A Pony Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy Western, inspired by Stephen King's The Dark Tower series but set in an original universe.
Dust and Fruit follows Earth Ponies Ben and Silver as they make their way across a broken Equestria, following a map left to them in an abandoned Unicorn Village.
They had been running for months across the barren expanse of dust and rocks. Running from what had been their home, running from their friends and their old lives.
Ben’s hooves were swollen and cracked from the pounding of the unrelenting dust kicked up by the wind. He looked ahead at his companion. The stallion was wearing a black cloak, tied around his neck, and thick brown boots that protected his hooves from the elements. He had had the luxury of time enough to grab such things before they were forced to flee.
Ben had lagged behind. He couldn’t comprehend how his companion kept such a steady and purposeful pace through the battering winds and draining heat, when Ben was in considerably better shape. The sun beat down on the hard dirt for eighteen hours of the day, rising again before the night had enough time to cool.
Ben trotted up behind the stallion in black, settling into stride beside him. He was a gray stallion with a hard face and faded eyes. They were dull, dead brown. He didn’t look well.
They walked headfirst into the dusty wind for a few minutes in silence.
“Are we going the right way?” Ben said. His voice was shaky and out of practice. His throat was sandpaper.
Silence from his travelling companion. At length, the gray pony said “I don’t remember my name.” His voice was even rougher than Ben’s. It clearly hurt him to talk.
“I remember it.” Ben said slowly. “It was Silver... something. It started with Silver.”
“Doesn’t sound like me.”
They walked on in silence.
Ben looked toward the horizon whenever the wind relented for long enough to do so. He set his sights on a rolling dune far in the distance. He made it his goal to reach that dune; he willed his feet to go on, just long enough to reach that dune without giving way beneath him. He knew that when they finally reached it, either this night or tomorrow morning, there would be nothing on the other side but more dust and more faint dunes in the distance. Not for the first time and certainly not the last, Ben regretted not being born a Pegasus. How easy it would be to fly above the orange sands, above the wind and the heat. More than anything, he wanted to feel cold wind on his face again. The desert was a closed bubble of heat and the wind on the ground was only slightly cooler than the stagnant air.
They walked for hours without talking. Neither of them could spare the effort. Ben felt the last few drops of water sloshing around in the canteen in his saddlebag. He very much wanted to drink it but he knew that they had to keep to the ration of one or two sips a night to make it last. It wasn’t enough. His head pounded behind his eyes. His stomach clenched and unclenched as he walked. They had been out of food for days now. Unless there was something on the other side of the next dune other than sand and rocks and sun, they weren’t going to make it.
When the sun had well begun its descent into the southern horizon, and the brightness of the day was beginning to seep out of the desert, Silver stopped. Ben continued slowly onward, not noticing his friend for a few moments. Silver coughed and Ben turned around.
“We’ll stop here.” Silver said hoarsely.
“We don’t usually stop this early.” Ben said, his vision swimming. The dusk was just now overtaking the world, colouring everything a darker red-orange.
“We’ll stop now.” Silver said quietly. He sat himself down, folding his hooves underneath his cloak.
Ben dropped his saddlebag on a patch of hard dirt and rooted through it for the canteen. He took it out with his mouth and carefully opened it. He knew his mouth would be watering if there was anything left inside him, but he was as dry as the sand that they walked in; the sand that invaded everything and got everywhere. Both the ponies’ manes were limp and bleached from the sun, and filled with sand.
Across from him, Silver had finished his water. The pony looked at his canteen with defeated eyes. “If we don’t make it tomorrow,” he said quietly, “I’m not going to make it.”
“I know.”
They didn't make a fire. The night hardly got cold enough to warrant one, and they had no food to cook. They hadn’t seen one living creature since they entered the desert. As they sat in the twilight, Ben thought that if a rabid desert creature was so fortunate as to come across two sleeping ponies in the middle of the night, the ponies might just be okay with becoming that creature’s next meal. It was probably cooler inside a desert creature, anyway.
Sweat dripped into Ben’s eyes and he wiped it away with a hoof. The sun was nearly gone behind the southern dunes, and there was no sound except for the wind. He looked at Silver. His form was incredibly thin beneath his cloak. His eyes were sunken and his cheeks were hollow; the skin around his lips was cracked and parched.
Ben knew there was a chance he would wake up tomorrow and find his friend stiff and unresponsive. Then he would be alone. He tried not to think about it.
Silver’s voice, a hoarse whisper, startled Ben out of that gruesome thought.
“Can you feel it?”
Ben looked at his friend. “Feel what?”
“Everything around us is dying. The world is dying.”
Maybe the delirium had already set into his companion. Again, Ben imagined waking up, the last living pony in the desert.
“I can’t say I do.”
“Everything’s dying. We’re being left behind.”
“By what?” Ben looked anxiously at Silver, whose eyes were half closed. After minutes of silence, Ben said “Get some sleep. We’re going to make it tomorrow.” Not sure of what he meant by the sentiment, Ben closed his eyes.
Eventually he slept a restless, unfulfilling sleep.
Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately, thought Ben), neither pony died during the night. Ben was awoken by his stomach going into a more severe cramp. He stifled a moan and lay in the sand, clutching himself. Sand had blown over the campsite during the short night, and Silver’s cloak was now a dusty white. He still slept underneath it, but his face was troubled.
When the pain wore off, Ben slowly got up, his joints popping softly. His legs ached and his hooves were raw and swollen. His head swam as he righted himself, and a wave of nausea hit him. He swayed where he stood, then slowly shook his head. The wind had died down, and the pale sand sat silently under the morning sun, which was already high in the northern sky.
The sand was bright. Ben found himself squinting as he trudged over to Silver. Gently he prodded his friend with a hoof. To his relief, Silver stirred and trembled a bit. The stallion’s faded eyes opened, and Ben realised that he had been right. Silver was not long for this world.
When Silver was awake and mobile, which took longer for the older, weaker pony, they set off. They said nothing. Their eyes wandered weakly over the barren landscape as they trudged through the sand, up the side of the dune Ben had set his eyes on the previous day. Ben was sweating what little moisture he had after not fifteen minutes of walking. Silver did not sweat. His breaths came shakily and rattling.
After an hour of hot walking, they crested the dune. Ben’s heart leaped into his throat as he saw what was at the bottom of the hill of sand.
A small number of dusty coloured houses, clustered together as if to shelter one another from the wind and the dust. Leading into the village was the dusty ghost of a road that once was, but it was swallowed by the desert not fifty hooves from the outermost building.
Ben looked at Silver, excitement bubbling in his chest. It was something he had not thought he would ever feel again. Silver looked back blankly. Ben was slowly losing his friend. Ben fixed his sights on the buildings as they started down the hill, not looking anywhere but his goal.
There was a quiet whump as Silver collapsed into the sand. Ben turned back and saw his friend staring forward at nothing. Ben walked over to him and bent down. He nudged Silver’s side, and the gray pony weakly maneuvered himself onto Ben’s back.
His legs shaking and screaming beneath him, Ben stood up with his companion draped across his back. He set off at an agonizing pace toward the buildings, the weight of both his saddlebag and his friend pulling him toward the ground, begging for him to slow down, stop, and sleep forever in the hot sand.
He lost track of time. The buildings grew ever closer but he never seemed to reach them.
Then all at once, his hooves were no longer pushing through loose sand, but standing on hard, solid dirt. He had reached the road.
He walked into the town. The buildings were made of some sort of smooth desert stone, not bricks or wood like they had been back home. The windows were boarded up or gone completely, empty holes into pitch darkness. There was no colour save for brown and gray, no sign of any other life, just the stones and the blowing sand. Ben would have called out if his throat had permitted, but he could only keep going forward.
As he approached the center of the cluster his eyes fixed onto one thing. In the center of the town there was a dusty, ornate fountain. It was spraying water jovially from its spout, which seemed to be the long nose of some sort of large animal. The sound of the water splashing gently into the fountain’s basin caused Ben’s mouth to begin watering. Silver stirred on his back and moaned something, delirious.
They reached the fountain and Ben collapsed at its edge in an exhausted heap. He bent his head and drank long and deep from the crystal clear waters. After a few seconds of large, full gulps, he paused, turned his head to the right, out of the water, and vomited onto the dirt. It was as clear as it had been going in. He sipped again from the water, ignoring his stomach’s painful cries.
Silver slipped off Ben’s back and blindly found the water. He sipped it once, twice, then collapsed on the ground.
Across from Ben, on the other side of the central plaza, there was a building with no door. The shadows inside looked more inviting than anything else in the world, and Ben got up and began dragging Silver by the cloak towards the house.
The shadows were as cool as they promised. Ben lay Silver down on the floor of the house and went back to the fountain. He filled both the canteens and returned to the shelter of the house.
They lay together for hours; Silver, unconscious and muttering, and Ben, sitting next to his friend and giving him small sips of water every few minutes.
The building was bare, stripped of everything that it may have once held. Still, the walls were sturdy and they kept out the sun. There was one window, with a rickety wooden frame still casting the shadow of a cross onto the floor, but that was it. It was good shelter from the desert.
Eventually Ben must have fallen asleep, because when he opened his eyes the sun was nearly gone. The town was tinted deep orange, and the light reflected off the fountain’s spray like fire. The sound of the gurgling water was the only thing Ben could hear except for Silver’s shaky breathing beside him. He sounded better though, Ben thought.
Standing on weak legs, Ben ventured outside the house, leaving Silver covered by his cloak next to the water skins. His head still ached but he was feeling better after sleeping.
The town stood silent around him, and he had no doubt that it was completely empty of all life, save for its two newest inhabitants.
The wind was blowing harder now, and he wandered slowly down the empty main street in silence, the sound of his battered hooves lonely in the orange dusk-tinted town. He turned down a side street. It was wide enough for three ponies to walk side by side, but no more. He could imagine it in its prime, with ponies walking quietly to their destinations, passing each other and nodding courteous greetings, maybe stopping to chat for a bit. He could imagine that in a town this small, you would know everypony; the baker, the mailcolt, the old mare who sat in her rocking chair for most of the day. They’d all be your acquaintances, if not your friends. Everyone’s foals would be in school together, and they’d play together on evenings like this, when it was not too hot.
Ben wondered what it could have been to make every pony who had once lived in this village go away. He wondered if it had just been a simple case of natural extinction, like what had happened to the Pegasi of the Northern Sky seven hundred years ago. He had not been alive to see it, of course, but his father had told him the story many times back in the nursery. Midnight, the self-re-named Last Pegasus had flown out of the clouds, holding his last remaining daughter in his arms. She had passed on in the night, silently and without warning.
Ben’s father told Ben that Midnight had landed and explained the events to the Mayor of the town through freely flowing tears, and then had flown off into the clouds with his daughter’s limp form in his arms, never to be seen again.
The children in the schoolyard had told a different story to Ben, however. They said that Midnight had spiralled out of the clouds arm-in-arm with his daughter. Witnesses had been quoted to have said that they could see a stream of tears flowing behind the Pegasi as they fell. Some say Midnight had tried to land, but his vision had been blurred by the tears. Some said both the ponies were dead long before they hit the ground, and still others said Midnight had fallen with the intent to die in his daughter’s arms.
The story had been a source of conversation during the day, and worried thought at night for Ben. When he was six, he found a book on Pegasi in the library’s back room. Excitedly, he brought it home and asked his father to read it to him. He was disappointed when the book concerned more about anatomy and the origins of the race than of the folklore.
Ben stopped. He had come to the front of a house with an open front door. The wind was blowing hard; harder than it had been minutes before. He felt a sudden wave of nausea come over him, and he ducked into the vacant house to be out of the dusty wind.
He sat looking at the floor until his stomach settled. His head pounded lightly. Probably got up too soon, he thought.
The house was much like the first one; dark, dusty. No furniture that Ben could see. The wind blew in through three windows and the house was cool compared to outside.
In the corner of the room, Ben saw a staircase, leading down. Like the rest of the house, it was plain and undecorated.
Suddenly conscious of the silence of the house, Ben went to the top of the stairs. He looked down into near blackness, but he saw something else... a faint white glow, coming from far back in the cellar. Nervously, he crept down the stairs, conscious of his heart beating in his chest. He wondered if Silver had woken up, back in the house with their supplies and canteens. He didn’t think it was likely yet, but there was always a chance.
He reached the bottom of the stairs. The floor was damp earth, and it was downright cool in the cellar. He savoured the feeling. The small earthen room was empty except for the beams that supported it, and a small table at the other end. Ben walked toward it. Halfway up the wall was a small white orb set into an ornate metal socket. It glowed weakly white, and hummed like a dying animal. It was a magic lamp, something that Ben had not seen since his time at home. They could only be created by Unicorns, of course. Ben stared in wonder at the orb, another relic of a time long passed.
On the small wooden table was a single piece of weathered paper. It was crumpled and browned, and ripped in the corner, but even in the darkness Ben could make it out for what it was.
It was a map of the desert, with a path marked in red. On the top of the piece of paper was one word, scrawled in the immaculate script only a Unicorn could create.
Silver helped Ben put his saddlebag on, using his nose to push it. It was heavier now, as it held Ben’s newly filled water skin and the glowing white orb, which he had taken from the cellar wall. Silver was wearing his own tattered bag, but it only held his canteen. It was just as well that Ben carried the heavier pack; Silver was still weak from dehydration and although he had regained some of his strength, his eyes were still dull and glazed.
They slept one last night in the empty shell of a house then set off before dawn. They were following the directions of the tattered map left by the Unicorns who had once lived in the village. It told them, according to the position of the sun, to go east.
So it was east they went, leaving the cluster of buildings behind them, travelling the same direction they had been when they arrived. The buildings gradually became smaller and smaller, until they were but a speck on the horizon. And then they were gone, and it was just sand and rocks and the sun beating down, like it had been.
They had drunk from the fountain, and it had rejuvenated them, perhaps more so than it should have, but they hadn’t found any food in all the time they had stayed there, despite searching every house they were able to enter. They were all the same bare walls, packed earth floor, and windows with wooden cross frames casting shadows onto the dirt. But they had drunk from the fountain, and they had felt better than they had in what must have been months, Ben thought. How long had it been since they had entered the desert? It felt like months, but could it possibly have actually been so long?
Before the sun was highest in the sky, they were tired and slick with sweat. Ben’s hair fell in his eyes and he blew it away. Silver’s cloak was shielding him from the majority of the sunlight, although it must have been nearly too warm to bear inside it. Silver simply marched on, determined and encouraged by his new found strength.
When they stopped for the night, the ache had returned to Ben’s bones, but it was low and lesser than before. Almost submissive, he thought. It was simply making a point by being there, reminding him that he was still mortal.
And it was true; with the heat and the endless sand working on his mind, Ben could have begun to believe things. Aside from run of the mill tiredness and fatigue, he felt good. Not just I can go on, but good.
They drank from their water skins before sleeping, and they slept deep, dreamless sleep. They drank from their water skins before setting off at dawn the next day, and they were energetic and made better time than any of the days before.
Ben felt the pangs of hunger in his gut, but they didn’t bother him. Somehow he knew he could keep going, at least for another day. But they stopped for the second night since they left the town and he drank from his water skin, and when he woke up the next morning his stomach was screaming at him to eat something, anything. He drank, and they pressed on.
On the fourth night, while they were sitting in the sand at the base of a dune, Silver looked up and said “How are we still going, Ben?”
Ben was alarmed. He heard real concern in Silver’s voice, and more importantly, he felt concern in his. “I don’t know.”
Silver looked down at the canteen. Each night and each morning they took one sip, no more. Through the day they did not get hungry or thirsty, they just walked.
“In the morning, my guts feel like they’re destroying themselves from the inside.” Silver said. “But I drink this and it goes away.”
“Yes.” Ben replied, looking up at the orange sky.
Silence, but for the wind.
“It’s not just water.” Silver said matter-of-factly.
“Nope.”
“What happens when we run out?”
Silence. Eventually, they fell asleep, and when they woke they drank from their water skins. Then they carried on.
According to the sun, it was just past noon when they heard the motor. Although, Ben mused, the sun was hardly reliable anymore. It seemed some days were longer, and some went by in just a few hours. He recalled a summer day back home that had lasted a full thirty eight hours, or maybe he was remembering wrong. Perhaps it had been an exceptionally boring day.
They heard the faint drone of the motor over the wind before they saw anything. Ben looked back at Silver with wide eyes, and Silver nodded. They scanned the horizon, and saw a small black smudge coming over a far off dune, heading in their direction. It was approaching fast, so they stopped walking and watched it come.
When it was coming over the closest dune to them, they could make out the shape of a motorbike. The roar of the engine grew ever louder. The bike kicked a plume of sand and exhaust behind it as it rolled through the fine sand.
They shielded their eyes as the bike skidded to a stop in front of them, sending sand into both of their faces. When it cleared they rubbed their eyes and looked up at the pony on the bike. He was white, with a red and black mane. He wore a black vest. Sitting atop the massive shuddering bike he stared at the two ponies. They stared back. Slowly he opened his mouth, and shut it again.
Silver looked at the newcomer, then at Ben, then back at the newcomer.
“You stallions know you're the only living ponies I've seen in weeks?” The biker stallion said in a gruff voice.
“I...” Ben said, lost for words.
“Likewise.” said Silver.
They stared at each other for a moment, unsure of how to proceed.
The white pony broke the silence. “Name's Solus, I suppose.” he extended a hoof.
Silver shook it. “Silver. This is Ben.”
“Ben.” Solus said, amused.
“What about it?” Ben snapped.
“Just... no, nothing. Sorry” Solus scratched behind an ear.
“So,” said Silver, “A bike.” They were dumbfounded by this new pony's sudden appearance.
“Unicorn-Built motorbike.” Solus beamed, stroking the side of the vehicle. “One of the last ever made. My brother gave it to me.”
“It's nice.”
Solus snorted. “Hm, yeah it is! I restored it myself before I left home.”
“How does it run? Magic?” Ben asked.
“Hah! I don't need magic to run a machine like this.” Solus laughed. “Good ol' fashioned gas is all it takes. The Unicorns did good work, this baby can run for up to a week on one tank.” He looked down, his smile disappearing. “But that reminds me,” he said, “How much farther does this desert go?”
Silver and Ben exchanged glances. They told Solus about the town, nearly a week behind them now, and the fountain, and they told him about the weeks or even months of desert beyond that. While they were talking he shut off his bike and dismounted, stretching his muscular legs and neck. He was big, a full head taller than Ben or Silver.
When they were done, Solus sighed. “I'm almost empty. You say this town up ahead has nothing in it?”
“Nothing except the fountain.” Ben said.
“Right,” Solus replied, “With this crazy magic Unicorn water you guys have been drinking.”
“That's right.”
“Well, I'll tell you what.” Solus climbed back onto the bike. “I bet I've got enough juice in the tank to make it there and back, if it took you what, four, five days to walk from there?” He looked into the distance and squinted. “I can go there, fill up these bad boys,” he turned and gestured at two large water skins hanging from the back of the bike, attached to a large grey saddlebag, “And be back in a day or so.”
Silver looked at Ben happily, “That would be fantastic. We were worrying that our water was going to run out soon.” Both their skins were still about half full, but it had been a concern.
“Sounds like a plan to me.” Solus said. He started the bike with a roar, looked back at the two friends and nodded. He kicked the bike into gear and sped off, flinging sand into their faces.
When the bike was again just a speck on the horizon, speeding toward the village, Ben looked at Silver. Silver looked at Ben. Silver started to laugh, and Ben joined in. They laughed under the scorching sun and for a minute the world didn't seem quite so empty.
“No ponies for miles and miles, weeks and weeks, and then one comes rolling right to our feet on a motorcycle!” Silver shouted between guffaws.
They fell into the sand and laughed at everything, knowing that they would probably die hot and starving in this endless expanse of sand.
*
Solus rode, fast and confident, toward the village. He saw the low buildings on the horizon after just five hours of riding by his internal clock, but he saw something beyond them that caused him to stop and briefly consider turning back without the water.
Advancing on the cluster of buildings from the opposite side was a massive dark cloud of swirling sand, barrelling toward Solus at an alarming rate. He struggled for a moment, then decided that it wouldn't be fair to return to the only living ponies in the entire desert, for all he knew, empty handed. He had to try.
He revved the bike's engine and hurdled down the side of the dune toward the town, and the storm.
They walked longer than usual, and only stopped to sleep when the sun had completely gone from the desert. They drank a sip of water and settled down for a night’s rest, assuming that Solus would return in the morning.
He did not, however. He returned in the middle of the night. They were awoken into pitch darkness by the roar of the motor as the bike skidded into the campsite. Ben and Silver got to their feet, looking sleepily at the big white pony. He dismounted his bike hurriedly.
“We have to go now.” He said.
Silver straightened up. “What are you talking about? We can wait until morning.”
“No we can’t,’ Solus insisted, “not if we want to beat the sandstorm that’s rolling right towards us.’
Instinctively, Ben and Silver looked toward the horizon. They couldn’t see anything yet, but the wind was blowing into their faces.
“What do you mean?” Ben asked nervously.
“What did it sound like?” Solus said angrily, shrugging into his massive saddlebag, water skins and all. “There’s a big cloud of sand coming that’s gonna be the end of us if we stay here.”
“But where can we go?” Silver asked, “We can’t see anything, and even if we could, it’s just flat desert forever.”
“No,” Solus finally got the saddlebag just right, “There’s another village, like the one back there. It’s not too far, I think.”
“So we run.” Ben said.
“No,” Solus started off at a brisk walk, away from Ben and Silver. He turned back, “But we walk fast and we don’t stop.”
Ben realised that running would have been foolish considering the current surroundings. They set off after Solus.
They walked fast for a few minutes before the initial panic faded and became a pressing force at their backs.
“So your bike...”
“Empty.” Solus said mournfully. “Used the last bit of fuel racing back here.” He looked at the ground.
“How will you get it back?”
Solus looked at Ben incredulously, then shook his head and looked forward.
“I...” Ben flushed red, but no one could see through the darkness.
The desert night pressed upon them from all sides, three shadows moving quickly through the inky black field. Ben and Silver followed Solus, who was more visible in the dark because of his bright white coat.
They walked for an hour, or maybe it was four. Ben didn’t know, but the light never changed. Eventually Solus said, “There, see?”
They squinted into the night, and could vaguely discern the shapes of more buildings like the ones in the first town. Ben looked behind him, only to see an enormous swirling cloud of shadow hurtling toward them. He let out a yelp. Solus looked back, and said “Run!”
They ran toward the buildings. The wind whipped at their manes, and dust flew into their eyes. Ben spit sand out of his mouth and the wind blew it right back in. The loose powder under his feet gradually became packed dirt as they entered the village. Alleyways and windows passed by in a blur of shadows. Ben could see only the outlines of Solus and Silver in front of him because of the dust. He followed them around a corner into an alleyway, then he saw Silver disappear into an open doorway.
He stumbled on the doorstep, and collapsed into the shade of the empty house. He recollected himself and rubbed his eyes. They were burning and irritated by the sand. As his blurred vision began to clear he saw Silver standing at the top of a staircase at the other end of the room. The wind was blowing sand into the house hard. Silver shouted "This way!" and Ben barely heard him. He hoisted himself to his feet and charged down the stairs after his friend.
The wind howled above them viciously, but faintly. They were safe in the cool darkness of the cellar.
“Can’t see anything,” Solus mumbled.
They stood in pitch black silence for a moment, and then Ben remembered the orb he had taken from the first cellar. He dropped his saddlebag and opened it up. The orb’s light erupted forth, along with its pathetic dying drone. It flickered slightly, but still cast enough light to see by.
Ben gasped. Solus made a sound and Silver stiffened beside Ben. By the light of the orb, the three ponies could see that the far wall of the cellar was covered by small cages, stacked up to the ceiling. The insides of the cages were shrouded in darkness.
There were tables arranged on the floor, but other than that the basement was empty. Slowly, Ben took the light toward the wall of cages. Holding it in one hoof, he held it close to the iron door of one of the cages and peered inside.
“Oh, what...” He stifled a gasp.
“What is it?” Silver came up behind him. “I...”
In the cage was a tiny skeleton. It was about the size of a cat, but there was no denying the bone shapes and proportions. It was a pony skeleton.
Ben stumbled back, scared. “What is it?”
“It looks like a pony.” Said Silver, “But it’s so small...”
Solus walked up and looked into the cage. The sandstorm smashed against the building upstairs. “It looks like those fluffy things I saw.”
Ben and Silver looked at him.
“Yeah,” he continued, “When I passed through Fillydelphia on my way here, I stayed the night in this apartment building. I kept hearing these sounds from the next room over, it sounded like foals crying. I hadn’t seen another living pony in weeks, so I went over. The door was unlocked and these little balls of... fluff were all over the apartment. They looked like tiny ponies. They were rolling all over each other babbling like idiots. There were some dead ones, too, but the others didn’t even care. Just kept smiling and yelling about nonsense. I just left ‘em.”
Silver looked confused. “That’s bizarre.” He said.
“That’s an understatement.” Solus nodded. “Saw a few more in other villages, too. Always just talking gibberish and drooling and rolling around.”
“I’ve never heard of anything like that,” Ben said doubtfully.
“Well you don’t have to doubt my story,” Solus nodded toward the cages.
“Let’s get some rest.” Silver said, “There’s no use trying to figure out what these things are in the dark. And I’m exhausted.
“Oh,” Ben remembered, “Did you fill those water skins?”
Solus smiled, “Oh yeah! Wasn’t gonna come back to you guys empty handed.” He kicked the water skins, sitting on the floor. They moved slightly and the sound of sloshing liquid could be heard.
“Fantastic.” Silver said sleepily. “Now if only we could find some food.” He opened his water skin and took a small sip, then eyed the canteen amusedly.
“Oh,” Solus said. “I might be able to help you there.”
Ben stood up. His stomach rumbled loudly. Solus laughed.
The big white stallion nosed open his saddle bag. Ben’s mouth immediately began to water when he saw what was inside: two large pieces of corn cake, half a dozen big red apples and a sealed canteen. Silver let out a whoop and Ben couldn’t get the grin off his face.
“Dig in,” said Solus.
The corn cake was dense and heavy, and filled them up before they had eaten half of their allotted pieces. The apples were sweet and juicy and healthy.
“Where did you find these?” Silver asked, juice dribbling down his chin. “I haven’t had apples this good in years.”
Solus smiled at him. “Apples are still fine, farther east,” he said. “I picked these at an orchard outside Fillydelphia.”
Ben looked up. “How much did they charge you for apples this good?”
“They didn’t charge me.”
“What? They just gave them to you?”
“No. There was nopony there.”
Ben looked confused, “What do you mean nopony there? Were they out? Did you steal these?”
“No, Ben.” Solus said. “There’s no nopony left east of the desert. Everypony is dead or gone somewhere, I don’t know. Everything’s abandoned.”
“W-What?” Ben stammered. Silver looked on in silence.
“I don’t know where you’re from, or who’s left there, but that’s what I was hoping to find out by going west. I wanted to find my brother, if he was still there.” Solus looked down.
“We came from a village... it was too small for a name. No trading posts or anything, pretty much off the map.” Silver explained. “When we left it was full of Earth Ponies.”
“What in Equestria would convince you to leave your home town to come to a place like this?”
Silver stammered. “We didn’t exactly... have a choice.”
Solus sensed he was hitting a sensitive topic and decided to back off for now. They sat quietly for a while, until Solus said, “My brother went to fight the Alicorns in the far west. You... do know about the takeover, yes?”
They nodded, of course. Every foal in Equestria had been woken from their sleep early, that morning when Princess Luna of Old descended into the fields of Celestia with her army of shadow ponies. It had been a frightful day, but the fighting had never reached Ben’s town, and the war soon became background noise in the everyday lives of ponies.
“I was going there,” said Solus, “to the fields of Celestia.”
“But you’re with us.” Ben said. “We’re going the wrong direction.”
Solus sighed. “Yeah. I realised I wasn’t going to have the gas to make it all the way there when you said the desert would go on for weeks after than tiny town. I considered just going for it, hoping I’d find something else.”
“But you saw the sandstorm.”
“Essentially, yes.”
Silver laughed. “Well good thing you did. Thank you to the sandstorm I suppose."
They put their leftover cake into the bag and sat in the weak glow of the orb for a few minutes, listening to the storm overhead. Eventually they all slept.
*
Ben woke up first. Immediately he knew something was not right. The light coming in from the staircase was the wrong colour. Instead of the gray-brown he had grown used to over the last months, it was a soft green. He smelled something unlike what he was used to as well. A soft, watery smell, like dew on... grass.
He opened his eyes, and found himself looking at a green ceiling. Brown roots were growing out of it, stretching toward the ground. He felt softness under his back that he didn’t remember. He rolled over and saw that the earth floor was carpeted with soft green grass.
Solus was awake, across from Ben. He was looking around the room with wide eyes.
“...what...” he tried to say.
Ben just shook his head.
The cages lining the far wall were broken down and rusted, covered with thick green moss. Some of the doors had fallen off. None of the skeletons remained from the night before. Ben became aware of the high humming of insects.
Silver stirred beside him. Ben watched as the same stunned fascination overtook Silver’s face that was currently on Ben’s.
“...roots?” was all Silver said.
They went up the stairs, which were rotting and broken.
The building was all but gone. The roof had caved in and broken down to dust. The walls were varying heights around the building’s edges, but never higher than Solus’ height.
The whole village was broken the same way; half-houses with no roofs, no doors, overtaken by moss and grass. Ben realised that they were standing in shade, despite the building having no roof. He looked up to discover they were standing under a canopy of thick green leaves. There were thin, slender trees growing out of the sand, which contrasted the green of the grass in bright white drifts, presumably pushed in by the sandstorm.
They stood in stupefied silence. None of them could comprehend anything they were seeing.
“Ben?” Silver said quietly. “I don’t think the world is dying. Maybe we’re not being left behind, but something is happening.”
Ben nodded. In the distance, a bird screeched a lonesome call across the forest that now expanded as far as Ben could see in any direction.
