gentle breeze blew from the east. She ignored it, just as she ignored the steady footsteps of Cerulean or his lumbering breaths. Beyond that, the world was quiet.
Rarity hated every second of it. She kept telling herself to turn around, to find those hunters, to continue the fight. Were they even pursuing her anymore? After the damage she’d done, maybe not. In that case, there’d be no good to come from going back for them.
No good, save to make her forget. The feeling. The phantom touch. The lingering fingers of an encounter she couldn’t even remember. Even now, she squirmed from the thought of it. That mare, that stupid, lecherous mare!
No. Don’t think about it. Think about something else. Think about staying alive.
Except nopony was trying to kill her. And with nopony to fight, with no adrenaline pumping through her system…
Another way. Another distraction. There must be something!
“C-Cerulean?” She eyed the sand lizard’s bulky head. He seemed to be ignoring her. “I wish you could talk.”
A long, lingering, uncomfortable pause. No answer came. She leaned back to stare at the cloudless, starry sky. “I wish somepony would talk to me.” Her eyes drifted to the crescent moon. “Why won’t you talk to me?”
More quiet. More treading. More fingers touching sensitive spots. She shuddered and looked at the holy sigil on her wrist. “Is this of any value at all?” When no answer came, the fire within tried to build up. Rarity pursed her lips and turned her eyes away.
“I haven’t lost faith yet, Marble. But it’s just… so hard.”
You’re being a fool.
It didn’t happen.
Your parents would be ashamed.
It didn’t happen.
This isn’t helping anyone.
It didn’t happen.
How many times are you going to repeat that until you realize it’s a lie?
Shut up. I don’t want to think about it.
And what good is that doing you?
Rarity groaned and rubbed her eyes. “Why can’t I stop thinking about it?”
Cerulean grumbled. He tilted his head to eye her.
“What?” She glared back. “I’m suffering from a personal crisis. I’m allowed to go a little insane.”
The Dust Devil grumbled some more. Licked his lips.
It was then that Rarity realized she’d not fed him since she’d first delivered the feed bag. With a sigh, she pulled him to a stop and climbed down. Her legs ached from two days and nights of nonstop riding, and she shook them to get some feeling back below the thighs. Wobbling as she walked, she examined the left side of the saddle… no, it was on the right side. Rubbing her head, ignoring the steady thumping of her blood in her ears, she tried to remember which bag was which. After three tries, one of which involved checking the same bag for a second time, she found the feed. It took her half a dozen attempts to untie it from the saddle.
She didn’t have the energy to carry it to Cerulean’s mouth. Instead she flashed her horn, catching his eye, and lifted some feed in her hand. The sand lizard’s tongue lolled out, and soon he’d turned to feast on the ill-gotten goods. Rarity watched him work for a while… then realized that she’d had neither food nor water in the same amount of time.
Her eyes went to the sky. It was… morning? Afternoon? The world rocked under her boots, making it hard to gauge the sun’s position. She decided to call it noon. That would be good enough. With slow, uncertain movements, she shrugged off her backpack and pulled out some bread and a water bag.
Settled down on the hard earth, back against Cerulean’s scaled side, Rarity ate her modest lunch. She knew she should be famished, but the food tasted like ash and the water held little interest for her tongue. She stared out at the rocky landscape and wondered when the last time she slept had been. Of course, sleeping was out of the question. The hunters could come upon her. She’d be defenseless.
She might dream.
Her eyelids were drooping. Mumbling under her breath, she forced herself back to her hooves. “Gotta… Gotta do something. Gotta keep going.” She took an idle bite of her bread. Chewed forever. Swallowed. “Have to get home. Home to…” Her parents. Her little sister.
“What about me?”
Her head whipped around, hand on Silver Lining. Not a pony in sight. She scowled. Blinked.
When her eyelids opened, Coco Pommel was standing in front of her, hands behind her back and eyes on the ground. Rarity might have reacted were she not struggling with keeping her eyes open. “Coco?”
Coco’s hoof traced little circles in the dirt. “You’re coming for me too, aren’t you?”
Rarity set hands to hips and cocked an eyebrow. “But of course. I would think that obvious.”
“But will you?” Gentle blue eyes met hers. “You’ve changed, Rarity.”
A derisive sniff. A flippant wave of the hand. “I would think so. Let’s see you wander around the filthy desert with a bunch of ruffians trying to kill you without changing.”
Coco’s ears folded down. She looked away. “But are they good changes?”
“Good?” Rarity rocked a little, less because of the question and more because her hooves didn’t seem to want to stay underneath her. Shaking her head, she stomped a step closer and snarled. “Of course they aren’t good! I’ve had to kill ponies. I go weeks without a bath. And don’t even get me started on how everypony, and I mean everypony, keeps trying to get under my tail.” She huffed and took another bite of her bread. Then a swig of water. “What kind of a lady do these ponies think I am?”
Coco’s hands clasped together. She fidgeted in place, unable to meet Rarity’s gaze. “And what kind of lady are you?”
“Not that kind!” Rarity pointed at her, almost losing her bread in the process. “I am a decent, civilized mare. That hasn’t changed.”
“Hasn’t it?” Coco blinked, her innocent blue eyes neither accusing nor forgiving. “Do you honestly think so?”
Rarity gripped the bread, her fingers digging deep into the hard loaf. “And just what are you accusing me of, Darling?”
“You murdered that stallion.”
She grit her teeth. “That was self-defense.”
“You beat him.”
“It was him or me!”
Coco, skin and bones. Coco, tall and skeletal. Coco, with eyes like blue pools that dripped sapphires. “You could have stopped.”
“He touched me!” The bread crumbled in her fist. Rarity bared her teeth at Coco, shoulders shaking and breath ragged. “His hands were on me. His body was on me!”
The apparition cocked her head, a motion that made the bones in her neck stand out with disturbing clarity. “He was dying.”
“No! No, he was… he was…”
“You won.” Coco’s voice grew soft. Hollow. Rasping. “You’d beaten him. You knew it. All you had to do was walk away.”
Ruby Heart flashed in the sunlight. The barrel shook. Rarity centered the sights between Coco’s eyes. “This is no concern of yours. Get out of my head.”
The phantom countered with a sad smile. “How much lower will you go?”
“Shut up.”
“You could have stayed ahead of the hunters.”
“Shut up!”
“You could have avoided fighting them after the bridge.”
“I’m warning you…”
“But you doubled back. You let them find you.”
“Be quiet!”
The skeletal, towering Coco leered and loomed over her, skin taught against bony white flesh and teeth flashing in a too-large grin. “Do you like the blood, Rarity?”
Ruby Heart fired. Again. Again and again. The mighty bullets ripped gaping holes in the apparition, each impact making it stumble back. The shoulder. The chest. An eye. An arm.
“Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up!”
Ruby Heart’s hammer clicked, over and over and over again. Rarity shook, she sobbed, she growled, she heaved.
The Coco creature’s grin broadened, even as the blood seeped from its wounds. Like a balloon steadily losing air, it began to collapse in on itself. But the remaining eye, next to a massive, perfect hole, remained innocent and cheerful over that rictus grin.
“Well hello, Bulletproof Heart.”
Rarity shrieked, throwing the gun down and stumbling backwards. Her legs disappeared from under her and she collapsed in a sitting position. She pressed her hands to her face and wailed. The fight came back in full clarity, the struggle, the ferocity, the frustration. And his eyes. His pleading, desperate eyes. Good goddess, why couldn’t she stop seeing those eyes?
“I’m sorry! I know I should have let go, b-but I panicked! I didn’t mean—”
“Is that your excuse?” Coco’s voice had become a guttural growl. “Will you kill everypony who touches you now and call it ‘panicking?’”
“I-I was scared!”
“No, Rarity. You’re dead.”
She looked up to the creature, now little more than a white and blue mass of boney body parts. But still, that one-eyed leer was there. “The Bulletproof Heart is not—”
“No, Rarity.” The eye widened. A trembling arm with loose, flabby skin pointed aside. “You’re dead.”
“What?” Her gaze followed the direction it was pointing.
A Dust Devil was charging towards her, no less than three ponies riding its back. They were only a few hundred feet away.
“Shit!” She reached for Ruby Heart and Silver Lining, only to recall that she’d just emptied and tossed the former. “Shit!”
“Language.”
“Shut up!” She ran for Cerulean. If she could just mount him she might be able to—
Shots rang out, peppering the dirt around Rarity with lead. She yelped, jerked to a stop and dove backwards. When she looked up, the Dust Devil was bearing down on her! With a shout, she rolled forward just in time to escape getting trampled. She came out of the maneuver shaky, almost falling on her face, and had to throw a hand to the ground to steady herself.
Too little sleep, not enough food. Rarity, you fool!
She heard the tell-tale sound of a shotgun getting pumped and, without thinking, threw up a shield. The blast ricocheted off her barrier, leaving a nasty sting in her horn but little more. Silently thanking Shining Armor for his lessons, she stood to face her foes properly. Two of them had jumped off the Dust Devil while the last rode the beast in a wide circle, rifle in hand.
Shotgun was trying to eat up as much distance between himself and her as possible. Rarity took aim, but didn’t get the chance to act as the unicorn mare raised a short-barreled rifle and opened fire. Rarity dodged left and felt a burning sensation on her hip. Only a close shave, but it had her heart fighting to break free of her rib cage!
The mare didn’t get a second chance: Rarity opened fire and got the pony’s arm. The young unicorn dropped her rifle with a cry and fell back, too shocked by the pain to even try to continue. She turned for Mr. Shotgun—
The impact sent her careening backwards. Her ears rang from the metallic sound and the sky took over her vision. An unclear time later, she was on her back. She blinked, sucking in short breaths and feeling at her body, but aside from the scratch to her side…
Understanding struck, and she was back on her hooves in an instant.
“Celestia, Luna, and Discord! She really is bulletproof!”
Silver Lining shot up to the left. Bang. To the right. Bang. The stallions fell, their riderless Dust Devil bolting.
“No,” she hissed. “Just my heart.” Rarity smirked, tugging her hole-riddled shirt so she could get a proper look at her necklace. There was a black mark beside the gemstone.
Something caught her eye. The gem. It had been steadily turning purple, hadn’t it? But now most of the color had faded. Somehow, seeing that made her feel… guilty. Why? It was just—
A scream tore through the air. Rarity jerked sideways on instinct, but wasn’t fast enough to keep the heavy stock of the rifle from smashing into her shoulder. She reeled, barely able to keep her balance. Legs dancing beneath her, she spun to face her new opponent, only to find the young mare she’d already wounded. She kept her bleeding arm pressed tight against her side and used her magic to swing the rifle like a club. Why wasn’t she trying to shoot?
The young unicorn howled as she tried again and again to hit Rarity, who had to scramble backwards to avoid losing her teeth to the makeshift weapon. “I’m going to kill you! Let’s see how you like it, you monster!”
Rarity grimaced and raised Silver Lining, but her shot went wide when she had to dodge another swing. She tried again with the same results. The mare was trying to disarm her!
Her opponent screamed with every swing. “Why. In the. Name of. Luna. Won’t. You. Die?”
With a derisive sniff, Rarity ignited her horn. The rifle slowed down as the two battled for control of it, green and blue auras fluctuating around the weapon. Rarity was weak right now and knew she’d never win if the mare had any ability whatsoever. Then again, Rarity wasn’t trying. She didn’t have to.
Her magic was on the trigger.
The rifle fired, sending a bullet through the shoulder of the mare’s already injured arm. She screamed, falling backwards as her hand reached for the fresh wound. Rarity caught the rifle before it could fall and moved in, standing over the prone pony and pushing the barrel down so that it pressed hard between her opponent’s eyes.
And then she stopped. Despite an urgent desire to pull the trigger, Rarity hesitated. The young mare. Green. She was green. With a similarly colored mane. She wore a plain white shirt. Brown, ripped pants. Such… simple descriptors. And yet, now that Rarity thought back on it, what descriptions could she offer to all the ponies she’d killed since Hoofington?
Shouldn’t she be able to describe them? At least a little?
“Go ahead.”
Rarity blinked, her attention refocusing on the young mare’s face. Tears streaked her cheeks as she breathed in sharp gasps, her good hand still clutching her bloody shoulder.
When Rarity said nothing, the mare snarled and leaned up against the rifle barrel. “Do it. Kill me. Kill me like you did my friends! Like you did TomTom!”
TomTom? Rarity glanced towards the two dead stallions. A friend, perhaps?
“What are you waiting for?” Her shaking hand reached up to grab the barrel. Her pink eyes spat hatred upon Rarity’s face. “Isn’t this what you do? Isn’t this what you enjoy?”
“Enjoy?” The fire, momentarily dimmed, came storming back into Rarity’s heart. She pushed the rifle down with enough force that it shoved the young unicorn’s head in the dirt. “Enjoy it? If you ponies would just leave me alone, I wouldn’t have to keep killing you! Why? No matter how many I kill, you keep coming back and making me do it again. And again and again!”
The young mare snarled right back. “Don’t give me that shit! I saw what you did to my TomTom!”
“What I did? I don’t even know who—” She blinked. Blue mane. Back at the camp. “Wait. TomTom was… Wh-who was TomTom?”
“You don’t even know.” The mare’s horn flashed. “You don’t even care!”
Rarity jerked her face away from the beam. It passed so close she could feel the heat on her cheek. The rifle was knocked aside and her legs were tripped up by the mare’s sideways roll. The unicorn cried out in pain, but still managed to get on her hooves from the impromptu maneuver. Rarity stumbled, releasing the rifle so she could slap her hand to the dirt and not fall all the way down. When she looked up, the mare was just starting a horn-first charge.
Too slow, Darling. Rarity brought her shoulder forward and stepped sideways into the charge. The hard corner of her shoulder collided with the bleeding wound of the mare’s own. The pony shrieked and tumbled, whereas Rarity was merely unsteadied. She wobbled for a moment, her tired body struggling with the shift in balance, but finally managed to steady herself.
The young mare, sobbing, crawled across the dirt away from Rarity. For her part, Rarity just watched, a calm but unpleasant sadness washing over her at the sight. At last the pony reached the Ruby Heart, which she snatched up. She turned onto her back, aimed, and pulled the trigger. Her reward was only a quiet click.
“No!” She examined the weapon, perhaps hoping to find a way to reload, then shouted and threw the gun at Rarity. It landed ineffectually before her boots.
Rarity waited for a moment, but it seemed that, at last, the mare was done fighting. Seeing her lying spread-armed in the dirt, Rarity picked up Ruby Heart, shook the dirt off it, and returned it to its holster. “Who was TomTom?”
The mare stared at the sky, face covered in fresh tears. Through her sniffles, she muttered a broken “What do you care?”
Slowly, Rarity approached. Kneeling down next to the prone pony, she leaned over to meet the mare’s glassy gaze. She took in the streaks on her cheeks, the bloodshot eyes, the tangled mane, the trembling lips. Pain. So much pain. Pain that Rarity was responsible for. The loss in that face wormed its way into her heart like a knife, set and ready to rip open the stitches she’d so desperately tried to put there. Without those stitches, Rarity’s heart might…
It’s time I stopped running away.
Taking a long, slow breath, Rarity braced herself. “Please tell me.”
At first, the mare only stared up at her, like she didn’t know what she was looking at. Then the grimace came back. She raised her head slightly to meet Rarity’s gaze as best she could, her eyes filled with venom. “You murdered him. For lizard feed.”
One of the stitches ripped out, and Rarity could feel her heart bleeding. She didn’t flinch, didn’t react at all save to quietly ask, “And what was he to you?”
Another long, hate-filled glare. “He was my fiancée. There.” The mare let her head fall back to the dirt. “Happy?”
More stitches snapping open. This time Rarity did react, cringing and clutching a hand over her chest. She sat back and exhaled slowly. “No. I don’t know if I’ll ever be happy again.” She stood on shaky legs, holstered Silver Lining, and went to Cerulean.
“Hey. Hey! Where are you going? You can’t leave me like this! You’re supposed to kill me?”
Ignoring the ongoing shouts, Rarity examined the assorted saddlebags. She’d never taken the time to adequately examine her ill-gotten belongings, but if Cerulean’s previous rider had any survival skills at all… “Ah-ha.” She pulled out a small emergency field kit and, tucking it under her arm, trotted back to the mare.
The pony was sitting up now, feeling at her shoulder with quiet hisses. When she saw what Rarity had brought over, her expression loosened with clear incredulity. “You’re joking.”
“What’s your name?”
“I’m not telling you—” She paused at Rarity’s blasé stare. “Orchard.”
“Orchard.” She opened the box and set it in the dirt between them, herself sitting at the mare’s wounded side. “It looks like the bullet went through your arm, so that should be fine. We need to get the one in your shoulder out before it causes problems.”
Orchard blinked a few times. “You… want to do field surgery on me?”
Rarity pulled a set of long, narrow tweezers from the kit. “Would you rather wait until you get back to Hoofington?”
The green of Orchard’s cheeks paled slightly. She licked her lips and glanced at her bloody shoulder. “I kinda didn’t plan on making it back.”
A long, low groan left Rarity’s throat. “What is it with you bounty hunters and death? It’s as though none of you value your own lives.”
“You’re one to talk,” Orchard snapped, only to go cross-eyed when Rarity thrust the tweezers in her face.
“I never asked to be a wanted mare, you know,” Rarity groused. “Now are you going to lay down and let me do this, or am I going to have to hold you down? Before making your decision, bear in mind I haven’t had any sleep in almost three days.”
“What? Why?” At Rarity’s glare, Orchard winced. “Oh, right. Posse on your tail.” Her eyes regained their fire an instant later. “Except that you didn’t have to come back and… and hunt us. Looks like you’ve got a death wish of your own.”
Rarity sighed and sat up straight, hands in her lap. “Do you want my help or not?”
Orchard leaned forward in turn, wincing as she did. “I want to know why you’re helping.”
Chewing her lip, Rarity rubbed the necklace under her shirt. She thought about everything she’d done in the last few days, the ponies she’d killed, the needless violence. And it had been needless, hadn’t it? All of that death, because she was too scared to face what had already happened. Drowning in the madness of battle, for all its horror, had simply been easier.
But now the numbness of battle was gone, and the cold reality of that night was back. She couldn’t even remember what she’d done. Her first time. The moment she’d been saving herself for for so long, stolen. And why? Because, for the first time in her life, she chose to drown her woes in alcohol.
Swallowing to moisten her dry throat, Rarity offered the best answer she could. “Because I need to preserve what little dignity I have left.” She raised the tweezers. “Now, please. Lay down.”
Orchard stared at her for some time, hardly moving. Blood continued to drip from her wounds, but it was only a trickle. Her eyes conveyed so many emotions, ranging from confusion to revulsion and, perhaps, even a little sympathy, although Rarity might have imagined it. At last, she lay on her back. “How do you know I won’t come after you once I’m healed?”
Rarity reached into the kit and pulled out a small white rag, probably meant for cleaning wounds. She used her magic to roll it up tight. “By that time my family should be safe, assuming I survive. You are free to try.” She lowered the rag to Orchard’s face. “Bite down.”
The young mare raised her head, but paused. “Hey. You’ve done this before, right?”
Exhaling slowly, eyes set on the wound, Rarity replied with a quiet “No.”
Orchard’s eyes went wide. Still, after considering it for a moment, she did as she was told and took the cloth roll in her teeth. Satisfied, Rarity bent over and, using both magic and her fingers, opened the hole her bullet had left in the green hide. The flesh beneath was pink and torn. Ugly. Her eyes studied the blood, and a subtle nausea turned her stomach.
Come now, Rarity. You’ve seen far worse than this. If you can see a bunch of ponies explode… Bad image! She shook her head slightly, took another careful breath, and whispered, “Please hold still. I’ll try to make this quick.”
The instant the tweezers made contact with the hole, Orchard squirmed and sucked down a sharp breath. It was only a slight motion though, so Rarity proceeded. She dug deeper and deeper, lips pursed tightly as the tender meat resisted her invasion. Fresh blood streamed from the wound and Orchard whined.
Rarity didn’t dare check on the mare. She had to focus. Had to search. Had to locate the bullet. She dug deeper, moving slowly, waiting for the—there! Her tweezers hit something solid, but which moved at the slightest touch.
Orchard started to shift. “Don’t move! I’ve almost got it.” When the mare failed to obey, Rarity growled and shifted positions, placing one knee on Orchard’s upper arm and the other on her chest. It didn’t stop the motions completely, but it was an improvement. Biting her lip hard, she worked the tweezers around the bullet. At last, with painstaking slowness, she pulled the tweezers out.
The bullet appeared, and with it a piece of cloth. That caught Rarity by surprise until she realized it was from Orchard’s clothes. Holding the bullet aloft in her magic, she compared the piece of cloth with the hole in the shirt. They fit perfectly, which killed her fears of potential infection. Climbing off the weeping pony, she showed the bullet to her and smiled. “There you are, no lead poisoning for you.”
With a trembling hand, Orchard removed the rag from her mouth. “I-I think that was the least of my concerns.”
“Well, think of it as a souvenir.” Rarity set the bullet in the open lid of the emergency kit, then took out a small pouch. A glance inside revealed a white powder, much to her relief. “This will protect from infection,” she explained to a wary Orchard. She rubbed it into the pony’s shoulder wound, then repeated the process for the holes in her arm. “Now we just need to bandage you up.”
Groaning, her patient gingerly sat up. “Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”
“My father is a worrywart,” Rarity explained with a dry chuckle. “He refused to let his little girl leave home without knowing how to administer first aid.” A quick check of the bandages told her there was probably enough for both wounds, although it would be a close call.
Orchard kept silent for some time, her gaze set upon the western horizon while Rarity applied the bandages. Rarity said nothing, instead focusing her attention on her work. It kept her from thinking about… other things.
Just when she finished wrapping up the shoulder, Orchard spoke in a faint voice. “We’d never done this before, either. TomTom and I. We don’t know anything about bounty hunting.”
Rarity, cutting the bandages free so she could get to work on the arm, asked a direct, “So what made you decide to come after me?”
“Ease. Confidence.” She heaved a heavy sigh, bowing her head. “There were over thirty of us, but even with such a big split, we’d have made enough. We could have left Hoofington, started a new life somewhere. ‘Just one time’, he told me. ‘One time, and we’ll have enough money to go wherever we want.’”
She sniffed, obediently raising her arm so that Rarity could start wrapping it. “Thirty-two ponies against one mare. It looked so easy. We doubted we’d even have to draw our weapons. And then…”
Not pausing in her work, Rarity pressed. “And then?”
“And then we learned the truth. They said the rumors about you were all puff pieces, exaggerations, lies. We never thought a single mare could be so dangerous. Then you ripped through our trap back in the fields like it was paper. Then you started hitting us when we were supposed to be the ones tracking you. I…” She closed her eyes and trembled. “I got scared. We didn’t know when you’d hit next. What if I went to bed one night and d-didn’t wake up?”
That gave Rarity pause. She looked at the fresh tears on Orchard’s face and felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “I would never do that.”
“And how were we supposed to know that?” Orchard gazed at her with wide, fearful eyes. “We didn’t know what you could do. Some of the others went home, said it was too dangerous. None of us had planned for a long chase. I wanted to quit too, but TomTom, he w-wouldn’t listen.”
Rarity swallowed, went back to work. “And then I came back.” She tried to ignore that empty feeling.
“Why did you k-kill him?”
“He had a knife to my back.”
“That makes no sense!” Orchard shook her head firmly. “We saw what you can do. He wouldn’t have tried to fight you alone!”
“Well he did,” Rarity whispered. “And lost.”
“You’re lying.” Another sniff. The mare turned her face away. “You killed him in cold blood, didn’t you?”
With the last of the bandages in place, Rarity began putting away her kit. She said nothing for a time, thinking instead on that night, the way she’d felt when he fell on her, the look in his eyes. The rage in her heart.
“There’s something wrong with me.” Taking the bullet in her magic, she closed the kit. The little piece of lead hovered before her face, and she studied it against the blue sky. “I’ve grown more and more frightened. Frightened for my body. For my dignity. If somepony just killed me, then it would all be over, but if somepony takes me, I have to live with that forever.”
Orchard’s words came out as a hiss. “TomTom would have never done something like that!”
“Maybe not.” She wrapped her fingers around the bullet, clenching it in a tight fist. “But somepony did, and ever since I have been boiling inside. I’m so angry. Angry and hurt and wishing I could put a bullet in the head of the pony responsible. For Luna’s sake, I am not a killer.” She turned sharply to Orchard, who reeled back from her scowl. Rarity shook her fist in the mare’s face. “But I want to hurt her so badly, and I swear on all that is holy and otherwise that I won’t let anypony ever touch me like that again!”
Orchard almost fell back, she’d leaned so far away. She trembled beneath Rarity’s looming presence. “B-but… But TomTom wouldn’t do that.”
Closing her eyes, Rarity took slow, heavy breaths. Her pulse calmed, her fist lost its painful tension. The fire in her heart dimmed, but wouldn’t go away. With one last, slow exhale, she nodded. “I believe you. But the nature of our fight triggered something in me, and I reacted. I didn’t even realize what I’d done until it was too late.”
Taking Orchard’s hand in her own, Rarity set the bullet into her palm. “I know this probably won’t mean much to you, but for what it’s worth, I am sorry.” She stood up and arched her back, listening to the quiet pops in her spine. Taking the medical kit in her magic, she met Orchard’s uncertain eyes. “I know you might come after me later. Please don’t. I don’t want to kill any more ponies than I have to, but I’m not going to just lie down and take it anymore.”
Cerulean hadn’t moved from where she’d left him. It appeared he’d fallen asleep. It reminded her of how much she needed the same. But not yet. Not quite.
“I have to save my family. I have no intention of dying before that happens.”
She left the young mare behind, not interested in hearing a response.
“Do you think anymore will come?” Rarity glanced at Cerulean, who lay next to the pond lapping up water. When he paid her no mind, she looked to the starry night sky. The moon shone brightly as it started its journey for the evening.
She was too weary to think. Her eyes began to drift closed.
“I hope not,” she whispered. “But I can’t stay awake forever.”
Darkness embraced her. Curling up in her sleeping bag, she tried to keep her mind blank. Sleep would come. Soon. She’d be safe, and if not…
Fingers teased her stomach, slid down her thigh.
Rarity jerked, eyes popping open and hand reaching for Silver Lining. She was met by only a snoring Cerulean and twinkling stars.
“I’m okay,” she whispered, clutching the sleeping bag to herself.
“I’m okay.
“I’m okay.
“I’m okay…”
As of now, we are on the second half of the story. 13 chapters left to go, folks...
I should also note that if it seems like I'm being quiet in the comments, it's only because I fear accidentally spoiling things with my responses. Rest assured, the reaction to this story so far has been nothing short of thrilling!
The World of Bulletproof Heart
Sand Lizards
Ponies riding horses? That struck me as an odd image, and one that might raise eyebrows and bring about unwanted questions. So I decided they needed to ride something else. Lizards struck me as making the most sense as they are known to be well adapted for hot climates like deserts, so I came up with the Sand Lizards. The simplest way to describe them is as a cross between a Komodo Dragon and Bearded Dragon. There are four varieties:
Dust Devil
Easily the most common and highly sought mounts, Dust Devils are also the easiest to tame and ride. Roughly the same height as your average horse when standing, they are sturdy creatures with long legs that give them a long, loping gait. While not the fastest or strongest of the Sand Lizards, they are known for being very loyal to those they grow attached to and, with a more social temperament than the other types, make excellent traveling companions. They are bred for moving long distances at quick paces and can go for a long time at a simple trot, but aren’t meant for high speed sprints.
Thick Scales
By far the biggest of the sand lizards, Thick Scales can easily grow to the size of a wagon in width, though their height is only slightly greater than that of a Dust Devil. For this reason they are almost universally trained to act as draft creatures for long-distance travel. They are ponderously slow compared to their smaller counterparts, but make up for it by being able to literally travel for weeks on end without pausing for a break. With proper handling by a prepared crew, caravans can move continuously and save precious time that would normally be wasted letting Dust Devils or Leapers rest. They are also heavily armored, their scales capable of shrugging off small arms fire with ease. Thick Scales are also slow to anger and avoid expending a lot of energy at once, making their training and handling a breeze. Last but not least, Thick Scales have the ability to shift the colors of their scales to match their surroundings, an ability unique to them.
Leapers
It has long been speculated that Leapers are the product of an ancient experiment involving crossbreeding Dust Devils with dragons. Nobody knows if it’s true or not, but their unique traits give the theory at least some credence. More lithe and aerodynamic compared to Dust Devils, Leapers also come with razor-sharp talons on their forelegs and are able to sprint at phenomenal speeds. Their muscular hind legs also allow them to perform breathtaking leaps of great distances, hence the name. They come with thin, membranous wings that let them glide when leaping from high points. They even come with the ability to breathe fire, although the act drains the lizard so quickly they become helpless afterwards, so it is typically only used as a last resort.
All these incredible and unique features might make a Leaper seem like a prized mount, but they come with a variety of problems. For one, Leapers sacrifice a lot of the sturdiness of their Dust Devil kin, and thus can’t take a lot of punishment. They also tire out very quickly, being designed for lightning quick action rather than prolonged activity; they rely heavily on ending fights as fast as possible. Leapers are also ferocious and unfriendly creatures, and have been known to attack and kill their own longtime handlers for slight offenses. Indeed, it’s highly questionable whether a tamed Leaper even is tamed due to their vicious nature and tendency to go into berserker rages during battle that bring risk to friend and foe alike. Only the most daring (or perhaps suicidal) handlers attempt to take on a Leaper as their mount.
Pygmy Leaper
An extremely rare lizard sometimes encountered in the Sunpeaks, those who discover these tend to mistake them for baby Leapers. In reality they are an entirely different breed with very similar features, but which never grow larger than a couple feet in length. While they retain most of the Leaper’s traits (except the fire breath), they are known for being skittish creatures more interested in lazing in the sun than starting a fight, and typically hide away from interaction with larger creatures such as ponies.
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Holy Emperor of mankind....
I'm seriously liking this Rarity!
This story truly does not get enough love. It's been an absolute roller coaster thus far and deserves a place in everyone's favourites. I applaud you for a wonderful yarn, please continue this adventure!
It’ll be a miracle if Rarity makes it out of this with any sanity left. Cause she’s losing her grip on reality more and more.
Damn it Applejack, look what you did!
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It explains best here.
https://www.quora.com/Why-do-people-in-westerns-seem-to-wear-so-many-clothes-for-the-desert
Basically, insulation and protection from the environment. If she went in something say... short sleeves and shorts, that would kill her about as fast as anything else out there. Robes, similar to what Arabs would wear, would be beneficial here too. But this is also a western story and the style wouldn't match.
Black, interestingly enough, is also a good color to be wearing.
I think this is approtpriate music.
Also Orchard, if you decide to bounty hunt there is a chance you will die. You only have yoruselves to blame for Tomtom's death
Oh dear.
Yeah.
She's unhappy.
... You frighten me.
Badass Good Girl!
You hardly fit the criteria for any of those 3 descriptors.
Magical multitasking is useful.
Clever.
Shit.
Oh boy.
He's probably dead.
Always effective.
She is severely damaged.
Apparently not.
We call that a Nat 20 intimidation.
A fair point.
A hallucination.
Jesus...
Sleeping is important for a reason.
The necklace is a GODSEND.
Yeah, why do you think she got the name?
Ah shit.
The one you beat to death.
No.
I doubt they do.
Come on, come on...
You say that, but lead poisoning is nasty.
Ah.
Quite.
She has SEVERE PTSD.
"and the large posse was converged on her"
"and the large posse was converging on her"?
"each hit a tiny hammer against her skull"
"each hitting a tiny hammer against her skull"?
"A blink later and she’d gone, nothing between her and the bridge."
"A blink later and they’d gone, nothing between her and the bridge."?
"It happened, and the hunters were none too pleased."
...I'm assuming that this it has a different antecedent than the previous one, but what is this one's antecedent?
"The two ponies on the hillside, nothing more that quiet heaps"
"The two ponies on the hillside, nothing more than quiet heaps"?
"Rarity’s gripped the bread"
"Rarity gripped the bread"?
"with a more social temperament than either other type"
"with a more social temperament than the other types"?
Or is that not including pygmy leapers?
"might make a Leaper seems like a prized mount"
"might make a Leaper seem like a prized mount"?
So... yeah, we already knew Applejack messed up there, but it appears to have been even larger than it first seemed.
I wonder what the significance of the gem losing some of it’s colour entails? Is Rarity losing some of herself by becoming the Bulletproof Heart. Is that why she patched up Orchard, to regain some of her selfless generosity. As for how she reacted to TomTom, is that why she wound up in bed with Applejack, she can’t bear the thought of stallions touching her but mares are ok.
Also: kickass Rarity is best Rarity.
No Rarity, you are most certainly not okay.
Wow this got dark. Nice to have some background on the lizards.
Only one little thing I noticed this time:
Pardon? His what?
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She slammed into his chest. Shoulder first.
She needed to be angry to survive... but there's such a thing as going too far. Denial does her no favors, nor does the need to drown her troubles in adrenaline and shed blood. I can only hope Rarity doesn't overcompensate like this again. She may not survive the next one.
Jeez what a ride. Im looking forward to the talk between Rarity and AJ.
And as much as I dislike it, I am enjoying the darker tone the story is heading toward as Rarity deals with her PTSD. Happy endings are only in fairytales.
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Again. It's what they did during the time period and it worked. I know it can seem mind blowing to us in this day, but historically it's how they did things. Protection from the environment. Westerns man.
The change to Rarity in this chapter was a little jarring. I had to double-check that it wasn't a dream sequence. A pony can change very quickly. Rather, she had already changed, and all that was needed was for her inhibitions to be removed. It really made me understand, in a direct way, the anger that Rarity felt at being taken advantage of, and the fact that she was done messing around. The scene with TomTom was very well done, very visceral.
I think Rarity is losing her Element ....
And she gets some of it back.
As I read, I kept telling myself "It's not real, she's suffering from heat stroke, she's having a nightmare, she's still drunk."
But by the end, you have to admit, this happened, her body count just doubled, and she's lost her restraint.
God damn it AJ.
You did this.
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You must have missed the end of the last chapter and UTTERLY misread this chapter in order to ask that question. Rarity was appalled that AJ took advantage of her while she was drunk. It was her rage at basically being raped that led to Rarity turning murderhobo in this chapter.
Celestias flaming ass, that is a disturbing image. The thought never crossed my mind until now.
Now... I think I need medication.
Trust me, you're not okay. You're not o-freaking-kay. Even if your heart is bulletproof and graivty don't mean much to you, it is still there and can still weigh down on you.
No, she's not okay, but the way she's dealing with this not okay-ness is far from abnormal. One can only hope it doesn't consume her as it has so many others.
Didn't you guys attack her? She has killed many of you, but only in self defense. Those who make a living by hunting people should expect resistance. Bounty hunting is a dangerous business.
No telling their morality, bounty hunters are a higher class of people than bandits, but lower than law enforcement.
easiest