Sunset: Stranded

by Viking ZX

Outset

Chapter 14 - Outset

The first teasing rays of sunlight rising from the east woke Sunset from her slumber, caressing her eyes like a gentle whisper, but enough to pull her consciousness back to the real world. She let out a groan, rubbing at the side of her face and then tilting her head, stretching a tight muscle in her neck. When did—? she began to ask, only to pause as her waking mind caught up with where she was.

The camp store. Right. That’s why her bed was so hard: it wasn’t a bed at all, but a thin camping mat.

And a really thin one at that, Sunset thought as she pushed herself up into a sitting position. The soreness and stiffness she’d felt the day before was mostly gone, but in its place had come new sore spots, mostly from her somewhat uncomfortable sleeping position. She stretched again, feeling the muscles loosen slightly as she craned one arm over her head, knocking some of her mane over her face.

“Well,” she said, licking her lips and letting a faint, fake gag at her morning breath. “That settles that.” She stretched again, gritting her teeth as some of her sore muscles protested, fighting back as she tried to push them into a different position. There was a larger, heavier camp-pad on one of the shelves—more of a mattress, really—wrapped in watertight cloth covering. I’m putting that in the last wagon. I can cut it if it’s too heavy, but I’ll appreciate it if isn’t.

She let out a groan as she pushed herself onto her feet, ignoring the gritty feeling of having slept in her clothes. As gross as it felt, she was getting used to it. You can clean yourself and change when you find a spring or a creek or something along the way. Or when it rains. She glanced up at the windows ringing the camp store, spying the orange tinge to the eastern sky. Which doesn’t look like today. I’m okay with that.

She stretched again, arching her back and raising both arms over her head, letting out a contented sigh as some of the tight muscles finally gave way. “That’s it,” she said through a yawn. “That’s the right one.” Stretching as a seran was a strange, alien experience, but at least she’d figured out a few good motions to go through.

She went about her morning without much sense of urgency, taking care of her ablutions and then putting together a small breakfast from a few of the meal boxes in the camp store. It was surprisingly tasteless given the bright colors of the packaging, but then any food that was supposed to be able to last decades likely had to be just that or loaded with salt.

Though I do have plenty of that. Her wagons held can after can of nuts and trail mix in addition to other foods she’d found. It should be enough for quite a while. Packages of jerky filled a box as well. The dried meat was surprisingly tasty, perhaps to balance out the lack of flavor in the boxed meals.

Her stomach sated and her morning routine mostly taken care of, there was only one thing left to do. She collected the thin camping pad, rolling it up and placing it back in one of the wagons. Did I grab an all-weather jacket? A check showed that she had. Everything on her list from the night before had been taken care of.

Well, almost everything. Once everything else was secure on her train of carts, including a newer, thicker mattress pad, she moved back over to the display case she’d taken the gnasher from the day before. There, resting in the back of the case, almost innocuous compared to the clear focal point of the display itself, was a worn holster, the leather dry to the touch.

Her skin crawled slightly as she touched it. Leather wasn’t uncommon in Equestria, but it did have a bit of a negative connotation from the few times in history someone had made it from a sapient being. Still, it was far too useful to not have, and there were plenty of non-sapient sources. It was still a little unsettling, however.

“At least here, if it’s not seran or locust, it’s not sapient,” she said aloud as she picked the holster up. The words helped. A little. Then again, the aged feel of the leather wasn’t helping either. It felt grimy despite how dry it was.

She unfolded it, holding it out at arm’s length and examining the straps and buckles. “Maybe I should get something else …” she ventured, eyeing the worn material. After a second’s consideration, she took one of the straps in her hands and gave it a sharp tug, pulling her hands apart. With a faint pop the leather strap parted, snapping under the sudden force.

“Yeah,” Sunset said, frowning at the broken holster. “I’ll find something else.” She tossed the holster back into the empty case and moved on.

A minute later she’d found a holster that seemed like it would work. It was made of some plastic-like material, tough and woven but still flexible, and slipped over her shoulders easily enough, like a backpack. She clipped the straps together across her chest—above her still horribly-placed teats, thankfully—and was about to call it good when the question of where her backpack would go occurred to her.

“Sunspots,” she said, looking down at her shoulder straps. “That won’t work.” Leaving her backpack in the wagon was an option, but then that would mean extra time to grab it if she needed to leave the train behind for any reason.

She sighed, undoing the snap across her chest and shucking the holster, tossing it aside. It was a good idea, at least. There were a few other weapon holsters on display, but they didn’t seem designed to hold the type of firearm or weapon that the gnasher was.

She eyed the bows on the wall for a brief instant before shaking her head. “Not a chance, Sunset,” she said quietly. “Bows take a lot of practice, and you’ve never even used one as a unicorn.” Trying to figure out how they worked in her new body would be too much of a challenge to be worth it.

Besides, that had been the advantage of a firearm. At least, according to the demonstration the minotaur had given. A firearm was far less complex and difficult to learn or master.

What were their exact words? Sunset mused. The complexity is in the building, not the use? It had been something like that.

Though in fairness, the weapon he’d demonstrated felt pitful in comparison to the violent display put on by the gnasher. His firearm had been a miniaturized cannon, and required a somewhat complex reloading procedure. All the gnasher took was sweeping a lever back and forth.

For a brief moment, an idea teased at the corner of her mind. A single shell from that gnasher is probably a weapon advance far ahead of where the minotaurs are now. Or a bullet from one of those lancers. I could just figure out when the portal is going to open back up and take them through. Flee Equestria, sell them to an engineer in the Burning Lands, the Empire, or the Plainslands.

The idea made her frown. And then that would be my destiny? A weapons dealer?

No. She turned her eyes back to the display behind the counter, lighting over bows and coming to stop on one of the so-called “hunting rifles.” That’s not who I am. Or who I’m going to become. I don’t want to be some peddler of weapons.

I want to be what scared her.

Her eyes came back to the hunting rifle. It was—according to the card under it—low-powered, more for light hunts of rabbits than anything else. The stock was made of some sort of hard plastic, black and nonreflective, while the barrel was a gleaming silver.

Perfect, it appeared, for learning how to shoot something that required a bit more precision than a shotgun. Which, if her experience from the day before was any indication, she desperately needed.

Fine, she thought as she reached out and lifted the weapon from the rack it was resting on. “If I can’t have a holster, I’ll just take two guns.” The rifle felt heavy in her hands, heavier than the gnasher despite its near size. Maybe that’s for balance? The bolt—or at least what she thought was the bolt from her study of the safety manual—was open, the weapon unloaded. Like the gnasher, it appeared to have a small internal magazine.

“Ammunition …” she muttered quietly, eyeing the placard under where the weapon had hung and then the neatly-labeled drawers below that which started at waist height. “If that number is the caliber, and those letters the type …” One of the drawers was labeled with the same set in the same sequence, and she opened it to find rows of bullets standing at attention in some sort of plastic clip, each about the size of a finger.

“Okay … assuming these work …” She plucked one of the bullets up with her fingers, eyeing the dusty gleam of the metal. It slipped into the waiting opening on the rifle with ease, fitting perfectly and sliding into the internal magazine with only a little force. The weapon took a surprising number of them—twelve in all—before the internal magazine couldn’t take anymore. There were mechanisms to keep the bullets in place with the bolt open, so she left it open for the moment.

“Now I can use one of those holsters,” she said, eyeing the tough canvas holders across the top of the dresser the ammunition had been in. Each was lengthy, with long straps designed to be—

“Wait a minute,” Sunset said as her eyes caught a faded picture on a tag. “What’s that?” She set the rifle down, picking up the holster and eyeing the washed-out image. It was of a smiling masculine figure, broadly muscled, but that wasn’t what had caught her attention. Not fully, anyway—Curse that Starswirl! What had was what the figure was sitting on: A sort of two-wheeled machine, like a bicycle but much heavier and with wider tires. Furthermore, the holster the picture was advertising was attached to it in some manner, the weapon it was holding resting vertically.

It was obvious what the machine was and how it functioned, if not how it worked. “Where can I find one of those?” she asked aloud, her words filling the quiet interior of the empty shop. If I could find one and get it working it’d be a lot easier than walking all the way to Jacinto.

Assuming I could learn to control it. Drive it? Pilot it? What would they call it?

But there was something else to the image as well, an idea that coalesced as she turned her gaze from the holster to the slatted walls of her wagons. She grinned. Maybe I can have some holsters after all.

Twenty minutes later, Sunset stepped away from the lead wagon, examining her handiwork and baring another grin. “Now that’s more like it.” Both the rifle and the gnasher—she didn’t quite think of it as “hers” yet—were holstered along the sides of the wagon, tilted upwards as best she’d been able to manage them. The butt of each weapon, and therefore the end that she’d want to grab if things went wrong, was facing forward. In the event something went wrong, she could disconnect her harness, turn with a single step, and have a weapon.

And probably still die, since her chances of effectively using said weapon were still pretty low. But it was better than nothing at all, and having both weapons within reach did feel a lot better. She’d grabbed all the extra ammunition for the rifle as well, something she could practice with once she was outside the city and reasonably sure she wasn’t about to be attacked by more wretches.

The watch on her wrist said that she’d been awake for more than an hour now. The sun was high enough that the sky outside the windows was no longer orange but blue, and it wouldn’t be long before the sun itself would be able to poke directly through the windows and down into the store.

Sunset took a breath, holding it for a second or two before letting it out in a solid rush. “It’s time,” she said, speaking aloud for her own benefit. “Final checks.” She walked up and down the wagon train, running down a list both mental and physical as she checked each item over.

“That’s it,” she said as she rounded the third and final wagon. “That’s everything.” Everything except gear she hoped she could scavenge when she needed it.

She let out a slow, controlled breath as she turned toward the front door of the shop. “This is it, then.” It’s time to leave Holton.

Well, almost. She set her backpack on the counter, opening up one of the pouches and pulling out one of the more valuable books she’d found: A road atlas. It was barely a book—almost a pamphlet, really. And it wasn’t waterproof like her map of Holton was, so it needed to be kept safe and dry.

But it was easy to read. Which, combined with her surveillance of the city and the smaller map, was how she knew the best route out of the city was going to be through the smaller roads, rather than the main highways. Those were cluttered with carriages—Cars—to the point where trying to pick through them wouldn’t be worth it, at least this close to Holton. As well as showing signs of damage heavy enough that she’d been able to pick them out with her binoculars.

She let out a dry, mirthless chuckle as some of her old icons stared up at her from the map. Never did make it to that police station, she thought, looking down at the small symbols she’d marked on the map during her look at the city. How long ago did I do that? A week? Similarly, she’d never checked out the military armory or any of the warehouses either. Though after the run-ins she’d already had … Maybe that’s for the best.

She turned her attention back to the map. The nearest large human habitation was to the west—unfortunately the same direction as the swath of grey, dying land she’d seen from the tower. And now she knew what that was.

Death. From an orbit-based superweapon they turned on their own cities. Better avoided than explored.

Unfortunately, that’s the only nearby major city. The nearest to the east was over the mountains, same with to the north, the mountain range sliding westward in a sort of crescent arc. South of Holton lay hundreds of miles of farms, forests, and small towns. There were cities that way, but following the roads to them would keep her moving mostly straight to the south, where heading northerly would end up with the highway following the curve of the mountains.

To the west. And toward Jacinto. Which was both north and west of her current position.

So despite that I’ll be heading northeast initially, Sunset thought as she examined both the atlas and the map. If I can find this road here, and follow it, I’ll be heading the right direction eventually.

With luck, there would be signage of some kind along the way, and she could confirm that she was following the correct road. But until she reached that point …

The atlas snapped shut, and she slipped it back into her backpack. Shame I’ll be walking, but I do not want to wait around for those things to come back. One of those powered cycles would be nice. A carriage would be even better. Unless it got stuck. The cycle she could at least maneuver around some other stuck vehicles, but a full-sized carriage not so much.

It’d be a lot nicer if I could find one of them and figure out how it worked without having to worry about more Locust coming to look for me. A faint pinprick sensation crawled down her back as she topped off her canteen for the coming hike. For all I know, they’re already back in the city.

She swallowed. Then I’d better leave soon. It was the best she could do to answer the sudden fear. It was that or spend the rest of the day hiding in the camp store. And that … Wouldn’t be worth it.

Better to get out of Holton as quickly as possible, and start making for Jacinto.

Which starts … Sunset thought as she began putting on the climbing harness. Now. The carabiner clip closed around the lead wagon’s handle with a click, connecting her to it, and she took an experimental step forward. The weight hit her immediately, spreading across her shoulders and upper torso to tug her back. She adjusted her footing, checked to make sure her pack hadn’t caught on anything, and then stepped forward again, leaning into the motion.

The wagons began to move, following behind her with each step. She slowed as the front door neared, only to almost stumble as the mass of the combined wagons pushed against her from behind, the handle bumping her pack before sliding off and making the wagons turn to one side slightly.

Right. That’s a lot of mass for when I stop. Thankfully, she hadn’t been going fast, but … I’ll need to find a better way to stop. Especially if I’m going to go down a hill. A sudden image flitted through her mind, one of her frantically running down a slope trying to outrun the three wagons only to fall and send the whole mess crashing to one side. Potentially dragging her down the hill after them.

Okay … when it comes to going downhill, maybe disconnect and guide it from the side. Or ride on top.

Maybe she could figure out a better braking system later. Even the simplest carts and carriages often had something to slow them down, a brake or a lever that rubbed against a wheel or an axel. I could make something similar.

Later. She’d wasted enough time as it was. And the hills outside the city had looked fairly gentle.

Shifting her weight, she stepped forward once more, pushing the door to the shop open and stepping out onto the sidewalk. The wagons rolled after her, and she was forced to take an extra step as they dropped into the street, their combined weight pressing her forward. This is going to take getting used to.

On the other hoof however, both of her hands were free, and the weight of the wagons was across her whole upper body rather than one arm. Sunset picked up speed as she moved down the street, heading further toward the edge of the city than she’d ever been before, moving toward the rising sun.

This … works! A smile built on her face as each ruined building swept past. Ahead of her a pile of rubble loomed, broken brick and mortar strewn across the street, and she adjusted her course, moving to avoid the worst of it. One of the tires hit a brick, and she felt the sudden jerk of the impact through her harness, even as the fat tire rolled up and over it. Ahead of her the street had buckled, the paving material ripe with cracks and gaps, though none wide enough to swallow the tires. The train rolled past them with faint thumps, and her smile brightened.

Birdsong sounded from nearby, a pleasant whistle that echoed through the air before repeating several times in quick succession. It was a pleasant sound, warm and full of life. The air was cool yet, but not quite so cool that her pulling the wagons wasn’t starting to work up a thin sweat. Around her the buildings were beginning to thin out, the closely-packed structure of the city giving way to something a little more spacious, with wider alleys and broader paths between them. They were still made largely of brick and heavy-looking stones, but now there was distance between them, much of it overgrown with thick bushes or whole swaths of the green vines that seemed just as willing to grow over other plants as they were buildings.

Then, with a suddenness that was almost jarring, those too gave way, the street ahead of her terminating in another low brick home. She came to a stop, frowning slightly as she tried to match her current position with the streets as shown on the edge of the map, but failing. Past the building was a heavy-looking wall several feet taller than she was at the very least, extending out in both directions.

The city is walled? But even before the sense of surprise had faded from her, the observation made sense. This was a warlike society. Of course a lot of their cities would be walled. Still, what she was seeing didn’t match up with the map in her pocket. Sunset disconnected her harness from the wagons, leaving them behind as she moved toward the open passage between the home at the end of the street and its nearby fellows. The street itself had been rounded into a cul de sac, so getting the wagons out wouldn’t be an issue. Figuring out where she was, on the other hoof …

I thought this street ended in an intersection? Ahead of her, the path to the home’s backyard or plaza or whatever it was had been blocked by a wooden gate and a fence slightly taller than she was … Which now that she was closer meant that the wall around the city was even taller than she’d guessed. She pulled the map out of her pocket, peering down at it and trying to line up where she actually was.

I turned there, she noted, looking back at her wagons and the street behind them. And I haven’t changed since then. Which means ...

There was only one answer, given that she’d walked past an intersection only a minute before. The map is out of date. This must all have been new. Because I’m still on the right street. It just went further than the map says it does.

Great. She stared up at the expansive home once more. It did look a little less weathered than the rest of the city, though much of it was overgrown with the same creeping vines that were growing over everything else. The front door was massive and heavy, almost as wide as it was tall, and covered in reliefs.

Probably the wealthy section of town. I wonder if there’s a private way past that wall from the backyard?

Slipping the map back into her pocket, Sunset moved for the gate at the home’s side. It was set into the brick wall of the next home over, and wider that it was tall, reaching all the way across the gap between them. The path to it had once been gravel interspaced with stepping stones, but grass had long-since taken over most of the rock, the tall strands parting before her legs like the sea before the prow of a ship. The finely-ground rock crunched beneath her boots with every step, the faint scratching sound echoing off the brick to both sides.

The wood of the gate itself was dry and cracked, the paint parched and peeling beneath her fingertips. She pressed her palm against it, feeling the grain of the wood through the faded, weather-worn paint. How many years and storms would it take for the paint to be this bad? She could feel contours in the wood, cracks and rivulets that only came when the bare substance had been exposed to the weather without any sort of protective spells or coverings.

That was the one piece of the puzzle she didn’t have yet. How long had it been since the locust had emerged and pushed the serans back? Three years? Five? A dozen?

More? She pulled her hand away from the gate. The metal latch was warm despite being in the shade, but gave easily with only the faintest of squeaks. Whatever had become of the owners of the home, they’d clearly not seen fit to lock it before departing. It swung outward easily, though not without letting out a squeal from its rusty hinges. The sound made her wince as the nearby birdsong went quiet.

I really hope nopony heard that. No one. One. She shook her head, her mane bouncing around her eyes. Gotta use the right term when you do meet someone, or they’ll think you’re crazy.

The path beyond the gate was much like what had been in front of it, made of overgrown gravel with broad stepping stones making a sort of zig-zag pattern back and forth. Again the strands of grass parted before her like waves, each stepping stone a small island in greenish-yellow sea. Then the islands sank, vanishing as the gravel pathway gave way to a field of bushy green, a grass lawn that had long since been overgrown and flourished under the recent rains. A lawn furniture set had languished under the elements, once white and artful, but now dirty and overgrown, with flecks of rust on display where the paint had peeled back. A lone umbrella rose from the middle of a table like an ancient battlefield standard, its cloth tattered and torn, hanging in ragged strips, skeletal metal fingers still on display. The back of the home had a raised balcony made of brick and stone, with a set of wide, heavy steps leading up it. The rear doors were glass, dirty and covered in dust. For a brief instant, the shadowed interior of the home stole her attention, a siren’s call of possibility, but then she shoved the temptation aside.

I have what I need, she thought. Besides, there was something much more important in the backyard: An arch in the rear wall of Holton, small, but easily wide enough for her and her wagons. A metal barred gate blocked it off like a portcullis, and she moved through the wavy grass toward it.

Come on come on come on … She could see an open field through the bars, broken up by several trees that rose above the grass, spreading their leaves toward the sun. I’m so close! Her hands closed around the metal bars, and she tugged … Only to be rewarded with a harsh clank as the bars shook in place, rattling against a heavyset metal latch.

They locked this but not the inside gate? Her outrage dampened as she looked down at the latch and then the padlock on the other side of the bars. The gate had been locked from the other side, so … “Probably not their doing,” she said as she let go of the bars. “Drat. If I had my magic—”

But she didn’t. And even then, she’d never exactly learned any unlocking spells meant for purely physical locks. Not something she would have trained me for. It would have made me too capable. Opening magical locks, like those over certain tomes in the library, that had been easy enough to figure out. Well, not easy, but she was gifted.

But I could just teleport to the other side of the gate, she thought as she took a step back, the bars slipping from her fingers one by one. Or just heat the lock until it melted.

I can’t even cast a fire spell anymore. So much for my cutie mark in this world. What good is pure magical power if I can’t use it?

For a brief instant her mind ran backward through the years, back to the moment she’d gotten her cutie mark by offering to light a woodstove at the orphanage, only to be discouraged by the cook and told it was much too powerful a spell for a filly at her age to perform.

She smiled. “Showed him,” she muttered. And I melted that stove into slag, setting fire to the kitchen. But he shouldn’t have told me I couldn’t.

Just like she shouldn’t have tried to deny me my destiny. Bitter anger welled up inside her, and Sunset clenched her hands into fists, eyeing the bars that blocked her path and for a brief instant trying to use the anger to seize at her magic and show some scrap of spellwork.

Nothing. She blew a sigh out of her lips, scowling. Still nothing. But the books she’d found had mentioned wizards. She turned, retracing her steps through the tall grass toward the side gate. I will figure my magic out, and I will use it to secure my destiny. The one she tried to keep from me. Again her hands clenched into fists, muscles tightening. I will not be denied,

Still, her anger wasn’t aiding her at the current moment. She shoved the wooden gate open hard enough that it hit the brick wall with a crack, silencing the nearby birdsong for just an instant, then came to a stop and let out another slow sigh.

“Save it, Sunset,” she said aloud, staring at her collection of wagons. “For when you need it.”

Right now, she should be happy. She was almost out of the city, whether or not the gate was locked. Those bars are too narrow to fit the cutters through. So I just need to double back, head south, and in a few streets I’ll meet up with the road out.

Returning to her wagons, she clipped the carabiner into place once more and began to pull.

She’d just begun to work up a decent sweat once again when she reached the right road, pulling her wagon train around what looked like a multi-carriage—car—wreck and up onto the sidewalk. One of the cars had tried to use that as well to get around the accident, but had stopped before scraping up against the stone and metalwork fence on the other side of the street, leaving just enough of a gap for her wagons to squeeze through.

Why it had stopped, however, was fairly obvious as soon as she was able to see over the collection of wrecks. A whole section of the street had dropped completely away, broken like a piece of a foal’s playset. A massive chasm ran across the entire street, a yawning abyss that she couldn’t see the bottom of. Several of the carriages looked to be poking part of their body length out over the edge, dangerously balanced, if not for the dust and dirt that had collected on them showing that they were at least sturdy enough that a stiff breeze wasn’t going to push them over the edge.

Right. It wasn’t hard to piece together what had happened. That’s why they were flying people out at the library. The Locust cut off the major roads. She gave her connection to the wagon train a quick jerk with one hand to make sure the wagons weren’t going to roll off, then disconnected the carabiner. The sidewalk ahead of her had a chunk missing from it, but still looked mostly intact. Although there were a bunch of dirty, pale sticks scattered across—

Bile rose in her throat. Those are bones. She swallowed, her stomach flipping. Now that she was looking directly at them, she could clearly pick out scraps of sun-faded cloth clinging to them, covered in dust and grime. Bodies.

Apparently she wasn’t the only one that had decided to try and test the sidewalk. She took a few steps forward, past the nose of the carriage to her right, but then slowed before she could near the chasm’s edge. Think, Sunset. This might have happened years ago. Memories flashed through her mind, of an old geological presentation a student had given at the school on sinkholes and how they could continue to expand. The edges might be overhangs. Dangerous ones. Don’t just walk out onto the sidewalk. Get a better look at things.

“Of course, to do that, I still have to get close.” There was some open pavement past the front of the carriage, and she took a few careful steps forward, waiting for the warning crack of paving stones beneath her feet. Or whatever the serans used to pave their roads. Some sort of concrete gravel, maybe?

Whatever it was, it didn’t give as she neared the edge—though she did stop while still a good fifteen feet away. The bottom was still out of sight, even though the chasm was a good thirty or so feet across at its widest, and her stomach fluttered slightly as she imagined the paving material beneath her feet cracking and giving way—

“Nope. Just don’t jump up and down.” She forced herself to stop peering down and instead to look at the far ledge, first straight across, and then moving to the left, where the sidewalk was.

“Okay, that actually doesn’t look that bad.” The earth around the hole had crumbled, yes, but it didn’t look fresh. And the overhand didn’t appear to be that severe. “That’s either good foundational work, or whoever or whatever did the tunneling did a really good job at getting exactly what they wanted,” she mused. “Or both.”

“Still …” She stepped to her right, moving sideways and widening her view of the bit of the chasm that went under the sidewalk. There was a bit of an overhang, but from what she could see not by much.

She cast her eyes further to the left, to the small, fenced off lawns just past the sidewalk. Each of them was divided from their neighbors by more of the sturdy, heavy stone fences, each long overgrown. The plant life the tires could likely deal with, and she could scramble over each of the low walls. The wagon train, however, wouldn’t make it, and it would take all day to empty and move each wagon to the next lawn.

So the sidewalk it is, she thought with a slight frown, her focus slipping to a shattered pipe protruding out of the chasm wall beneath the sidewalk. Unless I want to take a detour across a chunk of the city. There were, according to the map, other roads heading east out of Holton. But only one was the same size, and all of them were further south. Which means more walking. She eyed the sidewalk a moment longer, then made her decision.

“I’ll try it once without the wagons.” If the sidewalk gives way, I can always grab the bars of the fence. It’s far enough away it shouldn’t collapse. She strode back over to the sidewalk, heart fluttering slightly as she was once again reminded that she still couldn’t see the bottom of the pit she was about to cross, and then began moving forward.

Easy, Sunset, she admonished as she noted the small size of her steps. You’re not even close to the edge yet. Still, the approaching drop off felt more real without her horn. She couldn’t teleport, couldn’t put up a shield … At least this body is tough. She gave her head a little shake. Focus on something else.

A look at the carriages that had piled up behind the wreck didn’t do any good. The rearward ones were empty, but she didn’t miss the bleached bones leaning against the interiors on a number of them—especially those that had been damaged or crumpled.

Neither did she miss the holes in some of the windows, the glass fracturing outwards around them like spiderwebs. Trapped by the chasm, with no way to get out or return rearward with some many carraiges—Cars, like a train—behind them. Then killed.

A shiver worked its way down her spine, a claw of trailing cold despite the heat of the sun. Reading about such acts, or seeing paintings, was one thing. But seeing the results … Her eyes danced back to the bones ahead of her lying on the sidewalk. One of the skulls had been shattered, its upper half missing, only the jaw and a bit of spine lying near the body.

This wasn’t even a battle. She slowed as the edge of the chasm drew closer. This was a slaughter. These beings were just … beings. They weren’t soldiers or warriors. At least, not when they were running with their families.

A series of smaller bones poked out from beneath one of the larger sets. A child’s hand. The larger figure had curled their body around it, trying to protect it.

Another shiver, along with a sudden awareness that she’d left the gnasher back with the wagons, made its way through her. The small finger bones were a reminder of why she’d avoided a lot of remains so far.

The Locust do not differentiate. As much had been said in some of the old newspapers she’d found, and she’d suspected, but seeing the proof right in front of her …

It was almost enough to take her mind off of the drop off she was nearing.

She could see the bottom now. Parts of it, anyway. The sinkhole was a drop of at least several carriage lengths, and she could make out shattered paving material and crumpled cars at the bottom. Some standing water as well, though the fact that the hole hadn’t become a lake suggested there was drainage for it to escape though. Which didn’t really make her feel any better, but it was a welcome distraction from the nearing bones.

As well from a nearing crack in the segments of the sidewalk. A small chunk of the walkway itself was missing, a triangular portion of concrete almost the size of her torso that had broken free and fallen into the chasm. And extending from its forwardmost point was an easily discernible crack, jagged and ominous, like a time-locked bolt of lightning frozen on a slate-grey sky. It extended almost halfway across the sidewalk, like a warning slash of how far might be too far.

Right … Let’s just ease up against the fence here ... Her jeans scraped against the rough brick exterior of the fencing, a faint, ragged rasp that let her know there was no moving over any further. And … go! With a series of quick steps, she was past the crack and half of the chasm, trying her best to ignore its yawning abyss, or the bones scattered around her boots, or— Her boot slipped, ankle rolling, and she grabbed the decorative bars atop the fence, heart pounding as she caught herself.

“Right …” She drew the word out with a nervous, and not entirely dishonest, laugh. “Watch your step, Sunset.” That never would have happened if I’d still been a pony. Well, probably not. Because she would have never needed to cross the sinkhole via her current route in the first place. I’d have been able to teleport across, like any sensible unicorn.

Maybe once she figured out how to access her magic, she could give herself wings, like the statues in the plaza she’d arrived in. Though she still wasn’t certain if the portrayal she’d seen in those had been artistic or not. And most of her studies had been confined to more immediately relevant information. Still …

Something to look into later. When I’m not in imminent danger of starving. Right now …

She let go of the fence at last, taking wider longer steps as she moved away from the sinkhole. Ahead of her the road was empty and clear save for one burned, charred carriage. And beyond that …

“Sera,” Sunset said as she stared out at the wide empty road. I passed what looked almost like a medieval gatehouse, though there was no gate to speak of and the two towers that rose on each side of the road weren’t connected. They didn’t even look like they’d ever been designed to be occupied … or at least one of them didn’t. The other had taken a blow of some kind and collapsed, so it was hard to say. But even the site of more bones lying in the roadway didn’t take away from what lay past the edge of the city: A wide, sweeping, dust-covered road, flanked on both sides by tall grass, that stretched out toward the horizon, but wound out of view long before reaching it. Broad-leaved trees rose up around it, enough to dapple the pavement with shade here and there.

I made it. I made it! “Hah!” Sunset spun, letting out a shout that echoed back from the nearby buildings. “I made it!” And that means the wagons can make it too.

Of course, that meant she had to cross back over the edge. But I already did it once!

The bones lying across her way did suck some of her sense of accomplishment away as she stepped back across the gap, but there wasn’t anything she could do for them. What happened here happened. A long time ago.

With a snap the carabiner clip connected her to the wagon train once more, binding their fates. “All right, Sunset, you’ve crossed it twice now. Just … straight ahead, and don’t slip on the bones.” Ew. Slowly the wagons began to roll forward, the harness taut across Sunset’s chest. Keep to the left … that’s it.

A sudden scrape came from behind her, combined with a tug on her harness that jerked her to a near stop. Only when she turned did she see her obvious error: She could draw closer to the fence than the wagons could, and the front corner of the lead wagon, led in a turn by her staying left, had swung into the fence.

Okay … Just … don’t get too close. She pushed herself away from the fence with one hand, keeping it braced against the decorative metalwork. From behind her there was a faint rasp as the wagons began to move again, parallel to the wall rather than into it.

“You’ve got this,” she muttered under her breath. “Just watch where you step, keep your pace, and don’t fall.” Her stomach clenched as the crack neared, and she held her breath as she stepped over it.

Nothing. So far so good. The wagons were pushing her now, and forcing her to step quickly to make up for her pause and step past the bones. Just a little more, and—

Behind her, the pavement let out a sudden crack, the ground shuddering.

Go! Sunset jumped forward, scattering bones before her as the ground began to tilt. Move! Gravel and debris shifted, cascading with a chorus of sharp pops down into the sinkhole. She raced ahead, feeling the train tug at her as the wheels hit the seran remains. Then with a jerk the tug became something much stronger,

“No!” Sunset reached out with both hands, grabbing hold of the bars atop the brick wall and grabbing tight. Behind her the ground let out a sudden groan, more cracks sounding. She risked a single look back, eyes going wide as she saw a while chunk of the sidewalk behind her begin to slide to one side, tipping toward the sinkhole as something below gave out—and dragging the third wagon with it.

With a desperate yell, Sunset pulled herself forward, boots sliding and slipping as the end of her wagon train began to drop out of sight. The last wagon hit the new edge of the widening hole with a bang, jumping upward under the impact … and then hung there, its rear end hanging out over the new edge. The ground shook as the chunk that had broken free slammed into the bottom of the sinkhole, a terrific crash echoing across the city, followed by a cloud of dust that rose into the sky.

Her harness was still tight against her shoulders, the two lead wagons trying to press backward as the ground beneath them buckled. With a wordless shout of fear, Sunset began pulling herself forward, pulling and fighting with all four limbs. In her mind she could see what would happen if she lost her grip, if the rearmost of the three wagons went over the edge. The other two would follow, all three of them dragging her with them, over the edge and into the pit.

“No!” Slowly but firmly, she began to move forward, her arms and legs screaming with protest. There was a faint thunk as the corner of the lead wagon hit the fence, followed by a rasp as she began dragging the wagon along it, but she didn’t care. It was better than sliding back. Each successive stride forward became easier and easier, especially as the front of the first wagon left the slant it was on. A rumbling sound was echoing in her ears, either from her own panicked exertions or more material falling into the sinkhole, she couldn’t say. All she could do was keep pulling herself forward, dragging the train one step at a time.

The first wagon cleared the edge of the slope, the strain on her shoulders lessening, and she continued forward. The front of the second wagon appeared a second later, the struggle again growing easier as its front tires cleared the new depression. Sunset began to pick up speed, moving faster and faster down the sidewalk, until the pressure on her torso released with a sudden “pop,” the last wagon rolling over the edge and across flat ground once more. She staggered forward a few more steps, bleeding off the sudden burst of speed she’d built, the wagons now pushing her instead of being pulled, and a few seconds later she stumbled to her knees.

She could feel the ground shaking beneath her as her hands hit the smooth pavement. Don’t stop. She pushed herself back up, stumbling forward once more. Don’t! She pushed herself into a jog, then a run as the roar behind her only increased. She ran down the street, thankful for its relative emptiness as she went. The sidewalk was coming to an end, and she dropped off the edge, each of the wagons landing with successive bangs behind her.

The city walls neared, and at last she began to slow. The rumbling from behind her was fading as well, but she waited until she’d come to a complete stop to risk looking. When she did, her stomach clenched, knotting itself into a tight ball.

The sidewalk she’d crossed was gone, dropped away like it had been sheared away by some titanic force. Gone as well was part of the brick wall she’d used to pull herself along, bits of brickwork still collapsing into the newly widened chasm with faint clinks. The decorative bars still bridged the gap, but bent downward, and even part of the lawn behind them had collapsed downward as well. The crossing she’d used just moments before looked as though some giant creature had taken a bite out of it from beneath the earth.

Why—? The thought cut off before it could truly begin, the answer already obvious. The wagons’ extra weight. Just enough to disturb whatever careful balance of support the sidewalk had held.

And it almost took me down with it. The faint clink and clatter of shifting debris was finally fading, leaving only a towering plume of dust as a marker to her perilous passage. That’s it then. There’s no way back. Not with the wagons, at least.

Letting out a weary breath, Sunset sat down on the pavement, drawing her canteen and taking a quick swig as she stared at the sinkhole. This is it. Goodbye Holton.

She sat there for several seconds, watching as the wind began to carry away the dust. I should figure out some sort of quick release for my harness, just in case something like this happens again.

She glanced down at the strap crossing her chest, catching sight of the snap there. Or I could have just undone that, I guess. Ugh.

“You’re alive, Sunset,” she said, using her voice to drive away the thoughts that trailed in her observation’s wake. “You’re alive, and you made it across without injury. That’s what matters.” She took a second swig from her canteen, then pushed herself up. “And now you’ve got four-something miles to go to get to that intersection. Whatever a mile is. A Holton-length.” She gave the wagons a quick look with her eyes. The third looked as though its contents had been given a good shaking, but nothing appeared to be missing. There were some good scrapes along the left side of the lead wagon, and on the butt of the shotgun she’d holstered there.

Meh. “It’s still usable.” Setting her canteen back on her belt, she turned her attention eastward once more.

“Goodbye Holton,” she said for a final time. Throwing her weight forward, Sunset began to walk past the city’s outer wall, one foot ahead of the other.

To Ephyra. And my destiny.

Author's Note:

As a reminder, if you've enjoyed my work here (regardless of my stance in the opening chapter, some still might) or want to see this writing taken to its prime, then I'd urge you to check out the rest of my work here on fimfic as well as my website, which is a springboard to a number of my published novels and epics you can enjoy.

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[Warrior of Virtue]

Tutorial complete. Let the game begin.

[ponyreaper1]

Time for another reality check child. That was as safe as u we’re gonna get