Bounty On The Frontier

by MajorPaleFace

2. A Fall From Inelegance

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Ash crawled silently on her belly, routinely checking her pocket watch. It had been five hours of flight followed by two hours of creeping along the ground. Equestria at nighttime was often unbearably cold, and the days, by contrast, tended to be extremely hot. Her thick grey fur offered her partial protection, she could survive, but she wouldn’t be comfortable.

What was worse a strong wind had started up and between it and the frigid dirt, the warmth was being sapped from her. By nightfall Ash had spotted an old campsite, the embers were still warm and she followed the hoof tracks on the ground, maintaining a timely pace. Not long after, she spotted her quarry, Colter. His sand-coloured coat allowing him to blend in with his surroundings, yet the lack of hair on his head gave him away.

But he’d made the mistake of silhouetting himself, something every guard worth their salt kept an eye out for. He vanished over the hilltop and she crept onward to catch up. Once alongside the rim of the hill, she could see he’d moved further down into a slope, with gradually rising walls to each side. Ash kept left, deciding to use the high ground to her advantage. The landscape opened up into a maze of escapements, the Igneous rocks forming a hundred paths her bounty could use.

She paused as the rock formation she was moving along came to an end. She dug inside her saddlebags for a length of rope, finding it she quickly tied it into a lasso. Her rope now had a big O at the end. Once around something if she pulled on the rope it would tighten the lasso. Ash checked her sabre wasn’t too movable and tightened her saddlebag bands. With lasso gripped in her teeth, she glided down, aiming to pass by directly and closely above Colter. The sound from the wind as it swept through the passages perfectly obscured any other noise.

Ash neared to within three body lengths, she whipped her head so that the lasso draped in front of Colter and the noose snagged around his neck as she threw her head back. Ash pulsed her wings to give her some heavy vertical thrust and was almost able to pull Colter from the sand. He choked and gagged on the lasso-turned-noose. She carried him for a few seconds, then pulled up so he was fairly high off the ground and relaxed her bite – sending him smashing into the dirt.

Ash was on him in a flash, scrambling to collect the long end of the rope and wrap it around his four legs. He was stunned and barely drawing breath, so once she’d made doubly sure he couldn’t unbind himself, she loosened the rope around his neck. He took in several huge gulps of air. Panting and coughing, the rope had left a tight band of red swelling.

“Mister Colter,” she gasped. Ash was likewise exhausted, “I’m bringing you in.” Then she muttered, “sonofabitch,” Colter was a meaty pony.

She looked through her saddlebags, removing another section of rope and a fancy white handkerchief she’d found amongst Soft Shines personal effects. Ash stuffed the balled tissue in his mouth as he wriggled, he persisted and received a harsh back-hoof strike for his trouble. Next, she tied his muzzle up with the rope to immobilize his jaw and neck. He didn’t have much in the way of personal items, a small dagger, an empty water canister, some bent rolled cigarettes with no matches and about twenty bits.

Ash stowed the bits, used her fancy lighter to ignite one of the cigarettes and took a swig from her water bladder. She discarded the empty canister and the dagger in the dirt, and after stowing his bulky body over her back, she started the long march back to collect her reward.

---

The Thestral outlaw was beginning to stall. After the ambush on Soft Shine's convoy near Batican city, she’d slept for a few scattered hours in the desert – worrying the law would somehow catch up to her. Aside from a short power nap of maybe an hour before pulling into Saguaro, after that, she’d been travelling for over twenty hours, and now for the last two hours with Colter’s dead weight pressing down on her. Her weary legs demanded that she rest.

This area of dreary and drab orange landscape offered little in the way of protection, but she’d spied a small corner to hide in. A cluster of particularly tall cacti blocked the view to the west and north, while a pair of boulders not greatly higher than the head of a standing pony offered protection from the east and south.

She dumped Colter forward, at which point he immediately began moaning and weeping. He was rolling and looking at her with sunken eyes. Against her better judgement, she pulled his gag out, “wha’ sorta pony sneaks up on a feller like tha'! Minding my own damn business-mmmphh! Ash sighed and stuffed the gag back in as he squirmed and emitted muffled groans. She used some excess rope to pin him facing a cactus, if he moved too much he’d prick himself.

She moved to the other side, away from him and next to the boulders. She lay down, and after listening for a long time, Ash closed her eyes and tried to get some sleep.

---

Something stirred nearby, waking her. Something was clamped over her mouth and she screamed, bucking and thrashing violently. She stood, two ponies had a hold of her and were obviously unprepared for her strength. The one behind jumped on her back, looping both forelegs under her chin and gripping her neck, his breath reeked of whisky and tobacco. The one in front punched her in the muzzle and her head started spinning.

Her eyes wouldn’t focus and she wobbled, choking as her right eyesocket swelled like a balloon. Ash tried to rear up but her back hooves didn't have the strength and the rider on top of her adjusted his weight to counter her movements. She snapped her head back and stars exploded across her vision. She felt a spray of hot blood across the back of her head and the assailant's grasp slackened.

The pony in front with tribal red paint covering his face and mane styled into a Warhawk, rushed forward with a yell. She managed to turn and throw whiskey breath to the ground while red-face loosed a couple of jabs that caught her in the head.
Ash was vaguely aware of lying face down on the cold ground, her head and face pounded and she could barely open her eyes.

---

Her hooves had been tied underneath her, her wings were bound and she realised with dread that she wasn’t alone. Three dirty stallions sat around a campfire, they weren’t near the boulders and the cacti, which meant she’d been moved. How far were any ponies guess. She rotated her neck to look around, careful not to draw attention to herself while she dragged her bound hooves underneath her.

Colter lay on his side facing away from her. He was still tied up as she had left him. Her wandering forelimbs hitched halfway into her leg-pit, she found the little blade she’d been searching for. Made from sharpened bone and as long as the width of her hoof as to be easily concealable.

She glimpsed back at the three stallions, one of them bellowed a laugh as his head rocked back to finish the contents of a brown liquor bottle. He got up and wobbled toward her, she relaxed and shut her eyes. He came closer and then brushed behind her. She heard him shift his weight, before the sound of pattering liquid filled the air.

She let one eye open slightly to see whiskey-breath with his rear end to her. Black tail swishing vigorously as he relieved himself. She quickly started sawing at the rope against her ankles, the blade was sharp, making no sound and cutting effortlessly.

As he urinated he burped and farted loudly, he chuckled to himself as the flow of urine slowed to a trickle, causing her to seem unconscious again. He sniffed and adjusted his weight once again, his hoof steps fell nearby and he leaned over her. She prepared to jamb the little blade through his eyes and then make a run for it. “Hey!” A deep voice called, “leave off - we need her in one piece.”

“Aw shit,” whiskey breath sounded like he had a bad cold, “I was only gonna have some fun with ‘er.”

“Bo, I know your kind of fun, she ain’t no good to us if'n you go messing her up! Boss specified he wants any mare ta' be alive,” the same deep voice reprimanded.

“What’s speci-ci-fried mean?” He snorted.

A sigh, “it means leave er' be!”

“Well shoot," Whiskey breath stomped his hoof in annoyance, "if'n we can’t fuck er' or eat er', then why we bother rustling er' for?! Bitch damn near broke my nose!”

The leader turned fully and levelled harsh red eyes at the apparent cannibal. "Last warning, Bo'."

Alcohol breath shuffled away after a few breaths, muttering something about “yew’ gon get yers.”

Ash breathed deeply and started to loosen her forelegs. Then carefully began removing her rear ankle ties. She rubbed her sore legs and turned to get a look at her surroundings, carefully reaching back to free her leathery wings. She figured these were the three ‘bounty hunters' the sheriff had sent ahead of her.

More like hillbilly cannibal criminals, she thought.

The camp consisted of two lean-tos', a campfire and some log benches. They had a sack of something, and her saddlebags and sabre were sitting near one of the lean-tos'. Whiskey breath was in the middle facing away from her, already halfway through another bottle.

Red face was sharpening a little tomahawk axe, his attention lost in staring deeply into the flames of the fire. The third member was covered in shadow, the few licks of firelight showed him as having narrow features and scar tissue across his eyes. The camp itself was near the edge of a cliff, nothing but blackness following it.

Ash was just considering her next move when all three stood quite quickly. She figured she’d been spotted and rose as well, brandishing the hold-out blade. They were facing outside the campground, her usually keen night-time eyesight was late in detecting several ponies emerging out of the desert darkness.

Four Thestrals wearing dusters, a unicorn, a Pegasus and earth pony in the same tan coats.“You fellers lost?” Scar-face said, his tone harsh and threatening.

“We’re right where we’re s’posed to be,” a Thestral with light grey fur and gold eyes said. His voice was silky smooth but in that 'not right' kind of sociopath way.

“You oughtta get lost fore thangs' get ugly, partner,” whiskey breath warned.

The Thestral brought up a piece of paper and started to list off names, “Pazi Red, Bo Festus and Dusk Younger of the younger gang. I have in my possession a written warrant from the Court of Higher Justice for your apprehension,” he licked his lips. “Come along quietly, and there won’t be any need for violence,” he continued, pulling back his coat to reveal a matched pair of Sabres much like Ash’s stolen one.

Both Whiskey breath and Scar-face had their weapons out, red stood calmly with his tomahawk held low. With a rebel yell, red wound up and sent his axe hurtling at the lead Thestral. He side-stepped and rushed for red with the two immaculate and long sabres.

In a frenzy of movement, the two others took on three of the law-ponies each, whiskey moved far more quickly than his inebriated state might indicate. Deflecting a thrust and burying his weapon into the neck of the attacker. He was quickly slain by the two following law-ponies.

Red and the lead Thestral duelled, neither gaining the advantage. Scar-face parried and scored two kills in quick succession, and then turned to back away with his red-painted gangmate. A strobe-light of purple captured everything in view as the flash of a camera might.

A Lance of energy shot out from the sole unicorn law pony and both Red and Scar-face fell with pained screams. Ash had been edging around for her pack and sabre. As she’d tightened her saddlebags and held her sheathed sabre in her foreleg, two Thestrals cut her off.

The Pegasus and Earth pony lay unmoving in widening pools of red that turned the sanded earth a peach colour. The Thestral Whiskey breath had attacked was struggling with a vicious neck wound and shuddered as she tried to close it. The unicorn was trying to help but abandoned his efforts after a glance from their leader. Red and Whiskey breath was still alive, albeit under a loose definition of the word.

“Wanted dead or alive,” the lead Thestral said.

And without a hint of hesitation made a pair of little slices along the back of their heads, pulling the blade up and over. They howled and cried in the sort of way that made your breath hitch, Ash wasn’t a stranger to violence but even she had to look away.

The blade sliced wetly, the occasional crunch and scraping of the blade against bone making her cringe and clench her jaw.
Ash felt sick to her stomach as the Thestral proudly held two matching scalps, complete with their respective owners' ears still attached.

He dangled them at Ash as she began to back off toward the edge of the canyon. “These savages only understand savagery, I’d rather it be different.” He had a fake little smile and Ash decided he wasn’t being truthful.

“If you say so mister,” She said a little uneasily.

One of her rear hooves skidded at the edge of the canyon. She glanced back and then forward, the remaining law ponies had arranged around her much in the same way as they had with her three foalnappers. He moved closer, “My names Agent Bucksaw. And, uh – who might you be, miss?”

“Ash,” she said tonelessly.

He smiled in that creepy way, “Ash what?”

“Just Ash.”

None of the law ponies had stowed their weapons, and she wasn’t certain she could take on anypony right now. She felt drained, her head was throbbing and her right eye had almost fully sealed. He stepped closer, and his posse matched him step-by-step.

His eyes flicked down, “that’s a nice quality sabre you go there.”

“I like it just fine,” Ash replied. Her mind swirling to think of a way out.

“And, uh – How’d you come by it?”

She cocked her head, “family heirloom?"

He chuckled humourlessly, “well now. A murderer and a liar. For shame.”

“I know who you really are, Miss De La Bourg.”

Ash’s eyes widened. How had they caught up with her so quickly? “So I’ll give you the same offer I gave to these here gentlestallions,” he continued.

“Come along quietly, and there won’t be any need for violence.” He jangled the scalps at her again.

She was so close to the edge now if it had been a wall she would have been pancaked against it. “That’s a fine offer, mister. But I’m afraid I’m gonna have to decline.”

“So be it,” he said and started moving towards her.

Ash shut her eyes, took a big breath and then jolted forward in a fast charge that caught him unprepared for the irregularity of her movement. As fast as he was, their sabres met in a pronged fork of forged steel. Using his off blade, he tried to curve it around to catch her in the side.

Ash – like many Thestrals, had been using a blade or likewise similar weapon since the cradle. While some Thestrals belonging to more nobility centric circles, or those with plenty of military in their veins had specific fighting styles. Ash’s father had taught her to be tenacious, unrelenting and above all, dirty.

A tactic for which most Thestrals were not ready for. She moved inward of his reach and head-butted him hard, the blow caused stars to rush over the good side of her vision and split the welt covering her right eye socket. But it sent him down, and his sabre only brushed across the leather of her saddlebags instead of lodging between her ribs.

She stuck her blade out and scored a bloody wound into his mouth, a wet gurgling shout filled the air. His comrades rushed forward, and Ash darted to the ground, swiped up his dropped sabre, flung a hoof full of sand up at them and leapt backwards off of the cliff.

She fell at high speed, her vision was spotty and not at all clear, the ground swept by in a blur of stubbly rocks and sprigs of red flowers so far unseen. She heard more shouting from behind her and chanced a glance back, a red flash rushed to meet her and she burned.

Her coat singed and her wings seemed to evaporate. Smoke and sparks rushed around her and she was vaguely aware of crashing through a long trail of cacti before stopping in a tangle of barbs and pellet-sized rocks. She blinked and gasped, did that really just happen?

Pain filled every part of her. Cuts and bruises. Her fur had saved her from the worst of the cacti splinters. There were a dozen in her muzzle and around her eyes. The swollen part of her eye socket was seeping and she could feel the tightness lessoning. She was more concerned with her wings, the pain in her back was immense. Like sunburn multiplied exponentially.

She was at the edge of a mass of tall Cacti, and she couldn’t see the cliff when she looked back. Despite the pain, she began pulling herself out onto some flat rock. Moving her wings even the slightest bit was agonising, so she relented to leaving them semi folded.

Steadily Ash rose and turned away, collecting her sabres and began to follow a path across the valley floor. The canyon was steep on the side she’d fallen from, and she realised she was probably in shock. That drop should have killed you, her inner voice reminded her.

She felt along her face for the spines of the cacti, deciding to ignore them for now. She could hardly see, had nothing to remove them with and her hooves had begun trembling from the adrenaline dump. Ash contained her pain and kept moving, following the night sky – and using the northern Star as her guide.

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Author's Note:

Updated 05/11/2020